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chimivx · 2 months

Text

champagne confetti.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader (ot7 minus two) (vegas addition)

summary: Jungkooks secret listening party is full of surprises.

word count: 7400

warnings: 18+, adults doing adults things and talking about adult things, no explicit sexual content, drinking, mentions of miscarriage/pregnancy talk, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!

a/n: I was supposed to post this in the beginning of January. Apologies for the delay, been goin thru some things. Love you all. xo. This feels like an ending... But, I dunno... It also feels incomplete...

~ october 11th, 2023 ~

It took three rings for her to answer the phone.

Leaning over the bathroom counter, iPhone propped up against the mirror, your lips were pressed together firmly, an unreadable expression as Sunny’s bright smile popped up on the screen and fell within milliseconds, her pink glossy lips frowning. Behind her, palm trees and sunshine, a backdrop she’s become accustomed to, one she belongs in front of.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, squinting. Voices chattered in the background, a prominent one belonging to none other than Khloe Kardashian herself.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “You’re filming?”

“No, having dinner with the girls,” she spoke fast, her eyes locked on you. “What’s going on? You okay? Dae okay? I can fly back.”

A small smile broke onto your lips. Nerves jittered in your veins, your heart beating a little faster than it should be. “We’re okay, just finished breakfast. She’s running around my room right now, she’s obsessed with Kook’s dirty ass song. We’ve had to listen to it everyday. Everyday, Sun. I hate it.”

“The Jack Harlow one?” she asked, and your grimace answered for you, making her cackle.

“First Seven, now this,” you said, teeth clenched. “What happened to sweet baby Jungkook?”

Sunny’s laugh sounded through your phone once more, triggering the pitter patter of little footsteps to come barreling into the bathroom door. “Honey, you’re funny, you know who changed that man.”

Your smile grew, shaking your head because you knew damn well who changed that man. Glancing to your right down at the floor, a two year old in pastel yellow footed pajamas was watching you, holding onto the doorframe with her little hands. There were messy pigtails in her hair, black as night, the skinny rubber bands slipping out after a good night's sleep. Eyes wide, the ghost of a smile on her face, she knew who you were talking to.

“Hi,” you said to her, and she giggled, her cheeks squishing her eyes like her fathers would.

“Dae?!” Sunny called, lurching forward in her seat. She excused herself from the table and hurried into whoever’s house she was at, walking into a hallway grander than your own. Your daughter’s lips parted, curiosity written all over the face she stole from your husband.

“Who is it?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the toddler as she walked toward you, wrapping her arms around one of your legs.

“Where’s my girl?” Sunny’s tone was eager, all she could see was the top of your head. Crouching down to pick Dae up, you propped her on your hip and grinned as Sunny gasped. “Hello, beautiful!”

Dae smiled, looking down at the phone, then looked at you, putting a finger between her little teeth.

“Say hi to Sunny,” you nodded, brushing leftover crumbs from breakfast off of her pajamas. “Tell her you haven’t brushed your hair yet today.” Another dramatic gasp came out of the phone, catching Dae’s attention.

“Baby, you tell your mother I blame her for that.” Sunny clicked her tongue. “You can’t even reach your hairbrush, it is not your fault.” She squinted at the screen. “She had those rubber bands yesterday, Honey, get them out!”

Dae was laughing, Sunny’s silly tone making her giggle in your arms, subsequently making you giggle along with her. “Dae,” you said softly after a breath, your daughter pointing her gaze at you. “Tell Sunny we’ve been really busy.” Your Californiacated best friend froze, her sculpted eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“Busy,” Dae said, copying you, her listening ears on full alert. Her little voice soft, smooth, the words broken as she tried to pronounce everything correctly.

“I’ve been gone for two weeks,” Sunny deadpanned. “How busy can you be?”

A laugh escaped you, Dae smiling back at you.

“Hey,” Sunny whined, “I’m over here, girl party, I want in on the secret,” she glanced around the room she was in, “I’m alone, promise.”

Your girl threw her arms around your shoulders, burying her head into your chest. Taking a look at Sunny, you laughed again at how smushed she looked on the screen, like she was trying to push her way through. Tapping your daughters back a few times where you held her, she perked up, still wearing a smile.

“Do you want to show Sunny?” you sighed, the nerves spiraling out of control.

“Show Sunny,” Dae said, drumming her hands on your shoulder.

“Show me what?!” Sunny cried from the phone.

A sudden deep breath shot through you. Dae, studying your form, placed a hand on your cheek, getting you to look over at her. You’ve seen the sparkle in her eyes elsewhere, in someone you’ve been without for a few weeks now. Someone you both had to say goodbye to, a day you wished to never have to relive.

She was half his, Dae was. Half Yoongi. A part of him you could still hold onto during these long months he’d be gone. It was never certain when you’d get to see him again throughout his service, but you held onto to hope that it was sometime soon. Especially now.

“I love you,” you whispered to your baby.

Dae, without missing a beat, whispered, “I love you.”

~ november 4th 2023 ~

Music played throughout the room soft enough to still be able to hear the person next to you speaking, yet loud enough to keep conversations private. Dressed in all black, flowing pants and a long sleeved bodysuit, you walked throughout the room with your chin held high, eyes searching the place for a familiar face. You’d come with Sunny, but she was stolen away from you the second you stepped in the door.

The night was alive, this venue buzzing with excitement and happy vibes as people who were both close friends or acquaintances of Jungkook came together to celebrate his brand new album, Golden. After listening to him, and watching him work on this project for ages, it meant so much to be able to be a part of this night. He was the last one to put out any solo music, meaning this was a celebration for the end of an era, and you were not ready for the start of the next one.

The one where you’d have to do life without any one of the seven boys around.

Greeting a few familiar faces, and a few new ones who just started to pay attention to you this year because of what went down in February, you moved throughout the room with a sprinkle of attention on you. During Yoongi’s tour that you were very much involved with, your daughter included, your entrance into the media world exploded. After February and the announcement, of course word of his family spread like wildfire, but the tour brought it all to life.

Now that he was gone the people who spoke to you tonight gave you the sympathetic half smile and nod, asking you how you and Dae were holding up without him. To each and everyone of them, you’d grin and shrug, letting them know this was no different than him being on tour, or him going away for work. Time spent a part was the story of your life. Especially after the last three years with your daughter.

Though, you weren’t going to lie, this go around the time a part was rough. You aren’t able to call him whenever you please, nor was he able to jump on a plane, or get in a car and come home to you whenever he felt like he needed just twenty minutes of your time. He truly was absent, and it sucked. Your two year old didn’t understand it, though she was used to her father being away. That much she got, but when it came down to not being able to see him through a phone screen as often as she pleased, she became a pouty mess.

Within the last month Dae has definitely become more clingy than you’d have wanted, but you knew that was just because she was having some big feelings that she didn’t understand yet. Both you and Yoongi prayed that this wouldn’t have a large impact on her and her development as she got older, her father being gone for such a chunk of time in her early years of life. You made it a point to talk about him every single day, play his videos, play voicemails he left you in preparation for this, listen to his music, and show her pictures of them together.

It wasn’t a worry she’d forget about him, it was a worry that she’d forget how he loved her.

The two of you had just watched a video of him talking to her before you left the house to come to the party, the clip leaving you in tears. He was in his office sitting in the leather chair at his desk, his hair messy over his forehead and his eyes tired. The weeks before he left were brutal for you both. He spoke to her with intention, repeating on and on how much he loved her, and how much he missed her, that he was proud of her and that she would see him very soon.

He tried his hardest to not shed a tear, but it happened anyway, and in true Yoongi fashion he laughed it off. After speaking to Dae he turned his words to you, knowing you’d be watching with her. He didn’t do this every time, he left other things just for you, so it was a complete surprise. As expected, your husband declaring his love for you, in front of your daughter, left you in tears.

But, the story of your life, right?

Smoothing your hands over your middle, smiling at a group of girls walking past you who had bowed their heads, you approached the bar, finding exactly who you were looking for. The boy dressed in all white towered over you, the view of his back from behind unbelievable. He stood next to Namjoon who was just as tall as him, but not nearly as wide. The maknae passed him a while ago.

Pushing between both of them, just below their shoulders, a smile pulled at your lips as they stepped away from you, then gasped once they realized it was you.

“Honey!” Namjoon cheered, slinging an arm around your back to give you a hug. Throwing both of your arms around his broad shoulders, you pulled him close and squeezed him, standing on your tiptoes.

“Hi,” you said quietly, pecking a quick kiss to his cheek. “Missed you guys,” you sighed, turning to Jungkook who waited patiently for his hug. “You’re all too busy now.” You barely had your arms around him before Jungkook was lifting you off the floor, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Kook!” you giggled. “Put me down, I’m fragile!”

“Fragile,” he laughed, following directions, making sure you were balanced in your black boots before he let go of you. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he smiled at you, one that was all too big.

“Me too,” you returned the smile and snatched his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“How’s the baby?” Namjoon asked, leaning against the bar with an elbow. Whirling around, you shot him a wide eyed look. “Dae?” His smile relieved almost every nerve that sparked in your heart.

“Dae,” you breathed. “She’s amazing.” The boys smiled, always happy to hear you speak of your daughter. “She’s… doing her best right now. We both are. She misses him.”

Namjoon pursed his lips and gave you the sympathetic nod so many other people have already given you. “Understandable,” he said. “It’s tough.”

“It is,” you shrugged. “But, we knew it was coming, so I’m… somewhat alright. It’s just hard to try to explain it to a two year old.”

A bartender sped by the back of the bar to refill glasses with Golden etched on them, placing down new ones for those who had just shown up, you included. Champagne bubbled in the glass that you were definitely heading home with. Jungkook grabbed two, holding one out for you to take.

“We’re not sad today,” he grinned. Glancing at the glass, you gulped and looked up at him.

“I’m not gonna drink, Kook,” you said quietly. Namjoon, already downing half his glass, perked a brow.

Jungkook nodded and turned toward the bar to place the glass down, but then froze, facing you without doing so. “Wait, hang on,” he said. “Where’s she at?” His eyes narrowed.

“Sunny?” you questioned. “Somewhere around here, I think-”

“No,” he cut you off, grilling you with his gaze. “Dae.”

A nervous laugh escaped you. “Kook, she’s not here.”

“Liar, where is she?” He did a once over of the room, his hardened gaze falling upon you again.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “She’s at home, probably begging Branson to play that god awful song you made about ejaculating on someone's face.” Behind you Namjoon lost his mind, nearly spitting out his drink. You shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re not off the hook Mr. Smoke Sprite.”

Jungkook would have laughed if his jaw hadn’t fallen open in shock, a big ol’ smile behind it all. “She doesn’t like that song.” His whisper was laced with disappointment, eyebrows twisting into a knot in the center of his forehead.

Thinning out your lips, you nodded. “Loves it, Jungkook. She loves it.”

“Oh no,” he groaned, rolling his head back, taking a gulp of champagne. “Don’t let her listen to it, not my girl.”

“Now, whenever you feel like making a song like that ever again, you think about her,” you started to smile, knowing your words would make an impact. “You want someone to treat her like that when she’s all grown up?”

He scrunched his nose and pouted at you. “No,” he mumbled.

“Exactly,” you nodded once and took the champagne glass from him, taking a sip before stopping dead in your tracks. Processing your situation, Namjoon and Jungkook sandwiching you at the crowded bar, there really was no way for you to be sneaky about this. With the glass in your hand, you sideyed them both, a mouthful of champagne marinating on your tongue. Closing your eyes, you took a breath and accepted your fate, a stream of champagne falling from your lips back into the glass in your hands.

“I knew it,” Namjoon muttered. You could hear the smugness written all over his face. You gave him the quickest look without giving anything away, and turned to Jungkook whose face was screwed up, completely confused.

“Just drink it, Hon,” he laughed. “Dae’s home, you’re here to be you, you don’t have to worry about…” Voice trailing off, he paused and eyed you curiously. Then it all seemed to click at once. “Are you lying?” Testing the waters, he held in his jitters, but you could see it all building up beneath the surface. “You’re ly- Shit, no you wouldn’t do that… You’re… Honey, you swear?”

Taking a long deep breath, you placed your glass on the bar and shrugged your shoulders. He exhaled heavily, a single laugh coming out with it. He held his arms out at his sides, putting his own glass down, trying to gauge how you were feeling by your body language. Namjoons eyes flickered between the two of you, allowing you your moment before he stepped in.

“It’s, like… brand new. Really brand new,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Sunny knows, but that’s it. I’m not trying to… get anyones hopes up.” Speaking carefully, like you were warning them, Namjoon was the only one to nod in respect for what you had said. Jungkook understood of course, but his heart always got the best of him first. “I found out three weeks ago, I’m barely two months in.”

“Holy shit,” Jungkook whispered, pulling you into his arms. He shared a look with Namjoon, one you thankfully couldn’t see, a slightly worried one. Laying your head on his chest, the chains he wore cold against your cheek, you closed your eyes and let his hands on your back soothe some of the anxiety you’d been feeling since you saw the two little lines in your bathroom back in October. “I’m so happy for you, Honey.”

“Thanks, Kookie,” you said, painting a smile on your lips. “I haven’t been able to say the words yet,” you admitted, pulling back from him. Hugging Namjoon who congratulated you quietly, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Thirty years old and I can’t say the words.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon said, embodying the word empathy.

Letting his calm, peaceful aura bleed into yours, you bobbed your head. “It is okay,” you repeated, not allowing you to gaslight yourself. Averting your gaze to the bar you shrugged your shoulders once more. “I just hope I have the courage to say them to him.” The boys were quiet, focused on you, listening intently. “It’s a shitty time for this to happen, I think, but not in the sense that… Well, you know what I mean?”

“Course,” Jungkook said, brows pointed.

“It’s just with Dae already having a hard time, Yoongi having a hard time, me, myself having a hard time,” you paused to collect your thoughts, squinting down at the wood. “What we just went through not even a year ago? I am just freaked the absolute fuck out that I’m going to go through it alone this time.”

“You can’t do that to yourself,” Namjoon spoke with ease. “Don’t add any more stress onto this. Timing may not be ideal, but it never was for you guys. If anything… this is right on point.”

“Shit, Joon.” The words tumbled from your lips in an exasperated burst. Throwing your arms back around him, you held him tight. All it took were two simple sentences to almost flip your mentality completely. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I was totally thinking the same thing, by the way,” Jungkook said, making you smile. Turning toward him, he had his arms open waiting for you to jump back into them. Falling right into the trap, you pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you guys,” you said, grabbing both of them by the arm, giving them a small shake. “Keep it a secret, yeah? No telling boyfriends.” You narrowed your eyes and pointed at them playfully.

Namjoon lowered his head with a chuckle and raised his glass in promise. Jungkook rolled his eyes and took a large gulp from his glass. “What boyfriend?”

“Oh, come on,” you sang, tilting your head to the side. Jungkook settled his gaze on the party, eyes scanning the room with, you now notice, anticipation. “Kookie, don't do that to yourself.”

After another swig of his drink he twisted around to face the bar and smirked. “Promise I’m not a masochist… Even though he’s already got a song.”

“Hon-naaay!” Jimin’s high pitched, full of energy, singsongy voice flooded the air. Jungkook shot you a look over his shoulder as you pouted your lips at the same time.

Shooting your best smile at a now blonde Jimin you opened your arms, ready for him to fall into them dramatically as he would, but he stopped short. His own smile faded on his lips, to something soft while he looked you over, and it was like you could see the gears turning in his head. He held a glass of champagne in a Golden glass in one hand and the other found sanctuary on his hip.

“Hi, pretty,” you said in a voice you would use while talking to Dae. Jimin didn’t crack, he was honed in on you. Dropping your arms, letting them fold over your chest, you tilted your head to the side in question, though you weren’t sure you wanted, or were ready, for him to respond.

In touch with his femininity a thousand times more than the others, the way his eyes scanned over you flipped your stomach. Jimin, like a woman, moved through his day to day like he was in touch with the moon, being guided through life by the space being without even knowing so. He made it through his days subconsciously following the twenty-eight day cycle a woman's subconsciousness was wired to.

He figured you out with one look.

Taking you in his arms tight, his head laying on top of yours, he sucked in a breath and released it with his words. “Hi, pretty.” Leaning back a bit, your lips parted to say something, but Jimin took a finger to your jaw to shut it. Then, he tapped your closed lips once and shook his head gently. He didn’t need the words.

“Taehyung not attached to you?” Namjoon asked, sipping his glass with composure, his curious eyes flickering over to Jungkook a couple times.

Jimin pulled away from you and shrugged. “He was, he probably found something better.”

You weren’t positive, but you’re certain Jungkook mumbled, “Impossible,” under his breath.

“Sunny came with me,” you spoke up quickly to muffle anything else that would come out of the boy's mouth whether or not he had intentions of anyone hearing him. “He might be with her.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Mmm,” he hummed, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, she was hanging around Mingyu last time I passed her.” The name spewed confidently from his mouth, a subtle look of shock something you all shared, even Jungkook.

“Tell her she won’t have any luck,” Jungkook grumbled, having not turned away from the bar once. He hasn’t looked at Jimin since he arrived over here.

Swatting your hand at his shoulder with disappointment, Jimin gave him a somber look, the empath in him you knew was hurting too. Namjoon watched the scene ensue peacefully, waiting patiently for his moment to step in, if needed. They haven’t been a proper group for months, but that didn’t mean those dynamics were erased.

“Sunny is dating somebody, Kookie,” you said. “You know that. She wouldn’t ever hurt him.”

“Jin,” Jungkook said, finally turning around. “We can say his name. Jin. They may hate talking about it, but we can. Besides, he’s been away for so long now, bet she misses him. Not surprised she’d go for the biggest guy in the room.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon chimed in, his glare one you never wanted to be on the receiving end of. The rest of the youngests second glass, that you’ve been around for, went down easy.

“I’m just saying,” he laughed to himself.

Both you and Jimin watched him in shock. Words like that, implying what he was implying, have never come out of Jungkook, nor has he ever thought them up before. The implication that Sunny would be untrue to Jin, that one’s partner being away for an extended period of time meant that everyone acquired, or wanted to act upon these thoughts.

“What does that say about me?” you asked, looking up at him, remembering the days of when he was a mere few inches taller than you.

“What are you talking about?” he shrugged sloppily. You could feel Jimin’s gaze watching you.

“I’ve spent more time away from Yoongi our entire relationship than Sunny has from Jin in the last year or so,” you said. “And I’m about to do it for another two-ish years.” Jungkook was silent. “In fact, until Jin comes back next summer, I’ll be without all of you. So, pick someone for me, Jungkook.” The boy didn’t move. “If we’re comparing sizes, who’ve you got?” A quick glance at Jimin. “Taemin?” A quick glance at Jungkook. “Jay?”

“From Enhypen?” Namjoon chimed in again. Cringing, you looked at him for a second.

“He’s a baby, nevermind,” you muttered.

“He’s also like, six feet tall,” Namjoon chuckled.

“Oh, I know,” you tapped Jungkook’s white jacket, “Your Seventeen boy can hook me up, it’s Jeonghan right? Always has longer hair? Think he’ll be into me?” Jimin held in a laugh, turning to keep it hidden. Jungkook sighed. “I’m married, I got one kid and another on the way, let’s see how well he plays daddy, huh?”

“Okay, I get it,” Jungkook breathed.

“Jeonghan’s got that broodiness about him, right Joon?” Glancing over your shoulder, the eldest in the vicinity nodded without entertaining you with a smile. “He’ll fulfill the stereotype, it’s perfect! Dae might not even notice it’s-“

“Okay!” Jungkook turned up the volume, a couple party goers looking his way as they passed by. “I’m sorry! Jesus Christ, Honey.”

Pressing your lips together you smoothed a hand over his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, leaning in toward him. “I get you’re hurting,” you said just for him to hear. “But you keep bleeding onto everybody else, and that’s not fair. I love you, but saying stuff like that will only hurt others. Imagine if Jin heard that. He’s been in love almost as long as you, Kookie.”

The way he looked at you put a knife through your heart. “How do I fix it?”

“A lot has changed in the last year and a half. Really fast, too.” Wrapping your arm around his, you held him close. “We’re all adjusting in our own way, it’s a really weird place to be in. I mean… I have to go home with Jeonghan now.” He cracked a laugh, thankfully.

“You guys would pair up nicely.”

“Kookie, hush,” you laughed, shaking his arm. “You’re both about to go through a bigger change, together. Even if you can’t be… together, at least you can be together.” You squinted, hoping any of that made sense to the twenty-six year old.

He started to nod, easing some of the tension settling within your chest. “I get it.” He looked at Jimin briefly, who had taken a spot beside Namjoon, the two whispering about who knows what, and you wonder if it’s related to what you’re talking about now. “I’ll be with him most of the time too, until we get to Hobi, so…”

Your eyes widened as his did. “Hobi,” you both groaned together, falling into giggles shortly after.

“You’re really gonna need each other if you have to deal with him,” you said. “He’s a drill sergeant in rehearsals, good luck with him in the military!” Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head with a laugh. “I only wish you guys would get to see more of Yoongi,” you said after a breath.

Jungkook met your eyes, then his gaze traveled to the party behind you, a small smile pricking on his lips. “We’ll still get to see him, Honey.”

Toying with a zipper on his jacket you shrugged and took a deep breath. “I know, but I mean… I wish he got to be with you guys the whole time. He was worried about…” Looking up at him you paused, pressed your lips together with a smile, then shook your head. “Nevermind.”

Jungkook didn’t push on the matter, instead he bobbed his head in understanding and then ushered you to turn around in his arms. “Surprise.”

If your heart had the possibility to burst into flames, it would’ve. Swelling within your chest, your heart rate skyrocketing beyond belief, you didn’t even have the means to gasp in utter shock. Frozen where you stood, Jungkook's hands slipping off your shoulders, the three falling into quiet giggles, you couldn’t process any of it.

Dressed in all black, down to the thick knitted beanie on top of his head and the sneakers on his feet, Yoongi, with Taehyung's arm linked in his, had the tiniest smile on his lips as he came toward you.

“I come bearing gifts!” Taehyung cheered, giving Yoongi a small push closer to you.

Words escaped you, your mind unable to string any letters together to say something to him. Instead, you tipped your head backward and burst into tears.

A laugh slipped past his lips. He knew that was coming. Following your lead, he waited for you, and when you opened your arms he fell right in, scooping you off the floor, burying his face in your neck.

“Hey! Careful, she’s frag-…” Jungkook’s voice tapered off quickly, his focus landing elsewhere, his lips pursed nonchalantly.

His words barely registered with either of you. There was very little anyone could say or do in this moment that would take away from the man you held in your arms.

Back on your feet you wasted little time, wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close into a kiss, one long and entirely overdue.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

Yoongi’s gaze ate away at your face, his eyes studying you completely. “I wanted a drink,” he shrugged, and you smacked his chest with your hands, a smile corrupting you. He smirked. “Came to see my girl,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Don’t tell Jungkook.”

“He knows,” the youngest said from behind you. Yoongi laughed, and your heart was squeezed between your lungs, the beautiful sound warming your skin.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, you couldn’t believe that he was standing here in front of you, holding you, kissing you, smiling at you. It’d been a month and twelve days since you last saw him, since he held your daughter, and that thought fueled the tears that fell.

A month and twelve days has happened before, unfortunately a couple more days longer than this, but it made that reunion all the more sweeter. Of course that was before Dae, before marriage, so it didn’t cut as deep, but it was still hard. Holding onto him now, knowing your daughter was snug at home in the house you built together, unsure if whether or not he was able to come see her, you felt the need to squeeze him tighter, like your grip around him would keep him stuck here forever, and they’d never be able to take him again.

Wiping the tears off of your cheeks with his thumbs, he kissed the tip of your nose and tried to twist you in his arms so you could both face your friends, but you wouldn’t budge. Laying your head on his chest as he tried to move, you heard him huff a laugh toward you trying to occupy the same space as him.

Your subconscious was screaming at you. The inner workings of your natural biology, your primal instincts if you will, were firing off like crazy, keeping you latched onto him. You needed him. And not in the way one would assume.

You needed his attention. You needed his care. You needed his protection, his energy, his love, his support.

Most reunions looked something like this, you and Yoongi unable to take your hands off one another, but this one was different. You were clingy, nearly shutting off your brain entirely because he was in the room and you didn’t need to do any of the thinking. The party became a distant noise to you, something you weren’t even worried about anymore, same for your friends behind you.

You felt Yoongi looking down at you, and when you tipped your chin up to meet his knowing gaze, the way you bat your eyelashes had him whisking you away to someplace quiet, a different room vacant of all people. He found a couch in the dimly lit room, a sitting area formed in front of a smaller, empty bar. Sitting you beside him, he smiled as you tried to crawl into his lap.

“Hi,” he whispered in the quiet, brushing his fingers over your cheek. Your arms found their way around his neck again.

Your gaze danced about his face, taking in every inch, every little imperfection, memorizing more so than you already have. “Hi,” you whispered back. The two of you watched one another for a minute, the music from the main party room thumping against the walls, laughter and happy chatter ringing just below it. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said without missing a beat. “Dae’s not here, right?”

Gulping, you nodded. “She’s at home,” you mumbled. “Can you come see her?”

Yoongi flattened his lips. “I dunno.”

Your grip around him tightened. “S’okay,” you tried to smile. “She asks for you everyday.” Tears welled in his eyes, ones he blinked away. “When we’re not listening to 3D she asks for your songs.”

“3D,” Yoongi groaned, rolling his head back against your arms. “Still?”

“Still,” you deadpanned, and once he caught a look at you, you both broke into a laugh. “I gave him a talk, don’t worry.”

Yoongi sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing gets through his head now, Park scrambled it all up.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “They’ll be okay, though. I hope.”

Yoongi’s nod was solemn before he drug a finger beneath your jaw. “How ‘bout you? You okay?” The bad electricity sparkled in your veins, enough of a twinge to make you shift on his lap.

“I’m okay,” you said without an ounce of confidence. His smile was slick, his fingers dragging down the side of your neck now.

“Why you gonna lie?”

“I’m not,” your half shrug didn’t convince him.

Narrowing his eyes, his gaze somehow softened at the same time. “Honey,” he crooned, his voice like velvet. “Talk to me.”

“I’m…” You were hesitant, cutting yourself short right when the words were about to tumble out of you full force. He waited patiently. Swallowing the lump that lodged in your throat, hoping to ease the nausea that started to fester within you, you nodded, small, and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

His expression didn’t change, didn’t falter, didn’t exhibit any signs of any other emotion other than patience. He only managed to whisper, “Yes you are.”

Your brows plummeted. “Who opened their mouth?”

Yoongi massaged the back of your neck with his fingers, sighing. “No one, Honey, it’s just…” he glanced between you, gesturing to how close you were to him. “You only get like this when you’re carrying one of my kids.”

Blinking, you purse your lips. “Do not.”

He laughed, bobbing his head. “Do to, it’s happened twice before.”

The words turned your skin to ice, Yoongi taking note of the utter fear that washed over you. Sliding his hand over the back of your head, he laid you on his shoulder, pressing his cheek to your forehead, taking a long deep breath. For a few minutes you both relished in the quiet, admiring the party from afar, the touch of one another enough to clearly communicate what you were both feeling.

Nobody knew what had happened in detail aside from Sunny and the boys. Branson knew bits and pieces, he was around for that week, helping to take care of Dae and the house if nobody else was able to. Not one of them talked about it. Even if you were to bring it up somehow, they didn’t linger on the topic long. It was for you and Yoongi to discuss, to share, to have. He was your son, you were the only two to ever know him.

“You don’t wanna know what I’ve thought about already,” you said. Yoongi gave your head a gentle scratch.

“Probably the same things I’m thinking right now,” he whispered. Looking up at him, his face still radiated patience, a calmness that radiated to you, though you could see the worries spinning inside his head. Curious about it all, you know you might not need to hear it. The one thought that gutted you both… He wouldn’t be here this time. “Mother fucker,” he mumbled, shifting his focus to you.

“Let me hear it,” you said.

“No, it’s just…” He collected his thoughts for a second, a laugh escaping him. “How is it this possible that we’ve got such… exquisite timing?!” He started to make you laugh. “You’d think by thirty we’d have it figured out, right? What’s wrong with us, babe!” Giggles galore. “At twenty-seven, the proposal planned, did it happen? Nope! Global pandemic and major surgery. Twenty-eight, my third album almost done, your projects lined up waiting for you, did they happen? Nope! We had a baby instead. Twenty-nine… You somehow say yes to marrying me. I think, finally, we’ll plan the wedding of your dreams. Did it happen?”

“Yes,” you chimed in, watching him in awe. He shot you a small smile with a wink.

“Thanks for that,” he breathed. “But, then the hiatus came, and the lawyers for the restraining order, and Dae turned one, and you were pregnant again, and I knew the announcement was coming after the Busan show, and…”

“And then we got married,” you said, sitting up to hold his face between your hands, delicately dancing your thumbs over his cheeks. “Saturday, November fifth. The most perfect day that happened a year ago, tomorrow.” He smiled, his cheeks squishing in your grip. “The trees were yellow, and orange, and bright and beautiful. The breeze held off until we finally kissed, making sure our guests were warmed by the sun before Autumn made an appearance.”

“Dae pulled the bow out of her hair during our vows,” he said, and you both laughed.

“She is her mothers daughter,” you raised your eyebrows with pride. “I warned Sunny, I really did.” His smile settled, eyes gleaming with a sappiness that tugged at your tears. “It was the most wonderful day, D. Everyone was there, even your little boy.” A sudden breath shot through you. “Then, yanno, Jin left, and we had a month or so to pull ourselves together before I was thrown to the wolves.”

“It wasn’t enough time,” he muttered, and you nodded.

“I agree,” you whispered. “But, we made it. And after Hobi left we went on tour, and fuck, D, talk about the most amazing three months.”

“That really was the best,” he grinned. “Having you both there with me, jeez.” A happy roll of his eyes made you smile back at him.

“Dae had more fun than either of us,” you scoffed.

“She sure did,” Yoongi said. “Remember the show Hope and Jin came to?”

“Of course I do,” you said. “That was the last one.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, a longing look spreading to his eyes. Questioning him with a small sound, he smirked. “It’s just… that show, that night… I thought, this is it. Thirty years of my life and I’ve got everything I’ve always dreamed of, everything I’ve always wanted, everything I could possibly need. You, Dae, the boys, Army… You.”

The tears were falling now, you could feel them.

“After everything we’ve been through, all that life has thrown at us- no, catapulted at us,” you both shared a laugh, “Onstage, I couldn’t help but realize, and recognize… Holy shit, we made it.” He wiped your tears, kissing your cheek. “And, I don’t give a fuck, Honey, we’ll make it again. And again. And again, goddammit. Unbelievably bad, shitty, fucked up timing is who we are. Since the start. July sixteenth, twenty fifteen.”

“A New York curb,” you whispered.

Yoongi beamed. “A dangerous New York curb,” he snickered. “Making people fall in love and shit?” A laugh came out of you within a breath, only Yoongi able to make you laugh and cry at the same time.

“Namjoon said something earlier,” you sniffled, taking his hands within your own. “Like what you just said, how the timing isn’t ideal, but that’s who we are. That this is right on point.”

Yoongi let your words sink in, let his leader's words sink in, comforting him the same way they did you. “He’s right. He’s always right.”

“Unfortunately,” you joked and he cackled. “The only thing that’s keeping me from going totally insane is knowing that by June Jin will be here. Regardless of what schedules he’ll be involved with, if any, he’ll be here. Accessible.”

“That makes me feel better, too,” he sighed, then licked his lips. “How… How far are you? Do you know? When did you find out?” The questions tumbled out of him at lightning speed, each answer you had for him getting lost between each one.

After a giggle, you said, “October eleventh, I found out. Dae was dancing around our room, she left me to do it all alone, the stinker. 3D is more important to her, I guess.” Yoongi scoffed. “I wasn’t feeling so good, thought it was just leftover nerves after you leaving, thought I was late for the same reasons, but when I checked I was really late, so I took the test just to be safe. There were no hopes up or anything, no nerves because I really didn’t think it’d be positive…”

Yoongi listened with intent. “Didn’t think it would be, or didn’t want it to be?” He asked you genuinely, no discomfort wrapped around the question at all.

“I kept thinking… if this is positive, then what the actual hell am I going to do?” He nodded, his hands holding you carefully. “We didn’t say what we’d do, because we didn’t think this would happen. D, we need to start putting together plans ‘cause at this point I’m starting to think you could sneeze on me and I’d get pregnant, and if timing isn’t our thing then we need to be prepared for it all.”

Swiping his thumb over your lips he smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?” Giving you the smallest kiss, he said, “We could plan out every last little detail, babe, and I can ensure you, somehow, someway, the universe would laugh in our faces. Loud.”

He was right. Even on the day of your wedding, the most planned out day of your life, things went askew. The birth of your daughter didn’t go to plan, that entire fiasco turned into a legitimate emergency. You could have every detail splayed out, even the fine writing between the lines, and life would find a way to toss the cue cards in the air, laughing as it did.

“This is a blessing,” Yoongi said, his voice shifting to something soft. “And, entirely on time for us, as fucked as that may sound.”

“It does make sense, doesn’t it,” you agreed. Sitting here with him, reviewing your lives, this brand new little one seemed to fit right into the insanity. The tiniest spark of hope ignited inside of you, one that you were nervous to share with your husband, but you were certain that he could feel it too.

You both wanted a second child, you wanted Dae to have a sibling, a sister or a brother. The two of you realized during your first pregnancy and throughout Dae’s first year of life that you wanted multiple, more than two. However, after the last year you were content with just one more. If there were anymore to follow, so be it, but this second one was a must.

Deep within both of you you knew that this child would be your third, and that would be something you held close to your heart for the rest of your lives, letting Dae and your future children know that they once had a brother who loved them too much that he had to find solace within the clouds, so he could watch over and protect his family.

Yoongi nodded, slowly, knowing exactly what was going through your mind. As a tear slipped down his cheek he threw his arms around you and rocked side to side, pressing a hundred kisses to your shoulder. His lips traveled up your neck, making you giggle, until they found your lips, kissing you slowly, drinking this moment up, the both of you wishing you could drown in it.

“An August baby,” Yoongi whispered, pulling from you with a breath. You smiled.

“An August baby,” you repeated. “The end of summer’s gonna get real busy for us.” Yoongi’s smile grew, it grew so big he had to laugh.

“Oh my god,” he exhaled, his words barely audible. He kissed you, and then he kissed you again. “I love you so much.”

Letting your hand fall down to his left shoulder, you gave him the gentlest squeeze, and smiled. “I love you too, D.”

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lovebugism · 1 year

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hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but can you do something smutty with steve in season 3 w his scoops ahoy uniform on after he gets home from work or something🙏🏼🙏🏼

like sub!babygirl!steve is so 🤤🤤😽😽 and a

dom!femreader 🫶❤️❤️ AND OMG HE HAS A MOMMY KINK😧😧 I BEG OF YOU

✶ ┄ OH, BABY !

summary: after a long day at work, steve harrington needs someone (*cough cough* you) to take care of him. pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: sub!steve, brief use of a mommy kink, r calls steve daddy like twice i think, mention of a breeding kink, 18+ mdni (ignore any typos, i am way too tired to proofread <3) a/n: hi, it's me again, turning a blurb request into a full length fic. also i can't stop writing for sub steve apparently. all i can say is baby girl is baby girlin real hard in this one lol thanks so much for your request! enjoy xoxo

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

It’s sunset by the time his shift at Scoops concludes. He serves the last few remaining customers while Robin less than kindly ushers out the loitering teenagers that have stuck around all day.

A group of moms clad in vividly colored spandex tells him “we’re being bad today” like some sort of mantra that makes them feel better about ordering plain vanilla ice cream. Some middle school aged girls with a mouthful of braces, crimped hair in pigtails, and absolutely wreaking of fruity perfume and daddy’s money try helplessly to flirt with him while they use a matte black card to purchase a banana boat sundae.

His last customers of the night are an old married couple, all gray and wrinkly and smiling like life’s still so new to them. They order one strawberry cone to share between them and hold onto each other’s shaking, frail hands as they make their exit.

Steve smiles as he watches them go. He sees a lot of you and him in them. He hopes by the time you both are all old and brittle, you’ll still be happy like that, still so in love.

Working in the downstairs abyss of Starcourt makes him feel crazy sometimes. With no windows and only manufactured fluorescent lighting for ten hours straight, it makes time feel less and less real.

Sometimes he’ll be in before sun out and cower like some sort of vampire when his shift is over. Other times, he’ll come out when it’s pouring down rain and be absolutely baffled at the sight of it because it was perfectly sunny when his shift started.

Everything else but ice cream all but ceases to exist in the hole of Scoops Ahoy — weather, time, life.

Even though it’s closing when he leaves, Steve doesn’t realize how dark it’s gotten outside until he’s walking through the desolate parking lot to his car. The bustling mall has fallen asleep with the rest of the town. The sky has long turned to a navy velvet, the stars and full moon bright white silk.

It makes his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier as his tired bones ache for rest.

Steve makes the longer drive out to the cabin rather than his own home to see you. Hopper’s out for some conference which means El gets to spend every ounce of her time at the Wheeler’s and you and Steve get to play house.

He doesn’t bother to knock before he comes in. He shuffles through the entrance like his feet are made of lead and leans his weight against the door after he clicks it closed.

The sound of his arrival gets your attention from where you scurry around the kitchen. A smile pulls slowly at your face as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, placing a cover over a pot of something that smells like your infamous chicken alfredo.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greet with a beam and a sort of sunshine in your voice that Steve’s been missing all day.

His body relaxes for the first time since he got up this morning at the sight of you, freshly showered and in your pajamas for the night — an oversized t-shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you before, because it used to be his.

You look more like home than any four walls could ever be to him.

Steve tries his best to give you a smile in return, but it’s weighed down by fatigue and not all there.

You can see it all over him, every ounce of exhaustion on his lax and tired features. Slinging ice cream for less than grateful customers for ten hours straight has taken an obvious toll on him. The bright blue sailor’s uniform makes him look more boyish, but no less tired — or hot.

Your heart swells at how cozy he looks, fatigued and warmed and in dire need of being taken care of. It makes you glad that you started dinner earlier than normal, even happier that you’ve got the house to yourselves.

You exit the kitchen and walk the short distance to him, taking his scruffy cheeks in your palms and rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Hard day?” you wonder softly and smile to himself when you feel Steve nestle further into your touch.

The boy hums lowly in reply — neither a yes or a no, but a short hmph that means he doesn’t want to talk about it now. He doesn’t like thinking about work when you’re in his arms and all over him. He’d rather pretend like you’re the only thing that exists and let the rest of the world slip slowly away.

He turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrists. You smell like lavender, he finds, and it makes him that much more tired and needy for you.

His hands settle on your arms, fingers wrapping themselves just below your wrists. “Just tired,” he answers finally. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I’m assuming,” you quip with a smile. Your hands drag from his face, down the tense columns of his neck, and settle at the white lapel of his uniform. Steve lets you pull him down by his red neckerchief until his lips press against yours, the pillows of them far cozier than the bed and blanket he so craves right now.

He grows somehow heavier against you. He exhales deeply through his nose as his aching muscles start to relax, the warmth of it brushes against your cupid’s bow. His hands fall to your back and ball into your shirt as he clutches so ardently onto you, as though terrified he might have to go another agonizing ten hours without you.

Your smile contorts against his mouth. A laugh exhales sharply through your nose at this tired boy, exhausted and too willing to let you swallow him whole.

As much as you want to take care of you him, you want him to get a little food in his belly and fresh clothes on his skin.

He’s got freshly laundered cottons sitting in a drawer you cleaned out in your room especially for him and a pot of his favorite food simmering on the stove. He’ll be golden in an hour or more and you’ll happily take care of him then.

Steve whines when you pull away from him. The pathetic sound bubbles from his throat and his face screws up like you’ve actually pained him by not kissing him more. He ducks down, looming over you, as his lips chase yours.

You giggle at him, letting him kiss you — one, two, three quick pecks and a fourth sweeter, more drawn-out one he presses against you as the two of you stumble back into the living room.

“You need to eat first, okay?” you protest when you part from him again, lips clicking wetly as they separate. “You probably haven’t had anything all day.”

“I had half a banana in the break room at lunch,” he retorts, half-heartedly.

“Exactly,” you scold. “Go get changed and then we can eat, ‘kay?”

“If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could’ve just said.”

You roll your eyes at him and how he’s still so sly despite being so damn tired. You push playfully against his chest and squirm out from under where he’d cornered you between his body and the back of the couch. “You smell like a sundae and cheap cologne—”

“Blame those assholes from Abercrombie.”

“—hit the showers, Harrington,” you tell him with a playful sternness, swatting him on the ass as you pass by him.

The action stopped surprising him a long time ago. He’d complained relentlessly about corporate and the stupid outfit they made him wear to work every morning until he realized how much you liked it.

After that, Steve figured he could put up with the itching and the chaffing and the weird stares from other mall-goers. As long as it meant you being unable to keep your hands off of him, dropping to your knees in front of him before he left for work, visiting him at lunch because you just had to see him again.

“You comin’ too, or…?” he jokes in reply, already inching towards the bathroom, but secretly hoping you’ll say yes.

You refuse to amuse him, though, and instead tell him that you have to keep stirring the pasta so it won’t burn. He’s too tired and too excited to wash all the muck of the long workday from his body to beg.

You knew just what he needed — like you always do. He’s as good as gold by the time he gets out of the shower, smelling of your shampoo and practically glittering at how good he feels.

His skin gets to breathe for the first time all day when he slips on a pair of boxers and a faded forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. They’re freshly washed. He can tell by how soft they feel and the way they smell of fresh detergent.

It makes his heart swell.

While he’s been slinging ice cream and questioning all of his life choices, you’ve been washing his clothes, folding them and putting the in their own drawer in your dresser. You’ve been cooking him his favorite dinner, knowing he hasn’t eaten all day, because you know everything about him.

You do it all because you love him. You don’t have to think twice about it before you so effortlessly take care of him.

He swears you’ll feed him if he begs hard enough, but Steve hasn’t reached that level of tiredness yet. He does, however, force you to sit halfway in his lap while the both of you opt to eat on the couch in the living room rather than the kitchen table.

A repeat of Miami Vice plays on the tiny television across the room and you tell him about what you’d done on your day off in between shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth with your legs slung into his lap.

Most of it was spent taking care of chores, a feat made harder without Hopper and El to take on the extra workloads but easier because their absence meant less shit to get done.

You drove Dustin and Lucas to the Wheeler’s house later that morning, then doubled back across Hawkins when Max called and all but begged you to free her from the hellscape on Cherry Lane, as she so lovingly put it. You picked her up and dropped her off with the rest of her friends.

And even though they all swore they had rides back home, they’d called again some hours later and asked too sweetly if you could take them back across town.

You complain and grumble about it, but you do it for them anyway.

Because you take care of people. That’s just what you do.

“So you were a personal chauffeur for a bunch of kids all day?” Steve jokes and laughs to himself as he swipes a smudge of alfredo sauce from your chin with his thumb

“Basically,” you nod in reply.

When that’s all done — and the episode is over and the dishes are in the sink and your teeth are freshly brushed — you tell Steve to get into bed, and then to get his head out of the gutter at the look he gives you after.

He’s pleasantly surprised when you bring a whole basket of things from the bathroom and into your bedroom. He watches silently, obediently, as you light a candle on the far side of the room before climbing into bed beside him.

“Scoot down a little,” you tell him. “And take off your shirt.”

He does it all without question. He rises, strips himself of his top, and tosses the thing mindlessly on the floor beside the bed. With his lean torso and bare chest on display, spotted with tufts of chestnut-colored hair and smelling of your body wash, he lazes back onto the bed again with his head on the pillows.

Steve holds his breathe when you straddle his chest.

“Comfy?” you ask him quietly.

He can only nod in response.

His eyes are wide, twinkling with love and curiosity. It makes you smile. He’s always so soft in his way, so compliant with you — and, fuck, if you don’t love how he looks when he’s underneath you.

You lean down to press a chaste kiss to the chiseled tip of his nose then reach for one of the many bottles stacked inside the wicker basket. You drip the rose-scented liquid onto a cottonpad and tell him that it’s cleanser.

“I thought I was already clean?” he retorts.

“Well, this shit is gonna make ya glow like a baby, Harrington,” you tell him and swipe the stuff up and down his face — across his forehead, along his nose, and around his stubbly jaw. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re a baby,” you quip once, then smile lovingly down at him. “My baby,” you correct.

“Damn straight,” he hums with a soft smile, then shuts his eyes when you trade the cleanser for what you call a liquid exfoliator. He doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t say much of anything really, because he’s enamored with the way you dote on him.

Your day has been just as busy as his, maybe not as mind-numbing, but still busy. You’ve been bouncing all across town, trying to make sure a bunch of kids weren’t putting themselves in total danger — Steve knows firsthand how hard that can be.

And yet, you keep caring for him, like it’s more important than how tired you must be.

The way you’ve settled on top of him is just a bonus. It’s not as domineering as you usually are in this position, straddling your legs over him and forcing his face between your legs with your fingers tangled in his hair. He wouldn’t have minded if that’s what you’d done in the first place. He would’ve thanked you for it, really.

It’s comforting more than it is anything, the subtle weight of you on top of him, keeping him grounded.

You rub something that feels like lotion into his skin. The tips of your fingers massage his face — they dig softly into his temples, relieving all the strain there, then trace around his curve of his jaw. Steve sighs and melts into your touch. It makes you laugh.

“Look at you,” you giggle, all soft like the moonlight streaming in rays from the windows. Then you tease him. “My baby’s gettin’ all pampered tonight, huh?”

“That stuff smells really good,” he notes. “Think it’s safe enough to taste?”

You know he’s joking, but you flick him in the center of his freshly moisturized forehead anyway, when his tongue darts out the side of his mouth to lick around his lips.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scold with a laugh. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to have a kid if you keep acting like one, Steve Harrington.”

The boy's eyes fly open. “…A kid?” he repeats in something short of a whisper.

You only hum in reply with a little shrug like you’re trying to play it all off. Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him and left him to pick up the pieces. Like it isn't the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life (even though you are sort of making fun of him).

“You want a kid with me?” he presses, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“‘Course I do,” you shrug again, focusing on capping the moisturizer and putting it away rather than meeting his intense gaze. “Want anything and everything with you, Stevie.”

The boy doesn’t bother to hide the grin your words put on his face. He’s all but beaming from where he lays beneath you, trying to make sure he’s still breathing because his heart has started to flutter something fierce.

It was something the two of you only ever talked about in passing — usually him bringing up the idea of having kids and you swatting them all down.

“We’re too young,” you tell him. “We’re too broke”, “we’re too dumb.” The occasional “my dad is literally in the next room, he’ll kill you if he hears you talking like that” shuts him up real quick.

But here you are now, telling him you want a baby with him, that you want everything with him. It drives him absolutely insane.

“Yeah?” he hums in response, idle hands rising and settling upon your bare thighs, rubbing at the smooth skin there, petting you almost. The room gets suddenly and unbearably hot with the look he gives you, innocent and knowing and hungry.

You feel him shift from underneath you, the hardening cock in his boxers making it hard to stay as comfortable as he had been.

“You wanna be a mommy, honey?” he all but coos. “Wanna take care of our kids like you take care of me?”

Though his words set a fire in the pit of your stomach, the tone of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s like flipping a light switch when it comes to Steve. It takes next to nothing to turn him into a puddle of mush.

He’s always raring to go when it comes to you, and you’d be lying if you said it was totally invigorating.

“What happened to my sweet, sleepy, baby Stevie, huh?” you tease, hands leaving his face to caress the ones he’s got resting on your thighs. “Thought you were too tired?”

He shakes his head defiantly. “Never too tired for you.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you scold with bubbly laughter when you feel his large hands trail up your legs. His finger falls beneath your shirt, the tips of them sneaking into the rounded hems of your underwear, all but cupping your ass to drag you further up his chest.

He’s practically salivating at the mere thought of tasting you. Of knowing that the only thing separating you from him is a couple of inches and the thin fabric of your underwear.

He knows that when he slides them to the side, you’ll be wet and needing him underneath, slick enough for his tongue to slip right in.

And, truth be told, oral sex wasn’t the easiest when you weren’t alone. It was too precarious of a position. If Hopper knocked on the door and barged in hardly a moment later, you needed to break away quickly.

So when your dad and little sister were home, it was easier to use your hands to get each other off. And, maybe, if Steve was real good, you’d let him fuck you.

But his mouth on you? There wasn’t enough good he could be for you to let him do that, not when your father was on the other side of the door in the living room. Because you’re pretty sure death would be easier than your dad catching Steve Harrington giving cunnilingus to his daughter. You’re pretty sure you’d die on the spot, anyway.

But Hopper is miles away. Your sister is on the other side of town. And you’re alone with your boyfriend, hidden away in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It’s the perfect recipe for the best sex of your life.

“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs, pressing kisses to the inner parts of your thigh when he settles you more intently over his shoulders. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” you croon. From below you, the boy notes the arched brow and knowing glint in your eye that usually means trouble. “Daddy wants to make mommy feel good, huh?”

Steve knows exactly why you said it. Why you chose to say it like that. It’s the same reason you brought up the kid thing in the first place. Because you knew it would drive him crazy.

And it’s not like you ever had to try to make him mental, all you really had to do was walk into a room and he was done for. But you didn’t just want to just make him go insane, you wanted to ruin him.

And you know you’ve done just that when a groan spills from his mouth and two strong hands dig rather ruthlessly into your hips. He pulls you down without warning, pressing your clothed pussy closer to his face and dragging his nose between your covered lips. A moan leaves your mouth in a heavy exhale when the tip of it nudges your clit.

“Like being called daddy, huh?” you tease through bated breaths.

Steve nods in reply as he hooks a finger through the hem of your panties and slides them to the side, putting your pretty, glistening pussy on display for him.

He was right about what he said before — you were soaked.

All but drunk on the sight of you, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh. “Like the other thing, too,” he mumbles against your skin, like he’s hiding himself there.

“The other thing?” you question with pinched brows. The confusion ebbs like a rolling tide as you realize: “Oh. You wanna call me mommy, Stevie?” you ask with a joking lilt.

“Shut up,” he groans against you.

He’s pleasantly surprised when your hand grabs the strands of his hair like reigns, pulling him back just before he puts his mouth on your pussy. He’s even more stunned at the stern expression taking over your features, not nearly as playful as you’d been moments before.

Suddenly you’re ten feet tall, and he’s nothing more than an ant, at the mercy of your boot.

“That’s no way to talk to your mommy, is it, Stevie?”

He shakes his head with glazed over eyes. “Sorry.”

“Sorry… what?”

There is an underlying tone in your voice, something teasing and yet somehow serious all at once. It’d make him roll his eyes if he weren’t lying beneath you like this. Now, with your pussy mere inches from his face, he isn’t quite sure how to be anything but obedient.

“Sorry, mommy,” he corrects.

A flip switches and you’re smiling again. “Good boy,” you praise and it makes his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. Your hand guides him to your pussy again.

Steve’s always been good at oral. A little too good, actually. It made you jealous sometimes, to know that his technique has been perfected over years of experience.

“All the other girls were just practice for you, honey,” he’d soothe your seething rage with a wink and a tongue shoved deep into your cunt.

You believe him now, that every other girl was just an obstacle for him to get to you, because no one’s had him like this. No one will ever have him like this.

You’re the one who’s got him on his back with his mouth on your pussy. You’re the one who’s got him calling you mommy.

And it makes you feel like a fucking giant.

He wastes little time to envelope your cunt with his mouth. You feel the muffled grunt he lets out at the tangy and familiar taste of you. His tongue pushes into your cunt, licking you with the intent of devouring you entirely. His nose presses intently against your clit, prodding the little button as you ride his face. He encourages every thrust, guiding your hips up and down his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you whine and feel him smile drunkenly against your pussy, never ceasing his assault against your sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Your gaze settles on the ceiling, though you’re not exactly looking at it, and moans fall from your open mouth and into the heavy air — billowing laments in the moonlight.

“You make me feel so good,” you murmur to yourself, but to him especially, knowing he turns into a ticking time bomb when he’s praised. “Always make mommy feel so fucking good, baby.”

He groans against you, and it makes your hips twitch over his face.

Your head turns and your glazed over eyes fall on the hard cock trapped in his underwear. It’s more than apparent against the thin fabric with a wet patch of precum darkening the plaid cotton. The sight of it, paired with his lips wrapped around your clit, makes you moan most pitifully.

“Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “You’re gonna make me come. Holy shit, baby— gonna come so hard in your mouth.” The promise makes Steve double his efforts against you, wanting nothing more than to taste every drop you can give him. “I’ll ride you after, 'kay? Make you come so hard you can’t see straight. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.”

You figure his muffled whine is an affirmative.

“If you make me come now, maybe I’ll let you come inside me—”

You barely get to finish your sentence before Steve’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and keeping you pressed against his face. His tongue works overtime inside of your cunt, attentively flicking against every part of your velvet walls that it can reach, while his nose nudges your clit most relentlessly.

It has you reaching your climax within seconds, hips jerking against him while his hold on you tightens. Steve only lets you go when he’s certain you’ve ridden out every inch of your orgasm.

You’re shaking and half-numb when you unfold your body from his and settle next to him on the bed. You press yourself over him as your lips swallow his, tasting yourself on his mouth that glistens with you.

Your torso is splayed over his bare one, knees digging into the mattress at his side as you arch your back to push yourself further into him.

“Was that good for you?” he mutters after you’ve pulled away, sliding the tip of your nose up and down the bridge of his.

A laugh escapes you in a sharp scoff. If he couldn’t have felt how good it was for you — after you all but writhed against him — surely he must’ve tasted it dripping like honey from your cunt.

“It’s always good,” you assure him, then murmur more quietly, “Always so good for mommy.”

You keep the promise you’d made him no more than minutes beforehand. You pull down his boxers at the same time he’s trying to get you out of your shirt, and it’s just a mess of yearning limbs until the both of you are naked.

You rub yourself over his cock a few times, getting it all slick with you in the place of lube, because you know taking him is never an easy feat. The stretch of his dick inside you is always delicious but fuck if it doesn’t burn. It’s like fire in every sense of the word, hot and filthy paired with a distant ache.

Steve lets you set the pace as you get used to his length nestled deep inside your velvet. His hands rest compliantly on your hips as you grind against him, honeyed gaze fixed on your fucked out features as you take him — brows pinched, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Then, when every inch of him is snug in your cunt and your senses return to you, you deny him of his want to touch you. Your fingers wrap around his wrists and push them into the pillow on either side of his head. “Mommy didn’t say you could touch her, did she?” you purr to him as you lean over him. He shakes his head obediently, if only it meant that you kept fucking yourself on top of him.

And you do. Most ardently.

You keep your bare chest pressed against his fuzzy one, nose-to-nose as you slide your hips over his. And even though he’s had you like this before (in this position and many others), it feels brand new every time. It’s like he’s never felt you before despite how familiar you feel.

It triggers his body into a sense of fight of flight, as though frightened he’ll never get to have you again. It leaves him fucking you like it’ll be the last time he’s inside you, every fucking time.

It never is, though — obviously. Most times he only has to wait a couple minutes or more before he gets to take you again.

But now, with his hands balled into fists beside his head and your’s braced on his chest, digging into the patch of hair there as you rock back and forth on his hard cock — the tip of it nestled deep inside of you and hitting every sweet spot that makes you keen — has left him an absolute wreck beneath you.

He’s chasing his pleasure like he’s never felt it before. Like he won’t feel it again.

“Your cock feels so good, Stevie,” you moan above him.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby,” he mutters between harsh and labored pants.

“’S okay… I want you to come,” you promise and press a too sweet kiss to his swollen, pink lips. You move your hips more intently over him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out in something short of a whimper. His eyes are glassy and his brows are furrowed and it takes everything in him not to fuck up into you — because he wants to be good, he wants to be good for you.

“Yeah… Want you come in me… Fuck me until it takes,” you babble over top of him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to the whining boy beneath you. “Wanna give you a baby— fuck— I wanna make you a daddy, Stevie.”

A whine spills from his throat. His toes curl into the fabric of your comforter, eyes rolling back into his head, body tensing as he digs his fingers into the skin of his palms that still ache to touch you.

Your name spills from his mouth along with a string of curses and pretty little cries when he stuffs you full of his come.

You happily accept every load he shoots into you as work him through every aftershock of his orgasm. Yours doesn’t come so easy — you roll your hips over yourself and rub your clit until you’re twitching right along with him.

You come down from your highs together with a tender softness. You lay over him, one hand combing through his curls and the other stroking softly at his sweat-slicked bicep. You watch with heavy eyes as his orgasm rolls over him.

His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, stuttering when another pang of pleasure hits him all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he whines harshly into the heavy air.

He’s happy you don’t deny him when his arms wrap around your waist, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your slick back.

You press tiny kisses to his face as he comes down — his nose, his cheeks, his forehead his stubbly chin and jaw. You press one, two, three pecks to his lips before you slide off of him, then laugh when he whines.

You’re gone for hardly more than three minutes, but to Steve, it feels like an eternity’s gone by.

You return from the bathroom, wiped freshly clean, and blow out the nearly burnt-out candle on your dresser before you slither back into his side. One of his arms curls beneath your shoulders to pull you closer to him with his other rests on the back of yours that’s settled on his chest.

You share one pillow, noses inches away from one another’s, while you bask in the warm moment and the sex-coated air around you before you have to break it.

“You know I’m still on the pill, right?” you ask him.

He nods.

“And that we’re—”

“Way too young to have a kid right now?” he finishes for you, though the idea makes him sad. He nods.

“Yeah… And—”

“Too broke? I know that too.”

“Also my—”

“Your dad would kill me if I got you pregnant?”

It makes you laugh. You hadn’t realized you’d talked about having kids this many times — at least, not enough for him to memorize all the reasons why it’s not the best idea right now.

“Yeah, I know it’s not happening any time soon,” Steve says with a sigh. “I like to pretend, though. Plus, it’s not even about that to me, you know? I just… I just like being with you and… everything.”

Everything, you repeat to yourself. A word that means so much and nothing at all.

No one knows what everything means, they just know that it’s a lot, a whole lot. That’s what makes it so special. Steve wants it all with you — the overbearing dad, the sister with powers, the teenage kids who never let you have a single second to yourselves when they’re around.

It’s a lot sometimes, most times, but he’ll weather it all with you.

“You like being with me?” you echo just to see him nod.

He does. “I love being with you,” he corrects.

“Love calling me mommy, too, huh?”

He realizes then, the sincere moment was just a set-up for that stupid joke. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow, but makes no move to distance himself from you.

“Oh, my god,” he moans in annoyance. “Am I gonna have to deal with this the rest of my life?”

You nod. “Sorry, Harrington, but I’m never letting that shit go.”

Good, he thinks to himself, even though he pretends to hate it because it makes you laugh. He never wants you to stop.

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #st oneshots

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pigtailpoll · 11 months

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ROUND 7 PART 1

#sorano appare #sunny madison #appare-ranman #appare ranman #rainbow high #RH #pigtailpoll #pigtail poll #round 7 part 1

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tubborucho · 5 months

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Headcanon that you can always know who took care of Sunny last out of her parents after taking one look at her hair:

• If she was last with Pol, it’s not braided in any way, but it’s styled like she is a Hollywood star, because he maybe is not a professional movie stylist, but learned a trick or two about how to make your hair look red carpet good without a lot of effort. So she would probably had it properly brushed out, sometimes curled/ironed and maybe even hair sprayed.

• If she was with Lenay, her hair is either just brushed out or in cute ponytails. Lenay has never been into hair styling, she never does her own, but she makes sure that Sunny at least looks neat. They have fun with the wardrobe though.

• If she was with Tubbo, it’s either hit or miss. He took to heart teasing from her and others about not being able to dress and brush her and took it upon himself to learn how to style and braid hair. It doesn’t always go well, like that one time Tubbo somehow created such an imposible to brush out knot in Sunny’s hair in the process that the whole strand needed to be cut (Sunny didn’t talk to him for two days). But sometimes he actually manages to make a very intricate hairstyle that you would think it was done by a master.

• If she was with Slime, her hair is in two pigtails. No, neither of them are happy with that, but Sunny tolerates it for her dad, and Slime is going through it.

#liss writes posts #qsmp #qsmp tubbo #qsmp polispol #qsmp lenay #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp sunny

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bidisastersanji · 4 months

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Circus One Piece AU with sword swallower/knife thrower Zoro and tightrope walker/aerial act Sanji please and thank you

They (and the rest of the crew) grew up in the « Thousand Sunny » circus together:

Sanji’s adoptive dad, Zeff, is the circus cook who always tells a different, wild story about how he lost his leg (it often involves a lion, even though the circus doesn’t use animals in its show, despite its lion logo)

Zoro’s parents both died in an accident when he was young and his relatives (Shimotsuki) took him in. His childhood friend Kuina had an accident and is now a wheelchair user- she handles the circus social media and marketing with Nami

They both have had crushes on each other for years but don’t dare to fo anything because not only what if the other feels the same but what if it doesn’t work out and they have to leave their circus family- so instead they keep bickering and pigtail pulling

I think it’s common for circus performers to have many abilities but specializing in certain things so let’s just assume most of them are good at basic acrobatic/circus things

Sanji is an aerial artist (aerial silks, hoops etc) and tightrope walker and Zoro is good at sword swallowing, stage combat and knife throwing

A lot of the crew are orphans who were adopted into the circus family from many countries the circus has passed through, so they have little accents and have the best time celebrating everyone’s different traditions and holidays

Usopp is a magician, Vivi does diabolo, Franky a strongman, Robin does Trapeze, Luffy is known for his contortionist act but also does some clowning, Ace and Sabo do fire performances, Brook is their communal grandpa in charge of music, Jinbei is the cool dependable uncle in charge of setting everything up to regulation and navigating their caravan where Nami tells them to go

Although she does Chinese pole, Nami is growing up to be the person who’ll take over the circus management/strategy- she wants them to make bank and strategizes on what acts they do, innovative acts and staging they can do etc

Luffy’s dream is for their circus to be the best in the world - they’re already going around different countries but he wants a full international tour, eager to take over after his grandpa (ringmaster) passes it on to him

Chopper is the adoptive son of the troupe doctor (Kureha) who does some equestrian tricks (voltige) but mostly studies hard to be a doctor too. He’s still a kid but everyone is else is an adult

Sanji often gets really distracted by Zoro during practice times- their outfits are revealing and he’s so buff and like what else can he do with his mouth goddamn

He only once called Zoro a « sword swallower » when he was a (still closeted) teen to try and bully his friend/rival but Zoro just grinned at him and said « proudly » and Sanji almost died from that mental image and never used that insult again (he might have gotten a nosebleed)

Naturally Zoro is also dumbstruck by Sanji’s beauty and grace on the regular- and he often gets in trouble for watching Sanji’s act and almost missing cues

The gang always gets into so many shenanigans in every new city they travel to and they love each other so dearly

One day a video of Zoro practicing goes viral (because he’s hot and talented) and Sanji is definitely not responsible for a few dozen views on that video

Zoro always gets a little jealous and annoyed when he finds Sanji flirting with local girls

And that’s all the ideas I have for now! Please feel free to add to this!! I’d love to see what you guys would be fun to have in the circus AU

#zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fic idea #zosan au #one piece au #circus one piece au #one piece zosan #circus zosan au #aerialist!sanji

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

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isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable.

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned.

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied.

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read.

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology.

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents.

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door.

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed.

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction.

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing.

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften.

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert.

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity.

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom.

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

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