#i need something else as my nightly bedtime story now

[gifti3]

Hilda is so brave and so cringe.

[acid-ixx]

Planned Fanfics !

ft. platonic/ yandere batfam, superfam, villains, au's & many more!

— Disclaimer! This contains massive spoilers and all my plans for future works that I'll soon publish. This is posted because I wish to update my readers upon the contents of what I'm working to write and for them to leave inputs and whatnot. Sorry for the delays and all, life is hectic and as much as I love writing, I also have a life outside of this site sadly. By the way, this is not even half of my drafts and if anyone is interested in the things written beneath here, then please do tell!

To Be His Child is All I want (A&A, Chapter 5): Confronting Jason, one of your brothers who played a role in neglecting you, and being partly the reason why you ventured out the manor to seek love, away from the unhealthy environment, was no easy task. Back and forths with him, and reasoning why you don't wish to return back 'home' only poured fire into the flames of your already aching heart, as you scream about only wishing to be loved by even a fraction of the compassion Bruce feels for all his other children was all you needed to feel happy in life. It was enough to leave Jason breathless, muddled with emotions he couldn't quite grasp.

As you drown in a seamless fit of arguing and sobbing into the arms of your brother, the manor holds a meeting regarding your sudden disappearance. Bruce is promptly disappointed at Jason's absence; the others are just as intrigued with Dick and Damian's urgency to find you. Yet all are unbeknownst to your plans of escape, and most especially to a certain Kryptonian's scheme to have you in his arms all for himself.

Family Dinner (A&A): Silly, old you can't seem to stomach the fact that they're all looking at you now at the elongated table when months ago you were a mere ghost in their eyes whilst they chatter happily amongst each other. Unfamiliar with how communicating with a family who estranged you works; you end up having a panic attack in the middle of dinner when Damian attempted to hug you.

To Love and To Cherish (Random): Bruce Wayne loves his spouse and everything about them. They're everything desirable in his eyes and he couldn't help the urges that keeps him running back to you every time he patrols to ensure not only the safety of Gotham, but for the sake of his growing plans to fully integrate you as a full-time house spouse. The problem Bruce faces, though, is that he's not actually married to you, yet, and you're unaware of his prying eyes on your form as you live alone in your shabby apartment.

Flowers on My Grave (A&A, Hanahaki AU): Flowers don't only bloom inside your lungs when you're rejected by someone you love romantically, they can also manifest through platonic love unrequited. Vomiting a bouquet of yellow carnations and an arraw of purple and blue hyacinths, you set to sever the bond of love you once felt for them once and for all.

Cold House, Lone Spouse (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): You come home from Clark's farm to sleep in your own room to make sure nobody suspects a thing; expecting to power through the pain of loneliness in your room. But you end up waking up to Bruce's body pressed against your back and his arms caging you, unrelenting in its pursuit to make sure you never seek out another man's hold again.

Once Your Son, Always Your Son (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): Your routine with your beloved son, Jon, leaves nothing else to be desired as you set about your usual nightly schedule of helping him clean up, fix his bed, and read him bedtime stories— something you've grown accustomed to love naturally as being a parent does. But when Damian comes to visit you once Jon falls asleep, he enviously demands you do the same to him and to return to the manor where a better family is waiting for you.

The Confrontation (Loving Family Unpalatable Desire): Clark's night with you always ends up with him hovering above your body, kissing all the exposed parts of your skin, and worshipping your body which lays upon his bed every night. It's the perfect fantasy, yet it's promptly shattered when he sees the familiar silhouette of his comrade, clad in all black, demanding that Clark returns his spouse back in his arms; as if he's not the very same man who left you all alone that night at the gala, available for taking.

A Father's Strange Case of Gift Giving (A&A): To make it up to you, Bruce tries to spoil you rotten with a bottomless allowance and unrestricted access to all his credit cards. Even a mansion built on your name is built as one of the family's vacation houses. One unsettling fact, though, is Bruce's proficiency of capturing every detail of all things you prefer in such a short span of time after kidnapping you. (i.e. You're unaware of the cameras planted in every corner of your room trying to capture the things that makes you smile).

Mind Games and Mind Control (Brutus): What if it were The Riddler and Scarecrow who saved you from nearly dying? With your emotional reception, and both their wits, you end up stirring more trouble for Gotham's vigilantes. But during times where you've nothing to do but watch as both villains enact upon their master plans, itching to satisfy the ache of bloodlust coursing through your veins, you start to notice the abrupt bouts of energy they exert upon tormenting whoever stares at you (sitting comfortably on a cushioned couch, treated like royalty no less) or talks behind your back— crazed for your words of approval and praise as if it's not them who are capable enough of controlling you instead.

The Powered, and the Powerless (Random, Romantic Batfam): During the night, they are your city's saviors, the light that shines bright on darkness, the hope that never wavers through moments of fear. Daytime, meanwhile, they're portrayed as a rich, socialite family who donate millions on charity and everything that promotes good costs. Power comes to them naturally, and praise is served to most of them in a silver platter for all their hard work. You can even say their status is akin to that of Gods, except you don't think of them the same way others do; choosing to utilize your immense knowledge of internet safety to publish articles and conspiracies pertaining to each member of the Wayne family through anonymous forums. Yet all this results in their interest in your secret identity.

Fate Unwanted (Random, Soulmate AU): You're a simple person living on the outskirts of an unnamed town on the boundaries of Gotham. Curious on why your parents are protective of you, forcing you to live with countless of strick rules written boldly on paper and plastered on the front of your refrigerator, and why you just can't seem to produce or perceive any soulmate bond; you set out on a mission to find the mysteries of your unmarked soul. Little did you know that the strangers you stumble upon who chose to assist you on your journey, all from every city and every known state, have found their soulmate that they're unwilling to share.

[jessicas-pi]

okay, you guys, it's like 1:45 AM and I'm never gonna get any sleep with the sore throat I've got right now, so who wants to hear about the legend of Midnight Jim?

I don't know how many kids actually believed they had a monster under their bed. I didn't. I had a loft bed. There were bookshelves and a red leather beanbag chair that leaked staticky foam pellets under my bed, and as a result there was also frequently a me under my bed when I wanted to read past my bedtime.

I did not believe in monsters. Although, that scene at the beginning of Monsters, Inc. where the red eyes appear under the kid's bed always freaked me out and I had to skip it.

I was also afraid of the child catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the Rodents of Unusual Size, Ewoks, the vacuum cleaner (but only sometimes,) and Gorignak.

I was a nervous child.

Deeply nervous.

So when I say I do not believe in monsters, I don't mean that I didn't have monsters. I had a lot of monsters. I just didn't believe in them.

I imagined faces in dark windows and shambling shapes and long grasping arms and cold fingers that brushed my ankles as I went up the stairs and creepy voices that made heavy breathing sounds. All of this followed me everywhere in the dark, and I do mean everywhere. If I was in the dark, there was a Something behind me.

Of course, I didn't believe in it.

I knew it wasn't real.

But it was there.

(My sister Emily took this a step further as a child and produced lovely, nightmarish illustrations of her monsters—at least, I assume they were her monsters—in full color. Then she named them and sometimes wrote information down about their species.)

(We were raised on Planet Earth documentaries instead of... whatever other kids watched. Barney. Or Elmo. I'm not saying that those don't have some value, but you get A Different Kid when you feed their brain with David Attenborough's narration of the ceaseless marching-onwards of life and death in the natural world.)

Where was I?

Ah, right. Yes.

Midnight Jim.

Something else relevant to this story is that I am a terrible sleeper. Not chronic insomnia, but chronic something. I have to imagine stories for a good half hour before I can even start to slip off, and it was only so much worse as a kid.

I needed it to be dark to sleep.

But if my brain was not filled up with thoughts, EVERY SECOND, then... of course...

Monsters.

I also had to get up a lot in the night. One midnight snack and at least two bathroom trips every night were a necessity. Which was only more opportunity for the Not Real Monsters to follow me around and scare my pants off.

Eventually, I realized this Had To End. But how? It wasn't like I could just make the monsters go away, I knew they weren't there at all! And mentally transforming Kissy Cat into a monster-devouring feline kaiju didn't help much, mostly because we did not own Kissy Cat yet. Instead we had a sweet little mouse named Petunia, and her evil demon mouse sister named Sweetie.

Mice do not fight monsters.

After hours upon hours of endless nightly agonizing, I finally hit upon my solution.

I would make my own monster.

First up, it needed a name. What was named was known, and what was known was not feared.

Tempting as it would be to call it Steve after the hedge from Over the Hedge, I was not as clever then as I am now, so I decided to call it Midnight Jim.

(Coincidentally, Jim was the name of our neighbor who would mow his lawn at midnight and would wax our car for us if we bought him a pack of beer.)

Then I dreamed up what is, in my own humble opinion, the best monster to ever exist.

Midnight Jim looks just like a monarch butterfly, except he secretly eats your hair when you don't look. He says "Raargh." Like, says it. Try and say "raargh" in a flat, squeaky, little-kid voice, and you will see what Midnight Jim sounded like.

And then there was nothing for my brain to autofill to make Midnight Jim scary. "ooh he's a creepy—" nope he's a butterfly. "he eats your—" hair? yeah so what it grows back. "he makes a creepy sound like—" raargh. he says raargh. No creepy noises, only raargh.

I couldn't get rid of my monsters but by george I could replace them, and so I did.

Whenever a Monster would start to follow me around I just replaced it with Midnight Jim. And it worked. It worked!

In fact, it worked so well that I never actually had to work on getting rid of that overactive imagination of mine, so I still need Midnight Jim to follow me around sometimes when The Monsters come back.

Long live Midnight Jim, I guess.

[harryhoney-bee]

I'm feeling really soft and fuzzy today, So if I can request something I want to do that abeja 🐝💓

#Concept: Nightly routine with y/n and Harry- parents of two little babies.

Tag me if you write this baby ✨✨

Adore you alot 💕

Night Routine

Warning: your ovaries might explode... mine did 🤚🏻 I would give this man 9 children if he asked.

Word count: 1.7k

I have a kofi, so please consider buying me coffee if you can <3

I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think 😚

“But I want to take a beth with him, daddy,” Cecília whined to Harry, while he undressed her, putting her new pajamas and towel on the bathroom counter.

“My little darling, he is still little, he can’t take bath with you,” Harry explained, taking Cecí on his lap and putting her inside the warm tub, handing her some of her favorite toys. “Lorenzo is just 6 months, he’s not as big as you.”

Harry made a bowl with his hands, wetting her curly hair and applying shampoo, a pout still on her face. “Please, daddy?” she said, her chubby hand grabbing his arm. Cecí had already mastered her puppy eyes technique, and she knew how much her dad had a weak spot for her.

“Alright, alright,” He finally gave in, “but he will stay outside of the tub, he doesn’t know how to sit by himself.”

“Thank you, daddy!” The girl splashed water around in excitement, which made Harry smile. That’s how he always wanted to see her: happy and healthy.

Harry went to the door, keeping an eye on the girl in the tub. “Baby? Are you done nursing? Cecí wants to see Lorenzo,” he tried to call his wife as loud as he could while being mindful of Lorenzo, who could be asleep by now. He never wanted to alarm any of him or Cecília with his loud voice.

In a matter of seconds, Y/n appeared in the hallway, a confused expression on her face while Lorenzo was calmly laying down on her arms, his little hands resting on Y/n’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why does she want to see him? We just had diner together,” she asked, heading in Harry’s direction.

“I’m not sure, guess she just missed him,” Harry answered, giving his wife a kiss on the forehead and bending down to talk to a very awake Lorenzo. “But who wouldn’t miss you, huh? Such a cutie, right buddy?” he was aware that using a baby voice wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t help, Lorenzo was just extremely adorable.

“Mommy! Enzo!” Cecília called, from the opposite side of the bathroom, “come here mommy, miss you too.”

Y/n sat on the bathroom floor, Lorenzo still with her. “Hey, my heart, having a good bath with daddy?” she asked at the same time Harry sat down by her side and hugged her from the side, laying his chin on her head.

“Yeah! Daddy always let me play,” Cecília took one of the yellow ducks and showed her mom, “This is Mc Duck.”

“Wow, he’s a very beautiful duck isn’t he?” She asked, giving Lorenzo to Harry while kneeling near the bathtub since Cecí still had to wash her hair, Y/n gently took the excess of shampoo from the girl’s hair, while Harry tried to keep Lorenzo entertained by singing him a silly song.

“He is, I love yellow,” the little girl admitted, “I think Lorenzo loves yellows too.”

“And why do you think that, Cecí?” Harry asked amused while pretending to eat the boy’s fingers.

“Because we’re are best friends,” She said as if the answer was obvious, “and friends like the same things.” Y/n and Harry looked at each other and laughed, for a five-year-old girl she knew a lot about relationships.

“Oh, how do you know that?” Y/n asked, finishing washing her hair, letting Cecília enjoy her time in the bath.

“Because you and daddy are best friends, you wear the same clothes sometimes, listen to the same music, and watch the same movies,” with every new topic she would count down on her fingers, it was quite a comical sight.

Harry’s chuckle filled the room, the baby on his lap giggled too. “Well, my little lady, you are right. But friends can also like different things, too,” he told her. “Me and mommy like a lot of similar things, but we also have our preferences.”

“Exactly, daddy loves bananas, but I don’t” y/n complemented, getting Cecília out of the tub, helping her into some warm clothes, “I don’t like to work out, but your dad always wakes up early to go for a run, see? We like different things but we still love each other.”

Harry got up from the floor, rocking Lorenzo softly, his heavy eyes indicating how sleepy the baby was. He took the combing cream in his hand and began combing Cecília’s curls with one hand, while his other arm held Lorenzo. Being a father of two made him very talented at doing two things at the same time. While he did that, Y/n was getting Cecí’s toothpaste ready.

“Daddy, do you love mommy even if she doesn’t go running with you?” Cecí asked, before opening her mouth so Y/n could brush her teeth. Normally they would let Cecília do it by herself, with their supervision, but it was already late and the couple desperately needed to get the children to bed, or else their routine would be messed up. Good thing Lorenzo seemed to be falling asleep already.

“Of course I do! We don’t love people just because they do the same things we do, we love people because they are kind and respectful to us, yeah?” Harry said, looking at Y/n and blowing her a kiss. This is what he loved the most about parenthood: watching the kids growing into their best version.

Parenting was made in many different ways, but the couple especially loved having these kinds of conversations. Even though Cecília was still young, she was already beginning to comprehend what love and friendships were, and Harry and Y/n had the privilege to teach her that.

Harry finished her hair, putting the brush and the products in their place under the sink while Y/n put on some socks on Cecí’s feet, the little girl was yawning, seeming tired. Lorenzo started to fussy on Harry’s arms.

“Guess it’s time to sleep, huh?” Harry said, caressing Cecílias head, “Tired, my baby? Want daddy to read a bedtime story to you? Or do you want mommy?” At the same time he mentioned Y/n, Lorenzo started to soft cry. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, looking down at the upset’s baby face.”

Y/n took his from Harry’s arms, cuddling him closer to her chest, “What do you want, Enzo? Mommy just fed you” she looked at her husband, “I’ll nurse him again on the bed, he’s probably just a bit agitated, will you put her to sleep?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The woman kissed Cecília on the forehead, “have a good night, ok, baby? Mommy will take you to the playground tomorrow, alright?”

“Ok mommy, I love you and little bro too,” she said, giving a hug to her mom before she disappeared through the door with the crying baby.

Harry took Cecília by her small hand, leading them to her room, just by the side of the main suite, where the couple slept. He guided the little girl to her bed, giving her all of her favorite stuffed animals, and covered Cecília in her Lilac duvet.

“What story do you want today?

“The pirate one, please,” she asked, laying her head on the pillow as Harry went to her bookshelf, picking the one with the title Pirate’s cove. He sat by the end of the bed and began telling the story.

“I have a story for you, a story of untold riches and a young lad who found them. And who am I, you ask? Well, I am the spirit of the sand-dollar, a pirate and a buccaneer, Captain of the seahorse, the finest ship to ever sail the seven seas…”

Harry would occasionally stop to answer any questions Cecília had, but after 15 minutes he was done with the book and the girl was fast asleep, hugging tight to her little lamb. He made sure she was tucked in and turned off the lights (besides the one on the side of Cecília’s bed, she was scared to sleep in a pitch-black room), he closed the door and headed to his bedroom.

To Harry’s surprise, Lorenzo was sleeping in his bassinet by the side of the mattress. He usually would sleep in his nursery, but today just seemed like an off day to the little boy. Harry got closer to him, stroking the chubby cheeks, “Oh my little bug, did mommy let you sleep here with us? You’re not feeling fine?”

“I think he’s teething,” Y/n said in a raspy voice, taking her head from the pillow, “he’s even a bit warmer than usual, I think his gums are itching.”

“My poor baby,” Harry mumbled, turning his head to Y/n, “I hate seeing him upset, maybe we could make some homemade Popsicle, it helped when Cecília was teething.”

“Yeah, we can try that, we can make them tomorrow.” she patted the mattress, “now please come to bed, he did a number on me, I’m so tired.”

“Alright baby,” Harry took off his shirt, standing only in sweatpants, he went to the bed, laying by Y/n side, one arm hooked on her waist as she cuddled to him, placing her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Y/n said against his neck.

“Oh baby, I am the lu--”

“--I mean, how many husbands would still love their wives even if they wouldn’t go jogging at 6 in the morning?” she said teasingly, her giggles reaching his ear.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “you are making a lot of jokes for someone who is tired,” he kissed her temple. “I’m gonna wake you up at 5 am tomorrow, so we can be fitness together.”

“Don’t you dare! You do that and your plan of being a father to three it’s over.”

“Damn sweetheart, that’s not very nice, huh?”

“You’re the one who started,” she said, before closing her eyes, snuggling to Harry’s body. The man placed a hand on her belly, falling asleep minutes later.

Tag list: @sunandherflores @elenagilbert01 @bellelittleoff, @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

If you don't want to be in the tag list just let me know, please!! <3

[sunaswife]

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: To be added to the taglist please send an ask. Comments and dms will be unintentionally ignored/forgotten. Also if you have sent an ask to be on the taglist. I am not ignoring you I add people onto the taglist when I update a new chapter! <3 love youuu

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter six

Suna was completely in shock and he was overwhelmed. He just froze. What can a man do when his ex tells him he is a father, let alone the father of two toddlers.

He immediately thought about the trauma you must have faced, being pregnant and alone. He also thought about how much he’s missed already, he wasn’t there for their day of birth, their first steps, first words, he’s already missed so many birthdays.

All he ever wanted was to be a father, especially to be the father of the children he made with the woman he was in love with. Was it truly a blessing or a curse?

Surely you don’t want to get back together and live like a perfect family behind a white picket fence. He’d have to learn how to push his feelings aside for these kids and share custody of them somehow. Before he could even speak you were walking away and he quickly turned.

Why aren’t his legs moving? What’s pulling him back? Is he afraid of this responsibility and commitment? Of course he is. He doesn’t want to be a shitty dad, will he be able to raise them correctly? How if he’s always busy training and practicing. All his free time is dedicated to napping.

His heart truly broke the second time ever when he saw those grayish eyes looking back at him with such hurt and betrayal. They screamed that they needed him. He didn’t know how but he felt it. He decided that he was going to take a step and work things out with you. Maybe not romantically but he really wants to be in his kids life.

“After all this time and trouble I went through. You’re gonna let her walk away again?” Atsumu’s annoying voice filled the silent hallway. “Fucking bastard.” Suna seethed and turned with a glare. Osamu knew his brother fucked up and decided to be cautious in case Suna decided to land a few punches on his brother like the last time Atsumu has pissed off Suna.

But as Atsumu braced himself for a comeback or for a fist to meet his face he was met with Suna’s back as he ran to catch up with you. When Suna turned the corner he saw the staff parking lot and he began to run even faster.

If you leave it’ll be too late.

When he made it in the parking lot he stopped and used his height to his advantage and he looked around. He couldn’t see you anywhere. “Y/N!” He called outloud and his voice echoed. “Y/N!” He repeated. He was about to continue walking through when a car backed up and quickly breaked so that they wouldn’t run over the man. You looked through your mirror and saw Suna standing there and looking around like an idiot.

Your heart clenched yet you felt butterflies at the same time. He came, not for you but for the kids. You really hoped and prayed that he would come, and he did. You parked your car and you got out. He sighed in relief and neared you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I want to be in their lives I really do.” He exclaimed.

“It’s fine, Rin. I’m glad you want that.” You smiled softly.

For a moment he got lost in your eyes, and yours in his. It probably lasted less than a minute yet it felt like a eternity. Neither of you could turn away or say something else. It was comfortable and warm.

All of a sudden your phone rang and your finally blinked and turned away to answer your phone. “Did suna find you?” Jamie immediately asked. “Uh we were talking just now....” you said awkwardly and he stood awkwardly as well. “Ok good if not I was going to give him your number.” She sighed in relief and you rolled your eyes. “Alright I got to go, the kids have school in the morning.” You said and you both hung up.

“So I would love to stay and chat..ya know about the kids but they’re asleep already and they have school.” You mumbled. “No it’s fine I completely get it. School is important...are you available tomorrow? It’s off season for me so I don’t have any rough practices, only gym. I want to talk with you before meeting the kids.” He said and you nodded. “I’ll text you when to come over when I get home.” You told him and he nodded. You both exchanged numbers but Suna didn’t really seem that satisfied.

“Be safe. Text me when you guys get home safe.” He said and his eyes widened. “Okay, I will.” You smiled softly and he saw as you entered your car. You slowly pulled out and you drove away.

“Tsumu has her social media in case you’re curious.” Osamu spoke up causing Suna to jump. “What the hell dude, don’t just scare me like that.” He placed his hand over his chest and Osamu laughed.

“Come on, let’s go.” Osamu said and Suna nodded and walked away.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.” You muttered and slapped yourself as you drove. Your kids were already asleep so they couldn’t hear you having a mental breakdown on your way home. “Mommy you said a bad word.” Akira pointed out and you glanced at the mirror. “Sorry about that. Don’t repeat it okay?” You asked and she nodded. “I know I know.” She mumbled and look at her signed volleyball with a bored expression. “Is daddy going to be in our lives, now?” She asked and you sighed softly.

“Well we talked and it sounds like he wants to be there for you and nii-chan..he’s going to come over tomorrow while you’re at school so we can talk like adults. Then when you come home he’ll be there to hang out with you guys and you guys can get to know eachother.” You said hopefully.“I don’t like him. Why couldn’t Sakusa or Atsumu be our dad. Even that guy you were with earlier with the suit is fine. But dad is a jerk. He made you cry.” Rini huffed and your eyes widened, were they awake the whole time?

“Hey, I know you don’t know him but your shouldn’t disrespect your father like that. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have had you guys. You two are the best things that has ever happened to me. You’re a Suna, once you get to know your dad I know you’ll be proud that I put your last name as Suna not Kageyama.” You told him and he scowled.

“Can you tell us more about dad?” Akira asked and you nodded. “What do you wanna know?” You asked. “Why did you fall in love with him.” Rini immediately asked, “Well he was sweet and funny, he loved anime and we were in the same class. He also taught me how to love volleyball again after my grandpa died.” You said smoothly. “What position did he play? Did he go pro?” They asked. “He was a middle blocker and he was really good. He still is a middle blocker and yes he is pro.” You said and Rini gasped. He’s more of a middle blocker type of fan. And Akira prefers setters. Even when you or Tobio teach them volleyball. They choose those positions.

The whole drive they asked about him and you answered the best you could, you can’t tell them everything but they were satisfied and they had a better understanding. They did get upset with you for not telling Rin that he was a father since the beginning but they understood that he broke your heart and you didn’t really want to see him.

When you got home you texted Rin that you arrived. You quickly bathed your kids. Dressed them in their pajamas and read them a script from the new anime you’re going to be on. (They liked listening to the scripts rather than bedtime stories)

After reading three pages they were already knocked out and you gave them a kiss. You fixed Akira’s fox plush in her arms and made you way to Rini’s bed. He was hugging a green piggy with a crown from the angry birds game and the moon made his face glow. You stood there in shock and you imagined second year Rin sleeping like that with the pig plush with the crown that reminded him of you.

You quickly rubbed your eyes to see second year rin turn back into five year old Rini. “I need some wine.” You muttered and kissed his cheek and fixed his blanket. You took out the phone from your pocket as you made your way to the bathroom to take off your makeup and start your nightly routine.

You chuckled but quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. Why was it so easy to text Rin again after all this time. Isn’t it supposed to be awkward? Why are you so comfortable?

You quickly typed an awkward goodbye and he scratched his head confused but replied goodbye as well. He really wanted to continue talking to you more.

After you changed into your pajamas and finished your nighttime routine you made your way to the kitchen and you grabbed the half full wine bottle.

You held it to your chest as you made your way to your office/studio and began reading the script and answering some emails involving the character you’ll be portraying for the new anime. You celebrated a few weeks back when you got the offer and sighed thinking about this certain character.

You’ve read the manga already but it wouldn’t hurt to re read it to get a better feel of the characater right? You took a sip from the wine bottle as you found the first book of the manga. In your endless shelves of books.

“Alright Emma let’s go on an adventure.” You sighed and began to read The Promised Neverland.

Also don’t forget that I love you and you’re worth it <3 Idk who needed to hear this today :)

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

[megahwn]

Smitten

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: arranged marriage!au, strangers to lovers

Word Count: 16,902

Rating: 18+

Warnings: alcohol mentions/consumption; menstruation mention; description of a panic attack; explicit language; biting/marking; fondling over clothes; a sort-of handjob; a single piercing; vaginal fingering; finger sucking; unprotected vaginal intercourse; almost simultaneous orgasms; creampie

Summary: You live in a world where loving another is criminal. Partners are chosen by your elders to produce the best offspring and to help the economy thrive. Living in this world, you feel broken. You feel broken because you have accidentally fallen for your new husband, Jeon Jungkook.

A/N: Part of BTS Writers’ Corner’s Amor Fabula Project. Thank u to @joopiterjoon @kitsutaes @spicykoreantatertots @staerrylights​ for beta-reading parts of this fic for me, I appreciate you all!

The elders are relatively mysterious to you. You don’t know how many of them there are, what they do with their time, what they look like. All you really know about them is how powerful they are. They are the entity that decides which people will marry in order to produce the healthiest offspring and to keep the economy strong. Most people accept their pairing and then live their lives married to someone they don’t know. Others, however few there may be, reject their pairing and go out looking for true love on their own.

~~~

You and Jungkook tumble through the door of your new apartment, exhausted from the day’s events but giddy from the wine. Today had gone much more smoothly than you had anticipated it would. The kiss at the altar was far from awkward, your families seemed to get along well, and your conversation with Jungkook at your sweetheart table left nothing to be desired (thank you, white zinfandel). It was almost as if your wedding was based on something more than genetics and finances. Almost.

In all honesty, you want nothing more in this moment than to get out of this obnoxious outfit, get into some sweats and keep binging This Is Us. While today went as ideally as it could have, it won't hurt to get lost in the Pearsons' love story for a few hours instead of having to face your non-love story as soon as you arrive home from your own wedding.

It won't hurt. Not one bit.

You are already out of one shoe and hobbling down the hallway to your shared bedroom when you realize that it is, in fact, a shared bedroom, and you can't just throw all your clothes everywhere on your quest to get naked and comfortable. Your eyes immediately begin darting around the almost-familiar space for a spot to use to go through your nightly routine without Jungkook seeing... well, any of it. As capable as you are of being outgoing when the situation demands it, you are, by nature, a pretty shy person, and you don’t yet feel ready to let someone else be aware of your bedtime habits. Even if that someone is your new husband.

While you’re in the middle of scouring the room for a suitable place to hide, you hear the distinct sound of someone’s throat clearing a few feet behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, not realizing you had stopped in the doorway and blocked the only route into the bedroom. You take in the sight now before you and your eyes, if possible, grow even wider.

Jungkook looks good. His cheeks are still a little rosy from the alcohol, and his hair is swept off his forehead and parted on one side. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He managed to shed his suit jacket somewhere between the front door and the bedroom, and his shirt sleeves are now rolled up his forearms. There is an obvious vein running from his hand up his arm and under his sleeve. He is fiddling with the wedding band on his other hand. While he does look good, he also looks nervous.

Damn him.

Before you even have the chance to begin lusting after Jungkook, even for a moment, anxious thoughts begin flooding your brain in powerful waves. Why does he look nervous? Did you do something to upset him in the time it took to get from the apartment threshold to this spot? You probably did and now he hates you and you’re going to have to share an apartment and a bed with someone who can’t stand you and you’re going to –

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asks. “Is it the Iron Man poster? The Cooky plushie? I can get rid of them if you want. Man, I knew I shouldn’t have brought them here with me. God, this is embarrassing.” You notice he sounds slightly panicked.

Wait, what? You manage to get out of your own head for a second to focus on what Jungkook is saying. He’s embarrassed. Why is he embarrassed?

You turn back around to look into the bedroom once more, and your eyes immediately find the poster and the plushie he mentioned. Instead of saying anything, you walk towards the bed as well as you can in your dress, and you pick up the plushie from Jungkook’s side of the mattress. You look at it closely and then you rotate once more to look at Jungkook, who looks positively terrified. You consider teasing him, but decide against it almost immediately, as you think it might actually kill him.

You choose to walk back over to the doorway instead, holding the plushie as you move. Jungkook looks like he wants to back away, but he seems rooted to the spot. You take a breath and hope that what you’re about to say doesn’t ruin the day you’ve had with him and make everything (even more) awkward between you.

“Do you have any of the others or just Cooky?”

Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as you felt yours did earlier. You immediately think you’ve said the wrong thing, but then he smiles, showing off his bunny-like teeth.

“You know about the others?” he says shyly, referring to the rest of the popular plushie brand. He is still turning his wedding ring around on his finger, but not as intensely as he had been before. You take that as a good sign.

“Yeah, of course I do,” you respond without missing a beat. A smile creeps up onto your face as well. “I actually have Koya packed away in one of these boxes somewhere.” You gesture to the boxes you have yet to unpack, laying in the living room unopened and sort of sad-looking compared to all of the stuff Jungkook has already placed around the apartment.

Jungkook’s smile grows at your words. He lets go of his wedding ring and flexes his hands at his sides in excitement. You try not to stare as he steps closer to you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks like he’s trying to hold back how happy he really is to have learned this information about you. You barely register his emotions, though, as you’re now intently focused on his proximity to you. He smells mild, like soap. It’s nice.

“Do you really have Koya?” Jungkook practically whispers at you. You hold back a giggle and respond with a soft, “Yes. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” The truth is that you wouldn’t lie about anything, but you figure now isn’t really the time to be sharing such things. Now is the time for talking about plushies.

Jungkook seems to debate with himself for a moment, and you wait patiently for him to come to a decision, whatever it is. You take the moment to look at his face more closely while he’s looking away from you. His skin is beautiful, milky. His eyebrows fit his face nicely, with just the right amount of arch to them. His eyes are a deep brown, and he has a small scar underneath his left one. You have the urge to reach out and touch it, but you hold yourself back by holding tighter to the Cooky plushie in your hands. You don’t want to interrupt his thought process. Or worse, freak him out and end whatever moment you might be having.

You don’t get the chance to study the bottom half of his face because he begins speaking again, although he does so without making eye contact. He seems to be looking at your lips instead when he says, “Can I see him?”

You take a moment to recall what you had been talking about, and upon remembering you light up and respond with a nod. You begin walking into the living room before you remember that you are still in your wedding dress and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable. You stop moving and tilt your head back with a sigh before saying, “Can I actually get this dress off first? It’s starting to dig into my ribs.”

Jungkook looks like he doesn’t understand why you just asked him for permission to change your clothes. He responds with a confused-sounding “Yes?” and steps out of the way so you can make your way back to the bedroom once more. You make it inside, toss Cooky onto the bed, and begin rummaging through your dresser drawers before finding a suitable t-shirt and the most comfortable pair of sweatpants you own. You then head straight for the bathroom when you see Jungkook looking through his own dresser, presumably to do the same.

You make it into the bathroom, close the door behind you, and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You drop the clothes onto the floor next to you and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup held up well throughout the day, and you realize you need to take it off. You search the countertop and the cabinet behind you for makeup remover but find none. You suppose it’s actually a good thing that Jungkook wants to see your Koya plushie after all, as it will motivate you to unpack the rest of your things. Maybe he’ll help you.

You push that thought aside as soon as you think it, and you kick off your remaining heel (how were you walking around with one shoe on for so long?). You flex your feet to get some feeling back in them, and then you begin to remove your dress.

Or, at least, you attempt to begin removing your dress.

The intricate ties in the back of the garment combined with the restricting bodice don’t allow you to move your arms very far behind you, and you soon realize that the dress is not going to come off without some help. You think about how the only person who can possibly assist you in this situation is just outside the door, but for some reason you are unwilling to remove that barrier and ask for his help.

You end up spending a good fifteen minutes in the bathroom alone, silently struggling to undo the knots you have managed to make behind you. It’s only when you hear an apprehensive knock on the door that you let out a little squeak, then clear your throat and respond, “Yeah?”

You hear Jungkook’s muffled voice behind the door. “Hey, I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I really have to pee.”

You would chuckle if you weren’t in such a predicament. You go over your options one more time before deciding that you really do need Jungkook’s help if you ever want to breathe properly again. You slowly turn toward the door and open it, revealing a concerned-looking Jungkook behind it. He is now wearing boxers and what is possibly the most form-fitting shirt you have ever seen another human wear in your entire life. You can see his biceps and his abs through the shirt, and his thick thighs are on full display. You remind yourself not to drool.

Jungkook breaks the silence by asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be changing?”

You sheepishly nod and then turn around to reveal the absolute mess you have made of your bodice ties. You hear a quiet chuckle behind you and then you feel hands at your back. They’re firm but gentle in their movements behind you. Jungkook is helping you get your bodice undone and you didn’t even have to ask him. Your heart hurts a little. You ignore it.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, so quietly you’re sure Jungkook didn’t hear you say it. But then you hear him mumble out a “No big deal,” and you remember that this is an arrangement that the elders chose for you, and that you didn’t have a say in. Jungkook’s just being nice because he’s a good person, not because he cares about you. He doesn’t even know you. Your heart hurts a little louder this time.

Jungkook gets the bodice ties undone and you practically rip the thing off of you and take in a huge breath. You sigh out and reach for the zipper on the back of the dress without thinking, but it turns out you can’t undo that by yourself either. You let your hands fall awkwardly to your sides before letting out another sigh and saying, “So, um... I still need help.”

This time, Jungkook’s hands reach your back much more slowly than they did before. You wonder why. It’s only when the zipper is down your back and all the random buttons are undone that you realize why he’s being so hesitant – you’re basically half-naked in front of this guy and you’ve never done anything more intimate than kiss each other in front of a bunch of people one time a couple hours ago. You hold the dress to your front and turn around to face Jungkook and thank him for his help, but something stops you.

His eyes are screwed shut.

This time you actually do laugh out loud. It startles him and he opens his eyes. Cute.

“What were you doing?” you ask jovially. You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you want to make him squirm.

“Uh...” Jungkook starts. His eyes then wander down the front of your body and snap back up just as quickly, as if he suddenly remembered you could see him now. “I was, uh, keeping my eyes closed in case you... you know...”

“In case I what?” you tease, taking half a step closer to him. He doesn’t back away.

“In case you didn’t want me to see you... like that.” Jungkook’s cheeks had been getting lighter since you arrived home, but now the redness has returned, maybe even intensified. You decide to put him out of his misery.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Even though we are married.” You’re not sure why you add that last part, seeing as you were just as nervous as Jungkook only moments ago. Maybe seeing him flustered makes you feel a little less alone, and a little more likely to joke around the way you would with someone you know well.

Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again. He settles on saying, “Right,” and then he backs out of the bathroom to let you finish changing.

You eventually emerge from the bathroom feeling better than you have all day, and you see Jungkook sitting patiently at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, waiting for you. You smile at him while gesturing to the bathroom behind you and saying, “All yours. I’ll be out there waiting for you.”

Jungkook’s face lights up at your words, like he had been thinking you might change your mind about unpacking with him. Impossible. He gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom quickly.

You soon hear the telltale sounds of the toilet flushing and the faucet running, and then Jungkook is back in the living room, gingerly approaching you as if you were a wild animal or something fragile that he didn’t want to break. You both plop to the ground and you reach for the box nearest to you.

“You didn’t label them?” Jungkook asks incredulously. “How are you supposed to know what anything is?”

“I just kind of wing it,” you respond casually, to which Jungkook shrugs and says, “Okay, fair.”

Once you have the box in front of you, you open it and begin searching through it for your Koya. It turns out that Koya is not in the first box, or the second, or the third... or the fourth. By this point you’re getting distracted by all the things you’re unboxing and by telling Jungkook about all the things you’re unboxing.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. On the contrary, he seems to be just as invested in your unpacking as you are. He does end up helping you place things around the apartment like you hoped he would.

It feels like something real partners would do.

You try not to dwell on it, but the thought persists as you start opening the fifth box. Your Koya sits right on top of the mess of odds and ends you packed from your old bedroom. You smile and remove it from the box, lifting it up just enough for Jungkook to see it properly. You turn to him to see his reaction, but don’t expect the one you get.

Jungkook is smiling again, his bunny teeth poking through his lips cutely, but his eyes are shining. Instead of letting the panic overtake you once more and make you think you’ve somehow offended him, you simply say, “Hey. What is it?”

Jungkook looks up from the plushie to your eyes, then dabs at his own with the backs of his hands before responding. You wait for him like you did before.

When he finally speaks, he says a little shakily, “I’m sorry, I just... didn’t really expect this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t expect you to really have him. I kind of thought you were just being nice to me.”

You resist the urge to lean over and pull him into a tight hug. You settle for responding with, “I told you I wouldn’t lie.”

Jungkook is quick to shake his head and say, “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have believed you. It’s just... we don’t really know each other yet, you know?”

You stiffen a little at his words, but then force yourself to relax. Right. You had honestly forgotten about that. While you’re a little hurt, you suppose you have to allow him that skepticism. You would be skeptical, too, if the roles were reversed.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. Are you okay?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment. He seems to like to think before he speaks, as if he wants to make sure he says the right thing the first time. You can relate.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says slowly. “I’m just... happy.”

You beam at him and give him your Koya to hold while you unpack the rest of the box. The others can wait until tomorrow.

You both eventually head to bed, completely drained from the wedding and your respective emotions. Jungkook is still holding Koya when he climbs under the covers, so you pick up his Cooky and hold it to you as well. That’s how you fall asleep – silently, each holding a piece of the other.

~~~

“Would it be weird if our friends met each other?”

You look up from your bowl of Corn Pops, surprised by Jungkook’s sudden question. Would it be weird? You’ve been married for over a month already, but other than at your wedding reception, you haven’t ever really interacted with any of Jungkook’s friends. Maybe, you think, it’s time to blur the lines between you a bit more by having both sets of friends congregate in one place again. The prospect alone excites you a bit, as it will not only give you the opportunity to get to know Jungkook’s people a little bit better, but hopefully Jungkook himself, as well.

Within the last month or so of your marriage, your initial intrigue with Jungkook has developed into a full-blown crush. You hadn’t expected to develop feelings for Jungkook, but he’s so damn perfect that you can’t help it.

Besides the fact that he looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, he’s just about the most selfless and considerate person you’ve ever met. He always asks if he can join you on the couch while you’re watching television. (The first time he did it, you had told him he didn’t need to ask because it’s his apartment, too. He still does it.) He also knows you get hot when you sleep, so he turns the overhead fan on in your bedroom, even though he gets cold at night. (When you had asked him why he had been wearing layers to bed, he had just blushed a light pink and said it was no big deal.)

It might be a big deal to you. 

You go for nonchalance when you say, “Um… I mean, I guess not. Since we’re going to be together for the foreseeable future, I suppose it would happen eventually anyway.” You’re already completely sold on the idea and would probably be sad if it didn’t happen, so you give yourself a mental high-five for not sounding desperate at any point during your response.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too, “Jungkook says, apparently unaware of the mental marathon you just subjected yourself to. “What if we had a game night?”

You perk up even more at Jungkook’s mention of games. You’ve always been able to bond with others over a good board game and a glass of wine or two. You suppose a game night would be a good way to get to know Jungkook’s friends, and to have him get to know yours.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I like it,” you reply with a grin.

Jungkook’s bunny teeth make an appearance as he smiles back at you. “Okay, let’s do it.”

That weekend, you receive six separate knocks at your door.

Yoongi, your best friend from college, arrives first, a gummy smile on his face and a bottle of sweet red in hand. You pull him into a hug before he can even cross the threshold, and he practically trips through your entryway when you pull him across it.

“Hey,” you choke out, not realizing how close to tears you are just from having Yoongi near after a while. As you hug your friend, you realize you haven’t seen him since your wedding, what with his hectic work schedule and your new living situation. It used to be easy to meet up whenever you wanted back in college, but these days you have to make plans to see each other. It makes you sad whenever you think about it. You suppose you’re also emotional because he’s been a constant in your life for several years now, and knowing he’s still here for you even though your life has changed so dramatically is a big comfort for you.

“Hey,” he repeats back to you, bringing one hand up to pat the back of your head gently as you rest it in the crook of his neck. He’s not one for much physical affection but he knows that you are, so he always accepts your hugs. It makes you appreciate him all the more.

“Okay, I’m good,” you say after a bit, finally letting Yoongi go, snatching the bottle from his hands and moving to put it on ice just so you have something to do. He doesn’t even protest, just lets you take it from him. He really is a great best friend.

“Um,” you call out from your place in the living room, “Jungkook, you remember Yoongi, right?”

You turn around in time to see Jungkook and Yoongi shaking hands and exchanging greetings. Seeing two of your worlds coming together so visibly makes you feel warm inside.

Next to make an appearance is Jungkook’s best man, Namjoon. He’s taller than Jungkook, and he’s wearing round glasses and a black turtleneck sweater. He bows his head politely upon seeing you, and then he gives Jungkook one of those man hugs that you don’t understand. When they part, Jungkook continues looking up at Namjoon with something akin to stars in his eyes. He must really admire the guy.

“Good to see you again,” Namjoon says just as politely as he had nodded at you earlier. You try to hold back a giggle at his formality. Maybe he’ll loosen up with some wine like he seemed to at your wedding.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you reply similarly. One thing you know about Namjoon is that he tends to be polite when he’s nervous, so you mimic his greeting in an attempt to assuage any anxiety he might be experiencing. Based on the way he smiles at you, you think your efforts are successful.

You and Jungkook lead Namjoon to the living room, where Yoongi is already sitting comfortably with a full glass in hand. Namjoon sits down just as politely as he speaks, but before you have the chance to introduce the two, Yoongi suddenly asks him, “Do I know you from somewhere? I meant to ask you at the wedding but never got the chance.”

Namjoon pauses pouring himself a glass, seeming a little taken aback by Yoongi’s directness. Still, he says, “Um, I’m not sure. What do you do for work?”

Soon after Namjoon and Yoongi begin trying to figure out how they might know each other, your old neighbor Seokjin shows up with an entire roast chicken in hand, which you don’t remember asking him to bring but appreciate all the same. He gives you the best side hug he can with one arm full, and then you lead him to the kitchen so he can put the bird down.

“So,” he starts once you reach the kitchen, no tact in his voice whatsoever. “How are things going? Are they going? Are you two in love yet?" he asks outright, fluttering his eyelashes and drawing out the ‘o’ in ‘love’.

You hit his arm lightly while giving him your best expression of offense, and he seems to snap out of it. After sticking out his tongue at you, he begins looking around in your cabinets and drawers for the things he needs to serve the chicken.

He whips back around to face you, sharp knife in hand and unadulterated glee on his face, when you quietly say, “Nothing’s happened, but you already know I like him. I told you, like, last week.” You can feel your cheeks blazing at the admission you never thought you’d make out loud. Meanwhile, Seokjin has put the knife down on the counter (thankfully) and is now jumping up and down in place, flapping his hands, and making a noise similar to a squeal.

You want to hit him again, but you suppose he has a right to be excited for you. He sort of took you under his wing when you were neighbors, treating you to meals and babysitting your plants any time you were away. He’s also the only one who knows your deepest secret - that you want to fall in love and be loved in return.

It had just sort of slipped out one day, You both had had some wine and were talking about life when you suddenly confessed to wanting real, honest love rather than a lonely arranged partnership. You just couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. Seokjin, in turn, had confessed that he liked spending time with you more than with his assigned wife. You both may have shed a few tears at your predicaments.

Instead of resorting to physical violence twice in the span of thirty seconds, you give Seokjin your best attempt at a withering stare. He stops jumping and puts his hands up in defeat, muttering out, “Fine, fine,” which appeases you greatly. Before you can leave the kitchen, however, he gives you a mischievous smile and tacks on, “Just so you know, though, I’m rooting for you two.”

You hit him again.

While Seokjin continues fiddling around in the kitchen and the other guys are mingling (it turns out that Yoongi and Namjoon both make music and know some of the same people), your favorite coworker Hoseok comes bounding through the door and almost knocks you over with the force of his hug. He’s still vibrating with energy when he lets go of you, and his soft, heart-shaped smile makes you feel more at ease than you have been so far tonight.

“I’ve missed you!” he practically shouts as he looks at you fondly, still holding onto your shoulders. “Work hasn’t been the same without you there.”

You know he’s referring to the sixty days that new couples are required to spend away from work ‘getting to know each other’ after first getting married, which is just a nice way to say you’re meant to spend that time making babies. While the thought of having children (and making children) with Jungkook is extremely appealing to you, that’s all it is right now. Just a thought. You’re not even sure Jungkook is totally comfortable sharing a bed with you yet.

“Just a few more weeks and I’ll be back!” you practically shout back at him. Hoseok’s energy has always been infectious to the point that you sometimes end up mirroring his seemingly limitless joy. It’s always made work much more bearable for you. Thinking about it and having Hoseok here in front of you now makes you realize how much you really do miss your job.

Just as Hoseok joins the others in the living room and begins picking chicken off of Seokjin’s plate, there is another knock at the door. Before you can move to answer it, however, Jungkook urges you to sit in the living room while he answers it instead. You wonder how Jungkook can possibly know that his best friend is behind the door, but sure enough, he opens it and there stands Taehyung. His entire outfit says ‘artist,’ from the beret sitting crookedly atop his head to the brown corduroy pants adorning his long legs. Jungkook gives Taehyung one of the most sincere hugs you’ve ever seen him give another person, and when they part they move toward each other once more to briefly touch foreheads. It’s a sweet gesture, one that you decide is fitting of someone like Jungkook.

Once the two men completely separate, Taehyung looks at you with shining eyes and immediately moves toward you for a hug. You’re surprised by the gesture, but you accept it anyway. Before he pulls away from you, Taehyung whispers into your ear, “Jungkook told me you like hugs, so I hope this is okay.”

Your eyes widen a bit at this information. Jungkook talks to his friends about the things you like? How did he even know that about you? Did you tell him and forget about it? Was he just able to figure that out about you by himself? Either way, you find yourself nodding at Taehyung as you two end your hug. He gives you a boxy smile in return, shoulders scrunched up to his ears. You decide then and there that you like Taehyung already.

The last to arrive is one of Jungkook’s childhood friends, Jimin. He looks a little frazzled, with wild eyes peeking out from behind his designer sunglasses and silvery-grey hair standing on end. (You soon realize his hair looks like that because he constantly runs his hands through it.) You try not to eavesdrop as Jimin greets Jungkook at the door, but you swear you hear Jimin say something about hoping Taehyung might not be here. Before you can wonder what he means, however, you hear Jungkook chuckle and respond with something that sounds like “It’s no big deal, you’ll be fine.”

Jungkook leads Jimin into the living room, where the rest of you are talking loudly amongst yourselves, various open bottles of wine and plates of roast chicken littering the coffee table. Taehyung looks up from his drink as the two enter the room, and he positively beams at Jimin. He pats the open space next to him on your big lounge chair, and after a moment of hesitation, Jimin smiles back and makes his way over to that spot. The two begin murmuring to each other, and finally your attention is pulled away from them when Jungkook plops down next to you on the couch and pats your knee gently. You bring your foot up under your other leg and rest your knee on Jungkook’s thigh. He keeps his hand on you.

It’s comforting to have him there, touching you. You didn’t realize it before this moment, but you were pretty nervous about having tonight go well. Having Jungkook next to you, wanting the same thing as you, makes you feel like you might not be alone in your other desires, either.

His touch comforts you to the point that you even miss the butterflies in your stomach.

Your curiosity about Jimin’s words gets the better of you, so you lean over and whisper to Jungkook, “What’s up with those two?” while gesturing across the room as subtly as you can.

Jungkook peers over at you with an unreadable face and whispers back, “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t push him, and you move your questions to the back of your mind for after everyone leaves.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and sit back against the couch, careful to not give Jungkook a reason to take his hand off of you just yet. You turn to Seokjin and Hoseok, only to find that they’re in the middle of a heated debate about whether barbeque or garlic fried chicken is better. (How could you do this to me? And after all the meals I’ve cooked for you!” Seokjin cried when you had sided with Hoseok in the barbeque camp. You clinked glasses with Hoseok in solidarity while Seokjin continued to grumble without any real malice behind it.)

You then find yourself distracted by Yoongi and Namjoon animatedly discussing digital audio workstations, which you only know anything about because Yoongi used to have you sit in his room in college and listen to him excitedly talk about the newest software he had bought with the money he earned from delivering pizzas. You personally think that MixPad is better than FocusRite, but you like watching them talk it out themselves rather than offering your own two cents. From what you can tell, Namjoon seems to be really knowledgeable about the subject as a whole. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Yoongi look at another person so intensely.

Once you lose track of what Yoongi and Namjoon are saying, you turn your head once again to find that Jimin and Taehyung are happily cuddling in your big chair, giant smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“How did you two meet?” you ask, hoping that’s not too invasive of a question.

Taehyung tears his eyes away from Jimin long enough to look at you, still looking giddy. “We met through Jungkook, actually. They were friends when they were kids and I met Jungkook when we were teenagers, and when it turned out that Jimin and I were going to be in the same year at the same college, Jungkook basically forced us to get to know each other so we could all be friends.”

You barely have time to say, “Aw, that’s sweet,” before Taehyung is back to looking at Jimin again. You don’t blame him. You turn to Jungkook instead.

“That was really cool of you to do,” you say to him while giving him a little nudge. “Bringing them together like that.”

You can tell that Jungkook is trying not to smile into his glass as he takes a sip. His ears are red, though, giving away how pleased he is with your compliment. “Thanks,” he mumbles into his wine. He gives your leg a little squeeze, and you both turn back to your guests.

After a little while of drinking, catching up with your old friends, and getting to know your new ones (you were right, Namjoon did loosen up after having some wine), you break out the board games. Soon enough, though, you discover that the majority of the people you’re playing with are a bunch of cheaters.

You catch Taehyung shoving Clue cards up his sleeve on more than one occasion, Hoseok doesn’t include all of the epidemic cards in the deck during your game of Pandemic, Seokjin keeps adding extra trains to his part of the board during Ticket to Ride, Namjoon and Jimin don’t call each other out for giving incorrect clues during Taboo, and Yoongi quits right in the middle of Secret Hitler because he’s ‘tired of being a liberal every time.’ The only one playing the games honestly with you is Jungkook, and that makes you happier than you think it should.

You eventually threaten the whole room, wine-tipsy as they are, with permanent exile from your apartment if they cheat at the next game, to which you receive grumbles of agreement that they will play correctly from now on. With a satisfied smile, you begin handing out the cards. A few riveting rounds of Sushi Go later, everyone seems to have paired off.

Yoongi and Namjoon are back to talking about music, and have even exchanged numbers with the promise that they’ll meet up sometime to work on something together. Hoseok and Seokjin have engaged each other in a pun war of sorts, trying to one-up the other with their best jokes about chickens. Taehyung and Jimin are giggling quietly at each other, still sitting together in your big chair. Their legs are tangled up, and they haven’t taken their eyes off each other since the last game ended. It’s sweet.

While you are looking around happily at your friends, you feel the same hand on your knee that comforted you earlier. This time, though, with your nervousness having dissipated, you focus on his hand more than you did before. This time, you easily recognize the butterflies that always seem to accompany Jungkook’s touch on your skin. Just for today, you decide to bask in his warmth and allow the butterflies to flourish inside you.

Just for today.

~~~

It’s past midnight when everyone eventually leaves. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones, but you’re happier than you’ve been in a while. Everyone seemed to have a good time together, you were able to see some of your closest friends, and you were paired up with Jungkook for most of the games. Additionally, you were able to see Jungkook interact with his friends in a way that you had never seen before tonight. You feel like you’ve gotten to know him more just from witnessing him be with the people he cares about. It makes you want to have even more game nights.

You’re bringing dishes from the living room to the kitchen for Jungkook to wash when you remember you had wanted to ask him about his two friends. You place the few wine glasses you’re holding down gently on the countertop next to the sink, then you bring it up.

“Are you okay talking about Jimin and Taehyung?” you ask tentatively from behind Jungkook. “You seemed kind of concerned about them earlier.”

Jungkook stops washing the dish he’s holding and sighs audibly, letting his shoulders drop and his head fall back. “Yeah,” he says anyway, and waves you toward the sink so he can see you while he talks. You hop up onto the counter next to him and swing your legs out in front of you absentmindedly while he continues to clean the plate in front of him.

“So,” Jungkook starts, “Jimin is going to get his pairing from the elders soon.”

You hum to yourself in thought. Even though you had only really just met Jimin officially, you could tell that he and Taehyung had something between them. From the way they smiled shyly at each other on their shared seat to the way they played the games together throughout the evening, it was clear that there were feelings other than ones of friendship present there. How would Jimin’s pairing affect the dynamic between them?

“But he and Taehyung…” you voice your thoughts about the two out loud, but trail off.

Jungkook has a sort of grave look on his face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look like that. The corners of his mouth are downturned and his eyes have little life in them when he says, “Yeah, I know. Jimin is going to get his pairing but he doesn’t know if he’ll accept it or not. Because the thing is that Taehyung rejected his own pairing.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head at that, but you don’t say anything. You want Jungkook to keep talking. This is the most interesting story you’ve heard in weeks.

“Yeah, that’s what I did, too,” Jungkook says, referring to your wide eyes. “I’d never met anyone who had rejected their pairing before Taehyung did it. He seemed so sure about it, too. Then, get this, he told me the reason he rejected his pairing was because he’s in love with Jimin. So, naturally, I ask him if Jimin feels the same way, and he just goes, ‘I have no idea.’ No idea! He rebelled against the entire system and yet he had no idea how Jimin felt about him.”

Realization hits you in that moment, so you ask, “Was that why Jimin said he was hoping Taehyung wouldn’t be here tonight? Because he feels pressured to reject his pairing for Taehyung?”

Jungkook is nodding before you even finish your question. “Yeah, that’s why. It turned out that Jimin does also have feelings for Taehyung, but Jimin is way less fearless than Taehyung is. He doesn’t know what will happen if he rejects his pairing. He doesn’t want to lose his family or the life he has right now. That’s why he was nervous about Taehyung being here tonight, because he wants to make that decision on his own, and not with any outside influence. But at the same time, Taehyung already did all that, and Jimin doesn’t want it to be for nothing.”

You wait for Jungkook to finish his speech before making so much as a sound. It seems like he really needed to get this out, like it had been weighing on him heavily. He’s never really confided in you about… well, anything. You just know this is a step in the right direction. (You might not be sure what the direction is, exactly, but you still feel good about it.) 

What you want to say in response to Jungkook’s words is, “If they’re in love, there shouldn’t be a decision to make.” But you know it’s more complicated than that. You have no idea what it’s like for people who rebel against the elders’ decisions. While Taehyung seemed happy and carefree all throughout the evening, you don’t know anything about what his life is like when he leaves the safe space of your apartment. With that in mind, all you can bring yourself to say is, “That’s a big decision to make.”

Jungkook nods again, then goes back to washing the dish in his hands. You continue sitting on the counter, thinking. Though your own greatest dream is to be in love, you didn’t even reject your pairing to try to find it. You figure the two must be quite different, wishing for love and actually experiencing it. If love is strong enough to make people go against the elders, what else are people in love capable of doing?

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Jungkook calls your name.

“Huh?” you say distractedly.

Jungkook moves away from the sink and comes to stand in front of you, coming to a stop between your legs, still dangling from the counter. As soon as he stops moving, your heart stops beating from his proximity. He still smells like soap, the way he did when he helped you out of your wedding dress. You never knew the smell of soap could be so intoxicating. He’s so close, you can even see flecks of gold in his chocolate eyes that you’ve never noticed before, like pieces of treasure just waiting to be found.

You’re not sure why he’s so close to you, but you remind yourself to be logical. He’s just concerned about how quiet you’ve become. Or you have something on your face that he’s going to remove. Yeah, that’s it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, confirming your suspicions about his concern for you. You nod at him, smiling as he rests his hands on the counter beside your thighs. He’s so close to you, and you briefly hope that he can’t hear how wildly your heart is beating in your chest. You could kiss him right now without a problem. You’re barely able to focus on your conversation with him when the only things in your field of vision are his soft, wine-stained lips and the adorable mole underneath them.

Yeah. You definitely want to kiss him.

“You sure?” he presses. You nod again, worried about your ability to speak properly in this moment. You then yawn without warning.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you say, as if your yawn needed explaining.

“Okay,” he says through his own yawn. “Want to go to bed?”

There are a lot of things you want, most of which involve having Jungkook’s mouth on yours right this very second. Thoughts of the elders, marriage, pairings, love and rebellion still fly around in your head, but none of them outweigh your desire to kiss your husband.

Instead of voicing any of those thoughts, however, you just sigh and say, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

~~~

Nothing could have prepared you for the onslaught of pain and discomfort you are currently experiencing. You are presently lying on the bathroom floor after heaving over the toilet for about the twelfth time. Your body is burning from the inside out with fever, your chills have you shivering uncontrollably, and to top it all off you’ve just started your period as well. So, in addition to the regular aches and pains that come with being sick, you have cramps that you know will only get worse, your mood is going to take a dive, and you’re more than likely going to ruin at least one pair of underwear this week. Fantastic.

You had gone to bed the night before already feeling under the weather, and you had just called out of work before you told Jungkook about it, in case he didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with a potentially sick person. You certainly hadn’t expected him to give up the entire bed for you so you could sleep comfortably. When you had protested, he had said he wanted you to be able to sleep for as long as you needed, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you up while he was getting ready for work the next morning. He even took all his necessities out of the bedroom and said he could just get ready at the gym instead of using your ensuite bathroom. How thoughtful.

Now that you think about it, as you lean away from the toilet and try to breathe normally for longer than two minutes at a time, you missed getting to see Jungkook before he went to work today. While it is true that he always wakes you up when he’s getting ready, you’ve come to find that you might like that part of your day with him the most.

Each morning, you get to stay in bed and be sleepy while you watch Jungkook move deftly around your bedroom, trying to slick his hair back properly or button the buttons on his shirt cuffs. (You love when he wears dress shirts because you usually have to help him with those exact buttons. He always smiles at you fondly while you do it, appreciative of your willingness to assist him. You, in turn, think it’s sweet that he looks to you for help when he struggles, even though it is with something small like shirt buttons. It makes you smile back at him every time.)

Additionally, you always end up talking about what your respective days will look like at work or the new episode of Survivor you watched together the night before. You discuss what you want to have for dinner, talk about whether or not you’ll see any friends this weekend, or play a game of Would You Rather?

Last week you had a pretty intense debate about which fictional characters you thought would survive a zombie apocalypse. (While you went into it thinking the cast of The Walking Dead would stand the best chance, you ended up agreeing with Jungkook’s choice of the Archer cast in the end, seeing as the title character had literally died and been brought back to life over the course of one episode.)

Through these mornings spent together, you’ve been able to see each other at your groggiest and crankiest, and it feels so domestic. It feels natural.

You imagine a couple in love would do the same.

It’s a thought you’ve been having about a lot of seemingly mundane things lately - the way you and Jungkook share a blanket while you watch badly reviewed horror movies, the way he always gives you some of his dessert because he knows you have a serious sweet tooth, the way you both end up using each other’s shampoo when you run out of your own.

You used to try to shove the thoughts down to where even you couldn’t reach them, but recently your growing feelings for Jungkook have been making those same thoughts of happy couples bubble up to the surface of your consciousness. The thoughts make you happy, and if you’re honest, so does Jungkook. You’ve developed a kind of friendship with him that you cherish, even if it came about in an unorthodox way. While your marriage isn’t based on love like you think marriages should be, you still make a good pair.

After downing some DayQuil and ibuprofen, you miraculously make it to the living room somehow and you lay down gingerly on the couch. You decide to turn on some Jeopardy! reruns to distract yourself from your abundant pain. You text Jungkook to let him know how you feel and to ask him to bring home some more pain meds when he gets off of work tonight. You then snuggle deeper into your blanket burrito and try to rest your tired eyes while you listen to Alex Trebek calmly reading clues to his contestants. Full of medication and practically swathed in your blanket like a baby, you eventually fall asleep.

You wake up some time later to a throbbing headache and the sounds of Alex Trebek on your television replaced with the sounds of someone cooking in your kitchen. You check your phone to find that it is only 12:03pm and you immediately shoot up from your place on the couch, only to fall right back down when a new wave of nausea hits you. You choke it back enough to weakly say, “Hello?” and hope that there isn’t a murderer making something delicious in your kitchen before killing you.

You hear a noncommittal noise from over the back of the couch, and you open your eyes (when had you closed them?) to find Jungkook towering over you, chewing something thoughtfully. Before you can scold him for almost making you have a panic attack while you’re already sick, he walks around to your side of the couch and sits down carefully, then lifts a spoon from somewhere and brings it to your mouth, making you go cross-eyed to see it and asking you very seriously, “Does this taste okay?”

You can’t believe your ears. He didn’t even say hello, he just shoved a spoonful of something in your face and asked you to taste it. Why did he do that? Why does he look so... contemplative while he eats? Does he always have his brows knit together and his mouth turned into a serious-looking frown like that while he chews? Why haven’t you ever noticed before? You think you might vomit again.

Your disbelief and hesitance to try whatever is in that spoon must show on your face, because Jungkook removes the utensil from your personal space and follows his original question up with a much more timid, “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh...” you start. Is everything okay? There isn’t a murderer in your house after all, which is a huge plus, but it’s only noon and Jungkook is here instead of at work, and he’s cooking. What is he doing here? Did something happen at work? Did he get fired? Why can’t you ever turn off your brain? The thoughts of Jungkook’s employment status swim through your head and make you dizzier than you already are from the fever.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you finish, voice hoarse. You haven’t spoken a single word yet today, partly because you’ve been sleeping and partly because the effort it takes for you to speak in your sickened state is simply too much for you to handle. You figure it’ll be worth it this one time, though, just to make Jungkook look less nervous. You don’t understand why he still looks so nervous around you sometimes.

A look of relief washes over Jungkook’s face and he visibly relaxes. He hops off the couch to go back into the kitchen and continue stirring the pot of whatever he’s making. It smells like... chicken noodle soup? You’re not quite sure, but it smells delicious. Your stomach growls without warning.

“I’m making you soup!” Jungkook says cheerily from his place at the stove. He doesn’t elaborate, so you use up most of the strength you have left to get off the couch and waddle gracelessly to the kitchen in your blanket burrito. You slowly take your place at the kitchen table and lay your head down on it to try to ease some of your lightheadedness.

“But –“ you stop to take in a breath and let your stomach settle. “But why are you here? Why aren’t you at work?”

Jungkook stops stirring the pot of soup (it’s definitely chicken noodle) and stands up a bit straighter. He has his back to you, and you can see a faint blush creeping up from under his collar. He puts his free hand behind him and scratches at his neck, a habit you’ve come to learn he turns to when he doesn’t know what to say. It’s cute. Your heart might flutter a little whenever he does it.

He mumbles something you can’t discern, so you say, “Huh? Sorry, I can’t hear well when I’m sick like this.”

Jungkook quickly turns around to face you, his cheeks and ears just as red as his neck. He’s looking anywhere but at you, and he’s fiddling with his wedding band.

“They said in sickness and in health, right? The vows, I mean. They said in sickness and in health, and you’re sick, so... I’m here.”

Your heart is definitely fluttering now, and you don’t try to stop it. Where did this come from? He’s been sweet to you since you first met him, but he’s never directly referenced your wedding vows before as a reason for his demeanor towards you. You didn’t think your vows meant that much to him.

Oh, wait.

Maybe they don’t.

The butterflies inside you die just as soon as they had come to life. You keep forgetting that this marriage only exists on paper. Jungkook may care about you, but not in the way you hope he does. He was forced into this just as much as you were. He must feel a sense of duty and obligation toward you because you’re married and because you’re friends now.

But still... he didn’t have to come home in the middle of the day. That was his choice. And why did he turn so red before he mentioned your vows? If this was about duty and obligation, you’re sure he would be able to keep his cool around you and not get so flustered.

You smile despite yourself, and you lift your head off the table just as Jungkook brings two steaming bowls of soup over and sits down next to you. Before you dig in, though, Jungkook suddenly perks up and moves to stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask as you take your first bite. You were right, it is chicken noodle soup, and it’s delicious. There are carrots and celery in it (just the way you like it), the noodles are cooked perfectly, and the chicken practically melts in your mouth. The soup tastes like your mom’s. When did you ever tell Jungkook about your mom’s recipe?

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, just walks out of sight toward the front door. You hear the crinkling sound of a plastic bag, and then he reappears at the table as fast as he had left.

“I didn’t know what meds you wanted, so I just got… a bunch of them,” he says, pouring an obscene amount of pill bottles onto the table. There are blue bottles, pink bottles, tiny bottles, bottles so wide you’re sure you couldn’t wrap your hand around them if you tried. You almost spit out your soup with a laugh, and a sheepish grin makes its way onto Jungkook’s face.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Why are you getting these out all of a sudden?” You honestly can’t believe he bought you so many different kinds of pills. You must have not specified which pills you needed when you texted him earlier this morning. The fact that he didn’t want to disturb you to ask you which ones you wanted almost makes you cry with affection.

“Well, you were sleeping for a while, and I figured you woke up because the ones you took before wore off. Was I right?” Jungkook’s embarrassed smile has been replaced by a look that is much more self-assured. You can’t decide which look you like more on him.

You smile cheekily back at him and reply, “Yeah, you’re right.” You sift through the pill bottles until you find the right ones, you knock them back with your water (“You need fluids!” Jungkook practically yelled at you in concern when you complained that you wanted a soda instead), and you finish off your soup with vigor, not realizing how hungry you had actually been before eating.

Before you can move to get up and bring your bowl to the sink, Jungkook beats you to it, swiftly gathering your dishes together and carrying them over to the opposite side of the kitchen. His shirt sleeves are rolled up in the same way they were on your wedding night, and you can’t help but stare at the ever-present vein that runs up his arm. You think about how painfully shy he was when you first met, and how he still is sometimes. You also think about how he has slowly come out of his protective shell since you’ve been living together, even if he does still act skittish around you sometimes. From every angle, inside and out, Jungkook is beautiful.

“I could have done that,” you say, just to get your mind off of how much Jungkook has come to mean to you in the past months. You might even venture to say he’s become one of your best friends.

Jungkook turns around and leans against the countertop, brows knit together and mouth turned downward slightly. He’s thinking.

“You haven’t stood up in a little while,” he says finally. “Are you sure you could have?”

You immediately scoot your chair away from the table to prove it to him, only to realize that, no, you probably could not have brought your own dishes to the sink. You whine at your current state and Jungkook comes over to help you out of your chair and back to what, by now, is surely a germ-infested couch. However, instead of moving away from you as soon as you’re laying down again, Jungkook sits down right next to your feet, making himself at home on top of the part of your blanket that doesn’t cover you. His closeness electrifies you, even when you feel nothing but pain. You think he might be made of magic.

He reaches for the remote on the coffee table and says, as he turns on the television, “So we’re watching Jeopardy! reruns, right? Or do you want something different now?”

His tone is so gentle when he speaks to you, even more so than it usually is. You barely register what he says because you’re so focused on his lips when he speaks. You think that maybe this relationship is more than married people who are friends, more than duty and obligation. Maybe there is something else there after all.

You feel yourself blushing at the thought, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy looking through the options on Netflix to perceive your inner turmoil for himself. You choose to simply watch him as he browses and finally makes a selection. You spend the next two hours immersed in the newest season of Big Mouth, but every now and then you steal a glance across the couch at Jungkook.

Most of the time, he’s looking back at you.

~~~

Six months into your marriage, you realize you are in a predicament.

You’ve tried to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything, but it’s all been in vain. With some effort, you’ve finally come to the conclusion that nothing makes you happier than Jungkook.

Jungkook, who was so painfully shy and insecure on your wedding day that he almost cried when you showed him your Koya plushie.

Jungkook, who wanted your friends to get closer to his and organized a game night to make it happen.

Jungkook, who brought home an entire pharmacy and made your mom’s chicken noodle soup for you when you were sick.

Jungkook, who is perfect for you.

You are in a predicament, and your predicament is this: you have fallen, absolutely and irreversibly, in love with your husband.

And you know it’s only going to get worse.

You’re currently on your way back home from seeing a movie with Jungkook, running at full speed toward your apartment building to avoid being soaked by the rain that’s suddenly coming down in buckets. After slipping once or twice on the blacktop, you make it inside your building and head immediately for the elevator, excited to change out of your newly wet clothes and get in bed for the night.

You make it into the elevator and, with some effort, push the button for the seventh floor. You don’t realize how much you actually ran until you’ve stopped moving completely and are waiting for the elevator to arrive at your floor. You’re slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, and you look over to see that Jungkook is similarly affected by your sprint.

With a small chuckle, you stand up straight once more and quip, “For someone who goes to the gym so often, you sure look tired from that little run.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you but can’t hide his smile when he says, “One, that was a run with no warm-up! I always warm up first because I hate cardio. And two, you don’t look so g--”

His surely witty response is cut off by the elevator suddenly going dark and ceasing its upward movement. The unexpected stoppage causes you to lurch forward, crashing into Jungkook with a yelp and causing you both to tumble to the floor with a loud thud. You don’t even have time to freak out about basically laying on top of Jungkook on the floor of this elevator because you’re too busy freaking out about the possibility that the elevator itself will fall to the basement and kill you both.

You wait for a few moments, straining your ears to see if you can pick up any sound, any indication that the elevator is going to drop. When you hear nothing but silence, you turn your attention to the body underneath you, which is starting to squirm slightly. You quickly scramble off of Jungkook with a mumbled apology and get back to your feet, then begin to search your pockets for your phone so you can use its flashlight. Once you find your phone and turn on the flashlight, you begin looking around the elevator for the panel of buttons so you can hopefully get to your destination and leave your tiny prison.

While Jungkook is struggling to his feet with a groan, you find the panel and push the button for the seventh floor, but nothing happens. You try again. Nothing. You try the button to open the doors. Nothing. You try the button for the lobby. Nothing. You try all the remaining buttons, including the panic button. Nothing.

You’re trapped in the elevator.

Panic begins to overtake you as you realize what’s happening. Your breath starts coming in short, quick pants that you can’t control. Your entire body feels rigid, like you could break in half if someone so much as touched you. Your vision is blurry and unfocused; you might be seeing double. You’re unsure. It doesn’t help that your only light source is a phone flashlight. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, the sound trying to claw its way out of you and into the small space the elevator provides. The same thought keeps cycling through your mind, leaving room for nothing else. I can’t get out.

Panic attacks used to be a daily occurrence for you years ago (for reasons you would rather not discuss), but these days you only have one every few months, which is a great improvement if you do say so yourself. You’ve learned how to avoid them when possible and, when you do have one, how to get through them.

This is one of those times when you need to get through it.

You know one of the only ways for you to overcome a panic attack is for you to talk it out with someone, but the only person in this space with you is Jungkook, and until now you have avoided letting him be aware of this part of you, since being vulnerable around him is still difficult for you. You don’t want him to think any less of you or to think you’re being dramatic. You’re not sure how you would cope if Jungkook thought those things about you, so you haven’t ever given him the chance.

You consider trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside you, but you know that will only make it worse for you and will likely send you into a full-on meltdown, which you desperately want to avoid having in front of your husband. With that in mind, you take in a shaky breath to try to calm your nerves a bit before you speak. Even so, you can’t help how small you sound when you say, “Um, hey, Jungkook?”

Jungkook, who is looking at the elevator buttons exasperatedly with his own flashlight, mutters out a “Hm?”

“Um, would you mind turning your flashlight off for a second?” you ask while turning your own off.

Jungkook is still looking at the buttons. “Huh? Why?” he says distractedly.

A tear slips from your eye and down your cheek as you turn away from him, crouching to the floor to hold yourself. Your hands feel slightly numb, and your brain is screaming a million different things at you. You understand none of them.

“Because, um, I don’t want you to see me, um, cry right now.”

Not even a full second goes by before the elevator is once again cloaked in darkness. While you’re thankful and relieved that he listened to you, you’re unable to stop the tiny sob that escapes your lips. You can hear Jungkook take in a breath as he opens his mouth to speak. You’re prepared for the worst when he says, “What do you need from me?”

You cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your cries. You didn’t think it was possible for Jungkook to be any more perfect than you already thought he was. He’s good at proving you wrong about that.

Jungkook must hear your weeping anyway, though, because he continues, tentatively asking, “Wait, did I say the wrong thing?” He keeps speaking after that, seemingly more to himself than to you, saying, “Dammit, I really suck at this.”

You stop your quiet bawling long enough to emphatically say, “No! No, you didn’t say the wrong thing at all. You said exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you.”

“I did? I mean, okay, so what should I do?” Jungkook asks, still sounding unsure.

“This. Keep doing this. Talking to me, I mean. I need to get my mind off of what’s happening. Talk about anything, and get me to answer you,” you say through your tears. Your voice is already steadier when you speak, and the million thoughts in your brain seem to have silenced themselves. You feel clearer.

Jungkook makes a sound of realization at your words, then does exactly as you asked.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“What time do you usually wake up in the morning?”

“Um, around 8:00.”

“Okay, uh… oh, since you can’t see, what are three things that you can feel right now?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, as that’s a question that people who know you well have asked you during panic attacks. After a beat of silence, you answer, “Um, I can feel my phone in my hand. I can feel my hair getting the back of my shirt wet. And I can feel you.”

“Cool. Wait, what?” Jungkook says, sounding confused. “What do you mean, me?”

For just a moment, you’re glad you’re in the dark, because you’re surely blushing right now. “I mean that I can feel your presence next to me, your warmth. Like, even when you’re not speaking, I can tell that you’re there. Does that make sense?”

You hear feet shuffling on the carpeted floor, and then Jungkook speaks. “I, uh… I think so, yeah. I can feel, um… I can feel you too,” he finishes, sounding more certain than he did when he started speaking. You wonder if he’s just saying that for your benefit, or if he really can feel you. You hope it’s the latter.

Still feeling shaky, you ask Jungkook, “Can you tell me a story? Any story, I don’t care. I just like listening to you talk.” You close your eyes, even though you can’t see Jungkook at the moment. You feel like you need an extra layer of protection from the confession you just made to him. If he picks up on the confession, though, he doesn’t mention it. You’re thankful.

“Oh, okay, um… do you want to hear the stolen underwear story or the drunk karaoke story?” He asks the question quickly, as if those are the two stories he whips out at parties without a problem.

Both of those options sound extremely ridiculous to you, but you find yourself smiling slightly when you answer, “The underwear one.”

You hear a small snicker in the darkness. That alone is somehow enough to help you feel a little less panicked. Then Jungkook starts speaking.

“So basically, I went to this summer camp when I was like thirteen, and I had to share a bunk with maybe six or seven other guys. The camp itself was great. It lasted most of the summer, and it’s how I met Taehyung. Anyway, somehow I had managed to lose about half of the underwear I had brought with me over the course of the summer, and I honestly thought it was just me being an idiot. So we got to the end of our time there and, since we all knew each other so well, we had like a roast session slash complain-about-your-campmates session.”

The story itself is pretty amusing, but what’s hilarious is how Jungkook is devolving into a fit of giggles while telling it. His voice is coming from somewhere at your level, telling you that he sat down at some point in the middle of his story. You’re glad that he came down to the floor to be near you, but you don’t say anything about it. You just listen as he continues, voice soothing your frazzled nerves.

“So I get up there and I’m like, ‘Yo, guys, whoever stole all my underwear better watch out,’ even though I thought I had just lost them myself. So after I go up there, Taehyung gets on the stage and he looks really apologetic. I’m wondering why, because he had told me what he was going to say before we got up there. So he gets up there, and he looks right at me, and he just goes, ‘Jungkook, I’m sorry for stealing your underwear.’”

Now it’s your turn to giggle. You never would have pegged Taehyung for an underwear thief. Just listening to Jungkook’s story and his laughter is calming you down further from your panic. Even though you may not be out of the woods yet, you appreciate Jungkook’s efforts to help you more than you can say.

Jungkook’s laughter dies down after a bit, and a comfortable silence falls over the tiny space you’re occupying. Soon enough, though, you hear the sound of a throat clearing, and then his voice asks, “How are you doing now?”

You sniff slightly before answering, “A little better. I really appreciate that you listened to me instead of just trying to fix the problem. Most people would have just tried to call maintenance first instead of helping me. So thank you.”

You hear the telltale sign of Jungkook scratching at the back of his neck. He doesn't know what to say. You're too panicked out to worry about whether you've made him uncomfortable, and even if you had the energy to wonder about it, you wouldn't need to do so for long anyway, because he does end up speaking.

"Um, you're welcome. But to be honest, I don't feel like I did much. This was all you."

At his statement, you find yourself groping through the dark to find him where he sits. You're not sure why he thinks he didn’t have a hand in you calming down, but you’re suddenly very determined to set him straight. It matters to you that he put in work to help you feel better, and he should know that.

Once you manage to touch his shoulder, he yelps in surprise and you chuckle. You feel your way down his arms until you reach his hands, warm despite the icy rain outside, and you squeeze them tightly.

"Please believe me when I say this," you state as assertively as you can. "The reason I can talk to you normally right now has nothing to do with me. I owe that to you. You were everything I needed to get through that. Thank you."

You can't believe you're being so up-front with Jungkook right now. Perhaps it's the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Regardless of the reason, though, you find that you don't regret anything you've said to him in this elevator. If you had the option to take back your words about how to calm you down or about how you like listening to Jungkook speak, you wouldn’t. It all felt right.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook says after a pause. “And thank you, too. You know, for… letting me help you. Thank you for trusting me.”

You let out a breath and squeeze his hands again. “Is it okay if I hug you?” you ask before you can stop yourself. While you would consider the two of you to be close at this point, you���ve never hugged each other before. Now feels like the opportune time for it to finally happen and for you to become closer physically, just as you did metaphorically through the words you shared while trapped here together.

Jungkook seems to give his answer the same amount of thought that you gave your question, because he immediately says, “Yes. Yes, definitely.” He sounds slightly breathless when he says it.

You let go of his hands and feel for his shoulders again. Once you find them, you pull Jungkook into a gentle hug, made only slightly awkward by your sitting positions. Your head rests in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, and you breathe out a sigh. His hands settle on the small of your back, thumbs moving up and down the material of your shirt reassuringly.

You can’t believe you’ve never hugged this man before now. You fit together perfectly, even when you’re both sitting. You wonder what it would be like to hug while standing, or to cuddle while laying down. You hope this is the first of many hugs with Jungkook.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jungkook’s voice, quiet and calm in your ear. “Not to be an ass, but would this be an okay time to call maintenance?”

You huff out a laugh into his neck and mumble an agreement, then begin to disentangle yourself from him. 

You watch Jungkook as he looks up and calls the apartment complex’s maintenance number. You then slowly get back to your feet, turn your flashlight back on, and make your way back to the button panel. You press each button again, one by one. No luck. With a sigh, you turn back to Jungkook, who has just finished his call.

“What did they say?” you ask, sounding tired to your own ears. You feel tired, too.

Jungkook looks at you with a kind of grimace on his face. “The guy can come reset the breaker or whatever, but he’s already dealing with a flooded bathtub in another building, so he doesn’t think he’ll be able to come over here for a while.”

“Oh,” you say, “okay. What should we do?” You have to tell yourself that there is no use panicking a second time. Luckily, your rational side wins this battle with your emotions.

“Wait, you’re not upset?” Jungkook asks, sounding a bit disbelieving.

“Not really,” you reply. “I already kind of tired myself out. And besides, you’re here. So I’ll be okay.”

You swear you can see Jungkook blush.

~~~

“Never have I ever…” You chew on your lip as you try to think of something else that you have never done. “Oh! Never have I ever broken a bone.”

Jungkook lets out a chuckle and puts a finger down. He only has one out of five left up.

It’s been over two hours since you first entered the elevator. Over two hours since the thing stopped functioning properly, leaving you and Jungkook stuck together in its tiny space. Maintenance still hasn’t shown up to fix it, meaning that the two of you have had to find ways to occupy yourselves. You’ve turned your flashlights back on and settled your phones against the elevator walls for some visibility, and you’ve been playing games since then.

“Okay, my go,” Jungkook says, bouncing a little where he sits. He scrunches his face up in thought, looking to the ceiling. He’s so cute like this, you think. You want to reach out and hug him again, just to feel his strong arms around you. But you don’t. For right now, just looking at him is enough.

He suddenly looks down from the ceiling and right at you, a glint in his eyes. You wonder what he’s going to say that has him giving you that look. It’s like he wants to know all your secrets. After today, you’d be more than willing to give them to him.

“Never have I ever been in love.”

Just as your heart promptly begins to break at his words, you notice movement from the corner of your eye. You look to his hand and find that he put his last finger down.

Just as soon as you begin to register that, yes, Jungkook has indeed been in love with at least one person in his life, you hear a chuckle that sounds almost forlorn. You move your eyes back to Jungkook’s face to find that he’s practically grimacing, and you give him a questioning look.

“Just me, huh?” Jungkook asks quietly, sadly.

“What do you mean?” you breathe out.

“You didn’t put a finger down,” he says as he points in your general direction. You peer down at your hand and realize that he’s right. Without looking up to see how he’ll react, you put one of your fingers down. You hear a small gasp and you glance up, meeting Jungkook’s wide eyes.

“Not just you,” you say softly, a sad smile on your face.

Jungkook seems to perk up a little at your words, but you can tell that he’s nervous now. He’s fiddling with his wedding band like he always does when he’s nervous. What does he have to be nervous about?

“Wait,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t speak up. “Why did you say something that you have done?”

In the dim lighting of your dying phones, it looks like Jungkook is blushing again. He scratches the back of his neck and then, without looking directly at you, says, “I wanted to know if you had.”

You can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. Is he trying to say what you think he is? You search Jungkook’s face until he focuses back on you, somewhat wistfully.

“Why does it matter if I have?” You can’t help but let hope bloom inside you as you await his next words. 

Jungkook lets out a sigh, closes his eyes, opens them again. He regards you with a determined look, then he finally speaks.

“Because then there might be a chance that you love me back.”

There is absolutely a chance, you think to yourself. You want to scream it from the rooftops, but instead you remain still in stunned silence. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, finally coming true. You’ve never desired anything as much as you desire to be loved, and now it’s finally happening. You know you need to speak soon, or you’ll risk making Jungkook think that you do not return his affections. Oh, how wrong he would be.

But, how will you tell him?

You glance down at your lap and see that you are still holding a finger up, even though you’ve already won the game. It gives you an idea. You hold up your last remaining finger and briefly look at Jungkook, who appears as though he might pass out from your silence. You would usually be amused by his expression of nervousness, but right now you’re too nervous about what you’re going to do next.

“Never have I ever kissed Jeon Jungkook,” you say quietly, putting your finger down. Before Jungkook even has the time to react to your statement, you’re crawling forward to where he sits, taking his face gently in both of your hands, and slotting your lips together.

You feel Jungkook sigh into your mouth and wrap his hands around your waist, just as he did when he hugged you earlier. You’ve never experienced a kiss like this one. It electrifies your very being from the inside out, while also being soft, gentle, sweet. Jungkook’s lips are like velvet, and he tastes like the Skittles you shared in the movie theater earlier tonight.

Wanting to be closer to him, you move to straddle Jungkook where he sits, pressing your chests together and moving your hands around to the back of his head. He responds eagerly, tightening his hold around your back without ever removing his mouth from yours. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he shivers slightly, so you continue your ministrations as his hands begin to fall lower.

Just when you think Jungkook is going to grab at your ass, the elevator’s lights come on and the thing roars to life, beginning to ascend once more. You take your lips off of Jungkook’s and he follows you with a whine, not wanting to stop despite the current circumstances. You giggle and place one final peck to his already kiss-bitten lips before climbing off of him and standing up. You help Jungkook to his feet, grab both of your phones from the floor, and turn off their flashlights before turning towards the elevator door, feeling lighter than air.

As the elevator continues to move, you see Jungkook out of the corner of your eye and you stifle a laugh. He’s pouting. Feeling brave after his confession and your kiss, you turn to him with a coy smile and say, “You can keep kissing me, you know.”

Jungkook’s face morphs from sullen into elated in an instant, and just like that he’s crowding into your space to kiss you again. He puts his hands on the sides of your head this time, moving his thumbs gently across your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

As the elevator finally comes to a halt on your floor and the door opens, Jungkook doesn’t let up, continuing to kiss you fervently. He simply moves backwards out of the elevator and takes you with him. You smile into the kiss, euphoric over the fact that he wants you so much that he can’t stop kissing you while you walk the few feet from the elevator to your own door.

You delicately push Jungkook away from you so you can see the door behind him, but he is undeterred. He moves so that he stands behind you instead, pressing kisses to the back of your head, the part of your jaw that he can reach, the top of your neck. Now it’s your turn to shiver, as he has found your weak spot. You love few things more than neck kisses.

It takes most of the strength you possess to not let your knees buckle while Jungkook’s mouth is on your neck, but you manage to get your key into the lock and open the door to your apartment. You’ve barely gotten past the threshold and kicked off your shoes when Jungkook spins you around and kisses you hungrily, as if he’ll die if he doesn’t. You think you might die yourself.

You begin to back up until you find yourself against the wall of your entryway, Jungkook pinning you to the spot with his kisses. You put your hands back into his hair and he lets out a quiet moan into your mouth, bringing his hands down and around you to squeeze your ass. You never thought a sound could be so sexy. You decide you want to hear it every day.

Jungkook lets his mouth wander back over your jaw and down your neck. He finds your pulse point with ease and begins to suck, making you moan out loud. Jungkook freezes for a moment, as if surprised by what you’ve done. You notice quickly and use your hand to push Jungkook’s head back into your neck, whispering out a breathless, “Please don’t stop.”

You can feel Jungkook smile into your neck and then he gets back to work, littering your neck and collarbone with tiny purple marks. You can also feel a hardness at your belly, straining against Jungkook’s pants. You snake one of your hands down his chest and hook a couple of fingers underneath his waistband. You can feel Jungkook’s stomach tense up at your actions, so you pause, lick your lips and throatily ask, “Is this okay?”

Jungkook takes his mouth off of you just long enough to say, “God, yes.”

You don’t hesitate to move your hand further into Jungkook’s pants, past his coarse hair and right around the base of his cock. He hisses at the contact, moving one of his hands off of your ass to the front of your joggers. He begins massaging your aching center through your clothes and you sigh, your legs widening of their own accord.

You continue to move your hand over Jungkook’s cock as best you can while he’s still dressed. You don’t expect either of you to get off like this, but it’s still hot knowing that you couldn’t even get to a bed before you had each other.

Speaking of a bed, though...

“Jungkook. Bed. Now,” you practically choke out.

At your plea, Jungkook backs away from you just to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist, carrying you easily to your bedroom. Once there, he proceeds to climb onto the bed with you still in his hold and lean forward slowly, laying you down as if in reverence. Once you’re splayed out beneath him, he takes a moment to gaze at you from above. He must like what he sees, because he gives you one of his big, bunny-like smiles before he’s back to kissing you.

You soon become impatient, however, wanting to close the distance between you both and rid your bodies of their clothes. You tap Jungkook lightly on the shoulder, and he backs away from your face to look at you. You’ve never seen someone look so beautiful.

Jungkook’s hair is in complete disarray from you putting your hands through it, his eyes are absolutely blown out, and his lips are raw and red from your kissing. He’s panting heavily and gazing at you with a look that you can’t describe as anything other than adoration.

You forget how to talk for a moment, so you just pout and tug at the hem of his shirt. He gets the picture, sitting back on his heels and peeling the offending article off of himself. You watch him from between the pillows, eyes darkening as you take in his toned form. You decide that Jungkook really was sculpted by the gods.

Despite Jungkook having an intensely hot body, he puts his arms in front of his chest. He sounds extremely shy when he says, “You too?”

You nod happily and sit up on the bed, urging Jungkook to rid you of your shirt himself. Once he does, you can feel his eyes roaming across the expanse of skin that he has already covered in love bites, then downward to the rest of your newly exposed flesh. He licks his lips.

You don’t bother trying to get him to undo your bra for you. Wanting to avoid the hassle, you reach behind you and unclasp it with one hand, letting it fall from your shoulders. Jungkook drinks you in, from the birthmark on your left breast to your pierced right nipple. If his gaze were capable of getting darker, you think it just did.

“Can I see the rest of you?” Jungkook asks, only sounding a little less shy than he did a moment ago. He’s toying with the cuff of your joggers when he says it.

“Yes,” you say unhesitatingly, lifting your hips from the bed to begin taking your pants off. Jungkook helps you along, pulling at the legs until he has the garment bunched in his hands along with your lace underwear. He practically swoons at the sight of you laid bare on your bed. You thought you might be self-conscious under his stare, but you’re not. All you can feel is wanted.

“Your turn,” you say, toeing at Jungkook’s jeans. He kneels up to begin unbuttoning them, but you scoot forward and place your hand over his before he can.

“I want to do it,” you say, peering up at him with soft eyes. He gulps, then moves his hands to give you access. You take the button into your hands and pop it open, then slowly, tortuously pull down his zipper. You manage to accidentally torture yourself during the process, so you waste no time tugging the jeans down over Jungkook’s firm ass along with his boxer briefs, letting his cock free from its confines. You didn’t think it was possible for a cock to be beautiful before this moment, but you do now.

He’s longer than you expected him to be, and not exactly thick, but there is a prominent vein running up the underside of him, and it reminds you of the vein on his hand and arm. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him being inside you. You want him inside you right now.

Jungkook manages to rid himself of his jeans and underwear completely before he’s hovering back over you, looking like he can’t decide what to do next. The thought of him being overwhelmed by you turns you on immensely, and you pull him down into a bruising kiss. He reciprocates with something that you can’t describe as anything but pure zeal, as he immediately takes your tongue into his mouth and meets it with his own. The taste of him is intoxicating, fruity and dulcet, the only thing you want to taste for the rest of your life.

Jungkook comes down to the bed and lays next to you, tangling your legs together and letting his free hand wander over your body exploratively. He tentatively cups your breast in his hand and squeezes, then rubs at your pierced nipple until it becomes a stiff peak. He then continues downward, palming at your soft stomach and your fleshy hip, until he reaches your mound. He moves his hand through curls damp with arousal, making you sigh wantonly into his kiss and squeeze at his bicep. You want him to hurry, but he’s taking his time with you.

He begins to rut against you lightly as his hand dips down between your soaked folds. You’re positive he’s going so slowly on purpose, because he chuckles when you begin to whine and circle your hips to try to get him to speed up.

“You’re so impatient,” he teases lightly, dancing his fingers along your inner lips, so close to your entrance you can practically taste it.

“Uh huh,” you manage to get out. You’re hot, sweaty and trembling under his touch, and he’s barely done anything to you yet. You’d let him do anything he wanted.

Jungkook smiles down at you, then nuzzles your cheek with his nose before planting a chaste kiss there. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just that I’ve… kind of dreamt about this, and I want it to be perfect. Like you.”

You turn to face him, tears suddenly pricking your eyes, and he’s gazing down at you, cheeks aflame and eyes swimming with affection. You think this might be the best moment of your life.

You swallow and whisper, “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to cry.”

He nuzzles into you again, still smiling. “I love you so much,” he whispers back. Then he sinks two fingers into you.

The intrusion has you sighing loudly, closing your eyes, and arching your back from the bed, hands attempting to find purchase in the flannel sheets underneath you. You do your best not to squirm as Jungkook deftly moves his fingers inside your wet walls, all while beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses down the unbitten side of your neck. The combined sensations have you whimpering, already too fucked out to speak. Jungkook seems to be similarly affected, as he continues to rut against your hip, though more quickly now. You try to wriggle your hand in between your bodies to touch him, but he suddenly halts his movement against your side when he realizes what you’re attempting to do.

“What is it?” you ask, amazed that you’re even able to talk with how well he’s finger-fucking you. Jungkook doesn’t speak right away, so you bring your hand to the back of his head and pull on the hairs at his nape. It seems to ground him.

“I, uh… I don’t want you to touch me.” Jungkook says like it pains him. He’s out of breath from moving inside you. Or maybe just from getting to be with you.

“Why not?” you say, curious but nonjudgmental.

Jungkook sighs, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck, where he mumbles, “If you touch me now I think I’ll come too fast.”

You can’t help but coo at how cute he is, and you continue to pull at the hairs at his nape. He doesn’t move from that spot for a few moments, but he continues to fuck you open tenderly with his fingers. You take his silence as an opportunity.

“Do you want to fuck me?” you ask sweetly, putting as much emotion as possible into every word. You want Jungkook to know you mean it.

You hear him suck in a breath, and then you feel him nod against your neck. You push his hand away from your center only to bring it to your mouth, where you gently suck your arousal from his digits. You feel his head turn towards your face, so you can only assume that he’s watching you do it. You move your tongue over his fingers as you continue, feeling powerful and just as desired as when he had you pinned against the wall earlier.

When you finish licking Jungkook clean of your wetness, you let go of his hand. You expect him to start moving around so he can fuck you, but instead he brings his hand back to your face, where he thumbs at your cheek like he did in the elevator. He’s just looking at you longingly, lovingly. You can’t get enough of that look.

“Jungkook,” you say, your breath coming back to you. “I love you. Please fuck me.”

Jungkook pauses the movement of his thumb. “That’s the first time you’ve said it back.” He sounds choked up when he speaks.

You realize that he’s right. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” You punctuate each admission with a kiss to the crown of his head.

You hear a small sniffle before Jungkook moves his head out of your space and ducks it so you can’t see him clearly. You lift your hand to his chin and bring it forward so you can see his face. He’s wearing a small smile, lip trembling a bit. His eyes are shining.

“How do you want me?” you say softly, overwhelmed with love.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Um… can we do it like this? I want to, um, see you. I want to see you.”

You smile brightly up at him and nod, moving your hand away from his face so you can situate yourself underneath your husband. You bring him down to you for a passionate kiss while opening your legs to fit his hips between yours.

Jungkook reaches down between you, positioning his cock at your entrance. He continues to kiss you slowly, purposefully, as he inches himself inside. Your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and he swallows your moan with his lips as he bottoms out within your quivering walls.

He doesn’t move right away, allowing you a moment to adjust. Another thing to love about this man. When you’re ready, you squeeze his shoulders and he takes the cue to pull back. Then he snaps his hips forward, and you see nothing but stars.

As Jungkook thrusts into you, he drops his head back down into the crook of your neck and bites down on your pulse point again. You can’t help but cry out, your body thrumming with pleasure and a bit of pain. Jungkook only moves faster, cupping your breast with the hand not holding him up.

“I think I might come,” he confesses into your neck. You clench at the thought of him painting your walls white.

“Come whenever you want to,” you sigh back at him. You were already getting there just from being fingered, but you’re dangerously close to the precipice right now.

Jungkook lets out a huff. “You first,” he says petulantly, then moves his hand from your breast down to the apex of your thighs, where he begins rubbing your clit mercilessly.

His attention to your clit, his cock pounding into you, and his obvious desire to put you before himself all combine together to send you careening off the edge. You feel the pressure that had been building in your lower belly finally release, causing something white-hot to move outward from your very core to the tips of your fingers and toes. You call out his name as he follows you closely behind, shuddering as he comes inside you and continuing to fuck you through both of your orgasms.

After you both begin to come down and Jungkook pulls out of you, he immediately snuggles back into your side, placing his head in the crook of your neck once more and throwing his free hand over your waist, tugging you in close.

“This is my new favorite spot,” he expresses quietly, voice already thick with sleep.

You yawn, bringing your hand back to his nape and absentmindedly beginning to pull at the hair there. After all your daydreaming, you can safely say that this is your new favorite spot as well.

“I love you,” you manage to get out before you and your husband both drift off - silently, each holding a piece of the other.

[renegadepisces]

Bright Imagine: Kandomere accidentally meeting your family Pt. 2

You weren’t sure if Kandomere was flirting. You also weren’t sure if he’d meant what he said about coffee on Monday. 

Thankfully, an all points bulletin for a centaur brandishing swords in both hands as he galloped through the Natural History Museum prevented you from finding out. Of course, you were less thrilled at the prospect of missing lunch and lingering at the office well after dark. 

A notification from your phone tore your attention away from the mound of paperwork in front of you. You’d disarmed the centaur, but not without injury. The stitches you received at the hospital were not enough to get you sent home though. You’d put the cuffs on the centaur, so you had to deal with the paperwork. 

That meant forms for booking his swords into evidence, forms for cataloging damage to the museum, forms for turning him over to the hospital for drug screening - and you were certain he was on something - and more forms for processing him in jail. And then there were injury reports and the statements from your colleagues. The centaur would likely face an additional charge of assaulting an officer, which meant you could look forward to wasting an entire day testifying against him in court sometime in the future. 

You expected a text from Kandomere asking where your report was. He was usually the only other soul at the office this late. But it wasn’t Kandomere or anyone else in your unit. The notification was from your in-law, and your jaw clenched as you read it.

Heads up, the kids said they saw you on the nightly news while we were washing dishes. Are you ok?

Being on the news and the unwelcome attention that would bring wasn’t the purpose of their warning. You knew what they were really preparing you for. Any second now -

Your phone buzzed sharply against the wooden surface of your desk, only somewhat muffled by the piles of paper surrounding it. The caller ID image showed your sibling smiling broadly and grasping all three of their children tightly in a hug. It was one of your favorite pictures, but you were sure its subjects weren’t smiling now. 

Sighing, you accepted the call. Your sibling wouldn’t stop calling until they heard your voice. Maybe not even then. You did the same thing whenever they experienced a close call at work.

“Before you start, I am 100% totally fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” You told them, enunciating each syllable slowly and calmly in the hopes it would rub off on them.

It didn’t. 

“You went full Xena Warrior Princess on the 7 o’clock news, and that’s what you tell me?” Your sibling screeched, causing you to grimace and pull your phone away from your ear. 

“That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

That was clearly the wrong answer because you couldn’t manage to get a word in for 10 minutes while your older sibling ran through a laundry list of questions. 

No, you didn’t need to make a doctor appointment. No, you didn’t need to stay the night with them either. Yes, you were sure that you were perfectly well enough to drive yourself home from work. No, you didn’t have a concussion. You suspected that last one wasn’t quite true, but that was a problem for later. 

Finally, your sibling seemed pacified.You’d put him on speakerphone about 5 minutes into the conversation so that you could keep doing paperwork.

“Okay, fine. But turn on your camera. I want to see your face. The kids want to see you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you warned. “I caught a hoof in the face at some point. I’m sure it looks worse than it feels but it might not reassure them.”

You heard the anxious intake of breath from the other end of the line and cut your sibling off before they could wind themselves up again. 

“What if I show you my face and you tell them I’ll come over for dinner on Friday? The bruises will have faded by then. In the meantime, I can read them a bedtime story to distract them and you all can get to sleep.”

Your sibling paused, considering your plan. It was late and getting close to the boys’ bedtime. Your niece was hopefully already sleeping soundly in her crib at this point. But seeing news footage of your scuffle with the centaur had no doubt whipped them into a frenzy. You doubted they would sleep well tonight, and a pang of guilt echoed through you at the thought of them worrying about you. 

Your sibling agreed and did their best to stifle a wince when you flipped your camera on. You didn’t blame him. You gotten up from your desk since Ward and Jakoby brought you back to the station, which had allowed you to actively avoid all reflective surfaces. You didn’t need to see it to know it was bad. It felt awful. But you couldn’t let your nephews know that. 

The boys hadn’t quite learned to compromise yet, so you had to read two stories - one picked by each of them. Your sibling steered them toward mercifully short tales, and you channeled every ounce of effort you could muster into bringing them to life. At the conclusion of the second story, your sibling switched their camera away from the book and panned over the boys. 

Their tiny bodies were nearly still except for the steady rise and fall of their chests. Deftly and soundlessly, your sibling put the books away. You heard the soft click of them flicking the lights off as they crept out of your nephews’ shared bedroom. 

“Good job y/n,” they yawned. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Yes! You’re such an older sibling!” You hissed exasperatedly. “I have one more page to fill out, and then I’m going home.”

“No, don’t go home. You’ll go straight to bed and wake up starving at 3 am. Grab some food first,” urged your sibling’s spouse in a voice made husky from drowsiness. Your sibling must have taken the phone with them into their bedroom.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure y/n gets home alright,” Kandomere said from a few feet to your left. You hadn’t heard him approach, or even seen him since you left the scene of the incident. You wondered when he’d gotten back. Had you really been so out of that you didn’t notice?

“We’d appreciate that Agent Kandomere,” your sibling paused, and you could hear the smile in their voice before they continued. What they said next nearly made you fall out of your chair. 

“And you’re welcome to come with y/n on Friday if you’re available. They’ll give you the details.”

A stream of expletives flitted through your mind as you processed what your sibling had just done. You’d only narrowly avoided embarrassing yourself on a (maybe?) coffee date at the expense of your ability to move any part of your face and upper body without being in pain. How the hell were you supposed to get out of a family dinner? Your sibling had already told the kids, so you couldn’t cancel without gravely disappointing them. You couldn’t stand the thought of upsetting them like that when they were so worried about you. 

But you didn’t find the thought of Kandomere sitting down to dinner with your family much more tolerable. What if your sibling tried to talk cop shop with Kandomere over dinner? What if your nephews asked you to sleepover, which they usually did if you came over for dinner on a Friday night? What if they pulled up those silly selfies you’d taken with them? Or that ridiculous video of you slow dancing with them at your cousin’s wedding last spring?

Kandomere thanked them for the invitation and your sibling hung up, leaving you sitting in the suffocating silence of the MTF’s bullpen with nothing but your feverish embarrassment and Kandomere for company. You’d been avoiding eye contact with him since he made his presence known, so you were surprised when he pushed a steaming hot cup of coffee into your hand. You hadn’t noticed he’d been holding a cup in each hand. 

The comforting, sharp aroma of espresso wafted up from the cup. Your mouth started watering as the smell reminded you just how little you’d eaten or drank that day. 

“You remembered,” you whispered, and felt very stupid as soon as the words left your mouth. 

Of course he had. You always ordered espresso when buying coffee. He could probably smell it all over you. And it had been less than 48 hours since he ran into you with a cup of espresso gelato in your hand. The fact that he remembered you liked espresso was less impressive to you than the fact that he’d actually bought you coffee. 

He’d been serious. 

“Thank you,” you added hastily, eager to recover some sense of control over the situation, “You didn’t need to.”

“I keep my word.” He said, and you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as he continued, “And you’ve earned it, going ‘full Xena Warrior Princess’ this afternoon.”

You groaned. You should have guessed he’d heard that with his superior sense of hearing.

“Xena would have looked cooler and not gotten kicked in the face doing it.” you laughed. 

“You looked good enough to me,” he insisted. 

You realized at that moment that both of you still had your hands on your coffee cup. The heat of the liquid inside seeped through the styrofoam cup and its cardboard sleeve, but you also felt the warmth of his fingertips brushing yours. 

“When I first tried Aikido, I made a smart-mouthed comment about the rarity of being attacked by a sword-wielding lunatic. It seems that I owe my teacher an apology, given what happened today,” you deflected, trying to smother the mounting unease his comment sparked with humor. 

He chuckled and withdrew his hand from your coffee cup. His fingertips ghosted over yours as he did. In the dim after-hours lighting of the MTF bullpen, he looked much less severe than in the bright light of day. There was more than enough light even for your human eyes to catch the faint trace of a smile in his features though.

“Clearly there’s no need for me to ask your sibling if your impertinence is a lifelong trait over dinner on Friday.”

[marshmallowprotection]

Calluna

Pairing: Saeran Choi/Reader

Fairytale AU.

Description:

The Prince has been bound to the castle walls, and he’s never been able to leave from it. The only place that he has to escape to are the books that he reads and the garden that he’s allowed to venture into every evening. But, what happens when he encounters someone that has eyes that know a world unlike his own?

Inspired by a drawing by @sensetenou​

Chapter Index

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Two: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Three: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Four: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Five: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Six: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Seven: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Eight: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Nine: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Ten: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Eleven: Here! | AO3

Chapter Eleven

Darkness.

All you knew was the darkness. There was no trace of light in the dungeon and nobody to hear you scream, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care. You had been used and tricked by Red Hood. He threw you under the carriage and let you take the fall for his crimes. 

How anyone believed him, you had no idea. He just pretended to be some sort of knight for justice at the queen’s side, and since Red Hood was only known by the mask, it had been far too easy to cast his blame onto someone else. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands. You knew that you could never trust that man. But, you never thought he would do something like this. 

You knew he would make good on his death threats, but this? 

A pitiful sob escaped your throat. It didn’t make any sense. How had he made a deal with the queen and what was their plan? You knew that the queen wasn’t innocent and that she had made the people suffer far too much over the years. Red Hood must have found something that she wanted, or maybe they both were after the same goal?

No matter how you wracked your brain for an answer, you could find nothing. 

“No… no… no…! This is a mistake!” 

You wouldn’t dare close your eyes for more than a minute. Every time that you did, your vision would become overwhelmed with the look of betrayal and hatred in Ray’s eyes. He looked at you like you had shattered his world and in many ways, you had. You had tried to protect him by lying and taking that crown but had you had to do that?

Could you have told him the threat against your life? Would he have believed you? Would you have been able to give up information on Red Hood to him? You weren’t sure. You had always wanted to take the brunt of the pain for yourself due to your pride, and you had been so caught up in trying to ensure that Ray lived—

That you never even considered that maybe there could have been another option. If Ray bore the crown, that would have protected you from the queen’s wrath. He could have done everything to stop Red Hood from controlling you or forcing you to take the knife by the hand. Yet, you knew that no amount of pretending things could be different would fix it. 

The second the crown was on his head, something changed in his eyes. He became venomous and very spiteful, his gentle eyes gazing at you with malice. 

It was like you didn’t even know him. You had never seen that look in his eyes, nor did you think that Ray would be capable of such anger and venom. Then again, you had broken his trust and stomped on it for all he knew so he had every right to be upset with you. However, the way that he looked at you without even caring what your punishment would be may your blood curdled. 

Was this all that you would ever know? Would you die without showing Ray the sea? Would you die knowing that you had been played for a fool?? Would you die with a stain on your past that would forever line the pages of people’s memory? Would you become the demon in a bedtime story to make a child behave?

You knew that you were going to die, that was almost a given with the bounty on Red Hood’s head all these years. But, you could only pray now that it was a swift death without pain. Maybe in your next life, you would be able to be happy with Ray and show him the world that made him look so happy to learn about, but it seemed as though cruel fate would keep you apart. 

His anguished eyes would forever haunt you. 

Your cries died down after some time, your heart accepting that no one was going to come to your rescue to break you free. They were all scared of Red Hood, and what he said would happen would be the very thing to happen. You didn’t know his end plan but you did know that he was going to hurt everyone to get what he wanted. 

You clutched your hands together, praying silently to a God that you hardly spoke to, hoping and wishing that Ray, at the very least, would be okay. You had accepted that he might hate you after tonight but now you knew that he would hate you till the end of time. 

You hadn’t wanted things to turn out like this but Red Hood did. Once again, he sealed your fate because you made the wrong choice. 

Time passed, but there was no way of knowing how long you would be there. You pressed your head against the cold stone and waited, waited for something to change or something to happen. It was a long time before you heard the sound of footsteps and alongside that sound came the flicker of a torch-lit with fire. 

You didn’t bother lifting your head, even as a voice spoke up. “Excuse me, are you alright?” 

“What does it matter?” you retorted. “I’m already destined to face punishment. It matters not if I’m okay or not. If you’ve come to take me away, then do it.” 

Silence. 

Footsteps once again and a warm flame moved closer to your body, the dampness of the cold dungeon hit you all at once. You lifted your head and stared into mint eyes, mint eyes that felt like you had seen once before but couldn’t place the memory. “I don’t work for the queen,” he explained. “I’ve come to get you out of here before it’s too late.” 

“Why should I trust you?” 

“...Your friend, Hyun, he’s very worried about you,” he said, quietly. “He wants to get you out of here before it’s too late.”

Your stomach sank. Of course, Zen had found out about what happened to you. You knew that he wanted to protect you from being hurt but this was beyond even his power, and there was no way that he could help you. 

This castle was heavily guarded and even you had a hard time evading guards and now they were just waiting for someone to make a false move. 

Even if you ran, you’d be caught. 

Your wings had been clipped and frayed by the very people that you had faith in. 

“It’s no use,” you said. “I appreciate that you came this far on my account, sir, but there’s no way that you can get me out of here before the morning. I’ll be lucky if they let me live that long.” 

“You’re not Red Hood,” he continued, minding the dread in your voice and picking his words with great care. “You shouldn’t even be facing punishment right now. That man sold you out for his own gain.” 

That made you snap to attention. Your fingers gripped the bar of the cell that you resided in, as you stared at this man with a face that you couldn’t discern. His features were blurred by the hood he was wearing, or maybe the darkness, you weren’t sure. All you knew was his eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you stopped him. “How do you know who Red Hood is?” 

“It’s a long story,” he told you, sincerely, sinking to his knees to sit with you. “I’m not sure that you would believe me given the detail of events that have occurred in the past ten years. But, yes, I do know his identity and while I do not know what he wishes to gain here, he used you to get what he wanted and that was the queen.” 

You had no reason to believe this man at all, but you were desperate and he seemingly believed that you weren’t a guilty party. You had nobody else in the world on your side at the moment that could speak to you, so you wanted to listen and to learn what this man had to say. It might be enough to help you save Ray, if not yourself. 

“Surely the queen knows this,” you shook your head, incredulous. “She’s no saint and she’s not easily tricked… not as far as I can tell given the number of people disappearing nightly after they dare speak ill-will of her name.” 

The man frowned and gazed down at the ground. “You… you would be right about that. The queen has a plan under her belt right now and I imagine with Red Hood’s powers at her disposal, it’s only cemented her vision.” 

You tried to lean closer, to get a better look at this stranger that seemingly knew everything that you needed to know. “Please, sir, what does she want? I’m worried about Ray. I don’t want him to get hurt because those two are planning something nefarious. He may hate me now but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want him to be safe and happy. Please.” 

“I suppose… I suppose you’re due that much, Sparrow,” he said as if he knew that he couldn’t hold in his secret any longer from the world. “I’ve been bearing this knowledge for so long on my own and I’ve not made any progress on my own to stop it. I… I’ve seen that you care deeply for him, and I know that your heart is true.” 

The fact that you had been willing to cry and beg had been enough to show the world that you were willing to submit your pride. You starred at him as he began to explain his story. 

“The crown that he wears is imbued with dark magic,” he explained. “The stones that are engraved into the metal are from a cavern deep in the mountains only known to the greatest users of magic in all the land. The people of this kingdom have long used the stone to give power to the crown. For a long time, rulers of this country would have their magician imbue loyalty and compulsion into the crown so that the wearer would be able to control the masses.” 

Magic? 

“There is no greater power than these stones, and when someone with a vast amount of power can channel their power into the stone, they can enforce anything they want. The queen wants to use the power of the royal stones to force Ray to follow her plans with an iron fist. She wants him to be the puppet king for her brewing armies. The people that go missing late at night are drafted into her army, and I’m afraid her reach has staggering numbers.” 

Suddenly, it was starting to make sense. How people just went missing and everyone didn’t dare to fight back against it. Everyone knew that something was wrong but they could only quietly think that it could be the queen. If anyone said it aloud, they would be taken away. If she had magic controlling everyone, then they could have been under her spell without even knowing it. 

Anyone in the village could have been compromised. 

Ever since you had learned that magic existed, it seemed to be used to destroy everyone that you loved and cared about. You wanted nothing more than to shatter every trace of magic that you had ever seen to free Ray from its hold and anyone else that was suffering against their will. 

“When she leaves the castle and travels to other lands, she is steadily stealing from their numbers and casting blame onto Red Hood every time for the sake of convenience. I imagine he heard of what she was doing and decided to work with her to get what they work. Or, perhaps he knows of the stones’ power and wants it for himself. I fear I do not know what it is he wants but he cannot be allowed to continue his terror alongside the queen.”

You swallowed, ignoring the pit that was growing in your stomach. “And, what does she plan to do with this army, sir?” 

His expression darkened as if clouded by a silent fear that even he didn’t want to breathe to life in case it truly happened. His fear was real. You knew that from the way his hands trembled against the torch he held close to his side. 

His voice dropped to a whisper, “She wishes to lay claim to all lands in our continent with whatever means necessary.” 

There was nothing you could do but breathe in deeply. For some reason, that didn’t surprise you in the slightest. If the queen was willing to use her son to destroy everything for her gain and was so willing to let everyone hate him instead of her, well, taking over everything was nothing to laugh at. To think that the queen not only held the power of the throne but magic as well. 

It was disgusting. 

Did greed ever cease? 

Would you ever find someone that didn’t long to own everything and everyone? You knew that you had with Ray, but he was trapped underneath a spell that would make him obey anything that she’d ask of him. His anger was true and tried. It would be impossible to reason with him if the crown was not removed from his head. 

Yet, you were trapped in this dungeon and you would never be able to do such a thing to save him from this horrible fate. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to make people happy, not destroy their last shred of hope. If he knew what he was doing he would be devastated. Even as you knew your fate was set and doomed, you couldn’t help but wish he could be better.

“Wait, that still doesn’t explain how you know he’s the real Red Hood and I’m not,” you stared at him, waiting for his answer. “Who are you? You can’t expect me to take all of this in and not know who you are in return.” 

The strange pulled the head from his head and you narrowed your eyes as you tried to discern his features. For some reason, you couldn’t commit any of it to memory. Even as you were seeing him in person. It was like something was stopping you from remembering or knowing what he truly looked like. 

And then, it hit you, it hit you like that time you had fallen from a hill trying to get away from a group of guards angry that you had taken from their boss. His mint eyes were the same ones that you had seen in the painting. 

The painting of the royal family, the painting that held a vision of Ray’s father that made you hesitate in the throne room. 

That could only mean one thing. 

“King… Jihyun…?” 

His eyes held a great deal of sadness to them. But, he nodded, confirming the sinking suspicion in your loins. “I’m afraid so. Ray is not the only victim of her magic. She also cursed me long ago and I was too naive to see it coming. Rather, I ignored all the warnings when I knew I should have done something and it is my blame alone that the people suffer.” 

That made you shudder in fear. If she was willing to curse the king and make everyone believe that he was dead, then what wasn’t she willing to do? If she would use her family as pawns to get what she’d always wanted, then she would have no problem killing you or anything that tried to get in the way of her dreams. 

“How are you alive…?” you whispered, reaching out between the bars to brush against the fabric of his cloth to ensure that you weren’t staring at a ghost or a vision. He was real. The king was alive and still breathing in front of you, underneath some kind of curse that he couldn’t defeat on his own. Much as his son. 

“I’m afraid that’s an even longer story,” he admitted. “And, I don’t have enough time to tell you all of the details. She grew angry with me because I wouldn’t agree with her way of thinking and the more that I pushed for my plans to allow the people to prosper instead of us, she turned against me and used her black magic to place a curse on me. Now nobody can remember my face, and no one can see me as who I am. She removed all my power from me and took it for herself. Now, I fear that she’s going to use Ray until he’s no longer useful for her cause as well. I cannot allow that to happen. He’s already in grave danger. He always has been.” 

And he couldn’t escape from it. 

He was cursed to stay within these walls no matter what happened. So, even if he could fight back, he would be trapped with the queen forever. No way you looked at it was going to help you get out of this mess, and now that you knew that you were going against magic and Red Hood, it felt like you had no hope at all. Even with the king here. 

It wasn’t like Jihyun had power, either. 

He was just as helpless as you were. Why was he telling you all of this anyway? Even if he let you escape, it was obvious that you could never return to this place if you got out. Nobody would believe you or come to your aid, even with the sympathy of Zen, you knew that his power was not going to be enough to help you. 

The most that Zen could do would be to send you on a boat to another country. 

You put two and two together, “Because of the curse that was placed on him when he was a child, right?” 

Jihyun looked away from you… almost as if there were more to the story than that. He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of heavy boots came from the stairwell. He immediately put out the fire and pulled his hood back over his head, ducking into the darkest corner of the room to hide from view. Even if nobody knew his face—

He clearly couldn’t afford to be caught. 

His must have had some kind of plan to save Ray, otherwise, he wouldn’t have come to the trouble of finding you. You weren’t sure how much he knew about you or how he knew Red Hood, but you’d known from the look in his eyes that he hadn’t been lying to you. You were a liar, you had been raised around the biggest liars known to man. 

You knew one when you saw them.

Jihyun Kim was no liar. 

The footsteps stopped and you were forced to lift your head and stare up at a guard. He grinned at you with a sadistic glee in his eyes, “Alright, you, the king has demanded your presence. Lucky you, though, he hasn’t decided what punishment you’ll face for your crimes yet. Bloody Red Hood, I bet you know what’s coming for you, and I’m going to love watching it.” 

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from saying anything. There was no point in fighting their words right now. Red Hood hurt so many people and now you would have the eyes of everyone that he had ever used or hurt looking to you for a bloodbath. 

“...” 

He opened your cell and you were dragged away by the ones that had accompanied him, away from the king and any answers that you had.

[fictional-downey]

Happy Birthday, Tony

“…and I love Daddy three thousand. Always.” Morgan finished her nightly ritual before Pepper leaned down to kiss her daughter’s forehead.

“And Mommy?” Pepper asked, her tone sweet.

Morgan smiled. “That’s a secret.”

Pepper feigned surprise. “Oh, I see.”

“But it’s a lot,” Morgan added in a whisper.

Pepper smiled and smoothed out the covers before caressing Morgan’s cheek. “Good night, Baby.”

The little girl yawned, exhausted. “Night, Mommy.”

Pepper left her daughter’s room and went straight to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She hadn’t had a decent night's sleep since…well, since Tony stopped sleeping beside her. She mindlessly shuffled through paperwork on the kitchen table, then swore when she knocked her cup over, tea seeping into her agenda notes for the next morning’s teleconference.

“Shit.” She hurried to try and clean her spill, but froze when she lifted one of the papers only to find another with Tony’s bright blue signature at the bottom of it. “Shit,” she repeated, her voice changing. “Shit, shit, shit…” Her voice broke completely as she wept for the first time in weeks. She was grateful Morgan was asleep.

She barely paid attention during the next morning’s meeting and was so thankful she remembered to shut off the video feed; her eyes were red and her hair was in knots. She slept on the couch the night before - the thought of her bed far too lonely.

She wasn’t able to snap out of her zombie-like state until Happy appeared in her doorway, concern in his kind eyes. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Uh, Happy, hi…I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” She tried to smile.

He slowly walked toward her, signing for her to stay seated on the couch. “Well, I left Morgan with Uncle Rhodey for a little while.”

“Is everything all right?”

Happy shook his head. “I was told, and I quote, ‘Mommy had the shits last night and she’s sad today.’”

Pepper’s eyes went wide. “What?” She put her head in her hands. “Of course she snuck out of bed…”

“Pep…”

“I spilled my tea and then…Happy, it was just his signature and…”

Happy sat next to her and rubbed her back for a moment. “It’s okay.”

Pepper frowned. “It’s not. Happy, if things don’t work and he’s really…”

“Hey, huh uh. We agreed that we have to live like things aren’t going to work. Doctor Cho made it very clear that there are absolutely no guarantees and as far as everyone else is concerned he’s sharing his parents’ crypt.”

“I lied to him, Happy…I told him he could rest and…”

Happy smiled. “And if he knew there was even a chance he didn’t have to leave you and that little girl and we didn’t take it…”

“I know,” she sighed and her tears fell. Happy was one of the select few who was allowed behind her wall of feigned confidence. “Is Morgan all right?”

“She insisted on a cheeseburger again today,” he began. “Maybe I made a mistake saying what I did about those…but she runs around enough, so no worries about her taking after me.” He laughed, but Pepper was silent. Being as gentle as he could, he took her hand and felt his heart drop as the diamond he’d carried for so long caught the light. “Morgan is okay, Pepper. She’s more worried about you than anything. She’s…well, she’s part Tony, so fooling her isn’t easy. She knows you’re having a tough time and that you’re ‘pretending’ that you’re okay.”

“She said that?” The words caught in Pepper’s throat. Happy nodded. “I’m failing…”

“You’ve never failed at a thing,” Happy corrected. “Who the hell has ever had to go through something like this? Nobody. Ever. You are doing all you can and you’re allowed to be sad, Pep, even in front of Morgan.”

Pepper’s next words shook, all of her confidence a distant memory. “I’m afraid I’ll let something slip. She can’t know there’s any possibility, Happy. We’ve been over this a thousand times.” She got up from her place on the couch, her sadness replaced with anger. “We weren’t allowed to be! She deserves him! I deserve him!” She picked up a glass from the coffee table and threw it, but Happy didn’t flinch as it shattered. He’d been waiting for this moment for weeks. “And now, this chance is just dangling in front of me - in front of us - and it’s worse than watching him…his…light…leave him… Was it a mistake? Are we toying with fate? Are we…” She broke down in sobs and fell to her knees. She felt Happy’s arms around her within seconds. “I’m sorry,” she cried.

“I have the same thoughts every minute of every day. He saved the universe, we had to try and save him…and if we lose him all over again, then we can throw glasses together.” He kissed the top of Pepper’s head and he felt her relax in his embrace.

Nine more days passed and Pepper was more honest with her little girl. She let a few tears fall every now and then and she told Morgan stories that made her daughter smile, but her own heart broke over and over again. This night’s particular bedtime story involved the evening where Pepper found Tony “stuck” in his gantry. While Morgan howled with laughter, Pepper cried…and Morgan understood.

“Mommy, we can have a sleepover,” Morgan offered.

Through watery eyes, Pepper smiled. “I would love that, Baby.” Pepper settled herself under the covers of Morgan’s bed and reveled in a comforting sense of peace as her daughter cuddled against her. Both drifted asleep in moments.

Morgan felt strange as her eyes shot open. She squinted in the dark, looking for something unknown, but finding nothing. “Oh,” she whispered and she carefully crawled out of bed, making sure she didn’t disturb her mother. She smiled as she tip-toed down the stairs and giggled while she carefully pulled a chair in front of the refrigerator. After she reached the freezer and pulled out a juice pop, she went into her father’s study - now partially Pepper’s office - and looked at the calendar on the wall. “It’s tomorrow now,” she whispered. “FRIDAY, is it time?”

Pepper heard a distinct noise in her dream…a persistent tone that would stop for a moment, only to start again. For the first time, she was dreaming of Tony, of holding him again and feeling his lips against hers…but that sound pulled him away from her. Silent screams filled her lungs…then she woke. It took her a moment to realize where she was, then she understood the noise - her cell phone was down the hall on her nightstand. She shifted, thinking she may wake Morgan, but her daughter wasn’t there. The clock on the nightstand read three A.M. and suddenly, she panicked. Morgan not in bed, her phone ringing… She ran down the hall and grabbed the phone without looking at the screen. “Morgan?” she panicked.

“I’m here, Mommy,” Morgan said from the doorway, her face stained from the purple juice pop.

“Pepper, it’s Helen,” came a voice from the tiny speaker. “I know how late it is…”

Pepper’s heart sank immediately and she sat on the edge of the bed. “…no…” Her eyes watered.

“Pepper, his brain activity spiked. His other vitals have been strong for days, but you told me not to call unless…”

“Daddy’s waking up for his birthday,” Morgan proclaimed, her smile wide. “It’s his birthday, Mommy, remember?”

Pepper’s mouth hung open and her voice was gone - she didn’t register her daughter’s words at all. She couldn’t speak and struggled to breathe. When the moment passed, she only managed one word. “Tony?”

Helen understood that the woman on the other end was not prepared for this conversation. “Pepper, I know the hour, but I suggest…”

Snapping out of her haze, Pepper interrupted. “We’ll be right there.” She looked to her daughter. “Morgan, honey?”

“I knew he’d wake up,” Morgan said, sounding almost ashamed. “I didn’t think…”

“It’s all right, Baby. We have to go, okay?”

“Uh huh.”

Frantically calling Happy and Rhodey on the way, Pepper drove to a very unassuming building only a few miles from the lake. She carried Morgan on her hip as she swiped a security badge and a large, steel door opened. She felt Morgan shudder just a little as cool air brushed their faces.

“It’s okay,” Pepper said in a rushed whisper.

“I know,” Morgan smiled.

Sterile, white walls with a few high security keypads were passed in a blur as Pepper made her way to the room she’d stepped into weeks ago. As she approached the door, she registered hurried footsteps behind her. She didn’t need to turn her head to know who it was.

“Pep!” Rhodey called.

“Can’t…believe…you beat me,” Happy panted from further down the hallway.

A guard took a blood sample from the three of them - a small machine scanning and verifying it - before letting them in; this was a security measure Pepper insisted upon when she arranged all of this. They stepped through the threshold into another room, this one much more “homey” than the last. Plush couches and pictures of “family” filled this room…the room meant for one of only two kinds of news. The only door between their makeshift family and the man behind it was the most daunting piece of construction any of them ever encountered. They sat silent as they waited.

“He talked to me,” Morgan said, breaking the silence. She was sitting on Rhodey’s lap - he and Happy looked confused, Pepper looked lost. “In my dreams,” she added. “Just the last two nights…but he did. And FRIDAY knew too.”

“FRIDAY?” Pepper asked. “Honey, she’s been offline since…”

Morgan smiled. “She woke up first. Daddy asked me to press a button, so I…I snuck downstairs and I did. FRIDAY was happy and…”

Pepper shook her head. “Morgan, honey…” She was going to tell her daughter that none of that was possible, that she just experienced vivid dreams…but she stopped. Her husband sacrificed himself due to the mad ideas of a purple being from another world and she personally knew a god and a talking raccoon…how was it so hard to believe that Tony found his way to his daughter? “…why didn’t you tell me?”

Morgan looked sad now. “Daddy said he was gonna try…and not to tell ‘case it didn’t work.”

It made sense. If “it” didn’t work, with time, a child would be able to forget and treat it all like a fading dream. An adult would be cursed with an eternity of “what ifs.”

Pepper smiled at their child. “You did a very good job, sweetheart.”

The door opened and Helen walked into the room, a smile on her tired face. “I don’t understand it as well as I’d like,” she began, “but over the past few days, things changed. First he breathed on his own, then his cranial activity…” She massaged her temples. “I didn’t want to tell you before, but I never thought he’d truly…”

“Daddy,” Morgan whispered. She got off of Rhodey’s lap and rushed toward the door.

“Morgan, no!” Pepper shouted, getting up and going after her daughter. She wasn’t quick enough and the little girl entered her father’s room.

Soft light made the room almost welcoming. The walls were painted a shade of blue that made Morgan think of the sky just after a storm rolled away - a color she knew her father loved. Contrary to Pepper’s fear, Tony was not in the cradle, but a bed of the hospital variety, only a few monitors attached to him. The right side of his face showed red scars and his right arm was hidden beneath bandages, but he was there. A monitor beeped along with his heart, his chest rose and fell…

Morgan approached his bedside with only hope in her heart; Pepper froze - for a slight instance - in fear. “Daddy,” Morgan said, in a soft, sure tone. She circled the bed and went to his left side, understanding even though she never saw him after that terrible snap. Not wanting to hurt him by climbing on the bed to kiss his cheek, Pepper watched as she took his hand with both of hers and kissed it. “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

Tears filled Pepper’s eyes. It was Tony’s birthday. The date that she’d been dreading for weeks…and she’d forgotten? No, no, she was sure she glanced at that calendar and cried only yesterday…and Morgan said it before they left, hadn’t she? Pepper couldn’t remember those frantic seconds.

“Morgoona…” It was soft and stressed, but it was Tony. Pepper ran to her husband’s side, his closest friends right behind her. She sobbed as his eyes opened and focused on his daughter. “I saw you.”

Morgan smiled. “I saw you too, Daddy. I did what you said.”

His next words were slow. “Yes…you did…Little Miss.” He looked to Pepper and tried his best to smile. “That’s enough…rest. I’m good.” His voice strengthened and he looked to Rhodey. “No more suits for me, and nobody else knows…save for The Kid.” He then reached up with his left arm and touched Pepper’s face. “Thank you, Pep. You didn’t…you didn’t let me go. I love you.”

“I love you, Tony. I didn’t know if it would work, I didn’t want to mess with…”

“Shh…stop, honey. I’m here, I’m staying until you get sick of me - then I’ll stay after that.”

“Your birthday kinda has a new meaning now, Tony,” Happy smiled.

Tears fell from Tony’s eyes. The void he’d been in floating in for weeks on end was gone. Something gave him yet another chance at living the only life he desired. He was through with fighting for good and done worrying about what so many others were there to take care of. He was truly able to rest now.

[poc-movie-supremacy]

Landslides: I know my husband like the back of my hand

A.N.: This is a little fic about all the things Iris knows about Barry. I hope you guys like it! Comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated. Enjoy!

-----

Many people think they know Barry Allen personally. That they know everything about him. It makes sense in theory, Barry can’t lie for shit and he babbles a lot. 

There are somethings though, that only she knows. Small things like the scent of his mother’s perfume, the games he used to play with his father, and old childhood stories. 

After having Nora, Barry likes to sing to her. He would tickle her on her stomach as he sang running home to you to her. Iris’s giggle used to be his favourite sound, but now it’s Nora’s.

Iris reads the Runaway Dinosaur to Nora as a bedtime story. The first time she pulls it out to read, Barry almost cries. 

Only she knows how Barry reacted when she told him she was pregnant. It was two nights after he got out of the speedforce. She was rubbing lotion on herself, wearing a red satin night shirt and red cotton shorts. Her baby bump was getting a bit big for other types of pajamas. Idly, she wondered how Barry didn’t notice the bump last night. She looked like a mammoth, it was hard not to notice the little speedster growing inside her. 

Iris planned on curling up in bed with a book to read while she waited for Barry to come home from his nightly activities. The doctors warned against staying up too late, but she knew even if she tried she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep without her fiance by her side. 

The book was an interesting one. She got in a few pages before she felt her hair swish and watched the papers on her nightstand fly around. Iris reminded herself that she needed to get the paperweights back out from storage. 

Barry looked down at her in his normal clothes smiling happily. “Hey Iris, tired?”

“I’m okay baby. (Iris snorted at her joke, but to him she just smirked.) I’m a little tired, but I want to show you somethings I got out of storage. Go get ready for bed, I’ll be right back.”

“Ok.” Barry offered her a warm smile and kissed her temple. Iris hummed in pleasure but pushed him away before he could go farther. She went downstairs to the closet to pick up the box hidden in their. Back upstairs in her room Barry was waiting patiently under the covers, a excited and curious look on his face.

Iris made sure to angle herself so their was less of a chance of him noticing her new bump. She placed the box between them and watched as he looked through the stuff. She was excited, she couldn’t help it. Iris didn’t think she’d get to tell him he was going to be a father, now that she can, she’s going to relish it.

“The runaway dinosaur, an old rattle and some scrapbooks?” Barry looked at her confusingly. Before he could say anything, she spoke first. 

“Three scrapbooks. Look at the red and purple ones first before the yellow one.”

Iris held the yellow one to her chest as she watched him look through the scrapbooks. It was their baby books, Barry’s the red one, Iris the purple. He almost cried looking at his parents, but had a nice giggle at Baby Iris. She thinks she sees realization dawn in his eyes. “I-Iris, can I see the yellow scrapbook?” Slowly she gives it him. The title card give it away. Baby Westallen in fancy letters. The next few pages were filled with ultrasound photos and her baby bump.

“Cisco wanted to go all out. I told him all I needed were a few photos to send to relatives to prove that I was actually-”

“Pregnant.” Barry barely said it aloud. It was a reverent whisper. He looked at her surprised and hopeful. Iris sat up in bed and pushed the blanket off her stomach.

She put his hands on her stomach and gave him a watery chuckle. “Congrats, dad.” Barry gave her a joyful cry and pulled her into his lap. Tears and laughter mixed together. It was one of the happiest days of his life. He was captivated as she listened to what changes have been made so far, ultrasounds and dietary restrictions and what changes will be made soon, painting the nursery and going to early bird classes. She was straddling his lap as she talked. He absentmindedly ran his hands across her stomach while he listened. Slow tears of joy ran down his face. Softly, Iris thumbed them away.

“Who else knows?” Barry wondered aloud. 

Iris started counting names on her hand. “Cisco and Linda... and McSnurtle found out first. Then my dad and Wally and Jessie. I’m pretty sure Harry knows, I look like a mammoth, but he hasn’t made any acknowledgement of it so I’m not sure. I go to Earth 38 to the DEO for like ultrasounds and stuff since Caitlin doesn’t know and isn’t an obstetrician. Kara and Alex know as well. I figured aliens was as close as I was going to get to metahuman.” 

Barry made a mental note to thank them for keeping an eye on her while he was gone. “You don’t look like a mammoth, you look like a goddess.” Barry laid a few kisses on Iris stomach making her giggle. The feeling tickled her spurring him on. “You look like a goddess in them lamplight pregnant. They were right when they said pregnant women glow, darling your a star.” 

She missed his cheesy statements. “Like the stars on your chest.” Iris whispered. She picked at his undershirt that he was wearing until he took the hint and took it off. Delicately, with her pointer finger, she traced the stars across his chest. They were originally moles, but one day in a fit of teenage rebellion Barry turned them into stars. It was the most gorgeous thing Iris had seen, she had stared at him in awe for a while before she stopped. Now that they were together, she loved to trace the stars into constellations and make up silly stories about how they became stars. 

Most don’t know it’s a nod to his grandmother, an astronomer who loved to tell Barry stories about the constellations, like Orion and the big dipper. On his side was a bouquet of irises he got when he was drunk. Iris liked to think that it was a little way of showing that he was hers. 

On his left arm bicep is a quote his mother told him, “It’s better to have a big heart than strong legs, my beautiful boy.” Iris was there when he got that one. He held her hand tightly, not for the pain of the tatoo, but for the words and who had said them. 

On his shoulder was his father’s words, slugger. Iris was there for that one too, holding his hand and kissing his cheek afterwards. They had to go to Kara’s earth to get that one done. Barry almost convinced Kara to get one too, but Alex convinced him of otherwise. 

Many people think they know Barry personally. They are true to an extent, but Iris will always know the only one to know the depths of Barry Allen. She is his after all, and he is hers. Together forever.  

[antiquechampagne]

Absolute Zero - CH5

Angela rubbed her stinging eyes. For some frustrating reason, the polymerization she was working on was just not working.

“Why aren’t you working?!” she grumbled. This was her the seventh consecutive batch of X-cell. The six previous had worked perfectly. This one, though… this one refused to cooperate. Angela looked over the reagents again, her anger and fatigue causing her hands to shake.

A voice behind her startled her.

“Jesus, you look like shit.” Turning, she saw the woman from the front desk staring back at her.

“Clair?” That was her name, right? “I’m working. What do you need?”

“I know. My lobby reeks of all these nasty chemicals. You’re driving away my customers.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Time to take a break.”

Angela turned back to the bench. “I don’t have time.”

“Too bad. Make the time.” She turned and put a foot on the bottom step. “It’s not me asking. Hancock wants to meet you in the Third Rail this afternoon. I’m just passing on the message.” Clair disappeared up the stairs.

Afternoon? Angela pinched the bridge of her nose. How had the hours fly past so quickly? What… what day was it?

It suddenly hit her. It had been over a day since she had stopped enough long enough to do little more than pee. Hunger clawed at her stomach, exhaustion sagged her eyes. She couldn’t let herself stop. If she stopped, then she would fail.

Angela looked around at the crates of chems she had feverishly cooked over the past 48 hours and the stacks of half-finished reagents ready for her to slap together. Her breath caught in her throat. Even if there were two of her, there was no pushing this boulder up this hill. The burning she felt was now from tears caught in the corners of her eyes. Facing the impossibility of her task breaking her.

“No.” she steeled herself. “I can do this. I have to do this.” Taking a deep breath, she began again on the batch in front of her. This time, the X-cell came together. Placing the last inhaler into the crate next to the bench, she resigned herself to taking enough of a break to placate whatever the Mayor wanted from her.

Quickly, Angela washed her face and gulped down a sugar-filled coffee to wake up. Stepping out into the street, the sun momentarily blinded her. Blinking, she realized she hadn’t been outside in a long time. The sensation was short lived. Soon, she descended the stairs into the cigarette-saturated haze of the subterranean bar. It was easy to pick Mayor Hancock out sitting at the bar, his red coat a blaze of color among the other drab patrons. He waved her over to the stool next to him.

“Well, hey there! It’s nice of Goodneighbor’s busiest bloatfly to take some time off to talk to the ol’ Mayor. What’s your poison?” He ginned at her as he motioned for the robotic bartender to bring her a drink.

“Nothing, I’m good.” She rubbed her sore shoulder and shrugged. “Is something wrong? I’d like to get back to it, if it’s all the same to you.” Angela happened to glance up and saw Chuck and Chine coming down the stairs. Angela heart began to race, like she was an animal caught in a trap.

“Nah, everything’s fine. Product is—“

Angela suddenly grasped the bar with both hands, stopping him mid-sentence. It took all her strength to utter a few sentences under her breath.

“Get me out of here. Make it loud. Public. I need to say something, but not here.” He raised a naked eyebrow.

She didn’t know if it was her tone, or the panic in her eyes, but the ghoul immediately dropped his open and welcoming demeanor. The Mayor adopting a menacing scowl as he stood up from his stool, it scraping loudly across the worn tiles. Angela could feel dozens of eyes staring at her in the suddenly hushed bar.

“Unacceptable! My office.” Hancock demanded harshly. “NOW.”

The forcefulness of his voice threw Angela off guard for a moment. She froze, then stuttered, “But… I…” It wasn’t hard to play startled and scared.

“Did I stutter?”

Angela shook her head.

“Then go.”

The Mayor waited while she sheepishly got up and started for the stairs. He followed lock step behind her, practically breathing down her neck. She could hear the hushed whispers of the other bar patrons as she passed, her eyes cast down to the floor. Angela found herself holding her breath as she passed the two incognito raiders, hoping desperately that her ruse would convince them not to interfere. They gave her similar sideways glances the rest of the Goodneighbor residents did, though Angela noticed they also looked confoundedly at each other as well.

The two of them walked into the Old State House and up the ancient spiral staircase. The Mayor opened the door to the large room where they had first negotiated their contract. Fahrenheit sat reclined on a couch, cigarette hanging from her lips. She didn’t say a word, her puzzled expression easily conveying her confusion.

“We need to have a private discussion. Make sure there are no interruptions.”

Fahrenheit nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. Angela bristled, the air eerily still. Her eyes darted around the room.

“Windows.”

The ghoul shrugged, but wordlessly went to work closing the windows and shutting the ragged curtains.

“Better?”

Angela nodded, her nerves on edge, her mind buzzing. Was this really going to work? Was she just going to make things worse by involving someone else in her mess?

Hancock sat on a couch and waited for her to join him. Releasing her breath, Angela sat on the opposite couch. She tried to look him in the eye, but floundered.

“Fuck.” Her hand shook, her voice failing her.

The Mayor put a cracked tumbler in front of her on the coffee table and filled it with some amber liquid from the nearest bottle. Angela greedily gulped down the burning alcohol.

“You ready now?” He asked, gentler than Angela had anticipated. She nodded.

“I’m sorry… I need help.” The words started slowly, but as she spoke they began to tumble out of her mouth like a landslide. “I’m at my wits end. I can’t do this on my own anymore… I didn’t want to lie to you, but they didn’t give me any choice…”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Hancock leaned forward. “Take it one step at a time.”

Angela took a deep breath. “A week before I came to Goodneighbor, my settlement was attacked. Almost everyone was either killed or taken as slaves. I did the only thing I could think of to save my family…. But now… now…” She began to break down, her voice cracking.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning? Then you can see about that lying part.”

The past month history came pouring out of her. Angela described how the day her world had come crashing down started out like any other. Her husband, Benjiro, had returned to their home on the outskirts of Amherst after a long day of selling the handful of chems to the locals and taking orders for the next week. Their daughters worked in the garden in the morning. In the afternoon, Angela worked with Rosalind, her older daughter, to create a nice dinner while Katsuko, ever the voracious reader, dug into her newest book. Nothing seemed askew, the day ending with the nearly nightly argument over the kid’s bedtime. They were woken from their sleep by the screams and gun shots, most of the town already in flames. Ben had tried to defend their home while Angela snuck the girls out the back door, but the house was surrounded. Without a shot fired, the family was dragged out into the night and forced to the ground.

By the light of the flames, it was clear who the attackers were. The ruthless Red Line gang, their red badges emblazoned over backs, arms and faces had hit the town swift and hard. Many of their neighbors were already herded together and in shackles. Angela could already see the calculating glances looking over her young teenage daughters. Ben’s pleading fell on deaf ears and earned him a volley of nasty blows. Angela only knew one thing, the only thing she had ever been any good at… so she made a gamble to save her family.

“At first, I offered to make them chems, as many chems as they could ever wish for. Stuff that they’d never heard of. Crazy shit. I’d stay but let my family go. I got a black eye for that, but it was enough to get their gears turning.” A lump rose in her throat. “I noticed several of the raiders were counting stolen caps… I figured that might be what they were really after, so I changed tactics. Next, I offered to make them the chems to sell, that they could make a mint off what I could produce for them. That earned me a kick in the stomach, but there was even more talking.”

“Where does Goodneighbor come in?” the Mayor asked.

“There isn’t a whole lot up in Amherst, the population is sparse and spread out. Not great for trading large quantities of goods. They were arguing amongst themselves on that very point. So I piped up again. So find yourself a bigger market! I said. Figured I didn’t have much to lose at that point. They didn’t hit me that time, so I guess I hit close to the mark. I kept talking up how much money they could make by selling my chems, chems that only I knew how to make, shit like that. Someone throws out the name ‘Goodneighbor’. Finally, one of them comes over to me, the leader. Big guy named T-Bone. Long story short, after a lot of arguing, we come to an ‘agreement’. They keep my family; I travel out to the best chem market they could think. If I can send them back enough, they’ll set my family free.”

“And let me guess, you’re not here by yourself?”

“No, they sent some undercover goons with me to keep an eye on the operation. They send the caps back and make sure I don’t make a break for it.” She sure as shit wasn’t going to mention what Chuck was busying himself with in his free time.

“Or try to get help.” Hancock added. Angela pursed her lips. “What changed?”

“When I got close, they raised the price.”

“How much?” he asked.

“5000 caps.”

Angela could see him mentally calculating. “Shit, well that explains why you’ve been an absolute beast in the lab. When do you need it by?”

Angela just frowned. “End of next week.”

An ominous silence settled over the room.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. It’s not your problem.” Shaking her head, Angela stood. “I should just go. Forget I said anything.”

“Fuck that. Just sit down. I need to think a moment.” He popped a Mentat into his mouth. “What else can you tell me about this gang?”

Angela shrugged. “I don’t know much. They are mostly slavers but the local rumors say they run out of an old meat packing plant east of Amherst. They say they hit the small communities and sell to the larger mid-west cities.”

“How many do you think there are?”

Angela answered with a defeated shrug. She was surprised she hadn’t started crying through any of this like the feared she would. More than anything she felt defeated and tired.

Hancock reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. That had to be some hard shit to relive. I’m getting some ideas… I’ll put some feelers out. You just keep on cooking those chems. I’ll do what I can.”

Not believing her ears, Angela looked up and stared into the dark black wells that was the Mayor’s eyes. “But… what could you possibly do?”

“Leave that to me to figure out… and if anyone asks, just say I was pissed that the last batch of Jet was off.” He filled her glass again. “Finish this off before you head out. It looks like you need it.”

Numbly, Angela did as she was told before slowly making her way back to the basement of the Rexford Hotel.

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

Mommy Dearest, Part 2

Patience pressed the gun against Salvatore's head, the metal grinding solid against his skull. "Borghese's a monster;" she said through gritted teeth. "And we can take him down together."

He stared ahead, jaw tight and dark-penciled eyebrows furrowed, before grinding out, "Fine."

She grabbed a rubber-banded stack of cash. 

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Consider this a sign-on bonus," she yelled back as she took off down the street, her heels clattering on the cobblestones. Her whole face was flushed and smiling as she pulled the door to her sedan open.

There was already someone in the driver's seat.

Liquid blue eyes met hers'. "Hello, dolcezza."

***

Johnny had been crying all month. Chris wanted deeply to comfort his brother, but he knew Johnny would just push him away. He sat by the oak in the front yard, letting the shade envelop him, his back pressed against the rough bark.

He didn't like thinking about Mama. Whenever he did, he saw her smile, and felt her warm arms, and tasted her cooking, and knew he would never see her again. There was a hole in his life that would never be filled, a hole with dark hair and dark eyes and the intrinsic feeling of a child's love.

All he could think was that Dad was lying. Dad was lying and Mama was coming back. She would come around the corner in a moment, carrying her basket full of vegetables from the market, and he would run into her arms like he always did and feel her warmth and love.

Dad's voice echoed around the front yard. "Giuseppe. Christoforo. Come inside. Your father has something very important to tell you."

***

Johnny's legs felt like they were tied to weights as he trudged across the yard. Why did Mama have to leave? Why? He felt like punching something. He didn't want to talk to anyone, Chris, Uncle Charlie, and especially Dad. He had a feeling dad didn't care at all about Mom dying, and some distant part of him noticed it, and it disturbed him deeply in his child's brain.

Dad was sitting in the living room, and there was a woman sitting opposite him, on mom's armchair.

She looked up at them, and her eyes were big and wide and stained glass-green.

"Children. This woman is going to be your new mother." Dad's voice was sweet and smooth. "You don't have to worry about not having a mama anymore. She's going to love you and you're going to love her."

The woman did not look loving at all. She looked scared. She was holding Fiorella on her lap, and Fiorella was sucking her thumb and pawing at her shirt.

Johnny felt fury rise up in him.

"NO!" he screamed, just as she opened her mouth to speak. "You're not my mama! I HATE you!"

Dad's eyes sharpened, in that way that he knew something was coming, and Johnny knew he was about to regret it, but he ran out anyway. His heart was pulsing with rage and fear. He did not want this woman.

He wanted his mama.

***

The first few weeks took adjusting to.

Patience stung with hate every second of the day, when she wasn't devolving into conniptions with the baby girl crying, spitting up her food, or clinging to her chest. Borghese had pawned her off on her and she was solely responsible for Fiorella throughout the day, being jerked awake by her crying, trying to bounce her on her lap to stop her crying, and trying to stop her from burrowing into her shirt to breastfeed. 

Borghese's two sons did not like her. Chris was cold, and Johnny was angry. Leonardo loved his sons, in a deep and yet distant way, leaving them alone the whole day. Patience limped from her ankle. Fiorella screamed. She wondered with a sudden, embracing horror if this was what her life would be like from now on.

Patience hated the way she felt relief when the door slammed open. She limped over to press Fiorella into his arms, and he responded by pressing a kiss into her lips. "Did you make dinner, my darling?"

"Fiorella was crying. I didn't have time," she gritted out. 

He caught her chin with his hand; his soft, manicured nails digging into her flesh. "Dolcezza," be said in his dulcet tones. "You'll need to learn to handle children and make dinner at the same time. It's part and parcel of being a mother."

Patience did not want to be a mother. She especially did not want to be a mother the way he pronounced it, with a disturbingly lustful gleam in his eye.

"Come now. I'll make some cacio e pepe and we can all enjoy it. Like a big family."

***

Patience sat, stone-faced and wearing a stiff homemakers' dress. She stared silently at her congealing noodles as Johnny and Chris sullenly ate and Fiorella made a mess of her meal.

Leonardo twirled the pasta around his fork, face placid and set. He seemed pleased as punch, the way he smiled at her as Fiorella started wailing. "Dolcezza, the little one is upset. Take her into your arms."

She sullenly hefted the heavy toddler onto her lap, and Fiorella sought her breast again, to her agony and to the unpleasant notice of Leonardo.

He watched her very carefully as Fiorella whined and desperately sought her hidden breast, and she noticed it as she desperately bounced her on her lap.

"You need to be a better mother, mia magnotta. Not a young loose woman. Hold her better. See--"

"She's never gonna be," muttered Johnny sullenly.

Leonardo's sharp blue eyes, and his attention, were diverted. "Giuseppe? Did you say something?"

He was slumped, staring angrily at his noodles. "I said she's never gonna be my mother!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Patience hugged the little girl tightly, and even she had quieted, her dark eyes wide.

Leonardo put down his cutlery and carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Johnny, that's no way to talk to your new mother."

Johnny's lower lip was pooched out. "She isn't my mother."

Patience hated the quiet. It rung in her ears.

"Giuseppe, your mama is not coming back. She is gone. Do you know why she left?" His voice was soft and paternal.

Johnny's wet, dark eyes looked up.

"It's because she didn't want to be your mother anymore. That's the truth. She hated how you acted, Giuseppe. She left because of you."

Johnny watched his plate, eyes brimming and overflowing and his whole body trembling. 

Chris's throat bobbed, and his mouth quivered. His blue eyes were tracking tears down his cheeks.

"She left because you were a bad boy, Giuseppe. She left because you made her leave. And if you aren't grateful, your new mama will leave just like your old one did."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

***

"Go read your children a bedtime story," Leonardo told her softly.

Patience stood in front of Chris and Johnny's room, sweaty hands balled into fists. The dim light underneath the door shone dully.

She stepped in.

Chris turned away from her in his bed. Their Mickey Mouse nightlight shone a soft orange light as she sat down beside them. 

Johnny's eyes were still caked with tears as she leaned over him, her hair tickling his cheeks. 

"Once upon a time there was a king. The king was very happy, with his wife and his children. He loved them very much and they loved him."

Outside the window, a moth pressed its legs to the surface, and its wings fanned out as it sought the light.

"They all lived in a grand palace, and his wife cooked him scrumptious meals. Wonderful meals. What did his wife cook him?"

The question lingered, and then Chris murmured, "Spaghetti."

"His wife cooked him spaghetti and their sons ate it all up, every drop. They loved each other and they were so, so happy. And do you know what happened?"

Johnny was listening too, his dark head turned towards her slightly.

The moth batted at the window.

"The king was out in the village and he saw a girl. He didn't know why, but he wanted this girl, and he would do anything to make this girl his own. He went home to his palace and he… and he… he went into a small room and called his wife, his queen, into there. And as soon as she walked in he wrapped his hands around her neck and strangled her to death. He strangled the life out of her and left her in that little room."

The moth lifted its wings and flew away, as if it had never been there at all.

"And he went out and he took that girl, he took that girl from the village and put the queen's crown on her. And he called his children to him. And he told them… he told them…"

Johnny's hand was warm in hers, his skin smooth as she rubbed her thumb across it.

"He told them he had a new queen, and they were to treat her as their new queen, and forget their old queen, and how she loved them, and how it was if the old queen never existed at all."

Johnny's eyes were drifting shut. She held their hands in hers, comforting and warm, and slowly let them slip from hers.

Patience padded down the carpeted highway to the bedroom of her nightly torture. The light of the lamp flickered over her shoulders, her nightgown, her chestnut hair, and her pale, downturned eyes.

***

She tapped the numbers in frantically, the black shiny letters depressing underneath her fingers. She waited as the dial tone rang endlessly in her ears, almost crying at the length of time.

The door creaked, and she whipped around, receiver pressed to her ear. Chris was standing there, and she felt a wave of relief. "Honey, go play somewhere else."

Chris did so, but his mind was churning. The slow affection he had been nurturing to his new mother--Patience, and then the opaque eyes of Dad, and his comforting arms.

Dad was reading the newspaper in the greenhouse. His hair was unruly and curly, the same blond as his. He smelled the same, fresh pressed laundry and perfume.

"Dad?" Ventured Chris.

Dad looked over and smiled, and set down his newspaper to open his arms. Chris ran into them, his eyes shutting tight. The comfort of his father's arms lulled him into ease. "What's the matter, darling?"

Chris swallowed hard. "She… she did something."

Dad was silent as he rocked him, cradling his head in the hook of his arm

"What did she do?"

"She called someone."

***

Patience laid Fiorella slowly down into the bed, praying she wouldn't wake. Her eyes were shut tight, tiny warm body swaddled.

Taking care of a child was hard, constant, dirty work, and she was exhausted. Even more so when his vibrato spoke behind her, "Pazienza."

She stood stock still as he approached her, his arms enveloping hers.

"You haven't been a good girl, have you?" His voice made weevils crawl down her back. 

"Fuck you," she spat. 

"I know what you've done," he whispered in impeccable English. "And for the last time, cease your swearing. It's unladylike."

She stared deep into his eyes, those mirrors that reflected her pale face and pale eyes and--

His hands palmed her breasts through her silk nightgown.

"Trying to call someone… tsk, tsk. A little bird flew off to tell me. Who, pray, were you trying to talk to, dolcezza? Surely not anyone who has an interest in your situation…"

His voice trailed off to a murmur as he slowly thumbed her nipple through the silk. She cast a terrified look at the bed, where Fiorella was sleeping peacefully. "Fior--"

"Don't be loud and wake her up, then." He slowly pressed his finger to her trembling lips. "She's such a lovely baby, isn't she? And you're doing so well taking care of her." His hand slid between her legs. "How about we make her a big sister?"

Patience's mind jolted into horror as she pushed him away. "You killed her," she spat, her voice cracking. "You killed her mother. You're a monster, Leonardo Borghese. A fucking monst--" 

She was cut off by his soft red lips pressing against hers. His arms wrapped tight around her  caging her in, and she felt the hardness of his cock against her thigh. Her spine went stone stiff.

He pulled her towards the wall, hand spidering over her scalp as he rested it against the wall. She lifted a leg to kick him, and his grip turned harsh, yanking her hair. "Don't fight. You don't want to wake up the baby, would you?"

Her gown was already hiked up to her waist, the folds slipping down to pool around her navel as he angled his waist between her arched legs.

The coldness of his zipper startled her, before the heat of his cock made her erupt with agony. He stopped halfway in, shoulders quivering and a sweat-soaked lock of golden hair plastered to his forehead. His length was pulsating between her lower lips, hot and heavy and lustful, and in that split second where she was praying he would pull out he thrust himself fully.

All she could think of was Francesca's face. Every gasp, every thrust made her stricken expression linger in her mind. "Fucking murderer," she managed as he lifted her so high she had to wrap her legs around his waist for balance.

A taut shoulder muscle pressed against her frail chest as he slowly lifted her, then agonizingly let her slide down the wall onto his cock. Every swollen inch of him disappearing into her made her chest soar and her legs numb. She hated how she wanted to curl her body around him and match him thrust for thrust 

His breath fanned over her pale, trembling shoulder, and he pressed a wet kiss underneath her ear as his strong arms held her up.

He was in and out, leaving her empty and then filling her. Her toes pointed pin-straight in the air as he ground her against the wall, his heavy and wet cock digging deep inside of her to nuzzle against her cervix. She knew he was about to spend when his hips tensed.

"Please don't," she sobbed pathetically, trapped between his hard body and the wall, completely immobilized as he prepared to fertilize her. "Don't--don't come inside me--please--please--"

But he was not stopping, and as he held her head, his thrusts became more measured, carefully dragging his flesh against pink ripe insides, and the heaviness of his body, the pressure between her spread pussy lips against the small red nub in her folds as he slipped a soft fingerpad in--

Her back was shivering, she hated it, but a buzz was building up slowly inside her--

He let loose with a short intake of breath, cutting her words off as his seed soaked into her womb. Her thighs relaxed under his strong thrust, every single molecule of his cum pouring into her fertile body.

She let herself slump, arm loosely and unwillingly slung around his neck. The smell of his perfume was sickly sweet, like decaying flowers, and it made her gorge rise even more than the lukewarm seed dripping out of her.

He slowly let her down, her nightdress falling to cover her stained thighs. He let out a deep sigh, and laughed breathily.

"Brush those tears out of your eyes, dolcezza. Once you've borne our first child you'll be thanking me."

***

Patience felt a sharp distrust of Chris after that, although a part of her--the adult part--knew how frighteningly petty that was. He was a kid and he trusted his father, that was all.

Johnny and Chris curled up on the sofa while Patience tried to rock Fiorella in her arms. The baby was used to her presence and never cried when she picked her up anymore--and Patience felt a jolt of disgust when she thought of how easily she was slipping into maternality. Maybe Leonardo was right--she was becoming his perfect brood mare and wife, dressed in her frilled, flowered dress, hair combed and lipstick red and rocking his child in an armchair.

Just watching him on the television made hate cloud her eyes. He was speaking with councilors in the city hall, all older balding men in suits, and he stood out like a jewel. He was putting on a play for the cameras with every word and gesture, pretending to be so concerned with vity issues.

The camera faded away, and then he was talking to a reported outside city hall. "My wife," he said, "left me to go back to Sicily. She found someone else. I loved her, my Francesca, but she was wicked at heart, and it is better she is not raising our children. How many times had I come home to another man's coat on the rack?"

"That's not true," murmured Johnny.

Patience looked over. "Hmm?"

"She wasn't… my mama wasn't bad like that. She was a good mama. She didn't do any of that stuff…"

Chris didn't say anything, but his mouth trembled. She could see gooseflesh on his bare arms underneath his t-shirt.

"I know," she said quietly, putting Fiorella down to toddle. Her hair was growing thick and dark, just like her mothers'.

"What?"

"I know your mom was a good woman. And I know your dad is lying." She went over to kneel by Johnny and Chris. "Listen. What happened to your mom…" her voice died out and she swallowed.

She took their hands in hers and squeezed them. "I'm gonna make things right, for your mom. I promise. I'll fix all this."

Chris's hand was slack in hers, then it tightened to squeeze her back.

From then on, something changed between them. They stopped seeing her as an interloper. They stopped ignoring her sullenly, and refusing to talk to her.

Slowly but surely, Johnny and Chris had begun to accept her into their life.

[leigh-kelly]

(More Hospital!AU)

All day Friday, Santana looks forward to Brittany coming home. The idea that the five of them will have a four day weekend together almost makes her forget about what a disaster everything else is. But she has promised herself that she’s going to put that aside for a few days, that she’s really going to let herself relax while they do family things, that she’ll let Brittany cook her breakfast in bed if she really wants to do that and she won’t turn her stomach into knots thinking about what’s going on at the hospital. For just a few days, she’ll be calm and maybe it’ll shift something in her brain so she can be relaxed all of the time.

“Mommy Noodle, what are you doing?” Liam comes into the kitchen where Santana is making a late lunch for herself. The twins are sleeping and Liam was supposed to be too, but obviously he has other plans.

“I’m making some coffee, Sir. And what are you doing out of bed?”

“I just missed you too much. Will you lay with me?”

“Okay.” She concedes, not really able to say no to his earnest face. “Let’s go.”

She follows Liam up the stairs and carefully moves his stuffed animals from where he’d tucked them all in when he’d tried to procrastinate on his nap. He gets under the covers and she lays on top of them beside her, but he looks at her with a cross face.

“You needa get under the blankets, Mommy Noodle. That’s the right way to lay.”

“You never tell me that at night.”

“Well I changeded the rules. Now you have to come under with me.”

With a laugh, Santana complies, getting under the blanket. Liam immediately curls into her and she loves the smell of him so close. Being home with the three boys has been overwhelming but it’s the little moments like this that almost make her glad she has this time off of work. Once he’s snuggled into her, Liam falls asleep almost immediately and not wanting to jostle him, Santana doesn’t move. She doesn’t have her phone or one of the journals she’s been catching up on so she decides to close her eyes. It isn’t long before she falls asleep curled up with Liam and she feels completely content.

“Mama, you’re home!” Liam shouts, waking Santana from her slumber who knows how much later. “And it’s not even dark outside!”

“I’m home, Bud.” Brittany grins, both at Liam and Santana who rubs a kink out of her shoulder. “For four whole days.”

“What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?”

“I think after bedtime tonight, Mommy and I will talk about it. But I think it’ll be a lot of fun stuff.”

“I love fun stuff!” He shouts, tumbling off the bed. Before either Santana or Brittany can react, he’s on his feet and jumping up and down. From the other room, there’s a cry and Santana knows it’s Oliver.

“I’ll get him, honey.” Brittany tells Santana and Liam chases her out the door.

When Brittany comes back in the room, she has Oliver in her arms and she comes over to the bed, kissing Santana’s lips and murmuring a hi against them and getting up beside her. Oliver is content to lay in Brittany’s arms for awhile and Liam comes back into the room, dragging a stack of trains up onto the bed. Santana plays with him while Brittany lays Oliver between her legs, tickling his belly and making him laugh.

“Max was still knocked out.” Brittany tells Santana.

“He nursed for kind of awhile before he went down. Oliver went to sleep about a half hour before he did.”

“They were good today?”

“I was extra good!” Liam announces. “I helped Mommy Noodle do the dishwasher and I cleaned up my toys and I played with Maxie and Ollie!”

“It’s true.” Santana smiles. “He did.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Li. Much better behavior than yesterday.”

“Mama, you can forget now that I was fresh.”

“You’re right.” Brittany laughs. “I can.”

Eventually, Oliver starts to get fussy and Santana takes him to nurse. Brittany takes over playing with Liam and when Max gets up, Liam rolls the trains over Santana’s legs while Brittany goes to get him. It’s only late afternoon, but Santana enjoys being in Liam’s bed with everyone she loves and she feels no motivation for either she or Brittany to get up and start making dinner.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” She asks, hoping that Brittany is in the mood.

“That sounds good, what do you feel like?”

“If you feel like us navigating Celeste with three kids, I could really go for Italian.”

“What do you think, Li, do you want spaghetti and meatballs?”

“What about hot dogs?”

“I think you’ve had enough hot dogs this week.” Santana ruffles his hair. “It’s time for something different.”

“Can I have ice cream?”

“As long as your behavior is as good at dinner as it’s been all day, I think I can agree to that. What do you think, Mama?”

“I think that sounds fair. How about we pick you out something to wear while Mommy finishes feeding Max?”

Brittany gets Liam dressed to go out while Santana keeps Oliver between her legs and keeps nursing Max. Then she goes into their bedroom to change out of her work clothes into jeans and Santana smiles when she comes back looking significantly more relaxed than she has in recent days. The long weekend will be good for both of them, Santana thinks, and when Max seems like he’s just latched in for comfort more than for food, she hands both of the boys to Brittany and goes to change out of her yoga pants and into something more suitable for dinner.

Liam is as good as he promised, eating most of his spaghetti and meatballs and the twins don’t cry at all during dinner. Santana is glad that she and Brittany can both relax and have a glass of wine and by the time they get home, all three boys are beyond ready for bath and bed. They do their usual nightly routine with them and then they change into pajamas themselves so they can go downstairs and just relax. When they get to the couch, Santana almost immediately lays her head in Brittany’s lap and she loves the feeling of her long fingers running through her hair.

“How was Sue today? Did she seem mad?”

“Santana, I promise, no one as mad it you. She did ream one of the lawyers for calling Unique a he today on the phone, so that was fun to watch.”

“Do you think they’re even competent? I mean, are you allowed to say that now that you’re not acting chief?”

“I would have said it to you anyway when I was. I think they’re good at settling cases and in your case, that’s what matters.”

“I just want to go back to work. It’s nice to have some time with the boys, but I miss the hospital.”

“I know.” Brittany sighs. “The settlement has been drafted, so they’re getting there. And Shelby wants you back to work with the new hire.”

“I can’t believe they’re actually hiring someone. It’s been since before you were there that they have.”

“I know, the budget cuts on the whole hospital haven’t been good, Sue told me that when she hired me. But I’m glad they’re getting someone for your department, so is Shelby.”

“Are you glad to be done with the chief thing, or do you wish you had longer?”

“Right now, with the boys so little, I’m glad to be done. When they’re older, it’ll be a better time for me. If I’m the one who actually becomes the chief.”

“I have no doubt that you will. You’re meant for greatness, Brittany Pierce.”

“I’m so lucky to have someone who believes in me so much.” She smiles, leaning down to kiss Santana’s lips.

“You’re worthy of it. I feel like we’ve had kind of a tough time since the twins were born where I’ve been caught up in my own thing, but I always want to be your supportive wife.”

“I’ll always be supportive of you too, Santana. I know it’s been really hard for you with the postpartum and me working so much. I just want to get us back into our routine.”

“I’m starting to feel like myself again at least. Even though I still feel like we don’t have Max and Oliver on a great routine. They’re still nursing so much more than they should at night, but I’m not ready to let them cry.” Santana purses her lips and Brittany nods.

“They were small when they were born, the nutrition is good for them. But I mean it every time I tell you that if you need to sleep, I’ll wake up with them.”

“I know. It’s just like, I don’t know, when I’m at work they get bottle fed all day, I feel like I should at least nurse them at night. There’s something about it, I guess. Do you feel left out by it?”

“I don’t. I love watching you nurse, I guess I feel like there’s something really intimate about me getting to be a part of that. You made our kids with your body, now you’re still taking care of them with it.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always.” Brittany tilts her head down.

“I’m glad I got to have kids with you. I really never thought about if before I met you. I guess I was just scared to pass down all of my crap.”

“If they suffer from your anxiety, we’re here to help them. It won’t go untreated for so long. Did you know that my sister lived with depression? I wonder sometimes if Liam will too.”

“I never would have imagined that from the stories you’ve told me about her.”

“She suffered quietly.” Brittany tells her. “She looked like the happiest person in the world, and by the time she settled into her life and got on medication, I think she was. But when we were teenagers, it was pretty bad. My parents didn’t know what to do.”

“I’d like to think that we will.”

“Me too. I think if Liv would have gotten help earlier she would have gotten to enjoy so much more of her life. I don’t know, it’s heartbreaking that she died so soon after she started living.”

“I’m sorry, Britt.”

“I guess there will never be a day where I don’t miss her. I would give anything for her to know you and the twins. And Liam too. She’d get such a kick out of how he is now.”

“He’s something else, isn’t he? Today he really was so good. Max was so fussy and he kept saying ‘Mommy Noodle, I want to help you make Maxie not sad,’ and then he’d entertain him.”

“He’s a really good big brother. I was nervous before they were born, since Li was so used to having all of the attention.”

“I was never nervous.” Santana shakes her head. “I pictured him just like this. They already are totally in love with him.”

“What do you want to do this weekend? I want to do whatever you want. If you want to stay in bed all day, that’s totally fine.”

“I don’t, I want to enjoy the time with you home. It’s supposed to be nice, so maybe we walk to the Museum of Natural History tomorrow?”

“I like that idea.” Brittany starts massaging Santana’s temples. “Liam will love it, I’m sure.”

“I can’t believe we’ve only taken him once. That’s probably the best memory of my childhood, when my mom would take me into the city and we’d go there and have lunch. Sometimes she’d sneak me out of school and make my promise not to tell my father.”

“I’m glad you have some nice memories from when you were a kid.”

“My mom really did try. I feel bad for her that she missed out on so much of her own life by being with him. She was at his beck and call all of the time.”

“I’m sorry you both went through that. And I’m glad that you’re so close with her now.”

“It took me a long time to see her as a victim too.” Santana sighs. “She won’t admit it, I don’t think ever, but I’m sure he hit her.”

“That makes me physically sick. You don’t know how much I admire you both for recovering from how he treated you.”

“I’m obviously not fully recovered, look at my collection of medication just to get through the severe anxiety that I swear was caused by him.”

“Still, you’ve been able to become an amazing surgeon, an amazing mother, and the best wife I could ever imagine.”

“Being with you has helped me more than you know. I trust again because you’ve given me reason to.”

“I want you to know.” Brittany stops massaging and looks deep into Santana’s eyes. “I will never hurt you.”

“I know, I know that so much.”

After their intense conversation, Santana just wants to watch something stupid on TV, so they put on Nick at Nite and watch whatever sitcoms come on for awhile. It’s late by the time they go to bed and Santana feels like she has five minutes to sleep before the sound of a crying baby wakes her up. She’s glad she’s got the double nursing thing down and she gets both Max and Oliver settled fairly quickly. Once they’re done eating, Brittany, having woken up at the sound of the crying, changes their diapers and she soothes them back to sleep. In the morning, everyone seems to be ready to sleep in and even though Santana’s body wakes her up, she still stays curled up under the covers with her eyes closed. She’s in Brittany’s arms still from the last time she fell back to sleep and she snuggles closer to her, breathing in her unique smell and savoring the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her.

“You’re awake.” Brittany murmurs. “I thought you were going to sleep in today.”

“Apparently my body had other plans. Of course it’s a morning when none of the boys are up.”

“Roll over so I can kiss you.”

“Hmm. Are you trying to seduce me?” Santana laughs, rolling so she’s facing Brittany.

“If only we had the time. We both know Liam will be in here any minute.” Brittany tucks a piece of hair behind Santana’s ear and kisses her lips. “Alone time is pretty much non-existent for us these days.”

“I promise we’ll get Max and Oliver out of here soon, so we have our own space.”

“Let’s just do it when we feel ready, there’s no need to rush it.”

“No, I know. I just feel bad that our sex life is kind of...lacking. If it didn’t take me so damn long to have an orgasm...”

“Don’t blame yourself because of the medication. Besides, when we do steal a little while alone in the guest room, it feels really special.”

“Maybe tonight we can. We could do early bedtime, open a bottle of wine, take a bath and just be with each other.”

“I’d like that a lot.” Brittany kisses Santana’s lips. “As long as you’re up for it.”

“I’m definitely up for it.”

Max crying cuts their conversation short and Santana takes him into her arms, pulling up her t-shirt to do his first feeding of the day. He winds his hand up in her hair and she smiles down at him, just in awe every minute. When Oliver wakes up, Brittany takes Max and Santana does the same with him. She lets her fingers trace the scar on his head, almost covered now by his hair, she feels his weight, so slight in comparison to Max and she thinks about how in just a few days, a doctor will have a lot to say about him to them. The feeling is a little overwhelming and Santana knows by the way Brittany puts her hand on her shoulder that she knows what she’s thinking.

“Mama! Mommy Noodle! What are we gonna do today?” Liam bursts into the room, hair wild and lines still on his cheek from his pillow.

“How do you feel about going to see the dinosaurs?” Brittany asks him.

“At the museum? Okey! But you gotta see the big whale that Gramma Maribel showeded me! It’s at the same place as the dino-saurs.”

“That sounds really good, bud.”

“Li, did you know that Grandma Maribel used to take me to the museum when I was little?”

“Mommy Noodle, that’s silly, you’re big.”

“But I wasn’t always big.” Santana laughs. “And the whale was my favorite part.”

“You know where it is?”

“I know where it is.”

Brittany insists on making breakfast so Santana lays out clothes for Liam and then gets Max and Oliver dressed and brushes her teeth so it will be easier to take a shower and get ready after breakfast. She goes downstairs with all three boys and Brittany already has a stack of pancakes waiting. Santana puts Max and Oliver in their bouncy seats and starts cutting up Liam’s pancakes before she makes plates for her and Brittany. Liam is so excited all through breakfast that he can hardly control himself and Santana and Brittany trade amused glances. 

After breakfast they take turns in the shower and Santana is shocked that by ten o’clock they’re ready to leave the house. Brittany goes to get the car and Santana waits on the curb, holding Liam’s hand while she has the two car seats tucked in the crooks of her arms. It’s always a workout getting all three boys out of the house and she’s glad she’s in good enough shape to handle it. When Brittany pulls up with the car, she immediately jumps out to help Santana and once they’re all securely in the car, they’re off.

“Mama, can we see the ephalants too?” Liam asks once they’re inside the museum.

“We can see whatever you want today, bud. We have the whole day.”

“And nobody has to go to work?”

“Nope, nobody has to go to work.” Brittany grins. “Nobody has to go to work until Wednesday.”

“Is that a lot of days?”

“It’s four whole days. How’s that sound?”

“Great!”

“Now how about that whale, Sir?” Santana offers and Liam bounces up and down, clapping his hands.

They end up being in the museum until late afternoon, with a stop in the cafeteria for lunch and several breaks to feed Max and Oliver, and Santana is surprised that Liam lasted that long. But by the time he’s ready to leave, it’s clear he’s exhausted and Brittany is eager to get him home before he melts down. They’ll pull something together for dinner, she tells Santana, both of them knowing that going out again is bound to be a disaster, and Brittany gets them home with no tears.

The evening doesn’t go as well. Liam cries over his macaroni and cheese at dinner, he cries in the bathtub, he cries that he doesn’t want to go to bed and Santana can tell that Brittany is getting really frustrated. She doesn’t show it, she never does, but she shoulders are tight and after Santana nurses the babies and puts them down to bed, she finds Brittany in the living room and she slowly kneads her thumbs into her shoulder blades. Brittany sighs into her touch and Santana kisses her neck, letting her lips linger there.

“The post-great day meltdown.” Brittany sighs.

“We never learn, do we?”

“Apparently not. At least he’s sleeping, I was afraid he’d cry for another hour.”

“He was completely tired out, Max and Oliver too. It was pretty cute, they both fell asleep nursing all tangled up in one another.”

“I’m bummed I missed it. But they couldn’t have waited for me to be done with Liam.”

“I’m sorry you got the brunt of it.” Santana purses her lips.

“You had twins to feed, don’t worry about it. Besides, now that everyone is sleeping, I have you all to myself.”

“That’s true. You do.”

“How tired are you?” Brittany asks.

“Not too tired that I don’t want to pour two glasses of wine and go up to the guest room.”

“Yeah?”

“Totally, yeah.”

They go into the kitchen together to get the wine and then they go up into the guest room. Santana knows that she’s still being weird by needing to go in there but she just feels more comfortable with it. She’s not even close to ready to move the twins into their own room, if she’s being honest with herself, and she knows that Brittany knows that, despite what she says out loud. So they’ve made the guest room a place where they can go for privacy, and though Santana does love falling asleep naked and tangled with Brittany, she settled for laying naked for awhile and then going back into their bedroom so they’re close by if the boys need them.

“Wanna make out?” Santana laughs, sipping from her wine glass.

“You’re ridiculous.” Brittany shakes her head, smile on her face. “Come here.”

Santana steps into Brittany’s embrace and Brittany kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her lips before she lowers her back on the bed and climbs on top of her. In experimenting with different things since Santana’s medication has made sex a little more complicated, they’ve learned that long makeout sessions and often Santana going down on Brittany makes her body react. Santana still blushes sometimes, thinking how embarrassing it is that it takes so much to rev her up, but Brittany is nothing if not supportive, always promising her that she appreciates having more time to love her.

Savoring every moment of kissing Brittany, Santana threads her fingers through her hair, she pulls her closer, she feels the pound of her heart against her own. There’s something in the safety she feels with Brittany that makes their physical intimacy even better and she wishes that she could ever find the words to explain that to her. Instead, she just kisses her harder and then Brittany’s hands begin to wander over her body. She touches her milk swollen breasts, she traces the stretch marks on her stomach, she makes her feel beautiful again without even saying a word. 

“You okay?” Brittany asks, because she always does lately, not wanting to make Santana feel uncomfortable.

“Really okay.”

“I’m going to take your shirt off, okay? I want to see you.”

“Mmhm.”

Lips replace fingers once Santana is topless and she tugs at Brittany’s shirt, wanting her bared as well. Brittany pulls it off in one quick motion and then unlatches her bra. Santana admires her body, she never can help but, and then she pulls Brittany back down on top of her. They kiss for a long while more and then Santana rolls Brittany onto her back, wanting to pleasure her. Brittany just smiles, eyes hooded, as Santana unbuttons her jeans and slides down between her legs.

The actual act of sex is never what is most intimate between them, but when they’re finished and Santana lays with her head on Brittany’s chest, she feels sated and calm. Brittany’s fingers still trace over her stomach and Santana shivers a little both from the touch and from the coolness of chilling sweat. She knows that should go into their bedroom, Santana feels herself almost falling asleep, but she just wants one more moment like this, one more second of lying naked beside her wife. Maybe that’s what she’s looking forward to most about when she’s finally ready to move the twins, being able to fall asleep like this again, and she kisses Brittany’s ear, just savoring.

Pulling clothing back on, they eventually make their way back into their own bedroom. Max and Oliver are still sound asleep and Santana and Brittany are quiet as they change into pajamas and take turns in the bathroom washing up. They finally settle into bed and Santana finds her place in Brittany’s arms. It’s been especially hard for her, being out of work, but when she gets to lay like this at night, everything else seems to fade away.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Brittany murmurs into Santana’s hair.

“Just thinking a lot, I guess.”

“About work?”

“Not really, mostly about us.”

“Can I ask what about?”

“Just that our relationship makes me calm.” Santana squeezes Brittany’s hand. “Even in chaos, I get in your arms and I settle.”

“Are you doing okay?”

“I’m still really scared about everything at the hospital. I know you’ve been there and I know you said it was going to be okay, but I can’t help but feel anxious about it. They haven’t even called, you know? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They’re going to settle the case. That man doesn’t know what doctors do, he doesn’t know that we make a billion decisions every day that can be life or death. He just wants money and the hospital is going to give it to him. You saved a little boy’s life, Santana. You made the right choice.”

“But what if Unique hadn’t been there to save Cecile Frank’s life?”

“She was though. You couldn’t have known her appendix was going to burst, it was a routine surgery and you knew that Thomas Harper’s life depended on you being in that room.”

“I just worry that I have so much on my plate that maybe I’m not making decisions the way I used to.”

“Honey.” Brittany kisses the top of her head. “We’ve been over this. You’re no less of an amazing surgeon now that you have kids.”

“It was just, like, the day I came back from Max being sick. I was worried about him.”

“If this was two years ago, what would you have done?”

“I would have moved the routine surgery and taken the emergency.” Santana concedes.

“Then you can’t blame yourself for this. No one died. Two lives were saved instead of just one. I know Thomas Harper’s family is grateful for the choice you made.”

“I just want to go back to work.”

“Give it another week. Now that Sue is back, it’s going to move more quickly.” “Those people in legal are idiots you know.”

“I do know. But they’re actually not bad at their jobs.” Brittany sighs. “Are you overwhelmed at home?”

“It actually has been less overwhelming than I expected. I’m not sure how my mom does it at her age though, there’s always something going on. It’s different when it’s both of us with two sets of hands.”

“Moms who are with their kids all day every day get all the credit, huh? When Liam was little, I couldn’t have done it without day care. That first month when I took leave of absence to stay home with him every day while he healed was rough.”

“It’s scary when something isn’t right. I think being home gives me too much time to think about Oliver.” Santana admits.

“Whatever it is, we’re going to get through it. If it means I take time off of work, I will.”

“I know. You’re a really good mom.”

“So are you, Santana. I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

[marsupials-of-mars]

Dreams

(Because tumblr decided to lose Dreams an Nightmares for no reason I have to reupload)

“Yknow, life’s pretty awesome. Who knows what could happen? We could go to a party, watch a movie, hang out with your friends, eat out... what if something big happens tomorrow? You rescue a puppy off the side of the road, and it turns out that it has puppies, and now you’re a dog grandpa. Or they discover an ancient castle in... some place that has castles....” Roman rambled off predictions. It was he and Thomas’s nightly routine, at least on good nights, on bad nights Virgil might take the shift. But Roman cherished his turn each time, predicting the events of the next day, week, year. It helped Thomas get to sleep, like a bedtime story.

“Thanks Ro.” Thomas yawned and rolled over. In a few moments his breathing deepened. Roman smiled and sunk into Thomas’ mind, energized by a job well done.

He looked around the hall. He didn’t feel tired. Usually if the sides didn’t feel tired at night it meant that they had a shift with... the prince gasped and looked down the hall. Sure enough there was a black and pink door sparkling at the end of the hall. Unlike the side’s rooms, this one only showed up to a side when it was their turn, or if they’d been given specific permission. Roman squealed. He hadn’t been there in weeks. He trotted down the hall eagerly and knocked on the door.

“Ugh, What? I’m working.” An annoyed voice spoke muffled through the door.

Roman smirked and leaned on the door.

“Fine then, I’ll just party all night all by myself.” There was silence a moment. The door flew open and Roman fell into the room. The door-opener sidestepped just in time.

“Watch it, you almost made me spill!” Roman looked up at a leather sleeved hand held out. He grabbed it and was pulled up quickly, almost wrenching his shoulder.

“Okay, ow...” he rubbed his wrist.

“Where have you been you bitch, It’s been so boring around here!” Remy pulled the prince into a hug. “What were you thinking leaving me so long?!”

Roman chuckled and shoved him. “You know if I had a choice I’d be here every night Rem.”

“Okay, OKAY, this is a big night, I’ve got some microwave popcorn in the kitchen, two new nail polishes, and I can queue up some Queer Eye, this is OUR night girl!”

He clipped his sunglasses on his shirt revealing winged eyeliner that none of the other sides could pull off if they tried. “Cmon lets fucking party!”

Roman grabbed his friends shoulders. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Um...drinks?”

“The reason I’m here?”

“To.....party...?”

Roman rolled his eyes. He loved Remy but he could be an airhead a lot of the time.

“Dream mode? Dreams? We need to make a dream.”

Remy blinked. “Well duh, I knew that, we’ve got all night.”

Roman sighed. “You know if we put it off you’ll end up dragging me into the best night of my life and Thomas will go without any dreams for another month.”

“Uuuuuugh!” Remy groaned dramatically. “Who shoved that stick up your ass?” He raised a brow and smirked. “Our Friend Lo~”

“Shut up!” Roman shoved him into the couch. He giggled evilly. “Cmon girl, liven up, live a little!”

Roman rubbed his eyes. It’s times like these he hated, acting like the adult. Who else would be lively enough to tell him, Prince Roman, to liven up? “Fine, why not?” He threw his coat and sash off. “Let’s have some fun first.”

Four episodes of Queer Eye and six collective wines later, Roman stood up. He swayed on his feet a bit. “Dreams! Dream time!”

“Aw, Cmon, my third coat’s nearly dry, give it a minute!” Remy blew on his dark pink nails. Roman touched his cherry red gloss to make sure it was dried.

“Okay, a minute.” He slumped on the couch and watched Remy.

“So what’s been up with you Remington? Whats the deal with the old REM cycle? What’s he been up to?” He turned himself so his knees hung on the back of the couch.

“Not much. Works been kicking my ass. Thomas has been trying to ‘reestablish a healthy sleep schedule” or some shit. It’s haaaard.”

“Does that have to do with the lack of dreams?”

“Yeah, he’s been pretty drained, deep sleep mode. Dreamless, Dark, boring.”

“Sounds gross.”

“Understatement much? It’s literally hell.”

Roman laid back and sighed.

“They dry?”

Remy touched his nails. “Looks like it.” He shoved up from the floor. “Yknow what? Let’s make this dream one to remember, go batshit crazy, more than usual, who’s gonna stop us huh?”

”I’m supposed to be the one coming up with the great ideas!” Roman stumbled to his feet.

“Tough bitch, Cmon!” Remy grabbed his wrist and dragged him into a black room. The door closed behind them, disappearing and leaving them in a blank space. No floor or walls, nothing but them. He waved his hand and a file drawer extended from the nothing. Roman peered over his shoulder.

“So what do we have to work with tonight?”

Remy pulled out a stack of folders. “Here’s all we have from this month.” He pulled out the first. “Ah! His aunt got a new puppy-“

“Oh my god YES! Have you SEEN her her name’s Lucy! She’s the sweetest thing!” Roman gushed.

“So... I’m guessing we’re using this one?”

“Uhdoy!” Roman grabbed the folder. He reached in and pulled out a coffee colored yorkiepoo. “And what if she was... horse sized?” He resized the puppy and squealed. “Cute! And now she’s blue!” He patted her belly and her fur faded to blue.

“Oooh fun, I love it, another!” Remy pulled out the next folder and checked the title. “His friend just introduced him to a guy from her yoga class who he thought was kind of cute but would never care or find any reason to act on.”

“He shall ride the dog! And he’ll be wearing a tux!” Romans pulled the man from the folder and customized his clothes. The man jumped onto horse Lucy, who roared like a lion in response.

“Love it, love it!” Remy pulled the next folder out. “Some random lady working the front desk at his doctors! Her face could be used for anything.”

“Hmmm... save that.”

Remy put the folder back. “What about that cookout he went to where he was eaten alive by bugs?”

“Perfect! Our antagonist! Roman plucked a handful of gnats from the folder and blew them up to the size of softballs, sending them to battle yoga boy and horse Lucy.

“Getting there! What else?”

“He had dinner with his mom recently...”

“Aha!” Roman pulled Thomas’ mother from the folder. He took the secretary and assigned her the role of mother. “His Mom is now the secretary!”

“Okay, Okay! Now? This next one is the entire layout of that cabin he vacationed to in sophomore year!”

“Perfect! I’ll meld it with his own house! We have our setting! Now for the plot!”

“Um... we have either ‘the video is going to be up late’ or ‘the fish I was served at a restaurant recently still had the head.’”

“The second one is juicer! The fish is still alive somehow and he feels the need to take it to the ocean!”

“Why would he-“

“Logan isn’t here! Now, I need one more person!”

“I have...” Remy spread the remaining folders out on the floor. “‘Red haired man he saw on the sidewalk on the drive to Joan’s house’, ‘Amethyst from Steven Universe’, and ‘Junior year Algebra 2 teacher’.”

Roman pulled out Amethyst. “Perfect! Her new name is Carol, and she’s yoga boys big sister! Should we see from her view in first person, or watch her antics in third person?”

“Um...” Remy thought. “Both?”

“GENIUS!” Roman conjured a keypad and typed up a quick script. “Aaaaand done!”

Remy locked in the dream and hit play. He quietly led Roman out and shut the door. “Cmon, we’ll miss it!” He pulled the prince back to the couch and shoved him into the cushions. He turned on the tv and the dream played out onscreen. Roman beamed at his masterpiece. As Thomas dreamt, Remy conjured face masks and frappuccinos. Roman dozed off. Tipsy Remy tried to find out how many popcorn kernels he could balance on his friend’s face. In a few hours the dream finished. lights dimmed. Remy shook Roman awake. “Rise and shine RoRo, he’s waking up.” The prince blinked awake.

“Oh...”

“Lunch this Friday? We need to keep in touch better.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Now get out of my room.” Remy pointed Roman to the door with a manicured finger.

“Bye bitch.” Roman saluted him with two fingers before stepping through the door. It disappeared behind him. He yawned and went to check on the waking Thomas. He rose next to him, sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal.

“Oh, hey Roman! I just had the weirdest dream...”

[megahwn]

Smitten - Teaser

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: arranged marriage!au, fluff, (maybe) angst

Rating: PG

Warnings: alcohol mention

Word Count: 2962

Summary: You live in a world where loving another is criminal. Partners are chosen by your elders to produce the best offspring and to help the economy thrive. Living in this world, you feel broken. You feel broken because you have accidentally fallen for your new husband, Jeon Jungkook.

A/N: Part of BTS Writers’ Corner’s Amor Fabula Project. Thank u to @spicykoreantatertots and @joopiterjoon my lovely betas uwu.

You and Jungkook tumble through the door of your new apartment, exhausted from the day’s events but giddy from the wine. Today had gone much more smoothly than you had anticipated it would. The kiss at the alter was far from awkward, your families seemed to get along well, and your conversation with Jungkook at your sweetheart table left nothing to be desired (thank you, white zinfandel). It was almost as if your wedding was based on something more than genetics and finances. Almost.

In all honesty, you want nothing more in this moment than to get out of this obnoxious outfit, get into some sweats and keep binging This Is Us. While today went as ideally as it could have, it won't hurt to get lost in the Pearsons' love story for a few hours instead of having to face your non-love story as soon as you arrive home from your own wedding.

It won't hurt. Not one bit.

You are already out of one shoe and hobbling down the hallway to your shared bedroom when you realize that it is, in fact, a shared bedroom, and you can't just throw all your clothes everywhere on your quest to get naked and comfortable. Your eyes immediately begin darting around the almost-familiar space for a spot to use to go through your nightly routine without Jungkook seeing... well, any of it. As capable as you are of being outgoing when the situation demands it, you are, by nature, a pretty shy person, and you don’t yet feel ready to let someone else be aware of your bedtime habits. Even if that someone is your new husband.

While you’re in the middle of scouring the room for a suitable place to hide, you hear the distinct sound of someone’s throat clearing a few feet behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, not realizing you had stopped in the doorway and blocked the only route into the bedroom. You take in the sight now before you and your eyes, if possible, grow even wider.

Jungkook looks good. His cheeks are still a little rosy from the alcohol, and his hair is swept off his forehead and parted on one side. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He managed to shed his suit jacket somewhere between the front door and the bedroom, and his shirt sleeves are now rolled up his forearms. There is an obvious vein running from his hand up his arm and under his sleeve. He is fiddling with the wedding band on his other hand. While he does look good, he also looks nervous.

Damn him.

Before you even have the chance to begin lusting after Jungkook, even for a moment, anxious thoughts begin flooding your brain in powerful waves. Why does he look nervous? Did you do something to upset him in the time it took to get from the apartment threshold to this spot? You probably did and now he hates you and you’re going to have to share an apartment and a bed with someone who can’t stand you and you’re going to –

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asks. “Is it the Iron Man poster? The Cooky plushie? I can get rid of them if you want. Man, I knew I shouldn’t have brought them here with me. God, this is embarrassing.” You notice he sounds slightly panicked.

Wait, what? You manage to get out of your own head for a second to focus on what Jungkook is saying. He’s embarrassed. Why is he embarrassed?

You turn back around to look into the bedroom once more, and your eyes immediately find the poster and the plushie he mentioned. Instead of saying anything, you walk towards the bed as well as you can in your dress, and you pick up the plushie from Jungkook’s side of the mattress. You look at it closely and then you rotate once more to look at Jungkook, who looks positively terrified. You consider teasing him, but decide against it almost immediately, as you think it might actually kill him.

You choose to walk back over to the doorway instead, holding the plushie as you move. Jungkook looks like he wants to back away, but he seems rooted to the spot. You take a breath and hope that what you’re about to say doesn’t ruin the day you’ve had with him and make everything (even more) awkward between you.

“Do you have any of the others or just Cooky?”

Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as you felt yours did earlier. You immediately think you’ve said the wrong thing, but then he smiles, showing off his bunny-like teeth.

“You know about the others?” he says shyly, referring to the rest of the popular plushie brand. He is still turning his wedding ring around on his finger, but not as intensely as he had been before. You take that as a good sign.

“Yeah, of course I do,” you respond without missing a beat. A smile creeps up onto your face as well. “I actually have Koya packed away in one of these boxes somewhere.” You gesture to the boxes you have yet to unpack, laying in the living room unopened and sort of sad-looking compared to all of the stuff Jungkook has already placed around the apartment.

Jungkook’s smile grows at your words. He lets go of his wedding ring and flexes his hands at his sides in excitement. You try not to stare as he steps closer to you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks like he’s trying to hold back how happy he really is to have learned this information about you. You barely register his emotions, though, as you’re now intently focused on his proximity to you. He smells mild, like soap. It’s nice.

“Do you really have Koya?” Jungkook practically whispers at you. You hold back a giggle and respond with a soft, “Yes. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” The truth is that you wouldn’t lie about anything, but you figure now isn’t really the time to be sharing such things. Now is the time for talking about plushies.

Jungkook seems to debate with himself for a moment, and you wait patiently for him to come to a decision, whatever it is. You take the moment to look at his face more closely while he’s looking away from you. His skin is beautiful, milky. His eyebrows fit his face nicely, with just the right amount of arch to them. His eyes are a deep brown, and he has a small scar underneath his left one. You have the urge to reach out and touch it, but you hold yourself back by holding tighter to the Cooky plushie in your hands. You don’t want to interrupt his thought process. Or worse, freak him out and end whatever moment you might be having.

You don’t get the chance to study the bottom half of his face because he begins speaking again, although he does so without making eye contact. He seems to be looking at your lips instead when he says, “Can I see him?”

You take a moment to recall what you had been talking about, and upon remembering you light up and respond with a nod. You begin walking into the living room before you remember that you are still in your wedding dress and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable. You stop moving and tilt your head back with a sigh before saying, “Can I actually get this dress off first? It’s starting to dig into my ribs.”

Jungkook looks like he doesn’t understand why you just asked him for permission to change your clothes. He responds with a confused-sounding “Yes?” and steps out of the way so you can make your way back to the bedroom once more. You make it inside, toss Cooky onto the bed, and begin rummaging through your dresser drawers before finding a suitable t-shirt and the most comfortable pair of sweatpants you own. You then head straight for the bathroom when you see Jungkook looking through his own dresser, presumably to do the same.

You make it into the bathroom, close the door behind you, and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You drop the clothes onto the floor next to you and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup held up well throughout the day, and you realize you need to take it off. You search the countertop and the cabinet behind you for makeup remover but find none. You suppose it’s actually a good thing that Jungkook wants to see your Koya plushie after all, as it will motivate you to unpack the rest of your things. Maybe he’ll help you.

You push that thought aside as soon as you think it, and you kick off your remaining heel (how were you walking around with one shoe on for so long?). You flex your feet to get some feeling back in them, and then you begin to remove your dress.

Or, at least, you attempt to begin removing your dress.

The intricate ties in the back of the garment combined with the restricting bodice don’t allow you to move your arms very far behind you, and you soon realize that the dress is not going to come off without some help. You think about how the only person who can possibly help you in this situation is just outside the door, but for some reason you are unwilling to remove that barrier and ask for his help.

You end up spending a good fifteen minutes in the bathroom alone, silently struggling to undo the knots you have managed to make behind you. It’s only when you hear an apprehensive knock on the door that you let out a little squeak, then clear your throat and respond, “Yeah?”

You hear Jungkook’s muffled voice behind the door. “Hey, I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I really have to pee.”

You would chuckle if you weren’t in such a predicament. You go over your options one more time before deciding that you really do need Jungkook’s help if you ever want to breathe properly again. You slowly turn toward the door and open it, revealing a concerned Jungkook behind it. He is now wearing boxers and what is possibly the most form-fitting shirt you have ever seen another human wear in your entire life. You can see his biceps and his abs through the shirt, and his thick thighs are on full display. You remind yourself not to drool.

Jungkook breaks the silence by asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be changing?”

You sheepishly nod and then turn around to reveal the absolute mess you have made of your bodice ties. You hear a quiet chuckle behind you and then you feel hands at your back. They’re firm but gentle in their movements behind you. Jungkook is helping you get your bodice undone and you didn’t even have to ask him. Your heart hurts a little. You ignore it.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, so quietly you’re sure Jungkook didn’t hear you say it. But then you hear him mumble out a “No big deal,” and you remember that this is an arrangement that the elders chose for you, and that you didn’t have a say in. Jungkook’s just being nice because he’s a good person, not because he cares about you. He doesn’t even know you. Your heart hurts a little louder this time.

Jungkook gets the bodice ties undone and you practically rip the thing off of you and take in a huge breath. You sigh out and reach for the zipper on the back of the dress without thinking, but it turns out you can’t undo that by yourself either. You let your hands fall awkwardly to your sides before letting out another sigh and saying, “So, um... I still need help.”

This time, Jungkook’s hands reach your back much more slowly than they did before. You wonder why. It’s only when the zipper is down your back and all the random buttons are undone that you realize why he’s being so hesitant – you’re basically half-naked in front of this guy and you’ve never done anything more intimate than kiss each other in front of a bunch of people one time a couple hours ago. You hold the dress to your front and turn around to face Jungkook and thank him for his help, but something stops you.

His eyes are screwed shut.

This time you actually do laugh out loud. It startles him and he opens his eyes. Cute.

“What were you doing?” you ask jovially. You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you want to make him squirm.

“Uh...” Jungkook starts. His eyes then wander down the front of your body and snap back up just as quickly, as if he just remembered you could see him now. “I was, uh, keeping my eyes closed in case you... you know...”

“In case I what?” you tease, taking half a step closer to him. He doesn’t back away.

“In case you didn’t want me to see you... like that.” Jungkook’s cheeks had been getting lighter since you arrived home, but now the redness has returned, maybe even intensified. You decide to put him out of his misery.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Even though we are married.” You’re not sure why you add that last part, seeing as you were just as nervous as Jungkook only moments ago. Maybe seeing him flustered makes you feel a little less alone, and a little more likely to joke around the way you would with someone you know well.

Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again. He settles on saying, “Right,” and then he backs out of the bathroom to let you finish changing.

You eventually emerge from the bathroom feeling better than you have all day, and you see Jungkook sitting patiently at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, waiting for you. You smile at him and say, “You ready?”

Jungkook’s face lights up at your words, like he had been thinking you might change your mind. Impossible. He gets up from the bed and follows you gingerly to the living room, where you both plop to the ground and you reach for the box nearest to you.

“You didn’t label them?” Jungkook asks incredulously. “How are you supposed to know what anything is?”

“I just kind of wing it,” you respond casually, to which Jungkook shrugs and says, “Okay, fair.”

Once you have the box in front of you, you open it and begin searching through it for your Koya. It turns out that Koya is not in the first box, or the second, or the third... or the fourth. By this point you’re getting distracted by all the things you’re unboxing and by telling Jungkook about all the things you’re unboxing.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. On the contrary, he seems to be just as invested in your unpacking as you are. He does end up helping you place things around the apartment like you hoped he would.

It feels like something real partners would do.

You try not to dwell on it, but the thought persists as you start opening the fifth box. Your Koya sits right on top of the mess of odds and ends you packed from your old bedroom. You smile and remove it from the box, lifting it up just enough for Jungkook to see it properly. You turn to him to see his reaction, but don’t expect the one you get.

Jungkook is smiling again, his bunny teeth poking through his lips cutely, but his eyes are shining. Instead of letting the panic overtake you once more and make you think you’ve somehow offended him, you simply say, “Hey. What is it?”

Jungkook looks up from the plushie to your eyes, then dabs at his own with the backs of his hands before responding. You wait for him like you did before.

When he finally speaks, he says a little shakily, “I’m sorry, I just... didn’t really expect this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t expect you to really have him. I kind of thought you were just being nice to me.”

You resist the urge to lean over and pull him into a tight hug. You settle for responding with, “I told you I wouldn’t lie.”

Jungkook is quick to shake his head and say, “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have believed you. It’s just... we don’t really know each other yet, you know?”

You stiffen a little at his words, but then force yourself to relax. Right. You had honestly forgotten about that. While you’re a little hurt, you suppose you have to allow him that skepticism. You would be skeptical too.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. Are you okay?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment. He seems to like to think before he speaks, as if he wants to make sure he says the right thing the first time. You can relate.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says slowly. “I’m just... happy.”

You beam at him and give him your Koya to hold while you unpack the rest of the box. The others can wait until tomorrow.

You both eventually head to bed, completely drained from the wedding and your respective emotions. Jungkook is still holding Koya when he climbs under the covers, so you pick up his Cooky and hold it to you as well. That’s how you fall asleep – silently, holding a piece of each other.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

SO LATE SO SOON: fun, genre-celebrating SF for young readers (of all ages!)

[Harry Tynan posts on our forums as Moose Malloy. Earlier this week, he messaged me about his fun, self-published kid's book, written as a series of bedtime stories for his kid (a tradition I'm very fond of -- it's the origin story of The Borribles!). The book is so much fun that I invited him to write a short introduction and choose a excerpt for your edification. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did! -Cory]

The great Umberto Eco once wrote, in a marvellous essay about Casablanca, that "Two clichés make us laugh. A hundred clichés move us. For we sense dimly that the clichés are talking among themselves, and celebrating a reunion."

And hey, who doesn't love Casablanca?

I'm no Umberto Eco, but a while back I wrote a science fiction novel out of love for my son and out of love for the SF genre itself. Freed by love, I poured my heart into this short tale of a boy and his dad (plus his two accidental, argumentative clones, plus his dad's childhood dog accidentally yanked forward from the 1970s for their own, very tail-waggy reunion).

For my son's amusement, I unselfconsciously stuffed each of my quick, cliff-hanging chapters with my favourite SF clichés from a lifetime of fandom. I smushed in some 'gritty history' and some light moral lessons and some Shakespeare and some counterfactual frolics. I had huge fun bashing out 500 words nightly on an old laptop after everyone else hit the hay.

I was pretty careful with editing and general quality control. But I let the tale itself go where it wanted. When I read it over I smiled to find influences from stuff I adored -- not only Sheckley and Dick and Zelazny and Silverberg and Doctorow, but also Beverly Cleary, and Treasure Island, and Calvin and Hobbes, and 2000AD and Red Dwarf and arcade games and pop music and every other good thing we turn to for hope and light. I called it SO LATE SO SOON, after the wistful absurdism of the Dr. Seuss verse. Then I printed some copies and gifted them around. Did that a few times. Kinda forgot about it then, to be honest.

Now, I've never made any big claims for this book. For me it is, as Eco says, 'the clichés having a ball.' But it's had a joyful little half-life. Some schoolteacher here in Ireland read it in class. Kids I don't know, cousins of neighbours of my nieces or something, petitioned for a sequel. Well-meaning friends kept nagging me to publish it -- as if it were that easy!

But of course, it IS that easy to self-publish these days. And this week I finally did, on Amazon KDP. It feels great! Right now it's free, so if interested, please snag it

here

(US) or

here

(UK) or in your local Amazon region. I'll run more free days asap (KDP limits these, though).

I hope some of you like it. You could start with the extract below, wherein our protagonists use a time-freezing whistle to escape from a medieval court which alleges they're demons.

Finally... I cannot thank Cory and Boing Boing sufficiently for this -- it's a wish come true, realising a childhood dream (to write and share an entertaining story) with my dream audience (the awesome happy mutant community). Buíochas!

FORTY-FIVE

One minute later I was outside again, panting heavily, frightened and excited at the same time. The streets were filled with people stuck in fixed poses; even the horses who'd pulled us here in our cage were poised without twitching, like statues. And around everything, that strange ring of the whistle pulsed like some alien music.

No time to hang about, I told myself. We need to leave. But how? I went back inside the courthouse to assess the situation.

First, I removed the whistle from Marlowe's collar and stuck it in my pocket. No telling when I'd need that again.

Second, I took a good look at Dad, where he was suspended in time, leaning against the side of his dock. No way would I be able to carry him. But I might be able to drag him.

The sound of the whistle, still echoing, rang pure and clear in my ears as I worked.

I pushed experimentally on Ezquerra, who was blocking the steps up to Dad. He tumbled over like a skittle and landed flat on his back with a crash. Terrified someone would hear me, I looked around in a panic for somewhere to hide. But then I controlled myself. Who cared if anyone heard me? They were all frozen. And that gave me an idea. I looked around for the largest people in the room, to lie down beside Ezquerra.

Two soldiers and a judge later, I'd made a pretty soft-looking landing pad just outside Dad's dock. "Sorry, Dad," I whispered as I opened the gate at the top of the steps. He tumbled straight out and landed smack-bang across the judge's belly and a soldier's fleshy forearms. It seemed to me that the sound of the whistle was beginning to fade at this stage, and from the corner of my eye I could see hints of very slow movement amongst the crowd, so it looked like the freeze was wearing off.

That was fine. I was nearly ready anyway. But I needed to talk to Dad. I dragged him, with great difficulty, outside the courtroom door, around a corner, and down a quiet hallway with polished wooden panels and huge pictures of great battles hanging everywhere.

Then I waited.

All around me I could hear the sounds of reality restarting, like one of Dad's old records rotating at the wrong speed. Around the corner somewhere, I heard a footstep. As I watched Dad's face, he blinked. The ring of the whistle was almost completely gone now. And suddenly, time was back to normal -- moving forward at one second per second.

"Dad," I said quickly, "don't talk, let me explain. I froze time using this Silverberg whistle. Lukes B and C and Marlowe are still in the courtroom, which I imagine is going bananas right now, because you and I have just disappeared into thin air... and also, some people have been, uh, rearranged."

Dad's eyes bulged in confusion as I continued, but I put up a hand to silence him. "There's no time to lose. They'll really think we're devils now, with this kind of black magic. We need to escape. But I'm too small to carry everyone."

He nodded to show he understood. "This time, I want YOU to blow the whistle, go back in there, and carry all of us to somewhere safe. It wears off after about ten minutes, so keep blowing it till you're done. Got it?"

There were sounds of shouting and alarm all through the building now. A group of soldiers came tearing around the corner, spotted us, and charged with an almighty roar.

"Got it," said Dad. He grabbed the whistle from me, raised it to his face, and --

FORTY-SIX

Dad got us out of Lisbon. He got all of us out, all on his own.

It must have taken him hours. I woke up a couple of times, emerging woozily from the freeze-sleep, becoming aware of reality crowding in on me once more. The first time it happened, I was bent forward over a low wall, presumably where he'd left me while he went to get one of the other Lukes. There was a slow, low, grinding noise: GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG... It started to get faster and higher: GRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGR... and then it suddenly disappeared as normal time resumed with a POP!

I lifted my head. I felt fine. I was near a busy marketplace. Sounds of life were audible all around me; I wasn't the only person waking up.

"Dad," I croaked. "The whistle."

I was still lying draped over that wall and couldn't even see Dad, but he must have heard me, because next thing I knew I was coming around again on the side of a dusty pathway just outside of the city.

GGGGGGGGGGGGG

GRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGR

POP

Luke B was lying beside me and I could see Dad, with Luke C in his arms, staggering tiredly toward us. He saw me watching him, and winked. "You okay Dad?" I asked. "I'll be fine," he answered. "The old dog for the hard road, as my mother used to say."

He'd even rescued one of the backpacks somehow. It lay on the ground beside me. Seeing me looking at it, Dad winked. "Took it from the hands of the boss bishop himself," he said. "He'll be one surprised padre when he wakes up!"

I heard a sneeze behind me and looked over to see a soldier staring in amazement. That was only to be expected. After all, as far as he knew, there'd just been some weird noises and then we had appeared out of nowhere.

"No problem," said Dad, as the soldier started shouting. He lowered Luke C gently to the ground and reached again for the whistle.

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