#i threw a 3 hour tantrum screaming at the top of my lungs because i did not get a fourth leberwurst sandwich

[thelastschnitzel]

I've banned meat from my Abendbrot, which is the logical thing to do but

Every once in a while

I have a desperate need for Leberwurst.

I need grobe Leberwurst tonight.

[missskzbiased]

My Whole New World

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Oneshot, Drabble, Established Relationship! au

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem! Reader [Chubby! Described as squishy and Glasses mentioned as well, as requested]

Word Count: ~1,6K [I’m Proud! It’s the closest of a Drabble I’ll ever get]

Notes: The fifth fanfic for the Valentine’s request [That you can find here]

Chan ||  Minho || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || Jeongin

Masterlist

Requested: Yes, by  @fivefootfuryanon

EDIT: I knew I forgot to say something here. Wifey, I didn’t do the ‘ADHD’ part because I didn’t think I could do it well in a drabble. Maybe in the future I can write something longer. I’d like to picture it respectufully and study about it before writing it, so that’s why :’(

General Tag List: @channiewoo @aliceu @bythesunnotbythemoon

[If you wish to be tagged to the other Valentine’s requests, please send me an ask <3]

                                                     ///

    You were guilty.

    Guilty of liking Disney’s songs too much.

    What was the big deal with that?!

    You should have known that having Chan in your house would end up in you being humiliating at some point today. In fact, you had your suspicions that you were bound to attack him when he finished Chan’s Room ─ which he was doing right now in your bedroom as you washed the dishes ─, and, of course, you weren’t mistaken.

    “A whole new world!” You screamed at the top of your lungs; soaked and soapy sponge turning into a microphone for a moment as your free hand ─ that dropped the spoon in the sink just for this ─ slowly made its way to the sky, as if your singing abilities were good enough for this performance.

    “A new fantastic point of view!” Chan sang along, voice filled with amusement.

    “No!” You protested while chuckling “Don’t you dare close your eyes” You corrected, turning around and sprinkling foam everywhere as you brought your fist to your chest, scrunching your nose and singing dramatically. He giggled, utterly satisfied by your performance as he captured you on-screen “That’s right! Record me so Disney can hire me as their ultimate princess!” You laughed, winking exaggeratedly at the camera and having your glasses sliding to the tip of your nose.

   “You’re on live” He announced, cackling up.

   “Wait— What?!” You widened your eyes, tossing the sponge in the sink and trying to fix your outfit the best you could “H-Hey, Stays! I’m Chan’s friend, Y/N!” You floundered, an awkward smile plastered in your face as you tried to think about something to say to dismiss the idea of being in a relationship with him. Wouldn’t it get him in trouble?

    “Oh my god! Stays, I’ve been rejected!” He whined, turning the camera to him before walking towards you “And there I was thinking she was singing this song to me” He pretended to cry, his hand hiding half of his face as he twisted his face in a mockingly sad grimace.

    You stared at him blankly ─ eyes darting to your sides before fixing on him again ─, stiffly standing up as if suddenly you were a robot or something. He seemed to finally take pity on you, huffing playfully as he threw his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him and framing both of you on the video.

    “Well” He stressed, pecking your cheek before returning his gaze to the camera “As promised, Stays… Here is my girlfriend” He smirked when you let your mouth fall agape, dumbfounded by the situation “No, you may not steal my girl, Jeez!” He whined after reading a comment, frowning mockingly as if to scold whoever had thought about it.

    You couldn’t believe it! Was it even allowed? Was it okay to announce your relationship like this? You returned your gaze to the camera, still looking flabbergasted as you tried to read the comments. You expected some rude ones but surprisingly enough, Stays seemed to be pretty chill about it.

    Some of them commented about how cute you were because of your height gap. In fact, you were pretty short and that made Chan look like an actual tall guy instead of a small bean, like usual. Some others commented about how smooshy you looked and how envious they were of you and Chan. You had to chuckle about that one, seeing a bunch of stays saying that they wanted to hug you as well. Then you picked up on someone talking about your singing and the embarrassment hit you.

    They had seen you pretending to be a performer!

    “So that was it, Stays! Baby Stays…” He smiled, tilting his body to rest his head on top of yours “I’m gonna give you all a hug, and then I’ll be giving my babygirl some attention” He chanted, knowing that you would get flustered. You nudged his side, lowering your head to hide your embarrassment “Here, hold this for me, baby” He asked, guiding you to hold it with both of your hands and adjusting it to be in his chest level.

    He opened his arms, getting closer to the phone to give his usual virtual hug, except that this time he actually hugged you instead of stopping in front of the phone. You felt his warmth as he wrapped you in his arms, staying there for a while before kissing your temple and letting you go. He smiled at the phone, making his signature pose in the end before turning the live off.

    “Did you miss me?” He asked cutely, putting his phone aside to hold your hand, swinging them between both of you.

    “It’s been only an hour” You reminded him, chortling when he pouted “Yeah, sure… I may have missed you a little bit” You teased, pecking his lips.

    “Just a little bit?!” He whined, letting go of your hands to cross his arms over his chest, stomping the ground repeatedly as he pretended to throw a tantrum “You don’t love me anymore!” He said dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked away and lifted his head.

   “It’s your fault for exposing me like that!” You laughed, pointing at him before booping his nose “Now everyone saw me singing in the kitchen!” You pouted, making him chuckle, pulling you closer and wrapping you up as he kissed the top of your head “Yah! Being all cute now won’t get you away from it!” You said as he rocked your body side to side, peppering your face with kisses.

    “You’re sure?” He asked, nuzzling you to make you annoyed “Even if I’m about to get you to bed for some nice cuddling and movies?” He tried to tempt you, guiding you to give one step at a time while hugging you, which made both of you look like penguins walking.

    “Well, if I’m getting cuddles and some kisses… I may accept your apologies for humiliating me in front of the Stays” You mused out loud. He squeezed you like a plushie, holding you tight while whimpering, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

    “I can’t! You’re too cute” He cried, turning you around to squish your face “I didn’t know you would be singing in the kitchen” He chuckled, brushing his lips on yours “And it wasn’t humiliating, it was the cutest thing in this whole new world” He sang the last part, laughing as you playfully hit his shoulder.

    “I’ll become a video on Twitter!” You whined, and he smooched you after you stopped talking.

    “Well, we can tag Disney to see if they hire you as their ultimate princess” He giggled, getting another hit from you.

    “You’re awful!” You chuckled, throwing your hands around his waist to bring him closer to you, lifting your head to kiss his pouting lips “But you’re lucky I love you a lot” You shrugged, getting a goofy smile from him.

    “Like a whole lot?” He asked, trying to be charming but getting a snort as an answer “Yah!” He complained, bumping his nose on yours “I love you so much, Y/N-ah…” He pouted, and you looked softly at him, pecking his lips once again.

    “I love you a whole lot” You promised, letting go of his waist to grab his hand and guide him to the bedroom. You sat down, rolling and patting the mattress for him to lay down with you “And by a whole lot, I mean a whole lot!” You said, spreading your arms open and stretching them as far as you could “Like this big! But maybe even bigger!” You added, chuckling as he rushed to roll to your side.

   “That much, hm?” He gave you a smug grin, throwing his legs and arms over your body and resting his chin on your chest. You smiled at him, playing with his locks in a slow motion that got him humming and leaning against your hand; eyes closed to enjoy the warm contact.

   You pinched his cheek, leaning to kiss his nose.

   “You know what?” You asked, rubbing his earlobe mindlessly as he moved himself to get cozier into your hold, bringing you closer as he nuzzled your neck and sighed satisfied “I think I love you so much… But so much…” You whispered, turning your head to kiss his temple. You pressed a kiss on his cheek as well, placing one last kiss on his jaw before brushing your lips on his ears “That I could even call you…” You snorted, lifting your head just a little bit so he would turn to look at you.

    He stood there, looking at you with twinkling expecting eyes.

    “… My whole new world!” You sang out loud, startling him for a moment.

    “Oh my God! Jeez!” He huffed, hand going to his chest as he lifted his body, making you laugh at his astonished expression.

    He laughed along with you, bracing himself on the bed as he cupped your cheeks, staring intensely at your eyes and making you flustered. He smirked, nuzzling your nose before sliding his hand to yours, interlocking his fingers with you, and squeezing your hand. You pursed your lips, big doe eyes looking at him in expectation, observing how he hovered his lips over yours for a second.

    “Don’t you dare close your eyes…” He continued the song, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

I will love you if I never see you again (chapter five)

Again, thanks and sincere apologies to my lovely beta readers @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian. Again, I am just so, so sorry.

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3, it really means a lot to me!

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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It had been four days, not even a full week, and Nureyev was already losing his mind.

Bianca only howled louder when he picked her up, this time right in his ear. Nureyev winced, jostling her, patting her back, feeling the anger of her flushed skin through the thin cotton of her pyjamas. He tried to fall back on everything he’d learned, everything he’d frantically researched on the long trip back from Brahma into solar planet space with an hours old Bianca curled up in one arm, everything he knew worked from times when she’d fallen ill or gotten herself in a state. But the truth was she’d never acted quite like this.

She wasn’t sleeping, she wasn’t eating right, she was acting out in a way she just hadn’t before. She’d always been so good, quiet enough that Nureyev had pulled countless scores with her strapped up against his chest in a sling, calm enough that she’d never once given them away even in situations tenser than he’d ever wanted to get her in.

But ever since they’d lifted off from the Cerberus Province, she’d been in some holy terror. There was just something about the Carte Blanche that Bianca did not like and refused to cooperate with.

Nureyev dodged a flying fist and took her over to the window, hoping the sight of the stars would help calm her down, help her realise that this was no different from their previous hops between planets, just a little longer and with slightly more comfortable accommodation. When observed through the tight circle of the porthole, it was hard to believe they were even moving, the stars not even seeming to creep past. It was like looking up from the very bottom of the sea.

But Bianca was having none of it. She only cried, sobbing ‘dada’ miserably over and over against his shirt, the silk of which was now soaked beyond saving. It was like she was begging him, desperately trying to make him see and understand.

But he couldn’t.

Nureyev held her closer in spite of the noise and the flailing, sighing deeply. He felt like he needed to apologise but when he wondered what for, so many unpleasant thoughts crowded on the end of his tongue that he couldn’t pull away fast enough, as if from a burning stove.

Thoughts like why he’d ever assumed he could do this, why he’d ever thought he could be a father. Why he’d ever thought subjecting a young child to this kind of life, essentially reenacting all the wongs that had been done to him, had been a good idea. He could tell himself his intentions were good until he was blue in the face but didn’t they all say that?

Wouldn’t Mag have told himself the exact same thing?

The name was enough to make himself start and he pushed it away, trying to force it into its box. But it was so hard, when he was so tired and empty and wrung out. He needed his wits about him to keep his mind in order, like prison guards with unruly tenants, and right now whatever wits he’d ever had were in pieces on the floor.

When it was clear the stars weren’t working their usual magic, Nureyev stood, not really knowing why but needing something to do. Perhaps a shower would help cool and soothe her or maybe a walk around the ship, though that would only make her distress echo through the halls all the more and Nureyev got the feeling his good will with the rest of the crew was eroding fast.

Except with one of them.

He’d been keeping his distance in an attempt to be respectful but it was impossible not to feel his presence like an itch. In the captain’s ridiculous family meetings, every glance the former detective stole in his direction felt like someone had flicked him on the ear. He’d stopped bringing Bianca to those things, not just because she screamed through them and made the transmission of information rather tricky but because that single brown eye kept dancing everywhere but on them, expect for those moments where he would slip. Those mistakes seemed to come more frequently than either of them would like. His secretary too, the one with the bright purple hair, would be looking too and would often glance furtively at her old boss, like she was waiting for him to do something or say something, like the silence was killing her. But Juno would set his jaw in that damn stubborn way and turn his eye elsewhere.

But it wasn’t just that, it was Bianca herself. Nureyev had assumed a month when she was so small she was barely aware of anything around her wouldn’t have left such an imprint. He’d assumed because that felt so much more sturdy than simply hoping. But every time Juno was in her eye line, she would wriggle and attempt to make escapes Nureyev himself would never have dared. She would babble and bounce and coo, even stretch her arms out towards him.

As soon as she started, Nureyev would quickly bundle her off, making some excuse out loud or in his head that no one would really believe. He’d walked away from dinners the captain had insisted he attend, strategy meetings, he’d turned back out of the kitchen when he’d needed a coffee more than he needed air in his lungs. He’d left Bianca in their room when she’d been crying, breaking his heart in the process of closing the door.

Nureyev was being a fool, in short. And on top of that, he was being a poor member of the crew. The captain had talked about them as a cohesive unit, working together to achieve the impossible, each one of them part of the chain. And he was the weak link, he was the hinge who stuck, the corner that broke away.

It was hurting his professional pride as much as it was his sense of identity. Some mornings, in the blissful few hours when Bianca’s exhaustion made her snatch a little sleep, he would stagger to the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, flyaway hair and bleary eyes and no makeup, he would struggle to recognise himself.

He could look at that man and tell himself he was Peter Nureyev, but what good were the words when he didn’t have the credentials?

Back in his own mind, in the present moment with a distraught daughter chewing miserably on his shoulder, Nureyev decided it was late enough to attempt a walk, maybe take her up to the observation deck. He’d been so excited to show her the view from beneath the blown out dome of the ship, he bet you could almost believe you were completely suspended in space, floating amongst it all. Sure every time he’d attempted it for her, she’d just cried but maybe this time it would work.

Nureyev went to get her a coat, it was cold when you were surrounded by nothing but metal and the vacuum of space. Her booties too, in case she wanted to be set down, he needed to have something between her soft little soles and the grating. And of course her cat had to come…

Nureyev stopped, holding two of those items in his hand and realising he had no clue where to find the third. It must have been abandoned in the kitchen after the most recent of the meeting disrupting tantrums. Maybe once she had it back, she would calm down.

He pulled on her little coat and shoes, taking twice as long as usual with her flailing about, and went for the door, glad to at least have a goal in mind, a reason to move and make the dark thoughts chase him rather than sitting there as an easy target.

He found his momentum thrown off when he trod on something soft in the dark hallway, making him stumble and Bianca lurch in his arms. He looked down, fingers twitching towards the knife at his belt on pure instinct, and saw the very cat he’d been about to hunt for. There was a note tucked under the ribbon around its neck. Once he’d adjusted to the simulated night of the Carte Blanche, he could read the handwriting from here.

Found on the kitchen table. Thought B might be missing it- J.

Part of Nureyev didn’t want to take his foot off the thing but he did, bending and rescuing it from underneath his heel. The note came with it, as well as the knowledge of Juno’s thought, his care, his attentiveness. Everything that might be contained with those glances he gave them and all that might be behind them.

He folded the note between his fingers and put it in one pocket, wishing he could do the same with the thoughts crowding his mind. The cat he passed to Bianca, who’d been startled by the near fall and was clinging to him with tight little hands, sniffling quietly.

“Look who found us, little treasure,” he murmured, trying a smile.

Bianca looked at her cat, eyes wide and wet and bottom lip still pouched out. She reached out a hand to close around its neck, slackened by all the times she’d held it there while she slept or while she rested against him or while she threw it around happily. She held on tight, like she always did, since the one time she’d dropped it as they’d been creeping around a cathedral in search of some ancient scrolls a buyer had expressed interest in and Nureyev had been forced to break one of his rules of thieving and revisit a crime scene to retrieve it the next day.

For a moment, he actually hoped the tears had run their course and the much loved toy had been enough this time. For a moment. Namely, the moment right before Bianca threw the cat fully in his face, knocking his glasses askew and began her wailing again with renewed force.

Nureyev gave a deep, long sigh and started his walk to the observation deck, leaving the cat on the bedroom floor for now.

It had been a week now, but fortunately for everyone on board the Carte Blanche, there was only so much little lungs could take. There had to be some time, whether it was ten minutes, twenty or, if the stars were aligning, maybe even a full hour, where Bianca just physically couldn’t howl anymore. Nureyev tried to get as much done in that time as he possibly could, feeding her and himself in those snatched moments, risking journeys outside of his room safe in the knowledge that someone wouldn’t try and push them out of the airlock and have done with it. Probably the green haired medic, when he’d gone to her to ask if there was anything physically wrong with Bianca, she had looked positively murderous after his daughter accidentally caught her on the jaw with a swinging foot.

It wasn’t to say that things went back to normal when she wasn’t crying. There’d be a distance with Bianca, as her breathing would hitch and she’d tremble with the aftershocks of her tears. Nureyev would try and wipe the tears from her cheeks, he’d make funny faces and dredge up his most ridiculous voices he’d ever used for his personas, he’d tell her she was his treasure and he loved her but he wouldn’t get the response she used to give him. She’d just slump against him, boneless and sad in a faraway kind of way. In a lot of ways, it was worse than when she was filled with her fury.

But she needed food and that was something Nureyev knew he could fix. So, with the lights on the ship simulating a late dusk, he walked with her down to the kitchen. Even if she could toddle on her own sometimes, he did not look forward to the day when he would reach down to her and she wouldn’t answer by stretching her arms up towards him, hands opening and closing. Even as exhausted as he was, as much as his muscles ached, he carried her gratefully.

He was tired though. He couldn’t remember being so exhausted and feeling so helpless, not since the day Bianca was born. Even when she slept, he couldn’t, losing himself in just gazing at her, like studying her face would make it all click and he’d see how to help her. So he dragged himself rather than walked to the kitchen, not able to rouse enough energy to put on the usual straight backed swagger he’d made part of his identity. He actually slouched his shoulders, God help him.

No one else was in the kitchen which was for the best. Nureyev had grown far too used to living alone to be fully adjusted to other bodies in his space yet. And he was so tired, it was very likely he’d put a hole through his alias that he couldn’t afford.

He worked efficiently with one hand, putting together Bianca’s meal of paste of various colours. It looked entirely unappetising but his research showed it was one of the best brands out there in terms of vitamins and minerals for healthy growth. He sat down on the sagging old sofa, balancing her on one knee, the brightly coloured plastic tray on the coffee table. There was no fight in her tonight, she accepted each spoonful and raised barely a coo at his spaceship noises. Maybe she’d had enough of spaceships, living on one. And she didn’t eat as much as he’d like either before burying her face against her cat, who was apparently back in her good graces, and accepting no more.

Nureyev sighed and acquiesced, setting down the spoon, “Well, we’re going to try again in a bit...you need your energy, little treasure.”

Bianca just murmured indistinctly, the cloth cat’s ear in her mouth, the remnants of her last spoonful staining his fur orange.

He could get up and go back to his room, he should before someone else came in. But his legs were so leaden, he felt so strangely heavy and empty at once. Just a moment to let go and let his muscles slacken but of course not his hands, never his hands.

He just wanted a moment.

The next thing Nureyev was aware of was a shifting softness against him, the whisper of cloth. He frowned a little, turning his face into the pillow under his head, about to slip back into sleep, his consciousness just rising to the surface before sinking back under.

Almost. Instead it froze solid and his eyelids snapped open. Where was Bianca?

Nureyev shot upright, too fast, his vision swimming. He was asleep, how could he have fallen asleep, what sort of father fell asleep when he was meant to be awake watching his child…

When his brain finally stopped spinning in his skull, the first thing he registered was a high sweet sound that soothed his panic but did nothing for his confusion.

Bianca was laughing. She was laughing.

Nureyev whirled around to see her, sitting up on the rug, her face bright with delight, grasping up at something. Her cat, being wiggled in an odd little dance and chuntering in a silly voice. Held by Juno Steel.

He was grinning, the eye he still had crinkled in the corner with those creases that had knocked Nureyev off his feet the first time he’d seen them. He walked the cat back and forth in the air, letting Bianca grab for it, making it talk. He was dressed for sleep, slouchy faded trousers and a shirt that was hanging off one shoulder, slippers on his feet that were clearly a gift from Rita. But he’d never looked so animated, as he sat cross legged and played with Bianca.

“Gonna have to try harder than that, Chainmail Warrior, if you want to defeat this beast,” he challenged, moving it ever so slightly closer to her grasping hands, clearly ready to let her win in just a moment, before her delight turned to frustration.

Bianca giggled, seeing victory within her grasp, rising up a little onto her knees, nearly overbalancing. But if she did, Juno would catch her. Nureyev knew he would catch her.

“Bianca…” he croaked, sitting up further. He realised there was a blanket over him, a blanket identical to the one he’d been provided but also different. Juno must have taken it from his own bunk. Same for the pillow that had appeared under his head.

Juno jumped, as if caught red handed, turning to him anxiously. Bianca snagged the cat when he wasn’t looking, hooting loudly in excitement, though her face dropped quickly when he didn’t praise her immediately.

But she followed his gaze, realised Nureyev was watching them and only smiled the brighter, “Dada!”

This is how it could be, Nureyev thought, some part of him that had been in control when he was asleep, if she was ours rather than mine. I could be waking up and looking at them both and seeing love in their eyes, being theirs…

He slammed that door shut as fast as he could mentally make himself move. He needed no more scars.

“Uh, sorry...Ransom,” Juno still looked guilty, like a kid caught in the middle of doodling on his desk, “You weren’t asleep for long, promise, I came in just as you were nodding off and decided you could use the rest so...so I was just keeping an eye on her. I was gonna put her back and walk away after an hour so you could wake up and…”

His eye slid down and Nureyev followed. Where Bianca’s tray of congealing food had been, instead there was a plate of food, the same pasta dish he’d seen Juno make for the rest of the crew but had always turned away before he could even offer some to him. It was still steaming and smelled good enough that his stomach woke up.

“I would have done it, it’s just I thought it should cool down and we could play a little longer and...sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” Juno had shrunken in on himself, seeing his explanation wasn’t getting listened to, bracing himself for more anger.

But Nureyev couldn’t find any. He shook and kicked every box, trying to wake some up but there simply was none. Which meant he could only feel sad and that hurt so much.

“Apologies, Juno,” he eventually said, voice a bad imitation of his usual self, “That was a lapse on my part and…thank you for stepping in. I’ll take Bianca now.”

Though he hadn’t received the blow he’d been expecting, Juno still looked forlorn at that, “I don’t mind keeping an eye on her while you eat? When’s the last time you did that, I’ve never seen you actually-”

Stop it, please stop it. Don’t do this to me again, Juno Steel.

“Ah yes, very kind of you,” Nureyev burst out over him with false cheeriness, the only shield he could gather at such short notice, “Perhaps later, come Bianca…”

He lurched up, realising in the back of his mind that the smell of Juno’s skin would cling to him for who knew how long and what was that going to do to him, and reached for his daughter. She only looked sorrowful, eyes darting between him and Juno, beginning to whimper.

Juno groaned, dropping his voice, “Nureyev…”

Don’t, not again, not again…

He shook himself, starting to find some of that anger but at who he couldn’t say. He moved forward and plucked Bianca up off the rug, muscles already tensing like an animal ready to run. He was halfway turned, Bianca was halfway to another meltdown, when Juno spoke, voice barely a whisper.

“What can I do to prove I won’t hurt you again, Nureyev?”

He froze, the only sound left beyond the constant soundtrack of the creaking ship being Bianca’s stuttering pre-cries. His voice sounded so lost, so quiet. Heavy, like someone who knew exactly what they’d done wrong and couldn’t see a path away from the person he’d been. But still trying, still groping for some sunlight.

Please, Juno Steel.

“I don’t know,” he eventually whispered.

He wasn’t looking but he felt Juno sag, felt the fight go out of him. He heard him get up, with a muted groan at some old ache in his limbs. He heard him walk up behind him, saw him come into view, the bowl in his hand.

“Please take it,” he sighed, holding it out towards Nureyev’s free hand, “Eat something. You look like death.”

After a pause and half a hundred petty, vindictive actions quickly dismissed, Nureyev took it.

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice. He’d gone hungry far too many times in his life not to take food when it was offered with good grace.

Juno just nodded, still looking even more hurt than when Nureyev had exploded at him. He leaned in, kissed Bianca’s forehead and his eye dared the thief to deny him. He did not.

“Night, Bee Bee, don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he murmured, managing a smile for her as he patted her cheek. It fell away immediately when he raised his face back to Nureyev, “Goodnight, Ransom. We’re on that job together in two days, remember, the auction? Don’t fancy going in with a partner about to faint. So get some sleep.”

Nureyev’s heart sank at the thought but he didn’t let it show on his face, “Of course. Who do you think I am?”

Then he did smile for him, a sad and tired kind of smile with no sincere humour in it, “I know who you are, Peter Nureyev. I mean it, get some rest.”

He turned away first so Nureyev wouldn’t have to. Juno Steel was full of mercies tonight, it seemed. His footfalls echoed down the corridor even after he was out of sight, only disappearing with the click and thunk of his own door opening and closing in quick succession.

Bianca, no longer about to cry, only pressed into him and mumbled softly, a collection of muddy syllables that weren’t quite a word yet. But when they were, the word would be mama.

Nureyev straightened himself and shifted her slightly so he could hold her more securely. However much sleep he’d been able to snatch let him run around and force a lot of it into boxes, filing it away, reordering his mind. Maybe the time would come to open them again but the time certainly wasn’t now.

There was the job. Zolotovna’s auction and the Gilded Globe of Reaches Far. And there was all the preparation that came with the job, the busy hours, sitting on his bed combing through his comms on sites that were never meant to be accessed, the crafting of a seamless personality, all while Bianca played contentedly on the floor or sat in his lap just like old times. There was the work, the chance to prove himself. The chance to feel like Peter Nureyev again.

Juno Steel would have to wait.

As much as he’d missed her, Nureyev had to admit, rather guiltily, that he was glad Bianca was sleeping when he returned from the auction. He was exhausted and he was glad of the opportunity to just sit down and kick his shoes off, rub his aching feet and turn the events of the night over in his mind. With one hand resting tenderly on her sleeping shoulder, he tried to examine the ache inside himself with a distant eye. Unsuccessfully, every time he leaned in, it would reach out and take hold of him and he’d be unable to deny it was a part of him. He could try and shake it off but it would only spread and cling harder.

He had come so close. There was no pretending it hadn’t happened, Nureyev had considered it. Signing himself away, agreeing to whatever Zolotovna would have asked of him, his pride and place on the team and even his sexuality be damned. Just to have things be easy. He told himself firmly that of course he’d have made Binaca part of it, he’d have come and collected her first, he’d come so close because of her. He told himself that and under no circumstances would he press further, far too afraid of what might be beyond that.

But he hadn’t. Because he’d looked at Juno from across the ballroom, looking like one of the most distant, most beautiful stars had come loose from the sky and decided to attend the party, and he’d thought again of everything they could be. And he’d remembered who he was. He wasn’t Monsieur Dauphin, he was Peter Nureyev.

And he’d come home.

Bianca yawned, turning over in her sleep, her dark curls spreading around her face like she was underwater or floating in space. Rita had been watching her while they were at the party and said she’d been a dream, falling right asleep twenty minutes before they came back. Nureyev tried to just be grateful.

“Well done,” he murmured to her softly and he’d repeat it when she woke up, “Well done...Bee Bee.”

It was worth a try. It was a pretty cute name, actually.

Nureyev leaned in and kissed her forehead, just as a knock came on his door. Still dressed in his elaborate, expensive suit from the auction, just barefoot, he decided he was decent enough and went to open the door.

Buddy stood in the hallway, looking relaxed as ever, as if she’d been anticipating their success all along. She didn’t even greet him, just looking past his shoulder into the room, smiling softly at Bianca.

“She really is a peach, isn’t she?” she hummed with all of the familial pride of a grandmother, which Nureyev had always found a little presumptive but it wasn’t in him to argue tonight, “Mind if we have a talk, Ransom? Come in the hallway, I wouldn’t want to wake your little roommate. We all know what would happen then and everyone’s ear drums are only just finished healing....”

Nureyev frowned. Maybe he was in the mood to argue. But he did as she asked, closing the door gently behind him.

And they talked. Well, mostly Buddy talked and he listened, both as Ransom and as Nureyev. But sometimes it was good to listen. He had the feeling he’d not been doing that enough lately.

When the captain left him, it was a few moments and a few deep breaths before he went back inside. Bianca still slept soundly, hugging her cat to her chest, face buried in it’s fur. Nureyev smiled and wondered if she dreamed of stars.

He’d only managed to take off his tie and his jacket before the second knock came. This one he’d been expecting.

Juno Steel had taken off his dress and clearly showered, judging by the way his hair sat a little flatter than usual, but the remnants of glitter still dusted his cheekbones, catching the simulated almost dawn. He wouldn’t get that out for weeks. And he still wore one set of the earrings, studs in the shape of stars, looking simple on their own without the rest of the gold that had dripped from his ears all night. Had he forgotten they were there or did he just like them and wanted to keep them? Suddenly Nureyev’s heart was aching to know.

“Uh, hey...Ransom,” Juno looked awkward and so different, with it all stripped away. But he still sounded the same, “Can we, ah...talk? I know you weren’t ready before but it feels like we...ought to.”

“I agree completely,” Nureyev said simply, closing the door behind him.

“Now, before you slam the door, let me...wait, what?” Juno blinked, starting a little, “What did you say?”

Nureyev took a breath and steadied himself, “I agree that we should talk. And I also agree that I didn’t want to before though I’d say you’ve put it very charitably. I was...not kind to you, Juno. To say the very least.”

Juno still wore the expression he’d had in the split second before he’d gone over on his heels on Zolotovna’s red carpet, “I mean...after what I did to you and...and Bianca…”

“That was a mistake,” Nureyev shakes his head, pushing his glasses up his nose with his forefinger, a nervous tic he’d thought he’d trained himself out of in his teenage years, “A mistake with motivations and I’ve made far too many of those myself to judge you as harshly as I have.”

Juno shuffled from one foot to the other, “I...I just want to show you I’ve changed, Peter. And I know that sounds hollow the second time around and I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to but…”

Nureyev cut him off with a hand, “The last time you hadn’t changed, you were the same lady who left me in that hotel room.”

“And...and now?”

He bit his lip, making himself look into his dark eye, reflecting the gold on his cheeks like they were still in that ballroom but now with their own names and their own faces, “And now…”

That was when the third knock came. The one neither of them had been expecting. The one so loud it was impossible to pin down the source, so loud each of them felt like it was coming from inside their skulls. And then came the tearing.

Screeching, screaming metal erupted around them and both of them were thrown as the ship tilted dangerously. Nureyev felt himself cry his daughter’s name but it was lost in the shuddering wrenching, the burst of pain as the back of his head connected with the left hand wall and he lost his vision for a few moments. It wouldn’t have made sense anyway, the axis of the universe lurched sickeningly so his feet were above his head and the ceiling was the floor. The only thing that did make sense was the strong grip on his arm, his one anchor.

It didn’t last forever, the Carte Blanche eventually settled, shuddering like an animal in pain as it rocked back to the position demanded by its weight distribution. The back of Nureyev’s head felt wet but it was a far away, detached part of his mind that noticed that. Everything else was focused on one thing.

“Bianca!” he shouted, pouncing for the door, wrenching it open while the same untethered part of his brain wondered why it seemed so heavy when it didn’t before.

Yawning, sucking, hungry emptiness. His eyes saw nothing but blackness, peppered with stars, raw edges of a room that wasn’t there any more, simply gone like something had come along and taken a bite out of the ship.

No…

Familiar, strong hands yanked him back and the door closed, “Nureyev, you can’t!”

And then he was fighting, all semblance of composure and cool gone, screaming his daughters name, screaming for Juno to let go, he had to get her, he had to go save her, why didn’t he see?

And that floating, detached voice murmuring that it was too late, it was far too late. She was gone.

“Nureyev, we’ll figure it out, we’ll figure something out, I promise, but you can’t go out there!” Juno shouted, never once slackening his grip, taking every blow and scratch even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and his lip swelled. Had the crash done that? Or had he?

Don’t stop, don’t listen because then comes the realisation, the truth, that’s when you break.

There were echoing footsteps coming towards them, multiple sets, Buddy barking orders, Rita mumbling fretfully, Vespa snarling.

It was only Jet’s voice that mattered, cutting above the rest.

“It was a drone,” he projected his voice out, not shouting, he never shouted, “I saw it from the cargo bay, an unmanned drone. It took her.”

Nureyev stopped, laser focused on him now, eyes still wild but sharp, “What did you say?”

Jet didn’t flinch, even when confronted by a man half insane, “Your daughter, the drone took her. It sealed her inside itself then tore the room away as it disconnected. The intention was likely to make you think she was dead.”

Nureyev felt the panic pressing against his fury, threatening to break through and render him useless, “Where is it going? Where?”

“That I cannot say, it had no identifying features,” Jet continued implacably, “But it was a short haul vessel, built to travel no more than a day. Wherever she is being taken, it is not far.”

“Then there isn’t a second to waste,” Buddy jumped in immediately, eyes hard with determination, “Check the security tapes, every single angle, there has got to be something about that drone that we can identify. Contacts on nearby planets, I want eyes open in every seedy port where someone would take something they didn’t want other people to see, every smuggler’s den. If someone has any favours owed, now is the time to call them in.”

Nureyev tried to follow along, he swam towards the actions, the need to move and do and fix. But he was drowning in images of Bianca, sobbing in terror, crying out for him, trapped behind cold glass and adrift in space, not knowing if he would come and save her. And he didn’t know either.

That was when the universe tilted again, this time in total silence, as he sank to his knees, fists clenched tight on the metal floor, the grating digging impressions into his skin. His eyes burned and his vision swam and his lungs were inert in his chest, unable to take in any air. All he could hear was his daughter crying.

But then there were those hands on his arms, that stabilizing, firm presence by his side. Juno’s face was drawn in agony, eye wide and fearful but still he clung tightly to Nureyev.

“We’ll get her back, Peter,” his voice was steady, despite the tears in his eye, “I promise. Whoever took her, we’ll find them and we’ll bring her home. I know we will.”

Nureyev looked at him, hands finding his forearms and gripping on tight. He recalled another time like this, racing across the Martian desert, facing the enormous maw of an ancient tomb and every horror they could imagine within. He remembered a man, so far from who he was in that moment, saying they would make it through. He’d been right, that man, and here was Juno Steel with the same fire in his eyes, making the same promise.

His lungs heaved in his chest, taking in the stale air, still sharp with the ozone that had rushed in through the open door. As he always did when things grew too chaotic to handle, he told himself the facts.

He was Peter Nureyev. This was Juno Steel. And they would bring their daughter home.

[namjoonchronicles]

outnumbered | th

↳  pairing taehyung x you ↳  genre fluff, slice of life, domestic, husband-Taehyung amen ↳  words 6k ↳  summary raising five kids with a full-time job is a challenge. thankfully, Taehyung agreed to be a full-time house husband. but the matriarch family aren’t usually appreciated. Especially, when the women earns for the house.  ↳ note Taehyung have 5 kids, they’re : Renee (7), Noah & Niel (5), Tati (3) and the youngest, Sam (3 months old) ↳ song lieuwe roonder ‘let me love you’

Taehyung begins his duties at 4am everyday. Around this hour, the youngest will be fed with her formula milk, freshly warmed and perfect for the morning. Taehyung’s large feet slip into mismatched indoor slippers, sitting at the side of the bed and he’d turn off the night lamp from his side. He routinely take your phone and plug it to the charger while you stay asleep.

For Taehyung, the day begins early. And he usually started with pouring the grinded coffee beans into the coffee machine, and lets them boil in time while he disappears to the laundry room with your blouse for ironing. He stifled a yawn, gliding the iron to smoothen creases on the semi-crumple light pink long sleeves.  What is that colored blob? He leans in to see closer. But without his glasses, he wasn’t able to make sense of what it was, so he sniffed it.

Milk? Coffee? Milk coffee?

Taehyung’s eyes darted to the top left of the ceiling after setting away the iron from the board, to prevent it from burning like the last time. How many time do I have to tell her not to stain her clothes? This is twice this month.

He didn’t waste time to pick another maroon flowy blouse with a black pencil skirt for you to wear to work today. This one needs a steam iron because its made of satin silk. He was saving this particular blouse for friday night, but he had no choice.

The coffee machine readily brews and began to expel its liquid into the coffee jar right underneath it. Taehyung dashes pass it with your ironed cloth on a hanger. It hooks securely around the edge of the wardrobe—out of reach of children.

He looks at the time. 5:15AM. Next, laundry. He collects heaps of clothes set next to each door and into the large basket he held close to his waist.

The baby begins to cry. You frowned in your sleep, but as you try to reach your phone, it wasn’t there. You lay face down, grabbing nothing on the side table. Not a minute later, you heard Taehyung shushing her quiet.

“Daddy’s got you… shush, mummy’s sleeping…” Taehyung rocks Sam side to side, while attacking with smooches around her face. Barely 10 months old, Sam is already gurgling audible words. Taehyung predicts that she’ll start walking before she turns two. Sam’s eyes is wide open and Taehyung knows she won’t be able to be put to bed again.

Sam is going to cling on him like a baby koala. Not that he minds. Taehyung is now fixing the water bath warm enough for a shower. As it fills up, Taehyung lunges down the hall in fast steps to knock on the eldest door. “Renee? Renee… wake up, school time…” he turns the knob to find Renee stirring in her single bed and kissed the top of her head. The fourth child fell asleep on the floor next to Renee’s books.

“How did Tati end up on the floor, Renee?” Taehyung asked in hushes. He had to put Sam down to carry Tati back up into her bed as Renee waddles with her blue towel draped over one shoulder. Her eyes drooping sleepily. Taehyung collected Sam again and walked out.

He poked his head into the fridge after placing Sam on the baby chair to take out three overnight oatmeals and milk. Taehyung passed the baby chair to jog down the other end of the hall to wake the twins, Noah and Niel. Renee is out of the bathroom now, and she is dressing herself up. She’s 7 and just started school.

“Dad! Where’s my nametag?” She yelled. “Check your pocket!” Taehyung retorted, before knocking twice on the boys’ door. Before he turns the knob, he inhaled deeply as if he’s about to unleash the beast. In this case, two beasts.

“Boys, good morning…” he sang. “Daddy I can’t find my nametag…” Renee whined at the door in her school uniform. “Okay, I’ll go find it, but can you have breakfast while you wait?” Taehyung said in a hurry. Noah had stood up in the middle of his bed and Niel won’t move.

“Alright…”

Tati had began crying very loudly.

“Also, sweetheart can you go wake mummy up? She’s going to be late,” Taehyung kneels next to Niel, and shaking his shoulder to wake him. He���s sleeping like a log. Only 5 years old, but sleeps more than Uncle Yoongi does.

Renee disappears. But now Tati started whimpering, while hugging Taehyung’s arm. Noah is now pulling down his pants with his dingles dangling, saying he wants to pee. Taehyung sprints to grab Noah from the bed, and into the bathroom. But he didn’t make it to the potty. Noah peed on the floor.

Tati’s crying intensifies because she fell back when Taehyung carried Noah. Niel threw her a plushie in an attempt to quiet her down.

“Daddy!” She shrieked, “Niel threw me bear-bear…” “Niel, don’t throw Tati the bear-bear… what did daddy tell you about that,” Taehyung is cleaning Noah up.

“Daddy where is the socks?” Renee asked. Noah is groaning while Niel is throwing a tantrum in his bed.

“Noah, Niel, you are going to be late. Where is Tati’s pacifier? Who took Tati’s pacifier?” Taehyung wipes Noah’s face with his own shirt before patting Niel’s bottom to hurry him.

“Noah! Niel!” You roared from across the hall. The boys straightens up and waddled to your room.

“How many times do I have to tell you that when dad had the baths ready, you have to wake up when he asked you to?” Hand on hip and the two tattle to the bathroom and showered.

Taehyung carries Tati around his waist now. He passes you a mug of coffee. Tati stopped crying immediately. “Dad! My nametag!” Renee yelled. Taehyung tipped his head back and you patted his chest twice, “I got it, watch the boys…” and then, “Coming baby. Mommy is coming!”

“No I want daddy…”

You stopped in your steps and spun your heel around, “Guess not…”

Taehyung hands Tati to you and you watched the boys brush their teeth, before he disappears into the hallway to help Renee. “Do you really need that nametag?” Taehyung whined.

“Even mom and dad don’t remember my name sometimes.”

The boys is now dressed in their pre-school uniforms and climbing on the tall stool for their breakfast. Sam had dunk her whole hand inside the bowl of oat meant for Noah. And Noah screams.

“Sam put her hand inside my food!” “Sam don’t put your hand in Niel’s food…” “I’m Noah!” “I’m not Niel!”

“And I will be late,” You buttoned up your blouse and zipped your pencil skirt.

Taehyung finally sat Tati down, wiped Sam’s oat covered hand with a wet cloth. “Can you fetch Renee? Didn’t you get half day off? The boys has parents teachers meeting we need to attend…” He glances at you repeatedly, while reminding Renee to wipe her mouth before she leaves with you.

“I really can’t. I’m swamped today… can’t you be late for the meeting to fetch Renee? Just bring Renee along…” “Renee has piano lessons today…” “Oh shoot, I forgot.”

“We need to do laundries tonight. It’s still on right?” Taehyung held the door open while Renee, Noah, Neil and you wore shoes and scattered out the door. “Yeah definitely,” you stood on tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Please, for the love of God, be home before 6pm,” he eyed you, lips parted a little.

“Remember to get the rice cake order for grandma’s memorial ceremony!” Taehyung yelled, followed by, “Be good at school, all three of you!”

Taehyung turns to Tati and Sam. Both too young to go to school, still in their PJs.

“Guess there’s just us, girls.”

And then he heard it. The beeping. The semi silent ringing. He dashed to the messy bedroom to see the phone blinking. Your phone.

“Damn it.”

Extra diapers. Some edibles. Some toys to pass time. It didn’t take long for Taehyung to pack Tati’s backpack.

“When we get to mummy’s office, you have to promise me you don’t run around, and behave okay?” Taehyung knelt next to the bag. Tati leans her tiny body on Taehyung’s arm. Sam is gurgling on the sofa on her back.

“Why are we going to mummy’s office?” “Mummy forgot her phone. She needs it so we could call her later in the evening.”

It gets really hard. He’s not going to lie. Having five children isn’t a walk in the park. More like running through it. Raising children is not a one person job. It could feel like 15, and at the end of the month there’s always a constant worry if the expenses will be enough until the next payday. There’s two diaper packs that needed to be bought, and school items, school trips, and fees. Uniforms, extra lessons. Having a family means having a lot. Before you even decide to have this home with him, he already had trouble convincing you to have children. Everybody knows how eager Taehyung is about having a large family, and to be honest with you, sometimes you feel like marrying a complete stranger when it comes to things like this.

Sometimes, he felt like marrying a stranger. At one point, your goals and destination seems different from one another because you were still a career-oriented girl with determination of a first year worker, but at the same time you are also mom to five, and sometimes, Taehyung demanded your presence in the home you built together. Having children also means less time together. Which leaves little room for communication. You’d be home, far too tired for a conversation, and he’d be piled with domestic demands and tasks. You try to help, you do, but most of the time you are at work and there are moments that you don’t get to see your children for days.But you are determined not to leave room for doubts when it comes to Taehyung and your priorities. It was a lengthy shift from your golden university aspirations, but you can’t imagine a life without Taehyung. And now, the five children.

Fingernail tap on the marble desk coming from a pair of large hands. The concierge occupant lift her gaze to see a friendly boxy smile. She intuitively tuck her hair behind her ear helix.

“I’m not sure if you remember,” Taehyung shyly greeted her. “Yes! Yes, Mr. Kim… Mrs. Kim’s husband, it’s been awhile, I’ll let you up. Here’s your passcard,” she bowed once and Tati waved enthusiastically back at her. So cheerful.

“You’re adorable…Is this the little one?” the receptionist let out a bashful smile. “No, this one is. This one is Sam,” Taehyung turns to show the gurgling bundle of joy, strapped on his back. Taehyung lets out a proud smile as he took the passcard.

Tati reaches for her dad’s hand but wrapped her little finger only around his pinkie. Sam falls to a sleepy riddle. “Earlier, Mrs. Kim was in a meeting. I’m not sure if it has ended or not, but do help yourself around…” the receptionist smiled politely, guiding Taehyung down the elevator hallway and pressed the button going up. Then she leaves him be.

Taehyung felt rather giddy going back here after awhile. The last time he came, he made quite an impression for singing live with his honeyed deep voice that leaves the audience awed. The last time he came, he was a vocal coach with a five figure earnings, a good sports car and a collection of Van Gogh arts. Last time he came, there was no Renee, Noah, Niel, Tati or Sam. That was close to ten years ago. This is where he met his wife, you.

He’s not going to lie. He sometimes ponder on how life would be if he didn’t fall for you that night. Maybe sitting in his expensive penthouse, in a king sized bed, filled with loneliness, of a longing for someone he had never met, wondering if she was still out there. He let go of his job, so you could have yours.

Tati tugs his sleeves, looking up at him through her thick lashes. “Daddy, I need to go potty,” she murmured cutely. Tati had recently been toilet-trained so she was told to tell someone if she needs to go to the toilet. Taehyung gulped down the whole plastic cup of drinking water at once, in a hurry, because he knows that if he dragged time, she’d might pee there and then. There’s only one problem.

The male restroom doesn’t have toilet bowl meant for kids like the females. Taehyung dashed through the automated door and carried Tati into the first cubicle. Sam is snoozing on her father’s back, soundly. Her finger stretches as she accommodates the sudden movement, but resumes sleeping. Taehyung heard the next door cubicle was being flushed, and then another.

“Did you hear about our head technician and our company lawyer?” this man had a higher voice tone, with a slight southern twang at the end of his words, suggesting a heavy Gwangju accent.

Taehyung then heard your name. “With Min Yoongi? The lawyer?” Another man replied, the automated wash basin washing water down their palms when it detects hands. This one had a clearer set of pronunciation. Fit for a news anchor, with the way he spoke.

“Nah, with our leading advocate, solicitor, and P.A.; Park Jimin,” the one with Gwangju accent replied, “Turns out that the company’s recent soliciting isn’t the only soliciting he does.” “What do you mean?” “Rumors had it that they’re a thing. Last month, when the company vault had an audit check, Jimin promptly said the auditing for May was in his team, when it wasn’t. Now why would he do that if he doesn’t have a thing for her?” Slight pause, “...Someone caught them dating in the car last Tuesday. All laughing and giggling… it was very scandalous.” “Isn’t she married?” “I know right… I don’t think her husband knows.” “Why would she do such a thing…”

That’s right. Why would you do such a thing.

“Daddy--” Tati spoke but Taehyung covered her mouth immediately, waiting for the two men to leave. After putting Tati into her briefs, Taehyung walked back out with her. His mind flashes into the conversations he had caught you in, oftenly, middle of the night when everyone was asleep.

“I just want to say thank you for today, it was really nice to have someone to lean on when things go south,” he heard you sigh into the phone by the window, away from bed. You must have thought he was asleep.

“I really enjoyed it, I do… too much,in fact,” you swept your untied hair back, and looked up to the window pane, drawing random shapes on the fogged window.

All these while, he thought it was a girl. All these while he thought it was your best friend from college. He never once questioned your loyalty, ever.

And when he left that restroom, he saw his doubts in action.

You were walking down the crisp hallway, fiddling with a file in your chest, smiling far too widely even for a friend, to that man with glasses. It was very unsettling. The conversation you had with him.

“I wouldn’t know what to do, if it weren’t for you…” you let out a breathy giggle. “You don’t have to worry about that. I got you, I always do. That’s my job,” this man passed.

“You should break me in half the next time too. I’d appreciate that.” “Don’t mind if I do.”

Taehyung waited until you both disappeared into the staff’s pantry. Then he took Tati out from hiding and she innocently asked, “Why didn’t we talk to mom?”

“We came to surprise her, didn’t we?” Taehyung blurted with a broken smile, and rubbed her hair, “Got to fix your ponytail so you’ll look neat for mommy. How does daddy look? Do I look handsome?”

She nodded enthusiastically. She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t understand anything.

And in that brief moment, Taehyung resented you. Not because you gave him room for doubts, but because you allowed someone else to come in between. Your actions are selfish. Spiteful.

“Go knock on mommy’s glass door…” Taehyung urged Tati and she did with a huge toothy grin.

“Come in…” your voice was clipped and full of authority. The one Taehyung remembers whenever he calls you at work, or in bed, several years ago before Sam came.

Taehyung helped Tati pushed the door open and you gasped pleasantly so loud, pushing your chair back and knelt before she even get into your open arms, greeting you with a huge hug. “My babies!” you closed your arm around her and carried her up to one side of your waist, before stretching towards Taehyung to have him leaning over for a smooch but he settled for a brush on your cheeks instead. You ruffled Sam’s hair too. Precious.

“I didn’t expect this!” You giggled, and Taehyung pulled your phone out of his back pocket and you replied a disgruntled, ”Oh.”

“Can we talk for a bit?” Taehyung asked in a deep tone. Tati cupped her hand to whisper in your ear. She asked if she can lay down on the couch there. You simply nodded to Taehyung but only after you excitedly answer Tati’s question. “Of course, baby girl, you can sit, and you can lie down, just promise not to stand on it because you could fall and hurt yourself, okay?” You set her feet on the floor and brushed your lips on her forehead so it’s now smushed with red lipstick.

Red lips always lie.

“Is it about school? Renee’s? The boys?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“Do I need to call someone to watch over the kids?”

“You know what. I came to give you the phone and I did. So I think I should head back soon,” Taehyung looks at the wall clock, “Noah and Niel are coming home soon and I hadn’t cooked anything.”

Then he felt your hand around his forearms, giving an assuring squeeze. “But you just got here, can’t you stay for a little while?”

Do you even want me here? Are you just playing the good wife because your cover was almost blown? Where has he touched you? Where have you let his hands go? Because that breathy laughter was reserved for me. And only me.

“Just a little while,” Taehyung felt his heart softened while his head hardens. A part of him felt disappointed that he let you win. Another part of him wanted to be the man that is still foolishly in love with you and another, wanted to walk away because the reap wasn’t as much as he sow. If only things were that simple. If it wasn’t for these kids, he would have gone rampage the moment he found out. How could he catch on the signs? He was too busy running the household. Busy wiping pees, cleaning poops, ironing clothes, getting food ready--he could not have noticed the telling signs of you cheating.

You spent more time here at work than you ever did at home. How could he be so stupid?

He was in love…. Love makes people stupid.

So he sat there, Sam sleeping on her side and her blankets draped over her to accommodate the indoor aircon temperature while Tati had slept on Taehyung’s lap, having her dad fluffing her hair to make her sleepy--he sat there watching you take calls, the length of the pen in between your lips, eyes focused, hands flipping over the pages of endless accounts. Your job is to keep the supplies going for months. Every product delivery and the materials to create them were under your supervisions, a stressful job that was slightly different than the ones you had when you were in the industry, working there.

In short, you have to plan two months supply ahead for fast-moving items to meet demands. Knowing so many people depend on your efficiency gives you slight anxiety that you were still taking pills for. Taehyung knows that much.

“Baby, are you stressed?” his sudden question didn’t stir you much, you were too occupied with work to bother too much about it. “Same old-same old, sweetheart… why? Is there something you’d like to talk about?” you murmured, switching your attention on the left page of the reports for last week delivery numbers to help predict the next month’s consumption.

“Just asking…” “I hope we can have lunch together, I wanted to eat with the kids.”

Taehyung felt an incoming ‘but’. But he was intruded, before it could come.

Jimin walks in. Yes, Taehyung knows about Jimin. He is your personal assistant for a year now since the last one resigned because she was starting a family. At first, Taehyung didn’t pay attention to it, but now that he had doubts; every single glance, words, and touches exchanged between you and Jimin had become breadcrumbs.

With a sleek blonde hair, pushed back, Jimin wore a classy baby blue dress shirt, paired with black trousers too tight for Taehyung’s comfort. He wears full-rimmed glasses but today, had them folded and tuck in his breast pocket when he came to see you.

“You called for me?” Raspy, light toned, polite and mesmerizing voice. He bowed his head slightly at the sight Taehyung and smiled fondly to the sleeping toddlers.

“I did,” you paused while pulling out a file from the stack, “I don’t recall agreeing on this design for the Summer packaging, and this particular bubble wrap supplier, we’ve worked with in the past, they’re very late in completing orders, I just don’t understand why I have to approve something I didn’t agree on--the last time I checked,” you tipped your eyes up and Jimin leans down closer, both of your faces are merely inches away from each other. You pointed the said company on the invoice paper and showed Jimin. Jimin squeezes his eyes and lowered his head to see better. That’s what the glasses are for, Taehyung pushes his tongue against the insides of his cheek, watching an absolute horror unfold before his eyes.

“Yes, yes… I remember that too,” Jimin softly whispered. It was almost as if Taehyung is morphed into witnessing a pillowtalk, “Here’s what we do, I’m going to double check with the secretary and make sure that we have updated the new list of companies that we are satisfied working with; I’ll make sure to email you, no later than…” he drags, and looked at his Rolex wrist watch that looked very similar to the ones you got for Taehyung on his birthday last year, brown straps, “...3pm.”

“Thanks, Jimin...what would I do without you,” you breathlessly say and Jimin gave you a charming smile that turned his eyes into crescents. “No problem,” Jimin tipped his head in your direction and excused himself with a polite expression at Taehyung, his boss’s husband. “I thought we’re going to talk?” Taehyung stuck his gaze on his knees, raising both of his eyebrows, his thumb picking on the threads of his worn out jeans.

You noticed the sudden change of tone but decided not to dwell on it. “Can it wait? Is it important?” The way it leaves your lips, was so tactless and when you realised how insensitive it was, it was already too late.

“I don’t know. Is our marriage important?”

You shut the door leading to the sky garden after Taehyung set his hands on the metal rails, over-looking down the metropolitan city. The high-rise building, the blue cloudless sky, the strong wind striking every once in a while, the car honks from the streets down below.

“Taehyung, what’s this about?” with the silence growing, you became impatient. Taehyung drops his head, his arms stretched along the handrails with a heavy huff and the droop of his shoulders.

“You built everything from the ashes… this building we stood on. From scrapes. It’s funny when you think about the very beginning at the first hint of an,” end. Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence. “This is all very lovely, and heart-warming,” you clicked your tongue and looks at your wrist watch, “But we could do this conversation inside...I thought it was something serious, because you mentioned marriage and stuff.” “It is about marriage,” Taehyung spun around to face you, “You--”

Your phone rang, and you answered it, “Yes I am aware of the conference call, I will be there on time, Jimin. Thank you for the reminder.” Much to Taehyung’s dismay. Taehyung’s jaw hung, in disbelief. He scoffs.

“Look at you!” he stresses, “You don’t have time being a mother, let alone a wife! Your work is consuming you. Not only that, you spend more time here than you ever do at home…! You speak to Jimin more than we do in a week!” He slows down, only to continue, “It was Tati’s birthday last week and you didn’t even show up or get her a present. I bought one for her and told her that it was from you.... And she was so happy…” he shook his head, a broken smile on his lips.

You were stunned. You were unable to utter a word. So you begin with a whisper of his name, “Taehyung…”

He turns away from you, his hand on his hip and he darted his eyes to the front before shutting them. Disappointed, unloved and possibly unheard.

“Everytime I say I need you home, you say you’re at the office and you will be late. All I want to know is, is it really work? Or is there more?” “What are you talking about…” “I’m talking about why Jimin is calling you out of office hours? And why do I find his tie in your bag? Why does he have the same wrist watch I have? Are you cheating on me?” “No. I wouldn’t!” “So you would have, if you didn’t have 5 kids with me? Is that it?” “Stop twisting my words… Jimin is my coworker and he helped me purchase that wrist watch for you. I went to team dinner with him, I told you that!”

Taehyung turns to face you and your brimming eyes, he leans his mouth next to your ear and growled, “Well coworkers don’t sit in the car together, after midnight...you thought I didn’t see that?” Taehyung leaves the sky garden with a hard gaze, piercing through Jimin’s entire body when he found the poor assistant standing right beside the entrance door to the sky garden. Taehyung was a master at disguising his emotions. Especially in front of his children.

“I’ll see myself out, thank you,” Taehyung carried Sam and Tati with ease. When Tati asked why she can’t say goodbye, Taehyung said, her mom is in a meeting. It was an obvious lie and Jimin heard it all.

You were still there. Still standing at the same spot Taehyung left you in. Still there, processing everything that had been said. Jimin’s heavy footsteps didn’t shake away your worry one bit, like it used to. You clutched your phone shakily, and pressed them against your lips, eyes darted forward at the sky. And you heard the door open, but you wave them away, whoever it might be. Not even turning to face them.

Jimin nodded once, “I’ll tell them you’ll be in ten minutes.”

Instead of heading back to the office, Jimin hid in the bathroom for employees. He laced his fingers together and leaned his forehead on them, sitting on the toilet cover, knees widespread. He bit his lips and half-shook his head.

You returned home before 6pm that day. The house is in a mess. For the first time in a long time, you arranged your heels neatly on the racks. The kids have had their dinner early. And there are three large baskets for laundry, arranged in a line by the wall. You took time to notice all the finer details of your beloved home, the one you build with Taehyung. Picture frames after picture frames greeted you. Of when Renee turned 2, then 3, then 4… and how you gradually disappear through the years. You couldn’t ignore the pain in your heart when you heard Taehyung’s voice in the distance.

“Okay, everybody out the tub!” Taehyung commanded, “Look at your fingers all wrinkled! We have to get out now, or you’ll age!” “Dad is lying!” Noah and Niel are very giggly and it struck you that you’ve never given bath to the kids ever since they could start to walk.. Sam had never been bathe by you since you started working, and you relied heavily on Taehyung.

“Oh noona! You’re home,” Jungkook bowed at you. Jungkook lives next door and frequently helped with babysitting the kids whenever he is needed. Laundry every 3 days and he’ll come and does his duties without being prompted. Once he resumes his college, you will have to find a new replacement and you hadn’t spoke about this with Taehyung yet. There’s a lot of things that needed discussions, and there’s so little time in a day. 

Blinking the tears away, you turned your attentions to the halls where Taehyung is carrying both of the boys in each arm, wrapped in towels. Taehyung caught your eyes but didn’t reciprocate the sadness. It’s like the conversation never happened, but with the way he was ignoring you, you were once again reminded that it did.

“Do you want to change first or what…” your husband took your purse but avoided your eyes entirely. “I’ll change,” you breathed.

Taehyung nods once. “Alright, Jungkook. The baby is in the crib there, Tati is colouring in the room while Renee is doing her homework.. There’s chopped fruit cubes in the fridge in case they get hungry, and there’s extra bottles of milk for the youngest. The boys have eaten no matter how much they try to fool you, don’t fall for it..understand?”

You could still hear Taehyung from the halls and it was amazing how he had everything sorted, alone. The bed is still neat, and none of the children were allowed on it, because it was mum and dad’s special place. Toys are in the basket, the diapers are arranged, along with the baby clothes, and it was easy to look past all these detail and you hated yourself for not being able to see this before.

Jungkook helped carry the baskets down with Taehyung and before your husband could make his way to the driver seat, you stopped him. Your eyes pleaded him with words you couldn’t say, when Jungkook is still here, fooling with the kids. Taehyung moves away, wordlessly and planted a kiss on each of the kids’ hair that manages to follow Jungkook down the apartment into the parking lot.

In the car, Taehyung rested his elbow on the car door, his long index finger rubbing the skin on top of his upper lip, his eyes lasering to the view outside the moving car. There’s only the music from the radio playing. Your heart is beating very fast, your eyes were drying from the way you were making them stay open. He’s right next to you, but you don’t feel him there. Is he even breathing? You want nothing more than to reach for him, tell him that you love him and how it doesn’t change, but it feels like you’re already too late. You don’t want to carry on like nothing is wrong. You want to save what you have left.

Taehyung was biting the insides of his cheeks, replaying the scene from this morning in repeat. He was angry, sad, upset, jealous--and he isn’t sure where to put his feelings. He doesn’t speak because all the talking had been done. You weren’t speaking either, but what was those eyes for? The way you’re looking at him. Is it a plea for him to stay? Why would you think he was going anywhere? The accusations are true, isn’t it? That’s why it scared you. Taehyung was eating his feelings.

He loads the laundry. No words exchanged. You insert the coins while he collects the empty basket, and stack them, one after the other. He took one bench and you took the seat right next to him. In between you both, on the floor, are the baskets you came with, empty. All its content in three different machines. Taehyung leans his head back. He wore a grey hoodie underneath a red plaid jacket. His brown fringes cover his brows, as he pushed his tongue against the insides of his cheek. You sat up straight, at the edge of the bench, knees pointed to the side where he is, hands in your lap, clasped and unclasping.

“...I want to tell you that everything you heard isn’t true,” you started. Taehyung nodded away, but in a careless way, as if he didn’t believe a thing you said. “It’s not just about what I heard. It’s what I see. With my own two eyes. It leaves me wondering what else you’ve been doing behind my back…” Taehyung crosses his arms. “Nothing, sweetie…” you emphasized, “I do my work, and nothing else.”

“Listen,” you moved closer to him but he repelled, “I realised that we haven’t been spending time together and that’s horrible of me. I hadn’t been treating you well but I want to, starting now. I just need to know that you still want this.”

Taehyung’s guard starts to wane. His arms fall to each side and he sat on the edge, clutching his fingers on the brim of the bench, underneath him. He chews his lower lip, feeling anxious to tell you what he had been feeling.

“I do. But, do you?” he pauses, and then, “When you come home from work, you don’t even look at me. You fall right to sleep when I begin talking to you in bed. Your answers are brief, and our only conversations are about diapers or house errands.”

There are nights that he wants you so much but couldn’t find it in him to ask for you. He would watch you sleep and before he could register those images in his head, another kid goes crying. You may have your company to worry about, and he only has you. Waiting for you to come home, to ask you about your day, to take care of your needs--whatever it might be. And it’s easy to forget, that he needs you too. Emotionally, sexually.

Do you ever look at the end, and wondered about the beginning? To how it all began, to what was there before the blizzards come and swept away everything?

Taehyung is your partner, in sickness and in health. There are so many things that you’ve been through, together. The house that you live in, it wasn’t painted and had a lot of holes. The walls needed remodelling, and when the remodelling happens, they needed to be painted over. And he’s the one helping you to reach the top corners that you couldn’t. You both have sat on that floor, where the couches are now, talking about the dreams you wanted to have together. You rested your head on his shoulder, while leaning back on the wall, a mug of hot chocolate between your hands. His eyes sparkles at the thought of having children run around this house. Picture frames began to decorate the walls, couch was brought in, rugs, curtains were hung, television set, coffee table, dining table, dining table chairs, kitchen appliances. And slowly, the house was filled.

If loyalty was put to the test, Taehyung would have passed with flying colors.

A whiff of the detergent begins to fill the corners of the laundromat, and you slowly reached for his veiny arms, sliding down his wrist. You took those hand into both of yours, and pressed your lips on each knuckle, murmuring, “I’m so thankful to have you.”

Taehyung’s gaze softens at the sight of you, and he covered your hands with his own, squaring his shoulder at you, so you sit face to face with each other.

“Please tell me how I can make this better,” you looked at him with eyes brimming with tears, and the moment he saw it, he gathers your head into his chest, cradling them gently. Gradually, the simple hand holding turns into an embrace. “Spend more time at home, with me...and do what lovers do,” Taehyung’s eyes turn into crescents, his lips puckered. He comforted you with a kiss on the forehead.

“And I want that Jimin fired,” Taehyung darted. “I’ll keep my distance from him,” you persuaded.

“Deal.” Deal.

The trip to the laundry, was even more fulfilling than the nights before. Romance are rekindled and words are exchanged for the better. Communication is key.

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Let’s Play....!

Summary: Roman is tiny, and he wants Virgil to be his playmate. Virgil thinks he knows what’s to come, but Tiny!Roman has a different idea.

Word Count: 1,974

Characters/Pairings: Virgil and Tiny!Roman (platonic Prinxiety); little bit of Patton and very brief Logan

Genre: Fluff and hurt/comfort (kids are a wild ride, lemme tell you what)

Warnings: Yelling, crying, obnoxious breaking of the 4th wall, small mention of hitting (playful, really) (Let me know if I missed any!) 

Tags: (IDK who like Tiny!Sides stuff, so if you don’t, just ignore this lol)  @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch  @ssides @pantasticpanini @anxious-but-whatever

Author’s Note: Shoutout to @tinysidestrashcaptain for writing and reblogging amazing Tiny!Sides stuff that inspired me to write this. Also shoutout to @onthevirge for encouraging me to write this after I rambled about loving Roman way too much. Also, I don’t really like to write in “toddler speak” (just a personal preference), so when you read Roman’s lines, just read them in a high-pitched little kid voice. ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy!

“Viiiiirrrrrgiiiiiilllll,” a high-pitched voice called throughout the MindScape, causing the Anxious Side’s heart rate to pick up. Well, he should’ve figured it’d only be a matter of time. It seemed that Roman had woken up from his nap, and he was ready to play.

Obviously, Roman wasn’t exactly his normal self at this point. The Prince had come back from one of his DreamScape escapades-well, run back screaming and crying-as a 3-year-old because apparently the Dragon Witch couldn’t actually kill the one who created her. Logically speaking, she’d die, too. So, she’d gifted them a younger Roman, and so far Virgil wasn’t a fan. Normal Princey was loud and boisterous enough; a toddler Roman was no different, from what he could tell, just not able to project as loudly but at a higher tone that grated at his nerves.

Normally, Logan or Patton was in charge of Tiny Roman, but Thomas needed them today. Well, he’d really needed all of them, but seeing as Roman was a little out of commission, someone had to stay in the MindScape with the kid. Morality and Logic were the most reasonably qualified for the task at hand, so, after a little bribery and compromise, the others convinced Virgil to be Roman’s caretaker for the day. 

“Viiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrgiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllll!!!!”

Running his hands through his hair, Virgil dragged himself out of bed and vanished from his room, appearing in Roman’s realm. However, upon initial and further inspection, he realized the Creative Side’s room was empty. Feeling his heart rate pick up and his stomach drop, he quickly left the room and materialized into the MindScape’s Common Room.

In their version of Thomas’s sitting room, Virgil sighed in relief when found 3-year-old Roman sitting on the floor, surrounded by art supplies. Normal-sized Roman could conjure up just about anything he wanted to make his daydreams come true, but regressed Roman wasn’t as knowledgeable in that department. So, the other three Sides had banded together to get the tyke some art supplies to satisfy his creative urges. 

Virgil took stock of the room, and what a surprise, Roman wanted to play kingdom-centric make-believe. A bag of plastic jewels was ripped open, it’s contents splayed all over the carpet; shiny silver and gold construction paper was haphazardly stacked on the carpet right next to the little one. A few bed sheets (likely snagged from Logan’s meticulously organized linen closet) were half folded on the floor next to the coffee table, and Roman’s sword (the one he used when he was normal-sized) was carefully laid on top of the table next to a finished golden paper crown, impressively decorated with the plastic precious stones. 

The tot-sized Roman, adorned in the little cape Patton had made him, was hunched over on the carpet, concentrating hard on something that Virgil couldn’t see. Not realizing the other Side was behind him, Roman took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his little lungs: “VIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRR-” 

“WHAT, Roman?” Virgil snapped. “I heard you, and what are you doing up from your nap? You’re supposed to wait until I come get you!” 

 The Tiny Prince jumped and turned in an instant; his lower lip trembled and his eyes were dangerously wet as he chewed on his lower lip and refused to make eye contact with the older Side. Sighing, the Anxious Side lowered to his knees and looked the other in the eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry I was mean to you, Ro. I’m just....sleepy.” And definitely haven’t been verging on an anxiety attack for the last hour, and that was before I thought I’d lost you, little escape artist. He thought grudgingly to himself.

“It’s okaaay...” Roman rubbed his eyes; he put his hands behind his back and swayed back and forth, obviously working up the courage to ask Virgil for something he knew the older Side wouldn’t like. “Hey, Viiiirge...”

“Yeah, Roman?” Virgil leaned against the front of the couch, bracing himself for whatever ridiculousness the little one would request. 

“Will you play with meee?”

“Well, since I left my room, I might as well.” He forced up a smile for good measure when Roman didn’t look impressed, just a bit charmed by the Prince’s antics (though he’d never admit it, of course). “Yeah, sure, what’d you have in mind?”

“Princes!” Roman eagerly turned back to whatever he was working on, missing the flash of annoyance on the other’s face.

Virgil sighed. “What will I be? A fiery, scary dragon?” Virgil mimicked blowing out fire.

“No!”

“A big, mean, hairy troll?” Virgil put his arms up, miming a menacing beast.

“NO! I just told you!” A now red-cheeked Roman pouted, turning back to Virgil with his secret project behind his back. “A prince! I’m Prince Roman, and you’re Prince Virgil!”

Virgil had nothing to say to that right away. It was the last request he would have expected of Roman, quite frankly, and he wasn’t sure if he trusted it. 

“R-Really?” Virgil eyed the other carefully. “Will I be an evil prince? Will we get into a big fight, and-”

“No!” Roman yelled, his eyes spilling over with tears this time. “You’re Prince Virgil! You’re big and strong and scary to the bad guys and you’ll take care of me and the castle and all the people like Thomas!!!” Roman collapsed onto the floor, melting into soft, hiccuping sobs; Virgil felt his heart clench as the little prince curled into a ball on the carpet.  

Crap crap crap crap crap you gotta fix this NOW, you idiot!

“Aw, Roman, I’m sorry.” Virgil mumbled, tentatively scooting himself closer to the Tiny Side. Roman side-eyed Virgil, equally distrustful of the other now. “Come on, Ro, please forgive me?” The Anxious Side made his voice as sickly sweet as possible, trying to ignore the fact that his tantrum obviously meant Roman had skipped most, if not all, of his midday nap. Getting onto him now would only make things worse, so Virgil opened his arms, remembering that Patton often bribed Tiny Roman with cuddles to get him to behave. 

Still whimpering, Roman uncurled himself and pushed up into a sitting position, staring at Virgil for a full five seconds before crawling into his lap; the emotional Side stuck his thumb in his mouth and laid against the other’s chest. 

“I guess that means you forgive me, huh?” Virgil murmured, chuckling a bit when Roman nodded his head; he rubbed his little charge’s back until his whimpers died down completely. “You okay now, buddy?” 

“Y-yeah.” Little Roman whispered.

“You still wanna play princes?” Virgil asked hesitantly. “I promise I’ll play by your rules this time, no questions asked. I’ll take care of you and the castle and all of our people...” He trailed off into a whisper, speaking more to himself than Roman. “Just like I do for Thomas.” 

“Yeah.” Roman nodded, but made no move to get out of Virgil’s lap. 

“Are you sure?” Virgil looked down, noting the droop of Roman’s eyes and head. Crap. If he slept now, he’d be up all night. “Roman, if you don’t get up, I’m gonna-” Virgil cut himself off and attacked Roman’s sides with his fingers, tickling the toddler until he shrieked with laughter.  

Through his own laughter, Virgil prompted, “So, I guess we gotta make me a crown, huh? Looks like you already got yours done; it looks really good.”

At this, Roman untangled himself and crawled over to where he’d been working just a few minutes earlier. Walking back on his knees, Roman came up in front of Virgil and grinned just before pulling a silver paper crown with black and purple jewels from behind his back. “This one’s your crown. I made you it. I put these ones on it,” he pointed at the gems.  

“Yeah.” Virgil smiled, a genuine smile this time. “It looks really good, Ro; I like it!”

“Let me put it!” Roman requested, the normal bounce returning to his voice; he gestured for Virgil to bend forward. The other complied, and the Tiny Prince giggled as he carefully placed his creation on his playmate’s head. “There! It’s peeeerfect!” The little one gave Virgil a big thumbs up, scampering over to the sheets piled on the floor, and Virgil noticed one of his black bedsheets folded beneath one of Logan’s dark blue ones.

“Here’s your cape!” Roman threw the sheet toward Virgil, giggling manically when the covering unfolded in the air and got caught on Virgil’s head. the Anxious Side couldn’t help but laugh at the little one’s glee. He pulled the blanket off his head and swung it around his back, tying a solid knot around his throat as Roman placed his own crown on his head. The small Side bent under the coffee table and brought out a little cardboard dagger, and he pointed to his own sword on the coffee table.

“That’s yours, Virge.” There was a twinge of sadness in the other’s words. “I’m too small to use it right now.” 

“It’s okay, Ro.” Virgil reassured him as he rose and crossed to receive the Prince’s most precious item. “I’ll take good care of it; I promise.”   

"Ok.” Roman still looked a bit sad, so Virgil hoisted him up into his arms, carefully holding Roman and the sword. 

“We can hold it together, and we’ll defeat whatever monsters try to take over our kingdom together!”

“Yay!!” Roman squealed, hugging Virgil’s neck. “You’re the best prince, EVER, Virgil!” 

“So are you, Roman. Now, let’s go!” Virgil cried, transporting them into Roman’s room so the Tiny Side could show him to his DreamScape.

-- 

After hours of fighting baby dragons and half-sized trolls, Virgil carried a yawning Roman back to the Commons and laid him on the couch. As he set to work cleaning up their crafting mess from before, Roman cried out, “No, I wanna help!” and inched his way off the sofa.The Little Prince and the Anxious Side worked well together, Roman picking up the little pieces and Virgil handling the big stuff. 

Just as they finished cleaning up, Patton and Logan strolled into the Commons, and Roman’s face lit up brighter than Virgil had seen all day.

“Daddy Pat Pat! Mama Lolo!” Roman screeched gleefully, running to the paternal and logical Sides. Logan shot Virgil a dirty look at the nickname as Patton hauled the squirming toddler into his arms and planted a loving kiss on the little one’s cheek; Virgil wiggled his eyebrows in return. 

“What’d you get up to today, kiddo? Did you play with Virgil?” Patton cooed, setting the toddler so he faced him in his arms.

“Yeah! We played Princes! And Virgil was the big good prince and I was the little good prince and we stopped the dragons and trolls from getting in our castle! Virgil’s the best big brother eeeever!” Roman declared with a yawn, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Sounds like a great time, Little Guy.” Patton grinned at the Anxious Side, mouthing “Thank You” as Roman laid his head against Patton’s shoulder. Rubbing his charge’s back, the father figure whispered, “And now it’s bed time.” He turned to start Roman’s nighttime routine, pulling up when the little one tugged on his sleeve. 

“Can Virgil read me my story?” He mumbled into Patton’s neck, his eyes already half closed.

“I can do that, bud.” Virgil replied, coming up beside Patton and patting Roman’s back. Tiny Roman sighed contentedly, and the bigger Sides transported them into Roman’s room.

It wouldn’t take long at all for the tuckered out little Side to nod off, but Virgil and Patton would stay in the Creative Side’s room long after he’d fallen asleep, whispering back and forth about the adventures of the day.

And Virgil had to swat Patton on multiple occasions to keep him from squealing and waking up Roman.

More Tiny!Sides: 3 Tiny!Sides and a Virgil

All of my Sanders Sides fanfics

[randisnotonfire-blog]

Just a bit out of my league Pt.1  Stan Uris X Reader Modern AU

Summary: Not gonna lie you were more on the badass side (WHOOPS ALREADY CURSING OH WOW lmao) than being cutesy and nice, it was probably because you were Richie’s older sister. You were the type of girl most guys liked, from your killer sense in wearing all black because you claim it makes you look “Cool” to what rebellious things you would do in and out of school it was a bit out of most guys league. Sometimes you would hang out with Richie’s little friend group when you had nothing else to do but it was still worth the time. Even days when there was no sense of going out he would still drag you out to the arcade or to the cliff. Cut to the actual point it was a bit too obvious that Stan and Bill, Bill still obviously liked Bev but had some feelings for you, had a crush on you. For Stan it was tough on him since you were dating Henry Bowers, even Richie hated the fact of seeing you and Henry in his own living room hanging out together.

Song: Out of my league by Fitz and the Tantrums

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Fluff, cursing, some sad but fluffy love triangle between you Henry and Stan  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ also me trying to be funny lmao and angst :(

A/n: Welp this includes: Belch, Penny boi, Henry Bowers, Stan Uris, Richie Tozier, Bev Marsh, Bill Denbrough, and anybody that I forgot to mention!

(Credits for g.i.f to its rightful owner)

                                                 *      *      *

   You had been walking around the woods for a bit just to get use to the nature even still after your many years of living in Derry, which some people thought was a stupid idea to do considering all these reports of missing children. I mean seriously even Richie’s friends brother had gone missing but was supposedly dead. You heard a loud crash behind you causing you to flinch slightly at the sudden noise. Then it happened again. It basically sounded like fucking hail was raining down hardly like there was no tomorrow. Quickly in a reaction you ran off trying to avoid anything “spooky” happening. When you thought you were far away the sound got louder. You calmed yourself immediately reassuring yourself that is was probably a tree falling down. When your running steps slowed down into a actual walking pace you got stopped by a tall figure that was towering over you. Closing your eyes then softly saying to yourself “This is just a bad dream Y/n.” You opened your eyes whilst trying to face whatever fear this was that you thought took hold of your scattered mind at the moment. “Hello Y/n” the, what to appeared to be, male voice said with a goofy grin on his face which showed his crooked teeth. He wrapped a hand around yours quickly to keep you from moving. Before the figure could even possibly drag you away you bolted with full on fucking fear. You ran back to where the sound was coming from, you slowed down just to make it seem like you weren’t sweating at all from running like a mile away from the monster.

    Walking through the woods yet again you pushed past a couple more tree branches and peared looking around and spotted your brother, and guess what he was doing. That walking sin of a child was having a rock fight with the Bowers Gang. You shook your head preparing yourself to having to break up another fight your brother caused. “Stop it!” You screamed as you were in full view of just the Losers club and the walking sin. Oh and of course lovely Belch had to turn around and look at you too. “W-wh-what jus-just happened…?” Bill asked quietly while looking around at the bruised members. Everything went silent and you could feel some kind of blood boil over Henry, then he suddenly threw a rock on the ground which caught everyone’s attention from the loud dropping noise. He sighed and motioned for the rest of the Bowers Gang to leave the somewhat embarrassing scene for Henry. Even almost everyone of the Losers Club left the scene, except Richie and Stan were standing there. Stan was motionless and Richie was happy that he “won” even though you showed up to break up the fight. You sighed and looked over at Richie then Stan, “Go blow your dad, you mullet-wearing asshole!” Richie then yelled at the top of his lungs. “Dude seriously?” Stan said with a stern voice when he looked over at you. You smiled then grabbed Henry’s hand making him almost fall over from the sudden movement. “Shit Y/n don’t be in such a hurry” Henry said quietly. “She is out of your league man” Richie said with a scoff when he saw Stan checking you out before you left. “Oh shut up” Stan hissed back. “Hey I heard Eddie has some birth pills, you should get some before you get your hands on her!” Richie said back with a grin obviously knowing about Stans crush on you. “Beep be-” Stan started saying but Bev walked back to check on them both. “Stan seriously stop it and the same for Richie, both of you just shut the fuck up and let’s go home!” Bev cried out because of their stupidity. “Whatever…” Richie trailed off as they both walked home.

   “Why were you there!” Henry said trying not to raise his voice when you both walked into your parents apartment. “Henry you know this, I always go looking around the woods” “To look for what? George?” He said making your anger strike. “Your an asshole sometimes!” “Well I’m your asshole” he responded back whilst walking up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. You were always soft for moments like this but you hated when he only did this just to make you shut up. “Henry, we-” Before you could finish the sentence Bill,Richie,Stan, and Eddie came tumbling in through the front door causing you and Henry to detach from each other. You shook your head then grabbed your stuff before Richie decided to open his mouth and speak ignorant shit. Stan’s face went white after he saw Henry Bowers. “What is he doing here Y/n? You know dad might beat his ass!” Richie said making a joke out of his last comment then went to get a high five from Stan but was shot down. “Oh shut up Richie” You turned around and smiled at Henry before you both walked back to your room. Stan watched as you left yet again his heart sank, ‘You’re just a bit too young for her Stan, when you're older you could date her’ Stanley thought to himself. “Come on you guys we need to work on the project anyways” 

                                          *         *         *

   Stan honestly hated seeing you and Henry laughing during math class since he had advanced with Bill, it was heartbreaking. You two holding hands and laughing, just everything bothered him. Stan always repeated to himself every night. “Why him?” If only he knew what stuff was like behind closed doors. Your brother had to come in a couple times because you would be crying over stuff Henry had done and said. It was horrible. Henry had treated you like shit but you still loved him, and if you did break up with him who knows what would happen to be honest. You could be the next Bower’s gang target. Knowing your luck Richie would probably stand up for you, but you're not a damsel in distress. 

    “Y/n?” Richie said as he slowly opened up the door, clearly he and everybody else heard you bloody screaming at the top of your lungs at Henry. You looked up from your phone to see Richie, Henry had managed to crawl out your window and leave since he didn’t want to storm out rudely and distract the kids. “Y-yeah?” you had rosy tear stained eyes that distracted the emerald green haze in your eyes, you had a small cut from a glass vase on the floor. “What the hell happened?” he walked in quietly and closed the door so nobody else could hear the conversation. Then when you moved another bloody cut was obvious. “nothing I’m fine, It’s fine” You said with a pain killing smile. “No nothing is fine!” then you heard running footsteps and then it led to Stan and Eddie falling into your room. “Are you okay Y/n-” Stan started to speak then Eddie practically screamed at the top of his lungs when he saw the broken glass flower vase shattered across the wooden floor and the bloody cuts on your leg and one on your face and arm. “What the fuck!” Eddie yelled. Richie got up from kneeling on the floor sitting next to you to standing up. “Calm your man tits!” Richie yelled back. Stan rolled his eyes then started walking up and picking up the broken pieces. “Y/n didn’t your mom buy this for you?” Stan said when he picked up some of the familiar pieces and tried to put them back together. “Y-yeah she did...” Richie went to touch one of the worst cuts on your cheek, face, then Eddie freaked out. “Richie don’t touch her! She could get a infection from your dirty sewer stained hands!” “Fine, just go get band aids and whatever medical supplies you can find. There should be a first aid kid on top of the fridge Eds” “Don’t call me ‘Eds’ and okay” 

         A couple hours later you ended up crashing on the couch with everyone after they basically took care of your wounds like a nurse. You all decided on watching a movie but since it was almost midnight Bill and Stan had to call their moms and tell them they were staying the night at your house. Eddie obviously had to leave for obvious reasons, his mom, but it was pretty chill that night. “When will you tell us what happened?” Stan said quietly. Richie nodded then Bill said he agreed that he wanted to know. “Fine” you said shifting from your odd position between Stan and Richie. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” you said softly. They all nodded. “Well, 

   Yes I just made a fucking cliff hanger for my TRUE fans ;) guess you will just have to wait for what happens :)))) luv you all <3

[smilexcaptainx]

Peter Parker Imagine

Requested: @143amberrose

Imagine: Hello! I was wondering if I could get an imagine, well it was actually a dream I had of Peter Parker. Lol I had a dream that I was with Peter, and he stayed the night at my house. But I woke up way before him, and I was laying down on the couch on my stomach watching tv when Peter woke up. He just walks over to me and lays down right on me, and I just say "Peter I could care less if you lay on me, but you can at least get your elbow out of my kidney" It was a very random dream lol

A/N: that’s actually pretty awesome how you had that dream, i would love to have a dream like that!! || it’s long ;3

Warning: None

You could feel the wind blowing in your hair, as Peter leaned in real close, he lays a kiss on your cheek. He uncovers your eyes and the darkness turns into light, but as you saw where you were, your eyes went wide and you about lost your balance. You were on the edge of a tall building, it was a beautiful view but you were afraid of heights. You turn around and saw that Peter was smiling at your reaction.

''Peter! Don't do this again!'' you whine, tightning your grip on his shirt.

''Don't worry, I won't drop you.'' peter smirks.

''Peter.. Don't you-''

Peter caught you by surprise and wrapped one arm around you, he than kisses you on the forehead and than jumps off the building. You screamed at the top of your lungs but of course Peter threw out a web and than swung with you in his arms. You continued to scream and shout because you hated it when Peter did this to you, but he somehow found it hilarious. You just kept your eyes closed and your scream was still vibrating through the air. After what felt like forever, you finally landed on the driveway of your house.

You popped an eye open and let out a big sigh of relief, you turn your head and look at Peter who's hair was messed up from the air.

''I can't believe you did that to me again!'' you shouted, whacking him.

The hits you were giving him only made him laugh, you were pretty pissed at him but he took it as a cute tantrum. Peter finally just grabs your wrists and you try to struggle out of his grip but he just pulled you in and gave you a kiss. You pull away and stare into his eyes, the anger that you had disappeared just like that. You look up at the sky and saw that it was nighttime.

''Peter.. I hate you.. But I love you..'' you sigh, rolling your eyes.

''I could do anything to you, and you'd still love me.'' peter smirks, laying a kiss on your nose.

''Whatever, it's not my fault that you're so adorable,'' you smile.

''Anyways, do you want to stay the night? My parents are on a vacation right now.'' you smile, holding his hands.

''If it's just you and I, of course babe.'' peter smiles, taking your hand and twirling you.

You squeal with excitement and kiss him on the nose, you than rub your noses together and laugh. You take his hand and take him inside of your house, as you entered you asked him what he wanted to do.

''Watching a movie would probably be a good choice for me.'' peter shrugs.

''Okay, I'll get the movie, you sit down and wait.'' you say, pushing him towards the couch.

''What movie are you choosing?'' peter asks, sitting on the couch.

''You'll see.'' you wink.

You than giggle and rush out of the room, you go and get the movie that was the most romantic. You skip back into the livingroom and you put the movie in, you than hop on the couch next to Peter and cuddle into his body.

''What movie did you get.'' peter asks.

''Just watch and you'll find out.'' you sigh, smiling.

The movie starts and it felt like it went on for hours, it was probably twenty minutes in and you were already knocked out on Peter's lap. Peter shut the TV off and just fell asleep with you, as you slept a few hours passed by and than you were wide awake again. As you woke up, you saw that Peter was still fast asleep, you silently sit up from his lap and stretch with a big yawn. There was another couch on the other side of the couch you were currently on, so you stood up slowly and saw that Peter had the remote in his hands still. You softly remove the remote from his hand and got it without waking him up, which was a good success.

As you got it, you tip toed your way to the other couch and than layed on your stomach, flipping the TV back on. You watched a few episodes of your favorite TV show, obviously it was quiet so it wouldn't wake Peter up. But after the third episode, you look at Peter and his eyes were opening up. Peter stretched his arms out and a humongous yawn slipped out of his mouth. He didn't even acknowledge that you weren't with him anymore and than saw that you were on the other couch.

You continued to watch what he was doing, he than stands up and starts to walk towards you.

''Peter, this couch's already taken.'' you smirk.

It was like Peter didn't even hear what you said and sat down right on your back. You let out a little 'oof' but he continued to sit on you, as he sat on you, his weight was making you sink into the couch.

''Peter.. Why are you.. Sitting on me..'' you say, a little breathless.

Peter didn't reply again and just laid right down on top of your body, as he laid on your body, you just laid there not knowing what was happening. But as soon as he got a position, you felt his elbow pierce right into your kidney. You wince at the pain and than wiggle a little bit, hoping Peter would get the sign to move.

''Peter I could care less if you lay on me, but you can at least get your elbow out of my kidney.'' you say, trying to get him to move.

Peter groans and than moves his elbow, the pain still hurt but it soon went away, Peter continued to lay on top of you. You decided not to bug him and continued to watch TV, Peter was still asleep but having him on top of you was one of the most comfortable positions ever.

The End

-

Send me an imagine, and I will write it. x

-

I do not own this gif.

Credit goes to the owner.

[gaiatheorist]

Sexual Harassment.

(The Cheryl Yeoh/Dave McClure news article. I haven’t been sexually harassed. Not recently, anyway.)

Hers is the classic ‘creepy boss’ story, the abuse of power, by a person in a position of authority propositioning a person lower down the chain for sexual favours, a sleazy-inflated version of James Bond winking at Miss Moneypenny. We’ve come a long way as a society since Roger Moore’s horrible sports-jacket, but that particular behaviour is taking its time dying out. (I was in my last job for 14 years, and there was no sexual harassment, a combination of everybody behaving themselves, and my ‘do not touch’ persona being fully embedded.) At the age of 26, when ‘most’ women are probably still scouting for ‘the one’, I’d taught myself to project-untouchable.

This one is getting tangled already, for probably 10 of those 14 years, I had a silver band on my third-left finger, the symbol of unavailability, that I ‘belonged’ to the ex. (Who never wore a wedding ring, I bought him 3 over the 20 years we were together, and he lost all 3. As well as losing wedding rings, he also liked me to dress like a whore, so he could show off what ‘belonged’ to him. Some of his acquaintances were not respectful of my personal boundaries, and the display-behaviour seemed to over-ride the old slave-ring.) Part of my projecting-untouchable came about due to the nature of some of the scumbags the ex associated with, grown men, not the malleable boys I’d been used to in school and sixth form, who knew not to touch me because of that rumour that I was mad. (Started, predictably, by a boy who’d tried to touch me, and, in the confusion of me saying ‘No.’, he told enough people that I ‘Ate pins’ for it to become a school-truth. Disclaimer, I never ate pins, that WOULD be mad.)  

Before the slave-ring, the rumour that I was mad worked relatively well, and, within school, and sixth form, there wasn’t much of a power-imbalance, we were relatively ‘level’. Not entirely, because I was peripheral to the popular cliques, so occasionally a popular boy would assume his ‘status’ meant I wouldn’t say no. School-truth evolved into me being a mad lesbian, because I did say no. I would have been 17 the first time I experienced ‘real’ sexual harassment, working part-time as a waitress during my A-Levels. There was a weird dynamic between the male manager, and some of the young female waitresses, I was never particularly wary of him, because I was used to the ‘mad lesbian’ protective mechanism, and because I thought that the other girls were much more aesthetically pleasing than me. 

One evening, at the end of my shift, I’d changed out of my uniform in the disabled toilet, I was going out to one of the sticky-floored nightclubs that the sixth form periodically descended upon, queuing around the block, and trying to fit those of us who did have ID in amongst those who didn’t. Black jeans, and a button-up top, that I hadn’t buttoned all the way to the top, because sometimes a Wonder-bra was as good as ID. (The bouncers VERY often searched me, especially if I was in a skirt, the perverts.) The manager knew I was in there, and he locked the exit-door to the restaurant. There was no procedural reason to lock the exit, if he was ‘locking up’, he’d have locked the door from the outside as he left. (One of the female managers accidentally locked me in there once, in the days before mobile phones.) 17 year old girl, adult male, locked in a building.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were still in there.” (You did, that’s why you locked the door from the inside.)

“I was just getting changed, I’m going out.” (Even then, “I’m going.”, not “Can you let me out?”, I’ve always had balls of steel, and I wasn’t going to ‘give’ him power.)

“Oh, wow, your boobs are amazing.” (What’s actually amazing is the trick I used to do with the Wonder-bra, a secret I will take with me to the grave.)

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” I started to move towards the exit, and he moved to block my path. I was taller than him, not as tall as Alex, who I adored, because she once bit him really hard on the hand after he tried to grope her, his whiny-tantrum about his girlfriend seeing the bite-mark was legendary.

“Can I have a look?”

“No, you can’t.”

What followed was him repeatedly asking me to show him my breasts, and me repeatedly refusing. My 17-year-old head took great pride in having an adult male begging me to expose body-parts, but more pride in absolutely refusing. I thought, at that point, that I’d had the power, the control in that situation, in a strange way, I did, I’d never be as beautiful-bold as Alex, but I could continue to work there with him knowing I’d stand my ground, and he never ‘tried it on’ again.

The next series of instances, all lumped together in eight months worth of ‘expected’ harassment, avoiding lecherous-lunges, and politely declining offers from drunk men to walk me home. (Safety-mechanism, I used to stay behind, drinking after hours, usually until about 4am, how I actually passed my A-Levels is some kind of miracle.) I was 18, and I played on it, for tips and free drinks, thinking back, it’s a bit squirmy-icky, that I played on the ‘schoolgirl’ angle, I know better now, but, back then, I rocked the short skirt, and over-knee socks. It was ‘expected’ that the customers would try to ‘chat up’ the bar-maids, back in those days, there’d be two kinds of female bar-staff, the ‘landlady’, generally in possession of a face like a bag of spanners, and a “Just don’t.” attitude, and the ‘pretty’ ones. Struggling to accept that I was ‘pretty’, I’ll just accept that I didn’t look like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle. Between the regular bar-fights, the drugs-raids, and the mopping-up-puke, the other pretty/young barmaids never lasted very long, I lasted due to my balls-of-steel, and my mostly-saying-’No.’ (Mostly, there was a brief interlude of strategic-sex, which is how I came to be assistant manager of a nightclub at the age of 18. I don’t approve of the assumed-compliance from management, but, in that instance, I worked it in my favour.)

Next up, my first full-time job after finishing my A-Levels. One of the managers candidly advised me that having ‘that’ nightclub on my employment history was the main reason they’d chosen me. “If you’ve worked there, we know you won’t take any shit from the lads.” 1995, it was ‘accepted’, even then, that the ‘lads’ might try it on with me, as the only female employee in the company. The other manager was indirectly creepy, he didn’t try it on himself, but he made frequent suggestions that I ought to get together with the male office junior. I wasn’t interested, but his insidious insistence that I was fair game eventually rubbed off on the male colleague one afternoon. The two managers had left for the day, the junior was still more senior than me, he had the keys. He locked the two of us in my office, and asked me to kiss him.

“No, anyway, I’ve been smoking.” (That’s ‘No.’, with an excuse-opt-out built in for him, he didn’t smoke.)

“What do you want, a paper hat? Go on, give us a kiss.”

“No. I have a boyfriend.” (Who was, admittedly, a bit of a dick, and I already had my eyes on someone else. Not the man in front of me, though.)

“I won’t tell him. Go on, just one kiss.” (It’s rarely ever just one, but I was alone with this man, in a locked unit on an industrial estate, there were pens nearby that I could stab him with if the need arose. Nothing is ever ‘just’ with me, my risk-assessment mechanism is in permanent over-drive.)

“One kiss, and one only.” (Establishing control, and potentially developing the skeleton of an excuse to dump the then-boyfriend.) I kissed him, once, and he let me out, he was a little bit older than me, taller, and heavier, it was a calculated risk, screaming would have done no good, because the industrial estate was mostly-empty. He didn’t try it again, but the sleazy-manager subsequently locked the two of us in my office one day ‘for a laugh’. I left without notice or reference.

Back then, in 1995, it was accepted, although not acceptable, that certain types of male would try it on with females they saw as vulnerable, due to power-imbalance. We said ‘No.’, and I’ve more than one experience of grabbing a gropey-hand VERY hard by the wrist, and saying “I think you’ll find that’s mine.”, with regard to whichever part of my body meander-hands had landed on. It’s not accepted any more, and that’s right and proper, but comes with its own issues. For the females (I’m sure males are vulnerable to harassment as well, but my perspective is from the female angle) we’re aware of being at-risk, being vulnerable, and it’s our job to mitigate against that as far as is possible. We’re trained, from an early age, not to place ourselves at risk, the established-order isn’t changing, we just have to adapt to it, it’s the ‘dining alone’ thing, multiplied by a million, in instances where there’s a power imbalance. 

‘Not joining in’ was my primary strategy, and colleagues would be exasperated by my refusal to socialise outside working hours. Some dealt with it better than others, but, after the legendary “And don’t get shagging anyone behind skips this time!”, which wasn’t directed at me, and all of the gossip-fests after work-social events, it was easier-not-to. The ex’s insecurity played into it, he didn’t like to ‘let me out’, he knew he couldn’t physically stop me, but he employed a variety of emotional-control tactics, including complaining about his inability to ‘babysit’ his own son. He was old-school, raised under the impression that women did as they were told. Some might.

‘Not dressing up’ was another one, the ex liked to display me, but then threw tantrums when his mates, or random-others took an interest, not linking the fact that he wanted me to dress like a whore with others assuming I was one. Almost all of my clothes are for practicality, rather than presentation purposes, I’m usually covered-up, to minimise the risk of someone assuming that visible means available. It doesn’t. I’m deliberately not applying for jobs that include customer-facing, because I don’t want the expectation that I’ll wear high heels, and lipstick, I’m perfectly productive without having to ‘dress up’, thank you very much.

I suppose that now, at 40, I’m too ‘old’ to be targeted by the exact-same cohort that plagued my youth. I’ve sailed through my ballsy-bolshy years with very little notable interference. Flipping that out, I suppose I’m differently-vulnerable now, what with the world-in-general assuming that heteronormative co-dependency is the ‘only’ model of normality. “Are you seeing anyone?” “Are you looking?” “Are you bringing anyone with you?” It’s surprising how often I’m asked questions of that nature, the assumption that I can’t be ‘happy’ on my own is offensive, I was profoundly unhappy when I was married. Other-people’s fear of me being ‘left on the shelf’ opens up the worrying prospect that they’ll continue to project perceived-vulnerability onto me. (That’s easily dealt with, I just don’t engage with most people.) I navigated through my teens, twenties, and thirties projecting my balls-of-steel persona, I’m now slightly concerned that being single-and-40 (we’ll leave the disability bit out, that’s just a thing-that-happened) will give some people the idea that I’m anything-will-do desperate enough to acquiesce to advances. I’m not, I’ll continue keeping myself to myself, projecting-untouchable, and being vaguely scary, it’s worked so far.