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bothcreativitybois · 3 years

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Intruality Week 2021 Day 2

I’ve decided to try and connect all these propmpts into one story. If you want to read the day 1 fic it’s here

Day 2: Cooking/Baking @intrualityweek2021 Wordcount: 1292 TWs: Swearing, little bit of sad Patton (I’m just like this okay?), Remus doing Remus things, brief gore (not detailed), alcohol meantion (one sentance)

General Taglist: (ask to be added <3) @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper

After seven hours, five countertops, twenty spatulas and countless other fatalities, Remus looked at the dozen plates set out in front of him. This was his greatest masterpiece, he continually amazed himself. This plan would work perfectly, he just needed one more thing before he could start. He quickly sank out into Patton’s room. The only light was a little pooh bear night light, dimly illuminating the mound snuggled under numerous fluffy blankets. Remus sneaked forward quietly until he reached the edge of the bed. “Papa Bear!” Remus shouted and jumped on top of Patton. The sleeping side was startled awake and screamed loudly, grabbing his attacker. He was mostly relieved to see it was just Remus. “Hey Kiddo.” Patton said tiredly. “What do you need?” He rubbed his eyes as he spoke. Remus’ wicked smile glowed in the darkness. “I made you dinner.” Remus said proudly. Patton sighed. “Thank you Remus, that’s very thoughtful but I already ate.” Patton mumbled as he laid back down. Remus waited a moment before jumping again. “Please Daddy! I spent a long time on it.” Remus asked again. Patton didn’t move but shushed him. “Everyone is sleeping, please be quiet.” Patton asked. Remus shook Patton’s bed. “I’m gonna be loud until you agree!” Remus shouted. He started moaning and shouting vulgarly. Patton quickly sat up and put a hand over Remus’ mouth. His red face glowed in the dark. “Alright alright just plea- hey!” Patton retracted as Remus nipped his hand. “Ew.” He wiped his hand on the blanket, Remus grabbed it and pulled him out of bed. He sat Patton at the dining table and spun himself around. He changed into a sultry looking waiter outfit. “Tell me what you think of each dish.” Remus said as he grabbed the first plate. “I worked hard on them.” Remus placed the plate in front of Patton whose sleepy mind was caught off guard. He’d forgotten the golden rule of the mindscape: Never trust Remus. On the plate was a caramel apple, except the caramel was covered in lint and hair. “Oh um… I think you dropped it…” Patton gently picked up the apple by the stick and showed Remus. He looked it over with a smile. “I didn’t.” Remus said proudly. Patton relaxed for a moment. “That’s from Virgil’s hairbrush.” Patton dropped the apple back onto the plate. Remus pouted. Patton looked at Remus’ sad expression then back at the hairy apple. After a deep breath he picked up the apple and Remus lit up. Delicately as he could, Patton took a bite before dropping the apple. He covered his mouth as the sticky strands stuck to his teeth. Remus looked on hopefully. “It’s… good.” Patton lied as he churned the caramel with his teeth. Remus clapped and jumped excitedly. As soon as he turned to get the next plate Patton began spitting the caramel into a napkin and scraping the sticky bits out. He wished he had some water. “How about a drink?” Remus read Patton’s mind in the worst way possible. He placed a plate with a fancy looking martini glass in front of Patton. He would’ve taken it immediately after that horrid hairy haribo but he wasn’t going to break the golden rule twice. “What… is it?” Patton wasn’t sure whether it was better to know or not. “A cocktail.” Remus announced. “Sex on the beach.” Patton eyed the drink suspiciously. He’d seen pictures of the drink before but they looked a little more… colourful. Patton picked up the drink and took a slow sip. The grainy salty liquid was putrid. Patton gagged and spat it back into the glass as discreetly as he could. “What is in that…” Patton asked through teary eyes. Remus brought a notepad out of nowhere and read from it. “Sand, water from Logan’s fish tank, salt, oyster juice and bird poop.” Patton gagged again. “How's it taste?” Remus asked with a smile. Patton really began to re-evaluate just leaving. “A little salty…” Patton tried to be honest by Remus’ sad face smacked him in the heart. “But still good!”

Dish after horrible dish Patton puckered, swallowed and gagged his way through the devious delicacies. Each was worse and less edible than the last, he was pretty sure one was just a boiled baseball. With each plate he wished he’d stayed in bed. “Last course!” Remus announced as he grabbed the final plate. “A lovely dessert!” Patton thought of all the things he wished it was. Cookie Dough ice-cream, brownies, strawberry milkshake, chocolate mousse. “Kitten eye-cy pop!” Remus placed the bloody red iceblock in front of Patton who squealed. This wasn’t real, it was just a nightmare. Even Remus wouldn’t expect him to eat that. But even when he opened his eyes again, a handful of tiny sad frozen kitty eyes stared back. “No Remus!” Patton sobbed. “I can’t! No! I’ve had all your horrible food and I’m tired and upset and no!” Tears exploded out of Patton's eyes. He sobbed for a moment before looking up at Remus. He expected anger and disappointment, maybe a bit of shouting. But Remus’ eyes were filled with pride. “Fucking finally!” Remus said as he sat down. “I thought I was going to have to serve you Roman’s stupid little face to get you to crack.” Remus danced a hand over the dessert and it disappeared. “What?” Patton was really confused now. He really wanted to go back to bed. “Patsy, I didn’t wake you up at three in the morning and feed you a bunch of gross stuff and expect you to enjoy it. I’m sadistic, not oblivious.” Remus explained. Patton wiped his eyes and listened. “You needed a lesson, thankfully I am a great teacher.” “What lesson?” Patton asked sadly. Remus rolled his eyes. “You need to learn to say no!” Remus snapped. “I’m sorry.” Patton croaked overwhelmed. “No, don't apologise!” Remus stood and shouted back. “I’m a bad person! I did bad things! Yell at me!” “I can’t...” Patton sobbed. “Do it!” Remus pressed. “No!” Patton finally gave in. He pushed himself up with the table, tears sparkling on his cheeks. “I’m tired! I’m upset! I just wanna sleep!” Patton tried to emphasise by hitting the table but accidentally hit the plate. He slowly looked down at the broken plate. Patton fell back into his seat in a sobbing heap. Remus stood there looking between Patton and the plate for a minute. Then he took a few steps closer. “Didn’t know you were that strong.” Remus joked. Patton didn’t laugh. “Remus please don’t.” Patton begged, he didn’t know what for. Patton felt Remus drape something around him. Remus wrapped his arms around Patton and lifted him into his chest. A moment later the room darkened. Patton felt himself being placed down onto a bed. His bed. “Remus.” Patton felt more blankets cover him. “Consider it a thank you for the sweater.” Remus smiled to himself. It just occurred to Patton that this was the second time Remus had seen him cry in two days. No one saw him cry. He reached out of his curled up position and grabbed Remus’ hand. “You’re a good guy.” Patton whispered. Remus wasn’t sure how to react. “You’re delirious.” Remus said back. “Maybe.” Patton conceded. “But I would really like it if you could cook for me again some time.” Remus froze. He was trying to annoy Patton, trying to annoy him and be a terrible person, but Patton thought it was… endearing? “Oh I definitely will.” Remus chuckled. It was less wicked and more goofy. Patton hadn’t heard that before, neither had Remus. What was happening to him? He was getting soft. He’d just have to try harder.

#sanders sides fanfiction #roman took over #intruality #intruality fic #intruality week #intruality week 2021 #remus sanders #ts remus #patton sanders #ts patton

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sparklingchan · 4 years

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Dancing with a Stranger || Lee Minho (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Lee Know

Word count: 6k+

Warnings: Cuss words, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a break up, slight violence and blood (its nothing intense, I swear) ,suggestive towards the end, not proof read.

Genre: Angst , fluff, boyfriend AU , break up - make up AU.

Description : Lee Minho is the best boyfriend you could have ever asked for but when you end up doing the only thing he had begged you not to do, things start going downhill.

Author’s Note: I KNOW I SAID I’LL POST THIS ON MY BIRTHDAY but I am an impatient person and I really wanted everyone to read this asap :( This imagine is one of my personal favorites and like Boyfriend!Minho really hits different, won’t you agree? (Reposting because tumblr decided to be a bitch and not show up my fic in the tags? It’s 2 AM and I’m legit crying?? I was so excited about this) Yeh le @chogiwow !

Please do reblog, like and send in your views about this fic. I’m always happy to receive DMs and asks!

Enjoy!

It is really funny how a crowded, happening place like your college corridor turns into a cold ,eerie location of some prospective gruesome crimes by sun down. But then again , if you really think about it , maybe it’s not much of a ‘prospect’ at all.

Your knuckles start stinging first ,spreading then to your palm and the rest of your arm.

And the horrifying yet unavoidable realization finally dawns on you - you shouldn’t have punched your professor’s daughter.

“Y-you! You bitch! How dare you touch me?” She has this annoyingly loud voice that pierces through the tense air like a bullet. The prettiest girl on campus , the nicest of them all, the most desirable , but anyone who sees her right now, would be convinced she is neither of those things. Excluding you , of course , because you always knew how double faced and rude she was behind the mask of a pure princess.

“You should have kept your mouth shut then, Anya.” You say , hoping that the girl in front of you doesn’t notice the sudden fear in your voice that has replaced your authoritative tone from before.

But you can’t back off now.

Anya stumbles back with her mouth wide open , clutching her jaw as she curses under her breath , “My mother will hear about this ! I will get you expelled !”

“Oh yeah? Try me and the only thing your mother will hear about is what you and our lovely class president John do in the basement when she isn’t home.” You shoot back. You mentally want to slap yourself for that sharp tongue of yours that refuses to stop any time sooner. You had always wished that you’d gotten your father’s gentleness but sadly , you were the fateful heir of your mother’s roughness.

Anya doesn’t reply , instead , she throws herself at you , pushing you harshly against the lockers .And it is not long before her balled fists find a way to your nose , punching so hard that you literally feel the blood dripping down your face. You are so glad that all the students and staff have already gone home , you’d have hated for anyone to witness this.

“You will never lay your filthy hands on me again, y/l/n. ” she wraps her left hand around your throat while the other one pulls your hair with the strength of a bull. You scream in pain. Your body goes limp for a second - not from pain but from fear , but you realise it’s too late now. You should have thought about your fears before punching Anya.

Now all you can do is save yourself and escape.

The numbing pain from your scalp spreads through your head , going down your face and then attacking your throat. It gets harder to breathe.

“I’ll tell you what , Anya , you deserved it. You deserved all of it. ” you croak , “I told you to stop spreading filthy rumours about my cousin but you didn’t stop , I told you to stop bothering me but you didn’t listen. And now you’ve gone as far as spreading bullshit about my boyfriend who you’ve never even met ! I hate to break this to you but all of this is not going to make your trash personality any cooler. ”

Anya yelps with anger , increasing the grip on your throat and hair as you kick your legs helplessly, coughing .

“Shut up, y/l/n .” She growls , “ and as a matter of fact, Your boyfriend is just a mere dancer , how funny. An A-grade college student dating a poor street dancer. What happened , y/n, ran out of good guys for yourself?”

You want to yell at her and tell her that Minho is anything but a mere street dancer . He’s an amazingly talented artist who loves expressing himself through dancing , he’s a hardworking and honest person who is part of the country’s biggest dancing crew , and he’s your safe place , your home , your everything and god save anyone who dare hurt him.

But you bite your tongue this time.

“What now? Afraid ?” Anya raises her eyebrow, her lips curving into an ugly, sadistic smile.

You hate that smile.

You use one of your free hands to grab her hair while the other one slams hard against her jaw.

“Shit.” She mutters , falling back into the hallway.

But you’re not done yet.

You walk toward her with furious eyes and balled fists , and it isn’t long before she lands on the floor on her butt with a bloody nose and a black eye.

“Keep your mouth shut or you’ll end up on a hospital bed next time. In a coma. ” you spit out those words while she holds her tears back, face caked with humiliation.

Then you turn on your heels and walk out of the stupid college campus which would yet again be filled with more bullies by tomorrow morning, just like it has for centuries.

The dorm in which Minho lives almost always smells like freshly baked cookies ( courtesy: Lee Felix) and on rare occasions, it smells like burnt pancakes ( also courtesy: Lee Felix). Today , it smells like the former and you sigh in relief.

“Oh , my god ,y/n. What happened?” Changbin opens the door after you knock thrice , “Minho, dude, Come out , y/n is here!”

You shuffle into their big living room , head hanging low and eyes avoiding all sorts of confrontation , afraid of having to explain your stupid behavior.

“Y/n?” Minho sucks in a deep breath at your sorry sight , his eyes glazed with dread and fear as he walks toward you, ”Oh god, what happened?”

He swiftly takes out a handkerchief from his pockets , pressing it against your bleeding nose. His eyes are glossy with fear.

“I-it’s nothing. I fell down the stairs.” You lie. Can he please shut up and hug you already? You hate his questions so much , especially when you just can’t answer him.

“Y/n , that is not what a fall looks like. I’m not stupid. Whom did you beat up this time?” He asks , crossing his arms across his chest. And you really do almost blurt out the truth because it’s that easy for you to open up to him and because he knows you like no one else does. You’ve dated him long enough for him to know you like the back of his own hand. And that sometimes gets you in so much trouble. Lying to him is a near impossible task.

“Y/n, look at me!” He says , slightly annoyed now. He touches your chin gently, coaxing you to look at him but you’re too afraid to face him right now. Too guilty. So you shrug him off and walk into his shared room with Hyunjin, a homely feeling enveloping you almost instantly.

“Y/n, don’t you dare ignore me.”

Ugh. He can be so nosy at times.

“I came here for comfort , not for an interrogation. ” you pout , plopping down on the bed.

Minho scoffs , closing the door behind him. He wears a loose black t-shirt with a pair of shorts , and he smells like the expensive shampoo you had bought for him a few months ago ,which he initially refused to take but now loves it. He looks so good and smells so good and suddenly all you want to do is cuddle him and talk about his day, with his Winnie The Pooh blanket draped around your bodies.

“You aren’t getting any comfort till you tell me what happened.” He says . He stands with his back against the door , and stares at you as if you were a criminal. Maybe you were one ,but that doesn’t mean he’ll hate you or something ,right?

“Did you hit the professor’s daughter?” He asks when you don’t answer even after two whole minutes. Your stomach does a somersault, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You regret telling him about Anya a few weeks ago and you specifically saying that you’d one day ’ punch her brains out ’. You wish you’d shut up sometimes.

You play with your fingers, staring at your feet. You can’t look him in the eye anymore , not when you did the exact (and only) thing he had asked you not to do. You feel horribly guilty.

“Well in my defense, she was being a bitch ,okay? She was calling you a good for nothing dancer and ugly and underqualified and - ” you sigh , “ My point is, I couldn’t bear listening to all that, okay?” You admit , cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Minho doesn’t answer, very unusual of him by the way, and you snap your head to look at him.

The eyes that had once held concern and fear for your well being now are clouded with disappointment . He’s mad at you.

“She’s not wrong though. I am a good for nothing dancer, I go to a stupid cyber college. Nothing worth fighting over. Why the fuck did you put yourself in danger like that!” And he’s yelling now , his relaxed posture from before now replaced with a tensed one. You notice his clenched fists and teeth ,and you shudder with fear. He is furious. But at what? You don’t really know.

“Are you seriously justifying her actions? Minho, she can’t talk shit about you. I will not let her do that! ” You yell back ,getting up from the bed , “She doesn’t even know you!”

“Which is exactly why her opinions on my lifestyle do not matter ! And you don’t have to just go around acting like my bodyguard all the time!” He says.

Your heart drops, brows furrowed in confusion at his words that feel like a dagger is plunged into your heart.

You walk up to him, trying to take his hand in yours but he extracts it right back. “I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. You know how crazy I get when I’m angry.”

“A ’ sorry ’ doesn’t suffice it. The damage is already done. And if tomorrow, you are thrown out of the university, who’s fault would it be? ” he presses his hand to his face, trying to calm himself down , “I can’t believe I am dating such an immature woman ,y /n. Grow the fuck up, will you?” He says , his anger filled eyes staring right into your soul . Your heart breaks into millions of small pieces , as your breath hitches in your throat. He had never said something so harsh to you in the many years that you’ve dated him and you really wish he hadn’t done it today either because you realise you’re not very good at handling hurtful words, especially from Minho. At all.

“Minho , I know you’re angry - ”

“Leave.” The world stops spinning for a second , your eyes widening with shock, “Go home. Don’t come back again.”

You want to cry but tears seemed to have given up on you too , his words striking you harder than any of Anya’s punches ever did. All your feelings seem to have converted into a much worse state of numbness when those words leave his mouth.

“Y-you are not breaking up with me, right?” Your usually loud voice comes out as a whisper.

“I am. Go, please. I don’t want to see you right now.” He opens the room door for you to exit, his eyes never meeting yours. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, a sign that he’s about to tear up yet you don’t know if he wants too be comforted by you right now, or ever. So picking up the remaining pieces of your damaged heart , you walk out of the room , stopping only to glance over at him one last time , in hopes that he’d change his mind. But no, his angry demeanor is still there , strong and tough and unbreakable.

And when you finally leave , Minho is grateful that Hyunjin wasn’t home - for he would have hated to cry in front of his roommate.

The bright neon sign with ’ Kim’s Restaurant ’ written on it shines in the distance , blurred only by the tears in your eyes and not by the tiny droplets of water slowly falling from the sky.

You feel a soft blanket of comfort draping over you when you walk toward the familiar building.

Your aunt and uncle have worked hard to build a proper business from a small shop that had once just sold fried chicken and cold drinks ; and it makes you so happy to see their new restaurant still packed with people this late in the evening.

“Oh , y/n. I was just about to call you. Did you not go to your dorm yet? ” your aunt asks from the reception desk , chewing her favorite gum and typing aggressively into the computer.

“I stayed back today. Project work.” You lie. Your aunt lifts up her head , her eyebrows knitted together and a suspicious scowl gracing her face , almost mimicking your mother. Your mom and your aunt are twin sisters , born just three minutes apart , and since then it has become your mom’s life mission to remind your aunt of the whooping three minute gap every chance she gets. It’s hilarious, really.

“Don’t make that face at me. You look exactly like mom.” You mutter , leaning against the wooden desk.

“I do look exactly like your mom , y/n. ” she replies with a chuckle, “Anyway, what’s going on? You look tired.”

Honestly, you’d love to talk about Minho and the impulsive breakup and the aching in your heart with your aunt because there’s no better person to seek advice from, but you don’t feel it right to burden her when she’s working plus a part of you doesn’t really trust your aunt to keep all the secrets to herself.

“No, I’m okay. Just mid college crisis.” you say.

Your aunt hums in response, probably not buying it but you’re happy she doesn’t push it anymore, “ Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”

A bag of fries with a bucket full of chicken wings sounds terribly tempting right now but you’ve lost all your appetite for the day the moment Minho closed the door behind you. Now all you feel is drained, tired, sad. Moreover, that is not what you were here for, “Nah, I’m good. Is Yugyeom home though?”

The door to your aunt’s house opens only after you ring the stupid bell at least three times , as you stand on the porch, judging the loud music that blasts from within the walls. “Wow , you look like shit.” Yugyeom always has some snarky comments up his sleeve but you are in no mood to be playing word games with him right now. You barge into the house , pushing past your cousin who you smells like donuts and Axe.

“Shut up.” You say, plopping down on his bed . You really want to cry right now but Yugyeom has never been big on consoling so you try to hold it in .

“What’s wrong? I’m not joking.” He sits beside you, putting down his gaming console on the table by the bed.

You play with your fingers , breathing in and out to calm your nerves. Yugyeom, out of all the people in the world , is the easiest to talk to but today , you find yourself on the edge , trying to be very careful with your choice of words. Maybe you were afraid of angering him as well.

“I..I kind of beat Anya up.” You confess ,swallowing the lump in your throat.

Yugyeom becomes still for a moment , staring at you with his mouth gaping and then his face breaks into the widest grin in the world.

“You really beat that bitch up? Like for real?” He asks , excitedly bro fisting the air like an athlete after winning an important match.

You nod , “And then I went to see Minho. He obviously didn’t react the way you did. He was very angry and then he broke up with me. ”

Yugyeom’s celebrations are short lived as you continue to tell him the details of what had happened earlier, his smile slowly dissolving into a frown.

“Y/n, first of all you really need to learn how to break news to other people. It’s always the bad one first and then the good one. Noob.” Yugyeom bumps his shoulder softly to yours. You would otherwise have argued with him and told him why the happy news should always be first and why the bad news should be last but you feel too exhausted to speak anymore. Your shoulders slump as you put your hands on either side of your head.

“How could he just break up with me like that? He had no logical reason to! He’s so selfish.” You mutter , tears gathering up in your eyes. You try to blink them away before your cousin notices them.

“I don’t think he did it for himself , y/n. You told him that you hit Anya because she was speaking trash about him. Of course he’d distance himself from you so you wouldn’t want to fight his fights for him.” Yugyeom says.

“I wasn’t fighting his fights! She trash talks about you and me and him and everyone else. It was the last straw for me. I didn’t do anything wrong. ” you explain , your heart hammering against your chest.

“I didn’t say what you did was wrong ,y/n. You have a right to be angry with her. But what we’re talking about is Minho. Think about this from his point of view,” Yugyeom replies, his hands on your shoulders , “You beat Anya up , got hurt and possibly put yourself in trouble with her mother all because of him. He feels guilty.” Yugyeom is speaking to you like he’s speaking in one of those debates that he does at college. You love seeing him speak, mostly because he is so manipulative yet subtle , smart yet observant and he can convince you so easily. He could easily pass as the best debater in your college - too bad you’d already taken that place.

“Or it could be because he doesn’t want more trouble in his account. Maybe he’s ashamed of me. ” you whisper, “ And I told you, I didn’t do it just for him. I did it for me and you too and all those people she bullies and makes fun of. Why is he the only one reacting like this? ”

Yugyeom sighs, “Yes , I appreciate your concern for my well being, y/n. But he might not be thinking the same way as I am. I was happy that you beat Anya up , but he was worried about you. He obviously doesn’t want you to get badly hurt.”

You rub the tears that flow down your face with the heel of your hand then place your head on Yugyeom ’s shoulder.

“He might have fallen out of love with me. Maybe he just needed an excuse to call it off.” You mutter.

“You know Minho’s better than that, y/n.”

He’s right . Minho really is better than that.

Break ups suck. In the truest sense. But what you now realize is that break ups don’t hurt that much immediately, but slowly , as the days go by and the memories start flashing in front of your eyes every waking moment , you feel like nothing more than a sack of meat and bones, drained of all emotions.

“For this unit of organic chemistry, I need all of you to memorise the reaction mechanisms over the weekend.” Your professor’s voice feels distant to you , as if there were a wall in between the two of you , even though he stands just a few steps away.

Your classmates start murmuring among themselves, fixing study dates that almost always are unsuccessful and gathering notes they hadn’t bothered to complete until now. But you remain seated in your chair , staring out the window, not bothering to talk to anyone.

It is a bright sunny afternoon and you see all the happy faces out on the field - couples, friends , classmates. You feel jealous. You clearly remember planning a weekend trip with Minho a few days ago and If you hadn’t decided to mess things up so bad, he’d have already been at your college gate by now , waiting in his father’s old car. You clearly remember how excited he was about the trip.

The dismissal bell rings not long after and as you walk out of the college gate, surrounded by thousands of students, you feel lonelier as ever. And your mind imagines his car below the tall banyan tree , his lean frame leaning against the door with a silly grin. You could almost see him there. Even though its just in your mind.

You miss him so much that it gets hard for you to even breathe properly.

“Okay , how long are we going to stay here? I have better things to do than stalk your girlfriend, Lee.” Changbin’s whiny voice breaks the silence in Minho’s car, much to his annoyance.

“Just a few more minutes. Till she reaches the dorm.” Minho replies , his hand limp on the steering wheel and his lips pressed in a tense line.

His eyes are focused on you , your slump shoulders and your unusually slow walk and the dark circles under your eyes. It is obvious that Minho wasn’t the only one having sleepless nights .

“Dude , why don’t you just talk to her? I’m sure she would listen.” Hyunjin says from the backseat , munching on peanuts, “ Plus I think she saw us.”

Minho watches as you turn around a corner and walk toward your dorm building , away from him. He almost wishes you’d seen him.

“It’s not that easy.” Minho mutters, turning the engine on.

At least he knows you’re okay, and safe. That’s enough reassurance for him to try and move on but he somehow always ends up driving to your college gates during dismissal, the brief view of your face still making the worst of his days better.

“It’s not that easy.” He repeats to reassure himself .

“Guess what.” Yugyeom chimes in early one morning, leaning against the locker door beside yours.

“What?” You ask , not sparing him a glance. Your hands busy themselves in flipping over the pages of your notebook ; last minute revisions before tests are more important than the actual studying.

“I saw Anya this morning. She was running late , I think, and she bumped into a junior near the gate. I was sure all hell was about to break loose but she just apologized and left!” Yugyeom says , laughing.

You turn to look at him, a look of surprise plastered on your face. Anya actually did that? Instead of being her usual, defensive, violent self she actually chose to apologize? It’s hard to digest but you’re sure Yugyeom wouldn’t be making all that up. He’s not that creative.

“The sun must have risen from West today.” You reply with a chuckle.

The morning bell rings throughout the corridor, indicating the commencement of your classes. Throwing in your notebook ,you close your locker and heave a sigh. Its just a small quiz but you find yourself stressing over every single thing these days.

“Oh and by the way , it’s Jackson Wang’s birthday party tomorrow.” Yugyeom adds as the two of you start making your way towards the chemistry lab , coats hanging by your arms.

“And we’re going?” You question ,cocking your eyebrow.

Yugyeom is not really into parties , especially the over-the-top , spectacular , rich-kid parties that Jackson Wang often finds himself throwing, yet Yugyeom always goes because a) Jackson is his best friend and b) Who doesn’t like to feel like a rich man even if it’s just for one night?

“Yes. Both of us.” He says. You shrug your shoulders. You have always liked going to Jackson ’s parties and fawning over his huge mansion and the various cuisines placed in front of you that you can’t even name properly and watching other rich kids like himself play golf in the living room. It was pretty entertaining . Even with your post break up gloominess, you wouldn’t want to miss all of that.

“Okay.”

“And one more thing,” he starts ,“I saw Lee Minho outside our college gate yesterday. You might want to do something about that.”

No, unlike what was expected of you, you didn’t really do anything about it but Yugyeom’s words stick to you like a piece of gum throughout the whole day ,consuming every thought and pulling out all those thoughts that you’d stacked up and thrown away into the top most drawers of your mind. You were convinced that the day he broke up with you , he was done. He didn’t want to look back or reconsider. He wasn’t coming back to you. And you’ve been trying to move on as best as you could ,keeping your mind occupied and busy all the time. Yet you had to accept that in the wee hours of the night , staring at the ceiling ,you would often find yourself reminiscing him and whatever you two had. The gentle touches , the late night walks, shy smiles and endless talks ; you missed them.

But his presence outside the college changes the whole game, doesn’t it?

Later that day, you kind of regret agreeing to go to Jackson’s party because you soon realised that both Minho and Jackson went to the same dancing school at one point of time , and Minho probably (like a 99.9% probability because Jackson Wang never leaves anyone uninvited) was invited too.

You dread every second in Yugyeom’s stupid car that brings you one more step closer to seeing Lee Minho again. And although you would never dare say it out loud , a part of you was a little excited too.

“Dude , y/n , I have never felt so underdressed in my entire life.” Yugyeom breathes in as the car stops in front of the huge metal gates of Jackson’s mansion.

“Me neither.” You agree, your eyes glued to the people walking in and out of the doors, wearing tuxedos and dresses and sparkly jewelry. You feel horribly out of place all of a sudden, like a fish flying in the sky and a bird swimming deep under the water- you feel like you don’t belong here.

You look down at your black converse , tightly laced and washed for this very party and your loose ,dark green tshirt and ripped jeans .

“Why didn’t you tell me this was a fucking masquerade ball or soemthing?"you hiss at your cousin.

"Shut up, y/n , you’re not the only one feeling odd. ” Yugyeom shoots back

But all of that discomfort is gone the moment you see Jackson Wang sitting on the huge sofa in the living room , wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top , drunk and wasted and blabbering.

“Let’s go before he sees us.” Yugyeom says , pushing you through the crowds of people clad in silks and pure cotton , “Drunk Jackson is difficult to handle.”

“Oh , I beg to differ , All Jacksons are difficult to handle.”

The garden behind the mansion is filled with even more people than your brain was accustomed to seeing while the DJ stands at the top of a platform , headphones on and screaming into the mic every once in a while to hype up the crowd in front of him , but you realise it’s hardly needed. People are already way too hyped up in here.

“Y/n?” You hear a voice say and you immediately turn around to face Hwang Hyunjin standing under the wonderful night sky, looking as gorgeous as ever. But then again ,when does he not look pretty?

“Hey, Hyunjin. How have you been?” You ask with a smile. Your awkward hand movements do not go unnoticed by him but he thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

“I’ve been good. How have you been ?” He replies , inching closer to you. From the corner of your eye, you see Yugyeom slowing disappearing into the crowds, leaving you all alone to deal with your ex boyfriend’s best friend. You make a mental note to never lend your Netflix account to him again.

“I’m okay, too.” You say.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes staring at you curiously, “Tell me , y/n , how have you really been? I know what happened between you and Minho.”

You gulp , heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” You say, biting the inside of your cheeks nervously.

“If you say so.” he grins , putting an arm around you , “But I’ll be real honest with you , Minho - ”

The words are cut off when the DJ suddenly blasts a new song through the speakers , simultaneously yelling into the mic. The sweaty, wasted , hopeless crowd around you yell a few ’ Let’s GO! ’s and ’ Fuck It Up ’s in response.

“What were you saying?” You yell over the music , pinching Hyunjin’s t-shirt to get his attention. He glances at back you then points toward his left , “That.”

You turn your head in that direction , your heart skipping a beat the moment your eyes meet Minho’s nervous ones. You see him walk towards you in long strides ,his handsome features painted with anxiousness and worry and a foreign sense of guilt. You were angry at him ,yes ,but as he makes his way to you , his silky hair bouncing softly ,his pink lips slightly parted, his starry eyes locked on you ,he looks…Brilliant? Breathtaking? Gorgeous? Stunning? All of these?

He wears a blue tshirt with black pants and has a jacket tied around his waist. He looks beautiful- even though you are mad at him. He looks way too beautiful to not acknowledge it.

And just a few seconds before he reaches you , you break away from Hyunjin’s hold and run away into the crowd.

“Y/n, wait!” You hear the both of them yell at the same time. But only one of them follows behind you and you don’t even have to look back to know who it is.

Fear and anger creep into your body , slow but painful like poison. You remember the last few days and how horrible it had been for you , all because of Minho and his lack of understanding in a moment when it was needed the most. Over the past few weeks, your ex boyfriend had made no attempts to contact you whatsoever and if he thinks he could just pop out of nowhere and start talking to you again, then he’s gravely mistaken. You might still love him and want nothing more than to hold him close , but that doesn’t mean you aren’t angry anymore . You are not ready to face him. At all.

Your feet burn as you run further away from Minho, jogging up the stairs inside the mansion with your hand tightly gripping the cold metal railing.

“Y/n, please, just listen to me once.” He yells, still not giving up.

You scoff , “Why should I? You didn’t listen to me that day either!”

You find a door at the end of the staircase, your hands pushing it to reach the empty terrace that you’d heard Jackson bragging about during your English classes when everyone was too bored to listen to the professor. The terrace really was beautiful, with all kinds of flowers blooming and a fountain with lights , you would have almost been breath taken if not for the man closing up behind you.

“Y/n, damnit, ” Minho huffs, reaching his hand out toward you, panting, “Stop, okay? Just listen to me , please.”

Not like you have an option anyway. You sigh in defeat , walking toward the fountain, the carpet grass rustling under your feet. “What?” You demand, your voice bitter with anger.

Minho stands in front of you , his brown unkempt hair and firey eyes reminding you of the night you guys had kissed for the first time. He stands at an arm’s distance, giving you enough space to think things through. He would never want to force you to do something you wouldn’t want to. And even if everything turned out to be not in his favor tonight, he’d gladly accept it because he deserved it after treating you so badly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers after a few seconds.

You roll your eyes, “For what? What did you do? As far as I know, THE Lee Minho never makes mistakes!”

He hangs his head low with shame ; he didn’t mean a single word he’d said that night. He was worried, yes, he was very worried about your bashful attitude but he was also very grateful to you for always having his back. It physically hurt him to see you bleeding and completely worn out that day.

“Well, I did make a mistake this time. I said some words that I didn’t mean at all and I’m afraid the girl I intended those words at hates me.” He says , pressing his lips in a line.

“Damn right , she does.” You can’t even look into his eyes anymore because you’re too afraid of laying your true feelings bare in front of him.

“I’m really, really sorry, baby. I know I’m an asshole and I hurt you. I have no excuses to offer but I just want you to know that a single second more away from you will drive me crazy. ”

You process his sentences slowly - letter by letter, inking those words permanently into your memories. “Why?” You ask. What a silly question ,y/n, do you really want to torment this man so much ?

Minho gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement, “Because you’re quite literally my everything.”

Minho only dares to grin a little when you no longer throw virtual daggers from your eyes at him. “I hate you , you know?” You say.

“I know ,y/n. I don’t even blame you. I shouldn’t have said all that. I was just so, so mad. But that really wasn’t an excuse to be so rude to you or break up. I should have talked it out instead . I deserve the hate.” He admits.

The frown on your lips dissipates slowly ,making way for a sad, small smile.

“It was so hard, Minho. You don’t even know. I had never felt so lonely in my entire life.” You say.

“Believe me, y/n, I know.” He whispers as your hands find their way to his cheeks, rubbing them ever so gently.

You scan his face, absorbing in the fact that he was actually in front of you and this wasn’t one of your unrealistic imaginations.

Minho takes not more than a half step towards you and you automatically wrap your arms around his neck , like the millions of times you’d already done before. Everything about him is so familiar yet so new. Like layers and layers to discover and only one goddamn lifetime.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck , mumbling soft apologies against your skin, his arms tightening around your waist with every passing second.

“I missed you so much.” You admit, playing with his beautiful brown locks, taking in the smell of his (your) favorite body wash.

“I missed you too.” He replies , “So goddamn much. I almost wanted to cuddle Hwang Hyunjin at night.”

You laugh ,as he admires the way your noes scrunches up when you giggle and the way your eyes bend into crescent moons. In that moment, Minho realises how much he loves seeing you laugh ,especially when he’s the reason behind it. It fills him up with so much pride.

You hear the DJ change the song into a slow , romantic one as his voice booms through the speakers once again , “Ladies and gentlemen, grab the person next to you, with consent of course, and hold them close for this one because tonight is all about dancing with strangers!”

The crowd goes feral.

Minho raises an eyebrow at the DJ’s words , a sly smile playing on his lips , “Shall we?”

He pulls away from the embrace, gently bowing toward you and offering you his hand like some gentleman right out of a fairytale.

“He said dancing with a stranger, not girlfriend.” You deadpan but you take his hand anyway.

He chuckles, leaning closer to rest his forehead on yours, “Technically, we’re still broken up. That makes us strangers.”

You have to give in - not because of his weird reasoning but because of how terribly cute he looks when he smiles like that at you. He holds you close, swaying slowly to the music and grinning like there’s no tomorrow.

“What’s so funny, Lee Minho?” You ask , raising your eyebrow.

He shakes his head, still grinning, “I just realised how rare it is to find a woman who would quite literally declare war for you.”

“Now, you’re exaggerating a little bit with the war thing but yes, that’s the essence of it.” You reply with a proud smile.

He laughs, as you put your hand on his cheek once again and press your lips softly to his. You’d missed this so much - not just kissing him but also this feeling of intimacy you share with him everytime you’re in a closed space, sharing the same air. You missed his teasing, his stupidly sweet laughter, the warmth of his embrace. You missed Lee Minho - your safe place, your best friend, your world.

And even after everything, you both know for sure that you would fight the world for Minho if need be, and he’d do the exact same thing for you. Every single time.

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skippyv20 · 4 years

Text

💚💚💚💚🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻NURSE ANON AND PG🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💚💚💚💚

Nurse Anon

NURSE ANON…… “ look Tracy you go and take him his cuppa ‘ I gave him a nice cup of green tea and I can’t repeat what he said %@&*%@. He wants STRONG PG. TWO TEA BAGS. …… “ he must be getting better , Sydney told me he keeps wanting refreshments, the Doctor is scared to enter The suite. “ you seen his Poo Bear 🐻 PJs. , Charlotte sent them. ……… he’s a bloody nightmare,…… um ‘ a very respectable loving royal one , a loverly grumpy one. ……… he keeps asking me to smuggle him out ,,

Oh…I bet he is a riot! Sounds like PP is back to his old self…..wonderful!😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you….❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

2/22/21

💚💚💚💚🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU DEAR NURSE ANON, I WAS A NURSE OVER 20 YEARS AND A BIT🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💚💚💚💚💚I KNOW ALLLLL ABOUT GETTING THE PATIENT THAT NO ONE WANTS BECAUSE THEY ARE AFRAID OF THEM😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣

FEBRUARY 22/2021

NURSE ANON #1

ANOTHER LONG TWELVE HOUR SHIFT WITH VERY LIKELY OVERTIME FOR US 👩‍⚕️ NURSES AT KING EDWARD VII HOSPITAL 🏥 IN LONDON. THEN A MESS TRYING TO GET HOME 🚌 🚎 THAT TAKES OVER AN HOUR. ⏳ EH TRACY, TIS A GOOD THING WE BE LOVING OUR WORK ? TRACY LOOKS 👀AT ME AS IF I HAVE LOST MY MIND. 😜🤪PG, SHE SAYS,THE BLOODY HOSPITAL 🏥 IS CRAWLING WITH SECURITY, MEN IN SUITS, 👨🏻‍✈️👨🏻‍✈️👨🏻‍✈️👨🏻‍✈️👨🏻‍✈️👨‍✈️🧑🏻‍🌾🕵️‍♂️🕵️‍♂️💂🏻‍♂️💂🏻‍♂️💂🏻‍♂️👮👮👮👮ALTHOUGH NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT THAT MAY TURN OUT PRESENTING A DATE OR TWO. THE MERE FACT THAT HRH PRINCE PHILIP THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH IS A PATIENT HAS EVERYBODY ON EDGE INCLUDING THE UNIT KITTY CAT 🐈‍⬛ WHO ACTUALLY HAS SPENT MOST OF THE TIME IN HIMSELF’S ROOM. THEY ARE GETTING ON LIKE A HOUSE ON FIRE. TRACY IS NOW CHARGE NURSE FOR THE NEXT FOUR HOURS WHICH JEANS SHE CAN SHIFT PATIENTS AROUND. TRACY SAYS, THE PATIENT LOAD HAS BEEN SHIFTED FOR OUR OVERTIME PG. WE ONLY HAVE FOUR HOURS OF OVERTIME, NOT THE WHOLE TWELVE HOURS MAKING IT A 24 HOUR SHIFT 😮😮😮ONLY A 16 HOUR SHIFT SO NOT TOO BAD. TRACY CONTINUES , I STOP HER SAYING NO NO NO DO NOT TELL ME PLEASE NOOOOOOO!! TRACY LAUGHS YEP GIRLY, IT IS YOUR TURN TO WALK ON THE COALS AND BE HIMSELF’S NURSE 👩‍⚕️. I AM LITERALLY TREMBLING BUT I AM A PROFESSIONAL. I CAN HANDLE ANY CRITICAL SITUATION AND I HAVE HANDLED MANY A CHALLENGING PATIENT IN MY LIFE. SO I KNOCK ON THE DOOR, GET PAST SECURITY AND INTRODUCE MYSELF AS I CURTSY. GOOD EVENING YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS, I AM PG , YOUR NURSE FOR THE NEXT FOUR HOURS. HUH, HIMSELF REPLIES, 🗣, I KNOW A PG, SHE WRITES THE WILDEST THINGS. HAVE YOU READ HER OR MAYBE YOU ARE HER! SORRY SIR, IT IS A NO ON BOTH COUNTS. OH GET OUT OF HERE!! SIR, I MUST CHECK YOUR BLOOD 🩸 PRESSURE AND TEMPERATURE. OH BLOODY HELL, DO IT THEN AND LEAVE ME BE. ALL THIS BLOODY POKING PRODDING AND FUSSING, BIG BOTHER. THANK YOU SIR, MIGHT I GET YOU A LOVELY TEA I HAVE? HIMSELF’S EYES LIGHT UP A WEE BIT. SIR I SHALL BE BACK MOMENTARILY. I RETURNED WITH MY FAVOURITE GREEN 🍵 , FULL OF HEALTH BENEFITS SIR, IT IS DELICIOUS. HE LOOKS 👀 AT IT, HRMMPPPPHHHH. WHAT THE *#&*&# IS THIS MEANT TO BE. BEFORE I KNEW, THE TEA CUP 🍵 WENT FLYING ONE WAY AND OOOOOOO THE LANGUAGE🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬 WENT FLYING THE OTHER WAY. I QUICKLY MAKE MY EXIT TO LOOK FOR TRACY. LOOK TRACY, YOU GO AND TAKE HIM HIS CUPPA’. ☕️ I GAVE HIM A NICE CUP OF MY FAVOURITE GREEN TEA 🍵 AND I DARE NOT REPEAT THE WORDS 🤬🤬🤬🤬THAT WERE FLYING . TRACY, HE TOSSED THE 🍵 TEA CUP😮😮😮😮. NO SYMPATHY PG, TRACY SAYS 🗣LAUGHING😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. HE NEEDS AND WANTS STRONG TEA PG, TWO! TEA BAGS!! HE MUST BE GETTING BETTER PG, SYDNEY TOLD ME HE KEEPS WANTING REFRESHMENTS 🍺 🍻🥃😃😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣. THE DOCTOR IS SCARED TO ENTER HIS SUITE. HAVE YOU SEEN HIS POOH BEAR 🐻 PJ’S🤣🤣😂😂SO ADORABLY SWEET CHARLOTTE SENT THEM. I HAD BEST GET HIM A CUPPA ☕️. I MADE IT AS STRONG AS I COULD AND PUT SOME SUGAR IN TO SWEETEN HIMSELF’S DISPOSITION. KNOCKING ON THE DOOR, SIR, IT’S PG, I HAVE RETURNED WITH THE PERFECT CUPPA FOR YOU SIR. HE LOOKS 👀 AT ME SOMEWHAT STUDYING, HE SMELLS THE TEA, LOOKS AT IT, TAKES A SIP, ALL IS QUIET. IT STAYS THAT WAY UNTIL THE TEA IS GONE. PG MY GIRL, YES SIR. THAT WAS A BLOODY BRILLIANT CUPPA. ☕️ I AM SO HONOURED SIR, I JUST WANT TO TAKE THE BEST CARE OF YOU THAT I CAN. I NEED TO ATTEND TO ANOTHER BUT I SHALL RETURN SHORTLY. HIMSELF SAYS SYDNEY! SYDNEY! SYDNEY REPLIES , YES SIR. HIMSELF TAPPING HIS TUMMY WITH HIS FINGERS AS HE DOES…SOFTLY SAYS TO SYDNEY, I THINK THAT IS THE REAL PG. WHAT SAY YOU SYDNEY. WELL SIR I HIGHLY DOUBT THAT. HMMMMM WE SHALL ASK SAUSAGE TO HAVE SOME MEN IN GREY CHECK THAT OUT.🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂. TRACY CONTINUES OUR CHAT AS WE CARRY OUT SUPPER TRAYS. HE IS A BLOODY NIGHTMARE. I REPLY NO, NOT AT ALL, I THINK HE IS QUITE LOVELY. I LOVE PATIENTS (THIS IS ME, THE REAL PG TELLING YOU NOW) I LOVE PATIENTS, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO ARE ESPECIALLY CHALLENGED BY ILNESS OR AGE OR BOTH THAT ARE FEISTY. THAT MEANS THEY WILL KICK AND FIGHT TO LIVE EVERY MINUTE OF THEIR LIVES IN A FULL MANNER. HE IS A VERY RESPECTABLE LOVING ROYAL ONE…A LOVERLY GRUMPY ONE. TRACY, HE KEEPS ASKING ME TO SMUGGLE HIM OUT. HOW ON EARTH COULD I GET PAST ALL THE SECURITY AND THAT SYDNEY , ALWAYS HANGING ABOUT. NOW HE IS THE ONE THAT REALLY MAKES ME NERVOUS TRACY. TRACY REPLIES, INDUBITABLY PG, INDUBITABLY. TO BE CONTINUED……

DONE WITH THE GREATEST LOVE AND RESPECT FOR HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE PHILIP THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH

YOU ARE IN MY PRAYERS 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻SIR, THE REAL PG. 💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦 🇬🇧 🇦🇺 🇳🇿

ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES

Wonderful....you are a great storyteller.....😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

2/22/21

#Ask Skippy #submission

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a-collection-of-villainous-aus · 5 years

Text

Coffee Au pt 2

PART 3 OF THREE

It was the end of the day, Acylius and Demencia wanted to do nothing more than just sink into one of the comfy seats and doze off but work still had to be done.

As Flug was cleaning away mugs and other items he could still taste Black Hat on his tongue, lingering in its flavor the apple of Eden, he wanted to bite again, savor him anew but the demon was not exactly famous for being sweet so no doubt the next would be bitter…right?

“Boy what a day, am I right or am I right tree man!”

Acylius was silent as he looked over at Black Hat’s empty seat, he’d seen him leave, some work emergency no doubt, money had been left on the table but he’d found himself disappointed that the demon wasn’t still there demanding to be served after hours, crazy as the day had been it had actually been surprisingly fun to have him around.

“It is strange... “

“What that he digs you and not me? “

Demencia teased gently nudging him.

“Please be serious for one moment, you will not believe this, but I do feel as if I know him from some other life...there were things today that felt... so familiar.”

Exasperation filling his voice as he walked off to pick up a latte glass that was half full, grumbling they should not order the large if they were not going to drink it all.

“Oh, like what?”

“Well, when we kissed after you suggested he could help...”

Touching his lips as he looked over at the kitchen, whispering

“It did not feel like the first time.”

“Pffft seems I was right he wanted to lip lock and suck your soul right out of your-”

“Demencia, that is enough!” Flug dropped the glass he was holding, it shattered across the floor spilling its cold contents, liquid started seeping through the floorboards, oh dear she realised perhaps she’d pushed a little too far as his eyes lit up and she was dragged forward Darth Vader style only without the throttling . His hand engulfed in cerulean flame, claws extended forward and with a flick she was off her feet hovering, snarling “I am trying to run a coffee shop, not a brothel while we are friends I do not need you interfering with my love life.”

In all her years she’d known Acylius, the lizard girl had never seen such a fire as this burning within him, damn Black Hat must have more of an effect than he was willing to admit, rolling her eyes she responded “You think you could put me down, also you old fart what love life, you’re like fifty and have boned like what …once and that was with someone who was for hire to play as Black Hat, I mean I’ve offered cause who doesn’t wanna climb that tree and sit on your branch, but you were as flustered as a sinner in church.”

(Remember demon so not like human 50 XD )

“Woman…argh!” Acylius tried to keep a straight face, but honestly he could never stay mad at her, a chuckle left him as the demon shook his head and set her down

“You are hopeless.” “Yeah, yeah I know I’m a lost cause, but why is it so hard for you to believe he likes you?” She returned while straightening out her uniform. “Please, I do not think he would find a suitable partner in a barista who tortures people for information on the black market… holy…” Acylius went quiet and blinked looking at Demencia “Is that why the Black market is called that! My alternative profile is in that world...I need a drink ...am I working for him and not…know what no this is too much too soon, I am going downstairs, I am going to drink and torture that man until he is a bloody pile.” Demencia gave him a deadpanned expression in response “One: it is not for you to decide who he wants to bone and two: you seriously only just figured that out, you’re smart but sometimes really dumb.”

Acylius sighed and just walked off hearing her call out after him saying “And what about this!” It was easy to imagine her gesturing towards the spilt coffee “You clean it up, ASSBUTT!” Demencia huffed; she should never have let him watch Supernatural, mocking his sentence in a whiny voice before getting to work and only smiling as she swore she could hear the muffled voice of him saying “I heard that!” Pffft of course he had, demon senses and all, it was no surprise and yes it probably wasn’t wise to try and interfere with her friends love life, especially when it left her to clean up duty instead of getting to play just how long can we make our victim scream.

Picking up the pieces of broken glass she paused looking out the window, wondering up on that high hill where Hat Manor sat, what the old demon was doing now, heh maybe he was even day dreaming of Acylius, that’d be pretty adorable.

Hat manor stood silhouetted, painted on a sea of blue and purple, diamonds scattered over its surface, there was no moon tonight, though this is not what we are here to do though, while the night sky held its beauty the home held its secrets deep under the foundations. Down winding stair cases of stone, walls lined with torches that came alight as Black Hat passed them with bright emerald flames leading to a room, large extravagant, doors locked with spells reacting to his presence, opening out to show the pristine display with a red carpet. Glass cases that remained in a constant polished state appeared liquid with candle light reflecting off their surfaces, to many people these items would be considered odd in the sense they to anyone else held absolutely no value…but to Black Hat they were treasures and when each one was touched he could remember a small moment attached to each and every one of these things… Recalling how his Acylius had taught him to use a barbers blade for shaving, he himself did not grow stubble or the such unless he wanted to and he had suspected the same of his Doctor, who liked to do human things as simple as that.

It was not that he’d allowed Black Hat to shave his face that had made the memory but that he’d trusted him so close to his throat with a blade, it may not have killed him even if he’d wanted it to slit it.

Though that was the thing with anyone else he would have hacked them to pieces and laughed, in that moment he’d slowly brushed the razors edge along his flesh, intently focused on the task at hand, leaving him mesmerized at just how intimate a simple act could be and how it felt to be trusted by him.

The demon had not been down here in some time, that did not mean what was here had lost any meaning, no on the contrary at times being here caused so much pain he could hardly bare it.

Walking slowly through this world of past wonders, there were mannequins in neat rows wearing suits, everyday clothing to swim wear and pyjamas, some clothing items pressed into picture frames, stopping in front of one case in particular a small quirked at the corner of his lips, on a cushion sat an old tattered Bear, blue after some chemical accident when Acylius had been a child or so the doctor had told him. This was kept for more than one reason, one Acylius had loved it dearly and two even as a grown demon he’d found him sometimes napping with the damn thing tucked under his arm, apparently you could never be too old to enjoy a favored gift from the past, claws making soft tapping sounds on the glass.

“What an odd name for a child’s toy…Five o Five…then again there is that silly old bear named Winnie the Pooh…”

He said to himself in passing thought.

Just being here already felt as if a hand had reached in around the void that passed for his heart and was slowly crushing it, glancing over at the beautiful cello he and Flug had played together, the intimacy of creating music on the same instrument so passionately had near rivaled their passion within the sheets…before you wonder yes Black Hat even had their four poster royal Georgian bed perfectly made as the doctor would have wanted it.

Lab equipment that museums would beg to have, first edition books that could very well be the only remaining copies of the texts within some of them…yes he’d saved practically everything, did it perhaps make him obsessed…incapable of letting go, you might think so and yes it probably was the case.

He himself could not forget the way the barista had kissed him, it was a perfect match to the way his Acylius performed such affectionate acts, the same passion a memory so real and tactile rising to the surface and layering perfectly to match the movements of want. Thinking back on this afternoon as he’d sat there sipping his hot chocolate, listening at times to the inane conversation of others and hearing the name of the Café he’d failed to read the name of upon entry in favor of warmth than the cold weather. He stared at one dark oak closet a mannequin stood in there locked away, blood stained clothes, the salt of tears within the collar, even a beast could weep when its heart was broken, shoulders tensing just at the minor scent of iron and acid he adverted his gaze. Could that Barista really be Acylius Flug reborn, the man who’d lay dying in his arms , promising him he’d find him amongst the stars…rambling about artists who place their soul upon the canvas, full of hope and pain, madness full of splendid wonder and final words being of love until there were none. Kisses upon lips that no longer held their warmth as a mournful cry left him whimpering like a child lost in the wilderness of the vast world.

Acylius’s body no more than a limp doll that had lost its light and as with all demonic forms he turned to smoke and ash washed away with a tender breeze littered with embers while all he could do was watch.

Even though he had barely understood what his lovers last message had been, for years he’d sought out painters who favoured the night skies, though none matched the pure emotion of which Flug had spoken until one Starry Night in France just outside the Ravoux Inn he came across such an artist. A rough looking creature really with a missing ear, in fact he’d nearly passed him until this man had grabbed his arm and Black Hat had at first thought him mad until he spoke of a spirit tall and pale, scars and ears not human and eyes so blue no matter the blend of colours he’d tried to use the ever changing hue had been impossible to match.

Up the stairs of that humble place the artist called home he entered, moonlight pouring through an open window, curtains swaying ever so delicately behind the easel sat a canvas not long since painted on, just as promised in thick oil paints of swirling night time wonders, blacks, blues bright shining yellows in a myriad of hues there stood Acylius eyes closed within the heavens.

“I have dreamt about this man yet I do not know what sins I have committed to bring devils and spirits at my door!” Black Hat given him a look before replying “Even Angels it would seem have mercy on a fallen devil.” He’d without second thought left a fortune upon the old bed in the artists room and taken what was rightfully his, news of his death had been reported not but a few days afterwards which even in the demons opinion was a great tragedy.

Now on the wall here it hung still years later, framed in gold with a bench for him to rest upon, other pieces at either side by Flugs hand were portraits and sketches of Black Hat…but this one in the center had been a gift from the beyond , a promise that he was coming back.

That barista had to be him, had to be his Flug; the café was named after a painting no one but he and the painter knew about. Could it be, he’d finally truly found him amongst the stars.

(this is a poor version of the Artists work I was inspired by, especially if you figure out who I was talking about...but as my own work I like it XD)

#coffee au #paperhat #villainous au #villainous #acylius flug #Black hat

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 5 years

Text

Brother (Part 2)

Fandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian may/queen x reader

TW: swearing, mentions of violence

Genre: Fluff and kinda angsty

Word Count: 2.1K

Requests: OPEN

Requested: (1) Hi darling 💙 may I request some borhap cast or queen fluff of them cheering up reader because she burst into tears after having a rough day at school? I just had one and I feel shitty, plus my friend told me shitty things about me and even though he said he was joking it made me feel bad... sorry for this strange ask and also for bad English.

(2) Brother part 2 ???

Masterlist

Brian was about to lose his mind. His house felt small when his bandmates and his sister were wedged inside. Everything seemed louder, with Freddie and Roger's constant bickering. It was a godsend when the phone broke the loud squabbling. Brian let out a relieved exhalation before sneaking past his bandmates, tugging the phone off the hook.

"Hello?" Brian's voice turned louder with every second as the arguing continued.

"Hello, I'm looking for Mr. Harold and Mrs. Ruth May or Mr. Brian May?" A cold voice made him jump lightly, turning his head to hear the woman better.

"This is Brian May, who's this?" He requested, wrapping the phone's cable around his wrist, as Deaky shot him an odd look, curious as to who was on the phone.

"This is Sunset High School. We need you to pick up your little sister, (Y/N) May," The feminine voice answered harshly, so harsh that Brian winced before his eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement and concern.

"Why? What happened?" The curly haired guitarist couldn't believe what he was hearing. Were you sick? Had you gotten into a fight? Had something terrible happened?

"We'll explain everything when you get here, please just come pick up your sister, Mr. May," Without another word, the line rung dead and Brian released a huff, placing the phone down before pulling his shoes on, rushing to the door and grabbing his keys.

"Where are you off to, Bri?" Roger enquired, cutting Freddie off mid-reply, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes as he turned. Suddenly all attention was on the gentle giant.

"Something happened to (Y/N), her school needs me to pick her up," Brian explained, already twisting the door handle to open it.

"Is she okay?" Deaky suddenly perked up, worry filling his eyes.

"That's what I'm going to find out, I'll be back later," Brian quickly closed the door behind him, opening the door to Roger's car before heading towards your school.

You glared at the boy beside you, a large black bruise tattooing his left eye. Elliot shot you a furious, yet defeated look, before looking away, intimidated by your strong eye contact. You felt on top of the world, underneath all of your rage, until you heard the delicate voice of your older brother. You froze, and you saw Elliot snicker as your brother walked in. Your eyes immediately met the floor, feeling your blood run cold. The headmistress opened her door, ordering you and Brian into her office. Reluctantly, you stood up, wiping at your bloodied nose, wincing as you caught your busted lip, following after your long-legged brother. You kept your eyes locked on your feet as you both took a seat in front of your headmistress, knowing that there was angry look on his face.

"Mr. May, I'm sure you'd like to know why you've been called here," Mrs. Andrews began, placing her interlocked hands onto the desk.

"Yes, I really would," It was clear the fury in his voice wasn't aimed at your headmistress, but you instead.

"Well, your little sister here decided to attack another student- unprompted, may I add," You ducked your head down, fingers meddling with the necklace that hung around your neck - a gift from Roger- anxiously waiting for Brian's reply.

"Oh, is that so?"Brian forced out from gritted teeth.

"Indeed, now, in order to keep other students protected, we'd like for you to take her home and keep her away from our academic grounds for a week," Mrs.Andrews' voice was stern and dripped in disappointment; she'd always been fond of you, taking favour of you over others. But yet here she was spreading bullshit about being unprompted!

"Of course. Apologies on (Y/N)'s behalf. Have a good day, Mrs.Andrews," Brian stood up, extending his arm and Mrs.Andrews shook it before dismissing you both, calling in Elliot and his dad. Brian gestured for you to walk out and you stepped in front of him, head lowered as you made your way out of the building, bag shouldered onto your back.

The drive home was filled with a tense silence, almost suffocating you.

"So, do you want to tell me what happened?" Your brother asked harshly, though it was more of a command.

"Not particularly, no," You shot out, turning your head to look out of the window.

"Don't think that we aren't going to talk about this. I'll call mum, or get Freddie on your case, "You rolled your eyes, glancing down on your phone and beginning to type. Just as you pulled up at a red light, your phone was snatched from your fingers. "Hey!" You snapped, reaching out as Brian slotted your phone in the car doors side pocket.

"If you believe that you get the privilege of your mobile phone after what just happened, you are insane," Brian growled, eyes fixated on the road as the light turned green. You crossed your arms, glaring at your lap, fire in your eyes. Soon, you arrived back at Brian's house, instantly climbing out,, grabbing your back before slamming the door aggressively. You stormed into the house, stomping up the stairs, ignoring the looks of the boys. Brian followed swiftly after.

"Change out fo your uniform then come downstairs. We're going to talk about this," Brian instructed, stopping as you crashed your door closed.

"Did you find out what happened?"Roger asked, glancing up from the video playing on his phone, tugging an earphone out of his ear.

"What do you think, Roger?" Brian hissed.

"Brian, dear, chill out. She's clearly upset and if you're angry it won't help at all. It will make it worse actually," Freddie advised barely looking up from his game of scrabble with Deaky.

"Brian stays with Roger, I'll go talk to (Y/N), calm her down so you both can think logically," Deaky stated before standing from his seat and clambering up the stairs. Deaky paused by the door, hearing Panic! At The Disco playing quietly, knocking on the door gently.

"Fuck off, Brian!" You exclaimed, burying your face in the pillow.

"S'not Brian. Can I come in, love?" Deaky requested, a noise of consent leaking through the door. He heard the door lock click and let himself in just as you collapsed face down into the bed. The bassist frowned, perching himself on the edge of the bed.

"Hey girly," Deaky greeted quietly, watching as you rolled on your back, turning your head to face him. You looked both furious and upset, tears threatening to spill despite the scowl on your face.

"What is it, Deaks? If you've come to lecture me, just wait until I come downstairs in a minute," You huffed, standing up and turning your stereo off, readjusting your shirt - you'd stolen from Roger when Queen come to stay for the spring and summer.

"I'm here to calm you down. I know that you're angry, girly, but neither you nor Brian are going to get anywhere if you're both angry. Roger is helping Brian take a breather," Deaky reassured, voice calm and even. Next to Brian, Deaky was like a brother. Freddie and Roger took the position of your best friends. Deaky had such a domestic vibe about him, it was almost surprising that he was in one of the most up-and-coming rock'n'roll bands. You let out a breath, running a hand over your face.

"Okay...Okay. Alright. Just give me a minute, Deaks," You wandered into the bathroom and Deaky made his way back downstairs, where Roger had just about calmed the guitarist down. To Deaky, it was a peculiar seeing the hot-headed drummer calming the usually tranquil guitarist. Not even a second later, footsteps echoed down the hall as you reluctantly wandered down the stairs. Just like when you entered, all eyes were on you. By the time you came downstairs, all the boys were situated at the dining table, an empty seat placed between Roger and Freddie, Brian and Deaky sat opposite the unoccupied seat. You gulped before silently pulling the chair and sitting down. Your eyes remained fixated on your fingers, running your thumb over the broken skin of your knuckles.

"(Y/N), can you please tell us what happened? I only dropped you at school two hours ago," Brian enquired softly, reaching across the table to take your hand.

"Don't want you to be mad at me," You mumbled anxiously. Roger, Deaky and Freddie exchanged concerned glances.

"Just be honest. No one will be angry if you're honest, love," Deaky shot you a reassuring smile. Every second you sat surrounded by your friends felt like decades.

"I, um, there's- I- well," You attempted, your breathing increasing dramatically. Roger placed a hand on your shaking knee.

"It's alright, girly, take your time," the blonde stated softly, prompting you to take a deep breath.

"At school, there's a kid who won't leave me alone. He constantly harasses me and won't stop picking on me. Elliot talks shit about me. He used to be my friend. I hit him because... he found out that I'm your little sister and said some awful stuff about you guys. I got angry, furious even, and he said "What? Are you gonna hit me, you weak cunt?" so... I did," At some point during your explanation, tears had begun to leak from your eyes. Freddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you so you leant into his side

"Shh, birdie, it's alright, darling. Calm down, breathe," Freddie guided, rubbing your arm gently. During your confession, Brian's face had shrivelled into one of sadness, Roger's expression showed fury and Deaky showed concern. And, though you couldn't see it, Freddie's face screamed anger as well. Roger placed a hand on your back, while Deaky took your other hand.

"Pooh bear, why didn't you tell us?" Brian asked, carefully running his thumb across the back of your hand.

"Didn't want you guys to think I'm weak. That I couldn't take care of myself," You answered allowing Freddie to wipe away the seemingly endless stream of tears.

"Girly, we would never think that you were weak," Deaky responded, squeezing your hand tenderly. You could see tears rimming his eyes- it made you feel guilty.

"You're the most badass person I know, chickie! You're not weak for asking for help," Roger agreed, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Pooh bear, I'm your older brother, I'm here for you. I'm in your corner. I want to protect you," Brian sounded like he was on the verge of tears, doing nothing to stop the salty water making its way down to your chin.

"Thank you, guys. I'm sorry about the waterworks,"You mumbled, removing your hand from Deaky's grip to scrub at your eyes.

"Don't apologize for crying. Don't you dare," Roger demanded delicately, just as Freddie placed a kiss in your hair.

"I'd suggest moving schools but you graduate in two weeks," Brian added, twirling the ring on your pinky - the ring identical to the one on his middle finger.

"Only one, considering that I'm not allowed to back for a week," You replied, wiping away the last of the salty water.

"As soon as you go back, Brian's going to talk to your headmistress, won't you, darling?" Freddie narrowed his eyes, informing Brian that there was no discussion fo the matter.

"Definitely. Don't worry, love. We'll sort this out. At least you can do extra exam revision this week," Brian joked lightly and you let out a light chuckle.

"Bri, I love you but that's the last thing I want to do right now," You smiled, leaning into Freddie a little more, enjoying the warmth and comfort he provided.

"What do you want to fo, girly?" Deaky asked with a fond smile.

"I want to go to my room and listen to Panic! At The Disco. Then I want to eat, watch a movie and go to bed," You smiled back and the men around the tab;e laughed quietly.

"Alright, if that's what would make you feel better, then go ahead chickie," Roger squeezed your shoulder before you stood up and hugged each of them. Your brothers, who would love you no matter what.

Bonus:

"Thanks for making dinner, Roger," You wiped your mouth as Brian began picking up plates, Deaky helping him to place them in the dishwasher.

"No problem, chickie," Roger grinned at you before going back to wiping the dining table. Suddenly, Freddie grabbed your arm.

"C'mon birdie, lets set up a movie. Your choice, dear," Freddie instructed, leading you into the living room. A gasp escaped your lips at the sight. A large pillow fort dominated the room, the Tv buried underneath the mountain of fluffy blankets and oversized pillows. Fairly lightly decorated the outside and, you had no doubt, the inside, spreading the room with soft light.

"I hope you like it, girly," Deaky stated, making you jump as he appeared behind it you.

"It was Bri's idea, chickie," Roger added and you smiled, launching yourself at your older brother.

"It's perfect."

Tags: @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky @yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten @bensroger @strangeandwonderfulconcepts @babebenhardy@benhardyjones @silvver-rose

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milesawaylove-blog1 · 6 years

Text

When those we love, have to go

Firstly, I just want to say this is a post I have been very nervous about. It’s been written for months but I've been very apprehensive to share it. It’s is very personal to me, but I also thought why would anyone want to bother reading it. But after much consideration I realised that this subject is one all too many of us are familiar with. Loss. Those who know me well know that I could talk for England, but I really struggle to be honest with myself about things I NEED to talk about. Hence why this piece became reality. And by sharing my own experience it may help someone else to feel less alone with the pain that so many of us share. Writing for me is therapy, it allows me to channel my thoughts positively- and lift weight from me mentally.

Like most little girls my Dad was my best friend. I always wanted to be around him. I was so fortunate to grow up with parents who I am wonderfully close to, and each relationship was so different and special in its own way. My Dad was my superhero. He made me feel safe and like we could do anything if we put our minds to it. Scary things were less scary when he was around. I was the more adventurous one out of my sister and I- so it was always me and Dad trying the new theme park rides, together. And we were the strongest team. We are so similar in many ways too, I definitely got my opinionated nature from him. He was never afraid to say what he thought- sometimes this was for good but it could also land him in hot water occasionally! But he also didn't care what other people thought- something I admired so much. He didn't care about making himself look silly, and always stood up for what was right, and for those who couldn't always do it for themselves.

I was only 12 years old when we received the news. Cancer. The word that every family dreads to hear. Before we knew Dad went for initial testing for the pains in his lower back that were stopping him from walking properly and I remember thinking how scared I was that it would be cancer. And when we found out I was so upset as I thought it was my fault for thinking it. As you can imagine, the next year was hell for my family. Endless chemo treatments, hospital visits, tears, cuddles and being the most scared I've ever been.

But my Dad was so strong. He took it all in his stride. He hardly ever complained and I only ever saw him cry once. Even though he was so ill, he always remained so positive and was always thinking of others, because thats just who he was. And he was incredible.

The 21st of January 2011 was the day my life changed forever. The day that all our lives changed. Suddenly he was gone. My happy, outrageous, fun, caring wonderful Daddy was gone. Half of me was gone and I was never getting him back. I couldn't believe it and I didn't want to believe it. I asked the nurse to double check, and bless her she did, probably to give me peace of mind. Everyone reacts differently to death, and I was numb- I didn’t cry. I couldn't. That has always played on my mind- how can something so devastating happen but your body doesn't flinch, no tears? No acceptance and shock, I guess that’s why. My last ever memory of my Dad, is when I gave him a final kiss goodbye. He didn't look like himself anymore and he was so cold. That is something that will stay with me forever.

The next few weeks, months and years were weird, we tried to go on with normal life but in reality we couldn't. Our foundation had been taken away. We crumbled, and it was going to take an incredibly long time for us to even think about beginning to rebuild.

My mum and sisters grieving process began straight away and I felt like mine never truly began. Seeing them both cry meant I couldn't cry. I had to be strong for them, just like Dad would have been. It definitely made me grow up so quickly. But this wasn't healthy for me, as I ended up bottling my feelings for months on end, that then resulted in colossal breakdowns that would last for hours on end, and when I was all tired from crying, it would begin again. The bottling. The un-acceptance. The feeling of it just not being real. I would definitely say for the first year I didn't even process it. We were so used to being without him when he was in hospital, there was always the childish hope that he would just come back or that it had all been a horrendous nightmare. But sadly, this nightmare was a reality. Every time I thought about it, I thought “why him, why did this happen to us?” I was really angry and constantly felt how unfair life is. I thought there are some people in the world that deserve this WAY more than him, he was a good person so couldn't it just have taken a bad person instead? Yes that’s bad, but it’s honest. I genuinely thought that most days. It was just horrible that one of the two people that brought me into this world, and who I loved the most was ripped away from me & I still feel like that now.

Today I am 21 years old. I have been without my Dad for 8 years. I lost him at such a young age, I feel as if I have been cheated of the life that I should have had with him. The last 2/3 years have been particularly hard for me. If I'm honest, probably the hardest yet. As an adult I have realised the consequences of living a life with one parent missing. And he has missed so much. My GCSE’s, my singing, my first ever show and all the ones to follow, getting into University, getting jobs. It truly breaks my heart that my Dad never got to meet Charlie. The person that loves his nutty little girl for everything that she is both good and bad, and has provided nothing but love and support over the last three and a half years. I always found it weird and creepy when people say you end up with people like your parents, (sociologist/media students you know what I mean lol) in some ways this could not be further than the truth but in others it is. I’ve been lucky enough to find someone as kind, funny and warm-hearted as my Dad. I just know if they had ever met my Dad would have given him hell for the first few weeks, but they would have got on so well- and I know this because my whole family agrees.

There will be so many more things that I wish he could be here for, and that I would give anything for his guidance on. He won’t see my graduate in a few months time, or get my first proper job and help me move to London. He’ll miss out on my wedding and my children will never know their Grandad- I know all of that is so far away but you just can't help but think about it. Even though he may not physically be here, I truly believe he has been watching over me and guiding me through the past 8 years- because as Winnie the Pooh says (one of my faves growing up) “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart. I’ll stay there forever.”

People always say it gets better in time, but for me this is bullshit. The longer I go without him the harder it gets. Generally, I think I’ve done pretty bloody well. I know I should give myself credit but it is so hard to. I’ve been through a lot and I’m still going through it. It’s so much harder for me as my family are at different stages now but I still feel stuck, longing and not wanting to move on. I don’t think I ever want to move on completely, and thats okay. It still hurts and it hurts so bad. Those who are lucky enough to have not experienced anything like this don't always get it, and that can be frustrating, but I have to remember what ever I feel is normal and okay, and I should never feel bad about feeling upset wether it has been 8 years, 18 years or 80 years.

However, through all the hurt, and sadness, what I am left with is beautiful. Family, friends, and loved ones, but most importantly memories. The brilliant family holidays to Devon, Christmases, Birthdays, Weddings, game nights, golf lessons & nights in. I was lucky enough to spend 12 years with my Dad which is more than some. I will cherish those years, but my god I wish every day that they weren't cut short. I miss you constantly Papa Bear. I hope you are proud of me. I love you forever.

Your Emsie xxx

P.s- To those of you I cherish the most- both family and friends, you know who you are. Thank you for being there for me and keeping my head up when I feel down. Forever grateful for you all. BIG LOVE xxxx

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usuallylatenightrambling · 2 years

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Well, this has just been yet another night of failing miserably at getting back anything resembling a sleep schedule. I mean in complete fairness, I’ve almost got one because the current trend is going to sleep at 5 and waking up at 12/1 so that’s great. I’ve been filling my time with re-watching stranger things because… escapism I guess. Except me being me I have to ruin it by looking at my socials and seeing a ton of shit my ex has posted… oh to get over a breakup. So far it’s not gone well… wish me luck haha.

Oh dear… I’m of two minds, I sort of want to try and reconnect as friends with him (especially as I still have some of his things, he broke up with me though so I was leaving it up to him if he wanted to get them back (he also has stuff of mine but I’m not too bothered). But also, seeing his posts puts me in a worse headspace more often than a good one. At the same time though, I don’t want to block/ lost contact because I still care about him so much but also maybe that’s exactly what I should do to get over the bigger but I mean I’ll see him around campus anyway so… ugh… imagine falling in love with a guy and then getting your heart stomped on and he had to be bloody nice about it as well.

Oh bother…

Still, stranger things is good. I’ve managed to reclaim that from the relationship. I’m thinking of giving up my vegan run. It’s been good, but considering my eating habits were subpar as a veggie, I think I should go back before I go very wrong in my nutrition. A few months vegan has shown me it’s possible though! So it’s not like I can’t go back to it. It’s more a case of having to now re-inform people that I’ll not be vegan again. Fun fun fun. Been playing God of War today… was fun. Would recommend.

Hmmmm… should probably just stop being a depressive little bitch but honestly that sounds like a lot of work that I’m not feeling like putting in. So… well… idk. I mean maybe now. Why on earth am I always most motivated at the very end of the day? It’s like a curse. I wake up feeling like staying in bed is the only correct course of action, I have big anxiety about anything I need to do during the day and the motivation is in the negatives. However, let the day pass me by, and suddenly I’m in the mood to do shit! Yeah! I could totally call someone right now and not get super anxious. Like sure a bit but that’s nothing compared to usual. Oh yeah all those projects I’ve wanted to start on… ooh I’d love to do all those! Aw, I really want to follow that one dream that has nothing to do with me and would require stupid prep work, money, time and effort but I want to do it now. Of course I can’t. Because I’m actually quite tired and my brain is ceasing all function that would allow me to make good informed choices. An example of that would be this very post that I continue to write now at 5:07am when I should in fact be asleep. But oh well… how the world does work in mysterious yet also not at all mysterious ways, I’m just using filler phrases now to help my train of thought look more cohesive I think when I’m actuality it’s doing the complete opposite. Oh dear. Haha. I say oh dear a lot. I’m like Pooh bear. Oh bother. Haha.

Anyway I’ll hope that’s enough late night ramblings for one post. I’m feeling rather emotionally drained. But I have felt like that since the breakup so oh well… last therapy session on Thursday I think so yippie, can’t wait to be finish when I know I could just do with it going on forever please! Alas, money and life are not so kind.

Okay actually maybe goodnight if I can find it within me to put this down and try and sleep now. Goodnight goodnight goodnight.

(Goodnight mouse says goodnight 🐁)

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glitterrhowell · 6 years

Text

Chapter 19

Title: Seized

Co-author: fadingcrystalvoid

Pairing: Daniel Howell & AmazingPhil (Phan

Word count: 1.2k

Warning/Genre: Rape/extreme violence/ depression/PTSD/Degradation/torture/ Non-consensual pretty much everything/Little!Dan/Daddy!Phil/Kidnapping

Summary: What starts out as a day in the Park for Little Dan and Daddy Phil turns into something terrifying when Dan is suddenly kidnapped. Will Phil be able to find and save him before it’s too late? Heavy trigger warning

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Read on Wattpad

Previous chapter / Next Chapter

A huge thank you to my beta Alyssa (phan-of-the_pen) for putting up with my sloppy messy writing and helping me turn it into something readable

Phil unlocked his hotel room door, sighing as he chucked his bag on the ground and toed off his shoes. His mind was racing over everything that had taken place. Dan was little again after stressing himself too much about telling everyone he was a little, that much he knew. He’d had a five-hour nap, Phil cuddling him the entire time. Nurses kept coming in, asking for updates. The answer was always the same: “He’s still sleeping.”

“What happened?” his mother asked, letting herself in through the door. He’d given them the spare key so they’d be able to get in whenever they needed. Phil had also called them in the car, telling them there was an emergency regarding Dan—he hadn’t known what was happening at the time.

“He slipped into little space. He was panicking ‘cause I wasn’t there.”

“Is he okay now?” Phil’s dad asked, taking a seat on the mildly comfortable sofa in the room.

“As good as he can be. He didn’t want me to leave, but I had too.” Before either of his parents could continue the conversation, there was a knock at the door.

Assuming it was room service or something similar, he pulled open the door, a ‘hello’ in his lips. He never actually spoke though, stood completely still as two police officers jumped on him, cuffing his hands behind his back nearly as soon as his body hit the ground.

“What on Earth is going on here?” his mother screamed, demanding answers as to why her son was lying on the ground, a police officer’s knee pressed into his back.

“We need to bring Mr. Lester back to the station. We’ve been given intel that he may be involved in Mr. Howell’s kidnapping,” the officer explained. “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in court.” The officer said before roughly pulling Phil to his feet.

“Are you bloody kidding me?!” his mother shouted, and for her to swear was a very rare occurrence. She must have really been pissed. “My son loves Dan and would never do anything to hurt him. Who the fuck said he’s involved?”

“That is none of your concern, mam'.” the officer said in reply. Passing Phil off to his partner and turning back to them. “If this goes to court, you may speak for your son.”

With that, the officers pulled Phil from the hotel, the man unhappily agreeing. He saw absolutely no point in fighting them even knowing he was innocent. Besides, he believed quite strongly that things would work out. Dan could testify explaining what happened when he was big again. Everything would be fine.

Phil was roughly shoved in the back of the police car. He panicked as he realized there was no seatbelt, but the officers didn’t seem to care, judging by how they were treating him. He supposed he understood; I mean, you’d get fed up with criminals pretty quickly. The only thing was that Phil was completely innocent. Well, as innocent as someone who carved words into his boyfriend could be. He hadn’t had control at the time, his limbs moving completely without his will as Sir carved words into his boyfriend’s stomach, Phil continuously telling him how good he was as he did so. He didn’t want Dan thinking he was naughty when he was the best little in the world.

As Phil tumbled to the other side of the small cabin as the car turned, he suddenly realized what had happened back at the hospital. Phil had said “good boy.” He realized Dan must associate those words with the pain of the blade carving into his skin and in his little mind, he didn’t understand that Phil never did it of his own free will. Was that the intel they had spoken about?

“Out you get,” the officer grumbled, grabbing Phil’s arm and pulling him from the car. They pushed him inside the station, shoving him into one of the holding cells and locking the door behind him. “Someone’ll come to get your statement soon.” Phil’s hands were uncuffed from between the bars and he rubbed his wrists, the metal having cut into them.

~~~~~~~~

“Danny, how are you feeling?” Eric asked, trying his best to act as if he was talking to a child. It was weird since Dan stilled looked like an adult—he was an adult.

“I want my daddy,” he mumbled around the thumb in his mouth. Remembering how Phil had treated Dan, he pulled it gently from his mouth, ignoring Dan’s whine as he pushed a pacifier between his lips. He wasn’t used to looking after kids, he himself being the baby of the family.

“Your Daddy can’t be here at the moment. But pooh-bear can look after you, can’t they?” he asked, Kate, having told him not to refer to the teddy with ‘he/him’ pronouns. He didn’t question it, assuming Dan would explain when he was bigger. For now, he maintained a caring nature as he looked after Dan as best he could. The nurses were trying their best too, but little Dan remembered him and Kate as his friends and had taken to them for support and love.

At first, Eric had refused, stating that Dan needed to just “grow up” and “act his age.” He’s learned pretty quickly though that raising his voice only forced Dan more into his little space, and after Lela had yelled at him and explained what was happening, he understood Dan had no control over his emotional state.

“Danny, can you come with me, please?” Lela asked, standing in the doorway. It was time for his appointment and even though he was little, he still needed to have them.

“Okay, Mummy!” he shouted, getting up from the bed and waddling over to her. Dan had clearly taken to calling her mummy and she just let him. If that made him feel safer than so be it. It wasn’t hurting anyone.

“So, how have you been going?” she asked, closing the door behind them as Dan ran straight to the toys in the room.

“Good, mummy. When’s daddy coming back?” he asked, pulling the lego box from the tub of toys.

“I was hoping you could tell me about that day you and daddy went to the park?” she asked carefully, avoiding Dan’s question. The station had called back, telling her Phil was in custody.

Dan looked up from his toys, confused as he’d never been asked directly before. It was always carefully phrased questions to avoid possibly triggering him. He didn’t really care though—he had legos to play with.

“Sir said he had a puppy, he’s Daddy’s friend and daddy said we could get a puppy,” Dan explained simply.

“Hasn’t your daddy ever told you not to go with strangers?” she continued.

“Yeah, he’s a good daddy,” he mumbled to himself, seemingly remembering something. "Hey! Where’s my daddy!?” he shouted, tears starting to collect in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Danny. Your daddy can’t be here right now,” she explained cautiously.

“But- but Daddy’s always here when Pooh-Bear isn’t! You- you’re a bad mummy!” he shouted, running from the room.

Nurses found Dan in an abandoned corridor an hour later, tear stains on his flushed cheeks as he mumbled ‘daddy’ in his sleep.

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daebakinc · 7 years

Text

Elision

Pairing: Chanyeol x OC Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff Summary: You take in a down on his luck hybrid, never expecting him to burrow his way into your heart. Word Count: 6.1K

The first time you see Chanyeol is in the pub down the street from your apartment on the kind of rainy night that softens the street lights from harsh orange to quiet yellow.

The Foxy Lady itself is one of those magical places where you always feel at home no matter what part of the world you come from. The kind of place that beckons to you like an old friend to come and sit and rest awhile, to let the world fly by this small corner of comfort. Inside the classic brick exterior, the space is one long, wide room with walls painted an antique green that hit just the right balance of bright and comforting. An old oak bar stretches comfortably along the wall and chairs and tables are scattered around, their surfaces worn to gleaming gold and soft with long and faithful service. A small stage sits in the corner farthest to the door, ready for the any of the city’s musicians willing to accept payment in steady drinks, rich food, and good company. The kitchen, hidden by a wall behind the bar, emits delicious aromas incessantly, sending smells as tempting as a siren’s call onto the street each time the door opens.

Or perhaps it isn’t the building itself that creates such an ambience. It very well could be the bar’s owners, the inseparable husband and wife duo Jongdae and Sol. Between the two of them and their matching brilliant, teasing personalities, the sun never sets on The Foxy Lady. For reasons unknown, they’d personally taken you under their wing the night after you wandered in, forced out of your new grocery-scarce new apartment by the search for food. As you soon found out, any and all who walked through the door were treated with affable welcome by the stunning husband and wife. Everyone was a friend to Sol and Jongdae.

No one knows Sol’s real name because Jongdae doesn’t call her by anything else but the nickname he gave her, but one smile from her and you’ll forget you even had a question. But that smile always turns a thousand times brighter when she looks at her husband, and Jongdae’s return smile is no less adoring. If the two of them had lived hundreds of years ago, there would still be ballads and poems about the love they share. On your bad days, you’ll admit you’re a little jealous of that kind of bond, having never experienced anything close.

“Hello, gorgeous.” The smile Jongdae sends you when you slide onto one of the unoccupied barstools could win the heart of a stone. “How’s your day been?”

He doesn’t bother asking for your order, already scribbling it on a tab and adding it to the kitchen’s stack before reaching for a glass and filling it with your favorite, an elderflower Italian soda with a crazy straw.

You send him a grateful smile and take a long slurp from the straw as soon as he sets it in front of you. “Semi-productive. Got all my cleaning done for showing off the apartment to potential roommates next week, but then I lapsed and ended up binge watching half the season of The Flash for the rest of the day. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t realize the time and when I did, I decided I was too lazy to cook for myself.”

“You’re anything but lazy. You deserve a break.” Your friend laughs as he bustles about, transferring plates from the kitchen at each ding to a patron or to the server’s station for Jongin or Baekhyun to pick up. “Any promising leads for roommates?”

“No one stellar.” You shrug and sneak a mint leaf from behind the bar to pop in your mouth. “But I only put up the ad last week. Hopefully someone shows up, though Joy will be hard to replace.”

“We’ll find you a roomie just as good. Maybe Sol knows someone.” Jongdae looks over your shoulder as the bells above the door tinkle happily. His smile widens as he raises his hand to wave. “Hey! Glad to see you made it!”

Curious, you shift in your seat to look as well. When you do, you’re suddenly very glad you already swallowed your drink.

The stranger is one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen. Or do you mean cutest? At the moment, you can’t exactly tell. Even in a long tweed overcoat, his body seems to go on forever and the way the light is lets you see the shadows of solid muscles beneath his black turtleneck. His face is handsome as well, half in shadows from a wide brimmed hat pulled low, but his tentative smile, the smile of a child hoping he’ll be welcomed in a new classroom, softens your heart in the same way the sight of a puppy would.

“Hi, Jongdae,” he says, the baritone of his voice like a shot of dark chocolate to your veins. He shifts a guitar bag from one hand to the other with the care of a mother readjusting an infant. You can tell the bag is old, its once black color faded to a grey-green. “Am I on time?”

“You’re an hour early, Chanyeol.” Jongdae wipes his hands and rushes around the bar to engulf the other man in a hug.

You have to stifle a giggle when Chanyeol bends so he can put his arms under Jongdae’s even though he is significantly taller. It makes him look even more childlike.

Jongdae pulls away but keeps a hand on Chanyeol’s back as he brings him further into the room. “Would you like to eat first? We’ve still got awhile before the dinner rush.”

“I’d like to set up and I guess if there’s time, I wouldn’t mind something.”

“Alright. Don’t forget, you don’t have to play the whole night. You can take breaks when you’re hungry or thirsty, okay?” Jongdae’s voice fades into the white noise of other patrons’ chatter as he walks away with Chanyeol, his luxuriant fox tail draped over one arm to keep it out of the way, tapered ears flicking this way and that in merriment.

Your eyes slide away from Jongdae to Baekhyun and Jongin. Jongin’s round, soft umber-colored bear ears twitch slightly as he chats with one of the regulars, while Baekhyun’s ears are floppy like a beagle’s, his tail also cheerily swishing away. Hidden in the kitchen, Kyungsoo probably has his thick wolf’s tail neatly covered and ears tucked under a hat to keep his fur out of the food. Various patrons display the hybrid traits of animal ears and tails out in the open as well. The Foxy Lady is one of the few places you know several feel free enough to do so without fear.

When people started modifying their bodies with animal genes, people thought it was odd but accepted it with eye rolls and quick skitters across the street, labeling it a trend that would fade out. Then these people became parents and passed on the same physical traits to their children. For whatever reason, this was an entirely different matter in the eyes of many. The eye aversions became mutterings, and in the worst cases, the mutterings became violence.

Finally, humane and moral minds won out, leading to the ratification of anti-discrimination laws to protect and guarantee equality for hybrids. The passage of time has brought more societal acceptance of hybrids, but some still have issues finding jobs and housing, let alone decent treatment in certain pockets of the country, and unfortunately, in your city as well. You’ve seen Sol kick out a number of people for snide comments about Jongdae and the others. They got off lucky though; you’d heard a few of their remarks and they warranted a good bloodied nose in your opinion.

A plate of steaming home fries, buttered asparagus, and sage-rubbed chicken slides beneath your nose. Wearing a yellow T-shirt that makes her dark skin glow even more than usual, Sol winks at you as she pokes your forehead. “You look like you’re thinking about something unpleasant. Need to spill?”

You shake your head and smile reassuringly. “Nah, it’s nothing.”

“Well if it is, nothing a little bit of Kyungsoo’s cooking can’t fix, so dig in.”

“Who’s Chanyeol?” you ask, biting a stalk of asparagus in half and nodding your head in the direction of the stage. “I’ve never seen him before.”

Even when Sol frowns, she’s beautiful. “Jongdae found him a couple days ago playing on a street corner. Poor thing just came to the city a few weeks ago and still hasn’t found a job. Jongdae convinced him to come here to at least get a good meal in him. The man’s too skinny.”

Jongdae returns in time to hear the last part of Sol’s comment and grins, pecking her cheek as he scoots past her. “Not all of us can be as thick as your man, you know. Give me a week with him and I’ll have him looking like Pooh.”

“You leave that to me. What should I fix for him?”

“He said nothing yet, just wants some hot water with lemon and honey. I think he’s one of those ‘wants to earn his keep’ types.”

Sol snorts and heads towards the kitchen. “He’ll get it, but he’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s going to play hungry under my roof.”

When closing time rolls around, you’re still sitting in the same place, nursing your fifth soda. You really had intended to get back to your apartment after you ate to continue cleaning. You really had. But you hadn’t counted on Chanyeol. Jongdae was a generous man, but he wouldn’t have let Chanyeol play if he wasn’t good. The problem for you was Chanyeol wasn’t just good. He was pretty fantastic.

His deep voice became sinful liquid cocoa as it poured from his mouth through the microphone and into the room. Pair it with the rich honey tones of his guitar he plucked with the ease of hundreds if not thousands of hours of practice, and you were as hooked as a magpie who spotted something shiny.

Some of the songs he played you knew, but some you didn’t. Given the emotion in his voice, the way he closed his eyes when he sang them, you’d bet good money they were songs he wrote himself. And he played everything, taking shouted requests from patrons, tickling the guitar strings to play American rock one moment and Spanish lullabies the next. A few times you felt your mouth hanging open as you stared. You’d shut it just as quick, but hard as you tried, you just got lost in the music and it’d happen again.

The light flick of a wet rag on your arm snaps you out of it. Baekhyun snickers and uses the rag to wipe at a spot on the bar. “Alright, kid. We love you, but time’s up. Last call was thirty minutes ago. Some of us got places to go, people to see.”

“If by places to go, you mean your bed, yeah, you’re right,” you tease.

“Hey, my bed and I are in a very intimate and adoring relationship,” he retorts. “Don’t be disrespectful.”

“My deepest apologies.” You glance around.

You’re the last patron still sitting, the other stragglers pushing through the door into the misting night. Chanyeol is still on the stage, packing away his guitar, head slightly twisted as he speaks with Jongdae. You wonder what they’re talking about and if the tall, talented man will become a regular fixture at the pub. It’d be really nice if he did, you think. For a variety of reasons.

“Yo, Y/N, you’re not drunk or something are you?” Baekhyun asks, looking concerned at your spacing out. “Jongin and I can give you a lift home.”

“Sorry, just thinking.” You pat his hand. “I’m totally sober unless you count sleepiness as a form of intoxication.”

“With some of the places I’ve found Jongin sleeping when he hasn’t had a drop, I might.”

After a few more minutes of banter and catching up with Baekhyun and Sol, you finally slip off your stool and head towards the door. You notice with a small bit of disappointment Chanyeol is already gone. You’d wanted to compliment him on his performance, but you’ll have to wait until next time, you suppose. Hopefully there’s a next time.

When you step outside the door, you find that in the time you spent talking, the mist outside had escalated into heavy-drop rain. Not a torrential downpour, but enough to have you looking like a drowned rat by the time you get home.

With a sigh, you walk to the edge of The Foxy Lady’s canopy and tug up your hood, tying the strings together. Mentally mapping the neighborhood, you figure if you keep to overhangs and sprint between the breaks, you can reach your apartment with minimal soaking.

You arrive at the street corner with only a few scatterings of rain on your shoulders and head. Your shoes, however, emit sloshing, squishing noises with each step after an unfortunately placed puddle. Looking across the street, your apartment door within view in all its tempting dry socks glory, you brace yourself for the final sprint.

A sniffle alerts you that you’re not the only person taking shelter in front of the department store. You cautiously glance to your side. A tall figure huddles against the concrete wall, the wet canvas of the overhang touching the top of his hat and drops of water dripping off the brim onto his shoulders. A stuffed brown paper bag with The Foxy Lady’s logo sits beside a beat-up looking bookbag and an old guitar bag. Even in the shadows, you recognize him.

“Chanyeol?”

The man jumps like you prodded him with a stick, nearly collapsing.

“Hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” you quickly apologize, throwing your hands up, palms out.

“Do I know you?” Chanyeol asks. He inches towards the bags as if afraid you’ll snatch them.

“No. I’m sorry, I’m Y/N. I was at Jongdae’s earlier and I overheard your name. Bad eavesdropping habit. I listened to you play the whole night. You’re really good,” you offer with a tentative smile in case your apology wasn’t enough.

“Oh. Thanks.” He smiles a little, sending a little flutter through your chest. “You’re a friend of Jongdae’s?”

“Him and Sol.” You don’t comment on the once over you notice him give you. “They were my first friends here. Are you waiting for a ride? You can wait in my apartment if you like so you’re out of the wet; it’s just over there.”

Maybe you’re a little crazy offering to let a strange man into your apartment, but Chanyeol looks like a lost puppy and only a heartless person would leave a lost dog in the rain.

“Um, I’m actually just trying to figure out where to go.”

“Like directions?”

“No. I- I, um,” Chanyeol ducks his head and mumbles, “I don’t actually have a place yet. Haven’t found one I can afford, you know. There’s a shelter over on 7th I could go to, but things didn’t go so well last time…”

“The shelter’s that bad?”

“Sometimes.” His tone doesn’t encourage questions about his experience with them.

“Why not call Jongdae?” you ask, knowing he and Sol would let Chanyeol crash on their couch without a second thought.

Chanyeol shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to get in their way and Jongdae already lined up a few gigs for me so I have a some money. I can’t ask him for more than that.”

His eyes move away from you to gaze out on the street. You recognize the defeated slump in his shoulders and the downward set of his mouth. It’s the look of someone who’s talking themselves into going through a repulsive experience because there is no other choice. You’ve made that kind of decision before.

Before you realize it, you make another choice. “Why don’t you stay with me while you get on your feet?”

Chanyeol’s eyes shoot back to you, so comically wide they remind you of Kyungsoo’s. “What?”

“My roommate had to move back home unexpectedly, so I’ve got a free room and month paid for the next two months, so it can be yours if you want it.”

“Really? You really mean it?”

“Yeah. I have an extra room, you don’t have a room at all. Jongdae trusts you, so I figure you’re a good guy. Not like you’re going to attack me in the middle of the night or something, right?”

“No. I’ve never hurt anyone intentionally,” he says in a rush.

“I wouldn’t think so,” you laugh.

“But you’d really do that for me? A complete stranger?” he asks as if giving you a chance to take your offer back but hoping you won’t.

Your smile fades a bit, unpleasant memories lurk towards the surface of your mind. “I promised myself once that if I ever met someone as down on their luck as I was at the time and I was in a better position, I’d do what I could to help them.”

Chanyeol picks at a lose string on his sleeve as he thinks your proposal over. You wait, shuffling your feet so they don’t get cold.

“You should know something about me first,” Chanyeol says softly. Avoiding your eyes, he slowly reaches up and takes the brim of his hat between his fingers. After a second’s hesitation, he takes it off.

Two bright wheat gold colored ears perch on the top of his head, pressed against his hair in anticipation of being rejected. If Chanyeol expected you to be surprised, he’d only be half right. You’d had your suspicions given Jongdae’s special attention and how he never took off his coat in the pub despite the heat that came with a room full of warm bodies.

“They’re very pretty,” you say.

Chanyeol lifts his eyes, his fingers stilling from crumpling his hat. You can read the shock there and want to hunt down whoever put that fear and expectation in his head. You also want to hug Chanyeol, to take away some of that hurt, but you’re afraid that may be too much for the poor man just yet.

When he doesn’t move, you walk over and shoulder his bookbag. The lightness of it makes you feel worse for him, but you mask it quickly. You hate being pitied.

Instead, you tell him, “Grab your other stuff and we’ll make a run for it, okay? It’s the brown door, right beside the lamppost.”

Clearly in a daze, Chanyeol picks up his guitar and bag of food, and runs after you across the street, up the stairs to your apartment, and into your life.

The first time you kiss Chanyeol is on your couch on a warm spring Sunday afternoon made for new beginnings.

All is quiet when you return from the grocery store, the only sounds drifting inside from the open living room window. Birds chirp as they industriously build a nest on the outcrop of the building roof, cars hum and chortle as they pass below. Spices from the Lebanese restaurant down the street and sugar from Kyungsoo’s Sunday pies at The Foxy Lady mix with the half-pot of coffee you made earlier.

The grocery bags crinkle loudly on your arm as you step around the pile of shoes in the entryway. Your flats and boots a tumbled mess with Chanyeol’s sneakers and loafers in a cozy, domestic scene that makes you smile.

That night you let Chanyeol sleep on your couch, you hadn’t expected he’d stay long. Every day he went out looking for work, only to return empty handed. But he never showed his disappointment, shrugging it off with an addictively wide smile and promising to try again the next day so he could start supporting himself. Chanyeol insisted on earning his keep by fixing things around the apartment and occasionally cooking despite your protests that he didn’t need to do anything.

A week turned into a month, a month into two, two months into just over half a year. After Chanyeol found a job at a music store run by Jihoon, a lemur hybrid, it made sense for him to just stay. Your apartment was already home.

You like having Chanyeol around. He always makes you smile. Every day you come home, he greets you with perked ears and feathery tail wagging. He listens to you talk about your day, sportingly joining in your complaining even though he has no idea what you were talking about or celebrating with you on a raise or just a plain old good day. Then there’s the music.

There was always music in the apartment with Chanyeol. Every day is an auditory adventure. He has some favorite songs you’ve learned to love too, but otherwise there’s always something different playing. Classic rock, house electronic, acoustic ballads, bubblegum pop. You name the genre, Chanyeol plays it. Your favorite days are the ones the music is Chanyeol’s own.

You’ll bundle yourself into a blanket burrito and sit on his bed to listen to the new songs he composes and records on an old computer. If you are really lucky, Chanyeol plays the songs for you himself on one of his guitars. You’d bought him a new one for his birthday, and he collected broken guitars to fix from work. There’s at least one in every room, even the bathroom for some reason.

By the time you put the groceries down, Chanyeol is still nowhere in sight, but bits of him are spread throughout the apartment.

The Ironman cookie jar you bought for him at the same secondhand store he bought his bed and desk. The black hoodie haphazardly laying across the back of the couch because although it’s his, you wear it just as often. The cheap neon yellow picture frame he won at a carnival last summer, a picture of the two of you from that same night inside, both wearing matching grins and arms around each other.

Your eyes slide to Chanyeol’s still closed door. It’s not abnormal for him to sleep late on a weekend off, but after last night, you’re worried.

It began innocently enough. Dinner out at The Foxy Lady because it was board night, an hours long board-game competition Sol held at the end of every month. You lost horribly to Chanyeol at Sorry in round three, but you had your revenge when Baekhyun beat him at one of the most intense Bananagrams games you’ve ever seen, spectators loudly cheering for their chosen side until they were drowned out by Chanyeol’s agonized losing howl and Baekhyun’s ecstatic victory yips.

Chanyeol was still sulking when you left, fluffy tail dragging on the ground. “I still say ‘quartzy’ can’t be a real word,” he muttered as he held the door open for you.

“Jongdae found it in the dictionary, Chanyeol,” you reminded him gently.

Your friend snorted before looking at you intently. “You’re going to help me practice for next month, right? Like every day. Next time, I’ll be the champion.”

“We’ll see.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he whined. He threw an arm around your shoulders and hugged you to his side. “Please? Pretty pretty please with a strawberry on top?”

You cursed your heart for still beating faster and your nose for wanting to bury itself in his chest. You buried your feelings for Chanyeol a long time ago when your friendship became one you couldn’t live without. But you’re only human and they sometimes pop through. You suspected deep down that they were the reason your dates rarely got a second chance.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a cherry?” you asked wryly.

“But you don’t like cherries. You like strawberries,” he replied, grinning down at you.

“Fine, I’ll help. Can you just slow down a bit? I feel like I’m being decapitated.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Chanyeol shortened his stride to match yours, but kept his arm in place, his hand curled around your arm in easy familiarity. The gesture was almost brotherly in nature and while it wasn’t exactly what you truly wanted, you love physical contact as much as the hybrid beside you.

As you walked past a group of men standing at the street corner and smoking cigarettes, an anonymous voice not so quietly sneered, “Freak.”

The rhythm of Chanyeol’s wagging tail skipped a beat and you felt his body stiffen beside you.

Your temper flared. It had taken a long time for you and the others at The Foxy Lady to help convince Chanyeol being a hybrid was nothing to be ashamed of with as many setbacks as leaps forward. You weren’t about to take some random asshole thinking he was being funny and better by insulting your friend.

You slipped out from Chanyeol’s arm, ignoring his soft murmur of your name to march back to the group of men. “Which one of you said that?”

“What’s it to you, sweetheart?” one of them asked. He sent you a smile you supposed he thought was charming. “Why don’t you lose the mutant and come home with me?”

“The only freak here is you, jackoff,” you hissed. You stepped close enough that discomfort flashed across his face. “You think you’re a big badass man calling another human a derogatory name? Newsflash, you’re not!”

You pointed at Chanyeol who still stood frozen where you left him. “That man is better than you’ll ever be in every single way. Every way, you hear me? All you’re doing by insulting him is proving you’re the subhuman piece of trash who thinks just because someone’s different, that makes them unworthy of common decency and respect. Go home and pick up a damn book so your brain might grow enough to be a human’s.”

For good measure, you plucked the cigarette from his hand and stomped it into the cement before tramping back to Chanyeol.

“Hey, bitch!”

Heavy footsteps came behind you, a hand roughly grabbing your shoulder to spin you around. A raised hand caught the streetlight. Heart stopping, you screwed your eyes shut and brace yourself.

The expected smack never came, a strangled cry sounding instead.

You opened your eyes to Chanyeol’s back. His tail stuck straight out, stiff and unmoving. Peeking around him, you saw your would-be assailant on his knees with Chanyeol’s hand clenched around his wrist.

“Touch her,” Chanyeol growled, the veins in his arm straining against as he tightened his grip, “and I will make sure you regret it.”

Chanyeol waited until the man gave a weak nod, then tossed him aside. He turned away, pausing when his eyes met yours.

An anger hotter than you thought your friend capable of was fading to embers, replaced but another emotion you could not place. When he didn’t move, you grabbed his hand and towed him along behind you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chanyeol whispered when you got to the apartment door.

You took a deep breath, so your voice and face were calm when you turned around. Meeting his eyes, you said, “Yes, Chanyeol. I did.”

You hadn’t spoken really after that, both going to your own rooms to mull over your own thoughts. You don’t regret standing up for Chanyeol, but you’re worried you made him uncomfortable.

Tiptoeing to his door, you press your ear against it. There’s not a sound except the soft piano Chanyeol plays to help him sleep. You open the door wide enough to slip inside.

The only thing you can see of Chanyeol is the top of his head, dark hair contrasting with his white blanket and pillow. Carefully, you ease yourself down on the bed beside him and drag the covers away from his face. His Rilakkuma doll is still tucked safely in his arms, squished against his cheek.

Affection rises in your chest, tickling your mouth into a smile. “Chanyeol,” you murmur, reaching out to card his mussed hair.

He grumbles something under his breath but doesn’t open his eyes.

Your fingers continue combing his hair, working their way up to one of his ears. You rub the silky fur between your fingers. The gesture is as much for your pleasure as his. A moan rumbles from deep within Chanyeol’s chest and he leans his head into your touch.

His gaze is blurry with sleep when he opens his eyes, but they quickly focus on your face. He smiles. “Morning,” he mumbles, voice deeper than normal with sleep.

“Try afternoon,” you chuckle. You can’t bring yourself to reclaim your fingers as Chanyeol props himself, and continue to ruffle his hair and ears. “I got everything to make your favorite for lunch if you’re hungry. Tonkatsu.”

His smile immediately grows. “You’re the best, Y/N. I’ll help.”

When he grabs the blankets to toss them back and get up, you put a hand on his chest. “No, it’s alright. I’ve got it. You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll get you when it’s ready. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Alright? Why wouldn’t I-” His confused expression falls into a frown. “Oh.”

“The guy was being a dick to compensate for his not having a satisfactory one, you know. You are not a freak.”

“I know.”

“Good. I’d do it all again, Chanyeol, and I meant every word. You are incredibly important to me.”

You gaze into his eyes, trying to make sure he knows how sincere you are. The plan backfires. You’re suddenly far too aware of him. The depth of his chocolate eyes with golden flecks reflecting the sunlight. The smell of his cologne saturating the blankets, the room. The heavy beat of his heart beneath your hand on the firm muscle of his chest.

Snatching your hand and mind back, you smile and hope Chanyeol didn’t notice the growing charge. “I’ll get you when it’s ready, okay? Go back to sleep.”

Because you need to prove to yourself you’re in control, you lean down to kiss his forehead just as he shifts his body upward, saying “It’s okay, I’ll help.”

Your lips hit his lips instead of his skin. The contact lasts a second, but it leaves both of you frozen, staring at each other.

You scramble for an apology, the power to laugh it off, anything but the silence.

Chanyeol’s eyes flick from yours to your mouth. You have no other warning before his hand shoots up to cup your jaw and drag your lips back to his.

Chanyeol is kissing you. Chanyeol is kissing you. That’s all you manage to think before your body takes over. It sinks against him, seeking his scent, his taste. A high whimper of desire fills your throat as his mouth moves against yours, soft but starved. Kissing him is all you imagined but better. So much better.

With a gasp, Chanyeol pulls away, his hand staying in place, hot against your skin. His chest presses against yours with each pant. “I- I’m- uh…” he blinks several times. “I..”

You surge forward, kissing him again, and draw back just enough so your noses brush. With your eyes closed, you whisper, “You better not be about to say, ‘I’m sorry.’”

“Okay,” you feel him wet his lips, “I was going to say… I’m, um, surprised?”

“You’re surprised? You’re the one who kissed me on purpose first.”

“Oh, yeah.” Chanyeol laughs and falls back onto his pillow, a hand over his eyes. He peeks between his fingers. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” You swing your legs up and lie down on your side next to him. “Is that something you’ve been wanting to do for a while?”

“Kinda.”

“Since when?”

“Since that night a few months ago when you fell asleep on me while we were watching El Dorado.”

You remember that night. A little. El Dorado was one of your favorite movies and Chanyeol was a quick convert. But it had been a long week, and one moment you were watching Chel seducing Tulio, and the next you rolling over in bed to sunlight peeking through the window. You thought you’d just walked yourself to your room in a stupor, but maybe not.

“I didn’t even notice you were asleep until your head hit my shoulder,” Chanyeol continues. He glances up at you, then away with a gentle smile. When he speaks, there are many little pauses, as if he’s lost in his own memory and has to savor it. “Then I looked down and… I don’t know. It was like I was seeing you for the first time. I couldn’t breathe. You were soft and perfect and beautiful. Your lips had this little pout, like you were upset at yourself for falling asleep during your favorite movie. All I wanted to do was kiss it away, but…. I didn’t. I just picked you up and tucked you into your bed.”

“And didn’t say anything after?”

“You’d just broken up with what’s-his-name, the freakishly tall one obsessed with Harry Potter. I’m not a jerk.”

“Seungjun. And he was the same height as you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol shrugs it off.

“Would it freak you if I said I started liking you that first night at The Foxy Lady?” You chuckle at his dropped jaw and perked ears. You close his mouth with a finger. “You were super cute and talented; can you blame me?”

“Do you still think I’m super cute and talented?” he asks, glancing at you through his eyelashes with a teasing smile. He whines when you smack his shoulder.

“What do you think? I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol laughs and flips onto his side as well. His eyes roam your face and his voice lowers. “Yeah, you did.”

“What?” you ask when the corner of his mouth twitches.

“I’m just now remembering something Sol said.”

“And what did Sol say?”

“She caught me watching you one night and you know her. She got everything out of me. When I told her I wasn’t going to say anything, she told me impossible things have a way of happening anyway. Guess she was right.”

“Sol’s always right,” you giggle. “I’m really glad this wasn’t her exception.”

“Me too. So… why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, at first it was because I didn’t want you thinking I was trying to take advantage of you or something and you were still getting your life together; you didn’t need a relationship to complicate that even more. Then, I just didn’t want to risk losing you.” It’s a relief to get it all out, like a flood finally released from a dam.

“I didn’t want to lose you either. You’re one of my best friends.” Chanyeol tentatively reaches out to outline your face with a finger. “Guess I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend.”

“Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat.”

He laughs and tugs you into his arms, rubbing his cheek against your hair. Your hands slide behind his back and curl up to his shoulders, your leg hooking around Chanyeol’s hip to bring him closer. His tail brushes your calf as it gleefully thumps against the mattress.

“You remembered,” he says.

“You only play it like every other day,” you retort.

“I do not.”

“Okay, maybe it’s one of my favorites to hear you play then.”

“I’ll play it every single day if you want.”

Laughing and shaking your head, you wiggle enough to tilt your head back and look at his face. “You could play anything and I’d love it.”

“Anything? Even ‘It’s a Small World’?” Chanyeol grins playfully and squeezes you. He starts singing, “It’s a small world after all, it’s-”

His voice goes immediately silent when you press your lips against his again. But you become as lost in the kiss as he is, the leisurely rhythm of it more addictive than any song you’ve heard. Pressed against his warmth, sinking into it. When you sluggishly pull away, his eyes are still closed, mouth slightly parted.

“Any song but that one,” you whisper lightly.

Chanyeol’s lips slowly curve in a smile and his eyes open at the same speed like a lazy dog waking up from a nap in the sunshine. His fingers tap a beat against your spine. “I think one’s coming to me right now. If I’d known kissing you would be conducive to my composing, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Then kiss me again.”

Chanyeol is humming when your lips meet again, some melody that’s new and exciting and somehow, it’s already your new favorite song.

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