#the forgotten memories hit me like a freight train.

[zazikels]

hmm idk beast. i have no idea where she is. none at all.

[kitty-baby36]

"Four Turtles & A Baby"

(TMNT BAYVERSE)

🐢 Chapter One 🐢

The weather was a perfect match to his mood. The storm outside raged with rain pounding on the surface, thunder rumbling, and occasional flashes of lightning illuminating the dank, dimly lit tunnels of the sewer. Raphael sat against the wall, tending to a bruised arm and scowls at the ground, his frustration palpable.

He muttered to himself. "Stupid fucking Leo…" They'd been training again and his brother had cheated, catching him off-guard and putting him on his ass. "Always having to show off and get all the praise..."

As the thunder growls overhead, he shifts slightly, glancing up at the storm drain above. Water cascades down into a rhythmic chaos that only amplifies his irritation. He sighs.

"Can’t get a break, can I? Just a freakin’ night off…"

Another thunderclap, he leaned back, fully prepared to sulk some more. Just then, a high-pitched sound pierces through the roar of the storm—a baby’s cry. His ears perk up, confusion quickly overshadowing his anger, and he sits up abruptly. "What the…?"

He inches closer to the storm drain, wiping the rain off his forehead, peering through the slits in the grate. His eyes widen as he squints against the deluge. There in the gutter, swaddled in a damp, tattered blanket, is a small infant, soaked and squawling. No way… No way this is happening. As lightning flashes above, he sees the tiny face, round and helpless. It's a little girl. She's nearly naked, and her skin is pale, indicating that she had been there for at least a couple of hours. The sight twists something unfamiliar to life deep inside of him. Who the hell would leave a baby out here?!

He scoffs. "Great! Just what I need… a crying baby to deal with while I’m nursing my own shit!"

The rain continues to pour. Not a single person is in sight, and with each passing minute, the baby’s cries grow weaker and more desperate. Raphael knows he can’t ignore it. He steels himself, eyes hardening. He makes his way over to the storm drain, grabbing hold of the grate, tugging at it with all his strength. It creaks but doesn’t budge. With a determined grunt, he pulls again, and the latch finally gives way. He allows the grate to fall to the side with a metallic clang.

"Hang on, little one. I got you." He reaches up towards the bundle, feeling the rushing water splash against his arm as he carefully scoops the infant into his arms. Her wails echo in the dark tunnel, a sound so small, yet it hits him like a freight train. "It’s okay… it’s okay," he shusses. "You’re safe now."

The little girl stares up at him, wide-eyed, her cries quieting just a little when she feels his touch. She's freezing cold. Previous agitation forgotten, all Raphael can focus on is the tiny life cradled in his arms. Determined, he carefully carries the infant through the sewer, navigating the darkness with purpose, the storm’s fury now a distant memory as his heart fills with a protective instinct unlike anything he’s felt before.

💠

This is my very first attempt at story-posting here. Please don't judge me too harshly! 🙏😐

[sentientsky]

thank you so much, @fearandhatred for tagging me! <3

For as many as you want of your published works, pick your favourite line/paragraph and post it up here. Let yourself feel proud of your creations (not always proud of my work, but gritting my teeth and adding these 'cause my therapist would want me to, lol)

Until the Bitter End [40,760 words] Context: Crowley comes face-to-face with God

Dreadful memories of falling from a great height flashed through his mind. The taste of sulphur coated the back of his teeth, noxious and terrible. “You let me fall. You pushed me—for asking questions ,” he had hissed, all venom, all jagged teeth. So many eons of abandonment, of sheer loss…Well, it does something to a not-person, to a beating, not-human heart. You learn to go cold, to slow your breathing and keep yourself boarded up and hidden. Your body learns to react to affection like a rejected organ transplant. You carry on through life scared and spitting and backing against the wall like a cornered animal. You believe you don’t deserve tenderness. You believe it will ruin you. Because to love, to let yourself be loved, is to turn all vulnerable and underbellied—to show your hand in a game of cards with everything on the table. And yet…a very young, hands-shaking part of you yearns for it—begs, desperate and hungry and aching, for love. Like a starved dog with all its ribs showing. Like Sisyphus pushing that damn rock, knowing full well which way the hill slopes.

Confession Box Revelations [2,406 words]

Though Crowley himself couldn’t sense love, he knew what he felt for Aziraphale was far larger than anything a human was capable of experiencing. It was cosmic; it was ever-expanding, touching every corner of the universe and saturating every last quark in all of reality. The first time he’d become aware of it, it had hit him like a freight train and left him reeling. Even now, he heard a whistle in the back of his mind. It had never left.

Innocence Died Screaming [2,341 words] Context: Crowley encounters the Starmaker

Crowley doesn’t really think about it. In some inherent, axiomatic desperation for what-could-have-been, what-should-have-been, he strides forward (as much as anyone can stride in the vacuum of space) and pulls his younger self into an embrace. The angel’s hands grip the back of his blazer, fingers trembling, the scroll long since forgotten.  “I know, I know. And I’m sorry.” I wish I could save you . And he means it. His chest aches with it. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. I’m so sorry for what She did—what She will do—to you. To me,” he draws in a shaky breath. “To us .”  And so they stand, shimmering, in that impossible place—the place where centuries compress themselves into the vibrations between atoms and fracture like glass, where millennia tilt sideways, fall into slipstream and dissolve into empty air. The world rips into being, collapses, and begins again a hundred thousand times in the hollow of his chest. He lets the tears—angry and hot and eons-old—fall with abandon, and a quiet, ragged part of him begins to slowly knit itself back together.

no pressure tags: @actual-changeling (ik leanne tagged u already, but i'm doing it too bc i enjoy yelling in your notifs hehe). @foolishlovers

[darckcarnival]

What is it like to see your loved ones die so many times? How numb have you grown to the smell of death around their corpses, to see them alive next, only for death to rip them away from you once more? What will you do once this loop breaks and they are dead and gone for good?

Oh... That had been entirely unexpected, and not something of which the half vampire had wanted to be thinking about what so ever. The repeated instances of watching those around her die, over and over again, only by some cursed miracle for them to be alive in some way- but not remember her. Or maybe they do, but everything is so far undone it doesn't matter. Only small details here and there- time was cruel, as was reality, made worse for a creature so steeped in unaging eternity to see the same thing. To leave deep burnt scars upon the psyche and memory.

Yet, she has experienced this all the same. The permanency of it all, some never coming back ever again. Their graves long since grown over, or worse not even having a chance for that, and just... Lost, somewhere unknown...

The woman may have spent most of her life as this creature of the night, watching the world move every onward while every tick of the clock taking its slow toll upon those around her. The years digging their claws in upon every single person she knew and cared for. Like an ominous warning that there could only be so much available. But did it matter? If she was forgotten and left behind each time...? Not that it made a difference anyhow. The woman had missed out on many years already- either from forces outside of ones control, or from her own poorly chosen action or not saying a damn thing.

Darck grit her teeth with a tightened jaw, pursed lips, and crossed both arms. Uncomfortable tension tying itself in knots through her joints. "It's like a never ending loop of pain and woe. Imagine seeing your friends and family on a cycle, or an instant rewind button, loosing them and repeating. But you're the one that knows. Not something I'd wish even on my worst enemy. I.. .I wouldn't say I'm numb too it. Every time it still hits me like a freight train. Perhaps worse than the last. Makes me feel more... Protective in a way. And far more cautious with my actions and what I let slip sometimes. It's agonizing."

For a moment there was a brief hunger, or need... Not for feeding- but rather for a possessive instinct. 'Could turn them', the vampiric side thought into her internal conflicts. Give them speed and strength to counter anything, let them have freedom again from whatever was keeping them... But none of them would want it. Sure, the offer could be made, but Darck would never, ever, force such a thing on someone else. Some of those were too damn young anyway! She lived this life every day, and those she cared for so much deserved better than that. Deserved to live any sort of life they could get their hands on, not the never ending walk she had now. Even if the knot in her throat was slowly tightening like an invisible noose.

"... I don't know what I'll do... Be broken far more than I already am I've no doubt. There is only so much one soul can take. I'd be filled with regrets that will never leave... And yet-" Darck's voice cracked then, a shaken inhale being taken. She knew that was drawing closer. Dangerously so. The fate waiting as the Sword Of Damocles kept swinging. Loneliness sinking in, reminders around every corner. Even to sit in the same room of someone she cares for so much, it doesn't make a difference, does it?

"I can't." She muttered once, quietly. Before raising the voice louder. "I can't. I just can't-" The vampire turned, and left.

She needed air. And a drink.

Anywhere but here.

[lecheroustaint]

The third and most ominous voice is the one growing ever louder with every passing second. It's the dark, starving voice of his own desire that's telling her to abuse Zoe's holes with such voracity that she feels the soreness of his bruising thrusts in the coming days. She's a working girl. He respects that. Hudson also knows that his dick is not only porn worthy but having a big cock and knowing how to use it are not automatically synonymous. Maybe he won't fuck as good as a pornstar but the built up sexual frustration may give him a shot. He respects his wife and he respects his sister. However, Hudson has spent too many recent years being a bit too selfless. Tonight, he's going to be a little more selfish. He'll spend the night milking load after load from his cum swollen balls and worry about the rest in the morning. Post nut clarity might hit like a freight train but come what may. The imagine her stumbling across Zoe is seared into his memory. She's correct that she's made a hell of a first impression. That alone could be used as wank material for years to come. What would a night of actual fucking do to his sex starved brain? Hudson is almost ready to turn the corner and lose sight of her before he not only hears her words but can see the movement in his peripherals. A cold bead of sweat rolls down the side of his temple as a lump of nerves swells in his throat. The gauntlet has been thrown down and it's on him to answer. "I probably shouldn't…" His words say one thing but the creak of the wood beneath his feet say the opposite as he's turning back towards the area where Zoe is waiting for him. "Help?" He echoes the suggestion, his deep voice bellows out, a ooze of mischief coating the word. Hudson steps closer and closer, as he does he can pick up the sweet scent that radiates off her. Perfume? Whatever it was, it's quickly engraving itself deep in his brain. It's surreal to be this close the woman that's been at the forefront of all of his lecherous dreams. He's standing over her down, a towering haunch of man that gazes at Zoe with a carnal hunger. He's staring at her like a piece of meat and he's downright starving. "I did promise to help with the kitten here…." The same hand that had gripped hers earlier extends out, calloused fingers reaching down to cup Zoe's elegant jawline. "Maybe you can meow for me." Thick digits dig into the flesh as he waits for her eyes to lock into his, wanting to really convey the burning desire that she has lit within him. The pad of his thumb goes to pet against her plump bottom lip, unable to stop thinking about how lovely the room would sound echoing with the chokes and gurgles as he fucks her pretty throat. What he wouldn't give to feel her saliva running down his heavy balls as he watches those pretty, teary eyes look up at him with a mouthful of dick. He shudders deliciously at the thought, the once nagging voices of his wife and sister are long forgotten.

Currently, there are three voices waging war inside of his mind for supremacy in this moment of turmoil. The loudest and most pestering, was that of his bitch of a wife. He can hear her fucking shrill, nagging voice grating away at him. Like nails on a chalkboard, the thought alone makes his skin crawl. He's not the perfect husband but Hudson at least makes an effort. He runs a very successful construction business and even after a long day's work, he always tries to spend time with the one he married so many years ago. She's either sloshed off her ass after a spending the day drinking at home or out with her two faced, gold digger friends. It's gotten to the point where Hudson doesn't even bother asking for sex with his wife. He'd rather save himself a headache and spend some alone time jerking himself off so that way he can receive some source of satisfaction with his wife. It says a lot that this small interaction with Zoe has charged him with enough energy where it feels likes he's actually living again. She sends electricity through his veins and makes him feel wanted. It's all part of what she does, he tells himself. She's an absolute bombshell and knows it. That doesn't make him want her any fucking less, not after years of offering load after load in her honor.

The second voice is that of his sister, Stephanie. The two of them have always been close maybe too close, at times and their bond was one of the true bright spots in his current life. This wouldn't be the first time one of her friend's had laid eyes on him but for the most part, it was all in jest. He'd hear the giggles as her friends would tease Steph about her hot, older brother as he would drive them around town before she got her own car. She wouldn't approve of him fucking Zoe but Steph also has long been in his ear about her hate for his wife. There's an old school mentality that he maintains of needing to be true to his marriage, despite the loveless state of it. He can't deny though that time has worn him down. Will Steph be upset with him if he fucks her friend? Most likely. Will it be something they could never recover from? Not at all. There was no need to worry about this anyway. Even if he did indulge himself in Zoe's pretty, pink cunt, who would have to know? This could just be their dirty little secret.

[cwc-emoji-pluck]

yooooooo dude may i please request 🥐 with a side of ☁️?

member: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader genre: i don't think this is angst but it's definitely not fluff so...angst ig word count: 2142 warnings: none :P emojis requested: 🥐: social media star and follower ☁️: fifteen years later, seventeen go to their high school class reunion author's note: hello, bestie <3 this was originally supposed to be about seungcheol but jeongrot is a thing so here we are. this request was literally perfect for me so thank u for being a genius <3 i got inspo for this literally immediately so :))) i hope you enjoy this and happy jeonghan day !!!!!!!! (p.s. this is not edited please don't judge me <3)

“Are you going to be coming later? I didn’t take months out of my schedule to plan this just for my best friend to skip it! I even made sure we are going to be on the same team for all the activities!” 

Y/N sighed, holding their phone to their ear using their shoulder. Their laptop was in front of them, a Google Calendar open to their schedule for the next two weeks: each square was filled with meetings and events. 

“I don’t know, Mina. I don’t have a lot of time on my schedule. You said it’s on Saturday? What time?”

“Four! It’s from four to ten! I thought you wrote this down?”

Y/N began typing the information their best friend was giving into a new event. “You know I never actually write things down.” 

“Whatever, Y/N. You gotta be there,” Mina sighed tiredly.

“I’m trying, Mina.” Just then, a ding came through from Mina’s end of the phone. 

“Oh! I just got an RSVP back!” 

“Whose?” Y/N asked. 

“Oh my God! You’ll never believe it, Y/N!” 

“Just tell me who it was, Mina.” 

“It was Hannie! You remember? Yoon Jeonghan?” 

That name was not the one Y/N was expecting to hear. A flash of memories went through their head, one specifically standing out, the sound of his voice distinct in the memory.

You’re always going to say that you miss high school, Y/N. College is way more stressful: you have to make your own schedules as well as keeping a job, supporting yourself and doing things on your own. You move away from home and get all this weight on your shoulders. Everything is thrown at you in the matter of months. All I ask of you, darling, is that you do your best now, to get a head start on the best future you could have.

The only thing Y/N thought was being thrown at them at this point in their life was being forced to see Yoon Jeonghan again. It wasn’t that the two didn’t get along - no, it was far from that. It was just that Y/N is, understandably in their words, slightly upset with the man. 

As best friends, Y/N supported Jeonghan through everything, and now that he’s socially higher up than them, it hurts a bit; knowing that he basically forgot about them. Of course, Y/N could never be upset with their best friend. The two of them have been through way too much, Y/N just wishes that he tried a bit harder to keep them around. Or maybe Y/N was upset with themselves, that they didn’t try harder to keep Jeonghan around. 

The amount of messages that could have been sent or calls that could have been made over the past fifteen years, or even the amount of likes, and retweets depending on the app, that could have been shared between the two of you were forgotten as Jeonghan gained more followers and began leaving home more for his modeling. The idea of seeing him once again hit Y/N like a freight train.

y/n: are you sure yoon jeonghan is going to be there? 

Y/N was worried. They somehow managed to take the time off for the reunion, but it was a dreaded task, especially since Mina told them about the appearance Jeonghan would be making. Trying to mentally prepare themselves for seeing the man that forgot about his best friend was hard…how does someone prepare for that?

mina: yes, y/n. i’m sure he’s going to be there! and guess whattttt

y/n: what 

mina: he *didn’t* reserve a spot for a plus one

y/n: okay? what does this have to do with me? 

mina: you cannot tell me that one of the reasons why you were so heartbroken about hannie not talking to you was because you weren’t in love with the guy 

y/n: i wasn’t in love with the guy, he was just my best friend, Mina. i know it’s going to hurt when i see him again.

mina: yeah, yeah. just get your feelings sorted out and make sure not to make a scene at this event that your best friend (aka me, not hannie) has worked so hard on <3 

y/n: if all you’re worried about is whether or not i’m going to be there…chill. i’ll be there. just don’t expect me to agree to talk to jeonghan so suddenly. i’ll probably hang with joshua while you’re busy. 

mina: joshua hong? since when did you talk to him? 

y/n: i…talked to him enough to want to see him after fifteen years. 

mina: didn’t he have a thing for you? why do i have distinct memories of hannie trying to fight him?

y/n: nOTHING HAPPENED. 

y/n: the end. i’m going to bed now 

mina: y/n come back

mina: …y/n? mina: damn you, y/n.

Knowing that Mina was the one who put all of this together was the only thing that kept Y/N from staying home and opening their laptop once again. Though, that didn’t stop Y/N from having a plethora of excuses they wish they could use in order to stay home. 

First, the almost two hour drive to the venue from Y/N’s apartment. Of course, this would mean nothing to Mina as they were carpooling. Second, the lack of formal-enough but also casual-enough clothes to wear. Though, once again this would be no issue for Mina, as she always has something up her sleeve. Lastly, the biggest excuse of them all: Yoon Jeonghan. Was Y/N really ready to see their dreaded best friend after so long? No. Was he still deserving of the best friend title? According to Y/N, yes. According to Mina, no. 

That’s just something Mina has to get over. 

Mina, being the best friend she was, helped Y/N pick out the perfect outfit: something that proves that they had a good job and did not peak in high school, as well as making sure that same outfit wasn’t too eccentric for such an event. Being the perfect fashion designer she was, Mina did not fail to pick out the best outfit that not only looked amazing on Y/N, but also one that was perfect for all of the activities she and the rest of the reunion board had chosen for the event. 

“He’s gonna think you look great, Y/N.”

Y/N picked up the shirt that was laying on the bed closest to them and threw it across the room at Mina. It flew and missed Mina completely. “I am not dressing up for him! I don’t care what he thinks!” 

Mina laughed. “Okay well, hurry up and clean up because we have to get going.” 

“I didn’t even make the mess, you’re the one who took all my clothes off their hangers,” Y/N frowned. “It’s whatever I’ll just pick up when I get back.”

“I didn’t think you’d get so busy that we would rarely be able to meet, Y/N.” 

Y/N looked over to Joshua as he said this, a small smile on their face. “Trust me, I wasn’t expecting it either. And don’t tell Mina this but I’m happy she went through the work to set this up. I’m excited to see everyone again.” 

Joshua chuckled a bit. “Have you seen Seungcheol lately?” 

“I saw him a couple months ago at this cafe I go to a lot but I haven’t seen him since.” Y/N replied, tapping the transparent plastic cup they were holding. 

“I heard he’s been hanging out a lot with,” Joshua paused. “…Nevermind.” 

“Jeonghan? That wouldn’t surprise me. They were always close, weren’t they?”

“Heh, yeah. They were. I mean, before uh, he left.” 

Y/N looked over at their friend, “You know you can say his name. It’s not like he’s Voldemort or something.” 

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I mean, having someone you’re that in love with leave so sudden-”

“Why does everyone think I was in love with Jeonghan!”

“Probably because you were,” someone wrapped their arms around Y/N’s shoulders. “Even if you didn’t see it, everyone else did.” 

Joshua smiled. “Hey Cheol, we were just talking about you!” 

The man, Seungcheol, grinned and blushed a bit. “Hey, Shua. It’s nice to see you.” Seungcheol looked over at Y/N. “By the way, if you want to talk to him, he’s over there with Jimin and Taehyung. Says he was hoping to be able to talk to you tonight.”

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

He looked exactly like he did in his Instagram post Mina had sent Y/N this morning. His natural hair covered by a yellow bucket hat, and the baggy jacket he was wearing hanging off his shoulders like he was in a photoshoot and not at a high school reunion. 

Y/N didn’t dare to step towards the man, scared of any type of confrontation that may have been about fifteen years too late. It was only when they heard Park Jimin call their name from where he stood next to Jeonghan and Taehyung that they dared to make eye contact with any of the three. 

Jimin motioned for Y/N to cross the room towards their three classmates, and Y/N had no choice other than to walk towards them (especially since Joshua and Seungcheol were watching this whole encounter from next to Y/N, daring to give them a little push on the back to get them to start walking). 

“Hi, Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” Jimin gave Y/N an eye-smile while Taehyung waved. Jeonghan just stood there, not knowing what to say. 

“Hey!” Y/N was breathless. They weren’t sure whether it was because of the lack of space in the room for normal movement or the fear of being this close to Jeonghan. 

Y/N looked over to Jeonghan and shot him a quick smile, hoping that it was so fast he wouldn’t have even noticed it. 

Sadly he did. Jimin and Taehyung also must have noticed it, as they quickly made basic conversation before they awkwardly excused themselves to go find someone who they refused to name. 

That just left Y/N with Jeeonghan. 

Jeonghan coughed. “Um. Hey, Y/N.” 

“Hey.” 

The two stood there for a few seconds in awkward silence. 

“Look, I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Jeonghan set the cup he was holding down onto the snack table they stood next to. “I didn’t mean to basically ghost you. I just wasn’t expecting to get so busy so quickly and then…yeah.” 

“It’s whatever. I mean, I guess I’m kind of over it? Mina is definitely not but, yeah I just…don’t think it’s that big of a deal? I mean, it's been how long?”

Jeonghan nodded. “Well, I mean, we were best friends and I still lo- like your company just as much as I did then.” 

“Thank you for your apology, then. I never really stopped considering you my best friend, you know.” 

Jeonghan smiled. “Then I guess it’s time to finally go pull more pranks on Joshua and Seungcheol?” 

“If you break anything, Mina will be so pissed at you.”

It didn’t take long for Jeonghan to tell Y/N, as well as Joshua, Seungcheol and Mina that he got a contract closer to home. Of course, he was going to miss all the traveling, but he knew it would be good for Y/N and his friendship that he stayed. 

Otherwise, Jeonghan thought, how is he going to get Y/N to finally admit to their feelings for him? He clearly remembered overhearing the conversation Y/N and Seungcheol had the night of the reunion. 

“You did like him though, didn’t you?” Seungcheol questioned Y/N as he was filling up their cup. “I mean, everyone could tell back in high school that your friendship wasn’t just a friendship.” 

“I mean, yeah. I did like him back in high school but…it’s been years. He’s got more things to worry about now, like his career, rather than worrying about his best friend falling in love with him.” Y/N took a sip out of their freshly refilled cup. 

“I bet you anything, that if you walked up to him and told him you were still in love with him, he would drop everything for you. He regrets his decision to leave because of what it did to you guys.” 

“Seungcheol, I don’t know. I mean, today is the first time I’ve seen him since graduation…I don’t want to ruin anything else.” 

“So you admit to it? That you’re still in love with him?”

Y/N thought for a bit. “Of course. How could I not be?”

[wastingstarsss]

Just come back, please: a rumbelle fic

A/N: this was posted on my previous account but then the account was terminated… don’t bloody know why. So I’m re-writing it up here. There’s gonna be more rumbelle fics on this account in the future sooo maybe stick around if you like?

Warnings: none. It’s just angsty, set when Belle was in hospital in s2.

Word count: 803

Prompt: 98. “You don’t even remember me” from @emswritingprompts

Disinfectant invaded Gold’s nose as he sat in the cold, abandoned hospital room. Belle had had barely any other visitors besides himself, Ruby stopping by occasionally- which he greatly appreciated. The woman he loved shouldn’t be alone at this time, a time where her memories had fallen out her head and she didn’t even recognise her reflection. The quiet beeping of the machine told him she was alive though, and that he was incredibly grateful for. He had to keep repeating it to himself, Belle is alive. She was living and breathing and even if she didn’t know who he was, that was something. It was better than nothing.

For now though, she was quietly sleeping besides his seat. How, Gold didn’t know. The beds in this place were incredibly uncomfortable compared to their extravagant one at home. She didn’t even have more than two pillows. But still she slept and Gold did not. He hadn’t since the accident two days ago. How could he when she was in here suffering? The pawnbroker couldn’t imagine how lost Belle must’ve been feeling in that moment. Mind you, he had felt lost too. He had felt lost when he returned home from the war and faced that disappointment in Milah’s eyes, the eyes that wished him dead. He had felt lost as he laid at Captain Jones’ feet, his walking stick having been knocked from his hands. He had felt lost when his son asked for him to give up the powers of the dark one, his one and only source of strength. He had felt lost when Baelfire had fallen through that dammed portal and he couldn’t find the courage to follow him. There were countless times when Rumplestiltskin had felt lost, but even with Time chasing him he had never lost himself- not entirely. His need to find Bae kept him safe from Time’s influence. His face may have changed, his voice may have changed, but his want to apologise and make things right stayed the same. In his heart, Rumplestiltskin was still the spinner who wanted to protect his family. Meanwhile Belle, oh sweet Belle, her reflection and personality had turned into a stranger. It was a feeling the pawnbroker was unable to recognise, and so sat besides her the weakness within him came crawling back. He was suddenly helpless again, and not even his magic could fix it this time.

He needed to talk to her, to hear her advice. In every situation as of yet, Belle was always right. Her unwavering hope kept him on his toes and kept the darkness at bay. But that hope had been forgotten and he quickly found the shadows caving in on his mind again. God, he needed to hear her voice. More importantly, he needed to hear recognition in her voice. Belle would know what to do at a time like this.

“Belle,” he spoke quietly, whispering into the room. She didn’t even stir, he doubted she’d ever stir at his voice again. The thought of her never remembering him pained Gold to the depth of his soul- or what was left of it. “Belle, I-“ what was he trying to say? The words died on his tongue, every thought left his mind empty. He just needed to talk to her as if she was still her. “We still haven’t had our picnic. The strawberries are out of date and the cupcakes have gone dry. I haven’t unpacked the basket with the blanket in though…” Gold wrung his hands together as he spoke, leaning atop his cane. He had screwed his eyes shut and there was a slight quiver to his chin. A deep sigh rattled his bones and the sudden weight of age hit him like a freight train.

“Belle.” He began again. “I miss you. I miss everything about you. Your eyes, and your laugh, your voice. I just miss it. And this feels as if you had died again, but you’re here. You’re alive, but you don’t even remember me. Or yourself, for that matter. And God Belle, you’re so- so-“ his voice cracked as the anxiety muddled grief numbed his mind. “You’re perfect and I feel like I’m losing you again. Just come back. Please.” Rumplestiltskin bent his face downwards, biting his knuckles to quieten his sobs. “Please.” His voice was strangled, hoarse, but desperation gripped him and the only thing he had left to do was beg.

“Please.” God he needed to hear her voice. He needed her to recognise him.

“Please.” He needed her to feel safe again, to know herself again.

“Please.” He needed her.

Disinfectant evaded the hospital room space still, but Gold was unfocused on it. His mind had turned to the sleeping angel next to him, and had not wandered from it since.

[drabbles-mc]

Hear You Now

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, Angel being a very sad boy

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Why do I always make Angel sad?? Why do I always give him commitment issues?? I don’t know. I owe him a happy fic or two. 😂 If you’re curious, this is 110% inspired by the song Hear You Now by Old Dominion.

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​

You were walking through Merchant Square, hand-in-hand with your fiancé. You laughed as you leaned your head against his shoulder for a moment as the two of you walked through town. It had been a long time since you had been back to Santo Padre, and you wanted him to see your hometown. He had asked on more than one occasion because he wanted to see where you grew up, but you hadn’t been ready to face the ghosts that you knew still haunted those streets. But now you were engaged, and you knew that there was not going to be any more running away from anything.

It was refreshing to walk through town, and your heart wasn’t as heavy as you thought it was going to be. Not too much had changed and you liked how there were so many aspects of the town that would always be frozen in time. You tugged him into a bookstore, and he followed you with a knowing smile—it was nearly impossible to ever get you to pass up the opportunity to find something new to dive into. Almost every wall in your house had a bookshelf built into it or pushed against it. Eventually you told him you were going to buy a whole separate house and make it your library.

You were perusing the aisles, dragging your fingertips along the spines of an endless sea of titles. Your fiancé was a couple rows away looking for a few books of his own. There was a comfort in the mild hustle and bustle of the little book store. The aisles were close together and it all felt so cozy.

You stumbled upon the hardcover edition of a book that you had loved for years, and your eyes lit up. You snatched it off the shelf and went to find your fiancé. You quickly walked up to him and nudged his shoulder, “Look what I found?”

He looked at the novel in your hands and a knowing smile crossed his face, “You definitely have that one already. I know I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, but look,” you shook the book in front of him, “Hard cover! I’ve never seen a hard cover edition anywhere! I need it,” you pleaded.

He laughed, “How am I ever supposed to say no to you?”

You kissed him quickly on the lips, “You’re not, that’s the whole point!” you laughed.

Angel’s ears burned from the opposite side of the store. He would know that laugh anywhere, even from a million miles away. He never thought that he’d hear it again. He turned and tried to look around the store for you, and his heart instantly sped up when he saw you standing in the checkout line with a book clutched tight to your chest.

He started to walk over to you, but as quickly as his heart sped up, it nearly stopped when he saw another man walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you and place a kiss to your temple. He saw the way you melted back into him with a smile, and his stomach turned into a knot. His grip on the book in his hand tightened and he couldn’t force his feet to move in one direction or another. He didn’t know if it was worse to have to take in the scene in front of him, or to have lived with never seeing you again.

After paying for your book, you turned to leave the store, and that was when you saw him standing there. Your heart sank inside your chest—it had been years but that was definitely the Angel Reyes that you had known and had loved. You wanted to walk out of the store and not open up that box of memories, but something impulsive inside of you burst through.

“Angel?” you said, causing your fiancé to look up from the book that he had bought and was skimming through.

It got Angel to finally force his feet to move, “Hey, Y/N,” he cleared his throat as he walked up to you, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yea,” you laughed nervously, “Oh, shit, where are my manners? Angel, this is Jordan, my fiancé. Jordan, this is Angel. We grew up together,” it was the understatement of the century but you weren’t going to air out that laundry in the middle of a book store.

You could see Angel’s heart break at the word fiancé, but Jordan didn’t seem to take any notice of it as he held out his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook Jordan’s hand and nodded, forcing a small smile, “You’re a lucky guy.”

Jordan laughed as he pulled you against his side, blissfully unaware of the tension that was beginning to build, “You’re telling me. Can’t believe that this one said yes.”

You chuckled and leaned your head against his side, trying to let the familiarity of his touch and scent comfort you in this situation. It half-worked, but your mind was still racing, trying to figure out what Angel was thinking as he stood there and watched you talk about a forever life that didn’t involve him.

“I had no idea you were back in town,” Angel looked at you, eyes soft as he tried to memorize every detail of the woman he hadn’t seen in so long.

“Yea,” you shrugged, “kind of flew in under the radar. I was gonna see if I could find you and your brother while I was here,” it was a lie, but it sounded nice.

Jordan gave you a light squeeze, “Do you want to catch up? Don’t let me stop you—I’m sure I can find something to do for a couple hours or so.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you shook your head, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not just going to ditch you on our trip together,” you smiled up at him.

He pressed a light kiss on your lips, “It’s fine! You guys go grab coffee or something and catch up and I’ll find somewhere we can go to dinner.”

“You sure?” you wanted him to stay with you, but one of the things that you loved about being with him had always been that you were your own separate people just as much as you were a cohesive unit as a couple. It was just this particular situation that made you wish that that wasn’t the case, that made you wish that he was a little more possessive.

“Positive. I love you,” he kissed your forehead, “Give me a call when you’re done,” he reached and shook Angel’s hand again, “It was nice meeting you. Hopefully I’ll see you again before we leave town.”

Angel nodded, “Yea, for sure.”

Jordan walked out the door of the bookstore and there was a long stretch of silence between you and Angel as the two of you stood there. You wanted to step in and hug him, but you knew that you couldn’t. You eyed the novel in his hand, “You buying that?”

He had completely forgotten where he was and why he was there. He shook his head as he set it down on one of the small display tables, “Nah,” he cleared his throat, “So, I guess we’re getting coffee?”

You chuckled, not able to hide the awkwardness that you felt, “I guess we are.”

The two of you walked down the street in silence. You gripped your book, pressing it tight against your chest. There was a small café right down the street from the bookstore, another place that seemed to go untouched by time. Angel held the door open for you and told you to grab a table and he’d grab drinks for the both of you. You set your book down on the table, nervously tapping your fingertips on the cover as you waited for him to come back over.

He sat down across from you, handing you your drink. There were a few beats of silence and you desperately wished for the power to read minds so you could know what Angel was thinking that was making his eyes look so sad.

All Angel could think about was the fact that every day, for years, he thought about you and wondered where you had gone off to. He wondered if you were safe, if you were happy, if you had found someone else. He wondered if he was ever going to have a chance to see you again, to make things up to you, to win you back. He wasn’t expecting to get the answers to all of those questions within the first fifteen seconds of seeing you again. Reality had hit him like a freight train and he was still trying to recover.

“I see you’ve upgraded from Prospect,” you nodded towards the secretario patch on his kutte.

It snapped him out of his spiral for a moment and he managed a smile, “Little bit, yea. EZ’s sporting the Prospect patch these days.”

Your eyes widened, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yep. Patch-in vote is coming up in a couple months.”

“Holy shit,” you shook your head with a laugh, “How things change.”

“Yea,” he tried to push the words down but he couldn’t, “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart hurt at the sound of him saying that. The heartbroken girl that you used to be wanted to say something snarky, to rub a little salt in the wound that he had been carrying around with him. But you worked so hard not to be that girl anymore, and the better-healed part of you wanted to comfort him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, “It has been a while,” you traced your fingers around the edge of your cup, “hasn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he’d been sitting on those words for years and he couldn’t keep them in anymore, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shook your head, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Angel. We were kids—we were young and dumb.”

“I was young and dumb,” he corrected you, “I should’ve listened to you. Things could’ve been so different.”

You nodded, not having it in you to lie and say that he was wrong. Your mind was taken over by a tirade of memories, of arguments that ended with screaming and slamming doors, with you crying alone at the kitchen table trying to figure out how to force the puzzle pieces to fit. You had begged him for just a little more, just a little bit of commitment, and he could never give it to you. Eventually you had gotten fed up waiting for something that was never going to happen, and you left. It hurt, and you spent a lot of days crying as you packed up and bought a plane ticket, but you never looked back. You changed your number and completely detached yourself from the person that you had been.

“You always said I was gonna fuck around and hurt someone,” he pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment as he shook his head, “Just didn’t think it was gonna be me.”

“Thought it was just gonna be me?” it came out more bitter than you had intended, but there was no taking it back.

It caught him off-guard, “I…yea…I guess,” he stared at the engagement ring on your finger, “He is a lucky guy. Seems nice.”

You nod and a smile passes over your face for a moment, “He’s a good man. I never thought that I’d find someone as ready as I was for the whole settling down thing. I thought men weren’t ready for that until they were in their forties or whatever,” you chuckled, “I guess I just got really lucky.”

“So did he.”

“You seeing anyone these days?” you asked, genuinely curious to the answer.

He shook his head, “Nah, not really,” he laughed despite the aching in his chest, “But I’m guessing that’s not surprising to you.”

You smiled and sipped your coffee, “I dunno, people can change,” you waited for him to look you in the eyes, “You’ll find someone, Angel.”

“I already did,” it came out before he could think better of it. He reached across the table and set his hand on top of yours, “I should’ve been better, Y/N. I should’ve listened.”

“Maybe,” you nodded as you pulled your hand away and let it rest in your lap, “Maybe you should’ve. But it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? Guess you’ll just have to listen a little better to the next girl.”

“If you hadn’t laughed in the middle of that bookstore, I might’ve never known you were here,” his eyes were getting glassy with tears, “But I’ve heard that laugh inside my head so many times for so many years. I thought I was going insane. But then it was really you.”

“Angel, please, don’t do—”

“Please, just let me get this out,” he waited for you and once you nodded for him to continue, he did, “I spent so much time thinking that you wanted me to be a different person, and I was so angry about it. It felt like you didn’t want me to be who I was. It wasn’t…it wasn’t until you left that I realized that all you wanted was more of me. It was never about me changing, not really. It was just about me getting my head outta my ass. I spent so much time fuckin’ around and wanting to be free that I completely missed the fact that that freedom had nothing to do with you leaving. I hate that I never really heard what you were trying to say until after you left.”

You were fighting back tears, “Maybe there was just a little too much noise with me around.”

“You told me that one day I’d be sorry,” he couldn’t peel his eyes away from your ring, “And fuck are you never wrong.”

You laughed humorlessly as you blinked back tears, “I never wanted to be right, Angel. I just wanted to be happy, to be yours. But it just…wasn’t right I guess.”

“What you have now,” he stared down into his coffee cup, “that’s right?”

You slid your fingers along the band of your ring, and nodded, “Yea, it is.”

Those three words felt like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover from it.

“I don’t think you should keep beating yourself up over what happened, Angel,” you looked at him, “I think we’re different people now.”

“Are we?”

You chuckled, “Maybe not. Maybe that’s all the more reason not to worry about what happened. There’s no way to make it turn out any differently.”

There were a few beats of silence before Angel took a deep breath and managed a smile, “Damn. This is not what your fiancé thought he was signing you on for, huh?”

You laughed, and for a moment you caught a glimpse of the Angel that used to drive you around on the back of his motorcycle in the middle of the night. The same Angel who could get you to laugh when you showed up at his place in tears. You missed that, but you knew that going back wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

“Poor son of a bitch,” you laughed, “One day he’ll learn,” you paused for a moment, “I know it’s hard, Angel, but I am glad I got to see you.”

“Me too,” it sounded a little insincere, but you knew it was the heartbreak making it sound that way.

“Keep taking care of yourself, alright?”

Angel’s heart sank, knowing that this was the start of another goodbye that would last a very long time, “You too.”

You reached and put your hand over his, your finger tracing lightly over his knuckles, “I’ll see you around, Reyes.”

“Yea?”

You smiled, “Well, maybe.”

[vampiremansionpoolboy-moved]

renga week day 4: cindereki

Cindereki stared around the room, looking for Prince Langa, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her prince had just found her and then he was taken away by an evil emperor. She had finally found happiness only for it to be stripped from her. How typical.

Cindereki fell to her knees reaching out to where Prince Langa had stood seconds before.

“Wait...Langa....don’t go...”

She heard a murmur of voices, but they were too distant to understand. She was Cindereki, a poor servant girl, who had fallen in love with skating, and fallen in love with the prince. She would get him back if it was the last thing she did.

“I’m Cindereki!” She started but never finished because her surroundings were becoming kinda fuzzy. She tries to open her mouth again, but it feels like her teeth are lined with glue. What was happening? And so Cindereki pushes herself to call out for Langa but ends up waking herself up.

“PRINCE LANGA!” Reki yells as he wakes up, startling Koyomi. They make eye contact for the longest ten seconds of his life before she bursts out laughing. Reki’s face burns like a forest fire, and he’s sure it's the same color as his hair.

“Oh- oh haha, oh my god! You just had a dream about your best friend!” she dissolves into giggles. “Haha- oh my- what's Cindereki by the way?” she asks, eyeing the book in his lap.

Reki, face hot enough to cook an egg, stutters out. “I- I was Cinderella, and so my name was C-cindereki.”

Koyomi clutches her stomach again, laughter echoing through the room. Reki wishes he could skateboard into the sun and never reappear.

“Not a word,” Reki hisses to his sister.

“Ok, my lips are sealed.” she mimics zipping her lips. “At least until I want a new book. Or a new shirt. Or a game, or a snack, or a-” she rambles with a smirk.

“Ok, ok, ok that's enough with the blackmail!” Reki cries.

“Thanks, Cindereki,” Koyomi calls as she leaves the room, laughing behind her hand.

“Thanks, Cindereki,” Reki mocks.

Reki slides back down to his spot on the floor. The book lay forgotten a few feet from him. He picks it up, glancing at his sleeping little sisters around him, before opening up the book. He flips through the pages, glancing at the parts that he remembers from his dream. He laughs at the memory of Shadow, Miya, and Cherry fighting in their dresses. He then remembers Muscle Magic Joe and wonders what's going on inside his head for him to think that up. And why was the guy from the love hotel Langa’s advisor? Adam’s narration sends shivers down his spine.

Even in my dreams he still comes for me. Reki thinks. The image of Langa reaching out for him and Adam spins him faster and faster pops into his head. It makes him think of when Adam trapped Langa in his spinning turn back during their beef and Langa used it against him. Then the memories of their fight surface and Reki wishes to banish them from his head. But then he remembers the soft and tender smiles Langa gave him yesterday when they were skating. His face burns again like it did when Langa called him amazing. The way Dream Langa said “so pretty” is the same voice Langa talked to him with last night. Reki smiles at the thought.

Then a thought hits him. Do I like Langa?

Pulling out his phone he prays Google can help. He begins to type something out. How do I tell if I like someone? He clicks on the first article that pops up and reads the first few lines.

“You find yourself wishing for more time with the other person.” the article reads. Check, Reki thinks.

“You're wanting to text them all the time.” Check.

“Everything makes you think about them.” And that hurt so much during our fight. But check, nonetheless.

“Everything feels more exciting,” Langa said it first, but check.

Does- does this mean I like him? Reki thinks, the phone screen illuminating his shocked face. He types another thing into the search bar. What does it mean if you have a dream about someone?

“Dreaming about someone means you are feeling lonely, sad, or used.” He had felt like that during their fight. Check.

“You deeply miss someone, but they do not have the same feelings.” He knew Langa had missed him, but did he have feelings for Reki? Did Reki have feelings for Langa? Check (to be determined???).

“You struggle with moving on from this person and think about them constantly.” He did think about Langa almost all the time. Check.

“The good news is that they are likely also thinking about you, even if they don't show any signs.” Langa never shows any signs that he's thinking about anything, Reki thinks fondly, but everything he said yesterday had the certainty of someone who had thought of it before. So, check?

Reki pausing before typing his next question. This time a small box doesn't pop up, but he clicks the first link.

The title reads “How to tell if you are gay?”

~

The next morning Reki rushes to get out the door despite not going to sleep until three AM. He may know about his crush on Langa now, but he's determined to keep things the same between them. At least until he’s pretty sure it's not one-sided.

Reki stayed up early into the morning researching things and trying to sort through the thoughts in his head. Finally, at two AM, Reki came to the conclusion that he was a raging bisexual and had a big fat crush on his best friend. He then spent the next hour trying to process it all before he passed out due to mental and physical exhaustion.

When Reki woke up, he didn't remember right away but then it hit him like a freight train, and he was filled with excitement and adrenaline. He was out the door in almost twenty minutes. His family was stunned by his rapid speed compared to his slow pace yesterday, but Reki didn't pay them any mind.

As he skates to their meeting spot Reki swears his heartbeat quickens with every kick of his foot. How am I going to act around Langa? Do I pretend like things were normal or am I supposed to be acting differently now? Reki tried to picture himself like one of the girls confessing to Langa, but he just shook his head to get rid of the thought, his dream from last night still fresh in his mind.

As Langa came into view Reki let his look linger for a bit too long, letting himself admit that Langa looked pretty. That he looked beautiful. Then he smiled and slowed as he neared Langa. He held out his arm and their hands met for their dap.

Reki wondered if one day he could hold that hand, but then Langa was asking what course he wanted to skate, and then there was no more time for thinking. Only time for the infinity of skating.

[nxrthmizu]

disappearing trick — SaguKai

━━━━━━━

fandom | magic kaito 

pairing | kuroba kaito x hakuba saguru 

genre | angst to fluff :3 

w.c | 2.1k 

━━━━━━━

It was a heist went wrong. 

So, so wrong. 

There were explosions and gunshots, all of which Hakuba was about 99.99% sure wasn’t in KID’s itinerary of the night. He remembered catching a glimpse of a torn white cape, the grimace of pain clear as day despite the lack of helicopters overhead, and men dressed in black. 

“KID—!” Hakuba had yelled, which, looking back, was not the smartest thing he could’ve done. The barrels of two guns instantaneously locked on him, much to the phantom thief’s horror. 

It seemed like it was the end for Hakuba Saguru. 

But of course, KID always loved to meddle in things that didn’t involve him. And so he did what he always did best. 

KID was a performer, after all. He specialised in attracting his audience’s attention to him. Flashing a cocky smirk towards Hakuba’s direction, even though there was a stream of blood trickling down his cheek, the phantom thief disappeared into the night with a loud bang, taking the two men with him. 

Kuroba Kaito was ‘kidnapped’ the same night. 

According to Aoko, who had been in the Nakamouri house when the teen was attacked, there had been a loud crash, gunshots, and yelling. The girl had hid under the kitchen counter in fright, hoping and praying with all her heart that Kaito hadn’t been home at the time of the break-in. 

As it turned out, he was. 

The crime scene investigators turned Kuroba’s house upside down, finding multiple signs that the teen boy had been shot, if the splatters of blood (That all had Kaito’s DNA) was any indication. It was also concluded by the investigators that Kaito put up a hell of a fight, as there were signs of his magic tricks all through the house. 

Hakuba was still being treated for shock at the heist location when Detective Nakamouri received a call from his devastated, hysterical daughter, who sobbed so loudly through the phone that the blonde detective overheard.

It was only one disaster after another. 

For once, Hakuba chose to stay out of the crime scene, instead stroking Aoko’s back as comfortingly as he could, trying not to think about Kaito’s body, abandoned in some dark alley dumpster. His coat was soaked through with splotches of her tears, but he didn’t care much, because he himself felt like crying, too. 

━━━━━━━

School the next day was eerily quiet. Practically everyone had heard of Kaito’s kidnapping, and if they didn’t, Aoko’s swollen eyes were a dead giveaway that something had happened to the playful teen. The teacher kept glancing up, as if she was waiting for an interruption, only to flick her eyes onto the empty seat at the corner of the classroom. The topic lingered like a dark cloud above the classroom, and no one dared to even mention the name ‘Kaito’ when Aoko was within hearing distance. 

“He’s alive.” 

Hakuba glanced up after a few moments of silence, realising that Akako was talking to him. “What?” 

“Kuroba.” Akako continued impatiently. “He’s alive.” 

The blonde detective couldn’t help but snort. “And how did you come to that conclusion? Did your crystal ball tell you that?” 

Judging by the glare the female shot in his direction, she didn’t appreciate his snark, but Hakuba just couldn’t be bothered at the moment. “He won’t go down this easily.” Akako stated, as if she’d seen Kaito alive with her own two eyes. Granted, the image hadn’t exactly been clear when she used her seer powers on him, but she could go as far as saying that the magician was still breathing. 

“Look. He was shot.” Hakuba interrupted emotionlessly. “Even if the gunshot wasn’t fatal, he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“He won’t go out that easily. You’ll see.” 

━━━━━━━

Kuroba Kaito was pronounced dead after three months. KID went back into retirement— At least, that’s what the KID division announced after no sight of any heist in the horizon. 

After a long consideration, Hakuba decided to leave Japan behind— Along with the memories of KID and Kaito— And return to Britain. Some would call him cowardly, and he would admit, yes, it was cowardly of him to run away like that, but as far as he was concerned, he didn’t care what others thought of him. 

Sure, Aoko was a little upset, but Akako had reassured her that she wasn’t going anywhere. He did feel a little bad for leaving Nakamouri behind— All her friends were disappearing, one by one, after all— 

Disappearing. 

That was KID’s— Kaito’s last trick, Hakuba thought tearily, hastily ushering the tears away as he packed the last of his clothes into the luggage bag. A disappearing trick gone wrong— And the phantom thief KID, Kuroba Kaito— Two sides of the same coin— Dropped off the surface of the planet, never to be heard from again. 

But there was no point in crying over spilled milk anymore. 

“Saguru-kun, there’s a man looking for you outside.” His housekeeper knocked on the door, informing him monotonously. “He said he has a few things to tell you before you leave Japan.” 

A quick peer out of the window gave him a glimpse of dark brown hair— A familiar stature and height, a relaxed pose— 

Hakuba had never dashed out of his room that fast in his entire life. All composure and calamity was forgotten as he practically barrelled down the stairs, narrowly missing a few boxes of belongings he had wrapped up the days prior. The door burst open with a tremendous bang! as Hakuba hurried down the front steps of his house, hoping, praying, pleading that the face that he would meet belonged to— 

“Kudou-kun?” The tone of disappointment couldn’t be avoided as Hakuba remembered just how alike the detective and the magician looked. If he was asked, the two were definitely genetically related at some degree or another. “How may I help you today?” His tone was terribly strained; he had had expectations, and he had been let down. 

Kudou Shinichi, as the great detective that rivalled many others, took quick note of Hakuba’s inner turmoil. “Hakuba-kun. I have news that you might want to... Think about before you leave Japan.” 

“Go on.” Hakuba said bitterly. Nothing could stop him from leaving Japan, he thought. Not when every corner reminded him of the man that kept him on his feet. 

“Kuroba Kaito is very much alive.” Kudou said casually, with no prior preparation or whatsoever. Hakuba looked as if he was just hit by a freight train, stunned and dazed by the words that destroyed everything he knew about life. “He’s been staying undercover to help the FBI take down the Black Organisation, who, as if seems, was after Pandora as well. Because he’s been missing for three months, its’ going to be very hard for him to explain his absence— So he has requested for me to pass you this letter in his stead.” 

The thoughts running through Saguru’s head as the slim letter was received into his head were wild. Kaito was alive? He was involved with the FBI? What was the Black Organisation— And forget the Black Organisation, what the hell was Pandora? And why couldn’t Kaito have passed him the letter himself? 

“Well, I’m going to get going.” Kudou smiled gently. “See you around, Hakuba-kun.” 

━━━━━━━

It seems like your detective skills have mellowed since my absence, Hakubastard. Your observational ability is... Mediocre, to say the least. Anyway, I suppose I should provide you with an explanation (Although I would love to go world-hopping and leave you in pursuit of the truth for the rest of your life), but I guess I owe you this much after just upping and leaving like that. Those gun wounds hurt like hell, but they weren’t going to nuff this magician up that easily. I still had a couple tricks up my sleeve— It was nice seeing you all worried about me, though! So you do care~ 

Anyway, its still not too safe for me to appear publicly in Japan. I’ve sent a letter to Aoko, so don’t worry about filling her in. I left the meeting location in your bedroom. Exactly a month from now. Better set a reminder on that pocket watch of yours, tantei. 

With love malice, 

Kuroba Kaito

“My bedroom...?” Hakuba murmured to himself, realisation striking like a flash of lightning. A quick inspection of his room turned out with a slip of yellow paper: Rivals shall meet once more, in the romantic city people adore; When the clock strikes a quarter and by the Seine shop corner. 

Saguru rushed over to his bedroom window, eyes flicking up and down the nearby streets to find Kudou Shinichi’s silhouette, but he came up empty handed— For that wasn’t Kudou Shinichi at all... Because who else would break into his bedroom just to leave a riddle? 

It didn’t take long for Hakuba to figure out the time, date, and location— Kudou— No, Kaito had said so himself. Exactly a month from then— In the ‘romantic city people adore’— Which would be Paris— ‘clock strikes a quarter’— At a quarter of a day, which would be 6am— And by the ‘Seine shop corner’— So at a coffee shop next to River Seine. 

“Baa-san!” Saguru called out into the manor, a smile on his face. “Cancel my flight ticket and book one to Paris instead.” 

━━━━━━━

Paris at 6am was quite the pretty sight. The sun was barely rising over the horizon, little splays of light shimmying over the river surface, bathing Paris in a fine, gold threads of sunshine. Not that many cafes were open at the crack of dawn, which made it even easier for Saguru to track down his cafe. 

The little coffee shop by the Seine provided an amazing view as Saguru enjoyed his morning coffee. He had taken a seat outside the cafe, the streets silent in a peaceful, docile manner, early birds already leaving their nests for the worms that were promised. 

The latte in his hands felt warm, inducing heat into his frozen fingers. Hakuba had never felt that on edge in his entire life— Would Kaito show up? 

“Lovely morning, no?” An old man commented, plopping into the seat opposite Saguru. “I love watching the sunrise from here.” 

Hakuba raised an eyebrow, looking for details of a disguise. The fat seemed genuine— The voice was deep and velvety, a little rough and raspy around the edges— The wrinkles around the eyes looked authentic— But he had seen the quality of KID’s work, and he wasn’t taking his chances.

“Indeed,” Saguru agreed with a pleasant hum, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “Say, mister, what do you think about magic tricks?” 

“Ah, I think they’re quite quaint.” The old man replied in his deep voice, eyes forming crescent lines as he smiled. “What do you think of them, young man?” 

Saguru placed his latte back onto the cup. “I think magic tricks are nice,” He started softly, making firm eye contact with the old man, French rolling off his tongue smoothly. “But I hate disappearing tricks the most.” 

“Oh?” The old man was confused, clearly missing the memo. “Why so—?” 

“Good morning, sir, can I take your order?” A voice pricked into Hakuba’s memory, triggering some sort of mechanism. It was the same tone, frequency, wavelength— The only thing different was the dialect and accent. 

Saguru looked up right into Kaito’s violet eyes, the latter dressed in a waiter’s uniform. A soft smile spread over the magician’s lips as he winked, Hakuba’s jaw dropping as his gaze returned to the man in front of him. 

“Ah, a cappuccino please. And one slice of carrot cake.” 

“Of course.” Kaito nodded pleasantly. “Right away, sir. And you?” 

Hakuba took longer to find his voice than he would’ve liked. “Just a cup of black coffee, please.” 

“Is that all?” Kaito hummed, scribbling down the orders on a piece of paper. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Hakuba laid back against the chair, a sigh slipping from his lips as he smiled continuing his conversation with the old man, who was still very much confused. 

“Ah, but I find disappearing tricks interesting,” The old man commented, chuckling slightly. “It’s always so magical when the reappearance happens, no?” 

The blonde detective hummed, watching the dark-haired magician busy himself inside the shop. “I suppose I’ll have to agree with that.” 

━━━━━━━

this thing has been sitting in my drafts for four months and its time for it to see the light of day~ 

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 12

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Surprise, a new chapter already! This one and the Chapter 11 were actually supposed to be one single chapter but we decided to cut it due to my inability to keep things short length. Hence, the same title with an addition and the consecutive days - just so you don't wonder. Also, in case anyone was confused by the timeframe reading Chapter 11, this supposed to be a flashback to when the whole thing between them started - sorry for not making this clear in the first place 💛

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Langague, mention of alcohol and drug abuse, mention of NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

It's just the way that you walk

It's just the way that you talk

Like it ain't no thing

And every single day is just a fling

Then the morning comes

~ Smash Mouth - Then The Morning Comes ~

Lizzie woke the next morning to a painful pounding inside her head and a mouth as dry as dust. It took her a few moments to find her bearings; the light of the morning sun didn’t fall onto her bed like it did now, and neither did her sheets smell like Orion’s aftershave.

With that thought the memories of last night hit her like a freight train. Covering her eyes with her hand, she let her head slump back onto the pillow, a breathy chuckle leaving her parched throat. She certainly hadn’t expected that to happen when she had agreed to go to her first poetry slam with Orion. Saying she regretted sleeping with him would have been a blatant lie, though; it had been far too good for that.

Sitting up slowly, Lizzie stretched her back, rolling her neck from side to side; her head hurt like hell but it wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. Orion seemed to be up already, which didn’t surprise her; Lizzie knew he was an early riser from the many years they had spent touring together.

Her eyes fell onto the nightstand and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. A full bottle of water and a blister pack of painkillers were waiting for her there. Not sure what she was more grateful for, the meds or the water, Lizzie took a large gulp out of the bottle first before washing down one of the pills with a second, smaller sip; her mouth was so dry, she wasn’t even sure any of the water was reaching her stomach at all.

She sat between the sheets for a little longer, her back leaned against the rough brick wall. Taking small sips out of her bottle every now and again she contemplated last night’s events.

In a thousand years she wouldn’t have anticipated ending up in bed with Orion when all they’d had planned had been a night out together. And it wasn’t like she could blame it all on getting drunk and high out of her mind either; Lizzie was honest enough with herself to admit she’d always found him more than a little attractive, but so far, it had stopped for her at that.

The dreamcatcher hanging from the window frame directly above the bed was painting intricate shadows on the sheets. Lost in her thoughts, Lizzie watched them, trying to discern if she felt any different after spending the night with one of her best friends.

If she was completely honest with herself, the answer was no. Neither she nor her feelings towards Orion seemed to have changed in any way.

She shrugged the thought off and swung her legs out of the bed, standing up slowly in case her circulation was still funky. She grabbed her shorts from the ground where she had unceremoniously tossed them last night. Exchanging the shirt Orion had given her with her own top, she pulled a new hair tie from her pocket and pulled her tangled hair out of her face.

With the warm shirt and her hair gone from her bare shoulders, Lizzie noticed how cool the morning air felt against her skin. She grabbed the black hoodie she had borrowed yesterday from another place on the floor and put it on again. Following the soft sound of Orion’s guitar that was drifting down from the rooftop terrace, she climbed up the steps and through the open skylight.

Orion was sitting on the deckchair with his acoustic guitar in his hands, playing a melody Lizzie didn’t recognise. One of his countless notebooks was lying in front of him and she could spot a pencil being stuck behind his ear. Lizzie waited until he stopped playing to write something down before she walked over to him.

He looked up from his notes as she sat down on the end of the deckchair. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Lizzie smiled. She tilted her head, trying to catch a glimpse of what Orion was composing. “What was that you were playing?”

“Something new,” he smirked. He closed the notebook and carefully put his guitar away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Lizzie chuckled, “No wonder though…” She indicated the water bottle she was still holding, “Thanks for that, I didn’t even realise how thirsty I was.”

“That’s what smoking does to you,” Orion shrugged. “I got us some fruit from the market down the road for breakfast, if you want some.”

Lizzie had already spotted the huge plate laden with an assortment of colourful fruit on the table behind him. It was only now that she realised just how hungry she was. “How do you know that’s what I like for breakfast?”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “We’ve been touring together for five years now, remember?”

Lizzie felt her cheeks go red. “Obviously. I can’t think before coffee.”

“I made you some, but no idea if it’s good,” Orion shrugged. “You know I don’t drink coffee myself.”

Lizzie made her way over to the table and poured herself a cup. “Then why do you have coffee in the first place?”

“Merula likes some when she’s here.”

She took her first sip after adding sugar and milk but even then the bitter taste was so overwhelmingly strong that Lizzie couldn’t help but grimace.

Orion watched her with a sympathetic expression. “Too strong?”

“A little,” Lizzie croaked, trying to wash the taste away with another sip of water.

“Sorry, that’s how Merula likes it.”

“No wonder she never laughs if her days start like this,” Lizzie replied sardonically.

Orion had to chuckle at her words. “Our tastes can mirror our personalities, that’s true; I wouldn’t tell her that, though.”

He raised his own mug that had been resting on the floor beside him. “If you don’t like the coffee, I can only offer you tea, I’m afraid.”

Gingerly pushing her coffee cup as far away from her as possible, Lizzie nodded gratefully. “I’d be fine with that.”

Lizzie was surprised at how relaxed and comfortable the atmosphere between them was; it was like having breakfast with her best friend, just like it always had.

None of them spoke about what had happened last night, nor did they feel the need to. Now, in the light of a new day, the fact that they had slept with each other seemed almost surreal. Lizzie was relieved to see that, just like her, Orion didn’t seem to have any issues with it whatsoever.

She had just picked out another cherry from the fruit platter when her phone started ringing, the familiar picture of Skye flashing across the screen. She motioned for Orion to be silent before accepting the call.

“What’s up, Skye?” she greeted her breezily.

Skye didn’t seem to share her good mood, however. “Where the fuck are you?”

“What?”

“We were meant to go running today? I’ve been waiting for a solid twenty minutes now.”

Lizzie mouthed a silent curse; she had completely forgotten about that. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I slept in, it got a little later yesterday than I expected.” She tried not to grin as her eyes flicked over to Orion.

“Oh yeah, how was the slam?”

Lizzie almost choked on her tea as she tried not to snort with laughter. “You want to know how the slam was?” she repeated Skye’s words, watching Orion cover his mouth with his hand as he, too, was trying very hard not to laugh.

“It was very good, thank you for asking. I got some whole new perspectives out of it.”

“Maybe I should come next time.”

“Oh, believe me,” Lizzie grinned, “it wouldn’t have been your thing at all.”

“Hm, if you say so. How about Orion? Haven’t seen him quite so excited about something in a long time.”

“Well, I think he had quite a good night,” she smirked, throwing her cherry at Orion as he was shaking with silent laughter.

“Anyway,” Skye sighed through the speaker, “what’s the deal now? Could be at your place in ten minutes.”

Lizzie racked her brain, trying to come up with a suitable excuse. “Uhm no, I’m actually not home right now.” Her gaze fell onto her cup of green tea. “I ran straight out of coffee this morning and I’m on the hunt for some.”

Luckily, Skye seemed to buy it. “Fine, want to meet for lunch later?”

“Make it dinner and I’m in,” Lizzie answered, “Say hi to Erika for me,” she couldn’t help but add with a wicked grin.

She could practically see Skye blushing, even through her phone. “What makes you think I’m with -”

But Lizzie had already hung up on her.

The laughter was still dancing in Orion’s eyes when he shook his head. “You’re truly evil, do you know that?”

Lizzie chuckled. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Fair enough,” Orion conceded. “But I’m curious, why did you lie to her?”

“First of all, I didn’t lie; I just didn’t tell her all the details. It’s none of her business anyway.” The smile vanished from her face and Lizzie averted her eyes. “And besides, I don’t want her to get into a conflict because she’s hiding something from her father.”

She took a deep breath, the mood suddenly not at all relaxed anymore. “And about that…”

But Orion had already guessed what she wanted to say. “You want to keep this a secret.” It wasn’t a question but an observation.

“If that’s cool with you.”

To her relief, Orion nodded. “It suits me well. I agree with you, it’s no one’s business but our own. And a secret shared between friends can only serve to deepen the friendship.”

Lizzie nodded in agreement, glad to see they were on the same page about this. She finished her tea, popped another cherry into her mouth and got up to leave.

“Is it okay if I borrow that for today?” she asked, motioning at the sweater she was still wearing. It wasn’t cold by any means, but the sweater was cosy and soft, just what she needed on a hungover day like this. It smelled like something resembling ginger, a scent she found very pleasant.

Orion followed her inside and showed her to the door. Just as she was about to leave, he caught her wrist and held her back.

“Any chance for another kiss?”

Lizzie hesitated, looking at him apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t usually do that.” Her lips twisted into a sly smile as she added, “And you got way more than a kiss anyway.”

She turned to go, but changed her mind on a whim; standing on her tiptoes, Lizzie pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Maybe next time.”

[whataboutmyfries]

Dance alone

I’m BACK!!!!! and i have for you yet another fluffy little coops piece :) this was written in an hour flat because the inspiration hit me like a freight train and I had to get the words out somewhere :) 

@lumosinlove I’m back again to borrow your characters! don’t mind me ;) 

‘Like real people do’ reminded me how much i love songfics and also how much i have completely forgotten how to write prose so...here we are! this one is inspired by Dance alone by music by blanks and as always, I would recommend you listen to the song as you read! 

enjoy!

~

Remus nudged the drawer closed with a hip, spinning around to put the brownies in the oven, dusting his hands off the flour when he pushed the door closed. 

Remus Lupin was cooking his husband dinner for the first time in a long time. It wasn’t like he didn’t cook for them (Sirius had been banned from the kitchen ever since Remus had moved in) but it had been a while since they had had the time to sit down and have a full, homemade three-course meal. 

Remus heard the familiar twang of a guitar on the radio and whirled around, his eyes lighting up at the melody. Remus turned up the volume, grinning to himself. 

His body moved of its own accord, his feet pulling him around the room. Remus laughed, dropping his apron somewhere on the way to the speaker. 

Been staring at the wall today to find some inner meaning My laundry’s clean, my momma called To ask me how I’m feelin’ 

Remus laughed aloud, moving around the room. Eyes closed, head tipped back, Remus grinned so hard his cheeks hurt, humming along to the music. 

I’ve been running out of things to think  So what’s the point of dreaming? 

The beat flowed through his body, filling his heart with a warm buzzing joy, and tugging his mind into memories he had long since forgotten existed:

He remembered watching Sirius score goal after goal after goal on his TV, staring at the perfect form deep into the morning, his heart still a bleeding wound from watching those silver eyes, that raven hair all week, knowing he could never let himself want.

And I’ve been watching from a distance  How the seasons change.

The song had played on his phone that day and he’d smiled through the tears, dancing around his kitchen, leaving behind the pain grasping at his heart and moving with glorious abandon. 

 The sound of the front door closing brought him into the present, a tear tracing its way down his cheek. Remus smiled shakily, loosing himself to the rhythm once more 

I’ve been lost, lost in the rhythm lately  I don’t know, know how to dance alone Know how to dance alone. 

Sirius walked into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his husband dancing around their kitchen. 

His smile lit up the whole of gryffindor. 

Sirius walked over to Remus, turning the music up even higher as he swept Remus into his arms. Remus’s chuckle when he kissed his nose knocked the breath clear out of Sirius’s chest. 

Damn, he could never get enough of this man. 

Sirius dipped Remus, the latter squealing a little as the world shifted. Sirius chuckled, leaning his forehead against Remus’s as the final notes of the song played.

Remus’s nuzzled his head into Sirius’s with a giggle when Sirius sang along, his warm breath ghosting across Remus’s lips 

I’ve been lost, lost in the rhythm lately  I don’t know, know how to dance alone Know how to dance alone. 

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Wake Up Call

The very last thing Sebastian rem Rasina knew was that he’d all but thrown himself in the infirmary, the limp body of Riven in his arms.  He had the vague memory of orders being barked before darkness overtook him...

With a gasp, Sebastian sat straight up in the bed.  It took several moments-but then his environment sank in--he was in the medical ward.  And the reason why...  The Tribunus gingerly swung his legs out of bed-then hissed as fresh pain exploded in his skull.

“Owww.”

Yet the pain brought a sudden onslaught of memories.  The day before--learning the fate of the town nearby, finding out that the crown prince and his troops were coming-

Wait.

Sebastian jerked up as a particular set of memories hit him like a freight train.

“It’s said you despise the Garlean gunblade and that you’re a master of what the savages use, rem Rasinia.  Indulge my curiosity.”

He was trying, but there was just no way in hell--the prince was too fast, Sebastian couldn’t get a read on his movements, and forgotten gods the aura he exuded--

I’m going to die.

“That is enough!”

“Riven.”  Sebastian breathed.  She’d thrown herself between him and yae Galvus, daring him to engage her--

“My lord, perhaps something different might be more to your taste.”

“Riven no, you can’t-you can’t fight him!”  Riven’s blue eyes meeting his own, filled with fear--her skin so pale her tattoo stood in stark contrast...

Sebastian bolted to his feet.  He had to-no, he needed to find Riven.  Was she safe?  He remembered her collapsing before the Castrum’s gates, when he’d picked her up she’d been cold as death--but now his body was screaming at the sudden movement, and Sebastian paid the price.  With a yelp he landed on the hard tile floor as his legs gave way.  Now his entire body was starting to throb--oh right, he had his own fair share of injuries from getting his ass kicked by the crown prince.

Fuck me.  With a groan, the ginger-haired man pushed himself up on all fours-rather unsteadily, and rolled onto his backside.  Hissing, he closed his eyes and gathered himself, next was standing up...

Only to feel a presence looming over him.

“Get me up, I need to find the Prafectus Castrorum.” Sebastian barked.  There was no response, and Sebastian looked up.

“I said...”  He trailed off.  The looming figure wasn’t a solider, or another medic.   In fact anyone else would have been preferable to who was glaring at him right now.

Oh.

“No, please.  Continue issuing orders.  In my infirmary.”  Sebastian could only continue to stare upward, wishing that he was back facing Zenos.  Death by the questionable-sanity-Emperor’s son was far preferable--hell, being stripped naked and sent to fight on the Gyr Albania front--would be more ideal than who was staring down at him right now, with clear murder on his mind.

“I’m waiting.” 

Mathye lux Corvina, their Primus Medicus.  Probably the most brilliant and naturally gifted healer Sebastian had ever run into--and who also possessed the worst bedside manner ever.  Like Riven, Mathye was a full-blooded Eorzean--and never had Sebastian seen a healer who would gladly drop what he was doing and engage in a fight--even with his own patients.  At first Sebastian had thought Mathye’s surly attitude was the result of his amnesia-he had no memory of his past life.  Then he’d quickly realized that no, Mathye was just that violent.  Sensing his possible impending death, Sebastian fixed a smile on his face--maybe if he was submissive, Mathye would show some mercy.

“Sorry?”  He ventured.  Mathye unfolded his arms and glared down at Sebastian, disapproval written not only all over his face, but his very being.

“Get your arse up off the floor.”

[monoxidecahedron]

a slip of the tongue- jamilmads

@who-knew-what I wrote a part 2 to Home Is Where The Heart Is! expect more to come, too. I’m already working on two more installments in this universe. I’ll tag all of them with “#home ‘verse” so you can find them. enjoy, y’all!

“Alex?” John asks, peering into Alex’s office. The man is barely keeping himself awake, empty mugs of coffee all around him and papers on the floor. It’s nearly midnight. “Are you alright? Do you need me to take you home?” 

“I’m alright,” Alex mutters. “They’ll take me home.” John furrows his brow. People taking care of Alexander Hamilton isn’t unheard of, exactly, but usually it’s one of his friends, and he isn’t aware of any new people in the friend group. Everyone else is sleeping at home already. 

“Who?” he asks. “You got a boyfriend or something?” He meant it as a joke, because Alex would have told him. Right? But then Alex looks up at him, his tired expression twisting into something happier. 

“I got boyfriend,” he slurs, obviously exhausted. John sighs. Whatever that means, he’ll parse it later. For now, he just wants to make sure Alex gets back to his house. 

“Yeah, well, is ‘boyfriend’ gonna pick you up in a few? The office is closing soon,” he says. 

“Thomas’ll drag me out anyways,” Alex responds, though he looks distinctly annoyed at the thought. 

The revelation hits John like a freight train. There’s only one Thomas in the office (not counting Thomas Paine, who’s a level above them when it comes to management and is also very old), and that Thomas is the guy Alex screams at and then complains about to John. What? He considers asking Alex for more details, but looks again at Alex’s figure hunched over the desk, typing furiously, and decides against it.

Alex, in his sleep-deprived state, has no idea why he said “I got boyfriend” or if he even said it. He has a vague memory of John’s gears turning as he stares at him from the doorway, but that’s all, and he promptly forgets about it. 

Thomas and James are entirely unaware of the incident. Thomas did end up storming in after receiving an email from Alex about the project he was working on and dragging him out, scolding him like a child (“I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish with this, Alexander, but so far I only see death by loss of sleep”), but only several minutes after John had left. 

So a week later he finds himself dragging James into his office. He just wants a quick kiss, initially, and then it turns into something more and James is straddling him in his chair, making out like there’s no tomorrow, and then John Laurens barges in, stops short, glares at Thomas, and turns on his heel and runs. Thomas exchanges a bemused look at James, but John’s been sending him those glares (albeit more of an “I’m watching you” sort) all week, and he thinks nothing of it, chasing James’ mouth with his own again. 

Alex barely looks up as John barges into his office, glancing once at his friend and then returning to the screen. The click of the keyboard resumes, John’s heavy breathing filling the office. “What is it?” Alex asks when John continues to simply stand there, out of breath from his run. It takes a few more moments before he can gather enough breath to speak. 

“Thomas- is- cheating,” he pants. 

Alex’s head snaps up. “What?” he says sharply. He isn’t worried for himself- he can deal with the fucker- but it’s James he’s worried about. And then there’s also a slight disbelief. He knows John would never lie to him, not with something like this, but he also knows that Thomas wouldn’t cheat. Right?

“He- was- hang on,” John says. Now in a better state, he continues, “he was making out with Madison in his office, I’m really sorry, Ham- what is it?” Alexander had slumped over his desk, cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he says after a moment in which he feels hysterical and John is plain confused. “I cannot believe- I thought- if you knew about Thomas-” 

“Get to the point, will you?” John asks, beginning to feel annoyed. 

“Okay- okay so,” Alex begins, then dissolves into laughter again. “Sorry. So. Thomas is my boyfriend.” John nods, well aware. “James is also my boyfriend.” At this, John tilts his head. Wouldn’t that be worse, then? Double betrayal? “Thomas is also James’ boyfriend.” John is lost, as is evident in his expression. “Look- it’s- it’s basically like, like, I like both of them and they like me and them- like a- it’s a- triangle of love, of sorts,” he says. Having never really considered the unconventionality of his relationship, he finds himself at a loss to describe it. John is even more lost, having not followed half of what he was saying. “Like a couple, except with three people! I’m with James and Thomas and Thomas is with James and me and James is with Thomas and me. Like a big puddle of love,” he says, acutely aware that he’s not doing a very good job of explaining. John, however, seems to get it, nodding slowly as he processes the words. 

“OH!” he nearly shouts. “Ohhhh. Goddamn, I feel like an idiot.” 

Alex laughs. “You are!” 

Later that night, Alex finishes recounting the story to his boyfriends, lying across Thomas and James’ laps on the couch. James laughs, fingers entangled in Alex’s hair. “Wait- so how many of your friends besides John know about us?” Thomas asks. Alex pauses, considers. 

“Actually I think only John knows,” he says. “Wow. I just completely forgot to tell them.” 

“Are you going to tell them?” James says. “I mean, I could understand if you didn’t want to, considering-” he waves his hand around, the gesture invoking memories of shouting competitions in meetings and furious disagreements and, especially, Alex breaking off his friendship with James and coming to them crying afterwards. 

“It… should be fine,” Alex says, though he sounds uncertain. “In any case, they’re my friends, they’re legally obligated to support me even if my boyfriends are assholes.” Thomas smacks his thigh. 

“I’m gonna call them right now,” Alex announces. “I’m probably going to forget later if I don’t.” Saying this, he picks his phone up from where he’d discarded it on the floor and proceeds to call Eliza. She picks up on the first ring. 

But it isn’t her who answers. “This better be a good excuse for why you’re not at game night,” Angelica snaps. Alex’s face is blank for a moment, and then he remembers. 

“Shit!” he hisses. “I’m so sorry, Angie, I just-” he looks up at James and Thomas, who are giving him disapproving looks- “forgot. I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m putting you on speaker. Apologize to all of us.”

“Sorry!” Alex says into the phone, and he hears a chorus of voices rushing to reprimand him.. 

“This is the second time in a row you’ve forgotten,” Hercules says. “What happened, man? I thought you had a reminder or something!” 

“I thought I did!” Alex says desperately. “I’m so sorry, you guys. I was just, uh…” He trails off, searching his mind for a plausible excuse. 

“Well?” Peggy asks. 

“Actually, I called you guys to tell you something because I forgot to, so uh…” James nudges him. “I have boyfriends,” he says. Their reactions are immediate: five different voices start talking at once, raising their voices to be heard over the others and creating a cacophony of both pleased and annoyed tones. He can’t hear John saying anything, and he imagines him sitting smug on his bean bag (Hercules has bean bags in his apartment for whatever reason) while the others crowd the phone. 

“Who?” Lafayette demands. “Tell us at once, mon ami! Why did we not know sooner?” 

“Uh. So,” he starts, hearing his friends fall silent at once. “James?” It comes out more of a question than an answer, but they get it immediately. 

“Madison?” Eliza says. “Didn’t you-” 

“Yes, well, we’ve worked it out,” James interjects. It’s still a bit of a sore subject. There’s immediate squeals on the other end. 

“James!” Angelica says in surprise. “You’re there?” 

“Evidently,” he says, though he’s smiling. “Hello, Angelica.”

“Mon amiiiiii, you cannot leave us hanging like this,” Lafayette interrupts. “Tell us who the other person is! Do we know him? Is he handsome? Oh! Are they a girl?” 

“You do know him,” Alex concedes, “and his handsomeness… mmm, not quite there,” he continues, earning another smack on the thigh from Thomas. 

“I am very handsome, thank you very much,” Thomas cuts in smoothly. His friends fall silent at once. 

“Is that… is that Jefferson?” Peggy whispers. 

“It IS!” Lafayette shouts. “I knew it! I knew it! See, I told you, Alex, mon cousin is not that bad once you get used to him-” 

“Is it Attack Thomas Day or something?” Thomas grumbles. James pats him condescendingly on the head. 

“Hush now, the grownups are talking,” he says. 

“Hold up,” comes Hercules’ voice from the phone, which is now balanced on Alex’s chest. “You’re dating  Jefferson? The guy you used to whine about whenever you came over?” Thomas raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh? You whined about me? Do I truly affect you that much?” he teases. 

Alex makes a hmph noise. “I did not!” he protests. “Stop lying, Hercules!” And that’s the end of any questions about his relationship, thank god. They spend a couple more minutes just messing around with each other before they disconnect abruptly upon discovering that John knew before them. 

There’s silence for a bit afterwards. Thomas shifts, nestling closer to James and slinging his arm around him, the other hand resting on Alex’s thigh. “Your friends are… something,” James says eventually, threading his fingers once again through Alex’s hair. 

Alex laughs. “They sure are.”

I very much hope “I got boyfriend” made you laugh as much as I did. Please, please reblog! Likes don’t do anything! If you comment I’ll love you forever.

[suphoshi]

TEMPERED GLASS | Park Chanyeol x female reader

Genre:  Angst, some fluff

Warnings: possible triggers for anyone with anxiety/panic disorders, a few bad words... can’t really think of anything else

Word count: 6,594

Love is patient, love is kind.

It does not envy, it does not boast.

It is not proud. It does not dishonor others.

It is not self-seeking.

It is not easily angered.

It keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth.

It always protects. Always trusts. Always hopes. Always perseveres.

Love never fails.

Love never fails. It doesn’t. It can’t. How could it fail? You have Chanyeol. You have him, so you have everything. So why are you empty? His body in the same bed as you, but where was his soul? Your tears filling the shower, answer-less prayers to feel his touch. Did he smile? Did he ever smile, or was it a dream? No, if anything it was a nightmare. He said he loved you. He did. Didn’t he? He said it before, you can remember his voice, down on one knee. Love never fails.

Right?

The voice in your head is too loud, and you just want Chanyeol to kiss you

-

Chanyeol used to be your favorite Sunday morning. Light streaming through the window, arm draped over your waist, soft snores in your ear. It was the best sound you had ever heard because it came from the person you loved the most on earth. You’d run your hands through his thick, messy hair and wake him up with kisses on his cheek. His dimples would sink in with a smile and eventually he’d pounce on you, kissing you everywhere but your lips. He tickled your soul in so many ways, made a home out of his heart just for you.

“I love you.”

You missed those days, where your biggest worry was making dinner, hoping he would like it despite the fact that you couldn’t cook for anything.

Now you worried about everything.

‘Will he come home tonight?’, ‘Is he working?’, ‘Has he eaten?’, ‘Who is he talking to?’, ‘Why doesn’t he smile anymore?’

The endless stream of questions barraged your thoughts from the second you woke up in the morning to the second you closed your eyes at night. It was maddening.

At first, he just got home late, always pushed it off as being busy, telling you he missed you. Always kissing you goodnight. Then the busy days turned to busy weeks. Then to busy months. You couldn’t remember the last time he even said goodnight, let alone kissed you.

You could feel your soul splitting day by day, a piece of you missing in every moment that went by where he didn’t speak to you. It felt like a punishment, the deafening silence he thrust upon you, but you didn’t know what you did to deserve it. Didn’t know when your Chanyeol became something that was no longer yours.

“I’m working late this week.” He said quietly, interrupting the ever-constant thoughts racing through your mind. You sat cross legged on the bed, picking at the chipped nail polish on your toes, looking up to find him pulling a hoodie over his head.

“Oh?” It’s all you could form over the sinking feeling in your heart, chest deflating at the thought of another night alone. It wasn’t any better than him being there, backs facing each other while you slept, no words, no warmth, but still. At least he was there.

He simply hummed in response before pulling a beanie over his head and grabbing his phone. He didn’t even spare you a glance, let alone a goodbye before walking out of the room. He used to lay in bed with you before work, holding you tight to his chest, milking every second he could before he had to leave. He’d tell you over and over how much he loved you, how he wished he could stay home forever.

The cold you felt around you now when you heard the front door open and close now was almost numbing. Almost.

You walked into the bathroom and somehow found the will to turn the shower on. The hot water was scalding, but that was okay because at least it took your thoughts away from spending another night alone. You stood under he steaming stream until you felt too dizzy to stand, then you sat until the water turned cold, tears mixing with the drops that pooled down your cheeks, fear gripping you like a knife when there was nothing left to distract you from the thoughts in your head.

‘Is my marriage over?’, ‘Does he hate me?’, ‘Will he leave?’

You pressed your hands over your ears and pulled your knees to your chest, sobs wracking through you like a freight train. Your throat grew hoarse while you sat there, crying to an empty house that didn’t used to feel so empty, body shaking until you felt hollow inside, your heart a rattling sack that pushed blood through barren vessels.

Chanyeol was supposed to love you forever.

“I got you a surprise, don’t look.”

You closed your eyes as if you could relive the memory again. Held out your hand in the shower like you did years ago when he asked for it. You could almost feel him placing the ring on your left hand and opened your eyes to see where it laid now, recalled every moment of that night like it was your favorite movie.

“You are the only person who can handle me. At my best and my worst. You love me like I love you. And I want to love you forever.”

You smiled at the diamond that you’d never taken off, the thought of his words alone causing a shiver to run down your spine. It broke your heart. You covered your mouth and bit back the next wave of tears that begged to take over, the ring suddenly feeling too heavy, too meaningless. ‘How can I make him love me again?’

“Marry me?”

His smile. Down on one knee in front of you, eyes glowing, heart racing. You couldn’t recall the last time you saw him smile like that.

Chanyeol was supposed to love you forever. The thought that he didn’t anymore broke something so deep inside that you wished to feel empty. Wished you could float down the drain with all of the water that trickled around you and never come back up, a single drop of water lost in an ocean full of wonders, a place where you could hide from reality, hide from the devastation that was your life.

Instead, you pulled yourself off of the shower floor, turned the water off, and stood in front of the mirror. You went through the motions of brushing your teeth, combing your hair. You touched your cheeks and pushed your lips up into a smile that immediately fell when you moved your hands away. ‘You can be happy this way’, ‘you can love him even if he doesn’t love you’.

You should have put clothes on and gone grocery shopping. Cleaned the house. Done the laundry. Read a book. You stared at your broken reflection in the mirror and wondered how easy it would have been to break the glass, something to match how you felt inside. Something to make you feel a little less alone.

No, you couldn’t find the strength to do anything but crawl into bed naked, will yourself to sleep, and dream of Chanyeol’s smile.

-

Mornings were pretty dull when Chanyeol stayed at the studio. Sure, you barely spoke anymore, but at least when he was home you would drink coffee together. Even if it was in silence, you preferred it to staring at the empty space in front of you.

You pulled out your phone as you poured yourself a bowl of cereal and texted him.

To; Chanyeol [ 08:45 ];

Are you coming home tonight? I was going to make tacos for dinner!

You smiled as you pressed send, remembering an old forgotten Tuesday tradition. Taco Tuesdays with Chanyeol used to consist of watching a movie and seeing who could eat the most before the end (winner got a back rub). It was the first time in so long that you got giddy about seeing him. The idea of curling up beside him on the couch while he put on some scary movie that he had already seen a billion times, but wanted to watch one more because he thought it was funny to see you afraid – it made your heart swell three sizes. You would sit on the edge of the couch gripping his leg, free hand plastered over your eyes even though they were cracked just enough for you to see every single stupid moment.

“I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. Why is she so stupid?! Why is she going in there?”

Chanyeol would laugh while you whined, hold you when you screamed. Sometimes, when the movie was quiet, he would grip your sides to scare you and you would turn around and hit him. He’d grab your hands and pull your lips to his, kiss your dramatic tears away.

“You’re such a baby.”

His deep voice resonating through your chest pressed against his. You’d pout your lip and he’d kiss you again.

“I love you.”

Your phone buzzed against the table and just like that, the fog of a happy memory was replaced by the all familiar cloud of disappointment.

Chanyeol [ 08:56 ];

Still have a lot to work on with the album. Probably won’t come home until tomorrow. Sorry

You slumped over the table and took three deep breaths, told yourself it would be okay, repeated it over and over like a mantra, as if you could speak it into reality. You told yourself that Chanyeol was just busy and it wasn’t you. Sometimes people can have space and still be okay and just because you didn’t see him every day, or kiss him every night, or touch him anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still his favorite person like you used to be.

‘Were you ever his favorite person?’

It was hard to breathe over the sobs that clawed up your throat, hand gripping your phone like you could get through to Chanyeol with that action alone. You wanted to shake him back to reality, show him what he was doing to you, but couldn’t he already see? Couldn’t he tell what he was doing?

You couldn’t control that anguish that gripped you as you sat up and stuffed a spoon full of Rice Krispies into your mouth, closing your eyes while you prayed away the sadness. Each bite you swallowed choked the tears back down, but blood still rushed through your ears with turmoil and betrayal like it never had. When you stared down at the milk that remained, all you could think of was the pieces of your heart that laid scattered around the too big house you were in, so many that you didn’t know how to put it back together again. You felt shattered. Damaged.

You’d never felt so lonely.

-

The next morning started like this – Chanyeol texted you an apology with no context.

Chanyeol [ 07:33 ];

I’m sorry

It was instant, the ache that settled in your bones and you immediately tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. Hands shaking as thoughts raked through your mind, anxiousness taking hold of your nerves and twisting them around like play-dough. You sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at the carpet, wondering what he would apologize for.

‘For not coming home?’, ‘For everything else?’

You shook your head and stood up, almost walking away to go to the bathroom when the text messages started flooding in. Your phone buzzed wildly on your pillow and even though the coward in you wanted to turn away, you couldn’t help but reach back for it instead. It was your sister, your friends. Your mom.

-Chanyeol broke up with you?

-Why is Chanyeol with another girl?

-What is going on with you and Chanyeol?

-Have you seen this article?

You were clicking on it with blind anger and fear, fingers shaking as you scrolled through picture after picture of Chanyeol with a girl you had never met. In his car, outside of his studio, her kissing his cheek, her hand on his arm while he smiled at her, something genuine that you hadn’t seen in so long. For a second, you forgot to be angry, simply happy to see that he could actually smile and it wasn’t just something you made up in your head.

But then the rage hit. Jealousy thrashed in your chest; how could he smile at her but not you? You stared at the girl’s hand on his arm and wished more than anything you could snatch it away, wanted to burn away her touch with your own, as if anyone could touch him like you did. Instead you dialed Chanyeol’s number again.

No answer.

You threw your phone at the wall and ran into the bathroom, bent over with your head between your knees to try and calm the panic you felt yourself surging inside. The world felt like it was turning upside down. Like you were being burned out of the life you built with Chanyeol, as if he had the right to leave when he was the one who said you meant everything.

“I want to love you forever”

You dropped into a squat and covered your face with your hands, so tired of crying, though the tears just wouldn’t stop coming.

‘How could he do that?’, ‘How could he lie?’, ‘How could he tell you he loved you and then lie?’

You screamed into the empty room and slammed your hands down on the floor, falling to your knees with more sobs then you could handle.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair… You pounded your fists into the linoleum as if you could smash the anger through the floor, bury it in the earth and leave it there forever. Your forehead pressed onto the cold surface beneath your hands and you begged for it all to go away. You just wanted everything to stop, you just wanted to breathe like you did when Chanyeol used to hug you.

An hour passed and you walked back to the bedroom, grabbing your phone off the floor (screen surprisingly unbroken). There were no missed calls. Only more text messages from people who were more concerned about your relationship than they were about your mental health.

You waited the entire day for some kind of follow-up to his apology. An explanation. Absolutely fucking anything. You waited for hours, sat at the kitchen table, hands balled into fists so tight that your nails dug small crescents into your palms. Eventually you moved to the living room, vacuumed to keep busy, mopped the floor, washed the dishes.

You were scrubbing the kitchen counter when he walked through the door. You threw the washcloth down and walked to him, ready to bring your fury down on him like a storm, but the second you saw his face, all of your anger disappeared.

The dark circles housed under his eyes had grown more prominent in the two days since you’d seen him. His hair was a mess, coffee stains on his shirt, looking smaller than he ever had. Defeated.

“Yeol?” You mumbled, standing up straight. His eyes met yours for barely a second, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, before walking to the fridge. He pulled out left-overs from a few nights before and threw them in the microwave before walking into the bedroom. You followed after him despite the voice in your head telling you to leave him alone, like he left you.

He peeled his shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed, eyes drooping like he was going to fall asleep right there.

You walked towards him and pressed your hand to his cheek. When he nuzzled into it and closed his eyes, your heart broke. You grabbed his hand and pulled him to stand up in front of you. It wasn’t sexual in the slightest, the way you pulled off his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling them down so he was left in his boxers. You guided him to the bathroom and turned on the shower, standing with his hand in yours beside you while you tested the temperature, only adjusting it slightly before turning back around.

He looked so tired and innocent, you couldn’t help but press a kiss to his cheek before you pulled down his boxers and ushered him under the water. You helped him wash from head to toe, ignoring the way you got completely soaked in the process and solely focused on making sure he was clean. Once you were finished, you pulled him out and dried him off, lead him back to the bedroom. You pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head and helped him step into a new pair of boxers before walking him back to the kitchen, sitting him down and making him eat the leftovers he heated.

You completely forgot about the pictures. The apology.

‘Tomorrow, it can wait until tomorrow’

He ate his food in silence and you had to nudge him three times to wake him up, but eventually, he finished everything. You walked him to bed, laid him down, pulled the covers up over him and ran your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then walked out to the kitchen to clean up.

It was only then that the ache settled in your chest. He was right there, one room away, and you missed him so much that it took your breath away. You wanted to cry again, scream, but instead you got in the shower, washed away the sadness and climbed into bed beside him.

You wanted to watch him sleep forever. Wanted to reach out and touch him, wrap your arms around him, kiss him, but you didn’t. You didn’t know how to do those things anymore without worrying. Wondering what the next day would bring.

You were just about to roll over when he reached out and wrapped his arms around your waist. You froze, scared he was asleep and that you would wake him up if you moved. It was the first time he had held you in months, you didn’t want to ruin that, even if it was unintentional.

“I love you.”

You thought it was your imagination, his words often echoing through your mind from past memories, but no. That was real. You looked at him with glassy eyes, wondering if he said it in his sleep, but then his eyes opened to meet yours.

“I love you.” He repeated. You bit your lip to keep from crying, but he kissed you despite that, then crushed you into his chest. Your hands gripped his shirt, holding onto him for dear life, as if he would disappear any second. You had to keep him there, had to fight for him, had to keep the Chanyeol who loved you because it was the only thing that made sense.

Sleep found you only minutes later, and you didn’t have to dream of his arms. Instead you dreamt of his voice.

-

You woke up the next morning to Chanyeol pulling his arms away from you.

Well- ripping them away, flustered and cursing, moving around the room too quick for your tired eyes to keep up with.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up and rubbing at your face.

“I’m late.” He snapped, yanking on a sweatshirt and pulling a pair of sweats on.

You sighed and sat up on your knees. “It’s okay, you can afford to be late one day, I’m sure.”

It was like the air was sucked out of the room with that one sentence, and he stood up straight, looking at you with such ferocity that you wanted to melt into the bed beneath you.

“You don’t have a fucking clue what I can and can’t afford right now!” He shot out, and your breath hitched at the harshness of his words.

Sure, you barely had real conversations anymore and you didn’t really kiss or smile with eachother, but Chanyeol was never mean to you. And he never yelled, not at you.

You wrung your fingers and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Well, just… Calm down. Freaking out isn’t going to help.” You said softly and he rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He was grabbing his phone off of the nightstand and pulling a hat onto his head when your fears from the day before flooded into your soul again.

‘Who was she?’, ‘Why is he so mad?’

“Are you cheating on me?” You asked quietly and his head snapped towards you, eyes narrowing.

“What?”

Your blood was boiling. Skin itching with irritation. After how you took care of him the night before, despite all of the stories you heard, he was going to treat you like that?

“I said, are you cheating on me?” Your words were stronger that time, firm.

You didn’t expect the empty laugh that left his lips, the eye roll. The obvious annoyance.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He mumbled, walking out the door and slamming it behind him.

The rage rolled through you in waves. Fire burned through your chest. Your arms moved on autopilot, picking up the wedding picture on the night stand beside you and throwing it at the door he had just left through, a frustrated cry coming out like a strangled scream as the glass shattered on the floor. You half expected him to come back to make sure you were okay but heard the unmistakable opening and closing of the front door and felt exactly like the glass that lay splintered on the bedroom floor.

It took you hours to piece yourself together enough to climb out of bed. Hours to stop crying. The life you were trapped in was so exhausting, and you were tired of pretending you could fix it. Tired of letting Chanyeol ruin you. The constant resentment he tossed around when you had done nothing wrong, the never-ending insecurities he let run through you like a stampede.

You were sick of trying to make him love you again.

“Marry me?”

You were sick of trying to force the memories of your love back into him, trying to make him remember that you were his everything once when he was still yours.

‘Were you ever his everything?’

The thought made you nauseous. It felt like your heart no longer belonged to you, tethered in Chanyeol’s palm by a leash that only he had control of. You just wanted to feel free again.

You stepped over the pile of glass and walked out to the front door, pulling your shoes on. You called your sister and told her you needed her, and she’s your sister, so she picked you up fifteen minutes later, let you sob for thirsty minutes total before driving to a nearby restaurant and parking the car, turning towards you with too much sincerity and pity in her eyes. You hated it.

“You need a drink.”

-

Chanyeol was never one to outright complain about you being drunk, but if he was honest with himself, he hated it. You were obnoxiously loud and touchy, whining about anything and everything, talking faster than he could keep up with about things that made no sense. It was annoying. And he really didn’t have time for it. At all.

It was a really big week, the album was so close to finished, but it wasn’t perfect. He needed it to be perfect, the group couldn’t afford to disappoint anyone. They were all working so hard, practicing every day, writing until their fingers bled, fighting with the company for direction. It was too important.

Still. You were his wife. When your sister called – “she needs you” – he couldn’t say no. Even after you had both fought that morning, and he wasn’t particularly happy to see you, he got into his car and said he would be there in thirty.

He watched from across the street, you sitting on the curb outside of the bar with your sister’s arm draped around your shoulders. She brushed your hair out of your face and you smiled at her like she was actual sunshine. He rolled his eyes and pulled his seat belt off despite the butterflies he got in his stomach and waited for a break in traffic before jogging across the street.

“Hey,” He said, signaling his presence and both you and your sister looked up.

“Sorry.” Your sister mumbled, and you looked at her with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t ever be sorry, not ever to anyone. We don’t have to be sorry, never.” You said wrapping your arms around her head and hugging her to your chest. She laughed and patted your back, peeling your arms away. Chanyeol’s hands wrapped around yours and pulled you to your feet, your hands resting on his chest to steady yourself. He sighed as he grabbed your waist, holding you upright.

“Do you need a ride home?” He asked your sister and she shook her head.

“I’ll get a taxi. You guys go.”

He couldn’t help the annoyance that overtook him when he realized she stuck you with him on purpose. She gave Chanyeol an annoyed smirk, peering up at him through narrowed eyes.

“Don’t make my sister cry again.” She whispered for only him to hear and he nodded in reply. Your sister tended to be a pretty scary person, so he didn’t want to cross her. She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him alone with you.

When he looked down, you were staring up at him with the dopiest smile on your face. You pinched his cheeks and he sighed. He was so cute. He wrapped his hands around your wrists and dragged you across the street to his car, helping you into the front seat. He reached across you to buckle your seat belt, ignoring the way you touched him, pressed kisses to his neck. He abruptly pulled away and you stared at him dejectedly. When he shut your door, you turned on the radio and adjusted your seat back, staring out the window.

‘He rejected me?’, ‘How do you reject your wife?’

You felt so stupid. Getting drunk on a Wednesday, so drunk in fact, that your own sister couldn’t stand to be with you. No one could stand you, not ever, and that thought broke your heart.

Chanyeol noticed nothing of it. In fact, he relished in the silence, completely not expecting it to the usual tirade you went on after drinking. He wanted to make it all the way home, just like that, hoping to avoid an argument at all costs. He preferred when you both didn’t speak because at least it was quiet. He like the quiet.

When he pulled into the driveway, a satisfied smile found his cheeks. He thought you must have been asleep, but when he moved to turn the car off and unbuckle his seat belt, he noticed your hand covering your eyes, unmistakable tears trailing down your chin while you sniffled silently, chest stuttering with sobs he had been deaf to.

He reached over to grab your hand, but you pulled it away, yanked off your seat belt and climbed out of the car before he could even touch you. You stumbled inside and threw your shoes off in the entry way, Chanyeol one step behind.

“Y/n-” he started, but you whipped around and pressed your finger to his lips while you shushed him, tears still falling freely.

“Don’t talk to me.” You said, eyes bleeding the anger you felt, stumbling back towards your bedroom without another word.

Chanyeol was speechless. For the first time in your entire relationship. He stared after you in the entry way, unsure of what to think.

You loved talking when you were drunk, yet the only words you said to him were ‘don’t talk to me’. Is that why he missed your voice all of a sudden? Why he craved to hear you speak again?

You were one step into the room when you remembered your fatal mistake, but it was too late. You never cleaned up the glass from that morning and multiple shards jabbed their way into your heel, eliciting a scream from you.

“Ow!” You stumbled back, tears immediately falling as you pulled your foot up. Chanyeol was there in seconds, immediately assessing the situation and lifting you into his arms. He carried you to the kitchen and sat you up on the counter, crouching down to look at your foot.

“Let me see it.” He said, fingers moving up to touch one of the smaller pieces that jutted out.

“Don’t touch it, please!” You yelled through a sob, pushing his hands away.

“Babe, I have to touch it, there’s glass in there, it could get infected.” He said softly, still looking at your foot and prodding at it, only causing more pain. You gripped his shoulder and shook your head vehemently.

“No, no, no, please. It’s okay, it’s okay, it won’t get infected, it’ll be okay!” You wiped the tears from your eyes in an attempt to prove to him it was no major wound, but you knew it wouldn’t work, the dramatics already displayed.

He looked up at you, serious. “So, if it gets infected and you die, what should I do then? You want me to just be alone?”

He stood up and walked towards the cabinet that housed the expired first aid kit you bought 2 years before when you moved in.

“It’s not like you’d care.” You mumbled, wiping at your eyes again with the back for your wrist. He looked up at you, confused, and chuckled half-heartedly, dismissing your comment with a roll of his eyes.

“I wouldn’t care?” He repeated, turning back towards you and going through the small kit.

You shook your head ‘no’ and he saw it out of the corner of his eye, still determined to find the tools he needed. “You don’t love me anymore, so you would be okay.”

That time he chuckled for real, caught off guard by your statement. “I don’t love you? What are you talking about?”

He turned back, tweezers in hand, and grabbed your ankle, but you barely noticed. He looked up when he realized you weren’t making a scene like he expected, watched your eyebrows furrow together while you wrung your fingers together, anxiousness and worry on full display. The sight of you broke something inside of him. The genuine tears that rolled down your cheeks.

“You don’t tell me you love me anymore. You don’t kiss me.” A small sob broke from your throat and his heart skipped a beat. “You called me stupid this morning, after I took care of you last night. And you don’t even feel sorry. And I had a right to be angry, I have a right to be pissed at you!”

He sighed and closed his eyes, unable to look at you like that anymore. He started picking out the pieces of glass one by one, listening to the soft sobs that escaped you, each one a blow to his chest he had never felt before.

“I don’t even know what I did, Yeol. I feel like I’m nothing to you anymore. That’s how I feel.”

He wanted you to shut up. To stop saying such useless, unimaginable things.

“And you’re seeing another girl! I can’t believe you were smiling with her; you never smile at me anymore!” You couldn’t stop now, ready to get everything you wanted out on the table.

He was wrapping your foot with gauze, annoyance reaching a boiling point as you flailed your arms around dramatically, pointing at him and yelling.

“If you want to leave me, then you should just do it. Okay? But don’t embarrass me by sneaking around with another girl. I’ll be fine, I am a strong woman, I don’t nee-“

Chanyeol cut you off, hands wrapped under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the counter, his lips against yours shutting you up effectively. It was so unexpected, the words he stole from you as if they were his own, claiming every bit of oxygen in your lungs with is tongue against yours, his hands on your thighs, skin against skin. You missed his touch more than anything. Your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him take every piece of you he wanted, teeth skimming against your lower lip, his cinnamon breath taking over all of your senses. You wanted to drown in him, all those tears swirling down the drain now nonexistent, the will to fight for him renewing inside of you.

You whimpered into the kiss and he smiled, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pulling you up off the counter. His lips never left yours as he moved back towards the bedroom, a constant you weren’t sure you could lose again, but you pulled away, looking back.

“Watch out for the-”

“Glass.” He breathed out, catching your lips again as he stepped over the pile in front of the door.

Every bit of you wanted him, mind finally silent from worry, heart content as he laid you back on the bed and climbed on top of you. He pulled his shirt off and kissed your neck, that space below your ear that he knew was so sensitive for you. The peppered kisses he trailed from your neck to your lips brought you home, for the first time in so long. Chanyeol was Sunday mornings again, his hands sliding up your shirt, your body melting with his like you were made for him. You bled for him, cried for him, the oxygen that carried through your veins was only his.

He pulled away for the first time in what felt like hours, eyes meeting yours with so much passion that you wanted to fall into him. You wanted to fall into his arms and let him hold you forever, this boy who had every piece of your soul.

“I love you.” You whispered.

Tears filled your eyes and he swallowed hard, eyes frenzied and confused.

“I need you.”

His words were whispered and rushed and not what you were expecting, but you gave him everything. You gave him every piece of the already fractured glass heart that you had left and let him build a castle for himself, a kingdom you weren’t sure he was ready to let you in. Let him ruin you from head to toe, mold you like you imagined Alexandros of Antioch molded the Venus de Milo, in the image he wanted, everything he needed. You wanted to be his everything again. You had to be.

-

The next morning, you woke up with your naked legs tangled with Chanyeol’s, his arm draped over your waist, head nuzzled into your hair. You felt so complete again, unlike the hollow shell you usually felt like, one who held the place of his wife. You felt wanted. You felt remade.

Time ticked by too quickly, the fear of him leaving for work nearly suffocating. So, you listened to him breathe. Distracted yourself with the soft snores that flowed from him like your favorite melody. Drowned out your never ceasing thoughts with the smell of his shampoo so close. You memorized the way his fingers felt against your skin, both soft and rough at the same time, so hard working and full of love.

The sound of his phone buzzing broke everything. You pretended to sleep when Chanyeol got up, turning back to grab his phone from the nightstand. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but birds chirped outside of the window. You wondered what it would be like to be one of them. He sat up on the side of the bed and answered the call.

You listened to him talk, listened to him whisper words of apology to someone that you didn’t know. Listened to him lie about where he was and wondered why he should have to lie. You were his wife. He should be lying to you, not the other woman.

“Mina, it’s nothing, really. I’m in the car, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Wait for me.”

Every piece of life was sucked out of you at the sound of her name.

Mina.

A name to the face who was stealing your husband. A name to the face of the woman who made him smile.

‘Wait for me.’

‘Did he ever smile at you like that?’

He sighed and stayed still for a few moments. You felt him look back towards you once. Twice.

‘Please don’t go’, ‘Please don’t go’, ‘Please don’t go’

Your eyes filled with tears, begging him to hear your heart, begging him to pull you back into his chest and not get out of the bed.

When he moved to push himself up, you rolled over and grabbed his hand.

His eyes down on you, so empty. How had things gotten here?

“Please don’t go.” You whispered.

His eyebrows scrunched together and he sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand.

“I’ll be back tonight.” He mumbled, and it felt like a shot to the heart. “I promise.”

You didn’t let go of his wrist. “Please.” Couldn’t let go. It felt like the end, and it was too real. It was all too real.

He looked at you and sighed, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

He muttered the words one more time before pulling his hand from yours and getting dressed.

It felt like you were watching a movie. A life flashing before you that you didn’t know. A man you had never seen. He walked out without a goodbye and you didn’t break. Tempered glass doesn’t do that. It shatters in spiderwebs, no ragged edges to fall apart, just broken pieces locked together that can’t be put back together again. A damaged piece of hardware no one could fix, not even Chanyeol.

The birds outside were chirping and again, you wondered what it must be like to fly away.

-

Chanyeol came home that night to the house dark. Every piece of you was missing; your clothes, your notebooks, the stupid clock you bought the year before that was in the shape of a cat that he hated more than anything.

He tried calling you over and over, but you never answered. Your sister refused to tell him anything - “I told you to stop making her cry.”

Your ring sat on his pillow; a note written beneath it that he couldn’t find the courage to read.

“I love you.” You whispered to him at some grocery store years before. He laughed and looked around.

“Why now?” He questioned and you rolled your eyes, shoulders shrugging.

“Not just now. Forever.”

The smile on your face, something he loved more than anything. He knew right then that he would die for you.

“Forever.” He repeated.

The house was empty, no longer a home since you were gone. Cold. Dark. Hell.

You were gone.

-

A/N: Guys!!!! My third fic!!! Let a girl know what ya think, I’m honestly really proud of this one and really really hope I can hear from you all about it ~~ SO SO SO much love, any feedback is appreciated!!!

P.S. i’ve got a part 2 kickin for this one :):):):):):)

[emy-loves-you]

(Slightly) Less Useless, (Definitely) Gayer Chapter 1

The Morning After

This is the sequel to Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays. You can find the last chapter here, and the Useless Gays Masterlist here.

Chapter 2

There’s a brief mention of sex halfway through the chapter, but that’s about it warning-wise. I hope you enjoy!

Virgil groaned as he woke up. He went to sit up, but there was a heavy weight on his chest and legs. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Janus and Remus on top of him. Instead, Patton was laying on his left side, holding hands with both Virgil and Logan. Logan was laying on Virgil’s right, nuzzling Virgil’s neck. Roman layed across their laps, his head in Logan’s. Both Virgil and Logan had a hand in Roman’s hair. Virgil sighed, petting Roman’s hair. He kept his eyes open, if only to keep this dream lasting a little longer.

He felt Logan stir next to him, breathing deeply into Virgil’s neck. If this were real, Virgil’s cheeks would be tomato-red. Instead, Virgil sighed happily, leaning his head on Logan’s. Logan nuzzled deeper into Virgil’s neck. “Mornin’” he mumbled out, the vibrations of his voice tickling Virgil’s collarbone. Virgil huffed out a laugh, moving his hand (the one in Roman’s hair) to rub Logan’s.

“This ‘s a nice dream.” Virgil mumbled, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. He felt Logan tense for a moment before he removed his hand from Virgil. There were a few moments of silence before-

“Ah!” Virgil jumped slightly, a sharp pain at his side. He froze, making sure that Patton and Roman were still asleep. When neither of them stirred, he turned to glare at Logan. His hand was still at Virgil’s side from where he pinched him. “What the hell, Lo?!” Virgil hissed out, trying not to shout.

“You assumed that this was a dream.” Logan responded, nuzzling back into Virgil’s shoulder. “One of the main signs of dreaming is the inability to feel pain. Therefore, the best way to test your hypoth… thesis… is to…” Virgil watched with a fond smile as Logan fell back asleep. He sat there for a few minutes, trying to remember how this dream became his reality.

The memories hit him like a freight train. His plans for their date, the rainstorm, his confession to being Anxiety. They had not only accepted him, but they wanted him to join their relationship. And he said yes! Virgil tried to remember what happened next. They had a Disney movie marathon while eating Virgil’s picnic lunch. Virgil blushed as he remembered how they playfully fed each other the chocolates Virgil had bought for them. Afterward, they cuddled on the couch and watched a few more movies before falling asleep. Virgil smiled as he looked at his three crushes- no, boyfriends. Wasn’t that a weird thing to say? Virgil’s boyfriends. Virgil could hear that a thousand times over and it would still feel surreal.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Virgil snorted as Roman jumped, falling off of their laps and onto the floor. “You okay, Princey?” Roman groaned, not moving from his spot on the ground. “Are you gonna answer the door?” Another groan, but no movement.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Roman sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Coming!” He called out, slowly getting up. “I swear to Disney this better be important.” He grumbled out. Virgil huffed out a laugh as Roman made his way to the door. He couldn’t see what was going on, but he heard the conversation clearly.

“What are you doing here? It’s only… 8:30 in the morning!”

“Well, RoRo, Virgil was supposed to meet up with us last night, but he never showed. Since last we heard from him he was on his way to see you, we assumed that he was with you.” Virgil silently groaned, resisting the urge to facepalm. He’d completely forgotten about his plans with Remus and Janus.

“Well, Virgil decided to stay here tonight-”

“Wait!” Janus yelled, interrupting Roman’s explanation. “Did you guys have sex?”

Roman sputtered. “No! It was our first date! Why on Earth would we have sex on the first date?”

“But did you sleep in the same bed together?” Remus asked in a teasing tone.

“I mean, we all slept on the couch together, so-”

“AHA!” Remus yelled. Patton and Logan woke up with a start.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Patton asked, his voice slurred.

“I TOLD YOU THEY WOULD SLEEP TOGETHER!” Remus yelled, obviously not caring that he woke everyone else up.

Janus sputtered. “But- that was obviously not the connotation you were using when we made this bet!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” Remus screamed out. “A DEAL’S A DEAL! THAT RUG’S GOIN’, BITCH!”

“Wait a minute.” Virgil said, speaking up for the first time. “Janus, you betted your rug on something with such an obvious loophole?” He sat up as Roman let Remus and Janus into the house. How they were so impeccably dressed at 8:30 in the morning, Virgil would never know.

“Wait,” Patton said, still half-asleep. “What’s so important about this rug?”

Janus cleared his throat. “It was a birthday gift from an associate of mine.”

“A bear-skinned rug.” Remus clarified, still bouncing on the tips of his toes. “Set up in the middle of the hallway. Almost every time I pass it, I trip on it. And he won’t even let us have sex on it! What’s the point of a bear-skinned rug if we can’t sex it!”

“Ignoring how grammatically incorrect that last sentence was,” Logan said, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table. “Have the two of you had breakfast? We just woke up so we will probably be eating soon.”

Remus and Roman both turned to the people on the couch, speaking excitedly at the same time. “Can you make pancakes (Pattycake/VeeVee)? Please!” They both paused to stare at each other.

“What are you talking about? Pat makes the best pancakes!”

“You obviously haven’t had Virgil’s blueberry pancakes! I thought I was in heaven the first time I ate those.”

“Just wait until you’ve had Pattycake’s strawberry pancakes! Nothing on this Earth could rival his strawberry perfections!”

Virgil looked down at Patton, a goofy smile on his lips. “You know what this calls for, right?”

Patton giggled. “Pancake fight?”

Virgil laughed, finally feeling content with life. “Pancake fight.”

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

Patton and Virgil didn’t have any spoken rules for their “pancake fight,” so they ran into a few issues pretty quickly. Most of them were easily resolved, such as who can use the mixer and who gets to use the stove first. However, they ran into one issue near the end. Virgil was using the stove first, and Patton took the moment to taste some of Virgil’s batter.

“Hey!” Virgil said, lightly pushing Patton away. “Hands off the batter.”

Patton playfully scowled, before his expression turned serious. “Did you put chocolate in this?” He saw Virgil’s guilty look and yelled. “I didn’t know we could use chocolate! You cheater! You’re using our boyfriend’s love of chocolate against me!” He gestured to Logan, one of the judges for this event. “Now I’ve gotta add chocolate,” Patton grumbled, heading towards the fridge.

“Nuh-uh.” Virgil laughed as he turned off the burner. He grabbed Patton’s sleeve. “It’s already your turn to use the stove, and you said I couldn’t add more blueberries when I was flipping flapjacks.”

Patton’s face went slightly red, trying to force his own giggles down. “How dare you use my own logic against me!” He grabbed a handful of flour and smeared it across Virgil’s cheek. The room went silent. All eyes turned to Virgil, who was staring at Patton in shock. Patton’s face immediately softened. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” He said stepping forward to cup Virgil’s cheek-

Suddenly, there was a handful of flour in Patton’s hair. Patton stared at Virgil, who suddenly had a mischievous smirk on his face. Virgil kissed the tip of Patton’s nose while he used his hand to smear the flour into his hair. He suddenly backed away, a plate full of blueberry-chocolate pancakes in hand. “Your turn to use the stove, Angel.” He said cheekily.

Patton laughed, grabbing another handful of flour. “Oh, it’s on.”

The resulting flour battle could only be described as disastrous. Logan and Janus teamed up around halfway through the fight, and the twins seemed to only be targeting each other. The fight long after they ran out of flour, when everyone was too tired to keep playing. Patton quickly made his pancakes and they sat down to eat (Patton had somehow snuck white chocolate into the bowl during the flour battle. How he did that while still constantly hitting Virgil and Logan with flour, they’d never know). They concluded that Virgil and Patton’s pancakes were of equal taste, though they were even better together.

Virgil smiled as he watched how Roman tried to toss leftover blueberries into Remus’ mouth. How Logan and Janus watched with exasperated fondness, gossiping (“evaluating information” they said) as they sipped their coffee. How Patton held Virgil’s hand from under the table. Virgil sighed. In his wildest dreams, Virgil had never dreamed of something so… perfect. But it was perfect. And it was all Virgil’s.

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

Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @drarrymalecsolangelo @count-woelaf @im-an-anxious-wreck