#want to yell into the void and forget about it. Hits post

[fadeintoyou1993]

having to explain to people things like. if i have to go out to do something and run errands i need to have it all mapped out and planned w like. at least a week in advance. and if i go out that day i cannot do anything else because That will be it. if i have multiple commitments that cannot be put on the same day i need one full day in between those commitments so i can rest and be recharged for that next thing otherwise i might have a breakdown in the middle of the street (again) and then That will render me unable to function for like a whole three days. and then people look at me like i choose to live like this?

[anoctoberpepper]

So a quick update: Over these next two months I’m going to be putting effort into original fiction so my AO3 posting will likely be slowing down. Disappearing off the face of the planet is pretty normal for me (I’m a chronic Discord ghoster 😭), but I will do my best to stay active here.

Please continue to hit me up with any of your favorite DnDads headcanons and ideas! I still definitely want to talk and write in this fandom! 

Sappy love under the cut. TL;DR I’m insane and you all have made me feel seen. 

So I’ve had a weird five years, the middle of which involved being hospitalized for the first (and god willing only) time, for mental health issues. I had a major depressive disorder that turned into a late in life diagnosis of “Schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type with mixed features” (I was actively delusional for 8 months, fun times). I have frilly diagnoses around that including generalized anxiety disorder, and an unspecified personality disorder. I say this because I don’t get to say it all that often. In my day-to-day life I have to keep that part of me tucked away so deep down that bringing it out to see the light of day hurts. Even though it’s a big part of how I relate to the world and it genuinely affects every day of my life. 

My closest friends barely understand my diagnosis. It’s hard to talk about. I either feel embarrassed or I’m worried that giving details will make people uncomfortable. Or maybe they’ll pity me, or worse they might not trust me anymore. Schizophrenia and Bipolar have hefty stigmas. So I don’t talk about it in any detail. 

But I need to talk about it. 

I was reading an original fiction piece I wrote before my diagnosis and realized that the main character, who was under the thrall of some violent magic at the time, was feeling exactly like how I would describe mixed mania now. It told me two things, 1) I was feeling horrible for a lot longer than I thought, and 2) I’ve been trying to describe it through my writing for just as long. 

I’ve written a lot over the last ten-ish years, and as all writers do I’ve tossed some of that writing into the void of agents' inboxes hoping for a bite. (I have received half a bite, one time). I write because I want to understand myself and because I love stories, but there’s something unique about having someone validate what you put on the page. Like “yeah. I get it, I feel that too.” 

I want to be able to yell my words to the world so someone will yell back. 

You all have yelled back. 

Genuinely and truly with all of my heart I could not have asked for a better gift this last year than having people feel seen by my writing.

I’m finally pulling my way back up from a really deep pile of crap and part of that journey was being able to write about Lark and Grant and Terry. Them learning to ask for what they need, and taking care of themselves and letting themselves be taken care of has taught me how to do it. 

I’ve found words to describe the mumbling voices I hear when I forget to take my meds, and the crawling-skin feeling of mania. I learned how to ask for things even if it’s as stupid as “can you walk to the kitchen with me so I don’t have to go through the process of making a bagel by myself.” Having characters take care of themselves has trained me to take care of myself. Utterly ridiculous, but absolutely profound. 

Another part of that journey I must mention is having people say, “yeah, that’s what it’s like for me too. I hear you. I see you. We’re in this together.” 

It is a gift I didn’t know I needed. People don’t usually talk about their mental health issues and when they do it’s generally not in a way I can relate to. I’m not really textbook anything, but I am some of everything. Being able to describe the pain of random mental health things and having other people say they’ve felt that way too has made me feel less alone. 

I don’t know how to end this rant, only that I would be remiss if I didn’t say I sincerely appreciated every comment and interaction I’ve had over the last year with you all. I feel comforted in a way I never thought I would. I feel joy in participating in this community, and a deep feeling of hope that things will keep getting better (and then worse and then better again). 

I love you all. Thank you for everything, and I hope to be back up posting as soon as I get some original fictioning done. 

(Or maybe I’ll get sick of trying to write my own stuff and I’ll be back here in a week. Who knows.) 

P.S. I’m still planning to work on Picking up the Pieces, it just might be slower than my usual pace

[aprillikesthings]

I'm so envious of people who write fast and write easily. I can often picture scenes but then I go to describe them and there's just no way they'd work that way, or once it's in words it looks fucking dumb, or I can't find the words to describe the things I can feel and see in my head, and there are days it's like this monumental effort to get down ANYTHING.

But also: up until l literally 2016 I had convinced myself I couldn't write fiction at all! So part of me still believes it's all been a fluke and I will once again be unable to write fiction any day now. Which isn't true??? That's. Not how it works.

I only started writing because I'd fallen hard for Amethyst/Peridot in SU, and there was a tiny handful of fics in the tag. I wrote down a silly headcanon in narrative form and posted it before I could change my mind--and people liked it!

And then I had an idea for a story, and then another story, and then another one--and people liked them! I was writing for a tiny corner of the fandom, but anything new I posted got about 100-150 hits and a few dozen kudos in the first 24-48 hours, because that was the number of people obsessively checking the ship's tag and attempting to read everything.

(It's still funny to think about, but I wrote, like, a double-digit percentage of the explicit Amedot fics out there; which means that anyone who liked smutty stories of those two had likely at least attempted to read my stories!)

And then like a week after the first K/DA video came out, I managed to post the first explicit Akali/Evelynn K/DA fic, and shit blew up from there. I will never forget the :O of watching my hit count climb to 1000 in a single day. I kept refreshing the fic over and over and realizing: dozens of people are reading this. Right this second. While I sit here in my pj's. WHAT. THE FUCK.

For a few months? I think?, that first K/DA fic of mine was the third most kudos'ed fic for the entire League of Legends fandom tag!

(If you sort for the pairing/explicit/by kudos, I'm still on the first page; but definitely not top five, lol.)

I still think my K/DA fics are some of my best writing, but a huge reason for it was being in a very active server (...which I started) and constantly bumping ideas off of each other. Also if you're writing all the time you just get better at it!

I wrote a few things for Arcane, and what's wild is that one of them is my most popular fic by FAR, but so many people were reading Arcane (...okay, specifically CaitVi) fics that that one is nowhere near the top for that fandom, by any way of measuring things.

ANYWAY. I've said all this before.

But I'm hella out of practice writing fic. I mostly yell into the void here when I'm stuck on something, though I've been doing that less lately.

But I've never been a fast writer! There's been a handful of times I've managed more than a thousand words in a single day, and I know people who can do like 4k words per day on the regular, no problem.

And even the stuff I do write, these days I want to edit like fifty times before posting them. Mostly because my ability to spot issues in my writing is sharper than my ability to fix them, I guess? But also because I constantly change my mind on things.

I'm not going to lie: I knew I wouldn't get a lot of readers, I'm writing an au a lot of people don't care about four years after the end of the show. But it still sucks to see how slowly any of my numbers increase. I got hella spoiled back in the day; I took a screenshot of the kudos email after I posted the one explicit CaitVi fic I wrote because it was BANANAS. (And posted it to facebook to brag lol.)

But dammit, I want to tell this fucking story. I haven't even gotten to the good fun stuff yet; the stuff I'm really excited about that I've seen in my head a thousand times.

I keep refusing to let myself write it, out of fear I won't write the stuff in between, but I think I might sketch out some of my ideas anyway, just to help push me to write the stuff between now and then.

ugghghgh it's been nearly a week since I managed to write anything on my au fic but I got some words down finally

Dunno if they're any good but it's something

Writing them being apart, meeting new friends; all that shit--it's difficult!

But also once again I ended up googling shit like "what were school lunches like in the 1960's" (bad, but mostly bad in the same way home cooking was at the time--nothing fresh, lots of meatloaf and canned green beans and pints of milk)

[volleychumps]

Requesting cheating angst with Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, and Atsumu? Rip my heart apart please😌😌♥️

oH SHIT let’s do a remix on the fluff for this one post, everybody- I’m in an angsty mood so uh, eskettit :( I couldn’t make it past Akaashi’s scenario and I had so many breaks, so proceed at your own risk, everyone! 

Turn and Keep Going. (Kuroo, Iwaizumi, and Akaashi) - angst -

TW: CHEATING, CURSING, ANGST- no fr I ugly cried and I wrote it

Kuroo

“Y/N. Where do you keep the extra towels again?”

You didn’t mean to see it. In fact, if you had the choice on whether or not you did- 

you would have chosen not to. 

The phone in your hand became tightened in an iron-clad grip as a chuckle with a nervous tinge to it slipped Kuroo’s mouth, and the world seemed to drown out for a moment. As if the world around you submerged into the water of the sea, where everything you could hear was jumbled as a strange heat flooded your vision, choking your lungs with the salt of the ocean. 

“Y/N?” The garbled voice was questioning now as your eyes stayed glued to the screen, of the naked set of breasts and invites, even worse- 

the accepting replies. 

That was all it took for you to flinch away from the hand that Kuroo had carefully set on your back hunched over the device, the towel he had been using to dry off his hair falling to the floor in a heap of material as the raven-haired boy finally entered your bedroom from his post-practice shower. 

Still, the phone remained tightened in your hand so tight to the point where your knuckles were turning white. 

“Why are you going through my phone?” The accusatory edge to Kuroo’s voice had risen, and so did you to your feet, the device hitting the floor next to the towel as you fight to keep your head afloat.

“How long?” Your voice cracked, no matter how hard you fought the breaking feeling spreading across your chest as Kuroo seemed to still completely, and you didn’t need to look at him fully in the face to know how utterly guilty he looked. 

“W-What do you-?” 

“Don’t.” Your voice was soft, refusing to meet the captain’s eyes now, not knowing just who was standing in your room. 

Not knowing just who was the man now holding your face in his hands, urging you to look at him with his own flood falling on his cheeks as his words remained garbled. Still, you let him. 

“Baby. Kitten-fuck. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I love you! I wasn’t completely there when I-” 

“Fucked her?” Your voice hadn’t risen, eyes glazed over in a haze as Kuroo’s voice hitched. 

“No. Nononono- Y/N, kitten-” 

“T-Tetsurou?” The name felt foreign on your tongue as your head finally rose to meet his, willing everything inside you to hold it back as Kuroo held you tighter, as if his arms would salvage what was falling apart. 

“Get out.” 

“Y/N. Please.” His voice fell to a whisper- 

and the dam broke. 

“I SAID GET THE HELL OUT.” You screamed, falling to your knees as your arms wrapped around yourself, knowing you were all you had in the world at the moment. You saw his legs approach you, before hesitating and turning the other way, clenched fists creating bloody marks in his hands from his fingernails as he complied. 

“And Tetsurou.” You spat just as his legs stall in the doorway, watching as Kuroo’s feral and playful eyes that once painted every edge of your universe seemed to be fighting to remain stable. The captain heard those words, and couldn’t fight the sobs beginning to wreck his body as the voice he loved echoed in his ears with parting words- 

Your voice didn’t crack this time. 

“Don’t come back.” 

Iwaizumi

“She’s a nobody.” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, humorless chuckle slipping your lips as Iwa steps to your side, dark eyes looking tired and void of any light that might had once lit up his dark irises. You look out at the landscape, still looking straight forward as the ace settles next to you, hanging his forearm across his bent knee. 

“How did you find me?” 

“It’s been two years. I know you, Y/N.” Iwaizumi’s eyes bore into your side profile, and more sarcastic giggles make their way past your lips as you hug your knees to your chest, jabbing him where it hurts. 

“Funny. I really thought I knew you, Hajime-” 

“Don’t you start with that shit.”

You lazily finally meet Iwa’s eyes, causing the ace to feel the lump growing in his throat at the amount of light drained from the look of them, mirroring his own. Iwa moistens his lips, trying to get his head back on track as the heat tinges at the sides of his eyes. 

“We love each other, don’t we?” 

“Yeah. We did.” 

Iwa flinches at the past-tense term, feeling his breathing hollow out at the sound of it. 

“We must’ve at some point, right?” All cried-out, you watch the sun seem to slowly sink into the horizon in a mix of color as your eyes soak in its’ prettiness, as if the light from the sun would somehow bring the gleam back to your eyes-

but every time you closed them, all you saw was Iwaizumi fiercely kissing another girl in the passenger seat of her car, fist clenched in her hair as he kissed her with anger from the fight he had with you-

“You do. You love me.” The denial sunk in as you laugh. And you laugh some more as if that were the most idiotic thing in the world. “And I love you, Y/N- princess, we can make this work and get through this-!” 

“I don’t want to, though.” You cut him off, drawing circles in the dirt as you remember the nights teasing Iwa for showing too little emotion- not knowing that the most you would get out of him would be after he stuck his tongue down another girl’s throat. 

“Don’t you get that?” You shake your head, smiling as if you can’t believe it, shoving Iwa’s attempt of holding you off of you as you raise to your feet, soaking in the colors as they fade to a more dark color palate. 

“I don’t give a fuck about some nobody, don’t you get that?!” Iwa’s on his feet now too, and you finally begin to crack as you look out to the horizon, a familiar heat flooding your vision as you smile. 

“Hey, Hajime.” You ignore his cry, prompting the dark-haired boy to look in the same direction you were. “This is where it all started, didn’t it? Where you kissed me, and promised that you would always protect me, right?” 

Iwa’s own eyes brim with frustration as the stinging heat from earlier takes over, feeling the mix of regret and heartbreak begin to settle in as you turn and give him a smile. No sarcastic intention behind it as you close your eyes, Iwa’s eyes widening at the sight of something he’d never get to see again. 

“I guess you really don’t know me, after all.” You smile to the point where its’ painful, spinning on your heel. “I came because I knew you’d find me, not to fix whatever this is, but-” 

You’re turned around now, the sun fading into night as you will your legs to keep walking. 

“To say goodbye to you, Hajime.” 

And so, the dark-haired ace watched as you walked off into the distance and out of his life for a problem he created, yells of frustration enclosed in his throat and the need to punch something ever-so prevalent- 

as the sky above now swirled with dark pigment. 

Akaashi

“Don’t. Don’t go, please.” 

“Keiji, let go.” You tug your arm in an attempt to make the messy-haired boy release you, trembling when he pulls you into his chest, burying his head in your neck as the hot tears hit your skin, prompting you to bite your lip and fight the urge to hold him back as your own eyes burn. If he wouldn’t let you go, then-

You can’t help the vicious words from slipping. “She’s waiting, you should go to her, shouldn’t you?” 

“Stop. D-Don’t say that-” 

“Am I wrong?” Your voice remains stable to your surprise, causing Akaashi to tighten his hold on you even more. “The girl who came out after you in your shower...who is she?” 

“No one! No one, Y/N, you were so far for so long, and-” 

“And what?” You question emotionlessly. “You have needs? You were lonely? Cut the bullshit.” 

“Do you know what it’s been like?” Akaashi’s voice is soft with an angry edge as he pulls back, still holding you in his arms as if to keep you there for an eternity, and for a minute, time does stop- 

and you soak in the reality. Life tore you two apart, distanced yet together, far away yet still part of the same relationship. The blue-eyed boy would never be able to rewind the clock and keep you as his no matter what life hurled- 

“Let go.” 

“Fuck if I do.” 

Your strong exterior begins to crumble as Akaashi watches with now widened eyes as the viciousness drains only to be replaced with sorrow, relief filling his heart when you hold him back just as tightly, your chin resting on his shoulder as your grateful he won’t be able to see what kind of expression crosses your features. 

“Keiji.” You whisper almost child-like, causing Akaashi’s heart to swell with hope until the next words make his heart stop. 

“Eat healthy, will you? I know Bokuto likes to drag you around to all these places, but too much ramen isn’t good for you-” 

“Y/N?” 

“And please, for god sakes, make sure you remember to pick up your suit from the laundromat on Thursdays, I know you’re presentations are usually on Fridays-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Oh, and don’t forget- you always make it a point to drop by Konoha’s for a guy night on the fourth of every month, so don’t drink too much because it gives you a massive migraine in the middle of the night-” 

“Y/N!” 

“And Keiji?” You pull back, corners of your mouth pulled back as you cup his face gently, leaning your forehead against his as Akaashi Keiji freezes in shock as the love of his life, his future, his world- 

Smiles a wordless goodbye, capturing his lips as Akaashi wonders how to turn the hands of time, forcing the laws of nature to bend for his selfish desires as his arms slacken- 

“Be happy.” You whisper, retracting your arms and hands before stepping out of his now weak grip, brushing past him with a finality in your steps as time refuses to stop, Akaashi fighting every instinct on forcing you to stay with him- 

letting you go as the hands of time continue to move along with your steps away from him, the setter lifting a hand to his mouth before he falls to his knees and looks up to the sky- 

wishing he had more hours, minutes, and seconds to see that smile for just a bit longer. 

“Yeah. You do the same, love.”

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

LMAO GO READ SOME OF MY FLUFF IF THIS MADE YOU SAD I’M SORRY 

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046

[butterfly--empress]

So About BnHA…

Man! I don’t participate much on here but it sure has been an interesting popcorn eating time, lurking through the good, the bad, and the annoying posts in the spoiler chapter tags. For this week’s chapter, especially!

Not gonna rant (I save those for close friends on discord) 

I do notice that lines within this crazy ass fandom have been drawn, tears have been shed and righteous fury has been felt. And no matter wtf Mister Horikoshi has in stored for chapter 320, it’s going to be a make or break chapter for a lot of folks. I did try my best to keep this post Bakugou neutral grounds. I don’t think I’ve bashed nor favored the character just fyi.

But the most inconspicuous opinions can be taken too serious these days…

The Silly:

For chapter 320 onwards, I am and have ALWAYS BEEN 100% Team: The Legend, The Myth, The Champ, Izuku ‘Feral!Rabbit-Cryptid!’ Midoriya! Win or Lose, I ride or die with Midoriya, hands down! ON GOD!

While everybody yelling into the tumblr void over whose gonna win or lose.

I’m sitting here thinking about two things: A) Has no one thought that maybe some of Class 1-A might side with Deku? *coughsUraraka/Iida/Todorokicoughs* *coughsmaybeevenMineta/Asui/Yaoyorozu???coughs* *coughs maybe even a surprise Shinsou/class1-b reveal even though class 1-b don’t know deku that well* B) Did everyone forget in all the excitement that uhh my boi has yet to unlock the 2nd OFA user’s quirk???

I mean, I’m not saying if it does come down to a bawl of drama and angst, that Izuku’s gonna win.

But I am saying, if it does come down to a bawl of drama and angst, that Izuku’s gonna win…I regret nothing with this bet! If my boi loses we just gonna take that L but…ya know…*shrugs*…Baby, beat their Bakugou’s collective asses.

The Serious:

Personally, I honest to god really love this shounen series with all my heart. It is the anime that reignited my love for shounen after my fatigued of constant disappointment with two old shounen favorites. 

Now, having said all that: I truly have not had a serious issue with the writing choices made by Horikoshi. Yes, I have my…gripes…(it’s complicated) but considering what I got compared to the stuff I’ve watched/read in the past, it’s definitely better to me. Having read/watched a lot of anime/manga and shounen, (I haven’t watched them ALL, srsly after my great disappointment and real life I sort of had an anime dry spell if you must know. Watched some stuff here and there when I could/in the mood but not as frequent as I’ve done like yrs ago), I’ve come to learn to just…begrudgingly accept/expect certain; I suppose you can say, writing choices or ‘tropes’ that I can just easily ignore them, roll my eyes when I see them, and still enjoy whatever I’m invested in at the time. 

The only real frustrations I have is with a certain character. Yes, I mean Bakugou. I have come to tolerate him, I have come to begrudgingly like him, especially after a second rewatch of the series, I could see and accept that in a very typical shounen way, Bakugou did change, though very little, and it’s subtle and undeniably frustrating how it’s happening but it’s there. However, I do question Horikoshi’s writing choices when it comes to him at times. I see the character development, I know it’s there but….*sighs*

Now I’m one of these people who do believe that the creator of this universe, actually knows wtf he’s doing with his own story (even if rabid/hormonal younger fans loudly disagree but YMMV). One thing I’ve noticed, for the most part, he doesn’t just write/draw things for the hell of it, even if a certain plot or a certain character’s development takes a snail’s pace to get to the point. The conclusion of building up to arcs do have a pay off. (And I 100% understand that for some people, moving at a snail’s pace just don’t cut it. Everything cannot please everybody all of the time and that is FINE!)

Katsuki Bakugou…I know the crumbs and very subtle ways he’s changed have to lead somewhere and to something huge. When Bakugou admits to All Might he bullied Midoriya when they were kids, I had an ‘ah ha!’ Moment. The fact that a very prideful guy like Bakugou was finally starting to admit just that much, (even though, we the audience knows it runs way deeper than he’s admitting here) even in his frustrating roundabout way I like to think this is progress, is very in-character and cannot just be for the hell of it. It has to be leading up to something else other than Bakugou jumping in to take that hit for Deku during the war arc. There is unresolved tension still between Bakugou and Midoriya that is not going to just go away because they will it to.

Which brings us to Chapters 318 and especially 319. It’s the perfect set up for all the dirty skeletons to come out of the closet that both Bakugou and Midoriya have been avoiding/trying to pretend doesn’t exists between them, because it’s been a long time coming. The honest to god truth? This is actually how I always thought this confrontation will go, with a showdown that forces Midoriya into a corner where all those repressed negative feelings he’s bottled up inside is bound to come out; Because I Honestly think Izuku would take what Bakugou’s done to him to his grave if he had it, his way. (Boy can be very frustratingly stubborn when he wants to be).

It’s just, after saying all this, I don’t hold my breath that Horikoshi will take it there…The opportunity is there, I want it to go there, it NEEDS to go there! In order for both characters to come out for the better. But will Mister Horikoshi ‘DO THE THING?’

Remains to be seen. A little bit of me is hopeful, another part of me is resigning myself to feeling dissatisfied with what little we got for Bakugou’s character development and by proxy, Izuku’s getting stuck in limbo. I’m not kidding, Bakugou being a very contentious character within this fandom doesn’t just come from nowhere. But this post isn’t about me ranting into the void about Bakugou. (I don’t even think I can muster up the rage I felt the first time watching MHA blindly to rant to high hell about the bullshit Bakugou’s done now.)

I suppose I will just have to internally scream for 1,000 yrs over half baked character development if Horikoshi doesn’t do the FUCKING THING in giving a satisfying pay off to Katsuki and Midoriya’s history. I’ll just frustratingly chalk it up to old freaking shounen logic and just continue to enjoy the series because I’ve been here for Izuku Midoriya since ep 1 and I am not about to let Bakugou or Horikoshi’s unwillingness to do something with him derail that. And there’s always hoping that someone is writing some really good Bakugou gets actual Consequences fanfic out there because ooh boy…I like Bakugou but mofo can catch these hands…and I’m not even a fighter, but Bakugou…this lil shit does make you want to choke the hell out of him at times. 

I haven’t been this emotionally frustrated over an anime character since…maybe fucking Louise from Zero no Tsukaima and it takes a LOT to make me actually dislike characters, good or bad. 

All in All: Regardless of how the story goes from here on out, we are all about to lose our collective shits. No matter how you feel about which characters…

It’s about to go down!

[lliblo]

BN09 Draconic Spirit

Prompt:

By all technicality Katsuki was quirkless. Fait had put him in a body with that extra little toe joint but no one ever noticed. Since they never had a reason to look. Like everyone else in his grade he gained a “quirk” at five years old but what everyone saw as a quirk Katsuki knew it was just the draconic spirit of his past life manifesting in his present form. 

He was the dragon lord of destruction and had a massive army of dragons at his command. It was a ruthless show of power to get there; he had to subdue rival dragons, kill nefarious wyverns, and fight off those who wished to use dragons for their own selfish reasons instead of keeping the wellbeing of the clan in mind.  

Yet through all of that he was still forced into war as the humans sought to purge the world of magic. Unfortunately, through hypocrisy, the humans won then turned on their own magic users to finish the job. 

But before that the dragons were the main opponent against the humans. Katsuki would never just lay down and let his lands be taken and fellow dragons slaughtered. He joined forces with a magicless Druid who had eventually forged his own power through grit and determination. It was hard for the dragon lord not to fall for such a determined creature. Although they first entered into a reluctant alliance the two died with an unbreakable bond. One that would follow them into the next life. 

Dragon souls are too strong, too unyielding to be reincarnated easily. Fate had to wait for the right conditions, the right body to hold such a beast’s soul and with dragons extinct that took centuries. 

Until, finally, the first quirk manifested. 

And the conditions were favorable. 

Humans had evolved and with bodies able to contain strong physical abilities it was just enough for a dragon soul to be comfortably contained. 

But again, dragons were troublesome there was a reason they were reincarnated and that was because they refused to forget their past lives. Their memories were etched into their very souls.

Druids on the other hand were free spirits that went from one life to the next. There was no afterlife for them, only the next life to come. So in death the dragon chased after and the Druid wouldn’t leave his love behind so they drifted through the void until both of the souls could find a new life. 

The memories came in dreams. But only for the dragon now named Katsuki since Druids didn’t gain their memories back. 

Katsuki’s powers lay dormant until they partly came through as explosions from his hands. Even then his body would never be able to handle the full transformation so it would remain repressed. 

Other instincts not so much. 

He was aggressive, possessive, and kept many of the traits of his past life to his parents dismay. 

He hated sleeping on a bed and would instead create a nest of toys and objects to lay on in the corner. But that was not suitable for his current body and eventually he settled with a nest of pillows, blankets, and soft plushies with his other toys lining the outside. He was forced to clean it up each morning until eventually he was smart enough to hide a smaller version in his closet. The closet was more suitable anyways he just had to wake up before his parents got him up and found him there. 

His need to hunt appeared every time he spotted a small animal but after the first time he caught and almost killed a bird his parents put their foot down. He never heard his father yell at him before. When asked why he did it he told them he was hungry and it wasn’t much different then chicken. 

His actions were dragon-like and so were his customs but he was smart and as he grew up fought most of his instincts in a world where they were considered weird. 

He hardly cared, he only did it because it was convenient. 

But it was nice that he didn’t have to try too hard around Izuku. His Deku. (Deku could mean druid in dragon tongue?)

He relived his memories mostly through dreams but at times in waking hours he would see things that triggered flashbacks. 

One of those moments was when he fell into the stream. 

Looking up at the green hair blending into the leafy trees above, and a worried looking boy stared down at him with his hand out.. That was when Katsuki saw his Deku. 

In a past life they met when they were older. And he saw that looking up at Deku. The memory overlapped and for a moment he was sitting on the ground next to a dying fire with Deku holding his hand out “come on the wisps are about to wake up” he grinned. “I don’t want you to miss them” 

“Are you ok?” Five year old Deku asked as he interrupted. “Did you hit your head?” He sounded worried, because of course he did. It was Deku

Katsuki grinned sharply as he suddenly sprung from the water tackling Izuku in a hug causing them to fall against the bank. He didn’t fully understand the feeling he felt at that age, but they were young and he would grow into them. For now all he knew was that Deku was a very important person to him. 

From then on they were inseparable. And Katsuki told him everything he could remember. Each time a new memory popped up he’d tell the other boy. 

At recess they would play pretend. Instead of hero’s and villain is was dragons and sorcery though they still beat villains and they still were the good guys. 

Bakugo still looked up to All Might, seeing him as an equivalent of a dragon lord and wanting to take his place one day. Be the best protector. That’s what it meant to be a dragon lord. To protect and lead those under him.

-

Eventually when he’s in UA he gets to release some of his draconic powers and everyone in the class (or most) see (at the USJ incident? Before All Might wins? Fouled by the immense urge to protect Izuku.) a ghostly form of a dragon covers Katsuki like a cloak as he goes head to head with the Nomu and wins 

“You should heed my words weaklings, I AM the dragon lord!”

They finally let him have the name Dragon Lord of Destruction as his hero name.

This is a lovely blend between the medieval MHA and the modern MHA. I have this fun little head canon that the humans of this world are not purely humans anymore and that quirks come from fay magic from the fay who were smart enough to integrate themselves into human society when the magic war stated. It just took awhile for the magic to resurface. Could explain why Bakugo’s hatred for humans doesn't translate into this new life... because they aren't technically humans.   

Rules for Use:

Feel free to expand or alter if this inspires you!

Repost a link to your fic on this post (I wanna read it!!)

Give proper credit and link this post in the fic itself (Pretty please?)

Return To: LlibLo’s Fan Fiction Prompt Index

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Ghost Of You (Part 4)

Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

W.C. : 3600

Summary:  The war with Voldemort was over. Draco Malfoy was forced to flee for his life ending up in Muggle London where he met you, the muggle whose house he broke in looking for a place to hide. You agreed to let him hide in your house if he promised to let you live your life normally. How will your relationship work as time passes and you both realize you’re no longer just partners in crime?

A/N: Hello! I am having such a great time writing this that I could update it daily, sadly I won’t be able to post tomorrow. So wait for an update on Monday maybe Tuesday. I try to be active since I enjoy writing so much but sometimes life gets in the way. Anyway, I needed inspiration for a character and if you scroll thorugh my blog you’ll see that I am a huge fan of Supernatural, so one of the characters was my inspiration for this new character, not in personality but in appearence.

THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER!

So, yeah. Tell me what you think so far! Every comment, like and reblog is deeply appreciated. Shoot me an ask or something if you would like to be tagged. Enjoy and happy reading!

Warnings: Mentions of a curse.

*Not my GIFs. Credits to the Creators*

You had stayed that night awake until really late, chatting about everything and anything. He was good company and you quickly realized he wasn’t only good looking but on top of that he was really clever and knew a little about a lot of things. You enjoyed the sound of his voice, softly telling you about things he had done and places he had visited.

Sadly, sleep started to take over you, a yawn escaping from you almost every minute. He suggested you both went to sleep, seeing as you weren’t going to work for the next week on your boss’s orders. Something about you never getting sick so it should be something serious, if only she knew the only sickness you had wasn’t a sickness at all but Draco Malfoy himself. 

You really wanted to be mad at him for making you miss work, but he was such an enjoyable company when you weren’t getting on his nerves and he wasn't in his moody self, you almost didn’t want to admit that him staying at your house with you had been a wonderful choice. You couldn’t, it was wrong. It was a bad choice and you had to live now with it, learn from it. 

Or that’s what you told yourself when you enjoyed a little too much his mere presence

Draco walked you to your room, your sleepy self tripping in every step, giggling at every almost fall if it wasn’t for him who held you from your arm “You look more drunk than tired.” he said confused, leading you to your bed. “Are you sure you weren’t drinking?” he asked.

You had nuzzled in your bed, not even changing from your clothes that were comfortable enough to sleep in “I’m sure” you mumbled, eyes already close. Draco had walked to the door, about to close it when he heard you softly sigh “Night, Draco.”

He smiled softly, mostly to himself “Goodnight, Y/N.” he mumbled closing the door behind him. He wasn’t tired, barely sleeping at night he decided to go for a walk. He didn’t knew the neighborhood well, but surely he wouldn’t get lost from walking a few blocks down and then back, so he grabbed a sweater and made his way outside. 

The air was cold against his face, the trees dancing with the little force of it. He could see himself living in a place like this, quiet and peaceful. Maybe there was a place like that back at the Wizarding World, a place he could call home again. The Manor didn’t feel like it anymore, no matter what he did to forget everything that went down there, the images were burned in his brain. He would only consider to return for his parents but they sended him away, the last time he ever saw any of them four years ago.

They were better off without him.

He kept walking, not noticing when he made a turn towards the woods until the lights of the houses were just tiny dots in the distance. At least he knew which way to go, so he kept on walking further into the forest. The weight of his body making the fallen leaves crunch under his feet, not caring for keeping quiet he carried on without a care in the world. 

“What do we have here?” a silky voice said from behind him, making him stop dead in his tracks “It’s Draco Malfoy in the flesh” she said with soft chuckle. 

Draco hadn’t moved an inch, sliding his wand out of his sleeve “Aunt Andromeda.” he said quickly turning in his place, shooting a spell her way with the swift movement of his wrist, spell she effortlessly deflected moving her wand across her body, creating a shield. Draco straighten his posture, lowering his wand slightly “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said, a look of displeasure in his face.

She lowered her wand completely, moving her coat tighter against her body “I see you take more after your father,” she said, eyeing him from head to toe “Both physically and in character.”

“Don’t mention my parents” he growled, the grip around his wand turning his knuckle whiter than they already were “You chose your muggle-born husband over your family. You don’t get the right to mutter their names.”

She scoffed humorlessly, giving him a condescending look from where she stood “You are one to talk” she said, crossing her arms over her chest “Or are you going to deny that you’ve been hiding at a muggle’s house for three days now?” 

His stance flickered, the statement hitting him like a ton of bricks. What was he doing? His mouth opened slightly but he was at a loss of words.

Andromeda nodded in satisfaction “That’s what I thought.” she muttered “Draco, I’m not here to judge you, I would never” she said, almost caringly “But you need to leave, you’re putting that girl in danger and they will find you. They’re close, they know you’re hiding in muggle London and it’s only matter of time before they get here” she warned, placing a hand over his forcing him to lower his wand.

“How would you know that?” he asked coldly, stepping back from her “You know nothing!” he spat, turning away from her and storming away.

“Your mother sended me” she said, successfully making him stop “Have you spoken with her lately?”  

Draco turned to her, wide eyes and a shocked expression looking back at her warm brown eyes. He shook his head, a pit forming in his stomach “They still go to the Manor?” he asked shakily.

“There is only one way she could’ve have known where they’re looking for you.” she answered sadly “They can’t move against Potter, but they can get some kind of revenge in killing you” she said, a gulp forming in his throat. 

He stared at her, his eyes void of any emotion “What should I do then?” he asked bitterly “They’ll stop at nothing and the ministry seems more worried about anything but the former followers of Voldemort” he muttered, regretting instantly saying his name. It still felt like he would appear at every turn he made.

Her face hardened and he saw a flash of his mother in her, the stern look she would give her when he stepped out of line “You have options, but none that you would like” she explained “Leave, not just London, the continent. Go to America, I’m sure you can make a good life there for yourself”

“Or?” he asked, showing no interest in leaving.

“You have to kill them” she simply said, and right there Draco saw the Black in her, the Slytherin that would do anything to get what she wanted, except this wasn’t about her.

He rolled his eyes, turning with a defeated sigh “How is that useful? I’ll end up in Azkaban for that!” he yelled, running a hand down his face.

“Only if you get caught.” she said, and he snapped his face at her “I know what has been of your life so far, Draco. You deserve to live happy and free.”

He let out a scoff “How is that gonna make me happy or free?” he asked her, really wanting to know her answer “How do I kill a monster without becoming one?”

“That is the price, Draco” she explained, grabbing him by the shoulders and guiding him to where  they could see the lights of the city again, her hand pointing to one specific house. Yours. “Your happiness and freedom lay just in front of you.”

He frowned, his eyes never leaving the green square that contained your house “What about it?” he asked, earning a sigh from her. He turned his face to her “That is temporary, I needed to hide. I'm sure you know how it is to run from Death Eaters.” her face fell sadly, but she said nothing about it.

“You seem fine now.” she stated, examining his body with a careful look “Why haven’t you left?”

He didn’t know, or if he knew he refused to say anything “I’m still hiding. I needed some rest and she agreed to let me stay. That’s all” 

“Lovely girl, I’m sure. A teacher, isn’t she?” she grinned at Draco’s dumbfounded expression “You’re not doing a great job hiding, took me less than a day to find you and I’m not as  experienced as a Death Eater, how long until they track you down to her house? To her?” her voice had turned stern, a pleading look in her eyes “Come with me, Draco. I can help you, you won’t have to hide anymore.”

“What?” he whispered. The chance to stop running, finally settle down somewhere and be free to some extent was within his reach, and yet it felt like a lie.

“A safe house,” she said, cupping his hands in hers “I moved there after the war, no one knows where it is. You’ll be safe”

He looked down to their hands, the warmth radiating from her so welcoming he felt tempted to accept right there and then. But his mind wandered back to you, only three days had he known you and he felt closer to you that he ever did to all his so called friends at Hogwarts. Yes, Pansy and Blaise had been there for the fun but only that, not really caring about deep talks like the one he had with you; other like Crabbe and Goyle followed him thoughtlessly and agreed to his every word it got boring pretty quickly. You had showed interest in him as a person and he liked the feeling of that, he wanted to get more of that. Whether you did out of precaution or genuine interest he had yet to decided, he wanted to have a chance at being your friend.

And Andromeda noticed his hesitance, following his line of vision to your house “Take time to think about it,” she let go of him, pulling her wand once more and producing a piece of paper, writing neatly on it “Write to me here when you made up your mind.” she folded the paper and gave it to him “But remember you have more than yourself to think about, you pulled that girl into all of this when you agreed to hide in her home.”

He saved the note in his pants pocket, nodding at her “Thank you.” he said lowly, not looking back at her.

“I’ll see you here if you decided to come with us” 

“Us?”

She smiled softly “My grandson, Teddy. I took him in after the war” her smile turned sad and Draco remembered the fact that Nymphadora Tonks and Professor Lupin had been married shortly before they died in the battle of Hogwarts. Teddy, as she called him, the only tangible proof of their love. “I hope to hear from you Draco. Your mother loves you and so does your father, they asked me to tell you that” and with that she vanished from his sight.

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

The soft smell of coffee woke Draco the next morning, his eyes adapting to the dark room as he focused on the window, dark clouds filling the sky and threatening with a heavy rain later in the day. He rubbed the sleep off his eyes, making his way to the bathroom in the hallway he was surprised to hear you from upstairs, softly humming away in the living room. If he leaned himself a little over the railing he could make up your form sitting in the couch with a blanket over your legs and one of your most colorful mugs in hand. The steam carrying the smell that had woken him up.

He made quick work in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and face, changing his clothes for a fresh pair of pants and shirt, pulling a sweater on to match the weather outside. His steps going down the satir caught your attention, making you turn with a chuckle.

“Morning,” you grinned “I thought I was the one tired last night, you slept throughout the entire morning.” 

He was surprised by your statement, checking the clock himself to see that in fact it was almost noon. “I must’ve been really tired” he mumbled, going to the couch across from you “What are you doing?” he asked, seeing all the the sheets of paper spread in front of you, dark stains from your coffee decorating the corners of a few, some more older looking than others.

“Well, I thought since I’m not going to work I could make some activities for the class and drop them tomorrow to Sally” you explained, showing him a few you had already finished. “I was going today but the rain flooded the streets near the school and they cancelled classes for the day.”

He hummed, reading over your handwriting “You really love your job,” he said, missing the smile that flashed over your face “I’ve seen few professors so dedicated at their work like you are.”

“Thank you” you said shyly, moving the papers out of the coffee table. “You must be hungry, since you hibernated last night like a bear.” you joked, signaling him to follow you with your hand “There’s coffee, of course. Toast, some fruit and eggs” you said, listing the options as your turned with your hands in your hips, a smile in face “What do you want?”

He frowned, moving his head to look suspiciously behind you “You don’t have to feed me” he said and you laughed.

“And let you starve to death? Not on my watch, buddy,” you said, moving to the stove “Besides everything is already done, I just need to heat it up.”

He sighed, already knowing it was a lost fight for him “Coffee and toast is fine.”

You saw him as he went to sit in his usual spot, the chair on one of the extremes next to the door. The rain was falling softly against the multiple windows in the kitchen creating a closed ambience in the room. He rested his arms on the table, holding his head with a soft sigh “You tired?” 

“Hmm?” he hummed, opening his eyes to look at you. Realizing you had said something he sat a little more casually “What?”

You smiled down at him, placing a plate with toast and a cup of coffee in front of him “You should eat breakfast and go back to sleep.” you told him, filling your own mug again “You look exhausted.”

He said thank you to you, starting to eat with a shake of his head “I’m fine.” he told you, getting another bite.

“Yeah, right.” you scoffed, getting a glare from him “You were falling asleep on the table not a second ago, you need to rest. How do you intend to out run the bad guys if you can barely keep your eyes open?” you asked him, cocking your eyebrow in his way.

He gave you a sour look, putting his mug down slowly “How do you know I am not the bad guy?” he asked you, and the smile that had been in your face was replaced by a thin line “How do you know I am a wanted man for the horrible things I’ve done?”

You looked at him sadly, your hand going to rest on top of his capturing his attention immediately. Wide grey eyes staring right into yours “You’re not a bad person, Draco.”

“You don’t know me.” he fought back, a void look in his face.

“Maybe, but you could have hurt me when I got home the night I met you and you didn’t, I was scared of you and what you could do to me or the people around me and you took the time change that” you said, his eyes shone listening at your words as he bit his lower lip, attempting to stop the faint shake of his lip.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he muttered, moving his hand from yours “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew.”

You tilted your head, searching his eyes but failing. You smiled sadly, standing from the table “That’s alright,” you said, a little more cheerfully “I’ll believe your a good person no matter what you tell me.”

You walked out of the kitchen, leaving him to his own thoughts. You did wonder what he had done to think he was a bad person. Sure he was a menacing guy, his dead face and cold voice gave you the chills just by looking at him. He definitely was a person you would avoid at all cost if you came across him on the street. You didn’t have a choice when you two met but right now you didn’t regret helping him. Maybe you were still a little hesitant  of him, but you regretted nothing.

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

The night arrived and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, you were ready to slide into your comfortable bed and just close your eyes.

Of course, fate wasn’t on your side.

You started cleaning up your space, the work for your students ready to be delivered to Sally the next day. You couldn’t help but feel proud of you for all the work you did that day, the next morning doing nothing but relax. 

Your train of thought was interrupted by Draco calling your name. You turned to him , the crestfallen look in his face making your stomach turn inside you “Draco? What is it, what’s wrong?” you asked, dropping all the thing in your hands and walking to him and that’s when you saw it. The bag in his hand.

He was leaving.

You should have felt relieved, the strange man that broke into your house and somehow forced you to do his willing was leaving! Then why did you feel like you were losing someone, like saying goodbye to a friend? Maybe because that’s what he was. Draco was your friend.

“I-uh, I’m leaving now.” he said lowly, scratching the back of his head “And old friend contacted me, said they can help me.”

You smiled, fakely, but smiled “Right” you said “I thought no one was waiting for you.” you tried to joke, the words coming out more bitter than funny.

Panic flashed across his eyes “They’re not!” he said, maybe too quickly “It’s complicated.” he mumbled in defeat. 

“Complicated as It’s a long story or I asked you not to tell me certain things about you?” you asked, a little more cheerful than before.

He smiled, a breathy laugh coming out of him “Things you asked me not to tell you” he said and you nodded, starting to regret that decision.

You stayed silent, neither one of you knowing what to say. Draco seemed to be appreciating every little detail in your living room as you moved your feet, your shoelaces being the most interesting thing at the moment. 

You lifted your eyes, seeing him looking back at you and you felt heat rise up your cheeks. Why did he had that effect on you? You didn’t know. “I guess this is goodbye then.” you said and pursed his lips nodding.

“It is” he told you “I...I wanted to apologize” he said, and you frown, his apology taking you by surprise.  

“What for?” you asked.

“Everything?” he told you with a shrug “Breaking into your house, threatening you, cursing you…”

“Cursing me? you asked, taking a few steps back at his statement. “What do you mean you cursed me?”

He stared wide eyed at you suddenly really nervous as his heart beated hard in his chest “It’s… it’s not what it seems like.” he tried to assure you, but your mind went back to the first time you ever saw him, a panicked state.

“What. do you mean. you cursed me?” you growled, a new found sense of anger raising inside you. You were about to start yelling at him, ready to get all the dirty little details out of him when a knock came from the door. You snapped your head towards the door, your eyes hard as you debated if it was worth opening the door at all.

“Y/N…” Draco said with a string of voice, reaching his arm towards you when you snatched your body away from him, a scowl looking back at him.

“Don’t” you hissed, walking towards the door. Better to get this out of the way, whoever was at the door would hear you turn into a hurricane if you decided not to open. “Stay there, Draco Malfoy. I’m not done with you” you told him, pointing a finger at him in emphasis.

Draco started to panic, no one visited you. Ever. Whoever was at the door probably looking for him. He had to stop you. “Y/N, don’t…” but you had already burst the door open.

“Yes?!” you snapped, not even looking at who it was. Your body completely frozen at the person in front of you “Jack?” you stuttered. 

He smiled at you, giving you a shy smile “Hi” he mumbled, taking a short step forward “Y/N, I… Who is that?” his eyes hardened, falling on the blond man behind you. You turned to Draco, who had a glare on his eyes as he held his head high.

He took a quick glance at you in your shocked state and realization dawned on him “Harry Enfield” he muttered sharply, walking to your side. “You are?” he asked, eyeing him from head to toe, taking a protective stance beside.

You turned to Draco, swallowing the lump in your throat “Harry, this Jack,” you said looking back at him “My ex-boyfriend.”

TAGS: @fanficflaneuse​ @accio-rogers​ @gloriousrebelrunaway​ @slytherinprincess03​ @coldlilheart​ @aasthapiplani​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @l1teralegend​

[starlost-andfound]

you look beautiful in white // d.j.s (passchendaele au)

An Alternate Universe based on Passchendaele by the very talented and humble @chilling-seavey​

NOTE: IT IS ADVISED TO READ PASSCHENDAELE BY @chilling-seavey​ BEFORE HAND AS THIS AU WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS

Inspired by Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan but Sam Smith’s Lay Me Down hits different - actually don’t listen to this one, it hurts. Or the other one either to be honest. 

Warnings: mentions of death, war, some potentially graphic imagery? Angst. It’s just angst and a little pinch of fluff.

A/N: Flashbacks in Italics and there’s a dream in bold italics

Word Count: 2.36 K

_ _ _

“You’ll write me every day, won’t you?”

“As long as the sun is still shining, my love.”

Elizabeth could never forget it.

It was sunny that day, too sunny. Too bright.

Her dress was blowing slightly in the wind as she crossed the road to her house, carrying the envelopes of letters for her father in her bag. She hummed a soft tune, as she walked up to the door and entered her house.

“I’m home!”

She turned to the hallway as her sister, Missy popped out of the living room. Her eyes were puffy and she sniffled, “Lizzie...”

Elizabeth walked up to Missy and cupped her cheeks, “Missy, what’s wrong?”

Missy shook her head, “I’m so sorry.” She gestured towards the living room, urging Elizabeth to go.

Elizabeth frowned, walking into the living room as Missy followed behind.

“Mummy?”

She came to a stop as she met her mother, Margret’s gaze on the couch. Beside her sat Daniel’s mom, Carrie. Carrie rested her head against Margret’s shoulder as she cried.

Elizabeth gulped, pushing back the persistent sinking feeling in her gut.

“Mrs. Seavey, what happened? Is everything alright?”

Elizabeth’s mom looked up at her, sending her a sad sympathetic smile.

“Mummy, what’s going on?”

Carrie shook her head, crying as Margret comforted her.

“It-It’s Daniel.”

The blood seemed to drain from Elizabeth’s face as she turned pale, “N-no, it can’t be.”

She fell to the ground and Missy rushed to her side, helping her onto the couch, “Hey, hey Lizzie, it’s okay, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

It was sunny that day, too sunny. Too bright.

_ _ _

The rain fell hard outside, drops of rain pattering against the window. The dull grey clouds casting a gloomy shadow. Elizabeth laid down in her bed, in the dark room, staring at the crack of light under her door. She heard her parents conversing downstairs and she knew what they were talking about, what they always talked about nowadays.

“Our dear Lizzie, she hasn’t eaten properly since we got the news,” her dad , George said.

“Yes, yes. It is truly such a sad loss. I can not bear to imagine what Carrie must be going through,” Margret replied. Elizabeth winced, trying to swallow the growing lump in her throat.

“It is in moments like this that I feel most grateful that she came home alive,” she heard her mother say. She breathed shakily, trying to keep herself together.

“Physically yes, but she hasn’t been the same since, my dear. The Lizzie we knew passed away a long time ago,” George sighed.

“George!”, her mom whispered, “Don’t say that!”

Elizabeth pressed her forehead against the door and sighed as a stray tear fell down her cheek. She wiped it away as quickly as it fell. She carried herself back into bed, and laid down, wrapping the blanket around her. Her eyes drifted to the picture frame propped up on her bedside table, which held a picture of the one with her heart. The one who left.

She remembered the day the photo was taken. She sighed shakily, closing her eyes as some tears fell.

“Hello, my gentlemanly caller. What do I owe the pleasure?”, Elizabeth twirled the telephone cord in her hands, leaning against the wall.

Daniel seemed rushed on the other hand of the phone, replying back, “Can you meet me in the park in fifteen minutes? I have something incredibly important to share.”

“Oh. Yes, I can see you in fifteen minutes,” she glanced over at her parents who looked at her with teasing grins.

“Perfect. Bye.” the telephone beeped as Daniel hung up, leaving Elizabeth quite surprised and curious. Why was he in such a rush?

She picked up a hat to match her pink dress, informing her parents before she left in a rush to the park. As she walked in the park, she spotted Daniel, a few blocks away. Daniel’s face broke into a wide grin as he spotted her, running faster than before. Butterflies fluttered in Elizabeth’s stomach as she tried to hide her blush and ran towards him.

“Elizabeth Winifred Fisher!” he shouted loudly. Elizabeth laughed, ignoring the gazes of others in the park.

“I love you!”

Daniel’s words brought Elizabeth to a stop, just as Daniel tackled her, throwing his arms around her. He spinned her around, lifting her up in the air.

She squealed, laughing as she clang to his shoulders.

“I am in love with you and I don’t care who knows it!” Daniel yelled gleefully, setting her gently back on the ground.

Elizabeth grinned, as Daniel struggled to catch his breath for a moment.

“I have been waiting so long for you to finally say that, you ridiculous man!” she laughed, smacking his chest teasingly. “I love you too!”

Elizabeth wiped her tears, furiously as she heard her parents footsteps on the stairs. She turned around in bed, steadying her breathing. She shut her eyes, just as the door opened, a soft stream of light slipping into the room.

After a few seconds the door closed and she was left in the dark again.

_ _ _

“How much would that be?”, Elizabeth asked, looking through her purse.

“35 ma’am.”

Elizabeth looked through her purse for the necessary money. As she handed the money to the cashier, she couldn’t help but hear the whispers of a few ladies across from her.

“Isn’t she Margret’s daughter?”, she heard the whisper.

She began to pack her items, trying to ignore the stares of the two women across from her. She picked up the last of the products - the cans, slightly quicker and placed them into the bag.

“Yes, it is. I heard her boyfriend died in the war. Poor thing.”

She heard the other woman tisk, “Such a pity.”

Elizabeth gripped the can, her fingers turning white as she dumped it into the bag. She grabbed the bag, her eyesight blurring with tears as she hurried out of the market. Her shoulder pressed against the door as she opened it. As Elizabeth stepped out, a bag knocked against the door and a few cans fell out.

“Ma’am do you need some help with that?”, Elizabeth looked up at the man who offered his help, a flashback playing in her head.

A loud clank had him looking back up at her as a can had fallen from her bag and was rolling down the street.

“Oh shoot.” she muttered, struggling to keep the bag on her hips as she rushed after the runaway can.

“I got it.” the stranger said quickly and ran down the street to grab the dented can and returned it to her grocery bag.

“Thank you.” she sighed. “I might suppose I should take you up on that offer to carry a bag for me. Otherwise I might make myself look a fool.”  

The young man smiled calmly at her and nodded, carefully scooping up one of her paper bags. He followed her around the corner and down the side streets of the small town.

“Mother’s grocery list is always extensive.” Elizabeth said with a sigh, trying to start a conversation.

“My mother is the same.” her new acquaintance admitted lightly.

“I’m Elizabeth, by the way.” she said.

“Daniel.”

“Ma’am?” Elizabeth snapped out of her daze, looking back at the man. Her lips quivered and she turned, feeling vulnerable under the gaze of the people in the supermarket. She spotted the two women who were talking about her earlier, their eyes filled with pity.

Elizabeth took a few steps back and turned around, rushing down the street. She tried to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her heart burned with pain and she stifled back a sob. She felt thankful that her house was so nearby. Avoiding the piercing stares of her neighbours, she ran up the steps to her porch, opening the door.

She shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down as a strangled cry left her lips. The grocery bags fell with her, items falling out, scattered across the floor. Elizabeth heard a small patter of feet down the hallway and she turned to spot her younger sister. Missy pushed the stray items on the floor aside and sat down, by her sister’s side.

Elizabeth threw her arms around her sister, clinging onto her dress, “I-It’s n-not fair, Missy” she cried.

“I know, Lizzie I know.” Missy replied, holding back her own tears.

Elizabeth gripped Missy’s shirt, pulling her closer as her loud cries filled the house.

“Should I call mother?”, Missy asked, pulling back slightly.

Elizabeth shook her head, clinging onto Missy even tighter, “I jus-just I just want Daniel!”

Her shoulders shook and Missy pull Elizabeth closer as she fell apart.

_ _ _

Elizabeth opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. There she stood in the trenches of the battlefield, surrounded by soldiers. She looked up to the sky, the dull grey turning into a greenish yellow. A dreaded realisation settled on her. She turned around at the other soldiers, staring at the gas in curiosity.

“Get down! It’s the chlorine!”, a soldier yelled.

Everyone cowered down, covering their mouths with their handkerchiefs. Elizabeth slid to her knees, doing the same.

“Do not abandon your posts!” she heard the Lieutenant Colonel shout as everyone started to notice the miscoloured cloud dangerously close to the edge of their trenches.

A soldier brushed past Elizabeth climbing the trench, “What are you doing?”, she tugged at his boot. The figure looked down at her and she froze.

“Daniel?”

Daniel turned his head, continuing the climb up the trench, staring at the gas.

“Daniel get down here!”

Elizabeth stood up, pulling herself out of the trench and running to Daniel. She tugged his shoulder pulling him back.

Daniel turned back to her, his eyes lifeless, void of emotions. His skin was pale, tinged grey.

“Daniel?”, Elizabeth pulled back, taking a step away. His body dropped to the ground, a lifeless form and Elizabeth screamed.

“DANIEL, NO!”, she suddenly shot up in bed, gripping the sheets in her hand. She choked on her breath, coughing as she reached for the water on her bedside table, taking a large gulp. Elizabeth sighed shakily, “Just-just a nightmare,” wiping the thin film of sweat on her face as she hugged her knees to her chest, a soft cry leaving her.

She turned to the bedside table, reaching for the picture of Daniel and hugging it close to her as the tears streamed down her face. The wind howled softly outside to the slight drizzle of rain. The slight creak from her bedroom door alerted her and she waited for her mother, father or sister to walk in. Who she saw instead made her heart drop.

There he stood, dressed in a white button down shirt and white pants. His figure was translucent and held a soft glow. Elizabeth gulped and rubbed her eyes, not believing what she saw.

“Lizzie?”, she looked up as he spoke, and whimpered, tears falling down her face at the sound of his voice. She got up, dropping the picture frame on the bed. Elizabeth ran towards him, throwing her arms around his figure, “Daniel!”, she cried.

“Oh, my love,” he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head as she sobbed, clinging onto him.

She refused to let go, her cries calming down before she pulled back, “Are you-is this real?”, her hands brushed against his cheek before resting on his shoulders.

Daniel cupped her cheeks, “Yes it is, I’m here, Lizzie.”

Lizzie stepped back, “B-but-this - what” , she gestured to him, “I-I don’t understand. You’re - you’re dea-” Elizabeth cut herself off, the sentence too heavy to finish.

Daniel smiled sadly, “I know, but I’m here now. ”

She shook her head, “Stay, here. With me, please,” she gripped his hands.

Daniel brushed his fingers through her locks of hair which had grown back, “I missed you so much, Lizzie.” He pressed his forehead against hers.

“I missed you more,” Elizabeth sighed, lifting her head up to kiss him. It was as though he was here, with her and Elizabeth didn’t want it to end.

“Lay down next to me, please,” Elizabeth stared into his eyes, a crystal blue, still full of life. He pulled Daniel to her bed by her hand and he followed, laying down by her side.

Elizabeth laid across him, facing him and memorising all his features.

“Did it hurt?”, she gulped, tears brimming her eyes at the thought of him going through any pain.

Daniel shook his head, “I thought about you, it was peaceful.”

Elizabeth shuffled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She gulped as another stream of tears fell down, “Ar-are you going to go?”

Daniel sighed, “I will, soon.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I won’t leave you forever,” Daniel pointed at her chest where her heart was, “I’ll still be here, always. You have my heart Elizabeth Winifred Fisher.”

Elizabeth held Daniel tighter, “And you have mine.”

They stayed like that, by each other’s side for a few moments. Elizabeth’s breathing calmed down and she began to drowse, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You need to get some rest, my love,” Daniel rubbed her cheek, concerned.

“But I want to be with you,” Elizabeth opened her eyes, looking at him.

“You always will be,” he tilted her chin up, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Sleep, my dear,” he helped her settle in, tucking her into bed and placing a kiss on her forehead. Daniel held her hand, gently brushing his fingers over her knuckles.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

Daniel sighed quietly and Elizabeth took that as her answer.

Daniel looked up at Elizabeth.

“Will you visit me again?”

Daniel grinned, “Of course, how could I not?”

“I love you. Thank you for everything,” Elizabeth whispered sleepily.

Daniel smiled, kissing her cheek, “I love you a million more, Elizabeth Fisher. Sweet dreams, my dear.”

Daniel got up, walking back towards the door.

“Daniel?”

He stopped at the door, turning to Elizabeth.

She smiled softly, “You look beautiful in white.”

[golchaworld]

I’m Just Too Scared to Lose (And I Know You Are Too) | C. YJ

➳ pairing: campus player!yeonjun x female reader

➳ genre: college!au, angst

➳ word count: ~5.2k

➳ warnings: non-descriptive depictions of sex, cursing, bi!yeonjun (not a warning but just in case), partially set in a nursing home

➳ summary: you hate that your mind stays wrapped around a lover who doesn’t love you.

A/N: And we’re back w this fic! I’m actually super excited to have this finished. I hope y’all enjoy pt. 2 as much as you enjoyed pt. 1! Title once again is from “Don’t Wanna Fall In Love” by KYLE. As always feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. My ask box is always open :)

Part One

Yeonjun’s hand presses firmly into your thigh, keeping it hitched around his waist.  His other arm is propped near your head, caging you in between him and the bed.  His bicep bulges with the effort of keeping himself up, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

A warm forehead is pressed against yours, the sweat from both of your bodies mingling on your faces.  At this point there’s no more kisses, just bites and whines crossing the small space in between your bodies.

Yeonjun releases a groan, his hips stuttering against yours when you clench around him.  He sneaks a hand between your bodies, rubbing slow circles on your sex that have your eyes rolling back.  After this much time together, he knows exactly how to bring you to your release, every single time.

You tip over the edge with a shout of Yeonjun’s name, subsequently bringing him over the edge as well. He groans deeply into your mouth, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. He doesn’t pull away until you’ve both come down from your highs. 

Instead of pulling out, Yeonjun stills inside you, forehead still pressed against yours. He’s searching your gaze, his own eyes glassy. The hand that rested on your core traces a path up the side of your body, smoothing over your every curve. 

“I’m going to miss this,” he whispers, as if afraid to scare you off.  I love you.

Your heart crumbles to dust inside your rib cage. 

“I’m going to miss this too.”  You can’t help the slight crack in your voice.  I love you too.

It’s then that Yeonjun pulls out, going through the motions of cleaning you both up as much as possible. When he finally settles back into bed with you, your eyes are drifting shut. Yeonjun just chuckles, pulling you into his chest and placing a sickeningly tender kiss on your temple. 

.        .        .

That was the last time you saw Choi Yeonjun before winter break, and you tell yourself it’s for the better. 

You had told yourself that you were just going over to his dorm to say goodbye, maybe give him a hug. But like always, Yeonjun was irresistible. All he had to do was flash the smirk and you were putty in his hands. 

Just the way he liked it. 

Now you just stare at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom, wondering how Yeonjun has managed to plague your thoughts even now. He lingers around your thoughts like a morning fog, unable to be cleared up, no matter the amount of sunshine. 

It scares you. But more than that, it hurts. It hurts that you won’t see him for a whole month.  It hurts that your mind is so wrapped around someone who isn’t even sparing you a single thought. It hurts that your mind is wrapped around a lover who doesn’t love you.  

Before you had met Yeonjun, you were looking forward to winter break. You were looking forward to being with your family and celebrating the winter holidays. You loved the cold weather contrasted by the warmth of the fireplace and family laughter. 

Now that Yeonjun’s in the picture, everything feels too warm and all too cold at the same time. You want nothing more to get back to campus and be in his dorm again. Your sheets feel like sandpaper on your skin where his sheets feel like silk. Your comforter doesn’t smell like him. Your ceiling doesn’t have those hairline cracks like his does. 

God, he’s not even your boyfriend. 

You try whispering the word out into the emptiness of your bedroom. Boyfriend. It dies on your tongue. Boyfriend. It tastes too bitter. Boyfriend. It doesn’t feel real. 

Because it isn’t real. You hate that you have to keep reminding yourself of it, but at the very least it keeps you humble. Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your friend, you guess. He’s someone who you work with and see around on campus and have sex with sometimes. Bile rises in your throat, leaving a nasty taste in your mouth. 

You don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself, seeing as your dad’s voice rings out throughout the house. He’s calling you for dinner, but you’re not hungry. As much as you want to stay in bed, though, you force yourself to your feet. 

If you can’t be with the one you want to be with, you might as well drown yourself in family. Hopefully, it will make you forget. 

But of course, it doesn’t.

The days pass excruciatingly slowly, no matter how packed they are.  Every family dinner begins to blend together in a whirlwind of too much food and forced laughter.  You feel bad, because your family deserves more from you, but you just can’t bring yourself to move past the ache in the center of your chest.

You ring in the New Year staring at your phone, hoping for a text, a snapchat, something.  It’s pitiful.  Your family counts down with the Ball dropping, yelling and cheering as the New Year arrives.  You just sigh before cheering along with your family.  By the end of the night, you have a headache.

Yeonjun posts on instagram on January 5th, a week before you return back to campus.  It’s a selfie, with him and another boy, both smiling too widely at the camera.  The boy is gorgeous, you have to admit, with round eyes, a sharp nose, and full lips.  But what takes you by surprise is how happy Yeonjun looks.

‘Missed my bb Gyu,’ the caption reads.

Your phone ends up on the floor while you end up face down in your bed, groaning deeply.  Even with your eyes closed, you see green.  Of course Yeonjun is doing fine.  Why wouldn’t he be?

Why aren’t you?

.        .        .

It takes all of your reserve not to go straight to Yeonjun’s dorm when you arrive back on campus.  Instead you calmly return to your own, taking your time unpacking as a means of distracting yourself.  It’s still over all too quickly, and you find yourself checking your phone nervously.  You only have one unread message, but it makes your stomach drop anyways.

‘You back on campus?’

Within a minute, you have your coat and shoes on, checking if you have your dorm key before heading out the door.

Yeonjun’s room is just like how you left it, and you don’t know why you expected it to change in the month you’ve been gone.  You don’t have much time to register any differences before Yeonjun is sweeping you into a deep kiss, pressing your back into the door.  You can’t help but smile at Yeonjun’s eagerness, relieved that you’ve been wanted, at least in some way, over the past month.

Almost no words are exchanged as the two of you go through the motions.  You speak with your bodies instead.  You dig your nails into his back, hard.  I missed you.  Yeonjun bruises your hips with the force of his grip.  I missed you, too.

Your climax has you seeing white, static filling your ears.  Yeonjun seems to go through the same, clutching your body close, nothing but heavy pants leaving his mouth.  It’s not until afterwards, when you’re pulling your clothes back on, when Yeonjun decides to speak.

“It was weird,” he begins.  “Not seeing you for so long.”

You chuckle bitterly.  “I’m sure you had plenty of opportunities to get your dick wet while you were home.”

“I did.”  And there goes the smirk.  “But that’s not what I meant.”

You just roll your eyes, sure that he’s unable to see you.  You try to tie your shoes quickly, needing to leave, but not really knowing why.  The coat you had on when you came in is lost somewhere on the other side of the room, and you rush to look for it.

“Dude, why are you in such a rush?”  Yeonjun questions from his position on the bed.

“You did not just call me ‘dude’ after we just fucked.”

There’s your coat.  You pull it over your shoulders, not caring about how hot it suddenly makes you.

“I’m sorry,”  Yeonjun’s eyebrows hold a deep furrow.  “It’s just...you’re being weird.  You’re normally not so quick to leave.  Plus, I haven’t seen you in forever.  Don’t you want to stay?”

You just shake your head, hand already on the door handle.  “No, it’s okay.  I just have an early class tomorrow.  But I’ll see you at work, okay?”

Yeonjun nods slowly, but you don’t stay long enough to see it.  He sighs when you practically slam the door behind you.  Then it hits him, like a bullet through his right lung.

Tomorrow is Sunday.

.        .        .

One thing you’re actually excited about is getting back to your research position.  You missed the warmth of the nursing home, the busy days, your patients.  As annoying as you found the job in the beginning, you have grown to love it.  You just resent the fact that so much of that has to do with Yeonjun.

Soobin is the first to greet you on the Monday afternoon of your return.  He pulls you into a bear hug, almost knocking you over with his weight.  Hyunjin does the same, albeit much more gently, before asking you a slew of questions about your winter break.  Both of them listen intensely as you tell white lies about the amount of fun you had.

Hyunjin brags about the amount of choreography he made over the break, while Soobin recounts all of the interesting places he napped.  You just roll your eyes, perplexed about how these two could ever be friends.

Before you know it, it’s 10 minutes to your first interview of the day, and you’re quickly excusing yourself.  You scramble to the breakroom, aiming to put the snack that you brought into the refrigerator.  The breakroom is more lively than usual, filled with volunteers catching up with each other before their official shifts start at 1pm.  The sheer amount of mint scrubs in one place is enough to have you uneasy, but when you catch a pair of familiar eyes, your stomach flutters.  

Yeonjun shoots you a soft smile, accompanied with a wave.  His hair is shaggy and soft, ears void of any piercings, and no colored contacts to alter his appearance.  He looks so incredibly soft, and you hate him for it.  You hate how effortly beautiful he is.  You hate how it’s his effortless beauty that made you fall for him.

You wave back, placing your lunchbox in the refrigerator.  Yeonjun’s eyes follow you around the room until you leave, headed to your office.  Once you leave the room, he sighs, turning back to Yeji and Changbin to listen to their stories.

Inside your office, your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.  Every surface is tainted with memories of Yeonjun.  It’s not suffocating, but still omnipresent.  The remnants of him linger like an itch under your skin, a constant reminder of your biggest problem at the moment.

You’re able to disregard it, though, once you begin your actual work.  The interviews fly by in a flurry of misunderstandings and patients dozing off, but by the time it’s all over, you have a smile on your face.  Seeing the residents of the home is easily your favorite part of the job, making you never want to leave when you’re supposed to.

At around 6:30, however, you choose to head back to your dorm, needing to complete some homework for your classes the following day.  You gather up your belongings in your office before heading out.  You stop in your tracks, however, when you see a figure leaning against the wall adjacent to your office door.

“Yeonjun?”

The boy looks disheveled, like he always does after a shift.  His hair is now a tad frizzy, name tag askew.  You would chuckle, if not for the look in his eyes.

“Do you have a moment?”  He questions.  “I think we should talk a little.”

For a moment, you’re quiet, not knowing if you’re ready to have whatever conversation that Yeonjun has planned.  But you eventually nod, opening your office door further to let the boy in.

He makes himself comfortable on one of the small armchairs in the corner of the room, leaving you no choice but to sit opposite him.  While you slip off your coat, he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees before sighing deeply.  He’s nervous.  The realization alone has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“Are we, like,”  Yeonjun swallows thickly.  “Are we okay?  Ever since break, you’ve been weird.”

You scoff.  “You’ve only seen me once since break.  How would you know I’ve been weird?”

“Only seeing you once in a week and a half is weird.  Did something happen?”

Yeonjun’s eyes are clouded over when he looks at you, a contrast to the sharp, piercing gaze he normally has on you.  You hate that he looks so closed, especially here.  He is always soft and open in the nursing home, and you hate that you have ruined that for him.

“Nothing happened, Yeonjun.  I’ve just been busy.”

“But this is your first day back at work!”  

You can tell Yeonjun doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but it escapes him anyways.  As soon as he realizes, he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan.  Your heart swoops at the way a few strands of hair stick out at odd angles. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.  “I didn’t come here to yell at you.  I’m just...worried, I guess.  It almost feels like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I clearly haven’t been avoiding you if we had sex the day we both got back to campus.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes.  “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

You simultaneously cross your arms across your chest as you cross your legs.  “I don’t know, Yeonjun.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  We started all of this to just have fun.  Are you saying you’re not having fun anymore?”

Yeonjun’s jaw drops in disbelief.  “Is that seriously what this still is to you?  Just having fun?”

You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what the boy across from you is getting at.  It doesn’t sound like the Yeonjun you know.  The Yeonjun you know would run the opposite way of something more.  He wouldn’t complain about not seeing a hook up after a while.  He would just move on to the next one.

So you’re confused why this Yeonjun sounds so hung up.  Why is this Yeonjun so hurt?

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You find yourself reaching to take back the words the minute they leave your mouth, but your efforts are futile.  Yeonjun just stares at you.  While his eyes were once clouded over, now they are icy.  His stare holds an astounding clarity, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

“You’re right,”  Yeonjun bites out.  “It shouldn’t be anything more.  Let’s just stick to having fun.  That’s what we do best, right?”

You don’t get a chance to redeem yourself before the boy is standing, swiftly exiting your office, and shutting the door harshly behind himself.  Instantly, you deflate.

What the hell just happened?

.        .        .

The next time you see Yeonjun, he’s littered with hickies.  None of them were left by you.

Yeonjun leaves the first party of the semester with a busty girl named Eunha, not even sparing you a glance on his way out.

You see Yeonjun flirting with a boy in the library a few days later.  He never meets your eyes, even when he catches you staring.

Yeonjun barely greets you when he sees you in the nursing home.  He just gives you a small nod, one that passes for cordiality, but you know he’s being stiff.

Yeonjun never comes to remind you that your shift is over, or that you haven’t eaten.  You find yourself routinely missing dinner as a result.

.        .        .

Three weeks after your last conversation with Yeonjun, the nursing home is decorated with warm shades of red and pink to commemorate the upcoming Valentine’s Day.  It’s a little overkill, the way they ask you to put up a string of origami hearts on your office door.  Even the volunteers have begun to put heart stickers on their nametags.

Mint green and red is a terrible color combination.

Honestly, the whole ordeal makes you a bit queasy.  There’s something so off-putting about having to celebrate a holiday when you feel like utter shit.  It’s even worse to celebrate a holiday of love when your feelings are a mess--an unfixable mess, at that.

When you check out at the end of your shift on an odd Wednesday, Soobin cocks his head cutely, making the heart headband he wears shift slightly.

“You’re leaving pretty early today,” he comments.  “Everything alright?”

You sigh, not even knowing where to begin.  “I’m just really tired.”

Soobin nods, eyes flickering between you and the computer screen in front of him.  The checkout process is always more complicated than it needs to be, and you find yourself leaning against the front desk in the meantime.

Soobin begins to say something, but is cut off when a figure sidles up next to you.  A quick glance in your peripheral vision has you knowing exactly who it is, and you resent the fact that Hyunjin went home early.  

“Hey Yeonjun,”  Soobin beams.  “Do you need to be checked out too?”

“I can wait.  You can finish up with Y/N first.”

Yeonjun’s voice sounds smaller than usual.  It has a soft rasp to it, a result of evident exhaustion.  Even though you don’t let yourself look, you know Yeonjun’s hair is frizzy.  You wonder if his name tag is upside down like it usually is at this time.

It’s impossible not to be hyper aware of his presence.  The slight heat he radiates from his body is comforting, felt every time his shoulder ever-so-slightly brushes against yours.  It would be so easy for him to slide an arm around your waist.  It would be easy for him to touch you ever so slightly.  It would be easy for him to whisper in your ear and tell you that he misses you.

But he doesn’t.

You want to initiate it, to be the first to look, touch, talk, but something holds you back.  It’s evident that you’re the last of Yeonjun’s concerns, so maybe you should just let it go.  Maybe you should just hold your head up high and try your hardest not to cross paths with him again.  But something is wrong with that.  Something feels so wrong about letting go.

“Alright, Y/N,”  Soobin’s voice rings out.  “You’re all set.  See you tomorrow.”

You smile, albeit a little forced, while waving to the boy behind the desk.  You don’t spare a glance to the figure on your right before exiting the nursing home.

It’s only when you feel the cold air on your face do you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding.  You find yourself breathing deeply, attempting to calm yourself, but it’s no use.  Tears quickly form in your eyes, welling up until they overflow with the slight breath of wind.

You keep moving, though, walking to the bus stop with tears flowing down your cheeks.  You know that you must look like a mess, hyperventilating as you walk, with trails of makeup sliding down your face.  But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You can’t even think, let alone bring yourself to wipe at your eyes.  You just feel.  You feel the harsh air on your face, feel your lungs working at maximum capacity, feel your heart clench in pain.

It takes 142 seconds for the bus to come (you count).  You don’t hesitate to get on, breathing having slowed down.  The tears keep coming, though, seemingly unwilling to stop.  When you see your reflection in the bus window, you let out a bitter chuckle.  You look awful.

You settle into your seat, taking a chance to lean your head against the adjacent window.  The glass is cool on your face, a contrast to your heated cheeks.  Taking a deep breath, you let your shoulders sag, ridding your body of the tension it carried while crying.

It feels so unlike you to cry without warning.  You’ve never really allowed yourself to break down like that in public, and as much as you’d like to pretend you don’t know why, you know Yeonjun has something to do with it.

The short bus ride to campus is spent with you looking out of the window, trying to find a way to calm your tears.  Eventually, they cease, but the ache in your core is still there.  Hurt pulses throughout your abdomen, rising up your throat and spreading throughout your head.  You need an Advil.

When you finally make it to your dorm, you sigh, feeling blessed that you have a single, and no roommate there to bother you.  You toe off your work heels at the door, hanging your coat on a hook next to the light switch.  Your bag drops from your hand with a small thud, its contents rattling with the force of its fall.

With your dress still on, makeup trails covering your face, and your phone in your hand, you flop down face first on the bed.  You’re content to fall asleep like this, not caring about the possible acne you’ll have when you wake up in the morning or the discomfort of your dress.  Even if your phone is dead in the morning, it doesn’t matter, because you feel as though if you don’t go to sleep, you’re going to lose your mind.

Just as you feel the tendrils of sleep wrap around your body, your phone buzzes in your hand.  You groan into the mattress, kicking at it like a toddler throwing a tantrum.  When you finally turn to look at the text message, your heart skips a beat.

‘I saw you crying,’ Yeonjun’s text reads.

You scoff, not even wanting to reply.  Just as you’re about to turn the phone back over, though, it buzzes again.  Yeonjun’s second text forces a shuddering breath out of you.

‘Let’s talk.  My dorm after work on Friday?’

You don’t answer.

.        .        .

Yeonjun looks surprised when you show up at his door on Friday night.  He’s still in his scrubs, hair unkempt.  His pouty lips form a small ‘o’ that reflects his emotions perfectly.  In all honesty, you’re just as surprised.

“I didn’t think you would come,” Yeonjun breathes out.

You nod, side stepping the boy to enter the small dorm room.  “Neither did I.”

Yeonjun closes the door behind you, watching you trek further into his room.  Making yourself comfortable on his desk chair, you look at him expectedly.  It takes all of your resolve not to outwardly coo at the furrow in between his eyebrows.

“So, um, how have you been?”

You scoff, baffled at his question. “You called me all the way here to ask me how I’ve been?”

“Is it such a sin to care about how you’ve been doing?” Yeonjun looks at you with equal amounts of disbelief. 

“I just don’t understand why. Why do you care?”

Yeonjun’s mind screams at him to just spit it out, to confess. He wants nothing more than to tell you how he feels, but something’s wrong. Something about you feels wrong, and it’s the first time Yeonjun has ever found himself admitting that. 

Eventually, the boy sighs, dropping down to sit on his bed. “Can you just answer the question? Have you been alright? Soobin told me your hours have been really irregular.”

Your gaze drops down to the hands you have folded in your lap. “I’ve just been having trouble keeping track of time recently.”

The way Yeonjun looks at you has your stomach churning.  It’s evident that he’s pondering something, tripping over words in his head to arrive at a question that he can’t ask.  His eyes are clear and sharp, but not exactly icy.  He’s uncomfortable, but your presence isn’t unwanted.

It’s not long before Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his already messy hair.  “Y/N, what the hell are we doing?”

You instantly deflate at the question.  “I don’t know.”

And truly, you don’t know.  You don’t know how you and Yeonjun have gone from being strangers to friends to lovers and back to strangers in the span of six months.  You don’t know why you can’t move on.  You don’t know why you didn’t just keep your distance like you promised yourself to do freshman year.

Yeonjun’s face melts into a subtle frown, pouty lips turning downwards as silence lingers between you two.  The clarity in his eyes is momentarily clouded over, but it returns just as quickly as it left.  He shifts on the bed, pulling his knees into his chest.

“Honestly, Yeojun,” you start, voice surprisingly strong.  “I don’t even know what went wrong.  Things were fine, and then we left for break.  When we came back, everything was different.”

Yeonjun’s eyes glimmer with something wet.  Fear?  Hope?  “What was different?”  He asks softly.

“That’s what I don’t know.”  You sigh frustratedly.  “You kept trying to talk and I just kept wondering what there was to talk about.”

“Things felt different, but you didn’t have anything to say?”

Yeonjun’s voice has an annoyed lilt to it that takes you aback.  It wasn’t often that Yeonjun got angry, and it was almost never at you.  You can see now that maybe he has had reason to be.  Maybe Yeonjun is angry with you.  The thought alone scares you.

“Are you saying that it’s my fault for wanting to communicate?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief.  “I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault, Yeonjun.  I’m just saying it was a lot and it was confusing and I didn’t understand.  Why are you getting mad?”

“I’m not mad!”  Yeonjun all but yells.  “I just spent so long thinking that I was crazy for thinking that things were different, but you noticed it too.  Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Anger bubbles up within your core, flushing your cheeks.  There’s heat behind Yeonjun’s gaze, leaving you no choice but to match it with your own.

“I didn’t say anything because I was confused!  I just fucking said that.”  And then it hits you.  “Wait, you thought things were different too?”

Color instantly rises to Yeonjun’s cheeks, and you recognize it as embarrassment rather than anger.  He raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Of course I did.”

And then there’s silence.  You can hear the sounds of chatter from the hallways.  Somewhere from down the hall, someone flushes a toilet.  A bed creaks next door.  Yeonjun isn’t looking at you, but you’re looking right at him.

You laugh.  You can’t help the rising feeling, and eventually you let full-bellied laughter bubble out of your throat.  It’s too loud for the room, jarring in fact.  Yeonjun’s gaze snaps directly to you, a strong furrow taking hold in between his eyebrows.

“Is that funny to you?”  Even though there’s heat behind Yeonjun’s words, it’s evident that he’s more confused than anything.

“This is hilarious.”  You continue to laugh, forcing out your words between breaths.  “Yeonjun, we’re both idiots.”

“What do you mean?” “If you felt like things were different, and I felt like things were different, then things were different!”

Yeonjun looks at you like you sprouted another head.  “What does that even mean?”

Eventually your laughter subsides, allowing you to look at Yeonjun clearly.  He’s still confused, made obvious by the furrow he still holds between his brows.  His pout is deep, and you want to kiss him so badly, but you stay glued to your seat.

“If I’m not mistaken, it means that neither of us wanted to ‘just have fun’ anymore, right?”

Yeonjun shakes his head ‘no’ adorably.

“Then the only thing we have to figure out is what we want.”  You take a breath.  “It’s okay that you don’t want more from me.  We can call this whole thing off, if you want.  I know you don’t do ‘feelings’ or commitment, and you have plenty of people lined up behind me.  I don’t want to get in the way of you pursuing other people.  I won’t take it personally that you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Yeonjun’s jaw drops in disbelief.  “You think I don’t want to do this anymore?”

You nod understandingly.  “I get it.  Maybe you think I got too attached or something, but it’s okay.  We can stop and you can keep doing whatever you want.”

“Y/N, that’s not--”

“It’s okay.”  You cut the boy off, leaving him floundering for words.  “You don’t have to explain.  I don’t want to damage your reputation by assuming some sort of exclusivity or anything.  What started out as ‘just having fun’ got too complicated.  That’s fine.  Let’s just stop.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

Yeonjun’s response takes you by surprise.  His eyes are clear and hard set in your direction, the furrow between his brows gone.  His arms are crossed over his chest in a way that’s meant to be assertive, but comes off as insecure.  Yeonjun cocks his head slightly.

“What if the reason I don’t want to have fun is because I want something more?  What if I want exclusivity?”

Your eyes go wide as Yeonjun stands from the bed. 

“Why are you assuming you know that I don’t want this?  That I don’t want you?”

Once again you laugh, this time managing no more than a nervous chuckle.  “Yeonjun, that’s not funny.”

Yeonjun squats in front of you, lowering himself so that you have to look down to meet his eyes.  “I’m not joking.”

“But you don’t--you’re not--you don’t do relationships!”

And it’s true.  The Yeonjun you know doesn’t waste time on exclusivity.  You remember at the end of freshman year when a boy in your economics class, Wooyoung, was crying in the campus Starbucks for four hours straight.  You later heard it was because he and Yeonjun had been sleeping together for some time, but when Wooyoung asked for more, Yeonjun broke his heart.

Clearly, this isn’t that Yeonjun.  You can tell by the way he looks at you.  It’s something akin to  him in the nursing home.  There’s a certain level of fear in his gaze, but there’s also warmth.  There’s care.  Yeonjun cares.  He cares.

It surprises you when Yeonjun’s lips turn up into a small smile.  “Trust me, I also thought I didn’t do relationships.”  He grabs one of your hands, cradling it in between both of his.  “But I think I want to try.  With you.  If that’s what you want too.”

You find yourself unable to do nothing but nod dumbly, still trying to process the boy’s words.  Yeonjun chuckles, standing up from his squat, still cradling your hand gently.

“Is that a yes?”

You let yourself meet his gaze, craning your neck to look up at him.  It’s all openness, eyes a clear and warm brown, slightly glossy at the corners.  You take inventory of his messy hair, his askew name tag that’s decorated with red and pink hearts, and you know.  You know.

“Yes.”

[juliandev0rak]

First Day of My Life

"Yours was the first face that I saw I think I was blind before I met you And I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been But I know where I want to go"

The apprentice wakes up in Asra's arms, their first memory is of his face and it seems that maybe they were always meant to be together.

Asra x gender neutral MC ficlet based on the song “First Day of My Life” by Bright Eyes which is the Asra x MC song in my opinion

this was originally posted on my ao3

warnings: none

words: 4507

The first thing you can remember is a face. The details are indistinct, the face out of focus, but you remember the eyes- purple.

The next few months are a blur. You don’t know who you are or where you are, and trying to remember hurts. A lot. The only constants in your life are painful headaches and a person with purple eyes. He says his name is Asra. You remember testing the name on your tongue, the first word you’ve said since waking up. He smiled at that, purple eyes scrunching up. He looks nice when he smiles, you hope you get to see him do it more because most of the time his face is downcast and very serious.

For the first few weeks you’re nearly bed bound, you feel so weak that you have to be propped up by a pile of pillows. Asra says you had an accident but doesn’t give any details. You don’t remember having an accident, you don’t have any aches, you aren’t missing any limbs, even though your body is weak the pain seems to reside solely in your head. Sometimes you wonder how you got here and who Asra is, but those thoughts bring the headaches so mostly you just sleep and listen to Asra. He tells you stories constantly, and although you can understand him easily it seems you can’t talk much aside from simple one word answers. His stories are always about magic and about the wonderful, exciting places he says he’s been to. You often wonder if he’s telling the truth, and if these places really exist. When you ask him about his stories, or about himself, he just changes the subject.

Walking is hard. The first time you try to get up from bed Asra has his back turned and only notices you’re up when he hears the loud thud of you immediately crumpling to the floor. From then on he keeps an even closer watch on you, supporting you when you need to get up and eventually while he helps you learn to walk again. Asra has to do everything for you and at times it's frustrating because you can remember, somehow, that you were once able to do all of these simple actions on your own. He has to feed you until your arms get strong enough to hold a utensil, he has to walk with you everywhere, even to the bathroom, until after weeks of practice you finally manage to take shaky steps on your own.

Asra is so happy at every milestone, constantly praising your progress and helping you without complaint. You don’t know who he is, but you’re glad he's there with you. You learn to walk, then to talk in complete sentences, and eventually he teaches you to read and write. It’s slow going at first but once you have the basics down your mind seems to snap into place and you’re able to read books by yourself after a few months. He is so kind to you, never making you feel like a burden or like you’re stupid. He’s just always there when you need him, even sleeping on the couch next to your bed in case you need him during the night.

As you begin to regain your independence Asra begins to leave the apartment more, he always tells you he’s just going down to the shop. You wonder how going to buy groceries, or whatever it is he goes to this “shop” for, could take so long but he’s often gone for hours at a time. Your constant companion is usually Faust, Asra’s snake who he seems to have full conversations with at times. You certainly haven’t heard her speak before but she’s a comforting presence coiled around your neck or wrist as you wait for Asra to come back. When he returns he’s always happy to see you and asks what you’ve read that day, sometimes he brings you gifts like pumpkin bread, which you’ve decided is your favorite food, or a new book.

Your favorite books are all about magic, some of them even seem like technical how-to books. At first it never occurs to you that magic could be real, but over time you start to notice that sometimes Asra does things that you can’t explain. You complain that it’s too cold in the room and are suddenly comfortably warm, you get a paper cut one day and after Asra grabs your hand to look at it it’s suddenly healed. You usually chalk it up to your brain fog or a trick of the light because thinking about it too hard just causes more headaches.

Sometimes he takes you out for walks around the city, Vesuvia, he tells you it’s called. You love those walks and the lively markets and people you meet along the way. Asra seems to be well known in the neighborhood but he doesn’t ever stop to talk. Sometimes people call your name and you look around in confusion before Asra quickly pulls you away to show you another part of the city. You can’t get enough of the feeling of sun on your skin and fresh air in your lungs after so long inside. You ask Asra if you can go on a walk by yourself sometime but he gets upset and starts to rattle off a list of the potential dangers that could face you in the city alone. It seems pretty clear that he doesn’t want to leave you alone, except when he disappears to the shop which you’ve discovered is the room below the apartment.

It’s full of strange looking herbs and bottles and there's a room blocked off by curtains that you’ve still never seen. When you ask Asra what everything is he simply says “Magic” and won’t elaborate when you try to ask him questions. He doesn’t let you wander around the shop alone either and usually insists that you spend the bulk of your day resting.

“You’re still recovering” He offers as reason for his protective behavior. He seems constantly worried about you, always making sure you’re eating enough and asking how your headaches are. As time goes on they start to lessen, but sometimes you’ll be hit by one out of nowhere. You’re frustrated by his overprotection sometimes, but he’s right that you’re still recovering. You’re not weak anymore but your brain does sometimes seem to short circuit, leaving you confused and disoriented. Vesuvia is confusing enough with Asra by your side, so you’re in agreement with Asra’s concerns - for now.

One night however, you discover how real magic is. Sometimes you have really bad nightmares that leave you screaming and sobbing when you wake up. You can never remember what happens in the dreams, but you’re always left with a sense of loss and longing like you’re missing something important, and a headache. You almost always have a headache. No matter how bad the dream is, Asra is always there on the couch next to the bed ready to comfort you. He gives you lots of hugs which were foreign at first but by now you’ve come to love the physical comfort that hugging Asra brings. He’ll sit on the bed next to you and hold you as you cry. He doesn’t ever ask what the nightmares are about, and it’s not like you could tell him anyways. Sometimes he brews a strange smelling tea that makes you fall into a deep and dreamless sleep, some nights it’s the only way you can find rest.

On this particular night, you wake yourself up screaming and look frantically for Asra in the dark but he’s not there. You call out for him in a panic, scared by the dark void of the room which still feels unfamiliar at times. When he still hasn’t come after a few frantic moments you start to sob and throw your head under the blankets. He’s never not been there before. You’re scared to be all alone in the dark but you’re too panicked and confused to get out of bed and fumble for a candle and a match to light it. You think of how the candles light automatically when Asra enters the room and wish that you could do that too. If you could just see maybe you wouldn’t feel so afraid, maybe you could look for Asra. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and throw the blankets off to stand up. You swallow your fear and fumble your way into what you think is the center of the room.

You remember reading in one of your books that magic is simply will and intent, you want something to happen so you make it happen. You’re not sure at this point if you even believe magic is real, but you're willing to try anything. Throwing your arms out you yell “Light!”

Nothing happens.

Your fear is a living thing, hurting your chest as it claws at your speeding heart. You take more deep breaths to calm down, a technique Asra taught you once. You’re determined to try again even as you stare into the terrifying nothingness of the room.

“I said LIGHT!” You nearly scream this time, turning a full circle as you throw your arms out wildly at the room. Suddenly the room is flooded with light and as you stand there blinking at the brightness you hear the noise of the apartment door opening. You turn to see Asra, and Faust coiled around his neck, staring at you with eyes wide in disbelief.

“Asra! I did magic!” You exclaim, running over to him forgetting your fear that he hadn’t been there only moments before. He throws his arms around you and laughs. After a few seconds the laughter becomes hysterical until you suddenly feel his face grow wet where it’s pressed against your cheek.

“Asra?” You pull back to look at his face. He’s smiling but his eyes are quickly filling with tears. “Are you… not happy?” He laughs again and rubs the back of his hand over his eyes.

“No no, I’m more than happy!” He grins. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever do magic again.” That comment makes you pause, again? Once more you’re left wondering who you were before all of this, and how Asra knows you. He seems too distracted to notice your confusion, and slight twinge of pain, at his remark. The look in his eyes is something you can’t place, it warms your heart in a somehow familiar way and you suddenly find yourself brought to tears along with him.

From that night on he begins to teach you magic. You’d been right about him and the uncanny abilities he possessed and he finally shows you around the shop downstairs, explaining what everything is and how to make each of the items. He starts you off small, creating balls of light, warming and cooling, herbal remedies. Eventually he shows you his collection of more advanced magic books and you begin to study more difficult spells and concepts. It seems to come so easily to you and within a few months, around a year since you’ve been with Asra, you’re helping him in the store full time. Everytime he watches you do magic from the simplest of charms to a difficult spell or complicated potion he looks amazed. You catch him watching you multiple times a day from the corner of your eye with the same look in his eyes that he had the first time he watched you light the candles in your room.

He begins to trust you more, asking you to run errands and pick things up from the market. He even starts bringing you along to forage for potion supplies. Life begins to find a rhythm and you begin to feel like you have a sense of self now. You have friends around town, like the baker who makes your favorite pumpkin bread. You have favorite shops, favorite places to sit and enjoy the scenery, likes and dislikes. You discover fashion and have fun looking at fabric and clothes with Asra, who seems partial to his colorful layers of scarves while you usually favor more practical clothing. Your customers and people in town start calling you “the apprentice” and it seems to be an apt title. You start calling Asra “master” as is the custom, not noticing the wince he gives every time you use the title.

Eventually he shows you his tarot deck and you immediately feel a connection to it. It’s not as strong as his connection is, and you still find it difficult to really “hear” what the cards are telling you but you feel confident enough to begin giving readings to customers when Asra is busy. One night after the shop is closed and Asra has gone upstairs to make some tea you decide to ask the cards about your past. It’s been a while since you’ve thought about those questions, caught up in your new daily routine and the joy of learning magic. You haven’t had a headache in weeks and you’ve decided that perhaps thinking about the past might not hurt so much now.

You shuffle through the deck and pull one card, the fool. A voice behind you says “What do the cards have to say?” and you whirl around to see Asra standing in the doorway with a smile on his face.

“I can’t hear anything.” You say in dismay, it seems there will be no more answers tonight.

“Well, the fool represents new beginnings, a blank slate. Perhaps the fool is asking you to forge your own path.” He suggests, pulling the card out of your hand to inspect it. That makes sense, actually, and you start to ponder how the card could relate to you.

“Come on, enough magic for today. Let’s go to bed.” Asra says, offering a hand to help you out of your chair.

You don’t know exactly when you and Asra began sharing a bed, but it was soon after you started studying magic. The two of you would stay up late sitting together and poring over magical books, discussing theories and new ideas over cups of tea. Eventually one or both of you would fall asleep and it just became normal to fall asleep in the same bed. You’re quite used to his physical comfort after all this time and his presence seems to drive away your bad dreams. It’s normal for the two of you to wake up intertwined, Faust usually coiled half around each of you.

It’s nice, this domesticity. You and Asra work as a team, splitting tasks and settling into your roles. He’s better at cooking, and after a few failed attempts to teach you it becomes apparent that he should continue to be the one who cooks, so he always makes breakfast in the mornings while you begin setting up the shop for the day. You tag team in the shop, working around and with each other to help customers, prepare items, and do readings. Your routine is like a dance at this point and you love the comfort that comes from having a place in the world.

Now that you feel like a competent person, and more importantly, a competent magician, life seems brighter. Asra smiles more, you even begin to hear Faust when she speaks and the two of you have become closer. But sometimes when you’re laughing with a customer or focused on a spell you look up and notice Asra looking sad and withdrawn. When you ask him what’s wrong he just shakes his head and smiles “Everything's perfect!” but you don’t always believe him.

Two years after waking up from your accident Asra starts going on trips. He tells you that he trusts you to run the shop and to take care of yourself, but he never tells you where he’s going or when exactly he’ll return. You don’t like it when he leaves, it feels too empty in the shop even though he’s always sure to leave Faust with you to keep you company. Nights are especially hard as you’re used to sleeping next to him. He always seems sad when he leaves, and you begin to ask when he’ll take you with him. He always just good naturedly changes the subject and eventually you give up asking. He seems much happier after getting home from his trips at least, always greeting you with a hug and telling you how much he missed you while he was away.

On a cold night in the middle of your third year with Asra he tells you he’s going on another trip. You help him pack the small bag he takes with him, how he can survive on these long trips with so little you have no idea, but you assume it must be magic. It’s a foggy night in Vesuvia and you can’t help but wish he wasn’t leaving so you could enjoy a cup of tea and a cozy night in together. You walk him down to the shop and watch as he gathers a few random ingredients and books, sticking them into his bag.

“I’ll miss you.” He says with a sad smile.

“Must you leave tonight?” You pout.

“It’s the dead of a moonless night. The right time for beginning a journey.” He explains. “Here… take this, for you to play around with while I’m gone.”

He hands you his tarot deck.

“You think I’m ready for this?” You ask, he never leaves his deck unattended.

“You’ve made incredible progress, but you still haven’t let go of your doubts… Do you think you’re ready?” He smiles, always leaving the answers up to you.

You think you finally are.

There’s a knock on the door and you both ponder at the late hour, but then he leaves through the back door with a final farewell and it's just you. You decide to open the door.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

Over the course of the next few weeks you accomplish things you never could have imagined. You meet people who you know will become lifelong friends, you free a man from facing punishment for a crime he didn't commit, you travel through the Arcana realms, you even manage to bind the Devil himself. Asra’s with you the entire time, and by the end of it things have changed. You’ve started to remember.

You love Asra, you always have. And he’s always loved you. All of his glances over the last three years, his concern, his care for you - it was love, it’s always been love.

The first time he kisses you in the Magician’s realm you feel everything shift. This is what you were missing, Asra is what you’ve been missing. All of your nightmares over the last three years have been about losing him. As you fall back into love with him during your journey you start to remember snippets of your life before. Arriving at your Aunt’s shop, meeting Asra at the masquerade, becoming friends and then becoming more.

Unfortunately this also means you remember what happened to you, the sickness that came to Vesuvia. You remember the arguments you had with Asra who wanted to leave, but you refused. He couldn’t understand why you wanted to risk yourself to help so eventually, he left you behind, both of you too stubborn to do what the other thought was best. You worked to find a cure and, perhaps inevitably, you got the plague and you died.

But Asra brought you back. His love for you was enough to raise the dead.

You can’t help but feel that you were always meant to love Asra, that you are meant to be together. He gave up half of his heart to bring you back and that heart now beats in you. You will not be separated from him again, this you’re sure of. After the chaos dies down all you want is to be by his side.

It’s the final night of the masquerade, which is now being held in your honor at Nadia’s insistence. You’re not quite sure you like all of the attention but you’re glad to have a chance to celebrate with all of your loved ones. Asra’s been reunited with his parents and he seems whole now, every trace of sadness and worry gone from his eyes. You watch from a distance as he converses excitedly with them in the corner of the ballroom. Your other friends are all dancing, except for Muriel who is probably off hibernating in the woods after all of the forced social interactions he’s had to deal with in the last few days. Julian is doing some sort of tango with a random partygoer who seems to be trying to avoid getting hit in the face with Julian’s beaked mask. Portia and Nadia are dancing an intimate looking waltz, their dance actually fits the music that's currently being played (though Julian doesn’t seem to mind).

Your heart feels so full it might burst as you look at all of the people you’ve come to love. Three years ago you could never have imagined the feeling you have right now, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. Though you may never get all of your memories back you’re glad that you have so many wonderful people to make new memories with. Eventually you’re broken from your reverie by a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You look happy.” Asra says, wrapping his arm around you. His eyes are sparkling and the way he’s smiling at you has you nearly melting into the polished floors.

“I’m more than happy.” You smile back, trying to convey all of your love through your eyes the way he’s doing. He chuckles and pulls you in for a kiss. You do melt then as he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you closer. Both of you are smiling too hard for it to be a proper kiss and when you pull back for air you smile even bigger and he laughs again and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” He whispers, just for you to hear.

“I love you.” You will never get tired of hearing those words, of saying those words.

“Shall we go get some air?” He asks, disentangling himself from your embrace but grabbing your hand. He leads you out to the veranda and the coolness of the evening is refreshing after being in the packed ballroom for so long. For a while you both stand there just taking in the evening and the beautiful view of the gardens, basking in each other's company. Asra still holds your hand in his, running his thumb over yours in a comforting gesture.

“I wonder what adventures we’ll get up to next.” He says after a while.

“Where you go, I’ll go.” You reply. Your tone is light but you meet his eyes with intensity. “I don't want to be away from you again.”

“Not even the Devil himself could pull me away from you.” He smiles.

“And not even death.” You can’t help but add.

“No, not even death could separate us.” He agrees, moving his hand up to gently cup your face. He doesn’t seem so troubled by this mention of the past anymore and it gives you hope that the both of you can move on.

“We have the whole future in front of us, we can go anywhere, do anything.”

“As long as it’s with you, I’m up for anything.” He murmurs. “My love, my heart…” he leans in to kiss you and this time you try to contain your smile and kiss him properly. It’s hard when all you want to do is grin, but you manage. One kiss becomes two, then three and before you know it your hands have moved to his hair and his hand is wandering below where it had been resting on the small of your back and you’re too caught up in him to think, to breathe. You’re brought back to reality with the sounds of a whooping cheer and clapping.

“YEAHHHH!” It’s Julian, beaked mask off and definitely a little past drunk. Distantly you hear Portia reprimand him, you think you hear a muffled “Ow.” as she punches his arm and drags him back inside. You’re too caught up in Asra to really care although Asra looks like he’s considering throwing a punch himself. You reach up to run a hand down the side of his cheek and to turn his face back to meet you. His eyes snap away from the door and back to yours with a smile and you quickly resume your previous activities.

“Should we go somewhere a little more… devoid of plague doctors.” You suggest after a few minutes when it becomes apparent that perhaps some of your current actions are not entirely appropriate to be doing on a veranda in full view of a party.

“I love the way you think.” He smiles, a glint of mischief in his eyes. You quickly make your excuses to Nadia and the rest of your friends, who all seem to give you a knowing glance, and leave the party. Both of you just want to go home and the carriage ride can’t pass quickly enough. When you finally arrive at the shop neither of you realize it, too caught up in each other that the carriage driver has to knock on the door.

“Uhm.. ahem.. We’ve arrived.” The driver says, poking their head through the open door. You break off from the heated kiss you’d been pressing to Asra’s neck with a blush.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Let’s go Asra.” You say embarrassedly, pulling him out of the carriage with you. You thank the driver and are left standing outside the shop, hand in hand with Asra. It feels like years since you’ve been home and you can’t help but feel that even the shop itself has changed somehow over the last few days. You hear Asra laugh and look over at him a moment too late to catch him reach out to pick you up.

“I’m taking you home properly.” He says, holding you bridal style. He’s deceptively strong and holds you easily but you still struggle briefly in his arms, both of you laughing too much for the moment to be serious as he unlocks the door and removes the wards.

“I’m already home.” You murmur, thinking of how home really is wherever Asra is. You’ve been so many beautiful places and seen so many wonderful things over the last few days but you know that your favorite place of all will always be in Asra’s arms, you woke up there three years ago and there you will stay. He’s given you another chance and in this life you plan on loving him with every piece of the heart he gave you.

[redspaceace-writes]

Protection - (Zak Bagans x Reader)

Request: Could you do a Zakxreader one shot of a psychic reader getting attacked on a lockdown and needs help from her manz plz plz plz 🖤🦇👻

Author's Note: Wow, this is the longest fic I’ve ever written. Thank you for the request @demonicallydepressed. I hope you enjoy! Sorry it took so long!

Word Count: 1312

Warnings: Violence, poltergeist/demonic activity

Tonight, the Ghost Adventures Crew is doing what they’ve done for years: investigating a location many people claim to be haunted. This is also one of the rare times you’ve been able to accompany them. You are a psychic medium and Zak’s significant other. Since you two are romantically involved, he tends to be very particular about what investigations you can join. He doesn’t like putting you in potential danger.

The location of the evening is an abandoned mansion. The boys spent the day interviewing eyewitnesses in the neighborhood. You stayed at the hotel, preparing yourself for the draining night ahead. You could sense that something bad was going to happen. What exactly? You had no clue. Now you’re standing in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

“Breathe Y/N, breathe,” you say in an attempt to calm your nerves. “Everything is going to be fine. Zak will be by your side to make sure nothing happens.” You close your eyes and focus on the rhythm of your diaphragm. In, out. Inhale, exhale. The white, practically spotless bathroom comes into view again. You give yourself a once-over before exiting the restroom. A couple knocks erupt from the front door. You hear Zak’s voice muffled through it.

“Y/N, it’s me. Can you let me in?” You gleefully step towards the door and turn the handle, letting him inside. After Zak closes the door behind him, he smiles at you. You do the same towards him. You loop your arms around his neck as he slides his down to your hips. You bring your lips to meet his a few times before parting. You gaze into each other’s eyes.

“Hi,” Zak greets. You giggle softly.

“Hey,” you respond.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks. You nod and hum for additional confirmation.

“Let’s head out,” you say.

On location, the five of you stand in front of the building. You stand in between Aaron and Zak. Billy and Jay have their cameras set up to start filming. They give a thumbs up to signal they’re ready.

“Here we are at this abandoned mansion in Arkansas. Several of the surrounding neighbors have reported strange happenings involving this structure. They say they’ve heard screams from inside, lights flickering, and even having experiences in their own homes,” Zak begins. “Tonight, we have a special guest joining us on our lockdown. Please welcome psychic medium, Y/N Y/L/N!” Both Zak and Aaron start applauding, the latter throwing in a few hollers. That causes you to laugh.

“Thank you for having me join you guys yet again. It’s always a treat when I get to investigate with you,” you say.

“Of course! We love having you with us,” Aaron chimes in. You grin at him sweetly.

“Now, without further ado, let’s start this lockdown,” Zak says.

All of you make your way to Nerve Center at the front of the house. Upon entering, you are immediately surrounded by negative energy. Something does not want you here. You try not to focus on it and concentrate on getting the equipment you need.

The first couple hours of the night were fairly tame. Nothing too major had happened yet. So far, it was just the usual noises that startled everyone. You could feel a presence though. It was female and she was following you. You could see her in your peripheral, but every time you turned to look fully, nothing was there. She was toying with you. That’s when Zak had the brilliant idea to split up.

“Okay, here’s the plan. Aaron and Jay, I want you guys to go upstairs. Billy and I are going to the cellar. Y/N,” Zak pauses for a second. “I want you to go to the most active room in the house. It’s the room farthest away from the rest upstairs.” You nod mutely, anxiety spiking at the idea of being alone. You, Jay, and Aaron make your way up to the next floor. Jay grabs your attention.

“If you need us, we’ll be over here, okay? Be careful,” he advises.

“I will. You two do the same,” you respond. Jay has always exuded kindness and warmth. You go your separate ways. Approaching the room, dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You step inside your destination and scan it through your camera. It looks like a study. There’s a giant desk with papers scattered on it. The chair that goes with it is lying on its side. The adjacent wall has a bookshelf with miscellaneous novels haphazardly placed. A couch is against the wall across from the doorway.

As you make your way to the furniture, you hear a growl from behind you. Before you can confront the noise, you’re shoved forward. The camera falls from your hand and slides across the floor. Your face hits the hardwood and you grimace in pain. The sensation of burning courses through your back. You claw at the wooden surface beneath you, crawling to the nearest wall. You lean against it panting in fear.

The darkness is a never-ending void, nothing but black in all directions. The presence is still in the study with you. That’s when you hear it screaming in your mind. You clutch at your head, gripping your hair tightly. Panic shoots through you so fast, your first instinct is to yell out. The endless noise ceases as footsteps echo around the study. Aaron and Jay find you rocking back and forth against the wall, hands holding your head. Aaron rushes over to you and instructs Jay to find Zak.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Aaron soothes. “Jay is going to get Zak. Can you tell me what happened?” You don’t answer his question. Instead, you bury your head into your knees, whimpering.

Jay returns with Zak a couple minutes later. Zak runs towards you, immediately holding you in his arms. You find comfort in his embrace, allowing yourself to relax a little. He rubs your back as a comforting gesture.

“Zak, I don’t know what happened,” Aaron starts. “Jay and I heard her scream, so we rushed over- “

“Get the fuck out of here,” Zak interrupts.

Aaron, scared of the sudden outburst, scampers out the door, Jay following close behind. As soon as they exit, you burst into tears, collapsing completely into Zak’s arms. He rests his head upon yours, letting you release your pain.

When your sobs quiet, he removes his head from atop yours and puts his hand under your chin, lifting your face so he can see you. He notices a dark bruise has tainted the skin of your left cheek.

“Hey, what happened, Y/N?” Zak asks worriedly. You don’t answer immediately, but when you do, your voice is barely more than a whisper.

“Something attacked me, Zak,” you choke out. “I felt a female presence following us the entire time we’ve been here. She kept peaking around corners, never letting me see her fully like she was toying with me…” You pause.

“When you told us to split up, I didn’t feel right. I had maybe a minute in here by myself before she hurt me,” you shudder as more tears fall. “She-she shoved me to the floor, and I think she scratched my back. It was burning and as soon as I moved over here, she started screaming in my head. I’m not entirely sure what she is. Demon, malevolent poltergeist… All I know is that she is very negative.”

“You should have told me you felt off about this place,” Zak scolded lightly. “I wouldn’t have made you go by yourself. Next time, tell me, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to protect you. Never forget that.” You shake your head in understanding. You cuddle back into his chest, feeling safe in his arms. There’s no place you’d rather be than right here.

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

Requests are open! Check out my list to see who I will write for. You are welcome to ask about others not on the list. If you do ask, I will let you know if I’ll write for them.

Posted: February 17, 2020

[radramblog]

Sometimes, we lose things.

A story from today. It might be utterly uninteresting, I’m not sure, but like everything else on here, it’s a peek into my brain in some way that is probably a little more personal than I intended for.

It’s about 10AM on a Sunday morning. I’m listening to a livestream replay on my airpods (I refuse to capitalise that), while preparing for the boys to show up. It’s Magic Day, and the space has to be prepared. Playmats laid out for cards, placemats laid out for snacks. Chairs for butts, dice for life totals. Chairs and coasters, basics from my Cube that can be proxied over. The usual nonsense. It’s mostly ready at this point, so I think about other things that need doing.

Eventually I’m going to need to put these airpods away, I suppose, but the case isn’t in my pocket. Not to worry, though, since it’s not like I left the house this morning. I think I remember taking them out around breakfast, so I suppose the case will be around the kitchen somewhere.

No such luck. It would appear this was not the time nor the place at which I begun my listening journey. I start retracing my steps in my head, to what little I could do of them. I’ve pretty much only spent time this morning in my room, in the kitchen/dining room, and my bathroom. I decide to check my room first, because its usually the first place this thing goes missing. It often does, being small and me being forgetful. Many a time I’ve found it just on my bed, blending in perfectly with the white sheets. Or under the pillow. Or between the pillow and the doona.

But of course, not today. The usual easiest way to figure out if something’s hidden under your sheets, I’ve found, is just by rolling over them bodily, and that has turned up nothing. Well, except the heat cushion. It’s not at my desk, it’s not on my drawers, and it’s not on the floor. Bugger.

Dad calls me over to help him for a bit. He’s pulling the trailer out to grab firewood, and needs a hand maneuvering it through the garage, moving cars around into the right positions, and checking if the lights are working on the trailer. They are, and he leaves. It’ll be a strong fire tonight.

Right, next is the dining area where I’ve been setting up Magic stuff. Maybe it’s next to one of the decks, hidden from view from most angles, and I put it there when I was idly shuffling while thinking about what to do (nope). Maybe it’s next to the kettle from when I made coffee (nuh-uh). How about the bathroom, is it next to the sink (no)? What about near the toilet, I did clean it earlier (nice try).

Panic starts to set in. I take out the currently caseless headphones and put them in my pocket. No sense wasting the battery when I don’t know how much battery I’ll have. Before I can get too stressed out, my first guest arrives (10 minutes late and still the first to show), and with him distraction from the tempest in my mind.

Magic goes well enough, and about 5 hours later, said guests depart. It’s a good set of games, it’s been too long since I’ve hosted, but good times don’t last. After I’ve said my goodbyes, the void sets in.

I have a fair few things to do. Clean up my mess, hunt down the headphone case, make sure everything’s ready for the lab tomorrow, figure out and write a blog post. But I’m tired, and I don’t feel great, and so after doing the first of those things (to avoid being yelled at for leaving cheese and cards on the table), I lie in bed for a while.

I reflect on the last time this happened. When I realised in the middle of a lecture that like today I had the headphones but no case. 50 solid minutes of panic, going through the full stages of grief 10 minutes at a time. Furrowing through my backpack, getting monumentally pissed at myself, however bargaining fit into that, getting really sad, and looking up the prices for a replacement.

That I ever got it back was a miracle. It had fallen out of my pocket when I pulled my phone out walking to class, and not only had it fallen onto the soft grass of the oval, nobody had stepped on it, taken it to some form of lost and found, or stolen it in that entire time, despite the white case on the green of the grass being quite obvious.

Eventually, I get up. Determination swells within me, some combination of frustration and just wanting to get it over and done with. I return to the bathroom, afraid I somehow flushed it down the toilet when I cleaned it. Thoroughly investigating the room, behind the sink, the window’s ledge, behind the toilet, nothing.

But that wasn’t the most likely spot, was it? I haven’t gone through my room thoroughly enough, clearly, it’s almost certainly there. So I do the logical thing and strip the bed. To no avail. Peek behind the headboard, nothing, lift the mattress up and peek under it, no. Every inch of the floor is combed, with no case in sight. I get to the point of pulling every single thing off of my desk, up to and including the things that couldn’t possibly be hiding a headphone case, and it’s just. Not. There.

There’s only one place I’ve got left, really. It could theoretically still be in the kitchen, I suppose, even though it’s the place with the least places to hide a small object like that. And it’s the place where the most people are likely to have seen it lying around (and I definitely asked). Quelle fucking surprise, it wasn’t there.

This is the part where depression kicks in again. Shit aint working. I’m fresh out of energy, I have other things I need to be doing, and I still feel like shit. I head to the loo, a different one from the one I’ve been scouring all evening. The one ostensibly cleaned by my brother, not I- thereby, the not particularly clean one. I didn’t search here because why would I? It seemed like a waste of time, I don’t think I’ve even been in here today, it’s usually about as shitty as I feel right now.

Take a seat. The headphones for whose case I am searching for die as I hit the plastic throne. In a motion one would almost call rehearsed, even poetic, I take them out of my ears and put them next to the sink.

Where the case lays.

[cyb3r-s1ut]

Hotline Bling • Zion Kuwonu

Summary • To be honest, I don’t even know yet.

WC • Circa 1,600

Genre • Mild Angst, nothing too bad.

You used to call me on my cellphone

Late-night when you need my love

Call me on my cellphone

Late-night when you need my love

And I know when that hotline bling

That can only mean one thing

I know when that hotline bling

That can only mean one thing

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

3 months, 1 week, and 4 days. That’s how long it had been since Zion last saw you. But, hey, who's counting? If he had been, he would have succumbed to that void feeling in his chest by now. The one created by you but ultimately worsened by his actions. His actions ruined the best thing he ever had. But it was your fault too, right?

If you didn't have such an illuminating smile, such a feather-light yet addicting touch, such an effervescent personality, such a radiant aura then the both of you he wouldn't be in this situation. No. If you hadn't wanted something more and Zion hadn't been too scared of ruining a good thing even though he knew you deserved more— deserved better. He knew you deserved the world and the stars along with it, but he was so afraid he couldn't give it to you. So he cowered behind his thoughts; he dismissed the relationship you had, shutting you out in the process.

He was expecting you to dismiss the fact that he couldn't come to terms with himself you and continue with the late-night phone calls. The sneaking out of the house at 1 and 2 in the morning — when he thought everyone was asleep — to spend hours at your place. Half naked smoke sessions with deeply thought out conversations lingering in the air with every puff. Or hot nights in your room that always seemed to end with clothes scattered here and there, fluffy comforter somehow still clinging to a corner of the bed, and the sheets tangled around only you because he was never there when you woke up. ’He had better, more important things.’ you would convince yourself. But when you finally stopped gaslighting yourself with that excuse, you found out he couldn't face his own music.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ever since I left the city, you

Got a reputation for yourself now

Everybody knows and I feel left out

Girl, you got me down, you got me stressed out

'Cause ever since I left the city, you

Started wearing less and goin' out more

Glasses of champagne out on the dance floor

Hangin' with some girls I've never seen before

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Guilt. Jealousy. Anger. Sadness. Utter outrage. One of these emotions— maybe even a mixture— was grasping at his heart and yanking at the strings right now. Even so, he couldn’t stop rewatching the clip on his phone in front of him. It wasn’t like he was meaning to find you. He just happened to be scrolling through the explore page on Instagram and much to his sudden disbelief you were the thumbnail on some video. Against his better judgment (of course) he clicks the video, watching you hold a cup of God-knows-what in the air as your body hazily sways in a sea of people inside of what looks to be a club. Zion’s face is still one of shock as the girl recording yells something cringey about all of her friends being ‘baddies’ and ‘hot girls’ and continues to survey each of her friends, including you, while everyone gets more excited with the new song’s change of pace.

It could’ve been all in his head but that video seemed way longer than the allotted one minute. He doesn’t know how many times he watches the video before he decides to click on the girl’s profile (a bad decision on behalf of his 2 functioning brain cells). His thumbs seemed to move on their own as he scrolled down her page and searched through countless posts of herself, her with her family, and her with her friends. Zion couldn’t pry his eyes from the screen as he clicked on a picture with you in it, hoping you would be tagged. You were, of course, so he clicked. Another mistake on his part.

Your username and bio were both different. Even though he hadn’t visited your profile in a while, he did remember the main details of it. Zion repeated his earlier actions, examining your page this time. There were posts of yourself. You and your dog. You and your family. You and this new group of friends he had never seen until now. You and some MAN? You and this man hugging, holding hands, kissing, traveling, eating out together? You and Zion used to tell each other about everything, and you had certainly never mentioned him before. You People aren’t supposed to move on this fast. Hell, Zion hadn’t even moved on. He still listened to the playlist you two had created together. He still dreamed about you. He still woke up with the lingering touches of you on his body as if you had been beside him moments before. He still had late-night venting sessions with Nick as he sniffled and wiped his teary face after genuinely expressing what he was never able to tell you face-to-face.

But now, here you were. You had completely evolved from the person Zion knew almost four months ago. You weren’t the same girl who posted simple photos of herself in cute, comfortable outfits captioned with inspirational quotes, or wholesome reviews of the new Greek mythology book you had bought at your favorite Barnes and Noble. This was some girl who had grown to almost a million followers in just three months. This was some girl who posted pointless photos of her newest bottle of wine or Hennessey; some girl whose wardrobe would alternate between Burberry pantsuits and Louboutin heels, to Adidas tracksuits and air force ones, to what could very well be some bundle of strings Fashion Nova tries to pass off as a dress. This new girl — this new you — was copacetic, thriving, and glowing. You were happy with this seemingly very outgoing of people who the old you would’ve never thought about fraternizing with. Worse of all, the new you appeared to be enjoying life with some new guy, a guy that wasn’t Zion. He’s a complete mess without you laying next to him at 2 in the morning and you were supposed to be the same. Zion was supposed to have the same crippling effect on you as you did on him.

Apparently, Zion had been sitting in his whirlwind of thoughts long enough for his phone to lock. He pulled himself out of his trance and made his only decent decision of the day. He went to find Nick, knowing he would still be awake and available to examine whatever emotional baggage Zion had this time. He told Nick about his earlier revelations (leaving out the part about your apparent love interest). “Why don't you just talk to her, bro? Tell her how you actually feel.” weren't the words he expected to hear. He didn't know what to expect, honestly.

As Zion laid in his bed he picked up his phone with shaky hands. When he unlocked it, he felt another tug at his heartstrings, forgetting that his phone had locked on a gorgeous post of your beaming smile while he was in a daze earlier. The time I'm his phone read 1:46 A.M. He didn't want to call you. You might not pick up. But he wanted an immediate response. Zion needed validation right now. He silently prayed that your number hadn't changed along with everything else during your productive time period. He opened his messages and clicked on your name; ’y/n💛’. Zion smiled to himself as he looked at the last messages sent between the two of you. You had been sending memes back and forth, with the last message before the hiatus being three emojis expressing your enjoyment.

Zion pondered for a few moments on what to type. ’Yo y/n it's me.’ ’Hey it's me, Zion.’ ’Hey y/n we haven't talked in a while.’ He wasted a good twenty minutes overthinking, typing, and erasing potential conversation starters. Then he just decided to pour out what was left of his heart. Fuck it.

He didn't expect you to reply quickly, but he wanted you to, so Zion kept his phone unlocked and open to your messages as he waited. He had peeked two minutes after hitting send, but he didn't notice it then. Zion let five more anxious minutes pass before checking again. He almost didn't notice it that time, but somehow he managed to spot it.

The small subscript under his message. ’Read’

Zion didn't know if it was him being delirious with fatigue or the actual fact of you acknowledging but ignoring him, but his breathing got short and shaky and his tears started to roll. It was finally happening. That void feeling in his chest — in his heart —, that place where special memories of you were kept, had finally drawn him in and suffocated him with the realization that you didn't want him anymore. You no longer needed Zion to bring you the pleasures of life. For all he knows now, you never really did.

[makorragal-312]

Void (Part Six)

We’re back, baby!

Allura sighed as she sat on her bed, exhausted from the events of the night. Lance had dropped her off at her room a few minutes ago, so she couldn't help but to lose herself within her thoughts. A small smile came to her face as she recounted the night she had with Lance's family. They were truly wonderful people and had effortlessly made her feel like she was apart of the family. She was reminded of her mother's kindness during her talks with Lance's mother. She was reminded of her father's quiet yet sensitive nature when she looked at Lance's father. She laughed when she conversed with Veronica, Marco and Rachel and immediately felt like a kid again when she watched Luis and Lisa watching over Nadia and Sylvio. To say that the kids were miniature versions of Lance was an understatement.

Speaking of Lance...

The Altean couldn't help but to think about the red paladin. She noticed the unusual shift in his behavior throughout the majority of the night. She noticed how confused and conflicted he looked at the dinner table while she wasn't looking. He seemed to have calmed down just a little while they walked in the park, though she could feel there was still some tension from his end. And it didn't help matters that way he acted when he dropped her off.

Lance, would you like to come inside?

U-uh, no thanks! I'd like to, but I gotta get me beauty rest, you know? We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, so kinda need the energy!

Alright. So I'll-

Yup! See you in the morning! Good night, princess!

The princess furrowed her brows at the memory. She couldn't forget how fidgety and anxious he was to get out of there, like he was stuck in a mine field and was in fear of being blown to bits She knew that Lance didn't hate her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he's starting to avoid her. Just as she thought that, she felt little feet climb up to her shoulder. Allura turned her head to find the mice, happy and eager to see her and squeaking in delight. She couldn't help but to smile.

"It's good to see you, too. Have you been behaving well?" she asked, grinning. Platt turned their head, looking at the door for a quick moment before turning their head back to Allura, asking about Lance's whereabouts.

"He left not too long ago. He came over just to drop me off." Chulatt quickly climbed atop of Platt's head, tilting their head in curiosity before squeaking.

"Oh, he's alright. And don't worry. he was the perfect gentleman." Allura responded with a chuckle. Soon enough, the mice lined up next to each other, heads on their paws and eyes wide in anticipation.

"You want to know how the date went, don't you?" Allura asked in exasperation, already knowing the answer. Sure enough, all four mice nodded their heads in excitement. The Altean let out a sigh before she began.

"Well, it was…nice. We had dinner at his house and I got to meet his family. They're very lovely people. So…close." Allura let out a sad smile, being reminded of her parents and Altea. She let a cough, trying not to dwell on the memory.

"Anyway, afterwards he took me to a nearby park. We talked for a bit and then he decided to take us back to get ready for tomorrow. That's pretty much everything." Allura finished. She watched as Chuchule climbed on top of Platt, puckering their lips and mimicking kiss sounds. Allura blushed in embarrassment.

"A-absolutely not!" she yelled. Allura quickly turned around, trying her best to hide her blush. She wasn't going to go ahead and feed into their teasing. She heard the mice squeak in glee, assuming that their princess was lying and did in fact kiss the red paladin. Frustrated, Allura turned her head back to them quickly.

"I'm telling you I didn't! Well, he didn't." Allura spoke softly. The mice stopped squeaking as they observed Allura, taking aback by her sudden somber expression. They all tilted their heads in confusion. The princess noticed the gestures and sighed before explaining.

"When we were talking, there was a moment where Lance was opening up. He said that he wanted to help me find a family. A home. Something inside me just told me that he meant it and he truly did care for me. He truly loved me. I tried to get closer to, you know. But he pulled away and kissed my hand instead. I guess I got the wrong idea." the Altean recounted.

Allura thought back to that moment in the park. Words couldn't describe how safe she felt in that moment with him. How her heart felt like it was going to beat itself right out of her chest. How grateful she was for him being there for her. So yeah, she really wanted to kiss her and given how he's felt for her all of this time, she just assumed that he wanted it, too. And he did, it just happened to be her hand and not her lips. She felt Plachu climb up her shoulder and nuzzle their head against her cheek in comfort, which Allura genuinely appreciated. For the third time that night, the princess sighed and plopped her chin into her hand as she slouched.

"I just wish I knew what happened. If I did something to make him change his mind, I at least want to apologize and make things right."

And that's when it hit her. She quickly sat up straight, face filled with anxiety and horror. The mice looked the same.

"Do you think it's because of Lotor?" she asked in fear. The mice looked at each other for a second before shrugging. That certainly doesn't help matters, she thought.

But the more she thought about it, she honestly wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. When Lotor came along, she had completely brushed Lance aside, aiming to focus on her alchemy and helping Lotor whatever the cause. And somewhere down the line, she started to fall for the prince, and he for her. And sure enough, she let him kiss her. She wanted to let him kiss her. And everything was great…until it wasn't. She was exposed to his true colors and his true motives and let him go. And it hurt, because she wanted to believe that he could never do such a thing. He would never go ahead and kill innocent Alteans. She let him onto her ship. She let him near her paladins. And what's worse, she let him near Lance. He warned her of his intentions, but she chose to stand by Lotor.

He thought he was going to betray them. She chose Lotor.

He thought he was after Voltron. She chose Lotor.

He was in love with her. She chose Lotor.

The guilt she felt was immeasurable. It was bad enough that Lance had to witness her getting close to Lotor. But she knew that if he ever found out about their kiss, it would destroy him. And the last thing Allura wanted to do was put him through any more pain.

"He can't know about this."

_______________________________________________________________________

"You know you don't have to stay here, right?"

"I know, but I'm doing it anyway. But don't worry I'll be on my way out soon enough." Keith walked towards Lance, whom was laying down on his bed. He was about to leave Lance's room a few minutes ago until the red paladin began suffering from a tear-induced migraine, so he decided to hang back and look after him until the migraine showed signs of passing. Hence why he was currently walking towards the blue-eyed man with an aspirin pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"Ugh, who made post-cry migraines a thing?" Lance wailed, accepting the pill from Keith's hand. He sat up and popped it into his mouth before taking a huge gulp of the water.

"I don't think the person who was crying intended to get a migraine in the first place." Keith chuckled, walking to the kitchen counter and sitting on its corresponding stool. Lance swerved his head at him to give the half-Galran a scowl as the latter merely smirked. Lance let out a defeated sigh, knowing he wasn't going to win the argument and plopped back onto the bed. Eventually, the room went into silence.

"Hey, man. I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Lance said somberly.

'Lance, you don't need to apologize. You're going through conflicting emotions with Allura. Anybody would break down over that." Keith replied reassuringly. Lance kept his gaze to the ceiling. Even though he already somewhat broke down in front of him earlier, he refused to let him go back to that place again. He was also trying to get to sleep without his head feeling like it's been hit by a sledgehammer.

"Yeah, but-"

"Lance. You're human, You feel what you feel. Don't feel like you have to keep everything down while everyone else brings theirs up." Keith said firmly. He refused to have Lance feel ashamed for breaking down. He may not have been with the team all that time due to him being with the Blades, but he already felt that Lance was the one who was going through the most shit on the ship and would most likely keep it to himself as to not annoy anyone. And Keith would be damned if he had him act the same now that they're back home.

The red paladin was speechless. He didn't expect the leader of Voltron to say something so profound and comforting, especially to him. And in all honesty, he felt as though he had said the words that he had hoped someone had said to him back in the castle when the latter had left and he was left to his own emotional devices.

"I guess you're right." Lance sighed, signaling the return of the original silence that plagued the room. A good ten minutes drifted by before Keith spoke.

"Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to ask one question, and you totally have the right to not answer. Just wanted to let you know." Lance finally turned his head at Keith, intrigued and nervous at the statement. He gazed at Keith, whom was looking back at him, grasping his hands together firmly.

"What is it?" Keith took a breath before he dropped the bomb.

"What are you scared of?"

Lance's eyes widened in surprise. He had almost forgotten that him being scared caused him to not kiss Allura, but he had no idea that Keith was still dwelling on it. He knew it came from a place of genuine concern, which he was grateful for. But he really wished that he had left it alone so that he didn't have to go through those waves of thoughts and emotion again. The thoughts of not doing the one thing he's wanted to do for ages. The feeling of confusion and sheer relief when he didn't go through with kissing the princess. The guilt he felt in going for a kiss with someone when he already had someone else on his mind. And more importantly, the weird longing of the purple eyes that made his chest tight and his heart skip. The same eyes he was looking into now. Hesitatingly, he looked away from Keith as he connected his eyes with the ceiling once more.

"Everything."

[alchemist-shizun]

Patet omnibus libertas

AU belongs to @pistachiolan and the first scene is inspired by this post. Check the notes for more info!

See the wonderful fanart!

Read on Ao3!

General taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Word Count: 3,048

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Thomas, Remus (mentioned)

Pairing(s): Prinxiety

Warning(s): Major character death (apparent), graphic descriptions of violence, blood, kissing. (The majority of these warnings are for the first scene but it's a nightmare, you can skip to "Virgil surged up on his bed")

Summary: Conflicted feelings in a time of disorientation. Virgil, a former Heretic, had been captured and is now back to his village, thanks to a ... little deity's will. Roman, the knight protector of that land, had been against his return since the beginning. Things of course change the more he gets attached to the boy and, with the help of poetry, things could finally bloom.

A/N: Get ready for literary chronological discrepancies because I love quotes you can fight me. Okay I may or may not have added a bunch of ideas or details of mine for narration purposes oops-- Anyhow, I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy it too! And sorry for that first weird bit but I wanted to see if I was able to write a gruesome scene. Don't forget to check out @pistachiolan's profile for their fantastically marvellous au which you can find in their blog under the #TsCultAu tag, I tell you guys, their idea is MINDBLOWING and the art is just as good and it's so so so worth to follow if you don't you're straight. So yeah, I'm here to fix their angst with some nice fluff (after some more angst), enjoy your time here~

✾

The first image of red Virgil noticed was a flash of light in the corner of his eye; something pressed hard against his back and forced his downfall to inexorably begin.

He crashed against the earth, his nails digging in the dirt as pain numbed his senses only to regain them again and devastate his perceiving.

Failing to get back on his feet he could only manage to roll on his back and be met with the worst fate he ever feared.

There Roman stood, in all the mighty glory Virgil had always pleasantly basked under. Looking down at him with a distasteful expression adorning his face.

And his hand ghosting over his weapon.

Virgil's eyes widened, his fight or flight senses overproducing a shot of panic over his chest; he may have yelled, cried for someone's name or help, but everything felt so blurry and his limbs just too heavy.

It was as if he was … remembering instead of experiencing.

He remembered calling Remus's name in vain, as he noticed his expression growing blank as though in a daze.

The twin binding. A connection that messed with his mind so much that a simple hesitation caused by it could determine the adverse outcome of the Fates.

Time had slowed down, its passage becoming almost imperceptible.

« Die, you demon! »

And, when it started up again, it was no longer a memory.

Virgil sealed his eyes shut as Roman's sword swung in his direction, wishing for some kind of invisible protection to be laid on him, or, even better, for him to wake up and realize-

It was too late.

All lies, the ones that granted feasibility when you wished upon a star.

Nothing came for Virgil. Nothing but a steel blade slashing right through his body. His lungs filled with blood, the vermilion substance roughly rose up to his throat and stained his lips with doleful spatters, a trickle dripped down his chin and splattered against the fair skin of his hand.

He had … turned human again?

Virgil was hunched over himself, placing his hands on the exact meeting point between his chest and the sharpness of the sword. His hands were smeared with blood and red started being all he could feel and see around himself.

Just like that, Roman withdrew his sword only to dive back in and push the blade further in, tip protruding on the other side and loudly dripping with the same red vital fluid.

Virgil gasped for air that never came, instead, the void filled him, ready to take over what was soon to be his lifeless body.

Everything was red. His vision, his clothes, his skin. Roman.

Roman was red and he had learnt to love it.

Now Roman had caused that terrific madness of red all around them. Should he love that, too? Should he welcome it, at that point?

It was a tragedy that had made him delirious. Maybe he deserved that, he was sure the other would have agreed, rendered in that condition.

« You do. » venom words hit Virgil's face as Roman leaned in, still pressing the weapon angrily against the boy's chest.

What? He … wasn't … talking?

« The ones of your likes, » he began, watching as more gushes of blood dirtied the grass and contrasted the white in his own clothes in an almost blinding manner. « Deserve to cease existing at once. »

Virgil hadn't noticed Roman was now aiming at his heart. He didn't mind anymore, as he had already broken it by tearing it apart for so long.

And, when the distance between the sword and the entrance to his heart coincided, Virgil closed his eyes and, to his destiny, he miserably resigned.

And he woke up.

Virgil surged up on his bed, breathing heavily in a way he couldn't have done in the nightmare, as if he were regaining the air that had been neglected to his oniric self.

His trembling hands went at once to his chest were his untouched skin was covered by a layer of thin clothing, almost as white as his arms looked under the moonbeam.

Not real. Virgil's hands covered his eyes while he tried to steady his heartbeat.

Nothing of that happened. It's not real.

Time had passed before he decided to get up; who cares if they caught him awake at abominable hours and sent him suspicious glances. Ironically enough, he did need air.

Like an undead monster wounded by the bothersome hunter, Virgil dragged his feet against the cold pavement, a hand resting against the wall in support.

Adjusting to the darkness, he noticed the entrance to a room lit up in a faint warm colour. He knew he shouldn't have approached, but it was far too early in the morning to make clever decisions.

Whispers came from the space. Virgil peeked for only an instant.

« What do we even need him for? » that was Roman's voice.

Yeah, he really should have stepped away.

« Now, I'm sure there is a good reason for that. » Patton chimed in.

Virgil's hand brushed the bricks of the entrance.

« We know who he is, Patton. He used to literally look like a monster. »

Then, he retracted it immediately.

« I don't want to hear any of that! » Patton's voice slipped, a bit higher than intended, his eyes growing wide with realization, but Virgil didn't see that as silence fell over the room.

He quietly apologized. « I just … I want to trust Thomas. »

Virgil breathed out deeply. You're going to end up hurting yourself.

« I want to, too, but- »

« Roman, » Logan was there, too? He had just recently joined, not much longer after Virgil's … little incident.

« Virgil seems like a good person. »

« Yes. » Patton agreed softly. « The poor boy looks too scared to even talk, too. » he added with a sad tone in his voice.

Virgil knew Patton had tried to befriend him ever since he had started working with the high priest.

He sighed and looked at his hands. Sometimes, distinguishing reality from mendacity was a matter of a little detail.

Sometimes, Virgil wasn't even sure what had happened in his life and what were mere creations completed in his mind. What one would have been sure of, though, was that he was going to be scarred for an awfully prolonged time.

He had his back against the wall, thoughts going back to his horrible sleep.

Oh, how it stung.

Why did it have to be Roman? Why couldn't it have been a stranger like in everybody else's dreams? No, he was cursed to live his capturing over and over again, but with the worst possible outcomes played in front of his eyes that didn't really ever happen.

But most of all, why did it have to still hurt so much?

« Are you lost? »

Virgil was an inch close to jump right out of his skin. Thomas himself had appeared almost glowing in the dark right behind him in his almighty godly appearance, now peeking at the scene in the room.

« Oh, » he emitted, thoughtfully, as the conversation started making sense to him.

« Don't worry. Just don't break the rules and play nice. I'm sure you will all get along, eventually. »

Keeping up the façade could have been hard if his memories didn't make him terrified at that moment. « I hope so. »

Thomas smiled warmly at him. « Go back to sleep, Virgil. »

Almost automatically, that he did.

✾✾✾

Weeks had passed. Maybe months. Maybe more. Time isn't real when you don't keep track of it.

Thus, Roman was confused.

No, he wasn't confused by the concept of time itself, but how its action affected your own senses.

For instance, relationships.

The passage of time permitted one to develop their relations with others. Even for the better!

That was what confused Roman.

He had been hostile to Virgil since he joined, sure, but it was time that made things different and strange.

Because it made him tolerate Virgil more with every interaction, it made his chest feel lighter when he learnt new things about him. It made him grow so accustomed to the boy that, at times, Roman himself was the one to seek him out.

Yet …

« I feel like there's something wrong. » he had told Patton one day, when he looked for the best person's opinion he could find on the subject of feelings.

« With? » Patton tilted his head to the side, encouraging him to elaborate.

« Myself? » Roman shrugged slowly, then he pursed his lips. « I feel like a hypocrite. »

« Why would that be? » Patton's tone clearly stated a subtle “I assure you you're not.” « Did you have an argument with someone? »

The knight made a face. « I've had too many. »

The other made him sit down on a stony surface within the frontal garden.

« It's … Virgil. I- Well, it's weird. We're getting along now, despite everything that's happened. All I've said. » he sighed and brushed his face for a moment. « It doesn't feel right on my account. »

« Well, if you feel bad about it, why don't you simply apologize to him? That'll lift some weight off of you. » Patton offered, while his feet tickled the radiant flowers on the grass.

« Maybe … » Roman still didn't feel entirely convinced, as if some limit were preventing him from opening up completely.

« Tell him how you feel. I'm sure he'll understand. »

The knight stifled a laugh. « I don't even want to admit to myself how I feel. » his voice had gotten softer, the same way the gentle breeze kissed his cheeks.

Patton turned to him, he waited because he knew there was something more to that. When his friend spoke again, he fought a wide smile to spread across his face.

« … About him. » Roman finally finished, looking at the ground as though he were to stare at the sunset in the distance after a victorious journey. Eyes narrowed and clouded memories.

« You don't have to tell my anything you don't want to. » Patton watched as the other nodded slightly. « Just know that he'd love to hear what you have to say. »

That was when Roman had enough willpower to get up. « Right. Thank you. » he didn't look away from the building, a buzzing feeling in his chest.

« Ro- »

« Yes? »

Patton blinked a couple of times. Was that how anxiety looked like on other people?

« You can find him in the library. » he informed, subtly amused.

A “thank you” was heard as Roman practically sprinted towards the construction; Patton let out the laughter he had been holding.

Roman was surely one of the bravest knights he had ever met, but he still did manage to be that endearing when it came to being sentimental.

« Goodness gracious. » he shook his head and went back to his task.

✾✾✾

And the library was where Virgil was, lost in thought as his eyes skittered over yellowish pages of ancient manuscripts, different alphabets tried to confuse his mind. 

His sensed heightened as he heard quick steps growing closer; he shut the book he was holding between one of his fingers and turned to the entrance, almost expectant.

When Roman appeared, he had to kill the profound joy that threatened to manifest on his face.

« Hey. »

« Hello. »

The knight approached him, unsure of how to act. Virgil noticed he was far more nervous than how nonchalant he acted any other day.

« Am I bothering you, or ...? » 

Virgil pointed to his book. « I was merely reading. »

« Oh- sorry, may I visit another- » 

« Roman, » he almost snorted. « It's just poetry. »

Roman's face lit up in an instant. « I love poetry! » he stepped closer, so that he could see the cover of the book. 

« Archaic Greek lyric. » Virgil clarified, showing a page full of poets' names; the knight, curse his ignorance on the matter, had never heard any of them.

As he tried to implement some names in his mind, Virgil closed the book again.

« What are you here for? »

Okay then. Let's do this.

« I realized I never really went back on all my wrongdoings to you. » he admitted. « So I wanted to apologize for all the things I've said in the past. I am truly deeply sorry. »

« It's alright, just like you said: they're in the past. » Virgil's expression actually hinted at gratefulness.

« Please, you must accept it or it won't stop eating at me. »

He really had to stop himself from tackling him in a tight hug.

« Yes, okay. I forgive you, Roman. » Virgil's eyes glanced at him with a soft gaze. 

Roman responded with a sweet smile. « Thank you. » then, when the silence felt enough for both of them, unable to say anything more despite everything they felt for each other, his interest went back to the book. 

« So, you like ancient stuff? » 

« It would be ironic for me to learn ancient Greek and then despise all the literature behind it. »

« Wait, what? » Roman's pitch got higher with shock. « You learnt it? » 

« It's fundamental to the kind of education I wanted to get. » Virgil shrugged, opening the collection once again to avoid the other's stare. 

Until he felt Roman's hands place on his arm and pulling him towards the stained glass window. 

« Read for me? » the hopeful veil on the knight's face was almost impossible to ignore and not satisfy. 

The boy looked down again, his fingertips going over the verses; when he read the original version, it all sounded like a kind chanting that seemed to make actual sense if Roman had only known what it meant. Virgil's magnificent voice was able to let him understand the themes of the poem through the honey-like melody the metric allowed. 

« This is Sappho. The 31st fragment. » Virgil still didn't look up. 

« What does it say? » 

« He seems like the gods’ equal, that man, whoever he is, who takes his seat so close across from you- » a pair of hands went over his, pushing the book down so Virgil wasn't able to check it.

Roman's face seemed to say "I know you can do it." but actually meant "I saw your eyes didn't move while reading, you know it by heart."

And also a subtle "I'd like to dream you're dedicating this to me." 

«A- and listens raptly to your lilting voice, » Virgil stammered at first, trying not to get mesmerized by Roman gazing directly into his eyes, almost as though he were expecting something out of him. 

« And lovely laughter, which, as it wafts by, sets the heart in my ribcage fluttering. » he felt the unanimity between the poem and himself. « As soon as I glance at you a moment, » silence lingered in function of the other hemistich. « I can’t say a thing, and my tongue stiffens into silence. »

The warmth of Roman's skin was still surrounding his hands. « Thin flames underneath my skin prickle and spark, a rush of blood booms in my ears, » Virgil's were slightly ringing. « and then my eyes go dark, and sweat pours coldly over me, and all my body shakes, suddenly sallower than summer grass. »

The last verse was Virgil's favorite, he savored every syllable on his tongue. « And death, I fear and feel, is very near. »

Bewildered by the boy's knowledge, Roman was almost unable to understand he had finished.

Virgil, obviously panicking upon realizing what he had just recited and how long he'd been daydreaming of dedicating it to the other, tried to rely on his education to fill the silence.

He looked down. « This- Uhm, this was also written similarly in Latin by Catu- »

« In vain I have struggled. » Roman barged in, he both looked like he needed to get the words out and like he was still looking for said words.

« It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. » he was gripping so tightly at Virgil's hands that the book fell between their feet, with a thump none of them actually cared about hearing. 

Almost automatically, he intertwined their fingers. « You must allow me to tell you, » a sensation of deep adrenaline took over his chest and his utmost impulsive tendencies pushed him to reveal his deepest sentiments. 

« How ardently I admire, » and when push comes to shove, you can't ignore the violent crashing of your heart against your chest. Roman's hands traveled up to Virgil's cheeks.

« And love you. » the shove became the dive into the abyss and the wish became reality when Roman kissed Virgil's lips soft and longingly, telling him everything poetic and literary words couldn't.

As they parted, Virgil fought the instinct to surge forward again; he slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the harsh light coming from the stained glass next to them.

« Pride and Prejudice? » he asked, dumbfounded by what had just happened.

Roman smiled and started stepping away. « Had a sudden thought and needed to let it out. » he took Virgil's hand. « I will gladly speak with you about literature again, when my knightly duties won't come in between our time together. » he then brought it to his lips. « Until then, » and placed a kiss on his knuckles.

As Roman walked away, gifting him one last love-infused smile, Virgil was sure of one thing. 

That one nightmare he had a long while back actually did predict the future: Roman was going to be the death of him, after all. 

[peteywillproceed]

Photobooths

Author’s Note: Hi guys! Thank you so so much for all the support on Kiss Me! That was my first post on here and I was so nervous :) I’ve had this idea stuck in my head since Youth by Troye Sivan came out, but I never actually finished it (yay for drafts!) Still don’t really know what it is, but anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy it x

Summary:  “When the lights start flashing like a photobooth, and the stars exploding, we’ll be fireproof” - You and Tom have been friends for years, even if you have been keeping your feelings a secret. Sometimes all it takes is being drunk off your ass to finally get the answers you didn’t know you needed...

Word Count: 3,150

The camera clicked and you were blinded, the silly moustache Tom had stuck on your upper lip falling half-way across your mouth as the heat from the lights made you sweat. It was cramped in there, the faded black seat cracked and peeling and the touch screen photo selector taking ages to register your choice. You hadn’t been in a photobooth in years, too smelly, too dirty, too boring. But the alcohol coursing through your body had made short work of any reservations you may have had, too intoxicated by the boy tugging you towards it to care.

“I want the beer goggles too, Y/n,” Tom whined beside you, reaching up to tug them from your eyes. You glanced sideways, swaying in your seat and steadying yourself against his shoulder.

“Take ‘em them,” you mumbled, smiling as he practically snatched them from your head and shoved them over his eyes.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

You giggled, too drunk on alcohol and his presence to care. “It’s your party, dipshit.”

You’d known Tom since year 10, and you’d lived with him whilst you were at Uni, grateful for the rent-free place whilst you were broke. You didn’t know when your feelings for Tom had changed, all you knew was you’d woken up one day and wandered into the kitchen, following the smell of pancakes and bacon. And bam, there he was, shirtless over the oven, towel flipped over his shoulder and sending you a slow grin like he’d planned it all. You were pretty sure that was the day everything had changed, but honestly it could’ve been years ago.

You giggled as the screen slowly counted backwards from three, feeling like you were floating far up in the sky. Tom might have asked you to pull a stupid face, but you were so concentrated on the way his lips were moving that you barely registered it. His hands slid into your hair, threading through the strands and made a peace sign behind the back of your head. You scrunched your nose up and dragged the bright pink feather boa over your mouth, pouting in a drunken attempt to look sexy.

“What are you doing?” Tom laughed as the camera clicked and you were dazzled by the lights again.

“Lookin’ sexayyyyyy,” you threw your hands in the air, frowning at the screen “We only have one more picture left!”

Tom licked his lips, trying to meet your eyes. “Guess we’d better make it special one, then.”

If you’d been sober enough to catch the double meaning, maybe you would have been prepared for what came next. But as the camera started counting down for its final shot, Tom grabbed your chin and turned you towards him, pressing his lips gently against yours just as the click rang in your ears.

For a second, you thought about nothing but the way his lips were moving on yours, the sheer fire that snapped you out of your drunkenness and spread over your skin. You shivered as he cupped your cheek, sure the photo had been taken, but the noise of the party outside had faded and it was just the two of you, your lips moving in time to whatever music was blaring through the speakers.

A strange sensation came over you, the photobooth and Tom’s face beginning to spin, and you jerked backwards at the feeling.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I um…I don’t know where that came from,” Tom stammered, wiping his palms against his jeans.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t him, but blackness was appearing at the corner of your eyes, begging you to fall into the void that awaited. You could see Tom’s mouth moving, desperation crawling into his face, and you tried so hard to make your own form the words you wanted to say. But the tiredness was overwhelming, and soon you were falling into nothing, barely noticing when your head hit the floor of the booth, and Tom crouched over you in panic.

***

The next morning, your eyes opened to a dim room and the scent of caffeine wafting up your nose. Groaning, you tried to sit up, grabbing your head as it began to throb. Dribble ran down one side of your cheek and your hair stood on ends, but as you rubbed your eyes and allowed them to focus, the steaming mug of coffee and two advil tablets placed carefully on the side table drew a smile from you.

You leaned over and choked back the tablets, taking a gulp of the black liquid and savouring it on your tongue. You tried to think back through the mist and fog of last night, remembering basically everything up until you’d gone in that stupid photobooth with Tom. God, you didn’t know why you’d done that, but he’d seemed so excited and it was a chance for you two to be alone, something you hadn’t had in months. You’d have been lying if you’d said you didn’t enjoy the proximity.

“Morning sleepy head,” a familiar, velvety voice whispered.

Looking up, your eyes found Tom’s, and you groaned at the noise. “What time is it?”

“One in the afternoon,” he looked over his shoulder and laughed as he strode towards the curtains and threw them open. “Time to get up.”

“Ugh, Satan,” you mumbled, crashing back into the soft duvet.

“Y’know, I took the day off to keep an eye on you, the least you could do is not compare me to the King of Hell.”

“Sorry, your majesty.”

“Better.”

“Wait you took the day off today?” You frowned, running your fingers through your hair.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? You were drunk off your arse and I didn’t want you to choke on your own vomit.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime,” he grinned, scratching the back of his head. Bizarrely, he kept shifting from foot to foot, like he was trying to decide whether or not to sit down.

“The bed’s not made of lava, y’know,” you blinked, patting the space next to you “you can sit down.”

He nodded, still not moving, rubbing the side of his face as your confusion grew. “Y/n, I think we should talk about last night.”

“Last night? I don’t remember most of it,” you brought the coffee cup to your lips and took another gulp, eyes never leaving Tom’s. “Why? Did something happen?”

Tom’s eyes widened as he moved to sit next to you, a frown appearing on his face. “You really don’t remember anything?”

“Nope, sorry,” you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders as you ran a fingertip around the rim of the mug. “Is there something I should remember?”

You started racking your brain, wondering if he’d told you something you should have remembered or pointed someone out to you. If you were being honest, the most you remembered of the night was drowning in his eyes and paying no attention to any of the songs the rather terrible DJ was playing. You tried not to think about how he’d looked in that suit, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and the burgundy jacket that showed off his arms. Right now, he was in his pyjamas, slung loosely at the hips and barely concealing what you knew was there – you couldn’t decide which look you preferred.

Tom looked at you for a long moment, something that looked like pain dancing behind his eyes. You bit your lip and cocked your head, wondering whether someone had said something to him and you’d forgotten. “Shit, Tom, was something said?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he blurted, sighing audibly. “It doesn’t matter, just forget it.”

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, convinced you were missing something. “Something’s not right.”

“Nah, I’m cool, don’t worry about it,” Tom shrugged, and started to walk towards the door.

“Do you wanna get dressed and go catch a movie? You never have a day off, you shouldn’t have to spend it looking after me.” Maybe you were trying too hard, but the little pinch at the top of his brow made your heart hurt, and all you wanted to do was reach out and smooth it over. And preferably punch whoever had been there in the first place.

He shook his head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go to work.”

“But you took the day off!”

“There’s always something to do,” he laughed, the sound hollow and sad.

“Okay…” you nodded, the coffee cup shaking in your hand. “If you’re…if you’re sure.”

With a final nod, he turned and disappeared from your room, leaving you staring after his retreating back. Whatever had happened there, you wished you could have made it better. Maybe if you could remember what he meant, you’d be able to put the pieces back together and stitch up his clearly broken heart. Seeing Tom upset was like losing a piece of yourself, and until he was fixed you’d be constantly searching for a way to cheer him up.

Half an hour later, you heard the front door slam and the distant sound of his feet ringing on the steps as he left. For some reason, you felt empty, like when he left he took a piece of you with him. All you wanted to do was curl back up in the bed and fall asleep, but it was no use staying cooped up here if there was nothing to do. Sighing, you got to your feet and grabbed your hairbrush, shrieking when you saw the state it was in.

No wonder Tom had practically run away, you had a bird’s nest on your head.

***

Three Months Later

“Tom?” you called out, kicking the front door shut with your foot. “Can you help me?” Grocery bags were piled high in your hands, oranges spilling on the floor as you struggled into the kitchen.

“Here love, let me,” he swept in and gathered the three heaviest ones into his arms. “Harry’s here by the way.”

“Hi Harry,” you yelled “are you the one eating all my chocolate digestives?”

“nrgrnej,” Harry mumbled, stepping into the kitchen with half a biscuit hanging out of his mouth.

“Typical!”

“Can’t help it they’re so delicious,” he shrugged, looking at you with his hands raised.

Laughing, you shook your head and waved your hand in the direction of the bags. “As payment, you can pack those away.”

“Yes, sir!”

You walked into the living room, expecting the bomb that followed Harry everywhere to have crash landed in there too. Sure enough, pillows and blankets were strewn everywhere, the telly was blaring and biscuit crumbs were scattered everywhere, crunching beneath your feet as you stepped into the room.

You couldn’t help the eyeroll that followed, starting the clean up job that would otherwise have taken hours later on. Every so often, you’d come across one of Tom’s socks or a pen he had chewed on whilst making notes on a script, and you smiled at how tidy he was. As you started to finish up and the boys packed away the final can of peas, you noticed Tom’s script thrown on the floor, the bookmark he’d been using turned face up against the grey carpet.

Gingerly, you picked the script up and tucked your finger in the page he’d been reading, then flipped the bookmark over. You smiled as you realised these were the pictures you’d taken in that photobooth all those months ago, probably too drunk to remember to pick them up. But Tom had remembered, like he always did, and a slow grin crept across your face as your eyes trailed across the photos, tracing memories you didn’t know you had.

Until the last one.

The last one you couldn’t remember, but it was clearly there, in black and white, staring you in the face. Your lips on Tom’s. Tom’s lips on yours. And suddenly everything he’d said the morning after, how he’d wanted to talk to you and the hurt look on his face when you said you couldn’t remember anything, came shooting back all at once. You took in a deep breath, hearing noises at the door, and looked up with tears in your eyes.

“Y/n?” Tom said, panic lacing his voice “What’s wrong?”

He ran his eyes over you, freezing as he finally saw what you were holding. You held it out in a trembling hand, lips shaking as you asked him what it was.

“I think I better go,” Harry mumbled, turning for the door. “I’ll call you later mate.”

Tom didn’t reply, still not breaking your gaze and for the first time in the entire time you’d known him, you didn’t have a fucking clue what was going through his mind.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” he stammered.

“Why not?” Your voice was barely a whisper, the image of what you had wanted so desperately for years still seared into your mind. How could you have forgotten something like that? Something so cataclysmic and beautiful? You’d kissed Tom – and you had forgotten.

“You said you couldn’t remember…I figured you didn’t like it.”

“I was drunk, you idiot!” You hissed, waving the piece of paper in his face “I definitely wanted to know this happened.”

“But why?” he asked, and you stared at him like he was insane until he clarified. “You didn’t remember it, and you passed out before we could talk about what it meant. And in the morning, when you couldn’t remember, I figured maybe you’d just supressed it, and you didn’t want to think about it.”

Your mouth dropped open, thinking about how all this time the man you were in love with had thought you didn’t want to remember your kiss. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

“You really thought I wanted to forget that?”

“Didn’t you?”

“NO! Oh my God, you are blind!” you groaned, dropping the strip of photos. It fluttered to the floor between you, the chasm of space feeling miles across yet only centimetres deep. “I’m freaking in love with you Tom, I’ve been in love with you for years, I didn’t want to forget that!”

His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth kept moving like he wanted to say something. But you were done with wondering whether he felt the same; you’d kissed and now you felt like you could finally let it all out, what you’d bottled up since that day with the pancakes. What only his mum had heard when she’d found you crying on the kitchen floor the day Tom announced he was seeing someone new. What you’d scribbled about ferociously in diary upon diary, convinced you were stupid and he would never see you the same way.

You were done with the pretending, had been for years, and now was your chance to finally say what you’d only thought about in your dreams.

“I fall asleep at night and I think about you, I wake up and you’re the first person I want to see. When you go away filming I sneak into your room and fall asleep there because it’s the only place that smells like you. I’ve spent hours crying over you, sounding pathetic because I was too scared to tell you how I felt. And then this happens, and you don’t tell me about the one thing that could have changed everything! I had to find out through some stupid photo that you didn’t even mean for me to see!”

By the time you were finished, tears were streaming down your cheeks and you were panting with exhaustion, relief washing over you as you finally let go of the deepest secret you’d ever had. Tom said nothing, his mouth parted in shock, and you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, wishing you could just fall through the floor and never come back.

Suddenly, his arms wrapped around you, gently pulling you into a hug so tight you could hardly breathe. His breathing stuttered against you, and you pulled away so that you were looking him in the eye, your faces only inches from touching. Exactly like that night in the photobooth, only now you could remember every part of this. And you would for years to come.

“I didn’t know that,” Tom’s voice cracked, and your heart broke at the desperation slipping through his lips. “I didn’t know you felt like I did.”

“Like you did?” Your breathing stopped, and you didn’t dare believe you’d heard him right.

Taking a deep breath, Tom gripped your shoulders and looked you dead in the eye, all the bravado stripped back until he was just Tom. Your Tom. “Y/n L/n, I have loved you since the day I met you. Since the day you walked into that classroom, and I haven’t looked back. I never thought you felt the same, and I kept it bottled up for years. For a while, I thought I was over you, but my mum reminded me that love isn’t something that can fade just because you have a replacement.”

“If I could have anyone, I’d still choose you. I’d still choose your stinky morning breath and bed head, the way you can’t cook and the way you can’t stand tomatoes on your sandwich but you love ketchup. I’d choose your body and your mind, you heart and your soul, because you have meant everything to me since the day you first sat next to me in class, and I haven’t seen anything as beautiful since.”

You blinked, barely able to absorb the words let alone process them. You’d dreamed of him saying these words for years, and yet now that you were finally hearing them, it felt less romantic than it was sad.

“You’ve loved me too? All this time?” you choked, letting the realisation wash over you.

“All this time, and more too,” Tom replied, his voice low and thick with emotion.

“And that night in the photobooth?”

You held your breath, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer. For once, your future was out of your hands, and it lay in the balance of a boy you had loved in private for years. You were quite literally on a knife’s edge, and whichever way you fell you had to hope there was someone to catch you.

“That night in the photobooth was the greatest decision I ever made,” Tom replied. “You’re the greatest decision I ever made.”

Maybe you would’ve heard what he was going to say next, but you no longer cared as you flung yourself towards him and let your lips collide. As electricity sparked against your skin, you found yourself slipping once more into the dark abyss, but this time you were ready. This time the only thing you were drunk on was the scent of Tom – and this time, you were never letting go.