#I didn't realize it was mothers day lmao

[ventique18]

~ 🐉🌸♀️

🌸 is eating lunch at the cafeteria with her first year friends. Suddenly, her darling appears.

🌸: "Hornton? What's up? Oh, do you want to sit with us for lunch?"

🐉: "I appreciate the care, however it's quite alright. I've my specially reserved seat o'er yonder."

🌸: "Heh, I forgot you're a superstar."

🐉: "I've come to hand you a gift."

🌸: "Oooh what is it--"

It's a lovely cake, tastefully decorated like a mini garden of flowers, with a message in cursive:

💐 HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, MY LOVE 💐

🌸 is astonished. Everybody is speechless. The first years stare at her with a silent message that doesn't need to be verbalized.

"You're pregnant?!" (With a few stray thoughts of oh my god they had se--)

No, she is not. The gift is because he had thought she is a splendid mother to her cat, Grim. 'Furparents' are all the rage nowadays, he heard.

[yu-huuuu]

𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶;; 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦

[ 🌸 ] uchiha version

characters: itachi uchiha; obito uchiha; madara uchiha; sasuke uchiha; shisui uchiha

genre: fluff

warnings: none, fem!reader

- - -

- - -

- - -

itachi uchiha

*cute boy *against all odds, his interest in you did not begin at the academy. *actually, you and him weren't even in the same class, lmao- it all started on a mission. *he didn't even turn to look at you when the hokage told him that you would be on his team lie, he did- he even turned to look at you twice

*things got a little crazy in the mission, and suddenly your team was surrounded by enemy ninjas. Quickly, four of your group members were injured, and itachi was starting to wear out. He had really forgotten about you

*and it is just at that moment that you manage to reach him after putting your injured companions in a safe place

*my boy let out the air that he had been holding after he realized that you were fine and that he was not alone in this, haha

*after the fight and reaching Konoha successfully, and after checking that the injured were okay and giving the report to the hokage he approached you

A quiet, yet soft voice spoke to you from behind you, "… I wanted to thank you for earlier"

*you smiled tenderly at his grateful words, assuring him that there was nothing to be thankful for

*obviously, you weren't aware of the little jump that Itachi's heart gave when he saw your pretty smile.

*the poor kid froze before mentally beating himself up to compose himself.

*just as you were leaving, he stopped you

“…would you like to go out some day?”

"huh?"

*although several months have passed, he will never admit his attraction to you, at least not for now.

*but you can rest easy… It won't take that long until Shisui or his mother encourage him to court you when they realize that he is feeling things for his pretty teammate.

"What's wrong? Is the whiz boy afraid of a pretty girl?" //proceeds to poke him in succession with his finger// “huh? huh? huh-?”

“Shisui… you have 5 seconds to run, and two have already passed”

- - -

obito uchiha

*obito swore that he would not fall in love again after what happened with rin *but it happens that nothing goes as he wants *especially after you walked through that door of the akatsuki hideout with your stupid and pretty smile *he found himself looking for you after that meeting under the pretext that he didn't trust you for being the new girl lying boy, he just wanted to see your smile *on the other hand you were beginning to feel harassed by the awkward boy with the orange mask *your partner and his friend-rival realized that

"but senpaaaaaaaaai-"

"tobi stop pestering!"

"but tobi just want to see how the new girl is doing!"

"i swear to God and everything beautiful in this world-!"

"…can I turn him into a puppet?"

"guys…"

*they pretend that they are not interested if something happens to you, or that tobi does something to you they are a couple of liars

*but you can be sure of something- obito will never tell you who he is

*although if you want something with him, you will have to go for it, girl.

*he won't accept how he feels about you unless you make him see it, lmao

*although he will protect you feverishly even if both of you are not something

*imagine that you are on a mission with Tobi, and suddenly you come across something that could put you in danger

*oh yeah, just ignores tobi's mood swing and strange aura while he deals with the bad guys

*don't worry, he will be your shadow, although you will never know it.

- - -

madara uchiha

*this intimidating man is a joke, pfff- don't look at me like that

*the man is a 10/10 when it comes to talking about politics

*but he's a 0/10 when it comes to confronting you, lmao

*you're not even from his clan to begin with, and his father only taught him to woo women from his clan, not outside women from the uchiha clan tend to expect certain behaviors when expecting to be courted

*anyway

*he started to fall in love when he saw your pretty eyes when you looked directly at him without any fear or shame

*he's not going to lie; it made him nervous

*because since his sharingan woke up, no woman dared to look him in the eye in the same way that you did, oh

*you make his stomach feel light and his mind spin

*and don't make me start with his face, which looks flushed and the fact that it feels very hot

*the man thinks you're some kind of magician or something, lmao

*because, my God, how is this event possible?

*The great madara uchiha in love? What a lie

*anyway

*do you have patience? good, you will need it to wait for the man to gain confidence

*because he may be confident and headstrong when it comes to the battlefield, but he's a cinnamon bun who doesn't know how to pose for the audience when it comes to the dreaded ✨romance✨

“come on, big brother… you can do it!”

"wait…- no izuna!"

"hey Y/N, my brother wants to ask you something!"

"izuna-!"

*God, please help him

- - -

sasuke uchiha

*a disaster

*a complete disaster

*he can handle hate, you know?

*but he can't handle these beautiful emotions and sensations, oww

*make his stomach flutter and his legs shake unnaturally

*he's already a teenager, he thinks… he's too mature for this, he thinks!

*poor guy

*if he only knew

*anyway

*try to avoid you

*like, if you're on his "renamed team every chapter" he'll just ignore your existence

*He won't be rude, though!

*it will be more like a "good morning" in the morning and a "good night" at night, and that's it

*those will be your only interactions 💀

*ah, but don't let him see you in danger, he'll run to where you are without hesitation, pfff

*in the end, everything stops thanks to the intervention of Suigetsu and Jugo who couldn't stand the two of them

*somehow they manage to make sasuke bring up his feelings for you

*so they decide to help him at the end of the day with motivating words

"you just have to talk to her"

//jūgo nods//

"you shouldn't be afraid of her, she won't bite you"

//jūgo nods//

"don't tell me that the great sasuke uchiha is afraid of a girl-"

"…suigetsu shut up"

//jūgo nods again he can't decide who to support//

*in the end, he's just a soft guy who doesn't know what to do at the end of the day

- - -

shisui uchiha

*you were his cousin's classmate, and somehow you managed to be friends with itachi

*and one day he finally met you

*shisui takes everything with humor, you know?

*he is a fun person who likes to enjoy little things

*like, he's the guy who's always in a good mood

*but when you're around him, his mind goes blank

*his funniest jokes suddenly forget, or he doesn't know how to explain them from one moment to another, and suddenly they are not funny anymore, they are embarrassing 💀 even itachi makes a subtle grimace on his stupid stoic face that he charges whenever he opens his mouth to deliver a “joke”

*he doesn't know what to do or how to react

*and for some reason, he stutters a lot when he tries to explain his joke again

*itachi is there luckily to comfort him at the end of the day, but: "no, itachi- don't give me love advice when you haven't even had a girlfriend!"

*somehow he will overcome this historic moment in his life and be able to woo you properly

*when? Uhh… someday, I don't know, I'm not psychic-

"You just have to talk to her-"

“You say that like it's easy, itachi!"

[lovelytsunoda]

dancing in the dark | mick schumacher

summary: after her team gets totally ripped apart in court, yn returns home and changes into some comfy clothes, content to lounge on the couch for the rest of the evening. however, that flannel shirt drives mick crazy, and he has other plans

pairing: mick schumacher x law clerk!girlfriend! reader

warnings: 18+ content, cutesy smut, (seriously this smut should feel horny and like a warm hug at the same time), mick says some funny things. the lawyer referenced is mickey haller from 'the lincoln lawyer' because i fucking said so. (i literally just realized what i've done giving her boss and her lover the same name lmao i dont know any other tv lawyers so this stands and im making it part of the plot) it’s actually shorter and a lil less graphic than originally intended dont shot the messenger

court was rarely ever pretty, but usually yn could leave a courtroom feeling like she did the best she could.

not today. she was shaky as she left the courtroom, even after mickey haller, the lawyer that she worked for, assured her that she'd done nothing wrong.

"that was my mistake, not yours." he had insisted. "everything you put in that document i told you to. lorna and i checked it three times before i filed it."

of course, that did nothing to make her feel better as she drove back home, taking the rest of the afternoon off. mickey had insisted, which usually meant he had something to work on that he didn't want any help on.

when she pulled into her driveway, she dragged herself out of the small car, and into her empty house. mick was still out, presumably with the dog. he had training this morning, and then a meeting in the afternoon, so he had likely taken angie to his mothers.

still feeling off, she stripped out of her court clothes, donning her fuzzy socks and a plaid flannel top. she let her hair down from its tight bun, gently massaging her scalp before heading to the kitchen to make a mug of hot chocolate.

the file was still in her bag, along with a red-marked copy of the form that had been misfiled. the entire trial had to be postponed, so the haller camp was likely the most hated set of people in that courtroom.

she turned the kitchen radio on, a habit she had picked up from her grandparents. her grandfather loved seventies music, so there was always some don mclean or dolly parton playing in his house when she grew up. she herself preferred the eighties: inxs, springsteen, blondie, benatar.

she heard the front door open, followed by the sound of mick's duffel bag hitting the floor. she listened to his footsteps, and it was soon enough that she felt his arms wrapping around her waist.

"i thought you were in court today?" he mumbled, kissing her shoulder softly. she could smell his cologne, a musky and earthy scent. something inexpensive, for he saved the dior for special occasions.

"we got absolutely destroyed this morning over a misfield document with the courts, so mickey sent us all home to regroup."

truth be told, it was days like this one that had yn questioning why she'd even started this job in the first place. lately she'd had more bad days than good ones, but lorna had assured her that it would pass.

"you know what the great thing about being alive is?" mick said softly, taking her by the hand and gently spinning her to face him. "you can always try again tomorrow. nine times out of ten, there is always a second chance."

"i know you're right. i just feel guilty since i was the one who drafted the document." it didn't matter that mickey checked it and lorna filed it. she was the one who drafted it, so the error was hers.

"your lawyer checked it over, right? and he didn't see anything wrong with it?"

"yeah but-"

'no buts. i refuse to see my brilliant girlfriend be down on herself for something that isn't her fault."

she was about to protest again when mick swayed their bodies into a dance, slightly out of tune with the springsteen song that was playing from the corner. 'dancing in the dark'. it was their song. she smiled despite herself, laughing along and joining in with the dance. mick twirled her around the kitchen twice before hooking his hands under her thighs and lifting her into the air. she laughed in surprise, gripping his shoulder as he carried her over to the couch.

she giggled as he dropped her onto the couch, climbing over her and planting himself between her thighs. mick leaned in to kiss her, his lips soft against hers. she smiled into the kiss, exhaling softly as she unconsciously bucked against his crotch.

“you know this shirt drives me crazy, right?”

“this one?” she pursed her lips. “it’s almost a decade old. it’s the oldest shirt in my closet.”

mick grinned, strands of blonde hair falling into his eyes as he nuzzled his cold nose into the skin between her boobs. “you’re like a sexy lumberjack.”

she laughed as mick kissed over the flannel on her shirt, slowly making his way down to her exposed hip where the shirt had ridden up when he placed her on the couch. "what does that even mean?"

he pressed his nose against hers, her slender legs wrapping around his toned body. "hey, pretty girl. what can i do? how can i make you feel better?"

"mhm, i think i have an idea." she smiled shyly, running a finger down his chest.

"does it involve you screaming my name in pleasure?"

"why yes, i think it does."

laughing, mick kissed her again, gently nipping at her lip before he pulled her into his arms, her legs securely wrapped around his torso. he carried her to their shared bedroom, placing her at the edge of the bed before sinking to his knees on the plush carpet.

he pulled his white t-shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere across the room as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, gently kissing up and down the expanse of her leg.

the sight of mick between her legs never failed to give her butterflies. he never hesitated to get on his knees for her, no matter how sore they may be in the morning. she never even had to ask. mick always seemed to know just what she needed.

her chest was filled with love as mick kissed, licked and sucked his way across her inner thigh. he was her sweet boy, her love. mick thought that she was an angel on earth, and had even made the cheesy 'did it hurt when you fell from heaven' joke the first night that they spent together.

he tongued at her wet core through the black cotton of her panties, eliciting a gentle gasp from the woman above him.

"you liked that, sweet girl? did that feel good?"

"yeah." she breathed, shifting on the bed, arousal jolting through her body. "i want you, mickie."

"it's so weird that you call me that when the guy you work for is also named mickey."

"it's spelt different."

"same difference." he laughed, pinching her thigh gently.

"i guarantee you that i'm not thinking about my boss right now, mick."

mick laughed, his warm hands traversing her thighs, up to her ass, and pulling her closer to his face. "raise your hips, honey pie. let's get those pesky panties off of you."

across from her, a large round mirror sat on top of the white ikea dresser, and she couldn't decide what was more erotic: the reflection of her blushing, panting face and the back of mick's head between her thighs, or looking down and seeing the look of lust and adoration in mick's eyes as he slid her calvins down her legs.

making eye contact with her lover, she teasingly began to undo the buttons on her flannel, letting the fabric fall away and expose her naked curved body to the man on his knees in front of her.

“you fucking undo me, baby.” mick said, voice husky as he visibly held back a moan. “so pretty just for me. I don’t deserve it.”

he gently ran a hand up and down her thigh as she used her legs to draw him closer to her core, the heat radiating off her skin and warming his.

he kissed her core gently, smiling at the soft sigh he drew from his lover before he began to lick at her slit, juices running down his tongue and around his lips.

“holy fuck.” she exhaled, throwing her head back.

if she looked in the mirror, she’d be able to see micks shoulder blades rippling under his skin every time he pushed himself closer to where she needed him most.

“yeah, you needed this, didn’t you? needed me to help you feel better? that’s what I’m here for baby, you don’t even gotta ask.”

there was reverence contained in every lick, every nuzzle. every time his nose bumped her clit. every gasp and moan she let out spurred him on, encouraging him further as he continued to make out with her pussy.

“fucking hell, mick. that feels so good.” she moaned, rutting against his lips. “oh, god!”

“atta girl.” mick encouraged, snaking his arms around her waist. “just use me to feel good, baby.”

she was flush against his face now, practically grinding herself against his tongue. she chanced a look down, moaning at the look of sheer lust in micks eyes as he met hers, his long pink tongue licking at her opening, face practically covered in her juices.

“mick, oh my god!” she squealed, thighs closing in around his face, fingers twisted up in the duvet as she tried to stay upright.

she came with a scream, arms threatening to give out beneath her as mick continued to work her to the edge, never giving up his relentless pace

“that’s my girl. come on, give it to me. I know you can, pretty girl. I know you can do it.”

she slumped backwards, allowing the duvet to pillow around her as she felt her legs go week. her hands moved to ruffle micks hair, a lazy smile on her face. he continued to kiss her thighs as she lay there to recover, listening for every breath, every soft sigh.

“how’re you feeling?” his voice was soft as he crept up the bed, gently hovering over her body. he laced one hand with hers, his nose running along her cheek.

“absolutely fantastic. you always know how to make me feel good.”

when he kissed her, she could taste traces of herself on his lips. in the beginning, she’d felt so awkward about tasting it. now? now it just served as another reminder of how much mick loved her. a reminder that he enjoyed pleasuring her.

“can you taste how sweet you are?” he hummed, kissing her softly again. “just like heaven, princess.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah, pretty girl. I’m pretty sure heaven is right between those thighs of yours.” there was a sparkle in his blue eyes, and a cheeky grin on his lips. “you know, you’re more than just pretty. you’re fucking smart too. I wish I could be half as smart as you are. do you think that if I slipped my cock into you right now, I could absorb some of that knowledge like through osmosis or whatever?”

she grinned stupidly at the sheer absurdity of the question. once you got him in the bedroom, mick schumacher had no filter whatsoever.

“wanna try it and find out?”

mick drew back, undoing the top button on his levis while she sat up just enough to toss her flannel aside and move up the bed. she slipped a small throw pillow underneath her hips when the lay back down, sweaty hair brushed behind her ears. mick clambered up the bed to join her, large hands reaching to the knob on the bedside drawer for a condom.

he slid inside her with ease, buried to the hilt as he kissed her forehead gently. she squirmed underneath him, gently rutting her hips into his.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

his thrusts were gentle, yet still deep as he drew one of her legs up and around his waist, her arms coming to link around his neck as she pulled him close. he was a gentle lover, a passionate one. he believed in taking his time to make his partner feel good.

“my god, babe, you feel so fucking good. so good for me.” he groaned down her ear, teeth nipping at her earlobe. “taking my cock so well.”

hands on his shoulders, she could feel his muscles rippling and undulating under her dainty hands, french nails leaving small scratches along his tanned skin.

“oh, just like that.”

the pace was slow and comforting, sensual and erotic as mick somehow managed to make every thrust feel like his cock was going deeper, deeper, deeper.

“eyes on me, honey pie. I wanna see that pretty face of yours.” mick encouraged, seeing her eyes screwed shut in pleasure, cheek resting against the pillow. “where’s my sexy model girlfriend?”

a smile crossed her features, a moan escaping her throat as mick brushed against her spongy walls. she turned her head slightly, staring right up at his goofy smile and sweaty face.

he leaned down to kiss her, moaning into her mouth before slipping his tongue in and touching it against hers.

his hands travelled up and down her body, over all of her curves. over her breasts and rolling her nipples between his fingers.

“you’re so pretty.” he whispered, kissing her softly. “I love you.”

“mick,” she moaned softly. “faster.”

he smirked, snapping his hips quickly against hers. “how’s this, baby? you close?”

“yeah.” she whined. “think so.”

she curled her legs tighter around him, trying to pull mick closer and closer to her, trying to take him deeper and deeper. his breath was heavy on her neck as he left open mouthed kisses in his wake. one of his hands came down and over her waist, thumb rubbing gently at her sensitive clit. she moaned out a small curse, nails digging into his back.

“please.” she panted “don’t stop.”

his free hand desperately clenched around the sage green duvet, his grip white-knuckled. her walls contracted around his cock, causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head. he swore in german, his hips faltering as he tried to keep his composure.

“give it to me baby, come on, I know you can. keep taking my cock. fucking shit, baby, I’m not gonna last.”

“mick!” she screamed, back arching, skin pressing against his, walls contracting around his thick dick.

her nails were digging into his back, her face flushed and facing away from him as she came. at this angle, he was happy to lean over and press gentle kisses to her face, softly whispering praise and encouragement as he continued to work himself to the edge.

his hips stuttered, cock twitching as he spilled into the condom, body shaking as he lowered himself to rest beside his lover. he had yet to pull out, their legs still locked together. her skin was warm as he pulled her into his arms, swollen lips leaving kisses against her sweaty hair and her fingertips drew shapes against the bare skin of his chest.

out in the kitchen, he could faintly hear the radio. it had long since changed from springsteen, now playing the dulcet tones of paul hewson and u2.

he knew he should get up. he at least needed to take the condom off. maybe pull a blanket over their bodies.

but having her in his arms was a type of heaven within itself. her scent overwhelming his senses, her touch comforting over his flushed skin.

he needed her beside him like he needed oxygen to breathe.

“mick,” she mumbled, head still resting against his chest. “I need to go to the bathroom, and you’ve still got most of your lower body weight on me.”

he grinned sheepishly as he disentangled himself from her, watching from the bed as she strode to the closet, pulling a silken robe around her lithe frame.

he was so in love. he hoped this would be his forever.

[widowmaxff]

the magic of christmas

pairings: natasha romanoff × daughter!reader | aunt!wanda maximoff × fem!reader (all platonic)

warnings: angst, happy ending?, natasha being a really bad mother, reader sees wanda as a mother figure, really mom issues!

a/n: this was supposed to came out on christmas lmao sorry

You hated Christmas. But not just it, you hated all the celebrations that reminded you that you had no one to spend it with. You hated seeing all those kids opening presents, hugging their parents and believing in the magic of Christmas. Maybe you just wanted that too. Maybe you just wanted a normal family. If you had a father would things be normal? Or maybe if it weren't you who came out of your mother's womb, maybe if it were someone else the family would be normal.

When you discovered that all that magic didn't exist, you were a kid, around seven years old. At that time you were at the Avengers Compound, the place was completely decorated while you stared open-mouthed at all those decorations. In the small apartment where you and your mother lived, it was not decorated like the big Tower. Natasha didn't care about that. So, you ran to every room in that big place to admire every bit of it. Soon, you arrived at the kitchen with your light steps and noticed your mother and uncle Steve talking with their backs to you.

“What did Y/n ask for for Christmas this year?” Rogers asks making you stop on your feet as you listened to their conversation.

"I don't know." your mother says. "Wanda always comes to my apartment a few days before to read the letter and buy her what she asked for." Your Auntie Wanda was your favorite person. She seemed to be the only one who cared about you. She was the one who helped you with your homework, who asked if you were okay, who knew your favorite food, color, movie, book and song. She knew everything a mother should know, that Natasha didn't know.

You never asked Natasha to help you with your homework, you never asked her if she would like to play with you or just watch a movie, because you knew she would say no. Since you gained awareness of your own mind and memories, you cannot remember any time when Natasha wished she was your mother.

"You should care about her a little more, you know." Your mother just takes a deep breath, she was starting to get annoyed talking about you.

"I didn't want a kid in the first place."

And it was on that day that you realized that this magic never existed, but Wanda did everything she could to make it exist in you. May you have a normal childhood that your mother would never give you.

That Christmas morning, all the Avengers were gathered around the Christmas tree, including you, who was sitting next to Wanda of course. Each of them opened some of the gifts scattered around while you just watched, quieter than usual. "Now it's your turn, my love." Your Auntie mutters to you, while all eyes were fixed on you. Walking to the tree and picking up your gift, you notice a letter attached to it that a little later that day you would read.

'From: Santa Claus

To: The Brilliant Y/n Romanoff'

It said on the package. You laugh for a second, knowing at that moment and from then on that the one who really would have given that to you was your Auntie Wanda. You delicately open the paper, trying to surprise it even though you knew what was underneath. Your eyes lit up when you saw the large plush of a white bunny with pink details. You never asked for expensive toys and things for Christmas, because you knew there were children in the world who deserved much more than you.

"He's so beautiful, I loved it." You spoke almost like a whisper, but the people around you could still hear you. You stroke the rabbit's soft white fur while smiling broadly. Your eyes stop on Wanda for a moment, who appreciated you with bright and affectionate eyes, happy to also make you happy. "Thank you so much, Auntie Wanda. I really love him."

The smile on Wanda's face disappears when you finish your speech. How did you know she was the one who bought you the gift? Was it that age when children stopped believing in Santa Claus? "Oh." Someone murmurs among the circle of people, falling into total silence as you get to your feet and return to your starting place. Laying your head on her shoulder, still stroking the bunny that became yout best companion on your days alone.

At that moment even your mother was silent, but her eyes never met you. But it doesn't change the fact that Natasha has a great eye, of course, she was once a assassin. You just wished that one time, she would use it to look at you.

You remember arriving at your apartment that same evening with your new stuffed animal clutched to your chest. You enter your room and sit on your bed. The letter that Wanda wrote - or that Santa wrote - was in your hands as you adjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. You open the envelope and notice the handwriting, with perfect letters.

'Dear Y/n Romanoff,

Over the year, I have observed your good behavior and the wonderful things you have done. Your kindness, generosity and efforts to be a better person did not go unnoticed. It fills me with joy to know that there are children as special and unique as you in the world.

I came here through this letter to tell you how important and special you are! Never forget that every day you bring great pride to everyone in your family, especially your mother. They are extremely grateful to have you by their side. They love you very much. Remember to always be that sweet and understanding girl that you are. Your smile and your laugh are bright and you should never stop showing them.

I hope you like your gift which I and someone who loves you dearly, chose from our hearts!

Lots of love, Santa.'

You read those words as if it were Wanda who had write, and it was really her. So the comfort of the lyrics made that magic of Christmas still be in your head, even if it was in the deep layers of your mind. You loved your Autie so much, and the way she wrote about you made you think that maybe some day Natasha would see you the way Wanda does. Your Auntie would always say that you were the most understanding girl in the world. You weren't sure about that, you just knew your mother couldn't take one more burden thing in her life.

And the next year, there was no letter for Santa on the table beside your bed.

Now you were 16, almost ten years since that magic ended for you. It was Christmas Eve again and you just wanted this season to pass. Your room was dark and you really thought about just spending the day lying in bed like some other days. But still, you got up.

You knew you wouldn't find your mother somewhere in the apartment, she was never here. It had been almost a week since you knew anything about her or had seen her. Natasha was probably on some mission or maybe she just didn't want to be breathing the same air as you, why would she want to? And it wasn't like you wanted to see her either. Every time you looked at or remembered her, your eyes begged to release tears.

It had been a few years since you really gave up trying to have her as a mother and having any hope that one day she would treat you like a daughter. So even if you met in some room in the apartment, no words were exchanged between you two, and that was okay with you. Natasha always kept food in the apartment and left you an 'allowance' at the end of the month, maybe this was her way of showing you that she still cared, or maybe she was just doing the minimum.

The ringing of your cell phone in the almost empty kitchen takes you out of your thoughts. You place the coffee mug on the table and reach for the device. 'Auntie Wanda' said the name on the screen and a smile appears on your face automatically. "Hi, dear." It's the first thing you hear when you answer the call, making some of your frustration go away.

"Good morning, Auntie Wanda." You respond, trying not to seem discouraged so that you wouldn't be another burden on Maximoff's life, but it seemed like she always knew when something was wrong with you. "I called you to see if you wanted to spend Christmas with us?" She asks. You really have nothing against Wanda's family - now made up of Vision and their twins, Billy and Tommy -, you just felt that being around them during that festive season that was supposed to be spent among families was like you were an intruder at the moment.

"Oh." You stop for a moment. It was obvious that you wanted to, but the guilt grew even more in you for invading that family. "I don't- I think I'll just stay here today."

"I'm not taking that for an answer!" She laughs, making you roll your eyes but with a smile on your face. "The kids miss you and I even bought matching pajamas for us!"

"Right, right! I want to spend Christmas with you, Auntie Wanda." You speak, hearing your aunt's excited screams on the other end of the call. "Vision will pick you up in... one hour. Okay?" You hummed for her quickly saying goodbye to go pack your things before your Uncle Vision shows up at the door to get you.

After hearing Wanda say that they really wanted you that holiday season, something in you lit up. Maybe Christmas isn't that bad, you just haven't experienced the good part of it. The part where you feel loved by the people around you and who really care about you.

You put your backpack on your back with some things you would probably need if you wanted to spend Christmas away from home. You put on your headphones, stopping for a few seconds to choose a song, but the sound of keys in the front door made you completely stop what you were doing. Natasha was finally home. A part of you thought that maybe she would be back to spend Christmas with you, but you knew deep down that it was impossible.

She enters the living room and looks at you, who was still looking at your phone choosing some music. Your mother looks at the backpack and the shoes next to you that you were still putting on, making her tilt her head. "Where are you going?"

You frown. "Auntie Wanda invited me to spend Christmas at her house." Why? Why do you care? - you almost asked, but decided to just keep your head down, not laying your eyes on her.

"Are you going to walk there?" You see from the corner of your eyes Natasha crossing her arms.

"No. Uncle Vision will come get me in a bit." You reach for your shoes next to you and start putting them on a little faster than usual, perhaps trying to escape that uncomfortable moment where you and your mother finally exchange a few words after more than two weeks.

She nods. "Um... do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" Natasha murmurs, making you finally lay your eyes on her.

"Why do you care now?"

“... Because you’re my daughter, Y/n.”

"Daughter? You know you've done really good ignoring me my whole life." You remain calm and with a low voice, getting up from the sofa and collecting your things.

Natasha takes a deep breath. "Okay, then you can come back with Vision or something." She uncrosses her arms and leaves the living room, heading towards the kitchen. Excellent. When your mother finally gives you some attention, you ruin everything, as always. You roll your eyes and head out of the apartment. The quicker you get away from her, the less guilty you feel.

[...]

"I missed you so much!" Wanda hugged you tightly as you hugged back, making you laugh.

"I saw you last week, Auntie Wanda." You say. She rolls her eyes before running the palm of her hand through your hair and ruffling it.

"Yes, and it's a long time!" She kisses your forehead and holds your hand, pulling you through the large house towards the living room, where the twins were. "Come on, the boys missed you." You laugh at her enthusiasm, feeling loved by that family.

"Y/n!" The boys shout your name when they see you. They quickly get up from the sofa and throw themselves on top of you, hugging you.

You mess up their hair, imitating your Auntie Wanda's action from earlier. They lead you towards their toys, making you sit on the floor and play with them. You did this without any complaints, because you adored the twins and deep down, you considered them your little brothers, consequently considering Wanda as your mother too - but you would never tell any of them that.

"I'm so excited for Santa to bring our presents!" Billy says as he moves one of his toys through the air. “What did you ask for Christmas this year, Y/n?”

You didn't know what to answer: the truth ruining their Christmas or lying? You obviously chose the second option. "I didn't ask for anything. We don't have a Christmas tree at home, so Santa can't bring me what I ask for." You make up anything, trying not to talk about how the old man hadn't been in your life for a long time.

"Do you think if we put a letter from you here at home he would bring your gift tonight?" Tommy asks. You place one of their toy characters next to another, as if they were fighting.

"I don't think so. Santa Claus has probably already seen all the things the kids want. But it's okay, you two don't need to worry about that," You speak to them. "you guys need to worry about... the tickle monster!" You 'attack' the two boys with tickles, making them laugh until they can't take it anymore. Billy and Tommy get up and start running around the house, screaming at you.

Wanda and Vision, who were hugging each other sitting on the sofa, laugh at the three of you. You get up from the floor and fix your clothes. "I'll find you two! Don't hesitate to run!" You speak loudly to them as they continue to run around. Wanda looks at you lovingly, making you feel at home.

That Christmas Eve was incredible. You watched a lot of Christmas movies and it seemed like every time someone did something affectionate towards you, all your problems would go away and that parental void would gradually be filled. "Come on, Y/n! We have to go to sleep or Santa won't show up with our presents!" Billy says as he jumps on his bed excited to wake up in the morning and see all his orders under the Christmas tree.

You were ready to go to bed in the guest room, which for years could be considered your own room in the Maximoff's house. "Okay, I'm leaving!" You laugh at the boy, leaving a kiss on his forehead and saying goodnight. The other boy, on the contrary, had already been under the covers for a few minutes, probably dreaming about the next morning.

You walk towards the door seeing your Auntie Wanda looking at you affectionately as she waited for you to say goodnight to the boys. You close the door and walk with her to the guest room - or yours. "I'm glad you agreed to spend Christmas here." She says, sitting next to you on the bed.

"Me too. You guys make me like this kind of festive season."

"You know you're always welcome here, right? The twins even see you as a big sister." Wanda tilts her head, looking at you deeply.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I feel like I raised you all your life for them to feel this way." You lower your head looking at your sock covered feet with Santa. "You did and I'm glad you did it. I can't imagine myself without at least a little affection from someone older."

"I will always take care of you, my love." She leans in and leaves a kiss on your head, stroking your hair subtly. "Now, go to sleep or Santa Claus won't show up!" You laugh, rolling your eyes at her before getting under the covers.

[...]

"Y/n wake up!" The door is opened brutally as the boys run towards him on the bed. You grunt as they start jumping on your bed and screaming your name. "We need to see if Santa brought our presents!" Billy shakes your body making you laugh briefly.

"So, let's go!" You get out of bed, pushing the two screaming boys towards the door again. Wanda and Vision were outside laughing at the three of you again.

The boys run towards the stairs, almost falling on the way. You follow the twins to the living room and when they get there, Tommy and Billy's eyes light up when they see the Christmas tree filled with gifts with different colored wrappers underneath it. They run towards the presents before looking with lost puppy eyes at their parents. "Can we open them now? Please!" Tommy asks Vision and Wanda who were walking towards their children.

"Of course you can."

The boys' parents and you sit on the big sofa in the living room, watching Billy and Tommy open their toys. With each gift opened, they ran in front of you to show you each present - with you having reactions of interest to the objects. At the end of that mess of gift wrappers and toys thrown around the living room there were still two big presents under the Christmas tree, but you were too distracted by the boys showing you the toys to notice.

"Oh, I think there are still two gifts missing." Wanda says, making you smile at the boys knowing how excited they are to open more presents. "But you've already opened all yours, haven't you?" She says to the twins, who smile widely at her, nodding in agreement. "I think it's for the other child here."

They all look at you, making you frown. "For me...? But I-"

"Open your presents, Y/n!" Billy rushes you, making you shrug and walk towards the gifts with a little nervousness. You hadn't done this in so long, you didn't even know how to react to this kind of thing. You place the smallest of them on your lap, looking at the small tag written in pretty handwriting glued to the wrapping paper.

'From: Mom Wanda, Dad Vision

and your two little brothers,

Tommy and Billy

To: The Brilliant and Lovable Y/n'

Y/n looked around the room, her eyes settling on the smiling figures that now filled the space. For the first time, you felt the comforting warmth of belonging.

You turn to the first gift, delicately opening the light blue wrapping. You gasp when you see three vinyl records of your favorite albums. Recently, Vision had given you the record player that he kept but was barely used along with an album by The Beatles. You spent hours and hours listening to the same album that Vision gave you, since you didn't have much money saved to buy others. But now, you could listen to three more full albums.

"Oh- my God!" You shake your head. You look down at the vinyl records on your lap, looking like you've seen something magical. "This is- thank you so, so much! I can't believe it!"

"You're welcome, dear." Wanda says with a large smile on her face. "Now open the other one."

You had a gigantic smile on your face, delicately placing your three new vinyl records on the floor, immediately picking up your other gift. "I didn't need any of this, really." You murmur to the elders in the living room. Wanda shakes her head and moves her hands for you to open your last gift.

You again gently remove the purple wrapping from a slightly heavier box. When you open the lid your eyes widen at the things inside. You start to take out canvases, brushes, paints and many other drawing things from the box. Your eyes sparkled with your new materials. You loved drawing and painting in your daily life, you usually spent drawing and listening to vinyl music, that helped you concentrate on what you were doing and not think abou your life too much.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" You were almost crying with happiness when you received all those things.

The family setting was new, but the feeling of safety and love was overwhelming. You realized that you were no longer alone, that now there was someone to share your joys and sadness. The emotion showed in your smile and teary eyes, because you had finally found an emotional home and people who loved you. You wanted to cry because when you received those things, you finally realized that those people cared about you.

You didn't hate Christmas. You didn't hate all the celebrations. You didn't hate seeing the twins opening presents, hugging their parents and believing in the magic of Christmas. Now you had that too. Maybe now you just had a normal family. Or maybe it didn't matter who gave birth to you. Who really mattered were the people who care about you, who really love you. And the magic of Christmas really was inside you somewhere, and that family managed to bring it back.

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

‐-----------------------------

Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

[sweetinsaniiity]

In The Light Of Our Demise

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - photographer!wooyoung x fem!reader!Y/N x OT8Teez! (𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈) ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - fluff, friendship, unrequited love, slice of life, angst, plot twist, slow burn, friends to-strangers to-friends , moving on , happy ending (or is it?) ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - depression, anxiety ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 23.4K ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - someone who was afraid of getting out of their comfort zone and someone who was afraid of committing to anything and anyone is never a good combination. Would Wooyoung remain in your life if you confessed? If he left, what would you do? ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Hello! This is my first fanfic, at least here on Tumblr! Cut me some slack I suppose lmao and let me know if I should continue. If so, let me know if you want to be added to my future taglist! Title from Motionless In White. ◄

I'm not God, but they're trying to kill me. This all-knowing desperation I've been feeling for quite sometime now, I mean.

I don't remember the last time I've felt this lonely. There were times where my emotions felt a little too much to handle, but not to the point that rendered me unable to want to feel alive. Today, the sadness drained through me rather than lingering outside my skin, traveling through every nerve, but to my surprise, it rather electrified me to want to do something.

That's good, right? And so I did.

"I'll be back at noon," I told my kind mother, passing through her to try and get to the door before I changed my mind.

"I'm glad you've been going out lately, honey. Let me know when you need anything, okay?" she beamed, quite pleased that I was trying to do something with my life rather than mope around in my room all day.

Oh, how clueless she was. The truth was, I didn't want to let her know about the consuming melancholy that my heart had been feeling. 

Ever since I had decided to quit my job, nothing but bad luck has been coming my way. I know it was stupid, to just up and go just because I was unsatisfied with what I was doing, but truth be told, I was not happy anymore. I could never go on doing something I truly wasn't happy with.

But I was bored out of my mind, and most of all, I felt utterly useless and hopeless. It was dangerous - the path my thoughts were taking me. It's the road that led to my burnout, and the impatience this world had always given me.

"No point in trying to convince myself that things would be different," I mumbled to myself, sitting on the park bench nearby.

Click, click

I was so lost in thought that I didn't even notice that my feet took me to the park I always went to when I just wanted to be alone in my thoughts and think of my next move. I suppose I was always so discontented with my life that my body had subconsciously learned what to do on its own.

Click, click

No matter, I thought, I was the master of pushing it through. My path had been very foggy lately, anyway. I just have to be patient if the world can't do it for me so I can wait for it to clear up and show me the next adventure that lay ahead of me. 

Click, click

I frowned, what in the hell is that clicking sound I keep hearing?

I pulled my cardigan close, as if doing so would stop the exposure I suddenly felt from being out in the open. I looked around, but there was nothing. There were parents with their children, dogs with their owners, coaches with their students, and ducks with their ponds.

"Miss? You dropped this---"

"Oh my God!" I squealed like cattle about to be slaughtered as I turned around to find the source of the sudden voice. I had always been jittery, you see.

I turned around, and the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life was behind me holding what seems to be my phone. I didn't even realize that I'd dropped it while I was busy spacing out in my thoughts.

His eyes were widened, directed at me. I guess I'm not the only jittery one here. 

He had average length hair that swayed with the oncoming wind, but what set it apart was its bright red tone that was as vivid as the flowers that surrounded both of us. His lips were plump and raised into a charming smile and his steps had a bounce to them.

Oh God, be still, my beating heart. I blushed, the red tinge on my cheeks vibrant in contrast to my pale skin. I hope he can't hear how loud my heart is beating.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to shout at you," I was meeker than I usually was.

He saw the surprise register on my face before I could hide it. His smile becomes wider, I guess he gets this a lot, and the heat on my face gets warmer. If he wasn't good-looking before, he definitely was now.

"Don't worry about it, I didn't mean to scare you," he laughed, handing me my phone. I slowly took it, praying that my hands didn't shake too much.

I swallowed. Even his voice was pretty. It reminded me of soft marshmallows, so pillowy and comforting, so sweet and yet so rich at the same time. I mentally slap myself, I haven't gone out in days and the first thing I do is openly check out a guy who was nice enough to give me my phone back instead of running away with it?

My voluntary isolation sure did its number on me.

But then I saw it. There was something slinging across his shoulder - a bag. It donned a big camera that I knew for a fact was quite expensive. So that was the clicking sound I heard earlier, he was a photographer.

"Ah," he began, scratching the back of his head. "I was snapping pictures of you earlier with this." He gently pats the bag. "Would you like to see?" 

"S-Sure," I agreed, hesitant.

"I'm not a creep, I promise," he panicked, animatedly defending himself by making a point to wave his hands in front of me. I giggled a little. He was cute. "I do this for a living, street photography I mean."

"I see. I, uh, sorry to disappoint you, Mr..?"

"Oh. I'm Wooyoung. And why are you sorry? I'm the one who took photos of you randomly," he tilted his head in confusion.

"It's not that," I paused, biting my lip, not knowing how to proceed. I don't miss the way his eyes follow the movement. "I haven't been myself lately, so I probably look unfit for your photography concept..."

I wasn't trying to fish for any sort of compliment. It was true, I did look and feel like shit, to put it simply. I haven't been taking care of myself lately - my clothes were wrinkly, my hair was a bird's nest, my eyes had no life in them, and my face has been splotchy with my dark circles and zit marks.

Unlike him. He was casual, but there was coordination with his outfits, and they looked impeccably new.

"On the contrary, Miss...?"

I laughed a bit. He was cute, and very playful at the same time. What a dangerous combination. His mouth curls into a good-natured smirk. "Y/N. Drop the 'miss', it makes me feel old." 

It was his turn to laugh a bit. "On the contrary, Y/N, yours was the best photo I have taken this week."

My blush deepens immensely, more than I thought I was able to. I matched it with a small, shy smile as my eyes shone in a way that only genuine happiness and appreciation can bring.

I've always been like that. I wish I didn't get so flustered easily. In a flash, my cheeks are rosy and anyone can peek inside my emotions as I had pried my insides open so they watch for themselves.

"Somehow I don't believe that," I chuckled, mentally rolling my eyes.

"No, I'm serious, here," Wooyoung zips his bag open, brings out the expensive looking camera, and presses a button that brings it back to life. "I'll show you."

Wooyoung scoots closer to me, bringing the equipment near my face so I can see the screen. I was so embarrassed at how much I had the urge to sniff him.

He smelled so good - very musky, leathery but very clean at the same time. It gives me the image of a pure sophistication behind a light curtain that envelops you in warmth.

I let out a light gasp, complete surprise taking over the shyness I felt earlier.

There I was, staring out nowhere in particular at the bench I was brooding my bad mood off on. But it wasn't me that stole both of our attention, there was a beautiful wisteria tree I hadn't noticed before behind me.

It was beautiful. The way they cascaded into this marvelous tendrils of purple beauty blended with how forlorn my expression was; the longing, regret, and despondence clearly evident, like the slow descent of its lilac petals, way down they go.

To the naked eye, it looked like a depressed girl with a pretty tree in the background, but to me and Wooyoung, it was so much deeper than that. The photo held so much depth, because at the same time, there was relief in my features. The sadness was exquisite.

"You," I paused, swallowing to force the words out of my mouth. "You made me look human."

"What makes you think I didn't capture you because you were the most human looking in here?"

His smile was the prettiest thing I've seen in a while, prettier than the wisteria, and I can tell it was genuine. I could have melted in a puddle right there. His eyes sparkle like the night sky as he browses at each photo he had taken. He had the passion I lacked.

"Do you want copies of it?" Wooyoung inquired.

Did I want copies of it? Did I want to stare at myself and get reminded every time about how lonely my life currently was? I don't know, I wasn't the sentimental type. He senses my hesitation and frowns a bit. 

He grabs a small piece of card and hands it to me. "Here's my card," he points at it. "That's the address, come swing by whenever you have the chance and I will give it to you, okay?"

I bit my lip apprehensively with a nod, pocketing the card in my cardigan. "Alright, I will think about it."

"I hope you do," he clicks his tongue, swiping it across his bottom lip. I stopped breathing for a second. "I wouldn't want to waste such a pretty photo."

I swallowed. "A-Ah, do I have to pay for it?"

"I guess you're going to have to find out, hmm?" he smirked, gently tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "There, much better."

I froze, not really knowing what to do. I sighed softly, I have been so deprived of touch because I poured all of my time on work. Well, at least what used to be my work. 

Wooyoung juts his hand out, waiting for me to shake it. I grabbed his hand halfheartedly. "I hope we see each other again," he said.

After we said our goodbyes - him being bubbly to the very end as he walked away and me just nodding as I watched him go - I treaded my way home.

I took out the card he gave me earlier, which turned out to be a business card, I realized, and not just a personal card. Of course, Y/N, he just met you, why would he give you his personal details? As I inspected the card further, it brought me slight joy to know that his work place wasn't far from my house, just a couple of blocks away.

I was hesitant, truth be told, it was probably a one time encounter, most likely a business tactic to get someone to go into their studio and do business with them. I felt bad because Wooyoung seemed like a genuine person, but there was no way I was adding any sort of change in my current life right now, my mind was a mess as is.

With that, I crumpled up the card and threw it in the nearest bin.

I paused at the doorway, hesitating before anyone - Wooyoung - knew I was here. I knew I had to go in, and by God, I was nervous as hell. I just needed a few minutes to compose myself.

The curiosity had been eating away at me. It had been 2 weeks before deciding I would stop prancing around at it and just get it over with.

To hell with it, I thought, hastily putting on the most mediocre outfit I can get away with today. It wasn't meant to impress, a simple white tee paired with jeans and sneakers was enough to look decent and be comfortable at the same time.

Deep inside, maybe I just wanted to see the striking photographer again and hear his voice; to see his sparkling eyes that quickly held me in like a moth to a flame.

I stepped in and was immediately greeted by a myriad of photographs that were just placed where they were, the closest thing we get to a time capsule. I was immediately amazed by how versatile the photos were - all of them had their own stories to tell.

A photograph of an old, vintage clock caught my attention. I'm not very knowledgeable, but it was an antique, I was sure of it. It was made out of wood that probably looked sleek during its era. 

Unconsciously, I touched the frame, like it would come back to life if I did. Then, I saw something at the bottom right of the frame. Taking a closer look, it was a series of small letters stamped on it.

J. WY/Budapest, Hungary/2023/Paradigm

I traced the embossed letters lightly with my fingertips. It was obvious that this one was Wooyoung's piece. He had a very particular style in his art, he tended to focus on the subjects and the corresponding backgrounds were something to compliment the subject, and not to supply added detail. It was very interesting.

"I can hear the gears in your head turning from where I am."

I was a deer in headlights once more with him. "You got a thing for sneaking up on me?" I teased.

There he was in his handsome glory leaning by the door with his arms crossed. "Maybe," he smirked coyly.

My heart went up to my throat when I realized that today, his hair slicked back today. I was able to see his face clearly, his beauty was insane. Heaven knows I would look like a wet chicken. He walks steadily towards me and stares fondly at the vintage watch photo.

"I went to Budapest with all of my friends, we all work in this studio together, for a vacation," he chuckled, reminiscing. "But I couldn't resist not taking the scenery for work. God, that place was beautiful..."

Just like you.

I cringed internally, turning my head a bit away from him so he couldn't see the grimace on my face. It wasn't a lie, he was beautiful, but I wasn't going to admit that to him, or anybody for that matter.

"I like them," I thoughtfully mumbled.

Wooyoung turns to look at me, and I tried very hard not to look at him back by pretending that I was inspecting the photo furthermore. There was not a lick of knowledge in my head about photography, I hope he doesn't notice that. 

He stares for what seemed like forever, not blinking nor breathing, the effect was a slow burn waiting to incinerate the thin thread that bound us both. Although I wasn't looking straight at him, it was his lips that gave away that he knew that I knew what he was doing; he wasn't smiling, there was just a slight tilt on one corner.

"Do you, now?" he wondered, now full-on smirking.

"Yes," I affirmed. Was that rhetoric? Was I supposed to say no?

He audibly sighed, and I frowned. I know that sound, it was the sound of negative memories suddenly surging our minds, crashing in like a tidal wave, and my, once you start? They become very addicting, slowly consuming your thoughts until they become no more.

"You know, I never used to look at the photos I snap after I take 'em?" Wooyoung's smile was tinged with hurt, but more so of reminisce. "I just snap, snap, and then keep snapping and hope for the best outcome when San develops them in the back for me."

"Is that what you did when you stole those moments of mine a couple of weeks back?" I swallowed nervously, my body was already anxious and my brain is trying to catch up on it any moment now.

"No," he firmly articulated, so firmly my heart leapt to my throat and tightened it further. 

Wooyoung gently grabs my chin, turning it towards himself so I can make eye contact with him. "Because I knew you wouldn't come back to me until a few days after. I saw it in your eyes."

To him? This was the second time he stole something from me. Instead of a photo, now it was the breath from my lungs. I am on fire, my skin was burning from his touch. 

"Frankly, I wasn't expecting two weeks, that was longer than I anticipated," he chuckled lowly, his thumb caressing my cheek tenderly, and I let him. I was too frozen to protest.

"You knew all that even before you approached me that day? From that far?" I raised a brow. I was hesitant, but I was willing to play his game even though I knew he was probably bullshitting me.

"I'm a photographer, Y/N. It's my job to look through the windows of people's souls---"

"What do you want from me?"

Wooyoung lets go of my face, hands now in his pockets. He doesn't look a bit surprised, just a little concerned. "What do you mean?" he frowned, tilting his head to the side in wonder.

The paranoia in me had always been borderline terrified of not only trying new things, but also meeting new people in association. The underlying fear of deception from years and years of let down between family and friends has rendered me closed off of opening allowances to let myself experience new things and let people in.

"You act like we're friends, and we are not," I bit my lip, exasperated. "I don't like that."

"Are you saying that there are certain prerequisites to being friends with other people?" Wooyoung tuts, frowning deeper. "Everyone has to start from somewhere, no?"

He was right, I can admit that. I began to see how my self-deprecating thoughts had kept me all alone, and frankly, I was none the wiser on what it's like on the side.

"I'll tell you what, Y/N, how about I give you your photo and you can tell me what you're thinking over coffee, perhaps? I make a mean cup of coffee," Wooyoung suggested kindly, his eyes shining in anticipation for my response.

I frowned, shuffling my feet in anxiety. "What if people come inside your studio? And your friends?"

"Don't worry about that," he smiled, already taking a step towards the other room where he came from. "We actually don't open on the weekends. I just always came in because I was worried you would come looking for me when I wasn't here."

It was such a simple gesture, but it blew both my heart and my mind. My heart is so full right it could burst in any minute.

Wooyoung flashes me his million dollar smile, the one that made me want to see him again, and holds his hand out for me to grab. "Why are you hesitating?"

"I hesitate because I need to be sure because for the first time in a while, there are things that I do want, and the consequences of my errors would forever haunt me," I blurted uncontrollably, babbling before I could stop my mouth from speaking.

My mind began to work overload with anxiety but before I could act out on them, Wooyoung laughed out loud. His eyes crinkle upwards into the cutest crescents, and his beautiful lips stretched out with mirth. 

His laughter reminded me of a fox, loud and boisterous, and I couldn't help but join in with him as he warmed my soul and made my day. "You're fine, come on," he urged me in between laughter.

More photos, albeit with unfinished frames, greeted me when I followed Wooyoung into what I can only assume was the kitchen. It was small, but it was nice and actually very functional. I sat into one of the sleek, modern stools and leaned towards the small kitchen island while Wooyoung went to town and made both of us coffee.

"Sugar?" he absentmindedly asked.

"H-Huh?" I was a deer in sudden headlights.

Wooyoung seemed to be confused too as we both looked at each other in bewilderment. Without warning, his face contorts into a laughing mess again, making me blush.

"I was asking if you wanted sugar in your coffee," he chuckled. "Although if you want me to call you sugar, that could be arranged too."

I blushed even deeper, awkwardly covering my face in embarrassment. I felt the tips of my ears heat up and I must have looked so stupid in front of him. "Stop," I groaned, my voice muffled by my hands.

And being the gentleman he was, he did actually stop teasing me.

But it was mainly because he had two steaming mugs of coffee carefully balanced with his two hands as he walked towards me. I mumbled a 'thanks' when I received mine. 

"Now we can talk about why you're very sad," Wooyoung took a sip from his mug without breaking eye contact with me. I gulped.

My brows shot upwards in surprise and my eyes widened in apprehension at the same time. "How did you know I was sad?" I inquired, not sure on how to react.

Wooyoung smiled mischievously. "I just do," he winked.

Having no choice, and frankly having no one to talk to in general, I told him everything. I told him how I had quit my previous job because I was beginning to feel very unhappy with the toxicity that surrounded me and how suffocating it was to stay in a place where you weren't even wanted.

I told him how I was trying to look for another job, but the fear of trying a new one and not being sure if it was a good suit for me was a little daunting, so to speak.

He listened attentively to each word I said, not once interjecting to put his two cents in before I was done finishing, and only asking me some small questions for the sake of clarification. 

It almost makes me want to cry at how attentive he was to me, even though this was only the second time we're meeting. The way his eyes bore into me while I poured my heart out, the way he would nod and acknowledge the things I would say, he was such a good listener.

I can't say I've had too many good friends in my life, though there have been a few close ones, they were not enough for me to say that they were good to me. Wooyoung seemed to be a rare gem, one that I would love to keep for myself.

"What if I told you I know a place where you can start working?"

"You do?" I was hopeful.

Wooyoung nodded. "But are you sure you're going to be okay going to work so soon again?"

My chest warms up with his words. "I have to do it," I sighed deeply. "Y-You were right, if I don't start now, then I won't start at all."

He smiles broadly. "That's a good outlook, I like that..."

He proceeded to tell me about the boutique down the street a couple of blocks away from his studio and they were looking for someone to keep tabs of sale and returned products. As it turned out, the owner was Wooyoung's very close friend and the boutique was where they get their clothes and props whenever they had a photoshoot going on.

"He's a nice guy and I'm positive he'll like you, just let me call him so I can pitch in a word for you, hmm?" Wooyoung pulled his phone out and was about to dial the number, but I interjected before he could do it.

"W-Wait, don't do it," I squeaked, holding my hands out to him to stop him from doing so.

"What's the matter?" Wooyoung's eyes softened at my panicked state and I almost felt bad. I barely knew this man and he probably thinks I'm so pathetic already. It was disheartening.

"You've helped me so much already, I'd feel bad if you did this for me," I admitted.

"And what exactly have I done for you?"  

"Listening to me rant was a big thing for me, and you do make a mean coffee," I giggled, he smiles shyly. "And you gave me justice on the photo you took of me."

"Speaking of that," Wooyoung stood up from his stool. "Wait here."

He left to go back to the front entrance of the studio, and he came back immediately. "Here."

He nudged a square-shaped packaging in front of me. I took it and from touch, I knew it was a picture frame that he had wrapped so carefully and perfectly, there were no creases on the wrap. My heart was beating so fast and my fingers were shaking ever so slightly.

"Open it when you get home," he instructed. "And I'm going to call him, my friend I mean. If I'm helping you anyway, I might as well go all out on it." 

"It's not a big deal," Wooyoung continued when I didn't respond, playfully flicking my forehead. "What are friends for?"

An explosive sensation boomed its way into my head all the way down to my chest, leaving a searing type of numbness in its trail. "Okay," I mumbled.

Unfortunately, I had to say goodbye to him because I told my mother I was only picking the picture frame up, I was not expecting to stay this long, so she was probably worried. Fortunately, Wooyoung understood and walked me out. We couldn't properly converse afterwards anyway because a client of his suddenly called out of the blue after he had dropped the call with his boutique owner friend.

We said our goodbyes and I speed walk all the way to my house with the carefully wrapped picture frame in my hands. There was an explosion in my brain - the good kind - and a surge of excitement that electrified my whole being. I could feel it in my bones.

This is the very time I have ever been excited with a mystery. I hated surprises growing up because I was scared I wouldn't like the surprise.

With no time to waste, I quickly locked myself in my room, taking all of my clothes off in a haste and replacing them with something more comfortable and nap worthy. I unwrapped the gift like an animal tearing its prey apart to find their treasure inside.

Tears found their way in my eyes. I had no words, the photo itself was beautiful, I had seen it before, but Wooyoung had left a small note taped on the frame for me to read when I opened it.

You're worth more than you think. Wanna hang out tomorrow, beautiful? I also make mean brownies ;)

I completely broke down, hysterically crying not from sadness, but from the joy of the events that have been happening to me. Maybe being his friend wasn't so bad after all.

"So you must be Y/N, correct?"

Having a direct connection like Wooyoung did wonders from my interview process and I was called exactly a week after he made the call. 

"Y-Yes, I am," I did a deep 90 degree bow immediately, but not before the man's eyes widened a bit. "L/N Y/N, Sir. I'm very h-honoured to be chosen for this role."

Needless to say, I am a nervous wreck. Wooyoung conveniently forgot to tell me that this was no ordinary boutique. It's a very well known fashion brand that had the catchy 'started from the bottom, now we're here' origin story.

I opened my eyes, I didn't notice they were tightly shut before, when I felt hands nudging me to stand up straight. "It's okay," he laughed. "I don't bite, please stand up..."

This one was handsome as well. He had an edgier style to him that was unique to him and him only. Think bold, defiant, and unconventional. His blue hair added to that grunge aesthetic.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Kim Hongjoong, owner, and your future boss," he grinned.

My face pales a bit. The Kim Hongjoong? The great mind behind the boutique NO1LIKEME? The one Wooyoung had casually called and got me in? What has my life become in a month?

"Scaring the new girl already, Joong?"

I turned around, and a taller man with dark hair and almond shaped eyes smiled lightly at me with his thick lips. I almost rolled my eyes, either I'm losing my mind, or Wooyoung, himself, and all of his friends are all damn attractive.

"Oh, this is her?" he pointed at me, to which Hongjoong nodded. "I see. Song Mingi, thank you for considering us."

Thank me? I scoffed internally, the co-founder of NO1LIKEME is thanking me for working with them? I suppose that was why they were successful.

Mingi excused himself to man the business while Hongjoong had toured me around the shop. It was a lot bigger on the inside than I had initially thought.

I couldn't help but become very excited as Hongjoong showed me how he personally designs most of their pieces without trying to mass produce the majority of their products, which was very respectable on his end because mass producing can downgrade their quality.

The brand that I only reached in my dreams is now my workplace. I have to thank Wooyoung personally when I see him again.

They needed someone to do inventory checks and match them with the accountancy department. Hongjoong has a big project coming soon to collaborate with an international brand and Mingi has to take over for now while he's abroad. Fair enough.

As we were about to go into his office to sit down and discuss further, I stopped in my tracks. The most gorgeous black, flared dress was hanging in one of the posts. It's very simple, but very versatile, not too long as it stopped above the knee, and the sheer bodice elevated it.

"You like it?" Hongjoong asked before I had the chance to feel the fabric.

"I love it, actually. I've never seen anything like it," I admitted.

He chuckled, plucking the dress from its hanger and handed it to me gently after he folded it in half. "Make sure it's well-loved, then, because it's yours now."

"W-What?" I spluttered, eyes wide open. "No, I was just admiring it, I can't possibly take it. C-Can I pay for it, at least?"

"Think of it as your first day perk," he shrugged. "And no offense, giving away one dress isn't going to make a dent in my business."

I blushed, embarrassed to the highest degree. I was just about to thank him profusely when Mingi suddenly popped his head by the door.

"They're here," was all he said before Hongjoong and I walked back into the main part of the shop.

And there he was - Wooyoung. He was in an engrossed conversation with Mingi along with another - surprise, surprise - handsome man. He had a manlier aura to him compared to the other three, which was an interesting mix to his feline features.

Wooyoung, as if sensing I was present, turned to my direction and the look in his eyes made my insides churn in excitement. His friends were all pretty, but none of them had an effect on him like he did.

"Hey Joong," Wooyoung greeted after approaching me and Hongjoong from across the boutique. He smiled even brighter as he ruffled my hair lightheartedly. "Are you taking care of my Y/N?"

I blushed beet red, lowering my gaze with a nervous laugh to avoid any sort of eye contact. He can't just say these things and not expect me to react! The cat-looking man Wooyoung was with smirks at me, clearly amused.

But maybe, it was just me putting more to it than I should. Wooyoung has been nothing but kind to me and I can't reciprocate that with anything other than gratefulness.

"Get the hell out of here," Hongjoong chided, rolling his eyes, but teasingly because his eyes were full of the same mischief, but they were gone when he turned to me. "My assistant, Jongho, will call you sometime this week so you can get started officially."

I stopped the urge to bow deeply again at him as he turned around to go back behind the shop and instead repeated multiple 'thank yous' at him to express my gratitude. 

"Y/N, this is San, my long time friend and co-worker in the studio," Wooyoung introduced me to the other guy he was with when there were just the three of us left.

San smiles and his deep dimples pop out along with it. He nods in acknowledgement. "Very nice to meet you, Y/N, I personally loved that one photo of yours that Wooyoung took."

"He is a good taker," I shyly replied, blushing at the compliment, although I knew it wasn't directly referenced to me.

San snorted. "Yeah, that's the only thing he's good at."

"Hey!"

Wooyoung playfully swatted San's bulky arms in defense. We all had a small laugh before they both noticed the bag I was holding with the dress inside of it. I simply told both of them that Hongjoong had just given it to me after I admired it.

Behind the strict demeanor of being a boss, was the very generous and giving nature of Hongjoong, apparently. He had meant to give me something anyway simply because I was now friends with them, and also because Wooyoung spoke highly of me. I slightly felt bad because really, I would have been fine without it.

I should have thanked him more before he left.

"I would love to stay with you both and hang out," San glances at his phone to check the time. "But I have business to attend to. Where's Mingi?"

I pointed at some random door where I saw the latter enter earlier. I was about to leave since technically today wasn't my first day, just an introduction to the shop, and was about to basically run back to my house, when Wooyoung follows me out the door and slings his arms across my shoulders.

"Oh, you're leaving San?" I halted on my tracks, blushing profusely like some hormonal teenager that's never been touched by the opposite sex before.

"He was never meant to come," he chuckled. "I was about to fetch you and he decided he was going to come with me since he has to pick up some props from this gig we have next week."

My heart was pounding against my chest like a bird wanting to be out of its cage. He was so close to me, so close I could smell his breath, his body heat seeping into my subliminal thoughts.

This was an invasion, an unwanted intimacy. How have I lived without it for so long?

"Are you tired?" Wooyoung suddenly asked, breaking my thoughts apart and scattering them with the wind.

"N-No, not really. Why?"

He pulls me closer, my body plush against his. I wanted to melt. "Good," he grinned. "Let's go."

He starts to walk, but I plant my feet firmly on the ground. "Woah, wait, where are we going?"

"Would you say yes if I said I already reserved a spot to this brunch spot?"

I blinked owlishly at him. "No, I can't, I already ate before I called Mingi..."

The truth was, I was slightly ashamed to go. The last thing I wanted was to be treated like some sort of charity case. 

Also the reason being, no matter how hard I try, I will think of this as a date.

Wooyoung pouts, his hold on me loosening a bit. "Pretty please? What, are you sick of me already because we hang out everyday now?"

My breath hitched, and I was this close to giving in, but I must prevail and resist those big, beautiful eyes that were holding me captive like a tight vice.

"Maybe next time---" I sheepishly began to say, but a prominent growl made both me and Wooyoung freeze.

I cursed under my breath in shame. My stomach had growled, begging to be fed, and had basically called me out on my lie.

"Yeah, you ate alright," Wooyoung sarcastically remarked.

The next thing I knew, Wooyoung had pretty much dragged me to this retro looking place. It was the opposite of intimate and warm, rather, it was very bright and lively, filled with colorful tables, a snack bar, and the entire wall was made to be a canvas for purposeful graffiti.

Immediately, we sat at the very end of all of the available tables and no time was wasted when we ordered something quick, yet filling for the both of us; a clubhouse sandwich for me and a cheeseburger for Wooyoung.

"This place is so nice, where'd you find it?" I was still mesmerized by the whole setup.

"Picked it out with you in mind," he smirked.

Instead of blushing like I usually do, I let out a genuine laugh. "Seriously," I shook my head playfully.

"I am serious," he expressed with a slight frown.

"Are you like this with all the people you meet?" I mused, curious on what he has to say.

"Like what?"

"You know, you are a very touchy-feely person, certainly very outgoing as well. Do you usually hang out with everyone like this?"

He paused, staring at me with a blank expression. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly drying up, my breath slowing down.

"Yes, I am," he articulated after a while. "I was born this way I suppose, I swear I don't purposely flirt with everybody I meet."

"Oh," I murmured.

My heart sank, it felt like concrete weighing it down. The high of being out with Wooyoung in one moment was cut down the next. Is this what heartbreak felt like?

A hand on top of mine fully enveloped it with warmth. "But you," Wooyoung's thumbs caressed my knuckles with a small smile. "You're different. I can't explain it, Y/N, I've been trying to reason with myself."

"What do you mean?" It was my turn to ask.

His hand squeezed mine, but I felt like my heart got squeezed instead. "Meeting you was unexpected, but I'm so sure it was written. You're very easy to talk to, and I feel like I'm someone and more. It's either you or I'm alone, do you understand what I'm getting at?"

Of course I do. There has not been a day where we haven't seen each other ever since I stepped foot in that studio.

"I do," I nodded my head, smiling purely at him. "I felt good with you in a way I haven't before with other people, Woo. Thank you for approaching me that day, I'm glad to be your...friend."

His eyes widen a bit and he freezes. "What?" I nervously asked. He giggled like a child with no worry, he was just happy. 

"You called me 'Woo', I like it." 

I nervously laughed, mumbling a little yeah. I didn't even notice.

Luckily for me, our food came in and swooped me out of an incoming awkward conversation, at least on my end.

I couldn't help but let out an endearing smile as I watched Wooyoung thank the waiter kindly and then drool at his cheeseburger. Everything about him was so captivating; he felt like a warm, cozy home.

For now, the glue keeping my heart together is strong. He deserved a good friend, and I will be that for him. 

Wooyoung opened his mouth midair when he caught me staring at him. "Dig in, your food will get cold," he mused with concern.

I nod my head at him with a smile. I think he and I are going to be fine.

Approximately seven months have passed by since that fateful day. Passing each time with Wooyoung, in the most obscure of situations, made my heart yonder and sing in tunes I never knew were so melodious.

"You know what I've been thinking lately?" Wooyoung mumbled all of a sudden.

He was currently laying on my lap while I played with his hair with one hand and held a book near to my face with the other. "What were you thinking, Woo?"

Safe to say, we've gotten so close with each other, soaking into moments enveloped in warmth, and the happiness was the contentment I never knew I'd ever feel in this lifetime.

Chasing time next to him was my salvation; my heaven on earth.

"Do you have a goal in this life?"

I raised a brow at the sudden question, peeking at him from where I was. He was already staring at me from below, and my blushing cheeks never really got better.

"Too deep of a question this morning," I chuckled. "But what do you mean? Everyone has a goal in life, whether they know it or not."

"True, but what I meant to say is, have you ever had a list of things you wanted to do? Regardless of how weird they are or how unattainable, do you know what I'm trying to say?" Wooyoung, and he did, he was always so dramatic about it.

I gave him a hum before responding. "Are you having an existential crisis?"

"Maybe," he laughed in that contagious, fox-like laugh of his. "So do you?"

"I-I have this small bucket list from when I was like 10," I admitted, lifting my book to hide my face.

Suddenly, it was yanked from me and thrown across the room. My mouth hung in shock. "Wooyoung!"

"Pay attention to me," he pouted.

"What the hell are you? A baby?" I rolled my eyes so far back up my head I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head.

"Only if it's yours--ow!" I yanked his hair in warning before I exploded from all the constant flirting. Some things never change.

"Anyway," I paused a bit to think, but decided to just say what was on my mind in the end. "I want to go to Mars."

I held my breath, expecting to hear an obnoxious cackle from Wooyoung, but there was nothing. When I glanced down, there he was - waiting expectantly for me to continue.

"I've always wanted to see a rainbow at nighttime, and no, the Aurora Borealis doesn't count."

"Interesting," he whispered. "Keep going."

The way Wooyoung was looking at me with a soft expression, and I must have looked dumb - my eyes were dilated a bit, dazed, like my brain was having a short circuit.

"Last, I gulped. "I want to hold my breath for a minute straight."

He raised his brows in amusement. "I'm not good at doing it," I defended myself, slightly embarrassed. "The most I've done was 15 seconds."

Wooyoung didn't say anything, he just stared at me intently in the eye as if he was counting all the eyelashes I had attached. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes. I frowned.

"What about you?" I softly asked. "Anything you'd like to do?"

It takes a solid minute for him to reply. "No, nothing in particular," he mumbled, his voice strained. "I don't like committing to something for a long time, you know that."

Indeed, I do. Once again, the shattering reality of how temporary all this was for the both of us was tearing me in two.

"There's just so much out there, you know?" Wooyoung continued. "So much to see, so much to feel, how can I just stay in one place?"

Wooyoung loved photography above anything else and was willing to spread his wings and venture out to find the perfect piece. He disliked committing his all in one place in case he had to leave one day. 

I remember the exact night we talked about it, a rainy day in July where we got too sentimental. I felt like choking, but there was nothing I could do, for this man was not mine to begin with.

"You know I will support you in whatever you want to do," I forced a smile on my face even though my mouth was on fire and my tongue hurt from the lies.

Wooyoung, again, stared at me intently. I blushed deep red, it looked like he was gazing through my skin and peeking through the darkest, deepest parts of my soul. The heat from his hooded eyelids emanated conflicted emotions, and then I saw it die as quick as it came.

"I know."

His sudden playful smirk painting his beautiful face throws me for a whiplash. Whatever that was, never happened.

He whips his phone out and starts tinkering with it with a concentration that looks too good on him - his stupidly attractive arms get veinier when he's concentrating and his brows furrowed together.

"Mars, huh?" he muttered, smirking, still not looking up from his phone.

"Yes? Don't make fun of me," I frowned.

"I'm not," he retorted. I looked at him in disdain. "I'm really not, I swear!"

I chose not to reply. Typical Woyooung, but that's what makes him so damn loveable; he was just being himself.

A couple of minutes later, Wooyoung pockets his phone, stands up dramatically, and hovers over me. "Get dressed," he said. "We're going somewhere."

I blinked repeatedly at him, and some more. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"What's wrong with my outfit right now?" I gestured to my oversized shirt and leggings.

He snorted comically. "Trust me, you're gonna need more than that."

Wooyoung saw the hesitation in my eyes. He hated committing as much as I hated trying new things. He extends his hand in front of me. 

"I've never led you astray, you know that," he whispered.

I nodded, taking his hand in mine. Even before he had asked, I was doomed anyway. How could I ever say no to him?

Turns out he was right - I did need the extra layers.

It was, indeed, very cold right now. Wooyoung and I were currently in line, a line so long that it reached the outside of the establishment, and it was where we currently were.

"Woo, are you sure about this?" I asked through gritted teeth. "It's too windy, I think my fingers will fall off soon."

As if on cue, he pulls me closer to him. "It shouldn't take too long," he mumbled. "You okay?"

I nodded, humming a reply back at him. As long as I'm with you, everything will be alright...

"I must say," I began. "I didn't take you to be the museum type of guy."

Yes, we were currently in line to get inside this museum I have never ever seen before even though I've lived in this city my whole life. Wooyoung got both of us last minute tickets. The place was currently jam packed, the line was endless from behind us.

"I'm not," he shrugged. "I want to show you something."

My mind went into overdrive when Wooyoung quickly glanced at me before he looked back at the pamphlet he was holding. It was only a split second, but it was enough for me to infer the anticipation he had for this.

It was contagious and the dread I felt ebbed away.

"History and geology are both at the far right, art is by your left, cartography is unfortunately out of service indefinitely, and science is just straight ahead..."

The monotonous, robotic voice from the speaker all over when we got inside could have instructed better, but it was definitely better than getting lost. This place was massive.

"Let's go," Wooyoung enthusiastically grabbed my hand as we explored all the things we passed by.

"Oh Woo, look at that!" I giggled uncontrollably and hastily pointed out what I saw.

It was a life sized wood carving of a wisteria tree - the most beautiful thing I have ever seen as of late. Wooyoung squeezed my hand as we both approached it, reveling at the detail of whoever was its creator.

"Reminds you of something, doesn't it?" he smirked.

"How can I forget how we met?" I playfully rolled my eyes.

He laughed out loud, causing some people to look our way, but we couldn't care less. "As much as I want to stay, there's somewhere else we have to be," he winked.

He led me to the direction he, then, wanted to go. The way he pulled me with him made my heart swell. At the very moment, I blocked all the sounds, the chatter, from the background and I could only see him. 

Just when I felt like leading my heart somewhere else, he pulled it back towards him; a magnet I had no choice but to get attached to.

"W-Wooyoung?"

My eyes widened in disbelief when we stopped at something in particular. "I-Is this w-what I think it is?" I stuttered uncontrollably, gripping his hand tighter and tighter until he put his other hand on top of mine to stop me from shaking.

"Relax," he cooed. "And yes, it most certainly is."

Wooyoung had led me to the science section of the museum where there was a small room we could go inside - a planetarium. Today they just so happened to be exhibiting the planet Mars.

Wooyoung took me to Mars.

"Shall we go in?" Wooyoung gently guided me inside. My legs were weighted with lead, I couldn't do this on my own.

My breath came out in short intervals, my feelings overwhelming my sense of excitement muddled into a plate full of shock, confusion, and joy as I looked around the place with Wooyoung still holding my hand in his as if he knew I'd fall without him.

The whole room had a blue haze to it, the ceiling itself was a cool shade of midnight blue with little specks of white dots that were presumably the stars in the night sky. 

They covered the whole blue like snowflakes, and they would twinkle, or rather, blink at us, watching what we would do next.

I turned to look at Wooyoung, and my tears started to fall on their own. There was panic in his eyes, but he pulled me into a quick hug, and I hugged him back just as tight.

We didn't say a word, just basking in our body heat together with the stars as our witness.

He kissed my forehead tenderly before pointing out to a distance. "Look."

I gasped rather dramatically - it was Mars itself!

Or at least, a really big ball that was probably made out of styrofoam and dyed into the shade of rust red that mimicked the real deal.

"Before we go there, wipe your tears, jelly bean. I want you to be happy today..."

But he wiped my own tears for me anyway. Oh Wooyoung, I thought with dread. How do you expect me to not selfishly wish for you to stay instead of finding your own dreams?

Instead of a repeating robot telling everybody Mars' information, luckily it was an actual person making a presentation, like that of a tour guide but this one instead explained the planet with so much depth and detail.

Wooyoung makes an exaggerated "ah!" sound when the lecturer explains that the reason why Mars was red was because of the oxidation happening in regolith, the soil on the said planet, and thus making it appear red.

"Does anybody know how many moons the planet Mars has?" the lecturer had questioned with a pleasant smile.

"Two!" a teenager from the crowd had answered.

"Correct! Does anybody know what they're called?"

The crowd made confused noises and everyone seemed to be stumped for answers. I looked around and nobody seemed to know what they were, and even Wooyoung mutters something about not knowing that even moons had names. I sighed, mentally preparing myself so I don't get nervous.

"Phobos and Deimos," I had managed to answer without stuttering.

The lecturer looked surprised, but happy nonetheless that at least someone in the crowd knew. "That is correct!"

"Nerd," Wooyoung snickered. I elbowed him, too happy to let his jokes get to me.

When it got too crowded, we both decided to leave the museum as a whole. One thing we both had in common was that after a while, the air got stuffy when there was too much going on in one place.

The bus ride home was silent, but comfortable, and in reality, we were both too tired to talk anyway. With an adrenaline of short-lived bravery, I leaned my head against Wooyoung's shoulder. I sighed in relief when he didn't push me away.

"Did you have fun?" he asked with genuine curiosity when we both reached my front door.

"Did you?" I asked back with an equal amount of curiosity.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Of course I did, why wouldn't I?"

"You really didn't have to do this---"

He put his finger against my lip, effectively shutting me up and shutting my brain off as well. "Why can't you just enjoy the things I do for you?"

Because I am slowly getting more and more delusional with every single second I spend more with you and I keep imagining of what we would be like a few months from now- am I going to be alone again or will you remain in my life---

I shook my head to rid myself of the nastiest thoughts that keep coming through my psyche, but along with those was another burst of blood rushing to my brain that makes me do the unthinkable.

"Woah, woah," Wooyoung voice out, amused that I was initiating skin contact first. 

"Just shut up and let me hug you," I voiced out, but it came out muffled because my face was currently buried in his chest. "Thank you, Wooyoung, thank you very much, you have no idea what this means to me."

Wooyoung rocked me back and forth, healing my inner child. "I think I do," he whispered so softly I almost didn't hear him. "Just let it out..."

It was the first time he ever saw me cry willingly. The hands that patted my back provided me the solace I currently needed. They were gentle, soothing even. He had always been so patient with me, and those hands... 

Of all the things my hands have held, the best by far was his.

I felt selfish, so damn selfish, for feeling this way. But it's okay, none of it matters at this moment.

Hey, ladybug. I don't think I'm able to make it in time today, or at all. Client is being finicky and all, I'm about to charge them extra for this. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you soon, hmm?

                         - J. WY

I heaved a loud, disappointed sigh as I locked my phone before pocketing it. My frown deepens and my brows knit in today's unexpected turn of events.

"That Wooyoung?"

"Yeah, says he can't make it today. Something about a shitty client," I shrugged.

I had invited Wooyoung last week to my family's dinner reunion. My whole family had taken a liking to Wooyoung - who wouldn't? - and my brother had suggested I invite him. This year, we were at our Uncle Yeonjun's place.

"It's not the end of the world," my brother teased.

I snorted loudly. "That obvious, Yeo? You look more crestfallen than I do."

Yeosang laughs heartily, taking a sip at whatever concoction our mother made. "I mean, I've only known him longer than you," he joked. 

It turned out that Woyooung was part of my brother's friend group, talk about coincidence. "Besides, you gotta cheer up before anyone notices," he added.

"Why?"

"Because you look like a lovesick puppy that got abandoned by its owner," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "No offense to our cousins, but they can be do damn nosy, especially Soobin and Kai."

I knew that Yeosang was just trying to distract me from whatever I was feeling. As per his advice, I faked a smile just so nobody questions why I'm feeling so down.

Wooyoung was currently out of town and had been so busy with his job so we haven't really seen each other for a couple of days now, however we do call each other every night.

My train of thoughts were squashed when Yeosang elbows me gently. "Hey," he said with a soft smile. "You want to get us food so I take you home?"

If I were to write on a piece of paper of how much my older brother has done for me, the trees would cease to exist from all the paper and wood for all the pencils.

The night wasn't all that bad, Yeosang did everything in his power to distract me and even brought our cousins into it, not that they knew what was up. We took the party to the backyard, just singing, dancing, and fooling around like the young adults we were.

The little reunion was family, music, and food. It was simple, memorable, and destined to make me forget for a little.

The night had to end, and that meant I had to go home alone to my thoughts. My parents will stay overnight and Yeosang did not live with us anymore.

The jingle of the front door's keys only solidified the loneliness that awaited for me from behind it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I can just drive early in the morning," Yeosang suggested as we both walked in the house and closed the door behind him.

"Yeo, I'm not a child anymore," I chuckled. "I appreciate it, but you should go, you have work tomorrow, yes?"

"Well, yes, but---"

"Then get your ass out of here."

Yeosang rolled his eyes at my teasing tone, but ended up laughing anyway. He pulled me in for a quick hug and pecked cheek. "Call me if you need anything."

He was gone within a minute, and once again, I was left alone with my despair. And what better way to shower these thoughts out?

But that made it worse. The involuntary shower thoughts were poison to my already weak mind.

I've conquered the art of being alone, and now that I had Wooyoung with me, it never really made things easier. My endless days filled with cold fire were quickly replaced with warm companionship...

I felt like an empty box without him. It was ridiculous, really, I knew this was wrong; a mistake I knew I wasn't supposed to feel.

I missed him.

Ding, ding, ding

I had just finished dressing up when I heard the doorbell ring. Confused, I slowly treaded my way downstairs. My parents weren't supposed to be home and Yeosang would have called beforehand if he forgot something.

The doorbell rings again, more hurriedly the second time. Screw it, I thought apprehensively. Yeosang is in charge of my obituary if I unfortunately pass away tonight...

With a deep breath, I swung the door open, my eyes tightly shut. Yeah, I know, serial killers would love me.

Silence. I knew somebody was in front of me, but they weren't saying anything. My mind caught up with the stupidity of my actions and I froze. Is this how I die?

"A-Are you okay?"

That squeaky voice, that sounds so familiar. I wanted to smack my head, I missed him so much, I was hearing him.

"Nice tits, Y/N."

My eyes shot open so fast that the light came in a bit faster than I expected to and I became a little dizzy. My brain buffers while my thoughts try to catch up. After I realized what I just heard, I took a closer look in front of me.

I let out a little gasp. "W-Woo?" I whimpered pathetically.

There he was, standing at my doorway, 9 o'clock in the evening. My heart lurched at the sight of him - so ethereal.

There was nothing specific to him that made him so stunning to me, maybe it was his iconic red hair, or maybe the way he looked at me right now would be close. They were intense, yet gentle. Polite, but not noble. 

I blushed, wanting to cover up, but his eyes held me hostage. They trailed from my face, slowly down my neck, to my exposed cleavage, before bringing them back up again to look at me, the unmistakable hunger in those orbs very much present.

"Y/N," Wooyoung drawled out without breaking eye contact, sticking his tongue out to lick his bottom lip excruciatingly slow for my sanity. "Let me in."

A sudden wave of nausea hits me, rendering me weak in his mercy as I finally feel my brain melt in my head. What the hell.

His kissable lips pulled up slowly to a smirk, mischievous, and we were both released from that little cage of sin we almost trapped ourselves in. 

Woooyoung laughs out loud. "You should have seen your face," he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

My face reddens both in embarrassment and mild anger. Against my better judgment, I move to slam the door to his face. "You!" I hissed menacingly.

"Wait, wait!" he panicked, quickly stopping the door from completely closing by putting his boots in between. "I'm sorry! You just looked so far away, I couldn't help but tease you--"

"Not helping your case, Woo--"

"I traveled here in two hours from a place that would have taken three," he whined, grabbing my hand from the outside. "Please?"

I let out a very loud exaggerated sigh before I let go of the door. Besides, he might not look like it, but Wooyoung was built. He could have pushed the door forcefully if he really wanted to.

"Sorry," he giggled, hugging me from behind with his head resting on top of my head. "Turn around for me?"

I'm so ashamed of how weak I had become with him, but what can I say? 

I buried my head on his chest, inhaling the scent that I missed so much - warm and clean - and everything hit me all at once.

He really was here with me. I was so happy that I almost felt sick and anxious. It comes off as a raging storm in my heart that was almost painful. The unbelievable sorrow I've gone through the last few days melted away in Wooyoung's blissful embrace.

"Did you drink tonight? How'd you get home?" he inquired after we pulled away.

"I did, and Yeosang took me home."

"Oh? Is he here? I didn't see his car outside."

I explained that Yeosang had to go back to his apartment because he had to work in the morning. He nodded intently, humming to himself.

"I have a surprise for you," he smiled, lifting the duffel bag he had bought with him. "How about you nap a bit while I prepare this?"

The next thing I knew, Wooyoung was already building a makeshift bed out of the couches we had in the living room so I could lay on them real quick.

The light pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the windows were the ones that woke me up. They have been falling steadily without fail before I opened my eyes. 

I would have been content staying in the warmth of the blankets, to grab a mug of tea and feel the soothing coldness of the breeze hit my nose as I inhaled deeply.

But I had to find Wooyoung. It wouldn't be too difficult, I knew exactly where he was. He loved the rain, you see.

A tender smile creeped up on his face when he noticed me sitting beside him on one of the stools on our roofed backyard. "You're awake," was all he said.

"How long was I out?" I groggily asked, swallowing the aspirin tablets he handed out. "Thanks."

"Not too long," he handed me a tall glass of water. "Close to an hour and a half, maybe."

"You were working while I was napping?" I gestured to the setup he had in front of us. Various strips of undeveloped films were strewn all over along with a camera I did not recognize, and...a glass pyramid?

"Nice paperweight," I pointed at it, a little hurt that even though he came for me, his focus was still on his work.

Wooyoung chuckled lightly. "No work, not necessarily," he shook his head. "That's not a paperweight. Why don't you be a doll and pick it up for me?"

I could feel the tips of my ears warm up but I picked up the pyramid anyway. It was a lot lighter than I initially thought it would be.

I looked at Wooyoung in confusion when he suddenly pointed out to the moon. "See the small beam of light coming down?" 

I nodded. Indeed, the moon seemed brighter today. It looked more beautiful than the stars that surrounded it. "That," he gestured to the triangular glass I was holding. "That is a prism, and I want you to put it where the moonlight is."

I frowned. "What?"

"If you're worried about the rain, you don't have to put it directly under it, just a small light would do," he bargained, chuckling at my confused face.

I did what he said, apprehensively stretching my hand out to put the so-called prism under the moonlight. I smiled a bit, I will admit, the combination of the rain and light hitting its surface made it look extremely breathtaking.

I tilted it slightly to catch the different angles since I realized each angle made it glow in different shades of lights. One flick of my wrist shone a colourful beam of light that landed on the ground. 

"Wow," I breathed out. "That's beautiful, Wooyoung."

He smiled back. "Keep tilting."

Suddenly, an arc formed from the prism to the ground beneath me. I was in awe, this one had different colours to it. From red to yellow to purple, it shone clearly against the rain. I giggled, it reminded me of rainbows. If only it was daytime...

I gasped, dropping the prism on the ground with a loud clunk. My face was drained of blood as I turned sharply to Wooyoung with wide eyes. But he wasn't worried about my pale state. His smile shone brighter than any prism out there. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to take a photo of his charming smile.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he grinned, picking up the prism and tilting it himself against the rain and the light.

I've always wanted to see a rainbow at nighttime, and no, the Aurora Borealis doesn't count."

"Interesting," he whispered. "Keep going."

"You remembered, oh my God, you remembered..." I sniffled, burying my face in my hands.

"Why wouldn't I?" he smiled, pulling me in for a hug.

Wooyoung kissed my forehead delicately with great care and the look he gave me was something I will never forget.

We spent the next hour or so playing with different shapes of prisms that Wooyoung bought from where he went. The client he had earlier owned a glass manufacturing company and Wooyoung requested for these to be made as a form of payment.

This rainy day soaked all the memories we had made for both of us, providing us the soundtrack we deserved, and it was unlike any other. I laughed like I never laughed before at this crazy little daydream, wishing it would last forever.

And soon, I learned to love the rain like Wooyoung. There will never be a rainy day where I never not think of him ever again.

"You better make me look good or I won't give you pictures," he threatened playfully.

When the rain had stopped, we opted to take pictures as proof of this core memory. The unfamiliar camera I saw earlier turned out to be a self-developing one, the modern cameras that instantly printed out tiny polaroid pictures in less than fifteen seconds.

"You literally took the shittiest photos of me, you hypocrite," I rolled my eyes at him, trying my best to cover my eyes with the camera so he wouldn't see the tears that were threatening to fall from my eyes.

"They're mine to keep," Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at me. What a brat.

But he was my brat. The tears that were once the symbol of the everlasting happiness that Wooyoung had been willingly giving me, were now drowning me in the bottomless sorrow that embraced me in a sea of ice cold water.

I loved him.

If I ever cross my heart, if I ever lie or deny the heart that beated for him, then I'd hope to die.

I loved him when we both stared at that park's wisteria, I loved him when he laid in my arms until he fell asleep, I loved him when he told me he'd always be there for me, I loved him then, and I love him now.

"Do you want me to put the movie on?" I asked after we've both settled down, shivering a bit. I never realized how cold it was outside until both me and Wooyoung came back inside.

Wooyoung mumbled a soft hum of affirmation while he was busy in the kitchen reheating some food I had bought with Yeosang earlier. He wasn't even doing anything groundbreaking but he was still so devastatingly loveable in my eyes.

The movie was boring, or rather, my attention just wasn't geared towards it. All I could focus on was the intense, burning passion I had for my best friend. I shut my eyes closely, as if doing so will get rid of the plaguing thoughts.

I let out a small gasp when Wooyoung pulled me to him, his arms wrapped around my waist. "What's going on in that pretty little head?" he sluggishly asked, nudging his head in the crook of my neck.

I am about to explode. He has always been the cuddly kind, but now that I have finally admitted to myself how much I truly loved him, his touch burned me on the inside, electrifying every cell in my body in response to his tender touch. 

"Nothing," I shrugged nonchalantly.

He chuckled, gripping my jaw lightly and turning my head towards his. I stopped breathing when I realized that he was closer than I thought. If I lean even an centimeter more, our lips would touch.

Wooyoung searches my face intently. "Don't lie to me."

I stare at him in the eye, not really knowing what to say. His hand was still on my jaw, but that was the last of my worries right now. I really want to tell him, I want to shout how much I loved him; how much he made me feel like I was everything when in reality I was nothing.

My mouth opens to say something, but immediately closes. In a moment of realization, Wooyoung's eyes widened a bit before his hand dropped from my jaw. There was a storm brewing in those beautiful eyes, and at this moment, I knew I was about to lose him.

"W-Wooyoung," I blurted out, full on panicking at this point.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, his voice breaking in the middle.

"What do you mean?" I sniffled, wanting to reach out and touch him, but stopped myself.

"You know what I mean."

A bitter sensation rose like bile up my throat. My heart isn't just broken, it was now a shadow of what it once was that was slowly fading away little by little.

He knows. Him knowing me like the back of his hand was a curse to a blessing, and not that blessing was a curse. He knows that I am in love with him, the last thing I ever wanted him to know.

"Let's finish the movie," I giggled, though it probably sounded fake.

I frowned when Wooyoung shut the TV off as a whole. "Y/N," he sounded stern. I stayed silent, not even looking him in the eye. 

He sighed deeply. "I can give you anything, but not that," he stated, his arms still around my waist tightening a bit. "You're my best friend, I cannot lose you. Not like this."

My fear of loss was proof of my love for him. I loved him so much, I was willing to let him go.

I rolled my eyes playfully, forcing myself to look at him and grin widely, even though my tongue burned. "What are you saying? We'll be friends until the end of time," I laughed, lightheartedly elbowing him.

There was a passing look of hurt in his features, but it left as soon as it came. "Are you sure you're fine with this?" he squinted his eyes suspiciously at me.

"Of course," I snorted. "Maybe I'm just confused, but you know me Youngie, I'm tough."

He was still suspicious, but he laughed along with me anyway. "I know you are," he chortled, pinching my cheek really, really hard.

"Ow! You imp!" I grab his cheek to pinch it back just as hard, playing along with him.

We decided not to finish the movie and just rest for the night. As I lay back down on the makeshift bed Wooyoung made for me earlier, with him cuddling me from behind and pretty much spooning me, I let it all out.

Silent tears flowed down from my eyes and I had to put my knuckles in my mouth to prevent myself from making any sound. I can feel Woyooung's chest rising up and down against my back and that's how I knew he was sleeping, but I didn't want to risk waking him up.

My heart hurt so much, because I knew my love will never be reciprocated. Wooyoung loved his dreams too much to choose us, I knew that. I tried so damn hard to stop my growing feelings but to no avail. The voice that came out from me so naturally to tell him that I was fine, that what I felt for him was just a silly little crush, sounded so far away; it didn't even sound like me.

The attraction between us became an intangible broken thread and there was no way to reattach the fragments, though I know that I was the only one scattered and lost.

I knew we weren't going to last forever, but I wasn't expecting the beginning of the end to happen so soon.

A knock from my left snaps me out of my thoughts. It was Mingi tapping on my desk, his brow raised.

"Sorry," I sheepishly mumbled, trying to focus on the task at hand. Hongjoong already left for New York so it was just me and Mingi in the shop.

I couldn't concentrate, I kept glancing at my phone hoping Wooyoung would reply to my messages. Something was wrong, and I was very close to having a mental breakdown.

Woo? Are you busy? Wanna hang out at the new place later after work?

I kept telling myself that it was fine, he's busy, he's been in-demand lately because he truly was a talented photographer with a particular set of skills that were a rarity in such a condensed industry, but I couldn't help but feel like he's been very distant lately.

Wooyoung has been avoiding me and I don't know what to do.

To keep my insecurities in check, I've been going in the deepest pits of my mind to tolerate my thoughts and letting these negative feelings pass - so I can react appropriately and not go crazy over the things I had no control over.

Wooyoung? Is everything okay? You aren't responding...

Truth be told, I felt pathetic. I got so attached to Wooyoung that I forgot how I was before I met him - alone. It wasn't his fault, he doesn't owe me anything, it was me who let my heart chase a person who never even wanted to be found in the first place.

Another knock made me jump from my thoughts.

"Y/N," Mingi sighed, taking his glasses off and setting them down on his own desk. "Can I talk to you really quick?"

I bit my lip, nodding. Mingi had always been the type of boss that drew a line with everyone, except Hongjoong. He was strict, very intimidating, but it suited him, so I'm a bit nervous that he was calling me out. 

"I'll be straight with you, yeah? Is it Wooyoung?" he asked out of genuine curiosity, his sharp eyes piercing through me.

I didn't respond, I couldn't, so I kept my head low. I heard Mingi sigh again. "Hey," he says softly. "This is off the record, okay? I won't tell Hongjoong, although I suspect he already knows anyway."

I looked up, frowning. "What do you mean?" 

Mingi crossed his arms, leaning back against his chair a bit more relaxed. "I can't speak for him, but for me personally? I know Wooyoung more than you think I do. You just haven't seen us together because I've been so busy lately."

He was right. Mingi continued. "Look, it's a shame to see you like this. We really like you, you're hardworking, critical, smart, and whatnot..."

"T-Thank you, Mr. Song," I blurted out.

"Just Mingi," he brushed off. "What I'm trying to say is, save yourself for a man that isn't him. He won't choose you."

I already knew that, but hearing it didn't make it hurt less. Tears started to pool in the corners of my eyes. Mingi curses under his breath.

"Go home," he gestured out the door. "Take the day off."

"B-But we still have work left," I stuttered.

He gives me a small smile. "I'll manage. Go before I change my mind."

I suppose I was thankful about being sent home, it did help my nerves a bit. I've gotten home, showered, ate dinner, and did the most mundane things I could ever do, but Wooyoung never replied.

I woke up the next day, clutching my phone, muttering a little prayer in my head as if I would miraculously see his name pop up in my notifications, telling me good morning like he used to every single day.

The tears I've been holding off since yesterday ran down like waterfalls from my eyes. I missed him so much, and I've got nobody to blame but myself. I wished I kept it in, how much I loved him I mean. Maybe we would have been hanging out by now, laughing obnoxiously at nothing in particular.

Before I could stop myself, I dialed Wooyoung's number. The beating of my heart pounded along with the ringing tone against my ear. I was about to hang up, when I heard the familiar click of answer.

Hello?

I covered my mouth with my hand to prevent me from choking up. Oh, how I missed this voice.

"H-Hey, Woo, how are you doing?" I apprehensively asked.

I can't really talk right now, little dove, what do you want?

I was confused, my frown getting deeper. There was tension on the line, a tension so brittle it could snap in a moment, and if it doesn't, I might. He sounds like his normal self, but he sounds so rigid, his voice clipped.

"Nothing, I-I just wanted to hear your voice," I was so anxious at this point, especially when Wooyoung didn't say anything back for a moment.

I can feel the fear spreading throughout my chest. I let out a slow, controlled breath and attempted to loosen my body.

What? You called me for that? I have my own things to do, Y/N, you can't just call me for something so stupid.

I felt my heart bleed, twisting, turning, and rendering my insides tight. I don't respond, wide eyed, my heart in my throat. I needed him to tell me everything was going to be alright, to soothe me but instead he continued.

I'll call you when I have time, okay?

"B-But you said I can call you whenever I needed you," I whispered in the smallest voice I could muster.

I know what I said.

The tone of his voice, so cold and so upset, brought shivers down my spine. "I'm sorry," I whimpered. "I'm so lonely, I miss you. C-Can you come for a bit? O-Or I'll come if you cannot..."

I'll see.

And then he hung up, not bothering to wait for my response. Hot tears, ones he will never witness, were falling even faster than before and soaking my pillows. I felt the wetness of my skin and each drop killed my soul little by little.

What is happening? That wasn't the man I know, that wasn't the Wooyoung I have come to love over the past year.

Sharp knives dig into my heart even deeper, bringing more pain, making me cry out in the most desperate of as it keeps slicing over and over again. I was so lost at the torment my mind was putting me through.

When I was at my lowest, when others took what I could not afford to give, Wooyoung saved my life. The voice that once kept me alive was now the one that was slowly sucking every little bit of hope in my soul.

The first day was fine, I was able to rationalize with myself and not think of Wooyoung every second of the day.

The first week was a bit difficult, but I was still able to manage and get by day by day even though I can feel myself slowly slipping away.

The first month, I couldn't take it anymore. My parents noticed that I wasn't being myself lately, but they chose not to comment anything out of respect, but when I completely stopped eating and going out was when they began to worry significantly.

I understand that my best friend might never be able to give back all the love I have from him, but there is something much, much worse than hate or ignorance.

It was indifference. The night I had unintentionally confessed to him was the night everything between us started to blur.. He was cold, I wasn't expecting him to love me back, but abandoning me and acting like I don't exist or matter at all was turning all my loneliness into desperation.

Screw it. If he's not going to see me, then I'll go see him.

It wasn't too difficult to borrow the family car with the pretense of going out to enjoy myself. They didn't know Wooyoung was the source of my melancholy. I haven't had the heart to tell them because they really liked him.

"Woo?" I knocked on his apartment door, the door that used to excite me, now terrified me.

No response. I knew for a fact that he was inside and was ignoring the hell out of me because his lights were on - he always turned them off whenever he was going somewhere all the time. I was getting extremely annoyed at this point, and my anger had nowhere to dissipate.

"Jung Wooyoung, I know you're in there," I knocked frantically. "Open the freaking door."

When I still got no reply, I had no choice but to get the spare key he hid under his doormat. I could've done it earlier, I wasn't in the mood to be disrespected right now.

The moment I swung his door open, I saw him. He was just there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed, staring me directly in the eye. I stood by his doorway, frozen, staring back at him. 

"Woo--"

"Close the damn door and sit down," he sighed exasperatedly. The cold indifference in his eyes was killing me.

The atmosphere was completely tense, I didn't even know where to start. I used to love being in his apartment, but now I was itching to get out.

Then I saw it - the same duffle bag he bought the glass prism to give me a lunar rainbow now filled with all of his clothes.

"What the hell is this?" I gritted, not being able to hold back the anger I was feeling at the moment.

"What does it look like?" he glared, his jaw taut and clenched tight.

"Is this why you weren't talking to me?" I asked, my voice full of hurt. "How can you do this, Wooyoung? How could you do this to us?"

He scoffed. "There is no us, my princess," he mocked. It stung, I didn't know this Wooyoung, or was this his true nature all along?

"Then why am I still your princess, then?"

There was a second where his eyes morphed back into the man I loved, but before it even lasted, it went to this hostile stranger than got off on the hurt he was giving me. He avoided eye contact, opting to look down and stare at the floor tiles. 

"Say something," I begged.

"I heard you," he snapped, as if I meant absolutely nothing to him. 

Clearly, he wasn't expecting me to even confront him at all, and intended to push me far, far away as long as he possibly could.

That refusal to smile, to show me any warmth was his way of being antagonistic towards me.

His eyes stopped at mine, and the moment it laid on me, I knew that there was nothing left for me to salvage. This is really the end.

Tears flowed nonstop from my eyes and before I knew it, I was in front of him, aggressively hitting his chest using my fist with all my might, hoping he could feel all the pain he gave me.

"Stop it, Y/N," he hissed, trying to avoid my hits. But I didn't. All the anger and sadness were so intertwined that I didn't know which one prevailed.

"I said stop it!", he shouted. He grabbed my wrists painfully and held them against his chest. "You better stop, or so God help me, I will make you stop, and trust me, you do not want that."

Something akin to fear crept into my chest. I have never, ever heard him raise his voice before.

"Had I known that you were going to be the bane of my existence, I would have ignored you at the park back then!" I screeched at him, trying very hard to get my hands back by thrashing around.

"Had I known you were going to be like this, I wouldn't have taken a photo of you!" Wooyoung's grip got so tight that I literally felt no blood circulating towards my hand.

"You good for nothing ass, you're hurting me! Let me go!" I growled, but it came out as a whine.

"Not until you calm down!"

We went back and forth like that, arguing like little children. The fight between us was a destruction in the making, tearing us instead of bounding us together.

I swallowed the anger that threatened to spill out of me, and it grew in my chest as the person I loved did absolutely nothing to wipe the tears from my eyes. At least he was a bit surprised when I screamed a scream from deep within, and it terrified the both of us because it didn't even sound like me.

"How am I supposed to look at anyone else?" I cried, my head leaning on his chest out of exhaustion. "I don't want anyone else anymore because I will be afraid to trust."

"I'm sorry," was all he said. He didn't even want to wrap his arms around me and just let me hang in there.

"No, you're not," I cried even harder. 

"Y/N, please, you're making this difficult for me," his voice breaks in the middle. I feel the intensity in his voice, a massive amount of emotion behind every word he spoke.

"And how do you think I feel, Wooyoung?"

"I understand, but--"

"This is how you are, full of excuses, full of shit!"

"Let me talk--"

"Why are you leaving me? Why are you--"

"Because I love you!"

I must've looked so shocked, so devastated, and so scared that Wooyoung, himself, started breaking down. We held each other as if it was our last, and at that moment, it was just the two of us against everything in this world.

Wooyoung held my face with his shaking hands, tears flowing down from his own eyes as he leaned his forehead against mine. That somehow made me cry harder. "I love you so much, goddamn it," he choked.

"But you're not going to stay," I whimpered against his criminal hold. 

Though he felt so warm right now, I knew it wasn't going to last. I could get lost in his eyes right now because they felt like home as we both cried in each other's arms. After all the countless nights I wished he felt the same, this felt foreign. 

He was an oasis in a barren desert and the best thing I could do was stare.

"You appearing in my life was never planned," he whispered. "I never expected to fall as deeply as I did with you, Y/N."

"If you feel the same, then why can't you stay with me?" I asked pitifully.

"I can't, baby, this wasn't supposed to happen," he took a deep breath. "I can't love you."

"You can't, or you won't?"

He didn't respond. That got him. I sighed.

"Woo, look at me?" I tilted his chin up very gently until he did. "Don't do this to us," I pleaded. "You're looking at me with clouded eyes right now, you know I see through your lies..."

Wooyoung doesn't reply, choosing to walk away from me to pace across the room in a fret. I watched him collect his mind apprehensively.

"If I can't have me, then no one can," he finally said.

I stared at him as my heart started slowly breaking once again. This incomprehensible pain was consuming me bit by bit, my heart was bleeding.

"I would regret it for the rest of my life if I don't chase the longest dream I've ever had," his eyes were laced in pain. "The photography world is waiting for me..."

"Is this why you didn't want anything or anyone tying you down to this place, Woo? You didn't want to commit because you might never want to leave?"

That was it. The way he looked at me told me everything I needed to know. I had lost him before I even had him, and I can only weep and let myself come to terms with the one that got away. So I cried, I cried as Wooyoung held me in his arms, rocking me back and forth like he used to when we spent time together.

"Hush now," he started crying with me. "I hate that it seems you were never enough." He hugged me tighter. "Because you are, you were more than enough."

"But I'm the one that should mean something! So help me understand," I sobbed harder in his arms, afraid to let him go because he might disappear if I do.

He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. "If one day we see each other again," he croaked. "However long that will take, we will try again for each other, okay?"

I shook my head like a crazed maniac, muttering no, no, no repeatedly. "Wooyoung," I wailed, holding onto his arms tightly. "P-Please don't leave me..."

I begged him over and over again like my life depended on it, and to be fair, I felt like I was going to die if he left me entirely. At this point I didn't care if I was going to be his second choice as long as he stayed.

"Y/N, please don't make this harder than it is," Wooyoung denied. "Go home, please I'm begging you. You're going to make me do something we'll both regret, please."

He was about to leave, but I held him back from behind, holding onto him as tight as I possibly could. "Stop it," he pleaded, trying to pry my arms off of him, but I held tighter, wailing harder.

"P-Please, please don't go," I bawled. "I'll do anything, I'll--"

"Stop it!"

His booming voice made me gasp, or maybe that was the sudden hold he had on my shoulders. The way his eyes darkened wasn't something I missed as his nails dug into my shoulders.

"Do not say that," he hissed, his dark eyes boring into me. "We are both in my room, alone. You know what that means, right?"

"So take me, Wooyoung."

Something changed in the air, and between the two of us right at this moment. Wooyoung's eyes widened a bit, his hold on my shoulders tightening , before he grimaced. "You don't know what you're saying," he laughed dryly.

I knew it was wrong, but right now I wanted nothing but to feel all of him. I will throw all the dignity I have right now, I don't care. The moment I begged him to stay, I'd lost it all, anyway.

"The notion of sin has never sat too well with me," Wooyoung gulped, his voice thick with lust.

"And leaving me does?" I blurted, my own eyes hazy with want.

Wooyoung shook his head fervently and sweat was beginning to form at his hairline. "Y/N, I am only a man, please don't make me do it..."

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his breathing was so laboured and every time he took a breath, I felt everything on my skin. I mewled when I felt him pause, then lick the most sensitive part of my neck.

"Fuck, you smell and taste so good," Wooyoung growled.

Everything happened so fast. In a split second, his touch electrified every nerve in my body, the intoxication was instantaneous. He hurriedly grabbed my face and immediately put his lips on mine, like I was his air and he needed me to live.

His arms wrap around my back, and in one motion, our bodies collide. His hand was pulling and tugging my hair, muttering how soft they were in between kisses. I kiss him back with equal fervent, quickly opening my mouth so his tongue can explore. Our bodies fit together like we were made to do this.

He pulls away and we lock eyes for a moment, just enough to see that we were far too gone to stop, before we were back at it again, this time on his bed. The kiss we shared was of raw intensity, the groans he made behind his throat made every hair on my body stand up in attention.

"Baby," he groaned, his voice muffled because he was back to attacking my neck. 

"Hmm?" was I could reply with, especially with how rough he was kneading my breasts from under my shirt. 

"You held your breath for a minute straight while my tongue was in your throat."

I blushed deep. We were almost about to have sex and he still remembered that? I never thought his mouth would be this dirty.

We caressed each other's skin through the night, not getting enough of each other as we became one. His touches were exhilarating, whenever he laid his fingers on my skin tingles. Both of us move in sync, not taking our eyes off of each other.

There were no thoughts, and no focus - only lust and desire.

My back arches in anticipation from his light hands as he watches my reaction, feeling how my hands shook, watching my body tremble every time he used his fingers.

Whatever Wooyoung was doing, there was no stopping. Just his scent from above me was enough to incapacitate me. Every thrust he did was enough for me to fall deeper, and deeper for him and he never stopped until we were warm and snuggled after we were finished.

But nothing lasts forever - even guilty pleasures. 

"Wooyoung?" I asked nobody in particular the moment I woke up, my voice sore from all the screaming the night prior.

I sat up, covering my body with the blanket that smelled so much like him, looking around to see if he was somewhere since he wasn't lying down beside me on his own bed, but no. 

I didn't think much of it, maybe he just went to the bathroom to freshen up, but deep down my heart, I knew he had left.

There was something on the spot where Wooyoung was supposed to be - a piece of paper. I hesitantly picked up, realized it was a letter addressed to me, and opened its contents. Little dots of wetness dropped down the paper from every tear as I read on.

'To the one I'm letting go,

I'm sorry, Y/N. I am so, so sorry for everything I will put you through starting now. By the time you're reading this, I would have been long gone.

You will always be the most important person of my life, whether you believe it or not. You have absolutely no idea how wonderful and colourful you have made my life into for the past year and I always smile knowing that you'd be there to share my achievements with.

I knew I would develop feelings for you the moment I saw you in that park. God, you looked so beautiful. The fates were funny like that, because I wasn't even supposed to be at the park that day. My usual spot was unavailable that day.

Please be happy, do not forget your meals, study well so you can go into that college you've always wanted to, don't eat too many sweets because they make you hyper, be mindful of nuts in every food since you are allergic to them since I can't be there to check them for you anymore.

The gift of friendship as great as yours is something I will forever cherish in my heart, Y/N. Our little moments where we laughed and cried together still makes me happy to this day. You may have come into my life unexpectedly for what felt like a minute, but the mark you left will last us forever.

You're going to have to move on for me, and I will do the same, even if it hurts both of us, okay? I have to leave, it's either you or my dreams, and I know you have dreams of your own. This love will always hold us back.

However, if I see you again one day, I cannot guarantee that I will hold back because I am going to take you whether you like it or not and make you mine.

But for now? I cannot hate you, but I cannot love you either.

Yours, J. WY'

I hyperventilated, my hands shaking violently as I held the letter that might as well have been my death certificate.

I knew one way or another, this was going to happen and I was prepared for it so I wouldn't get hurt in the near future, but it hasn't fully hit me until now. 

Long ago, I had forgotten how to scream because they were either ignored or criticized with cruelty, but the way I screamed my soul out broke my own heart. My grief came in waves, ebbing gradually at the ocean that needed to bleed from my eyes.

"Oh, Wooyoung," I cried his name out pitifully, holding the letter close to my heart. I knew I loved him, but the loss of him really solidified how strong it was. How was I supposed to survive the feeling of something so dear that got forcefully ripped away from me?

I must've wallowed in my despair and self-pity a little too much, that I forgot that there were clutters and footsteps outside of the room. They were the reason I woke up. Could it be..?

I half heartedly rubbed my tear-stained face with my hands to make the swelling go away before I dressed up decent enough to step out.

The footsteps stopped when I apprehensively opened the door, the creak of it echoing across the otherwise barren room. 

My eyes widened and landed on two men who were both staring at me also wide-eyed the moment I opened my door, as if they were listening in on me suffering.

"Who the hell are you?!" I had meant for that to be threatening, but it came out as a pathetic squeak.

They both stepped back, surprised at the spunk I had even though it was clearly very early in the morning.

"We mean no harm, we promise," one of them said calmly. He reminded me of a bear, and the relaxed fit of his jeans that tucked his black tee made his form even bigger. "I'm Jongho, your brother and the two workaholics sent me..."

I raised my brow, he must be Hongjoong's assistant, the other workaholic was Mingi. Yeosang did also mention a best friend in passing. I raised a brow on the other one expecting him to talk.

He was tall, definitely taller than Mingi, and they kind of looked like each other, though this one reminded me of an overgrown puppy. He was very good-looking as well. He was lean, though there's definitely some bulk on him too.

He waves a set of keys in front of him. "I'm Yunho, San gave me the keys," he worriedly explained. "I was hoping you could explain. I made breakfast..."

The food was very good, but I didn't have the heart to tell Yunho that Wooyoung's cooking was the one I craved for. I gave them the letter Wooyoung had written for me as I filled them in on some details about what happened. They were Wooyoung's really close friends, so I didn't have to fill in too much details since they pretty much knew the majority of it.

"He never told you it was love at first sight," Yunho shook his head as he passed the letter for Jongho to read. "That bastard, I told him to stay away from you if he was just going to leave."

"We tried very hard to change his mind, believe me," Jongho sighed, taking a sip of the coffee I made him earlier. Both of his eyes shot up as he stared at me. "Though I suppose this is one of the reasons why he couldn't stay away."

That one struck a nerve. Wooyoung was the one who taught me how to make good coffee. 

Yunho cleared his throat. "San doesn't know Wooyoung has left yet. If he found out, he would beat the shit out of him. San liked you a lot, he convinced Wooyoung the most to stay."

"And Hongjoong?"

"Hongjoong is, well, he is who he is. He just knows everything. He probably told Yeosang because he didn't have the heart to tell you." 

Yunho's phone started ringing, it gave me a slight migraine because that thing was loud as hell. Yunho mutters a sheepish apology. "Hello?"

"Alright, which one of you soul-sucking bastards stole my keys?! What the hell is even happening?!"

That actually made me giggle. Now I know why these two were sent to check up on me - Yunho was very easy to get along with and Jongho was the rational one to balance things.

"Who is that?"

Yunho and Jongho took turns to fill San in on everything that went down, and I felt bad for him because that also meant that San lost a friend. His heartbroken questions were making tears in my eyes.

"Sannie," Jongho sighed. "This is why we took the keys, we didn't want you to find out this way."

"Where is he, then?" San's voice was tight.

"You don't know either?" Yunho asked in surprise.

"N-No, Y/N? Is she okay?"

That completely broke me. It was ironic that Wooyoung's friends, people I wasn't even that familiar with in the first place, were the ones more concerned about me. I bitterly let my tears out, with Jongho patting my back to comfort me.

I cried, and cried, and cried, and cried until I felt my voice grow weary with excessive use, not caring that these two strangers and a man on the phone heard me break down pitifully.

Forget about me, Wooyoung had also left the people who loved him as well - his friends. In that regard, he was extremely selfish because he knew that hurt he would give to everyone, but he chose to do what he did anyway.

And just like that, he was gone.

I lost track of time, I don't even remember the last time I actually cared to check.

Depression is a silly thing, something that I used to think never ended, but it does actually; you're going to feel it when you hit rock bottom.

"Have a good day everyone," I waved from the doorway of Mingi's office.

The whole gang was here, except for my brother because he lived far away. Still, Yeosang has made it his life's mission to be there for me whenever I gave him a hint that I needed him the most. I felt bad, but I had nobody to turn to.

"Y/N, wait."

I was about to leave, to ignore that call, but I couldn't. Yes?"

Hongjoong stared at me for a full minute without saying anything, before sighing. "Take care of yourself."

I forced a smile on my face. I was happy that everyone was looking out for me even though I just can't outwardly express it. I actually appreciate that none of them were treating me like a wounded puppy.

Hongjoong might not look like he cared too much, but I notice his sharp eyes watching me when he thinks I wasn't looking. Wooyoung was the opposite.

Yunho was very sweet, he would often bake me pastries since I mentioned in passing that I loved them and they brought me joy. Wooyoung used to do that a lot.

Mingi was another nonchalant one. He would often offer me a vacation alone somewhere with all expenses paid. I denied. Being alone will make me think of Wooyoung more.

San was the one that accompanied me the most when I didn't want to move at all. He would bring me food at least four times a week to make sure I was eating. Wooyoung used to feed me, himself, if I wasn't in the mood.

Jongho, being the mature one, made me realize that there were more reasons to live this life. Perhaps it was my parents, maybe my pet dog, or maybe just to find out what happens tomorrow. Wooyoung had a very similar outlook in life. 

I was aimlessly walking around and I didn't even notice that I ended up on the bench I sat on, the same bench that had that beautiful wisteria tree. Only this time, there was no Wooyoung to take a candid photo of me.

"I guess I'm not the only one falling apart," I sighed, lightly touching the wilting petals of the once purple tree, now it was just a faded whitish lilac colour.

It was difficult to find happiness in the things that I used to like. I missed the way he hugged me, the sound of his voice, the tenderness in his actions. I missed the way he would whisper the corniest jokes against my ear and make me laugh, but most of all, I missed the way we used to be.

He was my first thought of the day, the light at the end of my tunnel. How must I separate these fantasies from reality? Would things be different if I didn't confess? Would he still be here?

The reality was that he has not had these fantasies, we did not build our dream together, so I have to let it go.

Even though he had left after the momentarily love we shared for one night, I can tell myself that at least I knew that he genuinely loved me at one point. My mind will be at peace because I wouldn't have to go manic wondering for the rest of my life if it was only me - I know now that we did truly mean something to each other. 

We're so distracted by how things end, we usually forget how beautiful the beginning was. 

It was a quote I heard somewhere. My love was a myth, but Wooyoung never believed in myths, and so that was both the start and end of our story. Some things are only real if you believe that they are. 

A lone tear slipped away as I remembered how beautiful the wisteria was when we had first met. His absence will be the best part of me, I decided, so hopefully for the last time after a while, I weep again. 

I will wait for him, no matter how long it took.

3.5 YEARS LATER

I sat in front of the vanity table in my hotel room, staring at myself from the big mirror wearing my white satin robe, it made my complexion pop into a champagne rose hue. 

I made eye contact with the person looming behind me through the mirror. "Would you like me to tell them to adjust the makeup and your hair?" he asked me tenderly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I figured you'd love a natural look so I made it happen."

"No, it's perfect, you always know what's best for me," I smiled widely, putting my hand on top of his gently. It was the truth, it managed to bring out me feminine side, and therefore, my self-confidence as well.

I was the happiest I've ever been today, especially because I was finally with the love of my life. He frowned a bit when I pulled him a bit closer to fix his slightly rumpled collar and hair.

"I like the blonde, my love," I ran my hand on it in a trickling motion so I wouldn't mess it up.

He smirks, grabbing my hand to kiss it. "Yeah? That's good, I was feeling tired of the red, plus I don't think it would be appropriate for today."

I chuckled a bit. I have always loved his style, it was so masculine but also so chic and sophisticated at the same time. He was already wearing the suit and tie I had chosen for him today.

I will miss the red hair though, I still remember feeling uneasy when I saw his red hair for the first time, but I have come to love it over time. This blonde was making me feel some type of way.

I took a glance at my wedding dress that was placed at the far corner of the room. The lace upon lace design was very cozy and snug against my curves and it made me feel like the most beautiful bride in the entire world.

"So what's the schedule, darling? Your photography session here alone or with your bridesmaids for now?" he glanced at his wristwatch.

"Alone for now," I hummed. "I want Joongie, Sannie, and Yeo in here right now. You should go check with Yuyu and Mangi if you need alterations, and oh, check with Jongbear if he's all set with the wedding songs later?"

Over the years, I have gotten so close with the gang and they've all become my bestest of friends. The journey wasn't easy, but at least I've gained seven other lifetime friends.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue in amusement. "Alright, but calm down," he plants a quick kiss on my lips. "As much as I love when you're in your thinking mode, I want you to relax for today."

"I can't help it, Seonghwa, I've never done this before," I pouted.

Seonghwa squeezed my hand lovingly. "I know, me neither, but I'll be with you through everything, okay? And don't worry about those three knuckleheads, they're on their way."

"I love you, Hwa."

"I love you more, darling."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and indeed, the three people I was expecting made their merry way towards me and Seonghwa. 

"Well, well, well," Yeosang strutted towards me. "If it isn't my favourite sister."

"I'm your only sister," I rolled my eyes, making everybody laugh. 

"Oh, Y/N, oh my goodness," Yeosang hugged me tightly. "Goddamn it, I shouldn't have gone here, you're going to make me cry."

"Shut up, Yeo, you're going to make me cry too," I choked, holding my tears back so I don't ruin my makeup. "I could barely hold myself when I saw Mom and Dad bawl their eyes out earlier."

It was like we were back in our childhood again where we supported each other whenever we got an achievement. We don't see each other much but our closeness never got less.

"I'm proud of you, you deserve this happiness," Yeosang smiled. "I'll see you out there, my back is hurting from Seonghwa glaring at my back for taking your time."

"I was not!"

"Some brother-in-law you are, Park Seonghwa!" Yeosang retorted.

We all laughed again, there's nothing better than having friends to celebrate your day with you. Yeosang left shortly and now I was with San and Hongjoong to check up on some things.

"The guests are coming in gradually," San lowered his glasses while he tapped away on his tablet. San was the one who arranged the beautiful venue of the outdoor garden where me and Seonghwa will marry as well as the food and invitations. 

San moved away from photography a couple of years ago and started a business on coordinating events. "I reckon they'll all be here within two hours," he continued, but paused hesitantly. "There might be one seat vacant, I'm not sure he'll come..."

The air was a bit tense. I knew who he was talking about. "It's okay, Sannie, we have back up photographers in case he doesn't want to do it..."

Hongjoong cleared his throat loudly. "Congratulations," he grinned from the other side of the room.

"Thanks, Joongie, you're the best," I grinned back, thanking him for more than what I was referring to.

Hongjoong was the one who designed my wedding dress from scratch, and Mingi designed Seonghwa's. It was their first wedding haute couture and definitely not their last.

"Any adjustments you want me to make? I would ask you to try it on, but that's bad luck. " he joked. I shook my head no. "Alright. But I'm sure you'll look good. We're very happy for you, Y/N, we really are."

It felt great to hear it in general, especially on my wedding day, but it meant a lot coming from Hongjoong. All of them were brothers to me, but he was the eldest one.

"Seonghwa, if you think of hurting her," San cracked his knuckles. "You know what will happen."

"Yeah, yeah, sure San, you're scared shitless of killing bugs, let alone beat me up," Seonghwa rolled his eyes, making us all laugh our heads off because it was so true.

Mingi, Yunho, and Jongho also popped in after a while to say their congratulations. Yunho was in charge of hosting the reception, which came naturally for him since he has such an engaging personality.

"I'm so nervous, what if I stutter?" Yunho groaned. "Though I'm sure Jongho here is more nervous."

"A little," Jongho admitted. We were all surprised, he usually does very well on literally everything.

"Jjong, you're literally the best singer I've ever heard," I cheered him on.

"It's not that, this is different. This is your wedding we're talking about."

"That's true and all," Mingi chided in. "But I'm pretty sure Seonghwa is the most nervous out of everybody. Y/N, you gotta tell his ass to calm down, I couldn't even properly adjust his suit, for God's sake!"

We all turned our heads when the sound of another knock resounded through the room. We all looked at each other in confusion, Yeosang was the only one not in here and he would never knock before entering.

Yunho took the initiative to open the door, although apprehensively. He opened the door in an angle where we couldn't see who was outside, but he did, and when he did, he gasped loudly.

"What the fuck!" he shut the door loudly and leaned against it, pale white.

The room was silent, Yunho wasn't the type to curse in general. We all looked at him with very wide eyes and he stared back with his mouth agape.

"Yun, what the hell was that?" Mingi broke the silence, as calm as the ocean.

"I-I, uhm, I-I don't th-think," he stuttered.

"Oh, what the hell," Jongho rolled his eyes, walking towards Yunho and pushing him out rather roughly so he could open the door himself.

Jongho muttered a curse under his breath, before closing the door a bit gently this time, but he also had the same shocked expression on his face. This time I was freaking out, wedding jitters and all.

"Yah!" someone on the other side shouted, banging on the door.

"Open the damn door!" Seonghwa seethed, but quickly muttered a 'sorry' when I glared at him.

Both Yunho and Jongho opened the double doors at the same time, and the person entered. My mind had a small explosion, my heart beating twice the speed it should have, and the hairs all over my body stood up in the collective gasps we all had when we saw him.

He was someone I never thought I'd ever see again, someone I dearly missed even though we ended on a sour note, someone I couldn't wait for anymore even though I told myself I would.

"Wooyoung," I whispered, a bit teary eyed.

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa confirmed, but I could see how nervous he became.

"Wooyoung?" Mingi asked in surprise.

"Wooyoung!" Hongjoong laughed in disbelief. "Wooyoung," San growled, gritting his teeth.

"Oh hello there, Wooyoung," Yeosang suddenly entered the room. I can tell he was upset, especially because he patted Wooyoung's back in a "friendly" manner.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Wooyoung screamed his signature loud screech, but it was too late.

His squawks get louder as everyone, except me and Seonghwa, swarmed him aggressively, like a mob that threatened to end his existence. There were laughter mixed with complaints but overall, everybody seemed happy.

"You crazy son of a bitch, you have us worried, you never even called or texted!"

"Wow, you're uglier than before---ow!"

"Don't ever think of leaving again!"

"Come here, you monkey!"

I felt Seonghwa tense from behind me. I patted his arm, causing him to look at me. I frowned a bit, his eyes held anxiety and inferiority. I understood, the man I used to love was here.

"Alright, alright! Get off me, you airheaded buffoons!" Wooyoung shouted, trying to push everyone off, but ended up laughing hysterically with Mingi and Jongho.

Hongjoong only shook his head and rolled his eyes but I can tell he was happy. San grabbed his collar harshly and for a moment, we thought he was angry, but he ended up pulling Wooyoung into a bone crushing hug and Yunho had to pull him away to give him a hug of his own.

Yunho had always carried the burden of guilt for the past year, he kept saying that he could have stopped Wooyoung back then. Yeosang ruffled Wooyoung's hair roughly, something he did when he's overwhelmed on how to express his feelings.

"Have you guys seen, uhm--oh," Wooyoung began, but faltered when his eyes met mine., his smile dropping in slow motion. He didn't know I'd be here.

The air became tense all of a sudden. A sudden heartache filled my mind with dread, flashbacks of what happened years ago reminding me of the bond we made only for it to break. But even though it hurt, I was genuinely happy he was here, so I put a smile on my face.

He was shocked, his eyes going back to the same twinkle he had back then, but it quickly disappeared when Seonghwa cleared his throat, then I saw it disappear permanently.

"We, uh, we should leave you guys to talk," Seonghwa murmured.

"A-Are you sure, Hwa?" I hesitated, holding onto his arm to stop him from moving. 

I wasn't the only one surprised when Seonghwa nodded lightheartedly. "Mhhm," he hummed. "Plus," he glanced at Wooyoung. "This is a long overdue conversation."

With that, everyone left the room, but not before Seonghwa shook Wooyoung's hand. My heart was filled with pride. "Nice to see you again, old friend," Seonghwa patted Wooyoung's shoulder gently. This is why I loved him, he trusted me wholeheartedly.

Seonghwa knew everything, from how Wooyoung met me, to how grateful I was for everything he's done for me, all the way to him leaving me. Seonghwa and Wooyoung and pretty much everyone used to be good friends but he had to move away when they were younger because of his parents' work. He cried for me, he cried for everything I've been through, and cried for how far I've become.

Wooyoung stood awkwardly from where he was after Seonghwa had left, and I didn't even know what to do either. I wasn't even sure if he was the same person he was before he left, three years was a long time. We were strangers to each other at this point because I definitely have changed.

"S-Sit, Wooyoung, please," I blurted, not looking him in the eye as I pointed at the sofa across from where I was.

I stared at him as he awkwardly did as he was told. The years have been bittersweet to him - he had become unbelievably handsome, but his eyes had lost that youth and spark to it. 

He had more muscle to him, and his face had matured into this angular and chiseled appearance - his brows were more prominent, his cheekbones higher, and his jaws stronger. His hair was longer too, instead of the bright red I knew him for, he had this black and blonde layered on top of each other like an Oreo cookie.

"How are you doing, Y/N?" he softly asked. Even his voice got deeper, more booming, but it was still as calming as I remembered it to be.

"I'm good, I feel really happy," I genuinely replied. "I'm glad you're able to come despite your schedule."

"Of course," he sighed. "I'm surprised you still invited me."

"Why wouldn't I?" I whispered, all the hurt threatening to spill out from me. "B-But how have you been? Did you get what you wanted?"

I knew the answer to that question. Of course he did, Wooyoung was now a well-known photographer who was in-demand all over South Korea. He was basically a celebrity, but I still wanted to hear it come from his mouth.

Wooyoung smiled tightly. "Yes and no," he said cryptically.

"W-Why?"

Wooyoung stared at me for a minute, his eyes not giving away what he was feeling. My heart almost burst out of my ribcage. He tried so hard, but he was fiddling with his pants, a sign he was nervous.

We might be two different people now, but I still knew him like the back of my hand. 

"So," he cleared his throat, finally looking away. "Seonghwa, huh?"

I hummed, letting him get away with the fact that he was changing the topic. "Yeah, we just clicked," I smiled shyly. "A couple of months after you left, Joong introduced us together..."

He nodded, choosing not to reply. It got awkward again after that, the silence filling the room in an uncomfortable manner. He was only a couple of feet away from me, but he felt like miles back. My heart cracked a little, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"I-I'm happy for you, Y/N, I really am," his voice cracked towards the end. "Congratulations on y-your...wedding."

I swallowed a huge lump on my throat when I saw Wooyoung look down, his hands on either side of his head, cradling it as I heard him sniffle. It felt like thunder to my ears, but I chose not to comment on it so as to not embarrass him.

"It was nice the first year, I felt like I was on top of the world with nothing tying or holding me back," he laughed bitterly. "But afterwards, I felt like shit. I had no family, no friends, no you. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life."

I stayed silent, afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would cry too. "I'm afraid now, little dove, I'm so afraid of doing things now because that one, single mistake cost me my whole life..."

I bit my lip hard, my heart breaking a little bit more for him. Oh, how the tables have turned, I used to be the one that always got scared of trying something, and it took me a while to fully commit to Seonghwa.

"I am so, so sorry, Y/N..."

I let Wooyoung pour his heart out, letting him sob silently on the sofa. I gripped my robe tightly, wanting to go to him like the old times, but I couldn't, not because I didn't want to, but because Wooyoung needed his moment. He wasn't only crying for the both of us, but for the suffering, the loneliness of being alone, and everything he went through to get the success he longed to have.

"I'm proud of you, Wooyoung, you did well. You did what you had to do back then, I can't fault you for that," I told him. "Yes, I was mad at you, I'm not going to deny that, but I forgave you a long time ago."

I finally let out all the things I've always wanted to tell him. "One day you were just gone, you couldn't even explain why. We were best friends, soulmates, or so I thought."

"What killed me the most was I felt like our journey together had just begun, and you had left too soon," my breath hitched. "You came, then you left, and you took parts of me I didn't know existed, as well as yours because I never had the chance to explore you."

He stayed silent, listening to me like he once did years ago. "To this day I still ask myself what happened, Wooyoung, what would life have been if you had stayed? What would it be like if we did things differently? For the longest time, I blamed you for leaving, and then myself for letting you go so willingly."

Wooyoung shook his head. "It's not your fault," he gulped. "I blamed myself for your cries that I pretended not to hear, for the anger that consumed me, I blame myself for not holding your hand tighter, for the tears I did not wipe away, and I blame myself for the loss of you."

He stares at me with his tear-stained eyes, not bothering to cover all the emotions he tried to hide earlier. He grinned bitterly at me, I knew how much it meant for anyone to tell him how proud they were of him.

He puts his palm over his chest, eyes closed. "If only you can feel how hard this heart beats for you," he whispered. "It's all for you, but would you be mad if I told you it's not as strong as it once was?"

I wanted to hold his hand once more like we used to do when we were still together, not as lovers, but as good friends, but I was frozen on my chair.

"Why would I be?" I tilted my head curiously, tutting at him lightheartedly to lift the mood in the room. "You underestimate me."

Finally, he smiled genuinely. "I can't help it," he chuckled. "The intensity is less, I can't repair all the hurt I gave you."

He paused, hesitating if he should say what he wanted to say, but he opened his mouth anyway. "You were my dream after all," he whispered begrudgingly. "I was blind not to see it."

That did it. The dread and burden I've been feeling was finally lifted off of me and I finally feel lighter than a feather.

The wounds he gave me were still there and they will heal slowly, but I can't deny my own heart right at this moment.

"Woo?" I smiled tightly. He looked at me expectantly, and it made my insides mushy. "My heart that beated for you will never stop either, so don't beat yourself up. I can never get rid of it."

He stared at me like I held the stars from the sky and offered it to him. In hindsight, I might as well have done it. He scoffed lightly. The insinuation was there, but that's all there is - that I still held him in my heart but it stops here.

"Don't be afraid to try new things, weren't you the one who always told me that? You miss the shots you don't take. If you don't want to make the same mistakes as you did with me, grab them while they're still there," I shrugged.

It was like nothing happened, as if we weren't separated for so long because of our circumstances. We finally caught up, laughed, giggled, gossiped like we used to before things got bad between us. I missed him so much, the way he would laugh like a dying fox, the way his eyes crinkled up, all of it.

We talked, we cried, the whole nine yards. The missing piece I didn't know was missing until now finally completed me. How have I lived that long without him?

"You got your wish now," Wooyoung jokes. "You finally have Mars once you marry Seonghwa."

Ah yes, Seonghwa helped me all throughout my journey. If it wasn't for him, I would have been a goner.

I scoffed, the nostalgia hitting me like a ton of bricks. "I can't believe you still remember that," I laughed. "I do have Hwa now, yes, but the planetarium will always be my first Mars."

Wooyoung smirked playfully. "It had better be. I hated it."

"What?" I threw a pillow at him jokingly. "Why did you take me then?"

"I guess you're going to have to find out, hmm?" he snickered.

He was about to throw a pillow at me too, but when he saw my solemn expression, he stopped. 

This time the nostalgia hit us both. That was exactly what he said when I asked if I had to pay for the very first photo he took of me.

Instead of being sad, one look at each other and we burst out laughing, giggling, and guffawing like hyenas in the wild, not caring if anybody heard us and thought we were crazy.

"Y/N?" Wooyoung uttered endearingly. I hummed in response. "Can I hold your hand for the last time?"

I held my hands for him, and he grabbed it so gently I wanted to cry. They were warm, and he held on yet simultaneously set me free.

He brought my hands to his chest, looking like he wanted to kiss them, but he held back out of respect for Seonghwa. Instead of his lips, tears fell onto them.

"If there is another life," he whispered. "I hope I can meet you again and if not, I will find you until I cease to breathe."

His heartbeat was so steady, and I felt my body shake, and once more, my eyes filled with unshed tears and I cried for the both of us this time. He releases one of my hands and wipes my tears delicately.

"Please don't cry, not for me again," he croaked, trying his very best to stop his own tears. "I don't want you to ruin your makeup."

"It's okay, Seonghwa and his team did my makeup anyway," I sniffled. "I hope in the next life you're not going to hate that you need me."

"Never," he objected. "Even if we don't remember, my heart will know."

I swatted his arm playfully. I never meant to giggle a little at that, he had always been so poetic and so cheesy. I guess some things never change.

"Stay for the wedding and reception, please?" I fretted. "I want my best friend there. Mingi tailored a suit for you in case you came."

I was nervous, afraid that he would reject my plea because he might feel out of place. I sighed a breath of relief when I saw him beam.

"I'll be there," Wooyoung mused. "I owe you this at least, Y/N, and I am going to give you and Seonghwa the best photos you both will ever see."

I cheered internally, but my excitement tipped over the top and I couldn't help but outwardly show it. Wooyoung laughed and we finally pulled ourselves in a hug to seal the deal. It was enough to make up for all the years we spent apart because one touch entwined our souls.

I realized that the electric spark that once tickled my skin whenever Wooyoung touched me was still there, and it was as strong as I knew it to be, but they no longer burned.

More tears made their way on Wooyoung's shirt when I recognized that I had healed a long time ago. I had mourned my loss and woke up anew, and the passing time did wonders too.

"Did you feel that?" Wooyoung mumbled, and I knew he referred to that spark.

"Yes," I squeaked. "Yes, I did. But why did you lie?"

Wooyoung paused from rubbing soothing circles on my back. "What do you mean?"

"I can feel your heart. The intensity never lessened, Wooyoung, you lied."

He pulled away from me, his lips pursed as he held my face with his hands. "I have to," he admitted. "I can't ruin the happiness you have found for yourself."

There were no words that needed to be spoken. We had finally found the closure we both needed.

The rest of Ateez entered the room one by one and gave both of us a knowing look. Wooyoung and I both grinned at them and gave them a thumbs up, to which they cheered loudly.

"You good, darling?" Seonghwa kissed my forehead as the others whisked Wooyoung away with teasing tones so he could change his outfit.

"Thank you, Hwa, thank you so much," I gushed, melting at his solemn embrace.

Seonghwa had always been there for me, he was so loving and patient towards me, and most of all, Seonghwa had chosen me, and I chose him.

He had his work too, he was a makeup artist, and that required traveling a lot, but instead of leaving me like Wooyoung did, Seonghwa did everything in his power to take me with him so we could be together. He didn't give up on the love we shared.

Wooyoung and I still loved each other dearly, but we had chosen our paths a long, long time ago - he chose to leave, and I chose to move on with my life. Seonghwa had made me realize that if you really loved somebody, nothing will stop you. 

I kissed my future husband tenderly on the lips, to which he returned with urgency. The love I felt for him was different from the love I had for Wooyoung, but it burned just as brighter, if not stronger.

It was the true love I had longed to have.

Seonghwa and I finally tied the knot. Our wedding was a celebration of our love and those who came to celebrate it with us. It was simple, pure and all I ever wanted.

"I, Park Seonghwa, promise to love you, L/N Y/N, and cherish you until my last breath, and even then, you have to make sure I'm dead because I will always come back to you," he vowed, making a couple of people laugh. "You came in at the right time of my life, and I promise that for as long as I am here, I will make you the happiest woman on Earth. I love you so, so much, my darling."

I couldn't even get the words out, tearing up profusely especially with how Seonghwa looked at me with such love. At this point I wasn't the only one sniffling.

"I, L/N Y/N, promise to love you, Park Seonghwa, and cherish you until--- wait, if you go, then I'll be lonely, so please don't go," I giggled along with our friends and family. "You are the reason I'm alive, and I cannot believe I am marrying the love of my life. I will be yours as you want me to, Hwa."

The moment the priest announced that Seonghwa can kiss the bride, everybody whooped and cheered loudly and I couldn't help but laugh in between my now husband's kiss. I could've sworn I saw Hongjoong shed a tear or two but San was too busy teasing the elder by cooing at him mockingly.

Yeosang almost protested when Seonghwa's kiss lasted a little too long, but Wooyoung had quickly covered his mouth and pulled him away while he flailed his arms comically.

The wedding reception was a beautiful garden party that oversaw the lake. We were all surrounded by the fragrant petals that amplified the romantic sunset that gave the sky a pretty tinge of pink and purple.

Yunho was a wonderful host despite the initial nervousness he held and there was never a dull moment, especially when Mingi had caught the flower bouquet I had thrown over my shoulder. The gentle giant's reddened face was definitely the highlight of the night.

Jongho's voice filled the entire reception, to which me and Seonghwa encouraged everybody to dance to the rhythm whether Jongho sang a passionate song for us or an upbeat jazzy tune that made all of us dance the night away. Of course in between, me and my now husband would kiss and everyone would hoot.

Just as our wedding and love were elegant and sweet, so was our wedding cake. Everybody dwindled down to eat and drink to their heart's content. My feet were killing me anyway so I chose to sit down at my spot at the front with Seonghwa.

"You really went all out with this, huh?" I teased him.

He laughed, his deep sending delicious shivers up my spine. "Heck yeah," he snorted. "This is a once in a lifetime thing, baby."

As we watched everyone enjoy the night with their friends and family, I saw Wooyoung bowing to this old man, a friend of my father's, with a huge smile on his face after giving him his calling card.

I was happy for him, it looks like he finally followed his heart and scored another deal after being scared of doing another one. I watched him take his phone out and call somebody giddily, and when he dropped the call, I laughed as I saw him punch the air in excitement.

It was as if he knew someone was watching him. Wooyoung looked back and we made eye contact for the last time as old lovers. There were no words between us, but a million things in our eyes as we finally let go of all the hurt.

He smiled at me, nodding once, and I did the same, smiling back at him softly, before he turned around and left the venue.

And just like that, he was gone.

[0oolookitsme]

But Baby, It's Cold Outside

Type - One-Shoty Blurb!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 1.2k

Warnings - None, just some tooth rotting fluff ;)

A/N - Y/n blushes so hard in this one I was legit smiling while writing the ending lmao. Hope you guys like it just as much! <3

MASTERLIST | Please rb to share!

Y/n was on her knees on the carpeted floor, her hands stacking things up on the Christmas mantel that she had been set on decorating since she'd opened her eyes this morning. Her knees hurt because of the hardwood floor, but it was better than having to bend down while standing up, nevertheless.

They were surprisingly late to decorate for Christmas this year because of their prolonged stay over at Anne's for a while. After all, Anne wanted the see her daughter-in-law who was pregnant with her grandson or granddaughter -- and Y/n was starting to feel more and more deprived of a mother's love by each day, making Harry take her to Anne.

She had put Harry to work currently with fluffing up the Christmas tree's leaves, and to decorate it with the string lights they'd bought just the day before. He was crouching just about beside her, facing her with the tall tree standing between them.

"I swear, this tree has got me working the hardest I ever have," Harry joked, wiping the sheen layer of sweat on his face. He chuckled when Y/n shook her head, laughing at him and not at his joke -- but he didn't need to know that. "So dramatic," he heard her murmur under her breath, knowing that she meant for him to hear it.

"I'm the one who's dramatic?" He questioned her with a touch of accusation to it. "You're the one who's been up my arse this whole month with 'let's do this, let's do that'!" Mimicking her, Harry smacked his hand on the tree and hissed in pain when a thorn pricked his finger.

A smirk appeared on Y/n's face as she continued to mess with the order of stuff she'd stacked up on the mantel. Shrugging, she said, "that's what you get for teasing me."

Herry scoffed instead of saying anything and went back to fluffing up the tallest bit of the tree. His armpits were moist with his sweat but he wouldn't even dare to think about putting out the crackling-fire in the fireplace. He might be a naturally warm body, but Y/n definitely wasn't.

Whether it was summer, or winter -- her body was never found to be hot. Hell, even when she took off her fuzzy socks last night her feet were freezing cold. And, with the baby growing in her body, Harry wouldn't even let Y/n remove the thin blanket he had wrapped around her frame when he woke up at the first ray of sunshine and realized that it had started snowing.

"H? Will you please bring me those mini-Christmas trees?" Y/n asked him, turning to give him some puppy-eyes but caught him watching the snowflakes on the windowpane instead. Tilting her head and joining him in looking outside, her lips stretched in a smile.

The snow fell soundlessly, drifting down like white and fluffy cold crystals. It brought an essence of magic in the world, falling softly into blankets that cover the landscape. 

"...'course," she heard him mumble, and turned just in time to catch the smile he passed her with a glint in his eyes that she'd come to recognize as admiration. Though she wasn't sure if what he was admiring then was the snow, her, or the 7-month baby bump.

In the time that Harry went to pick up the set of trees from the kitchen island, Y/n dropped the blanket from her shoulders, feeling too hot suddenly. The room had grown too warm for her current liking, and as she sat down cross-legged on the floor to give her knees some rest, she wished for Harry to be back by her side.

She slipped back on her bottom until her aching back hit the leg of the sofa and rested there. Patting the spot next to her, she invited Harry to sit beside her and whined internally when he passed her a knowing look and brought back the blanket with him. "Open the window if you're going to make me wear that blanket again," she told him pointedly, passing him a smile to tell him she didn't mean that behaviour seriously.

"But baby," Harry looked at her with a desperate look on his face. "It's cold outside!" he told her, wanting to open the window himself but he simply denied to because he couldn't have Y/n catch a cold. He sat down, spreading his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

He draped the blanket over both of their legs, making sure her bump is also covered. Leaning in, he pressed his lips on her pouted ones, smiling in the midst when she wouldn't back away.

Y/n reached for one of the kid's books that she'd been reading to learn some stories she could tell her little bundle of love when they were old enough to whine to her for just one more story. With some trouble, she caught the book on the sofa behind her and opened it, keeping it tilted just in case Harry wanted to join her.

But Harry was rather busy idly playing with her free hand, and as she continued to read, she felt him raise her hand up and press a kiss into her palm. Her cheeks, that were already rosy because of the cold, had now turned a shade of raging red and Harry couldn't help but cackle at that.

Y/n slapped his arm, an embarrassed smile dressed on her lips. "Stop it," she hissed, unable from removing the bashful smile on her mouth when Harry kisses the back of her hand the other time around. She turned her face away so that he couldn't see the cherry-red tint on her face, her mouth trembling because of the shy-giggle she was working hard to keep in.

Harry loved seeing the smallest gestures affect her in ways that she couldn't even control. Sputters of laughter kept falling from his mouth and when she didn't turn to face him after some while, he couldn't help but grab her chin and make her look at him.

Although she had shut her eyes tightly, the apple of her cheeks still suffused with a shade of pink that he decided was his favourite from now on. "C'mon!" He laughed when she wouldn't open her eyes.

He had only started getting such exquisite reactions out of her since he put a baby in her, and God, he would put another one in there if she would keep making him lose his mind like this.

Suddenly, a yelp flew out of his mouth, and he flinched away when she pressed her icy foot flat on his calf.

"Oh my god," he laughed with a surprised expression on his feet. "Baby, how the fuck are you so cold, still?" He shouted with laughter, his heart bursting with love when she started laughing profusely with her head thrown back. He, somewhere in the midst of it all, had stopped laughing, gazing at her instead.

But when Y/n didn't hear him laughing along with her, she opened her eyes only to find him looking at her as if she'd had hung stars in the room for him; and Harry swore her eyes were genuinely glittering and shimmering with something he was sure the poets would call love.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I was thinking the same thing about the Shelbys lmao !!!

I headcanon'ed that Percy was the one to emotionally raise Weasley!Reader because the Reader is the absolute youngest of the seven sons so Molly overlooked him as she fussed over Ginny and tried to straighten out the Twins or chased after Ron and Harry Potter for so many years and Arthur was to busy with work but Percy saw they were special and could really be something one day and didn't want it squandered by bad influences and poverty.

Percy graduated the summer Weasley!Reader got the letter and had already started at the Ministry of Magic but picked up a second, side job to save up money so Weasley!Reader wouldn't have to go to school with hand-me-downs.

It drives jealousy in Ron and the Twins but Percy merely reasons that the hand-me-downs were literally falling apart by the time they got to Weasley!Reader and Molly tries to peace-keep by asking why Percy wouldn't spread the money around so each child could get one or two things new instead of just the Reader and Percy looks blankly before repeating himself, stating that he wouldn't have his son brother go to school with supplies that are literally falling apart because they've seen seven other siblings and, once again, are literally falling apart, woman do you hate your sons that much?

And that's just how it goes each following year, Percy taking Weasley!Reader shopping no matter how much Molly tries to fix the hand-me-downs. He does bring the others gifts during holidays and birthdays but it becomes clear to the older siblings the Percy dotes on Weasley!Reader like a father would and they sort of just observe for a time and realize that Molly neglects the Reader emotionally, maybe even becoming mean sometimes because of the summer shopping sprees, and Percy is the one stepping in for the Reader so they don't really say anything about it anymore

One summer when puberty hits Weasley!Reader like a hexed broomstick, Percy takes his boy to a designer clothing place and buys him an outrageously expensive fitted, three-piece suit, waving off the costs because at this point he's raising high in the Ministry of Magic, surpassing their father, in both position and pay, so it's okay.

"Stick with me, brother, and you'll have a higher standard of life one day too."

And despite Percy blaming Lestrange!OC!Daughter for corrupting Weasley!Reader it was really this moment right here that drove the Reader into becoming a criminal because it was fast, easy and fun money.

Lestrange!OC!Daughter makes him stop wearing English suits and instead start wearing French suits once they become romantically involved since she's French. He still wears the original suit Percy bought him from time to time though. And the higher ups the work with him are always adoring beautiful French or Italian suits because it becomes like an unspoken dress code.

Fleur always compliments criminal!Weasley whenever seen in the French suits, maybe even recognizing the craftsmanship and complimenting his taste although she rotates between fluent French and broken English and then gets ten times more excited when criminal!Weasley responds in perfect French with the hopes of easing her anxiety a bit as she struggles to get her point out, maybe even with a Parisian accent, because his beloved taught him, and it makes Molly ten times angrier, especially when Fleur and Lestrange only exclusively speak to each other in French, forming a strong alliance because of Molly's obvious dislike of both of them.

I could even imagine Weasley!Reader being Ginny’s twin, therefore adding even more to him being neglected in favor of his sister. But he and Ginny are very close and even she hates how their mother doesn’t even look twice at the Reader cause she’s so focused on Ginny. I also, really love the idea of Percy basically raising the Reader, mainly emotionally but I could see him picking up the slack when Molly takes to rocking baby!ginny more then she does baby!Reader. Or Percy stepping in to take over baby!Reader’s nightly feedings cause Molly has all her attention on baby!Ginny and ensuring she gets taken care of first cause she’s her precious babygirl and Arthur is working a late night. Just the thought of Percy feeling a desperate need to take on physically caring for his youngest baby brother because he can’t trust his mother not to forget about the Reader cause she has such tunnel vision on finally having her babygirl. Percy literally ends up raising the Reader himself through a majority of his upbringing and even then Molly doesn’t acknowledge it.

I could imagine Percy going as far as opening an entire secret vault at Gringotts just for the money he’s already saved for the Reader and continues to save for his precious youngest baby brother who deserves to have something for himself. Whereas the Reader takes up being a criminal to financially provide for his entire family, Percy takes to working himself to the bone for his youngest brother and he happily goes about it too.

Percy spoiling the Reader whenever he can meanwhile the Reader has never asked him for anything, Percy just freely gives it to him case it’s what he wants his brother to have. He knows his brother is special, special in a way that only Percy can see and he fully intends to make way for his brother to fucking shine. Now that doesn’t mean Percy doesn’t love and care for his other siblings because of course he does, but the Reader is different. The Reader needs him more than any of the rest of their siblings ever have and Percy will be damned if he isn’t there for him.

I could see Weasley!Reader maybe coming to a point of realizing what all Percy has done for him and wanting to repay him so he ends up doing some illegal stuff to get the money to do something nice for his older brother for once and becoming addicted to how easy and fun it was in the end. Given how much younger the Reader is in this scenario I could see his reasoning to becoming a criminal being a bit more selfish, like there’s still a part of him that wants to support his family but not so much his mother or father, only his siblings. Like, If they need anything the Reader would happily help them out cause he has the means to in more ways then one, but if Molly especially needed something the Reader wouldn’t be moving too fast, if at all, to lend a helping hand.

Also, I could wholeheartedly see Percy taking the Reader out of the Burrow once he’s graduated and saved up enough money to get a small flat or something where he and the Reader can live comfortably. At this point, Percy has just taken it upon himself to care for the Reader entirely so that’s exactly what he’s going to do. When Percy inevitably finds out about the Reader’s criminal activities I could see there being a moment of him asking himself where he went wrong in being up his youngest sibling. He’d blame himself entirely for doing something wrong for the Reader to end up down this path. But then the Reader divulges the whole entirety of the empire he’s built himself and it’s then that Percy realizes that no he didn’t go wrong, he didn’t go wrong at all. Percy would still become very involved in the Reader’s business as said before. He’ll utilize his power and position in the Ministry after so many years of moving up the ladder to further aid and protect his brother all the more.

I absolutely love the idea of Lestrange!Daughter, Bellatrix, Fleur, Narcissa and Andromeda all conversing in French together, especially when Molly is around cause she knows damn well they’re all taking shit about her and they very much are doing just that. It would enrage Molly all the more when the Reader joins the conversations, talking in fluent French that she didn’t even know he knew. At first she thinks the Reader is defending her and their family from the French speaking women but eventually she comes to the conclusion that that’s not what’s happening at all. It certainly doesn’t help that when she asks the Reader what they all were talking about he always answers with something vague, and she knows full well that’s bullshit.

I think Lestrange!Daughter and Fleur would be very good friends, even if they don’t really interact too much outside of the family but they most definitely gang up when they’re around Molly. Also, I think Weasley!Reader would be very close to Fleur in a platonic way of course. After all he was probably the first one in the family to truly befriend her when she got into a relationship with Bill and not judge or hate her like his mother and sister did. But he also wasn’t completely captivated with her because of her being part Veela either, fortunately cause he already had Lestrange!Daughter by his side.

[chuulyssa]

haii can i req prompt 3 w fyodor, chuuya and ranpo :3

↷ A/N ─ this could've been better but its not bad lmao 😭 ily non :3

★ PROMPT ─ 3

!! FT. ─ chuuya, ranpo, fyodor

meeting your parents

─ CHUUYA

Chuuya was just a bit nervous, to say the least, about meeting his future in-laws - or so you would've thought if you hadn't seen his condition. He was panicking. You had never seen this man more scared. To think that many of Yokohama's best gangsters were afraid of this man, you thought.

He immediately booked a reservation for the most expensive restaurant in the city and picked out his best fit, even going as far as buying a whole new dress for you as an "early wedding gift", since you were so sure they'd love him.

And love him, they did. Although he practically had mental breakdowns after every sentence during the first half of his conversation with them, when you squeezed his hand and told him everything was going to be okay, he calmed down and became more at ease.

Chuuya was hesitant about speaking about his career choice. If your parents were natives of Yokohama, they were sure to recognize him by his name too. These insecurities had plagued his mind all day. But in the end, everything had worked out. Chuuya was accepted by your parents and became a new addition to your little family.

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

─ RANPO

When you told Ranpo it was probably time he met your parents, he just shrugged and asked if there'd be extra candy there. However, as soon as he realized the situation, he started panicking.

Meeting your parents? Him? Next week? Why?

Would they like him? Would he be enough for them? What if you had to dump him because they didn't like him? No, that only happened in movies. What if he accidentally embarrassed you? What if he didn't meet their expectations? Would you still love him?

His usually confident demeanour had dissolved and all your parents were met with was a shy, quiet man. After a few unsuccessful conversations, you pulled him aside to have a talk. A little hug and a kiss on the lips seemed to have solved the problem then, and when he returned, he was much more cheerful.

He impressed your father with his knowledge about the latter's various hobbies, and your mother was delighted by how he spoke of her favourite TV shows and series as if he was a huge fan of them.

Ranpo, as well as his love for food, were also welcome when he complimented your mother's cooking, among many other things. Needless to say, you were happy about how he fit in with your family.

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

─ FYODOR

Fyodor was always very serious about things like marriage and bonding. So, naturally, he had been looking forward to the meeting with your parents.

Your parents visited your shared house, and they were pleasantly surprised, to say the least. The house was flawless, and your boyfriend, even more.

Although Fyodor had had secret nerve-wrecks here and there, he never actually showed it to you. All you knew was that he had an eerily calm mindset as always. Even in front of your family, he was cool and composed, always saying the right thing at the right time.

He complimented your mother, and she was charmed. He talked about your father's interests, and he was ecstatic. It was as if all of this was too easy for Fyodor. He knew just how to meet and greet people.

Well, of course, your parents loved him; how could they not? He was kind, respectful, smart, witty and knowledgeable. Even though he wasn't as outspoken about his career, and may have lied his way out of their questions a few times, Fyodor seemed like an ideal son-in-law.

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

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

---

@daza-ii

[danieyells]

I don't know if you've done it yet but I would like to request Ren lines? I'm having tokyo debunker Ren brainrot bro 😭.

@otomelover23

You're all very welcome! I love you guys too, so far! Sorry you've been deprived of lazy boi lolol HOPEFULLY THESE SATISFY YOU A LITTLE BIT.

He's a little tsundere I think. He's one of those characters who just wants to be normal but he can't just pretend to be normal because he lives surrounded by chaos so he just complains a lot lolol. . .but i think he's a good guy. Aside from that he does not help his mother captain at all.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Great, shift change. I'm gonna head out then... What? Do I really need to be here for that?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"I think you've got a notification... Aren't you going to look at it?"

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Who did I disappoint in a past life to end up in Jabberwock... There's no general students or even a single other sane person, and these jumpsuits are a crime..."

"Why do I have to look after all these weird-ass animals? This is forced labor...  Ugh, they're so gross..."

"If you're just gonna stand there, could you go feed the animals in the aquatic zone?  I'm too busy."

"Ugh, why is that clown calling me... ... Whatever, I'll just let it ring out."

you know damn well that if you don't answer the phone you're gonna have to deal with Haru in person. Better to just answer it.

"Oh, hey... Could you open the link I sent you? No, you don't have to sign up or anything. Thanks."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh... Tell me how I'm supposed to sit through classes when I've been up since 4 AM? (yawn) I'm exhausted..."

well if you didn't stay up until 4am--oh who am i kidding i stayed up til like 3 watching a stream and reading datamine stuff and then I got up at like 6:30 to get ready for work I'm no better kekw.

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Ugh... I can't believe I'm hiding right now... Why the hell does that clown have to chase me around at lunch time too?"

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Preach about doing it for the sake of your friends or the animals or whatever all you want— I really don't give a shit. People who say that stuff are just deluding themselves."

i've known people with this kind of cynicism before. once he finds people care about him and a little more stability he'll come around a little more.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Huh? I can't see that clown anywhere... Hell yes. Gonna get through my watch list. I hope he never comes back."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm grinding this game on my phone, so could you not talk to me for a while? Crap, I think my RSI is flaring up..."

in Japanese he specifies tendonitis haha

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Don't people get embarrassed calling out those words when they use their stigmas? It makes them look like LARPers..."

in japanese he says they sound like they have chuunibyou which is much funnier imo lmao. also i guess that means he can say his in his head? since he'd feel embarrassed doing it aloud, maybe he's practiced already lol

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You think I sigh a lot? Got a problem with that? You realize trying to take away people's freedom of speech is power harrassment, right?"

you're starting to sound like ritsu. gonna hurt yourself reaching like that.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm so done... I'm out of HP... Shouldn't I be exempt from missions and classes since I'm looking after all those animals?"

well based on one of Haku's chats, you can just do missions if you don't go to class, and based on Kaito you can just go to class instead of doing missions. . .but I'm sure Haru forces him on missions anyway lol. . . .

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Pfft... The video of that clown getting attacked by that hawk thing is getting so many interacts. This editing thing's actually pretty fun."

does editing count as a creative effort? i wouldn't be surprised if he switched to Hotarubi next year if so, assuming he doesn't get used to Jabberwock and the animals. Also why didn't he get stopped by Sophy for uploading a video with an anomaly? Unless he uploaded it to an Institute social media site like WickHive or something. . . .

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Gotta change the locks so that clown can't get in again. I've bought enough padlocks to start my own business by now..."

life haru finds a way. sometimes that way is "towa, break down the door" if he runs out of lockpicking equipment.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"My head's killing me... This is the worst... Rise and shine! my ass... It's basically still the middle of the night. Guess I should padlock my windows..."

5-6am I can understand being 'basically the middle of the night' but after that you're pushing it lmao

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"The cafeteria's way over capacity... The assholes who save seats before its even noon are ruining it for everyone else..."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Why's my pay so low... huh? What's this deduction for? "Consultation Fee: Ritsu Shinjo..." He's seriously charging me for complaining...?"

Ritsu charges for looking at him too long. i'd try venting on wickhive over complaining to Ritsu.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"That rabbit sure has it good. All it has to do is breathe and everyone fawns over it. Doesn't even have to feed itself. Just wait till it grows up and learns what the world's really like."

WELL BASED ON THAT THE ADULT PEEKABOO WAS STILL BEING FAWNED OVER AND HARU HAD TO STOP PEOPLE FROM PETTING IT BECAUSE IT BITES. . .IT'LL PROBABLY STILL HAVE IT GOOD. Haru takes good care of the animals.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Sup... Huh? I'm alone today. I just got up on my own since if I don't that clown'll wake me up anyway."

yeah? it's because of haru? not because of your affinity with the pc being more than half so you wanna be up earlier to spend more time with them? sure.

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oof, nearly missed the noon raid...  Not like I'll have any time to myself once I get back to the dorm, so I guess I should do it now..."

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"No, I'm not going to sleep yet. I'm gonna watch a horror B-movie. You don't have to think, so they're the perfect thing to watch before bed."

i used to watch/listen to mts3k to go to sleep so. i feel this.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Well done me for surviving another day... Oh, same to you too, {PC}. I don't how you can do this stuff voluntarily."

SOME PEOPLE JUST LIKE ANIMALS DAWG.

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Huh? I'm going to the campus store to buy some stuff, where are you going? Well, I'm going that way, so...bye."

not sure if shy or asocial lmao. could be both!

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"You're being forced to help out again? Wow, a doormat out in the wild. So? Where do you want me to carry all this food?"

he's helping you even though he doesn't wanna work. HE'S GOT IT BAD.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"This? It's a video I uploaded. People seem really into it. It's of that clown getting chased by a dog and flailing around like one of those inflatable air dancers."

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What am I doing today? Working at the diner. Oh, if you want to keep me company, feel free to come by. As long as you serve yourself."

it's not a date or anything since he's at work but like. . .he is inviting you to hang out. . . .

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Huh? You were waiting for me to get off work? Oh... Thanks. Wait, that clown put you up to this?! I'm gonna kill him..."

NO NO WE CAME HERE WILLINGLY probably. although it does seem like Haru to be like "oh hey Ren really really likes you, you should go pick him up from work! he'd love that!!" like a real nosy mom who's trying to get his son together with his crush.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"When did it get this late? That was horrifyingly fast... I'll walk part of the way back with you. I was gonna go buy something to drink anyway..."

excuses, excuses. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Every day here is a fresh hell, sure, but... You're suffering through it with me, so I guess I'll stick it out a little longer..."

'this sucks but you make it suck a little(a lot) less so i can keep going'. yep, that's our tsundere alright!

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That clown's even more slap-happy than usual lately—it's horrible. Has he got spring fever or something?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Otonashi keeps trying to make me drink some kind of rice porridge with weird flowers in it... It's actual porridge harassment."

considering the flower Towa associates with Ren is poisonous, i think it's safe to assume he is literally trying to poison him to death lmao. also wtf is porridge harassment--i even tried looking it up in japanese and the first thing that came up was someone screenshotting it and saying "what is porridge harassment" lolol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"All this farm labor's bad enough without all the caterpillars and weird plants that are out there now...This is harassment."

what's harassing you, nature? as someone who just had to kill a huge mosquito that came into my room, nature is harassing me too.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I hate cherry blossoms. They're like the flower version of being a legacy kid— all they have to do is bloom once a year and everyone claps."

in japanese what he says is something like 'i hate them just like people born with silver spoons in their mouths'. basically he hates people born into privilege lol i bet he'd have the potential to get along well with haku until he learns he'll be inheriting a shrine. . .then again he's getting along with Ritsu in their own little way

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"This is the worst... It's not even noon yet, how is it so hot? Summer is for extroverts and party animals, I wish it could just be over already..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"A group trip to the beach? I'd rather die. No decent person would ever go there of their own free will."

butbutbut. think of the summer skins!!!

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Summer was our busy period back home, so I always had to kill myself helping out. Now I'm here though... nothing's changed."

. . .did Ren's family run some sort of seaside shop??? And he happened to end up afraid of the ocean and hating aquatic creatures and such?

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How can the A/C be banned in the dorm...? Who gives a shit what temperature some anomalous animal that sneaks in prefers, humans should come first..."

okay i agree with him here though what the fuck kind of rule is that. can we talk to hyde about that, that's insane haru.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Now it's getting colder, I nearly found myself feeling grateful for this tragic jumpsuit... Am I being brainwashed...?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Fall, the season of the harvest—I'll stick with cup noodles, thanks. "Fall, the season to enjoy the outdoors"—screw that. I'm gonna make it the season of naps."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Look—I got bitten by some weird bug anomaly. To hell with the stupid bug spray ban, I'm buying some."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I feel like the mountains are rowdier when there's a full moon. Pretty sure my enemy encounter rate goes up when I'm on patrol too... Maybe I'm just imagining it."

is 'enemy encounter rate' here referring to people or anomalies. . .because if it's people then that's just because of tsukimi. . .although I wouldn't be surprised if there were a lot of anomalies or anomalies were more active on full moons.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"There's less patrols in winter but anything involving water like washing up gets even worse... Ugh, I wish I could hibernate too..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Since the climate in Jabberwock's so messed up, sometimes it's actually warm in winter. The blizzards are way stronger though..."

have you tried pissing towa off less?

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Oh god, I just saw what's in the diner's new Mystery Hot Pot... It's gotta be a matter of time before this place goes bust..."

i mean if they had ordinary health inspectors maybe lolol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"That clown broke my window so my room's like a freezer... Oh, don't worry. I just took his room instead."

lmao imagine Ren invites you to hang out and takes you to Haru's room instead of his like nah he broke my window so i'm using his room and he can freeze.

His birthday: (July 25th)

"You got this for me? That clown's been spreading my personal info around... No, it's fine, I'll still take it. Thanks."

i guess he doesn't really tell people his birthday, huh.

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}. ...Isn't it kind of rude to look so surprised I'd celebrate your birthday? That came from the heart, you know."

I MEAN YOU NORMALLY DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING. . .it's happy surprise!!!

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. My resolution? Escaping the hell hole that is Jabberwock, for starters."

well you got here in like September or something so. you've got a while befor eyou can switch houses lmao but you can do it this year!

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"You got me chocolates? You're the type who does all this kind of stuff, huh? No, it's fine, you went to the trouble and everything so I'll take them."

i love when characters kinda mock you for doing getting them something but then they're like "nonono i want it gimme--" lolol from Ren especially it's very tsundere. poor guy wouldn't be straightforward about his feelings unless a damn life was on the line.

White Day: (March 14th)

"{PC}... Here, if you want them. I just bought the first thing I saw, so don't read into it..."

i bet it's actually really nice lolol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Guess what? I got special permission to switch houses. That nightmare is now behind me! I wish..."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"I hope everyone who gets excited about Halloween lives in misery for the rest of their lives. Why the hell do I have to help out with this stupid themed tour?"

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Can I ask you a question, {PC}? You don't still believe in Santa Claus, do you? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Have a good Christmas."

i mean. . .after coming here santa is a plausible entity to believe in. . .if there's gonna be a santa i don't wanna be caught not believing and missing out on gifts. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Where'd she go...? Whatever. Guess I'll catch up on some of my games."

(13 affinity and above)

"Pfft... This edit's awesome. I'm a genius. I'll show {PC} when she gets back."

true bonding is sharing the funny memes you worked hard on. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"It's not like I was waiting for you or anything. It's just this hell hole is even more unbearable when you're not around..."

YEP THAT'S OUR UNFORTUNATE CUSTOMER SERVICE EMPLOYEE TSUNDERE ALRIGHT. His lines don't really get super affectionate but. They still have a charm to them when you realize how much he hides his feelings in the usual tsundere way. He likes you a lot but like. . .it's a bother and it's embarrassing. . .and what're the chances you're into him? He'll just invite you over to watch movies and play games with him and stuff. . .and tell himself it's fine to just be friends until it eats away at him. . .or until Haru spills the beans for him--

this took way too long because i got distracted like three times in the middle and my laptop started freaking out and i had to figure out why and close and reopen everything about 8 times hahaha. . . . OKAY TIME FOR ME TO GO TO BED! I hope this satisfies you a little bit!!

[xhoneygirlxx]

Fool For You

Dad!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: Life as a single dad but life is about to get way harder when Steve falls for his son's teacher.

warnings: fluff. slight angst: mentions of steve's childhood. steve is sad over his son's first day of school. No pronouns are used for reader but they're described to wearing fem clothing. Steve compares reader to Miss Honey from Matilda. Readers skin tone/ethnicity is not mentioned. fic is set in 91 (let's pretend Matilda had already come out by then). meet cute. mentions of being a single parent. Steve's son is named Danny. ending is rushed lmao lets pretend it's not. bad writing/grammar errors. Not proofread!! 18+ plus only, MDNI

*If I missed anything lmk!

a/n: Awe my beautiful lovies!!! we are halfway done with my wonderful birthday week :( I just want to thank each and every one of you for supporting me and showing me nonstop love. I love each and everyone of you so dearly!!!! I also wanna apologize for the late upload! I hope you guys can forgive me!

Maybe I’m crazy, but it’s hard to ignore you

And I can’t wrap my head around it, but it feels

Oh, like I loved you before.

Being back in the hallways of Hawkins Elementary felt odd. Everything has stayed the same since the last time Steve went there, the paint of the walls, the decorations, even the smell was all the same. It smelled like a chilly autumn morning and books, innocence and childhood - a smell he didn't even realize he missed so much until he entered the building.

The cinder block lined walls hold memories, locking them in place until the end of time. Now his son's will be there along with them, a new generation of the Harrington family ready to leave their mark.

Walking hand and hand with Danny, Steve feels every single emotion any parent would on their child's first day. It's bittersweet, stinging him right through the heart with sadness and patching itself up with a sense of excitement. Danny on the other hand is a ball of energy, bouncing with every step he takes, like he always does.

The small boy is nothing but big smiles, eyes darting everywhere as he takes in the new environment. His Ninja Turtle backpack is comically bigger than him, flopping off of the backs of his knees with every step he takes.

As he looks down at his son, who looks just like him at that age, a big rush of adoration falls onto the older man. Over the short five years that Steve became a dad, he's learned that you can fall in love with your baby all over again just like the first time you held them. Steve is always amazed by Danny and the amount of love that runs through his veins for the small boy, but sometimes you need a little refresher like right now.

"You excited to meet your new teacher, Danny?" Steve swings the small boys arm causing him to giggle.

Nodding his chestnut hair, he looks up at his father with wide eyes. "M'cited dad."

"You gonna make lots of friends?" Steve isn't sure if this question is appropriate but a part of him worries about his son's ability to make new friends, since Steve is the only one out of his friends that has a child.

"I fink so but they hav' to like tourtles." Danny isn't really bothered by the question too much, not when he's too focused on the bright decorations that stick all over the walls.

"Turtles, Dan." It comes out in a chuckle. Even though Steve always corrects his son on the word, he's still a sucker for the way he says it.

Making it to the end of the hall, they stop at the wooden door with the numbers 206 written over them. The memory of Steve's kindergarten years creep into his mind as they stand there, flashbacks of him holding his mom's hand as wet tears streamed down his face. He wonders if his mother remembers that or if she buried that in the back of her mind like everything else in his life.

Pulling himself out of his head, Steve knocks on the closed door and scoots back just a little to leave room for it to open. Crouching down to his son's level, he runs a nervous hand through his hair, fixing whatever pieces didn't stay down.

"Daddy, you're gonna mess it up." Danny pouts, lightly stomping his converse clad foot on the vinyl flooring.

Pulling his hand back, Steve realizes he's using his son for his anxious habits. "You're right, m'sorry. You gonna be okay?"

Danny rolls his eyes in a sassy way, the way that always makes Steve laugh. "Yesss dad."

Wow, his son is really his carbon copy.

The sound of the heavy door opening pulls both of their attention, Steve immediately springing up from his position wiping his clammy hands down his shirt.

Steve steels himself for who he's about to meet, releasing a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. Now, Steve expected to see a middle aged woman, maybe even older. He pictured someone with a grandma type energy, sweet and welcoming. What he didn't expect was you.

Standing there in the doorway with the bright light of your classroom falling around you in a halo. A pretty floral dress hangs from your body, cinching your body just right without being too inappropriate. Your cheeks are puffed up as you smile brightly, eyes crinkled at the sides as you do.

You seem about the same age as Steve, no older than twenty five. Glasses sit on the top of your head, pushing back the front of your hair. In a way you remind him of Miss Honey, not looks wise but your aura. You're so fucking pretty and he doesn't think he'll be able to formulate a sentence.

"Let me guess," You stand with a hand on your hip, pretending to think hard, "You must be Mr. Daniel Harrington."

The little boy in question beams up at you, bouncing on his toes as he clutches his excited hands around the straps of his backpack.

"My dad calls me Danny." The lisp that he has is very noticeable when he says it. Steve can tell you want to coo so badly over the small boy, the flexing of your fingers not going unnoticed.

Crouching down to his level, you reach out a hand to Danny for a handshake. "What a pleasure to meet you Danny."

Placing his hand into yours, he shakes it in a jerky manner. His missing bottom tooth shows off with the way he smiles at you. Pulling your hand away, you stand up straight still looking at the small child.

"Danny whenever you're ready you can head right inside and find the cubby with your name on it!" Your voice is like the sun, bright and chipper.

Craning his next up to his dad, he waits for his dad's permission even though his body trembles with anticipation. Steve on the other hand doesn't want to let him go, not ready to detach himself from his baby he spent five years with.

Kneeling down, Steve wraps his son in one last hug. The sting of unshed tears hits his nose first, the lump that sits in the back of his throat waits patiently for the dam to break.

"Okay dad, I have to go!" The small boy giggles, not understanding the gravity of the situation. To him he thinks his dad is just being silly, not realizing that his dad's heart is breaking.

Reluctantly Steve pulls away, trying to remember the look on his son's face. His own flesh and blood, the boy he's worked so hard to raise by himself, and God is his heart full.

"Alright little man, go head inside." Tapping a heavy hand to the boy's head, he watches him duck into the classroom.

Popping back to his standing position, Steve tries his hardest to blink the tears away. You still stand there, observing the classroom behind your shoulder.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," You call out before he can leave and he's quick to interrupt you.

"Please, call me Steve. I feel like I'm too young to be Mr. Harrington." He half chuckles, ignoring the skip of his heart when he makes eye contact with you.

"Steve," You correct, a bashful smile on your face, "I wanted to ask if you would be the only person to pick him up or if your wife would also be included in pick ups and drop offs."

"Oh, no I'm not- his mom isn't." Lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, he thinks of the best way to say it.

"Danny's mom isn't around, so it'll be just me on pick up and drop off duties. Possibly his aunt Robin but I'd let you know beforehand." A tight smile forms on his face.

"Oh I am so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed." You rush to apologize but you're quickly interrupted with the shake of his head.

"It's okay, you didn't know." He reassures and you visibly relax.

You're just as nervous as he is and he wonders if it's because you feel the same spark he does. Or maybe he's thinking too much into it. Either way, he'd like to think it's the latter.

"Well I'm very excited to teach Danny this year, he seems like a great kid." Although liking kids is part of your job, it sounds sincere coming out of your mouth and not rehearsed.

A coy smile breaks out on the older man's face, rose tint pours onto the rounded apples of his cheeks. "Y-yeah, he's a good kid. He can be shy sometimes but he loves to be around people."

Nodding your head, you sneak another peak behind you to check on the boy. "That's okay, I'm shy too."

When you turn to face Steve again, your lip is tucking behind your teeth. You're so fucking cute it makes him forget just how sad he was to drop off his own son and he doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing.

A long pause settles between the two of you, eyes becoming too bashful to meet. Steve kicks his foot at the hard floor, hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans.

"Well Steve, it was so nice to meet you but I have to get back in there." You sigh hiking a thumb over your shoulder.

Steve feels like someone just popped him like a balloon, the small amount of joy he's felt just by talking to you has now been taken away. Meeting you with a tight lipped smile, he nods understandingly.

After bidding your farewells, Steve thinks about you. He wishes he wasn't so awkward, that he had acted way cooler than he did, and how breathtaking your smile was when you spoke to him and his son.

On his drive home all he could think about was you and his son, ping ponging back and forth between the two. Steve wishes that he met you before today, maybe in the coffee shop on Main or in line at the grocery store. He wishes that he would be able to ask for your number and take you out without any consequences brought on by the school.

He doesn't know how he's going to last a full year with Danny in school and he's really not sure how he can manage to keep a professional conversation with you every morning without falling in love.

The low hum of Rod Stewart's "Rhythm of My Heart" plays through the car, the soundtrack to Steve's drive home.

Ah, the rhythm of my heart

Is beatin' like a drum

With the word's I love you

Rollin' off my tongue

"Fuuuuuuck," His voice drags out in the safety of his car, "I'm screwed."

Yeah, he was definitely screwed.

The ending feels rushed and it's not good but I hope you still enjoy! love you all :)

[acheronist]

to the ghost of henry peglar, congrats on writing your poem down 177 years ago!!!

to the actual academic scholars who have studied the pages before me....

so I took the royal museum greenwich's scan of the poem page (which is available online hereeee) and screwed around with its light levels in photoshop until henry's script was darkened enough to see more clearly. then I digitally traced over the darkened letters as best as I could, while also trying to discern his handwriting, and type up how I was reading it & this process took me about a week to get done between like... living my regular day to day life lmao.......

so when it WAS done, the final isabel acheronist peglar papers ["the open C"] transcript seemed a bit different than how I remembered the readily available russell potter transcript going ? (the poem is on the last two pages of that pdf for those of you who don't spend a billion hours a week looking at it btw)

it felt like I was getting more/different information out of it, compared to the potter transcript, which was kind of stressing me out honestly. so THEN I compared mine with barry cornwall's original poem and found more words that matched up? particularly in the second and third stanzas?

so!!!!! almost two hundred years later here's what I've landed on:

April 21 1847 the C the C the open ) ( it grew so fresh the Ever free the Ever free the Ever free without it without it covered it will Run to Earth above Re gions Round I love the C I love the C when I whare & I wish to be with and and silence whare Never go if a sailor should a Come and Make the meek What matter what matter Come Ride Or Sleep there was shores white and of red morn at the noisy hours knew I was ever near I was Born the [...] in felt Unto the Maid the wale the young dolphin ...... yet thes back of gold the Call of gods When I was on Old England Shore I like the young C more and more oftentimes time flew to a sweltering place like a bird thats seeks it mother Case and ware she was bird oft to me for have I loved a young and Hopen C

so then after going thru All Of That, I wanted to have a version of the original poem with parts that Henry did remember clearly highlighted for comparison purposes:

I know it's a popular theory that Henry was writing a dirty parody of the original poem? which if true, is funny as hell. me when i have to write cheeky victorian porn before i die.

But (serious voice) something about that hadn't ever seemed exactly right to me... IN MY HEART it seems more realistic that around 1847 he (and also by extension, the whole surviving expedition crew) were starting to experience confusion / brain fog symptoms from being ummmm quite physically unwell. the lead poisoning/scurvy combo would have severe effects on the brain's ability to function properly, and I started to wonder if Henry was trying to test his memory somehow? So he picked a widely known and popular Victorian era poem about being a sailor to see how much he could recall??? and he then got a little whimsical with it, and wrote in his own words to fill in the portions he couldn't fully recall, because it's his own diary and likely didn't expect anyone else to ever read it, much less have it turn into ONE of TWO surviving sources about the expedition?????

like... idk... this is probably the work of someone in the exact moment as they were starting to realize how bad things were, and then was trying to cope by using poetry. and That hurts my feelings enough as it is, but going through it was also just a very weird and haunting experience....... like, I can recognize all these tiny details in this dead guy's script and handwriting now. and to read his own account of his life in his own words, what stood out to him and what he recalled, what he wanted people in the future to know about him? insane. it literally felt like i was getting haunted by him for no reason. on top of knowing that Someone (#teamarmitage) loved this guy enough to keep his memory protected and safe, even though They Were So Totally Fucked And Going To Die There, unknowing if they'd ever be found again........

SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + CRYING A BIT HONESTLY

anyways thanks for reading this all. I don't think that this is revolutionary franklin expedition news by any means, and idk if there's a better different transcript somewhere that i've not found that already covers all this? but it's consumed a lot of my life lately lol and i wanted to share. because its the anniversary of henry writing it, and it felt...... important....? 💌....????

[sundrop-writes]

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you. 

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why. 

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you. 

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had. 

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons. 

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot. 

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible. 

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot. 

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth. 

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance. 

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained. 

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you. 

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different. 

… 

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!” 

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment. 

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room. 

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled. 

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.” 

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom. 

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back. 

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.) 

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued. 

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.” 

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone. 

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice. 

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.” 

Jason’s face fell flat. 

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next. 

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice. 

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!” 

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter. 

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.” 

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you. 

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction. 

… 

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth. 

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you. 

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips. 

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light. 

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport. 

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself. 

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down. 

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back. 

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass. 

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology. 

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week. 

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’. 

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were. 

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him. 

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick. 

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic. 

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive. 

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up? 

… 

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols. 

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate. 

It was harmony. 

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night. 

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you. 

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself. 

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills. 

Jason chuckled. 

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented. 

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled. 

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.” 

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement. 

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin. 

That. That must have been the moment. 

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy. 

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left. 

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free. 

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice. 

Him or the Titans. 

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you. 

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay. 

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans. 

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me. 

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you. 

He let you go. 

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize. 

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that. 

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day. 

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team. 

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears. 

… 

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death. 

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge. 

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night. 

…

Jason knew that he should have left town. 

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason. 

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so. 

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did. 

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap. 

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences. 

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer. 

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” 

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat. 

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles. 

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled. 

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant. 

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it. 

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point. 

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous. 

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!” 

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’. 

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly. 

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something. 

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother. 

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.” 

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion. 

“Where uptown?” He asked. 

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.” 

Jason glared at him. 

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-” 

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.” 

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this. 

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed. 

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to. 

He should listen to that voice. 

He should leave town. 

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him. 

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up. 

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.” 

Jason turned back around then. 

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever. 

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look. 

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped. 

It was you. 

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face. 

You were terrified. 

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system. 

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth. 

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen. 

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth. 

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.” 

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap. 

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified. 

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl. 

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.” 

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl. 

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time. 

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you. 

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you. 

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!” 

… 

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage. 

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face. 

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him. 

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was. 

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you. 

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice. 

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles. 

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup. 

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free. 

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him. 

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!” 

“Wh-?” 

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs. 

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek. 

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-” 

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way. 

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.  

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension. 

“What?” Jason gaped. 

This was the last thing he had been expecting. 

He was saving you - why were you questioning him? 

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?” 

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.  

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder. 

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you. 

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.” 

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt. 

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming. 

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him. 

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating. 

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?” 

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?” 

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed. 

“Why?” You prodded again. 

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go. 

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?” 

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever. 

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted. 

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night. 

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something. 

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears. 

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him. 

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him. 

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares. 

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you. 

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat. 

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know. 

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it. 

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther. 

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do. 

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words. 

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard. 

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth. 

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now. 

… 

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button. 

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.” 

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next. 

… 

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest. 

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before. 

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping. 

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise. 

He did hear it. 

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled. 

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap. 

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on. 

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again. 

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety. 

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge. 

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system. 

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you. 

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight. 

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left. 

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air. 

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished. 

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt. 

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen. 

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?” 

You couldn’t answer him. 

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke. 

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still. 

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do. 

All he could do was hold you. 

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor. 

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.” 

Jason simply wept. And he held you. 

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled. 

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey! So, I was totally stalking your account the other day (please don’t ask why, lmao), and I came across that one-shot you wrote for your last fandom. It got me thinking—could you write something like that, but with Donna?

I changed it a bit, but it’s still kinda the same. It’s about the reader having an identical twin who’s basically better than her at everything and way more popular. Like, people in the village are obsessed with her.

Somehow, Donna meets the reader, and they start getting closer, which is a big deal because, for the first time, the reader feels special—Donna, the powerful lord, likes **her** and not her sister!

Then, there’s this moment where Donna finally tries to ask the reader out, but she’s SO stressed that she doesn't even notice she’s talking to reader's twin instead! The reader overhears the whole thing, and when Donna realizes what’s happened, she goes into full-on damage control mode.

If this isn’t your thing or you think it sounds boring, PLEASE , just ignore this!

LOVE U xx

Yessss!!!! Thank you for... Stalking my account? I'm joking, thanks for your support, and for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Identical, but different

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 7,925

Summary: You want to be more than just "her sister"

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!!

You never liked going out on errands, and you knew exactly why.

“Hey, Ivana! Ivana!” a voice called out a name that wasn’t yours, but you knew the words were directed at you.

Rolling your eyes, you turned around, seeing a young villager running up to you.

“Ivana, listen, I want to…” the boy said hurriedly, placing an unpleasant hand on your shoulder.

You pushed it away, growling in annoyance.

“I’m not Ivana,” you said, repeating the phrase that, every time you left your house, you were forced to repeat over and over again. “I’m (Y/N)”

“Oh, wow. Sorry,” the boy said, scratching the back of his neck nervously and embarrassedly. “Um, hey, could you give this to your sister?” he asked, handing you a piece of paper with horrible handwriting on it.

 A love letter, again?

“Why don't you give it to her?” you asked, taking the envelope in an unpleasant manner and putting it together with the ones that you had obtained on your walk through the village.

“Well... You are her sister...” he stammered, to which you made a face of displeasure and shook your head.

“Yes, I’m her sister, not her errand girl,” you said with a hiss, walking away from the boy.

“Don't forget to tell her that it’s form Marco!” he yelled, making you shrug and hiss a few curses.

Every day was another occasion for contempt to appear in front of you.

Being born in that dark village, under the tutelage of the Black Gods, Mother Miranda, the Lords... None of that could compare to the bad luck you had in your life. Bad luck with your family? Not exactly.

Your parents were hard workers, humble but normal parents after all. That wasn't the problem, just like living in that place wasn't the problem either. The problem was the whim of fate that hung over you at birth.

You could have been an only child, but you weren't. You had a sister, but not just any sister, completely different from you, no. Ivana was your twin sister. Physically you were identical.

But physical resemblance had nothing to do with personality. All the charisma, the ease of talking to people, of attracting attention, seemed to have been sucked out of your body and belonged only to Ivana.

She was popular, everyone in the village knew her, almost adored her (not like Mother Miranda, of course). There was no young villager who didn't notice her stupid smile, one that belonged to you, but that didn't have the same effect.

Always Ivana, always your sister was who stole all the limelight from you. You simply existed, but nothing else. You existed because you were her sister. People talked to you because they mistook you with her. It might seem like a desperate situation, and it was, but you had already gotten used to it.

Well, you weren't really excited about talking to people either. It didn't matter that your silence, your shyness and isolation were caused by a genetic error that made your sister steal all those abilities from you. You never really liked talking to people. You had other hobbies that were more peaceful than making a name for yourself in that sinister place.

Still, every day you left your house was a new torment, a new parade of refusals and corrections. Maybe one day you would play pretend to be Ivana, maybe that way you could get revenge on her. You just rambled. She stole even your courage.

“Hi,” you whispered when you got home, moving towards the kitchen where your mother was waiting for the shopping like every day. “Here you go, mother.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” the woman said, giving you a tip much smaller than the one they gave your sister.

You didn't want to think about that. You still had hope that your own parents loved you equally.

“Hey, (Y/N),” your sister said, making you close your eyes slowly to give yourself patience. You didn't know exactly why she was that popular. You loved her, but you couldn't help but think that your sister was a bit… Unbearable. “How were the errands?”

“Very well, I love going out to freeze while you sit there,” you said ironically, passing by her. “Oh, now that I remember… Here, this is for you.”

With a sigh you took all the notes out of the pocket of your dress and threw them at her in an unpleasant way.

“Have you met Marco?” your sister asked, reading each of the letters with amusement.

“Yes, and he mistook me for you, just like all those idiots,” you commented, letting yourself fall into an armchair, taking your knife to continue with your greatest hobby, carving wooden figurines, something your grandfather taught you and that, along with reading, helped you to spend the time.

“Don't be jealous,” Ivana mocked, sitting on one arm of the sofa, getting on your nerves. “Look, he says I'm the prettiest girl in the village…”

“That's great. How many girls are there in the village?” you said with irony.

“Mm, it smells like envy,” she murmured, crumpling the letter and throwing it into the fireplace.

“Envy? Please, we are identical,” you said, shaking your head and looking at the fireplace. “Hey, why did you do that?”

“I'm not interested in that boy,” Ivana commented. “Are you with your figurines again?”

“You're not interested? Wasn't he your boyfriend?” you asked, preventing the girl from reaching your wooden work. “Leave me alone.”

“You said it... He was... I think I need to start aiming for a higher level,” she murmured, looking at her nails in a smug manner. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When are you going to leave your stupid wooden figurines and look for a handsome boy to hook up with?” Ivana asked, making you roll your eyes and snort tiredly.

“I'm not interested,” you whispered, polishing that wooden cat.

“You're weird, huh?” the twin mocked, getting up, making you stare at her.

“Am I weird for not wanting to break the hearts of half the village?” you asked, leaving the cat on a table and getting up in a bad mood.

“That's because you can't, you don't have my charms,” she said with a haughty tone, pointing at herself.

Your patience was at its limit.

“Whatever you say,” you murmured tiredly, glancing sideways at your mother, who seemed attentive to the conversation. “Should I help you, mother?”

“No, honey,” the woman said kindly.

“Are you running away from the conversation? That's because you know I'm right,” Ivana said, crossing her arms in satisfaction.

You had lost your patience at that point. After a whole morning of being mistaken, your mood was rather delicate. With a groan, you got up from the couch and walked towards the door.

“Hey, loser, where are you going?”

“Where you don’t care,” you said abruptly, bumping her with your shoulder as you passed and walking out the door. “Stupid…”

Going out for a walk around the area could be comforting, you always did it. Relaxing with your sister always present, walking through the village was impossible but… If you went further away, where there was no one, at least you could be calm.

Walking through the trees you cursed and mumbled about the bad luck you had to be born with someone, running your hand over the rocks, looking at the sky, where the cawing of the crows also seemed to want to make fun of you.

“Ivana is perfect, isn't she? To hell with her…” you whispered, shaking your head, walking aimlessly without paying attention. “Oh, Ivana, it's nice to see you, Ivana, I'll give you a discount for being you, Ivana… I can't believe it.”

When you got tired of walking in circles, you stopped in a small clearing that wasn’t familiar to you, siting at an old tree’s feet, along with some of those branches that fell due to the passage of time.

 “Ivana is the best, the prettiest, the smartest,” you mocked with an amused expression, picking up a piece of branch and taking out your knife.

“Look at me: I'm stupid Ivana, the one who can't keep a boyfriend for more than one night, the best in the whole world… Damn it.”

Between grunts you began to carve a small wooden figure hoping that time would pass faster. After all, you would have to go home sooner or later.

“Are you Ivana? You're so pretty Ivana…” you continued to murmur, shaping that little figure that looked more and more like a deer. “I'm sick. Oh, Ivana, it's you, isn't it? Of course it's you, you're so beautiful… Oh, it's (Y/N), wow, what a disappointment… Always the same, damn it… I hate you … I'm not damn Ivana… Do I have to cut my hair so you can stop confusing each other? Stupid…”

“Oh, you're Ivana, aren't you?” a different voice said, one you hadn't noticed. It was a mocking voice that you identified with a treacherous subconscious, or a stupid villager.

Either option was irritating enough to make you get up from the tree and turn around furiously.

“Do I have to put a sign on my forehead? I'm not Ivana!” you shrieked with your eyes closed, squeezing the figurine in your hands.

“Wow, what a bad mood you have…” the same voice said.

You opened your eyes sighing, ready to tell another villager to go to hell, but when you did, your face paled.

It wasn't a villager. It wasn't even a human being. A sinister doll stood in front of you, laughing amusedly. You didn't need to think about who it could be, you knew perfectly well: the Angie doll, inseparable companion of one of the four Lords, Donna Beneviento.

The lady in black stood behind the doll with a cold and stoic pose while the puppet laughed amused by your carelessness.

You immediately lowered your head at the sight of the dark lady, your body shaking in terror.

“Lady Beneviento,” you murmured in fear, knowing you were completely defenseless. “I’m sorry, I…”

“What are you doing here?” the doll asked, causing you to look away from the lady and stare frightened at the puppet. “You’re in our territory, stupid.”

“R-Really? Oh, I…,” you said in fear, looking around.

You were definitely angry that day. You hadn’t even realized where your irrational anger had taken you.

“Don’t you know you can’t come here?” the doll insisted, pointing at you with her finger in amusement. “Ivana?”

 “I-I'm not Ivana,” you said, ignoring the anger that came over you when she said that name. “I'm (Y/N), her sister…”

“Oh, her sister, I didn't know she had a sister,” Angie said with her hands on her hips. “Well, I actually knew, but I'd never seen you. Ha, I thought I was seeing double...”

“W-We're twins,” you said, still scared, looking up to see the lady, who seemed to be watching you in silence.

“Twins, how cool,” the doll said, getting a little closer to you, fixing her porcelain gaze on the small wooden deer. “What's this?” she asked, snatching the half-made figurine from you.

You made a timid gesture to take it back, but when you felt the lady's gaze on yours, you stopped.

“It's…. It's…” you stammered, controlling the incipient trembling of your legs. “It's a wooden deer.”

“Oh, a deer… Did you make it?” the curious puppet asked, pretending to play with the figurine.

You nodded nervously, clasping your hands in front of your body.

“I, I like to make wooden figurines, I, I carve them myself,” you explained in a small voice.

Angie looked at you and turned around, approaching her owner.

“Look, Donna, look, look,” she said excitedly, handing the lady the deer.

 She picked it up slowly, making you notice her hands, which immediately caught your attention. After all, that black veil didn't allow you to see anything.

“Mm,” you thought you heard a murmur coming from the black fabric, but you were so scared that you didn't even pay attention while the doll maker calmly observed the figurine.

She was dangerous, very dangerous. She was a disturbed woman who had no mercy on anyone who came snooping around, someone like you.

“Hey, silly, are you looking for a job?” the doll asked, observing your work of art alongside the lady.

You froze when the lady in black extended her hand to kindly return the figurine to you. You had no answer to that question.

“Um…” you stammered, avoiding making contact with that hand that seemed so soft. “Job?”

“Uh-huh, my Donna is quite the doll artist,” Angie said, pointing at the lady in black, who moved her hand, returning it to the side of her waist. “Maybe your skills as a wood artist could be useful.”

“My skills?” you asked curiously, pointing at yourself. “Uh, actually this, this is a hobby. I'm not a carpenter or something like that.”

“That doesn't matter to us, you have talent, girl,” Angie said, walking around you like a carrion bird. “I assure you that my Donna values ​​talent very much…”

“Oh, I…” you stammered again, scratching the back of your neck. “I-I don't know what to say…”

“Well, don't say anything, silly,” Angie laughed, being picked up from the ground by her owner, who began to walk away from you, passing by your side like a ghost, one that smelled of lavender… “Anyway, think about it, come to our mansion tomorrow so we can get to know each other better, okay?”

“I-I… W-Well, okay,” you said confused, nodding, while the lady turned her head to look at you for the last time, continuing her way towards the wooden bridge.

That encounter with a Lord was strange, but the strangest thing of all was being able to get out of that place alive. You had heard so many rumors about the lady in black that you didn't know if you could believe them.

You survived, and on top of that... You had a unique job opportunity. You, the scorned sister, had been chosen by Donna Beneviento herself.

You should feel special, but what you had was fear, fear of what could happen to you. The job offer was, however, tempting and on the way home, you could not stop thinking about it.

It wasn’t something you could keep quiet and, during the meal, you told your family what had happened.

“What do you mean?” your father asked after a few seconds of deathly silence. “You say that Beneviento wants you to work for her?”

“Yes, father,” you said, lowering your head, drinking a glass of water. “It seems that she needs help with her dolls.”

“Wait, are you telling me that a Lord has taken an interest in you?” your sister asked, her eyes wide. The trouble of going into the forest was worth just to see her face.

“Yes, it seems that my figurines are not a waste of time,” you said with a haughty tone, making your sister frown.

“(Y/N)…” your father sighed. “I hope you're not thinking of accepting that offer.”

You shrugged.

“I don't know, it could be a good job,” you whispered indecisively, picking up a piece of bread.

“A good job? That woman is insane, do you hear me? I won't let my daughter risk her life like that,” the man said, pointing at you sternly. “No.”

“But, father…” you protested with a sad look. “She didn't seem so… Insane to me…”

“Seriously, why you?” your sister added, envy oozing from every pore.

“No… No wa…” your father repeated, interrupted by your mother's hand.

“Vlad… Wait a moment,” the woman said in a cautious tone. “Maybe it's a good opportunity. That horrible woman is a Lord. She’s rich…”

“My daughter isn't worth all the money in the world, Ingrid,” your father said, crossing his arms.

You couldn't help but smile. At least for your family you were something else than Ivana's sister.

“Think about it Vlad, if (Y/N) works for Beneviento, we'll be protected in some way, besides, we have a lot of debts… It could be the miracle we're waiting for,” your mother commented, making the whole family look at you.

“Well… What do you say, (Y/N)?” the man asked, pointing at you with his fork. “Do you want to work for that crazy woman?”

Again, you shrugged, nodding slowly.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” you whispered, eating calmly.

Your sister snorted, crossing her arms.

“I can’t believe it, you?” she protested with a nasty look.

“What’s wrong, Ivana?” you said with an evil smile. “Are you jealous?”

The next day, after enjoying your sister’s protests, you decided to accept, walking, this time with a sure course towards the lady’s mansion. Internally you meditated on your options.

Well, your parents needed money and… Your sister was jealous. There was no harm in trying your luck with that woman. Maybe she wasn't as horrible as everyone thought. You certainly didn't think so.

“Okay…” you muttered, entering through a red door that led to an elevator. Just getting there made you feel lucky. You wondered if you could go back.

When you finally reached the the mansion, your eyes widened in awe at the sight. A splendid waterfall rose to the side of the old house, one you had only seen in photographs.

“It's great,” you said with a smile, pleased by the beauty of the place, by feeling that, somehow, you weren't in danger.

But your face changed when you saw a figure walking towards the house, one that looked suspiciously like you.

“It can't be…” you muttered, walking faster and shaking your head. “Hey, you! What the hell are you doing here?” you asked annoyed, pulling your twin sister's arm.

 She smiled at you arrogantly.

“I see that punctuality is not your strong point, huh?” she mocked, breaking away from your grip and walking towards the entrance of the mansion. “I'm here looking for work, (Y/N)”

“What? You have to be kidding,” you said indignantly, pulling her arm again. “Go away, Ivana, this job is mine.”

“Oh, please…” the girl sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don't be naive, you're good for nothing.”

“Well, it turns out that Lady Beneviento needs my talent for wood carving, one you don't have,” you said mockingly, climbing the stairs with your twin, who laughed ironically.

“Don't talk nonsense, you're useless, (Y/N), I can do many more things,” she said satisfied, putting on her dress before knocking on the door, something you prevented by grabbing her wrist.

“What things? Are you planning to seduce this woman too?” you asked unpleasantly.

“Please, I'm not into women, that would be you,” Ivana said sarcastically, releasing herself from your hand and bringing her fist closer to the door again.

“You're unbearable,” you growled, kicking the ground, furious. “This job is mine, Beneviento wanted me, not you. Can't you let me be the protagonist for once?”

“You? Protagonist? Don't make me laugh,” your sister mocked, crossing her arms.

“I really want to pull your hair...” you threatened, approaching her with a dark look.

“You are so vulgar, and you want to work for a Lord?”

“I'm going to…” you growled, reaching out your arms towards your sister, who struggled with you until, with an ominous creak, the door opened.

“Well, well, well…” Angie the doll hummed, in the arms of the lady in black.

Comically, the two sisters separated, adopting a formal and respectful pose.

“Look Donna, has anyone ordered a two for one?” the doll mocked, laughing amusedly while pointing at you effusively.

“Lady Beneviento,” you and Ivana said at the same time, with a frown.

“Am I seeing double?” the puppet mocked again, shaking her head.

“Lady Beneviento,” your sister said, taking a step forward and extending her hand towards the lady, who lowered her gaze but didn’t return the greeting. “Um, I have come looking for work.”

“You?” the doll asked, with a suspicious tone. “(Y/N)?”

“No, no, (Y/N) is this one,” Ivana said mockingly, pointing at you while you kept your head down. “I’m her sister and it is wrong for me to say it, but… I’m better than her for this job.”

“Shut up,” you hissed in an angry whisper, glancing sideways at the lady in black. Unfortunately, you couldn't know where that mysterious woman was looking.

“Oh…” the doll murmured. “Do you also carve wood?”

“No, my lady, but I… Well, I have other talents,” your unbearable sister said.

The lady sighed loudly, but made a gesture for both of you to enter the house.

As expected, your sister's charisma made her not want to keep quiet, making kind comments about everything in the mansion, she even had the audacity to comment on the beauty of the portrait hanging on the wall of the stairs, one that you also noticed, but you didn't say anything.

The two of you sat on a sofa following the vague and silent instructions of the lady in black, who did the same on an armchair located in front of you.

“I think that color suits the house well, and it has a beautiful floor and…” Ivana said tirelessly while you simply lowered your head, occasionally looking at the stoic lady, who, you couldn't be sure, but you thought was looking at you.

���Hey, shut up,” Angie protested, making your sister close her mouth immediately with a cocky smile. “Let's see… You are Ivana, right?”

“Yes, my lady,” your sister said, blinking petulantly.

“And you (Y/N),” Angie repeated, pointing at you.

Your response was an elegant nod.

“Well, I already know what (Y/N) knows how to do, but you… I've heard a lot of things about you in the village,” Angie said, speaking in a slightly strange way, as if she wasn't really the doll.

 The woman didn't speak, she just looked at you.

“It's an honor, my lady,” Ivana said, bowing ridiculously. “Yes, I'm quite well-known in the village.”

“Uh-huh, okay, why do you want to work for us?” the puppet asked.

“It would be an honor for me to serve you, my lady,” Ivana said, making you look at her with a disgusted face.

“What can you do?” Angie asked again, without looking at you, the complete opposite of her owner, or so you thought.

“Well, among my many talents… I know how to cook…” the girl began petulantly, placing herself in an informal posture.

You didn't move, you simply maintained that mysterious look.

“My Donna also cooks, what else?” Angie said, her tone seeming impatient. “We don't need cooks.”

“I'm very good at washing clothes,” your twin continued.

“That's good, hey, haven't you heard of washing machines? You should try them,” Angie mocked, making you unable to contain a smile.

“I-I can also… I can…” your sister stammered, revealing with her voice that she was starting to get nervous. “I'm very good at conversation.”

“Oh, did you hear that, Donna? She likes to talk,” Angie said, looking at the lady who did the same with a serene pose. “What do you say, Donna? Oh, of course, you don't like to talk…”

“Um, um… I can, I can be your maid, my lady, I'll do anything you ask me to,”

Was that a desperate request? Your discreet smile widened.

“We don't need a maid, silly, why don't you try the castle? Surely there you are useful,” the doll said.

You suppressed an amused laugh, glancing sideways at your trembling sister.

“Get out of my house,” a hoarse, unknown voice said, one that came out from the black veil, which had a soft and melodic accent. It was Donna, you were sure.

You, thinking she was talking to you, lowered your head with sadness in your gaze, getting up from the sofa.

“Yes, get out, you're bothering me,” your sister emphasized with a satisfied smile.

“No, not you, (Y/N),” the hoarse voice spoke again.

You stopped with a cautious look.

“You stupid fool!” Angie shrieked, pointing at your sister. “Didn't you hear my Donna? We don't need a fool like you, you're useless.”

“What?” Ivana asked with a frown.

“Go away, go away, come on, out, out,” the doll insisted, gesturing with her hands while your sister, scared, looking at you with fiery eyes, ran towards the exit.

“Sit down,” the dark voice spoke again and the hand of the lady in black moved towards the sofa.

You, amused watching your sister leave the mansion, obeyed, calmer. A moment of silence tensed the atmosphere. There was no one else the lady could be looking at, there was only you.

“Your sister can't be quiet, right?” the lady asked, with that very special voice, with an almost inaudible whisper.

You smiled kindly, shaking your head.

“Yes, she's an idi... I mean, she's, she's... Like that,” you said, swallowing the insult. She was a Lord, after all.

“She's an idiot, you can say it,” Angie said, amused, getting off her owner's lap and sitting on the couch next to you. “We don't like idiots...” she whispered in your ear.

You smiled again, lowering your head when you felt those invisible eyes looking at you again.

“Do I scare you, (Y/N)?” the lady asked, making you briefly look up and shake your head, lying shamelessly.

“No,” you said with a sleepy, broken voice, playing with your hands and wishing to carve wood to release the stress. The Lord tilted her head slowly, searching for the truth with that simple gesture. “Well, a, a bit... I've never been that close to... One of you.”

“So, what do you think? Is it as horrible as you expected?” Beneviento asked again, running a hand over her knee, as if she were nervous too, which was impossible, of course.

“Not really,” you said in a sincere tone, smiling at the ridiculousness of your perfect sister. “You’re the… First one who doesn’t… Who doesn’t think my sister is… Well, great.”

“She’s not great,” she said in a sharp voice. “You have a talent I need. She’s just a stupida…”

“Oh, well, I…” you said, scratching your head, blushing at the compliment, which was unusual if it wasn’t accompanied by: Oh, you’re Ivana, aren’t you? “It’s, it’s a hobby.”

“A hobby that I find very useful,” she murmured, gesturing to Angie and getting up from the sofa with a tired sigh. “Come.”

You stood nervously on the couch, your legs deciding they didn't want to move. You were terribly nervous. No one had ever paid you so much attention, much less... Someone like her.

“Didn't you hear me, girl?” Donna asked impatiently, turning around to look at you, making her veil dance hypnotically. “Come here.”

“Y-Yes, sorry,” you said hastily, getting up and walking next to her, again, in silence, a terrifying one.

After going down an elevator, you walked through a dark basement that gave you chills, until you reached what looked like an old workshop, surely the place where those porcelain dolls were created.

All the children in the village had one, and you were no exception, although your sister's was much more detailed, as always.

“I suppose you're wondering what I want you to do for me,” the lady in black murmured, walking towards a table, where there was an old sewing machine. You nodded with a formal pose.

“Yes, my lady,” you said in a dry, respectful tone, as much as you could.

“Do you see these dolls?” she asked, pointing at the objects, impatiently indicating for you to come a little closer. “Don't just stand there, come closer, girl.”

You walked slowly, taking the porcelain doll the lady offered you and examining it carefully.

“I've known how to make these dolls since I was much younger than you,” the lady began explaining while you played with the doll's clothes. “It's easy for me.”

“I-I see, my lady, it's a magnificent job,” you said with your best smile, giving the doll back to her.

“Save the compliments. If I wanted someone to flatter me, I would call your sister,” she said in a cold tone, leaving the doll in its place.

You swallowed and nodded, regretting your words.

“The thing is simple, (Y/N)… Wood was never my strong point,” the lady whispered, gesturing towards the restless Angie, who climbed into her arms, as if she had hypnotized the doll. “Look at those joints, the details of the fingers…”

You obeyed, craning your head to look at those hands… And also at the wooden fingers.

“It's very well done,” you said, touching the puppet unsteadily, moving its fingers.

“Don't touch it too much, or she will bite you,” the lady said in a dark tone, which made you move your hand away immediately, making something like a nervous laugh come out from behind the veil. “Sorry, it's a joke. Angie won't do anything to you.”

“Oh, okay…” you sighed, playing with your hands.

“Angie was created by my father, and he was good at wood, a talent that, unfortunately, I didn't inherit,” the lady continued, giving life to Angie again and lowering her to the ground. “I would like to recover that part I lost, to make these moving dolls again, and for that, I need you.”

“I understand,” you said pleasantly, nodding.

“Will you be able to help me, or am I wasting my time, (Y/N)?” she asked, crossing her arms in a challenging pose.

“I will do what I can, my lady,” you said elegantly, smiling, knowing that you had gotten the job, one that your sister was not able to achieve, one in which, at last, you would surpass her.

“My lady…” she whispered, with a nervous laugh, indicating for you to sit on a nearby chair. “Don't call me that, you remind me of your sister…”

“Oh, okay,” you said laughing shyly, taking a piece of wood that she handed you. “Lady Beneviento?”

“Donna, it's much shorter,” she said, sighing and sitting next to you. You nodded nervously. “Well, it's not that I doubt you, girl, but I'd like to see what you're capable of. I want a right arm, more or less like Angie's, can you do it?”

And so, by a terrible coincidence, a new part of your life began. A much better one, one in which, finally, you didn't feel inhibited by your sister's abilities.

You had a job. You worked for a Lord, an achievement only reserved for the privileged or well, for any young girl who dared to approach the castle, and who didn't plan on getting married.

The days passed quickly in the old mansion. Silence always accompanied you as you manipulated that wood, always next to the lady in black.

Yes, she could be many things, she could be a sick and dangerous woman, but she didn't show it with you. She wasn't very talkative, quite the opposite of her doll, but she was kind in her own way, grateful for your formality, for every thing you did well, and understanding if you made a mistake.

You certainly felt better than ever. Finally there was someone who preferred you over your sister, something you never thought could happen. The days, weeks, months passed and those little conversations with the doll maker increased little by little, as did your smiles.

Donna was a fascinating, mysterious woman, but completely different from the other Lords. Surely that was what caught your attention, yes, yes, it wasn't at all her sweetness, her melodic and seductive accent, or the beauty of her hands…

Maybe you were a bit confused, maybe that attraction (yes, attraction) you were starting to feel for the lady in black was simply a thank you from your heart for feeling important, for feeling that, for once, your sister wasn’t the protagonist.

“Good job, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, running her slender fingers through the wooden ones you had just polished while you looked at her satisfied. “I can give this little hand a manicure, don't you think?”

“Yes, thank you, Donna,” you said with a smile, sighing at the work that wooden arm took you.

She nodded, making you understand she had heard you and, surprisingly, she brought her hand to the black veil that covered her face, removing it elegantly.

You looked away at first, but you couldn't help but glance at her face out of the corner of your eye, getting very nervous. Donna was, just as you feared, a beautiful woman. You didn't even pay much attention to the scar, which was probably the reason for wanting to hide her face.

Your mouth opened slightly and your gaze became bolder, going straight to the lady, who was searching through an old glass for a suitable brush to paint your creation.

“Che stai guardando?” she asked without looking at you, knowing that you had become petrified, and why.

“Oh, no-nothing,” you said nervously, returning to the table to play with the leftover pieces of wood.

The lady frowned, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, putting the brush back in its place.

“Did you understand me?” she asked curiously, turning to look at you, to confirm the beauty you had noticed. “Do you know Italian?”

“Um, yes, no, um, I don't know,” you stammered, turning abruptly to look at the table again. “It's just that... I, I've read a lot of books...”

“Do you like to read?” she asked, taking the brush and smearing it with paint.

“Um, yeah,” you said quietly, playing with a piece of wood, carving it to calm your nerves.

“Mm,” she murmured, concentrating on the arm, not caring too much about you had seen her face. She didn’t really have to. One bad word and you would end up at the bottom of the waterfall. “Your sister likes to read too?”

“My sister?” you asked with a mocking smile. “I doubt she even knows what a book is,” you said, forgetting about the beauty next to you.

Donna laughed softly, but kept her face serious.

“Excuse me for asking, but… Why do you hate your sister?” she asked in a soft voice, curious but distracted at the same time.

“I don't hate her,” you said sighing, shaking your head. “She's my sister and I love her, but it's just that… Ugh, she was always the most… Popular… Everyone approaches her, sucks up to her, wants to flirt with her… It seems like I’m nothing but her shadow.”

“There's no one who doesn't know her,” the lady commented, painting in a disinterested way. “But I don't understand why. She's stupid.”

“Yeah, well…” you said amused, rolling your eyes. “But even if she's stupid, I don't know how she does it, but she has a natural talent for people, she has a lot of charisma, and joy and... Well, everything I lack... She's like a double... Or rather, I'm her sinister double...”

“Mm, so you think that being popular makes you a better person,” she commented distractedly, making you reflect.

“Yes, no, I don't know,” you said, nodding and suddenly shaking your head, not sure of your answer.

“Do you think she's better because people want to flirt with her?” Donna asked again, making you blush.

“W-Well, that doesn't matter too much to me, we don't have the same interests,” you said with a shy voice, not wanting to reveal an important fact about yourself, one that you didn't know how Lady Beneviento would take it.

“Mm, that's obvious,” she murmured without looking at you, making you startle.

“Why do you say so?”

“You're not scared of my face,” she said in a darker voice, controlling an incipient tremor in her hands.

“The-there's nothing to be scared of,” you said, nervous, uncomfortable.

The lady stopped painting, smiling strangely.

“Surely your sister would run away terrified,” she murmured, sighing sadly, something that caught your attention.

“No way,” you said amused with a gesture of your hand. “No matter what she thought, she would surely try to seduce you to take some of your fortune. She always does the same with everyone.”

“Seduce me?” the lady asked amused, letting the wooden arm go and turning to look at you.

“Yes, I think so,” you said, looking away. “She would do anything to gain fame...”

“Even seduce a monster like me,” she said in a different tone, pressing her lips together.

A bad choice of words.

“I didn't mean that,” you said regretfully. “I, I just, I mean that, seducing you is not what... Well, I think that... Well, anyone with eyes in their face could see how beautiful you are and... Well, I... Well... I-I better shut up...” you said nervously, red as blood, looking at the old clock, wishing it was time to leave.

“Do you want to seduce me, (Y/N)?” she asked, in a whispery tone, looking at you with a frown.

Your heart couldn't take it anymore.

“Oh, I... I'm not like my sister,” you said avoiding that poisoned dart, avoiding saying what you really thought.

“That's why I like you,” the lady whispered, bringing a soft hand surprisingly to your face, caressing it gently, almost automatically.

Your breathing quickened and your eyes danced nervously, locked on hers, on that bright and beautiful eye as her skin made contact with yours, a sensation you didn't know felt so good (although you shamefully fantasized about it)

“Y-You-You like me…” you stammered, bringing your hand to hers, leaning in the same way as her until the lady, clearing her throat, withdrew, surely embarrassed.

“Yes, um, um… I think, I think you've done enough for today. You can leave,” Donna said, shaking her head and frowning more intensely, gesturing with her hand.

“Okay,” you sighed with an exaggeratedly sad tone.

Nothing was the same after that strange conversation.

You finally admitted that you feel something for the lady in black, that it wasn't the simple illusion of being valued more than your sister. It was something different, a kind of tension, of tense and uncomfortable moments that became routine.

The smiles, the casual contact of your hands with hers became something more and more frequent. You couldn't be more in love, but neither of you ever mentioned it.

There was never any talk of those subtle caresses or those glances. You didn't dare to say what you thought, and neither did she. It was better this way after all, you could be misinterpreting things.

“That's it... Slowly...” the lady said, on one of those days when you weren't working with wood, but you were learning to sew instead, thanks to her advice. The smile was always in the lady's eye, and on your cheeks, the red color settled as definitive.

“Like this?” you asked, showing her the piece of fabric. She nodded amused, without stopping to look at you. “Good, now I know how to sew.”

“Yes,” she said, with a wider smile. “It's not complicated, (Y/N), it's a matter of practice.”

“I see…” you sighed, going over those clumsy seams.

Silence returned to the old workshop.

“(Y/N)… I, I've been thinking,” Donna murmured, moving away from that comfortable proximity, playing with her hands while you continued sewing. “Maybe it seems hasty but… I have, I have to tell you something.”

You looked at her with wide eyes as she grabbed one of your hands. She was sweating, shaking visibly. She seemed terribly nervous.

“Okay…” you sighed, dazzled by her soft caresses.

“I…”

“Hey, you two!” Angie's shrieks interrupted that tense moment, that moment you had been waiting for so long.

“Angie, this is not a right time,” the lady growled, having seen her attempt frustrated.

“What were you doing?” the doll asked in a mocking tone, dragging out her words. “Well, whatever, there's a knock at the door, Donna.”

“I'm not expecting anyone,” she said, frowning again. “Who is it?”

“What do I know?” the doll answered, shrugging.

“Cazzo… Dov’è il mio velo…?” the lady murmured nervously, searching for something on the table.

You put a hand on her shoulder and stood up with a smile.

“I'm coming, don't worry,” you said in a kind voice, making her nod with a weak smile.

“Thank you”

When you got to the door, your smile instantly vanished.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms when you saw your clone, your sister, dressed the same way as you with an almost furious look.

“It turns out that thanks to you I have become the new errand girl,” Ivana said with a cocky tone.

You raised your eyebrows, with a triumphant smile.

“It's a pain, huh?” you mocked. “I've been like that for years.”

“Yes, whatever you say…” your sister said, making an unpleasant gesture with her hand. “Mother gave me this for you.”

“Oh, cookies…” you said with a tender smile.

“Yes, she says she wants Lady Beneviento to try them,” Ivana commented, looking at her nails with disinterest.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, entering the house and closing the door, something you couldn't do, since your sister prevented it.

“Hey, you ungrateful witch, don't you know how much it cost me to get here?” she rebuked you, with a finger on your chest.

“What do I care?”

“You could give me a glass of water, at least,” Ivana protested, lowering her gaze.

“Ugh, fine,” you said sighing and shaking your head. “Stay there and, don't, touch, anything.”

“Whatever you say,” the young woman said, crossing her arms as you went up the stairs.

Grumbling and mumbling you went up to the bathroom on the top floor. You would go down to the kitchen for no reason. Your sister would do nothing but snoop around.

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice caught your attention, along with the unmistakable sound of heels.

You leaned over the railing, watching as the lady in black dangerously approached your sister, her face covered.

“Mm?” your twin murmured, blinking in disbelief when the brunette uncovered her face again. She seemed very, very nervous.

You wanted to intervene, but you didn't, you stayed glued to the railing with the glass in your hand, shaking more and more.

“Who was it?” Donna asked, getting a little closer to Ivana. “W-Well, it, it doesn't matter…”

“Um, I…” your twin stammered, surely surprised to see her face.

“W-Wait, let, let me tell you something…” the lady interrupted, moving her hand to reach your sister's, joining it with hers, interlacing their fingers. Ivana didn't move; she remained open-mouthed.

“Um, um…”

“I know it's crazy and I know your answer will probably break my heart, but I can't keep quiet about what I feel, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, making a great effort to speak.

You fidgeted nervously on the railing, a smile appearing on your face, a smile that hid the evidence of what was happening downstairs.

“I… I've, I've been alone all my life until… Until you showed up and… With you I feel, I feel like I wouldn't want to be alone again…” the lady continued, squeezing your sister's hand tighter. “I-I'm, I'm in love with you.”

Your jaw dropped at the same time as your sister's. You couldn't believe it, it was the happiest day of your life, was it?

“Y-You don't have to answer me now, but, but I would like, I would like...” the lady said, still nervous at the lack of response from the stunned Ivana. “I would like you to help me discover what love is... Together, next to you... What...? What do you say?” she whispered, caressing your sister's hair, her face pale from those words.

She gently pulled her, lightly placing her lips on your twin's, kissing her slowly.

That was too much for you.

Your hand became weak, dropping the glass on the floor, breaking it into a thousand pieces with an unpleasant sound that attracted the attention of the two women.

“Donna!” you shouted, rushing down the stairs. “Donna, wait, that's not...”

“W-W-What?” the lady stammered, blinking in confusion and letting your sister's waist go.

“Hey, I'm not (Y/N)…” Ivana said amused. “But if you share you money with me I'll be whoever you want…”

“What? You? You?” Donna said nervously, running a hand through her hair and breathing heavily, pointing at one of you each time. “You, you're not… You…”

“Donna, she's my sister,” you said, arriving at the hall in a hurry and pushing your twin away. “Are you an idiot? What are you up to?”

“Hey, hey, I didn't do anything,” Ivana protested amused and nervous. “It was her… Boy, (Y/N) you were so quiet about that.”

You growled, looking at the lady in black, who had a lost look on her face while her body suffered nervous spasms.

“You're…. You're… (Y/N)…” Donna stammered, unable to control her anxiety. “You… You're, you're…”

“Did I miss something?” your sister asked, frowning.

“Oh, you stupid moron…” you muttered, putting your hands on the brunette's shoulders.

Donna was unable to look at you.

“No… No!” she shrieked furiously, pushing you away as she ran off, kicking all the furniture in her path.

“Hey, wait!” you shrieked, chasing her.

“Sis, you're such a flirter,” Ivana mocked, laughing amused. “Who would have thought that a Lord was so stupid as to be interested in you?”

“Shut up,” you hissed as you held the brunette, who struggled against your grip, sobbing. “Donna…”

The lady apparently calmed down, looking at your sister with a furious eye and pushing you away again, walking hurriedly towards her.

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn't mean…” your sister said, running away from the doll maker, who was chasing her furiously. “Hey, I'm sorry…”

A dull thud silenced your twin's complaints. Angie, who had slipped among you, hit your sister with a piece of wood, leaving her unconscious.

“Right in the head,” the doll said, laughing sinisterly.

“Stronza…” Donna growled, approaching you twin’s unconscious body. “How dare you to fool me!?”

“Hey, Donna, wait, wait, leave her alone,” you said, grabbing her shoulders again. “It's not her fault, wait, please…”

“(Y/N)…” the lady sighed, changing from anger to sadness. “What have I done?”

“Eh, eh, it's okay…” you said, glancing at your sister. Of course, she was still alive. “You got confused, it's normal.”

“I, I made a fool of myself… (Y/N)…” she sobbed, throwing herself into the shelter of your arms as she lowered herself to the floor, burying her head in your chest. “I'm sorry!”

“Shhh, Donna…” you said in a comforting whisper, caressing her hair, kneeling. “I've heard everything…”

“I'm sorry…” she sobbed again, clinging to your dress. “You don't know how much I…”

Her apologies were silenced by a kiss, one from your lips, a bold, brave one, the first of your life, but not the last. It was a sudden and disastrous kiss, but it served to silence the sobs of the lady in black, who slowly pushed you away, calmer.

“Those things you said...” you murmured smiling, wiping away the tears of the brunette. “Do you really have feelings for me?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Yes, (Y/N), I... I, I love you...”

“You know what? I've been wanting to hear you say it for so long, that I don't care that you said it to my sister,” you joked softly, cradling the sobbing lady in your arms.

“Cazzo...” she lamented again, burying her head further into her chest.

“I'm going to take my sister home and... When, when I get back I want us to... Well, talk about this... Maybe over dinner?”

[mercuriians]

can't remember to forget you

content warning — some profanity, mentions of alcohol, references to terminal illness. reader’s last name is mentioned once for plot purposes later on.

author’s note — HI YALL 🥴 this is totally unedited & i wrote this at 12am. i just wanted to get this out as quickly as possible so bare with me. as a fair warning there is a LOT to unpack with the reader’s backstory, and to be honest 90% of this fic is literally just you brooding over kenji LMAO 😭. this is basically just an experiment so if u guys like this plz let me know so i can write a follow up!!

you really have no idea as to how such an important piece of information slipped your mind. two of japan's most recent superstar athletes were returning home at the exact same time. it would've brought a smile to your face in any other situation. if only those two athletes hadn't been you and him. kenji.

it's been years since you two have spoken. well, those years were spent productively, with both of you dedicating much-needed time towards your respective sports. he rocked the baseball field. you shone on the basketball court. but at the end of the day, behind all the sweat and arena lights and post-game interviews, there was a sharp pain that remained unresolved at the back of your mind. the last memory you have of kenji is still freshly imprinted. you had been at his house, and having recently heard the devastating news of your mother being terribly ill, you had come to him seeking comfort. little did you know that he was hurting too, with another fight having just happened between him and his father.

there was so much going on at the time, so much to worry about and so much pain in general, that all the pent-up feelings between you two had burst within one crucial moment. he kissed you, and you kissed back. clothes came off. you ended up in his bed. for a while it had felt like heaven because yes, it distracted you from the worry that consumed you from the inside out, but it had also made your most secretive wishes come to fruition.

until that moment, only you had known how deeply and utterly in love you were with kenji, and how strongly those feelings had grown since you two were fourteen.

there was nothing else that could have made you happier. even now, you remember the feeling of his strong arms around you, the feeling of his mouth against yours. the way your name rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so adoringly, as he whispered it into your ear. the way he hugged you so firmly after you two made love, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

but then you also remember how something in him changed only a few seconds later. how the atmosphere grew dark the moment he pushed you off and told you to leave without even looking you in the eye. there's a part of you that wants to think kenji didn't mean to hurt you the way he did. it's the more naive, more hopeful part of yourself, spinning stories of how he actually didn't want you to leave, and he just said it because he didn't know how to cope with his own feelings. ultimately, it's all wishful thinking, borne out of a desire to believe that he maybe did really love you.

kenji broke your heart that night, and right now, even as you board the plane headed to tokyo, even as you put on a smile and sign an autograph for a starstruck fan, you admit that not a single thing has changed. you're still holding onto the past, and you hate yourself for it. especially when you realize that kenji probably moved on a long time ago.

"you alright?" your agent, himari, asks when you two sit down. she's one of the sweetest people ever, and you really don't want to lie to her because of the guilt that you know you'll feel. you meet her hazel eyes. you open your mouth to respond.

"yeah, i'm fine," you smile.

damn it.

as the plane takes off, you do your best to remove kenji from your mind, if only for a little while. perhaps inevitably, you start thinking about the very reason you've decided to finally come home. exactly two nights ago, there was a dream you had while you were sleeping. it was vivid in its entirety, and there was fire and people screaming and something very, very big in the distance, in front of what seemed like a sports arena. conveniently enough, there was some sort of fog surrounding the mysterious figure, but you didn't need to see it to know what it actually was. a kaiju.

you remember the words your mother told you before she passed away. it was an extremely painful memory, and really there was nothing in the world that could have encapsulated how helpless you felt when you saw her frail figure. she used to be so strong, so lively with everything she did and said. it took you a while to recognize the woman that laid in the hospital bed. however even with the tears that had stung your vision at the time, you heard the very last traces of her resolve within the very last words she said to you.

"when you're old enough, i want you to start what i couldn't. . to protect the world with the gift i'll give you. please. . just remember that i love you, and that it's worth giving things a second chance."

as you stare out of the plane window, watching the world pass by below you, the clouds mix together and blur into a white haze. a moment later, you realize that tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. you wipe them away with your sleeve before they have the chance to. i'll do my best, mom, you think, hoping that somehow she can hear you. i don't know where or how i'll start, but i will.

there's a lot of things waiting for you in japan, and you're not entirely sure if you're ready. but at the end of the day, it's your home, and you know deep within your heart that you'll do anything to protect it. sliding your sunglasses onto your face, you close your eyes and try to get some rest before the plane lands.

around twelve hours later, tokyo is there to greet you in all its glory. it's night time, but the way the city lights contrast so beautifully against the sky's inky blue-black canvas is more than enough to bring a smile to your face. "we're home, himari," you say to the woman next to you.

"we are, indeed," she breathes out.

“man, not even los angeles can compete against this,” you chuckle lightly. your words carry quite a lot of weight to them, especially considering how you were completely and utterly starstruck for the first couple of weeks you were in california. there’s a reason so many movies were filmed there. yet, tokyo remains on another level, still reigning as the undefeated champion.

fine. maybe you’re a little biased.

however, your smile fades away when you realize that the probability of seeing him—kenji—is at an all time high. chances are, he’s already here. waiting for you.

stop that.

you shrug off the thought, reminding yourself that he had probably moved on years ago. there was no use in entertaining an idea that had been burnt out for a long time. the only person that would end up being hurt would be yourself—and speaking from experience, emotional distress was a lot different than physical. physical pain you could handle. as a basketball star, you were pretty accustomed to them by now. ankle sprains, muscle cramps, even that torn acl from a year ago, which had hurt like an absolute bitch.

emotional pain was entirely different territory. and it was territory that you were not willing to cross. not again.

god, you were such a mess. maybe indulging in a momentary distraction wouldn’t hurt.

“hey, himari, you wanna know what i’m cravin’ right now?” you ask, a false smile creeping onto your face. the woman in question gives you a wary look, brows slightly scrunched together as if she already knows what you’re going to say.

“a good night’s rest before your interview tomorrow?” she asks flatly.

you shake your head. “alcohol. lots of it.”

“ms. matsuda, i don’t think that’s a smart decision—”

waving her off, you protest, “just for tonight, i promise. we’re back home and i wanna celebrate. and how many times have i told you to call me by my first name?”

himari stares at you for a few moments before lowering her head and heaving a sigh. “fine. . [name]. please take care of yourself out there. and be prepared—i’m sure quite a lot of people will recognize you when you walk into the bar.”

you smile in triumph, holding up your sunglasses. “i’ve got that covered. sure, having these on at night are a little weird, but i’ll just pass it off as the new trend.”

your agent gives you another slightly concerned look before bidding you a good night. and with that, you start walking to the nearest bar. it’s small, inconspicuous, and lit up with only one neon sign. all good indicators that there’s probably not a lot of people in there. you walk in, head held high, without any trouble. your footsteps are light and unhurried against the wooden floor as your eyes quickly scan the environment—eleven or twelve people, give or take, two bartenders, a potted plant over by the corner. and a vacant stool at the far end. perfect.

sliding into the seat, you drum your fingers on the freshly cleaned counter as you decide on what to order. “the denki bran looks good, think i’ll get that,” you mutter to yourself.

you feel someone take the stool next to you, but you don’t pay it much mind. at least until they reply to your words. “yeah, it is good. pretty bold choice, though.”

your mouth drops open.

you hear the person next to you snicker quietly.

the snail-esque speed at which you turn your head would have been comical if it had been any other situation. however, it’s anything but funny when your heart jumps into your throat, when your eyes widen with pure and unadulterated shock as they meet those of familiar gunmetal gray bordering on black.

kenji gives you a sharp grin that’s only a little bit sheepish. “nice to see you again, ace.”

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (5)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two

This part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Steve meets the other CC boys in this one, and they all realize just how perfect the two are for each other hfjdks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Steve realizes something very important about Eddie over the next few days of school: he's a coward. Not that Steve minds, of course. In fact, he likes that; it means he gets to have more fun teasing Eddie to his limit and watching him get flustered.

He has to find Eddie to do that, though, and he starts with the Hellfire Club room (an English classroom that the teacher lets them borrow during lunch). Without knocking, he walks right in and looks over the three boys huddled together with monster figurines placed between them.

The boys look up at Steve, and the four of them begin a minute-long staring match before Steve finally smiles at them. "Gareth, Jeff, Asher," he says, pointing at each boy in turn. "Nice to meet you. Where's Eddie?"

"Who's asking?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowed as he looks over Steve in his sweater-vest and chinos.

"Steve Harrington."

They recognize his name, if their expressions are anything to go by, and before Steve can ask again where Eddie is, Jeff stands up and crosses his arms. "Why do you wanna know where Eddie is?" he asks.

"Because I want to talk to him."

"What about?" Asher asks, leaning around Jeff to level a similar glare at Steve.

"Our project."

"Let's cut the crap, Harrington," Gareth says, moving to stand next to Jeff. "What are you trying to pull here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone like...you isn't interested in Eddie unless you want something," Asher says, looking Steve up and down once more for emphasis.

Oh. They think he has bad intentions. Steve can't help a slight smile, glad Eddie has good friends. "I do want something," Steve says, nodding once as pride and vindication flash in the others' eyes. "I want to chain Eddie to my bed and never let him leave until he's so utterly enthralled by me that he'd never think of looking away even if I did unchain him."

"Wh....what?" Jeff asks, his voice cracking slightly.

Steve nods once and sighs regretfully. "Unfortunately, Mother would never let me because his disappearance would raise too many questions," he admits, pouting slightly as he looks up at the boys, "So, I have to get his attention in other ways."

"Like...leaving gifts?" Asher asks.

"Exactly," Steve says, smiling brightly. "It's as close to proper courting as I can get."

"Okay, you're weird," Jeff decides.

"What do you even like about him?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowing slightly now that he's over his surprise.

"His conviction. And Eddie is so cute when he's flustered or jealous. And he gets along so well with Nox. He didn't scream when he met my father, and he seems perfectly happy stabbing Pubert's kidneys, too. I think he's got such Addams potential, I can hardly control the urge to slip him a little belladonna or raspberry to get him all breathless and gasping."

"Dude, do you wanna kiss him or kill him?!" Asher asks.

Steve blinks, frowning slightly at the question with such an obvious answer. "Well, murder attempts are only appropriate after marriage, don't you think? Nothing says I love you like a post-nuptials bomb or a toaster in the bath."

"Oh," Jeff says faintly, "you do wanna kill him."

No, they still don't get it. Steve's frown deepens, trying to figure out how to explain things properly. "Even if Eddie did die, I wouldn't let him stay dead," Steve explains, "I would get him back. We have an understanding with Death. I want to make Eddie's wildest nightmares come true and keep him company in his dreams. I want us to bury ourselves alive in each other's arms so we can pass out breathing the same air. I want to dance a Mamushka for him. I want Eddie to feel accepted and support his deadliest ambitions until he feels absolutely smothered and helpless to get away."

A few moments of silence pass. Steve waits patiently, smiling at them as they process his words. "I've got it," Jeff finally says, "he's clinically insane."

"How'd you know?"

"You know what?" Gareth asks, looking to Steve, "I think you and Eddie might be perfect for each other, maybe just leave us out of whatever weird flirting thing you've got going on here."

"I need to find Eddie to do that."

"He's in the loft in the black box," Asher says, "That's where he goes to, uh, think."

"Oh, does he have buyers today?"

"No, he goes there to actually think, too," Gareth explains.

Steve smiles brightly and nods. "Thanks! I'm glad Eddie has such good friends. I think we'll get along, too," he says.

"Yeah, if you don't kill us first," Gareth mutters.

"I wouldn't! Not until we were friends ourselves, at least."

With that, Steve turns on his heel and waves as he leaves the classroom, heading straight for the black box with a plan already forming.

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

Eddie grimaces as he hears someone climbing the loft stairs. He throws an arm over his eyes and soon realizes that only makes the image of Steve leaning close and looking up at him even harder to ignore. With a huff, Eddie squeezes his eyes harder as he calls out, "I'm not selling today!"

The steps pause, and Eddie thinks the person is going to leave only for them to continue again. He frowns and drops his arm in time to see Steve's head poking around the railing. His face is a little blotchy, his eyes are slightly red, and his voice is rough like he's been crying when he says, "I'm not here to buy."

What else is Eddie supposed to think when Steve looks like this?

He jerks up, leaning against the arm of the prop couch with wide eyes. "Have you been crying?" he asks.

Steve sniffs and looks away, still hesitating at the top of the stairs. "No," he says, his voice closer to normal as he takes a deep breath and marches over to the couch. He stares at Eddie for a moment before sitting on the other end. "I've done something wrong, haven't I?" he asks.

"What? No!" Eddie says, jerking forward and stopping himself before he can actually touch Steve's shoulder. He clears his throat and forces his hand to drop. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been avoiding me," Steve says, his tone resigned as he sighs. He glances at Eddie, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away. "I guess I can be overwhelming, huh? I'll stop now. With the gifts and all. Just pretend it never happened. You can even keep Nox."

Eddie feels the entire world lurch beneath him at Steve's words. Yeah, he's been avoiding Steve, but only because he felt at risk of confessing undying love in the middle of the crowded hallway if he so much as met Steve's eyes. Not to mention how Steve's voice as he offered to contribute more to their project keeps echoing in Eddie's head, making him think of things that definitely aren't school appropriate.

But it backfired. It backfired so so bad. How could Steve not realize that Eddie wants to be more overwhelmed, actually? Like, please keep overwhelming him until he dies, thank you.

Without thinking, he pushes himself into Steve's space, hesitating a moment before throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders as the smell of cookies and cream washes over him. "You definitely didn't overwhelm me, sweetheart," he says, the name just slipping out.

Based on the way Steve's eyes widen, he doesn't take it back. "Then, why were you avoiding me?" Steve asks.

"I, uh...I just...," Eddie looks away, frowning as he tries to come up with an answer that doesn't involve him confessing to Steve on a couch at least three different couples have fucked on.

"Is it because you don't like me? You could just say that, Eddie," Steve says, his shoulders slumping as he leans out of Eddie's space.

Oh fuck. Eddie scrambles, his brain reaching for anything to say that will fix this. Finally, he blurts out, "I like you too much. I like you so much I want to smother you until you can't breathe." Steve blinks, and Eddie feels the world fall out from under him. Well, he's confessed on the couch. Shit. He swallows around the nervous lump in his throat and pulls away, an anxious laugh bubbling from him.

And then Steve smiles, robbing Eddie of his laughter. His face is no longer splotchy, his eyes are no longer red, and Eddie feels like he's fallen into a trap that couldn't be more obvious. "Did...did you just..."

Before he can get the rest out, Steve leans closer until his lips are brushing over Eddie's earlobe. "I like you, too," he whispers, the words ghosting over Eddie's skin and sending a shudder down his spine. With that, Steve pulls back and stands from the couch, walking over to the staircase.

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks, leaning so far forwards that he falls off the couch and lands on his ass on the floor.

Steve looks back at him and smiles fondly, the curve of his lips making Eddie's hands curl into fists so he doesn't reach out to drag his thumb across them. "I was thinking of skipping the rest of the day to see a movie," he says. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie scrambles to his feet faster than he thought possible, hurrying after Steve as he starts down the stairs.

-------

"I just don't get it!" Steve says, frowning as he paces across the room. His mother is stretched out on a chaise lounge, idly flipping through a VINTAGE MACABRE magazine Morticia lent her. "I mean, I took him to a movie, it was plenty dark, I leaned in and whispered to him the whole time and did that thing you taught me with dragging my finger up his arm, and nothing!"

"He's just a tough nut to crack," Debbie says, her voice reassuring as she flips a page.

Steve turns on his heel to face her, his frown deepening. "What am I doing wrong?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly at the end as sheer frustration overwhelms him. He's given Eddie gifts, he's dressed provocatively, he's made it so clear that he wants to be with Eddie, but nothing has happened. "Can't I just...ask him out myself?"

That makes Debbie pause. She looks up, closes her magazine, and sits up on the lounge, gesturing for Steve to join her. He carefully sits next to her, sighing when Debbie pulled him into a hug. "You're doing nothing wrong, dear," she says, her fingers running through his hair. "You're just impatient. It's only your first hunt."

"My only hunt," Steve mumbles, resting his head on his mother's shoulder. "I don't want anyone else."

"You should enjoy it more, then," Debbie says, gently tugging on a few strands of his hair. "Don't get so caught up in your end goal. The longer the hunt takes, the more you'll savor your victory. Besides, he'll just be more passionate when he finally breaks."

"Well," Steve says, "Eddie is cute when he's flustered. And when he's jealous. He has great potential, by the way, I mean, he really wants to kill Pubert, I think."

"I'm sure it's nothing Pubert doesn't deserve," Debbie says lightly. "Anyway, I think you're doing just fine, Steve. From what you've told me, Eddie isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

"Should I try harder, though?"

Debbie thinks for a moment, humming softly as she considers the question. "How about this," she says, perking up some as the idea comes to her, "Invite Eddie to dinner on Friday. I'll get a look at him myself, and if he still hasn't cracked by the end of the night, you can crank things up a notch."

Steve slowly nods, turning the suggestion over in his head. He wanted Eddie to meet his mother anyway, especially since he already met Fester. This would also be another opportunity to spend more time with Eddie alone. In Steve's room. With the door closed.

And maybe something will finally happen.

"Okay," Steve says, "I'll invite him."

-----

Tag List (there's no more room on the list, so please follow the addams family b-side tag to see updates!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

@jinx-nanami, @solene1324, @nailbatwielder, @y4r3luv, @happylittletrees3, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @itcanbepalped,