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eskumii · 9 months ago

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❝ TROPHY WIFE ❞ — yandere!uzui tengen/wives + you're his first wife

SYNOPSIS: suppose you're uzui tengen's very first wife, the one that slipped through the cracks of your unwanted arranged marriage with him. along with your disappearance went his heart, and now you must bear the consequences of a man who loves his wife far beyond her understanding—so much so that he would kill for her, die for her, and do anything to make her stay. — navi.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

NOTES: mdni! (cw: non-con) this is an arranged/forced marriage au. it's meant to be one-sided. it took me quite literally forever to finish this lol ,,

PAIRING: yandere!uzui tengen x wife!reader

CHARACTERS: uzui tengen (19-23), reader (18-22), suma (19), makio (20), hinatsuru (21)

I. TO BE WED

imagine being uzui tengen's very first wife.

your hand in marriage was promised to him by your parents, who owned a tax-collecting business that was often the target of hostility from the impoverished people of your hometown. tengen routinely passed through your village on demon slayer business, so your parents could always rest assured knowing he would take care of the violent stragglers that sometimes loitered outside.

ironically being poor themselves, they had little to offer the hashira as payment for his noble duties; well, that "little" didn't exclude you of course, their only daughter who's failed to find a husband far past the age of when other girls were normally wed. you're still young, fertile, and moderately attractive, but your strong disinterest in potential suitors often drove any chances of a wealthy marriage away.

however, after being introduced to tengen, the man you'll be forced to marry out of obligation, you begin to regret being so stubborn after all.

admittedly, tengen found you to be pretty plain at first. you're poor so you can't exactly dress flashy, and you come from a no-name family with little legacy. your parents swore up and down on your domestic efficiency—hardworking, great cook, a tame disposition—and, well, at least you're kind of cute, too. tengen is intrigued by your potential the most.

your parents force you to do whatever you can to get close to him. the truth is, though, you don't really have to do anything with the way he seeks you out himself. he often shows up at your door asking for you, and your parents have no qualms about dragging you out of your room to make you go out with him.

he takes you to the nicer parts of town and pays for dinner or buys you flowers and little trinkets from the shop vendors that line the streets. it doesn't help that the elderly people running the stands egg you on, saying things like "what a lovely young couple" or "your children would be so beautiful!" tengen simply smiles with ease, accepting their praise as if it's second nature. you get rather embarrassed by his shameless indulgence.

there's small talk but you find it incredibly stifling. tengen does a majority of the dialoguing but most of the time your dates get interrupted by his kasugai crow, who squawks at him whenever a demon shows up nearby. he always looks annoyed and promises to make it up to you, leaning down to pat your head like you're his pet dog or something. you hate it and him too, probably.

"i'll be back before you know it, darling," his smile is charming but not to you. "you'll stay right here for me, won't you?"

regardless of your somewhat obvious hesitance to accept his advances, tengen gets attached to you like it was meant to be. the idea of having a pretty little housewife for him to come home to after his draining missions becomes increasingly attractive, and the more time he spends with you, the more he sees the appeal of your being. it must be a miracle that no man has taken you as his wife yet; surely you were saving yourself for a man like him.

unfortunately, though, you don't want to marry tengen.

an arranged marriage? it's simply not the kind of life you envision for yourself. you aren't willing to bet the rest of your days on a man whom you have a slim chance of falling in love with, all for the sake of financial security. but what else can you do? your parents already made it very clear they would disown you if you refuse, and tengen is pressuring you to your death with his sweet words and annoyingly thoughtful presents. you're stuck.

eventually, the incessant nagging from your parents and weeks of endless courting from tengen sway you so sooner. you fold like a cheap hand fan and succumb to your fate, to a future you knew from the very beginning that you would come to despise.

he's the only suitor you have at this point. it's not like you have a choice. and the one choice you do have just so happens to be him, a man who is the nearest thing to a perfect match as you're ever gonna get. you should be happy. thankful. he'll give you the world if you just give him a chance.

at least, that's what he told you.

II. THE SOUND HASHIRA

your parents are so happy to send you off.

they're completely honored that their letdown of an only daughter is finally getting married—to a well-known and wealthy shinobi at that. it's the only time they've shown any pride in you, yet it really only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

after your brief introduction to the head of tengen's clan, everything moves so quickly. just a couple weeks later, you're already signing a marriage contract in which you and tengen become official newlyweds. and before you know it, you're packing what little belongings you have to your name and moving in with him, begrudgingly and regretfully so.

the day you arrive, he shows you around his overwhelmingly gigantic residence; the courtyard full of cherry blossoms and koi ponds, the huge kitchen, and the bedroom where he'll eventually fully claim you. there's lots of other rooms too, but they're either empty or reserved for his weapons and training gear. he tries to hide it but he's obviously so over the moon that you're his wife now. he doesn't even notice your misery through his elated delusion of love.

in hindsight, you didn't realize how difficult it can be to share a space with someone you hardly know. you find everything awkward but tengen doesn't, like always. to him, you're so obedient and polite— such a good girl. you take whatever he gives you; kisses, hugs, subtle gropes here and there, and all of his sweet compliments and gifts. you don't argue with him or raise your voice, you fret over his injuries and make his favorite foods. you're observant, collected, and mature.

he didn't have a type before he met you—you're all he can ask for in a woman, really.

tengen is unexpectedly romantic. he constantly boasts about his strength and fighting skills in order to impress you, and he never stops mouthing off about how he'll prioritize you over himself. he puts consistent effort in getting to know you: what you like, don't like, your favorite color, and any other inkling of your personality that he can manage to wrestle out of you. he seems to have gotten the impression that you're shy or something.

flowers are a constant and you're spoiled with fancy, expensive kimonos and jewelry. had you married tengen under literally any other circumstance, you'd find his advances on you endearing but, unfortunately, he just comes off as clingy and unbearable. any woman would die to be in your place yet you can't even find it in you to want to be in your own place.

what do you think of him, though? well, he's handsome, you'll give him that. you don't deny the appeal of his good looks and flashy, fitted clothing. he's strong, established, and knows what he wants. despite your obvious distaste towards his gifts and grandiose personality, it's not to say you're ungrateful that the man you're stuck with is exceedingly well-off and capable of protecting you. you can't say he's a bad guy.

however, he's a moron.

he fell for you fast. a couple months have already passed since coming to live in his residence. tengen requests to have picnics whenever you go with him to visit his siblings' graves on his off days. of course you have no reason to refuse; as much as you dislike him, you're not heartless. they're important days, so you swallow your pride and pack a bento spread you know he'll like.

tengen will confide in you about the memories of his late siblings, his parents, and his life before becoming a hashira. it's a depressing and heavy weight to shoulder, but you still play your role of the loving, supportive wife with your lingering touches and comforting words. you use these outings as opportunities to gain his trust by being vulnerable.

except, this time, the effect you seem to have on tengen is magnified to the point of no return.

he pulls you into his lap and you're suddenly flush against his rock hard chest, trapped in a suffocating hug. you don't know what prompted his sudden affection; perhaps it was the warm atmosphere you crafted or the intimacy of the moment, but the way tengen holds you so close is telling. he's about to say something you've been dreading since the day you met him.

"i love you." tengen confesses, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing as if he'd just released the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

you knew it. it's the first time he's ever said it to you and you'll never forget the wave of nausea that hit you as you glanced up to see him staring back at you expectantly. your heart is pumping out of your chest and your face is flustered—not because you're flattered but because you're ashamed. you feel his hands squeeze your shoulders, almost like a warning, and his grip begins to feel claustrophobic after your prolonged silence.

you have no choice but to reciprocate.

"...I love you too." your voice is quiet, hesitant, and tengen gently teases you about being shy when you refuse to look at him anymore. he's not right but it's true that lying invokes shame.

he almost seems overwhelmed by your response, as if he hadn't just nonverbally threatened it out of you. you don't dare to sneak even a glance at him. he tightens his embrace around you and goes back to burying his face abashedly into your neck, mumbling sweet words against your skin. his body wraps around you like a vice, trapping you in the prison that is his dreadful existence.

you decide, in that very moment, that there was nothing in the world you wanted to do more than run away.

III. A DIRE MISTAKE

one fateful day, you catch wind of the news that tengen is being assigned on a mission quite far away, somewhere down in the southwest.

you're so lucked out that you thought it was a trap at first—a ploy to catch you in your undying desire to leave your husband for good. but when the day of departure arrives and tengen peppers your face with last minute kisses, you know for sure that there's no chance he's caught on to your resentment towards him, nor the plan of escape you've been devising all along.

your eyes are teary when tengen releases you from the last of his spine-crushing hugs and he cooes at your cute crying face. honestly, you're tearing up out of joy because your one and only chance to escape has literally fallen into your lap in a pleated handbasket, but you'll let him believe otherwise. you at least owe him the courtesy.

you already know you don't stand a chance against tengen, at least physically. he can overpower you like nothing and he's so tall that he towers over you, constantly caging you between those muscled arms of his. there's almost nothing you could do against a man like him—well, unless you count poisoning, but you were above murder when it came to getting what you wanted.

as soon as tengen passes through the looming gates of the residence and disappears down the winding road, you scramble to gather a few belongings before making your way out through the back. there's a twinge of fear that grips your gut but you press on, determined to put as much space between you and that wretched place you were expected to call home.

the moment you escaped, you flipped your identity. chopped your hair off, powdered your face in white make-up, and wore headscarves wherever you went. you fled as far as your feet would take you, only stopping to rest in a small village when your aching body could take you no further. you hardly spoke to anyone and left nothing behind that could possibly be traced back to you or be used to pursue you.

it's obvious you can't go back to your parents; they hated you when you lived with them, and they'd hate you more if you returned. they'd sell you out to tengen in two seconds flat, then ruthlessly shame you for running away from a marriage you wanted no part in. the only option left for you is to create a new life for yourself somewhere far, far away.

and that's exactly what you do. you find a little town on the outskirts of the red light district, where business is booming and it's easy to disguise yourself beneath the constant foot traffic. you go undercover as a seamstress, working in a homely tailor shop under the supervision of the owners, who are a kind older couple that are quick to regard of you as one of their own.

time marches on and the jarring memories of tengen do as well. you makes friends with the regulars that come by the store often. you've learned the valuable trade of mending clothing and sewing traditional patterns. you've even developed a crush on one of the men that come by often to repair his work uniform.

your life is finally the way you've always wanted it to be.

meanwhile, tengen copes—barely. days pass. weeks. months. you're still yet to be found, even with the help of all the hashira and the shinobi of his clan. it's as if you disappeared off the face of the planet. he's completely devastated. did you run away because he was gone for so long? were you feeling neglected? did you just want his attention? surely you wouldn't just up and leave when he'd been so loving; he truly couldn't think of anything that would prompt such an extreme reaction.

as expected, he doesn't come up with a justification for your disappearance. how could he? you could be dead by now with the amount of demon uprisings that have been happening lately. or you could even be halfway across the world right now, laughing at how easily you had fooled him. eventually, his sadness melts into anger. you may be gone now, but it won't be for long.

wherever you are, he'll find you.

IV. 'TIL DEATH DO HIM PART

in the following years, tengen's next three wives are chosen specifically by the head of his clan.

and, in the head of the clan's words: "the sound hashira's decision-making must be incredibly poor if he chose a wife who would dare flee from him." the statement only fans the flames of his growing wrath for you.

however, his new wives—suma, makio, and hinatsuru—are all beautiful and talented kunoichi who admire him to their very cores. as ungrateful as it sounds, there isn't a day where tengen wishes one of them were you. they've worked so hard to try and fill the gaping hole in his existence that was left by you, but it hasn't really been working. he needs you.

they're kind, caring, nurturing and most of all, strong. they've trained all their lives to be kunoichi. he knows he shouldn't complain but they just don't cook like you, look like you... aren't you. of course he loves them, but he could never forget the way his heart shattered the day he returned home to find you nowhere in sight. your disappearance left him in utter shambles. did you ever think about that when you left? you're so unbelievably selfish—is that the kind of woman you turned out to be?

his wives constantly question his lovesick behavior. tengen never hides anything from them; in fact, he'll sometimes go on long, borderline maniacal rambles about "the wife who got away." to suma, makio, and hinatsuru, you're an enigma that's broken the heart of their husband, and they're not sure what it was about you that makes him act this way. jealousy sparks—if there's a way to get you back to make tengen happy, they would do it, but maybe you're better off gone after all.

and it's not like tengen didn't search for you. oh no, he looked everywhere within reason. his duties as a hashira kept him chained to his missions near the demon slayers' headquarters, but that never stopped him from interrogating people when he got the chance. any woman that looked even remotely similar to you was sure to be stopped in the middle of the street for further investigation.

master kagaya is exceedingly understanding of the situation, and he bears obvious concern for his beloved sound hashira. while he's sympathetic of the loss of his wife—it's no matter to be taken lightly, of course—tengen must first be loyal to his occupation as a hashira, and that means going on missions in spite of his mourning.

and his newest missions leads him to the red light district.

so tengen goes. he knows his place when it comes to master kagaya, so he has no reason or authority to deny orders. regardless, it's a harrowing and tedious task. drunk concubines practically throw themselves into tengen's arms as he strolls past the many underground sex clubs that line the filthy streets. he has zero interest in any of the debauchery that goes on here, and he especially feels nothing when shoving them away from him with excessive force.

he scours the area for anyplace that looks decent enough to step foot in, as well as a place where he won't get immediately harassed by ran through harlots. turning down a quieter side street where some storefronts have been shuttered, he happens upon a small seamstress shop sandwiched between two restaurants that look as if they've closed early for the evening.

shrugging, tengen wearily thinks it's as good of a place as any to begin his intel gathering on the upper moons' whereabouts. he saunters towards the front entrance and a young woman dressed in traditional geisha wear passes him on the sparsely populated road, her wooden sandals clacking against the ground. he can't help but think her hair looked similar to yours and his heart twists painfully in his chest.

tengen seems to be constantly haunted by the thought of you, forming an obsession in his mind that won't go away until he has you back. until he knows your safe, with him, just like you were meant to be. until he sees you.

no, literally, tengen sees you, right in front of him.

through the window of the upscale seamstress shop, he sees you conversing with a man at the front counter, laughing heartily at a joke he must have made. tengen quickly crouches beneath the display window to spy on you, his heart pounding out of his chest at the events that are currently unfolding. he must be mistaken.

he peeks above the lip of the window to catch a glance and, sure enough, it is you. you're alive and well, almost glowing beneath the low, intimate lighting inside the shop.

he finally found you! he can't believe it. the grin that's stretching across his face is so broad. he'd recognize your face anywhere, even if it's caked in geisha makeup and your hair elaborately styled. you’re beautiful and he’s captivated by your beauty just as he was the day that he met you.

he's so unbelievably ecstatic with the way his hands are clamming up, his feet shuffling in the dirt and...

what?

creeping over the ledge of the display window once again, tengen's eyes immediately grow dark. there's a man there. talking to you. his wife.

in the midst of your conversation, your eyes absently float over to the window. it's there that your gaze clashes with his, and a blood-curdling look of terror overtakes your features. is that… tengen?

there's a shift in the air. what happens next, tengen doesn't recall, but when he comes to there's blood on his hands and your hair is bundled up in his fist as he drags you past the threshold the of the shop’s entrance. he looks over his shoulder and on the floor, spread eagle, lies the man without his head. the scene is gruesome.

he killed him.

tengen looks down at you with a solemn gaze. for some reason, he doesn't even care. the emotions running through him are almost too much to bear. do you know how much your disappearance has destroyed him? do you know how much he's suffered because of you? do you even care?

he doesn't understand why you're crying. it seems like you were happy enough to whore around with other men in his absence. the thought drives him to the brink of insanity. how much longer do you plan on humiliating him?

there's too much to be said. tengen's mouth is agape and he's so upset at you that he can't find the right words to express himself. instead, he collapses to the floor beside you and embraces you in his longing arms. he smells your hair and feels how your body shrinks against his—it's all exactly how it used to be. it's exactly as he remembered, as he dreamed of.

and now, as tengen scoops you up into his arms to take you back home, another dream of his will be fulfilled tonight. he knows exactly what kind of punishment is befit for you.

V. A JUST PUNISHMENT — (NSFW: NON-CON)

"tengen-sama! you're ba-"

a woman with colored bangs and a ponytail attempts to greet tengen as he enters, but she's cut off by not only the expression on his face but also the strange, disheveled woman he's hauling behind him.

he drags you across the cold, laminated wood floors into the bedroom by your hair and peels the delicate, silken layers of your yukata back, exposing soft flesh and ample curves. tengen is so starved of your touch—of your voice, your scent, you. he'll make you pay for what you put him through. he'll make you stay this time.

you can't even fight back. you're so afraid of what's going to happen that your body refuses to move, to speak. and even if you could, there was no way you would win against a hashira, of all people.

tengen starts by pushing you to your knees. when his hands begin the hasty work of undoing the belt of his kimono, you already know where this is going and it makes your stomach churn in volatile sickness. he eagerly slides his under pants down and from the top of its elastic band springs his semi-hard cock, which nearly hits you in the face. you gasp at the sheer size of it; that is not gonna fit inside of you.

"don't look at me like that, [name]. clearly i was too lenient with you back then. i should've disciplined you..." he trails off as he stares into your pleading eyes. he smiles but, in it, is no mercy.

"c'mon, baby. you'll be a good girl and open your mouth for me, won't you?"

you refuse. no, you wouldn't even dream of it. you've never done anything sexual with a man before and you certainly aren't going to wi—

tengen suddenly reaches down and grabs ahold of your now tangled hair with one of his large hands. it takes barely any pressure before your mouth is pried open by the force of his fingers alone, and his now engorged cock head is being stuffed into your warm, unyielding mouth.

you can only let out a choked cry at the vile intrusion.

"that's it, baby, good girl.." he praises, stroking your head with his thumb as he slowly inches his pulsing cock down your throat.

your screams are completely muffled. tengen begins to pick up the pace, letting your drool be the lubricant that allows his giant dick to slide in and out of your tight throat. it hurts so bad that you try to bite down and free yourself from this act of vulgarity, but tengen doesn't allow it. he instead tugs your head back by the grip he has on your hair, forces his cock all the way in, and holds you there until you decide to behave yourself.

you can hardly breath. lewd, wet noises fill the room as tengen gags you almost to the point of unconsciousness. the vibrations from your screaming must have been making him feel good, though, because it takes just a few minutes before he's shuddering in orgasm as he bottoms out and cums, which you have no choice but to swallow.

he pulls out of your mouth and you're mortified, but even more so when you see how he's still hard. his cock is covered in a thick layer of your saliva and his cum drips onto your exposed chest in globs that make you cringe in disgust. you think you're going to throw up.

and you almost do, if it weren't for tengen picking you up from under your arms and tossing you onto the plush bedding. your legs are forced open and tengen slides his twitching cock against your pussy, slowly and teasingly. you begin to fight against him but he easily pins you down long enough to push his fat cock head into your tight pussy.

tengen pounds you into the plush cushion of the futon all night long. you've given up struggling and crying, only mewling in pain as the brutish man stretches your virgin pussy wide. he ruthlessly kneads your breasts with his calloused palms and overstimulates your clit with his fingers until you cream and squirt repeatedly all over his dick. you can do nothing but lay there as he roughly moves your body into various positions and fills your womb with his seed—there's no way you won't be pregnant after this.

all the pent up rage that tengen was forced to weather after your disappearance is released in that very room. he sounds like a crazy man with the way he lapses in and out of fits of rage where he's cursing at you with his hands around your throat, then slipping into pleasure induced "i love you's" as he dumps yet another load of cum deep inside of you.

"h-how does it feel, my love?" he groans, reaching over to caress your flushed face. "mm, you sound so cute making those noises. lemme hear you scream, darling."

and oh, you sure do scream. for him to stop, to get off of you. that you've had enough. that you hate him. over and over again you scream, you cry, and you struggle, but it does you no good. he only seems to thrust faster the more you beg. is he getting off to your desperation? he must be by the way his cock pulses at any form of physical resistance from you.

you thought it would never end. he's almost insatiable. your tears have long dried up—for the most part, anyway—but the skin on your face feels raw from tengen "lovingly" wiping all your tears and snot away while simultaneously pounding a you-shaped hole into the futon. you feel disgusting. you don't even have the strength to make a sound when he spanks you for the hundredth time, moaning heatedly about how you've been such a bad, bad girl.

when it seems like he's finally spent, he doesn't pull out. instead, he collapses on top of you with his cock still twitching inside your sloppy, ruined cunt while drawing you in for an unreciprocated kiss. he whispers praises in your ear and gently strokes your face, cooing at how much you're trembling against his much larger form.

"i should've done this a long time ago. maybe you wouldn't have left if i dumped my kids into you sooner."

eventually, his softened cock slips out of you and a gush of warmth runs down your legs; you can already feel a soreness settling in your pelvis. tengen sighs contentedly at the sopping squelch that sounds when you snap your legs shut in order to roll as far away from him as possible. he roughly wraps a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him as soon as he sees your attempt to create distance.

"i missed you so much, darling," tengen mumbles against your skin breathily, offering a soft smile. "did you enjoy your welcome back?"

he's making fun of you. you refuse to even look at him. it's to be expected, really, he can't imagine how bad it must feel to think you actually got away from him as you lay in his arms once again, right where you belong. you need to learn your place; no wife of his will disrespect him like you did ever again. if you have to be an example of that, then so be it—youput this on yourself, after all.

leaving you with a final kiss, he gets up, wraps a towel around his waist, and goes to let his other wives into the room to help clean you up (they've been waiting patiently ever since you showed up, curious about the woman who supposedly "stole tengen's heart," as he put it). you're still naked and exposed with tengen's cum leaking down your thighs but you don't even have the mental capacity to care anymore. all three of the girls look shocked at the state you're in, but they don't comment and rush to get you in the bath.

they're all very pretty, of course. when you emerge from your haze of disorientation, you're left reeling at the fact that tengen had amassed three whole wives in light of your absence. well, not that you have any right to be surprised considering your short lived emotional affair. you're still in mourning over what had happened to him.

regardless of your fragile state, the three women swarm you with questions that prod at your past: who you are, where you're from, and how you met tengen. you don't even have half the mind to reply. you can only stare at your tear-stricken reflection in the soapy water, ready to burst into tears yet again at the horrible predicament you've found yourself in.

what can you do now? sit around and get bred by tengen? rot away in this dreadful house for the rest of your life? the other wives seem to catch onto your unresponsiveness after a couple dozen of their questions go ignored, so they sit quietly and gently wash you clean. they look genuinely worried for you—not that their pity will undo the damage that's already been done.

makio will scrub your back and grumble about how jealous she is while suma and hinatsuru fret over the small bruises that are now beginning to form around your hips from tengen's manhandling. suma washes your hair next, commenting on how beautiful it is, while the other two move onto rinsing the soap from your body. they wrap you up in a fluffy towel when it's over, and a shiver wracks your spine when their hands guide you to another room, down the hall, with a clean bed ready for you to rest in.

you don't really know who they are but since they're dressed like kunoichi, it's obvious that they don't share the same mindset you do, or were forced to be wed to tengen like you were. you can't ask them to help you escape from this hell, not a chance.

even as you lay in the criminally comfortable futon with new silken pajamas, a cup of cold water at your side, and a warm blanket, sleep doesn't find you.

and with tengen around, you're certain it never will.

VI. A HAPPY EVER AFTER (EXTRA)

a few months later, your pregnancy symptoms are in full swing.

tengen is as protective as ever and the other wives have already grown attached to you despite your bitter and unforgiving attitude towards them. you learn quickly that they're all very... obsessive, constantly hovering over you and going to overbearing extremes to make sure you don't do anything that would physically strain yourself in any way.

hinatsuru and makio follow at your heels like guard dogs while suma takes charge of most of the cooking and cleaning. she keeps the peace most of the time and holds makio back when she's attempting to murder hinatsuru over something childish. you're never in the mood to talk to them, however, and they often try to bribe you with your favorite sweets (which is intel that they've gathered from tengen) in order to get you to participate in their activities.

unluckily for you, tengen had decided to completely retire from being a hashira following a particularily harrowing encounter with an upper moon demon (even after you tried to subtly guilt trip him into not doing so). he insisted that you and the baby were "more important." you know that it'd be difficult to escape with the other wives around but to add tengen on top of that makes it surely impossible.

every morning, the dreadful man himself meets the four of you in the kitchen and will beam proudly at the sight of his adorable little harem. he goes down the line and gives affection to each of his wives individually, in the way they prefer, and saves you for last as you're his "greatest prize," or whatever he said. you're just completely exhausted and you resent them all from the deepest depths of your heart. the least you can do is make it obvious.

tengen finds your rebellion adorable. everything about you is and even moreso now than when you left him all those years ago. he'll grab you by the jaw and force you into a quick one-sided kiss, pulling away with that fond smile of his. his fingers ghost over your swelling tummy but his very touch makes you feel so awfully sick. you'll roughly push him away and he's so out of his mind that he attributes your justified anger and moodiness to your "pregnancy hormones." regardless, he's happy. it's you who's going to bear his child. it's you who first said you loved him too. as long as you live, you're bound to him as his wife. nothing can come between a man and the woman he loves; uzui tengen certainly made sure of that, didn't he?

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere tengen x reader #yandere uzui tengen #yandere kny #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere male #uzui tengen

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skyahri · 2 months ago

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And Suddenly |JJK Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: Cult Leader!Geto, Heian Era!Sukuna, Canon Gojo. A little smutty, but nothing specific.

Masterlist Ko-fi

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Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna swears he doesn't play favorites.

He always gives the same response when prompted by Uraume- that he hated everyone equally and that if anything, they were the only person he could tolerate. That specific line of questioning always riled him up, oftentimes making him irrationally angry and defensive.

Despite what he says, everyone on the estate knows he's full of shit. No one else is dumb enough to call him on it out of fear of being brutally murdered, but it's clear he does have a favorite. That fact is only further cemented when he approaches you in the middle of the garden and publicly demands that you give him a child.

"... what?"

"Are you deaf? I need an heir and you're going to give me one. Let's go."

Just like that, you're being slung over his shoulder and carried off. You only manage a peak at Uraume before the door closes, but even they seem surprised by the sudden declaration.

When you finally reach his chambers, he sets you down on his bed and drops his robes to the floor. When you don't move to do the same, he shoots you an impatient look, but you only offer him a confused one back.

"My Lord, I apologize if this is out of line, but what brought this on?"

"I want an heir."

"Yes, but why now? And why me?"

"Are you denying me, woman?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I'm just- this is all very sudden."

After the initial spark of anger that flashes through him, he does genuinely think about it for a moment. Requesting a baby was quite the ask, and it would be in his best interest to keep you happy. Perhaps he could at the very least answer your questions...

"You are fertile."

"Is that really the only requirement you look for when considering the potential mother of your children?"

"Of course not."

He hates that little look you give him. It's pointed in a way that makes his nerves flair. It's not direct enough for him to ever call you on, but it screams defiance nonetheless.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You should feel honored to have been chosen. Be grateful, brat."

Your face doesn't change. You only cross your arms and wait for his little tantrum to pass in hopes that he'll be a more willing participant in the conversation.

"What do you want from me?"

"Honesty, My Lord. That's all."

He bares his teeth at you. It's an empty threat- that much you learned long ago. You're well aware of his soft spot for you, and while you typically don't use that against him, you really did just want answers.

In the three years you'd served him, he had never once mentioned wanting children. He'd go as far as to kill any concubine who fell pregnant or even brought the topic up. Something was most definitely amiss, and you weren't one to cave into his ridiculous demands so easily.

After a momentary standoff, he sighs and stands a bit straighter in front of you.

"You are well aware why I have chosen you."

"Am I?"

Oh, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under already. He seems almost... embarrassed? It's not something you've ever seen on him, the red tint to his cheeks and ears are undeniably different from when he's angry. His lower right hand twitches ever so slightly and you can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.

"It is possible, that I may not entirely hate you."

"Careful, My Lord, that almost sounds like a confession."

"If that is what it takes for you to agree, then so be it."

You won't get anything more out of him, at least, not today. You'd been fully expecting him to choose an easy way out, something about biology or hierarchy or whatever, but this? No, this was a thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.

"Now, as to why, My Lord?"

"Is it really so surprising to want a child with you?"

You... don't know how to answer that. His response both does and does not answer your question. You were initially looking for something more, concrete? Something like him needing a successor or maybe needing to prove himself in some way.

Whether he intended to or not, he had given you a very intimate response that you were not in the last bit prepared for.

You were very aware that he treated you differently, not just from the other concubines, but from everyone in general. You had certain privileges that others did not, like joining him for dinners and baths or sleeping in his chambers. He indulges you with little acts of affection, things like kissing and brief touches. You spoke out of turn without consequence and could get away with doing things without his explicit permission.

But all of that was a whole Hell of a lot different than wanting a family. The man would sooner die than admit to liking you, but here he was admitting to wanting children with you. Not wanting an heir, not allowing you the privilege, no- wanting children with you.

"I accept."

"You say that as if you had a choice."

"We're alone, My Lord, there's no need for the tough guy facade."

"It's not a facade. Don't forget I can kill you, woman."

"Mhm, if you say so, My Lord."

Satoru Gojo

"You know,"

He slowly slides his hands up your sides, slipping them underneath the hem of your shirt.

"With the kids being so busy nowadays, I can't help but feel like our nest is a little empty."

He moves his head from its resting position on your head to trail kisses down your face. He pauses at your lips for a moment before continuing down your neck.

"Lucky for us, I know just the thing to fix such a problem."

You're only half paying mind to the attention he's giving you, the majority of your thoughts running over his recent behavior, trying to piece together anything that could've prepared you for the current situation.

He was a little upset when Tsumiki had gone full swing into high school last year. She had lots of friends, joined a few extracurriculars, and took her classes seriously. It didn't leave her much free time for family. You understood, and so did Satoru (albeit reluctantly), but that didn't make it any less bittersweet.

With the new school year starting, Megumi had begun drifting as well, and it didn't help that he was living on campus now. Of course, Satoru was one of his mentors, but that only meant their time together was spent working.

Both kids had always been independent, most likely a side effect of their shitty unconventional upbringing, but it seemed time was only making that fact more apparent.

You'd noticed he'd been a little deflated lately, but you'd chalked it up to extra stress from the council. You never thought it would be over something like this- not that you doubted how much he loved his pseudo-family or anything, he's just never shown any particular interest in expanding at all.

Even now, aside from a few stray comments about missing the kids and prioritizing family dinners, nothing he did really popped out.

"Satoru-"

He pulled away and took your hands in his, bending down a bit to make the height difference less obvious.

"Just hear me out,"

He swallowed hard and squeezed your hands a bit tighter.

"I know it's not something we've really talked about, but I can't stop thinking about it. I love raising kids with you and I don't want it to end."

"Babies and toddlers are a lot different than kids, Satoru."

"I know."

"It's a lot of work. We'd be starting over just as they've become self sufficient."

"I know."

"There's also significant risk associated with having Satoru Gojo's biological baby."

"All the reason to work harder."

Usually, when he wants something, he gives you this sappy, wide eyed, puppy dog stare and tries to bargain wit you. This, however, is starkly different. His gaze is intense, like he's peering straight into your soul, but it's also desperate, like he wants you to say yes but for once in his life, he's not going to pressure you.

Not that he'd have to, honestly.

He's right. You have enjoyed raising kids with him. He's dorky and definitely on the irresponsible side, but he cares for Tsumiki and Megs more than anything else in the world. He'd take them to the park, engage in whatever board games they wanted to play, and always did his best to make it to school events. He's a good dad, and you aren't eager to see the end of the peak quite yet.

The house is also very quiet as of late. There's no bickering, no loud music, and no one pestering you to make snacks. There's no more homework to help out with and no more rides to give. It's rather lonely.

So you put on your best poker face, just to spook him a bit, and focus your gaze on his pretty blue eyes. He looks hopeful. He knows you well enough by now to know you're going to say yes, but that little bit of fear overshadows any certainty he has.

"I think, maybe, possibly, that our family doesn't quite feel complete just yet, and might have room for one more."

That's all the confirmation he needs before he's scooping you up, pressing sloppy kisses against any surface of your skin he can reach, and taking you straight into your shared bedroom.

Suguru Geto

He had truly never thought about the prospect of having kids before. He was seventeen when he took in the twins and life had been pretty hectic since then, not leaving much room for additional personal affairs.

But he couldn't get the girls' words out of his head.

They'd come home from school last week and told him about one of their classmates who had just received a baby brother. He wasn't sure if they knew the scope of what they were asking when they started begging for a little sibling, but it did get him thinking. So he told them he'd consider the idea and sent them off to do their homework.

He wasn't... completely against the idea. He's at a point where he has the means to provide for one more. He loves Nanako and Mimiko more than anything and he's sure he can love another kid all the same, but that wasn't the issue.

It was having another kid that was difficult. He'd essentially kidnapped the twins, and while the deed was justified, he wasn't eager to do it again. Anything formal was off the table, being a mass murderer slash cult leader, and all.

That's when you entered his field of vision. Like an answer to his prayers, you walked past him with a bright smile on your face and a quick 'Good morning Geto-sama' before running off to wherever the girls currently were.

The answer seemed a bit too obvious. You'd joined not too long after he'd taken over, offering support in any way you could. At the time, he was having a hard time adjusting to everything. Raising children was a lot harder than he'd anticipated, mostly due to the trauma they'd endured. You took some of the load off of him. You watched them while he was in meetings, cooked them meals, and made sure they got to and from school when he couldn't.

You're around his age, smart and pretty, and essentially already a mother to his kids. You loved them as much as he did, so surely, you'd be more than happy to help him out with this, right?

"You... want me to give you a baby?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that response. It was ambiguous, and your blank expression didn't lean any one way the other.

"Yes. Nanako and Mimiko would like a sibling, and I've decided to indulge them. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Geto-sama."

"I'd hope not."

Your confusion only grew. There was no precursor to this conversation. Just yesterday you were discussing the week's itinerary and what all was expected of you. He hadn't looked at you any differently, hadn't dropped any hints, or asked any strange questions. This was truly out of the blue.

You must've taken too long to continue the conversation because there's suddenly a hand grabbing yours. It's warm and rough, and despite the newness of it, it's grounding.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes. I'd like an honest answer. This will only work if both parties are consenting."

You hesitate for a moment. It's not like you haven't thought about it before. Not this specifically, but being more of a permanent fixture in Geto household. It's usually a fleeting feeling, a fantasy of sorts. You'd never allowed yourself to mull over it, assuming that it was a lost cause.

"Why me?"

A perfectly reasonable question.

"You're already a mother to my children, what's one more, hm?"

"And this baby..."

"Would be ours, if you're willing if course."

Suguru is actually pleased by your hesitation. A fair number of his followers would jump at the invitation without much thought. He finds it rather pathetic that some would follow him so blindly, so your reluctance only further cements his confidence in his decision.

"And what would all of this mean for me?"

"I suppose you'd be a wife of sorts. 'Nanny' seems a little degrading for someone bearing my child."

He laughs and it immediately cuts through any tension in the air.

While the offer is certainly jarring, denying it had yet to cross your mind. Geto is a harsh leader, sure, but he's incredibly kind to those close to him, and that extends to you. He's a great dad and loves his children, and you're sure any baby of yours would meet the same fate.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Why don't you meet me in my quarters after you put the girls to bed."

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namisweatheria · 3 months ago

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I feel like we don't discuss Nami's relationship with gender enough. Her entire character is so deeply informed by being a girl in a male-dominated pirate world and it's so interesting and so worth talking about.

The background creepiness of Bad pirate crews, which are most of them, how they tend to not have any female crew members at all, how they beckon any pretty young woman around to come play with them and join them. It's real bad. It's also like, a totally 2 dimensional portrayal of evil that is reserved for the most background of background characters.

However I think their ubiquity says a lot about how piracy is meant to be perceived by the public in One Piece, and is one of the strongest indicators of how prevalent misogyny is in-world.

It's very normal in One Piece for regular island inhabitants to have never met a Different class of pirate in their life. There's no reason for them to withhold judgement that maybe these pirates won't be like every crew that attacked before, and to wait and judge them by their actions. I mean frankly that would be irrationally weak self-preservation.

There are people who live peacefully under the flags of Yonkos who protect them, and feel loyalty and gratitude to them for it, but that seems to only be thing with very big name pirates. The East Blue, being the weakest and least populated, has no such plethora of powerful people and resulting turf wars.

So. Nami. Is very clearly implied to have never met any Different pirates before. I'm thinking about what that means. About how every group of pirates she stole from were creepy, dangerous men. How she started going out stealing when she was still a young child. How she didn't have a mother anymore to guide her or comfort her. How Arlong would grab her chin inappropriately, talk about her as a "human female", as property, and god knows what else.

How all the men in Arlong's crew treated her patronizingly, pretending they're all friends, teasing her and playing at respect when really not a single one of them ever stuck up for her or hesitated to accuse her of betrayal. Who were always ready to kill her if she refused to cooperate. Who grabbed her and intimidated her when they felt like it.

That's what she had to come back to after a close call with stealing from other predatory men, instead of the relief of home there was a dark, cramped room filled with endless hours of misery and isolation and blood. Where any one of her captors could barge in and demand new maps, work faster, where did you go, you took too long again this time. Endless threats and incursions.

I'm thinking about that her fight scene in Alabasta, where she tumbles and rips off her cape and uses it to catch her enemy's spikes, before leaping to her feet and running out the back door, all in one moment. How it makes her enemy reconsider her and think, "so the girl's not a total novice at fighting after all." What that implies about her experiences as a young thief. The times she wasn't fast or clever enough and had to fight and claw her way out. Why she always carried a staff and a knife. Why she was the only one before Chopper who had any medical knowledge or experience.

You know she was stitching herself up. And the weapons, how do you think she learned to use those? If any of the Arlong Pirates helped her it wasn't out of kindness and it wasn't gentle.

Then I think about Nojiko, and Bellemere's memory, and the only softness in a hard life. How easily Nami connects to every young woman experiencing hardship that she meets. How completely she dismisses the struggles of men unless they mean something to her and are going through something terrible. The way that Nami only has sympathy for women and children is easily noticeable in-text, but it's also something confirmed in those words by the author. And it's clearly because of the life she lived, the men who had all the power and only abused it, who saw her as nothing but a girl to take advantage of, without anyone aside from her sister clearly knowing and caring about any of it.

Nami clearly isn't bitter, she doesn't think the world owes her recompense, on the contrary she knows she is far from the only person in the world to suffer the things she has suffered. She is endlessly reaching out and kind, but only to those that she isn't sure would get help without her. Certainly, before Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro, no man ever reached out a hand to her without an ulterior motive.

I think when she sees a girl in trouble, a girl biting her lip to hold in a scream of grief, a girl running in the woods away from a monster, a girl captured by pirates, she sees someone who no one is coming for. Who no one will stick up for. A person without allies in a world against her. Whether it's actually true in this case or not, she runs straight for that girl anyways every single time.

#and that is why I will always. ALWAYS. be obsessed with her. writing that last line did make me cry a little. ohhh my godddd. naamiiiiii #my posts #one piece #nami #arlong park arc #east blue saga #op nami #op meta #op analysis #oh my fucking god nami. you forget sometimes because she's so happy and rambunctious and silly now but her life was a #nonstop nightmare horror show for years and years and years #she was all sharp edges and pain and gritted teeth and bloody determination and a hard laugh #for so long. oh my goddddddddddddd oh my goddd nami oh my god nami. oh my god nami.#sexism #implied assault #her life in that era is so fucking dark. you could write so many horror stories in there and they could all feel true

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lemonhemlock · 5 months ago

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the reason why i don't think blood & cheese works without maelor is because it undermines the gravity of helaena's choice

in the books, as we all know, she has to choose which son to sacrifice. blood & cheese are going to kill one either way, so, whatever happens, if you want to get cynical about it, aegon will still be left with a male heir of his body. no, the horribleness of the choice lies not really in dynastic matters, but in basic humanity: which of your children are you willing to condemn to death? and helaena truly does try to make the best out of a bad situation, she picks not because she loves jaehaerys more, but because maelor is so tiny that she hopes he won't understand what's going to happen to him.

and she absolutely has to choose, because b&c threaten to rape her daughter if she doesn't. it's psychological torture. b&c just want to fuck her up in the head as much as possible and helaena tries her goddamnest to minimize the harm done to her family. to further compound on the tragedy, b&c kill the opposite child, so now she has to live out the rest of her days knowing that the son left alive is the son SHE herself marked for the axe. which is what understandably drives her to lose her mind

now, in the show, the "problem" blood & cheese have doesn't exist at all: that they can't supposedly tell the twins apart. but (as awful as it sounds, since it involves sexual assault) they could very easily check which child has male genitalia and be done with it. it's a "problem" that takes literal seconds to solve. they don't need helaena at all! it becomes irrelevant which child she points towards - b&c can always just check! she can't save jaehaerys in this situation no matter what she does, because b&c were never interested in jaehaera in the first place. in the books, she has the ability to save one child and this exact horrible "agency" bestowed on her torments her for the rest of her days. in the show, even had she pointed towards jaehaera, it would have been a narrative plot hole for the writers to have killed her without checking

likewise, in the books, she begs them to kill her instead, but, in the show, she offers them a necklace? you can't deny that the dramatic stakes are lowered substantially by making that change. which one of these options would have been more filled with pathos? personally, it just feels like this was phia's moment to shine and, while she did a good job with what she had, every narrative choice was somehow made to subdue this horrible event and left her only crumbs to work with. cinematically-speaking, this scene (as it was executed) does not even come close to the iconic moments that cemented GoT into the collective consciousness, which is very strange, as the subject matter is anything but mediocre

and that's not even getting into the rest of the plot holes that others have already pointed out, like:

- why are there no guards at helaena's door or anywhere else for that matter? not just on that hallway, but on many other hallways, she has to run quite a lot to get to alicent's chambers

- why is her room unlocked at the very least

- why is ALICENT's room unlocked, for that matter? she is having secret guilty sex with criston and she forgets to lock her door in a castle full of spies? anyone could have walked in

- not even getting into this whole thing just being one huge misunderstanding + minimizing daemon's and mysaria's roles :))

- NOT EVEN mentioning removing the trauma of alicent witnessing all of this, gagged and bound on her own bed, not being able to help or intervene in any way

i can understand the likelihood of these elements happening sometimes (maybe someone does forget to lock their door from time to time, maybe a guard does shirk their duties from time to time), but you can't write all of them at once without it turning all looney tunes. if you introduce too many aspects that defy logic in your story, it ceases to be believable and just becomes bad writing

___________________________________________

also, "they killed <the boy>"? not "my son" or "jaehaerys"? it sounds so removed, don't you think? helaena out there on her mother's floor dropping exposition for the audience 🥲

#house of the dragon #helaena targaryen #blood & cheese #maelor targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd s2 #hotd spoilers #this is SO annoying as the episode was pretty solid throughout until this

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hollowed-theory-hall · 2 months ago

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Harry Potter and PTSD

I think no one would argue Harry Potter isn't traumatized, but I actually wanted to go through PTSD symptoms and find evidence of them in book quotes. It's mostly as a fun, little exercise (the word fun is debatable here, it made me quite sad, actually) as I'm not a licensed therapist, and I have no qualifications to diagnose anyone with anything. But I wanted to take a look at some of how Harry's trauma manifests especially in the final 3 books as the signs of PTSD are most obvious and glaring after Voldemort's resurrection and get worse after Sirius' death.

(As the title and first paragraphs suggest, this post isn't a happy one, so beware. I will be discussing symptoms of trauma as shown in the HP books)

I will be using adult PTSD symptoms since:

Older children and teens usually show symptoms more like those seen in adults. They also may develop disruptive, disrespectful, or destructive behaviors. Older children and teens may feel guilt over not preventing injury or death, or have thoughts of revenge.

(Source)

All further quotes regarding PTSD and its symptoms and how they might show were taken from the same website linked above.

To be diagnosed with PTSD, an adult must have all of the following for at least 1 month: * At least one re-experiencing symptom * At least one avoidance symptom * At least two arousal and reactivity symptoms * At least two cognition and mood symptoms

So, let's get straight into it and go into the diagnosis categories:

Re-experiencing symptoms

* Flashbacks—reliving the traumatic event, including physical symptoms, such as a racing heart or sweating * Recurring memories or dreams related to the event * Distressing thoughts * Physical signs of stress Thoughts and feelings can trigger these symptoms, as can words, objects, or situations that are reminders of the event.

Harry definitely suffers from nightmares post-Voldemort's-resurrection, and memories coming back about it:

Had they all forgotten what he had done? Hadn’t it been he who had entered that graveyard and watched Cedric being murdered and been tied to that tombstone and nearly killed ... ? Don’t think about that, Harry told himself sternly for the hundredth time that summer. It was bad enough that he kept revisiting the graveyard in his nightmares, without dwelling on it in his waking moments too.

(OotP)

In the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbed night, because even when he escaped nightmares about Cedric he had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors, which he supposed had something to do with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake.

(OotP)

And it continues even months later, he's still dreaming about the graveyard:

He was not going to share his dreams with anyone. He knew perfectly well what his regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, he did not need Ron or Professor Trelawney or the stupid Dream Oracle to tell him that...

(OotP)

Distressing thoughts are par for the course for Harry, but I'll bring up some examples:

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him.

(HBP)

He feels responsible for all of their deaths even though they are all adults who chose to be there and protect him. Harry still feels guilt and responsibility over them, even when it isn't his fault, and he shouldn't feel responsible for those who stood between him and Voldemort.

While Harry shows physical signs of stress (such as a racing heart or sweating), They are shown in actual moments of stress where any human would be stressed, so I don't count them here since they are not an immediate result of trauma.

Regardless, I'd say he does have relieving symptoms. Recurring dreams, thoughts, and a sense of guilt are all present.

Avoidance symptoms

* Staying away from places, events, or objects that are reminders of the experience * Avoiding thoughts or feelings related to the traumatic event Avoidance symptoms may cause people to change their routines. For example, some people may avoid driving or riding in a car after a serious car accident.

Harry doesn't actually have the luxury to really avoid anything (poor boy) but he does avoid talking about his dreams of the graveyard, as mentioned in the quote in the Re-experiencing section. He doesn't tell anyone, not even Ron or Hermione about his nightmares. Neither does he want to talk about Cedric. He doesn't even want to think about the graveyard and Cedric as mentioned in one of the above quotes:

(OotP)

Even though Cho keeps bringing Cedric up to process her own experience, Harry does not want to talk or think about him and what happened at the graveyard.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I’m — sorry,” she said thickly. “I suppose ... it’s just ... learning all this stuff... It just makes me ... wonder whether ... if he’d known it all ... he’d still be alive...” Harry’s heart sank right back past its usual spot and settled somewhere around his navel. He ought to have known. She wanted to talk about Cedric.

(OotP)

“I came in here with Cedric last year,” said Cho. In the second or so it took for him to take in what she had said, Harry’s insides had become glacial. He could not believe she wanted to talk about Cedric now, while kissing couples surrounded them and a cherub floated over their heads.

(OotP)

Zacharias said dismissively, “All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You- Know-Who and that you brought Diggory’s body back to Hogwarts. He didn’t give us details, he didn’t tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we’d all like to know — ” “If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,” Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith’s aggressive face, determined not to look at Cho. “I don’t want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well clear out.”

(OotP)

And when he mentions some of it, he's emotionally overwhelmed and stumbling over his words. He didn't really process everything that happened in the graveyard and he doesn't know how to talk about it:

Ron and Hermione were still smirking and Harry felt his temper rise; he wasn’t even sure why he was feeling so angry. “Don’t sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn’t I?” he said heatedly. “I know what went on, all right? And I didn’t get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right — but I just blundered through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing — STOP LAUGHING!” The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn’t remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa; Ron and Hermione’s smiles had vanished. “You don’t know what it’s like You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me — ”

(OotP)

He mentions how it isn't easy for him to talk about it when he does his interview for the Quibbler:

Harry had not found it an easy experience to talk about the night when Voldemort had returned. Rita had pressed him for every little detail, and he had given her everything he could remember, knowing that this was his one big opportunity to tell the world the truth. He wondered how people would react to the story. He guessed that it would confirm a lot of people in the view that he was completely insane, not least because his story would be appearing alongside utter rubbish about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. But the breakout of Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellow Death Eaters had given Harry a burning desire to do something, whether it worked or not...

(OotP)

So, I'd say Harry shows avoidance symptoms in abundance as well.

Arousal and reactivity symptoms

* Being easily startled * Feeling tense, on guard, or on edge * Having difficulty concentrating * Having difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep * Feeling irritable and having angry or aggressive outbursts * Engaging in risky, reckless, or destructive behavior Arousal symptoms are often constant. They can lead to feelings of stress and anger and may interfere with parts of daily life, such as sleeping, eating, or concentrating.

"CONSTANT VIGILENCE!" anyone?

But more seriously, Harry is extra vigilant and alert in the final 3 books especially. As mentioned in the above quote with Smith, Harry is more angry in the final 3 books:

“If you’ve come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can’t help you,” Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again.

(OotP)

His temper, which was always present, got worse after the graveyard. In book 4, Harry holds Ron back from hitting Draco when Draco throws his usual insults:

“You know your mother, Malfoy?” said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy

(GoF)

In book 5, Harry punches Draco himself over similar insults because he's angrier and has less of a handle on his emotions and reactions. He is barely aware of what he's doing:

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach —

(OotP)

And in general, Harry is much more on guard:

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy.

(OotP)

He startles easily and is ready for an attack at all moments:

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then heard loud, running footsteps behind him; instinctively raising his wand again, he spun on his heel to face the newcomer.

(OotP - after the dementor attack)

Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy’s hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus, and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another —

(HBP)

“Pathetic, Weasley,” said Snape, after a while. “Here — let me show you — ” He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively; all thought of nonverbal spells forgotten, he yelled, “Protego!” His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

(HBP)

By HBP and OotP, Harry is always ready for an attack and he defends himself on instinct. It doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, fight or flight instincts take over and he's acting. It's always there, under the surface, ready to spring.

After Sirius dies, we also see a change in what Harry keeps to himself and what he says out loud. All his sassiest quotes towards Snape come from after Sirius dies. Harry becomes more reckless with his words (and actions in general). The pain makes him care less about his own life and future:

“What are you doing, Potter?” said Snape coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them. “I’m trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,” said Harry fiercely. Snape stared at him.

(OotP - after Sirius' death)

“Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.” The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

(HBP - yes, this famous scene is because Harry is depressed)

This is Harry just speaking his mind with complete and utter disregard for the consequences of what comes out of his mouth. This is something we see with him only after Sirius died, as before that, he made an attempt to not anger his professors, even Snape. In the earlier books, Harry is all for de-escalating situations with Snape:

“What on earth were you thinking of?” said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitory?” Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down.

(PS)

“Let’s see,” he said, in his silkiest voice. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it’ll be a week’s worth of detentions.” Harry’s ears were ringing. The injustice of it made him want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces. He passed Snape, walked with Ron to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. Ron was shaking with anger too — for a moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal between them, but then Ron turned and sat down with Dean and Seamus instead, leaving Harry alone at his table. On the other side of the dungeon, Malfoy turned his back on Snape and pressed his badge, smirking. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room.

(GoF)

Harry may be thinking of wanting to say/do something, but he doesn't, because he has some self-preservation. This self-preservation disappears as the books go along. Harry in the early books is much more concerned for his own well-being than in the later books, and I don't think it's due to bravery or childhood trauma, at least, that isn't all there is. I think it's a reaction to some of his more recent trauma as well. A combination of feeling responsible for everything and thinking it's fine he goes through pain and danger because that's what he should do. In HBP and DH, he repeatedly says how willing he is to endanger himself, but not others. It's why he breaks up with Ginny, it's why he initially doesn't want Ron and Hermione to come with him on the Horcrux hunt. He thinks his own life is worth less. That it isn't so bad if he dies.

So he shows 3 arousal and reactivity symptoms at least.

Cognition and mood symptoms

* Trouble remembering key features of the traumatic event * Negative thoughts about oneself or the world * Exaggerated feelings of blame directed toward oneself or others * Ongoing negative emotions, such as fear, anger, guilt, or shame * Loss of interest in previous activities * Feelings of social isolation * Difficulty feeling positive emotions, such as happiness or satisfaction Cognition and mood symptoms can begin or worsen after the traumatic event. They can lead people to feel detached from friends or family members.

I already mentioned Harry's guilt regarding people "who stood between him and Voldemort". And it's true for this section as well. And I mentioned above how Harry considers his own life as worth less than others, which leads him to be incredibly reckless.

Besides the above two points, Harry also shows clear signs of depressive states:

On the fourth night after Hedwig’s departure Harry was lying in one of his apathetic phases, staring at the ceiling, his exhausted mind quite blank, when his uncle entered his bedroom. Harry looked slowly around at him. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit and an expression of enormous smugness.

(OotP)

Harry mentions that after the graveyard in the summer between 4th and 5th year, he starts having what he calls "apathetic phases", in which he just feels too tired to even think, just staring blankly at the ceiling. Him calling it "phases" as in, plural, suggests this is a common occurrence at the Dursleys.

Even later in Deathly Hallows, we see this is something Harry still does. After Ron leaves Harry and Hermione are at their most depressed:

She [Hermione] threw herself into a chair, curled up, and started to cry. Harry felt dazed. He stooped, picked up the Horcrux, and placed it around his own neck. He dragged blankets off Ron’s bunk and threw them over Hermione. Then he climbed onto his own bed and stared up at the dark canvas roof, listening to the pounding of the rain.

(DH)

Hermione reacts to her emotions by crying and letting them out, she's processing her emotions in some capacity, as hard as it is. Harry, on the other hand, just gets tired. His mind goes blank and he just stares blankly at the ceiling. Another one of these "apathetic phases". Instead of feeling, he goes numb.

We also see in book 6 how he loses some of his interest in Quidditch. The one pastime that reliably brought him joy, wasn't as important to Harry post Sirius' death. Sure, he was still playing, still interested, but there was none of the joy described previously. He doesn't have the same passion and interest even though he's the captain:

Harry smiled back vaguely, but as he pulled on his scarlet robes his mind was far from Quidditch.

(HBP)

“Don’t be stupid,” said Ron sharply. “You couldn’t have missed a Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, you’re the Captain!”

(HBP)

Some of it is to follow Draco who Harry thinks is a Death Eater, sure, but Harry in 4th year would not have acted the same. He wouldn't have let it make him miss a game, he wouldn't have even considered it.

In Deathly Hallows we also see Harry struggling with happiness in many ways. Yes, the situation is bad, but he is so incredibly affected by it, and I do want to mention that:

But they were not living, thought Harry: They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents’ moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

(DH)

This above quote makes me so sad whenever I read it, and I do want to mention it here. Like, Harry isn't actively suicidal, but he's in a lot of pain that he wants to stop. These negative thoughts are practically a constant in DH even when he isn't wearing the Horcrux.

A hundred dementors were advancing, gliding toward them, sucking their way closer to Harry’s despair, which was like a promise of a feast. ... He saw Ron’s silver terrier burst into the air, flicker feebly, and expire; he saw Hermione’s otter twist in midair and fade; and his own wand trembled in his hand, and he almost welcomed the oncoming oblivion, the promise of nothing, of no feeling. . . .

(DH)

Harry is the character with the most reliable Patronus, but even for him at some point, it's too much and he struggles with it. Struggles to bring up the happiness he needs for a Patronus. The happiness part is what he always struggled with most when it came to this spell, after all:

“No!” said Harry. He got up again. “I’ll have one more go! I’m not thinking of happy enough things, that’s what it is. ... Hang on. ...” He racked his brains. A really, really happy memory . . . one that he could turn into a good, strong Patronus ...

(PoA)

So, I'd say he shows at least 4 cognitive and mood symptoms.

Conclusions

Someone get this boy a hug and therapy, I really don't have much more to say.

I started writing this post to see if I could find evidence of PTSD symptoms in the books, and I searched and found so many that it just made me sad. So, yes, Harry obviously deals with untreated PTSD he has no idea how to regulate in the final 3 books and I think his readiness to walk towards his own demise is influenced by it.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #harry james potter #tw trauma #tw ptsd #tw sui ideation

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sweetinsaniiity · 6 months ago

Text

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.

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littlemarianah · 8 months ago

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Okay, just a crazy headcannon about death

Peeta dies very young. At 67 years old.

In the early 60s he began to occasionally leave the door open. Forgetting bread in the oven until it turns to ash. Forgetting Katniss's birthday. He even forgot to take his medicine, which he was always so precise about.

Katniss always denied it. "He's just old... He's just tired..." she used to say. Until in a hot summer, Peeta asked her if the reaping was coming. She didn't believe it, She thought he was just playing with her.

Then Peeta started complaining that the kitchen table couldn't get dirty. "You know my mom doesn't like that." he said. But his mother had been dead for 40 years. Every time they walked down the street he asked Katniss where the old Mellark's bakery was.

"The bombs, dear. Do you remember?” Katniss said.

"Oh, of course, the bombs..." Peeta murmured, pretending to remember.

Katniss wished every day that he would only forget the bad things, but he was slowly forgetting only what she wanted him to remember. He forgot how Willow liked to sleep on his chest when she was a baby and how Rye liked to eat bread dough.

Sometimes he just had a scared, confused look. He whispered in one of his children's ears: "Don't trust Katniss, she's trying to kill me." Other times he would cling to Katnis and beg her not to leave him. And he asked a million times if she really loved him. He asked if she was hungry, he asked if Willow was already sleeping in her crib, he asked if Katniss wanted to leave the bakery closed tomorrow because he was feeling so tired.

"Of course my love. Let's keep the bakery closed tomorrow." she responded with tears in her eyes, knowing that they hadn't opened a bakery in at least 10 years.

At least at night, Katniss was still able to sleep on Peeta's chest, and if she had nightmares, he would squeeze it and say. "I'm here, Katniss. It's jsut a dream." He continued to care for her until the end. He kept asking her to stop crying, that he was okay.

When they were young he had promised her that he would only die when she was already dead, not to make her suffer. But it was not the case. In the end, he seemed to realize he was about to go. There were some lucid moments. He pulled Katniss close and begged her, whimpering.

"Promise me that you will live for more many many years..."

"I promise." she said.

Then Peeta is gone, but his clothes are still in the closet, his cane in place in case he wants to come back. Katniss wishes she had gone crazy, but she remains completely sane. Every day, she wake up and knew exactly where she was and what had happened. Her only moments of madness were when her youngest son entered the room, tall and with blond hair. She almost exploded with happiness until realized that it was Rye and not Peeta.

She lived many years as he wanted, but she did not live the way he would have liked. It was a good thing their children were already grown up because she didn't have the strength to do anything other than eat and sleep.

After Peeta died she stopped having nightmares and started having dreams. A warm house, smelling like bread, with a Peeta who never went to games waiting for her. She began to find comfort in the fact that he didn't had to see her die. Being happy that at least it was his body that decided to get sick and die, not being forced to go. She found comfort in what she could until death took her to him again.

Many years later, when her grandchildren are reunited, she tells him an old story. About a hungry orphan girl and a baker boy with a loaf of bread in his hands.

#the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #sad ending

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kohakurin8 · 4 months ago

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Things I Noticed Watching The Umbrella Academy for the Second Time

Spoilers ahead!

• Leonard was always kinda creepy. The reason most people didn't notice it at first is because the narrative makes you hope for good things for Vanya, especially when he acts kind and supportive towards her. It's a wonderful portrayal of manipulative relationship dynamics because it makes you experience the manipulation first hand with Vanya. Incredible.

• Hazel really came into the "Kill Number 5" job with one foot out the door. He was already planning to leave his job and find a normal life. And considering he actually took the time to realize that he was miserable and then manage to just barely keep his job while looking for a way out, I think Hazel just might be the most mentally stable person in that entire organization.

• Vanya's whole statement about wondering if what Mom says is from her own thoughts or from Dad isn't a nihilistic thought about Mom not being her own person. She was trying to express that Dad might have actually loved them, deep down, because if he didn't then he wouldn't have been able to program Mom to be so loving and caring to them. Not only is this foreshadowing for later seasons, it also means that Reginald specifically programmed Mom to show the children all the love and care that he never could in his role.

• Holy shit, Klaus ACTUALLY DROWNED in that bathtub in episode 3—

• Klaus always had a 70s vibe going on before he ever went to Vietnam. It begs the question, did the briefcase take him to Vietnam because that era was in his heart all along? Is that what happens when you don't program it?

• The series treats Vanya's book like it was some horrible mistake. A bad decision that made everyone's lives worse. At least, that's what most of her siblings think, so it makes the viewer feel that way too. But if you take a step back and look at it, there was nothing wrong with Vanya's book. It was therapeutic for her, and it helped everyone go on to become their own people. They should have been happy that Vanya had the courage to speak out about the abuse that they endured, but instead they hate her for it because it forced them to face negative feelings that they'd been trying to ignore.

• When Five ran back to the academy and found it destroyed, the very first name he called was Vanya's. She was the person he was concerned about the most.

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #vanya hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves #five umbrella academy #hazel and chacha

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itsgrimeytime · 8 months ago

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drunk on you (part three) || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader (no apocalypse!AU)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

series taglist: @ryoujoking

Part 1, 2.

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: You'd known Rick forever, as far back as freshman year. He was a guy you (if you were honest) had a crush on; there was just something in his stance and the low drawl of his voice. You'd say that feeling only got worse from there. Before you could blink, he was married and had a kid; and suddenly, despite your best efforts, you felt very out of place. You faded out of his life, and he yours. So when Rick shows up at your door (drunk out of his mind) about 5 years after the last time you spoke to him, you have a lot of questions.

TWs: excessive use of pet names, making out, vague reference to sex, shameless flirting, crying, vague reference to Lori's infidelity, and unresolved feelings.

[[A/N: Rick Grimes in this one is simply whipped. also not me going back on my wordddddd. I might make more, we'll see. Also whoever made this gif has my whole heart. Y'all ever just want to hold a man and tell him everythings okay??? That he's allowed to feel??? No, just me? Okay. Enjoy :))]]

"Rick," you pursed your lips, rubbing at a dish in your sink.

Currently, you are at home -on babysitting duty. About a month after the wedding, their honeymoon kick-started and Carl went to stay with his Dad and Judith (who you'd briefly met at the wedding) staying with Lori's mom.

However, she had an appointment today (or at least that's what she said), so your home was currently filled with two tiny children. Luckily, you weren't doing it alone.

"Rick," you repeated -peering over the counter to look at him.

He was looking at you in that kind of way that you recognized to be just... adoration. The smile on his face perked up, as he watched you do whatever you were doing; he wouldn't even look away for a second. It felt kind of like when he told you he loved you, and you couldn't breathe-

"Stop looking at me that."

"Like what?" Rick countered with a smile -you couldn't decide if you wanted to slap it off or kiss him senseless. Later.

You huffed out a breath, finally rinsing the dish, "You know what you're doing, Grimes."

He suddenly seemed to notice what you're doing, standing up from his seat, "Baby, let me do those, you 'ave done enough."

"That's really sweet, babe, and I would gladly accept it in different circumstances," you hummed, grabbing the next one (as well as debating whether to kill him because of the pet name), "-but you're on kid duty."

His eyes instinctively went to the kids, who to his credit were quietly reading (Carl) and passed out on the couch (Judith). There wasn't much to watch.

These kids were way too well-behaved, it was kind of scary-

"If you won't let me help ya," he was slowly stepping toward you, "-why don't you take a break for a little while? You're stressed out-"

"I am not stressed out," you snapped -directly proving his point.

Rick wasn't moved at all though by your 'intimidation', coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You sighed, instinctively leaning into him -breaths solid and mind stirring.

"I 'aven't seen ya like this since your last midterm," he commented -laughing lightly, slowly swaying the two of you in motion, "-what's goin' on in 'at pretty little head of yours?"

You let out a long breath, "I've really gotta finish these dishes, Rick."

"Finish 'em," he hummed, leaning down to put a featherlight kiss on your cheek, "-I'll be right 'ere, waitin'."

You did so, conveniently way less stressed. Every time your breath picked up and your moves started to become frantic, Rick would notice and pull you closer or kiss you on the temple. All the stress would promptly vanish out of your body.

He'd always been able to do that, even when you were kids, talk you down from ledges, 'relax, it's all goin' to be okay, I promise'. It was kind of weird the way you got him now, romantic, you'd never even dreamed of this. You wouldn't let yourself.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, darlin'?"

You laughed, finishing the last dish and putting it into the strainer, "How much young Y/N would lose their mind right now. With you."

Rick snickered, something delighted in his voice, "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," you affirmed, "-They would be..."

You fell silent, even now, all you'd sacrificed, all you'd shoved down still hurt. You had Rick now, but that didn't erase the years you didn't.

"...happy," you finished, a little desolately.

Rick slowly spun you around in his grip, blue eyes searching for yours, and when they found them, smiling -it shot warmth through your chest.

"I love you."

You smiled, hands awkwardly at your side -before frowning, "My hands are all soapy."

"Why does 'at matter?" He tilted his head, grin giving no signs of disappearing.

"I want to kiss you," you explained, "-but I can't do that with-"

"Well," he laughed, moving forward -pulling one hand off your waist and sliding it up to hold your face, "-I can."

Before you could let out a word, he sealed your lips together. Rick always kissed with a little passion, you'd noticed that -so you were a bit lucky that the sink was just behind your back. Otherwise, he would've blindly pushed you into a wall -which hurt last time.

He was slow as if he was trying to treasure you, show you that he loved you. It was less desperate this time, although you were very sure he'd been wanting to kiss you for at least an hour. It was just calming, grounding; the push of his lips, solid and body sturdy against your body.

You couldn't help it then, your hands went to his shoulders, supporting yourself.

And then, he brought out his tongue.

Now, the tongue was new, a lot of trouble -you were really glad he hadn't brought it out in the closet because that would have gone much differently. A little less romantic. More fun though, probably-

He urged open your mouth without hesitation (you were very simple, what can you say), tongue twirling around your own. Still slow, still languid, as if he was carefully wanting to know every little bit of you.

You pulled yourself away, the familiar heat flushing through your body, eyes blinking open to match his. He had the most mischievous little grin there, eyes staying solid on your lips.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"Rick," he pushed forward with a simple press of lips, your will was weak, "-we cannot do this right now."

He pushed forward again, more power this time, slowly pulling back, "Your son is in the next room."

"I'd like 'im to see a display of healthy affection," he hummed, still a breath away.

"Don't you think he gets enough of that from Shane and Lori?"

He smiled then, twinkly, "Who says 'ere's is healthy?"

You burst into laughter, as his lips found solace on all the surfaces of his face -the bags of your eyes, the curve of your nose, the corners of your lips, and your cheeks. His grin only got brighter as you laughed -like it was the only sound he'd ever wanted to hear in the world. Or maybe like it was his favorite.

"Okay, okay," you let out a breath, pushing him backward, "-if this keeps going you're going to-"

Your eyes faltered to your hands, and the wet stains on his shirt, "Shit."

"'S no big deal, baby," he hummed, pressing forward to kiss you -simply, "-'ll just get a new one from my drawer."

Right, another new thing, the drawer. Rick stayed over a lot now, and to be fair, you had an extra room (you were going to get a roommate at one point, but that never happened) where Carl could sleep. So, it just started functioning that way. Plus, Rick had a terrible habit of just showing up at your place otherwise. It was much better than that.

The thing was, every time he came over, he brought more of him. Everywhere you looked you could see a little Rick -the boots by the door, the coat on the rack, the extra blanket on the couch, and he'd even brought over some dishes once. That one you weren't sure why.

And it was fine, good even. It's just that you hadn't talked about it. At all.

He still had his place at home, close to Bonnie and the town where you grew up. And while the town was lovely, you had moved on. You just weren't sure that Rick had moved on too.

He'd told you that after getting shot on the job and put in a coma, the department had essentially retired him -out of concern. So, he got a monthly check. He was at your apartment all the time, and yet it seemed like he couldn't get enough of it. You were a little worried about him going stir-crazy in the city on top of everything else. Would it be a good idea for him to even move here?

Selfishly, you still really wanted him to.

It was another day, Saturday to be specific, you were sitting on the couch and Rick's head lay in your lap -mindlessly, you ran your fingers through his hair. It was getting longer now, curling, and he was growing out his stubble -you'd told him frankly that you like both very much.

He had only smiled (the tips of his ears growing pink) and said promptly, "Guess I'll keep doin' it then."

You were happy that you had such an influence, because he was always handsome, but there was something special about having your very own Rick. Not the one when you were kids, not the one from his marriage with Lori, yours. With a kiss of curly hair and stubble.

"You really like the hair, don't ya?" He mumbled out, half-focused because of the rhythmic motion of your hand. It was cute, he was cute.

You hummed, happily -staring down at him, "I love your curls."

He smiled a little, cheeks dusting pink -you absentmindedly let your other hand brush against them. He kissed your fingertips when he could.

"I don't understand why you never let it grow out when we were kids," you expressed, staring at the baby curls on the top of his head, "-It's so pretty."

"'S hardly pretty," he muttered out.

You frowned, moving your hands to cup his face, ever-so-slightly, "You are very pretty, Grimes. Probably the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Rick fell quiet, something crossing over his face.

"And if anyone else says otherwise," you moved your hand back to his hair, "-I'll beat the shit out of them."

He choked out a laugh, a big smile radiating up at you -eyes with that look again, you could indulge in it this time, though, "Would ya?"

"Well, yeah," you laughed, "-I smacked Shane, didn't I?"

He suddenly sat up, scooting close to your side and facing you -something in his eyss monstrously delighted, "You smacked Shane?"

"Shit," you gulped -trying to think back, "-did I not tell you that?"

"When?" He urged, and he was nearly jumping in place.

"At his wedding," you clarified, before frowning, "-that really doesn't sound good, does it?"

Rick laughed, roaming closer to you, "You did 'at for lil' old me?"

"He had it coming," you retorted, "-plus, me and Bonnie talked about much worse-"

"God," he said suddenly, using both of his hands to cup your face -leaning forward to connect your foreheads, "-I love you."

"I love you too," you responded, laughing a little, "-Does me slapping Shane really do it for you or?"

He laughed again, a bright twinkle, before settling back, "Just can't remember the last time someone did somethin' for me."

You frowned.

"But, of course, you did," he hummed, looking at you in sheer wonder, "-I didn't even ask ya to do 'at."

"I would hope not," you quipped, and his grin grew brighter, "-and, even from a friend's perspective, the guy deserved it. Deserved his shoes stomped too, but you didn't let me leave your side-"

Rick grinned, pressing a short kiss onto your lips, "I was kinda followin' you around like a lost puppy all night, wasn't I?"

You shook your head, letting out a breath, "It's okay though, I didn't mind."

He smiled at you, all soft and sweet.

"Plus, I asked Bonnie to do it for me-"

He laughed loud, eyes hazy onto your features for a moment. At his staring, all you could do was smile and start to laugh, fluster bubbling up your face. His eyes only shined brighter then, and before you could react, he pushed you down onto the couch -lips coming to find yours as you both burst into laughter.

And maybe it got a little feverish, and maybe it got a little rushed. And maybe he picked you up and carried you off to the bedroom without so much as a stuttered step (all hooded eyes and bright smiles).

But that was between the two of you.

A few months later, it was a weeknight -you had just tumbled through the door off your work shift. You usually got out pretty early, but today had been a rough one. You hadn't been expecting Rick, he was (last you'd known) at his place. Had to go back every month at least once for his check, and he usually stayed for a little bit. The drive wasn't long, but it was long enough to want to be avoided.

So, when you brought yourself through the door, you were expecting an empty apartment. You were exhausted, didn't even want to eat -you just wanted to sleep.

Instead, you walked in with the lights on and some shifting in the kitchen.

"Rick?" You offered, slipping off your shoes and shuffling to the kitchen.

"There ya are," he hummed, spinning around to meet you -before his eyes rested solely on you.

He faltered, dropping whatever he had in his hands gently on the counter (you weren't paying attention) -hands coming to rest on your shoulders. They smoothed there for a second, before he nudged up your chin.

"Bad day?"

"I'm exhausted," you sighed, fully leaning into his hands.

He pursed his lips for a second, moving his hand up to cup your face, "Ya eaten today?"

"This morning," you answered -honestly.

Frowning, his other hand dragged his fingertips over your arm, "'Gotta take better care of yourself, baby. You know 'at."

"Yeah, yeah," you groaned, but not making any motion to move, "-I know."

"I'm serious," he leveled with you, eyes starkly matching yours.

"I know, Rick," you responded, "-I'm just too tired-"

"Ya need to eat," he reinforced, guiding you to the bedroom gently -carefully steps to gently bring you there.

"Then why are you-"

"Sleep," he hummed, hands solidly on your shoulders -pulling aside the blankets, "-I'll bring ya some food in a minute."

"Rick," you looked at him, "-I can-"

"Shush," he pushed you forward but you didn't move, "-baby, lay down."

"Really, I can, it's late, you should sleep-"

"'At's enough," he hummed gruffly, grabbing you by the waist and lugging you over his shoulder.

"Rick!" You nearly squealed.

"Ya weren't workin' with me," he huffed out -trying to hold back a laugh, "-gotta do 'at I 'ave to."

"Okay, okay," you laughed, "-I get your point. You can put me down-"

"Too late," he pulled you forward, gently cradling your head onto the bed, "-already 'ere."

You looked at him for a moment, blue eyes the only thing lit up in the room and something in you softened.

His hand remained under your head, and he was close enough to feel his breath -you mindlessly looked at him. Hands blindly reaching for his face, you pulled him to you -one solid kiss.

As you parted, you still held him there -whispering, softly, "Thank you."

Rick smiled, you could see it in the distant dusting of lighting. Brushing your hands up along his jaw, you found his hair -threading through it for a moment. He leaned forward that time, a simple press of lips.

You smiled.

"Okay," he hummed, gruff and maybe tired, "-I've gotta go make ya some food, darlin'."

You nodded, solidly, "I love you."

"Love ya too," he smiled, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, "-sleep. I'll be 'ere in a minute."

"Okay," you hummed, as he pulled the blanket up over you -slowly sinking into the bed.

Just a few minutes.

You don't know how long you were out with a fuzzy mind and warm dreams. Sleep was always better when you were just tired.

"Hey, baby," his voice echoed out, a little sing-songy. The first thing, other than his voice, you noticed was the gentle smell wafting through the air. You instinctively sniffed, mumbling out.

He hummed, pulling you up, "'S getcha up, okay? Need to eat somethin'."

You groaned but moved with him -pushing the pillows up behind your back. Rick was shifting with you, being the one to primarily move you.

"Pick a show," he hummed, putting the plate on your nightstand and rumbling up to the other side of the bed, "-Let's eat, and then we can sleep again, 'kay?"

You sighed out a breath, rubbing at your eyes, and pulling the plate onto your lap, "You know what I wanna watch, Grimes, you put it on."

"Grumpy, aren't ya?" he huffed with a grin -mindlessly grabbing the remote, and putting on your favorite show.

You hummed, and ate.

There wasn't much said then, the silent hum of the TV and the shuffle of eating filling the air.

Eventually you ended up here, curled into Rick's side with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped tightly around you -fingers massaging your scalp. Your arms wrapped around his chest -as close as you could possibly be. He laughed at you, trying to get as close as you possibly could, but didn't object at all. You would never imagine him to. In fact, he actually pulled you closer -arm wrapped around you solidly.

"I don't know what I would've done if you weren't here," you murmured, low and just under the hum of the TV.

"Not eaten," he replied, teasingly.

You turned to face him, putting your chin on his chest -he simply moved his fingers to the other side, "Rick, I'm serious."

"I know, baby," he hummed, curling his hand behind your ear and trailing down your jaw, "-I know. 'M glad to be 'ere, 'specially wit' you."

You rolled your eyes, "You're cliché, Grimes."

"'At's the way you like it, though," he smiled, brushing his fingertips down your back, "-and I do like keepin' ya happy."

You sighed, trailing a hand up to dance around his jaw, "Ugh, why can't I just keep you here forever?"

There was a silence then, as your fingers fluttered over his skin -ending up at the nape of his neck, digging into curls.

"I could," he said finally, "-be 'ere, there's an openin' on the floor below ya, I asked."

"Rick," you laughed, "-don't be ridiculous."

His face contoured into something a little defensive, "Why is 'at ridiculous-"

"Move in with me," you breathed out.

Rick froze, breath fluttering out of his chest -blue eyes still lazily strolling along your face.

"If you're going to be in the same city for me," you argued, "-why not just be with me?"

He smiled, that dazzling sort of one that just made your heart twist in your chest -always so in love. You still couldn't wrap your head around it.

Fingers still dancing along your back, he countered, "Ya know 'at means Carl too, don't you?"

"Of course, I-" you spoke -a little in disbelief, "-Rick, I know that you and Carl are a package deal. Your kid comes first, I get that."

"Are you sure you wanna-"

"Rick," you reiterated, sitting up fully now and facing him, "-I love you, like crazy. If you think that I don't love him too, you're insane."

"Not everyone's," he paused, and you realized then he had been thinking about this a lot, "-ready for a kid-"

"Rick," you stressed -holding his face to guide to yours, "-I may not be the greatest at... at kids. But I am willing to try, for you and Carl."

His eyes scanned over you, a bit in wonder, like he really couldn't imagine you sat in front of him, asking what you were asking.

"I just-" he started, "-I wanna make sure you're sure. It's a big deal, and... I don't wanna scare ya away."

Again hung through the air for a moment.

"You're stuck with me," you readjusted your hands -cupping his face, "-I got away once but now you are stuck with me, Grimes. And Carl is a part of you. That means I'm stuck with him too, okay?"

Rick pursed his lips, like he hadn't expected this and something in your heart sunk.

"I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I wouldn't accept Carl-"

"No, you never-" he sighed big and long, eyes dropping to his lap for a moment, he sniffled, "-I just..."

You tilted his face back up to meet yours, and your eyes took in the tears settled in his eyes, you waited for him to talk. Mindlessly, your thumbs rubbed them away -patient.

"I never thought I'd get this after Lori," he cried, soft and just for you to hear, "-I always thought with Carl, people would never-"

You shifted onto his lap, straddling, pulling his head forward into your shoulder -fingers threading into his curls. Your other hand wrapped around his back, rubbing small little circles in its stead.

He cried into your skin for a moment, just tears creeping out of somewhere they had long settled. You wondered how long he'd been holding onto this.

You frowned at the thought, turning your head to kiss his jaw quickly.

"I'm sorry," you muttered out.

Rick seemed to want to move up and say something but you kept him there -gently carding through his hair with your fingers. He didn't put up much of a fight.

"I'm sorry for what she did to you," you clarified, before pulling his face back in front of you, "-really, I am."

"I'm not-"

"I know you're past it, Rick," you hummed, hand smoothing down the side of his face, "-doesn't mean you ever got what you deserved, an apology."

He opened his mouth, but you kept going.

"Just because you adapted," you presented, "-doesn't mean it can't still hurt, Rick. I know it doesn't hurt because of Lori anymore-"

He stared at you wordlessly, like he was desperately trying to listen.

"-but it's okay if it hurts for different reasons," you explained, gently rubbing your fingertips along his jaw, "-Your trust was broken by someone you loved, it's okay to be scared that it might happen again."

Rick hummed for a moment, eyes darting all over your face -like he was trying to figure out what to say. You merely waited patiently, in silence.

"I... I'm scared. Not that you'll... I trust ya, I do. It's just-"

"Rick, baby, stop," you interrupted him, meeting his eyes again, "-you don't have to explain yourself to me."

"But you-"

"Rick," you laughed a little, hands coming to rest on his shoulders -his eyes stayed squarely on you, "-you experienced something and reacted to it. I'm not taking that personally, you were hurt and now you don't want to be hurt again."

He seemed a little stunned, unsure of his own words. You took it as a motion to keep talking.

"I can tell you that I won't hurt you again, and maybe you'll believe it," you offered, "-but because someone broke that trust, there is gonna be a part of your brain that doesn't-"

His fingers brushed against your face for a moment, like he was grounding himself -listening to the words you were saying.

"-and that's not your fault or mine," you clarified, effectively shushing him, "-and we're gonna do our best to fix it, okay?"

Rick stared at you, a little in awe.

"Together," you reiterated, before adding on -less confidently, "-if you want to."

He didn't say anything.

"And," you cleared your throat, suddenly a little flustered with his sole attention and the ever-growing silence, "-you don't have to move in if you're not ready, that's a... a given."

You snapped your mouth shut, eyes dancing along his face -trying to read anything on it. All you got was wonder, and disbelief.

"Uh," you laughed, nervously, "-Rick? Are you... okay?"

He seemed to blink then, eyes clear of their haze, "Shit, sorry, I..."

His tone faltered off again, eyes dashing over you like you weren't even real; he just seemed so shaken by everything. You weren't sure exactly what to do.

"Shit, again, I-" He started, swallowing, "-I mean, yes to all of it."

"You want to move in?"

"Yeah," he repeated like it was the most obvious answer in the world, "-yeah, I want... I want it all."

You raised an eyebrow, asking for clarification.

"I want your help," he spoke, hands trailing up to properly cup your cheek, "-I need your help, I wanna be better. I wanna think... better."

You hummed, raising a hand to come up on top of his -turning and pressing a kiss to his palm, "Okay."

There was a silence then, as he looked at you and you looked at him. It was like a shift, somehow your relationship ticked -like suddenly it wasn't just love but a relationship. Intertwined lives, and goals to better each other; it felt different and you wondered if it was still the same-

"I get the baby thin' now," Rick murmured out, fingers playing with the neck of your shirt.

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to remember, "Did I call you baby?"

"Mhm," he confirmed, "-'s really... special to hear it. Feels nice."

"Wait, so," your fingers danced around his chest, "-what are you saying, baby?"

Rick grinned, something twinkling in his eye, "Really? You gonna do this now?"

"Oh, yeah, baby," you laughed.

He smiled, fingers brushing over your cheekbones -blue eyes languid over your figure, "'Sure ya wanna do 'at tonight?"

You paused, noting the exhaustion deep in your skin and the sleep-slur of his words.

"Okay," you decided, yawning and nuzzling into his chest, "-fine. Tomorrow."

Rick pulled you into his chest -brushing his fingers along your back, something telling in his voice but everything else so casual, "Whatever ya want, baby."

"Rick-"

Yep, you realized, still the exact same.

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