chris

20 - any pronouns

[double22]

Undressed Part 4 x Daniela Avanzini

Enemy! Daniela Avanzini x fem!reader

Synopsis- You a super smart, popular student who everyone likes, you’re student body president, straight A's, and even got into Harvard. You grew up with twins Daniela and James, and as time pass Dani stopped talking to you but you and James stayed close.

Warning/tags- Angst, fluff, Enemies to lovers, swearing, bad grammar, spelling mistakes, non-idol AU, Twins, violence, JAMES

AN* I'm so sorry it took so long.... I was rewriting it like 10 times, it shorter than usual but I'm thinking of ending it someway!

Part 1, Part 2

The morning comes too soon. Light spills weakly through the curtains, brushing against my face, but I can’t bring myself to move. My body feels heavy, like the night never really ended.

Eventually, I reach for my phone...old habits die hard. My thumb hovers over the screen, waiting for that familiar notification. Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you dream of me? Something small, something hers. something real.

But the screen stays empty. No messages. No heart emojis. No warmth. Just silence.

I scroll down, opening our old texts. The words blur as I read them, her teasing me about being late again, me promising to make it up to her, the tiny digital moments that built something real.

My chest tightens. The more I scroll, the worse it gets. Every joke, every “I love you,” every stupid inside thing, it all feels like ghosts now. Fragments of a life that doesn’t exist anymore.

And before I know it, my eyes are wet. I blink hard, but it’s useless. The tears come anyway, quiet and relentless.

I press the phone to my chest and whisper to no one, I hope she’s okay.

Then I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, realizing that for the first time in a long while...

she’s not mine to worry about anymore.

I eventually drag myself out of bed, my eyes sore and heavy.

The house feels too bright, too quiet, too clean, like it doesn’t belong to someone falling apart.

When I step into the kitchen, the smell of breakfast fills the air. Our private chef, Enrique is already moving around the stove, plating something perfect I couldn't even care about right now.

My mom sits at the table, legs crossed, reading the newspaper like every morning.

She doesn’t look up when she speaks. Her voice is flat, practiced. “Congratulations, Harvard Law.”

Then she slides her phone across the table toward me. On the screen is an email—Acceptance Confirmed.

Her eyes flick up briefly, unreadable. “The bare minimum,” she says, before turning another page of the paper like it’s just another headline.

I stare at the phone, the words blurring in front of me. Harvard. Law. The thing I was supposed to want.

And yet, all I can think about is her. How she would’ve smiled first, teased me second, kissed me third. How she would’ve meant it.

Enrique asks if I want coffee, and I nod, but my throat’s too tight to answer.

The world keeps moving, expectations keep stacking, and I’m just standing there admitted to everything, and belonging nowhere.

My mom finally looks up from her paper, eyes narrowing just a little as she studies my face.

“Why so glum?” she asks, like it’s a casual observation, not concern. Her tone is light, but there’s a flicker of curiosity behind it like she can sense something’s off, but doesn’t care enough to dig.

I force a smile, small and brittle. “I’m happy,” I force out. But I'm not fucking happy...I gave up everything for this but now that I have it...I could care less about it.

I’m happy.

The words sound foreign, like they belong to someone else.

She nods once, satisfied, and goes back to her paper. The soft crinkle of the pages fills the silence that follows. The chef sets a plate in front of me eggs, toast, fruit, everything arranged perfectly and I just stare at it.

I’m happy.

Maybe if I say it enough, it’ll stop feeling like a lie.

The car is waiting out front, engine already humming. Normally, it’s Daniela leaning against the hood, arms crossed, teasing me about being late again. She’d toss my bag in the back, crank the music too loud, and pretend she didn’t see me smiling.

But today, it’s just the chauffeur. He opens the door with a polite nod, and I mumble a thanks before sliding into the back seat.

The leather is cold. The silence, colder.

As the car pulls away from the house, I glance at the passenger seat out of habit. Empty. No half-finished coffee cup, no hoodie, no soft hum of her favorite song under her breath. Just the faint scent of air freshener and the sound of tires rolling over wet pavement.

I press my forehead to the window, watching the world blur past. Everything looks the same, but nothing feels right.

Normally, she’d be here. Laughing. Talking. Alive in a way that made the morning bearable.

Now it’s just me. And the distance between us, growing with every turn of the road.

When the car stops in front of the school gates, I take a second before stepping out.

I fix my expression in the reflection of the tinted window shoulders straight, eyes clear, smile practiced. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach anywhere near the heart.

“Sophia!” someone calls. It’s Yoonchae, with Sophia beside her, both waving as they walk up.

“Where’s Daniela?” Sophia asks, glancing at the car. “And… is that your chauffeur? Since when do you”

I cut her off with a small shrug and a weak smile, keeping my tone even. “We broke up.”

The words hang there, heavier than I mean them to.

They both blink, confusion flashing between them. “Wait, what? Since when?” Yoonchae asks, her voice soft but surprised.

“Last night,” I say simply, adjusting the strap of my bag. “I just… need to focus. On Harvard. I need to prepare.”

Sophia’s eyes widen. “You got in?”

I force a smile. small, distant. “Not yet,” I lie. “Just trying to be ready.”

They exchange a look, unsure of what to say. I nod politely, pretending not to notice their pity, and start walking toward the building.

Each step feels mechanical. The sound of their whispers fades behind me. I should feel proud, Harvard, the dream everyone wanted for me, but all I feel is the echo of what I left behind.

And the empty space where she used to walk beside me.

I barely make it through the first few classes. My body’s here, but my head’s somewhere else, back on that porch, replaying everything I said wrong.

When the final bell rings, I’m heading toward the courtyard when I see him...James. He’s leaning against the lockers, waiting. The look in his eyes tells me this wasn’t a coincidence.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Can we talk?”

I shake my head, not slowing down. “It’s not right, James. Just...don’t.”

I move to walk past him, but his hand catches my wrist, firm but trembling. “Please. Just listen—”

I turn, forcing a smile, the kind that hides more than it shows. “James, we aren’t even friends,” I say softly. "Back off" The words come out smooth, rehearsed like they were waiting for this exact moment.

I pull my wrist free, the warmth of his touch already fading, and take a step forward.

Then I see her.

Dani.

She’s standing by the courtyard steps, sunlight catching in her perfect hair, those familiar, gorgeous eyes locking onto mine. For a second, everything stops. The world, the noise, even the air.

For a heartbeat, maybe longer, we just stare at each other.

The courtyard noise fades, the laughter, the chatter, the scraping of shoes against concrete. All of it slips away until it’s just her and me, standing on opposite sides of a space that used to feel so small, now impossibly wide.

Her eyes find mine, steady, unreadable. Not angry. Not sad. Just… tired. Like she’s seen this coming all along. The kind of look that doesn’t ask for an explanation, because the silence between us already gave it.

I want to say something. Anything. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I still love you. I had to. I needed to protect you. But my throat won’t move, and my chest feels tight.

She blinks once, slow, then looks away. Just that simple motion and it feels like the world quietly ending.

I stay there, frozen in the echo of everything we used to be, and for the first time, I realize this is what loss really looks like. Not a fight. Not a goodbye. Just a look that says it’s already over.

I don’t even notice James... not until his voice cuts through the silence, low and shaking.

“What does she have that I didn’t?”

I turn to him, but his eyes aren’t angry, they’re wounded, desperate, like he’s been holding that question for months.

The hallway hums around us, but I can’t hear a thing. Dani’s gone. The space she left feels heavier than the air between us.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because how do you explain that it was never about what she had—it was how she made everything else fade away? How she made me feel like I was someone worth choosing, worth staying for? How instead building something alone, she made me want to stay.

But that’s not something you can say. Not now. Not to him.

So I lie again. Just like before. “She had timing,” I say quietly, eyes fixed ahead. “That’s all.”

James lets out a bitter laugh that sounds more like a sigh. “Timing,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Right.”

And for a moment, we just stand there in the echo of something broken, two people left behind by the same girl in different ways.

The next few weeks blurred together. I’d see her from across the courtyard, surrounded by laughter that didn’t need me anymore Manon tossing her hair back, Megan cracking some inside joke, Lara clutching her side as they all dissolved into the kind of joy that used to include me.

Dani laughed like she hadn’t been shattered. Like she’d gathered every broken piece of herself and made something new, something brighter.

And me? I studied. Day and night. Every page I turned was a shield, every word a distraction. Basic L-SATs, mock exams, internships, anything to keep from thinking about her smile.

But I still caught myself watching her. From the library window, from the far end of the quad, from behind a crowd I had no desire to join.

There were moments when she’d look up, just for a second, and our eyes would almost meet almost and then she’d look away first. Always first.

That’s when I’d remind myself: you’re doing the right thing. She’s healing. And I’m… what?

Becoming someone worthy of the life I said I wanted. Even if it means watching the only thing that ever felt real slip further and further out of reach.

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The library is almost empty, just the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the scratch of pens against paper. Ezerela sits across from me, glasses sliding down her nose, her notes perfectly color-coded while mine look like they’ve been through a storm.

She looks up after a while, squinting at me. “You’ve read the same sentence five times,” she says softly. “You okay?”

I try to shrug it off, but it feels heavy, like the motion itself betrays something. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She doesn’t buy it. Ezerela never does. “No, you’re not. You’re somewhere else. What happened?”

I hesitate. The words taste bitter, old, and familiar. “Dani,” I say finally.

Her pen stops moving. She doesn’t say anything, just waits.

I stare down at my open book, the words blurring. “We broke up,” I tell her, voice low. “A month ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

I nod, my throat tightening. “It was my choice. I thought… if I left, maybe things would go back to normal. For her, for James, for everyone. But it’s like—” I pause, searching for the right words. “It’s like I cut out a piece of myself and tried to pretend I didn’t need it.”

Ezerela leans back, studying me with that quiet understanding she always has. “And now?”

“Now I’m supposed to be happy,” I say. “But it feels like I traded her for a future I don’t even want anymore.”

She closes her notebook slowly, the sound sharp in the stillness. “You didn’t trade her,” she says. “You just forgot that love doesn’t stop being real because it hurts.”

Her words linger in the air simple, but they cut deeper than anything I’ve heard in weeks.

For a long time, neither of us speaks. The clock ticks. My chest aches in quiet rhythm with it.

Then she says, almost whispering, “You still love her, don’t you?”

I look up, eyes stinging, and manage the smallest, saddest smile. “Every day,” I admit. “And that’s the problem.”

Ezerela closes her notebook and pushes it aside. The air between us feels heavier now, like we’re balancing on the edge of something neither of us meant to start.

“You know,” she says quietly, “you can’t keep punishing yourself for wanting her.”

I let out a short laugh, more breath than sound. “I’m not punishing myself. I’m just… trying to move on.”

“No, you’re not,” she says, sharper now. “You’re drowning yourself in work. You think if you get your degree or land the perfect job, it’ll erase her. But it won’t.”

I look away, jaw tightening. “You don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it?” She leans forward, eyes narrowing. “I’ve seen you kill yourself over grades, ignore your friends, shut everyone out and for what? To prove you’re okay?”

Her words sting because they’re true. I clench my pen, trying to hold onto something steady. “You don’t know what it’s like to love someone you can’t have.”

Ezerela’s expression hardens. “Don’t I?”

That catches me off guard. She exhales, shaking her head. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, you know. The difference is, I didn’t take it out on everyone trying to help me.”

I look up, startled. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“That’s what you’re doing right now.”

Her voice cracks at the edges, and suddenly the space between us feels miles wide.

I press my palms to my face, groaning softly. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” she cuts in, quieter now. “But you can’t keep projecting what you feel for her onto everyone else. I’m not Dani. I can’t fix this for you.”

Silence. Just the hum of the lights and the sound of my pulse in my ears.

Finally, I whisper, “I don’t want you to fix it. I just… don’t know how to stop missing her.”

Ezrela sighs, her anger fading into something softer, pity, maybe, or understanding. “You don’t stop,” she says. “You just learn to live with the empty space.”

We don’t talk after that. We just sit there, pretending to study while grief hangs over the table like another unspoken word.

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

The speakers echo through the empty studio, vibrating against the mirrors, lights dimmed except for the faint glow spilling in from the hallway.

Dani moves like she’s trying to outrun something. Every spin, every step, every breath feels heavier than the one before.

She’s been at it for hours. The song restarts. Again. And again.

Then she slips, just slightly, her foot catching on the floor. The movement collapses. Her body halts mid-motion.

"Shit!”

The sound of her voice ricochets off the walls. She grabs her jacket from the chair and hurls it across the room. It lands with a dull thud, the same sound her heart’s been making for weeks.

Her breathing is ragged now. She presses her hands to her knees, staring down at the floor like it betrayed her.

“I can’t—” she whispers, then louder, her voice breaking. “I can’t do this!”

The music keeps playing, the lyrics cruelly soft against her outburst.

She sinks to the ground, back against the mirror, hair sticking to her face. Sweat and tears blur together as she covers her face with her hands.

All those late nights spent dancing to forget. All those mornings pretending she’s fine. It all collapses right here, under the flicker of a single studio light.

Because no matter how hard she tries, no matter how much she trains or laughs or rebuilds, your ghost is still in the room. The songs she used to play for fun now sound like goodbyes.

And for the first time since you left, she stops pretending.

She whispers your name once, quiet, trembling, almost like a prayer.

The door creaks open, soft at first, then stills. Megan stands in the doorway, eyes wide, her breath catching when she sees Dani crumpled on the studio floor.

“Dani?” she whispers, stepping inside.

Dani looks up, eyes red and glassy, strands of hair stuck to her damp cheeks.

Megan kneels beside her, placing a careful hand on her shoulder. “Hey… hey, what happened?”

Dani lets out a small, shaky laugh that sounds closer to a sob. “I messed up,” she says. “I keep... I keep messing up. Every time I think I’m okay, I’m not. I just—”

Her voice cracks. She grips her knees, rocking slightly, her words tumbling faster now, unfiltered and raw.

“Why couldn’t she just stay, Meg? Why couldn’t she?” she chokes out, her fingers curling into her palms. “I didn’t ask for forever, I just— I just wanted her. I wanted us.”

Megan’s mouth opens, but no words come. She’s seen Dani angry, seen her loud and fierce but never like this. Never so small.

“I don’t even know what I did,” Dani keeps going, her tone swinging between fury and heartbreak. “Was I not enough? Did I love her wrong?” She presses her hand to her chest like trying to hold herself together. “Why did she make me believe we could be something real if she was just going to—just going to leave?”

Megan’s eyes well up too. “Dani… you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she whispers, pulling her into a hug.

But Dani barely hears her. Her words come in broken gasps, half to herself, half to the ghost she’s still chasing.

“I hate her,” she mutters, voice shaking. “I hate her for leaving. I hate her for making me love her. I hate her smile, I hate that dumb nickname, hate the way her eyes lit, I hate her stupid playlist, —” Her voice falters. “—I hate that she loved me the way she did. Because no one ever will again.”

And then she just breaks body trembling, breath hitching, everything she’s been holding back spilling out in pieces.

Megan holds her tighter, saying nothing, because there’s nothing to fix only the sound of quiet sobs echoing through the empty dance room.

Megan doesn’t say anything. She just holds her tighter, rocking her gently, like quiet could somehow fix the cracks words never could.

Dani’s sobs slow, her breaths still uneven but softer now , the sharp edges of her grief beginning to dull.

After a while, she pulls back just a little, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Her voice comes out hoarse, tired. “If she were here now…” she murmurs, staring at the floor.

Megan looks at her carefully. “Yeah?”

Dani’s lips twitch, not quite a smile, not quite pain, something caught between the two. “She’d probably tell me to breathe,” she says quietly. "she’d make that dumb face she does when she’s trying not to laugh. And she’d tell me to stop being dramatic.”

Megan chuckles softly through her tears. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

Dani nods, eyes unfocused, voice trembling but warm. “She’d walk over, pick up my jacket, and say something like, ‘You can’t give up now, you’re too good for that.’ And I’d roll my eyes, but then she’d smile, and suddenly everything would just… make sense again.”

The room goes still for a moment.

“I keep trying to imagine her voice,” Dani continues, whispering now. “But every time I do, it gets harder to hear.” She presses a hand to her chest, closing her eyes. “I don’t want to forget her, Meg. Even if it hurts, I don’t want to.”

Megan’s eyes soften. “You won’t,” she says, quietly firm. “People like her don’t disappear. They just stay… differently.”

Dani’s voice is barely audible when she finally speaks again. “Meg…”

Megan hums softly in response, still holding her.

“Do you think…” Dani swallows, her throat tight. “Do you think she’ll come back to me?”

The words hang there for a long time, fragile, trembling. Megan hesitates not because she doesn’t know the answer, but because she knows how much it’ll hurt to say it.

When she finally does, her voice is gentle, but it doesn’t waver. “I don’t think so, Dani.”

Dani’s breath catches, her eyes glassing over again, but Megan keeps going because she owes her the truth.

“I think she loves you,” she says softly. “I really do. But sometimes love isn’t enough to fix what’s broken. Sometimes it just… has to live in the past.”

Dani stares at the mirror across the room at the reflection of the girl she used to be, the one who laughed without thinking, who believed love could survive anything. That girl feels far away now.

“She promised,” Dani whispers, voice cracking. “She said she wouldn’t leave.”

“I know,” Megan says, her tone quiet but steady. “And maybe she meant it. But people change when they’re hurting. They don’t always leave because they stop loving you. Sometimes they leave because they think it’s the only way to stop hurting you back.”

Dani blinks hard, biting down on her lip, her breath trembling. “So what do I do now?”

Megan reaches for her hand, gives it a squeeze. “You live,” she says simply. “You dance. You hurt. You heal. You remember her, but you keep moving. Because that’s what she’d want for you, isn’t it?”

Dani nods weakly, the fight gone from her voice. “Yeah… she would.”

The two sit there, still in the quiet. The mirrors catch the faint shimmer of streetlight from the window and for a moment, it almost feels like she’s there, somewhere between the reflections, smiling softly and letting go.

They walk down the empty hallway, the sound of their shoes echoing against the linoleum. The air outside the dance room feels lighter, though Dani’s eyes are still red, her voice soft from crying.

Megan nudges her shoulder gently, trying to break the silence. “You know,” she says, forcing a little grin, “why were we talking like she died? You’re still gonna see her in biology tomorrow, right?”

Dani lets out a dry, humorless laugh, her lips twitching upward for the first time all night. “Yeah,” she says, voice hoarse. “Guess you’re right.”

There’s a beat of quiet. Then Dani adds, with a bitter edge and sarcasm "If thats the case, I wish she died"

Megan stops mid-step, eyes widening slightly, but Dani’s smirk is already fading her words trembling with the truth she’s trying to hide behind the sarcasm.

“I mean—” Dani exhales, rubbing her eyes, her voice breaking into something smaller. “It’d be easier, you know? If she were gone, I could at least tell myself there was a reason. That she didn’t choose to leave.”

Megan’s smile disappears. She doesn’t say anything right away. She just looks at Dani.

“Don’t say that,” Megan says finally, quiet but firm. “You don’t mean it.”

Dani shakes her head slowly. “No,” she admits, her voice trembling. “But it hurts less when I pretend I do.”

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

I walk into bio half-awake, hoodie pulled over my head, sweatpants hanging loose. I didn’t even bother to fix my hair. Three hours of sleep, maybe less. The kind of sleep where you keep seeing her in your dreams, but she’s never really there when you wake up.

The room smells like disinfectant and paper, sharp, sterile, empty. I take my seat, head down, hoping no one talks to me. My phone buzzes once in my pocket, but it’s just a reminder from my calendar. Not her. It never will be again.

Then the door opens.

She walks in like nothing ever touched her. Hair smooth, tied up just right, makeup light but perfect. She’s glowing, like the sun remembered her name. It hurts, how effortless she looks. How happy she seems.

For a moment, I forget how to breathe.

Dani doesn’t look at me right away. she’s laughing with Lara, and that laugh digs under my ribs, because it used to belong to me. Used to bounce off my walls, fill the spaces that are quiet now.

Then she does look at me. Just one glance. And in that single second, I know she notices everything, the bags under my eyes, the shaking in my hands, the way I look like I’ve been losing a fight with myself.

Her smile fades, only slightly, before she turns back to her seat two rows away. Not beside me. Not anymore.

I keep my head down, but I can feel her presence like static in the air, close enough to touch, far enough to forget.

The teacher drones on about enzymes and reactions, but all I can think about is how I used to make her coffee before class, how she’d steal my pen and doodle hearts on my notes, how she’d always nudge my knee under the table when I got too serious.

Now it’s just silence. Her pen scratching against paper, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

When class ends, I leave first. I don’t look back. I can’t. Because if I do, I know I’ll see her still sitting there calm, perfect, pretending she isn’t breaking too.

I push through the crowd, the hallway a blur of noise and faces I can’t stand to see. People call my name, the usual mix of greetings, questions, fake smiles but they all sound distant, muffled, like I’m underwater.

For the first time, I don’t smile back. I don’t wave. I don’t pretend.

My chest feels heavy, like something’s pressing down on it from the inside, and all I can think about is getting out, out of this hallway, out of this building, out of my own head.

Then I feel a hand grab my wrist. Firm. Urgent.

I turn, ready to shake whoever it is off, but it’s Manon. Her eyes are sharp, concerned the kind of look that says she already knows something’s wrong. She doesn’t say a word, just pulls me toward an empty classroom.

The door shuts behind us with a dull click. The silence hits harder than I expect.

I lean back against a desk, trying to catch my breath, and she crosses her arms. “What’s the fuck is wrong with you” she asks quietly. “You broke our promise, you promised you wouldn't hurt her, hurt Dani.”

Her name hits like a knife.

I want to tell Manon that I couldn't stop it. That I had to. That it was inevitable. But the words don’t come, just this awful, hollow ache that makes my throat tighten.

Instead, I say, “I miss her, I'm sorry”

Manon studies me for a moment. “Really” she says with a hollow chuckle “You got to be kidding me Y/N. You break her heart, break up with her and you miss her.”

I look away. The air feels too still. The light through the blinds falls across the room in thin, fractured lines, and for a second, I wish I could fall apart between them, disappear into that quiet.

“I thought this was what I wanted,” I whisper. “But it doesn’t feel like winning. I still love her”

Manon doesn’t hesitate she steps forward, eyes burning. “Then why the fuck did you do it?”

Her words slice through the air, sharp and loud. I flinch, but she doesn’t stop. “You break her heart, you break your own, you lie to her saying forever and now you’re standing here acting like it just happened? Why? Tell me Y/N”

The words tear out of me before I can stop them. “It’s for the better!” I shout. “If I stay, I ruin everything!”

My breath shakes. The words echo in the room, bouncing off the walls like they’re trying to crawl back into me.

“I ruin that perfect family,” I go on, voice breaking. “The twins they fight because of me. I saw it, Manon. I heard them. They’re tearing each other apart, and it’s all my fault. I know what it's like to be told that blood isn't thicker than water, and I'm not doing that to her"”

Manon’s eyes soften, but I can’t stop. The flood’s already coming.

“My mother would torment her,” I say, lower now, but shaking. “She’d tear Dani apart piece by piece until she couldn’t breathe. I’ve seen her do it. She’d never stop. And I—” my voice wavers, “I’m not doing that to her. She deserves better than someone like me.”

Silence. Just the sound of the clock ticking above the whiteboard.

Manon takes a step closer. Her anger’s gone now replaced with something quieter, sadder. “She didn’t want better,” she says softly. “She wanted you.”

For a moment, I can’t breathe. The words hang in the air between us, heavy and sharp, like glass about to fall.

Then I force out a breath slow, steady, empty. “And that is exactly the problem."

My voice sounds colder than I mean it to, but I don’t take it back. “She wanted me, and look what that did to her. To James. To all of them. Wanting me ruins people, Manon. That’s what I do. Thats what I am”

Manon’s mouth opens, but I cut her off, my tone flat like I’m stating a fact, not a feeling. “She’ll move on,” I say. “She’ll heal. She’ll be fine. That’s more than she’d ever get from staying with me. She'll love again, and maybe even one day gets married and have kids, and they'll have her beautiful eyes.”

I turn toward the window. The fractured light hits my face, and for the first time, it feels less like warmth and more like judgment.

“She deserves peace,” I add quietly. “Even if I have to be the villain to give it to her.”

Manon doesn’t respond right away. She just studies me, eyes full of something between pity and disbelief, before she shakes her head slowly and mutters, “You keep saying it’s for her, but I think you’re just scared.”

Then she walks out, leaving me alone in the empty classroom, surrounded by the echo of everything I can’t undo.

The door clicks shut behind her, soft but final.

For a moment, I just stand there still, hollow, staring at the empty space where Manon stood. The sound of the hallway outside fades into a distant hum, the world shrinking down to the uneven rhythm of my breathing.

Then it hits.

It’s not graceful, not cinematic. It’s raw, a quiet kind of collapse that starts in the chest and spreads everywhere. My knees give first. I drop into the nearest chair, elbows on the desk, palms pressed to my eyes.

I can’t stop it anymore. The tears come hard, violent, ripping through the silence I’d been hiding behind. My throat burns; my chest tightens until it hurts to breathe.

Everything I’ve been holding back, Dani’s laugh, her voice, the way she’d rest her head on my shoulder during late-night drives, it all crashes over me like a flood. I can see her in my mind, smiling, the corners of her eyes creasing just the way they did when she teased me.

And it kills me.

Because she’s still out there, living, breathing, laughing and I’m here trying to convince myself that losing her was the right thing. That all this pain is noble. That breaking her heart somehow saved her.

But the truth hits me between the sobs: I didn’t save her. I just lost her.

My hand shakes as I cover my mouth, trying to quiet the sound, but it’s useless. I’m gone... completely gone.

For the first time, I realize there’s no fixing this. No apology, no letter, no explanation that could undo what I did.

The light through the blinds keeps moving, inch by inch, until it lands on the tear stains on my desk.

And for a second, I whisper barely audible, “I’m sorry, Dani.”

Then nothing. Just me, the broken sound of my breathing, and the echo of a love I’ll never get back.

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

It’s been two months. Two months of relentless mornings, caffeine-fueled afternoons, and sleepless nights pretending that the world doesn’t feel hollow without her. Graduation is here, the air thick with caps, gowns, and forced smiles, but none of it touches me.

I watch the crowd shuffle past, parents snapping photos, classmates laughing and celebrating, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Dani exists. She’s not just there, she glows. Her hair catches the sunlight perfectly, her laugh bouncing over the chatter like it belongs to the world again.

And next to her? A guy. Jonah. Jason. Doesn’t matter. I don’t care about his name, his face, or how many stupid jokes he tells to make her laugh. I don’t care.

I tell myself I don’t.

But the way she leans into him, the easy way she smiles at him, it hits me. Not like the first time I saw her with someone else, a raw wound ripped open. This time it’s quieter, deeper, like an ache that’s lodged itself in my chest and refuses to move.

I shove my hands into my pockets and focus on the floor instead of them. Pretend like it doesn’t matter. Pretend like I’ve moved on.

But the truth is, I haven’t.

And the cruelest part? I watch her be happy, knowing I can’t exist in that picture anymore, knowing she doesn’t even think about me the way I still think about her.

I force a breath, trying to steady my hands. Graduation speeches drone on, confetti flutters down, and everyone around me cheers. But none of it reaches me.

Because the only thing I want... the only thing that ever mattered... is the one thing I can’t have.

My name is called, and for a moment, everything goes quiet, the world narrowing down to one impossible point: me, walking up to the podium.

My heart is hammering so fast I’m sure everyone can hear it. My hands shake as I straighten the notes in front of me, though I barely remember writing them. My mouth opens, and nothing comes out.

The crowd blurs. Faces meld into a sea of expectation, and panic claws up my throat. I swallow, but it doesn’t help. My vision swims.

And then I look up.

Dani.

She’s sitting there, back curly hair catching the light just right, eyes steady and warm. For a split second, it’s like everything freezes all the chaos, the fear, the noise and it’s just her.

My chest loosens. My breath steadies. My shaking hands become still.

She’s smiling. Not a fake smile. Not one meant for anyone else. One meant for me.

I inhale slowly, letting it fill every corner of me. And suddenly, I remember why I’m here, why I worked so hard, why every sleepless night and every tear and every heartbreak led to this moment.

My notes don’t matter anymore. My fear doesn’t matter anymore.

Because right there, in that auditorium, I see her. And seeing her, even after everything, makes me calm, makes me steady, makes me ready.

“Fellow graduates, faculty, family, and friends,

As we stand on the edge of this next chapter, I want to acknowledge something vital: the people who remind us why we try. Not the ones who make life easy, but the ones who challenge us, inspire us, and occasionally, make our hearts ache because they hold up a mirror to who we could be.

Some of you have had those people in your lives, friends, mentors, or even just fleeting encounters, who remind you what it feels like to be fully alive, to care deeply, and to strive for something better.

They push us to grow, sometimes without even knowing it, and they leave imprints on our hearts that remain long after the moment has passed."

I look up to the crowd, specifically her...her eyes gaze into mine

"I’ve been lucky enough to know someone like that. Someone whose presence makes ordinary days extraordinary, whose energy quietly reminds you to reach higher, and whose laughter can linger in your mind long after it’s faded. Though life may move us along different paths, the lessons we learn from those we care about will shape us forever.

So, as we step forward, let us carry gratitude for those who have challenged us, cheered for us, and quietly shaped us. Let us honor their impact not just by remembering them, but by striving to become the people they believed we could be.

To the class of [year], I say: pursue excellence, embrace the unexpected, and never underestimate the power of someone who truly sees you.

Thank you.”

And through it all, I keep stealing glances at her. Dani. The impossible, unforgettable Dani.

And for the first time in months, I feel… okay.

The applause still rings in my ears as I step down from the podium, heart finally slowing, though my chest still feels tight. My fingers brush against the edge of the stage before I take a deep breath and walk back to my seat.

When the signal comes, we throw our graduation caps into the air. For a moment, the world feels weightless, carefree, almost like it should.

Afterwards, cameras click as we take pictures. Sophia’s family surrounds us, cheerful and proud. I smile, nod, laugh at a joke, pose for the pictures.

But it’s mechanical, automatic. The hollow weight in my chest doesn’t leave.

Then I see her.

Dani.

She’s standing with James and some guy I barely recognize. Jonah, she’ll tell me later. My stomach twists. She’s laughing, carefree, radiant, the kind of Dani I once thought I’d be frozen in time with.

She notices me and walks over, her smile warm, effortless. “Congratulations on your speech,” she says. Her voice is kind, real, like nothing has changed.

I force a smile, nodding. “Thanks, Dani. Really.”

James steps up next, patting me lightly on the shoulder. “You killed it,” he says with a grin.

Jonah clears his throat politely. “I’m Jonah,” he says, holding out his hand. “Dani’s… uh, boyfriend.”

I shake it, smile tight but genuine enough, and for a second, I feel my chest constrict. Dani’s smile falters subtly, just enough for me to notice, the flicker of hurt beneath her polite exterior. And Jonah looks oblivious, happy, completely unaware of the tension he’s stepped into.

We pose for a few photos, James in the middle. Her parents hover nearby, kind in tone but distant in their eyes. I sense the disapproval, subtle but present, as they insist me and James take a picture together.

Dani stiffens. Her hand flinches slightly, caught in mine, then she steps back. “I… I’ll take another one later,” she murmurs.

I nod, but it’s heavy. The photo is taken, smiles pasted on faces that ache behind them. The camera clicks, and for the first time, I see it clearly: all three of us are pretending. Pretending we’re fine. Pretending nothing has changed.

I wonder when she's all grown up, probably dancing or something, will she ever look back... look at this photo and think about me and us, like I'm doing right now.

When the photos are done, Dani slips out of the frame, giving me a quick, fleeting glance something between apology and longing, and then she’s gone, leaving me standing there with my hand still half-raised in the handshake that now feels like a memory.

Her parents’ polite smiles don’t reach their eyes. James laughs nervously. Jonah grins too wide. And I… I swallow hard, forcing my own smile, but inside, my heart is breaking quietly, all over again.

I turn away from the group, forcing my steps forward, pretending the sunlight isn’t too bright, pretending the applause in my ears hasn’t turned hollow.

But I can’t stop myself from glancing back.

Dani and Jonah are standing a few feet away, leaning close, laughing at something small, something private between them. Her hand brushes against his arm, and she giggles, that soft, effortless laugh I used to know like it belonged to me.

Every sound cuts deeper than I expect. It’s not anger. It’s not jealousy. It’s a quiet, aching kind of heartbreak that settles heavy in my chest, pressing down on my ribs with every breath.

She looks so happy. So untouchable. So far away.

I swallow hard and look away again, telling myself I don’t care, that I’m past this. But my eyes keep finding them. My chest tightens. My stomach twists.

And I realize, with cruel clarity, that some things can’t be fixed. Some losses aren’t mended by time or distance.

I keep walking, but her laughter follows me, bright, alive, and impossibly out of reach.

Later, the night carries me to the Raj house for the afterparty, a sprawling space lit with string lights, music pulsing through every room.

The scent of food mixes with the faint tang of alcohol in the air. I drift through the crowd, grabbing a drink, letting the music take over, the bass thumping in time with the slow steadiness I’m trying to find in myself.

Somehow, amidst the laughter and chatter, I find myself on the dance floor. The world narrows down to motion, rhythm, and the warm weight of a drink in my hand.

I move without thinking, letting the music carry me, letting myself forget, just for a little while, that Dani exists outside this room, laughing somewhere else, completely unreachable.

I leave the noise, the chaos, the party and into the quiet driveway. The night air is cool, sharp against my skin, but it doesn’t touch the fire inside my chest.

I glance back through the open windows, and there she is Dani, laughing, moving against Jonah in a way that’s intimate, careless, completely hers.

My stomach twists, my throat tightens, and the world narrows down to that single, unbearable sight.

I can’t stop it. Two months since we broke up, and I’m still here, still stuck, still aching. The tears come fast, hot, unstoppable, streaming down my face as I sink to the curb, shoulders shaking.

The asphalt is cold beneath my hands, the streetlights casting long, lonely shadows. I press my face to my knees, wishing I could disappear into the night, wishing I could vanish from her new world that I no longer belong to.

I whisper her name, broken, barely audible, “Dani…”

And the only response is the quiet night, my own sobs, and the cruel reminder that she’s moved on, while I’m still frozen in the space where we used to be.

I hear the soft crunch of footsteps on the driveway and glance up, squinting through the tears. Manon sits down beside me, careful, but not distant. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me for a moment.

“Hey,” she says finally, voice low, almost gentle. “Congrats on your speech. Seriously it was incredible. Everyone’s talking about it.”

I manage a weak laugh, wiping at my cheeks. “Thanks… doesn’t feel like anyone cares about that right now.”

Manon nudges me lightly. “I do. And it mattered...it really did.”

We sit in silence for a beat, letting the night settle around us. Then she tilts her head, watching the house behind us, the soft lights, the music faintly drifting out the windows. “And Dani… she looks happy,” she says softly.

I flinch, heart twisting all over again. “Yeah,” I whisper. “She is. She’s… moved on. With him.”

Manon nods, understanding, but her voice stays calm. “Isn’t that… what you wanted?”

I bite my lip, staring at the asphalt beneath me. My fists clench at my sides. “I thought it was,” I say, voice low, almost to myself. “I thought that if I walked away, gave her space… she’d be safe. Happy. And I’d finally move on.”

Manon nudges me again, more insistent this time. “And do you feel that way?”

I shake my head slowly, the truth heavy in my chest. “No… not even close.” I look up to Manon eyes glassy "I don't want another man's kid to have her eyes. To know her scent and I sure don't want her with someone else"

Manon doesn’t say anything. She just watches me, quiet, letting the storm inside me burn where it will.

And then something strange happens, a spark, sharp and sudden, like adrenaline igniting in my veins. My chest tightens, my legs move almost on their own, and before I fully understand what I’m doing, I’m running.

Running back toward the party, past the music, past the laughter, past the crowd that barely notices me anymore. I push through, scanning the room until I see them, Dani and Jonah, close, laughing, carefree.

I don’t think. I just grab her arm, pulling her gently but firmly away from him.

“Dani,” I say, breathless, heart hammering so fast it hurts. “We need to talk. Please… just a minute.”

Her eyes widen, a flash of shock, confusion, and something else, recognition, maybe fear, passing over her face. Jonah opens his mouth, but I don’t even look at him.

It’s just her.

Dani blinks at me, her mouth opening and closing like she wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

“Wait, Jonah,” she says finally, voice shaky but firm. He pauses, confused, and she gives him a quick, almost apologetic nod. “Just a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Jonah frowns but steps aside, and Dani turns to me, eyes wide and searching. There’s hurt there, but also… something else. Curiosity? Fear? I can’t tell.

Without saying a word, she lets me lead her through the edges of the crowded party, past laughing groups and music that thumps too loud, until we slip into a quiet room.

The lights are dim, the air cool, and for a moment, it’s just us, the world outside held at bay.

She leans against the wall, arms crossed, and I can see her trying to steady herself. Her chest rises and falls fast, her eyes darting to mine.

"Y/N” she whispers, voice barely above the hum of the house, “what is this? Why are you…?”

I take a shaky breath, my heart hammering like it will burst. “I… I need to talk to you,” I say. “No distractions, no pretending. Just us, for a minute.”

Her lips part slightly, as if she wants to protest, but the pause is enough. She nods slowly, biting her lip, and I realize she’s letting me have this moment, just like old times, but weighted with everything we’ve lost.

I swallow hard, heart hammering in my chest, and finally meet her eyes. “Jonah, He's real cool” I say, my voice low, careful.

Her brow furrows. “Wait… this is what you wanted to tell me?” she asks, confusion and a sharp edge of defensiveness threading her voice.

I shake my head quickly, my hands fidgeting. “No… no, that’s not it.”

She studies me for a long moment, waiting, skeptical.

“I… I wanted to apologize,” I finally admit, my voice cracking just slightly. “For everything. For walking away the way I did, for hurting you, for… making everything so much harder than it had to be.”

Her eyes widen at my words, the confusion in them softening into something harder to read. Then, slowly, her gaze sharpens, her jaw tightening.

“Really....Now?” her voice low but tense, tinged with anger. “After two months of leaving me in the dark, after I’ve tried to move on… why now?”

I flinch at the edge in her tone, my chest tightening. “Because I can’t keep it in anymore,” I whisper, voice shaky. “I needed you to know… even if it’s too late.”

She takes a step back, hurt and frustration bleeding into every movement. “Too late?” she repeats, her voice rising slightly. “Do you know what it felt like to have you just… disappear? To watch you walk away without a word? Do you know how hard it’s been to pretend I’m fine?”

“I—” I start, but the words stumble in my throat.

“You left me, Y/N” she interrupts, voice cracking now, a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “And now you show up, confessing, apologizing… thinking it makes everything okay? It doesn’t!”

"I was in love with you, Y/N! I didn't need you to protect me... I needed you to chose me over your fears. I needed to want me back” she cries, the words ripping through the quiet room. “I wanted to fight through all of it, Harvard, distance, your stupid family, everything! And you—” her voice wavers, tears streaming down her cheeks, “you just ran. You’re not protecting anyone. You’re just scared.”

The words hit me like a punch, knocking the air out of my chest. My vision blurs, my hands trembling as I take a step toward her. “Dani…” I whisper, but she looks away, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand.

I can’t take it the distance, the pain, the way her voice shakes when she says my name. I step closer, my voice breaking. “I still love you, I did it because I love yo” I say, desperate, the truth spilling out before I can stop it. “Please… just look at me.”

She hesitates, frozen for a heartbeat, and when she finally lifts her gaze, her eyes are red, glimmering under the soft light. The air between us feels electric, fragile, alive.

I whisper again, weaker this time, “Please.”

Her lip trembles, and for a moment, I see it the old softness in her eyes, the flicker of what we used to be. But then her shoulders tense, and she shakes her head, tears falling faster.

“You don’t get to say that anymore,” she whispers. “Not after everything.”

And that single sentence shatters me more than any scream ever could.

"Just leave me alone Ditto, You did 2 months you could do it forever"

[arachnid-chris]

I had to take multiple breaks while reading this. I definitely recommend reading it! (have a box of tissues… you’ll need it)

[double22]

Undressed Part 3 x Daniela Avanzini

Enemy! Daniela Avanzini x fem!reader

Synopsis- You a super smart, popular student who everyone likes, you’re student body president, straight A's, and even got into Harvard. You grew up with twins Daniela and James, and as time pass Dani stopped talking to you but you and James stayed close.

Warning/tags- Angst, fluff, Enemies to lovers, swearing, bad grammar, spelling mistakes, non-idol AU, Twins, violence, JAMES

AN* Lets goooo part 3 out!!! Lowkey took way too long but thanks for waiting. Enjoy!!

Part 1, Part 2

"I… hate myself.”

Dani’s hand found mine instantly, fingers curling around mine with a quiet, firm pressure. “Hey…” she murmured softly, voice trembling just enough to show her concern. “Don’t… don’t say that. Look at me.”

I hesitated, then slowly lifted my gaze to meet hers, the moonlight reflecting off her eyes. “I know... I know everything will be fine, that I’ll go to Harvard and finally make my mother proud... But right now I’m tired of everything.”

She didn’t say the obvious platitudes. Instead she breathed out my name like it was a spell, soft, steadier than I felt and curled her fingers through mine. “It's okay...Let it all out"

So I did.

I told her about the nights I rewrote sentences until my eyes blurred, about the dinners where I laughed at the wrong moment and felt Mum’s disappointment like a physical thing, about the hollow ache of praise that always felt conditional. I told her I was terrified of getting exactly what I was supposed to want and still waking up empty-handed. Each confession was a small surrender, and each one made me lighter, somehow.

When I ran out of words she didn’t try to fix me. She just moved closer, draping her jacket over my shoulders like a shield. “You don’t have to do the whole future-as-a-trophy thing tonight,” she whispered. “You can be exhausted and real and messy here. I’ll be the one to remind you of who you are when everyone else keeps giving you labels.”

Her voice was steady; it didn’t demand anything from me.

I blurt it out before I can edit the words into something safer: “I think I’m in love with you... and that scares me.” My voice is small in the dark, the confession raw and ridiculous and everything I’ve been trying not to admit.

She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t step back. She folds me into a look so fierce and soft all at once and says, plain as day, “I love you too... and It terrifies me because I don't want to fuck it up”

I flinch the moment her fingers close around mine, not because I don’t want her, I want her so fucking bad... but because the memory of James’s hand on my wrist is still raw and jagged.

Tears spill hot and sudden, and I can’t stop them. I can't help it.

She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she draws closer, slowly one hand cupping my jaw like she’s trying to anchor me and test the waters all at the same time. Her smile is small and brave and completely broken in the best way. “It’s okay,” she says, voice wobbling. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

She murmurs things that are ridiculously simple and somehow exactly what I need: that I’m safe, that none of this is my fault, that she’ll fight the parts of him that keep showing up. When I hiccup out that I’m scared I’ll mess everything up, she shakes her head and presses her forehead to mine.

I let myself lean into the heat of her, into the steady rhythm of her breathing, and for the first time in a long time the panic dulls to an ache that might heal.

“Sleep,” she says finally, kissing my temple. “Tomorrow we figure it out. I'll take you home, rest for tonight.”

I give a tired, watery laugh and let the dark take me, Dani’s arm a warm band around my shoulders. The ocean keeps time, and for now, that is enough.

I must have slept the second Dani started the car; the world narrowed to the steady hum of the engine and the warmth of her arm around me. When I blinked awake it was because her voice was soft, close enough to make the hairs on my arm lift.

She was watching me, really watching me as if she’d pressed pause on everything else and chosen this one frame to study.

In the silver of the dashboard lights her face looked softer, like she’d discovered something in me she hadn’t let herself see before. The way she breathed, the tiny catch at the corner of her mouth, the way her thumb stroked my knuckles: it hit her like falling in love all over again.

“You okay?” she murmured, and I mumbled something useless. She laughed, quiet and fond, and the sound made something bloom in my chest.

When we pulled up to my place the driveway was dark and quiet. Dani killed the engine and was out of the car before I’d even realized. She came around and opened my door, then without warning slipped her arms under me and lifted me up like I weighed nothing. I blinked, half-asleep and completely mortified in the best way. “Dani,” I tried to protest, voice thin.

She just grinned down at me, breath warm against my temple. “Shh. Don’t be dramatic,” she said, and the grin turned softer, private. “You looked exhausted.”

Her arms were steady and shockingly strong as she carried me up the steps. At the doorway she hesitated for the briefest second perhaps to look at me, perhaps to steady herself.

Dani’s grip on me tightened as her thumb pressed the doorbell. The sharp chime echoed inside, and before long the heavy front door creaked open.

My mom stood there, tall, immaculate, the silk of her blouse catching the chandelier light. Her eyes swept over Dani in an instant, first the fact that I was in her arms, then Dani herself. A flicker of disapproval cut across her features before she smoothed it over into something colder, controlled.

“What happened?” she asked, voice clipped, almost clinical. Her gaze lingered on me, barely touching Dani.

“I'm sorry for the late retutn but she fell asleep, Ma'am” Dani said evenly, though I could feel the way her chest rose and fell a little faster. She adjusted me in her arms with ease, chin lifting. “I didn’t want to wake her, so I brought her home. If that is fine with you Mrs Y/L/N”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy. My mom’s lips pressed thin, and then she stepped aside. “Very well. Come in.”

The foyer swallowed us whole: marble floors, tall vases, chandeliers that seemed to drip with crystals. Dani’s sneakers squeaked faintly against the polished tile, a sharp contrast to the polished perfection of the space. She kept her head high though, walking with deliberate confidence as if daring the house itself to question her right to be here.

“Her room is upstairs,” my mom said, voice softer now but still cool. “You’ll manage?”

“Yes, I'll manage” Dani replied without hesitation, her tone laced with something protective. She adjusted her hold, almost daring my mother to challenge her.

My mom’s gaze flickered, something unreadable there, but she only nodded and moved aside.

As she carried me up the winding staircase, I stirred slightly, catching bits of the exchange through a haze of exhaustion. I buried my face into her shoulder, breathing her in, and Dani’s arms instinctively tightened around me.

The mansion might have belonged to my family, but in that moment, it felt like Dani was the only one carrying me home.

Dani gently laid me down on the oversized bed, pulling the duvet over my shoulders with a care that didn’t match the sharp edges of her usual attitude. She brushed a strand of hair from my face and bent low, pressing a feather-light kiss to my forehead. For a moment she lingered, her lips barely leaving me, as if she wanted to carve the memory into herself. Then she straightened, exhaled, and padded toward the door.

The hallway outside was too quiet, the silence of the mansion pressing in on her. As Dani turned toward the staircase, a voice slipped out of the shadows.

“Daniela.”

She stopped dead, spine stiffening. My mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed loosely, her expression unreadable. The chandelier light caught the diamond at her wristwatch, throwing small glints of fire across the walls.

“Can we talk?”

Dani’s throat bobbed, but she nodded, descending slowly. When she reached the foyer, the weight of my mother’s gaze pressed down on her.

“You care about her.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, sharp and heavy.

“Yes,” Dani said simply. No smirk, no teasing deflection. Just the truth.

My mom’s lips pressed thin. “She’s… fragile. She puts too much on her shoulders already. Harvard. Expectations. Everything.” A pause, long enough to sting. “The last thing she needs is more chaos.”

Dani swallowed hard, but her voice stayed steady. “I’m not chaos. Not for her. I… I’ll protect her. I’ll never let anyone hurt her, not even myself.”

Dani froze mid-step at the sound of the ice clinking in crystal. My mother stood in the living room now, the amber swirl of whiskey in her glass catching the firelight. She didn’t look at Dani at first, only out the massive window that overlooked the garden, her silhouette all sharp edges and untouchable poise.

Finally, her voice slid through the quiet, low and deliberate.

“Love,” she said, almost spitting the word like it was bitter. “Love is a distraction. A weakness. And if you really love her—” she turned now, her eyes narrowing on Dani, glass still in hand “—you’d leave.”

Dani’s lips parted, her breath catching.

“She’s chasing the sun,” my mom continued, her tone cold, unyielding. “She has Harvard. A future brighter than anything you could ever dream of. And you—” her gaze raked over Dani, dismissive, cruel, “—you’re not even in the same galaxy. Just a shadow waiting to drag her down.”

Dani’s jaw tightened, nails digging into her palm to keep herself from lashing out. Every part of her wanted to scream, to tell this woman she was wrong, that she wasn’t just a shadow. But the weight of my mom’s words sank deep, pressing on her chest like stone.

“I care about her,” Dani finally managed, voice low but steady. “And if I believe that I am slowing her down, I leave but right now she needs me and I love her to much to not protect her”

For a second, the fire cracked, the only sound between them. My mom studied Dani with that same razor gaze, expression unreadable, before tipping her glass back, draining the last of her whiskey.

My mother’s hand dipped into her purse, bright leather against the dark of the room; she produced a slim envelope and held it out like an offering and a threat all in one.

“Name the price,” she said, voice flat as ice. “Tell me how much, Daniela my dear, and I’ll deliver it. Pay you to leave. Pay you to stop. To pretend none of this ever happened. I know about dance program you want to attend and how your family can't cover it”

For a beat the chandelier light seemed to hang between them, thin and brittle. Dani’s eyes flashed, hurt, anger, something fierce and private and then she laughed. It was a hard, incredulous sound that had no humor in it.

“You really think you can buy me off?” she said. The word buy scraped across her lips like a challenge. She set her chin and folded her arms. “No amount of money is changing how I feel about her.”

My mother’s mouth thinned. “People like you make arrangements, Daniela. You don’t get to wreck my daughter’s life and walk away without consequences.”

Dani took a breath, slow enough to be a choice. “You can hand me that envelope,” she said quietly, stepping forward until her face was inches from my mother’s. “And I’ll burn it in front of you. Or you can keep your money and understand this, Y/N is not yours to manage. If you think cash can buy her safety, you’ve never met us.”

Silence cracked. For a second I heard the distant roll of the sea, the soft pulse of Dani’s breath. Then Daniela turned to go, every step measured, every breath a beat of defiance.

"The envelope is waiting for you anytime my dear" Her words echoed as Daniela reached for the door. Then She left, leaving my mother standing with the unopened envelope and the echo of a line that felt like a vow.

I woke to sunlight slicing through my curtains, warm and lazy, and the faint scent of coffee drifting up from the kitchen. My mom was already there, standing by the counter with her arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Morning,” she said, voice softer than usual. “How’s… Daniela?”

A grin spread across my face before I even thought about it. Finally....finally she wasn’t giving me that cold, measuring stare.

I launched into a litany of praise: how Dani laughed, the way her eyes sparkled when she was teasing me, the little things she did that made every day feel like it mattered. I didn’t hold back, each word bubbling out, as if the sheer perfection of her could make my mom see it too.

But my mom’s face darkened mid-sentence, a shadow slicing across her expression.

“I guess we are throwing away our work now.” she said, tone low, sharp. “Her? over Harvard?”

I froze, the words hitting like a splash of cold water. My chest tightened. “I… I didn’t—”

She held up a hand, stopping me. “Think carefully, Y/N. You want love. That’s fine. But you’re chasing a dream that doesn’t wait, that doesn’t care about feelings. You chose a girl, over the place you’ve been working for, over the future you’ve built.”

The excitement of approval I’d felt just seconds ago faltered. Dani was everything, yes, but Harvard… was supposed to be everything too.

I swallowed hard, thinking about the choices I’d made and the ones I’d have to defend. My heart whispered her name, steady, warm, unshakable.

"Why can't I chose both?” I finally said, voice quieter, but firm. “ I want to fight for both, fight to make that work, I will.”

My mom’s hands gripped her coffee cup like it could anchor her authority. “I can’t protect you from the narrative, Y/N,” she said slowly, eyes sharp, voice like steel. “If you end up like me… don’t say I didn’t warn you. Chasing a low life like her might ruin everything you’ve built.”

I felt heat crawl up my spine, anger prickling at the edges of my words. My jaw tightened, and I folded my arms, letting the coldness slip into my tone.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” I said, voice clipped, cutting. “I physically can’t be like you. Teen pregnancy isn’t an issue for me.”

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise or perhaps disbelief, and for a heartbeat the kitchen was silent except for the faint hiss of the coffee machine. I met her stare, unflinching, letting her know I wasn’t just talking, I meant it.

“You can lecture me all you want,” I added, a little sharper now, “but I’m not you, and I’m not afraid to choose what I want. Daniela Avanzini isn’t a risk; cause I love her."

For a moment, she said nothing. Just measured me with that same piercing gaze, the kind that had always tried to weigh my worth against some invisible standard. But this time, I didn’t flinch. I let her see the heat in my chest, the certainty in my eyes, the love I didn’t need to apologize for.

She finally exhaled, slow and deliberate, and turned back to her coffee.

--

Dani stormed into James’s room without knocking, her steps sharp and deliberate on the hardwood floor. The early morning light barely cut through the curtains, but her anger lit the space brighter than any sunbeam.

James stirred at the sound of the door, groggy, half-turning under his blanket.

SMACK.

Her palm connected with his cheek so hard the sound cracked in the quiet room. His eyes flew open, confusion flashing as he sat up, only to get hit again, even harder.

SMACK.

“You—” Dani’s voice was low, trembling with rage. “—ever touch her again, James, and I swear to God, I’ll break more than your fucking pride.”

James blinked, stunned, hand pressed to his reddening face. “What the hell—”

“No.” She cut him off, jabbing a finger at his chest, her body shaking. “You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to pretend you didn’t cross a line. You hurt her. You scared her. And for that? You’re lucky all you got was my hand.”

Her eyes burned into him, daring him to talk back.

James swallowed, but for once, no words came.

Dani leaned closer, her voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper. “You’ll stay the hell away from her. Because if you don’t? Brother or not, I’ll make sure you regret it every single day.”

James’s voice is small, almost pathetic, and it catches her mid-turn. “How...how is she?” he asks, eyes glassy, voice cracking like he’s trying to bargain for forgiveness.

Dani doesn’t hesitate. "Oh you fucking little bitch" She leans in until her face is inches from his, breathing hard. “Didn't you just hear me! You don’t get to ask about her,” she spits, each word a blade. “You don’t get to make her feel unsafe and then act like you care. Not now. Not ever.”

He opens his mouth, maybe to apologize, maybe to plead but she cuts him off with a contemptuous laugh that has no humor in it. “Save it.” Her voice drops so low it’s almost a hiss. “If I hear you whisper her name again in anything other than respect, I’ll make sure you regret it. Understand me?”

James nods, because there’s nowhere else to go, and Dani finally straightens. For a heartbeat she just stares at him part fury, part exhaustion, then she pivots and strides from the room, shoulders rigid with a kind of fierce protection. The door slams behind her like a promise: she’s not leaving this alone.

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

You sat hunched over the practice test booklet, eraser smudges littering the page, when Ezrela leaned across the table.

Ezrela wasn’t just my tutor. She was my anchor.

A college sophomore, razor-sharp with numbers and words alike, she had this calm that wrapped around you even when your whole world was a storm.

She didn’t talk down to me the way teachers did, and she didn’t pressure me the way my mom did. Instead, she treated me like a sister, and in reality it felt like there was a bond beyond blood.

Every weekend, I sat across from her in the sunlit corner of the house-library, drowning in prep books and practice tests. She’d sip her iced coffee, lean over my shoulder, and in the softest voice say, “Look at the patterns, not the panic.” It was the kind of advice that sounded about math, but really wasn’t.

Somewhere between geometry shortcuts and essay outlines, she became less of a tutor and more of a sister, the one person I could confine everything with.

She was sharp-eyed, the kind of person who noticed everything. Her gaze flicked down to the faint red marks on your wrist, peeking out from under your sleeve.

Her voice softened, but there was steel underneath. "Who did this?”

You froze, pen caught mid-scribble.

“Was it Daniela?” she asked, low, careful, almost protective. Her tone wasn’t accusing, but it was filled with concern, like she was ready to storm out of the room if the answer was yes.

Your throat went dry. Daniela’s name in her mouth felt strange, heavier than when your mom said it, heavier than when James sneered it.

“Um… no…” My voice cracked, the words crawling out of my throat before I could stop them. I stared down at my pencil, twirling it until the eraser smudged gray against my palm. “It’s… um… it’s James.”

The silence between us froze, sharp as glass. When I glanced up, Ezrela’s eyes weren’t soft anymore. They were wide, burning, furious.

“James?” she repeated, low and tight, like even saying his name left a bad taste in her mouth. “He did this to you?”

My chest tightened. My lips parted, but no words came out, just a helpless breath, my gaze falling to the table. I felt like a little kid again, guilty for things that weren’t my fault.

Ezrela’s expression shifted in an instant. The anger didn’t vanish, it smoldered and it folded behind something fiercer: protectiveness. She scooted her chair closer, her hand warm as it carefully cupped the wrist James had grabbed. “Hey, hey… look at me.” Her voice was softer now, steady, the voice that used to coax me through SAT passages when I wanted to throw the book across the room. “This isn’t on you. Not one bit. You don’t ever let yourself carry his mess.”

I blinked, and before I could wipe them away, tears blurred the page in front of me.

“Shh,” she whispered, sliding a box of tissues across the desk like she had planned for this exact moment. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m not just your tutor. I’m your sister in this. And nobody” her jaw tightened, anger flashing again, “—nobody gets to hurt you and walk away like it’s nothing.”

Ezrela let out a long breath, shoulders loosening as if she’d just made a decision. She closed the SAT prep book with a quiet thump and pushed it aside.

“You know what?” she said, tilting her head with a small smile. “Let’s rest for today. Forget Harvard, forget practice tests… just for now.”

I blinked at her. “But—”

She cut me off with a gentle wave of her hand. “No buts. You’ve been carrying too much. What you need isn’t another equation, it’s space to just… breathe.” Her voice softened, like she was coaxing me into something safe. “We can talk about nothing. Or everything. Your choice.”

Something in me cracked, the pressure easing just a little. I nodded, slowly, and a laugh bubbled up despite myself. “Everything and nothing, huh?”

“Exactly,” she grinned, leaning back in her chair. “Like… favorite comfort food, biggest childhood fear, the dumbest song you’ve had stuck in your head this week, whatever.” She nudged my arm lightly, her tone playfully dramatic. “Spill, kid. Let me hear your brain ramble.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the room didn’t feel heavy. Just warm.

I fiddled with the edge of my notebook, cheeks heating before I even opened my mouth. “Okay, um… movie night.”

Ezrela raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Movie night?”

“Yeah,” I said, already smiling despite myself. “Dani, Manon, Megan, Lara… they all came over. We made popcorn, fought over the couch, just… laughed until my stomach hurt.” My voice softened. “For once, everything felt normal. Simple.”

Her eyes lit with recognition. “Daniela again.”

The flush on my cheeks must’ve given me away because she grinned knowingly. “Go on.”

I hid my face in my hands for a second before continuing. “I know its kind of cheesy but we had a sleepover, and It was THE best sleep I had in years.” My chest tightened at the memory, a mix of warmth and ache. “Everything just felt so nice, like puzzle pieces fitting together”

Ezrela’s smile faded, the sister-mode flicking back into place. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, watching me closely. “So let me get this straight… she makes you laugh, she makes you feel safe, she makes you forget about the world for a night and you’re over here blushing like a tomato telling me about her?”

I groaned, covering my face again. “You don’t have to say it out loud.”

But she just chuckled softly, her hand brushing mine in that grounding, big-sister way. “Girl, I think it’s already written all over your face. Where is the ring”

I didn’t even mean to start, but once the words slipped, I couldn’t stop.

“She’s just… God, she’s so beautiful, Ez. Like, stupidly beautiful. Not just her face, though, yeah, her face could probably start wars, but the way she carries herself. She walks into a room and it’s like gravity shifts.”

Ezrela tilted her head, lips twitching as if she wanted to laugh but held it back.

“And her laugh,” I kept going, heat crawling up my neck. “It’s not fake or soft or trying-to-be-cute, it’s real. Loud. Contagious. I swear, every time she laughs, I feel like my heart forgets how to beat for a second. And don’t even get me started on her eyes. It’s like—like they dare you to look away but you just can’t.”

By now, Ezrela was leaning back in her chair, arms folded, a slow smirk forming.

“She could be so infuriating, you know? Teasing, always two steps ahead, but then she’ll look at me like… like I’m the only one who matters. And it’s not even about her being hot, though she is—it’s just—” I stopped, realizing how far I’d gone, words crashing into silence.

Ezrela finally let out a soft laugh. “You done, Shakespeare?”

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. “I hate you.”

“No, Y/N,” she said gently, reaching over to squeeze my arm. “You’re in love. That’s all this is. And honestly? It’s kind of adorable.” Ezrela watched me, patient. “Love is confusing, a maze with no map” she said quietly. “But let it slow down. Let it run it's course because when it meant to be the destination will find you."

She didn’t push me to decide. Letting me settle in my thoughts.

I glanced to my right, my eyes landing on the cabinets filled with awards and trophies my mother had won over the years. They seemed to leer at me, silent witnesses, pressing me to make a choice I wasn’t sure I was ready for. “What if there is no end… no destination? Then what?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ezrela’s gaze softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Then what?” she echoed, tilting her head as if savoring the question. “That’s the beauty of love. You don’t know what’s next. You can’t predict the path, the storms, or the quiet mornings. But every day you wake up, you make a choice. You choose to hold them. To love them. That—that’s the destination. And when here—” She taps my chest softly "When here feels like home, thats when you know"

She chuckled again, slapping my shoulder lightly, the warmth of her gesture grounding me. “One day, you’ll be an old head like me,” she added, eyes twinkling with the weight of a thousand memories, “and you’ll sit back, thinking of these little moments. You’ll realize those were the maps all along, guiding you without you even noticing.”

“You do realize you’re like… two, maybe three years older than me,” I said, half-smiling, trying to sound serious but failing.

Ezrela’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and she leaned closer, mockingly squinting at me. “Oh? So you’re telling me age is going to stop you from listening to my wisdom, hmm?” She wagged a finger at me, laughing. “I’ve got experience on my side, young one. You’d better start taking notes before it’s too late.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah, yeah, you’re ancient and wise, got it.”

She laughed, the sound warm and teasing, like sunlight breaking through a cloudy day.

--

Weeks passed since that night, since James’s outburst, his love-drunken confession, and the raw cut they left behind.

For you and Daniela, life smoothed out in his absence. Dates returned to being effortless; the air between you lightened, no longer strained by his shadow. You laughed again, walked home together again, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like you were building something steady, something strong without interruptions.

But James...James was unraveling.

He stopped showing up to classes, his grades plummeting almost overnight. Rumors floated through the halls: fights with teammates, getting kicked off practice, stumbling out of parties too wasted to stand.

His skin grew pale, his eyes ringed with sleepless shadows. People whispered that he was spiraling, but no one dared get close enough to see how far he was falling.

And every time Daniela heard his name muttered in passing, her smile faltered. She would squeeze your hand tighter, force her focus back on you, but the worry lingered, flickering behind her eyes.

You noticed. You always noticed.

Because even though James had hurt you, even though you told yourself you didn’t care anymore, his absence felt too loud, his downfall too heavy.

He would come home in the middle of the night, reeking of alcohol, slamming doors loud enough to wake the whole house. Some nights he stumbled in with cuts on his knuckles, muttering about strangers he’d picked fights with. Other times he wouldn’t come home at all, leaving his mother pacing and his father furious.

It was tearing Daniela apart.

You could see it in the way her smile flickered less often, in how her laughter always seemed to die out too quickly. She carried it in her shoulders, the guilt heavy and relentless. Every time James lashed out, every time he spiraled further, she blamed herself.

“He wasn’t like this before,” she whispered one evening, her voice fraying at the edges as you sat together. “Not until… not until I chose you.”

Her words hit like a stone in your chest.

You reached for her hand, holding it firmly, but she pulled back, pressing her palms against her face instead. “He looks at me like I ruined him. Like It all my fault”

Her happiness with you, those bright nights, those easy mornings, felt tainted by James’s decline. The more you loved her, the more she seemed to fear that love was the very thing breaking her brother.

Then came the turning point. December 13th

The call came late at night. Daniela’s phone lit up the room, her face going pale as she answered. You sat up beside her, tension knotting in your chest as you listened to her clipped, sharp responses.

When she hung up, her hands balled into fists. “It’s James,” she said, her voice tight, teeth gritted. “He… he got arrested. DUI.”

The words slammed into the air, heavy, final.

Daniela stood, pacing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I can’t believe him,” she muttered, anger breaking through the cracks in her voice. “After everything. After the warnings, after the chances, after me begging him to try—he still…” She broke off, shaking her head, her jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt.

You reached for her hand, trying to steady her, but she pulled away.

“I’m so tired of this,” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “Every time I think maybe he’ll get better, he just proves me wrong."

Her chest heaved, breath uneven, fury barely containing the disappointment threaded through every word.

“Dani,” you said quietly, trying to ground her. “This isn’t your fault. You’ve done everything you could—”

She cut you off with a sharp shake of her head. “No. I don’t want to hear that right now. I don’t want comfort. I want him to stop destroying everything. I want my brother back.”

The silence that followed was heavy, not with grief, but with the raw, burning edge of her disappointment, one that no hug, no soft words, could soothe.

Daniela’s hands clenched the steering wheel so tight her knuckles whitened. The streetlights streaked across her face in flashes anger, sorrow, fury, then back again. I sat frozen, heart hammering, still trying to process the words she’d spit out, words sharper than any slap.

I don’t want comfort. I want him to stop destroying everything. I want my brother back.

I wanted to say something... anything. But the silence was thicker than concrete. No apology could crack it.

When she pulled into the station parking lot, my breath caught. The building loomed under the harsh fluorescent glow, sterile and unwelcoming. For a split second, I thought maybe she’d change her mind. Maybe she’d just keep driving, let James face whatever came.

But Dani killed the engine, her jaw set. “Stay close,” she muttered, voice clipped, as if the words themselves were holding her together.

Inside, the smell of disinfectant and stale coffee hit me. The officer at the front desk barely looked up, shuffling papers, until Dani strode forward with a fire that made the whole room tilt toward her. “I’m here for James Avanzini,” she said flatly.

Her voice had that mix of venom and exhaustion, like bailing him out wasn’t kindness, but duty, a responsibility she never asked for but couldn’t walk away from.

I trailed behind, feeling useless, the weight of my own guilt pressing in. James had left bruises on my wrist, cracks in my trust, yet here we were, Dani and me, standing in this sterile box waiting to bring him home.

When the officer nodded and disappeared down the hall, Dani let out a slow, shaky breath.

For once, she didn’t look at me, didn’t tease, didn’t reassure. She just stared at the double doors where James would walk out, shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

The door creaked open, and James stepped out, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes darting like a kid caught in headlights. For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Dani crossed the space between them in two strides and pulled him into her arms. No words, no accusations, no lectures — just a desperate, bone-deep hug, like she was holding together all the broken pieces of him with nothing but her will.

James stiffened at first, then melted into her, shoulders sagging, face buried in her neck. His lips moved, maybe an apology, maybe nothing at all, but Dani didn’t answer. She just held on tighter, like letting go might mean losing him forever.

I stood there, frozen in the fluorescent hum of the station, watching them. Something twisted in my chest, something raw and aching.

What is it like to feel loved like that?

Not the butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of love. Not the messy, intoxicating whirlwind that Dani gave me. This was something else, fierce, unconditional, unshakable. Love that refused to give up even when it was dragged through the dirt, even when it hurt more than it healed.

And for the first time, I wondered if that was the kind of love I’d been chasing all along.

James’s voice cracked the silence, ragged and trembling. “I’m sorry, Dani… I’m so damn sorry.” His eyes brimmed, then spilled, tears sliding down the bruised planes of his face.

Dani’s breath hitched, but she didn’t recoil. Instead, she cupped his cheek gently, her thumb brushing away the tears like she’d been doing it all his life. “Shhh,” she whispered, not dismissing his guilt, but steadying him through it.

Her fingers traced the bandages along his jaw and temple, soft, careful, as if even touching him wrong might make him crumble. She exhaled a shaky laugh, part relief, part disbelief. “You’re still here,” she murmured, eyes glistening. “God, you’re still alive.”

James’s shoulders shook, the apology spilling again, broken and unfinished. Dani just pulled him in tighter, burying her face against him like she was memorizing the proof of his existence.

Dani pulled back just enough to look at him, her palms still resting on his shoulders. Her face was streaked with tears, but somehow, she found the strength to smile.

“I thought I lost my little bro,” she said, voice trembling between laughter and sorrow.

James huffed a weak laugh, shaking his head. “Dani, it was only ten minutes.”

“Still,” she shot back, her smile widening through the tears, “the best ten minutes of my life.”

For a moment, the air around them lightened the weight of police stations, fights, and broken hearts cracked open just enough for a brother and sister to feel like kids again.

Watching them, my chest twisted.

Their love was messy, raw, imperfect, but it was also unshakable. Standing there, I realized it had been too long since I’d seen the twins smile and laugh together like this unguarded, uncomplicated, just them in their own orbit.

And for the first time, a thought slipped in, sharp as glass: Am I the problem?

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. Ever since I’d stepped into their lives, things had fractured. James had grown bitter, desperate, reckless. Dani, caught between loving me and protecting him, had been torn in ways I never meant for her to be.

I looked at them her fingers brushing away his tears, his broken laugh easing into hers and it struck me that maybe they didn’t need me.

Maybe all I’d done was wedge myself between two halves of a whole, breaking something sacred that wasn’t mine to touch.

The car hummed quietly as we drove home, city lights flickering past like fireflies against the night.

Dani kept one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting gently on my knee, her thumb tracing idle circles that grounded me in a way nothing else could. For once, silence didn’t feel heavy, it felt safe.

James shifted in the back seat, his voice low, hesitant. “Hey… I’m sorry. For hurting you. For everything.” His words trembled, but they were real.

I turned halfway, meeting his tired eyes in the rearview mirror. There was no fight left in him, no sharp edge, just the raw truth of someone trying to mend what he’d broken.

“And,” he added, his throat catching, “I won’t lie… I still love you. I don’t think that’s just gonna disappear overnight. But… I’ll get over it. It’s gonna take a while.”

The air thickened instantly. Dani’s grip on the wheel twitched barely, but enough. A flicker of tension shot through her jaw before she forced her gaze back to the road.

I opened my mouth, but no words came. James’s honesty pressed against me, heavy and complicated, and Dani’s silence beside me made it feel even heavier.

The rest of the ride was quiet and nothing but an awkward mess.

Back at their house, the night stretched quiet and still. I lingered near the doorway, pretending to tie my shoe, but the words are unmistakable.

Dani’s voice cuts through the low hum of music from the twins’ room.

“I swear, James, stop telling her that you… that you love her,” Dani says, her tone sharp but trembling at the edges.

James hesitates, then replies quietly, almost to himself, “I can’t lie… not to her. I know a girl shouldn’t come between blood, but I don’t think I can look at you knowing that you have her.”

There’s a pause. Dani’s voice softens, but it’s laced with panic and frustration. “I… I don’t know what to chose… family or her. But I know one thing for sure I can’t trust you knowing you love her. And I know that everything is fucked up ever since that day”

I stand frozen, heart hammering. The words, the tension, the cracks in their bond… it’s all because of me. I'm truly the problem. I always thought...at least hinted that it could be me...but thisーthis is evidence staring straight at me.

I step outside and sink onto the porch steps, the night air cool against my skin. Street lamps cast long shadows across the yard, and the quiet hum of distant traffic feels almost too loud in my ears.

I wrap my arms around my knees, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights, wishing the world would just let me disappear for a while. The guilt churns inside me, heavy and unrelenting.

Then I feel movement beside me. Dani. She crouches down, reaching out, her hand brushing against mine. “Hey… come here,” she whispers, pulling gently, like she wants to share the burden, like she wants to make it okay.

I flinch and pull away, shaking my head. “I… I can’t,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over the night. The truth stings more than I can bear to say out loud. I’m the reason this is all falling apart.

She hesitates, searching my face, but I keep my distance. The silence stretches between us, thick and unyielding, and for the first time, I feel completely alone under the indifferent glow of the streetlights.

Dani crouches beside me, her hand brushing against mine. “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” she says softly, her eyes searching mine like she can see through to the truth.

I hesitate, swallow hard, and force the words out: “I think we should break up.”

For a second, Dani just stares at me, her brows pulling together. Then she lets out a weak laugh, shaking her head like I just made a bad joke. “Don’t play with me,” she says, searching my face for a crack, for anything that proves I don’t mean it.

But I don’t respond. I just sit there, silent.

Her laugh fades, and panic slips into her voice. “Wait....No....what? No baby please what do you mean? Why? Is it meーIts me right? Did I do something? Tell me, what is it? I'll change, just please Cariño” She starts rambling, her words tumbling over each other, desperate to find something solid to hold on to.

I can’t take it. I cut her off, my voice low but steady. “It’s not you... My grades are dropping… and I want more in life.” No I don't all I want is you

I look away, my throat tightening. “I can’t keep doing this.” I would die for you

Dani shakes her head, eyes shining in the dim porch light. “No. No, don’t do this.” Her voice cracks, and she grabs at my hand, holding it tight like if she lets go I’ll disappear. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.”

The way she says it...it’s not casual, not light. It’s raw, pleading, a lifeline she’s throwing out to keep me from drifting away.

My chest tightens, and guilt claws at me. I don’t want to leave. God, I don’t want to. But if I stay… everything between her and James will shatter completely.

I look at her, torn in two, my silence louder than any answer I could give.

Her voice weakens as she repeats her words like a spell. “I love you. Ditto. I love you.”

I swallow hard, force the lump in my throat down, and whisper the cruelest thing I’ve ever said: “Maybe… maybe I don’t.”

I could even say it, because I don't love you could be the furthest thing from the truth. I love her the way Icarus loved the sun. The way roots love the earth. The way Orpheus loved Eurydice. The way the moon loves the tide. The way fire loves oxygen. The way poets love tragedy. The way the sea loves the shore. The way the night loves the stars. Love her the way the desert loves rain. I love her the way time loves memory.

I will love her and continue to until my heart takes it last steps.

Her face goes still, like the world just tilted beneath her. The porch light flickers above us, and the night presses in, heavy and merciless. I can’t meet her eyes. If I do, the lie will shatter.

But I keep staring at the ground, letting her believe it, because somehow that feels easier than watching the twins fall apart because of me.

Dani’s hand falls away from mine, her shoulders trembling but her voice steady, almost too steady. “If that’s what you want… I won’t stop you.”

She stands, the porch light catching in her hair for a moment before she turns. No crying, no begging this time, just silence, and the soft sound of the door shutting behind her.

I sit there frozen, the night pressing in harder than ever. The lie still burns on my tongue, but it’s too late to take it back.

Eventually, I rise and start walking home.

The streets are quiet, the air sharp against my skin, but inside I feel hollow, emptied out. My breath clouds in the cool night air, and with each step the weight inside me only grows heavier.

If that’s what you want… I won’t stop you.

Her words replay in my head, but underneath them, it’s the memories that rise.

The way she laughed that first time we got caught in the rain, drenched and breathless, like nothing in the world could touch us. The way her hand always found mine under the table, that small, secret warmth grounding me when everything else felt unsteady. The way she looked at me, like I was worth something, like I was hers.

I said I wanted more in life. But the truth is, she was my more. She was my life. She was the piece of me I didn’t know I was missing until she was there.

But what choice do I have? If I stay, I keep tearing at the seam between them. Brother against sister, trust against blood. I’ve already poisoned enough.

I can live with the silence. I can live with the hollow. What I can’t live with is ruining their family, breaking their happiness just to keep what I want.

But the truth is every step echoes with the truth I couldn’t say, I didn’t want to leave her.

But I told her I did.

And now, nothing will ever be the same.

[arachnid-chris]

I need a part 4.😀

[writerswall26]

Ihahatid Kita Part 2

Malay Mo, Tayo

Sophia Laforteza

Synopsis: Y/N who finally gave in to Tita Carla's, Sophia's mom, invite to her birthday after more than a year of hiding. Ended up seeing her ex girlfriend who she thought won't be there.

Words: 7k+

Warnings: Slight cursing, fluff!!

A/N: Hello, everyone! I know the last part was a hard read and I thought I didn't want to end it that way. So I made this part 2 for all of us, I hope you love this as much as you loved part 1. Let me know your thought!

Part 1

It’s been more than a year since you last saw Sophia. Even when tita Carla and tito Godfrey invite you to any casual gathering, you would always decline, afraid you’d see her there. But they’re persistent. Tita Carla’s been calling you nonstop. Even when you just landed the plane in whatever country you’re flight has been, she’d be reaching every chance she gets.

Right now, you’ve just landed the plane in Dubai and she’s already calling you. You sighed, removing your uniform and tossing it to the bed of your hotel room.

You finally answered.

“Hello, tita.” You greeted, slumping on the bed, putting the call on speaker.

“I will not— and yes, this is a threat— I will not stop calling until you tell me you’re coming home for my birthday celebration!” she sounded annoyed at this point.

You laughed, like a real one. You love her so much, it hurts knowing you had to avoid everyone to stay away.

You sighed. “Alright, tita. I’ll hold my schedule on that day. I promise.” You gave in.

You heard clapping on her end. You knew you just made the right choice.

“Please hold your schedule until after the holidays, I want you home even if you can’t be here with us physically.” You felt bad. She’s still very worried about you.

You hummed. “I was planning on visiting the family this holiday. So, I’ll probably be there on your birthday then drive back home to spend it with them.” You knew she wanted updates.

“That’s great, anak. Make sure to rest before your next flight, okay? See you soon, Captain. I love you.”

“Love you too, tita. See you on your birthday.”

Then she hung up.

The silence that followed calmed you. It was the kind where you could close everything. You were thankful that this is what comes with silence now. Before, it was loud, infuriating, heart breaking. But you’ve come to terms with it. Now, when it’s quiet, that’s just it. No more loud thoughts.

It gave you peace.

You’ve come so far since your break up with Sophia. Before, you couldn’t even go a day without crying and drinking. You couldn’t hear her name without being broken, and it didn’t even help that she’s everywhere. You couldn’t go to places you used to go with her without breaking down in the middle of the street. You couldn’t listen to songs you used to sing with her in your car, or even songs her group sings.

But now, you’ve finally overcame those things. You remember the first time it happened. You just landed in Japan and out of nowhere, you heard a Katseye song being blasted in one of the cafés you visited. It didn’t break your heart, it didn’t make you cry. Instead, you smiled to yourself when you heard her voice. And you knew, right then, that you were okay. You haven’t fully healed or moved on yet, you wouldn’t even if you tried, but you were doing okay. You’ve finally accepted the fact that she wasn’t yours anymore.

It was a surreal moment.

It was freeing.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You just landed back in the Philippines after a detour. Your back is aching, your head pounding, and you still have to drive back to your place.

It’s been a long flight and your co-pilot was down with a cold so you had to step in. Now, all you wanted was to sleep. So when you got to your place, you immediately took a shower and went to bed.

When you woke up, you were already bombarded with calls and messages from tita Carla, reminding you of her birthday party. You couldn’t help but laugh. You called her as soon as you’ve fixed yourself.

“Are you back home?” was the first thing she asked.

“Whatever happened to hello? Good morning?” you joked, chuckling.

You heard tita Carla laugh. It sounded so elegant, like Sophia’s.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Are you back from your flight?” she finally asked calmly.

You hummed. “Landed last night. Had enough rest to blast the party tonight.”

“You know I love when you dance that tito dance of yours.” She teased which made you laugh.

“Hey, now. Not all of us are blessed with talent like yours!”

“You’re great, anak. You just don’t know it yet.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, tita. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“I’ll see you tonight. You take care.”

You prepared to go out. You weren’t gonna show up empty handed. Tita Carla’s too precious for that. You went shopping for tita Carla’s gift and went to buy home essentials as well.

You could see Sophia’s face everywhere. You couldn’t help but smile. She really had come a long way. When you met her, she was just a girl with big dreams, just going through it and hoping. And now, she’s one of the most beloved members of a global girl group, Katseye.

You stopped on an ad, watching it intently with a smile on your face. She looked so beautiful, so free.

You knew you made the right decision then.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You’re currently fixing yourself when you got a message. This was not the usual message you receive. It’s not from tita Carla. This time, it’s from tito Godfrey, telling —more like threatening— you to not break your promise because tita Carla’s expecting you to come.

You shook your head, laughing. “God, these oldies.” You say to yourself as you finish doing your hair.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You’ve changed. You’ve gotten older, your face more sharper, jaw more refined, hair shorter, taller than the last time you truly stared at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this, Y/N.” You told yourself before you sprayed your perfume.

It’s still the same. The one Sophia loves.

You drove to their place with so much confidence. The thought of seeing Sophia there wasn’t on your mind. You were so sure she was too busy with group activities.

When you got there, you did a small pep talk and went on your way. When you got to the house, you saw that it was just a few of tita Carla’s friends, mostly family members. You greeted everyone who knew you, talking to them for a while.

“Y/N, anak! You’re finally here!” you heard tita Carla’s voice boom from behind you.

When you turned, you couldn’t help but smile as you spread your arms to envelop her in a tight hug. She looked wonderful. And you missed her terribly.

When she pulled away, she held your face and kissed your cheek so much you had to stop her with a laugh.

“Happy Birthday to my most beautiful tita.” You say, smiling widely while holding the gift you bought for her.

She smiled, eyes misted but she blinked it away. She took your gift with a thankful smile. “You didn’t have to, anak. This is beautiful.” She says, looking at your gift.

You smiled. “Oh, but I want to. A special gift for one of the most special woman in my life.”

Tita Carla smiled and pulled you in a tight hug again. She then pulled you with her to greet tito Godfrey.

He put his hands on his hips, acting mad. “So you have finally decided to show up, huh?” he says, then pulled you in a tight hug.

“I missed you too, tito.”

You decided to talk to the family who’ve been with you since you got together with Sophia. They still treat you the same, thank God. They were still welcoming and loving towards you. Sophia’s lolo and lola still loves talking about everything and anything with you. They were so engaging that you forgot where you were. You were so relaxed, until you heard tito Godfrey speak.

“There she is! Come join us, princess!”

You froze on your spot. You did not expect this to happen. You were so sure she wasn’t gonna be here.

You slowly turned to where tito Godfrey’s looking, then it hit you like a fucking wrecking ball. She’s here, in the fucking flesh, and she’s wearing a God forbidden beautiful black dress. She looked so gorgeous. The dress hugging her body in all the right places.

You were brought back to your senses when you felt a nudge in your rib, making you turn to person who did it.

“Mom didn’t want to tell you she’s here. She was afraid you weren’t gonna come if you knew.” Bailey said, giving you an apologetic smile.

You felt bad. You didn’t know it was going to come to this. That they would have to hide the fact that Sophia’s here just so you could be present.

You gave him a smile. “It’s totally fine. I understand.”

He nodded and stayed beside you. You’ve been friends with Bailey even before you met Sophia. It was a fact no one knew outside of the family. You were Bailey’s classmate in high school and that’s when you met Sophia during one of your house visits.

“Sure you’re gonna be okay?” he asks you after some time.

You turn to him and smile. “It’s been so long, Basil. I’m okay now.”

“If you say so.”

The entire time, you made sure you were accompanied by someone. You’d be talking to anyone, just so you could avoid being alone. You know it’s inevitable that Sophia would come up to you to talk but you just wished she wouldn’t.

You could feel her gaze on you whenever you’re speaking to anyone. You know she’s looking, you just made sure not to turn to her. It would be disastrous if you did. You are okay, but you know to yourself that you’re still not ready to talk to her.

“She’s looking at you. And Leon’s gonna be here any time soon. You sure you’re gonna be okay? I can come up with anything so you could go. Just give me the cue, I got you.” Bailey said beside you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. This is so Bailey. He’d think of anything to get you out of trouble, even lie to his sweet sister so to not get her angry than she is when you two would drive around and be home shaking because you just had a near death experience.

“I appreciate it, man. But it’s not about me. I want to spend this day for your mom.” You tell him. He looks at you like he just wants to get you out of here.

“You’re crazy impossible. Sometimes I forget how selfless and stubborn you are.” He says, shaking his head.

You just chuckled. “Let’s just go talk to your titas and titos.”

Bailey followed you towards his aunts and uncles. You engaged in conversation with them.

“Y/N, I heard you’ve just got back from a flight. How’s our legend captain?” One of the uncles asked, handing you a glass of whiskey. You weren’t planning on drinking tonight but you know you need this.

“It’s been really good. It’s exhausting sometimes but I love when we go to places I haven’t had the chance to visit yet. They’re taking really good care of me, thank God.” You answer.

“Haynako, this child of ours doesn’t even have time to visit now. She’s been everywhere but home, can you believe that?!” Tita Carla joined the conversation, holding both your shoulders behind you.

You looked up at her, smiling widely. “I have to because I don’t want to lose my job, tita.”

“That doesn’t mean you should fall off the face of the earth.” She says, holding your cheek and caressing it lovingly.

You felt warm. The love they have for you always makes your heart flutter.

“Anak, ha. It’s good that you’re making history with flying and all but don’t ever forget to rest. Look at you, oh. You’ve gotten thin.” One of the aunties say, looking at you worriedly.

“I’m taking care of myself just fine, tita. It’s just that, I’ve been booked lately because one of our co-pilots is on vacation. He’s gonna be back after the holidays so I think I’d have more time to rest.”

“Tell your employer to stop booking you on flights for a few months. You need rest and food!” one of the uncles say.

You laughed. “Oh no, I’m gonna be fired if I do that, tito.”

“Then that’s good. You’re gonna have more time to rest.” Tita Carla joked.

You shook your head. These people and their love for you.

You continue to talk to everyone. You didn’t even realize Leon’s already there, not until you heard him talking to tito Godfrey not too far from you. You turned towards them, exactly the time he looks at you.

You gave him a friendly smile, lifting the glass of whiskey. He smiled back, nodding his head. That’s a start.

When the fun started, Bailey stayed beside you. You know he’s making sure Sophia or Leon won’t come near you, and bless him for that.

The night went on with you catching up with everyone, Bailey beside you, often time Oreo would come up and talk to you. You were so busy talking to everyone that you forgot Sophia and Leon are there.

When it got a bit stuffy, you excused yourself to Bailey. “I need some air. I’ll be at the back. Gonna smoke.”

He gave you a look. “You’re back to smoking?”

You nodded, rubbing the back of your head. “Just when it gets too much.”

He sighed. “I’ll make sure none of them would bother you. Go breath.”

“You’re God sent.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing you lightly, making you laugh.

You excused yourself from the people and went to their backyard. You pulled out your vape and started smoking, sighing in the process.

You stopped smoking when you first got with Sophia. She didn’t hate it per se, she’s just worried you’d be addicted to it and is worried about your health. But then you broke up, picked it up and started again. You don’t really smoke that much, just when it’s getting heavy.

You looked up, staring at the sky. It’s unusually clear tonight, what with all the air pollution in Manila. You couldn’t help but smile. The sky looked so beautiful tonight.

You were in the middle of blowing the smoke out of you when you heard a voice, making you choke.

“Shit.” You muttered, coughing out.

You heard a small giggle, then there was her. Standing beside you, looking beautiful as ever.

“You went back to smoking?” she asks, still looking up at the sky.

You were still coughing, thumping your chest so to not die right on the spot. When you finally got back to breathing normally, you fixed yourself and looked up as well.

“Just sometimes.”

You heard her chuckle. “You know, I didn’t believe mom when she said you were coming. But here you are.”

You smiled. “They omitted the part that you’re here.”

There was silence for a while. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Not yet, at least.

“I can’t believe we’ve come to a point that they’d have to lie to you just so you’d come. It felt weird.” There’s sadness in the way she says it. You felt it too.

You looked down, sighing. “To be honest, I don’t think I’d be here, otherwise.” You tell her truthfully.

You saw her turn to look at you. You still looked up, not ready to look at her.

“You really buried everything, huh?” you heard the frustration in her voice.

“Sophia...” you called out, finally looking her.

God, she’s still beautiful. She still looks so ethereal. It hurts seeing her this close and not being able to hold her, not being able to kiss her.

“Elizabeth.” She say firmly.

“Sophia.” You stood your ground.

She stared at you, the frustration oozing out.

You smiled. “How have you been? I heard the promotions are successful. You’ve been everywhere.”

Sophia sighed, finally letting it go. “I’ve been good. The earlier months were the hardest.”

You know exactly what she meant. But you’re not ready to talk about any of it. This day is not about you two.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

She nodded, looking ahead.

The silence engulfed you immediately. You didn’t have to talk after that. You let it sit.

After a moment, Sophia spoke. “I was hoping, you know.” She started, turning to you.

You turned to her, not knowing what to say. She wants to talk about it. You wanted to run away, get as far away from her as possible. But you couldn’t seem to move from your spot. You just stared at her.

“I let you be because that’s what you wanted. Leon and I...” she stopped, like choosing the right words to say, her eyes holding every emotion she feels. “We did try. For a while. But... he wasn’t you.”

“Sophia...” you want her to stop. You want to walk away.

“Elizabeth, Y/N.” She said, her voice firm

“Stop.” You say, finally having the courage to step back. This is not healthy, not for you, not for her.

“You stop.” Her voice raised a bit.

You stare at her, confused. You don’t know where this is coming from. You don’t know what’s happening.

“I waited. I was patient. God, I was so patient because that’s what you wanted. You made a decision without even talking to me. You know how that feels?!”

You couldn’t speak. You’re so confused why she’s acting like this. You made a move to step towards her, then it hit you. She smelled different. A smell familiar to you.

She’s drunk.

“Sophia.” You called out softly, careful not to trigger her than she’s already is. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold tonight. We should join them back inside, yeah?”

Sophia shook her head. “I’m never going to see you after tonight, I know it. You’re so good at hiding, it’s frustrating.”

“Sophia, please. Let’s not do this here. It’s your mom’s birthday. We should celebrate it with her.” You pleaded.

“You and your fucking excuses.” She scoffed, looking away before turning back to you, glaring at you. “You’re infuriating.” Her voice falter with that.

It broke your heart to see her like this. You couldn’t speak. You just stared at her, feeling your heart break all over again.

A tear escaped her eye and you wanted so bad to wipe it away but you couldn’t move. You don’t know what’s gonna happen if you hold her now.

“I waited for you.” She said, wiping the tear off her face aggressively. “And right now, I’m still waiting. Because God, despite everything, I still love you!”

There it is.

“I still love you so much and it hurts seeing you happy with everyone in there while acting like I don’t exist!” her voice broke with that, her tears falling down her eyes but she just wiped them away.

You just watched her. You wanted to speak but it felt like whatever you say won’t take away the pain she’s feeling. You wanted to hold her, to apologize and take everything back. But that would hurt the both of you more. You know she won’t remember this tomorrow. And right now, you just want to let it all out, to put it out there, just so she could get it out of her chest.

But seeing her like this breaks you. You wanted her to be happy. You wanted her to be free. But why does seem like she’s more broken than happy?

“You weren’t happy with me anymore, Soph. What was I supposed to do?” your voice was soft, gentle. You didn’t want to escalate things. You know her too well.

She’s a fighter.

“I’m the happiest when I’m with you.”

You shook your head lightly. “But you weren’t. I was there, Sophia. I saw everything.”

“Bullshit.” She spat.

You sighed. “Let’s go back inside.” You tried but she stepped back. Not letting this end here.

“You’re not going to run away from me again. I’m not going to let you. I did it before...” she say, determine to have this talk right here. “Not anymore.”

“Sophia, please.”

“No, mahal.” She stared at you, waiting.

When you said nothing, Sophia walked towards you, her eyes never leaving yours. You wanted to step back, to stay as far away from her as you could. But something about the way she looks at you froze you. Like putting you into place, steady.

She stopped inches from you. You could smell the alcohol in her breath.

God, how much did this girl drink. You thought to yourself.

“Why did you do it? Why did you make that decision for me?” she asked.

The air thicken around you, like making a mist to hold the both of you, engulfing you in a world where the two of you are locked.

“You weren’t happy with me anymore, Sophia.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cut it with that crap!”

“Because it’s true.” You say. Guess here’s the conversation she’s been so adamant to have. “I saw it. I was there. I saw how you changed. You think I just woke up one day and thought I’d give up the love of my life to her so called best friend? You think I didn’t think it through?”

She was quiet. You waited.

“I thought about every possible outcome, Sophia. I thought about it over and over and over again. How can I keep you when I know you weren’t happy?”

You thought you’ve moved on. You thought you’re okay. But seeing her tonight, having this conversation with her, it just came crashing down on you. You in fact have not moved on, you just learned how to cope without her.

“You should’ve just talked me.” She said in a whisper. Like she was afraid her voice would crack the moment it leaves her.

“And what? Have you ignore me? You were pulling away from me even before I made that decision.”

“I was pulling away from you because I was scared!” you’re confused. You don’t even know what’s happening right now.

“Scared of what exactly?” you asked, your voice full of confusion.

That made her stop. She was breathing heavily now. She looked like she’s about to pass out on you. But she managed through.

The quiet was loud, scary. It was like it was sucking the life out of you. She just stared, probably looking for the right words to say. You hated this. You hated how this is turning out. Then she spoke.

“I was scared because I was falling deeper. Because I was willing to give up everything just to have you. And you know what? Had you asked me to leave the group so we could be together all the time, I’d do it. Without a single word, without protest, I’d leave it all behind for you.”

That made your heart ache. This is a new information that could’ve helped you before it fell down.

You tried to speak, opened your mouth but no words would come out.

“I would never ask you to do that.” You say, your voice breaking in the process.

You heard her chuckle, a painful one. “See, I would. I was willing to be yours forever. And I didn’t think you would want the same. You were just starting out and so was I. I knew that if you’d ask me to stay, I would. And it scared me. It scared me to think that the love I have for you is turning to something that would break me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It made you think about the kind of love you were asking for her. Was it consuming her? Was it breaking her? Were you too demanding? Too needy? Too possessive?

“I didn’t know.” You say in a whisper, looking down as you shook your head.

“Yeah, well... there it is.”

You looked up at her, staring. The moon’s light illuminating her being, like a spotlight only for her. She looked so beautiful, despite looking frustrated and mad.

You walked towards her, holding her hand in yours. It still fit the same, like it was carved to be with hers. You gave her a small smile. You didn’t have to say anything. Sophia knew. Without words. She let out a sigh, resting her face in your chest, letting the warmth engulf her.

And just like that, she’s down.

You had to carry her back. She’s too drunk to even wake up at this point.

“Oh, my God! What happened, anak?” Tita Carla came running to you when she saw you carrying Sophia.

You smiled at her. “We were talking outside. Seemed she’s too drunk. Just passed out on me.”

Tita Carla looked more amused than worried. She shook her head. Thank God the visitors are already gone by now, because this shit would be a festival for them.

“Get her up to her room, please.” Tita Carla said, helping you up the stairs.

When you got to Sophia’s room, you immediately put her to bed, removing her heels before tucking her in a blanket. When you made sure Sophia’s already comfortable, you looked around the room. It was still the same except for a few additional photos.

There’s still the picture frame of you and her on her night stand, photos of her favourite bands, favourite Disney princesses, but one photo caught your eye. You stood up, walking over to look at it clearly. It was a photo of you, holding an award you just got last month.

You turned back to Sophia’s sleeping form. She took tabs on everything about you since you broke up. It’s all in here, every achievement, every travel photos. It looked like a museum of yourself.

The tears started falling again. You didn’t know what to feel. You felt happy that Sophia still loves you. But at the same time, you’re scared. What if it happened again? Would she pull away from you? Would she let you know? Questions swirl in your head.

But one thing stuck.

Baka pwede pa.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You didn’t see Sophia after that night. She left without saying a word to you. You tried visiting, tried going back to their house but to no avail. You never had the chance to clear things up with her. You did see photos and videos of her out and about with her friends, her family, even with Leon. But whenever you try to see her, she’s always unavailable.

It was starting to frustrate you. She was the one who came up to you first. She was the one who wanted to talk about your break up. Now, she’s pulling away again.

It’s been months since that night. You didn’t get to spend her birthday with them because you were with your family. Didn’t get to say goodbye because she just left. She’s continued with her life, busy with her schedules. Yet, not a message from her when she came home.

“This is so frustrating.” You muttered softly. You just watched a video of her dancing in a club in the Philippines with her friends.

Apparently, she’s back home and you’re still in Dubai. You were in a flight the other day, landed in Dubai and was going to be flying to London tomorrow. You knew you weren’t going to see her when you get back.

You slumped on your bed, staring at the ceiling. The past months has been a blur to you. Ever since tita Carla’s birthday, it’s like you were living on auto pilot. You wake up, fix yourself, go to work, be back home, sleep, repeat. You were back to the old you. Back to loud thoughts. Back to only thinking about Sophia. It’s driving you crazy.

When you got back to the Philippines, you didn’t even try to go back home after, you went straight to Sophia’s house hoping to corner her, only to be told that Sophia has flew back to LA just this morning.

You couldn’t help but feel like she’s doing this on purpose. Because she was. For some reason, she fucking knew your schedule, she knows when you’re leaving and when you’re coming back.

So, you made it a mission to corner her. There’s a plastered schedule of Katseye in their page, thank God.

You already asked your boss to give you a few weeks off. Just so you could catch her. VMAs are coming and her group would be there. They’re nominated for some awards and you want so bad to be there.

“You’re really going to chase after her, huh?” Bailey asked while the two of you are drinking before your flight to New York.

You nodded. “She’s so cruel.”

Bailey chuckled, shaking his head. “But that’s what she wants, you know? You chasing her.”

You turned to him, brows furrowed. The look on his face says it all. “What?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I cannot believe you fell for her trick. It’s obvious. She wants you to chase after her because that’s the only way she’d have you back.”

You stared at him. That did not occur to you. “She really is cruel.” You huffed, drinking your whiskey.

Bailey just laughed at you.

You’re so dumb.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You just landed in New York. VMAs would be tomorrow and you’re gonna make sure that you and Sophia would see each other in there.

You took a rest, made sure you’re well rested. You cannot look like someone who just got out of bed.

In the venue, you’re hands are clammy, you’re so nervous, you could pass out. But you stayed your ground. You waited for Katseye to arrive. And when they did, the first person you looked for is Sophia, and you did.

She looked so beautiful.

God, how can a person be this beautiful?

She looked like a Goddess who descended from the heaven to bless the world with her grace and beauty.

You stayed hidden, not wanting to scare her before their big performance. You wanted to be there, to be able to talk to her, but not to scare her. You still want her to do amazing.

So, you waited.

Like how she did for you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You cried. You knew you cried. You were wiping your snot when they won the award. You were so proud of her. You cannot even explain the feeling you’re feeling right now. Just that, you want to go run to her and give her a huge hug. She’s come so far from the girl who was just dreaming once. She’s so amazing, it made you feel things.

You waited patiently. You stayed hidden. You still didn’t want to scare her. But you were staring too long that for some reason, her gaze landed on you. You didn’t know how. Maybe you really were just sticking out like a sore thumb, with that damn height of yours.

You smiled. You didn’t know what to do at this point. All you could do is stand there, staring at her, smiling like a creep.

The scene looked like something out of the movies. You watched as she found her courage to walk up to you. You felt the place stop. The sound and the people, all gone.

It was just you and her.

She started slow, walking carefully. Then turned to a full blown running that it worried you. You opened your arms, waiting until she was nuzzled in your embrace. No one said a word. You stayed like that, her tightening her hold on you.

You felt Sophia shaking in your arms and you knew, she was already crying. You wanted to worry about her make-up and all that but you’re more worried that she feels overwhelmed.

“Elizabeth.” You called out softly, wanting her to know that you’re there, that you’re not just a fragment of her imagination.

“No.” You heard her say, tightening her hold, shaking her head.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. You were crying too but that could wait. You want to comfort her.

“Hey, let me see you.” You say gently. Thankfully, she pulled away. You were still smiling as she finally looked up at you. She’s still the most beautiful despite the tears and almost ruined make-up.

You reached for her face and gently wiped her tears. Like she’s a porcelain that could break if you push harder.

“You did so amazing tonight, mahal.” And the water works went off again. You didn’t want to make her cry, but there it is.

You pulled her back in your embrace, rubbing her back softly. You let her cry however long she needs. You gave her time. You stayed like that, for you don’t know how long until she calmed down. When she was finally okay, she pulled away and gently wiped her tears, making sure she doesn’t smudge her make-up.

“You good?” you asked in a teasing manner.

Sophia looked up to you, rolling her eyes as she pulled your jacket to wipe her snot. You didn’t mind though, all you care about is this, her.

“How are you here?” was the first thing she asked, despite her voice still shaking.

You shrugged. “I was hoping to see you, share the moment with you.”

She smiled, hugging you again. You chuckled as you kissed the crown of her head.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You scoffed. “You wouldn’t answer anyway. Besides, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, I’m surprised. What are you gonna do about that?”

She’s so sassy, you want to squeeze her. It made you chuckle.

“You like surprises, ‘di ba? Here’s one for you.” You teased. You love teasing her when she’s emotional.

You felt her smack your back lightly. “Napaka yabang mo.”

You laughed, hugging her tighter. You were feeling the moment but you realized it’s confusing people.

“Elizabeth.” You called out, still looking over the group. You heard her hum. “They’re looking at us.”

That seemed to bring Sophia back. She turned to look at who you’re looking, still engulfed in your embrace. She looked up at you, her doe eyes smiling.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the girls.” She said, pulling away but holding your cold hand in hers.

You started feeling a bit shy. This is the first time you’re gonna meet the Katseye members. Even when they won Dream Academy, you didn’t have the chance to meet with them because you were waiting at the restaurant with Bailey. When they went in the Philippines, you also didn’t get to meet them because you were busy with work, which means you were in another country.

As you neared the girls, you felt yourself moving closer to Sophia. You wanted to run away. You’re so scared they’d lunge at you. But contrary to what you thought, it was the opposite. They were smiling at you and Sophia teasingly.

“Oh, now you’re gonna share?” Megan, thankfully you knew them from watching their lives, said.

Sophia intertwined your hands as she pulled you closer. You’re basically behind her, your front pressed on her back.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is everyone. She’s...” Sophia introduced, a smile on her voice.

“Her girlfriend.” You continued. It came out of reflex that the girls started crowding you. They all looked so happy.

Sophia turned to you with a stunned face. You just shrugged. It was the only proper introduction in your head.

“Oh, my gosh! I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Megan! Nice to finally put a face with the name.” She sounded so excited that you couldn’t help but chuckle.

The girls introduced themselves to you one by one until it was the youngest turn.

“You’re baba!” she exclaimed, making your eyes wide.

Sophia turned to face you, laughing when she saw your face. When you got out of the initial shock, you turned to Sophia with a playful shocked face.

“We have a child and you hid her from me?” you joked.

Sophia laughed, lightly slapping your face which made you laugh. You couldn’t help but stare at her. She’s just so beautiful.

“You’re so beautiful.” You muttered, not even missing a beat. There’s a series of complaints after you said that. Sophia rolled her eyes, hugging you again.

“Y’all are jealous, I have this gentle bear for myself.” She bragged, making you laugh while the girls continued with their complaints.

They started pulling her away from you but she gripped you tightly. Before it turned to a tug of war, you had to intercept.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” You say, getting their attention. “How about we call it a night, hmm? Let’s all head back and rest. I’ll see you girls tomorrow.”

Sophia started to protest but the girls have successfully pulled her away from you.

“Convoy, I’ll see you at your hotel after you finish changing. I promise.” You say gently.

Sophia pouted but finally let go. You watched her being pulled back to the group van. You couldn’t help but laugh. They’re so amusing to watch.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You did follow their van to their hotel that is thankfully, not that far from where you checked in. You waited for them in the lobby. You didn’t want to intrude than you already did. Besides, you still have a lot to talk about with Sophia.

After some time, Sophia already texted you her room number. You immediately went up, shaking the nerves off you. The initial meet was okay, but there’s just a lot to talk about.

When you met her in the hallways, she’s already wearing a comfortable baggy pants and a hoodie that looked all too familiar, it was yours.

You smiled at her, walking towards her. You kissed her head when you reached her, holding her hand.

“Let’s go to the rooftop, the night sky look beautiful tonight.”

She nodded, letting you pull her. The elevator ride to the rooftop was quiet. Just you and her sharing a moment of your thoughts. You didn’t know what to say. So let the silence stay.

When you finally settled in the rooftop, you stared up and smiled. This is what peace feels like. Having her here with you.

“You were so great tonight. I felt so happy. I’m so proud of what you’ve becoming.” You started, turning to look at her. You saw her smiling at the sky as well, then to you.

“And I’m glad I could share that with you.”

You smiled. You didn’t know what to say. You don’t even know what’s running in your head right now. All you know is that you’re here, she’s here, it’s perfect.

“Why did you hide away from me?” you finally asked.

You didn’t want to ruin the mood, but you needed this conversation. You can’t just go back to the way it was and act like the break up didn’t happen, that your conversation with her at tita Carla’s birthday didn’t happen. You needed to talk to finally settle the on going problem.

Sophia lowered her head, staring at her hands. You waited. You’re not going to push her. Not anymore.

“Because I didn’t know how to face you.” She answered, turning to you.

Your eyes soften. It must’ve been so scary for her.

“I didn’t know what to say to you. I came up to you drunk and spouted nonsense.”

You shook your head. “Those aren’t nonsense, Elizabeth.” You tell her softly.

You could feel her starting to relax when you said those. “How was I suppose to know that?” she asked softly.

“You could’ve just went to me.”

She chuckled. “Rich of you to say that.” She joked. You laugh as well.

“Yeah well, people learn.” You shrugged.

She nodded. “I didn’t know how to talk to you after that. I felt how scared you were, how much I hurt you. I didn’t realize how much I hurt you until I heard you talk back, you never talk back unless it was unreasonable.”

You let Sophia continue. You wanted to hear her side. It’s just how you are. You always let her compose her words for you to understand.

“I thought, maybe if I stay away then I won’t hurt you anymore. I knew, you know?” she say, smiling at you. “I knew you went looking for me. I knew you went to our house multiple times to go see me. I just didn’t think I was ready enough to face you. I was ashamed of myself.”

You take everything in. She was blaming herself. You know it. You didn’t need to hear her say it, you just know. That’s how much you love her. She didn’t need to say anything for you to know. Contrary to how you acted before your break up.

“And now? Are you still scared?” you asked.

She shook her head, smiling at you. “Not anymore. Not after tonight.”

“That’s nice to know.” You say, turning to the sky again.

The both of you let the silence engulf you. No words would be said that would equate to the relief you both feel.

“When you told the girls you were my girlfriend, what exactly did you mean by that?” Sophia asked after some time.

You turned to her. You stared, how beautiful she looks, hope in her eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. You reached for her hand, squeezed it lightly. As if to say it’s real.

“I want to try again. I want us. I want you.” You tell her. You saw her eyes become misty when you said that. “I know you’re scared. I am too. I don’t know where this would lead us. But what I know is this...” you faced her fully, holding her hand like a promise.

“I know that I still love you. I know that I would do everything and anything for you. I know I’d make myself be the best that I am for you. I don’t ever want to lose you again, Elizabeth. I want to grow old with you. I want a life with you. And if you’ll let me, I will make sure to do anything and everything in my power to take all your worries and fears away.”

It felt good to let it out. It felt nice to know that she’s here to hear your thoughts. And right now, you’re making a serious promise, in front of her, the love of your life.

Sophia’s tears fell out of her face, a gentle smile plastered in her lips. Even then, you still think she’s the most beautiful.

Sophia pulled you in for a sweet, gentle kiss. When she pulled away, you gave her a smile as you wipe her tears. You didn’t want to see her like this. You want her to always be happy.

Malay mo, kayo parin sa dulo.

[arachnid-chris]

salamat sa happy ending tol!

[writerswall26]

Ihahatid Kita

Sophia Laforteza

Synopsis: Y/N could see that Sophia isn't happy with her anymore. So, she did what she thought was best, to finally let go.

Words: 2k+

Warning: ANGST! TOO MUCH ANGST!

A/N: I know. I know. I said I was gonna write a story inspired by a Ben&Ben song but this song was just stuck in my head. So, what better way than to break everyone's heart, right?! Let me know your thoughts!

You were in one of the Lafortezas house parties. They always throw grand parties whenever your girlfriend, Sophia, comes home to visit. She just got back from her schedules with Katseye. You could see how happy she was with her family, her friends— Him.

You don't know when it started, or how it even happened. All you knew was that one day, she started acting different towards you. She started distancing herself, started making excuses not to talk. It frustrated you at first. You didn't know what was going on. You just wanted to be with your girlfriend, even for just a second of her time.

Then, slowly, you saw it. How Sophia was with him. You watched, silently, intently. At first, you were mad. It infuriated you.

But slowly, you started to accept it. You know deep down that whatever you do, you'd always choose her. You'd choose her happiness over yours. And right now, you have made a decision that would break you into pieces. But you know, she would be happy. And that's what you've always wanted.

To make her happy. Even without you in it.

You wanted to run away. But that didn't sit well with you. You've made a promise that whatever happened, you would never leave her without saying goodbye.

As you were watching, you could see how happy she is with him. You could see the way her eyes lit up whenever she's talking to him, how she would subtly touch him whenever she laughs, how comfortable she is with him.

It broke you. But at the same time, there's a sense of relief within you because finally, she's letting herself be free.

You could feel your heart break, you could feel every fiber of your being torn.

"Y/N, anak? Are you alright?" You heard, a small hand settling in your back.

You turned to look at who it was. Tita Carla.

You smiled, feeling a single tear fall from your eyes.

"Tita." You chocked. "I'm happy."

You know she didn't believe that. She could see you break right in front of her. Tita Carla didn't speak. She just pulled you in a tight hug, rubbing your back in a soothing manner.

You let yourself fall, silently crying in her shoulder. She didn't have to say anything. She just lets you cry your heart out.

You pulled out of her hug, turned your back to her and wiped your tears, composing yourself. You turned back to her, smiling.

"I'll be going, tita. Please tell her I left. But I'll see her tomorrow. Thank you, tita. For everything."

With those, Tita Carla pulled you in another tight hug. She hugged you like it was the last time. Like she knew.

You left the house quietly, with a heavy heart. You drove to the place where you asked Sophia to be yours. Bottles of beers in your hands. You watched the night sky. It was like that day, clear skies. The city light illuminating the place. It was so beautiful, like the time she said "yes".

You stayed there, reminiscing everything. This was your favourite spot.

And it was heart breaking to say goodbye to it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next day, you texted Sophia. Her replies were dry. But you took no mind to it. You focused on making this day the best. You reserved a table on your favourite place, you wore your best clothes, you sprayed the perfume she loves the most.

When you got to her house, she was already waiting for you, dressed in a beautiful sundress. You smiled, remembering the time you told her she looked gorgeous wearing a dress. She started wearing dresses whenever you go out together and it made you feel special.

"You look so beautiful, mahal." You tell her, kissing her lightly in the cheek.

She smiled, holding your hand.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked, excitement oozing in her voice.

If only she knew.

She looked so beautiful that it pains you to think this would be the last time you're gonna be with her, as her girlfriend.

"It's a surprise, love. You're gonna have to wait and see."

Sophia's smile widen. She loves when you do surprises. She always told you, you never miss a beat. That your surprises are the best.

"Y/N, anak." Tita Carla called out when she saw you.

You smiled at her. Went to her and gave her a tight hug. You made sure you cherish that hug.

"I'm taking Sophia out, tita. But I promise she'll be home before curfew."

Tita Carla smiled, but not the same smile she always gives you. It was a kind of smile that tells you she knew.

"You take care, okay? I love you." Tita Carla says.

You both heard Sophia giggle behind you before you felt a hand holding yours.

"You sound like this is gonna be the last time you'll see her. She's gonna be here for dinner, mom." Sophia says, leaning her head on your shoulder.

Tita Carla smiled, holding Sophia's cheek and caressing it gently.

"You two take care. We'll see you at dinner. Enjoy." Tita Carla says.

You smiled and nodded, looking at Sophia. You felt your heart break again. But you stayed strong. You can't be breaking down. You still have the entire day with her to spend.

"Alis na po kami. I love you, tita."

Tita Carla nodded and let the two of you go. Sophia excitedly sat on your passenger seat. You smiled, staring at her.

"So, where to, mahal?" She asked with that beautiful smile of hers.

You smiled. "Sit back and relax."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The two of you spent the entire day together, going to your favourite places. She was so happy. She looked immaculate. She couldn't help herself be giddy. She just kept on talking about everything. Her members, her family, her friends. You noticed she never once mentioned him.

You just watched with a smile on your face. She looked so happy. She looked so care free.

It was breaking you, but you know this is all going to be worth it. For her.

"You know what, mahal, you should really go to one of our concerts. We're going to have a western concert tour soon but there's going to be an Asia tour and I want you to be there." She says with a smile, excitement never leaving her voice.

You smiled, nodded. "I promise I'll be in every show whenever I can."

She pouted. She looked so cute. "You promise?"

You nodded, holding out your pinky finger. You saw how her smile brighten when you did that. She knows how sacred that is.

She hooked her pinky finger with yours, clasping it together. You pulled your fingers to your lips, kissing it gently.

She smiled. The most beautiful.

When you pulled back, it felt like every memory of the both of you came crushing down. How you first met, how you took the courage to introduce yourself to her, how you started having feelings for her, how you confessed, how you started dating, how she said yes, how your life became happier and lighter with her in it.

Even when she started becoming a trainee, when she entered Dream Academy, when she won the show, how she ran to you after and told you she was so happy you could be there to celebrate her win.

Everything, all at once. And it broke you that this would be the last time.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was 6 in the evening when you finally got the text from him.

"I'm here."

You smiled, replied you were on your way before putting your phone back inside your pocket. You turned to Sophia who was happily watching the sky with an ice cream in hand.

"You ready for our last stop for the day?"

Sophia turned to you, still smiling beautifully. She nodded.

"Lead the way."

You guided her to your passenger seat, made sure she was wearing her seat belt before you drove off.

She was still yapping about everything and anything. You just smiled, listening to her.

You love when she yaps. That's one of her charms. She could blow your ears off and you'd still think she's the most beautiful.

The two of you got out of your car after you parked. Your hands intertwined with her. You could feel your heart start to crack with every step. But you knew this was what you needed to do.

The place looked wonderful. You didn't know how it would turn out but you thanked the heavens that it all looked in place. You're in one of your favourite restaurants. This place was a number one for you and Sophia.

You called the place this morning and asked if they could reserve it. You made sure it looked wonderful. And here it is.

Sophia stopped as soon as she saw who was seated at one of the table. He was patiently looking around, quietly waiting.

You stopped, turned back to her with a smile.

"Let's go. He's waiting." You say, gently pulling her with you but she pulled back, shaking her head.

"What are we doing here?" She asked, looking scared. It's like she knows what's going to happen.

You smiled "He's waiting for you, Sophia. Come on." You say as gently as you could.

"No." she says.

"Sophia..." you tried but she stepped back.

"Elizabeth! I'm Elizabeth to you." Sophia's eyes turned misty. She was shaking her head.

"Sophia." you called out again, gently.

"Y/N, please. Let's just go home, okay? Mom and dad are waiting for us." She tried, her voice breaking while trying to get you to go back with her.

You shook your head, smiling despite the pain you're feeling.

"Sophia..."

"No!" she finally broke down, tears falling down her cheeks. "No, mahal, please. Let's just go home, okay? Let's just have dinner at home, please, Y/N." she cried.

You smiled, your tears falling as well. It broke your heart to see her like this. But you can't turn back now.

You held her face and wiped her tears. "Do you remember what I promised you when you said yes?" you asked, still wiping her tears. "I promised that I'll do anything and everything to make you happy. And I want to keep that promise."

"Let's go home, please. Mahal." she cried.

"I can't be selfish with you, Sophia. I can't do that. I saw... how you looked at him, how you're happy with him. And God..." you chuckled, broken. "I want to hold you, keep you to myself..."

"Then do it. Be selfish." her voice raised.

"I can't do that." you chocked. "I can't keep you in a cage, Soph. I can't watch you be miserable just so I could keep you."

"Y/N, please..." she pleaded, her voice broken.

You kept your smile, wanting to be strong for the both of you. "You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be free. You don't deserve to be tethered to someone you don't love."

"No." she says, still shaking her head.

"It's okay. I'm going to be okay. All I ever want was for you to be happy. Even if it's not with me." She finally stayed still at what you said. Your smile never leaving your face. "Now, I want you to wipe your tears for me. We can't ruin your beautiful make-up, that dolled up hair and that beautiful dress."

Sophia stared at you. She knows whatever she does by now, it was worthless. You have set your mind to it and she knows she can't change that. And so, she turned her back to you, wiping her tears despite the heartbreak.

When she turned to you, she gave you a forced smile.

"Okay." She finally says.

You smiled, offering your hand to her. She took it, held it like a life line and lets you lead the way to him.

With every step, you could feel how Sophia's grip tightens. You know she wants to run for it, take you away from here.

But that would be harder for the both of you.

When you entered the place, Leon immediately stood up as soon as he saw you. He looked confused. Then his confusion turned to worry when he saw the girl behind you.

"Leon." You say, greeting him with a smile.

"What's going on here?" he asked, looking worried.

You turned to Sophia, then back to him. "I just drove her here."

His brows are furrowed at this point. He looked confuse.

"Sophia." He called out.

You pulled Sophia gently towards him, finally letting her hand go.

They really do look good together. You smiled, watching them for a moment before you spoke.

"Take care of her, okay? Take her home before curfew."

You say, trying to keep your voice from breaking. You looked at Sophia, a painful smile still displayed on your lips.

"Let yourself be free, Sophia. You deserve this." You say, holding her hand to which she gripped yours. You smiled, then turned to Leon who finally caught up with what's happening.

You took his hand, putting Sophia's on top of his.

"Don't hurt her." you say, pleaded.

"Y/N..." he called out.

You smiled, finally letting their hands go. You watched as Leon held Sophia's hand. It amazes you how their hands fit so well together. And with one final look at Sophia, you stepped back.

"I'll see you guys around." you say, finally turning your back to them.

You were already at the door when you heard Sophia call out to you. You willed yourself to look back at her, gripping the handle tightly.

"I love you." She says, tears falling down her eyes.

You smiled. "I know."

You walked back to your car with a heavy heart. You didn't dare look back. You drove back home broken, but satisfied. You knew to yourself that it was the best thing to do. You have finally let go of her.

Kung saan siya magiging masaya.​

[arachnid-chris]

PUTANG INA🫠

[ballard96]

[rinonni]

ok i see the vision

[chichimodele]

Agenda for 2025.

[tokyicons]

[cadelinhadaromanoff]

𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.

sumary: The last thing Natasha expected was for her one-and-Half-year-old daughter to fall head over heels for the one person on the team who didn’t like kids.

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x fem reader. Natasha Romanoff x platonic!avengers

Word count: 5075

warnings: age gap, light mommy issues if you squirm your eyes, fluffly content, Natasha being the best mom ever, light humor and jokes

Part 2

　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓂃𓈒𓏸 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᥫ᭡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ༝ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 🍼 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨♡୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᡣ𐭩 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ꩜　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧ 　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ୨୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ 　　 　˳ 　 　⸝⸝⸝♡　　⁺　　୨୧　　　₊　 　 ˚₊

Natasha had never been the type to hope for softness.

Not for herself, at least.

She’d made her peace with that years ago—on the rooftops of Budapest, in the sterile hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D., in the long silences between missions where guilt and memory left no room for sentiment. And then came Ana. Not by accident. Not by surprise. By choice. Hers. A deliberate, defiant, I want this, spoken with all the clarity of a life finally claimed.

She never regretted a moment of it. Not the injections. Not the procedures. Not the days spent alone, watching her body change, knowing no one was coming but not needing anyone to. Ana was the best thing she’d ever done. Her softness, her quiet, her stubborn spark—that was Natasha’s legacy now. Not blood. Not missions. Her. Anasthasia Irina Romanoff. She’d chosen Irina long before Ana was even born. It wasn’t a family name, or a tribute to anyone in her past—it was a hope. Irina meant peace, and that’s what Ana was. Her stillness after decades of running. Her soft beginning after a life of sharp edges. Natasha had spent so many years living on instinct, choosing danger over safety, solitude over softness. But Ana was different. Ana meant slow mornings. Shared breakfasts. Laughter in the middle of the day for no reason at all. She gave her the name Irina because, for the first time, Natasha wasn’t surviving anymore. She was living. And Ana was the reason why.And maybe that’s why she was so protective of it—why she kept the world at arm’s length and Ana even closer. This calm, this rhythm she’d built, it was fragile in the way that mattered most. So when new variables appeared—new people, new energies—Natasha never let them close enough to shift the balance.

So she didn’t expect anything to come from your arrival.

Not in the way that mattered.

You were Tony’s daughter, and Natasha had always paid attention to the way people spoke about you—with a mixture of respect and restraint, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with someone who carried the Stark name but none of his chaos. She knew you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. when you were barely old enough to be called an adult, that you’d carved your space without leaning on legacy, and that you’d been stationed in England for the last few years—low profile, high results.

She also knew something more personal. Something quieter.

You didn’t like children.

Not in a cold, heartless way. You weren’t cruel. You were respectful—always. Natasha remembered the way you helped Lila Barton when she scraped her knee during a holiday visit, how you’d stayed still and calm while the girl sobbed against your shoulder. But the moment she calmed, you’d set her down gently and disappeared from the room like your presence had been an accident. You didn’t mock them, or treat them like they were less-than. You just… didn’t want them near. Didn’t invite them close. Natasha understood that. Some people didn’t crave the chaos, the unpredictability, the weight of something small depending on you.

That was fine.

That was expected.

Which is why she didn’t even flinch when she brought Ana to the morning briefing.

The meeting was scheduled in one of the larger lounge rooms—bright windows, low coffee tables, plenty of space for Ana to exist without needing constant wrangling. Natasha had done this dozens of times. Her daughter came with her everywhere now. She didn’t leave Ana behind unless she absolutely had to. The team had long since adapted.

You, however, were new.

She entered the room with Ana tucked against her side, one arm looped around the child’s waist with practiced ease. You were already seated—coffee in hand, face unreadable, posture casual but distant. Natasha didn’t expect more than a polite nod, maybe a glance. And that’s what she got. You didn’t tense. You didn’t retreat. You simply acknowledged her presence and turned your eyes back to the screen.

But Ana didn’t.

Ana saw you. And for the first time since Natasha could remember, her daughter paused.

Not in fear. Not in confusion. In recognition.

It started as a slow shift—her little body repositioning against Natasha’s ribs, eyes locked in your direction, curious and alert. Then the squirming began. Not impatient, not fussy—focused. Ana leaned out of her arms, little hand pointing downward.

Natasha frowned. “What’s going on, kotyonok?” she murmured, brushing her lips lightly across Ana’s hair.

“Down,” Ana whispered.

Natasha blinked.

Ana rarely asked to leave her arms during meetings. And never in unfamiliar rooms. She’d been clingy the last few days—teething, off her sleep schedule, adjusting to so many new faces around the compound again. But now, her little legs were kicking softly, hands gripping at Natasha’s shirt in earnest.

“Down,” she repeated.

Natasha hesitated—glanced at you.

You weren’t watching Ana anymore. You were watching her. Confused. Curious. But not annoyed. Not disapproving.

Natasha could read people down to the smallest twitch of a muscle, and in that moment, she read one thing clearly: you didn’t know what was happening either.

So she shifted forward and lowered Ana gently to the carpeted floor.

Ana’s sneakers touched down. She took one look back—brief, instinctive—then turned toward you like she already knew the path.

Natasha’s chest tightened.

One step. Then another.

You looked up.

There was a breath, the room shrinking around it.

Ana stopped at your knees. Her curls were mussed from her mother’s shoulder, her little fox plush dangling from one hand. She tilted her head to look at you properly. She didn’t blink.

And then she lifted both arms toward you.

“Lap.”

You froze.

Not in fear. Not rejection. Natasha saw it—something break quietly across your expression, the way your eyebrows lifted just slightly, like your own body didn’t understand how it was reacting before your brain caught up. There was no mask now. No calm Stark logic, no precise detachment. Just you—and the shock of being chosen by someone so small, so unrelenting, and so certain.

Natasha didn’t move.

She stood where she was, heart pounding quietly behind her ribs, not from fear or worry—but something more intimate. Something that reached the parts of her still holding every shattered version of family she’d ever known. She watched as you stared down at the child who had never, not once, walked into a stranger’s arms. And she waited. Because whatever happened next… would matter.

You didn’t reach for Ana immediately.

Natasha noticed the exact moment your eyes lifted—not to the child now reaching for you with unwavering certainty, but to her. And it wasn’t a question. Not quite. There was no panic in your expression, no discomfort. Just a pause. A stillness that asked without words: Is this alright?

And Natasha, who rarely let anyone past the perimeter of her trust, gave you the smallest, most intentional nod.

You moved like someone reaching into deep water—carefully, gently, aware of the weight of what you were about to hold. Your hands met Ana’s sides, small and secure, and you lifted her with practiced ease, as though this wasn’t the first time, as though her body already knew how to fold against yours. She settled into your lap like it belonged to her.

Like she had always meant to end up there.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat.

Ana laid her head lightly against your chest, little cheek pressing into the dark fabric of your jacket. One of her hands tucked the fox between your arm and her belly; the other—small, dimpled fingers—reached up to your collarbone and found your hand.

And then she started to play.

Not with toys, not with distractions. Just your hand. Your fingers. One by one she explored them, pressing her thumb into your palm, curling your pinky against her own, dragging the tips along her forehead in idle motion. Her eyes drifted half-closed, calm and curious, while you stayed perfectly still—watching her with that same look Natasha couldn’t read.

It was almost unbearable, the quiet of the moment.

The meeting had technically begun, but Natasha hadn’t registered a single word Steve said. She hadn’t even sat down. She just stood near the door, arms crossed, eyes on the impossible softness blooming in front of her.

Because that’s what it was. Impossible.

You hadn’t flinched. You hadn’t hesitated. You hadn’t done what most people did—smile politely, hand Ana back, or distract her with something shiny so they could pass her off. You were just… there. Entirely present. Letting her settle. Letting her explore. Letting her choose.

And she had chosen you.

The worst part—if she could call it that—was that Natasha wasn’t angry. She wasn’t suspicious. She wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Because looking at you now—back straight, eyes lowered, completely surrendered to the tiny storm nestled in your lap—something made sense in her chest that hadn’t before.

Ana had found something.

Or maybe, someone.

And Natasha wasn’t sure what that meant yet, or how far she would allow it to grow—but for the first time in longer than she could remember, she didn’t feel the need to pull away. She walked slowly to her seat across from you, quiet as a shadow, never breaking the spell. And when she sat down, she didn’t take her eyes off you. The briefing wrapped without fanfare.

Steve’s voice faded into background noise, Bruce gathered his notes, and the others filtered out one by one with practiced efficiency. No one commented on Ana—no one dared. Maybe because they saw the weight of the moment. Maybe because it wasn’t theirs to touch.

The room was almost too quiet now.

Ana had slipped fully into sleep, her tiny hand still curled lazily around your finger, her head rising and falling against your chest like she’d found the safest place in the universe. You hadn’t moved. Not really. Just shifted to make her more comfortable—let her sink deeper into you without hesitation, like her weight belonged there.

Natasha couldn’t look away.

You hadn’t noticed—at least, she thought you hadn’t. You never were one to fidget under attention. But there was something different about you now. Something unguarded beneath all that calm.

“I have to admit,” she said, voice low, “this wasn’t how I pictured our first real conversation going.”

You glanced at her, brow arching just a little. “And how did you picture it?”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “Not with my daughter wrapped around you like a vine.”

You leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb Ana, and gave her that expression—dry, sharp, quietly amused. “You sound jealous.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Should I be?”

You made a show of glancing down at Ana, then shrugged one shoulder—so subtle it barely moved her. “She’s got good taste.”

The laugh caught in Natasha’s throat before she could stop it. Soft, surprised. God, you were so damn composed, and yet there was something underneath that surface—a spark of something warmer, something playful. She hadn’t expected that. And she was rarely caught off guard.

“I should warn you,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “If you let her get used to that lap, you’re going to regret it.”

“I don’t regret much.”

“She’s one and a half. You’ll regret it the next time you try to drink a coffee without someone demanding half of it.”

You smiled—not a smirk, not your usual reserved grin. An actual smile. And Natasha had to look away, just for a moment, because something in her chest pulled taut at the sight.

“And here I thought you brought her to meetings as a distraction tactic,” you said.

She looked back at you with narrowed eyes, playful. “You think I’d use my daughter to throw someone off their game?”

“I think,” you said, gaze darkening just a little, “that if anyone could weaponize a toddler, it’d be you.”

Natasha laughed, this time all the way—low and warm in her chest, real in a way she didn’t usually allow to slip out. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair.

“You’re dangerous,” she muttered.

You tilted your head. “Me? You’re the trained assassin.”

“Exactly.” Her eyes dropped to the sleeping girl between you. “And you’re the one she asked for.”

The silence curled again. Not cold. Not awkward. Just thick with something unnamed.

You looked down at Ana once more, brushing a thumb lightly over her curls where they stuck up against your collar. “Don’t get used to this,” you said, not looking at Natasha. “I’m still not a fan of kids.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she replied, watching the way you softened around the edges without realizing it.Natasha didn’t argue—she didn’t have to. The proof was already wrapped around your side in cookie-stained pajamas. She just watched you go, a quiet smile tugging at her mouth, the kind that stayed long after you’d left the room.

She knew this wouldn't be a one- time thing. 

A few days later, the morning unfolded differently, slower. Late morning sunlight filtered lazily into the kitchen, warm and indifferent. It fell across the countertops, gleamed off metal handles, and lit the soft chaos that was breakfast—or rather, the battle of breakfast.

Ana was seated in her high chair like a tiny queen in revolt, arms crossed firmly, lips pursed in open rebellion. The oatmeal had gone cold fifteen minutes ago. Natasha had tried coaxing, bribing, even threatening to call Bruce if she didn’t eat. Nothing worked. The spoon sat abandoned in the bowl like a white flag.

“You are so lucky you’re cute,” Natasha muttered, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Other people’s kids don’t get away with this.”

Ana remained unimpressed. She glared past Natasha’s shoulder as if expecting reinforcements.

The door creaked open behind them.

Natasha didn’t turn around right away—she was too focused on pretending she wasn’t about to lose a diplomatic war with a toddler. But she didn’t need to look. She could hear it: the shuffle of slow, dragging footsteps, the soft grunt of someone whose soul was not yet awake. Then came the familiar hiss of the espresso machine, followed by the rustling of a bakery bag.

You’d arrived.

She turned.

You looked… awful.

Delightfully awful.

Hair wild from sleep, hoodie half-zipped, mismatched socks peeking out under flannel pants. You were cradling your coffee mug like a lifeline, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth in a petulant line that said you’d only been conscious for five minutes and deeply regretted that fact.

In your other hand: a cheese croissant, still warm, still flaking. You tore off a corner and bit into it like someone performing life-saving triage.

Ana stared, Hard. So damn hard.

Not at Natasha. Not at the bowl of oatmeal she’d rejected like poison. But at you.

You took another bite, chewed, then finally glanced up—and blinked, slow and heavy.

Your gaze drifted to the high chair. To Ana’s unrelenting eyes. Then to Natasha.

“I take it we’re in the starvation phase of child rearing?”

“She’s being dramatic,” Natasha said.

Ana made a noise like a whimper and kicked her feet, You squinted at her. Then reached forward, broke off a soft piece of croissant, and held it out between your fingers.

Ana took it like it was sacred.

“Traitor,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

You made a sound between a hum and a sigh and dropped into a chair with all the weight of someone being punished by existence itself. “I’ve been up for six minutes,” you mumbled. “I haven’t even looked at another human being yet.”

Ana reached again, You fed her another bite.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “You know that’s not helping, right?”

“She was clearly starving.”

“I told you—she’s not.”

“She’s got the same face I do when I haven’t eaten,” you said, deadpan. “We understand each other.”

Natasha studied you, the way you slouched, bleary-eyed and nonverbal, croissant in one hand, coffee in the other. She looked at Ana—mirroring your expression almost perfectly, down to the pout and the silent demand for carbs.

She huffed a laugh.

“My God. You’re the same person.”

You gave her a tired glare. “Keep talking. See if I share.”

“You’re both insufferable when hungry.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “Of what? Your shared standoffish breakfast cult?”

You sipped your coffee slowly, eyes flicking to Ana and back.

“She chose me,” you said, tone flat but triumphant. “I don’t make the rules.”

Ana squeaked with joy, flailing her hands toward the croissant again.

“She betrayed me,” Natasha replied, pointing to the untouched oatmeal. “I gave her life. You gave her cheese.”

You shrugged, already handing Ana another piece. “She’s got good taste.”

Natasha shook her head, lips twitching as she turned away to clean up the bowl of oatmeal. “You’re both ridiculous.”

You yawned, eyes half-lidded as Ana leaned her head dramatically on the edge of the tray, already chewing the last bite like it was a reward for surviving the morning. You were still half-asleep, leaning into your chair like gravity was trying to reclaim you, clinging to that coffee as if it were the only thing standing between you and the grave. You were cranky, antisocial before noon, and notoriously stubborn about food—especially when it was yours.

Which is why Natasha watched with mild astonishment as you rolled your eyes in a perfectly theatrical arc, sighed like a martyr, and wordlessly handed the rest of your croissant to Ana.

She squeaked with joy and took it like treasure, immediately stuffing the larger half into her mouth with both hands.

“Unbelievable,” Natasha muttered, not even bothering to hide her smile.

You ignored her, sipping your coffee in silence like you regretted every decision that had led to this exact moment. Your eyes were dark and tired, but there was no real irritation behind them. Just that quiet resignation you always wore when you knew you were losing a battle you never meant to fight in the first place.

You took another sip, then looked at her across the kitchen—eyes still half-lidded, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Give me the oatmeal.”

Natasha blinked. “What?”

You gestured vaguely toward the abandoned bowl. “She doesn’t want it. And I’m starving.”

A beat of silence stretched between you.

Then, without a word, Natasha reached for the bowl and walked it over, setting it in front of you with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t meet her gaze. You just set your coffee aside and picked up the spoon like someone about to make peace with their fate.

Ana was already chewing noisily beside you, bits of pastry stuck to her cheek.

Natasha crossed her arms, leaning against the counter again. “So let me get this straight,” she said, lips twitching. “You won’t share food with me, but she gets the last of your croissant and your breakfast?”

“She didn’t ask for it,” you said without looking up. “She demanded it with her eyes.”

“Right. So toddler mind control. That’s the explanation we’re going with.”

“She’s persuasive.”

“She’s one and a half.”

You glanced up then, finally, spoon midair. Your expression was blank, deadpan, and yet something in your eyes sparked with mischief.

“So am I,” you said.

And Natasha felt it—that little flicker again. The warmth that was growing far too easily in the quiet spaces between these moments. It settled somewhere under her ribs, soft and persistent.

You looked back down and took a bite of the oatmeal without flinching.

Ana, satisfied and full of croissant, leaned against the side of your arm and let out a sigh so deep it could only have come from the depths of her soul.

Natasha didn’t say anything else.

She just stood there, watching the two of you—both stubborn, both sleepy, both impossible—and thought, this isn’t going to stay simple, is it?

But she didn’t say that either.

She just smiled.And watched you keep pretending like you weren’t already halfway hers.Days passed like that—quiet, unspoken things folding themselves into the rhythm of the compound. You didn’t come looking for Ana, but she kept finding you anyway. And Natasha… well, she kept watching. Kept noticing the way your edges softened more each time.

Then came the briefing.

It had started as a simple mission briefing. Nothing classified, nothing urgent—just a routine strategy session with the new intel team that Natasha absolutely couldn’t reschedule. One hour, tops. Ana would barely notice she was gone.

She was so wrong.

Clint had been her first call. Obvious choice. He knew how to juggle five kids and a mission report without blinking. But the moment Natasha handed Ana over, the girl went stiff in his arms like a statue, then started wailing as if he’d personally betrayed her.

Wanda tried next. Ana let her hold her for a full five seconds before twisting away like a feral cat and screeching “NO!” in a tone that made two agents duck for cover.

Steve, bless him, had approached with his most diplomatic smile and a stuffed bear in hand, only to be met with the full force of toddler disdain. Ana didn’t scream that time—just buried her face in Natasha’s neck and growled.

And Natasha… Natasha was five minutes late to her briefing and dangerously close to losing her mind.

Which is why, when you happened to pass by—coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, clearly heading for the lab and not remotely interested in babysitting—Natasha didn’t think.

She acted.

“Ana, sweetheart?” she whispered, shifting the toddler to her hip. “Do you want to go see her?”

Ana lifted her head.

Wide green eyes blinked once. Then a slow, devilish smile curled across her face.

That was all Natasha needed.

“Catch,” she said dryly.

You turned just in time to fumble and catch the small human now squirming gleefully into your arms like she belonged there.

“Wait—what the—”

“Thanks!” Natasha called over her shoulder, already halfway down the corridor before you could protest.

Ana squealed in delight.

Natasha didn’t look back.

She made it to the meeting just in time. And to her own surprise, she didn’t spend the whole thing worried. Something about knowing Ana was with you—despite the fact you hated children (or said you did)—had her oddly at ease.

By the time she wrapped up and returned to the common floor, it had been almost ninety minutes. The hallway smelled faintly of coffee and cleaning supplies. Bruce’s voice echoed from the open lab door, calm and methodical, talking through some kind of energy recalibration.

And there you were.

One hip leaned against the table, the other supporting Ana, who looked perfectly at home in the crook of your arm.

Your hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, your shirt was half-untucked and absolutely covered in cookie crumbs. Ana’s fingers were dusted with sugar. You were talking to Bruce about vibrational decay patterns in multi-core reactors, as if the weight of a toddler on your hip was completely natural. Your other hand gestured midair, precise, animated, still clutching a small whiteboard marker.

Ana watched your mouth move as if following every word.

Then she gagged—loudly and dramatically.

Not because of anything serious. Just… toddler flair.

You paused mid-sentence, looked down, and sighed. “Rude.”

Bruce snorted. “She takes after you.”

“She has better fashion sense.”

Ana giggled, then burrowed her face into your shoulder.

Natasha stood in the doorway, unnoticed for a second longer, just… watching. The way your body shifted automatically to balance Ana’s weight. The way you wiped her mouth with the edge of your sleeve without looking. The way you didn’t rush to give her back, or seem particularly bothered by the crumbs now stuck to your pants.

She cleared her throat.

You looked up, brows raised. “Hey.”

Natasha raised one eyebrow. “So… is this your new lab assistant?”

You looked at Ana, who blinked at her mother and clung just a little tighter.

“She works for cookies,” you said. “And occasionally heckles my equations.”

Natasha bit back a smile, folding her arms. “Well, she’s my daughter.”

“She’s very opinionated,” you said dryly, adjusting her on your hip. “She gagged at my thesis. I’m considering it a peer review.”

Ana giggled again, tucking her head against your collarbone.

Natasha stared at the two of you for another second, then finally stepped forward, brushing a few crumbs off your shoulder. Her fingers lingered a little longer than they needed to.

“You’re a mess,” she murmured.

You smirked. “I could be Your mess.”

She looked at you. And the words stuck somewhere behind her teeth, She didn’t say them.

Not yet.

Instead, she stepped forward, reaching her arms out gently. “Alright, peanut,” she said softly. “Come here.”

Ana blinked up at her mother, expression unreadable for a split second… then, without protest, reached out. You transferred her easily, and the little girl immediately curled into Natasha’s hold like she’d been waiting for it all along—her thumb going straight to her mouth, her head resting against the curve of her mother’s neck.

Warm.

Quiet.

Home.

Natasha’s hand rubbed small circles against her daughter’s back, and for a second, she just breathed her in. The scent of cookies, and your cologne, and a hint of vanilla shampoo clinging to soft hair.

“She’s full of sugar and attitude,” you said, brushing a crumb off your shirt.

Natasha glanced at you over Ana’s curls. “She’s exactly where she gets it from.”

You tilted your head, already sipping the coffee you’d left to cool. “You sure about that?”

Her smile curved lazily. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Then she walked away—Ana heavy and content in her arms, safe, sleepy, and smiling like someone who had everything she wanted in one place. Natasha had gone to her apartment at the Tower —just late enough for the city to fall into a quieter rhythm, just early enough that Natasha hadn’t had time to put up her usual walls.

Ana was half-asleep on her shoulder, cheek pressed against her collarbone, and Natasha held her like she was made of something finer than glass. There was oatmeal in her hair. Cookie crumbs on her onesie. A smudge of ink on her tiny palm, and no one knew how it got there.

But Natasha had seen it.

She had seen it.

She’d walked into that lab expecting chaos—Bruce hunched over a console, a loose wire sparking somewhere, maybe you arguing with JARVIS about protocols. But instead she found you standing still in the middle of it all, with Ana on your hip and your shirt covered in evidence of breakfast bribery.

You didn’t even pause the conversation with Bruce. You just kept talking about cellular decay patterns, as if you hadn’t realized Ana was happily gnawing on a pencil and gagging every time you used the word “neurotransmitter.”

And that sound you made—that little laugh when she fake-gagged for the third time?

It rewired something in Natasha.

Now she sat at the edge of Ana’s bed, staring down at the little culprit like she’d committed an unforgivable act of treason.

“You traitor,” she whispered.

Ana, half-asleep and blissfully unaware of her crimes, blinked lazily at her mother, thumb already in her mouth.

Natasha sighed, brushing a loose curl from her daughter’s cheek.

“You did this on purpose.”

Ana made a content hum and reached for her blanket.

“Don’t play innocent now,” Natasha murmured, tucking the soft fabric under her chin. “I was fine. You hear me? I had balance. I had boundaries. I had one thing—one tiny, simple rule that I lived by.”

Ana blinked again. Unbothered.

“Don’t fall for anyone.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose, quiet and helpless.

“You were supposed to be the only love of my life, peanut. You. I planned for you. I fought for you. You were the only thing I ever let myself want.”

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Ana’s hair.

“I walked into that room today and you were hers. Just—completely and shamelessly hers. You were giving her orders like a little general and she was just taking it. And smiling. She never smiles like that.”

Ana giggled softly, maybe in her sleep. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“Is this part of your long con? Huh? Were you trying to get yourself a stepmama? Because listen—if that’s your endgame, we need to have a serious strategy talk.”

Ana rolled a little, settling deeper into the mattress. Her small hand rested against her chest, and Natasha just… stared.

“She doesn’t even like kids, you know,” she continued, as if trying to justify this to someone who hadn’t been there. “She’s the one who leaves birthday parties early. She practically hisses when Clint brings his brood around. You sneeze near her with a juice box and she’s gone.”

She paused.

“But not with you.”

A slow breath pushed from Natasha’s lungs.

“She picks you up like you weigh nothing. She lets you shove half your breakfast into her mouth and doesn’t even blink. And I saw her yesterday—reading with one hand while you chewed on the other. I don’t even think she noticed.”

Ana’s breathing started to slow again, thumb slipping lazily from her mouth.

“And the worst part?” Natasha whispered. “She makes it look easy. Like maybe… maybe this whole thing isn’t a fluke. Like maybe she could actually stay.”

The confession hung in the dark like a sigh caught midair.

Natasha leaned down, resting her forehead against Ana’s tiny one.

“I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t want to see it coming. But you… You threw her right into the center of our orbit like it was nothing.”

She kissed her daughter again, voice teasing even as her chest ached.

“You couldn’t have picked someone older? Someone predictable? Someone who’s not Tony Stark’s daughter, for god’s sake?”

Ana didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Natasha ran a slow hand down her back, feeling the weight of love settle over her like a soft storm.

“You’re trouble,” she murmured. “But the best kind.”

Then she stood, brushing her fingers one last time across Ana’s cheek.

“You really couldn’t wait for me to fall first, huh?”

She flicked off the light.

Behind her, Ana slept soundly.

And Natasha stayed frozen in the doorway for just a moment longer… shaking her head to herself.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she muttered, her voice low and wry—aimed at the girl down the hall who had no idea what she’d just done.

[arachnid-chris]

this is too good😭

[marvelobsessed134]

I need Jenna Ortega to top me pls and thank you

[cinematicexcursions]

my therapist: do you have a type?

me: women that are old enough to be my mother

[ashen-char]

anora is unrealistic because if i was married to her i'd rather die than get it annulled

[thedemoninme141]

Lost Valentine's.

Pairing: Wednesday X Female Reader.

Theme: Angst, Heavy Angst! Wordcount: 8.3k-ish.

Warnings: A bit of confusion? But please read it to the end!

Summary: Can Roses bleed? Wednesday can't remember. Maybe that's why she followed your ridiculous valentine's traditions.

It had been months since you had crept into her life, since you had settled into the spaces between her ribs and refused to leave. Months since she found herself caught in something she never anticipated—never wanted.

Affection. 

The word itself left a bitter taste in her mouth, as if it were something toxic.

She was Wednesday Addams. She did not entertain foolish emotions, she did not indulge in sentimentality. She was meant for darkness, for solitude, for the macabre. And yet, against all reason, against every instinct she had spent years honing, she had found herself ensnared by you.

It had started subtly at first, so subtly she hadn’t even noticed it happening. The way she allowed you to linger at her side when she would have long since dismissed anyone else. The way her sharp retorts softened, just slightly, when they were directed at you. The way she resisted—desperately, vehemently—the urge to let the corner of her mouth twitch upwards whenever you spoke to her.

You had ruined her.

And you didn’t even know it.

She exhaled slowly, pressing down the erratic thrum of her heart, suppressing the way your face kept invading her thoughts, the way her mind kept tracing over every moment spent with you.

You had insisted on celebrating something called "Rose Day," a concept so nauseatingly sentimental that Wednesday had nearly scoffed outright when you first brought it up.

Flowers. Love. The revolting ideals of romance wrapped up in a neat, florally scented package.

Wednesday detested roses.

She detested all flowers, unless they were poisonous, deadly, wilted to ruin.

And again,

She hadn’t been able to refuse you.

Against all odds, all logic, all reason, she had said yes.

Ugh.

You wanted to spend the evening in the greenhouse, of all places. Where the air was thick with the scent of earth and blooming things, where petals unfurled and thrived, where you had planted an entire batch of flowers with your own hands, simply because you liked the idea of growing something.

It was one of the things Wednesday—loathe as she was to admit—admired about you.

Your hands were made for creating, not destroying. You nurtured life where she sought to end it.

It was infuriating. It was endearing. Stupid heart.

Her fingers tapped against the desk, her expression tightening.

Was she supposed to bring you something? The thought had only just occurred to her. The whole purpose of this absurd holiday was to exchange roses, was it not?

The idea was ridiculous. You wouldn’t like that. You hated killing flowers.

Wednesday still remembered the way you had frowned when she absentmindedly stepped on a daisy weeks ago, your lips pressing into a thin line before you gently picked it up, cradling it like something fragile, something sacred.

She had been fascinated by you then.

She was still fascinated now.

A deep sigh slipped through her lips as she straightened, smoothing out the fabric of her uniform, willing away the disquieting warmth in her chest.

This was insufferable.

She needed to get out of here before she allowed her thoughts to spiral any further.

“Where are you going?”

The sudden voice shattered her thoughts like glass, and Wednesday turned, her dark gaze settling on Enid, who stood beside her bed, arms folded across her chest.

The werewolf’s usual vibrance was absent, her features drawn tight, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Strange.

Enid was always prying. Always teasing.

“I am meeting Y/n,” she answered evenly. “She insisted on spending the evening in the greenhouse.”

A pause.

“Oh.”

That was all Enid said. No teasing remark. No suggestive smirk. Just… that.

Wednesday frowned.

Something wasn’t right.

Enid was acting strangely, but Wednesday had little patience to unravel the reasoning behind it.

She glanced towards the door, then back to her roommate, waiting for whatever usual nonsense was sure to follow.

It never came.

“Umm,” Enid hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “When will you be back?”

“I am not sure.”

Another pause. Another unreadable look.

Then, just as quickly, Enid nodded and turned away, fingers tightening around the hem of her sweater.

Wednesday didn’t question it. Didn’t linger. She had somewhere to be.

With one final glance at her roommate, Wednesday strode towards the door, pushing aside whatever strange feeling settled at the back of her mind.

She had more important things to focus on.

Like the fact that you were waiting for her.

And that, for some unfathomable reason, she actually wanted to see you.

How revolting.

She found you lying in the grass, arms stretched out, gaze turned upwards at—what, exactly? The ceiling? The world beyond it? The way the light refracted through the glass?

It didn’t matter.

Wednesday stopped in her tracks, the air catching in her throat, something unfamiliar curling inside her ribcage as she took you in.

You looked completely at peace, as if the very weight of the world had melted away, as if the walls of Nevermore had dissolved and left only this moment, only this space, only the soft, lush grass beneath you and the warmth of the lamps above.

There was something infuriatingly fascinating about the way you existed.

So gentle. So utterly alive.

And yet, somehow, you had chosen her.

Wednesday stood motionless, watching you, letting her dark gaze trace over every little detail—your slow, steady breathing, the way your fingers absentmindedly curled through the blades of grass, the way your lips parted just slightly as if lost in thought.

She hated this.

She hated the way her chest ached when she looked at you.

Hated the way you made her feel as if something inside her was slipping through her fingers, something she had never asked for, never wanted.

But she hated even more the idea of leaving.

So she moved forward.

Your head tilted slightly at the sound of her boots against the stone path, your lips curving upwards before you had even turned to look at her, as if you had known she was there before she had spoken a single word.

And then you sat up, eyes warm, expression bright—

And then the cursed thing,

Your smile.

The one thing Wednesday still hadn’t quite learned how to endure.

She felt it then—the ridiculous, unbearable urge to smile back.

She resisted.

Barely.

"You're here." The words were soft, threaded with something Wednesday couldn’t quite place, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

"Of course I am," she replied simply, "I found you, didn't I?" her voice as even as ever, as if her pulse hadn’t just tripped over itself.

Your lips twitched, amusement flickering in your gaze.

"That you did."

A quiet sigh left her lips as she moved toward you, but she didn’t deny it.

"I planted a new batch of roses," you murmured after a moment, eyes flickering toward the far side of the greenhouse.

Wednesday followed your gaze.

Rows of fresh roses stood among the other plants, petals still delicate, still growing, their leaves dark against the rich soil.

Roses.

She almost scoffed.

But then you turned to look at her, and the words dissolved before they could reach her tongue.

"I just… I like watching things grow," you said, voice soft, quiet, as if this was something sacred, something not often spoken aloud. "Helping things live."

Wednesday studied you, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, the way your eyes held something distant, something wistful.

She didn’t understand.

And yet, at the same time, she did.

You stood then, waiting only a second before moving toward the roses, glancing back expectantly when she didn’t immediately follow.

She let out a sigh and followed.

The roses were different from the others.

They stood side by side, carefully planted, one deep black and the other a striking red, their petals unfurling as if reaching for one another.

You crouched down beside them, fingers grazing over their stems without touching, careful, reverent.

"I planted these as a symbol," you murmured, your voice just above a whisper. "Of you and me."

Wednesday stiffened.

"As long as we’re together," you continued, brushing a strand of hair from your face, "these roses will be too."

Something inside her twisted. Tightened.

Wednesday Addams did not entertain sentimentality.

She did not allow herself to be softened by such things.

And yet, she found herself staring at the roses, at the way the black and red bled into one another, and she felt it— That slow, quiet ache beneath her ribs.

You reached for something beside the flowers, lifting it with both hands before turning to face her, expression sheepish.

A watering can.

"You’re probably going to hate this," you admitted, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at your lips. "But I want us to take care of them together."

Wednesday stared at you.

Then at the watering can.

Then back at you.

This was absurd. Truly, completely absurd.

And yet, against all reason, against every fiber of her being, she found herself reaching forward, hesitantly, carefully, taking the handle from your grasp.

Your fingers brushed hers in the exchange.

Her breath caught, almost imperceptibly.

This was ridiculous. And yet, she tilted the can forward, the water slipping past the spout, soaking into the dark earth.

And then—

You giggled.

Soft, warm, unguarded.

A sound she had heard before.

A sound that had never made her feel like this.

Wednesday clenched her jaw, tightening her grip around the handle, as if that might somehow steady her.

Perhaps…

Perhaps her distaste for flowers wasn’t entirely justified.

Lunch at Nevermore was always an assault on Wednesday’s senses. The noise, the clatter of trays against tables, the constant hum of voices overlapping, filling every available space. It grated on her nerves, but she tolerated it. Barely.

To her right, you were curled slightly inward, sitting at the very edge of the table, as you always did.

Across from her, Enid was chattering away, her voice bright and full of energy as she animatedly waved her hands, trying to explain something to Yoko and Bianca.

"And I swear, I almost got it! But then the stupid equation was like, ‘nah, girl, you thought,’ and now my grade is in literal shambles," Enid groaned, dragging a hand through her hair. "I swear, my math teacher has it out for me," she groaned, dramatically slumping forward. "Like, I am genuinely incapable of understanding calculus, and instead of helping, she just stares at me like I’m an insult to the entire concept of numbers."

Yoko snorted, shaking her head. "Maybe you are."

Bianca smirked. "Yeah, Enid, you’re a lost cause. I’d be concerned if I were your teacher too."

Enid gasped, shaking her head at them. "Wow, thanks for the moral support, guys."

Wednesday barely paid attention to them. Their conversations were predictable, nothing that required her participation.

But then— "I can help you with math if you want," your words were quiet, soft, hesitant, careful in the way you said it, as if you already expected to be ignored.

And you were.

The conversation continued as if you had said nothing at all.

Enid was still laughing, Yoko and Bianca still smirking.

Not a single one of them acknowledged your words.

Wednesday felt something cold coil inside her.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But she watched.

She watched as your gaze flickered downward, watched as your fingers curled just a little tighter against the wood, watched as the faintest trace of sadness passed over your face before you carefully schooled your expression back into something neutral.

You didn’t say anything else.

Something cold and sharp coiled inside Wednesday’s chest.

“She said something.” Her voice cut through the conversation like a blade, sharp and deliberate.

The table stilled.

Enid blinked at her. “Huh?”

Wednesday’s jaw was tight, teeth pressed together as she repeated herself, slower this time. “Y/N offered to help you with your math problem.” She shifted her gaze, dark and unyielding, to all three of them. “And you blatantly ignored her.”

Yoko, Bianca, and Enid exchanged glances, an awkward silence settling over them.

Finally, Enid laughed, but it was different this time—forced, unsure. "Oh, um, yeah, sure, Y/N, I’m, uh…" She trailed off, searching for something to say.

Bianca cut in smoothly. "Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’m actually tutoring Enid, so she’s covered." She offered a practiced smile, tilting her head. "Sorry for not noticing what you said. You know how loud Enid can be."

Lies.

Wednesday saw through them instantly, saw the way Bianca avoided direct eye contact, the way Yoko shifted uncomfortably, the way Enid fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket.

You smiled, small and tired, nodding as if you believed them. “Right. No worries.”

Then you stood, grabbing your tray, and left without another word.

Wednesday’s glare darkened as she shot one last look at them before pushing her own chair back and following you.

The hallway was quieter, the echoes of distant chatter fading into the background as 

Wednesday caught up to you.

You didn’t turn to her, your footsteps steady, your gaze fixed ahead.

"You shouldn’t have done that," you murmured after a moment.

"Shouldn’t have done what?"

"Called them out like that."

Wednesday scoffed. "They deserved it."

A bitter chuckle left your lips, but there was no humor in it. "They hate me," you said, voice quiet, but steady.

Wednesday frowned.

"They don’t even acknowledge me most of the time," you continued, finally stopping, finally turning to look at her. "You saw it, Wednesday. You always see it. They act like I don’t exist."

She stared at you, taking in the way your jaw tensed, the way your hands clenched at your sides.

It was infuriating.

And for the first time, Wednesday didn’t know if her anger was directed at them—

Or at herself.

"They don’t hate you," she said, measured, careful.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Then what do you call it?"

"They’re self-centered," Wednesday said simply. "Thoughtless. Ignorant. But they do not hate you."

"Does it matter?"

Wednesday felt something stir inside her, something she didn’t have a name for.

Because it did matter.

It mattered far more than it should have.

She exhaled through her nose, shifting her weight slightly.

"I do not care for most people," she admitted. "They are fickle. Inconsistent. Disappointing."

You tilted your head slightly, listening.

"I am not like them," she continued, voice quieter now, more deliberate. "I do not say things I do not mean. I do not offer what I do not intend to give."

Your brows furrowed slightly.

"Wednesday—"

"You matter."

The words were out before she could stop them. And she didn’t want to stop them. Your lips parted, eyes widening just slightly.

"I have spent much of my life detesting the very concept of… attachment," Wednesday said, her voice unwavering despite the tightness in her chest. "It is unpredictable. Irrational. A weakness."

You swallowed, fingers twitching at your sides.

"But then you—" she stopped, the faintest trace of something raw, something unguarded.

The silence stretched, heavy, thick with everything unsaid. And then Wednesday exhaled, slow, deliberate.

"Be mine." she said.

Your brows furrowed slightly.

"What?"

Wednesday exhaled again, as if the words themselves had pained her.

"I lo—"

She stopped.

Her throat tightened.

She exhaled again, slower this time.

"I have… an undeniable preference for you," she tried.

You blinked.

Then let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

"Wednesday Addams, are you trying to say you love me?"

Wednesday’s face didn’t change. But her hands twitched at her sides.

She did not look away. Did not falter.

"I’m saying that you are mine," she corrected, her voice quiet but firm.

Your breath hitched.

Then, slowly, carefully, you stepped forward, closing the space between you.

"That was a very Addams way of saying it," you murmured.

Wednesday didn’t reply.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then—

You reached forward, hesitantly, carefully, fingers brushing against hers.

She didn’t pull away.

"You’re mine too, then," you whispered.

And Wednesday—

She didn’t resist the small, fleeting twitch at the corner of her lips.

Enid was at her own desk, digging through her drawers, occasionally glancing at the mirror, adjusting her hair as she pulled on a jacket. She was getting ready to go somewhere.

Wednesday watched her for a moment.

"Where are you going?"

Enid stiffened.

It was subtle, but Wednesday noticed it immediately.

A small, fleeting tension in her shoulders before she turned around, smiling a little too quickly.

"Oh! Um—nowhere important. Just heading out with some people."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Where."

Enid hesitated, then sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"The Weathervane theme park," she admitted, avoiding Wednesday’s gaze.

Wednesday tilted her head slightly.

"With whom?"

Enid chewed on her lip.

"Uh, just—Ajax, Bianca, Yoko, Eugene and some others."

Wednesday frowned.

That was… odd.

Normally, any sort of group outing like this would come with an excruciatingly long, overly enthusiastic attempt from Enid to convince her to join.

There would be pleading, bargaining, annoyingly bright smiles and hopeful eyes.

There would be insistence, over and over, until Wednesday either shut it down completely or relented just to make it stop.

Yet this time, there had been nothing.

No mention of it.

No attempts to persuade her.

And for some reason, that bothered her.

"Why didn’t you ask me to come?"

Enid blinked. The question seemed to catch her off guard, her mouth opening and closing for a moment before she laughed awkwardly.

"Uh, well, I mean—" She shifted slightly. "I just figured you’d say no anyway, so I didn’t bother."

Lie.

It wasn’t an outright lie, but there was something wrong with it, something forced in the way she said it, something in the way she wouldn’t quite meet Wednesday’s gaze.

And Wednesday—

She could push it. Could demand the truth.

But she didn’t need to.

Because whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter.

This wasn’t about Enid.

This wasn’t about her.

It was about you.

Ever since yesterday’s lunch, Wednesday had been analyzing everything, dissecting every detail of how people treated you, how they disregarded you, how they seemed so utterly indifferent to your existence despite you being right there.

It made no logical sense.

Wednesday didn’t like that. She wants you to be close to other people too, to have other friends too.

And so, before she could think too much about it, she spoke again.

"I want to join," she said, her voice steady.

Enid blinked again, startled.

Wednesday’s expression didn’t waver.

"Me and Y/N," she clarified.

For a brief moment, Enid just stared at her. Then, slowly, she smiled, though there was something awkward about it, something hesitant.

"Yeah, sure," she said, "It’ll be fun." nodding a little too quickly though her voice carried the same awkward note as before.

Wednesday studied her.

There was hesitation in her movements, tension in her shoulders.

She was hiding something.

Wednesday straightened, her dark eyes unwavering.

"Is there something I don’t know?" she asked.

Enid stiffened. "What?"

"Between Y/N and the others, did anything happen that I do not know of?" Wednesday pressed, voice carefully measured.

Something flickered across Enid’s face. Her eyes widened, too much, too quick.

"No!"

Wednesday’s stare was cold, unrelenting.

Enid fumbled, forcing a laugh.

"I mean—no, of course not! Y/N’s great! Fun! Amazing, really!" she babbled, her voice too high, too rushed. "She is my best friend, I love her! You know me, I’m just silly, ha-ha!"

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. She did not believe her.

But she also knew Enid would not willingly say more.

Not yet.

Enid cleared her throat. "Listen, we’re leaving in an hour," she said, shifting the conversation as quickly as she could. "You can get Y/N and meet us outside the school, okay?"

Wednesday gave a single nod. "Very well."

Enid hesitated for half a second longer, then turned back to her mirror, fixing her hair again, though there was something off in the way she was moving, something stiff.

But Wednesday didn’t linger on it.

She turned, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door.

She had something more important to do.

She had to find you.

She wasn’t walking away from something.

She was walking toward it.

Wednesday stole a glance at you.

You looked… happy.

Genuinely happy.

And it was because of a lie.

Wednesday had never been one for dishonesty—she found it tedious, unnecessary.

But when she had seen the way your expression lit up upon hearing that Enid had specifically asked her to bring you along, the lie felt... worth it. And she hated that she didn’t regret it.

You walked a little closer, your fingers brushing hers—not enough to hold, but enough to be felt. “I’m gonna get you something,” you said suddenly.

Wednesday arched a brow. “How unfortunate.”

You laughed. She pretended not to like the sound.

“It’s Chocolate Day,” you continued, nudging her lightly. “And you know what that means.”

Wednesday sighed. “It means I’m about to be forced into yet another pointless tradition.”

You hummed, tilting your head in thought. “I was thinking of getting you dark chocolate.”

Wednesday paused. Her gaze flickered to you, analyzing. She had never told you that dark chocolate was the only exception to her disdain for sweets. She had never mentioned it, never given any indication of preference. And yet—You had known.

“Fine,” she relented. “But if it’s disgusting, I reserve the right to throw it away in front of you.”

You giggled, looping your arm through hers before she could protest. “I’ll take my chances.”

Wednesday looked away. She was losing this battle.

And she did not know whether she wanted to win it at all.

The theme park was exactly as Wednesday had predicted.

Loud. Chaotic. A breeding ground for idiocy.

Yet, with you beside her, something about it didn’t seem quite as unbearable.

Enid was unusually insistent throughout the night, always rushing ahead, always the first to purchase the tickets before Wednesday could so much as reach for her wallet.

Every time Wednesday attempted to intervene, Enid waved her off, claiming it was “her treat.” so, Wednesday let it go.

For now.

Eugene, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life, camera in hand, clicking away at anything and everything that caught his eye.

"Hey," you said, turning to Wednesday, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. "Do you want a picture of us?" you asked.

Wednesday blinked.

You smiled.

"Just you and me," you clarified. "You should have one of us. Just us."

And Wednesday— She did not understand why she felt that small, inexplicable pang in her chest. But she found herself turning to Eugene anyway.

"Eugene," she said, drawing his attention.

The boy perked up, lowering his camera slightly.

"Yeah?"

"Take a photo," she instructed.

Eugene hesitated for only a moment before giving a small smile.

"Of course!"

He lifted the camera, adjusting the focus.

Wednesday stood still.

You stepped closer.

Your arm brushed against hers.

Her fingers twitched.

The flash went off.

Eugene lowered the camera, beaming.

"Got it!"

You turned to Wednesday, smiling.

That ridiculous urge.

That stupid, utterly nonsensical pull to return the expression.

She swallowed it down.

The night carried on, but something had shifted.

Wednesday felt it.

Felt it in the way she found herself watching you more often than necessary.

Felt it in the way she could not bring herself to pull away when you stood just a little too close.

This was dangerous.

She knew that.

She had always known that.

But she was beginning to wonder—

Had she already lost?

Wednesday’s mood was dark.

Then again, when was it not?

Everything was dull.

Everything was predictable.

Everything was exactly as it always was.

And then—

There were you...

Damn you.

It was infuriating, how easily you shifted her world, how something as simple as your presence sent a ripple through the void she had spent years cultivating.

“You’re late,” you said, teasing.

Wednesday scoffed. “I am not late. You are simply too eager.”

You grinned and without warning, you slipped your hand into hers.

Wednesday nearly flinched, not from the touch itself, but from the way it sent an unfamiliar jolt through her veins.

"Let’s sit somewhere else today," you said, tugging her toward the farther end of the courtyard.

She let you. Gladly.

The day passed in a blur of you.

You and your endless chatter, your soft laughter, your ridiculous stories that she pretended not to find amusing.

She let herself indulge in your company, allowed herself this moment of peace.

Just you and her.

Nothing else.

Just silence when she wanted silence.

Just your voice when she wanted to hear it.

Just you.

"I have something for you," you had said when you pulled her towards your dorm.

And sitting on your bed was— Oh no.

No, absolutely not.

You picked it up with a smile, cradling it in your hands like it was some great treasure before turning to her with the brightest expression.

"It’s for you," you said, holding it out. "Today is Teddy Day."

Wednesday stared.

At the scorpion plush toy in your hands.

She folded her arms. "I do not collect foolish, sentimental objects," she stated flatly. “I refuse to accept this.”

Your face fell, and something in her chest tightened, an invisible fist curling around something delicate and fragile.

She hated that expression.

Hated it more than anything.

Then you spoke, voice softer this time. “You don’t have to keep it. I just… I saw it, and I thought of you.”

Damn you.

Wednesday clenched her jaw.

She could not allow herself to care.

She could not allow herself to be weak.

But your eyes—

Your eyes.

With an exasperated huff, she stuffed the plushie into her bag, shoving it deep inside as though trying to erase the evidence of her own surrender.

And your face—

Lit up.

You beamed at her, eyes shining with something warm and unbearable, something Wednesday did not have the capacity to name.

And she—

She did not regret it.

Back in her dorm, the plushie sat at the foot of her bed.

Wednesday stared at it.

It was mocking her.

That ridiculous, soft-bodied thing with its beady, lifeless eyes.

A cruel joke. Mocking her of her surrender, of her growing vulnerability.

She was still staring at it when the door opened.

"Wednesday?... Did Y/N give it to you?"

Wednesday turned to her, brow furrowing slightly.

"What kind of question is that?"

Enid shifted on her feet, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

"Who else would have the audacity to give me something like this?" Wednesday added, crossing her arms.

Enid’s lips pressed together.

"And even if someone else did, do you truly believe I would accept something this absurd from anyone other than Y/N?"

A pause.

A long, suffocating pause.

Then—

Enid forced a small smile.

"Yeah… yeah, you’re right."

She glanced at the plushie once more, an unreadable look flickering across her face before she sighed.

"I'm sleeping in Yoko's room tonight," she said suddenly. "Um… call me if you need anything, okay?"

Wednesday tilted her head slightly.

"Why?"

Enid hesitated. Then, she shook her head.

"No reason. Just… I think I should."

She turned to leave.

Wednesday watched her go, something unsettling curling in her stomach.

The door clicked shut. Wednesday turned her gaze back to the plushie.

It sat there, unmoving.

She narrowed her eyes at it.

Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the fabric.

Soft.

She scowled.

And yet, she did not move it.

She wasn’t sure she ever would.

Wednesday awoke to the feeling of something watching her.

For a brief second, her instincts sharpened, body stiffening against the mattress as her mind prepared for an unseen threat. Her eyes snapped open right to the source of the threat.

The scorpion plushie.

It looked… smug.

Wednesday scowled. "What?" she almost asked, but she bit her tongue, pressing her lips into a thin line.

She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t about to speak to an inanimate object.

With a slow exhale, she sat up. She knew what day it was.

Not because she had been keeping track of the dates, but because of you. Because whatever ridiculous Valentine’s tradition was set for today, she knew without a doubt that you would follow it.

And she—

She would not be able to refuse you.

And worst of all?

She didn't want to refuse you.

And now, sitting beside you, on the wooden bench tucked away near the greenhouse, she had to ask "What tradition do you have today?"

You blinked, taken aback, before breaking into soft laughter.

"You’re seriously asking that?"

Wednesday rolled her eyes.

"I suppose I should prepare myself before it hits me out of nowhere."

You giggled again, "Promise Day. Today is Promise Day."

Wednesday hummed. That seemed… easy enough. She could not recall a single promise she had made in her lifetime, but if that was the tradition for today, surely there was nothing too outrageous you had in store.

"So," she asked, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. "What do you have planned?"

You smiled.

But this time—

This time, Wednesday saw it.

The sadness behind it.

"Hmm," you hummed, looking down at your hands. "I did have it planned, to promise you—" your voice softened, "to be yours forever, to be with you forever, to love your darkness and all, to die for you and all, but I think you would puke from that, so…"

You looked up at her again, eyes gentle, expression unreadable.

"I promise to… live for you."

Wednesday stared.

"Live for me?" she echoed, voice quieter than she intended.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile playing at your lips.

"Yeah. I probably would."

Wednesday didn’t know what to say.

Live for her.

It was a statement she didn’t fully understand.

Dying for someone had always been the more poetic sentiment, had it not? The ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate declaration of devotion. But living for someone?

That was… heavier. More... terrifying.

"You haven’t made any promises to anyone before, have you?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, studying her with those eyes that always saw too much.

Wednesday shook her head.

"Promises feel… vulnerable," she admitted.

She never liked owing people anything.

"I’ll make it easy for you, then."

You turned fully to her, your eyes searching hers, locking onto them in a way that made her feel trapped yet unwilling to break free.

"Just promise me one thing," you said.

She inhaled, steady, controlled.

"What is it?"

Your voice was quiet when you spoke again.

"Promise to remember me forever."

Wednesday’s breath caught in her throat.

It was such a simple request.

So simple, and yet—

Something about it unsettled her.

Remember you forever?

She already knew she would.

Even if she had never promised it, even if you had never asked, even if the years passed and you drifted away, Wednesday knew—

She would remember you.

For the rest of her days.

She looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, she felt as though she could not move, could not breathe, could not think— all she could do... was nod.

"I promise."

Wednesday had endured many things in her life—pain, loss, the unrelenting presence of insipid social interactions.

But nothing tested her patience quite like the traditions you insisted on following this week.

Not that she was complaining. Not that she would ever complain about you.

Hug Day had been unnecessary.

You had hugged her before—more than once. The first time had been abrupt, unexpected, and Wednesday had frozen like a marble statue, uncertain of what to do with herself. Since then, you had learned not to expect reciprocation, but that never stopped you from wrapping your arms around her. It was infuriating how you always found an excuse—whether it was a casual farewell, a moment of comfort, or simply because you felt like it.

So, Wednesday dismissed Hug Day as redundant.

But then?

There was "Kiss day".

Your lips were on hers.

The graveyard was silent, save for the whisper of the wind through the skeletal branches of nearby trees.

You had kissed before too, albeit rarely. Once, when emotions had overwhelmed you both. Another time, when you had stolen one on impulse, grinning against her lips before pulling away. Wednesday had tolerated it, even if her pulse had betrayed her each time.

But today?

It was reckless.

It was utterly inappropriate.

And that's why, it was perfect.

Wednesday had never imagined herself indulging in such foolishness, but if there was ever a way to win her over, you had found it. Grave digging to set the mood? You understood her in ways others never could.

The ghosts of this graveyard were probably awkwardly witnessing the entire ordeal.

Wednesday didn’t care.

She wasn’t going to stop.

Your lips tasted like roses and vanilla.

How was that even possible?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. Because whatever it was, it was addicting. When you pulled back, your breath ghosting against her lips, you giggled, and the sound shot straight through her.

“We should probably run before security comes in,” you whispered, amusement laced in your voice.

You didn’t wait for her response.

You simply took her hand, fingers lacing through hers, and ran.

And, God help her, she let you.

It was nearly 3 a.m. She and you had barely made it back inside undetected, skillfully avoiding any patrolling staff or wandering students, especially with you by her side, suppressing your giggles. She had ignored your teasing, had merely shot you a sharp look before slipping through the entrance, not bothering to check if you followed because she already knew you did. You always did.

When she finally reached her dorm, she was careful as she turned the knob, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside without a sound. But the moment she stepped in, she halted.

Enid was awake.

She was standing on her side of the room, her arms crossed, her eyes wide and glassy. She looked… angry. Or maybe distressed. Wednesday couldn't quite tell.

“Where the hell have you been?” There was no teasing lilt, no dramatic flair, no usual exaggeration Enid often used when scolding her. It was raw. Unfiltered. Desperate.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, “I was with Y/n.”

She thought that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

Enid sighed, the kind of sigh that came from deep within, like she had been holding something in for too long and now it was spilling out in a single breath. Wednesday didn’t like it. Not one bit.

But Enid didn’t say anything else.

She just turned away, muttering a quiet “Goodnight,” before climbing into bed, pulling the blankets over herself without another word.

For a long moment, Wednesday stood there, staring at the lump of her roommate beneath the sheets, her mind working through a hundred different possibilities. But Enid had already curled away from her, body tense, and Wednesday had no patience for dealing with that now.

Something about the whole exchange sat wrong with her.

But she was too tired to push for answers.

The next morning, she awoke with an excruciating pounding in her skull.

Her first thought was to blame you.

After all, this was your fault. If you hadn’t dragged her into that entire graveyard escapade, she wouldn’t be in this state. But the moment that thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. Because, realistically, she had let herself go with you.

She had let herself kiss you.

She had let herself enjoy it.

And now here she was, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, her temples throbbing, her body weighed down by exhaustion, her head filled with thoughts she didn't have the patience to analyze.

She groaned, pressing her fingers to her forehead.

This headache needed to be dealt with.

She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, glancing around the room. Enid’s bed was empty.

Weird.

Enid was rarely up before her. The girl had a terrible habit of sleeping in, only dragging herself out of bed when absolutely necessary. But this morning, she was already gone.

Wednesday didn’t dwell on it.

She had other priorities.

Today was the cursed day.

Valentine’s Day.

She wasn’t sure what you had planned, but she knew you had something planned. You wouldn’t let this day pass by without doing something ridiculous, without showering her in affection she never asked for but didn’t hate.

Once dressed, she stepped out, making her way toward the infirmary.

Pain wasn’t something she feared. She had endured worse things than a simple headache. But headaches were bothersome and if there was one thing she despised, it was being in a bad mood and unintentionally taking it out on you. And today was special to you. She didn’t want to taint it with unnecessary irritability.

The school was already bustling with activity. Students roamed the corridors, their chatter laced with excitement, their hands holding flowers, chocolates, small wrapped gifts. Decorations had been put up—heart-shaped banners, pink and red ribbons, utterly nauseating displays of romance.

Wednesday ignored it all, making her way toward the infirmary, her mind already calculating the fastest way to get what she needed and leave before anyone attempted to drag her into their mindless festivities.

She turned the corner, reaching the infirmary doors—

And then she stopped.

Through the small gap in the door, she saw them.

Her parents.

Standing inside the infirmary.

Her stomach twisted, something sharp and cold curling in her chest.

What the hell were they doing here?

They never visited without warning, without reason.

And they weren’t alone.

Principal Weems was there, Eugene was there too, his expression tense. Bianca stood near him, her usual confident and smug expression absent.

And then there was Enid.

She had been crying.

Wednesday’s stomach twisted at the sight.

“—she’s been like this for too long,” Principal Weems said, her voice softer than usual. “We ignored it at first, thinking it would pass, but clearly, it hasn’t.”

“She’s always been prone to obsession,” Morticia’s voice followed, carrying the usual elegance, but beneath it was something else. Concern. Worry. “We thought it was just her nature, but…”

“This is different,” Weems murmured. “It’s unhealthy.”

Unhealthy? Wednesday’s brows furrowed.

"Not surprising," Bianca added, arms crossing over her chest. "Have you ever tried reasoning with Wednesday? She doesn’t let go of things. Even when she should.”

Something in her tone made Wednesday's stomach twist unpleasantly.

“She doesn’t remember,” Eugene spoke up, his voice softer than the others, hesitant.

“She won’t remember unless she chooses to,” the doctor’s voice chimed in, steady and clinical. “It was the pain’s doing—not the physical pain, but the mental one. Trauma can manifest in many ways, but in her case… she rewrote the narrative entirely.”

Rewrote?

“We should have intervened earlier,” Weems admitted “I saw the signs, but I thought—”

“None of us knew how bad it would get,” Bianca interjected. “We all thought… she just needed time."

Time for what?

Morticia let out a quiet sigh, “My poor raven…”

“What do we do?” Enid’s voice felt like she was about to break down. “She’s my best friend, but I can’t keep watching her like this. I just can’t.”

“She needs to understand the truth,” Weems said. “She needs to accept it.”

There was a long silence, then Gomez spoke, his voice heavier than she had ever heard it.

“She won’t be able to,” he said. “Not when it comes to Y/n.”

Something inside Wednesday snapped.

She pushed the door open with more force than necessary, the sudden intrusion making everyone jump.

“What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in every guilty, startled expression. “What about Y/n?”

Morticia stepped forward instinctively, her features soft with something resembling sympathy. “Cara mia, you need to—”

“I will slaughter every single person in this room without any remorse if you don’t tell me right now what the hell you’re talking about.”

The room fell silent.

Enid let out a sharp, broken breath before her face crumpled. Her tears fell freely now as she shook her head, her hands balled into fists.

"Why, Wednesday?" her voice cracked. “Why don’t you get it? Why can't you move on?! She was my best friend too!" She sucked in a breath, her voice shaking. "It hurts me too! Just as much as it hurts you. I try to move on, I try so hard, but you—” Her voice broke, her whole body trembling. "You keep bringing it back..."

Move on?

Wednesday’s head throbbed, the pain behind her skull intensifying.

“What are you blabbering about, Sinclair?” she snapped, taking a step forward, but Enid didn't step back.

Wednesday’s vision blurred for a second, a sharp pain stabbing through her skull. Her hands flew to her temples, trying to steady herself.

“Stop,” she gritted out, but Enid wasn’t done. She moved to Eugene, snatching a piece of paper from his trembling hands before shoving it into Wednesday’s grip.

“Then look,” Enid whispered.

Wednesday stared at the paper in her hands. Slowly, hesitantly, she turned it over.

It was a picture.

Wednesday stared at it.

The room around her didn’t exist anymore.

A picture taken on Chocolate Day, the day they had all gone to the theme park. She remembered asking Eugene to take it. She remembered standing beside you, close enough to feel your warmth, your presence.

But—

You weren’t in it.

Wednesday’s breath caught.

You had been there. She knew you had.

She remembered your laughter, the way you had smiled at her just before the picture was taken.

But in the photo, there was only her.

She was standing there, alone.

Her hands started shaking.

A sharp, white-hot pain struck her head, forcing her to clutch her temple, her vision blurring at the edges. And then—

A flash.

Your smile.

Your touch.

Your hands in hers.

And then—

Blood.

So much blood.

You.

Bleeding.

On the road.

No

No

She was just with you last night.

You kissed her.

She felt you.

Her breathing hitched, uneven, ragged.

Wednesday gasped, her knees nearly buckling as she clutched at her head.

"Ugh," she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Memories.

They were flooding in too fast, unraveling, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

This wasn’t right.

None of this was right.

Someone reached for her—Morticia, maybe—but Wednesday staggered back.

No.

No, she couldn’t be here.

She needed—

She needed to find you.

Without another word, she turned and ran.

Wednesday ran.

The corridors of Nevermore stretched endlessly before her, dark and empty, but she didn't care. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, but she didn't slow down. She couldn't.

You were waiting for her.

Somewhere in this cursed school, you were there.

The Weathervane. The scent of coffee and rain hanging in the air. Your hand in hers, fingers curled so delicately, so warmly around her own. You had smiled, eyes glimmering with something soft, something she never understood back then.

"Promise me something?" you had said.

She could hear her own voice, steady, unwavering, always so sure. "That depends on what you ask."

"Just remember me. Forever."

Wednesday had scoffed, rolling her eyes. "As if I could ever forget you."

The pain in her skull, the way her vision blurred at the edges—none of it mattered. She just had to get to you. She had to see you.

You, standing beside her at the crosswalk. It was late. The street was empty, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. She had been looking at you instead of watching the road. You were looking back, smiling at her.

The walking signal turned green.

You took a step forward. She took a step forward.

Your fingers tightened in hers. The light breeze had ruffled your hair, and the city lights reflected in your eyes. You looked—

Beautiful.

Headlights.

She saw it coming from the corner of her eye, but you didn’t.

Wednesday felt her heart lurch, felt the impossible, horrifying force of something being torn from her grasp.

Your hand wrenched out of hers.

The sound of flesh hitting metal. The sickening crunch of bone.

And then—

Flowers.

So many flowers.

Crimson seeping into the petals, staining the sidewalk in a bloom of red.

Wednesday gasped, her knees nearly buckling as she turned the corner, her body screaming at her to stop, to slow down, to breathe.

But she couldn’t.

No.

No, you were here.

You had to be here.

She would find you.

The greenhouse came into view.

The door was already slightly ajar, a soft golden glow spilling out into the night.

Her pulse pounded.

She stepped inside.

And there you were.

You were kneeling beside the roses you planted for her, fingertips grazing over the petals with the same delicate care you had always possessed. Your lips curled into a small smile as you glanced up at her, as if nothing had changed, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Help me water the roses, Wednesday," you said, tilting your head.

Her throat tightened.

She didn't speak, didn't ask, didn't demand an explanation—she simply moved.

She picked up the watering can, stepping beside you. She poured. Water spilled over the petals of a black and red rose, dark like ink, deep like blood.

Finally, you dusted your hands against your skirt and looked at her.

And she—

She looked at you.

Her throat ached. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you said. “You found me, didn’t you?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly, carefully. “I always do.”

"Even when I’m gone?"

Something twisted in Wednesday’s stomach. "You’re not gone."

You exhaled softly. "Wednesday…"

"You’re here," she cut in, her jaw tightening. "You’re right here."

Your expression softened, something unbearably sad settling into your features. "I’m sorry."

She hated that.

Hated the way you said it like this was your fault, like you had done something wrong.

"Don’t apologize."

You let out a small, hollow laugh. "Still stubborn as ever, huh?"

"You always liked that about me." She said.

"I still do." There was something about the way you looked at her that made her feel—

Like the world had stopped spinning.

Like time had folded in on itself, just to give her these few stolen moments with you.

Like nothing outside of this greenhouse mattered.

And yet—

Something inside her twisted.

She clenched her jaw, trying to steady herself. “Why?”

Your eyes softened. “Why what?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Why do you keep leaving me?”

Silence stretched between you for a moment. You hesitated, then reached out, your fingers ghosting over her wrist before pulling back, like you weren’t sure if she would let you.

She hated that.

She caught your hand, gripping it tightly.

You looked at her, something unreadable flashing across your face.

“I never wanted to leave,” you whispered.

Wednesday swallowed.

“You—” she exhaled sharply, her voice unsteady, weak. She hated it. “You made a promise to me.”

“I did.”

“To stay.”

“I know.”

Wednesday’s chest ached. “You broke it.”

You were quiet.

Her grip on your hand tightened. “You left me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “You did.”

"Wednesday…"

She refused to look away.

If she looked away, you might disappear.

You took a step forward.

She stayed perfectly still.

"You’ve always been so strong," you whispered. "Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. But even the strongest people need to let go sometimes."

Her throat tightened. "I don’t want to let go."

"I know." You smiled, but it was laced with sadness. "But you have to."

"No."

"Wednesday…"

"No!" Her voice cracked, her fingers twitching at her sides. "I don’t— I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and have you be gone—"

"You won’t forget me," you interrupted, reaching up, your fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. "You’ll never forget me. 

She shuddered under your touch, something inside her cracking open.

She had spent weeks—months—pretending, denying, refusing to see what had been in front of her all along. She had forced herself to hold onto you so tightly that she never realized—

You were never really there.

Not anymore.

She clenched her jaw. “Are you—” her voice wavered, breaking before she could stop it. “Are you real?”

You smiled.

“I am real, as long as you want me to be.”

Your hand was warm against her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch before she could stop herself.

She didn’t want to stop herself.

The warmth of your touch.

The soft press of your fingertips.

The headache that had been suffocating her, dulled into nothingness.

The ache in her chest, the suffocating weight—gone.

She had been drowning for so long.

But now, just for a moment, she felt like she could breathe.

Wednesday inhaled sharply, eyes locking onto yours.

You were still smiling at her. Still looking at her like she was something precious, something worth remembering.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—

She let herself smile back.

“So,” you murmured, your voice soft, teasing, familiar. “How do you want to spend Valentine’s Day, Woe?

[Author's note: Yeah, I know, don't hate me for this. The first version had an even sadder ending than this lol, Sooo, how was this Valentine's angst?]

Taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @kingofthings2 @masterofpuppets-10 @alexkolax @ognenniyvolk@mally-ka@protozoario@machyishere@freakshow2501@101rizzlrr @casbrawel @jinxslapdog @just-zy @gray-cheese @hellenheaven @blue-because-no-yellow

(I kinda lost which taglist was for which sorryyyy. If you guys don't wanna be tagged in one-shots, inform me, I don't mind. I am gonna make another post for the a better taglist based on your preferences in the future.)

[arachnid-chris]

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (19 - Finale) - Sailor Song

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word Count: 2.5k

-I don't believe in God, but I believe that you're my savior-

August heat, for once in your life, didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you welcomed it. You were humming a tune of a new song you heard recently as you moved around Jenna’s kitchen, grabbing carrots and onions as well as a cutting board. Last month you made quite a few changes in your life, you officially hired Barbara as your ‘assistant’ and you moved to LA, leaving behind the apartment in Denver. The conversation from last night still made you grin as you began dicing the onion into tiny pieces, just the way Jenna liked them.

~X~

“You’re so lucky I love working out with you,” Jenna moaned as she sat down on her side of the bed and just fell back, dropping her head on your belly. She let out a small, but satisfied, sigh and reached up, tugging at your sleeve until you took her hand and intertwined your fingers.

You were reading a book when she came into your bedroom, and as interesting as it was it wasn’t good enough to keep you from putting it down and giving Jenna your undivided attention. “Yeah?” you put the book away and propped yourself up on a pillow slightly so you could look at Jenna.

Jenna acted like she was dragging herself to do it as she put in extra effort to move and snuggle into your side. “Mhm, I may or may not have just eaten the last slice of that pizza you made,” so, she absolutely ate it, and she didn’t regret it one bit. “I mean, I had to. What if it went bad by tomorrow,” she jokingly defended herself.

“Of course. You’re my noble and selfless heroine,” you teased her, only for Jenna to roll her eyes at you.

There was a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. “And what does my heroic sacrifice get me?”

You pretended to think it over before leaning in and kissing her lips. “Whatever your heart desires,” you whispered as Jenna caressed your cheek and then slid her fingers to the back of your head, pulling you into another, this time much longer and burning hot, kiss. You hummed, moving your palm from her side to her hip as you got on top of her. You always made sure you didn’t pin her down, so here you were, once more holding your weight up above her. “All you have to do is tell me what you want,” you said as you separated and smiled as Jenna tilted her head back, baring her neck for you to pepper with kisses. “Or show me. That works too.”

“Oh, I’ll show you,” she tilted your chin up, and you were drawn to her soft lips once more. And in her touch, you felt the lack of intention to take this further. Jenna was in the mood for a gentle make-out session, for soft and slow kisses, and you gave her exactly that. The kisses became slower, gradually turning into quick pecks, rather than the usual kisses you both enjoyed.

“What’s on your mind?” you eventually asked her as you moved to lie on your side next to her.

Jenna turned away from you with a fake pout. “I’m not that obvious,” she huffed playfully, and you smiled, yet again wondering just how you managed to get someone as perfect as her to fall for you.

“You are to me,” you poked her cheek, making Jenna smile despite her attempt to act annoyed.

“Prove it,” she demanded and finally looked at you. She was buying a bit of time, an extra minute or two, it didn’t matter, as long as she got more time to prepare. Yet, despite that, there was no anxiety in her eyes, or her body language. She had something important to say, but it wasn’t negative, that much you could tell already.

“You didn’t notice I was reading a new book,” you pointed out and her jaw dropped as she abruptly sat up and leaned over you, checking the book you put aside. “And you’re usually more talkative while I make food,” and she was. While Jenna was usually more introverted and even shy to an extent, with you she was neither of those things, especially if it was just the two of you. Even with her family she seemed to hold back, and you figured the strained relationship between you and her parents had a lot to do with that.

It got better as these past months passed, but after you reached the point of mutual toleration things hardly improved.

“I had an idea, for after we come back from Romania,” Jenna explained and got comfortable as you covered the two of you with a blanket. Jenna took your hand, mostly for her own nerves as you waited for her to continue. “People are noticing you, sooner or later someone might say something, and we won’t be able to keep our relationship a secret,” she said.

It was a downside of moving to LA, a lot more people knew Jenna. As careful as you always were when you went out Jenna’s neighbors did start noticing that she now actually lived with someone. “You’d like to move, right?” that was the logical solution, whether you’d rent the place or simply buy one.

Jenna nodded. “A house, for the two of us, if you’re okay with that and it’s not too early,” so that was what worried her. She wasn’t sure you’d want to actually decide to buy a house with her this early into the relationship. Even if you wouldn’t actually buy it until you wrapped filming Wednesday.

“Of course,” yet you didn’t need to even think it through. You knew you wanted the future with Jenna.

“How did I get someone like you to fall for me?” Jenna kissed you and you just grinned.

“By being you,” you shared another kiss before Jenna picked up the book you began reading and got comfortable, basically deciding that you’d read the book together. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Don’t spoil the first thirty pages,” she warned you as you raised your hands in surrender before hugging her from behind. You wouldn’t even dream of doing that, but she was adorable when she was a bit bossy.

You didn’t exactly know what made you say it out of blue, but you placed a soft kiss on the back of Jenna’s neck, smiling slightly as her breath hitched and she leaned back, pressing her body further against your own. “You saved me,” you whispered, and you believed it. Without Jenna you’d still be in that dark place, you’d still be stuck, fighting, suffering, hating yourself.

“I just love you,” Jenna replied, turning her head so she could look you in the eyes and the softness in her eyes made you melt. Somehow you deserved to have someone look at you with this much love and understanding. And Jenna being that someone made it feel even more incredible.

“And that saved me,” you told her, and she blushed, feeling embarrassed for no reason,

“Kiss me?” she requested, and you would never say no to that.

~X~

The decision to buy a house after you both finished Wednesday didn’t exactly take you by surprise. Sure, maybe you expected it to take a bit more time before you both took that next step, but you certainly weren’t complaining. Raiju got up and stretched, yawning adorably before walking up to you. “Hey, buddy,” you couldn’t reach down to pet him right now, but he sat down next to you and leaned against your leg. He’s grown quite a bit since you got him, and he was full of energy damn near all the time. “Just a bit more and then we can go outside,” you just needed to finish chopping everything and then you and Raiju could go for a run.

After that you’d continue making the late lunch/early dinner. Chocolate cake was in the fridge, you were going to make vegan pasta, tacos, Jenna’s favorite soup, and you’d even dare to make guac even if that was something Jenna made. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but it’s been a year since you and Jenna met at that chemistry test for Scream, and you kind of wanted to put a bit of extra effort into the day.

Not too much, because you didn’t want to pressure Jenna into feeling like you had to celebrate this date, but flowers and a nice dinner never hurt.

~X~

Maybe spending seven months away from home would make things better between you and her family. At least that’s what Jenna hoped for, because as it was things would never get better than they were right now. And she hated it. This morning she got up before you, and even managed to leave without waking you up, because it was five in the morning and she did not want to wake you up. You struggled to fall back asleep, especially if Jenna wasn’t next to you, so, she left. And in an hour and a half she would once again be on the road, driving back home, back to you.

Since you came with her to her family’s house back in March, to tell them you were together, you hardly ever went with her. Hell, you didn’t even come with her once a month, and she understood, she really did. She just wished things were different.

“I really hoped you’d stay over for lunch,” her mom sighed, but Jenna was adamant on being back home by five so you could eat together.

“Y/N and I made plans,” you didn’t, but it was an easy excuse. Well, you knew Jenna would be back by five, but there weren’t any actual plans for the day.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the frown on her dad’s face at the mere mention of you and there was a heavy feeling in her heart because of that. Things wouldn’t change. She hasn’t even told them that you were planning on buying a house together. That would be a fun conversation.

“You’re going to Romania next week. At least come over for a few days,” her dad looked at her, almost pleading.

‘Not if Y/N isn’t welcome,’ she nearly said it, maybe she should have said it. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down. “I’ll think about it,” maybe she should. She would spend seven months away from home. And you’d be together, so maybe…

Her mom had that hopeful look in her eyes. “Call her, tell her you’ll stay here a couple of days. And it’s a long drive back to your apartment. If she’s as great as you keep saying, she’ll understand,” that wasn’t fair, it was a low blow actually.

Jenna couldn’t look at her mom’s face, knowing there was a good chance she’d just give in and call you. You’d understand, she knew that. And today wasn’t special.

Well, it was special to her. She just wasn’t sure if it was special to you, and she didn’t want to pressure you into feeling like it was supposed to be special.

And that decided it for her. She’d go back home, no matter how much her parents pleaded with her to stay. “I told Y/N I’ll be back home by five,” and she wasn’t going to start lying to you today.

“Home,” her dad grumbled under his breath, but she heard him, and though there was a voice in the back of her head telling her she shouldn’t act like she didn’t hear him, she just didn’t have it in her to argue right now.

~X~

At half past four Jenna walked through your front door, with a small watermelon and a tub of ice cream in a bag, and a small bouquet of roses in her hand. A quick treat for the day that didn’t push you into anything. And that was all Jenna wanted, really. She ended up leaving almost an hour earlier than she hoped, and all she wanted was to hug you and Raiju.

Raiju ran up to her and she barely had the time to put the flowers and the bag down before he greeted her like she was gone for a week, let alone less than twelve hours. “Woah! Easy, easy! I missed you too, Raiju,” she laughed, scratching the seven months old dog behind his ears as his tail looked more like a blur than anything else.

And then she noticed the smell coming from the kitchen. Tacos, and that lovely pasta you made whenever she asked you to, and that’s when she knew for sure, you remembered as well.

“I’m home!” she called out, feeling happy whenever she came back home and actually had someone to wait for or waiting for her.

“Be there in a minute!” you yelled from the kitchen and Jenna grinned, realizing that she caught you in the middle of something, so, instead of waiting for you, she just made her way to the kitchen instead.

When she came in, she froze, noticing the chocolate cake you were decorating. And then she burst out laughing. “Oh, I love you,” she came up to you and hugged you from behind, taking a deep breath and nuzzling against your back.

“You got something as well,” you guessed and she showed you the ice cream and the watermelon, prompting you to laugh as well. “I love you too,” you said as you took her hand and brought it to your lips, kissing it gently.

Jenna let you go so you could turn around and properly hug her, and this, being in your arms, was exactly what she needed. “A year since we met,” she said more to herself, in awe of how many things happened in that time. It all felt almost surreal. She met you, fell for you, and she fell hard, and still to this day kept falling. The good things, the bad things, especially the distance at the start of this year, it all happened so fast. And then getting together, and being together for five months now. She never would have imagined things turning out like this, yet here she was.

“The first of many,” you promised, certain of it, sure nothing could get between you. And Jenna felt like she was just as certain of that future. She kissed you, hoping to once again show you how she felt through her kisses, to show what words failed to describe. A year ago she would say there was no way to know what the future would bring. Yet here she was, knowing whatever future brought she would be with you.

A/N: And with that Eternal Flame is complete, as far as the main story goes. Everything else will be done in side stories, and there will be plenty of them in the future. Thank you for reading this story!

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

[arachnid-chris]

ate this up instead of my psych hw😌

[arachnid-chris]

absolutely feral rn

[arachnid-chris]

I wanted the shark😭

[arachnid-chris]

how am I supposed to get through this semester without my tiktok edits😭