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themushroomofdeath · 5 months

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law x female character | pre-time skip and debut hurt/comfort - angst-ish | anxiety, loss trauma, pre-relationship, panic attack

Trafalgar Law didn’t do love.

It was just who he was, he had already locked the part of himself that craved for those feeble, fragile feelings of affection a long time ago, it had died with his family, was buried together with Cora-san - the last spark of hope, an arm to hold, a father figure, a loved one. Now there was only a shell of a once carefree child, a cold man who kept everyone at an arm-length, one who despised the idea of attachment, of giving himself to something that could very easily be taken away.

No, he liked having control over himself, over his crew, his environment, but mostly, over his heart. Fancied himself a genius of a kind, always one step ahead of everyone else, not making a decision that would affect the decades worth of planning he did for his future self. A life made only for vengeance, for his family, for Cora, for the people he once knew and the child he once was.

So it really came as a surprise to him, that first irregular beat of his heart.

She was someone he never imagined to find in his life, a light of hope when he thought all was lost¹, an intellectual partner to his discuss his interests - and a diversity of others she kept picking along the way to share, an unexpected colleague of profession and abilities, someone not afraid to speak freely about what was on her brilliant mind, but never one to make others feel inferior compared to her. Her kindness seemed unlimited, as she confided one day about her dreams. “I want to be able to help the unfortunate, never have someone lose a loved one out of helplessness again.” As if she could read his concealed past, making him wish to have met someone like her, all those ten years ago, when he needed the most.

“You can’t help everyone, that’s absurd.” Was what he answered instead. Like her warmth hasn't touched him enough to hope, to wish to be able help her achieve exactly that - be the beacon for those lost in the middle of a storm.

He should’ve stopped there, when the warmth reached him the first time. Should’ve stopped reaching for it. But like a man lost to an addiction, he would see himself looking for her around the Tang, just to talk - he would justify, she was the only one who understood all those medic jargons, she never laughed when she accidentally found his comics collection, she was interested in learning about it. He would even hear her opinion with his plans, her ability to look from a different perspective useful for him - no, not him, for their crew. In a year, she became a trusted crewmate and an indispensable partner.

And that was increasingly frustrating.

Trusted enough to share his space, his usual alone time after a long time of work and research, he would invite her to stay around - as she was never too pushy of a friend, but always accepting of his company. They would sit alongside - a plate of rice balls, made exactly to his liking, two cups of warm tea brewed by the woman, and countless paper sheets scattered on his table. He was happy to share his studies with her, hear what she had heard and seen about the topic, an usual pleasant smile masking his features, but doing nothing to hide the fondness in his eyes. If he could’ve seen himself, he would’ve stopped right there.

In the moment, she was explaining how her powers worked, the ability of looking under a man’s skin and muscles with only her mind, how with the years of training in animals in her backyard, she’d come with the idea of reaching further and analyzing a being on a cellular level, forcing the seamless magical healing of most illness with her childhood wonder and endless hours of study of the human body.

In awe as he was, he didn’t catch on how close she was, used from all her hand gestures when she was enthusiastic with a subject, it took him a moment to register how her soft and warm hand had landed on the skin of forearm, right above his tattoo. She was in the middle of explaining how he could use his powers in a similar way if he wanted to, when he realized the touch, the way his heart picked with interest and his entire body burned with longing for more.

It was like being touched by the sun. One that should be always unreachable - to someone made of darkness like him, those burning hands were able to leave irreparable marks behind. As he would never be able to pretend it wasn’t happening with him, to ignore those pesky feelings ever again.

And as soon as he felt it, he abruptly took his distance from it. Pulling his arm from her reach, expression changing from passive to guarded, looking away from her surprised and hurt eyes, before cleaning his throat and deciding it was best for them to turn in for the night. Away from each other.

The damage was done.

It has been a month since he started avoiding her, everyone in the ship can tell. Till that fatidical day, they were like two celestial bodies who constantly orbited each other’s space, now it was as if the mere presence of the doctor around a room were enough to repel the man back to his private quarter - in which he was taking refuge from inquiring eyes. Only the oldest crew was ever allowed to enter for reports and emergency matters, and even then they would always leave with a heavy frown and no answers to their captain’s strange behavior.

It was taking a toll on the crew as well, whenever someone walked by him with a smile and a polite face, only to be met with his flaring temper and moodiness, in which no one could ever understand why. Many tried to question the woman, to no avail, as she had no idea of what was happening either, he had just closed himself off from the world, and as an understanding person, she was trying to give him space to work it out with himself.

But damn, she missed him. And if she only knew how much he was yearning for her, fighting against his deepest fears, trying to escape the confinement of his walls, causing all these explosive and melancholic sentiments to surface. It was maddening. He wanted to be rational about it - perhaps tell her to leave, but not wanting to ever live without her, ever again.

After two months, he felt like ripping the hair from his scalp. It was like her presence was just becoming stronger in the walls of the Polar Tang, he could hear her melodic laugh from anywhere, could smell her perfume everywhere, taste her hand in the food Bepo would bring to his room - she knew how to make it exactly how he liked.

He couldn’t just give in. Too prideful, too committed to his work and chosen fate, too scared. So scared. What if he gave in? A pirate taking a lover was unheard of, and those who did would just live in a constant state of paranoia, not knowing when their enemies would find out about the weakness of their heart. Because that's what it was. A Weakness. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. He would lose her, and that would be enough to break the last amended piece keeping his sanity intact.

Just need to wait it out…. It shall pass, he tried to rationalize.

After three months, it was her turn to be done with his behavior. She came to his room one day, with the excuse of bringing his favorite snacks, ignoring the warning glare thrown to her form. At this point, that was just typical behavior from the young surgeon.

He was going to talk about this, or he was going to tell her to leave, because no matter how much she cried from the yearning of his presence and the confusion of not knowing what was really happening between them, she was also a prideful woman, and she was just as much done with suffering for a person she barely knew, even if she opened her own walls to receive him, she could just as much close it if prompted.

“So, are we going to talk about this - or you’ll keep pretending I don’t know you are avoiding me like I have the plague?”

Oh, how infuriating she was. Snarky, sarcastic, annoying, fucking gorgeous. For a long second, he could only sharp his gaze, his expression taking a note of fury, wanting to tell her to back off. Like a cornered wild animal would. But he was no mindless animal, and her stance above his sitting form did not change one bit, like she knew the power she held over him. He could never truly hurt this woman.

Taking a breath, reclining his posture back in his chair, he schooled his expression back into a blank unamused glare, before answering. “It’s not something I wish to discuss. If it bothers you, that’s your problem, not mine.”

He could see how it immediately affected her, and it affected him as well. Her eyes widened, like she didn’t expect to be blatantly rejected, not after all the time they had been together as colleagues and partners - as friends. Her posture went rigid, like struggling with herself to have strength to fight back, to fight back the tears threatening to escape, and he could feel his heart constricting with the instinct of reaching out and taking her in his arms, protective of her - even if he was the one instigating those emotions in her heart. Her beautiful heart, who did not deserve to be treated that way, who should have left the moment it met with a heartless being like himself. If only he was selfless enough to tell her to run and never look back.

“Fine,” she managed to say, between a difficult breath, “If that’s what you wish, I will pretend we were never friends, then.” And with that resolution, she turned her wheels and left, closing the door with enough strength to be heard by anyone who was hoping for a good outcome from their meeting. And it was like all heart pirates, a few room away, collectively sighed defeated from it.

That night, she wasn’t the only one who cried in her pillow.

It wasn't long after that night, when the heart pirates came to a new inhabited island, looking to resupply for a longer ride. It was a breath of fresh air, to not be stuck inside a submarine with the stubborn couple of bulls, hitting their head against each other, glaring from their corner, making everyone’s life miserable.

And it came to no surprise that Eliza was the first one to be out, the moment the Tang submerged and ported, ready to use her energy to work and actively ignore Law’s existence for the few days or weeks that they kept anchored in the island. Hell, it might be a month before anyone is ready to leave and go back to the uncomfortable feeling. It came to a collective agreement that they better take their time away from the ship while they could, as long as the Captain didn’t catch on it.

And he did catch on it, around day five. Every supplement needed was reestablished, but no one seemed to be in a rush to go back to the next adventure, and the Island wasn’t even that impressive to keep them around, just a small village with enough entertainment for a day or two.

“Penguin. What do you all think you are doing?” He would ask that day, after spotting the man lazily sunbathing in the ship’s deck, earning a long-suffered groan from his crewmate. From all the years that he was loyal to his captain and so-called friend, it was one of the first times where he truly wished the man could take a hint and work on his own problems.

“What do you mean, Captain? We are taking one day to relax, you should too!” He said, but what he really wanted to express with that was: and please make amends with your lady friend, you are being a problematic asshole, she is so nice to you and everyone else, why are you acting like that? Are you having relationship problems or something? I know you have no experience, but anyone would be able to work it out after three whole months. But again, he did know his long-time leader from the inside out, pointing out anything obvious to him would just aggravate the situation, and chances were, he already knew he was being difficult.

Trafalgar Law from his part, only rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, accepting it. Because he was not stupid, truly, he could tell how much it was heaving on his crew, his little squabble with the second tribulation’s doctor. And perhaps he did needed a break, not only from his work, but from all the drama he created for himself.

So, hugging Kikoku close to his body, he left to find a distraction.

As it has been happening the entirety of this particular year, it seemed fate was against his plans of finding a peace of mind.

Walking into a secluded inn bar, believing to be a refuge from the busy streets, the last thing the pirate expected to find was the object of his affections and anguish, sitting with her back turned to the door, fully engrossed in a discussion with another man. Not that he immediately paid attention to said man, but the way the other had his knee so close to his crewmate’s barely covered (deliciously voluptuous) thigh, while they both animatedly chatted, was enough to catch his scrutiny.

It was a bad idea to stay, he knew that, but he couldn’t help his primal instinct of protection to grab a hold of his brain, as he cared for this woman enough to keep an eye on possible harassment towards his crewmate. Right? At least that was what he kept telling himself, silently making his way towards a shadowy booth, sharp gaze focused on the scene before him.

There was an irritation growing inside him, a hand squeezing the pit of his stomach, making his hands clench under the table, for the mere thought of how adorable she looked gesticulating about a subject he couldn’t hear. It was him, a few months ago, who she would look after to share information and discoveries, it was him she would look with those big doe eyes, shining with excitement while she rambled away about something so new and interesting, she couldn’t help but have to share with someone willing to listen.

And now he had shut her off, made her look for another person to give half the attention he had always been willing to offer, always enchanted by her intellect, but if he was a little more honest with himself, it was the way she’d seek him first. Holding him important enough to share her thoughts and confide her life with. Someone else having the same treatment was truly infuriating.

But not only that, he could tell by the way the other man melted his entire posture towards her, he was very much interested in her beyond an intellectual stimulation. Only a few minutes of observation, and the Captain of the Heart Pirates was gritting his teeth, emotional brain rapidly winning over his logical responses to she’s not yours, never was, never will. Get yourself together. She didn’t seem bothered at all, either choosing to ignore or interested in what that man had to offer as well.

His rational side was telling him to leave at this point, and he couldn't agree more to it. Sliding himself away from his seat, ready to ignore this whole encounter, before something caught his auditive senses, making his entire body go rigid. She laughed. That melodious and gorgeous sound, that he only ever heard during their shared times, alone in his office, talking about foolish memories and happier times.

In one shaky breath, heart hurting enough to suffocate, he turned back around, stalking his way towards the couple, stopping a foot from their forms, eyes blazing with quiet fury, but a placid expression of masked anger. She had only spinned around in her chair, before his gravy tone could be heard. “We need to talk. Come.” And he was leaving the establishment, not waiting for an answer, knowing she would follow anyway, as he was not only willing to speak about their problems, but he was her commanding figure in the hierarchy of their crew.

The quiet walk back to the was tense, even if he did slow his pace for her to keep the pace, aware of his long legs and more fit build to walk quickly compared to hers. He could feel her enragement and furious glare hitting the back of his head, but his mind was only filled with how he would go about this.

Should he ask her to leave? She never truly wanted to join a pirate crew, their deal being about giving a space for her to work her medical research, be free to explore the islands they ported, to use her abilities to heal the people in need, in exchange, she’d use all her abilities to protect and treat the crew.

But he didn’t think he could be that cruel nor that self centered with her, knowing she had no one prior to the heart pirates, who quickly became a found family of sorts to the female doctor.

Walking through the deck, ignoring the questioning gazes, he went straight to his office, already planning to lie through his teeth to save himself from the situation he found himself into, pretend he was just saving her from an unfortunate encounter with someone she didn’t really wish to be around, he was too flirty, not interested in her as a intellectual partner, just a pass time.

Perhaps come with terms of coming back to their somewhat friendship, with a level of boundaries around being too close and too personal, those feelings of desire would come to an end eventually, more hormones of his young blood, than actual wish for a relationship with someone who could make him happy. He didn’t wish for that kind of happiness, after all.

But before he could open his mouth, sitting in his chair, to gaze up to meet hers, she was already speaking, arms crossed over each other, face contorted in one of resolve and grief. “Law, perhaps I should leave this crew.”

And with just that, something he did thought about asking of her all this time, she broke his pathetic illusion of being fine with her leaving this ship, this crew, her leaving him.

He could hear her speaking, lips moving around an explanation of why it was reasonable for her to find a different way of traveling, as this tension was hurting the ship’s crew morale. He had the feeling that she was nervously rambling, looking for him to give an answer to her plans, but all he could do was stare back, mind fogging and words turning too confusing for his understanding, slight sensation of disconnecting his mind from the harsh reality of She will leave me. She will actually leave me.

Why did it hurt so much? How could she hold such a tight grip around his heart? When did he allow this to happen? Was him that weak?

“LAW! Are you even listening to me? Please!” Came a distinct voice, in the middle of the chaos of his mind. He might be panicking, the medic on him was saying, his cardiac frequency was too loud, he could feel his entire body tingling, legs too weak to answer, he was going mad.

But what made it more maddening, was the idea of never seeing her again, never hearing her eyes shining with excitement, never hearing her amused smile to one of his witty remarks, to never again gaze at this person who turned his days brighter by existing and knowing she was safe as long as he lived. It was like she could take all his breath away with one realization, and it was certainly not pleasant.

Licking his increasingly drying lips, he tried to focus back in reality, understanding of the situation coming back to him, she was asking for his opinion, she wasn’t leaving yet. “You can’t.” Was what he could come off as an answer, with the turmoil happening inside his being.

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“You… I- Just. Don’t.” He could hear his breath quicking, and she seemed too, medical trained eyes sharpening on his form, advancing in his direction like one would a hounded animal - and he despised her for it. How easily she could read him, how open and vulnerable she made him.

But he also came to realize, those feelings would never leave him, ever again. Her love crawled her way through his defenses, climbed his colossal walls made of years of traumatic experiences, and reached his closed icy cold heart. He wanted to hate her for it, make her stop, tell her off, let him be comfortable with his loneliness once again, but when she looked back at him with those warmhearted eyes of hers, reached both hands to gently graze his tattooed ones, soothingly asking if he was feeling well… He could only give all of himself to her.

Both arms shooting up to bring her body closer, head dropping to her shoulder, trying to hide the shameful sob tearing itself from his throat, body entirely shaking in a full panic attack triggered by all the experiences he had lived so far. For a moment he was back into the child he once was, an orphan, lost, utterly lonely, rejected by all.

His pride in shambles, broken mind taking over his more rational being, the only solace in the hands caressing his hair, the weight sitting on his lap - as he made her lose her foot with the surprise. But she didn’t mind, she loved this foolish broken man, even if he never bothered to ask.

She would hold and love him for the rest of their life, if only he allowed it.

“Breath, Law. Can you hear my voice, dearest? Breath with me.”

A few minutes of caressing his hair locks, firmly holding him toward her soft body, soothing whispering to his reachable ear, and the breath started to settle into a more even rhythm, the sobs that wrecked his body, turning into soft exhales, but the arms around her only tightened, like she would run away the moment he came back to his senses.

It was devastating to see such a strong and resilient man breaking apart, never once expressing his feelings so openly before, all those years of suffering on his own breaking like a torrent of guarded anguish, pouring down from every pore, making his body weak and tired. But if anyone should’ve seen it, he was glad it was her.

There was no judgment, no pitiful gaze, no questions to be answered, only a warm body and hands resting against damp cheeks, forcing his tired eyes to gaze back at an adoring expression, already grasping the situation at hand. “Law, don’t suffer on your own anymore. You don’t need to keep your thoughts to yourself, you are only hurting yourself.” She kept on, smiling with fondness. “I understand it’s hard to trust, to allow yourself to give in to strange feelings, but I will only leave you if you wish for me to. Ok? I promise, I want to stay and hear all that goes inside your head, I want to protect you as much as you've been protecting me. Would you let me do that?”

A hesitant nod. A progress, or an emotional response of someone who was just so tired of fighting back, so afraid of losing what he had been building, so hopeful of what it could mean to give in and embrace the sun. Either way, acceptance in the way his head fell back to her body, resting against her ample bosom, focused on the way the rhythm of her heart lulled him back to a better reality. He knew from that moment, he would try to improve himself, if it meant she would keep kissing the top of his head like this, caressing his back and humming a foreign lullaby to calm his raging heart. He could love her fully, if it always felt like this safe haven. And perhaps there was hope, if she was the one who held his heart.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law angst #first OP fic in here?#dividers by cafekitsune #i guess can be read as law x reader too #rage writes

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u3pxx · 4 months

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WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S 2024?!?!

next, you're gonna tell me it's gonna be some made-up year like "2025" next. tch, imagine that.

anyways, whoo! 2023! compared to both 2022 and 2021, i gotta say, my art style took a hard swerve in some direction this year. i mean, look at that klavier from january and that butch kim from just this december! (granted, i heavily referenced the portrait of butch kim but still, i didn't use to paint! mama mia!)

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the way i drew faces has definitely changed, that's what i get for getting into something that's live-action and into smth that has realistically proportioned art lol

OH! OH! HOW COULD I FORGET!!! IT WAS (and still will be) THE YEAR OF THE OLD MAN!! i really learned how to draw aged faces this year! ach fraulein, i have not stopped drawing people in their 40's-50's! i would say "send help" but i'm actually having a lot of fun ASKSKS

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i think a funny thing about these art summaries i've done is that they're mostly ace attorney but then there's just a month where i become a different type of ill LMAO this year it was four months for the price of two new interests!

cheers! here's to 2024!!! hope y'all have a fun art year!!!!

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i'm gonna ramble more below about like, other art things i did this year but i'm gonna put it under 'keep reading' bc this baby is getting way too wordy now WHEEZES

1. FAVORITE THINGS I'VE DRAWN THIS YEAR (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER)

⚖️ mea culpa comic [x]

drawing this one was so time-consuming and ambitious but boy, do i love the end result! i had fun doing the inks for this one but was it a lot! i usually color in lineart and render everything but i had to stop myself from doing it for this one bc man, i'll die asksks

this also has some of my favorite apollos i've drawn, definitely

also! the part about the lineart not being colored and no rendering ended up being a deliberate stylistic choice for this one bc i had like more freedom to do just shadows with inks without it looking too out of place.

💐 my lawfully wedded zine spread [x]

now this one isn't out yet but take my word for when i say that this is one of the most craxy things i've ever drawn for this year, on account of drawing a comic AND group shot all in one!

also literally one of the prettiest things i've rendered this year, lookit that klav...

🎉 aa4 redraw - 2022 anniversary [x]

kind of like my wedding zine piece, group photos are insane, and rendering like uhhh [looks at drawing] 11 CHARACTERS IS ALSO INSANE if i try and draw a group photo again you have to stop me DFGHDJ

🎨 my art fight stuff [x] [x]

was possessed in the month of july or smth bc i pumped out like how many drawings so quickly (before i got burnt out that is pftt)

pace yourselves and don't be like me pls ajshgdghhjk

💥 people park day [x]

my friend told me that it was very obvious i watched across the spiderverse when they saw this FDFGHJD

but yea! this is when i started getting really into like, thought bubbles or just like, panels or drawings within a drawing when coming up with layouts

i still love the colors on this one...

🪩 fem disco portraits

ok so i haven't uploaded these yet but you have to trust me when i say that something was in the water DFGHDJ

who knew that all it took for me to learn how to paint was butches

2. ALSO DID YOU KNOW THAT I SOLD STICKERS THIS YEAR IN OUR UNI'S ART MART?

THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT THAT SCHOOL I SWEAR PFTTT this experience has also awaken the merch beast in me and i need to make more physical things for my brain to be happy, that's just how it be pfttt

hopefully next year i can actually start like a shopee shop or whatever lmao

3. ART FIGHT

i'm actually quite happy i got to participate in art fight this year! very delighted for all the art i've gotten and very fun to have drawn for others too!!

4. ZINES

i got invited and joined so many zines from 2022 continuing to 2023 that i kind of got burnt out from participating for now ngl ASKSKSKS not gonna be joining much this year oopsiessss! (unless i lose self-control [very likely])

5. SCHOOL

i don't actually like a lot of the stuff i draw for art school bc i tend to cram and not have fun pftt <- adhd moment, tragic! but here are some that i actually kind of like lol

6. THAT'S IT!

i think that's it! thanks for reading all the way down here!! o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

#art summary #art summary 2023 #sunnysidedraws #sunnysiderambles

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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can you make headcanons for all the tadc cast with a reckless reader?

also, have a good day :)

-daz

TADC cast x reckless! reader!

last post for this batch! ill get right back to answering stuff soon! my cinnamon roll dough is almost done with its first rise and ill have to shape them soon! also gotta make the frosting..! short post since the base of one of my thumbs is getting a lil sore idk if its because ive been typing so much these past few days or if i just slept on my hand wrong; maybe both

CAINE:

youre in luck reader! you cant really get hurt in the digital world...! well, not... traditionally.. you can definitely still feel pain, thats for sure, but i dont think your digital body has any bones to break or skin to scrape..! so hey at least you can kind of be as reckless as you want without consequence...! except, there are consequences. caine is not at all happy at your recklessness.. i mean sure yeah some of his IHAs can be more... intense, i mean zooble almost got turned into a gloink, but..! i think he tones down his adventures just so you wont throw yourself into the danger

POMNI:

tries to stop you but her words fall short as you run in yelling into whatever the threat is without a second thought. "i- wait- er..." and youre gone, leaving pomni to hurry and try to catch up with you. she probably has to drag you to safety, assuming this isnt a case where you got all glitched up by an abstracted circus member.. shes gonna have to work herself up to get you to chill out; perhaps ending in a whole emotional thing where she just. explodes? perhaps

RAGATHA:

just because you cant get hurt doesnt mean shes not going to fuss over you. if there were a need for it i think she would keep a pack of Band-Aids on her. however, because you guys cant get hurt in that way, she tries to keep you in bed when you inevitably get knocked a little too hard and need to rest it off. dont even think about trying to get up out of bed, shes going to give you this stern look that only a few percentage of people can muster.

you know the look

the stern one

scolds you too if you get caught up in something real dangerous

only really softens up if you threw yourself in danger for the sake of another person, because i think ragatha would do the same

JAX:

"bet you cant make that jump"

"bet i <> can!"

que you absolutely eating shit after you fail to make that jump, comically flipping over yourself and face planting. you probably have cartoon birds circling around your head. jax laughs at you before eventually coming over to help you up. he will not let you live this kind of stuff, down

KINGER:

he gets so so scared when youre not in his sight, i think if he knew you were willingly throwing yourself into harms way? this man would have a heart attack! like really, or he would if he still had his organs and stuff...if he could he would keep you in his pillow fort with him forever... but he cant, so he has to settle with following you around with meek attempts to try to stop you

ZOOBLE:

zooble would do similar stuff as jax, but when you actually. go to do the dangerous thing they just pull you back. "dude. i wasnt being serious"

bro has to keep you on one of those kid leashes because your first instinct someone says "bet" or "no balls" or anything in that vein, you need to prove yourself

GANGLE:

her comedy mask probably falls off from the sheer shock from how easily you just. launch yourself into things. on one hand she worries for you, but on the other hand she cant help but feel a little jealous; i mean shes just ribbon and a mask, shes not really... tough... strong.. durable... she wants to be able to run around and do the things you do but theres that fear of being immediately broken down or overpowered, you know? didnt mean to get silly there; anyways i think she would try to keep in you bed to sleep off the soreness, like ragatha

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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mingigoo · 2 years

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Halloween 🍂 k.hj (m)

based on Halloween by phoebe bridgers

🍂 pairing ⇢ roommate! Hongjoong x medical student! (fem) reader

🍂 summary ⇢ life is the same, no matter a holiday. You wake up, hear the sirens from the hospital down the street, go to work, and come back home to your beautiful roommate, Hongjoong. It’s an endless cycle, but this Halloween, you could be anything—do anything. You decide to give into your infatuation, causing life to take a turn for you both. Happy Halloween, I guess.

🍂genre/au ⇢ Halloween au, roommate au, friends to lovers

🍂 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors dni, mental illness (anxiety attacks), unprotected sex, hongjoong is a literal chef and certified sweetheart, literally the best roommate you could ever have, dreary, sad vibes, hongjoong has a cat, spooky season vibes, mention of death, oral sex (female recieving), best friends that dont know how to express their feelings, halloween party, yunho makes an appearance, hongjoong makes music, roommates to lovers, plz let me know if I missed anything.

🍂word count ⇢ 13.5k

🍂taglist ⇢ @atinywhore@meowmeowminnie @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @8tinytings @yukine-smx @jjhmk @yesv01 @halesandy @ch0isa99ie @y00nzin0 @spiderrenjunfics

Halloween. The time to dress up and act like someone you’re not. To have that insatiable feeling to be someone new—to put on a mask. To be absolutely anything you desire…

But the thing is, it’s not just you. You're not the only one feeling this way, and it's ever so apparent on one singular day, when everyone has a chance to hide their flaws behind comical masks or tedious costume designs. It's all out of fun, people say. It's the trend, it's the reason for the occasion. But, out of everything, you are becoming whatever you want—the same way Cinderella became a princess overnight, only to get it taken away from her the minute the hour of the next day struck.

To you, Halloween was your excuse to become a different person. To gain a new strength you never had. To free your mind into an alternate reality and explore those deep feelings you've been keeping away from spilling over the surface.

And this halloween, you were going to find your way out of that dark room you called a mind.

—

You sat in your cozy nook of the townhouse you shared, a mug of steaming coffee next to you while you read. Slow, gentle rain drops fell down the glass of the window, the soft pitter-patter creating an intimate environment. Your roommate’s cat added to the feeling, as she was curled up in a ball at your feet, dusty fur matching your fluffy socks.

It's finally october—your favorite time of the year, although there was no reason for it other than the tasty coffee flavors and the colorful scenery. Your roommate also adored the season, as it reflected in his peculiar food concoctions and outfit choices. Sometimes you would just sit and watch his eyes sparkle as he would do his favorite things, keeping your admiration in check.

Of course, he was on your mind way more than a roommate should be. Even now, as your eyes move from word to word across the smooth pages, you begin to think of his smile.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Your shift at the hospital ended the night before, three hours later than normal. It's gotten to the point that you would shiver whenever you hear sirens—and you were blessed with not only hearing the sirens at work, but also at home.

The hospital was only down the street; the closest one on this side of town. You had to keep those intrusive thoughts away, telling yourself someone better be dying just because the sirens are getting out of hand is a bit of a stretch, someone should slap you for thinking that way. In all honesty, you didn't actually mean it. The sounds were just so overwhelming, it felt like death was looming above you no matter where you turned.

Hongjoong hasn't returned from his morning classes yet. Luckily for you, you were doing your hospital internship and didn't have to take a bunch of classes this semester. Although basically living at a hospital isn't exactly any better.

You sighed as you watched the man of the hour walk through the lifeless leaves on the pavement through the window, keeping your heartbeat steady as you admired him. He had headphones on, hiding his cute little ear piercings and pieces of his faded rusty hair.

God, he made you sick.

The crimson door of the townhouse swung open, revealing the man you were just daydreaming about. He stood in the doorway, looking down at his damp, beaten up converse before bending down to untie them. He got impatient, and just pulled them off of his feet, leaving him only in his cute little pumpkin socks.

“y/n, I brought you a croissant,” he called out to you, not realizing you were only a glance away. He set his bag down on the table and took off his headphones, shaking his head to fix his hair. “You better get over here before I eat it.”

“Is it chocolate filled?” you asked him quietly from your nook, to which he whipped his head to look at you.

The minute he laid his eyes on you, he broke out in a huge smile, his gums showing. “Well, yeah. That's your favorite.”

You stared at him intently, setting down your book on your lap and sitting up a bit. This caused the kitty to meow, which had an immediate effect on your roommate.

His eyes widened. “Oh!” he gasped, running over to the cat to pay attention to her. “Look, baby, we’re twins,” he pointed to his pumpkin socks, smiling proudly. You knew that he only got those socks because of the pumpkins—and because his cat was named pumpkin. “My sweet little pumpkin.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” you scoffed, sliding out of your blanket and setting the book down. You made your way over to the table, which was where he set the croissant bag. “Anyway, thank you, joong.”

He looked over at you and smiled as a response, but it wasn't enough. You wanted him to come over to you and hold you tight, kiss you on the forehead, and let his soft breaths hit you as he would breathe for you.

Now, you weren't always like this. He’s been your roommate since freshman year, all the way back when you used to live on campus. You’ve been in three different living situations with him, but for some reason, living alone with him in a townhouse with a cat and a cute garden in the back just made your mind live in delululand. Dear god, you felt like a married couple at times, as he would spare no second to cook you dinner or help you with your laundry.

There was just something about him that was so domestic—the same thing you craved every chance you got. But yet, here you were, still daydreaming about it all and never getting it to happen.

And you know exactly when it started. On that halloween, three years ago, when he held you tight in his embrace after finding out your grandmother had passed. It was one of the worst panic attacks in your history. He takes care of you when they happen now, but back then, it was all new to him.

It wasn't supposed to be the type of moment you think about how his hair smelled, or the way his dainty hands caressed the tears away. It wasn't supposed to play out that way. But yet, it did, and you were still stuck with the feelings years later.

Halloween is less than a month away now—this year, it was a chance for you to hide away, or show your true colors.

— —

It was midnight and cold and all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball in your bed. Being in the emergency room was even harder than you imagined, and you knew you had a night of tossing and turning ahead of you. Luckily tomorrow was a rest day, and you would be back on campus for a seminar. You needed a break from the hustle and bustle of life versus death, and you started to think that maybe you just weren't cut out for it. It was far too late for your indecisiveness to kick in, as it seemed to jump up and surprise you every now and again. Hey! This isn't what you want to do, right? What about this? Ah, no, that's not what I want….

A never ending cycle of your life. Wake up, think about hongjoong. Drink coffee made by hongjoong. Have your shoes tied by hongjoong. Go to work and nearly die. Come home from your commute and see hongjoong. Hongjoong makes food for you. Hongjoong smiles for you. Hongjoong…..

Hongjoong, Hongjoong, Hongjoong……

He’s everywhere; Is everything. You know you wouldn't survive without the helpful, caring hands of the man you called a roommate, but you also don't know what will happen when you graduate and part ways. Knowing that he has no mental ties to you quite in the way you have him tied around every morsel of your psyche, it nearly breaks your heart just thinking about it.

Would you crumble right there? Like an old painting or a sculpture, would you cave in without that constant attention? That constant affection for just your existence?

Giving up on your existential thoughts for the night, you slowly glided up the few steps of the brick townhouse, nearly tripping on the last step. You've already done that one too many times, as there is a permanent mark left on your favorite pair of shoes.

Finally opening the door, you entered your humble abode with a grimace, chucking off your shoes to reach the kitchen table. You sat down grumpily, putting your elbows up onto the table when the sweet smell of baking filled your senses.

“Joong? Whatcha makin?” you playfully spoke. He was leaning against the counter across from you, his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised.

“What does it smell like?” he asked you.

You shrugged, breaking your stare to rest your head on the cold table. “I guess like cookies.”

Joong took a second to respond to you, and ran a hand through his rusty hair. It used to be a vibrant red—just like the leaves of the trees.

“Are you feeling alright?” he spoke softly, moving from his distant position to come a little closer, now leaning against the table. His arms held him up, and from your line of vision, you were able to see a few of his fingertips painted black. “Was it a bad day at the hospital?”

Sirens bellowed loudly from the street, as if on cue of the topic. You groaned and nodded. “God, yeah. There was so much….death. I mean, I thought I knew it was going to be bad but I never thought it was this bad.”

Hongjoong sighed, backing up to get the cookies out of the oven. “I have a question,” he said, his voice strained as he reached into the heat.

“Shoot.”

He set the tray down onto the stove, turning off the oven.

“Are you happy?”

His words made you raise your head, meeting his worry-filled gaze. You always hated the way he looked at you, it wasn't in the way you wanted. He always seemed so worried—like he was pitying you. He knew your whole life story, from how you were only raised by a grandmother that lived her life for you, to how you deal with the anxiety that breaks through you like a sickness. It hinders you to the point where you hide it from others, but joong—he knows everything.

You smiled at him, hiding your true colors because he always seemed to break down your walls. In truth, you were feeling anxiety all day—maybe it was the woman who reminded you of your grandmother today. The same woman you witnessed flatline with her granddaughter gripping her pale hand. You watched the young girl’s tears smack onto the linoleum, your heart aching and letting your own tears well up.

Your grandmother was all you had. Your parents passed away in a car accident together, the world taking them both away from you in the same night. You witnessed it from the backseat, the cracks of the windshield and the dark, pooling blood you wished wasn't your parents. It was some sort of miracle that you survived unscathed, but in your sweet grandmother’s words, you were an angel.

You didn't believe in any of that religious shit now, but maybe it was due to all your ups and downs. You didn't need to have some godly figure in your life to know that you were damned no matter what. So you lived your life in fits of anxiety and happiness, all swarming around you. Your anxiety made you believe that you didn't deserve that happiness, and the happiness made you believe you didn't deserve the anxiety.

And hongjoong? He was your happiness.

You sighed, remembering that he asked you a question long before your mind started wandering. You smiled, a real smile, right at him. “Yes, if you're here with me, I'm happy.”

He scoffed playfully, still directly across from you. The only thing in your way was the kitchen table, creating some sort of barrier with your feelings. You could just…walk around it and enter his world, touch his face, run your hands through his hair…

“Well I’m just checking up on my y/n,” he smiled, that beautiful smile of his. He pushed up his sleeves, and turned away from you to pick up a cookie off the tray. “Come here.”

You obeyed like a well-trained dog, making your way past that invisible barrier. He stood close to you, his eyes bright and sparkling as he looked down at you. “Open,” he said, and once again, you obeyed like you owed him your life.

You opened your mouth for him to give you a bite, his fingertips gliding against the corners of your mouth. You ate the cookie from his hold happily, and when he was going to pull away after it was gone, you suddenly gripped his wrist with your hand.

“What are you—”

“Shh. there's still some chocolate on your fingers,” you teased, looking into his eyes as you licked the tip of his fingers, trying your best to distract your horrible thoughts. Now your focus has moved to tease him, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

Your lips moved down onto his fingers, sucking on them until the taste of chocolate was dull. You shut your eyes, not able to see the look of lust radiating from hongjoong’s glare. It disappeared the moment you met his eyes again, and he let out a chuckle as you pulled back.

“You really like chocolate, huh?” he carried on, his eyes moving back and forth from your eyes to your hand gripping his wrist. His vision was hazy as he pulled out of your grip, moving to distract himself with something—anything. “I thought you preferred my gingerbread cookies?”

You nodded, looking at him up and down. “Yeah, but only around christmas time.”

“Ah,” he gulped, reaching for the small towel that was hanging from the oven door. He wiped his hands hastily, moving away from you towards his little study–converted into a studio. “I gotta go finish my song, alright? Why don't you eat more of the cookies?”

He shut the door of his studio room with aggression, leaving you in a warm, chocolatey kitchen with flour all over the floor. You smiled down at it, making you think about him spilling it and cursing like a sailor.

You loved him.

—

The week flew by, it was now mid-october. Your favorite season was slowly fading away with a blink of an eye, and you spent most of your autumn days cooped up in the emergency ward or your room, hiding from the sirens. Maybe this isn't for you, but once again—

You were too far in to quit, now. You loved it, you really did. You had that feeling–that ability—to save someone's life the way your parents’ lives could have been spared. You were doing a good thing, you couldn't handle the anxiety for the expense of someone's life.

You found yourself curled up in your cozy blanket in the corner of the couch, hongjoong sitting on the other side. He stared at you—watched your movements. He noticed everything about you, and knew when you were about to have an attack.

“y/n? Why don't you put on your favorite show?” he asked you, but it was more of a demand. When you stared at him blankly from your curled over position, he sighed and stood up to grab the remote from the coffee table. After turning on some cartoons that you loved, he left the room to grab a glass of water.

When he came back, you were sitting up straight, staring off toward the window, looking at how the raindrops fell. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Just a desperate breath for air. You fisted the blanket in your hands, holding back your shakes.

Hongjoong sat the cup of water down quickly, making his way over to you with a rush. He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “Come on, angel. It's okay, I promise,” his voice echoed through your mind, your breathing getting unsteady and your hands twitching in your grip for them to stop. The feeling overwhelmed you—it was as if you were dying. His touch only helped a little in the heat of the moment, and he held you tightly as your body shaked.

You gasped for air, the tears of fear rolling down your cheeks. No matter how many times you go through these attacks, each time makes you feel like you wont make it through it. Hongjoong’s facial expression looked pained as he reached for your hands under the blanket, gripping them in his own so you weren't cutting crescents into your palms.

“Let's play the letter game, okay?” his head was still buried in your neck, his voice strong. “An animal. Okay? An animal that starts with A?”

You gulped, tearing into the skin of his hand with your nails. “A…animal?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Yes angel, an animal. What animal starts with the letter A?”

“Uh,” you breathed, the tears now staining his shirt. “A-ant eater?”

He pulled away from your neck, his free hand running down your cheek to catch the tears. “Good job. B?”

You took a second, panicking when you couldn't think of something. Hongjoong ran a hand through your hair as you shook, holding onto you tightly. “It's okay, I'll help you. Bear? Buffalo? You like buffalo sauce, right? You like the spice.”

You nodded, smiling at his efforts. He did this with such love in his eyes that you could have sworn he was in love with you. That he cared for you this deeply.

He smiled, brightening up your heart. “Good, good. Now C?”

“Cat.”

“Wonderful,” he cooed, running a hand down your arm. He carried on through the alphabet, until he reached H.

“Hongjoong,” you smiled, finally feeling a bit more like yourself and not some mummy locked in its own body.

He laughed melodically, causing your smile to brighten even more. “I’m not an animal,” he teased, pulling you to his chest and running a hand down your back. “Are you feeling better?”

You nodded, your hand tremors dying down. Hongjoong didn't let go of your hand yet, still holding onto you as tight as he could.

“I just want to take it all away,” he whispered softly, his lips near your ear. Little did he know that he did take the pain away. He was the source of your happiness—you needed him.

“You do,” you hummed back raspily, your heart on your sleeve as he kept you close to him. “You do take the pain away.”

He sighed, kissing your temple with such softness, you crumbled in his hold.

“I don't think it's enough.”

You didn't say anything after that. He did let go of you reluctantly after you said you needed the water, but the minute you finished drinking it, he was back to holding you, his head against yours as silence enveloped you both in the darkness of the room.

You were certain friends don't kiss each other like that.

—

The next week of October came—the week before halloween. This time, you felt better than last week. The constant presence of dressing up as something this year was heavy on your chest, knowing your colleagues have invited you to a party. You have yet to ask hongjoong to join you, as you wouldn't dare show your face alone.

You took a day off on the first day of the week, hongjoong sick as a dog and your heart aching for him.

You brewed some hot tea and fixed him up a bowl of his favorite soup, caring for him the same way he catered to you. The thing was that he denied it most of the time, leaving you standing alone with your heart in your hands, ready to give it to him.

You set the bowl of soup on a tray you normally used as decor, spilling it slightly that the wood of the tray darkened. You rolled your eyes at your clumsiness, and then set the mug of tea on the stained wood.

Making your way up the thin, creaky townhouse stairs, you reached his room at the end of the hallway. He left the door open a crack, inviting you in at any given moment. So you entered the sunlit room, his curtains pulled back and his head hidden under the duvet. All you could see of him was his little wave of orange hair and a foot peeking from the cover.

“Joongie,” you cooed, cautiously entering his abode with nervousness. You knew him for ages, took care of him for ages, but everytime you got close to him, you felt your chest get heavy. Almost as if something was pushing you down. “Are you awake?”

He groaned something inaudible, tossing around in the bed until half of his body was out of the covers. He was shirtless, his smooth, slightly toned stomach glistening with sweat. You sighed, collecting your dirty thoughts.

You set the tray down on his nightstand, pushing aside the cough medicine and dirty tissues you would clean up after. Little pumpkin was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching your every move.

“I have dinner for you,” you hummed, reaching over to him, but pausing at his unclothed body. It was as if you were a feral animal—you wanted to devour him.

You ignored the instinct and pulled up the covers.

“What is it? I’m not hungry,” he groaned groggily, his eyes barely opening. He let out a cough, and it made you want to take his sickness away.

“You need to eat, you haven't eaten all day.”

He sighed, pushing himself up on the bed, revealing his body after you concealed it. He leaned up against his headboard, sniffling. His eyes were sunken in and his lips were pale, but you still thought he was the most beautiful being in the world.

You wanted to kiss away his chapped lips.

“Soup?” he said raspily, looking over at his night stand. He went to reach for it, but nearly spilled the tray.

You grabbed the bowl, and went to sit on the edge of the bed, next to his sweating frame. He definitely still had a fever. “Here, take it while I take your temp.”

He grabbed the soup out of your hold, his warm fingers brushing against yours. He didn't hesitate when you leaned over him, but you heard his breaths get shallow when you brushed away the hairs off his face to place your hand on his forehead. “Stay away from me,” he blinked at you, and even though his words seemed harsh, it was all out of love. “You’ll get sick. I don't want you to get sick.”

“I’d rather be sick than watch you suffer,” you smiled at him, your eyes lingering on his chapped lips for a moment too long. “You look better than you did this morning.”

He swallowed a spoonful of the soup, shutting his eyes tight as the warm liquid coated his sore throat.

“Thank you,” he said. It was only an acknowledgement in words, but his eyes pierced through yours as you sat inches away from him. He meant it, but you were too involved to read between the lines of his breaths.

He breathed for you.

You stood up to leave him peace, but your breath hitched as his warm hand reached your thigh, causing you to look down at it cautiously.

“Don't—” he paused, lifting his grip and moving to set down the bowl of soup. “Don't go.”

You didn't let the smile creep up onto your lips. “I thought you didn't want me to get sick?” you instigated, but nonetheless moved further onto the bed, holding onto his overheating frame with all the love in the world.

“I don't, but I want to be selfish today,” he coughed, nuzzling his head into you. His lips were pressed to your neck, sending chills down your spine. Your fingertips caressed his bare skin, hoping to take away his sickness.

You held him until the sun went down, thinking that was enough for him.

Feeling as though he was sleeping, you tried to pull yourself out of his grip, to which he pulled you to him even tighter. Now your faces were an inch apart as you both lied on the bed, his hot breaths tickling your lips.

“Where are you going?” he asked you.

“Nowhere,” you smiled, looking into his tired eyes. You leaned forward, resting your head against his. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed in contentment, letting out a breath as his arms tightened around you. He didn't speak—he just looked at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered.

You ran a hand through his messy hair. “I won't, I won't.”

He fell asleep in your arms, all while your mind kept you up the whole night. You knew this isn't what normal friends do—but this is how you were together, which was normal for you.

You got sick the day after.

—

On the third day of the week before halloween, you both were finally feeling better. He seemed back to normal, but you still had a slight sore throat that made you not want to eat. Hongjoong insisted the same way you made him eat the soup, and he cooked up your favorite pasta meal.

“You need to eat,” he muttered, using tongs to place a scoop of pasta onto a plate. You sat across from him at the table, your head in your hands.

“I have a splitting headache,” you groaned, lifting your head up to catch the glimmer in hongjoong's caring glance.

He handed you the full plate, your nose filled with the delicious scent. “I’ll get you some medicine.”

“I’m fine, joongie,” you mumbled with a rasp, twirling your pasta around in your fork, but not lifting it up into your mouth. You stared at the thin noodles that dangled from the metal, distracted as the sauce splattered onto the plate. Hongjoong watched you, an eyebrow raised and his lip curled up.

He sat down across from you. “I uh…is there a hair in it or something?” he asked you, but a joking smile dawned on his face. “If there is, still eat it. I won't do take-backs.”

“Awe, how kind,” you chuckled, finally lifting the fork up to eat the delicious pasta. You closed your eyes as the taste filled your senses, opening them to see the look Hongjoong was giving you.

“You look pretty today,” he acknowledged, his eyes dancing around your features. He blinked at you, waiting for you to brush it off.

Boom boom.

Your heart picked up its pace. “Don't lie, joong. It doesn't suit you.”

He rolled his eyes, resting his head in his hands as he stared at you. Your phone buzzed with a text message from your work friend, which reminded you about something that happened earlier during the day.

“Oh,” you muttered with a mouthful of food. “Some guy asked for my number today,” you took another bite.

Hongjoong tilted his head at you, and then moved his gaze to his own plate of food, grabbing his fork to stab the noodles. “Oh really?”

You nodded, swallowing the food as he glared down at his own. “Yeah. he was cute. What was his name….uh, yun..yunho? Super tall, let me tell you. It was like staring up at a skyscraper—”

Hongjoong interrupted you with a loud scoff, accidentally screeching his fork against the plate. “Did you give him your number, though?” he asked you, acting as if you didn't.

You studied him for a moment, feeling confused. He seemed to care more than he should. You honestly gave the cute skyscraper your number, but you didn't have a thought in your mind about actually texting him back.

You shrugged, playing with him a little bit. “Yeah, I did,” is all you said, smiling to yourself. You were sure hongjoong thought you were smiling about yunho, when in reality you were smiling for him. “He was too cute to reject.”

At that, Hongjoong’s fork clanked onto the plate, causing you to jump and look at him. He looked mad—too mad. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling like you hit a nerve.

“Joong? What's wrong?”

He laughed devilishly, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. “So what? Are you gonna go on a date with him or something?”

You knew you were pushing his buttons a little too far, but you furrowed your brows at his unusual behavior.

You leaned forward, setting your own fork down. “Hey,” you narrowed your gaze while he practically had smoke coming out of his ears. “Are you jealous? Should I not date him?”

He blinked at you, and looked down at your lips for a second.

“No.” is all he said.

“He seems like a good fuck. Should just fuck him silly instead and—”

“y/n I swear to god,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair aggressively. “I, uh. Fuck,” he hissed, unable to look at you. “Thanks for the image.”

You frowned jokingly. “Ah, I see. You were visualizing me getting fucked?” you smirked, knowing you were taking it way too far. “Do you want to watch? Or join?”

You reached your arm out, sensually touching his fisted hand. You ran your fingertips in circles around his hand, a smirk on your lips.

He pulled back and stood up abruptly, causing the chair to squeak against the floor. “I-i have to go—I mean, I have a song to write…I uh…” he coughed, glancing at you for one minute and then storming out of the room, leaving you all alone with cold pasta and a frown on your face.

He didn't show his face to you that whole night.

—

Two days later; it was a friday. You had to go to campus early in the morning to listen to a required lecture, which ended up by you sitting next to hongjoong on the commuter bus.

He sat stiffly, his knee bumping into yours occasionally whenever the bus hit a pothole. You couldn't lie, you wanted him to stay touching you.

Ever since two nights ago when you brought up fucking someone and having him watch, he acted distant with you. You felt bad, hoping you didn't make him too uncomfortable with an image he probably never wanted to see in the first place.

Joong leaned against the cold bus window, looking out at the leaves that matched his hair. In his ears sat wired earbuds, attached to the jack of his phone. You leaned your shoulder into him, looking down at his hands in his lap.

No words were spoken. He lifted his head to look over at you, and after a moment, he sighed, and handed you the earbud closest to you.

“Here,” he hummed, barely audible.

You took it wordlessly, putting it in your ear to hear the soft strum of a guitar. You didn't recognize the song, but you felt the emotion fill through the little speaker, breaking through your heart. You always loved how he would share his favorite things with you, even if he was upset with you.

“I’m sorry, joongie,” you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn't say anything; maybe he was waiting for you to continue. “I shouldn't have said those things the other day.”

He mumbled something you couldn't decipher, but then nodded shortly. “It's not something to apologize for. I’m sorry I ignored you the whole night.”

You looked at his hands. He was rubbing his knuckles anxiously, so you reached out to hold them. He jumped slightly, and you gave him a side eye.

He eventually settled with your hands on top of his, and your head against his shoulder. You listened to his whole playlist—and his heartbeat—until you had to leave.

—

The same night, you brought up the halloween party.

“I need you to come with me,” you said, your eyes pleading.

He sat next to you on the couch, pumpkin sleeping adorably in his criss-crossed lap. “Why don't you take the skyscraper?” he said blatantly, his expression unreadable. He held a bottle of soju in one of his hands and had the tv remote in the other.

Was he actually jealous? At this point, he hasn't been himself since you told him about Yunho, who you didn't even know his last name.

You looked over at him, as he was paying strict attention to finding a movie. You began to overthink like you always do, convincing yourself that Hongjoong doesn't want anything to do with you.

“Do you still want to be friends with me?” you ignored his question about yunho, now feeling a bit unstable.

He noticed the shake in your voice, and sat up straight. He finally looked over at you, his eyes softening.

“y/n,” he sighed, setting the remote down. “Of course I do. Don't worry about me leaving you.”

Your gaze shot right through him. “But…you just seem off. Ever since I joked about….you know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It's something you probably had no intention of visualizing, so I feel bad—”

“No, uh,” he gulped, looking anywhere but you. “It wasn't that…”

You raised your eyebrows. “Huh? Really? What was it then?”

He looked deep in thought—and a little nervous. You wanted the words that came out of his mouth to be a love confession, something straight out of a movie. You knew it wasn't going to turn out that way, but you couldn't stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

“I just,” he paused, afraid to look over at you. “I just worry about you. I want the best for you.”

Ouch, that wasn't a confession.

Come on, hongjoong. How hard is it to say, “Oh, y/n, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I met you?”

You hid your dissatisfaction with a smile. “I can hold my own, joongie. I may be the most anxious person alive, but I can still meet guys.”

“I know you're capable, it's not you,” he admitted, looking a bit embarrassed as he shook the bottle of soju. “It's them. The guys. You deserve the world and I don't know what I would do if a guy took it all away.”

You sat and stared as he finally picked a movie—the nightmare before christmas. It wasn't your favorite, but something about it reminded you of Hongjoong. After it started playing, he tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

“I appreciate that you care,” you told him softly, looking down at your hands in your lap. “But you don't have to worry about guys.”

You sat in silence for a little, your heartbeat finally slowing down. He scooted closer and closer to you until pumpkin jumped out of his lap angrily. He saw that as an excuse to stand up and finally plop down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours.

“You’re special to me, y/n,” is all he said as he rested his head on your shoulder, cuddling up to you under the warm, cozy blanket.

—

Tonight was the party. You were rooting through your closet, tossing things at hongjoong, who sat on your bed among the pile of clothes.

“We're being pirates, right? I’m sorry, but I doubt you have pirate shit in that closet of yours.” He teased, lifting up a shirt from the pile to fold it.

Maybe you should have planned this better.

“I have to have my corset in here somewhere,” you ignored him, knowing you were just going to toss on a slutty ass dress and put the corset on over it. “Hongjoong come here, will you?”

You heard him let out an ungodly sigh as he stomped over to you, kneeling right next to you. “What am I supposed to wear?”

“Hongjoong you literally have every possible article of clothing in your closet.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Shush.”

He stayed quiet then, and after a moment, he started to root with you. After a bunch of irritated sighs and groans, hongjoong found your corset.

“This?” he raised an eyebrow playfully. You reached out to grab it, only for him to stand up and back away from you. “Come and get it.”

“We don't have time for this, joong,” you groaned, but still stood up and followed him. He was cackling as you tried to jump for it, standing on his tip-toes as if he thought of himself as a giant. You moved forward, lunging at him with full force, which sent you tumbling down onto the smooth comforter of your bed.

You landed on top of him, his warmth radiating through you. Your hips met his hips, and something stirred inside of you. His lips were inches from yours, his hands over his head and his eyes wide.

You felt more of him than you should, but you didn't want to move. You wanted to invade his space forever—if it were a job, you’d be a professional.

He didn't say anything—he looked up through the sea of your hair, his gaze resting on your lips. He frowned, and you wondered what he was thinking.

You wanted to reach out to him. To hold him right here, forever. You wanted him to be yours and only yours.

You studied the shapes of his face, similar to how an artist evaluates their subject. He had to be sculpted by a god or something, with the way his lips curve just right, and with the compelling wonder that swirled in his eyes.

Before it got too weird, you pushed yourself up despite the ache to become one with him, and you ripped the corset out of his hands. “Thanks,” you coughed, and he still didn't move from his position on the bed.

He stared up at the ceiling—the ceiling you decorated with those tacky glow in the dark stars. The room was dimly lit from the warm-toned lamp that sat on your dresser, right next to your pile of anatomy textbooks.

You both listened to silence for a while, Hongjoong now sitting up after a few long moments. You found the dress you wanted to wear, and gave him a look.

“I’m gonna change, so if you want to see every part of me, you're welcome to stay.” you muttered, your fingertips on the waistband of your leggings. He looked at your hands, his eyes growing darker.

He raked his eyes all over your clothed body. You wondered about what he was thinking—did he want to rip the clothes off of you? Did he want to stay and watch?

Your curiosity ended when he stood up slowly. “Come help me with my outfit then. After you change, of course.”

A small fraction of your heart caved in as the door shut behind him, but the ache for him remained standing.

You slid off your clothes, wishing your hands were his.

—

You waltzed into the party, which was at your colleague, yeosang’s place. He was born with old money, and it showed through the exquisite taste of his home. He was nowhere to be found though—which was normal. He wasn't exactly sociable. The one who took it by the wheel was his best friend wooyoung, who seemed like he would embody a party.

“I didn't pregame enough,” Hongjoong gulped as he stared at the strangers around the home, some guzzling alcohol from bongs and others simply conversing with each other. On the other hand, there were a bunch of people blowing big puffs of hazy marijuana smoke, and others snorting shit that you never touched before.

Joong shivered. “Aren't you guys like…medical students?” He raised an eyebrow, his one eye covered with an eye patch and his other one wide. “You have to know that snorting cocaine is not beneficial to your health.”

You slapped his shoulder, feeling out of this world already. Maybe you shouldn't have slammed those shots. “Whatever. Lets go get fucked up so i don't have to remember this tomorrow,” you wrapped your arm in his, pulling him into the grand kitchen that had a chandelier dangling from the vaulted ceiling.

“I think you’re blown out enough, to be honest.”

You reached in the cooler to grab a bottle of some sort of alcohol you didn't recognize. “I’m guessing this shit is like millions of dollars,” you shrugged, handing it off to the pirate you called hongjoong.

He looked fine as hell in his own corset, brown leather wrapping around that thin waist of his. He had on a half-unbuttoned white button down, pulled up at the elbows. His pants were tight, leaving your mind wandering back to earlier when your hips bucked against his. His rusty hair was hidden under a bandana that matched your dress, with flakes of greens and dustings of gold.

“y/n? Hello?” he snapped his fingers in front of your face, his one eye piercing into yours. “You zoned out for a minute.”

“Ah, oh sorry,” you sighed, looking down at your own outfit. Your dress was flowy, but only reached about mid-thigh, showing leg and tits at the same time. Your legs were covered in fishnets, and you noticed many partygoers staring at them.

You reached into the cooler to grab yourself a drink, guzzling it like water. Hongjoong watched, and then did the same. You both pulled away at the same time, expressions matching like twins as you scrunched your eyebrows.

“Thats strong as fuck,” he hissed, but still drank the rest of the bottle since thats what you were doing. His eyes locked on you as you finished the last drop, and you reached for another. “Yo, slow down. You downed like five shots of vodka earlier.”

You rolled your eyes, finally feeling like yourself. You loved the feeling of being drunk—you felt like you could finally be the person you were under the surface. The person without anxiety. The person who didn't have to hide how to feel.

“You know,” you hummed, setting down the second bottle onto the gold counter. You approached him, your hands finding the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. You watched him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing—you wanted to lick it. “Did I ever tell you how hot you are?”

Hongjoong’s eyes—eye— widened at your words, and set his hands on your elbows to pull you off of him. “You’re obliterated and we weren't even here for five minutes.”

“I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, pulling out of his grip and grabbing his arms now.

He didn't even get to say what he wanted to say as the skyscraper himself came up to you, bending his head down slightly to see if it was you.

“y/n?” His tone of voice was smooth and cool, your name rolling off his tongue with ease.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, moving your attention away from hongjoong. “Skyscraper!”

He laughed, looking from you to hongjoong with a confused glance. “She must be drunk, she’s usually quiet at work,” yunho said to hongjoong, not expecting the glare of death to radiate from his single eye.

“Oh no, she’s loud and obnoxious at home,” Hongjoong growled, reaching out to steady you.

The tall vampire tilted his head at the pirate, a smirk on those full lips. “Home?” he inquired, looking at you with that same smirk. You glanced up at him with a smile, not purposely ignoring your roommate. You were just a teensy bit drunk—call it tipsy—and you were fascinated with the red contacts in Yunho's eyes.

“Did you change your eye color?” you asked him in all seriousness, looking over at the cooler filled with alcohol with longingness. Hongjoong scoffed at your words, and couldn't stop you as you reached out to touch Yunho's face, which remained in a smirk as your fingertips brushed against his skin. “Even your skin is sparkly.”

“You never answered me,” he hummed lowly, hongjoong feeling like the third wheel now. The vampire leaned down towards your face, a lustful smile on his lips. “About that date?”

Hongjoong had enough. He muttered a goodbye, but you weren't able to hear it.

“Hmmm…” you clicked your tongue, tapping your chin slowly. “I’m sorry, count dracula. I have someone in my heart already,” you proudly proclaimed.

He smiled despite the rejection, his white teeth bright under the dim lighting. “I’m guessing it’s that one-eyed pirate, hm?” he asked, but he knew the answer.

“Yep. even though he’s a little bitch sometimes,” you bowed to him then, lifting your gaze to meet his red eyes. “Sorry again.”

He nodded with a smirk. “Well your pirate just ran off somewhere, so you better go find him before he thinks something different.”

You might have been a bit out of it, but you knew enough that yunho was a good sport. He walked away before you could say anything else, leaving you all alone in a sea of people. You recognized some faces, like wooyoung and some guy named yeonjun from the general surgery department who hit on you during a surgical lesson. You surveyed the scene, meeting eyes with some random men who kept looking even when you moved your gaze.

You grabbed another drink from the cooler, flipping the cap off and dumping its contents into your mouth. After the rush of warmth hit your body, you pushed through the bodies of people in search of your person.

“Anyone see another pirate?” you yelled to no one in particular. “He has orange hair and a pretty face. Has one eye and—Oh, he’s kinda short too. Like a little leprechaun.”

Now you were just blabbing into nothingness as your vision split. You know damn well your alcohol tolerance was scarily low, but you still got yourself fucked up to the point of no coming back.

You weren't sure where you were going, but you found yourself outside now, behind the extravagant mansion. You stood on the patio, shivering from the lack of clothing and cool autumn air.

You looked out towards the yard, intricately covered in plants and flowers. If you were sober, you’d call it a garden. For now, it was just a pile of vegetation.

“Joongie! You yelled loudly, as if he was going to suddenly fly out of the bushes to greet you. There was no one around—not even a bug. “Joong? Pirate king? Captain—”

“You’re too loud,” his sweet voice filled your eardrums, but it sounded dull—like he was irritated. “Why don't you go entertain that vampire?”

“Because…” you drawled out, turning towards him in the ocean of flowers. You stood in the middle of a surreal garden, but it was too dark to see the colors. There was a small lamppost above you, only coloring a quarter of the flowers in your view. “Because I want my pirate.”

His eye studied you for a moment, and then he sighed, leaning up against the post. “Y/n, I—”

“Shh,” you whispered, drunkenly leaning up against him, unable to tear your drunken eyes from his lips. “You have something on your lip,” you hummed, the pads of your fingers brushing against his soft lips. There was nothing there; you just wanted to touch them.

“ah-ah-Okay, I think you got it—”

“ —I want to kiss you,” you whined, crushing your head against his chest. You heard his heart race as you touched him. “I want to kiss you so bad.”

He stiffened underneath you, his arms at his sides as you held onto him. “You're drunk.”

“I know, but I want to kiss you even when I’m sober,” you lifted your head up, frowning when you only saw one eye. You brushed your fingers against the soft skin of his face, gripping onto the eye-patch softly. “And I want to see your pretty eyes.”

He kept quiet and still, letting you lift the eye-patch over his head, your hazy gaze meeting his starstruck one. Your hand didn't leave his face even after the patch was gone, and he just stood there with all the love in the world in his gaze.

You leaned forward, slowly, carefully, and met your lips with his. You gripped his shirt, your knuckles turning white and your eyes shut tight. He finally snaked an arm around your waist, parting your mouth open with his own. He kissed you hungrily, as if he couldn't hold back even if he wanted to. It felt like ecstasy, two worlds colliding. You now felt like you could tell the colors of the flowers—you felt like you could do anything.

And once he gripped the back of your head to deepen the kiss, you woke up drenched in more than sweat, your clothes missing and your hair like a halo around your head.

What the fuck?

—

Was it all a dream? Did you even go to that party? Did you…did you even get to kiss Hongjoong?

You looked under the covers to see the same underwear you put on before the party—paired with the matching bra. You felt drenched to your core, dreaming about something—

“You're awake,” hongjoong gave you a weird glance as he walked into your room to toss you a hoodie of his. “Put this on.”

“Where are my clothes?” you asked with an eyebrow raised. “Did we…”

He stopped in his tracks, looking at you like a deer in headlights. “Did we what? Fuck?” he scoffed, turning away to walk out of your room. “No. and I took your clothes off because you threw up all over them.”

“So, did we actually go to the party?” you barely spoke, gripping the blanket tightly in your hands. “I had this weird dream…”

He swallowed hard and nodded, turning back to you but not meeting your eyes. “Yeah, we went.”

So you blacked out? Or was your dream possibly real?

He left the room then, leaving you all alone in a mess of yourself—and your thoughts.

After a bit of time wallowing in your own self-pity, you managed to leave your comfortable hiding spot you called a room to go downstairs, where hongjoong had a bowl of hangover soup ready for you on the table. He was nowhere to be seen, though, so you assumed he was out doing something or in his little makeshift studio.

Telling yourself it was all a dream so you wouldn't get your hopes up, you plopped down onto the chair to eat. You stared down at the soup, swirling it around with the spoon like you’ve never seen it before, your mind everywhere else but the idea of eating.

Eventually you raised the spoon to your mouth, but the thoughts of hongjoong didn't subside. He was the reason you wanted to keep on living in this god-forsaken world, and you couldn't risk the possibility of ruining your friendship. You decided to not speak of your dream, or even express your feelings, for the sake of keeping him by your side.

After you finished your breakfast, you tip-toed through the creaky floors to peek and see if Joong was in his hideout. As soon as you saw the rush of orange hair, you smiled, and left him alone. Pumpkin was staring at you through the glass window, lying comfortably on the plush carpet he had.

You walked away then, tossing on your jacket and a pair of shoes, and made your way to the convenience store around the corner. You didn't want to interrupt Hongjoong’s focus just to tell him that you wanted some banana milk.

You left him in peace, not knowing that he was going to worry about where you went.

—

You walked slowly towards your townhouse, watching the leaves land on the sidewalk. Some leaves even left imprints on the pavement, greenish-hues as the remnant of when they once lived.

Halloween was right around the corner. The party was over. You kissed the love of your life—in a dream, of course. It seemed like the world was moving so fast, as if you had no time to hold on as it moved.

You swung the door open, finding hongjoong in panic mode, his hand in his hair and the other one gripping his phone.

Your eyes widened. “Joong?” you tilted your head, slipping off your shoes before moving further. “Everything alright?”

He let out a sigh of relief, dropping his hands to his sides. “I didn't know where you went. You didn't answer your phone.”

You frowned, patting the pockets of your hoodie—hongjoongs hoodie. “Oh? I must've forgotten it.”

He scoffed as you walked past him to reach the fridge. You emptied the bag, putting the banana milk into the fridge and pulling out the cheap, single rose the store had at the register.

“You don't know how worried I was,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes in irritation. “You can't just leave without saying anything, I thought you were kidnapped.”

You chuckled softly, smiling to yourself that he cared. The smile began to drop, though, as you began to think it was only platonic—and that's all it will ever be.

You turned around to face him, a forced smile on your face. “Here,” you said, handing him the nearly-dead red rose that had a slightly bent stem.

He looked down at the token of affection, confusion washing over his features. “A r-rose?” he stuttered slightly, eyes meeting yours. “For me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, taking a step closer to him.

“Why?” he inquired, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer.

You gathered what you wanted to say, swallowing hard. “Because you're my best friend. I never want to lose our friendship.”

You saw his hesitation then. It was as if you said something hurtful, but all you spoke was the truth. He let out a little laugh, and reached out to grab the decaying flower.

His fingers brushed against yours, sending chills down your spine. The minute your skin made contact with his, you replayed the kiss you shared in dreamland, hoping that if you kept thinking about it, it would come true.

“Ah, Best friend…” he smiled—almost sadly—and inspected the rose. “Thank you.”

You sniffed, feeling like you just ruined something. But there was nothing there to begin with. You nodded, and turned on your heels.

“I uh, I’m going out then,” he spoke up, his hands feeling the petals.

You stopped, looking down at your bare feet. “Oh really? Where?”

He paused. “With friends.”

You nodded, but didn't turn around. “Have fun.”

He didn't say anything else, and just let you trudge up the stairs. Your heart felt like it was about to crumble, and without reason. Nothing changed, nothing was broken. You said the truth, he told you he was going out. A typical day in your household.

So why did it feel like your world just ended?

—

Days fly by. Hongjoong ended up coming home the next morning that day, and without a word, he locked himself up in his studio.

It was halloween. You felt like it was pointless now, unable to connect to your hongjoong like you never had a connection in the first place. As if you didn't spend every waking moment together. Birthdays, holidays.

You stood in front of your full length mirror, critiquing every single angle of your body. You knew deep down you were beautiful; some days you just saw everything wrong all at once. You stood there, lost, alone, and still thinking of hongjoong like he was living in your mind.

And one day, you’ll watch hongjoong leave, causing life to lose all its meaning.

You sighed, pulling your jeans up slightly to button them. You slid a t-shirt over your bra, feeling like you waited for this day for nothing. You felt numb—like the anticipation was worth nothing. You slid on a pair of festive socks, finally getting your bare feet off the cold, wooden floors.

It was still early—not even noon. Usually you’d be at work and joong would be at school, but you were both home, locked away in your rooms, acting like you don't exist. Well, you didn't want it to play out this way—you wanted to run into his arms, tell him you love him, and bury him in kisses in the halloween haze.

You had no plans, despite it being the night of the year for you. The party was over, your heart was aching, and you felt like you could crumble to the ground like an old building. It was just one of those days that you didn't feel like yourself—and what better time than the night you're supposed to be anything but true.

After grabbing a hat to keep your ears warm, you waltzed your way down the hallway, only to cause hongjoong to peek out of his doorway. He looked tired.

“Where are you going?” he asked you softly, his voice scratching your brain just right.

You didn't realize you were picking at your fingers until he looked down at them. You put your hands at your sides, and looked up at him. “To go get candy for the tick-or-treaters tonight,” you hummed as a response, staring into his gaze, getting lost in it for a moment too long.

He looked at your outfit, his eyes examining you the same way you looked at yourself—however, he wasn't critiquing. He was admiring. No matter what you wore, he looked at you like you were made of gold.

He nodded, tearing his gaze away from your eyes. “Okay.”

You turned around after it felt too awkward, feeling as though something was ruining your relationship. There was no warmth, no comfort. It all happened after you gave him that rose, holding back your feelings like he held back his tears.

Time passed like the world was spinning too fast, and you went on with your day as if it was any other day.

When you came back from the store, you poured the candy into a cute little serving bowl, stealing a chocolate bar like you were a kid again. A part of your soul ached as you stared down at the bowl, thinking about the days when you were the one grabbing the handfuls and eating too much candy. Back to the time when life was simple.

Hongjoong was in his studio, and you heard the dull vibrations of his voice. He was singing like he always did, but this time, you wanted him to sing for you.

You ignored it as best as you could and forced yourself to dress up in a slightly more modest pirate outfit, and after the sun began to set, you found yourself sitting outside on your porch alone. Bundled up in a blanket and a mug of hot tea in your hand, you waited patiently for the kids to come around for the candy.

Sirens blared loudly, an ambulance passing the street in front of you. You watched as the bright reds and whites reflected off the windows of the houses around you, and how the wind from it knocked more leaves to fall to their death.

You watched them crumble to the ground in front of you, small little feet stepping on them as they walked by your home. One little girl came up to you, her little shoes crunching the decaying life underneath them, and you looked up to her from your seated position.

“Trick or treat?” she asked you, her face covered in paint and her smile as bright as can be.

“Take a handful,” you murmured, forcing a smile onto your pirate persona. She smiled at you and tossed the candy into her bag, and you were too distracted to hear the door open behind you. The only sign was the brightened look on the girl’s face as she looked behind you.

“Another pirate?” she mumbled, dimples showing through her scarecrow face paint. “Is he your boyfriend?”

You hesitated, but shook your head. “Oh, no. He's just my friend.”

Hongjoong forced out a chuckle, and came up to sit next to you. “Happy Halloween,” he smiled, his leg bumping yours. You didn't shy away, but you didn't move any closer.

As the girl left, you sat in silence with hongjoong for what felt like ages. You smelled alcohol on his breath, wearing his mask like normal. You were dying to know his true feelings about everything. You lived with him for years, but yet, he knew everything about you and you knew very little about him.

A few more kids stopped, grabbed some candy, and left. As if the time flew by once again, the bowl was empty, and so was your heart.

“I have to go use the bathroom,” you let him know as you stood up. He looked from you to the empty bowl, but made no effort to come inside with you.

“Okay,” he nodded, not looking in your direction. You left his presence, needing some air.

You walked towards the bathroom that was past his studio until you noticed the door open. Pumpkin was sitting on a pile of papers, and knowing how finicky your hongjoong was, you quickly entered the sacred grounds to get the cat off the pile. With your luck, you startled pumpkin, causing her to let out a scared yelp and leap off the pile, knocking over all the sheets at once.

You let out a gasp, followed by a groan, as you quickly tried to pick up the papers. That is, until you came across some lyrics of what it looked like a song…

A song for a lover?

It was titled, halloween, and as your eyes ran across the words on the page, a few stood out. Words like roommate, coffee, watching movies, hugs, dinner, and home. His home was her. His home was with her, his love was for her.

You were his…home? His love?

“Put that down,” Hongjoong growled behind you, but his tone of voice wasn't harsh—it was defeated. “It’s nothing special.”

“I think otherwise, joong,” you murmured softly, still reading the lyrics as they made your heart race. “Is this about…me?”

He came up beside you, his face right next to yours. He ripped the paper out of your hands and held it behind his back as you turned to him. “Yeah,” he breathed, but shook his head. “But it means nothing now, okay? So don't misunderstand—”

“Can you sing it for me?”

He stared at you, wide eyed. You both were in your pirate garb, his one eye covered by the eye-patch. You thought back to your dream of lifting it up, kissing him, holding onto him….

He didn't say much. He just stared for a while, unsure about your motives. Clearly you made it known that he was just a friend to you, but little did he know that you wanted everything under the sun with him.

He sighed, and sat down onto his bench in front of the keyboard. As his painted fingers slid across the keys, he started to sing to the lyrics that were meant for you. He bled through the words, telling the story of you and him, sharing a space, and putting on masks. It was halloween, the song was called halloween, and he sang with all the love in the world to you.

It had to be a dream. There was no way he was sitting in front of you, tipsy, and proclaiming his years-long love for you through a song. It was unreal, and when he stopped singing and turned to you, you saw the concern drip off his face as he looked at your expression.

He swallowed hard, standing up to face you. “Listen, don't think much of it. Like I said, it’s worthless now and—”

You gripped the back of his head and kissed him, holding him tightly as he stood stoically. After a few moments, you pulled away, leaving his lips a mess of red from your lipstick. “I–I’m sorry. That was a little—”

He took a step forward, like you were his prey. Gripping your arm, he pulled you to him, his lips on yours with no spare of a glance. Your hands found their home in his hair, gently sliding off his eye patch with your fingers. You kissed each other as if it was your last—as if this would only last the night.

You pulled back, resting your forehead on his as his hot breath kissed your features.

“I…what does this make us?” you gulped, counting his breaths, happy that he was living at the same time as you. “Its…its halloween…we can be, you know,” you got distracted as his gentle hands caressed your arm. “We can be anything.”

He smiled at you, love dripping from his gaze. He kept his hold tight on you, and mumbled his answer into your head.

“I’ll be whatever you want,” he breathed into you, and you found yourself melting into his hold.

His lips, his hands, his breath—everything collided. Two became one once again as he kissed you, kissed you so hard that you lost your breath. Your hands meshed within the rust of his hair, your fingertips painted in orange. His tongue met the roof of your mouth the same way your hands gripped at him, repeating his words over and over in your mind.

Whatever you want…

I’ll be whatever you want…

He lifted you up then, holding onto your body tightly to set you onto his desk, knocking off all his music sheets and crumbled up papers. His finger nails pierced against the bare skin of your thighs, his lips now on your neck as you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.

He let out a moan as your fingers grazed his chest, finally pulling his shirt off his body to admire him. You let out a content sigh, wanting to taste the soju on his lips. Not yet, though, as his hands gripped the corset you were wearing, untying the laces and ripping it off your body, slightly rough but his touch was smooth.

You sat on his desk, ready for him to claim you as his own. Even if it was just for the night, you weren't thinking long term as his strong arms pulled your dress right over your head, leaving you only in your underwear.

“My god, I always wanted to do that,” he groaned, his lips meeting your neck as his hands trailed down your stomach to meet the waistband of your underwear. As his fingers slipped underneath the fabric, you arched your back into his touch.

“You like that, huh?” he whispered in your ear as you looked down at the bulge of his pants, seizing the opportunity to get him flustered. “You turn me the fuck on, you have no idea, y/n.”

Your hands brushed his erection, a sinister smile on hongjoongs pained face. He smacked his head into yours, his teeth bright white as he showed them. “Careful, baby. I’ve been waiting years to fuck you. I don't want it to end too quick.”

“Years?” you breathed into his lips your head tilted up as his hand found its home and started to slide the underwear down your hips.

He didn't answer. What he did do was pull them down your legs, and then as soon as they were off, he kneeled down onto the ground in front of you, treating you like a peasant would treat his goddess. His lips met your heat, the warmth from his breath stirring your mind into mush. You gripped his russet hair, fisting it as his tongue slipped inside you. You hissed, throwing your head back as you saw stars.

He worked magic, his lips becoming something you never wanted to lose. Eventually, he found his place above you, his fingers tilting your head back to look up at him. His hands reached out to pull your bra off, giving you a look of affirmation before gently lifting it over your head.

He stood in front of you, vulnerability showing through like sunlight through a window. He was your sun—your warmth—your love.

No words were spoken after that. You unbuttoned his pants while he kissed your lips, entangled in each other's love and infatuation. He carried you up the steps then, gently setting you down onto his bed, the creak of the mattress springs underneath you. He kissed your forehead, your nose, your temple, your lips, and trailed all the way to your breasts, admiring them like they were all he dreamed about—you were all he dreamed about.

You looked into his stare, his dark brown eyes above yours. You felt the heat of his body, and every breath he took. You wanted to count his breaths every day for the rest of your life until they stopped. You wanted to entangle yourself into his soul, spinning yourself around his finger like the red string of fate.

You wanted to make love to him every night, crawl into his embrace like he was the only human on earth. He was like a warm fireplace on a cold winter day, the fall of snow during spring. And after all, at this moment as your eyes met before he entered you, his lips moved, your senses heightened as he spoke.

“I love you,” he hummed, his eyes sparkling in the dark. You were his source of light.

After those words, he collapsed into you, his hips meeting yours and your lips meshing together. He didn't give you a chance to respond—maybe he was scared of rejection. He had nothing to worry about, and as he made love to you, you ran your hands through his hair to keep it out of his eyes.

You moaned as he rhythmically crashed into you, his lips parted and his arms tightened. You wrapped your legs around his thin waist, his upper body crashing into yours, forehead to forehead, lips to lips, chest to chest, hearts beating the same beat. His hands found your breasts, grabbing them as if they would break under his touch. He trailed his lips down your neck to your chest, kissing you sensually, tastefully, treating you like a work of art.

Your vision became hazy as you reached your high, and after he noticed your climax, he smiled to himself, letting out a moan. “Good girl,” he praised, and then flipped you over onto your stomach with a groan. You positioned yourself for him, back arched as his fingertips glided against your skin. His hands ran down your sides, his hips meeting your ass as he gripped it with his hands, entering you once again like it was his home.

“I want this every day,” he pushed into you, his breaths hitting the back of your neck, causing you to tumble onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up from his strength. “Every night. For the rest of my life, I want you.”

You wanted to cry out of happiness. You wanted to turn around and tell him you want it too, that you’ve loved him since that one day he held you. He was all you ever wanted; ever needed.

He fucked you, made love to you, as if it was the last time. His body clashed into yours, letting out the most beautiful moans. He was born to be yours, you were born to be his. Your bodies fit like pieces of a puzzle, and as he reached his ending, you gripped onto the pillow underneath you, crying out as he came into you, him spilling his love for you, through words and actions.

He breathed and breathed and breathed, his body collapsing onto yours, afraid to crush you. He pulled out of you slowly, finding his spot next to you on his bed. Your eyes met, then your lips, and then your love.

“I love you, too,” you smiled at him, your eyes blurry as his beauty took over. His hair was stuck to his forehead from all of his sweat, and you reached out to brush it behind his ears.

He was breathing heavily, staring into your eyes like they were the most beautiful color he’s ever seen. To you, it might be bland. To him—they were the only eyes that mattered. The only window he wanted to look through.

His arms snaked over your naked body, his touch feeling like ecstacy. You fell asleep deeply for the first time in ages, his soft voice humming you to sleep as the moon began to fall.

—

The next morning was just like any other. You woke up alone, no Hongjoong in sight, but the warm, delicious smell of breakfast reminded you that it was all real. You looked down, no clothes, no underwear, just you. The sheets were crumbled all messily, your heart feeling just the same.

You smiled after looking around, noticing little things around his room that just made sense. Everything about him made you feel butterflies.

You made your way down the stairs after tossing on one of hongjoong’s shirts, hoping to stir something up with him. It almost feels unreal with the way you proclaimed your love so quickly, and after all this time of hiding your feelings, it was now all out in the open.

The minute you reached the kitchen, you found hongjoong sitting in the chair next to a plate of food meant for you. He sat with his legs crossed and his eyes on you. His pretty hair was messy, and his lips were curled up in a smirk.

You smiled at him shyly.

“Oh no,” he shook his head at you, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked you up and down, smirking even more as he noticed the shirt that covered your upper body. You decided against pants, only coming out in your underwear and his shirt. “Don't go all shy on me after last night. And not when you look like…this.”

You cautiously walked towards him, and the minute you reached him, he tugged you into his lap, holding you with a look of admiration.

“About last night—”

“If you're going to say it was a mistake, I will politely decline, angel,” he kissed your lips, lingering just a moment too long. It was blissful, despite your morning breath. “I need you. I can't be without you.”

I need you…

Did anyone need you? Was he the first person to actually want you?

You smiled sadly, but his expression made you feel comfortable. “I was just going to say that I enjoyed it,” you hummed, nodding. He chuckled at that, his arms tightening around your waist.

“I’m sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. About my feelings, I mean,” I babbled on, leaning his head onto you. “I got a little jealous with Yunho, and I couldn't stand the idea of you with someone other than me. And when you kissed me at the party, I got worried that you only made a drunken mistake—”

“Wait,” you raised your eyebrows, pulling back to look at him. “I actually kissed you at the party? I thought I dreamt that…” you spoke softly, subconsciously lifting your hand to your lips.

Hongjoong stared up at you for a moment and then smiled. “Ah, yeah. But you were so out of it. You passed out on my shoulder right after you made out with me.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, no. It's okay,” he swallowed, looking a bit nervous. “I…want to take care of you when you're drunk, and when you're sick, and when you're depressed. I want to hold you while you have your panic attacks—even though I wish I could take them all away.”

You sat and listened, watching the way his eyes bounced around the room as the food got cold. It wasn't even a thought in your mind as he told you he loved you without even saying the three words.

“I want to go through everything with you. Good, bad, whatever. As long as it's with you,” his eyes met yours then. “And as long as I can kiss you whenever.”

You picked apart his expression—his eyes were glassy and his lips were parted. His smile was a bit worrisome, as if he wasn't sure you wanted what he did. You smiled then, and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be expecting showers of kisses,” you smirked, kissing his lips like they were made for you. “And shower sex. I love shower sex.”

He laughed musically, his voice always so soothing to you. You knew that your time in this house was ending, as this was the last year before graduation. You weren't sure what time had planned for you, but you hoped it was him.

There’s a time for everything. Your time with hongjoong was predetermined by fate. He was your soulmate if they existed. He was your sun, your moon, your universe. You spun around him like the moon to its earth, orbiting his existence like it was your destiny.

—

two years later,

Halloween Night

You stood on the steps of the townhouse, your phone clutched tight in your hands and a bag of candy in the other. Your heart ached the same way your feet did from all your running around at the hospital, your mind falling apart at its seam.

You stared at the red door, decorated with a festive autumnal wreath with the letters of your names.

You pushed through the door, your senses in overdrive as the smell of apples took over as a candle burned on the table. Sitting next to it was pumpkin, staring at the flame, and then at you, letting out a meow.

It was two years since you got with hongjoong. Two years before you graduated. Two years before you got swamped in work, having a hard time balancing work and romance.

You and hongjoong kept the house, deciding it was your home. You had nowhere else to go if he wasn't with you, and you graduated in love and in bliss.

Two years later, a mess of love and homemade meals, watching movies together, commuting together, sleeping together, you had a ring on your finger, a permanent mark of your love that would last forever.

You weren't planning anything—you let life take the reins. The love of your life stood in the living room, in his hands was a single rose from the mini mart—the same type of shitty rose you bought for him to ruin your relationship. Clearly it failed, as he stood, love in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

“Hi, angel,” he whispered, his hair no longer orange. It was his natural black, grown out and curled around his ears. He was beautiful in every way, a knight in shining armor, holding out a decaying rose as the leaves fell from the trees beyond the window. “Happy two years.”

You scoffed, setting down the bag of candy onto the table next to pumpkin. “A rose?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, smiling brightly.

“Why?” you inquired jokingly, walking closer to him.

He smiled prettily, his heart upon his sleeve. You watched him study you, look at every part of you. He loved you dearly, and as did you. You got a bit of butterflies from the deja vu, lost in the ocean of his eyes and drowning in the sea of his love.

He held out the rose.

“Because you're the love of my life.”

#hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez fic #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #ateez #halloween au #best friends to lovers #roomates #hospital au #ateez smut

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hachibani · 2 months

Text

i'd never seen a dog tear up

I don't think i ever wrote about it here but Bianca died on march 5th of 2021, she got diagnosed cancer in 2020 just before lockdown and major pandemic events and unfortunately every treatment I could get her in such times were not enough or too late and the moment her metastasis became unresponsive to pain medicine i decided to let her go

i know i didn't talk about her a lot here since twitter became my main site of activity for years but i remember when she had her accident back in 2016 i posted about her here too, i got a lot of support and commissions to pay for her treatment and thankfully i got support as well when i opened comms there to pay for her chemo and surgeries, and for that i will always be thankful. I don't know why but I kind of had thought if I ever post about Bianca again here in this little old blog it'd be about her beating her cancer, something happy

i really regret the fact i didn't post more about her when she was alive and once she died my depression got so bad i was either unavailable or tried to ignore the pain by focusing on personal work... to this day it still hurts to think of everything that i could or should have done even if there's no way i cannot go back in time

losing bianca after almost 13 years of being together and more than half of my life at the time with her was more traumatic than i'd like to admit, so i try to rationalize little things like not being able to replace her picture even after so long, the most i've done is sell her stroller and i still kind of regret that haha;; but neither of her brothers fit in and at some point it became too much of a reminder of her illness and last days it felt like i had to, but just that one

(even thinking she was part of my life for 1/2+ of it and that that fraction will become smaller as time passes feels so wrong it might make me cry again)

i didn't get to draw her as much as i wished either, i thought i could never capture her cuteness (i still struggle) but since i drew her again on her first death anniversary i thought "i could somewhat get her to look cute" and i try to draw her looking like this from then on https://twitter.com/hachibani/status/1500315555215126536

because of her i started drawing pets more often, my goal for this year was to draw her at least once a month but... i didn't draw her at all in february, i think i'd like to make up and draw her again this month if my free time allows it, i never thought i'd get to complete a comic (albeit short) about these feelings i've had, i have still, i don't know for how long i'll have

doing personal art like this has never been easy but i somehow feel less heavy now, maybe it's bc of the wall of text i'm leaving haha

#bianca #cw animal death #long text under cut i just remembered this is a blog i can write so much. oh

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lily-radiance · 1 month

Text

Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

#x reader #fanfiction #batman begins #dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #drabble #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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