Happy Little Mask | Italy x Insane!Reader

Contest Entry for Creator-Lynn. Emotion of choice: hate.






She blinks away the angry tears, as they’re blurring her vision so terribly that she can’t see her surroundings. Gritting her teeth, she furiously wipes them away, rubbing at her face fiercely until she can no longer see the tear tracks. Her mascara is leaving black trails down her cheeks, she notes with a frown, and her makeup is smeared. She has to fix that, if she’s going to keep this up. Quickly, the makeup is reapplied, and a smile is plastered across her face. Her eyes are bright, her hair silky, and her overall appearance very lovely. A good thing, too. She doesn’t want to reveal the rotten, depressed person she really is on the inside.

This act of hers…one crack in her flawless mask, and they’d see right through.

So that smile slowly becomes genuine, as she gazes at her perfect image in the dusty, cracked mirror, yellowed with age. So beautiful… He doesn’t know what he lost, she thinks, the smile stretching across her face. Just for a moment, her eyes gleam a bit too bright, and the grin is a bit too wide, almost unnaturally so as it pulls at the skin of her cheeks. Her hands shake slightly, as she stares at herself in that mirror in her bedroom. She reaches out with two fingers, one of them burdened with a simple, golden, diamond ring, trembling as she brushes them over the spotted, stained glass, right where her reflection’s lips are. He doesn’t know what he sent away.

She jerks her hands away suddenly as though she’s been shocked, but continues gazing at the mirror a minute longer. Then she makes her way over to the squeaky door of her abandoned old bedroom, smoothing down her gorgeous crimson dress as she does so. The event she is going to tonight, her old friend Elizabeta’s engagement celebration, is glamorous and certainly one not to be taken lightly, as the finest of aristocrats will be there, considering Roderich is her fiancé. And wearing this dress will surely get her noticed, preferably by a certain…someone.

She descends the last of the creaking stairs and rounds the corner into the large kitchen, looking as though it hasn’t been touched in years…which it hasn’t. The glinting silver knife on the counter, the knife she chose oh-so-carefully some time earlier, catches her  eye. Picking it up slowly, she fingers the razor blade, running the tip of her smooth finger over its sharp edge. A brief sting shocks her nerves, and a single bead of ruby blood gathers on her index’s rounded surface. Tracing the blood along her lips, she slides the knife into her small black purse with her other hand before leaving the kitchen.

She grins again as she walks out the door, slipping on a simple, black mask. It’s got the sweetest little face painted on it in white, along with several red kanji characters:






She never bothers to translate it for other people; she knows what it says, and that’s all that matters: Happy little mask. Be very happy.






The celebration is noisy and joyful, and she smiles and jokes away just like everyone else. Her little mask hides her identity from everyone, and no one realizes it’s ever her. She’s asked for many dances, all of which she accepts, flaunting her beauty every chance she is offered. Many men admire her this night, and she laughs and flirts, all the while hiding the inner war within. Her eyes are searching, and she’s alert the entire time, scanning the crowds for the man she knows will be here.

And inevitably, she finds him. The man with the sparkling amber eyes. The man with the warm, auburn-coloured hair. The man with the bouncing curl. The man with a careless personality, who acts like a helpless child. The man who thinks he can win any woman’s heart, then crush it just as easily and walk away without a care in the world…without knowing it. The man who’s hiding behind a white mask dusted with gold.  

Her hands clench at her sides, and something wells up within her so intensely, she recognizes it as only one emotion she truly feels in her life. It’s hot and pressing and closes her throat, but she smiles nonetheless, because…she enjoys it. The rage filling her being fuels her with such a savage feeling—it makes her feel unstoppable. So powerful…she can crush him. That man who dared toy with her heart so long ago, then shatter it so carelessly…she can hurt him. Oh, how she wants to hurt him.

And hurt him she will.






She lures him in with that seductive smile of hers. The foolish man never can resist a pretty girl, and she is no exception—she never was. He shares many dances with her, and then she requests a rest. They sit, and they talk, and she slowly earns his trust. He asks her identity, but she refuses. The celebration is masquerade-themed, after all, and that’s what her happy little mask is for. It hides her true identity. He offers to reveal his own name in exchange for hers, but still she refuses, smiling that awfully-fake smile at him.

But of course, he believes every motion, every word she speaks to him. That naïve, stupid, cowardly man buys into every single thing she does to him. Her false sweet nothings she whispers in that soft, sickly-sweet voice of hers, the flirtatious lines she drops occasionally, they all pull him in further, bringing him closer and closer to the stranger he barely knows— or so he thinks.

And as he rambles on about something back home in Italy, his curl bobbing, her lips curl into that signature Cheshire smile of hers…the one everyone’s afraid of. It disappears whenever he glances at her with those butterscotch eyes, replaced with a gentle smile for the time being. But as soon as he turns his head away, the innocence vanishes and her crazed grin returns while her fingers stroke the knife hidden in her dainty little purse.  






Feliciano finds himself inside his guest bedroom in the Edelstein Mansion, talking with the most amazing young woman. She’s so lively, he thinks to himself as he tilts his head to the right. Smiling at her once again, his hands wander over the velvet bedspread, brushing hers ever so lightly. She jumps a bit, then gradually un-stiffens her posture and allows Feliciano to take her hand into his own. He rubs small circles on the top of her hand, thoughts drifting as he listens to her speak. He can’t help but feel a little guilty for this, as the ring on his finger weighs heavily down upon his hand the more time he spends with this woman…this woman and not his fiancée.  

Suddenly, he finds himself being shoved backward, onto the mattress of the bed. “E-Eh?!” His mask slips off of his face in the process, and the objects falls with a light thud onto the floor below. “B-Bella, what…?”

“Feliciano Vargas,” she murmurs, voice smooth as silk. “I knew it was you.”

He laughs quietly, relaxing as his guilt is instantly forgotten. “I can never keep my identity a secret for long.”

“Ah, yes…but I didn’t need to see your face to know,” she whispers, one hand moving to pin his wrists above his head while the other moves toward her purse.

His eyes fill with confusion.  “Bella? What are you doing?”

“Do you know who I am?” she asks quietly, ignoring his question and reaching into the small black purse.

“No,” he replies honestly. “But I would love to know your name.”

She gives a small, bitter chuckle. “You already know my name, Feli.”

“Che cosa?” He raises an eyebrow. “But, bella, surely I’d remember one as beautiful as you?”

She shakes her head slowly, a grin twisting her lips. “But Feli, you’d never want to remember one such as myself. I bet you struggled for years to forget me.”

Feliciano remains silent, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

She suddenly laughs an unnaturally high-pitched laugh. “I suppose you would want to forget, wouldn’t you?! I don’t put it past you! You must’ve had the worst memory in the world when we were together! You always did forget our promises! You don’t even remember what my ring looks like, otherwise you would’ve recognized me on sight!”

“R-Ring?” he stammers, swallowing. “Bella, I never gave you a ri…ng…” He trails off, eyes focusing on her left hand. There is a diamond ring there, rusted and very dirty and dull, but there nonetheless…and it’s one he recognizes. Why wouldn’t he? He bought it himself. His eyes widen in horror. “…(Name)?” he whispers hoarsely.

She removes the mask, and there’s a crazy light in her eyes when she hisses, “The one and only.”

Feliciano immediately opens his mouth to scream, but she takes her other hand out of her purse and claps it over his mouth. His eyes bulge at the sight of a knife in that same hand, and he makes a strange, half-muffled choking noise.

“Ah, ah, ah~” she hums, grinning. “You can’t tell them we’re here! That’ll ruin the fun!” Feliciano’s eyes begin to tear, and he rapidly speaks from behind her hand, Italian pouring from his lips in a panic. She just shakes her head again. “Oh, Feli, you know I can’t speak Italian. You know, you promised to teach me…after we were married. But that never happened, did it…?” Her expression has darkened, and her tone is no longer mocking.

Feliciano is blubbering now, sweat forming on his brow. She looks down at him, fury blazing in those burning eyes of hers—the ones he used to find so beautiful. Feliciano starts to practically shriek words of apology, but they are all unrecognizable once they pass his lips and are blocked by the smooth, soft skin of her hand. “Oh, I suppose if you want to talk that bad…” She finally lifts her hand. “But no screaming,” she adds, her knuckles turning white as she grips the knife.  

Feliciano quickly begins to speak. “(N-Name), I know you’re upset and angry and you probably hate me but please, per favore, listen to me! I…I sent you away for a reason! You know the reason! I love you so much, you know that! And I’m sorry for sending you away! But how are you here!? How did you get past the guards? The doctors? The entire medical staff?! You’re supposed to be at the hospital, getting better! Not here!”

She just stares at him for a minute, then snarls, “Getting better?! Those doctors never did shit for me!” she says shrilly. “They think I’m a lost cause! That I’ll never feel like my ‘old self’! That I’ll never get rid of this damn depression!”

Feliciano winces. “But (Name), you have to go back! They are helping you, they are! They want you to feel better! I want you to feel better! You have—”

“NO!” she screams. “Don’t you get it, Feliciano!? They released me! They’ve had enough! They can’t fix me, they can’t cure me, so they let me go! They gave up!” She suddenly quiets, her eyes boring right into Feliciano’s. “And you know what? I’m glad they did! Because it gave me a chance to hunt down my loving husband-to-be who never came to visit. Who never came to check on me. Who never showed any care at all.”  

Feliciano flinches again. “(N-Name), I do care! I just…I just…”

She’s trembling. “You don’t care. You don’t. You would’ve come to see me.” She points to her mask that sits beside them on the bed. “I had to make this to remind myself that there was something to live for. It reminds me to be happy. My happy little mask. Be very happy.” She grabs it and quickly puts it back on, tying the black satin ribbon around the back of her head before she picks up the knife again, slowly. “You know, Feliciano…I thought you were coming back for me. I thought you cared…I told them you cared! But one of my doctors…he told me you didn’t care anymore. I didn’t believe him, but…maybe I should have.”

Feliciano shakes his head. “N-No, bella! I do care! I do!”

“You don’t,” she responds calmly. She begins to stroke the knife. “You know, Feli…this mask I wear…I love it. I love it more than I ever loved you. You know why? Because it keeps me happy like it’s supposed to. It hides my sadness and depression, and makes other people believe that I’m happy…even if it’s just for a little while. Some people don’t like my mask, though… Sometimes they run away— just like you did. But that’s okay. I took care of them~”  






She turns to Feliciano, the knife in her hand shining in the light of the moon that beams through the unobscured windows. “I hate you, Feliciano Vargas. I really do. So…” She takes off the ring that she has kept for so many years. “…you can have this back.” She forces the small band of gold around the ring finger of his right hand, then sits back up to look down at him. “I don’t have any happiness anymore, Feli…” she whispers, “…and I want to have my happiness back. I’ve been told suicide’s not the answer by my doctors so many times, but…”

She smiles.

“…They never said murder wasn’t.”  






That was so many years ago.

She stands now at the grave of the man who she once thought she loved…wondering why the hate still hasn’t gone away. There’s an awful feeling of rage still sitting in the pit of her stomach, and she doesn’t know why. It refuses to leave, even though she’s taken care of the person she hated so long ago. She wants to know why she still hates…but the gravestone, nor does the cemetery, offer any answers. She feels so lonely, now. Lonely, angry, and…sad. There’s no happiness left, although she does still wear the mask to try and make the joy come back into her empty life. It’s such a nice mask. Black and white and red, with a lovely satin ribbon to tie it around her head.

She has it on now, as she sits at the foot of Feliciano’s grave.






There’s a rope coiled at her side as she sits in the tranquil cemetery, wondering why she still feels so empty. She thought killing Feliciano would bring her hateful heart peace, but…it did nothing but make her feel worse. So, now she thinks back to the doctor’s words, so long ago…suicide was never the answer, but…would it put an end to the hatred in her heart?

Her eyes dart to the rope, and the tree just a few feet away. She reaches for the rope and ties a noose, big enough to fit her head. She hesitates, stroking the mask currently resting against her face, tied with a black satin ribbon.

Not the answer…not the answer…






The mask sits at the foot of the grave marker whose edge she stands upon, now. She’s tall enough to slip her head through the noose. She looks down at the mask.

“Happy little mask…” she whispers, “be very happy.”






You jump off the stone. And smile.