Derek Choked And Coughed, As He Slowly Slid Away From The Wreckage, His Head Spun-and He Knew That Blood

i’ve gained so much respect for chan and the humbleness he has shown. he works so hard, and stray kids have gained so much popularity that it could’ve been very easy to get cocky. however, he and the rest of the guys are so humble. also, for anyone that might be going through a rough time and that stray kids is one of their emotional support, just know that the guys (and I even if we’re strangers) love you and appreciate you all very much.

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˚ ༻✿ Herbarium ✿༺ ˚

I would like to blame @bye-bye-sunbird​ and @yandere-romanticaa​ for my descent into Capitano hell. All I could do was write my longest fic in hopes of purging the brainrot……yeahh so pls enjoy my humble contribution to the Capitano agenda ;-;

Thank you so much to my dear friend @diodellet​ for peer reviewing this and helping me out with the Genshin lore!! I delighted in watching you suffer  ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, violence, blood, murder, psychological trauma, mention of child abuse, spice, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader described as physically weak and smaller than Capitano, this fic will most likely be considered OOC in a few years

♡ 10.1k words under the cut ♡

i. dandelion

You adore dandelions for the same reason that you despise them.

A tiny flower symbolic of love and freedom. The ethereal ghosts of golden petals adored even—or perhaps only—after losing their vibrant, sunlike forms. A soft blow is all it takes to breathe new life into the flower, for the seeds to embark on new journeys in a scatter of liberated parachutes and hopeful wishes.

Not all dandelions have the fortune of finding new homes, however. Some are plucked for human purposes and imbued with new value as sentimental gifts. Many are transformed into entirely different products such as food and wine. Others are simply forgotten, doomed to remain in their original area until death finally claims them. Regardless, dandelions are transient like any other flower and will eventually disappear from the world.

Your flowers are deprived of that fate.

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“i wanna hold your hand” - excuses for your characters to hold hands

prompt list by @novelbear

"your hands are cold...let me warm them up for you."

taking advantage of the fact that they're walking through a crowded place and holding their hand so that they "don't get lost"

maybe they get slightly jealous while out, so they grab onto their partner's hand to establish their relationship

"something's on your finger. give me your hand, let me see.."

mentioning that they want to compare hand sizes

pinky promising over everything so that it's easier to naturally intertwine their fingers with the others'

"okay, but if i'm right then you have to hold my hand!" "that's not much of a punishment but alright babes, whatever you say."

"can you hold this for me?" "there's nothing in your hand." "exactly."

going in as if they're just innocently fiddling with the other's fingers, then trapping them about thirty seconds later

making the effort to find where their partner is and dragging them by the hand rather than just calling them over to where they wanted them in the first place.

"you need me to hold your hand so you can read the instructions?" "it helps me concentrate!"

grabbing onto the other's hand out of nervousness

slowly intertwining fingers while the other is driving

"they always hold hands and rub it in everyone's faces, i want us to look cute too!"

going on a rant about how much they love to hold hands, hoping that the other would take the hint and offer

"can you hold my hand?" "of course, my love."

meant to be

❀ yuki x reader (she/her pronouns used) ❀ 1,700+ words ❀ cw - angst ❀ italicized sections imply a flashback , y/h/c = your hair color , ʚïɞ indicates time has passed ❀

“are you absolutely certain you want your memories erased?” hatori asks with concern laced in his voice, as his hand hovers above your head.

you weakly gaze up at akito from where you were outside, her dark eyes pass straight through you without a single ounce of remorse. in the far distance, you can hear yuki’s footsteps growing closer and closer, desperately searching the estate for you.

hatori sighs when yuki’s cries turn into pleas that echo off the hollow walls.

“y/n?! please, where are you? don’t do this, i—i need you.” he screams, his voice breaking as he helplessly wanders around.

“yes, please.” you mumble, a tear running down your cheek as you stare blankly at akito. she raises a brow, and with an evil grin, she doesn’t bother to break eye contact.

darkness. your unconscious body falls backward and hatori catches you before you hit the ground, brushing some of your hair back.

yuki stands frozen next to akito as he watches your lifeless body collapse into hatori’s arms. his knees thud to the ground, bruises sure to form on the affected area, while tears stream down his face and onto the already damp grass below.

akito tsks, “i told you yuki, she can’t love you the way i do.” she rolls her eyes at his attempt of defiance, returning back to her house.

yuki shook his head, gripping at the grass with trembling fingers. akito was right; you couldn’t love him like she did. because you loved him better. so much better than anyone ever could.

“i’m going to take her home now,” hatori says, standing to his feet with you in his arms.

your face glistens in the unsuspecting moonlight, skin glowing more than ever. “no,” yuki begins, “i’ll take her home myself.” he sadly announces, holding out his arms for you.

against his better judgment, hatori allows him to do this, gently handing you to him with ease.

from the second story of her room, akito’s eyes follow the both of you until you’re out of sight, the feeling of remorse completely absent from her mind.

yuki brushes a tear away from your cheek. his bottom lip quivering as he scans over your delicate features in an attempt to memorize them.

“i’m so sorry y/n,” he whimpers, “you didn’t deserve this.” another one of his tears drops onto your face, staining your beauty.

he leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips, it’s light and it wasn't enough for him, but he knows it’ll have to suffice for now. yuki can’t even bring himself to fake a smile as he nears your house, knowing these were the last few moments he had with you.

“i’m never giving up on us,” he breathes, his panicky cries becoming more frequent as he can’t contain his sobs anymore.

“…i will find you again. i promise.”

ʚïɞ

yuki’s eyes burn as the bright morning sun shines through his curtains. the memory of you plagues his dreams, like a nightmare he could never escape. he runs a hand through his silver hair, the constant sadness looming in his chest even years after.

the first day of his second year of college came sooner than he anticipated as he glanced over at his bedside clock and the time read 10:28.

shit.

he springs out of bed, rushing to simultaneously gather all of his supplies and get dressed and ready. before heading for the door, he slips the promise ring you had gotten for him on his ring finger, just as he did every day.

yuki steps onto the train, slightly out of breath from running. he sighs when he hears the familiar sound, just like in high school, the girls never failed to provide him with unwanted attention. so following close behind him were a group of his female classmates swarming him like bees to honey.

flattered as he may be, yuki does his best to politely decline their advances. “i’m sorry ladies, i’m just not inter—“

yuki’s sentence stopped abruptly when he glanced outside the train window, and there you stood. bag slung over your shoulder, y/h/c blowing in the gentle breeze as you read the train route map. all the overlapping voices of morning commuters and fangirls fade until they’re dulled, sounding as if they were in another room and all he could focus on is you.

his breath hitches in his throat, his eyes transfixed on your silhouette as you sit on the nearest bench, making yourself comfortable.

for a second he believes he’s hallucinating, perhaps the universe is torturing him once again with another dream of you. that this may be too good to be true, just another cruel joke by forces outside of his control, but no. you’re here, sitting a mere couple of yards from him.

most likely from the intensity of his stare, you look up, directly staring into his eyes despite the distance between you. yuki’s heart drops in his chest as you offer a small, innocent smile that has his mind racing a million miles a minute.

before he can exit the train, it takes off, sending him speeding in the opposite direction, knocking him back into reality. the fangirls remain at his side, but the entire train ride his mind is far from here.

bidding farewell to all the girls that had followed him, he finds himself too lost in thought to greet haru or momiji, completely forgetting about the urgency of getting to the class he was late for and slips his way to his first lecture hall seemingly undetected.

there's chatter when he enters, his presence enough to make the classroom stir, which the professor didn't mind either. yuki takes his seat, absent-mindedly pulling out his materials.

his head pound with so many questions.

how could this be happening? how were you here?

the last yuki heard you had moved away, unexpectedly, the day after everything happened. away from him.

“settle students, settle down. as i was saying, i’d like to introduce my teaching assistant for the semester: y/n. be nice to her, it’s her first year as a teaching instructor.” the professor instructs.

yuki’s head shoots up and there you are, once again, same gorgeous smile, waving to the class.

your eyes trace back to meet him, causing yuki’s cheek to tint a rosy pink. he can’t keep your gaze as that interaction alone reminded him of the first time you met.

the remainder of the class is spent stealing glances from each other, glances that last too long to be anything but familiar. and for a while, yuki believes he's going crazy. driving himself insane for no other reason besides love, or maybe, just maybe, you recognize him too.

when the instructor dismisses the class, of which yuki had spent most of the time admiring you, he stays behind. he wasn’t exactly sure why, he didn’t even know if he should approach you, but he didn’t want to just leave.

you pack up and recollect with the professor, until only you and yuki are left in the room. and you don’t fail to notice his presence either, the tension growing stronger the longer you two sit in silence.

“uh—excuse me,” you say, just as you finish gathering your things.

yuki gasps, caught off guard by your willingness to speak to him. although, it makes him giggle on the inside knowing that your first ever interaction began the same way too.

“yes? i’m sorry, did you need something?” he asks with pleading eyes. yuki didn’t know what you were going to say, but he almost pities himself with how desperate he must sound just aching to be able to talk to you

you shake your head, “oh no, i wanted to apologize.”

his head tilts with confusion, “apologize for what?”

giggling, a sneaky red tint fills your face.

the sound of your laughter is euphoric, yuki convinced himself that he’d never be able to hear the heavenly sound again, but here he was, basking in all its glory.

“i wanted to apologize if i made you uncomfortable with my staring during class, you just remind me of someone, but i can’t remember who,” you explain with a frazzled expression.

yuki knows it’s selfish to ever even attempt to remind you of the love you once shared. what kind of boyfriend would he be to put you through that again, so he says nothing for a moment.

but, he was never one to give up so easily.

“don’t worry about it, could i buy you some tea or perhaps lunch? maybe we can get to know each other? if you’re not busy, of course” he suggests, the words escaping past his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

you enthusiastically nod your head and yuki can’t help but feel the pink blush remain warm and present on his face.

your purity remained and possibly flourished as time passed on, even when he was no longer in your life. but he didn’t expect anything less, yuki knew he loved you for a reason.

ʚïɞ

“i’m still in school myself, but i was recommended to be a teaching assistant for this class because of my previous success in the course. it was a little scary, but i think i can manage,” you continue, rambling on even after yuki asked you just one question, but he doesn’t mind.

his face softens, staring at you with half-lidded eyes and a loving smile.

he doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve this, to have you back into his life; a second chance with you.

“pardon me ms.y/l/n, may i see you in my office for a moment?” a professor asks as he walks past the two of you.

“of course sir! just give me one moment please,” you request, pulling a marker from your backpack. “sorry, i have to go, but maybe we could have lunch another time?” you say with a soft smile pulling yuki’s hand.

“oh—oh, yes! of course, that sounds lovely,” he stutters, flustered by the sudden contact.

you scribble something down on his hand, your delicate touch sends shockwaves through his body.

“okay, i’ll see you later yuki,” you smile, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek.

yuki freezes for a moment, watching you exit the hallway, his mouth open slightly agape. he brings his shaky hand up into view and his eyes widen at the message you left him directly under your phone number.

‘thank you for waiting for me yuki’

and when he thinks back for a moment, he realizes he never even told you his name.

☆ Sentence Starters ☆                Dying

❝ I never thought it would end this way.. ❞

❝ I tried.. I tried for the last time… ❞

❝ Please remember me, it’s all I ask… ❞

❝ I’m not ready for this.. I’m too young… ❞

❝ Oh God— it HURTS so BAD! ❞

❝ I’ll watch over you always… ❞

❝ At least my pain will finally be put at ease… ❞

❝ Why me..? ❞

❝ At least I could protect you one last time… ❞

❝ Keep everyone safe for me, okay..? ❞

❝ I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… ❞

❝ This is it… this is how it ends. ❞

❝ Keep yourself safe… ❞

❝ Please make the pain stop.. ❞

❝ Just finish me, do it quickly, please…! ❞

❝ What– NO!!! ❞

❝ Why would you do that?! ❞

❝ NO! Keep your eyes open! You must survive! ❞

❝ I can’t live without you! ❞

❝ I’m so sorry… I couldn’t protect you.. ❞

❝ What have I done…!? ❞

❝ Oh God no, please, no.. ❞

❝ Please watch over me… ❞

❝ I’ll never forget you! I promise! ❞

❝ No, wait! You can’t die! Not yet! ❞

❝ What about all the things we had planned?! You can’t leave now! ❞

Warning: Death, blood, wounds/injuries, unhappy ending.

"I think I'm... I'm dying."

"No, you're not," Caretaker insisted, panting loudly as they frantically ripped their shirt off and pressed it against the gaping wound in Whumpee's side. "You're not dying. No. The- the paramedics will- they'll be here any minute now and they're gonna help you. They're gonna make sure you come home to me again. You're not- you're not leaving me."

Whumpee didn't have the energy to convince them otherwise. They could feel their eyes already beginning to get heavier, and their bloodied hands trembled violently as they reached up to cup Caretaker's face in it.

"You're not dying," Caretaker repeated, their voice cracking. "You're not... you're not dying. Not yet."

Whumpee found themselves with a small, saddened smile. "I love you. You were always so kind to me..."

Caretaker gritted their teeth. "I am always kind to you. Present tense. You're not going anywhere."

"You and I both know that's a lie."

Instead of responding, Caretaker buried their head against Whumpee's chest and began to cry; long, heart-shattering wails leaving the back of their throat as they listened to Whumpee's breathing declining right in front of them.

"You're not leaving me, you're not leaving me..." they whispered repeatedly, feeling Whumpee's fingers gently trailing through their hair.

They continued to repeat that line well after Whumpee was gone, refusing to let go of their lifeless body when the medics tried to convince them to. Trembling fingers desperately attempted to get Whumpee to card their fingers through their hair one last time.

They refused to accept that their Whumpee was gone.

[cn server content]

《Tears of Themis · 末定事件簿》

luke ur going to be the death of me AAAAAAA _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_

夏彥 · luke SSR / 「抵此情深」 PV

Me: I wish Oda would give us an original villain who doesn’t fall into the “Smug bastard” or “undefeatable badass” category :////

Also me when Oda revealed Cracker and Katakuri:

Under His Skin ~ Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k

Pairing: Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow (Nolanverse Batman) x F Reader

Warnings: Stalking, gaslighting, coveting, drugging, voyeurism, manipulation, plans to falsely imprison, vandalism.

Your world continues to implode in the wake of Ares' breakdown. What happens with his apartment now that you were added to the lease? What of your wedding plans? And the art gallery...

Jonathan realizes that the League of Shadows gave him the key to a fully-realized fear toxin. But what will they want in return? The only leverage they have to use against him is her so he's running out of time to lock her down...

She knocked softly three times. Right on time. The clock read 12:13 exactly. 

Jonathan didn’t say anything, just opened the door with deliberate calm. 

She smiled faintly as she stepped inside, a takeout bag in hand. “Lunch, love.” Then she froze, and her eyes widened. “I... I'm so sorry. That was habit. I didn’t mean...”

Jonathan tilted his head slightly, just studying her. 

Habit.That word didn’t belong to me. But it will.

She moved past him, setting the food carefully on his desk. She was dressed like she had been in the early days when she'd arrive for Ares with a calm smile and soft conversation, confident in her skin, polished without effort. A tailored coat with a simple blouse tucked into slacks. Her jewelry was understated.

But it wasn’t what she wore that caught his attention. It was the scent of her perfume. He just realized she hadn't worn it in many days, the faint, clean smell of linen and her. 

Jonathan turned slightly as she passed, tracking the air she disturbed as he closed the door.

You’re trying. Putting yourself back together, and keeping the routine intact. Making it look whole again.

But it isn’t. Not anymore.

He looked at her more closely now. The illusion of routine was in place. But the light was gone from her eyes. The easy laughter he’d observed on her first days at Arkham? Absent. The subtle self-assurance in her posture? Faded.The confidence in her voice when she used to tease Ares or distract the staff? Muted.

There was something else now. Strain. She was tired. Not just physically, but beneath the surface. 

I’ve bent something in you. Not enough to break. Just enough to shift the balance.

It would make her easier to guide and shape. Now she'd ask fewer questions. She'd trust him faster, doubt less.

Jonathan should like that. He should want that. But something about it… unsettled him.

She was vibrant when I first saw her. Untouched by decay. Now there’s a shadow.

And I cast it. It works in my favor. But it’s mine. I’ll have to fix it. 

Not to restore her. But to own every piece of her, including her joy and warmth. Not just what was left after the storm... but what he rebuilt from the ruins.

“Well,” she said, trying to recover, “I asked a few of the nurses if they knew what you liked. A couple mentioned this place. I hope it’s okay.” She took her normal seat while he sat in the chair next to her.

Jonathan opened the bag slowly, surprised. Yes, he did like that restaurant. Lean protein, quinoa, a side of steamed vegetables. Not quite his usual order, but remarkably accurate.

You did research.To please me.

He looked up, as she pulled a wrap from her own bag. She was watching him, not expectantly, but hoping.

“Yes,” he said. “This is fine.”

This is perfect.

The meal unfolded quietly, comfortable. Until she asked. “How is Ares today?”

“Stable,” he said gently. “Still nonverbal and disconnected, unfortunately.”

Jonathan didn’t soften the truth because it served the narrative now. He watched her fingers stiffened around the tea cup.

With practiced ease, he continued. “We’ve adjusted his protocol. Low-dose antipsychotics, and a carefully managed sedative taper. I’ve removed all environmental stressors.” He glanced at her briefly. “Limited light. No auditory stimulation. Strict familiar routines. We’re treating it as an acute psychotic break with fear-induced catatonia.”

Let her hear the language. Let it sound official. Make her feel like she’s already in too deep to find clarity on her own.

You see? I’m the only one who can help him. And I’m not done trying. But if he slips too far… you’ll already be anchored somewhere else.

Her eyes dimmed slightly, and he watched it happen with controlled detachment. Jonathan saw sadness and guilt. Dependency. All of it played out across her features like the stages of a test subject adjusting to new sensory inputs.

And when the new toxin is ready, Ares will be its first vessel. If it works the way it should… he’ll never speak your name again.

She took a sip of her tea from the restaurant. Habit? But her shoulders were drawn just slightly inward, like she didn’t realize the shape of her own grief.

Jonathan set down his own water glass and leaned forward, not too far. Just enough to make the moment feel deliberate.

"How's your tea?" he asked.

She made a face, then smiled. "Not the greatest."

"I made tea for you," he said, moving to get it for her. 

She held up a hand to stop him. "I'll get it," she said. 

But he didn’t miss the subtext. She was trying to keep her balance. Trying to reclaim routine. 

Still trying to move freely in a world that belongs to me now. And I let her. Because watching her move is its own kind of control.

Jonathan stayed in his seat, enjoying the lunch she brought him. But he watched her, shoulders drawn back, the loose fall of her blouse shifting with each movement. Her fingers wrapping around the handle of the teapot with familiar confidence. The lines of her body moved like muscle memory. Not quite graceful, too tired for that. But sure and natural. 

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to conceal his body's reaction to her. Her slacks fit her like a second skin, showing off a perfect ass and those long, long legs...

I want everything. Not just her body .Not just the sound she makes when she exhales into my collar or the shape of her mouth when she says my name. I want her gaze, her choices, her routines. I want her to wake up and make my coffee without realizing it’s devotion. I want her to forget that she ever had mornings without me.

She poured the tea carefully, still unaware of how closely he watched her. Still safe in the belief that she was here by choice.

You’re building a new life. And I’m going to be every part of it. Even if I have to burn down everything you knew to make room.

She returned to her chair with the cup in hand.

"You’ve asked about Ares every day,” He said low and steady. “But you never talk about yourself.”

That line of conversation caught her off guard. Her mouth opened, then closed. “I… I’m fine,” she said quickly, but not convincingly.

He tilted his head. “Are you?”

She hesitated. And that tiny gap between instinct and truth? That was his opening.

“You witnessed a deeply traumatic event,” he said softly. “You went into shock. You were attacked when that patient was accidentally freed from his room. Today you returned to the same environment. That’s not ‘fine.’ That’s survival.”

She lowered her gaze, a faint, strained smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Guess I have a talent for being in the wrong place at the worst possible time.”

Jonathan didn’t return the smile or reward the deflection. “It’s not bad luck. It’s trauma. And it’s not something you’re meant to carry alone.”

She didn’t answer right away, just stared down at her tea, fingers wrapped too tightly around the cup. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “I think I’m just… alone.” She didn’t look up. “Ares was my rock. Even when things got hard. He could be stubborn, but he was... he was steady.” Her thumb rubbed anxiously along the porcelain. “My parents are gone, and I don't have siblings. I have an aunt in Boston, but we haven’t seen each other in years. And Lex...” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “She and I own the gallery together. Lexi has enough on her plate. I don’t want to add more.”

Jonathan listened, saying nothing yet. He’d already known all of it, including her reluctance to burdening others. It was all in her messages, her patterns and silences. It was data first.

But now, it was confirmation.

You feel you're drifting, untethered. And you’re telling me that directly. You don’t even realize what you’re giving me.

Every anchor you’ve lost becomes another reason to bind yourself to me.

He leaned forward just slightly. “You don’t have to perform for me,” he added.“Not here.”

Her shoulders loosened, she exhaled. Her fingers curled slightly around the base of the teacup. “I don’t really know how I’m doing,” she admitted finally.

Jonathan nodded, slow. “That’s common. You’re in a state of transition, there's uncertainty. It can cause disorientation, fatigue, even self-blame.”

Finishing his lunch, he asked. “Have you been sleeping?”

She nodded too quickly while he tried not to remember watching her sleep last night. Those red panties...

“Restfully?”

Her silence was the answer.

“Your mind hasn’t accepted the change yet,” he said gently. “It’s still trying to reconcile what happened to Ares with what it wants to believe about the world.” He watched her face closely. “That disconnect is painful, but manageable. With guidance.”

With my guidance.

She looked at him then, vulnerableand tired. But still trying to stand upright in her own shoes. 

He admired that, the way she still tried to hold herself together and meet his eyes without trembling. But it couldn’t last. She was already falling apart at the seams. Held together by routines and the memory of stability, or Ares. 

And now him.

“I’d like to help you with that,” he said finally. “As someone who’s… invested in your well-being.”

That was the softest he’d ever said it. Invested.

She looked at him, really looked. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Searching his face like she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to see.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” she admitted, almost a whisper. “But… thank you. That means more than I know how to say.”

She smiled, grateful. And lost.

Let the line blur, and feel like comfort, not intrusion. Let her reach for it without knowing what she’s touching.

She was quiet now, the kind of quiet that comes after surrender. It wasn't because she wanted to give in, but because she didn’t know how to keep standing on her own. She was exactly where he needed her, and where she'd be safe. 

You won’t have to worry much longer. Very soon, you’ll be somewhere warm, quiet, protected. Safe and sound. Because I’ll put you there.

And no one will ever touch you again.

She glanced at the clock then,startled by how much time had passed.

“I should probably go.” She stood slowly, not rushed, but reluctant. She gathered her things, and stood with a tired, grateful smile.

Jonathan rose with her. “Let me walk you out.”

She hesitated, but nodded. They moved down the corridor together in silence, her footsteps slow beside his.

Jonathan kept his hands folded behind his back, resisting the urge to touch the small of her back. He was so close now. Close enough that if anything happened, she’d reach for him without thinking. She already had. And she would again.

Outside, the afternoon sun filtered through a thin layer of clouds, casting everything in a grayish hue. Her car sat in the visitor lot which was emptier this time of day.

Pausing beside her, he said, “Be mindful when you’re out in Gotham. There’s been a rise in petty crime lately, muggings, break-ins. Especially downtown.”

She looked up, concerned. “Really?”

Jonathan nodded once. “It's been all over the news.”

She swallowed hard. He watched her eyes flicker with unease.

Good.

You won’t have to worry much longer. Soon, you won’t drive yourself to work. You won’t sleep alone. You won’t lie awake wondering if the city outside your window still remembers how to be cruel.

Because I’ll have you. And that will be the end of it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, unlocking her car.

He didn’t respond, waited. He watched her slide into the driver’s seat, close the door, and glance back once before turning the key.

She didn’t know it yet, but she’d just survived her last solo trip to Arkham.

The gallery had been quiet all day. Almost too quiet. Lexi hadn’t come in, again. Another family issue with another vague apology by text.

You didn’t mind helping. You never did. You loved the gallery. Loved the way it smelled in the mornings, like fresh paint, old wood, and a thousand possibilities. You loved seeing an artist’s face light up when their work found a home. You believed in what you were building, and to you, it was a valuable contribution to the world.

But lately, it felt like the whole weight of it had been dropped into your arms. Every exhibit, email, meeting... The pedestal that cracked mid-install? Yours to fix. The broken lightbulb over the entrance? You replaced it. The delivery that showed up two days early? You made it work.

And Lexi? She was always sorry, overwhelmed, and somewhere else. You understood. She had her problems, and always had.

But Ares was in Arkham right now, fighting for his mind. And Lexi had barely asked about it. Once. Other than that, she hadn’t followed up or offered to help. Nothing.

It wasn’t fair to expect more. But wasn’t it also unfair to expect so little from someone who was supposed to be your friend?

And then there was Jonathan.

You didn’t even realize how much you’d started to depend on him until recently. The way his voice could cut through the noise in your head. Staying calm, you knew, was a big part of his job. Ares had been the same, only when everything was slipping sideways, Ares could help talk you down and couch it in humor and affection. When he decided you were okay, the matter was done. Even if it really hadn't been. Jonathan didn't do what he thought he should until you seemed stable. He saw you. Not only was he taking care of Ares, trying to bring him back to you, but he also took care of you, thought about your needs. 

Without him… I don’t think I could even walk into the gallery right now. What would you do without him? And the scariest part? You didn’t want to find out.

You locked the front door at 8:47 PM and stood in the street a little longer than usual.

Jonathan’s warning crept back into your mind. Be mindful when you’re out.

You made it home fine. You had leftovers for dinner with the tea you always made yourself. But now, it didn't seem nearly as good as what Jonathan made for you. 

Jonathan had been particularly kind today. You hated how much you clung to it. How it filled the space Ares used to take up, and on another level, that felt wrong. 

Ares is still here. Somewhere. You can’t give up on him.

You curled into bed with your phone, scrolling back through your old messages with Ares like you did every night. The casual ones.The late-night ones.The ones he sent on nights he worked late, telling you how much he couldn't wait to see you. Couldn't wait to marry you. You read them slowly, trying to remember the last one where he still sounded like himself.

You missed him. More than that, you needed him. And the ache of that need twisted something in your chest. The only person who seemed to understand that pain…Was the man who’d replaced him.

Jonathan would be Arkham’s new Chief Administrator. It wasn’t official yet, but everyone knew. And you knew what that meant. Even if Ares recovered, if some miracle reversed what had happened to him, he couldn’t go back to that role. That part of his life was over. But he’d still have you. You’d help him rebuild, and start again somewhere. You’d take care of him. You just needed him to come back.

Just come back.

And still, your mind kept drifting to someone else. To the way Jonathan had stood between you and danger. To the quiet way he said your name like he already knew your breaking points.

You trusted him, hard to believe with how he'd treated you when he arrived at Arkham. You hated that the voice that calmed you most was no longer Ares’s.

You just needed time to get through this. And when Ares comes back to you… this will all be something you survived. Together.

But the world kept moving around you. Two emails sat unread at the top of your inbox. The first was from the realtor, the final paperwork for the apartment was ready. Ares had added you to his lease. After six years of loving each other in borrowed spaces and parallel lives, you were finally going to live together. The forms were signed. You hadn't started packing because honestly, you didn't have a lof things to pack.

And now? Now you didn’t know what to do. What happens to his apartment if he doesn't come back? Do you move in without him? Do you cancel the lease? Do you wait… and for how long? And it wasn't like you could afford to keep up both places for long. You’d reached out to his brother, Colin, over the weeked. He’d been kind, but shocked like you. He asked for updates saying he and his wife were planning to come visit soon. They’d meant well.

But you weren’t ready to face anyone who’d ask all the questions. You were barely holding together yourself.

The second email was from the wedding planner. Lexi had found her for you back when things were normal. When there were color palettes and tasting appointments and venues to tour. Now the planner was asking why you hadn’t responded.

“Still waiting on final headcount and floral preferences. Please call me tomorrow!”

Tomorrow.

You closed the app. Let the phone slide onto the pillow beside you. You’d do it tomorrow. You just felt so tired. You fell asleep sometime after midnight.

Jonathan’s eyes remained fixed on the mirrored phone screen. He could picture her in bed, phone cradled in both hands, the way someone might hold a fragile memory. She was scrolling through her old text messages with Ares. She did it every night. Always in the same order, far enough to catch the softness. The in-jokes. The familiar cadence of a man who hadn’t yet come undone.

But tonight, she didn’t go as far. He watched as her scrolling slowed. Her thumb hesitated, and stopped. She had read only half as many messages as last night. And last night had been fewer than the night before.

The threads are fraying. You're unraveling the attachment by accident. Thread by thread. Memory by memory.

You weren’t forgetting Ares. But the ache was dulling.

Jonathan leaned back slightly in his chair, watching the screen. You don’t even know you’re letting go. But I do. And I’ll be there when your hands are empty.

Exhaling through his nose, he rose. He still had a couple of hours until the gallery strike began. He had plenty of time. 

Downstairs, the air in his lab was cool and sterile, just the way he preferred it. Glass glinted under the recessed lights. Notes were neatly ordered in columns on the back wall. Every variable mapped. Every failed attempt annotated.

But tonight, something was different. 

In the small glass vial on the center table, the powdered extract from the Himalayan Blue Poppy shimmered faintly in solution, an iridescent tone that hadn't existed in his earlier trials. Adjusting the syringe, he introduced the compound into the toxin’s latest base, and watched the reaction unfold under the microscope.

And there it was.

The lattice he couldn’t form before, the depth he’d been chasing. The new compound didn’t just amplify the fear response, it personalized it. Jonathan’s pulse rose slightly. Enough that he noticed it, but didn’t stop it. He adjusted the formula, refined the carrier agents, and made detailed notes on dosage calibration. 

He was already thinking ahead to first trials. Ares was the perfect subject with his personal history and emotional significance. And the public explanation? An already unraveling mind. It wouldn’t just work, it would validate everything. And if it worked there would be permanent fear, silence.

He straightened slowly, stretching his spine, the faint ache in his lower back a familiar sign of real progress.

His visitor was right. It was the missing piece. The breakthrough he’d been chasing for months, buried in the petals of a rare flower used for centuries by those who understood that fear was not a symptom but a weapon.

And the man who’d given it to him? Jonathan had since learned his name. Henri Ducard. At least, that was the name he currently used. He wasn’t in any medical or scientific registry. No academic papers or corporate affiliations. But Jonathan had found traces, buried in older intelligence archives, outdated MI6 records, a few declassified CIA fragments. 

Ducard was the kind of man who didn’t exist until it was too late. The kind of man who walked in the shadows of governments, who led the shadows. 

The League of Shadows. A myth to most, but Jonathan didn’t believe in myths. Only patterns, and Ducard had a pattern. He didn’t extend help, he extended control. And now, they had their eyes on Jonathan’s work because it was effective, and aligned with their vision. 

Order through fear. Correction through collapse. Change through control.

He didn't know the full extent of their plans. They want my fear toxin. Mass-produced, scaled, and fully weaponized.

And if I refuse, they’ll tear apart the only variable I haven’t fully locked down yet. Her.

Jonathan sealed the formula sample and entered the compound into a new encrypted file. 

But if he played this right, the League could become his resource, not his threat.

But if they touched her, if they even whispered her name again, he’d find a way to bring all of them down without hesitation.

Checking the time, Jonathan saw that he had thirty minutes until the gallery would be hit, until the silent alarm would trigger. He had scheduled it down to the minute. He had already watched the footage once, looped security camera test runs, trajectory paths, the placement of the crowbar, the sound the first frame would make when it hit the floor. He didn’t plan chaos here. He had engineered precision.

While he waited, he scrolled through the rest of her activity. There were two emails, and he read them quickly. The first was from the realtor about Ares adding her to his apartment lease. 

He meant to live with you. Even while he was drifting from you, even as his mind fractured, he was still trying to claim space beside you.

Jonathan’s thumb hovered over the message, reading the subject line again: RE: Lease Addendum—Co-Occupant Approval Finalized

It had been sent the night of Ares’s collapse.

So close. You almost had a life together. A shared bed, a shared name. Almost.

Jonathan’s gaze sharpened. Now it’s just logistics. The apartment--Ares’s apartment--would be in limbo soon. Jonathan knew how these things worked. If no family stepped in quickly, the property manager would initiate forfeiture. His belongings would be boxed up, returned to his brother or disposed of quietly.

Her name was now on the lease. A late-stage gesture from a man already unraveling, still trying to carve out permanence even as his grip on reality slipped away. She could move in, in theory.

But Jonathan had already done the math. She couldn’t afford it alone. Even if she gave up her own apartment. Not with her gallery barely sustaining itself.

The rent, the utilities—it was impossible unless she drained her savings, if she even had anything left after months of stress and stagnation.

And she wouldn’t let herself ask for help from friends or family. Not even from me…

But she would.

She’d wait until the pressure built just high enough, until it squeezed out the last bit of independence and left her standing in the doorway of that empty apartment, surrounded by boxes she couldn’t lift and a future she couldn’t carry alone.

That’s when she’ll look to me. And I’ll be there.

He wouldn’t push her. He’d just be the solution when everything else fell away.

And when she stepped over that threshold, into his house, into his design, she’d start to see what he already knew.

You don’t need a place of your own. You need a place that keeps you safe. And that place… is me.

His home was large, private, and already secured. Already adapted for the kind of control he needed to maintain equilibrium. All he had to do now was coax her out of her apartment, make it feel like her idea. 

Your world is shrinking. And I am the last structure still standing.

All he had to do was tilt the floor a little more.

It’s mine now. Not just the role he lost. Not just the institution he failed to protect. But the life he left behind. And the place you were supposed to build with him, it will be mine, too.

The second email was from the wedding planner. A brief, cheery nudge. “Still waiting on final headcount and floral preferences. Please call me tomorrow!”

Jonathan didn’t smile. But his breath shifted, steady and possessive.

There will be a wedding. Eventually. Until then, we'll burn the pieces of your old life until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto except me.

Jonathan moved through his house with purpose. The sedative was already prepped, measured precisely, and tucked into the breast pocket of his coat. He moved to the garage, remote-started the car. 

It was time. He tapped once on his phone. The signal was sent.

The hired crew, three of them, masked, gloved, and ready, would be at the gallery in five minutes. The timeline was set. Fourteen minutes inside. No more.

Enough to terrify. Not enough to be caught.

He returned to the mirror feed from her phone, watching her screen come to life.

Gallery motion alert.

Her gallery. Her sanctuary being ripped apart. He had ordered it because she needed to be shaken. Fear clears away confusion, faster than grief, sharper than guilt.

And this? This was the final nudge. The gallery was her last tie to the life before him. The space where she clung to Ares, to Lexi, to independence.The place where she smiled without him.

So I broke it. You only truly run to something when you’ve been stripped of everything else.

She was still in bed, but she'd be awake in a few seconds if she wasn't already. Her hands would shake, move too fast, fumbling with her phone. Trying to refresh the footage, trying to open the app, trying to do something.

Jonathan watched and waited. 

Here it comes. The moment fear overtakes reason. The moment you forget everything except what you’re losing.

Lexi’s texts started coming in fast. 

Lexi: Are you seeing this?

Lexi: Should one of us go down there?

Lexi: Please tell me you’re awake.

Jonathan smiled faintly. Perfect. Now Lexi looked careless. Her so-called friend looked like the kind of person who asks others to risk what she never would.

She started typing. Deleted it. Typed again. 

You don’t know what to say. The only person you want to talk to right now isn't the one texting you.

He picked up his keys. 

Tonight wasn’t just another step in the plan. It will be the moment you finally believe it’s not safe unless I’m near.

Jonathan stood in front of her door in just under ten minutes. Inside, he could hear her steps, frantic and disorganized. The unmistakable sound of keys clattering in a bowl. A coat being shrugged on. The zip of a bag.

She thought she was going to walk into the storm he started.

No. That’s not how this ends.

He knocked once, then softer. The door opened seconds later.

She stood there dressed with shoes on. Her coat was half on, her phone in her hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wild, from tears. From fear.

Jonathan looked at her, truly looked, and for just a second, the image froze in his mind like a painting. 

You’re so beautiful like this. Unguarded, spiraling. And reaching for me because there’s no one else left.

Her fear didn’t worry him. It filled him, like a current running through his blood.

It’s not fear of me. It’s fear of everything else, everything I protect you from. And that makes it mine to soothe.

“Jonathan?” The desperation in her voice made him shiver.

“I saw the alert.” He kept his voice was calm, grounding. “I came straight here.”

She just stared at him. “You saw it?”

He nodded once. “Of course.”

Her hand went to her mouth. Her voice cracked. “I was going to go down there... Lexi said someone should...” She broke off, breath hitching. “They’re destroying everything.”

Jonathan stepped forward gently and took her by the shoulders. His touch was firm, but careful. Just enough to make her still. She was trembling under his hands.

“You're not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “The police are already on-site. There’s nothing you can do there except get hurt.”

Her face crumpled. Not into sobs, but into that quiet, collapsed panic. The kind where the body hasn’t caught up to the fear yet, and the tears are already too late.

He stepped inside without asking, closing the door behind him. 

This is where you need to be. Not out there. Not with them. You freeze in place when the world unravels, and I can hold you steady.

You just need to be reminded. Who gets to decide where you go... and when.

She let him lead her back toward the couch, no resistance at all. She sat numbly on the edge, still holding her phone with shaking hands. She wasn’t texting anymore, just staring at the camera feed like maybe, somehow, if she looked hard enough, she could undo the damage.

Jonathan crouched in front of her, not too close. He kept his expression neutral, his voice gentle.

“You need to breathe,” he said quietly. “You’re safe. But I need you to sit still for just a moment.”

She didn't speak, just nodded, her eyes still locked on the screen.

He walked calmly into the kitchen, pulling one of her tall water glasses from the glass-front cabinet where she kept them. The filtered pitcher was right where it always was, cold and half-full. His hand reached for the sedative inside his coat pocket, practiced and precise. Two drops. That was all. The compound was odorless, tasteless, and fast-acting. Short duration, but enough to still the tremor in her hands. To slow her pulse, weaken resistance.

It’s not sedation. It’s protection. You won’t remember the moment you stopped panicking. You’ll just feel better… because I'm near now.

He brought the water to her, offering it without a word. She pulled her gaze from the screen and accepted it. Her fingers brushed his. She didn't drink all of it, but enough.

Jonathan sat beside her, not touching her, but close. Within minutes, her shoulders began to ease, and her breathing slowed. The screen dimmed in her hand, and the shaking stopped.

That’s it. You’re winding down, and you think it’s you. You think your mind is calming itself.

She set the glass down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch with a quiet exhale. Her eyes fluttered shut for just a second. That’s all it took.

You won’t be leaving tonight, or waking up in a panic. I'm here. And soon, you’ll want me to be. Every night.

Not sleep, not yet. But close. Jonathan shifted slightly beside her, and she leaned without realizing it, dropping her head to his shoulder. Her breath slowed. The adrenaline was gone now, flushed from her system with chemical assistance. Now she was perfectly calm, and he didn't move.

You’re still holding onto the idea that you’re okay on your own. But tonight proved otherwise.

A few minutes passed like that, with soft breathing and the occasional twitch of her fingers. She’d curled slightly toward him, instinctively.

Jonathan eased her gently down, sliding his arm away and lowering her onto the couch. She murmured something, but didn’t wake. He found a soft blanket in the hall closet and draped it over her. Her breathing had deepened now, rhythmic and even.

Jonathan moved silently to the chair next to the couch, sitting just out of her reach, where he could observe and think.

Her phone buzzed, then again. He moved instantly, catching the phone from where she’d left it on the arm of the couch. The screen lit up with her name.

Lexi

Jonathan stared at it.

You had your chance, Lexi. You sent her toward danger. I pulled her back. You don’t get to disrupt that now.

He unlocked her phone easily. There was no biometric set up on her phone. No PIN. That made him pause, just briefly.

You trust too easily.

With one smooth swipe, he declined the call. Then he toggled her phone into Do Not Disturb, silencing the noise that didn’t belong to him. He put her phone where she'd remember it last.

Returning to the chair, he watched the soft rise and fall of her chest. 

Let Lexi panic, and wonder why you’re not responding. Let her guilt swell.

Jonathan was staying right here tonight. She was too shaken to be alone. Lexi had failed her, and Ares was gone. He was the only one who clearly saw what she needed and delivered it without being asked.

You were mine to protect, even before you knew it. Tonight, I kept you here. Tomorrow, you’ll thank me for it.

And someday soon…you’ll wonder how you ever slept without me close by.

Jonathan didn’t close his eyes. He watched her sleep.

The sharp, hard knock startled you out of a dead sleep. You jolted upright on the couch, your heart hammering. The blanket slid off your shoulders, and you blinked into the gray light filtering through the blinds. It was dawn, and the next knock was even louder. 

You were already on your feet, stumbling towards the door with sleep-stiff limbs and a racing pulse. You weren't alone, which made you pause. Jonathan was there in the chair by the window, completely still. Asleep, somehow. He looked exactly the way you remembered from the previous night, calm, arms folded lightly, as if he'd kept watch until he couldn’t anymore.

But there wasn’t time to process that.

You opened the door, and there was Lexi. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She looked pale and furious, with dark circles under her eyes and exhaustion hanging off her like a second coat.

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“I texted you, I called you, and I went down to the goddamn gallery myself at four in the morning. Did you know that?”

You were still half-fogged, still wearing the same clothes.

“Lexi, I—”

“My son is home sick, I was running on two hours of sleep, and you—” She jabbed a finger towards your chest. “You didn’t answer anything. You didn’t go. You didn’t even let me know you were okay.”

You felt panic clawing at your insides. Your throat tightened, and shame washed over you in a single wave.

"I just..." Your voice cracked, and you glanced over your shoulder. Jonathan hadn’t moved. You didn’t even know if he was awake yet. "I froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

Lexi’s jaw clenched. Her expression shifted slightly, but the lines of anger carved in her face didn’t soften.

“The gallery’s wrecked. No one got caught. They took pieces. Vandalized the whole front.” She exhaled sharply. “We’re insured, but still. We built that place.”

You looked down, your fingers curled around the edge of the door. You didn’t know what to say. But she was right. Last night you couldn’t breathe. You didn’t call Lexi, or anyone else. And Jonathan arrived...

You felt small standing there in the doorway with Lexi in front of you, furious and tired. You swallowed hard, trying to find words that would make any of this okay.

“I didn’t mean to worry you or let you down,” you said quietly.“I was watching the cameras when it happened. I panicked.” You shook your head, your eyes starting to sting. “I called the police and then..."

Lexi crossed her arms. She wasn’t yelling anymore, but the hurt was still there, flickering behind her exhaustion. “I get that you’re going through a lot,” she said, more clipped now. “But I needed you. The gallery needed you.”

“I know,” you whispered.“I just…”

You felt backed into a wall, still shaking from the night before, and the weight of guilt was already pressing hard against your ribs.

You felt him before you saw him. Behind you, Jonathan rose from the chair, his footsteps light. He moved to your side, pinning Lexi with a glare. As you watched, he pulled off his glasses. 

“Lexi, isn’t it?” Jonathan’s voice was low.

Lexi blinked. “Excuse me, who the fu—”

But Jonathan didn’t let her finish. “I’m sorry about the gallery. I truly am.” He said it like he meant it. “But tell me, what kind of friend asks someone to walk into an active break-in?”

Lexi’s mouth parted slightly. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” he continued. “You suggested she go alone to a crime in progress.”

You froze.

Lexi turned to you, flustered. “Is this guy serious?”

Jonathan didn’t let you answer. “Ares is in Arkham. His mind is—” he gave the smallest pause, “hanging by a thread.”

He looked back at you, briefly, softening just enough to make you feel seen, and then returned to Lexi.

“She’s been carrying your gallery alone while trying to survive the collapse of her personal life. Where have you been? You pushed the weight onto her and expected her to keep moving without rest or reason.”

Lexi recoiled slightly. She wasn’t used to being challenged. But she was used to being right, and Jonathan’s words hit like facts on paper. 

“I made the call last night not to let her walk into danger. You might want to consider the emotional impact before demanding more from someone who’s already depleted.”

Lexi crossed her arms, but didn’t speak.

Jonathan’s tone didn’t change. “You’ll hear from her when she’s in a better place. But that won’t be today.”

Lexi opened her mouth, then closed it.

Something about the way he stood, utterly immovable, unnerved her. Jonathan then literally shut the door in her face.

And you stood there, stunned. Your heart still pounding. 

He didn’t just protect you. He dismantled her. With words so quiet, they left an echo.

You stood there, frozen. Still holding the edge of the door like it might steady you. Your heart was still racing, but now it wasn’t just from the confrontation, it was from the way he had handled it. Handled Lexi. You'd never seen that before.

You slowly turned back toward him.

Jonathan stood a few feet away, his hands loosely at his sides, like he hadn’t just flattened one of your oldest friendships in under two minutes. And he just stood there, watching you calmly, waiting. You weren’t used to anyone stepping in like that. Not since your world cracked down the middle. Lexi had been your friend for years. She could be difficult, sure, but she’d been there when you were still finding your way in the art world. She’d come up with the idea for the gallery, and you'd done everything to help see it realized. Now the gallery was gone, and Lexi likely was too. Ares never liked her, maybe now you understood why.

Jonathan sent her off. And the terrifying part was that you couldn't bring yourself to be that angry. Relief at having her dealt with outweighed everything else right now. 

Lexi came at you with demands and judgment. Jonathan came with boundaries and protection. 

And it felt good. Especially at a time when one more thing would break me.

You didn’t know what that said about you, but you were too tired to unpack it right now. You let your back rest against the door, the tension in your shoulders slowly giving way to something else. Something heavier.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Jonathan inclined his head once, just slightly. 

You shifted your weight against the door and glanced at him. “What you said to her…” Your voice trailed off, your throat still tight. “Do you really think I’m depleted?”

Jonathan moved closer, but not in an imposing way. “I think,” he said gently, “you’ve been through more in the last week than most people survive in a year.”

You didn’t look away, but you felt the heat behind your eyes again.

He stopped just in front of you, lowering his voice. “You’re not weak. You’re exhausted... There’s a difference.”

He wasn't wrong.

Dropping your gaze, your voice was barely audible. “I didn’t know what to say to her.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly.

And somehow that helped. That shouldn’t have helped, but it did. He gently gestured toward the couch.

“You don’t need to move right now. Not unless you want to.” Another pause, warmer now. “But if you do, let me take you to the gallery. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You nodded slowly, but didn’t move. “Just a few minutes,” you murmured. “Then I’ll go.”

But it wasn’t the gallery that had you frozen in place. It was the fact that he would be the one taking you. He offered without being asked, without expectation. Like it was natural. Like it was his responsibility.

And maybe it was. You couldn’t go alone. Not after last night. The thought of walking into that ruined space made your chest feel tight. Lexi’s words still echoed somewhere behind your eyes, but Jonathan’s voice had stayed with you longer. 

I made the call last night not to let her walk into danger.

At the time, it had unsettled you how confidently he said it. But now? Now it felt like an anchor. 

He’s going to take me. He’s going to be there.

And for the first time since the texts, since the camera feed, since the break-in... that felt like enough.

He nodded. “Take your time.”

For the first time in days, you felt something close to stillness. Jonathan didn’t hover or push you. He just stepped away, quiet again, and let you feel whatever you needed to feel. Maybe that was what made it work.

She hadn’t looked at him like that before. Not even after the patient, not after Ares.

This time it was different. There had been fear, yes, but not of him. She'd given herself to dependence, but not desperation. Something shifted behind her eyes when she said thank you.

Relief. The most dangerous kind of loyalty, something given willingly. Standing by the window, he kept his hands behind his back. The early light spilled across her living room floor.

Lexi was gone, and she wouldn't be a problem now. Not after what he’d shown her. 

You don’t belong in her life anymore. And soon, she’ll realize that too.

Behind him, he heard her moving quietly. She hadn’t gone to her bedroom, or left him just yet. And that was enough. 

You needed someone to speak for you. You needed someone to protect you. Now you need someone to guide you. 

And I will.

Soon, he would get her out of this apartment. He'd get her away from all the people who kept pulling her back into a life that no longer fit. She’d outgrown it.

Or rather, he’d taken a scalpel to it until it no longer fit her anymore.

All that remained now was him.

And soon, she would see that too.

DON’T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND

tags: post timeskip!megumi, best friends to lovers, fake dating, wedding AU, drinking & mentions of alcohol, lots of pining and yearning, me writing this and including a lot of megumi dialogue bc writers on here love to make him mute and indifferent >:( he is very passionate to me >:( | wc: 5.4k+

He’s made a mistake.

Oh, Megumi has made a huge mistake. 

He knew he should’ve listened to that tiny, pessimistic voice in the back of his mind when you’d asked him to attend a wedding with you.

Granted, it’s not a terribly strange ask of you—you are best friends, after all. But Megumi should’ve denied your advance the second he discovered the twist to it.

He wasn’t there to be just any old regular wedding plus one. He was there to be your date, your faux boyfriend for the night. To put on a show so your relatives could get off your case for being single. 

With hesitance, he agrees. He can’t not agree to helping you out. Not when you’re his best friend, not when he feels his heart skip a beat every time you so much as sigh in mild disappointment or irritation. 

But, god, was he wrong when he thought he could handle this.

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