#I didn't know that when I started reading it in store but I might continue it after all

[dirkxcaliborn]

I stumbled upon a video about rhythm heaven which led to watching several hours of rhythm heaven videos which lead to listening to a streamer play rhythm heaven whenever I'm walking somewhere or like need something playing in the bg while I'm at my desk and also I started playing rhythm heaven and now rhythm heaven songs play on loop in my brain between every thought

[messenger-of-babel]

Always Late

Summary: Batman was late when you needed him the most, but he refused to let it happen again. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 4.5K (This was supposed to be a quick fic 💀)

Notes: BIG AUTHOR NOTE INCOMING Before anyone comes for me- I know this was supposed to be a day for Chris. I'm just feeling a touch sick but still want to get a fic out, and I'm currently not able to churn out and go through his, so I'll write some Chris later! Instead I wanted something else, consider it a change up to shake some life back into the theme. I also rambled hella long on this one, so strap in, it's long and the plot got lost in the maze of my mind. I had to shuffle things around and it just kept growing and growing, oh my god so I hope it makes sense to everyone still. Clark caemo, some (very??) OOC villain work cause I forgot some of my original plot and villains so begging on my knees for forgiveness fr. GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/ TORTURE DESCRPTION FOR SOME AREAS. I should have made this two parts but I messed up and made just one massive fic. Was supposed to be batfam x reader but it started feeling more like bruce x reader hahaha. RIP my sleep schedule please reap the benefits of my labour. 😭

Again I was originally here to be a resi blog but I can't help writing for DC after a day of reading comics. On that topic I actually finished collecting Tom Taylor's run at #118, my store held #119 for me so I get to read that as a reward after the hell that will be my Monday.

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When you were taken, it caused a widespread panic among Gotham.

Tabloids across the city wrote about the latest missing person, this time none other than the latest member of billionaire Bruce Wayne's family. The Gotham Gazette had been running articles about you for months already, including the scandal that had come with it. Your dirty laundry and past had been aired for the entire city to read and speculate upon. Whether Bruce had just adopted you out of pity, sympathising with the way that you had lost your parents the same way he had. Gossip about it could all be a ploy for him to expand his influence in Gotham, after the riches and estate that your family had left you behind in their untimely death. The city was thrown into chaos from the death of your parents, both of them from founding Gotham families and well-established lawyers. It was shaken more once the Wayne had taken you into his household, and now it was all but alight as you vanished.

Fingers pointed in every which way, your disappearance marking the fourth among affluent families in Gotham. Accusations had even been hurled at Bruce, claiming that he had killed you in order to gain your assets and the other missing people were to establish an alibi. After all, Bruce Wayne had no alibi for the night that you went missing.

But he had an alibi.

Bruce reflected upon that fact for three days already, while he tore his hair out trying to find you. He had been out in the city, patrolling as usual. The disappearances were the latest case, and he was determined to stop them before they continued. He had been so involved in the case, standing so close to the evidence that he didn't even consider the option that he himself would be affected, or consider the perpetrator might targe the Waynes. he hadn't expected to get a call from Alfred a little past midnight, the butler wheezing painfully into the receiver.

Blood freezing in his veins he had come home to an empty house, windows on the third story smashed in. Alfred was slumped by the phone, its sleek body hanging off the hook. Bruce had pulled the cowl off without a second thought, cradling the older man's head in his lap with shaky hands. He had relaxed slightly when there was a steady pulse under his fingers, and the tension eased further when the older man had opened his eyes.

"Alfred," Bruce had sighed out, moving the old man from his lap to against the wall, hand keeping him upright. "Are you okay-"

"They took them." came the old man's mumbled reply, and for a second Bruce's jaw just hung there.

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart thudding painfully against his ribs, panic rising once more.

"They came through the window, cut the lights. I pretended to be unconscious to use the phone line, but they came back. Cut it shortly after I rang you." the older man said, looking up with remorseful eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Wayne." he said forlornly. "I couldn't stop them."

Bruce looked down; jaw tensed. "It wasn't your fault." he said firmly, trying to quell the despair radiating off the old man.

"They took them kicking and screaming. I could hear them the entire time, but I couldn't do anything I-"

"Alfred." Bruce said sternly. "Alfred it's okay. Let me handle it, you go make some tea." he said, helping the old man stand up.

"Tea, yes, yes that's right..." the butler murmured to himself, hand to his head. "It's been a while since you asked me for tea, sir."

"It's not for me." Bruce said, pulling the cowl back on. "It's for you. make yourself some tea and we'll patch you up. Take it easy tonight, wait for the shock to wear off."

Alfred looks at him, hesitating, but eventually nods. "We, sir?"

Bruce hums, fists at his side. "Yes. This case has escalated. It's time to request help."

He keeps his voice level as he walks away, but Alfred notes the way that he turns the corner, and the anger put into his stride.

When he gets to the cave he wastes no time, calling in everyone he can think of. His chest feels tight, breath short as his vision swims. Every signal he can send he does, the blurring in his eyes seeping into his mind too. He cradles his head in his hands, trying to calm it but to no avail. It's only when the ringing of the Batcomputer cuts through the fog that he is able to look up, shaking fingers hitting the accept call button.

"Batman?" comes the crackly voice of Nightwing, and the fog begins to clear slightly.

"Nightwing." he says back gruffly, voice hoarse.

"About time, you were making people pretty worried, you know." Dick chides, and there's the sound of yapping in the background. "What's the brief? What's happened?"

"Kidnapping." he says, voice thick. "Broke into the manor. Alfred is likely to be concussed, but it shouldn't be too serious. He's making tea, Robin is out on the other side of the city tonight. Red Robin is with you, isn't he?"

There's more shuffling on the other end before Dick responds. "Yeah, he's been helping in Bludhaven, he came last night."

"Bring him. Bring Oracle too. Everyone...come home." he murmurs, hands shaking as he tries to think clearly.

"Bruce, is everything okay with you?" Dick comes in, concern evident.

"Fine. I need people back immediately. Why?" he huffs back, rubbing the spots from his eyes with his fingers.

"Because we've all been trying to call you for the last few minutes. This is the first time you've picked up."

Bruce takes a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hadn’t realised how badly he had spaced out. "It's an emergency. They...they’re gone. They need to come home."

"The new kid?" Dick breathes. "Wait, you mean-"

Bruce nods even though he knows his eldest cannot see him. "Gone. Now come back and come back tonight." he ends the call before Dick can say anything else, and his tired eyes scan the monitor filled with a string of outgoing distress calls and an equally large number of missed ones. In his haze he had pressed every com line he had. He had pinged Jason, he had pinged Dick. Hell, he had even pinged the League and Clark, who hadn't even bothered to call for clarity, his response status just reading, 'On my way'.

He held his head in his hands, breaths laboured.

Bruce had held his own reservations when adopting you. He knew about the media uprising that it would cause, the rumours that were sure to fly. He had known what kind of mental state that would put you in, how it would angle you in a whole new world of cameras, but he couldn't help himself. He had seen you while in the suit, and maybe he had taken you in to make himself feel better. For not catching the person who had killed your parents, arriving too late. He had been training for this his entire life, it was his entire mission in Gotham, yet he couldn't stop the very crimes that had put him on this path.

If he had been faster maybe he could have saved your parents, disarming the man with the knife before it plunged into the chest of your father. Maybe he could have arrived faster so that he could have caught the offender that robbed your mother before giving her the same treatment and fleeing into the night. Instead, he was only there fast enough for him to hear you scream as your parents collapsed to the floor. He was there as you cried and shook them and tried to stop the blood spilling through your fingers, but you were unsure where to start. After all, how can someone make a decision between stopping the flow seeping from their father’s chest and the one from their mother’s throat?

He had been there to pull you away, was there to catch the last dying light of your father as he stroked your cheek before making eye contact with Bruce. "Look after my kid." he had whispered, something Bruce had nearly missed under all your screaming. Bruce pulled you away while he called for the GCPD, and from one father to another, he made sure to keep that promise.

Your relationship had been rough, clearly distraught at the way you lost your parents. You were older than he was when the same had happened, but you were still young. You had clung to Bruce the day he said he was going to take you in, and he had managed to soothe you with a soft hand up and down your back. Yet as the tabloids got worse and the gossip began to grow, you began pulling away from him and seeking the comfort of your room instead. He had done his best to protect you from the media, paying money to have articles removed and when that didn't work, he threatened to sue. It made the Gazette pull their head in a bit, but it still failed to be enough. Evidently, as there was now an empty bedroom on the third floor of the east wing.

All he could do was sigh and blink away the images of the children he had hurt, in the name of Robin or otherwise. He had to rub away the death of Jason that he reflected on in sombre moments when he thought no one was looking. He had gotten you into this mess, attached you with his name and all of its subsequent burdens. So, it was his duty to get you back and get you back safe.

Yet three days later, he had nothing.

The cave had been a buzz of activity for all three days, and Bruce, no, Batman, was acting close to a slave driver. Tim and Barbara hadn't left the caves computers in days, Damian and Steph constantly scouring the rooftops. Dick was concerned, hell, everyone was. Even the gruff Jason had been called in, and reluctantly he had answered.

"You find anything?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall with his younger brother. Jason was still suited up, coming back from the patrol around Bristol area. He removes the mask and shakes his hair free, sighing.

"Nothing. Areas come up empty. No sign of 'em."

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. "God, there's nothing on my end either. The Docks and all Southside of Gotham are clean, no traces. Any signs pointing to who it could be?"

Jason shrugs, helmet tucked under his arm. "No idea, as it stands, the kid's just gone missing. If Bruce isn't able to scrounge up a lead, I doubt I will. Not my forte. He should give Tim a break and send him out."

"Yeah, like he'll do that. He's got him tied to cave duty." Dick scoffs back. He feels bad, talking like your kidnapping was a causal affair. He didn't treat it like one, his heart stuttering when Bruce had called him in a haze and all shaken. It didn't a genius to see how attached Bruce had gotten to you in such a short amount of time, but sometimes Dick worried that Bruce was projecting his own trauma onto you. But still you were his younger sibling, a part of the family now. He had met you with a warm smile and a gentle hand the day that you moved in, coming in from Bludhaven to make the house a bit more lively while you got settled in. God, he knew what it was like moving in alone into that empty house, with only Bruce and Alfred to warm the halls. He had eaten dinner with you, took you out for walks in the garden when your grief allowed you move more than a few paces. He did his absolute best, and he knew that with time he could be a big brother to you.

Yet you hadn't been given the time, snatched away before Christmas even hit. He doubted you knew that Bruce was the Batman, or that the rest of the family had an interesting array of night lives.

Jason was the same in the way that he hadn't interacted with you much.

Honestly, he was awkward with kids, since the last kid of Bruce's he had met was the devil spawn who spat at him like an angry cat every chance he got. You were thankfully much older and easier to understand, but that still didn’t mean smooth sailing. Jason hated even coming back to the manor, and he and Bruce had been having one of their ongoing fights during the time he took you in, meaning he missed seeing you often. Yet he still talked to Dick (more so that Dick called him to make sure that he was okay) and the older man had seen you plenty. He felt like he knew you from Dick alone, but he wasn't oblivious to your story printed in the newspapers shoved under his apartment door. He pitied you, understood the grief that you must have been going through at the sudden violence that tossed your little world upside down. Sure, you had gone from luxury to luxury, but Gotham was unkind to everyone. it was the same violence that Jason strode to clean off the street, and his heart ached deep down that someone like you had managed to get caught in its claws.

"Do you think it could be the clown?" Dick asks quietly. "He'd do something as ballsy as this."

Jason tenses, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Not likely. That bastard likes to make a spectacle of things. No doubt he would have contacted the Bat the second he took the first victim or aired it like some twisted game show. It's not like him to lay quiet."

"So, it's someone else. It's unnatural for Gotham's villains to do something in the dark like this. I mean, it's been three days since they were abducted, and they're the fourth kidnap victim. There hasn't been a ransom note, a demand, a body. Not a peep for any of the captives. It's unnatural."

Jason hums in agreement, but they both jump as Bruce storms through grandfather clock entrance.

Everyone present turns, watching how Clark trails after him. Five sets of eyes watch the livid way the Bat cuts a path through the cave and gets into the batmobile, breaths too anxious to be released. Without a word the car screams out of the cave, and they all turn to Clark. Barbara casts a glance to Tim and then to Dick, who just shrugs, worry deepening on his face.

"What the hell's going on?" Jason growls, pushing off from the wall. Clark turns to face him, dressed in his Superman suit.

"We’ve found them." Clark says, face grim, and Dick shares a look with Jason. However, when Dick meets the eyes of Superman, he can see the flicker of worry in the Kryptonian. "Well let's get going then. Why did he leave alone?" Dick asked, slipping the domino mask back onto his face. Clark opens his mouth to speak but is cut off as Damian steps out behind his broad figure.

"Because it's the League." the younger boy says, green eyes boring in Dick's. "It's grandfather."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Bruce drove like his life depended on it, which wasn't fair when it was yours on the line instead. He could see the dots on his monitor indicating that the others were following him, and he had assumed that Clark had proceeded to fill them in. He had asked his old friend to look after the city while he sped towards the outskirts, just in case the League decided to do something while he had his guard on the city lowered. His com crackled to life, radio filling the otherwise silent car.

"Oi." snapped the voice of Red Hood, modulated and grainy. "Don't leave without telling us what's going on. Aren't you the one always spewing that 'feel-no-emotion' bullshit? To not let it cloud your judgement? Cause from the way I see it, you're acting kinda hazy."

"I trusted Clark would fill you in." he says back, voice tense. Red Hood scoffs.

"Yeah, and he did. You called us. You tell us what the hell you want us to help with, otherwise don't bother calling at all. Don't drag us out, get us invested then not let us help when it comes to it. What was your plan, beat the shit out of Ras and taken them back by yourself?"

Bruce falls silent, and there's a slight huff from Jason on the other end.

"Honestly? not the worst plan you've had, and I respect the enthusiasm, but you still should have looped us in. I want to get a hit in too."

Bruce turns his head to the direction of the radio, snapped from his concentration on the road momentarily and it's like Jason can feel his confusion through the commlink.

"Don't give me that silence." he groans. "They're family, aren't they? I'm not opposed to a younger sibling, you know." he huffs irritably. "But do me a favour and control Nightwing, hey? He's looking as coiled as you. You might have to fight him for the first hit."

Bruce doesn’t say anything before the comm cuts off, leaving him in the silence once more and eyes going straight back onto the red dot mapped onto his GPS. You.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

When you awoke the first time, you couldn’t feel anything. Your hands were tied to your ankles behind you, black cloth wrapped around your eyes. what you did know was that you were lying somewhere concrete, face pressed into the dusty cement. You knew that on the day that you woke and they had brough you were, that there were other people thrown in the same cell as you. You also knew that those other people were dead.

You had heard them scream, heard the way that they begged for their lives when they were dragged from the pen you were in. One a day, until you were left alone with no one to talk to. They had all been kidnapped like you, affluent people that you recognised the names and voices of. You had heard some of them at events you parents had hosted and attended, and when you traded names, they had remembered you immediately. You weren't dumb, you knew that you had all been taken here because you were rich. That was the only thing that you had in common with the heiresses and finance brokers that had shared the cells with you, huddled up against the cool metal.

Now the only thing left was you and the stickiness that crept under the bars of your cage, grateful that the blindfold was on so you didn't have to see what it was. At first you thought that you were alone, that your captors had left, but you knew better. You could sense them all around you, quiet and watching. They were like an uncomfortable prickling on your neck, the ghost of fingertips across your skin. Yet the hours and minutes had bled into days, and now you didn’t care if they were there or not.

You knew that they wanted to kill you. They had killed the rest. You had been given small amounts of food and water the first day or two, but today there had been none. Your mouth was dry as you lay on your side, lips cracking with the desire to drink. Your throat felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, and the silence that you were met with when you called out only made your panic and helplessness rise. You had lost the ability to cry, body sluggish. It felt like everything was shutting down, the pain in your stomach unbearable and tongue heavy in your mouth. As the heat crept in and pulled sweat from your unwilling skin, you began wishing that they would kill you.

You supposed that your wish was answered when the creak of your cell signalled one of your silent observers had come for you, and the tug on the ropes binding your limbs together made you lurch forward. You kept your face pressed down, too weak to struggle against them as they dragged you out and gripped your hair, making you shift onto your knees at an awkward angle. For the first time in days, you heard someone speak.

" So, this is Bruce's new...child." Your captor hummed. You could hear the way that their boots scuffed as they walked, coming to stand in front of you. You could faintly feel the swish of fabric, long and tickling the floor. "I wonder if he was planning to hand the title of Robin over so soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but your barely functioning brain fails to process what he's saying.

"Are you aware of your family's lineage?" comes the voice from above you, commanding and deep with a hint of something malicious in the undertone, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. “Your real family, the ones who claimed to practice a just and fair law. Not Wayne.”

 You manage to shake your head weakly, grimacing as the image of your parents covered in blood flickered into your mind.

The voice above you tuts. "The sins of the father shall be bestowed upon the son," he recites softly. "And you are to pay the penance. Gotham will be purged, and the bloodlines of the corrupt shall be the first to burn, aware of their sins or not."

You don't even get a chance to ask what he's saying, the words sounding like biblical rambling. A scream is ripped through your throat instead as a sharp hot pain erupts through your shoulder, the sound of your own skin bubbling making you sick. You wail, body aching to thrash but the fatigue and weakness preventing you from doing such. The hands on your shoulders hold you still as the sensation is repeated across your body, stray tears leaking from your eyes despite your dehydrated state. It's only when you feel like you’re about to cross over, embrace the light spilling behind your eyes that you realise that the hands have left your body and that you're lying face down, discarded on the concrete floor.

You can feel the ache all over your body, a stinging and writhing pain that makes your whimper involuntarily. You can now make out that there is sound around you, echoing off the empty walls and causing your head to throb after days of silence.

For Bruce however, the world was silent despite being in the thick of the fight. They had pulled up the abandoned building on the edge of Gotham and Bludhaven, thankfully located by Clark and his x-ray vision after days of searching. He had stormed into the building with Dick, Jason, and Tim on his heels, his hands filled with a shake only the trained eye could determine as rage. The world had dripped into the pulsing cadence of his heartbeat as soon as he saw you, kneeling at Ra’s feet and being held by league assassins. He had hardly any time to process the way that you curled up and into yourself when you were dropped so carelessly, head thudding lifelessly against the floor. Forlorn, he eyed the way your body was covered with cuts and stabs, burns from the red-hot sword still held in the hands of a soldier. He hadn't known when the league had decided to dabble in torture, but Bruce felt like joining that night.

Jason and Tim were dealing with the assassins, the younger male finally freed from desk duty. He didn't know you as well as he would have liked considering that you lived under the same roof as him, but you had been warming up. He had really hoped that you could get along, but now he feared that this was going to push your back into the shell you had just started to crack, and that frustration was evident in the whistling of his bow staff as it cut through the air.

Dick had gone after Ra’s immediately while Batman raced for you, Dicks escrima sticks going for the head. Dick was fast and agile, muscles more tensed than usual as he sent well placed blow after blow. Yet Bruce wasn’t an idiot, he knew the limits of him and his team, and he knew the limits of Ra’s. That's why in what limited time that Dick bought for him he dropped to your side, slicing through your bonds with a batarang and letting your arms and legs fall free from their cramped position behind you. You groan lightly as he cradles you to his chest, weakly crying out as he justles the many wounds. He loosens the blindfold from your eyes, and your blink up at him a few seconds later, squinting against the light.

Your skin is sticky with blood both your own and not, flecked across the apple of your cheeks. He eyes the burns, the warped and rippled skin that blistered angrily and would surely get infected if not treated soon. He observes the many cages set up in the corner, the one he presumes was yours wide open and empty. He feels sick seeing the dead bodies in the other ones, imagining that it could have been you in there, dead like some caged animal for slaughter.

You make a weak whimper when he stands, and he has half a mind to join Nightwing in beating Ras so badly he'd need to use the pit again.

But he doesn’t.

He rises to his feet with you in his arms, and he calls for a retreat. You cry and moan as he hurries out, Jason and Tim covering your exit while Dick flips into the rafters and out of range of the Demon Head. He wants to fight; he wants to put them in their place for hurting his family. But the moment he had met your eyes again, it was like that day in the alleyway. You had seen him as Batman too that day, but as he laid you hurriedly in the back of the batmobile and patched Oracle in to prep the med bay, he knew that something was different from that night.

Because unlike the day you lost your parents, he had made it in time.

[murmiss]

Price's neglected daughter!Reader and kidnapper!Konig

Warning:Brief mention of kidnapping sleeping pills,swearing, possible mistakes in words, grammar. English is not my first language.I might have missed mistakes, don't be afraid to point them out to me.

Finally, everything fell into place and his daughter, his own blood, came home. The days without her seemed like hell, a meaningless confusion of days and weeks, empty and soulless moments of life. But now that Megan was back, nothing mattered. At first, when she first came home, Price insisted that she take an academic leave, but the girl was determined, and with her signature smile and the help of light words, she managed to convince her father to let her continue her studies. She knew the entire program perfectly, which sometimes confused the teachers - how could she know all this? But on the other hand, now she was fine, safe and sound.

When Megan showed up, rumors spread everywhere, and in the tiny town where they lived, calm times finally came. It was as if no one had thought about such basic things and inconsistencies as "why did Megan Price disappear and suddenly appear after almost two years? What happened to her? Where was she all this time?" Everyone seemed to be just happy that she was back.

It was as if Price had come back to life with her appearance.

Clubs, movies, melodramas, a trip out of town to an old family house by the lake? Hell, everything Megan wanted was done instantly with 100% dedication.

Is your phone acting up? No problem, we'll buy a new one, but we'll definitely install an app to track your location. Want a new dress? Order one, here's daddy's card. A party at the university? Oh no, daddy will worry and will wait for you at the university. A few words of concern enveloped Megan from all sides. Price was tracking her, the old lady next door was looking suspiciously at Megan's friend, and the salesperson at the store where Megan went every lunch to buy coffee and a candy bar from the machine, was wary of strange people who were looking at Meg.

It seemed that the entire tiny town had united and protected Megan Price from danger.

Price's colleagues were also the most defensive,

Simon became a loyal "dog" - when Price couldn't, Simon met Megan on his motorcycle. And it didn't matter that you were standing there too, that you also needed a ride home.

Gaz was tracking the location with his devices, Soap was damn busy buying expensive anatomy books, sweets or some complex and unusual wishes for Meg, meeting her after university, like the others.

And where were you? That's right, but on the same day. For some reason, from the very beginning, even your father's colleagues did not accept you, the old lady next door disliked you, considering you "the evil eye of the family", like when you were around, something went wrong with Megan.

So when you suddenly disappeared, changing places with the once missing Megan, no one paid attention. Not your father, not the neighbors, not even the teachers.

But after an indefinite amount of time, it was noticed, and it wasn't your father who noticed first, no. It was the institute. The semester was ending and the session was starting, everyone was taking exams, everything would be fine, but you still hadn't turned up. Then one of the teachers in charge of attendance turned to Megan, deciding to find out what the problem was.

Wednesday, the middle of the day, a woman, a brunette in her forties with a short haircut, dressed in a striped sweater, trousers with clearly ironed creases and patent leather shoes - Mrs. Rocks, stopped Meg, calling out to the girl in a respectful tone: "Miss Price".

Megan, hearing the voice of her philosophy teacher, was distracted, and with a smile turned around, stopping and answering: "Yes, Mrs. Rocks?"

The philosophy teacher came closer, sighing wearily from a week of paperwork. woman stared at her papers, reading the names carefully: "Harris, Bronton, Fox, oh, Price. Megan, I have a serious question for you..." Megan gasped, immediately embarrassed, her eyes still on Mrs. Rocks's speech. "The thing is, your little sister hasn't been around lately. She's had quite a few absences."

Megan sighs sadly, looks down at the floor and fidgets in one place, adjusting her backpack, saying with anxiety in her voice: "Oh, miss.. If only it were that simple.. My little sister is very ill, she is with her mother in Germany now.. We did not want to tell anyone, but it is very serious..". Woman looks up from the documents and looks at the young lady in front of her in surprise. Her heart squeezes at the thought of how hard it is for Megan and her family right now, and she, losing all sternness, replies: "I am very sorry, Miss Price.. I wish your family could get over this as soon as possible..". Woman pauses and after a few moments continues: "Your sister can send assignments by mail, e-mail. I think this will help her stay afloat for a while."

Megan smiles faintly and sincerely replies: "Thank you, Miss, your understanding is very valuable to us" and almost immediately, the girl reaches out to hug the philosophy teacher. This informal gesture was the final note of the game that Megan started. Woman, not expecting a hug, turned out to be damn upset and feeling the mother's protectiveness, the desire to help, hugged Meg back, repeating once again: "I sympathize with your family, Miss Price.."

It was already a dark night, little was clear, but you didn't want to ask questions. Chemistry, anatomy, histology and other subjects were exhausting and torturous, especially when they were difficult for you, so when Konig brought you to his house, you weren't even scared. Was he a friend of your father's? Yes, and that was enough.

The living room was quite dark, despite the light gray wallpaper. The furniture was dark, a black terry blanket was laid out on the wide sofa, and there were strange pictures of owls on the pillows. They were so stupid that you couldn't stand it, grabbed one of them and started squeezing it.

"Tea, coffee? Cherry juice, orange juice?" - you were interrupted by Konig's voice, who entered the living room, in his hands he was holding a gray plastic tray with plates of snacks. The first one, with a tiny red flower, had strawberry marshmallows, the blue flat plate had cookies with marshmallow layers, and the orange deep bowl had little fish cookies mixed in with wafers laid on top.

So delicious. Oh, your father never cared what you drank, like tea or something sweet you wanted.

"Is anyone else coming?" you ask, expecting to see his wife, maybe his girlfriend, or someone from Price's group, because the portion was too big.

"No, just us," he says, sitting down next to you, slowly, as if approaching a fawn that is about to break free and run away. Sitting down next to you, you notice his size again: he is big, an incredible mountain of muscle. He was nervously stroking his knee, holding his head up, he sat tensely, squinting at you and saying nothing. A fucking weird guy, oh well.

"Oh, yeah, right, what drink?" he immediately stands up, couch creaks under his weight, and he immediately turns to you

"tea," you interrupt, sighing tiredly and stretching out your leg, leaning back on the back of the couch and propping your head up with your hand, sitting sideways to him, stretched out like a doe.

He swallows nervously, not taking his eyes off you, but, having come to his senses, immediately heads to the kitchen. His gait was strange, his legs were shaking slightly, and his arms were dangling, as if they were separate. Before he finally disappeared, he glanced at your figure. You had already turned away, resting your head on your hands and looking boredly behind the sofa.

His palms were sweat, hands were shaking, and his head was spinning from just thinking. He took the teapot, the mug with lilies and splashed boiling water, mixing it with the tea leaves. Then he looked around again, checking where you were, and making sure that you had not moved from your place, sitting just as beautifully and perfectly, Konig reached for the sugar bowl, and damn! immediately knocking over the neighboring cans. "Fuck!" - curses flew from his lips. From nerves, he shook even more. Hearing a quiet question: "What happened?", Konig, stuttering, answers: "Everything is fine, Mein Engel." and again grabs the spoon and nervously stirs the sleeping pill, biting his lip.

"He's taking so long," flashes through your mind. You sigh tiredly and look down at your phone. "7:00 p.m." You damn well need to go home and you'll probably have to make do with cookies. You get to your feet, wanting to go home, to ask Konig to take you there, cursing under your breath - if your father notices, he'll scold you.

"Where are you going?" - a confused deep voice sounds nearby, you come to your senses almost instantly and look at him in confusion, saying: "I need to go home", to which Konig only laughs and, putting the mugs on the table, casually puts his hand on the small of your back. Light pressure is enough to make you sit back. At first you want to be indignant, but then you think again: your father wouldn't care, where are you rushing to? What are you even worried about?

"Guests shouldn't leave hungry" - he answers boldly, sitting down next to you again, this time more casually, the sofa creaks again and you jump slightly when the sofa springs from the Konig's weight.

"I thought my father would worry" - you answer, shrugging your shoulders and thoughts fly through your head about how damn stupid all this is. Konig laughs, and your cheeks flush with shame, as if he knew about your suffering, as if he was ridiculing your stupid thoughts about Price remembering you, especially now that Megan was found. You feel like a Dumbass.

You sigh for the umpteenth time, reach out and take the mug, bring it to your lips and take a small sip. The hot, sweet liquid runs down your throat, burning it, and a strange taste settles on your tongue. It must be some kind of specific, unusual tea. You look at Konig again. What a strange mask he has.

Konig smiles to himself, his hands are shaking, and his eyes are wide, as if looking into his very soul. He put on his usual hood, comfortable and hiding any strange facial expressions.

You feel relaxed, as if a heavy load fell off your shoulders in an instant. You immediately stretch your legs, reach for the tray and grab a cookie with marshmallow inside, put it in your mouth, biting off and smacking your lips with pleasure. For some reason it seemed five times tastier. You take another cookie, then a marshmallow, then you take a fish-shaped cookie and smile involuntarily.

"So funny" - you look at Konig, and he looks like stone, frozen in anticipation

For some reason you feel sleepy...

Third chapter is in progress, it will be more interesting there.I'm sorry that this chapter didn't come out for a long time.

If you need to be mentioned in the following chapters, write to me.,

@veryrawknees , @fightmebissh

Part one

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your Area 9

masterpost

“Good morning!”

Jason winced and moved the phone a little further from his face. “Is this Doctor Fenton?” 

“It's one of them! What can I do ya for?” Jack Fenton boomed, just as bombastic as his newsletter made him seem. Jason knew, deep in his heart, that Jack Fenton was indeed the one who had selected green neon bold for his headings and borders. 

Angels wept. Jason scrubbed his palm over his eye. This man had no poetry in his soul. “I, uh, had some questions about a ghost. I've read some of your articles and your most recent published paper on the topic.”

“We love ghosts!” Fenton bellowed. “Ask away!”

“Do you know a ghost called Phantom?” Jason tried.

“...Sure do,” Jack Fenton said. “Whatcha need?” 

Jason cleared his throat. “It's somewhat complicated,” he said evasively, because he didn't need these people to know he was the Red Hood. Fuck. He should have either gotten his helmet stored away or not given his real name. Phantom knew his face and that his name was Jason. Any information that got around via Phantom might tie his face to his alter ego. If Phantom said he got married to Jason, the Red Hood, that could lead to the end of the Bat family vigilantism.

“...He cause you trouble, sport?”

Jason let out a slight laugh. “You could say that, though it wasn't really his fault,” he admitted. He cast a paranoid eye out the window to be sure no siblings were creeping on him. “No, it's really more that…” Fuck, he should have planned this better. “Is there any information you can give me about how a human could contact him?” 

Not that Jason didn't have a phone number for the guy. But it made him very uncomfortable to have any basic knowledge or way to track Phantom down if he decided to leave Jason to whatever was going on. 

“I could probably do that,” Jack Fenton said slowly, now sounding like an entirely different human being. “Say, you wouldn't be Jeremy, would you?”

Jason blinked. “...How did you know?” He went with. Phantom had contact with a human guy named Jeremy? That might be his in.

“Oh, well then, you've definitely got to come over,” Dr. Fenton wheedled. It somehow came across as shifty. “You'll be wanting a whole primer on how the Ghost Zone works, won't ya?” 

“That would be immensely helpful,” Jason agreed. “But I'd hate to take up your valuable time.”

“Nonsense!” Fenton bellowed. Jason nearly lost his grip on his phone in surprise. “Come over Jeremy, I'm dying to meetcha!” 

So, there was a plan. Jason packed for a day trip and dialed up his travel agent. 

“Fuck off,” said Tim. “I'm busy. Christ.” 

“I need an airplane ticket and a rental bike to Illinois,” Jason continued. He tossed his mostly full bag on the sofa and went digging for the socks he knew he had washed the other night. “I'm going to go see some nerds about my impromptu adventure the other day.”

Tim groaned. That was the first Jason had given any hint at all about what had happened to him when he'd been ‘sacrificed.’ “What nerds?” He asked wearily. 

Jason grinned into his sock drawer. Gottem. “Why, do you all know each other?” He asked blithely. 

“Do you always antagonize people you want favors from?” Tim whined. A keyboard clacked rapidly in the background. “Jason, I swear to God, you massive bitch. Cut the crap and communicate, or I'm hanging up.” 

Jason frowned at his socks and grabbed a random pair. “You don't gotta be like that,” he said sulkily. He slammed the socks into his bag with a very unsatisfying silence. “So, the ritual doohickey sent me to the infinite underworld, I met a guy there actually and we are magically connected because he's who that dumb ritual matched me up to. He doesn't want to be stuck with a human so we are on the same page about breaking this. We started looking for answers and he took me back to Earth since it's not good for humans to be in the green dimension for too long.” 

There was silence from the other end of the line for a few seconds. “You're fucking lying,” Tim said. 

“Only by leaving things out.” A bit stung, Jason pulled a hand through his hair and accidentally ruined his good hair day. 

“What are you leaving out?” Tim rejoined swiftly.

Jason laughed at him. “You think you're getting that kinda information in exchange for plane tickets?” He asked incredulously. 

“You are the most annoying person who has ever tried to kill me.”

Ouch. That genuinely stung.

“Fuck off.” Jason slammed the drawers shut. 

“I could guess aliens or supernatural off of what you just said.” Tim ignored Jason’s very good point. “Based off of your trip to the Gotham U campus and-”

“Are you still stalking me?” Jason cut him off, incredulous. He scoffed. “Little buddy, you already got my pixie boots, Red Robin costume, and my Dad. What else do you wanna take from me?”

“I think that you were there to assess Daniel Fenton,” Tim ignored him.

Jason was silent for a moment. There was probably no point in pretending that Tim was wrong. “You already knew about the Fenton’s connection to the supernatural.” He was suddenly tired.

“His older sister is an intern at Arkham, she stepped out of line to get a chance to talk to Jeremy Waters.” Tim didn’t seem to notice that the mood had changed. He was caught up on whatever twenty level plan was whirring away internally.

Jason looked at the wall for a moment, not bothering to think about why that name was familiar. “...and that is…?”

“The guy who kidnapped you, keep up,” Tim snarked. “Her supervisor guessed what she was hinting at, shut her down, put a note about it in the private server so there was a paper trail if she turns out to be a collaborator.”

““Private” is a strong word to describe that server.” Jason rubbed at his jawline and hefted his bag out to the bathroom to gather his shaving kit. 

“Mmhm,” Tim said blandly. “I bugged her phone. The signal is absurdly bad, unexplainably bad. She doesn’t send a lot of messages, but she had a very suspicious call with Daniel Fenton where, among other things, she hinted she had inside knowledge regarding some kind of local mystery, possibly criminal activity. Her brother accused her of supporting crime.”

Jason groaned. “I’m going to interview their parents.” He checked that the razor blades were stowed away correctly before snapping shut the travel case. Then he noticed that his bathroom mirror could use a wipedown. He left his bag for a moment to dig for the cleaner.

“Probably for the best,” Tim said, definitely misunderstanding his purpose. “They seem…” He trailed off when he couldn’t find an appropriate adjective.

“You should read a book,” Jason said, because he saw an opportunity to be an asshole. “Anyway, I wanna get out to the area tonight and see them in the morning. What’s my flight?” He spritzed the glass and watched his reflection blur. It was oddly comforting to not have to stare at his green eyes.

‘That ghost zone was the same green as the Lazarus Pits,’ Jason thought dully. He didn’t really want to think about it. But he had a pretty good idea why he hadn’t had the reaction to the place that Danny expected a human to have.

“Kon could take you,” Tim said sweetly, which was basically a death threat. It was enough to jar him back to the real world. Kon was still not feeling chill about the Titans Tower scuffle. It probably wasn’t good for him to be so petty, but Jason was not going to be the one to tell baby Superdork that.

Jason winced. “I was thinking more like United.”

Tim snickered. 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 13: Taking Out The Trash

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 13.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Blood, GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF DEATH, DEATH, BLOOD, GUTS, Threatening, Denial, Attempted Manipulation, References to attempted SA in the past, Depressing Thoughts, INSANE REVELATIONS, CONFESSIONS, Talks about weed, Super Manipulative Creepy Trash Man, Sexist comments, Homophobic Comments? Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, at the beginning of this chapter it's cute, but the rest of it gets... UNHINGED. I mean its dark because some things are revealed that I don't know why my mind went there immediately but... Also, apparently foreshadowing with dreams is my thing now 🤷🏻‍♀️?

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"Are you sure that you're okay to start work today?" Jake asked you for the millionth time from across the large cherry wood table that proudly stood in the front window of the shop. "Because there's no shame in staying home and resting for a few more days."

He was holding a large box filled with golden barrel cactus that were about to be placed in the new window display that Jake and you were constructing. His dirty blonde hair was scruffier today, hanging into his face just over the top of his tortoise shell glasses. The red and navy flannel he wore stretched over his arms with the flexing of his muscles beneath as he watched you with interest, worry seeping into the clear blue of his eyes.

The store was as you remembered, almost blindingly green, with trailing vines that kissed your arms when you walked through the front door as if welcoming you home and the healing energy from the plants within fusing your body with newfound strength. You could feel the subtle push of roots in the earth, the unfurling of bright leaves,  the swell of fruit on outstretched branches, and the gentle bend of each petal on the vegetation inside the shop speaking to you and reassuring you. It was welcome after being trapped in a freezer for four days.

Jake didn't know about any of that.

Annie had come up with a lie that you'd been in a car accident when Butcher loaned you his car for a job. It hurt you to lie to Jake, especially when he had brought all the plants to your hospital room because he knew it would make you feel better, but you were still trying to keep that part of your life separate from him. Honestly, you worried that if Jake found out how fucked up the other half of your life was he'd fire you, so you didn't bring it hurtling in through the front of his shop like a freight train. And you really loved working here.

It felt natural for you, tending to the plants, helping teach other people how to for anything that grew while gently showing the love of gardening and tending the earth.

Jake had been pondering the idea of having workshops on the weekend at the shop after hours and he'd finally said yes.

Hopefully, I'd be able to use both of my arms by then. 

You were beyond discouraged that hadn't been able to do any of your crochet projects and you felt like a disappointment when you couldn't go to your bi-monthly crochet circle/class that you lead at the Assisted Living Facility a few blocks over. The woman on the phone from the facility had sounded so disappointed when you told her that you couldn't come and it only made you feel worse.

But it was nice to be back in the swing of things at the shop and wonderful to be back in a place that you felt at ease, but there was something tugging in your chest. It was an odd feeling, not as if you'd forgotten something, but almost as if you missed something. As if there was something that wasn't here that should be and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

A week had passed since you'd been released from the hospital and you were eager to get out from under Ben's house arrest to start working again even with your arm in a large and almost impossible cast to maneuver. You were calling it “house arrest”, because after your grandmother left, Ben refused to let you leave the apartment, stating that you needed to rest. And when you argued with him that you'd had enough rest, he'd planted himself in front of the door and refused to budge.

You were going stir crazy with nothing to do and you probably could have moved him if you really tried, but you didn't want to fight with Ben. Not when he was the person who'd brought you back from the warehouse and not when he was acting different.

Your lips press into a firm line when you think about the past week that you'd spent at home with him. Ben was going out of his way to do everything for you that he could, but that didn't mean you weren't annoyed. You'd had to practically swat him away with one of the wooden spoons in the kitchen when you were heating up a lasagna your grandmother left after he'd loudly complained that you shouldn't be standing for too long and tried to carry you back to the couch. Ben was acting like you couldn’t take care of yourself and hadn't been taking care of yourself since you moved away from home. It was odd.

And he kept doing little things around the apartment, like picking up his clothes and making sure to remember to put things in the dishwasher. Things that he hadn’t cared about before you got hurt and things that you’d yelled at him to do before everything happened. And he always made sure that the couch was clear incase you wanted to watch a movie or just read for a little while. Two things that you had been doing more often since you got out of the hospital.

But weirder still was that Ben hadn't been on one "date," since you got back. The only time he'd left the apartment was in the morning to get the paper and he always brought you back coffee or the pineapple iced tea you loved.

Yesterday he had finally allowed you to leave the apartment to go to the grocery store, because when you tried to give him a shopping list he'd said "I don’t need a fucking list I’m a man!" but then you’d asked him to repeat everything you'd told him to buy and he couldn’t.

The whole time out of the apartment you’d made plenty of jokes about the healing power of fresh air, while Ben countered by making a joke about the healing power of sex and that he'd be happy to make you feel better.

The trip to the grocery store hadn’t ended in bloodshed, even when you had to keep reminding Ben not to buy the name brand things and he'd ignored you or when Ben complained the whole time about how expensive everything was and how long it was taking you to find everything.

But the weirdest thing that happened was when the two of you were looking a produce there was a woman who kept trying to come on to Ben when you were testing the grapes and he completely ignored her. Surprising you because she looked like his type, and when she'd walked away Ben had dropped to his knees to tie your shoe because he noticed that it was loose.

When you'd teased him about it, he said that he "didn't want you to break your other arm when you tripped and ate shit on the concrete." You'd had no problem flipping him off with your unbroken hand.

But despite your insistences for Ben to try and find cheaper brands none of it mattered, because when you got to the register Ben paid for the groceries even when you’d explicitly discussed splitting the bill. The cashier had noted what a gentleman Ben was and you’d grumbled something impolite under your breath so low that only Ben could hear.

But Ben couldn't help you with everything, well, you didn't trust him to close his eyes when you needed help getting dressed or needed help washing your hair.

For those little things, Annie would come over, but she hadn't been sympathetic to your pleas to make Ben let you out of the apartment. In fact, when you hoped Ben wasn't listening she'd made a comment about exactly what you should be doing with a hot older man while being trapped in an apartment with only one bed. The raspberry vines that cling to the refrigerator had started spitting raspberries at her when she said it. And then Ben had looked over the back of the couch at the two of you and said "that's what I keep telling her."

At least when my grandmother was here she didn’t pry about Ben and me.

Your grandmother had stayed for three days following your return from the hospital, sleeping next to you on your queen sized bed before she went back to Illinois and everyday you were more surprised how much she and Ben knew each other. The easy way they spoke to one another, the jokes, the teasing, and the poker games that always ended in your grandmother winning an almost obscene amount of money from Ben all made your head spin. Especially, because whenever she won Ben would accuse her of "cheating," and she'd only roll her eyes and state that someone as old as Ben should be better at poker. But the way he'd said she was cheating was different, not as if she had cards up her sleeve, but if there was some other reason why she could cheat. It was confusing and a little frustrating, because you were terrible at poker.

You didn't understand how you could be that bad, but then Ben had poked the skin between your eyebrows that scrunched under his scrutiny and stated that you were "too easy to read" while your grandmother laughed at you.

She still wouldn’t answer your questions about how she knew Ben, but to you it appeared to be more than them running into each other a few times, it almost seemed like a friendship. You believed her when she said that they didn’t sleep together, but you didn't understand how they could have been friends. She'd never spoken about that part of her life with you before, just her childhood and when she met your grandfather. Needless to say it was like you were seeing a different person when she was around Ben.

Deep down you wondered if she was a supe, but she'd never said that before and you didn’t know why she would keep something like that from you, not when you were one too.

But when Ben noticed how discouraged you got playing poker, he let you look over his shoulder at his hand and watch him play. He was very much in his element and every few hands he would make a joke about playing strip poker to which your grandmother would reply "If you want to be naked that bad Ben, you might as well just go down to the corner and put it to good use."

When she left you were sad to see her go and even Ben seemed a little more moody than usual, almost as if he missed having her around. You missed her too. While she stayed with you, you hadn't had the nightmare, but the night she left you did. You'd woken up gasping for air, the unnatural flash of whitish blue light that raced towards the windshield from the dream vibrating against your skin. Ben had come in to check on you, without breaking down the door, and he'd sat with you until you calmed down enough to fall asleep.

But it was still unusual that Ben acted like he missed your grandmother. You'd never met any other friends that Ben had besides Legend and you wondered if Ben really was as lonely as you thought he was. In the past you'd ascribed that to the reason why he went out with so many women, but this time it only confused you because Ben hadn't been out with a single person all week. You couldn’t think of a reason why that was or what could have changed for Ben to avoid using Tinder. If anything you'd thought he would be bored sitting around the apartment with you, but he wasn't. He'd sit with you on the couch watching a movie or read the paper when you read your book, not talking about anything in particular.

There was only one subject you wanted to discuss.

The two of you hadn't talked about what almost happened on the couch when you slept together when Darren was visiting or the way Ben gently touched you in the hospital. You'd mentally compartmentalized it to being a fluke and were happy that things were going back to normal or at least normal-ish. 

But sometimes your mind would wander to how Ben acted when you were in the hospital, how he'd cupped and held your face, how he'd touched you so reverently, what he'd said about not wanting to leave you with Elijah, and how angry he looked when he found out exactly what Elijah had tried to do.

But whenever you thought about talking to him about that, you’d only shake off the urge and ascribe it to Ben wanting to try and be friends. The exact thing that you'd suggested to him the night of the party.

He's respecting me. If he wants to be friends I can be friends with him. Even if he is acting weird.

In fact, this morning, he'd walked with you to the shop this morning as if it was a normal day.

*2 Hours Ago*

Ben frowns at you. "Maybe you should rest one more day-"

He'd been saying that the entire walk to the shop, but you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him trap you in the apartment for another day.

“Ben it'll be fine. I've rested enough-" You rolled your eyes at him, confused that he was making such a big deal about this. It was both annoying and frustrating you how overprotective he was acting and it was making you mad.

“What about your arm? You can’t lift anything-“ He presses.

“Jake is here for that.” You gestured with your head to where Jake was hovering behind the two of you at the register counting the till while pretending not to listen.

"That makes me feel a hell of a lot better. You think that fucking twink can lift more than me?" Ben scoffs. “Maybe I should stay.”

"Why?"

"So I can lift things!"

“Stop babying me Gramps!"

“I'm not babying you!" He rolls his eyes at the nickname.

“Yes you are! Why are you acting like a helicopter parent? I'm fine. It's been a week and I am completely and utterly-"

Ben's hand comes up and pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering for just a second too long against your cheek. The motion makes you freeze, the warmth of his skin like a siren call. "I don't think you need to come back to work so soon." He says quietly, eyes flicking up to where Jake is before he lowers his voice even more. “You were kidnapped and you got hurt. Not to mention that asshole tried to-" Ben's gaze loses any of the softness it held as he remembers what you told him about what Elijah did.

"Ben." You whisper raising your hand to gently touch his wrist. "I promise I'm okay. I'm not doing this to prove anything. I want to be here. I like being here."

"And you don't like being at home with me." Ben whispers it so low that you almost miss it. He withdrawals his hand from your cheek looking angry.

The memory of the day you walked in on Ben talking to Bean hovers over you:

"Why does she hate me so much?"

When you’d heard Ben ask Bean that it hurt you. You didn't want Ben to think that you hated him. He frustrated you and annoyed you, but you didn’t hate him.

Well, he hasn't been annoying me as much lately.

And if anything you were trying not to think about how much you liked being at home with Ben, how much you liked spending time with him. It was easier to try not to focus on that, not when Ben was acting like someone you could love.

Ben doesn't believe in love, not after everything that got fucked up with Countess. I don't think I could ever fall in love with someone like him either. Sure he's attractive, but he's so damn annoying.

"Look at me." You lay your hand on his arm to draw his gaze back to you. Ben almost looks a little embarrassed that you heard him say it and you watch his eyes flick over your head to where Jake is. You pull him through the plants to give the two of you some privacy. "I don't hate you. And I'm not doing this because I don't want to be at home with you." Your cheeks flush with the word 'home.'

Ben kept using it so casually, but to you it always meant something else. Home was the place where you went where no one judged you, where you went to be with the people who loved you unconditionally, and where you felt that you could be yourself with no judgement. Not to mention you believed that eventually your "home" would become a person. Or at least that was what you wanted to happen. Those prospects were looking pretty slim as of late and you were still on the fence about online dating.

Hughie and Annie met the old fashioned way so why should I have to go on an online site only to be rejected based on looks only?

You refocus on the conversation that you're having with Ben.

"I want things to go back to normal, before everything that happened with Darren and Elijah. And this is the only way that I know how." The mention of Elijah's name brings the memory of him on top of you to simmer beneath the surface. You were trying to forget, but every once in a while the memory would come creeping back in bringing the chill of the first frost in its wake to brush against your skin.

Ben's expression softens. "That quack at the hospital said you should rest."

"You mean the man who went to school for over four years to get a degree told me to rest?"

"Then he knows what the fuck he's talking about!"

"Ben-"

"Petals." He sighs the nickname in the soft way that makes a tingle travel down your spine. Ben had been saying it like that more often confusing you further. "You went through a lot and I'm trying to make sure that you’re okay.”

Why does he care about that?

“I am okay.” You whisper. “I’m sick of being on house arrest in the apartment. I can only watch so many of your old films before I go completely insane.”

“They’re not that bad.”

"Debatable."

Ben sighs again, but he seems to realize that you're not going to budge. You were just as stubborn as he was and you knew that he hated that about you. "Fine. I've got to do something today anyway."

"You got a date?"

You meant it as a joke, but for some reason you feel a twinge deep down that you weren't expecting.

"No." For a moment you think Ben almost looks offended by the suggestion. "Butcher's helping me with something."

"With what? You hate Butcher. And why would he want to do you a favor?"

"Because he wants to find the sick son of a bitch as much as I do!" Ben growls, the soft look in Ben's eyes goes dark as you realize who he's talking about.

You hadn't heard from Darren since everything with Elijah. Not that you expected to. Darren's things had vanished from your apartment and he was gone without a trace. Butcher had tried to track the phone Darren had, but it was out of service. You didn’t want to see him and you didn’t want to think about him, not after everything he'd put you through. It was like Darren to suddenly show up with an apology and say everything that you wanted him to. In the past you'd thought it was because he cared about you and didn't want to lose you, but it was becoming more and more apparent that Darren knew exactly what to say to get you to forgive him. He played you so easily that it broke your heart.

It was hard for you to acknowledge that and hard for you to believe that after all these years the relationship you had with your brother had been a lie, a well rehearsed play that Darren performed whenever he was in town.

And this time you weren't going to forgive him. Not when he'd given you to Elijah like a form of payment. Darren was done using you and you were ready to cut him out of your life.

At least, that was what you told yourself anyway. Sometimes when it was dark and you were all alone in your room you thought that maybe you should forgive him because he was your brother and you didn’t want to abandon him. You'd never admit that out loud, and certainly not in front of Ben, but you weren't sure if you were strong enough to turn Darren down if he reappeared.

"Oh." You look down at your shoes for a second while chewing on the inside of your cheek.

There's an awkward silence that passes through the two of you, charged with the same energy that hovered between you when you were back at the hospital. And you can’t help but think that Ben looks disappointed that he has to leave. You again wonder why he was being so overprotective, especially when he said that he didn't care about you.

That was another thing that you were starting to believe was a lie, Ben cared about you even if he didn't want to admit it, because someone who cared wouldn't do everything he had done for you over the past week.

"Petals?"

"Yes Gramps?" You look up at him mentally preparing for him to ask you again if you're okay, but he doesn't.

"Don’t get into any strange cars." Ben's lips tilt up into a smirk.

"Even if they say they have candy?"

Ben only shakes his head, but then he lingers for a second too long, as if he's waiting for something. "And try not to break anything else." He mutters and then he's gone.

Why is he acting so weird?

*Present Time*

"Because Ben said-" Jake says, snapping you out of the memory of Ben saying goodbye.

"When did you guys talk?" You look up at him from the table in shock.

"Well, I tried to come see you three days ago and he didn't let me in. He said you needed rest and that I should come back later." He explains, emptying another box of cacti.

"You came by?" You ask him confused. The cacti are in multicolored pots and you try your best to avoid the spines as you shift them over the table into position.

"Yeah. Ben said he'd tell you that I did."

"Huh."

Ben hadn't told you that Jake came by, hadn't mentioned it once and he'd had plenty of opportunities to tell you. The two of you were practically both living on the couch, because Ben was making you watch all of his old movies. You think that he was trying to impress you with his acting skills, but all it did was make you mock him endlessly for the cheesy lines and the ridiculous helmet they made him wear as a part of his supe suit. You had taken to repeating the lines from the movies at the most inopportune times to tease him and Ben had started teasing you with quotes from the romance novels that you liked.

Your cheeks flushed at the memory.

It had been embarrassing. You were reading on the couch quietly to yourself and were so absorbed in the scene that Ben had snuck up behind you to read over your shoulder. It hadn't helped that you were at a particular steamy part. He'd made a joke of wanting to re-enact whatever you wanted from the chapter and you'd stomped away to take a shower. It was getting harder to deny his requests to sleep with you, especially when Ben was acting different than he usually did and had been acting like a new person since you got back from the hospital.

"He didn't tell you?" Jake looks disappointed.

"Gramps is forgetful sometimes." You frown at the display between the two of you.

Why didn’t he tell me that Jake came by? Jake has been so sweet. He brought me all those plants and he was worried about me. Or at least… You bite the inside of your cheek remembering what Ben said about when Jake came to the hospital:

"He was fawning all over you like a fucking pussy, thought he was going to cry."

You hadn't thought about Jake at all, other than the occasional wave of guilt for leaving him without any help for a whole week. But it was weird that Ben hadn't told you that Jake stopped by, because when Mike brought you a bouquet of yellow roses Ben had let him in and stood with a cup of coffee in the kitchen smirking at you as Mike talked with you for thirty minutes about how nice the weather was outside. It made you want to strangle Ben, but as retaliation when Mike's mother came by later with a basket of wheat grass muffins and something that looked like green sludge you'd invited her in to talk with Ben. She'd sat on the couch in a bright pink mumu, rubbing his upper thigh and talking about her ex-husband while Ben glared at you every chance he got and you sipped a cup of blueberry tea and laughed quietly to yourself.

"Why do you call him that?" Jake asks while putting down a golden barrel and grabbing a fishhook cactus carefully to avoid the spikes.

"Because he acts like a grumpy old man." You snort to yourself thinking of how cute you thought it was when Ben acted all crochety and frustrated by modern day technology.

"He does." Jake laughs. "So…"

"So?"

"Are you guys together?"

"What?" You sputter looking up from the plants to Jake with wide eyes. "Why do you think that?"

"Well he's always around." Jake picks up the empty box and stacks it on top of another one. "And he always acts kind of…" Jake shrugs.

"Kind of what?"

"Jealous. He's always mad at me for some reason."

"That's just how he is. You gotta peel back the layers like an onion when it comes to him." The words are easy, but you can't help but be a little bit surprised. You were defending Ben. You’d never defended him before, made fun of him, apologized for him, but never defended him. "I mean he's-" You prick your thumb on one of the spikes. "Ow."

"Did it get'cha?" Jake snorts.

"Yeah must be losing my touch. Went soft on all my days off."

"You deserved those days off. You needed to rest-"

You roll your eyes. "Please don't say the r word again. Ben's been saying it for the past week."

"I'm serious." Jake picks up another golden barrel and arranges it on a higher platform on the display. "There's something going on between the two of you."

"You mean Ben driving me to the point of insanity?"

"No. I mean the guy is always watching you-"

"He likes to stare at my ass." You roll your eyes at Jake. "What else is new?"

His cheeks flush with your mention of Ben's interest in your body. "I don’t mean like that. He always looks at you when you're working."

Your straighten up from the floor with a fresh box of Christmas Cactus, arranging the long tendrils so that they are hanging down over the edge of the table. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I see him walk by later in the day when you're reading at the register."

What? When has Ben been walking by and why? Is he spying on me?

"What? When?"

Jake shrugs. "I don't know just sometimes. He never comes in. One time he walked by with two cups of coffee, but he just kept walking."

Probably for one of his dates.

"Ben isn't interested in me like that. We're just friends and roommates." When you say that your chest gets a little bit tighter. "Ben doesn't have relationships, he has flings. The guy is basically a walking Trojan ad."

Jake runs a hand through his shaggy dirty-blond hair, to push it out of his face and away from his glasses. "I don't know, you didn't see him when you were asleep in the hospital. The guy was practically daring anyone to get close, like he was trying to protect you from something."

His words make you chew the inside of your cheek remembering what your grandmother said about Ben yelling at the doctors and the nurses and make you think about how overprotective Ben seemed to be acting over the past few days.

Ben is just trying to be a better friend. He knows that I went through a lot.

Annie had also been acting overprotective as well. She kept bringing things by the apartment to make your life easier with the cast and she kept bringing by food. She'd also brought by a big bag of thrifted romance books that she had found at your favorite used bookstore Inky's Inspirations and the two of you had spent the better part of a day devouring them. She was making more time for you because you knew that she felt bad about you getting hurt, and Hughie came by too. Ben didn't share the same enthusiasm that Hughie had for conversation, but whenever Ben was mean you would glare at him and Ben would huff out something under his breath and try to contribute more to the conversation.

"That's just how he is. Ben is kinda," You wave a hand. "Protective of his friends."

"I noticed." Jake frowns. "But I guess I'll take your word for it."

An awkward silence follows and the two of you finish the display, but you can't stop thinking about Ben walking past the shop.

How many times did he do that? And why? He always seems to hate walking and makes a big deal about me walking by myself. Why would he want to walk here all the way from Butcher's?

"Why don't you go check out the display of herbs by the register? I'm not sure how to arrange the Rosemary and the Oregano."

"Sure." You shrug heading back through the aisles that spill vines onto the concrete floor, your hand sliding through the leaves as you walk, feeling the plants begin to perk up with your gentle touch. The browning leaves vanished, the drooping stems straightened, and the plants turned up to you as if you were the sun.

Being here again and having a normal day was making you feel better. At home your plants had needed some TLC after you were gone for so many days and as hard as Jake tried to maintain every single plant in the store, you knew that it was too much for him to contain. Things like that were easy for you.

The day passes by slowly. Ben had told you that he'd be there to pick you up at closing and you found yourself checking the clock. You'd never done that before. When you were working in the past you never wished for the day to be over, but for some reason the idea that Ben was going to pick you up made you almost happy.

The shiny metal bell above the door jingled as the last customer of the day entered the shop, but you don't look up from the bouquet of flowers you were arranging for a last minute birthday order that someone called in for tomorrow morning. You didn't often do them, but Jake was busy breaking down the display of flowering plants in the other window and you were more than happy to help out.

Even if it was difficult with one hand.

You could hear whoever it was coming closer to the register, the sound of their shoes clunking against the weathered gray concrete floors with every step.

"Welcome in. Can I help you with something?" You don't look away from the sunflowers in the vase in front of you, using one hand to place some holly ferns to give it a bit more green before you reach for the baby's breath that sits in a bundle on the vintage wooden bar that served as a desk for the register.

"Well I'm not sure. Do you have anything that says 'I'm sorry my friend kidnapped you?'" A familiar voice asks.

Your head jerks upwards at the sound of the voice, but you already know who it is.

Darren stands there in his traditional black army jacket. His blonde buzzed hair is blindingly white in the sunlight that comes through the wide glass windows at the front of the shop, catching the glint of the gunmetal colored hoops in his right eyebrow. His smile is sheepish, apologetic, and if you hadn’t been through what you did, you might have believed that it was genuine.

"Darren?" Your voice is no more than a whisper, surprise leaking into it as you utter your brother's name.

You didn’t actually think that he would come to see you, not when he knew who Ben really was, and not when he knew that you knew he sacrificed you to save his own skin.

"Hey sissy. Did you miss me?"

The nickname strikes a nerve deep down.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Jake glances over from the front window his eyes widening at your sudden outburst. He'd never met your brother before and he knew that something must be wrong if you were angry. Jake knew you well enough to know how composed you were most of the time and knew that for you to be angry something must really be wrong.

"I wanted to see you. Can I give you a hug?" Darren holds out his arms towards you.

"What do you think?"

"But you love hugs." He makes a step towards the end of the register.

"If you take another step I'm going to scream. What are you doing here?" You say again.

"I told you. I wanted to see you. I haven't been able to see you since-"

“Since you handed me over to Elijah to pay off your fucking gambling debt?” The baby's breath in your hand crumbles into a ball, but you barely feel it.

“See." Darren rolls his eyes and holds up a finger. "I knew you’d overreact. You’re way too sensitive.” 

“Overreact? OVERREACT? He locked me in a fucking freezer!” You spit. “He tried to-“ A cold feeling rises and prickles against your skin when you remember the weight of Elijah’s body on yours and the way his hand squeezed your throat. The purplish-black marks were still there, but hidden under a burgundy ribbed turtle neck sweater that you'd put on this morning. You figured it would be hard to explain those marks to Jake, especially when Annie had told him you were in a car accident.

“Hey, is everything okay over here?” Jake interrupts. He wipes this dirt covered hands on his jeans as he gets closer to where Darren is leaning against the front of the register.

"Yeah." You clear your throat. "Darren was just leaving."

"No, I'm not." Darren hasn't looked away from you and hasn't acknowledged Jake's presence. "I want to talk to you."

"Too bad. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say." You breathe, but you could feel a twinge in your heart. The love you had for your brother was ebbing just on the edge of the rage and heartbreak that you felt every time you think about what he did to you. It was difficult to treat him this way, not when you'd given in to whatever he wanted for so long. You hated that about yourself, hated the piece of you that wanted to forgive him.

But Darren does not move, in fact you can see the way his eyes flick over you as if he can sense that you're unsure.

"I want to talk this out." He says a little more forcefully.

"If she says that she doesn’t want to talk to you, I’m going to have to ask you to leave." Jake replies continuing to frown at your brother. They were both about the same height, but where Darren was rail-thin, Jake had a little bit more muscle to him. Not as much as Ben, but enough that he was bigger that your brother.

But you knew that it would do little good. Darren was even more stubborn that you were, and you could see the dangerous glint in his eyes that got him into trouble more times than you could count when the two of you were growing up.

“Try it four eyes." Darren's lips pull back in a challenge.

The lights overhead flicker for just a second, almost imperceivable to the eye. Jake crosses his arms over his chest in a way that you think he must believe is intimidating. “I’m going to ask you to leave one more time before I call the police.” 

"And I said that I'm not going to fucking leave without talking to my sister."

"Sister?" Jake falters looking at you, his blue eyes wide in surprise behind his glasses.

You stand there for a moment trying to think of a way out of this. There's a little voice buzzing in your ear telling you that something is wrong, but you can't put your finger on it. And an even smaller voice whispering that you should call Ben.

I don't need him to handle this. Darren and I have to talk eventually and might as well do it now.

"Fine, but let's take this outside." You walk around from behind the register. "Jake has to lock up in fifteen minutes."

"Perfect! I just need five." Darren smiles at you the same way that he always has, the smile that you'd laughed with and allowed to reassure you, but this time all it does is make all of this worse.

When the two of you get outside, the sun is just starting to sink behind the buildings, bathing everything in a golden glow. Despite the situation it is a beautiful day. The smell of the bakery next door sent the soothing aroma of cinnamon and brown sugar each time it's door opened, the warmth of the sun was on your back and shoulders, the wind had picked up just enough to rustle your hair where it was pulled back from your face in a ponytail, and you could hear the children playing in the park just around the corner where the trees sent their long shadows over the playground.

Darren shifts from foot to foot and you can see the way he's trying to think of something to say, as if he's pretending that he didn't rehearse this in his head. You wonder if he's always done that, if he'd rehearsed everything he ever said to you because he knew exactly what to say to get you to agree for so long.

"Look Darren, I don't want to talk about this. Nothing that you're going to say is going to make any of this okay. Nothing that happened was okay! You left me there with him, you brought me to him, and then you lied about why I was really there."

"I'm sorry about that." Darren's gaze softens, eyebrows furrowing in mock sincerity. "Believe me, I wouldn't have taken you there if I knew that Elijah was going to do any of those things to you honey."

"Oh that is such-"

"I will admit that I did lie about why you were there. But I knew that you wouldn't come if I told you that it was for weed and Elijah really said he just wanted you to look at the plants for a few minutes. He didn't say anything about a freezer." Darren holds up his hands as if surrendering.

"And there it is! You admit that you lied to me, that you manipulated me to get me to go with you. And then you had the audacity to say that if I was uncomfortable we could go home!" You shout at him, narrowing your eyes. "Well Darren, I gotta tell you I was fucking uncomfortable in that damn freezer and in his damn office, and where were you? Oh right…" You tap your lips with the tip of your finger. "You left me there with that fucking psychopath!"

"I didn't leave you there! I called Richie and when I came back into the office, you were gone. Elijah told me that you left! I went back to your apartment and-" Darren frowns at you. He didn't like that you weren't listening to what he had to say.

"Do you expect me to believe any of that bullshit?" You plant your hands on your hips as you interrupt him, feeling a surge of anger swelling in your chest.

Even though the two of you are technically standing outside of the shop, you can still feel the energy from the plants inside, intertwining with you, strengthening you, and waiting for your command.

Truthfully ever since you'd killed Elijah you hadn't been able to forget it. You'd never used your powers like that before, never knew that you could, and never had fanaticized about that. But now, standing outside of the shop with your brother you could feel the plants calling out to you, asking you to command them, begging you to free them. You could feel them clawing in the dirt, the roots beneath writhing and unsettled, the flowers turning to watch Darren and you. Even the trees down the street that stood as stoic protectors over the children playing beneath their feet began to bend towards the two of you.

Sure in the past you'd been connected to the world around you, but ever since everything that happened with Elijah, your powers felt different, as if there was something else brewing and prickling beneath your skin that begged to be unleashed.

"I'm trying to apologize and you won't even listen to me!" Your brother shouts. Darren was leaning down over you, not as tall as Ben, but tall enough to be bigger than you.

You'd never feared him in the past, but you saw something flicker behind his eyes, something predatory, something that you'd never seen before in all the years that you'd spent with your brother.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Darren. I want you to leave-" You reply, hands still planted on your hips.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I can't stop by your damn apartment because you have that asshole hovering around. He would tear me to pieces before I got a chance to talk to you. And I want to explain what happened." Darren snaps back, eyes dark.

"I know what happened! Elijah told me exactly-"

"You're going to believe him over me? I'm your brother! I'm your blood, do you really think that I would have let Elijah do any of those things to you if I knew he would?"

"I don't know anymore."

It broke your heart to admit that aloud, but it was true. You didn't know if Darren cared about you at all and if he loved you the way that you loved him, if he ever had.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He looks hurt, shoulders slumping downward. "Sissy-"

"I-" You falter.

For just a fleeting moment the anger and heartbreak you feel towards your brother recedes just enough for the love you have for him begin to trickle back in. You wanted to believe that he cared about you. Frustrated tears burn in your eyes, because a part of you wants to push him away but there's another part that clings on with bloody fingertips and asks you to listen to him.

Because Darren was your family and all you could think of was if your parents were here what would they do? All those years that you supported your brother you'd thought that you were honoring their memory by refusing to turn your back on him. You wanted to love your brother, wanted to believe that everything he was saying was genuine, and all the years that you gave in to whatever Darren asked you were bearing down on you.

"Come on sissy. I love you. You're the only family that I have left." Darren soothes taking a step closer to you when he senses how hesitant you are to push him away.

"Well-"

"Please listen to-" Darren begins to say, but his entire body is yanked backward by something.

"She doesn't need to hear another fucking word you have to say." Ben snarls, holding Darren tightly by the throat above the sidewalk.

You hadn't seen him walk up. Ben could move silently when he wanted to and right now he looks murderous. There's a fire blazing behind his eyes turning them into heated furnaces of pure emerald, practically glowing in the last slips of the sunlight that peeks behind the buildings and stretches the shadows long over the almost empty street. His mouth is pulled back in a snarl as he stares at your brother, the grip he has on his throat tightening.

The couple across the street gasp when they watch Darren struggle in Ben's unbreakable grip, but Ben doesn't acknowledge them.

"I made you a promise." Ben's voice is a low growl as he holds Darren up so high off the ground that Darren's feet kick helplessly in the air. "You should have stayed gone you insignificant piece of shit."

Darren's eyes flash to yours. "Are you really going to let him treat me this way? I'm your brother!"

Ben's grip tightens on his throat and Darren grabs on to Ben's wrist.

You stand there frozen in horror unable to speak. A part of you is screaming for Ben to let him go and another part of you is begging for Ben to do what you don't think you can. You felt so weak in that moment, unable to turn your back on your brother, on the abuser, the manipulator, and the man who used you for years.

Ben's eyes flick to yours for a moment, something passing through his gaze that you can't understand, but it gives you strength.

"Sissy?" Darren's voice sounds so broken.

"Ben. Put him down." You say.

"What?" Ben snaps, eyes flashing.

"Please. Put him down." You breathe, your eyes catching Ben's for a moment.

Ben's jaw is tight, the muscles in his torso tense, but he does what you say with a grunt. Darren's body falls onto the sidewalk and he gasps for air, touching his throat as he gets to his feet.

Darren smiles at you through the deep breaths. "I knew you wouldn't let him-"

"Leave" You say as calmly as you can, but there's a slight tremor on the edge of your voice.

Ben takes a step closer to you when he hears it, but he doesn't touch you. He's still staring down Darren, eyebrows pulled tight together, and his mouth turned down into a frown with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. You know that he's probably a little pissed at you that you told him to put Darren down, but you also couldn't believe that he listened to you.

"What?" Darren stutters.

"Leave." You repeat. "I never want you to come back here ever."

"But I'm your-"

"If you say that you're her fucking brother one more time, I'm going to rip you in half." Ben's hands clench at his sides and you know that he's holding himself back from grabbing Darren again.

“You’re my family. I love you.” Darren says, the edge of his voice cracking just a little bit, but there's something behind his gaze that makes you pause. You're not sure if it's because he's trying to hide how mad he is at Ben or what, but there is something unsettling about the way he's looking at you.

“I don’t think you do.” It broke you to say it, to admit it out loud. “I’ve let you use me all these years, sacrificing my own happiness, my own success for you, because I loved you, but I don’t think you’ve ever once loved me. All you’ve done is look out for yourself.”

“That’s ridiculous-“

“When’s my birthday Darren?” You ask him, throat tight.

He freezes. “You're kidding right? You really think I don't know when your birthday is?"

"What have I been dreaming of doing since I was ten years old?"

"Sissy-"

"Your birthday is June 12th." You reply without stuttering. "Since you were thirteen years old your dream has been to own a blue 1970 Chevelle with black racing stripes. But you can never seem to scrape together enough money to get one."

Darren visibly pauses with your answer.

"I pay attention to everything you tell me Darren. I remember everything because I love you. And if you loved me, you would know those things about me. You would actually care enough to remember that I hate surprises, that I hate that insipid nickname, and since I was eight years old the only thing that I've been dreaming about is to open up my own farmer's market."

"You're kidding right?" Darren snorts. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"And that's exactly why I don't believe that you love me. Because if you did you would support me the way that I've supported you for years."

"I-"

"No. I have sacrificed so much for you and you have never once done anything for me! So I'm asking you to leave, because as much as I love you, I can't do this anymore." The tears were blurring your vision, but you were holding it together the best you could. Ben was now standing so close to you that his arm was almost touching yours and you feel his fingertips brush the back of your hand just for a second, as if he wants to hold your hand but he doesn't.

"But-" Darren gapes, mouth wide open.

"She told you to fucking scram Dipshit." Ben snarls his eyes narrowing at your brother.

You could tell that it was taking a lot of effort on Ben's part not to turn Darren into mush and it made you grateful that he was here. Because Ben was letting you handle it, but he was there for you if you needed him to be. It was the first time that you realized how much you needed him with you.

Darren stands there for a minute eyeing Ben and you, emotions running together across his face merging with one another, his eyes darkening. And then he does something you didn't expect.

Darren begins to laugh.

 Not just a little giggle or a snort, a deep throated rumble that shakes his body as he doubles over laughing so hard that he begins to wheeze.

"Oh sissy. I've been waiting for this for years. You have no idea." Darren continues to laugh, gasping for air and putting his hands on his thighs to hold himself steady.

What the hell is happening?

"What?" You ask tentatively. Even Ben is looking at him in surprise.

"Man. I've been wondering for years how long it would take you to finally grow a fucking backbone, but wow. I never thought it would be now." He starts to slow clap. "I'm impressed."

"What are you talking about?"

The glint in his eyes was back and Darren was smiling wide, so wide that you could see all his teeth. It reminded you of when Annie and you used to watch Crocodile Hunter on tv when you were kids and would huddle together watching Steve Irwin fearlessly handle them.

Darren's smile turns more into a smirk. "Kinda a good thing too, because I don't need you anymore, not with the way business is going. Honestly, I should thank your boyfriend. He solved a major problem for me."

"What problem?" Ben snarls.

"Elijah." Darren laughs out the name. "When I found out that you were Soldier Boy and saw how friendly you were with my sister at that ridiculous fundraiser. I knew that you'd come save her and kill Elijah. Poisoning his plants and letting it slip at that my sister just happened to be a plant supe at a poker game was the only way that I could get her involved and Elijah jumped at the chance.

He was at the fundraiser? When was he at the fundraiser?

"Why would you do that?" You ask in surprise.

What in the actual fuck is going on? He planned for Elijah to take me? He purposely poisoned the plants?

You were seeing a different side of Darren. Growing up he'd always had a temper, but Darren was never conniving or cunning. He never planned ahead more than an hour. It was always you that had to remind him to do things and you that begged him to at least think ahead for the entire week.

He's not some criminal mastermind. The guy doesn't believe that pickles used to be cucumbers for fucks sake.

"He was bad for business, he was already encroaching on my territory with the weed and then he said he was going to expand into cars and I couldn't have that. So." Your brother shrugs.

"But I don't understand why?"

Ben looks just as confused as you do, but the anger has not vanished from his eyes. You realize that Ben is waiting for you to say the word for him to start in on Darren. And it made you feel grateful again that he was here with you.

"Oh sissy you're still so innocent. I almost feel bad for you, not really. But" Darren flashes another brilliant smile that doesn't seem to fit the conversation the three of you are having. "I guess I should thank you. I would have never been able to build an empire without you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben spits.

He was getting tired of Darren's monologuing and frankly so were you. An odd feeling prickled against your skin, splattering and splashing like oil in a skillet and the plants in the shop behind you pressed themselves against the windows as if trying to warn you. There was something wrong about this whole situation, something that you knew that you were missing, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

"And to think I was so upset when you survived that night." Darren looks disappointed, but he chuckles. "Of course my aim now is a little bit better than it was then." His eyes pulse a dangerous electric blue and an unnatural hum fills the air. "I've had the practice."

He's a supe? How long has he been a-

The thought stutters to a halt when you realize what he said.

"Your aim? What do you-"

The words are barely out of your mouth, when the cold shock of what he's talking about hits you like you'd been dunked into a bucket of cold water. The memory of the night your parents died comes crashing over you in a wave and you're transported into the backseat of the car. The supple leather beneath your fingertips, the chill of the air conditioning, the melding of your parent's voices to "Nights In White Satin," the patter of rain against the metal roof that streaked across the glass windows, and the sticky remnants of chocolate ice cream on your cheeks. The unnatural flash of white light illuminates the interior of the car, the light that seemed to crackle and pulse across the space in front of the vehicle and seemed to come from in front of the car and not above the way the cops said it had.

The same flash of light that everyone said was lightning, but now you knew better.

You remembered it all, the hum of electricity in the air as the bolt hit the car and your dad jerking the wheel and sending the car over the bridge, and the sound of your mother's scream ringing in your ears just before the jolt of the car hitting the water and everything went black.

"No." You whisper taking a step back from your brother. "It was you?"

Horror and shock clamps down around your throat making it difficult to breathe.

Why would he do something like that? They were our parents. Why would he want to kill the two people who loved him as unconditionally as they loved me?

You didn't have one unhappy memory from the childhood you spent with your parents. The house was always warm, filled with the smell of baked goods, and the love your parents had for one another and for Darren and you. Every day was fused with wonder and excitement, and the weekends were filled with surprise trips to places that you’d never been before. They cared so much for the two of you, sacrificing the big things in their lives so they could be around Darren and you.

Darren wasn't with us in the car, he said he had homework and that he couldn't come with us to my recital.

Darren smiles wider, proud that you figured it out. "I was worried that you saw me standing on the road that night in the rain. That's why I left for a few days after the accident, but when I showed up again  and you were so happy to see me, I saw my chance. You didn't know that it was me and there wasn't a need for me to stay gone."

"But why? Why would you do that?"

Darren's expression turns murderous. "Do you have any idea what it was like being second best to you my whole life?" Electricity jumps from his fingertips, flashing a dangerous blue and crackling in the air. "What it was like to be your brother?"

Holy fuck he's the electric supe. And the empire that Elijah was encroaching on was his chop shop.

The thought blazes through you and you remember what Elijah said about "expanding into automotives."

Of course Darren needed us to take Elijah out. Elijah had money and had the means to destroy Darren, but without the competition then…

You blink to bring your thoughts back together, realizing what your brother just said to you. “What are you talking about? You were never second best-"

"Yes I was!" He seethes. "You’ve always been the special one. The supe, the favorite, the golden child. I could never touch you! You're the one that mom and dad were so proud of.”

Darren takes a step forward and Ben mirrors the move, shifting his body in front of you to protect you from Darren, but Darren doesn't take his eyes off you. His face is contorted in hate, anger flaring white hot in his eyes that still glow an unnatural and dangerous bright blue. The air is full of the energy, popping and crackling along Darren's skin with every pulse of electricity.

"Darren-" You begin to say, but he interrupts.

"No." He snarls. "I'm talking now. You can't shut me up. Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this? They put you on a fucking pedestal for years. You were the one with all the toys all the talent. You're the one that they gave the Compound V to. I had to scavenge and scrape together enough money to bribe a friend of mine to swipe some from his mother's hospital."

So that's how he got it.

Anger, rage, heart break, and shock were fighting in your chest for dominance. You could feel the burn of tears in your eyes understanding that the brother you thought that you'd loved for all these years was also the man who murdered your parents in cold blood.

He tried to kill you too.

The thought was everywhere, ricocheting around in your head, the truth that Darren hid for years finally coming out.

"I was made for more. You. You're nothing." Darren spits. "You're a disappointment. Mom and dad gave you the powers and all you do is sit in a fucking plant shop all day long. What about me? I can fucking fly! I can fry someone from thirty fucking feet away! I amounted to something. All you do is make the fucking flowers bloom."

You'd heard the insult before on the lips of the men Elijah employed, the men who underestimated you. You'd heard it before in the tone of voice your brother had when he spoke to you the other night when he came to crash in your apartment and took your bed.

The energy in the air was reaching a dangerous peak and you could still feel it scraping against your skin. The plants in the shop behind you are pressed tight against the window and you have no idea where Jake is, only that you hope he's far away from whatever is about to happen.

Anger pulses hard and fast in your chest, sending a bitter taste into your mouth.  "Oh you amounted to something? You didn't amount to anything! You’re still just a sack of shit that’s I’ve been dragging around. And I can't believe that I let you do it to me for years! You don’t care about me you don’t love me-"

"Of course I fucking don’t! I never have!"

"And then you killed the two people who loved you unconditionally-"

"They didn't fucking love me!" Darren snarls. "The only thing they loved was you. A pathetic little bitch who should have just keeled over and died like a good girl."

Ben's hand comes out and grabs Darren by the front of his jacket hauling him up into the air. "Don't you fucking speak to her that way." His voice is no more than a growl, rumbling low in his chest, his own eyes flashing a deep green, darker than you'd ever seen before. His skin has taken on a golden glow, coming through the dark t-shirt and pair of jeans he was wearing and the smell of ozone fills the air around the three of you.

"What are you going to do Benny?" Darren's body is glowing a blue beneath his outfit. "Show me that famous Soldier Boy temper? Fuck, you're just as pathetic as she is, nothing more than a washed up-"

Ben isn't holding on to Darren anymore, Darren's body is flying back into the street with the force of Ben's throw, but it doesn't strike ground, it gets hit mid-air by a passing bright red minivan. Darren's body flips backwards over the top of the car and lands in the street in a broken heap.

You're still frozen on the sidewalk as Ben sails in to beat down Darren's body where it lies, but there's an awful flash of bright blue light and an SUV that was parked on the street goes flying into Ben, propelling both of them into the bakery next door to the plant shop. The loud crashing of glass and brick with the force of the hit rings in your ears.

"Ben!" You shout, but he's no where in sight.

Darren stands from the ground, one of his arms hanging limply at his side and there's a bloody gash on his forehead that drips blood down into his eye, but and when Darren smiles, blood smears the inside of his usually white teeth.

"Goodbye sissy."

You don't have time to react. The bolt of lightning catches you in the center of the chest and throws you backwards into the plant shop. There's a terrible feeling of weightlessness, before your body hits the glass windows and slams into the flowering plant display that Jake had been working on when Darren showed up.

You land on your back hard, head hitting the concrete with a sickening crack that you feel vibrate through your entire body. Pain is everywhere. There's glass imbedded in your back, the cast on your arm is cracked open, your leg is burning and you're afraid to look down to see what you'll find. You can taste blood in your mouth and feel something sticky underneath your head that you're sure is the same.

You stare up at the florescent lights of the shop for a moment, the revelation of everything your brother had done beginning to finally sink in.

He killed our parents, he tried to kill me.

Tears burn and fall down your cheeks with the thought. Emotions swirling in your chest too fast to name.

I spent years taking care of him, letting him berate me, manipulate me, use me for whatever he needed and not once did he love me. I was so stupid. How could I have been so stupid?

The plants were circling around you, calling out to you, brushing against your broken body as you continued to lay there staring up at the ceiling. Black was starting to close in on the edge of your vision, making everything go a little bit fuzzy, but your mind was awake.

He killed our parents, he tried to kill me.

You think again, but you still can't move. You feel the trailing vines of the plants touching your legs, wrapping over them, laying down over your chest, and creeping up towards your broken arm and your face. They were whispering to you, asking your permission, begging you to let them free.

He killed our parents, he tried to kill me, and he tried to kill Ben.

And with that thought, you feel the rage begin to take over, burning hot and beating against your rib cage like a drum.

The plants around you begin to glow a vivid green, binding around your limbs, their strength flooding into your body as you call them forth to help you. The healing energy wrapping you in a cocoon of energy and life, taking away your pain. Pieces of glass fall from your skin, your bones knit back together, your skin closes and the scars left behind disappear as if they never happened.

You rise from the ground, the plants that wrapped around you no more than blackened tendrils of what they used to be, crunching underfoot as you make your way towards the front of the shop. You could feel the energy thrumming through your veins, the wounds you had were gone, the exhaustion and fatigue washed away by the plants that gave what life they had to make you whole.

You'd only ever given life to things that needed you, you'd never once considered that you could take it away.

Darren is still standing in the street, looking proud of himself, but when he sees you reappear in the broken window his smile falters.

"Guess you can take a hit." Darren shrugs. "I'm a little impressed-"

"Our entire lives you’ve never appreciated me. All I did all was listen to you, do everything I could to love and support you. I did whatever you asked without question. I spent so much of my own money, sacrificing little things in my life, doing ridiculous jobs to make a little bit extra, because I thought I was helping you.”

“You did.” Darren sneers. “I never had to work-“

“I’m not finished.” You snap. “I have given so much of myself to you and all it did was enable you. Annie was right and our grandmother was right. You are a leech. All you do is take and take until there's nothing left, and you don't care who you hurt."

"Look who's finally seeing the bigger picture!"

"I am." Your heart was running a mile a minute and you could still feel the remnants of power from the plants thrumming in your veins. "You're a parasite and Ben was right, I was too stupid to see it, too conditioned to believe that you cared about me. But you don't, the only person you care about is yourself." Your voice trembles just a little bit as you say those words, but you knew it was true. "I'm sorry that you spent your entire life believing that our parents didn't love you, I'm sorry that I wasted so much of my own money and time taking care of you, and I'm sorry that after all this time there's still apart of me that wants to forgive you even though you don't deserve it."

"Oh no sissy did I hurt your feelings?" Darren puffs out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. "What are you gonna do? Throw a spinach puff at me?" He cackles. "You're so pathetic. You really think that Mr. American Dream and you can beat me? Please." Bluish white arcs of energy illuminate the air around him, catching in the long shadows, emanating out from his body. His skin has gone an even paler shade of white, his veins a dark blue beneath. "In Greek mythology Zeus is the king of the gods. And all the others bow to him." He raises a hand and the electricity dances across his palm. "Have you come to bow?"

“No, because you were wrong about one thing.” You feel your eyes shift to bright green with your words, the plants in the store behind you screaming for blood, writhing together in a tangled mass in the depths of the shop.

"And what’s that sissy?” Darren snorts.

“Ben didn’t kill Elijah. I did.” 

The building that housed "Please Don't Die" explodes behind you raining brick, mortar, and rubble on the street around where you stand. The creature that crawls forward on broken limbs and tangled roots from the remnants of the store is the size of a city bus. It looks like a large lizard, the claws easily the size of your forearm, it's head the size of a washing machine, and the body rippling with muscle woven from stems, leaves, and vines to claw it's way from the rubble on four legs.

Darren stares up at it in shock, confused at it's sudden appearance.

It opens it's mouth, revealing a mouth full of broken sticks fashioned into points, and lets loose a roar that shakes the parked cars that line the street. You could feel your body intertwined with it, the creature an extension of yourself, the rage, anger, and frustration you felt pouring through the veins of the behemoth that towered over the empty street.

This has never happened before, but it felt right. As if everything inside of you had been building from this, since the moment you used your power to kill Elijah your powers had felt different, amplified. And now standing in the street with the creature at your command it feels cosmically correct. There's a switch inside that flipped the right way and for the first time in your life, you feel powerful.

Darren tries to blast you backward again, but the lizard is faster than he expected it to be absorbing the bolt of electricity. It plows head first into Darren, knocking him back into the pavement. He lets out a yell of surprise, the sound of his head hitting the pavement echoing down the street.

You could feel your body thrumming with power, electrifying your veins, exploding from every nerve ending, and charging through skin and sinew to recreate you into something that you never knew existed and never knew you could be.

The creature's clawed hand is on Darren's chest, flattening him down into the street, and he struggles beneath it electricity crackling in the air. The lizard stares down at him with unblinking eyes, not reacting to the arcs of bluish-white light that pulse from Darren's hands.

It looks over it's massive shoulder at you, the plants that formed it’s body asking your permission, bending to your will, opening it's mouth to click in a broken language that only you understand. You can hear the little whispers of the leaves against your ears and feel the roots and vines that knotted together to form the behemoth that takes up most of the street.

"Sissy-" Darren begins to say, his eyes wide. You could see him mentally calculating his mistake, his misinterpretation of what you were capable of, and see him trying to switch tactics to save his own skin.

But you don’t want to hear any of it anymore. You didn't want to waste another second of your life listening to anything he said.

"I'm your brother." He wheezes the clawed hand heavy on his chest, pushing him down into the pavement. 

"I don’t have a brother." Your voice is cold and emotionless. "All you are is the asshole who killed my parents and used me in every way he could. And you're never going to use ever again.  Goodbye Darren."

"Wait-"

The creature's jaws fasten onto Darren's head and his last words are cut off in the rip of teeth and crunch of bone.

You stand there watching the lizard tear at his body, gazing at the bloody mangled mass that was your brother and your creation that crouches above him. Blood drips from it's bloody maw onto the pavement, staining the street red and it looks at you as if waiting for your next command, but you can't move.

"Petals?" You hear Ben say from somewhere to your left, but you don't acknowledge him. "Are you okay?"

The rush you felt from the plants is gone, the green fading from your eyes, and the sound of Darren's final gasp still vibrating against your ears. The energy is slowly ebbing from your body and you're scared by what's left behind, because that meant that everything was about to come crashing back down on you.

The creature turns and moves closer to you, pressing it's giant head against your torso as if trying to comfort you. And you raise a hand to rub the top of it’s head you can't stop staring at the body, not quite comprehending everything that has happened in the past fifteen minutes.

Darren killed my parents, he deserved this, he tried to kill me, he tried to-

There were tears in your eyes, bubbling over, as you exhale a gasp and a bone shaking sob. Everything was crashing down over you quickly and you sink to your knees.

The creature seems to follow you down, growing smaller and smaller until it's no more than the size of your hand, and clings to your jean's pocket.

Darren's body is unrecognizable, lying in pieces, and scattered over the street. People were running and screaming in terror, but you couldn't hear them. You knew that the police would be coming quickly and you didn’t know how the fuck you were going to explain any of this. Not the giant lizard, not the destruction of the building behind you, and especially not explain any of this to Jake who you hoped wasn't hurt or worse.

You feel Ben's hand come down on your shoulder. "Petals look at me, come on."

"He killed them." You murmur, the memories of your parents flashing through your mind, all of them happy and in love. "He killed them because he thought they loved me more. It's all my fault."  The memory of the nightmare grates across your skin sending a shudder through your body.

"Petals." Ben turns your face to look at him. His eyes are still filled with the force of his rage, but they are softer now, looking at you with an unreadable emotion that you'd only seen in the hospital when you woke up and Ben sat with you. His hand gently traces the curve of your cheek. "That was not your fault. Everything he did wasn't your fault. He was fucked in the head. He-"

"I can't do this." You swallow, pulling yourself from Ben and standing up on shaky legs.

"What?"

"I've got to get out of here." Your feet stumble slightly on the cracked pavement, and Ben catches your now unbroken arm to stabilize you, but also to stop you from leaving

"Let me make sure that you're okay first-"

"I'm not!" Your voice breaks. "None of what happened is okay. I'm not okay Ben I-" The sobs were coming closer together now, everything coming down hard and making it difficult to breathe. "I can't breathe. I-"

"Hey. Shhh-" Ben tries to step closer to you.

"No Ben." You shake your head, tugging your arm to tell him to let you go, but he doesn't. The tears fall faster, soaking through your bloody shirt.

Emotions were pummeling you, overwhelming you, and were making it difficult to speak and to think. The only thought you had was that you had to get the hell out of here, that you couldn't look at what used to be Darren anymore, and that you couldn't look at what used to be the shop you loved so much.

"Just wait a damn minute-" He says more forcefully, tightening his grip.

"No. Let me go."

"Petals-" He's saying it in the soft concerned way that he did whenever it was the two of you, but you couldn’t listen to it. All you could feel was the jumble of emotions in your head and the events of today beginning to press down over you. Darren's confessions and his death were crushing you into oblivion.

"Let me go Ben." You shout again, through a sob.

"I don't want to. Let me help damnit!"

"No, please." You shout, tears streaking down your face as he finally lets you go. "I need to be alone. I need to-" You gasp. "I need to go home."

The darkness was closing in quickly and you didn't know what to do. The tide was overwhelming, pulling you under with every passing second.

"Then let me take you home."

"No." You shake your head. "I have to go home." You say it again for him to understand what you mean. "I can't be here right now with this. With any of this I-"

"Please-" Ben's voice is thick and it's the first time you've ever heard him sound that way.

"No, I have to go."

And you run, leaving the body of your brother and everything you know behind, while Ben watches you go with a twinge in his own chest that he can't understand.

A/N: Lots happened in this chapter. I know the revelations and the twists were WILD. But it finally happened, Darren got what he deserved. I know we don't see too much of Ben and the reader, but in the next chapter things between them are about to become less blurry. And we get a re-appearance of Granny Di in the next chapter!

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Comments, and Likes are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series please let me know! :)

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[nicka-nell]

omg ur taking requests!

can you do some angst to fluff with Atsumu, Iwaizumi, Suna, Kuroo, Ushijima, and Sakusa (I’m sorry if they’re too many you can choose whoever you want to write about from these characters, I luv all of them soooo much)

Can you make it like really really Angsty in the start. Like the characters doing something they’ll regret a lot and then they spend a lot of efforts making up for it? Please make it fluffy in the end, I can’t handle sad endings 😭

Also please don’t include anything with infidelity or mentions of it. My boyfriend of 3 years cheated on me last month and I’m having such a hard time.

Thank you for considering my request. And there’s no pressure to accept, I don’t mind at all.

Hi! yes I am taking requests right now. 😇 First of all, I'm so sorry that you had such a negative experience. But tbh, you're better off this way. Nobody needs such an ass cheating on them! 😔😤 My ex did that too, with my ex-best friend btw. I also had a hard time but quickly felt better because I realised that it's a waste of time to cry over such a dick. I hope you don't lose hope in a healthy relationship based on trust. There really are good people out there and I hope you find someone who can appreciate you. Sending you a lot of hugs and kisses. 🤗💚❤️‍🩹

And for your request. I've written three stories for Tsumu, Iwa and Suna. Unfortunately they got a bit tooo long for my taste, so I only made these 3. I hope that's okay. I really had problems making it super angsty (urg, I need more practice for angsty stuff 😵‍💫). As you wished, I didn't include anything with cheating (even though I had a few ideas haha.) and I also added a trigger warning before each story. I think Iwa's and Suna's in particular might be a bit darker... so you can decide on your own if you want to continue reading it or not. Anyway, I hope you still like it, and thanks for your request. Stay healthy! 🥰💚

Regretting their actions

Pairing: Atsumu x, Iwaizumi x, Suna x reader

Warning: angst to fluff, break-up (Atsumu, Suna), mention of abuse/anger issues, mention of blood (Iwaizumi), mention of abortion, mention of drugs/pills (Suna)

Part 1 | Part 2 (End)

tw: mention of break-up

You met Atsumu when he came to his brother’s onigiri store for the housewarming.

The two of you got along well quickly. And it wasn’t long before he kissed you at a party, looked at you with his cheeky grin and said, “Tastes better than a victory.”

More things happened that night. Not just simple kisses and when you woke up next to him in bed, he asked you, still sleepy: “You’re my girlfriend now, aren’t you?”

You’ve been together for several years now and were thinking about moving in together soon when Atsumu’s career suddenly took off. He was traveling abroad more often and had less time for you or looking for an apartment.

And then it happened…

You scroll through the apartment search app for something suitable for the two of you, lying on the bed while missing him terribly. You close the app to go to your messenger, only to realize that you were the one who last texted Atsumu... two days ago… Two blue check marks indicate that he has read your messages but has not replied. Your fingers hover over the keypad of your phone and you think about writing to him. Maybe he read your message during training and didn’t have time to reply. Maybe he just forgot about it afterwards... maybe...

“Hey Tsumu... I know you’re busy but, I hope you’re doing well. Love you.” you type into your phone and send the message with a strange feeling in your stomach. It doesn’t take long before you see under his name that he is online. The gray check marks next to your message turn blue, but instead of replying, you see that he went offline again. You swallow a big lump down your throat, your heart feels heavy. Maybe he can’t answer you right now... you try to convince yourself again.

Several hours pass as you sink your head into your pillow and try to stifle your tears. Atsumu’s sports t-shirt is in your arms, which he had given you before his trip abroad. Time passes and suddenly you hear the ringtone of your phone as a message arrives. Your heart hits loud against your chest as you reach for your phone and see your boyfriend’s name. But your joy quickly disappears, the lump in your throat gets bigger and you can’t breathe. 

>> Hey... listen, I think it’s better if we end the relationship… break up. I don’t know, but I just don’t have time for it. I’ll see you around. <<

It feels like a slap in the face. As if this is a poor joke. You want to write to him, ask him what this is all about, but your tears blur your vision. The only thing you send is a “really?” but the message is no longer read. It remains on one gray check mark.

Two days go by and you still think it was all a bad joke, but every time you read his message, you feel like throwing up. Has he really dumped the whole relationship? By a shitty text message? You open your Instagram account and enter his name almost as if on autopilot.

Another slap in the face as your tears run down your cheeks again. His bio no longer says “Best setter and proud boyfriend” but simply “Setter MSBY Black Jackal”. All the pictures he had with you on his account have been deleted. Instead, you can only see advertising photos or private photos of him. The last eight pictures are of him, Hinata and Bokuto dancing and having fun with fans in different bars. Atsumu grins at the camera as if he doesn’t care about you at all. As if your relationship meant nothing to him.

You text him some more times, leave him voicemails because he never answers your calls. But after a few days, you let it go. It only frustrates you even more to see how little this relationship actually meant to him. For days, you cry yourself to sleep, what doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu. After all, he sees you three times a week when you help him out in his store. When you tell him what has happened, he is also speechless, because Atsumu has really pissed him off with all his raving about you. So why would he break-up with you out of the blue? Osamu can’t see you as devastated as a heap of misery. So he also tries to find out the reason for the break-up between you and his silly brother. But when he calls him, Atsumu only faces him coldly on the phone. “Did she tell you to ask me? Leave it okay? I think I just realized that I don’t want a relationship.”

Two months go by and somehow you still can’t believe that your relationship just fell apart. Osamu tries to distract you somehow, but it doesn’t help because he reminds you too much of your idiot ex-boyfriend.

Nevertheless, you are grateful to Osamu for swapping your shift with his coworker’s shift so that you can open the store with him in the morning. That way, you avoid running into Atsumu, who is more likely to be in the restaurant in the evening as soon as he returns from his stay abroad. You’re not ready to face him at the moment.

Just as you’re about to finish work, you remember that you wanted to show Osamu a video on your phone. “Look, the new trailer for the second season of this soccer series is out. Shall we watch the first episode together on Saturday after work?” you ask Osamu as he approaches you and looks over your shoulder. He rests his hand on the counter next to you, his chest almost touching your back, but he keeps his distance from you respectfully. You are both focused on the trailer, not hearing the doorbell from the store.

Atsumu is tired. The flight was delayed, and he hasn’t been able to sleep properly for weeks. How could he sleep well with all the partying and Hinata as his roommate, who spent the night in the hotel calling his friends from Karasuno. At least that’s what he tells himself… that this is the reason for his sleepless nights. But this thought vanishes when he steps into his brother’s store hungry, actually only wanting to eat a few onigiris and then go home. Into his apartment. His empty, dreary apartment. But as he walks through the door of the store, it feels as if someone has hit his chest with full force, knocking the air out of him.

He sees Osamu leaning towards you with a sense of familiarity. What’s going on there? And why does it bother him so much that you giggle and look at Osamu, who returns your gaze with a nod and a smile before turning to the door? His brother winces when he sees Atsumu. As you turn around as well, your smile disappears.

You look at Atsumu as if you’ve just seen a corpse, before packing your bag and saying goodbye to Osamu with a “See you tomorrow.”, only to walk past Atsumu with quick steps. You don’t even give him a glance, knowing that if you locked eyes with him, your tears would run. You would want to ask him questions upon questions. Why did you break up with me? Why am I not enough for you? Why did you lie to me for so long? Why...

As you walk through the door, you accidentally bump into him. This nudge, which was actually rather gentle, felt so painful. Why does it bother Atsumu to see you standing so close to his brother? Why does it hurt him that you stared at him with those empty eyes, as if he were a stranger? No. Worse, as if he were someone who had hurt you. Why does he have the feeling that he couldn’t make a sound if he opened his mouth now? The answer is simple, and even Atsumu seems to understand it by now as he looks from the now closed door over to Osamu, who stares at him with an indifferent expression crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So this is what someone who has realized that he doesn’t want a relationship looks like? Ya look like shit.”

Oh, how Atsumu would love to punch Osamu in the face. “Why are ya touchin’ my girl?” is bitter on his tongue, but he has no right to say it out loud. After all, he was the one who turned you down. The blonde Miya suddenly realizes how incredibly stupid his action was.

Back then, Atsumu had not expected to be traveling abroad so often. At first, it was only temporary stays. Nothing that would damage a relationship.

But the last few times in particular, he was sometimes away for several months. You kept telling him on the phone that everything was okay, but every time he called Osamu, he said that your eyes were sometimes red when you came to work and that you looked tired and sad.

Atsumu knew he was the reason. That you’d probably be better off without him. After all, you’re a great woman, someone who would find a new partner quickly.

You didn’t deserve to be sad all the time when he was gone. You should be happy. After all, a smile suits you so much better than a sad expression.

Atsumu would concentrate on his career. It would be difficult for him at first, but he would manage without you. He had to… for your sake.

So his mind was made up when he read your unanswered, concerned messages. If he texts you now to say that it’s over, being an ass to you, you’ll be able to forget him quickly… That was what he thought. 

But it wasn’t that easy. Your puzzled messages, your crying voice on his voicemail, broke his heart. Yet he tried to cover it all up with parties and his dear fans. He convinced himself that he was fine. Only to arrive home, see you and realize what an idiot he was, how much he missed you.

And now it’s Atsumu who reaches for his phone and texts you message after message.

Atsumu 8:02 PM: Hey babe, no.. hey Y/n. I know I have no right to text you. But please… let’s talk. I fucked up. Damn, I fucked up so hard that I don’t even know how to start… shit…

Atsumu 8:12 PM: Please… please answer your phone, babe…

Atsumu 8:44 PM: I know I’ve fucked up. I know I hurt and disappointed you. Fuck, I know I was an ass. Yk, I thought I was doing the right thing. 

Atsumu 9:34 PM: Fuck… please answer me… I still… damnit. 

That was the last message you received from Atsumu before you put your phone away and tried to forget him. Why is he doing this to you? Why is he stirring up your feelings again?

But Atsumu doesn’t think about stopping now. He runs to your house, to the apartment building and rings your doorbell. Once, twice, he rings so often that you can’t ignore it. You are about to tell him to leave through the loudspeaker system, but he interrupts you.

“Fuck baby, please open the door. I’m… I still love ya, okay? I always loved ya. I - shit, can ya even hear me? Fuck…” he curses agitatedly and presses the bell next to your nameplate again several times.

But instead of letting him in, you go down to the entrance of the apartment building and open the door with an expression on your face that Atsumu has never seen before. What is it? Anger, sadness, despair? Everything somehow.

“Say... are you kidding me? Do you think that’s funny?” you ask him, bewildered, still standing in the open doorway. Of course, you wouldn’t just believe him. Atsumu could have guessed. Your reaction was completely understandable. But he has to do something to show you that he’s serious.

“No, no, I don’t. I’m dead serious. Please let me explain,” he says, and starts to tell you that he thought a break-up would be best for you because he’s not good enough for you. Since you were obviously so sad about him leaving so often and he didn’t want to be the reason. He tells you that he thought he could get over you, but that he had to realize that you are the most important thing to him. Something… someone he doesn’t want to lose. With shaky hands and a still agitated voice, Atsumu takes out his phone.

“I wanted ya to hate me so that it would be easier for ya. But believe me, I... I couldn’t forget ya. Look, you’re still my wallpaper. All the photos of the two of us are still on my phone, all the memories-“ he is about to unlock his screen when his phone falls out of his hand and drops to the floor. Atsumu seems to be completely overwhelmed right now, as if he doesn’t know what to do. Should he bend down, pick up the phone, should he keep talking to you or hug you? He doesn’t know.

”Baby, please, please, I’ll do anything. Please gimme a chance. I’ll talk to my agent about not takin’ so many jobs abroad. I will be with ya more often. Always write to ya and call ya in the evening when I’m not at home. Let’s look for an apartment so we can move in together. Please, please, I would do anything. Please believe me that I love ya. Please..." he begs in a voice that becomes more and more brittle with every word. His eyes are full of emotion and his hands, which have unconsciously reached for yours, are trembling terribly.

“Two months... two months you ignored me, treated me like a piece of trash.” You say in a low voice as you search for eye contact. Atsumu has never felt so scared. Only now does he realize that the love of his life is standing in front of him, and that this might be the last time he’ll see her again, the last time he’ll touch her skin. But then again… Atsumu was an ass, so why should you forgive him? No, he can’t think like that. After all, you loved him. And if you love him as much as he loves you, then maybe there’s still hope.

“I know, and I know I can never make it up to ya. I know it’s not done with an ‘I’m sorry’. I’m the dumbest, most idiotic ex-boyfriend you’ve ever had. But... I’m stubborn too. And if that means chasin’ after ya for 10 years, drivin’ to yer apartment every day to ring the doorbell and tell ya I still love ya, wishin’ ya a good night every day, nice dreams and telling ya how important you are to me... I’ll do it. Every damn day, if it means there’s still a little hope for us.” He answers you hoarsely, keeping eye contact, hoping that you see how honest his words are.

You sigh, bend down, and pick up his phone before handing it to him. Atsumu doesn’t know what to do with all this. His face grimaces as if he’s expecting the worst. “Then... you shouldn’t lose your phone... if you want to write to me every day,” you answer him, a weak smile on your lips. Atsumu’s sorrowful expression suddenly changes and you see him looking at you with hope.

“Does that mean ya...” the blonde Miya can no longer contain his emotions as he leaps forward and pulls you into his arms. His embrace is so tight that you can barely breathe, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip out of his hands. Firm, but quivering. His whole body is shaking and you’re sure you’ve just felt something wet on your skin. Tears? Is Atsumu crying? “I promise to be a pain in yer ass every day. To text ya, to call ya, to be there for ya. Even in yer sleep. Okay? I love ya... I love ya so much...”

tw: abuse, anger issues, mention of blood

You’ve been with Iwaizumi since your school days. Back then, as a little flirt at school, Oikawa and Matsukawa mainly teased Iwaizumi for having a crush on you.

But in the end, many were jealous of the perfect couple who waltzed together on the dance floor at the prom with loving looks on their faces.

You were inseparable. Even Iwaizumi’s stay in America for his university didn’t affect your relationship. So it was no wonder that you got married after his return and were the perfect happy couple.

At least for the first few years.

The stress of being a coach for the Japanese national team is weighing on Iwaizumi’s mind. He normally handles stressful situations well, but he is under pressure.

If the team fails to perform in the next few games, he will lose many sponsors and possibly even his job.

Iwaizumi is constantly on edge and you feel like you have to walk on eggshells around him so you don’t provoke him.

More often, he has sudden temper tantrums, shouting at you about things that aren’t worth mentioning. “Damn it, I told you I need this one shirt for today. Why isn’t it clean?”

And once, when you stumbled with your words and asked him whether it might not be better to take a break as a coach, he was so angry that he almost hit you. But he managed to hold back and just sighed before going out for a beer in a nearby bar.

You don’t want to admit it to yourself, but right now, you’re really scared of your own husband.

Today was another training match between the Japanese national team and the Indonesian team. The team’s performance was better, but nowhere near good enough to shine. You watched the game on TV and run through your imaginary list in your head already, of potential trigger points for Iwaizumi. You don’t want him to get upset. The laundry is done; the house is clean; the food is also ready and in the fridge. Did you take out the trash? You chew nervously on your lower lip as you walk to the kitchen and let out a relieved sigh. That’s done too.

You are just closing the lid of the garbage can when you hear the key in the lock of your front door and Iwaizumi comes home with a surprisingly normal, “I’m home, my love, smells good in here”. Your shoulders relax immediately, a smile is back on your lips as you walk cheerfully into the hallway to greet Iwaizumi.

“Hello darling! How was your day?” Iwaizumi hugs you and leans down so you can kiss his cheek. “Let me eat something first. My day has been really exhausting,” he sighs, watching you nod and turn around to warm up the food for him. Your husband hangs up his jacket, puts down his bag and is about to turn around to follow you when he stumbles against a nearby vase that you had placed as a decoration for the fall changeover. The vase swings, loses its balance and falls to the floor in pieces.

“Shit!” You hear Iwaizumi curse and immediately run to him, anxiously hoping that nothing has happened to him. But luckily, he is unharmed. “Wait, I’ll clean up the broken pieces, you eat-“ you’re about to say, but Iwaizumi interrupts you loudly. “Always this stupid bullshit you put up. Shit, I could have hurt myself. If I miss now, that’s it for my career!” he shouts and stomps past you. You turn around hastily and apologize. “That wasn’t my intention, really,” you say, before realizing that it was a mistake to talk back. Iwaizumi turns around, his eyes ferocious and angry like a wild animal as he takes a step towards you. Your heart is beating restlessly and you are suddenly afraid.

“Not your intention? Admit it, you’d be happy if I got rid of the job!” he shouts, noticing how you start to tremble and shake your head. But Iwaizumi doesn’t seem to be in his right mind as he takes another step towards you. “Go clean up the mess! Make yourself useful!” he says through gritted teeth as he looks at your anxious and puzzled face. You know you should move, but your body doesn’t seem to listen, too scared to move a finger. And then it happens.

Iwaizumi grabs you by the hair and pulls you towards him. You cry out, weeping bitterly as you hear his voice again. “Are you deaf?! Get going!” he shouts, before pushing you away with more force than necessary. You lose your balance, stumble over your own feet as you fall and hit your head on the edge of the stairs in the hallway next to the broken vase. Your head hurts terribly, something warm flows down your face, sticking to your hair and making your vision suddenly completely different. It gets smaller and smaller before everything goes black in front of your eyes and the sounds around you stop completely.

Iwaizumi is abruptly perfectly sober and only now understands what has just happened. What he has just done to you, the woman he loves more than anything.

His eyes are big as he stares at his hands, which start to tremble in front of him.

Panic spreads through him as he looks at you. At your motionless body, at all the blood under your head.

He doesn’t know how he did it. His memories are hazy, but he can still remember trying to wake you up, in vain.

He had taken off his shirt, pressed it on your head injury to stop the bleeding and somehow managed to call an ambulance. Iwaizumi can’t remember anything else, just the one question from the paramedic who put you on the ambulance stretcher and took you to the hospital. Since Iwaizumi was your husband, he was allowed to drive with you.

“How did this happen?” the paramedic asked, as Iwaizumi answered quietly, “I don’t know... I really don’t know.”

It’s now been some hours after the accident and your head had been stitched up. Thank God it wasn’t as bad as it looked at first.

You’re still in the recovery room, Iwaizumi next to your bed on a chair, his hands folded in his lap as he hangs his head in bewilderment, looking at his wedding ring shining on his ring finger.

What happened? What has become of him? He still can’t believe what he has done.

He looks at his hands again, opens them, starts to tremble, clenches them into fists and realises how he lets out a frustrated sigh, which he had been holding back, as warm tears roll down his cheeks, soaking the fabric of his trousers.

In his mind, there’s only your shaking body, that frightened look, your screaming, and then this unbearable silence.

When you open your eyes, your head throbs a little and you have to squint through the bright, clinical light. “Where... where am I?” you say quietly, looking around the room and noticing that you’re lying in a hospital room. Next to your bed is none other than Iwaizumi. But he looks different. Broken… He shrinks at your words and looks up at you. You see his red eyes and how he hesitates whether it’s okay to take your hand in his. Iwaizumi gets up from his chair, wants to close the distance to your bed but his legs collapse and he falls to his knees when he suddenly starts to... cry? 

“Haji- me...” you say, still feeling exhausted. “I’m... god I...” Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to look you in the eye. He takes a deep breath, regains his courage before peering at you. Carefully, he grasps your hand, checking if you are afraid, but you don’t seem to pull it away. Maybe because you’re still too tired. Awkwardly, he strokes the back of your hand before resting his forehead on it and closing his eyes briefly.

“I’m a terrible husband. I’ve done everything I shouldn’t have done. Instead of carrying you on my hands, bringing a smile to your face and protecting you from everything that would harm you, I’ve done the exact opposite. Instead of being happy to see me, you’re just scared of me, aren’t you?” he says in a shaky voice and looks up at you again. You are calm. Just stare at him with a hurt look.

“I.... I can understand if you want a divorce. If you don’t want to be with a monster like me anymore. I really can’t even blame you. But... please let me tell you one thing. When I saw you lying on the floor like that, the world collapsed inside me. I was afraid of losing the most important thing in my life. And the most important thing is not my job, no, it’s you. And I’m ashamed that I’ve forgotten that. I am disgusted with myself and I know that is no excuse. What I have done is unforgivable. But please... if there is still a bit of hope, then I will try to do everything I can to be the man you fell in love with again. I want to be your Haji-bear again. Your place of peace, and your favorite person. I will go to anger issues therapy, behavioral therapy. If it’s better for our relationship, I’ll step down as a coach and see if I can find a job as a volleyball coach at a school. No matter what, I would do anything.” Your hand becomes wet as his tears land on it. His words move something inside you. You want to believe him, you don’t want the relationship to end either, but everything that has happened so far will not pass by without damage.

“I need time, Hajime... If you really mean it, please grant me the time...” you answer him and notice how your words seem to tear him apart. But at the same time he seems to want to make the best of the situation. He lets go of your hand and stands up just to sit back down on the chair next to your bed, looking at you determinedly, his eyes still red and swollen. “As much time as you need. If it means we still have a chance...”

A few months pass. Iwaizumi has passed on the house to you and moved into his parents’ house to give you the space you need. He goes to therapy three times a week and tells you about his progress. He is still coaching the national team, but his assistant coach is taking a lot of the work off his hands and the volleyball team seems to be playing better again.

Just like when you were at school, you’ll find a letter in your letterbox once a week. Back then, Iwaizumi always told you a bit about his week and wrote it down because, funnily enough, he was too shy to talk to you in person. Only that in his current letters he writes that he misses you, but hopes that you are doing well at the moment.

He meets you in public places, goes out with you, so that you gradually feel more comfortable with him again, that you can see his progress in therapy and don’t just think it’s empty words.

Six months have passed since the incident. You are standing in the bedroom, changing the sheets, when Iwaizumi comes through the front door of the house. “My love, I’m home,” you hear Iwaizumi’s calm voice. Coming home from his therapy session, he hangs up his jacket in the hallway as your voice lets him know where you are. 

Iwaizumi puts the flowers he bought for you on the kitchen table before he sneaks into the bedroom and sees you trying to unfold the sheets to put them on the blankets. With silent steps, he reaches around your waist to throw you onto the bed with him, wrapped in the covers that were in your hands earlier. Screaming, you laugh in unison with his chuckle as you look into each other’s eyes. “Hajime! Don’t scare me like that.” you laugh softly, while his hand gently tucks your hair behind your ear. Iwaizumi looks at your forehead, at the small scar that is left from your injury, before leaning forward and giving you a kiss on that spot.

“I’m sorry, but that was just so tempting,” he says, closing his eyes as he pulls you closer and just relaxes in bed with you. He strokes your back and kisses your forehead once more. “Hajime... what’s going on? Why are you so clingy suddenly?” you laugh, but Iwaizumi doesn’t join in the laughter, instead answering you seriously.

“Today, six months ago, I almost lost you. I’m just grateful that nothing happened to you. Thankful that you gave me another chance, even though I showed my worst side.” You can’t think of the right words to answer him, so you just smile, snuggle closer to him, and close your eyes. Safe in his arms, with his pulsating heart at your ear, you fall asleep.

tw: mention of abortion, mention of drugs/pills (without consent) 

Suna and you were just friends for a long time. Even if the others saw you more like a couple.

You were the only one Suna didn’t mind when you sat next to him and pulled out one of his earphones to listen to music with him.

You always had the same route to school and if one of you came to school alone, you knew immediately that the other one must be sick. 

With graduation, you mentioned that you might want to study abroad. That time, Suna had a weird feeling in his stomach for the first time. As if he was afraid of losing you.

That was the day he realised that he felt more for you than just friendship.

The same evening, he asked you to come over and watch a movie when he yawned in a very clichéd way to put his arm over your shoulder and pull you closer to him. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he just was.

A number of things went through his mind. What if you don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you? Will you still want to study abroad? Would you end your friendship with him if you didn’t feel the same way?

He tried to block out the questions and then, with his usual calmness, asked you if you could imagine anything more than a friendship. Luckily for him, you said yes.

From that moment on, everything was perfect. You had created your own little world over several years. You studied, and luckily not abroad. Suna was successful in volleyball, so you were both able to buy an apartment together quickly.

Just the two of you. Your friends were there from time to time, but in the evenings you were always alone at home, arm in arm, in the quiet flat without any noise or other people to disturb you.

Until one morning where you look at the little piece of plastic in the bathroom, stunned, when the two red stripes tell you that you are pregnant.

You hadn’t spoken to Suna about having children yet, but you’ve been together for so long now and everything is going well that you assume he would be just as happy as you are.

You thought…

When Suna comes home, you’ve already prepared a little surprise. There are a pair of baby shoes on the table in the living room, the pregnancy test in front of them and a little balloon with “Best Dad” written on it. You can’t help smiling as you see Suna walk into the room when you call out “surprise”, looking a little shy in his direction. But Suna’s reaction differed from what you expected.

Almost disgusted, he looks in your direction. “This better be one of those stupid TikTok pranks, right?” he says, and your smile disappears abruptly. Your stomach turns and you feel sick. And not because of the pregnancy. You stand there irritated, only able to utter a quiet “No... it’s not a joke”, confused by his negative reaction. “No? What week are you in? Tell me you can still have an abortion...” he says, annoyed, as he walks towards the table to see if there is any information about the week of pregnancy on the pregnancy test. 

“What?” you say in bewilderment, still looking at Suna, who throws the test on the table in frustration before starting to massage his temples. “We’ll go to the gynecologist tomorrow, okay? Get rid of it. A child means responsibility. You have to look after this thing all the time, you’re no longer flexible and it’s noisy too... I just don’t want that.” 

His words feel like a thousand stabs. Never have you seen Suna act like this before. You anticipated that he might be a bit taken by surprise and perhaps not be able to deal with the situation at first, but Suna seems to have a very clear opinion on the subject. He doesn’t even seem to be willing to talk. But abort a child? Let Suna’s and your baby die just like that? You can’t do that. You don’t want that. 

The two of argue. Suna’s look gets progressively angrier. Yours sadder until he decides to leave the house with a “Do what you want, maybe it’ll die anyway”. Now you’re home alone with his painful words. You stand rooted to the spot in the room for several more minutes until the strength in your legs finally gives way and you slump to the floor, crying bitterly. The night, you spend alone in your bed, without Suna. He doesn’t answer his phone and doesn’t reply to your messages. You don’t hear from him the next day either, and he hasn’t come home. Thank God you get a message from Osamu, who texts you that Suna is with him and that you have nothing to worry about. But how are you supposed to stay at home without worrying if your boyfriend doesn’t get in touch with you and you’ve been arguing for days? You are scared. Afraid for the baby, afraid for the relationship and everything you two have built up.

Another day passes. You lie in bed, tired and lacking in energy. Nevertheless, you pull yourself together and get up, go to the bathroom to get ready for the day and don’t notice when the front door opens and Suna walks in. “Baby doll, I’m at home... and... I’m sorry...” you hear Suna’s voice and walk out of the bathroom. Even though you had a fight, you are still happy to see the man you love so much again. With a somewhat sad smile, he stands there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he approaches you.

“I’m really sorry. I behaved like an ass. You took me by surprise with the news and somehow... I don’t know. What do you say you sit down now? I’ll make us a drink and we can talk about all this. About the baby, and what happens next?” You can hardly believe his words. What has Osamu done in the last few days to make Suna suddenly do a full turnaround and be willing to talk to you openly, without shouting about becoming a parent? You make a mental note to thank Osamu later, before nodding with a smile and sitting down on the sofa in the living room.

But what you don’t know is that Suna went to a friend, a doctor, who gave him two pills before he came home. Pills for an induction of abortion. You have to take one now and the other two to three days later.

Suna knows that you wouldn’t take these pills voluntarily.

So he makes sure that you are indeed sitting in the living room before he takes out a small bag containing a pill, puts it in the grinder and turns it into a fine powder before mixing it into your iced tea.

He takes a deep breath, putting his smile back on as he walks towards you in the living room, where you are already waiting for him with happy eyes.

Without saying much, he hands you the glass, sits down next to you and watches you.

“I know it’s all so sudden and I could have said it differently. I really took you completely by surprise with the news,” you say quietly, looking at the iced tea in your hand, unaware that an abortion pill is floating there.

Suna listens attentively as you talk about how you first had to understand what a pregnancy means, but that your overwhelm quickly turned into joy because you are looking forward to holding a mini version of the two of you in your arms in less than 9 months. You talk about all the beautiful things that are going through your head, while Suna continues to listen to you, his eyes constantly focus on the tea in your hands and you.

He keeps looking at you as you raise the glass and press it to your lips, ready to drink the poison cocktail, when he realizes what he was doing. What he’s trying to do here.

Panic strikes him. His green eyes widen as he literally knocks the cup out of your hand. It falls to the floor with a loud thud. “Don’t drink that!” he says in an unsteady voice and looks at you in horror.

But you don’t understand anything, only shake your head.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I... I think I just made the worst mistake of my life,” Suna says, looking back from you to the broken cup. You don’t understand what’s going on and tilt your head, asking him if everything is all right. But when Suna continues talking and tells you what was in your tea, your world collapses. You are shocked that your own boyfriend wanted to do this to you. “I was overwhelmed. I... I know that’s no excuse. But when I heard you talking, I realized that -“ Suna wanted to continue, but your voice cut him off, your words silenced him.

“Let’s break up,” you say, and unlike before, unlike when you argued a week ago, your voice is determined now, your eyes full of pain and betrayal. Those green eyes that used to mesmerize you are now looking at you desperately. “What?” Suna whispers softly, followed by a “No, wait”. But you interrupt him again.

“You just wanted to give me some drugs without my consent so I’d lose the baby?! No, Rintarou… I’m breaking up with you. That... no, I can’t do that.” Abruptly, you get up from the sofa, ignoring the hand that tries to grab you before quickly slipping into a jacket and a pair of shoes just to leave the apartment. Suna wants to run after you, but his legs won’t move. His mind and heart are screaming to run after you, to stop you and tell you he’s sorry, but his body just won’t obey him. When he finally manages to get up, you’re already gone.

Still wearing his slippers and without putting on a jacket, he eventually runs out to check out all the places you love, all your friends, to see if he can find you somewhere. But no matter where he looks, he can’t find you. You don’t reply to messages or phone calls. The mechanical voice of your voice mail greets him directly. “Shit, shit, shit!” he yells as he stands in the park where you two had your first official date. The surrounding people look at him. Some with an irritated look, some as if they were pitying him.

Without really knowing where to go, your legs automatically led you to the bus that goes to Kita’s home.

Kita was one of your best friends back then. And you knew that if you went to Kita and told him not to tell Suna that you were there, he wouldn’t tell his friend either. And that’s exactly what Kita did.

You were in Kita’s guest room when you heard Suna’s voice in the hallway.

He sounded shattered, broken, as he begged Kita to tell him where you were.

This went on for several weeks, until one evening Suna rang the doorbell again, trying to talk to Kita in a voice you had never heard before.

His voice was so thin, so fragile, as if a heap of misery was speaking out of him.

Kita tells him once again that he doesn’t know where you are when you hesitantly open the door, thinking about going downstairs and listening to what Suna has to say. But for now, you just listen to the conversation.

“Please, Shinsuke, I know you know her location. Please, just give her this. Please...” Kita sighs, followed by a soft “ok...” before the front door closes. Your best friend’s footsteps creak beneath the floor as he walks up the stairs, looks at you a little twisted and hands you a large package.

You know that you demand a lot from Kita. It’s not easy for him to lie to his friend either. Eventually you have to talk to Suna.

Alone in your guest room, you spend almost half an hour looking at the unopened package at the other end of the bed until you finally decide to open it. When you see what’s inside, surprise catches you. Multiple emotions flow through your body without you even noticing how your eyes suddenly turn glassy. Small letters and several items are in the box. You take out the letter that is on top of all the other items.

“My love, I don’t even know where to start. I can’t apologize for what I did. Nevertheless, I want to tell you that I’m sorry. I was confused and scared. Our relationship has always been perfect so far and I thought it was great that it was just the two of us and that no one else disturbed our privacy. I was afraid that when we had a child, we would argue, have no more time for each other, and grow apart. I was selfish and didn’t think about how you would feel. I wasn’t thinking about our baby. The thought that we were both going to be parents hadn’t crossed my mind at all. But every time I walked past those little shoes you had placed in the living room, I couldn’t think of anything else but seeing our child standing in them. How it tries to move around in it, sometimes falls down because it loses its balance and seeks shelter with its beloved mom. I regret every second of what I’ve done, every word I’ve said. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do, and yet I did it. I am sorry. I am so terribly sorry.

I did some research. Did you know that it is currently very difficult to find midwives? You should probably start looking very early on. My team colleague gave me the number of the midwife he and his wife had at the birth of their two children. I also have three other numbers. You might want to give them a call. There are also birth preparation classes in our town. I have also put a brochure in the package for you. You don’t necessarily have to go there with your partner. With me… So... if you want, you could also go there with Kita, even if I would be happy if we both did it together. But I can understand if you don’t want to.

Are you eating enough? You should pay particular attention to your diet during pregnancy. A lot of women suffer from a vitamin deficiency during pregnancy. But you have probably already discussed this with your gynecologist. Anyway, I’ve written down a few recipes for you that are rich in vitamins. I admit that Osamu helped me a little with this. Oh, and on the back are some things you shouldn’t eat during pregnancy. Raw eggs and products containing them such as ice cream, mayonnaise and so on... you should not eat them, because the risk of salmonella infection is high. Peanuts can contain aflatoxins, which can also harm the fetus... but as I said, I’ve put together a list for you. In case you didn’t already know all this already. There are a few other things in the box. Maybe you’d like to take a look.

I hope you are doing well. I hope the baby is doing well too. Have you thought of a name yet? Do you know whether it will be a boy or a girl? I’m sure there’s already a little bump on your belly. I... would really like to be with you right now. Would love to hold you in my arms and stroke your tummy. I know I made a mistake that can never be fixed. But if you’re willing, if that’s what you want, I’d really like to be by your side again. And if not as your boyfriend, then as the father of our baby. I would like to do couples’ therapy with you so that we can find our way back to each other… So that you can trust me again. Because in all of this, I was the problem and never you. But only if you want it too, of course. I know it may be hard to believe, but I love you. So much that a life without you scares me. I am sorry…”

You’re crying bitterly by now as your tears blur the ink on the letter before you put it aside and look in the box. Next to a small onesie for babies, there is a note with the telephone numbers of midwives, a small book with recipes, the brochure he had mentioned and another box containing photos and memories. Pictures that Suna had always secretly taken of you at times when he thought you looked extra pretty. You always found the photos embarrassing, but for him they were beautiful to look at. Because they were moments when you were just being you, not smiling for the camera or doing anything else to disguise yourself.

There was also a necklace with shells on it in the box. You made it for Suna when you were on vacation in Croatia. It turned out incredibly ugly, yet Suna wore it proudly during the whole vacation. You’re touched that he still has this ugly necklace. Little notes that you wrote to each other at school are also in there. So many more memories from the past. Where had Suna hidden this little box in your apartment so that you never noticed it?

You hastily get up, open the door and run down to the hallway as Kita comes out of the living room and looks at you questioningly. “Is everything all right? Do you need to see a doctor?” He asks concerned, but you just shake your head, wanting nothing more than to see Suna, talk to him again. He asks you if you are absolutely sure, but your determined nod is enough for an answer. So he grabs his jacket and car keys, driving you straight to your ex boyfriend, to your apartment. He doesn’t want you to take the bus in your current state.

Suna is sitting in the living room. In front of him on the coffee table are various reports on pregnancy, parenting and more. His head is leaning on his hands as he takes a deep breath. Have you opened his package yet? He wonders, unable to think clearly, when he hears the key in the door lock and runs into the hallway as if stung by a tarantula. His eyes are wide as he looks at you, standing rooted to the spot in the doorway, not knowing how to react.

“Shinsuke... Drove me here...” you say. “I opened your package.” You continue, watching Suna swallow hard, still not moving an inch from the doorframe. “How are you, the baby?” he asks quietly, almost absent-mindedly, as if he can’t believe you’re really standing in front of him. “Good... can... can we talk?” you ask and watch him nod, having trouble sorting out his feelings. You take a step towards him, clearly seeing the dark circles, the red eyes, the slightly thinner face, as if he has lost weight. And on closer look, you can see his whole body trembling.

“Is everything you wrote in your letter true?” you ask him, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible, even though you’re at your wits’ end. “Yes, yes all of it. I’m sorry for everything... I want nothing more than to see you happy. To see our baby happy. And if you want another partner by your side to be happy, if you don’t want me in your life, then I will accept that.” Suna whispers, knowing that if he were to speak even a little louder, his voice would fail and he would cry. You take another step towards him. “What if I want you? Want to give it another try?” You have barely spoken your sentence before you hear a bitter shuffle from Suna, which he seems to have been suppressing the whole time. His shaky hands carefully reach for your face before he presses his forehead against yours and says softly, “I would wish for nothing more than that.”

Although you hesitate for a second, you finally put your hands around his back and stand with him in the doorway for a while. Neither of you says a word. Both of you let your tears run until Suna releases you at some point and gives you a kiss on the forehead. “You shouldn’t stand for so long. You’d better get some rest,” he says in a somewhat steady voice before helping you out of your jacket and leading you into the bedroom, where he pushes the sheets aside so you can lie down. 

“Rin, but I’m not tired at all...” you say, even though you are exhausted, but Suna lies down right next to you, pulling you close while his free hand moves to your stomach. “I know... But... let’s just lie here like this for a moment, regain our strength before we talk... Talk about everything, our future, how I can make it up to you, our little baby… Agree, baby doll?” He whispers tiredly. Yet you also notice how all the crying is slowly making you a little tired. “Agree, Rin.” you smile weakly, snuggling closer to him as you both fall asleep arm in arm, his hand protectively on your baby bump, your hand on his.

[yutahoes]

Small World

I might post this here so I can have the energy needed to finish (or even continue) this fic.

characters: single dad! soccer coach! widower! Yuta x female! single mom! fashion designer! divorcee! Y/N (with son! Jung Sungchan, son! Shotaro Osaki, daughter! Sachiko Osaki (OC), daughter! Sakura Nakamoto (OC) word count: 6k words genre: probably chaptered, fluff summary: Who says one cannot fall in love once again? warnings: single parents au, period talk, maybe aegist and sexist comments here and there, minor character death, sexual harassment, a little mutual pining, aged up and aged down characters

This is just a little fic that has been sitting in my drafts since 2022. Heavily inspired by the movie Blended and the Heart over Height NCT Show Content. I don't know if I'll ever write again, but the concept is very close to my heart, that I don't want to waste the story. If anyone reads this, please let me know what you think. Should I continue this or not?

Heavy flow. Regular flow. With wings. Without wings. Sanitary Napkins. Tampons. Pantyliner. Why are there so many choices? 

Yuta groaned in annoyance. What does Sachi use? Why didn't she stock up on these things when they did their groceries? Why does she have to get her period tonight? But he should be relieved, right? 

At least his daughter isn't pregnant. 

He sighed in obvious distress, too loud that the woman beside him just glanced at him cautiously. He lightly apologized, bowing his head in embarrassment. What is he doing in front of feminine products? And why can’t he make up his mind?

A sigh disturbed his thoughts. His gaze fell on the woman beside him, who was looking at the magazines while sighing. Yuta groaned at the same time as the woman, which surprised them both. "Do you need help?" they asked simultaneously before lightly stopping when they realized they had said the exact phrase.

The woman smiled, stepping to the side where the feminine care products were. "First day period?" Yuta nodded as she reached for the heavy-flow pads in front of him. "She's still using pads, right?" 

Yuta hissed before shaking his head, "I'm not sure. Her brother usually does this for her, but he's in camp." He blurted out, then realised he might have been giving too much information. "But she's eighteen. I hope that helps." 

"Yeah, here." She handed the package of heavy-flow sanitary pads with wings. “You should also prepare a hot compress since she'll be aching all over." 

"I'll remember that," Yuta said with a smile, taking a mental note of what she said. “How about you?" Yuta glanced at the object beside the feminine care products and was confused at how the items in this convenience store were placed. "Magazine?"

She looked embarrassed at first but then sighed. "I accidentally ripped my son's magazine." She then showed him a piece of ripped glossy paper. "In my defense, I'm surprised he's reading this stuff." Oh, Yuta nodded his head, he gets it now. 

"How old is he?" He asked, taking the ripped paper and feeling it using his fingertips. 

"Eighteen." The same age as his twins? No way, she looks too young to be a mother of an eighteen-year-old. "They're already growing up, aren't they?" 

They are. He thought it would be easier. But the generation is entirely different. 

Yuta handed her a men’s magazine, the same magazine from which the piece of ripped paper came. "This still has fewer nude pictures compared to the others. He's still fine." The girl giggled, taking the magazine before thanking him. 

Once lined up for the counter, Yuta realized how awkward this was. He was carrying a sanitary napkin while she was carrying a men's magazine. The woman might have felt uncomfortable, so she suggested switching items before the teller rang their items. Once outside, they immediately changed the plastic bag and paid the other what they owed. "Do you live near here?" Yuta started, and that made the girl stop in her tracks. Wait, that was weird to ask a married woman. "I mean, it's dangerous to be walking this late." 

She smiled. "My car is parked there." She pointed at a black Toyota, which surprised Yuta. She must be wealthy. "Do you want me to give you a ride?" she asked while locating her keys inside her purse. 

Yuta shook his head, claiming that he lived nearby. "By the way, I'm Yuta Nakamoto. We just moved here from Japan." 

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Welcome to the neighborhood, Yuta." She introduced, shaking his hand. 

Her hands were so soft. So delicate. She is gorgeous and smiles a lot. Her voice sounded so melodious, and her perfume smelled good. Is this how deprived he is of a female? But God damn it, she's a married woman with an eighteen-year-old son. Why is he fantasizing about her all of a sudden? This is weird. 

"You look so happy, Dad," Sachiko, his eighteen-year-old daughter, commented while checking the sanitary pads he had bought for her.

Yuta shook his head, laughing at himself. “The convenience store here is just so funny.” The younger one gave him a weird gaze and nodded. A sigh escaped his lips as Sachi was out of sight. Why was he so ecstatic meeting an attractive married woman in the convenience store? He might be crazy. 

—-

"Mom, I'm back!" Sungchan shouted as he entered the door of their house. He put down his duffel bag before instructing his friend to sit on the sofa. "Mom, are you home?" He could hear shuffling from the second floor, and Sungchan smiled. She is home. 

The younger guy smiled when the older woman appeared from the mezzanine floor. "Channie!" She quickly ran downstairs, holding her heeled shoes in one hand and her handbag in the other. The taller guy wrapped his arms around his mom for a hug. "Why didn't you call to tell me you're coming back?" she asked while ruffling his hair. “You look thin. Is your dad not feeding you well, my Channie?" 

He gave a nervous laugh before gesturing for his friend. "Mom, this is Shotaro Osaki. We met at camp." The younger Japanese guy stood up and greeted the older lady before she looked at her son in confusion, "What camp?" 

"Summer camp," Sungchan claimed as a matter of fact. "Dad is on a cruise with his girlfriend so he sent me to summer camp. He said you knew." 

"That fucking bastard," she whispered, then lightly glanced at Shotaro, who looked surprised. "Sorry.” The older woman whispered while smiling at their guest before turning to her son again, “But I'm glad you're alright, and you met a new friend."

The younger boy smiled at his friend. "Can Shotaro stay for the night?” The older one nodded, putting on her earrings. “Are you going out?" he asked, then glanced at his mom's black dress. "A date?" 

She shook her head, then sat on the couch adjacent to where Shotaro was seated to put on her heels. "I'm meeting a client," she claimed, then took out her wallet and gave Sungchan some cash. "Just order food if you want. I'm not sure what time I'll be home." She then glanced at Shotaro, smiling. "And please, feel at home, Shotaro. We have a vacant room upstairs. Just ask Sungchan where it is." 

The younger nodded, whispering a 'Yes, Mrs. Jung,' which made her laugh awkwardly. Y/N had to remind Sungchan of things, like putting his clothes in the laundry area so she could wash them tomorrow and closing the TV once they're done with video games. She laughed again when Shotaro bid farewell, mentioning Mrs. Jung when she went out the door. "Mom hates being called that." 

"Your mom is hot," Shotaro exclaimed, making his friend look at him in surprise. "I mean, is she really your mom?" 

"Sadly, yes, " the taller one claimed while starting the video game. “She was only sixteen when she gave birth to me." Shotaro was surprised. She was so young. If his twin sister got married and gave birth at that age, their dad would probably throw a fit. Luckily, she's past that. "Do you like my mom?" 

"What?" Shotaro exclaimed, eyes wide. "No. That's weird." His friend gave him a teasing smile. "It must be nice to still have both your mom and dad." 

Sungchan shrugged. He is luckier than some kids, but he wishes his parents would be together like other teenagers’ parents his age. Whenever his mom and dad are in the same room, it’s as if they don’t know each other. It's not like they never fell in love. And that is why he is scared to pursue what he calls love. “You still have your mom and dad, right?" he asked while pushing the joystick buttons in the game he and Shotaro were playing. "The ones who came to camp." 

The Japanese guy giggled and shook his head. "They are my grandparents," he claimed, almost defeating Sungchan in the game. “My mom died when I was eleven, and my dad is busy with his work." 

"Oh," Sungchan claimed. That's why Shotaro said that statement. Come to think of it, he is indeed luckier than most teenagers his age. "Are you an only child?" 

Shotaro shook his head, claiming he has two sisters: a twin and a younger one. Sungchan stopped. A twin sister? "Do you want me to introduce you to Sachi?" 

The other guy laughed, shaking his head. "I'll just imagine you with long hair. That would be weird, Sho." The Japanese guy chuckled, laughter echoing through the whole house. 

Shotaro has a nice laugh. And he’s the first same-aged friend he had who doesn’t want to bang his mom. Hopefully, Shotaro would be his friend in the long run. 

—-

Y/N was nervously seated inside a posh restaurant while waiting for her client. A politician and his wife are celebrating their sixty years together and throwing a small wedding party. The older woman was a darling when she came into Y/N’s boutique to check her designs, even claiming she fell in love at first sight with a blue sequined gown from her collections. A dress that she even tailored for the high-paying client. And now, she can't wait to show the older woman her upgraded design. After all her sleepless nights to finish this design, it all comes to the final pitch to the politician’s wife, so it must be perfect. 

Her hands shook as she fixed the folder with her designs on the vacant chair beside her. “Hi, I’m your waiter for today, " she heard someone say before she whipped her head to where the person was standing. Her eyebrows scrunched at the familiarity. “Hi,” the guy smiled warmly before lightly chuckling, “Do you perhaps remember me?” 

A giggle escaped her lips as the man she met at the convenience store poured water on her drinking glass. “Yuta? Am I right?” she muttered slowly, making him nod while smiling. “You work here?” He nodded, claiming that it was only for part-time work. He handed the menu before excusing himself when a table by his station asked for napkins. 

Yuta was shaking his head, smiling to himself at the thought that he saw her again. How small is this neighbourhood for them to bump like this? She looked prettier than when he first saw her. Maybe she’s here for a date. A sigh escaped his lips. Why does it matter to him? She’s married. “I saw that,” Johnny, his co-waiter, claimed. He feigned innocence by asking what it was, but the taller guy just smiled, “You’re flirting with that hot girl on table ten.”  

“I’m not,” Yuta claimed as a man entering the restaurant took their attention. He made a beeline to table ten, and the woman greeted him while standing up. Is that her husband? But he looked way older than her, with a balding head and a potbelly stomach. When she sat down, and the older man moved the vacant chair near her, Yuta made his way to the table he was stationed at. 

“I can move my things, Mr. Castro,” she claimed, quickly taking her things from the vacant chair, but the older man stopped her. “Let the waiter do that. It’s his job.” The side of Yuta’s lips turned up. What a prick. Y/N just gave Yuta an apologetic look before he moved the vacant chair next to hers and moved the other chair, with her things, far from her. What does this man want? “We’ll order later.” 

Yuta hated these kinds of customers the most. From what Johnny supplied, he is a politician with a high office in town. Everyone knows that he’s married, so going to the restaurant and eating dinner with a younger, hotter woman raises a few eyebrows. 

And honestly, Yuta doesn’t want to think of the worst thing possible. But is she the mistress of a politician? But what about her eighteen-year-old son? Is she cheating on her husband with this politician? Or is the son the politician’s child? Is she not married? But she has a wedding ring on her finger. Yuta shook his head. This is hurting his brain. And why is he too bothered about it? 

“Aren’t you going there?” Johnny asked, gesturing at table ten. Yuta glanced lightly at the man, who kept talking animatedly, and the woman, who looked uncomfortable. “I don’t think they’re here for a date.” 

Yuta made his way to the table, asking what their orders were. The older man ordered the steak, and a salad for the lady, which startled the waiter. Is she only eating a salad? And why is he ordering for her? Upon closer inspection, he saw the woman moving farther from the man. His hand was on her lap as she smiled timidly at him. 

Wait, is she being assaulted by this man? 

Yuta kept his eyes on the people talking at table ten, making Johnny lightly nudge him while asking him what was wrong. “She looks uncomfortable, isn’t she?” There was obvious fidgeting in her actions, and how she was trying to move away from the older man made Yuta assume something was happening. “I’ll try to get her out of there. Could you ask her privately if she needed help?” Johnny only nodded as Yuta made his way to the table. 

The politician glared at the waiter when he stood before their table. Both customers' eyes were on him. “Ms. Y/N,” he called, startling the woman. The manager wants to talk to you about your credit card,” Yuta continued, making the girl look at him confusedly. “It kept on declining.” 

“I can pay for the…” the politician claimed before the girl stood up while shaking her head. “I’ll talk to the manager. Thank you.” She declared, standing up with her handbag while rushing to Yuta’s side. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Castro. I’ll just settle this real quick.” 

The older man shook his head. “I can just pay for the meal.” 

The younger girl shook her head. “I don’t want your wife to misunderstand,” she answered with a smile. “I’ll just call my husband to pay for the meal.” 

The older man stood up, “We could discuss your idea later. I’ll tell my wife to call you.” The girl apologized once again before watching the politician exit the restaurant. 

Knowing he was out of sight, Y/N sat back on the chair with a heavy sigh. “Are you alright?” Yuta asked, which made her nod, staring at the well-decorated table. That was so scary. “Do you need something? I could call someone.” 

But she shook her head, “I’ll just take the steak he ordered, and please cancel the salad.” She claimed, breathing heavily as if trying to keep her composure. “And do you have something alcoholic that would let me drive back home?” 

Yuta smiled. “I’ll check.” He took the used glass and placed a new set of glass and a plate in front of her. “I’ll be back with your order, ma’am.” 

“Thank you, Yuta.” She said with a warm smile. The guy had to smile back, grinning when he turned his back on her. 

“You look like a teenager with a huge crush.” Johnny teased. 

Dinner was terrific, except for the little incident that happened. Y/N was now unsure how to approach Mr. Castro and his wife. But to be fair, he was the one making indecent moves on her. Her brother might be right; she should stay away from high-end clients.

The steak was tender and very juicy for its price. The virgin piña colada almost tricked her into thinking that she had a drink that night. It was a great meal, and the servers were very courteous. Maybe she’ll bring Sungchan for dinner here sometime. 

A tall guy was operating the counter, but her eyes looked around for the familiar face that saved her that night. “I’m sorry, we don’t accept tips,” the man claimed, handing back her change. But they deserved it after what happened tonight. 

The girl only smiled. “Then can you just please tell Yuta I said thank you?” 

He smiled wide and nodded. “I’ll let him know.” She had to look for the waiter again, but in the end, she just left the restaurant. 

Maybe she’ll just come back and have dinner here some other day. 

Then, she could thank Yuta personally. 

—--

“Yes, dad, I’m fine. I’m going home tomorrow morning.” Shotaro whispered on the phone just as a car engine could be heard. It’s probably Sungchan’s mom. Should he wake his friend up? “Take care on your way home, dad.” 

The door opened as Shotaro put down his phone. Sungchan’s mom looked at him in confusion, and he greeted her with a bow. “You cannot sleep?” she asked, but Shotaro smiled while waving his hands. The room Sungchan offered was very comfortable. He claimed it was his uncle’s room whenever he visited them. 

“I called my dad.” The older one nodded, placing her keys on the table. “Sungchan is already asleep.” 

The girl smiled after glancing at her son’s room and nodded. “Did he buy you dinner?” He answered that they ate pizza, making the older person apologize. Wait, why is she sorry? “My son and fast food,” she claimed while shaking her head. “I’ll cook an edible breakfast for the two of you tomorrow. What would you like, Shotaro?” 

This is very embarrassing. “I’ll leave early in the morning to head home.” 

“Have breakfast here first; I’ll make fried rice.” He nodded, thanking her quietly. Sungchan said his mom worked in fashion retail. Does she always stay at home? It wasn't that long since Shotaro lost his mom, but it feels like he doesn’t have any idea what mothers usually do. “You should take some rest.” Shotaro nodded as he started walking upstairs, leaving Sungchan’s mom on the couch, focused on her phone. 

The house feels warm even if only two people are there. Maybe that’s why he eased up on Sungchan the first time they met. He’s a very warm person, different from other cold guys their age. After spending his days with his sisters, bonding with a male his age was nice. Hopefully, Sungchan would be his friend in the long run. 

—-

“You’re late!” Jungwoo noted as Y/N started putting down her binder and handbag on the table. She started apologizing while reasoning out that she had to prepare breakfast for Channie and his new friend. “Sungchan is back? Already?” 

“He said his father sent him to summer camp.” 

“I thought they’d spend time together.” But the girl just sighed, shaking her head. “Then what’s wrong? Did he suddenly change?” 

Again, Y/N shook her head as the events earlier that morning replayed in her head. Shotaro was showing her pictures of the performance they had on camp, even surprising her that her son can sing and dance. Sungchan was even sharing that a lot of family members came and he even took pictures with Shotaro’s grandparents. When she asked why he didn’t invite her, his only answer was “I did invite dad, I thought he’d just message you.” And Y/N felt bad. 

If only they were still together. 

“You can’t possibly blame yourself for your falling out. You were both so young when you got married.” Jungwoo claimed, making the other sigh. “Besides, I always knew you’re too good for each other.” 

Y/N had to breathe hard. She shouldn’t think much about it. They had been divorced for years now, she doesn’t even remember why she fell in love with him in the first place. She’s just thankful that he’s still active in their son’s life and co-parenting Sungchan without bothering each other. 

They had obviously moved on from each other, but it’s still awkward being in the same room at once. Besides, she still considers the what if of their relationship. What if they’re still together? What if they truly loved each other? What if he chose her over his career? 

The side of her lips curled up watching Jungwoo talking to two girls: a teenager and a young kid, about the dress on display. “I’m sorry, we don’t make dresses for kids,” he claimed, making the young girl pout. 

What if they have another child? A daughter, perhaps?

Y/N smiled at the two girls, “Do you like the dress on display?” She pointed at the floor-length pastel rainbow dress by the shop window. The young girl nodded, claiming that she loves the color of the dress. “I can make you one.” 

“Y/N!” Jungwoo called. 

“But he said you don’t make dresses for kids.” The older of the two girls claimed. 

The older woman nodded, “But I am the designer and maker of the dress, I can make you a dress if you really want it.” The kid’s eyes sparkled, making her grin. “Let’s go inside so we can talk about the design you want?” 

Jungwoo was shaking his head as he headed to the counter, Y/N following him while the two girls settled on the lounge. “You have a lot of orders, why would you take that?”

The girl smiled at the two girls’ way. “Call it a passion project.” 

“You just really want a daughter.” 

“Sungchan will get mad at you if he hears that.” She said with a laugh. 

Y/N was gracious in interacting with the young girl. This was her dream from the start, to open a boutique and design dresses for young girls. But the market is so cutthroat that when she got alimony money from the divorce, her brother insisted on making a boutique for older women who usually pay more. She was just sketching the dress, even considering the input of the kid who wants glitters by adding shining sequins on the body of the dress. It feels great to be working with someone who knows what she wants, unlike the other customers who can’t seem to make up their minds. 

“How much will the dress cost?” The older of the girls asked, fiddling with her thumbs. “Dad gave us a specific budget for my sister’s dress.” Oh, Y/N thought that they’re mother and daughter. How adorable is it to have two daughters in a family. 

The younger grinned, “It’s my seventh birthday.” 

Y/N had to smile, “Don’t worry about it. It’s my gift for you.” The younger had to gasp, surprise written all over her face. She’s so cute, Y/N thought. There’s no doubt, daughters make the world brighter. “I’ll make sure that you’ll have the perfect dress for your party...” She trailed off, turning to the older for their names, but the young kid chimed in,” I’m Sakura and this is my sister, Sachiko.” Are they Japanese? She had been meeting a lot of Japanese people lately. 

“I’m Y/N,” the older said with a smile. “When are you needing the dress again?” 

—----

Sungchan was just amazed at how small the neighborhood was when they reached his friend’s new house. Shotaro didn’t even know where their new house is and just followed the shared location set by his dad. Once again, the person who has lived in the neighborhood all his life was startled when a young man went out of the house and his friend called him dad. He looks so young. Are parents this young already? Then maybe there isn’t much of a deal with his young mom. “Dad, this is Jung Sungchan. We met at camp and he lives in the same neighborhood.” 

“You are so tall,” the older man claimed with a laugh. “I’m Yuta Nakamoto, Shotaro’s dad.” Sungchan lightly glanced at his friend. Isn’t his full name Shotaro Osaki? Why is his dad’s surname Nakamoto? “I can’t believe you got a friend before Sakura.” The guy mentioned laughed. 

“Where are Kura and Sachi?” 

“They went to the mall,” Yuta answered while checking his phone. “They bought clothes for Sakura’s birthday.” 

Shotaro shook his head, making Sungchan confused. “We’re doing it this year?” 

Yuta nodded, “What Sachi said made sense, it’s a new environment for your sister. This is her chance to make new friends.” Then his expression was gloomy, that startled Sungchan. “Besides, it’s been seven years already. We should at least celebrate Sakura’s birthday.” 

The younger one nodded, “Is there anything else that I can help you with for the party, dad?” 

“I still haven’t found a venue nearby for the party.” 

Sungchan lightly glanced at the father-son before muttering, “I know a place.” Shotaro looked at him in question before he continued, “The neighborhood has this great clubhouse where they frequently host parties.” He then glanced at the older of the two, “I know the homeowners’ president, we can talk to her and reserve the clubhouse for Sakura’s birthday.” 

Yuta nodded, “Thank you, Sungchan.” The mentioned guy grinned, making his friend smile widely. 

He is very lucky to meet Sungchan. 

—-------

“What do you mean you don’t want me to drive you to school?” Y/N asked dramatically. Sungchan just took a bite of his toast, staring at his mom deadpan. “It’s your first day.” 

He nodded, “It’s nothing serious, mom. I just want to ride the bus with Shotaro.” 

But the older girl pouted. “I always drive you to your first day classes, though.” 

“That was when I was younger.” The disdain on the older’s face can be seen immediately, which made Sungchan chuckle. “It really isn’t a big deal, mom.” He whispered, “Shotaro is new in town and I want to show him the academy.” The older woman just stared at him. “Please, mom.” 

With a heavy sigh, Y/N nodded. “And it’s not because of those puppy eyes, you’re too old for that.” Sungchan laughed, hugging his mom from behind. “When did you become taller than me?” 

“I’ve always been taller than you.” He claimed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “It’s because I always ate with your love.” 

The older rolled her eyes. “You’re exactly like your dad, it’s annoying.” She started getting some cash from her purse. “Additional money for your bus rides and eat some snacks with Shotaro.” 

His hug got tighter. “I’m sorry but you know I love you, right?” 

Y/N had to smile at that. Although Sungchan had grown taller, he’s still the same sweet little kid she took care of for years. “I know, I know. You’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.” The younger guy smiled widely, taking the cash she gave and his bag while muttering an ‘I love you’ as he ran outside their house. 

She sighed once she was alone. Y/N was well aware that her son is growing up, but when did it all happen? He doesn’t want her to drive him to school. He drank her coffee instead of the glass of orange juice she prepared for him. 

Y/N heavily sighed. She badly missed it when Sungchan was still a young boy. 

“You should start dating,” Jungwoo claimed, drinking his iced coffee while watching her stare at the rainbow dress for the young client girl. What? All of a sudden? “It’s not too late to have a child once again.” Y/N shook her head while laughing. That’s not it. She does miss taking care of a young child, but she doesn’t want to go through the whole childbirth again. That was the hardest time of her life. “Or maybe just date a single dad.” The thought made her stare at Jungwoo in surprise. What the hell is that idea? 

Y/N shook her head. Jungwoo is so weird. 

—

Y/N had never seen a party with this many kids before. Sakura may have invited all the kids in the neighborhood just for her birthday party. How cute. Maybe her parents are incredibly wealthy for pulling this party for her. “Y/N,” the president of the homeowners greeted her with a wide grin on her face. “I thought you weren’t coming.” 

“Is this the party you were talking about?” she asked, and the older woman nodded. “The birthday celebrant is a client in my boutique.” 

The other woman fixed her hair, “The dad is such a handsome guy. You should definitely meet him.” Y/N chuckled. She had already found it weird that the president had been bugging her to go to this children’s party. This was what it was all about? So they could talk about the handsome new dad in the neighborhood? Truly, the married women in this place are a different breed that only makes her laugh. 

“Mom!” she heard Sungchan say, running to where she was. Shotaro, who was following close behind, even greeted her. Wait, why is Sungchan and Shotaro here? “What are you doing here?” She should be asking him the same question. “This is Shotaro’s younger sister’s birthday.” 

Wait, it clicks now. Sakura is Shotaro’s younger sister. No doubt she’s been meeting a lot of Japanese people in town lately. Then it only means that Sachiko is also Shotaro’s sister. That adorable girl. Maybe that’s why Sungchan is hanging out so much with his new friend. But wait, is this how small the world is that she’s discovering this in one birthday party?     

Maybe, the world is indeed small. When Shotaro called for his dad who was greeting the guests, Y/N almost gasped at the man smiling at her. Yuta is Shotaro’s dad? Yuta is Sakura and Sachiko’s dad? Yuta is the handsome dad that all the married women in the neighborhood wanted to meet? “You know each other?” It was the president of the homeowners who asked that question. Both Sungchan and Shotaro were staring at them in curiosity. 

“We bumped into each other a couple of times before,” Yuta answered curtly, making Y/N nod. “It was nice to see you again, Y/N.” The other smiled, greeting him the same way as he greeted her before he excused himself to greet his children’s grandparents. 

Sungchan gave his mom a questionable stare that made her glare. “What?” But he just shook his head, laughing to himself. Weird kid. 

The party is really amazing, Y/N had to note. If she was a kid, she would have a blast. Maybe their family is very wealthy to afford this huge rainbow unicorn themed birthday celebration with the younger kids in the neighborhood. The food came out and the bouncy house designed on one side of the clubhouse is such a haven for the kids. When the clown came, the children’s squealing was heard all over the place. He started entertaining the kids with games, making the adults laugh at the antics of everyone in the party.

“You really made Sakura’s dress?” Sungchan asked his mom, seated next to her. He had been munching on the ice cream for a while now. The older woman just nodded, staring at the birthday girl as her sequined dress glittered against the lights of the venue. “It’s really pretty.” 

The girl grinned. “Do you want me to make one?” The teenage boy laughed wholeheartedly. 

There was a shift in the kids as the clown changed the game to the traditional ‘Bring Me’. It was light things at first: a coin, a tube of red lipstick, and even car keys. The kids were very chaotic, making the older women on the same table as Y/N laugh.    

“Now,” the clown started making the kids silent for a moment. “I want you to bring me the prettiest mom.” 

Sungchan lightly nudged Y/N, “Mom, I should bring you there.” The older woman just laughed at her son. "Then maybe I can get those huge lollipops." Y/N laughed so loud that it made Sungchan chuckle. Her son might be crazy. 

Sakura came running towards their table and Y/N thought that her mom was there. Maybe one of the women in the same table as hers was Yuta’s wife. Come to think of it, she had never seen her in the party. “Auntie,” The birthday girl called, holding her hand. “Come on.” Y/N was just surprised. Why her? Shouldn’t it be her mom? But she only stood up and let Sakura drag her to where the clown is. 

“I said prettiest mom, not prettiest sister.” The clown corrected. 

Y/N had to smile at that. What is this weird scenario? “I am a mom.” She corrected, leaving the host surprised. When he asked where among the elementary school kids is her child, she pointed at the tall guy on the side waving his hand. He even exclaimed how young she looked. “I get that a lot.” 

“Do we agree that she is the prettiest mom out there?” He asked the crowd who only cheered on her but Y/N shook her head. There’s no way. There are other moms of these little kids who are prettier than her. Surely, the birthday girl’s mom is way prettier than her. “Do we think she’s the prettiest mom, Sakura’s dad?” 

Yuta looked surprised at the mention of his name before standing up and giving a thumbs up. The man seated next to him has a wide smile on his face and Y/N remembered him as the tall guy from the restaurant. The clown gave both her and Sakura a giant rainbow lollipop which she handed to her son as she returned to her table. “I told you you’re the prettiest mom here,” Sungchan whispered, removing the wrapper of the lollipop. 

That was weird. 

But what’s weirder is, where is Sakura’s mom? 

The kids were playing on the bouncy house and Y/N watched as Sungchan towered over them with his height. Sakura had forced him to watch her play in the bouncy house. Will her son like it if he gets a younger sibling? But Y/N prevented herself from laughing by biting her lip. As if she’ll have another child. 

“Y/N,” she heard someone call before that person sat on where Sungchan was sitting earlier. Yuta. “I haven’t thanked you for making Sakura’s dress. She loves it so much, she might sleep wearing it.” The girl chuckled. She was glad. It was the first time that she made clothes for younger girls, so it makes her heart happy that her effort is appreciated. “I’ll pay you for the dress.” 

The girl shook her head. “It’s my gift for Sakura.” Her gaze then fell on Sachiko who was standing next to Sungchan and talking to Shotaro. “I even offered Sachiko if she wanted me to make the same dress but she declined.” It was Yuta’s turn to laugh, as expected of his eldest daughter. 

“Sachi hates dresses.” Y/N nodded. She looked very laidback in her jeans and shirt but it perfectly suits her. She's very pretty. “Maybe because she grew up always pairing with her twin brother.” 

The girl’s eyes widened at that. “Shotaro and Sachiko were twins?” Her gaze was on Shotaro then at Sachiko. “Oh yeah, they look alike.” Yuta chuckled which made her gasp. “Oh my God, your wife is amazing, Yuta. How did she give birth two times in one night?” 

There was a faint smile on Yuta’s lips which Y/N caught. “She is.” 

“Where is she?” 

“The thing is,” he started then breathed heavily. “She died giving birth to Sakura.” Y/N had to cover her mouth in surprise. What Sachiko said back in the store made sense, that she wants this birthday to be perfect for her sister. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled. “That must be tough.” Yuta chuckled. “But this birthday party is amazing, Yuta. The best I’ve ever been.” 

A laugh erupted on Yuta’s lips that surprised Y/N. He’s so carefree. It looks good on him. The married women in the neighborhood were right, he is handsome. “Thank you, Y/N.” He whispered then held his hand high. She gave her a high five but he interlocked their fingers together. “Thank you for making Sakura’s birthday special.” She grasped his hand, shaking it. “And I think I’ll be seeing you more often.” 

What? “Why is that?” 

He lightly glanced at the bouncing house where Sakura is talking to the crouched Sungchan. “Because I think my Sakura has a huge crush on Sungchan.” Y/N had to giggle at the observation. That is so cute. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t be an evil mother-in-law.” Yuta laughed. 

Part Two

[e1e4n0r5]

I am captivated by your story “Their Little Plaything” because of the angst potential it has along with how I can honestly see myself as the Reader in the story given her background (as in being a loner and keeping to herself). I like how this is completely in Reader’s point of view, as in we only know what she knows (with the exception about the hidden cameras).

So, Caitvi’s relationship with Reader is definitely toxic. Like, bullied her for the first year then start showing interest the next? While not non-con (except for the hidden cameras), their relationship is dub-con (at best) because of the power imbalance and Reader allows this to continue because why would she want to stop when she get praises for being good (as someone who would be lonely at times, being praised is something I would crave for). It’s a form of validation, even if it’s an unhealthy way of receiving it.

Honestly, it’s unclear if Caitlyn and Vi actually love Reader or sees her as only a plaything for them. So, it’s a mix signals and miscommunication(?) because Caitvi are manipulating/corrupting Reader into doing things with them.

And it’s sad because the two are unaware of Reader’s traumatizing prank from her past, so having nonconsensual recordings hurt Reader upon finding out as now it’s a question of what is she to Vi and Caitlyn.

[Spoilers to those who haven’t read part 3]

While the two haven’t visited Reader when she pretended to be sick with a stomach bug, Caitlyn sent a care package for her (which shows that they do care?). It’s just… I feel this is a “It gets worse before better” if the three do end up together because of how toxic the situation is.

Oh my god, thank you for this Ask, it's so beautiful! 🥹

The relationship is definitely toxic and very unbalanced. Not just because of the power imbalance between Caitvi and Reader due to their different social standings and their established relationship, but also a bit of a financial imbalance: whilst Reader's family isn't poor, she's still a college student. Cait's family, as we've established, is RICH.

Reader was also based loosely on myself: I was also bullied pretty much my whole life which has led to some lingering social anxieties, and maybe a praise kink 👀 But I think a lot of people will be able to relate to her.

We will have a scene just between Vi and Cait (no spoilers) to round things out from their perspective, but other than that, the whole point is that, like in life, we never really know for certain what someone else is thinking. Which is why it's all so confusing for poor Reader.

She sees some red flags; she doesn't always like how they treat her or speak to her; but she also gets the attention and - like you said - validation that she didn't realise she desperately wants. Plus this is her first taste of a relationship, and it's a threesome with two very experienced and very manipulative women who have an established dynamic and pattern of behaviour between themselves. It's a mess, and yes, very toxic.

But there are also the green flags. Like how Cait added Reader to her Uber account so she could come over whenever she wants without having to pay for it herself. And the care package!

Plus, the only reason why they didn't go over to see her in person when she was 'ill' (I couldn't include this in Chapter 3 but might mention it in the future) is literally just because Vi is a massive emetophobe (fear of vomit) and didn't want to risk getting sick! Just a random hc I have for Vi 🤣 But it was her idea to put together the care package in the first place. Cait even had to tone it down and take over when Vi wanted to send practically the whole drug store 🙃

[kolyasangel]

oh baby!

synopsis: you have baby fever and nikolai is intrigued...

content: fem!reader, husband!nikolai, fluff, suggestive ending

You don't even know how you got here. You were currently clothes shopping with Nikolai, but you somehow wandered into the baby's clothing section, looking at the small garments.

"There you are. I've been looking for you." Your husband's voice called for you. It didn't take long for him to find you, so he must've already been nearby. You saw he was holding some things, a few plain shirts and a jacket with a black and white checkered pattern draped over his arm. He noticed the jacket caught your eye, so he held it up for you to see and get your opinion on what you thought about it.

"Do you like it? I saw it and I thought it would suit me, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I do! You know, you really own black and white." You chuckled. Nikolai smiled contently and placed the jacket over his arm again before taking the shopping bags you were holding, wanting to hold them for you. His eyes shifted, suddenly aware of his surroundings.

"Sooo, what are you doing here? Do you have something to tell me?" He nudged your shoulder with his elbow.

"No! I'm just- just.. looking around.." You quickly responded, realizing what he meant by his question.

"Looking around? I don't think these clothes will fit you, dove." He playfully teased as he picked up a baby outfit before placing it back on the rack. You didn't miss the slight smile on his face while he looked at the tiny outfit.

As you two left the baby section, you continued to browse leisurely around different shops with Nikolai, hand holding onto his bicep. This surprised him because you usually didn't like showing such affection in public, but he didn't mind at all, of course. In fact, he loved it, but he couldn't help but notice you were being more clingy than usual.

You've already envisioned countless heartwarming scenarios of Nikolai embracing fatherhood. One in particular was your favorite to imagine, a disheveled and sleep-deprived Nikolai tenderly feeding his newborn from a bottle, the baby's tiny hand holding his finger. Others consisted of him buckling up the child in their car seat, dropping them off on the first day of school, making them laugh uncontrollably by smothering their little face in smooches, and many more. You imagined who your child would look like more, maybe Nikolai. The possibility of them inheriting his beautiful eyes filled your heart with immense happiness.

It's not like you didn't want to tell him, but the uncertainty of what he might say kept you on edge, even if you didn't know for sure. What if he doesn't even want kids? What if he says no? You knew you would have to tell him sooner or later though, since it wasn't like he could read your mind. The last time you even remembered Nikolai ever mentioning or interacting with kids was when he said babies look 'squishy' after an encounter in the grocery store where one kept staring and smiling at him in an aisle. You swore you felt the eggs shoot out of your ovaries as you watched that scene unfold. Something about him with a child just looked so right.

Nikolai wasn't clueless. He had already picked up the hints a while ago and realized that you might be contemplating starting a family, but he still wanted to hear the words directly from your mouth. The idea of starting a family excited him, yet it also made him nervous. While he would be more than happy to have children with you, doubts plagued his mind as he feared he wouldn't be a good enough father. Nevertheless, he would be lying if he said he'd never thought about it before. He would be lying if he said a warm feeling didn't grow in his chest whenever he heard you talk fondly about children.

Later that evening, Nikolai suggested he try some of the new clothing he bought in front of you. You agreed and lay on the bed, watching as he removed his shirt each time, leaving him shirtless and just in sweatpants for a short moment before he tried on the next one. You've seen him shirtless many times, but each time left you absolutely breathless.

He tried on the last shirt, and you gulped as it just had to do him so much justice. It was more form-fitting than the previous ones he tried on, his fingers running over the outline of his toned muscles visible through the fabric.

"I think I should only wear this one in front of you," he laughed as he winked at you flirtatiously before sliding the shirt off, leaving him shirtless once again. This time, it would stay that way. He then removed his hair tie and started to unbraid his hair, catching your gaze and offering a teasing smirk. It took everything in you to not push him down on the bed and-

"You like looking at me, don't you?" He raised his arms above his head, clearly wanting to show off his body for you. It almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose, ravishing your thirst for him.

"I'm sorry.." You don't know what you were apologizing for, your mind scrambled at this point.

"For what, dear? Don't be, you can stare all you want! It's all yours anyway." Nikolai seemed confused at your apology, so he swept some hair behind your ear to get a better look at you.

You stayed quiet, contemplating bringing up the topic now or later, now that you felt hot and bothered by his little show.

"What's wrong, dove? You seem to be lost in thought lately," he asked as he joined you in bed.

"I'm just.. thinking about something." You said.

He noticed your nervous demeanor and tilted your chin with his fingers to make you look at him. "Why've you been so shy with me, hm? You can tell me anything, you know I'll never get mad or judge you," he stroked your cheek gently before his hand trailed down to hold yours.

That's right. You always told Nikolai about anything and everything, so why was this any different? No matter what it was you talked to him about, he always made you feel heard. It was only a question after all, so you decided to just let it go and finally tell him.

"Kolya, what do you think about having kids?"

"Oh my! I knew it." He giggled before patting your cheek, amused at your question. You didn't know what kind of reaction you expected from him, but it certainly wasn't this.

"What do you mean?"

"You think I haven't caught onto your hints? You haven't been so discreet with your actions, sweetheart."

You felt a warm flush of embarrassment creeping up your face as you nervously fiddled with your fingers. It felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. He already knows.

"I know it's a major decision, but I feel ready.. and it's okay if you're not yet, I just thought I should let you know," you stammer.

He reached out and planted a soft kiss on your nose before speaking. "Well, I have thought about it before. Honestly, I don't know how great of a father I would be, but the thought of having a mini version of you running around the house sounds like a dream come true."

You felt a pang in your heart as you heard him speak ill of himself falling short of being a good father. The sad look on his face was discernable, it was the same one he had whenever he thought about the horrible actions committed in the past. It still made him shiver at times, regret consuming his mind whenever he sat on the thought for too long before you recognized his despair, rushing to comfort him.

"Nikolai, I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're not who you used to be."

It was only natural for him to have worries due to his past, but the mere fact that he cared how he may affect you and his future children indicated that he was a changed man, so you made that point very clear to him.

He smiled at your comment and you felt a surge of emotions as he continued, "When I was younger, I never imagined myself getting married, but now I can't imagine having a family unless it's with you."

"Kolya, that's so sweet. I know this is new for the both of us but we'll work through this together. You're already an amazing husband so I have no doubt that you'll be the best father!" You expressed, gently squeezing his hand. A faint rosy hue dusted his cheeks, flustered by your praise.

"Thank you, dove.. and you're going to be such a wonderful mommy." He sighed as he mused about you being a mother to his children. So gentle, so caring, you would just be perfect. He could already see himself peppering your belly with kisses, blabbering on and on to his unborn child about frivolous things. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn't wait.

"What if I wake up in the middle of the night asking you for pickles and ice cream?"

Your adorable question caught him off guard, making him laugh. He imagined the scene happening in his head, and it was too cute for words.

Nikolai wakes up groggily as he feels you shaking his arm, wanting him to fulfill your request. "Kolyaaa.. I'm hungry and I need pickles with ice cream please.."

"Even if you do, I wouldn't mind at all, darling! If you want to eat ice cream with pickles or any other strange combination, then I'll gladly get it for you. I'll even try them with you."

Your eyes glimmered at his sweet response and trailed down to his chest, fingers running across his abs. You were overcome with so much love for him that you felt you couldn't wait any longer, and it seemed like Nikolai could tell.

"Kolya.."

"Hm?"

"I want to make cute chubby babies with you." You pleaded with cute eyes.

"Yeah? Right now?" He asked as he pulled you closer to him, finger hooking onto the strap of your tank top, sliding it off slowly before placing soft kisses on your shoulder. "How many?"

"Mm, one? No, two.."

"How about ten?"

"N-No! Too many."

He snickered and pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you.

"Well then, we better get started if we wanna make those cute babies~"

[nanabansama]

Tsukasa Is Tsukasa

Recently I discovered a poll asking if people thought the Supernatural Tsukasa and the Red House Tsukasa were different, and the results surprised me! A majority of voters thought they were not the same. Not only that, but I've seen many people in the fandom start believing they are separate people, if they hadn't already believed it before.

I think this stance can very easily be explained by the scene in Chapter 111 where Amane comes to the conclusion that the Tsukasa who went missing isn't the same as the one who came back:

While people might be divided on the details, the conclusion is basically the same: whatever that is inside of him, it's not Amane's brother.

And I can see why they think this! In fact, it used to be a popular theory back during the release of chapters 78-82 when we didn't know the specifics of what happened. Heck, we still don't know many of the specifics...and many people continued believing the Tsukasas were different anyway!

There's decent evidence to support this, too. When Tsukasa returned, he had sharp teeth and supernatural powers. He knew that Kunishige's wish was that the head priest would die. He's demonstrably different from the innocent little Tsukasa that sacrificed his life for Amane.

If that wasn't enough, even his own mom came to the conclusion that Tsukasa wasn't her son! This is basically the same conclusion Amane comes to in Chapter 111. That's 2/3 of Tsukasa's family members thinking some evil entity is larping around in his skin--not a good look!

In any case, while I could try and convince you guys there are two Tsukasas and the Tsukasas are different, that's not what I'm here to do. If you read my blog you already know I'm 100% on the side that Tsukasa is Tsukasa and always has been, and nothing AidaIro has shown me so far has been convincing enough to change my mind. In this post, I am here to argue that the Red House Tsukasa is the same as the Supernatural Tsukasa and that he merely works in tandem with the ancient god living inside him.

1. Chapter 82

This is the chapter when a lot of people dropped the theory that there are two Tsukasas, including me. (Yes, I used to believe there were two Tsukasas--people change!)

Kou and Nene had determined that the Red House Tsukasa was the real Tsukasa and that the one Amane killed was a fake. They come to this conclusion because this Tsukasa was trapped in the Red House for 50 years and acts a lot nicer and sweeter than the one we know.

The issue is, Kou tells this Tsukasa that Amane is going to kill Tsukasa and die at the age of 13...and unbeknownst to Kou, the seemingly innocent little Red House Tsukasa is EXCITED at the idea! Tsukasa, thankful to Kou and Nene, helps them escape the house but stays behind. This scene is when a lot of cool stuff happens.

First, we learn that Tsukasa wasn't actually trapped in the Red House and he always knew how to get back home, but that he never left because he was worried about what would happen to Amane. However, once Kou told him that Amane wasn't happy after Tsukasa left and that Amane kills not just Tsukasa but also himself, Tsukasa realizes he doesn't know that much about Amane and wants to learn more. The most shocking part of this scene to me was that Tsukasa's excitement at dying was very similar to the lighthearted way the Supernatural Tsukasa brings up his death with Amane.

Second, we see Tsukasa not only has the entity he sacrificed himself to to save Amane stored in his chest, but that he holds a conversation with it.

The entity being shown in his chest is actually a popular argument for the "Tsukasa isn't Tsukasa" theory, but I feel this scene proves otherwise. Tsukasa is not the unwilling host of this entity, as one might expect, but instead almost treats it as a friend. They have a sort of symbiotic relationship going on, and Tsukasa makes the decision to go back wholly of his own, despite them both knowing how to get back the entire time. He even says "let's go back TOGETHER," which supports the idea that they work together and that it isn't simply piloting a Tsukasa meat puppet.

We can argue Tsukasa is the victim to the entity's machinations, that the entity needed Tsukasa to do it willingly or that the entity took full control of Tsukasa after he succumbed to the flames or what not and tricked him, but so far AidaIro has only shown cooperation between these two characters. It's not unreasonable to suggest that Tsukasa gaining supernatural powers after he comes back isn't a sign that he's a different being entirely but that he's just working with one.

2. Mother Doesn't Always Know Best

This one will be a quick section, but considering Mother Yugi is basically the origin of "Tsukasa isn't Tsukasa" I wanted to cover why I think she's wrong.

In Chapter 79 Kunishige recounts how Mother Yugi took Tsukasa to their shrine because she thought her son was possessed by a demon after being spirited away. Kunishige thinks she's crazy at first, and so do the priests, who find nothing wrong with Tsukasa. Put a pin in that btw.

However, Kunishige later learns she was onto something because Tsukasa is not only an incredibly unsettling child but he correctly predicts the death of the head priest of the shrine and tells Kunishige his wish, for the head priest to disappear, would be granted tomorrow. This proves Tsukasa has otherworldly power, since he knows Kunishige's wish without Kunishige telling him, and also might have the ability to grant wishes, something the entity in his chest is shown to be capable of.

Now, I personally think the fact that the priests found nothing wrong with Tsukasa is HUGELY in favor of my theory. I understand how you can argue that the entity somehow avoided detection because it's powerful, or because there was nothing left of the original Tsukasa or something, but I still think the fact the priests detected nothing wrong is extremely weird. What if that's because Tsukasa is still in control?

I think the fact Mother Yugi was convinced Tsukasa isn't her son and wasn't persuaded otherwise is important, too. In fact, I think it might directly correlate with the conclusion Amane makes in Chapter 111. I think Amane is more or less coming to the same conclusion his mother made, something he hadn't wanted to believe at first but eventually, finally, succumbed to. I have to imagine his mother's insistence that Tsukasa wasn't Tsukasa left a big impression on Amane, and it's something that's bothered him for years.

I can't exactly blame them both, either. By the time Tsukasa came back, he'd lost a lot of his innocence. Keep in mind that they think Tsukasa was gone for six months. Any normal 4-year-old kid might have been traumatized by leaving his family for six months, but Tsukasa just acts creepy and possessed. And despite him meeting Nene and Kou 50 years in the future, it's possible it really was only six months for Tsukasa! Time worked differently there. Still, it's not hard to see how the extreme circumstances he was in might have changed him. Not only was he stuck in a haunted death house, he later learns the wish he granted for Amane wasn't Amane's true wish and that Amane kills Tsukasa. This is all pretty life-changing information, and when you tack on the fact that he's buddy-buddy with an ancient man-eating god, it's really not that surprising Tsukasa has changed so dramatically, especially when he's still at the tender age of 4.

3. Behavior

For something that's supposedly replaced Tsukasa entirely, it certainly gets very personal with Amane, doesn't it?

I said before that Red House Tsukasa in Chapter 82 acts similar to Supernatural Tsukasa. How they find delight in death. But I don't think this is the only point of similarity between them, either. In Chapter 81, Red House Tsukasa is under the impression that Amane hates him.

In Chapter 111, after Amane tells Tsukasa he hates him, Tsukasa tells him he already knew that.

Mind you, this line comes seconds before Amane comes to the conclusion that Tsukasa isn't Tsukasa.

Think about it. Tsukasa tells Amane that he knows Amane hates him, echoing a sentiment that the Red House Tsukasa shares. And Amane, after hearing this, comes to the conclusion that this Tsukasa is an impostor.

Isn't that... really sad?! I mean, I'm not going to say that Amane's whole reasoning for Tsukasa being a fake is that he thinks Amane hates him, but...before this scene, Amane was saying he couldn't destroy his yorishiro because he cared about Tsukasa too much. And for Tsukasa to say something he's thought ever since Amane pushed him as a little kid, and for THAT to make Amane say he thinks Tsukasa is fake... it really shows they've never understood each other at all.

Tsukasa's never been shown to get extremely upset about being hated by Amane, either, so you can't say Amane is right just because Tsukasa is laughing in Chapter 111. Tsukasa initially seems shocked when he was pushed, and overall seems a little sad about it in Chapter 81, but he still remarks that Amane hates him with a smile. He's selfless about it. And later, when he learns Amane kills him, this feeling gets more complex. Despite Kou's attempts to convince him otherwise, I think Kou's reveal only made Tsukasa more convinced that Amane hates him, and this is shown in Chapter 111 when he laughs about it. It's just a funny joke to him at this point.

I...genuinely cannot reconcile this behavior with Tsukasa being a fake. I just can't! Why would the entity be this personal with Amane? Why would it share opinions that the supposedly "real" Tsukasa had? If AidaIro really is trying to write a story about a little boy being replaced by a supernatural entity, then they could at least do a better job of making them act different. TBHK makes it clear that supernaturals can experience human emotions just as strongly as actual humans, so it wouldn't surprise me if the god has its own personality and feelings, but for them to just...be the exact same as the human it replaced? I'm not buying it.

There is no difference between the Red House Tsukasa and the Supernatural Tsukasa that can't be explained away by the fact that people change as they grow older. Everything about Tsukasa's character arc as I've presented it is completely logical.

Conclusion

With so little info on the ancient man-eating god, it's kind of impossible to reach a proper conclusion at this point. All we really know about its personality is that it hungers for flesh and will grant any wish in exchange for it. With this in mind, it's incredibly easy to see why people think the god and Supernatural Tsukasa are one and the same, especially when the cast tends to treat them as such. I could just as easily write a post in favor of them being different as I could of them being the same.

And I think this is what AidaIro ultimately wants! I think AidaIro wants us to second guess ourselves. If I know anything about Aidairo, it's that they like to keep up on our toes and shock us with surprising twists. Who really knows what they have hiding up their sleeves?

Still, I feel the theory that the god replaced Tsukasa raises more questions than answers, and I hope I managed to explain my side of things.

[selineram3421]

*finally has a day off* Fucking hell.

I'll Be Here

Previous: Coming Apart

Human Alastor X Human Reader Oneshot

Warnings ⚠

⚠ she/they for reader, italics = thoughts, blood, mentions of stalking, shaking head = no, mentions of near death, fluff ⚠

"While in your sleep.."

You started in your journal entries.

You've been writing in a journal for your fiance to read when he does eventually wake up.

It's been a few days since the incident. The local paper had printed out most of what happened but you asked to keep your names out of it and they were respectful enough to listen.

You finally learned what your stalker's name was and how many other women he had gone after. You were glad it was finally over and that he couldn't hurt anyone else now.

The night Alastor was admitted, you were so worried about him and rushed to ask the doctors why he wasn't waking up. They reassured you, saying it was quite normal and that he would wake up soon once he was well enough.

You stayed by his side most of the time.

Knowing better than to leave yourself uncared for while taking care of him.

Brushing his hair, cleaning his teeth, and overall just making sure he was comfortable while he slept.

Whenever your thoughts became too much, you'd clean his glasses or listen to his past recorded Radio shows.

Now, you've finished writing about what happened last night in the journal, sitting near his bedside in one of the chairs provided.

Putting away the light brown book in your bag before letting out a sigh and crossing your arms, resting your upper body on the bed as you stare at your love's sleeping face.

You missed him.

You know he's just resting but you still miss him.

Brushing a strand of hair away from his face, you let out another sigh.

I'll have to eat breakfast soon.. You thought and continued to run your fingers through his hair. Maybe I can just get a sandwich or something from the liquor store across the street.

Taking a glance at the window, you see that it's raining.

It's been raining since last night. You woke up to a loud clap or thunder and thought it woke Alastor up too. But he was still sleeping when you turned to look.

You shifted a bit to get comfortable, still playing with strands of his hair.

"You might be dreaming right now for all I know..", you mumbled, moving your hand to hold his. "I'll take a nap and dream with you for a bit."

Slowly, you felt yourself drift off into sleep.

.

At first you saw Alastor covered in gashes and blood.

With a shout, you ran over to him, but when you blinked he was fine.

He smiled at you and pulled you into a hug.

God did you miss his hugs.

You practically melted in his arms as you hugged him back. The warmth and comfort the hug was providing was something you needed. His arms around your waist, squeezing you with just the right amount of tightness before relaxing.

He was mumbling something in French but it was hard to pick out.

You were just happy to be with him.

"Ma amour." (My love.)

.

You felt yourself wake up to soft humming and someone gently rubbing your head.

Still feeling sleepy, you stayed put. But then you realized that no one comes into the room without knocking. Quickly, you sat up and found him awake.

Smiling gently, looking at you with a soft gaze.

"Alastor..", you said in a whisper, a bit scared that this wasn't real.

He just continued to smile and said your name. "Good morning.", he greeted and wiped away a tear running down your cheek. "I hope I didn't worry you too much this time."

"Alastor.", you felt more tears build up before you carefully reached over and held him close, being mindful with his injuries. "I missed you so much."

"Missed me?", he let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't go anywhere."

All you did was shake your head and kiss his forehead.

"I'll go get the nurse, have them check on you and-", you let go and went to stand.

"Wait.", he tugged your shirt. "I..I missed you too."

Confused, you sat back down and let him pull you close, wrapping his arms around you. "I thought you said you didn't go anywhere?", you hugged him back.

"Hmm.. I was still here.", he nodded. "But I couldn't hold you."

What did he mean by that?

"She likes you by the way.", he mumbled, burying his face into your shoulder.

"She?", you asked, even more confused.

"My mother."

Then it clicked.

Alastor was on the brink of death. Not only that, he got to see his mother again. But he stayed around.

"Told me not to keep you waiting and to hurry up before some male nurse tried to hit on you.", he said and chuckled.

"I would never acknowledge them.", you replied and pecked his lips. "For they have perceived me with their eyes but you have met me in depth."

"I love you beyond time."

"I love you more."

*brain, saying I have to write more human Alastor* You know what? You're right.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @big-brother-problems @mistpurpl3 @chewbrryarts @willowbrookhoot @briethekitsune @alastorthirsty @sir-aadiboii @+?

ML II Alastor🎙️

[tetsuswaifu]

hi can i request a angsts-fluff timeskop Drabble where kuroo tears up/crys. like the entp in him probably try’s to laugh it off 😭 he probably never has been told it’s okay to try 😭😭😭

When the Laughter Fades

w/c: 2054

a/n: the idea of him crying makes me want to cry for him, poor baby just needs to let out his emotions. i know im an infp now, used to be enfp but age is getting to me lmao. thanks for the request, i hope you enjoy, have a wonderful day/night love 🫶🏼🫶🏼

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated, thank you for taking the time to read my work :)

It started with little things, small irritations that you wouldn't have thought twice about. Your boyfriend, Kuroo, had always been an easygoing guy. His dry humor and sharp wit was the perfect balance to any stressful day—but today was different.

When you suggested grabbing coffee before running errands, his response was clipped, almost curt. "We don't have time for that," he muttered. You blinked, slightly taken aback, but you brushed it off. Maybe he was in a hurry today. No big deal.

Normally, he'd joke about being late or tease you about your caffeine habits, but today he barely glanced your way as he headed for the door. Just as he was about to lock it, he realized he'd forgotten his keys. His jaw clenched tightly, the usual lighthearted banter absent from his lips.

"Don't worry, I'll go grab them," you offered with a smile, hoping it would ease the attitude growing within him. It sounded like he muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "Whatever."

At the store, it continued—his usual calm frayed at the edges. He seemed restless, impatient in a way that wasn't like him. When you asked if he wanted anything, he just shrugged. And when you picked up a snack you knew he liked, hoping to cheer him up, he sighed, "I don't need that." You didn't want to push it any further so you put the snack away.

The next hour was filled with similar moments. He snapped when you asked which brand of detergent to buy, muttering something about "just pick one already." When you tried to lighten the mood, making a joke about the endless lines at the store, he just grunted in response, barely acknowledging you. The rest of the errands followed the same tense pattern. When he did respond to you, his tone was callous, and it didn't help that every small inconvenience seemed to irritate him even more.

You weren't sure whether to address it or leave it alone. Every time you tried to ask him what was wrong, he'd brush it off with a halfhearted joke or a quiet "it's nothing." The Kuroo you knew always had a smile, a teasing quip ready to lighten the mood. But today, it was like he was wearing a mask that didn't quite fit, his usual humor stretched too thin.

By the time you got home, the tension between you was palpable. As you stepped inside, he lingered near the door, as if unsure whether to follow you in. You set the groceries on the counter, watching him from the corner of your eye. His fingers were drumming against his thigh, an anxious habit you hadn't seen in him for a long time.

"Tetsu," you said softly, unsure how to approach it. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, too quickly, too sharply. He turned his back, staring at the front door.

You couldn't take it anymore. Whatever was the cause of his poor attitude was getting to you and it needed to stop for his sake. "Kuroo, if something's bothering you, you can tell me. You're not acting like yourself."

He froze in place, his shoulders tensing up. For a second, you thought he might ignore you again, but then he turned around, his eyes flashing with frustration. "Why do you always have assume something is wrong?" he snapped, his voice louder than it had been all day. "Why can't we just get through one day without you assuming something's wrong with me?"

You flinched, taken aback by his sudden outburst. He had never spoken to you like that before, and for a moment you didn't know how to respond. "I'm just worried," you said quietly. "You've been… off today. I care about you and just wanted to help."

"Help?" Kuroo's voice cracked, and for the first time today, he looked at you—really looked at you. His eyes were wide, filled with intensity you hadn't seen before. "You think you can help? What, are you going to make everything better with some comforting words, a little pep talk?"

You blinked, your stomach twisting at his harsh tone. His words stung, but more than that, they confused you. This wasn't the Kuroo you knew and loved—the one who was always calm, who never lashed out like this. "I don't know," you admitted softly, not breaking eye contact, trying to stay calm despite the storm brewing in him. "But I'm here for you, if you want to talk. I just… don't understand why you've been so angry all day."

"Of course, you don't understand." Kuroo laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling. "You don't get it. No one does."

He turned away from you again, his back tense, his breaths coming out in ragged bursts. He was losing control, and you could see it happening right in front of you, but you didn't know how to reach him.

"Tetsu…" you started, but he cut you off, his voice rising, his frustration pouring out now, unchecked.

"I'm tired, okay? I'm exhausted. Of everything. Of pretending like I'm fine when I'm not. Of trying to keep everything together for everyone else when it's all falling apart for me." His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body rigid with tension. "I don't get to fall apart. I'm Kuroo—the guy who always has a joke, who always knows what to say. I'm supposed to be one who fixes things, not the one who—" His voice cracked, the frustration giving way to something you hadn't seen from him, something vulnerable. "Not the one who falls apart… it's not your problem. Alright?"

"It's my problem if it's affecting you," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "You don't have to do this alone."

Kuroo looked at you, his eyes tired. He laughed, but it came out more like a broken sob this time. "I don't even know how to explain it. I don't know how to not be fine."

You watched him, your heart sinking as you realized what was happening. He was deflecting, trying to laugh his way through the pain, like he always did when things got too hard. It was his way of keeping people at arm's length, of avoiding the real conversation that needed to happen. But this time, the cracks of his façade were too big to ignore.

"Tetsuro," you said gently, stepping in front of him, "you don't have to laugh it off. It's okay if you're angry."

He froze, his eyes darting away from yours, the tension in his body so thick you could feel it radiating off him. For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Then, with a forced smile, he let out another weak chuckle. "I'm not angry," he said, though his voice wavered, betraying him. "I'm just… stressed. That's all."

But you didn't back down this time. "You are angry," you quietly said, your voice firm but gentle. "And that's okay. You don't have to pretend everything's fine when it's not."

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for a split second, you saw it—the fear, the vulnerability he was trying so desperately to hide. Then, like a dam breaking, his forced laughter faded into something darker, something raw.

"Fine," he snapped, his voice rising again as he threw his hands in the air, finally letting some of the anger slip through. "You want me to admit it? I'm angry. I'm pissed off. About everything. Work, life—everything’s a fucking mess right now, and I don't know how to fix it."

The words came out fast, like they had been building for days, maybe even weeks. His chest heaved with the weight of it all, his eyes burning with intensity from the frustration. "I've been trying to keep it together, trying to be the guy who can handle everything, but I can't. And now I'm taking it out on you because I don't know what the hell else to do."

He laughed again, but this time it was sharp, bitter, filled with self-loathing. "So yeah, I'm angry. Happy now?"

You stood there, letting his words hang in the air, the anger swirling around you both like a storm. But instead of pushing back or getting defensive, you just nodded, keeping your gaze steady on his. "I'm glad you told me," you said softly. "but you don't have to keep punishing yourself for feeling this way, Tetsu."

He blinked, the harshness in his expression faltering for a moment as he stared at you, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "What?"

"You're allowed to be angry," you continued, stepping closer to him again. "You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling. You don't have to keep laughing it off, Tetsu. It's okay if something is bothering you."

For a moment, Kuroo just stood there, staring at you in disbelief, his chest still rising and falling with uneven breaths. Then, slowly, the tension began to seep out of him, his shoulders sagging as the weight of everything he had been holding onto finally started to come crashing down.

His lips trembled, and when he tried to laugh again, it came out more like a sob. "I don't know how to do this," he whispered, his voice breaking as his hands came up to cover his face. "I don't know how to not be okay."

You didn't hesitate this time. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your chest, and just like before, he resisted for a second, his body stiff and trembling. But then, he gave in, collapsing against you as the laughter gave way to tears. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his grip almost desperate as if he was afraid to let go.

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs, his face buried in your shoulder. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole—for everything."

You shook your head, pulling him closer until his forehead rested against yours. "You're not an asshole," you murmured, brushing your thumb against the back of his hand. "You're just human. And it's okay to not have it all figured out."

He cried against you for what felt like forever, his emotions pouring out of him in waves, his body shaking with the force of it all. You held him through it, not saying a word, just letting him feel everything he needed to feel.

When the sobs finally began to subside, Kuroo pulled back slightly, his face flushed and tear-streaked, his breath coming out in shaky bursts. He wiped at his eyes, a tired broken smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I must look like a mess right now."

You smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. "You look like someone who finally let themselves feel what they needed to."

Kuroo let out another shaky breath, leaning his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes, the exhaustion clear in every line of his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice hoarse but softer this time. "For taking it out on you. For everything."

"You don't have to apologize," you replied, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his back. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just stood there, holding you close as he let the last of his defenses crumble. And in that quiet, fragile moment, you knew that this—letting him break, letting him be vulnerable—was the most honest he had ever been with you.

"Thank you," he whispered finally, giving you a tighter squeeze. "For not giving up on me."

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had always tried so hard to be everyone else's rock. "You never have to do this alone," you whispered back. He stared at you for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe that you were still here, that you hadn't turned your back on him after today. Then, with a small broken smile, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours again. For the first time that day, Kuroo didn't try to laugh it off. He just held you tighter finally letting himself believe that it was okay to not be okay.

[mxtantrights]

Omg, girl!! Im the one who requested the "enemies" to lovers with Jason Todd one, and GIRL. I loved it. Was better than i was expecting. Please, write part two!( kiss scene? Hehe)Or a whole Bible if you want. Honestly, i only said a "quick" one because i was trying to be polite, didn't want to push or anything lol.

Anyway, thank you for writing my request!!

thank you soo much!! <333 this is a second parter to this post, but it can be read as a stand alone. hope you enjoy it as much as I liked continuing it!!

The kiss happens in two parts. Not to say that you can carefully dissect it into two parts, but that the kiss almost happens once and then it finally does, kind of.

Once when the two of you are on mission. In a slimy dive bar in some redacted location. You've been following your mark all day and ended up here. He's slinging back cheap shots of an off brand liquor as you and Red watch from the roof of the place.

He's been followed all day and hasn't made you once, which is a good thing. Or a bad thing. So you and Red decide to switch it up. There was no need to drag it out any longer. You could confront him and get the info you needed.

That was the plan.

Until the two of you were about to corner your mark. You were waiting on the street and Red was on the other side of it. It was going well until all of a sudden he met up with a familiar face. Falcone. Red pulled off his side of the street quickly and met up with you.

He doesn't say much. He doesn't say anything at all as he takes your arm and drags you around the wall of a store. You have half the mind to question him but you don't. Until he starts taking off the bottom part of his mask.

You try to stop him, but he crowds into your space. He whispers a very clear apology for being too close to you. And then he explains that him being here, would be a dead give away to Falcone. He might blow up whatever plans he has.

Both of you can hear them walking your way. And the only thing you can think of is apologizing to Red before fitting his fcae right into your neck. In the darkness of the night no one can really see his helmet. Or both of your suits.

They walk by without any second thought to the two of you. And you wait about five seconds before telling Red he was okay to pick his head up from your neck.

The drive to he motel was awkward to say the least.

The second time is when you're in the middle of changing in said motel. It's the last night of the mission. You're just about ready to go home to your comfortable bed and front door that has more than one lock.

Red is in a room on this floor. But the two of you haven't run into each other outside of your masks. It's weird. Like weird as in, it probably should have happened by now, but it hasn't. You think to yourself maybe the universe isn't ready to answer that question yet.

With a towel wrapped around your body you're about to start changing into your sleep wear when you hear something odd. A pop coming from outside. Then another one.

You grab your firearm and go over to the door. You look through the peep hole and see nothing. But you know you heard something. So you open the door , just to peek your head out. And at the right time too.

All of a sudden you see a tall man, white streak of hair, coming your way. He's wearing sweatpants and a black muscle tee. Once he makes eye contact with you, he starts running your way. You don't have time to close the door before he's standing in your face begging you to kiss him.

He's out a breath, and he's practically begging at this point. You're not about to kiss a random man. But when you hear the following footsteps you know he is in danger.

So you agree. And this guy apologizes to you in advance as he leans you against your door and cradles the back of your head with his hand. You almost sort of melt into the kiss. Just for a second. only for a second actually.

Because you realize, the way this man just apologized for what he was about to do, is the same way Red apologized to you the other night. And your brain feels like it's on fire because you realize this isn't some random man. This is Red.

This is Red and you know what he looks like. And he definitely knows it you because your'e the same person he saved in the alleyway in Gotham. Coincidences like that don't happen. Especially when you kind of hinted at it with the first word you said to him as a civilian.

🏷️ @12134z03

[creweemmaeec11]

Dark Horse Painted White Part 3

Pt 1 Pt 2

Hero couldn't help the feeling of guilt clawing at their throat. They were at such a loss! They'd tried so hard to be nice to civilian this morning, but it was as if the nicer they were, the more Civilian seemed to hate them! They didn't understand what they'd done so wrong!

Despite their loss of appetite, hero ate their omelette to avoid being rude, before doing the dishes like they'd promised. They wiped down the table, and even spotted a broom behind the fridge they used to sweep.

When their civilian host still wasn't back yet. Hero awkwardly lay back down on the couch, not daring to touch anything else they might get in trouble for. It was very rare they ever got the opportunity to sleep in like this, nevermind have free time. What should they do? It's not like they had time for any hobbies. What did normal people do with time off?

Hero continued staring at the ceiling. They'd checked their phone a half dozen times. No new assignments or instructions from their boss. They hadn't even gotten any paperwork passed off to them yet. They received nothing but radio silence, all their time meant to be dedicated to protecting the Civilian.

Finally, after what felt like hours of staring at the wall, hero heard the door at the end of the hall open and the clacking of claws approach. Immediately, they sat up to attention.

Civilian rounded the corner, holding a notebook and a pen but their eyes stayed trained on their phone as they typed with their other hand.

"Here," they said, tossing the two items onto the coffee table, "make a list of stuff you want picked up at the grocery store,"

"Wait, what?"

"Food, hero," civilian deadpanned, "unless you plan on eating all of mine while your here?"

"N-no, of course not! But-"

"Then get to writing," they quipped, before turning and heading to the kitchen.

Despite their confusion, hero did as they were told, writing down a list of things they could think of that didn't take much preparation.

Civilian came back a few minutes later, looking at the hero expectantly.

They stood up off the couch, handing the notepad back to their host, "Please let me pay, for all of my stuff at least-"

"Do you have cash?" Civilian asked as they started typing on their phone yet again.

"Only $20, but I can send you the rest-"

"The twenty is fine," they replied. They weren't giving the hero any sort of link to their accounts. Civilian's eyes finally left their phone screen to begin reading the list. Something in their face seemed to shift as they read the items.

"Is something wrong?" Hero asked nervously.

"We just have a much simmilar palette then I would have expected," they replied, tone a mix of begrudging and in awe.

Hero wanted to ask why, but they bit their tongue, "are we going to go pick this stuff up?"

"No, I'm having a... uhm, *friend* pick it up for me," Civilian replied, snapping a photo of the notepad before dropping it back down on the table.

"So, what are we going to do today then?" Hero questioned.

"Nothing," the other replied, tucking their phone back into their pocket.

"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?"

"As in we aren't doing anything..." Civilian explained in confusion, "I canceled my plans,"

"But..." hero hesitated,"what should I do then?"

The civilian bit back the comment of telling the hero they should leave, if not for it being a waste of breath, then for how genuinely confused the hero sounded, "Uhm... I don't know? Whatever you want? You didn't bring anything with you to keep you occupied?"

Hero looked a bit perplexed, "uhm... no? Should I have?"

"Well... I would have thought so... never mind. It doesn't matter. I'm sure you can find something on TV at least,"

"Oh, yeah okay, sure,"

"Queen," Civilian whistled, "remote,"

Hero watched in wonder as the large white dog ran to grab the remote, bringing it over to the Civilian.

"Good girl," they praised, taking the item from the dogs mouth, "Tell me your favourite channels and I'll find their numbers for you,"

There was a beat of silence. The lack of answer caused the Civilian to glance over at the hero with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"I... I don't know.... I'm not familiar with any of the different channels. I haven't watched anything other then the news in years,"

Civilian's face simply shifted into even more confusion, "uhm.. okay... well you can get youtube on this TV too. Do you watch anything on that?"

"Uhm, no... I don't think so," hero shifted awkwardly, "Maybe you could reccomend something?"

"Uh..." Civilian stuttered, suddenly strangely flattered hero would trust their judgment and taste to make a suggestion.

They cleared their throat. Nothing coming from a hero was any sort of compliment.

There was no way they were going to be sharing their actual preferences with hero!

"Yeah, sure I guess," Civilian shrugged. They'd share shows they thought were okay, but not their favorites. "But what do you even do in your spare time?" They asked as they navigated through the channels on the TV.

"Uh, well," they chuckled dryly, scratching the back of their head, "I don't exactly have a lot of spare time. Evil never rests as they say, and that usually means neither do I,"

Civilian internally rolled their eyes. What a drama queen. There was no way hero wasn't exaggerating. Because sure, this city did have it's fair share of criminals, but there was no way a major crime took place nearly every day. Three times a week, max.

"Plus, if the city holds any big public events, I always need to be there in case a villain decides to show up. That mixed with all the press conferences, fan meet and greets, training, street watch, you know... and any time I have leftover gets used up by finishing all the paperwork the other officers don't get done," the hero gave a forced laugh again, "in fact, I think this morning was the first time I've gotten to sleep-in in..." they blinked, "I can't even remember..."

The hero glanced up, realizing they'd been rambling and were about to apologize but the look on the Civilian's face made them stop.

Civilian was looking at them with an incredulous, shocked expression.

"Of course it's all worth it!" Hero sputtered.

"Sounds like you need to put your foot down" Civilian scoffed, turning back to the tv. So what if they'd been wrong about hero's daily life? Just because they didn't live like royalty? If anything, heros probably deserved to be working so hard, for all the problems they caused, it served them right not to have any free time! If they wanted to throw their life away for some meaningless agency, what did villain care?!

"Maybe you're right, but.... I'm a bit of a people pleaser" hero chuckled again.

Civilian side-eyed them, "you don't say," they scoffed, before carelessly tossing the remote next to the hero on the couch, "Give this channel a try for now. If you don't like it, just change the channel till you find something,"

"W-wait!" Hero sputtered, quickly jumping to their feet.

Civilian's feet regrettably stuttered to a stop. They turned their head, glancing over their shoulder at their unwanted guest.

"What?" They snapped, failing to hide the annoyance in their tone.

"Where are you going?"

"To my room?"

"But... I'm supposed to keep an eye on you? I can't really do that if you're in the other end of the house with the door closed..."

Civilian grumbled. That had been the entire point.

"Fine, I'll work in the kitchen," they amended, before heading to their room to gather a few things.

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

The house had been quiet for the next few hours, the only sound being the soft murmur of the wTV in the other room, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Hero immediately jumped to their feet.

"Please, let me get it!" Hero asked quickly, coming up behind the Civilian who was about to open the door, "just in case,"

Civilian rolled their eyes, scoffing under their breath, but they didn't argue, stepping aside to let the hero grab the handle.

The door opened to reveal no one, only multiple grocery bags on the front step. The hero poked their head out further, looking around, but they couldn't see anyone.

"Uh..."

The Civilian didn't say anything, instead pushing past them to begin bringing the bags inside. Quickly, the hero scurried to help.

"Was that your friend?"

"No, my groceries just teleported onto my doorstep," Civilian replied sarcastically as they began taking things out and putting them onto the counter.

The hero chuckled humorously, "No, I mean, where did they go? Why did they run off so quickly?"

"Maybe supervillain got them,"

"What?!"

Civilian gave them an incredulous and unimpressed look, "they were *busy* hero," they explained, rolling their eyes.

"Oh, right," Hero replied, clearing their throat awkwardly, "Well, it sure was nice of them to pick up everything for you,"

*that's what they get paid for* civilian thought to themselves.

Once everything was put away, they let out a sigh.

"I need to take Nova and Queen out for a walk. Be ready to go in half an hour," Civilian stated matter-of-factly before disappearing down the hall and into their room.

[deleteddewewted]

Supermarket Romance P3

Modern! Titus x Reader

S: His first conversation has inspired him to try and build greater connections with the people he already speaks to. His therapist is overjoyed with this development advising him that in due time he will see his anxiety dwindle as exposure is the best type of therapy. Titus is motivated and encouraged even, to pursue further socializing with you. Hopefully, this could be the start of a new connection.

W: PTSD episodes, Depression, Anxiety Disorders, Reader is a broke Artist, Titus works as an Analyst for a company, Ableist comments (From Titus and to Titus)

Previous / Next

He didn’t know why he continued to do this to himself. Guilliman had told him to buy a notepad or set reminders on his phone but Titus refused to do so. It got to the point that Guilliman bought him his very own notepad with differently formatted pages so that he could use it for whatever he needed. He once again forgot to take the notepad or write anything down in it as he was browsing the grocery store shelves searching for something he knew he needed but forgot.

His forgetfulness only grew worse with the more he remembered the conversation he had with you a few days back. He couldn’t stop himself from reliving it as it was a weird source of comfort. You didn’t frown at him or make a displeased face. You looked at im, really looked at him, and didn’t think any different about his appearance. Even his doctor at times made faces when talking about his injuries. It made it hard to live in his body at times. But you made it tolerable, at least for the moment.

He mindlessly grabbed whatever was in front of him, not even bothering to read the label or check the price as he continued to relish in the memory before being snapped out of it by his phone buzzing. He pulled it out of his pocket, hoping to see a call from his doctor or Chairon but he was instead met with his boss's name. He frowned at the still-ringing phone but still answered the call reluctantly.

“Hello, Mr. Guilliman.” Titus greeted.

“For the love of everything, Demetrian. Stop calling me 'Mr. Guilliman'. I’m not just your boss, I’m your friend. Reframe from such a habit.” The younger man shouted. It never ceased to surprise Titus just how odd Guilliman was. Their age difference made this even more odd considering that Guilliman was also his superior at the office. It felt awkward to have his boss be younger than him but he guessed he couldn't complain too much as he himself was once a young Lieutenant and Captain who led men and women off all ages. Age didn't matter too much in the military if you had the ability to prove yourself capable of the work being assigned to you.

He assumed this is why Guilliman didn't stay longer in the military and didn't resign his contract. His might and his brain weren't worth being wasted in combat when it could be used for more analytical and important tasks such as leadership in the bureaucratic system they lived in. In a way, Titus was glad the younger man had left. Guilliman looked more relaxed working in an office than working in a tent in the middle of nowhere.

“I will do my best to refrain from addressing you in that way.” Titus complied.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you if you aren’t too busy.” Titus could practically hear the grin that was spreading across his boss's face.

“I’m not.” Titus began to walk down the aisle and into a new one as he spoke on the phone. He readjusted his phone so he could hold it with his other hand instead of the same hand that carried his basket full of groceries.

“I have an event that I want you to attend. I’m having some of my best employees come with me to help push and talk numbers with some big players in the industry that Father is interested in doing business with. This will be over the span of a week but won't be until a few months from now.” Guilliman explained.

“Ok?”

“I wanted to ask if you had anyone or any responsibilities that might interfere with this event.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Guilliman teased.

“I’m positive.”

“That’s a shame, I was hoping you’d say yes so I could get you an extra ticket for a potential plus one.” Guilliman added. Titus stopped in his tracks, processing what his superior had just said. Plus one? The only person he could think of that Guilliman might be insinuating is you and it made him feel unease.

Titus had mentioned you in passing during their lunch break. They had been speaking on the phone and decided to have lunch together to catch up on what the other was doing outside of work. He had been talking about how he had met someone at the supermarket who had caught his attention because of how they shopped. He didn’t know how to explain to Guilliman that you reminded him of his mother and how she would take great care in reading and observing costs and food contents when buying food. He didn’t know how to explain that he liked that you dressed the way you did, uncaring if some may criticize you for looking poorly in the middle of the day. He thought it was unique and quirky that you gave such a lacking amount of care to what those around you thought of you. It almost helped him feel less judged when he shopped.

Since then, Guilliman had tried getting him to talk more about you or about any of his few friends outside of himself. Guilliman found it interesting to see just how much Titus needed routines and positive reassurances to know he was doing good. This was in stark contrast to the Captain he had known who didn't seek praise and would scream his lungs out at privates and soldiers during drills and combat. A larger-than-life man who lived to serve was now reduced to an anxious mess who needed reinforcement. It was a fall from grace that Guilliman dared not talk about since he knew that his comments would do more damage than good.

All that Guiliman knew was that predictability and transparency helped Titus and that had remained the same even now. Guilliman wasn't complaining, Titus had been more talkative, more communicative, more present. He had found some strength to come into the office for small project events or meetings that could have been done remotely or even on an email debrief. He was seeing great developments in work and he wanted to nurture these new habits since it slowly brought out the man Titus once was.

"I dont know them well enough for that, Roboute." Titus explained.

"The event is 4 months away, ok. Im just saying that if by any chance there is someone in your life that you wish to bring along I'm more than happy to have them come. The more the merrier." Guilliman added. Guilliman said his goodbyes before hanging up without giving Titus time to respond back. Titus, annoyed, put his phone back into his pocket, not paying attention to the path ahead of him as he did.

"Ouch!" Titus snapped his head towards the noise in front of him. He looked down where he felt something crash into him only to find you sitting on the floor, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry." He apologized. He put his basket down on the floor before grabbing you by the arm and helping you to your feet.

"No, it's ok. It's on me. I wasn't paying attention." You apologized back. You patted your clothes hoping to clean them from any dirt you might have picked up in your fall.

"Thanks for picking me up, Titus." You smiled up at him, hoping that he didn't misinterpret your apology for sarcasm. Titus looked nervous as he watched you. He looked like he was inspecting you for injuries, not that you would have any, but just to make sure.

"No problem, Y/n."

"So what brings you back to the store, Titus? Anything new you're trying?" You asked wanting to be polite.

"I was told by my dietician to try adding more sugars into my diet. I'm... trying to see what is tolerable enough for me to eat." For someone of his stature, you would have assumed he would be louder but he was soft spoken. Clear and precise, calm but soft. It reminded you of the older gentleman living next door to you who would ask you to help him bring his case of water up if you had the time.

"Do you not like sweet?" You asked.

"I've developed a dislike for overly sweet things so I tend to avoid sugar in general." He explained. In reality, his anxiety made sugar act almost like a trigger. Either he could taste it and it was overwhelming or he'd consume it and it made his anxiety spike. He avoided sugary drinks, sweet treats, and even basic foods that have sweetner in it. The ice cream he had bought was the only thing he could tolerate as it wasn't too sweet and the cold numbed the taste.

"Fruit tends to be the easiest way to get sugar into a diet. It's hard not to enjoy them since there's variety." You explained. This seemed to ease Titus a little. His once furrowed brows eased just a little at the suggestion.

"I will try that." The conversation died from there. While you thought there was nothing more to say, Titus was buzzing with questions of his own. Another conversation with you meant more exposure which meant that his therapist would be proud of his progress and he himself will be proud of his progress.

"What about you?" He asked. He looked at your empty basket before returning his gaze to you.

"Me? Oh, I was seeing what I could get for $20. I don't really have the budget right now to experiment with food."

"What can you possibly get with $20?" He questioned. You thought his question was brash but you chalked it up to shock.

"You'd be surprised. It mainly works if you bargain or use coupons. For the most part, I get the ramen packets or rice." You shrugged.

"So you mainly eat...."

"Poorly? Yeah. When your broke you have to eat whatever, so might as well eat something that's not gross."

"Doesn't it leave you in a nutritional deficit?" Titus was trying to wrap his head around how anyone could possibly live off of this diet. Even the MRE's he would get in his service was better than the food you planned on buying. It sounded horrible and his face must have shown it because you laughed before explaining yourself.

"It does, but again, I dont have the money to buy anything other than the things I really need." You smiled up at him again, the corner of your eyes pinching against your cheeks.

"It was nice talking to you, Titus. Hopefully, next time we see each other you can tell me what fruits you liked." You winked at him teasingly.

"Of course. I will make sure to do so." He nodded. You couldn't help it, but you chuckled at him. He was amusing, to say the least. There was no way he was an actual person. He was too formal, too forward, too honest. You kinda felt bad for being able to know so much about this man when you haven't said enough about yourself.

As you walked away Titus sighed. This had been the longest conversation he had with you. This was good! He wondered if he had said too much or not enough. Maybe it was invasive to ask the questions had asked. It was all said and done but he couldn’t help but worry. He shook his head, he wasn’t going to allow doubt to consume him. Not now, not when he had just gained such a positive thing.

When he made it back home he made sure to go about his usual routine with as much urgency as he could. He double checked his locks, took a shower, put away his groceries, and grabbed his laptop from his desk to bring it over to his bed. He laid there, silently waiting for a call to come in. The ticking of his clock unnerved him as he waited. No matter how many times he had done this it still never stopped being stressful. The waiting, the anticipation ate at him as he counted down the seconds.

*bzzzz* *bzzzzzzz*

Titus clicked on the green answer button that appeared on his laptops screen before readjusting the camera and himself.

“Demetrian, what a pleasure it is to see you once more.” An older man with glasses that looked almost comically round, greeted Titus. He smiled, teeth showing as he waved at the man.

“Dr Galeo, it is good to speak with you again.” Titus greeted back.

“You’re looking well. I hope you’ve been following instructions given to you by your physician?”

“I have. There’s no need to be concern.”

“Good, good. I’m that case, let’s talk about your progress shall we? What have your most recent interactions with other people have been?” Galeo ask.

“Positive. I’ve been meaning to tell you abott it my interactions either Y/n, actually.”

“Do tell, Titus.” Proded Galeo.

It was as if the flood gates had open. Titus talked and talked and talked about you and the conversation you had had with each toner. Every moment, every word, every movement you had made was described in detail as he spoke to his therapist. Be couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he just needed to talk to someone about his new friend. Galeo didn’t mind his team kings, if anything, this was the whole reason why he enjoyed his weekly check in with Titus.

When Titus had first started therapy he was closed up. He refused to speak or even write down his thoughts or feelings. It was frustrating as it didn’t seem that the man would open up any time soon and Galeo would have to fire him as a client. So when Galeo proposed Titus begin making small interactions with people in his gym, this seemed to spark a reaction. Titus didn’t take recommendations but orders and a life of service made this even more important for how Galeo was going to treat him. So he began giving Titus orders. Do this, do that, you must complete this. This worked even if it felt like it was degrading to do but it gave Galeo space to work with. Titus began reporting back that he would speak to the kind woman in the front desk at his gym if only to say “hello” and “goodbye”. This began to slowly evolve into him speaking to the new security guard at the gym that had approached Titus asking what his workout routine was. Story after story of the security guard became frequent but what threw Galeo off guard was the story about the person Titus had met at the supermarket.

“They spoke to me, again.” Titus said. His voice was in awe, almost as if he couldn’t believe that a basic human interaction could possibly be directed at him. Galeo knew Titus was deeply insecure but to see him genuinely surprised that something so small such as a greeting or acknowledgment would be directed at him made something in Galeo mourn for his patient.

“And they said that they wanted to hear if I liked anything new that I tried.” Titus finished. Galeo smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“That’s wonderful Titus. You and your friend seem to be making progress."

"They even gave me their name. Y/n."

"See, and here you were worried about rejection. You're making good progress. This is something to celebrate." Galeo encouraged.

"It feels childish to celebrate something so normal but I truly feel like I've progressed in my treatment, Galeo."

"And I see that progress, Titus. In due time, you will see all of these efforts pay off." Galeo comforted him, hoping that his words held some value to the man.

They spent the rest of their session making idle conversation on things Titus could improve on. Galeo hoped that more social interaction could help Titus see that the world wasn't against him. They ended their session with Galeo tasking Titus with trying to extend this connection with you outside of the supermarket. friendship is good for his health and Titus, unfortunately, has lacked those platonic relationships ever since he left the military. Titus agreed with him and even stated that there had been a few people who had reached out to him but he hasn't had the courage to reach back out of discomfort. Galeo reassures him that all in due time, there's no need to rush but there needs to be an attempt to try. With that, Titus ended the call and began preparing an early dinner for himself. He ate his meal in silence as he thought about the events of today. Would you want to be friends with him? Would you feel comfortable spending time with him outside of the occasional bumping into each other in the supermarket? He made sure to clean his dishes and then take a shower before heading to bed. He lay in his bed contemplating the plans for the next day. He had it off, there was nothing for him to do. Maybe he would be kind to himself and explore the city he lived in.

[imagine-you]

These Wolves Keep On Scratching At My Heart [Isaac Lahey/Reader] 3/?

Summary: Growing up as a human in the Hale pack wasn't easy, but you wouldn't have traded it for anything. When you're twelve, a fire takes away most of your family, except for your father and two of your cousins. You're adopted by a kind deputy and officially become a part of the Stilinski family since your father can't care for you and your cousins have fled town. You think life can't possibly get any more complicated until you're eighteen and your brother's best friend gets bitten by a rogue alpha out in the preserve. Word Count: 6.2k Notes: I promise Isaac is going to appear soon! I'm honestly just having fun connecting reader to as many characters as possible. I feel like the timeline in Teen Wolf is confusing af, but I also hate when characters just randomly get introduced, are important to the plot for a while, and then just disappear. So, I'm going to try to rectify both with this fic. So, everyone is getting introduced a bit at a time. Thank you to anyone giving this a chance! Your comments and love are what's keeping me motivated.

Part One // Part Two // Read On AO3

Chasing Scott around all night did nothing to improve your mood. By the time you got the call that Stiles had found him out in the preserve, it was nearly time to get ready for school again. You didn't think your dad would let you skip another day of school, so you forced yourself to go home, shower, and put on a fresh set of clothes. You made Stiles drive you to school, since you were way too tired to get behind the wheel and Stiles sometimes seemed like an endless store of energy. 

You didn't want to be at school and you didn't want to deal with classes. Your patience was worn thin and you certainly didn't want to deal with any of the bullshit that had suddenly dropped right into your life. But you so rarely got what you wanted.  

"Y/N! Hey, Y/N," you heard Scott call as you walked down the hallway towards your first class.  

"Not now, Scott," you warned, not even bothering to turn and look at him. Scott knew you were a sucker for his kicked puppy dog expression and one look at him would have you caving.  

"Y/N," Scott tried again, reaching out to grab your shoulder. Scott's recent strength boost meant that he had no trouble turning you to face him even though you tried to resist. "Stiles told me that you know." 

Your eyes were burning with exhaustion and your head was starting to hurt and you didn't want to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway where anyone might overhear. "I don't know what you're talking about," you deflected.  

Scott huffed out an annoyed breath when you tried to turn away again. "About the hunters," Scott hissed, moving to block your way. "Stiles told me you knew about them. That you know about everything." 

"Yeah, well," you sighed, "I shouldn't expect Stiles to keep a secret from you." 

"And your cousin--," Scott started, but cut himself off when your expression morphed from exhausted to challenging.  

"What about my cousin?" You asked, feeling your fingers curl up into your palms. You didn't want to talk about the Argents, but you sure as hell didn't want to talk about Derek.  

You didn't know how to feel about Derek. You didn't know what to do about Laura being dead. You didn't know how to keep Stiles safe. You didn't know if you could visit your dad at the hospital and tell him that your life had completely fallen apart. You didn't know what to do about anything and you were quickly losing faith that everything would work out.  

"He showed up last night," Scott continued, lowering his voice and dipping his head towards yours so you would hear him. "I think he's the one who bit me. He's the alpha and he’s--" 

"He's not the alpha," you refuted with a quick shake of your head. "Trust me. Derek isn't the one who turned you. He couldn't even if he wanted to, which I doubt he would. You don't exactly scream prime beta material to me." Scott was stubborn and sweet and not always the sharpest tool in the shed. He was a good guy, yeah, but a good werewolf? You weren't so sure. 

Scott looked momentarily insulted before his expression steeled. "I know Derek is up to something," Scott insisted. You were sure Scott didn't believe you and still thought Derek was the alpha that turned him. "I don't trust him." 

"Then get in line, Scott," you told him before finally managing to pass him.  

Scott reached out to wrap an arm around your bicep, pulling you to a halt yet again. You suddenly wished that you had access to the mountain ash Deaton gave you so you could contain Scott long enough for you to get away. You were over the confrontation and wanted to get on with your day. Maybe, after you managed to get some sleep, you would be in a better headspace to fill Scott in on what you knew. But right now, you hated him just the tiniest bit for not being able to take a hint.  

"Allison's dad shot me," Scott whispered, glancing warily around the hallway in an attempt to make sure no one had overheard him. "He doesn't know I'm a, y'know, or that it was me out in the preserve, but he's a hunter. If he finds out about me, he's going to kill me." 

"Then maybe you should rethink dating Allison," you replied, shaking your arm free of Scott's grasp. "For your own safety," you added before finally making it down the hallway. You didn't dare look over your shoulder in case Scott took it as an invitation to approach you again.  

You made it to lunch before you ended up snapping. You still had half the school day to go and then you were free to go home and crawl into bed. You were nearly there, you told yourself. Just a few more hours and then you could leave for the day.  

You were about to walk into the cafeteria when you caught sight of a trio of junior girls watching something on a cell phone. There was a wicked grin on one of the girl's faces that stopped you in your tracks. Whatever they were watching, it wasn't anything good, and it had piqued your curiosity.  

"What've you got there?" You couldn't help but ask as you started approaching them.  

The girl on the right looked ashamed, but the other two seemed to be amused by whatever was playing on the phone.  

"Nothing," the girl holding the phone claimed. "Just something someone sent to me." 

"Oh? Something good?" You responded, moving until you could look over the girl's shoulder to look at the screen.  

At first, you weren't sure what you were looking at. You could see a flash of blonde hair and a desk getting hastily pushed to the side before someone was on the floor. The person on the floor was shaking and there were shouts and giggling in the background. You didn't know if exhaustion was to blame for how long it took you to make sense of the video, but once you did, your vision nearly greyed out with rage.  

It was Erica Reyes in the middle of a seizure. And instead of helping her, someone had the bright idea to record her and share it for other's entertainment.   

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and snatched the phone away from the girl. You let it drop to the floor before you brought your heel down on it, crushing it beneath your shoe.  

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" 

You dodged her attempt to push you and kicked the remnants of her phone away. "If I ever see that video again, the next thing I break will be your face," you warned her.  

"But I didn't even take the video," the girl insisted. "You owe me another phone!" 

"Do I?" You asked, playing dumb before you offered her a grin. It felt a bit manic and didn't fit right on your face, but you didn't care. You were tired of people doing whatever the hell they wanted without thinking of the consequences. A wolf could just come into town, kill Laura, and then take away the Hale family legacy in one night. They could bite Scott and not give a damn about what it meant to turn a kid and then leave him to figure it all out on his own. You couldn't do anything about a rogue alpha just yet, but you could certainly stop people from bullying Erica for a condition that could very well kill her one day. "If I ever see that video again, on anyone else's phone, then--" 

Before you could finish your threat, you felt someone wrap an arm around your shoulders. You glanced over to see that it was Jackson standing at your side. He offered the girls an insincere smile before considering the broken phone on the floor.  

"You should take better care of your stuff," he directed at the girl in the middle before he started to steer you away.  

You let him walk you all the way to the cafeteria doors before you shrugged off his hold. "I didn't need your help," you told him, knowing that Jackson had only interrupted to try to keep you out of trouble.  

"Are you hormonal or something? Why are you terrorizing people in the hallway?" 

You rolled your eyes, swiftly changing your plan from grabbing lunch to taking a brief nap in the library. "I don't have time for your bullshit right now," you told Jackson before walking away. You knew Jackson was trying to help in his own way, but you were close to writing off the whole day, and you really didn't have the patience stored up to deal with him right now.  

By the time the final bell rang, you didn't even have the energy to do anything except shuffle your way towards the parking lot. You knew you would fall asleep on the way home and hoped this time Stiles wouldn't try to draw a mustache on your face. At least not with a permanent marker.  

You got to the parking lot and saw Stiles leaning up against his jeep. He noticed you and waved before he cut the gesture off with a scowl. You didn't understand his change in demeanor until you felt someone grab your hand. You instinctively tried to jerk your hand away before you realized it was Jackson at your side again.  

He flipped Stiles off before starting to lead you towards his car. "I'll drive you home," he insisted, not letting up on his grip until you were by his car. He reached out to open the passenger side door and then placed a hand on your shoulder, urging you to get into his car.  

"Are you kidnapping me?" You asked as you settled into the passenger seat, peering up at Jackson as he moved to shut the car door.  

Jackson shrugged his shoulders, but you caught the pleased little smirk on his face as he turned away. Once Jackson was in the driver's seat, he was quick to start the car and pull out of his space, ignoring the horn that blared when he almost hit the person behind him.  

"So," he started once you were out of the school parking lot and down the road. "What the hell is your deal lately?" 

You shrugged your shoulders, staring out the window at the passing scenery. You noticed Jackson take a wrong turn and realized he was going to take the long way to your house. You had a feeling if you didn't start talking soon, he would take you anywhere but home.  

"Nothing," you muttered, still refusing to look at him.  

"Look," he sighed, taking another wrong turn. "It's bad enough that McCall is acting like a freak and that he's suddenly good at lacrosse despite the fact he's a moron. Not to mention he's all roided up now and hurt my shoulder and Lydia's busting my ass about being the best on the team. But you're ignoring me," he snapped, his hands clenching tight on the steering wheel. "Other than Danny and Lydia, you're all I've got, and now you're acting like I don't even exist. So, talk," Jackson ordered, turning onto a street that would take you farther away from your house.  

You knew that Jackson tried to hide all his insecurities behind a tough exterior that oozed confidence and arrogance. But underneath, he was sensitive and rife with abandonment issues. Hardly anyone got to see the real Jackson and he had trusted you enough to let you in. You realized with a swell of guilt that you had taken him for granted.  

"It's been hard," you finally admitted, still not able to actually look at him. You couldn't tell Jackson everything, but you could tell him enough to assure him you still trusted him. You were sure Jackson thought you were giving up on him, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. Jackson was your best friend. You couldn't afford to push him away now. But you also needed to protect him. If he got wrapped up in the huge mess your life had become, then you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. It was bad enough Stiles was involved, but it was too late for him now. You could still try to save Jackson.  

"Nightmares?" Jackson prompted, knowing that when you got sullen and quiet, it was usually because your brain was punishing you with memories of the fire.  

"Yeah," you answered, frowning out the passenger side window. "Stiles had to wake me up a couple days ago because I was calling out for my dad. And I went to visit him, and it was just--," you stopped talking, feeling the telltale lump in your throat that meant you were about to cry. You took a deep breath and then another to get better control of your emotions before you continued. "I hate seeing him like that. I hate begging him to get better, because it's not fair on him. If he can hear me, then it's just cruel, you know? I know he'd do anything for me. But that's something he can't do. Get better. Talk or move or hold my hand or let me know that everything's going to be okay," you added, clearing your throat to fight away the pull of tears. "And now my cousin's back in town and I haven't seen him since before the fire and I just don't know what to do. I can't forgive him. Not yet. But I can't avoid him forever." 

"Why didn't you tell me any of this? You know I would have been there," Jackson reminded you, scowling at you in reprimand. "It's like you don't fucking trust me anymore." 

"I do trust you. And I know I've been a really shitty friend lately," you allowed with a nod of your head. You couldn't tell Jackson about the alpha or hunters or Scott, but you could trust him with other things. "I'll be better," you assured him before holding out your hand, leaving only your pinky finger up.  

Jackson rolled his eyes before finally taking a turn towards your house. "What are you? A child?" He mocked before he brought his right hand up and hooked his pinky around yours. He squeezed it tight for a moment, a silent promise exchanged, before he let go. 

Silence filled the car for a couple of minutes before Jackson finally spoke again.  

"So, you've got the inside scoop on McCall thanks to your freak of a brother. Is he juicing or what?" 

You reached out to push lightly at Jackson's shoulder. "You're hilarious," you drawled, hating that you had promised to be honest with Jackson and now you were about to gaslight him into thinking Scott's new lacrosse skills weren't completely unnatural. "He's not on steroids, Jackson," you assured him when he shot you an unimpressed look. "He just got approved for some kind of miracle asthma treatment."  

You noticed Jackson's hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he didn't try to question you any further.  

As he pulled into your driveway, you thought for a fleeting second you saw something moving fast through your backyard. It was a 'blink and you'd miss it' moment, so you told yourself you were just seeing things. Nothing was in the backyard and nothing was going to be creeping around the house when you got inside.  

"Thanks, Jackson," you told him, not yet getting out of the car. "For being there for me." Kidnapping aside, Jackson had been incredibly sweet to you. Jackson's usual way of dealing with problems involved scowling, insults, and avoiding the issue altogether. Your sudden absence in his life must have really gotten to him.  

"Yeah, well, I know I'm your only friend. I didn't want you moping around and looking all pathetic without me." 

"A true hero," you said, holding a hand up to your heart. "I'll forever be in your debt." 

Jackson rolled his eyes, but he looked like he was secretly amused by your antics. It was the kind of shit you would usually pull just to annoy him, which seemed to please him. "Just get out before I regret driving you home." 

You grabbed your bag and got out of the car. Before you closed the door, you leaned down so you could make eye contact with Jackson. "Be careful, alright? Don't stay out too late," you warned, hoping he would realize you were being serious.  

"Yes, mom," Jackson retorted with an unimpressed look.  

You offered him a smile before finally closing the passenger side door. You noticed Jackson waited until you were in the house before leaving. He might have been a complete and total douchebag, but at least to the people he cared about, he was a good guy.  

When you got to your room, you pulled out the mountain ash from Deaton and sprinkled a little on your windowsill. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, envisioning the mountain ash encircling your house and protecting you from any supernatural threats. When you opened your eyes, the mountain ash was gone, but you felt confident that your whole house was now inside a mountain ash circle. Scott probably wouldn't be able to visit for a while, but if it meant you got to sleep without fearing for your life, then it was worth it.  

You woke up the next morning without feeling like you wanted to immediately murder anyone who pissed you off, which you figured was a good sign. But when you got downstairs to grab breakfast, Stiles was nowhere to be found. You figured you would see him at school, but every time you noticed him in the hallways, he was ducking away out of sight.  

It was almost like he was avoiding you.  

At home, he hardly talked to you, which wasn't like him at all. He always seemed to be looking for an exit out of any conversation you entered, and you started to wonder just why the hell he was being so secretive.  

It only took two more days until the truth came to light.  

You weren't prepared to get called out of your second period calculus class and you certainly weren't prepared to see your dad in uniform waiting for you just outside the principal's office.  

"What's going on?" One look at his face told you he was here on official business, but you didn't know why you were somehow involved. The only thing that came to mind was breaking the phone days earlier, but you had already had a nice, long chat with the principal about the effects of cyber bullying and how the school board would love to hear about how Erica’s life-threatening condition was being handled. You walked away without a punishment and was instead given a promise that the faculty would be on the lookout for anyone else with access to the video to put a stop to it. 

"Did you know your cousin's back in town?" Your dad asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied you. You knew he was trying to figure out if you were about to lie to him or not. 

You had worried for a moment that something might have happened to your dad, but hearing that the conversation was about Derek oddly had you on higher alert. "Maybe," you answered, wincing at the sheriff's disappointed look. "I talked to him a few days ago. I ran into him, but nothing came of it." 

"And you didn't think to tell me about that? Y/N, he could have hurt you," he insisted, lowering his voice as he ducked his head closer to yours to afford you the illusion of privacy. 

"I mean, he's an asshole, yeah, but he's not going to hurt me. He's family," you refuted with a shrug of your shoulders. You didn't understand why your dad was so upset or why he was so sure that Derek was a threat.  

"Oh yeah? Because I just arrested your cousin this morning.”  

Your mind went completely blank as you tried to make sense of the sheriff's words. "Why," was the only word you managed and you were so surprised you couldn't even make yourself phrase it as a question.  

"Because Stiles and Scott stumbled across half of a body hidden on the property where he's squatting," your dad answered.  

"Squatting," you repeated, trying to put the pieces together in your mind. "In the preserve? At the house?" Your voice wavered on the last word and you hated that just the idea of Derek living in the hollow remains of your childhood home had you feeling so distressed. Never mind the fact that Stiles had been so squirrely around you because he had been actively plotting against your cousin, but knowing that Derek had been living in your old home had you feeling sorry for him. The Derek you remembered wasn't the type to make himself suffer, but you also didn't really know him at all anymore. A lot had happened in the past six years, but despite everything, you couldn't deny that you still cared about Derek. 

You didn't know why there was a body on the property, but you couldn't help but worry that it might have been another victim of the alpha. If the alpha was hiding bodies on Hale property, then that only made you feel like the alpha might have been targeting Hales. Did they have a connection to the pack? Were they seeking revenge for something that happened years ago? You didn't know, but you were starting to feel so overwhelmed you could hardly think.  

"Y/N," the sheriff sighed before reaching out to pull you into a hug. "I just want you to be safe, kid. And your cousin might've killed someone. Can you see why I'd be more than a little worried that you're meeting up with him?" 

"It wasn't on purpose," you muttered into his shoulder. You didn't quite feel like letting go just yet, so you tightened your grip on his shirt, hoping he got the hint. It felt like your world was falling apart and you weren't going to be fast enough to pick up the pieces before they completely shattered. Soon enough, you weren't even going to recognize it at all. "And Derek's not a killer. Besides my dad, my other dad," you rectified, winning a huff of a laugh out of the sheriff, "he's just about all I've got left." 

"You've got me and Stiles," your dad reminded you. "And I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. If your cousin really did kill the person we found, then I don't want you going anywhere near him. It's bad enough Stiles and Scott are the ones who found the body, but you've got a personal connection to Derek." 

You groaned, letting your forehead fall against the sheriff's shoulder. It was nice for just a moment to let someone else hold you up when you felt like you were barely managing to stand on your own.  

The reminder of why Stiles had been so evasive the past few days nearly hurt you to think about. He had been scheming against Derek and didn't want you involved. You weren't entirely sure how you felt about the whole situation. Either Stiles had been trying to protect you, or he knew that you would have tried to stop him. Knowing your brother, it was probably a bit of both. 

"Derek didn't kill anyone," you stressed, finally releasing your grip on the sheriff’s shirt.   

"We've got evidence that might prove otherwise," your dad said, gently taking you by the shoulders and putting some distance between the two of you. "Oh, hell, kid," he breathed, his expression morphing from concern to troubled. "It's out of my hands. There's nothing I can do right now. But I'll keep you updated."   

"Okay," you agreed, knowing there wasn't much you were going to be able to do to spring Derek from jail. You didn't know why it bothered you so much that Derek was taking the fall for someone who was likely an unfortunate victim of the rogue alpha running around town. Laura was dead and your dad was catatonic and now Derek was locked up. You would never get to talk to Laura or your dad again, but at least you still had Derek to connect you to your Hale heritage. Now, you might be the last Hale standing. Forever. 

"If you need to take the rest of the day to process this, I'm not going to be mad about it," your dad continued. "But just don't get any bright ideas about going to visit your cousin, alright? I've already let everyone at the station know to tell me if you step one foot inside that building." 

"Okay," you repeated, nodding your head. "Thanks, Dad." 

"See you tonight at the game?" 

You nodded your head again. "I'll be there," you promised. Stiles might be warming the bench, but you would still show up to support him and Jackson. 

The sheriff reached out to place a hand on your shoulder for a moment before leaving you there standing outside the principal's office.  

You stayed there, thinking about what you wanted to do, before finally making a decision.  

You didn't remember much about the drive, your mind racing with everything that had gone wrong in just a few days. But once you got to the hospital, you felt frozen. You didn't want to tell your dad that your life was a total disaster now. But you knew that you were overdue for a visit and talking to him always helped when you felt stuck. 

You avoided as many people as you could on the way to your dad's room. You didn't want to deal with anyone, and you especially didn't want to run into Scott's mom. She would only ask questions, and you didn’t know if you had any of the right answers.  

You succeeded in getting to your dad's room without having to talk to anyone. You only shared an awkward nod with one of his nurses, but she recognized you and didn't try to stop you from going into your dad's room.   

"Hey, dad," you whispered as you approached him. His chair was turned so he was faced towards the window. You wondered if he could even enjoy the view in his state.  

You grabbed the armchair you usually sat in and pulled it over towards the window. It would leave you at his side, allowing you both to look outside. You settled into the chair, glad that you wouldn't have to face your dad for what you were about to tell him.  

"Sorry it took me so long," you sighed, glancing at him before looking away. "I guess I was just scared. Maybe not scared,” you said, tapping your fingers restlessly against the armrest. “A lot of shit has gone down. Language, I know,” you corrected yourself, thinking about the one time you had called Cora a ‘bitch’ when she stole your favorite bracelet. Your dad had promptly told you that was a grown-up word and would have to wait until you were older to use it, even though he had seemed amused at the time. “I don't know how to tell you this, because I don't know what to do or feel about it yet. But Derek's back in town and I ran into him. He told me...," you trailed off, realizing that saying the words out loud oddly made the situation feel real for the first time. Everything had felt like a fever dream up until this point, but now you could no longer ignore it or chalk it up to your imagination.  

"He told me that Laura's dead," you finally confessed. "The alpha, the one I mentioned who bit Scott, I think they killed her and took the alpha power from her." You reached out to grab your dad's hand, hoping he at least knew you were there. "I'm worried about you. It might have been random, but it might have been intentional. Someone might be targeting Hales. Derek's in jail, so I guess he's safe for now, but what's going to stop someone from hurting you?" You hated the idea that a hunter or werewolf could simply waltz into your dad's room and kill him. "I need you," you admitted, feeling just the tiniest bit guilty for leaning on your dad when he was in such a state. "The sheriff and Stiles and even Jackson have done so much for me, but I need you, dad. And I'm terrified that something is going to happen to you and I won't be able to do anything about it." 

You briefly thought about using mountain ash to protect your dad's room from any werewolves, but you didn't want to trap him in the room when he was already trapped inside his own body. It just felt needlessly cruel.  

"Maybe Deaton can teach me something else for protection," you mused before squeezing his hand once and letting go. You heard the door open and glanced over your shoulder to see a nurse walk into the room with a tray in her hands. She had red hair and a blank expression. She wasn't one you saw often, but you thought her name might be Jennifer.   

"There's a lacrosse game tonight. Stiles might get to play, but it's a little doubtful. He'd be good at it if he focused," you continued, trying to keep the conversation light now that you had an audience. "Jackson hurt his shoulder, but he would never let that stop him from competing. Half the time, I don't even know if he likes pushing himself that hard. I think he just does it because that's what's expected of him. And Scott," you started, noticing the nurse leave the room again. "Scott might try to play. I have to be there to make sure he doesn't turn. If he does and there are Argents there," you let the sentence drop, not wanting to voice how disastrous it would be for Scott.  

"I should get going," you sighed, moving to stand up. You maneuvered the chair back to its original spot and crossed back over to your dad. "I love you, dad," you murmured before placing a kiss on his cheek. "Be safe," you added, reluctant to leave him alone.  

As you left his room, you noticed the red-haired nurse waiting just down the hallway. You nodded at her, wondering why she was staring at you.  

"Have a nice visit?" She asked, her tone overly sweet to the point of sounding fake.  

"Yeah," you answered before continuing past her. You didn't know much about her, but you figured you would ask Melissa about her. If she vouched for her, then you knew you could rest easy that your dad was in good hands.  

You got to the school just before the game started. You found the sheriff sitting on the bleachers with Scott's mom right beside him. She noticed you first and waved, gesturing for you to join them. Your dad had saved you a spot beside him and he shot you a grin once you were seated.  

"You feeling alright?" He asked, concern leaking into his expression. 

You nodded your head, offering him a smile. "Yeah, I went to go see my dad. It helped a little bit," you assured him. “It was nice to see him.” 

"Good," he remarked. "Now, what do you think are the odds we get to see your brother out on the field tonight?" 

You spent the rest of the game cheering on Jackson and Scott while keeping an eye on Stiles. You could see him freaking out on the bench, but you knew it had nothing to do with the game. It had everything to do with Scott.  

You were still a little annoyed with Stiles. Maybe he had been trying to protect you, but you didn't like him playing Hardy Boys with Scott at the scene of the worst moment of your life. It hurt, but it also meant that Stiles was putting himself in danger. If the alpha had been out in the woods last night, you had no doubt they might have found Stiles and turned him too.  

Or worse, they might have exerted their control over Scott and forced him to kill Stiles. 

You tried your best to get a good look at the crowd in the stands. You noticed Allison next to Lydia and a man seated next to her. You knew, without a doubt, that he had to be her dad. He was keeping his attention on the game, but after a moment he turned his head and looked right at you. You were quick to turn your head, looking at the field again, as you shifted enough on the bench to hide a bit behind your dad. You should have known that a hunter would know when he was being watched, but you were curious. The Argents were one of the more prominent hunting families in the country. As a kid, your dad had made sure you knew the surnames of every family who might pose a threat to the pack and the Argents had been one of them. Knowing they were back in town while your dad, Derek, and even Scott were so vulnerable had you worried.  

You didn't dare look at Mr. Argent again. You didn't want to seem suspicious and hoped that he would only chalk it up to you glancing around the crowd and accidentally making eye contact.  

You didn’t even want to consider the possibility that he might already know about the lone human Hale still residing in Beacon Hills. 

Halfway through the game, you noticed Scott having trouble. Your brother was busy chewing on his glove out of fear while he watched his best friend struggle for control on the field. You had made a trip by the house before the game to grab the rest of your mountain ash. You didn't want to have to use it on Scott, but if it was the only way to contain him so the Argents didn't intervene, then you would do whatever it took to save him.  

By the time the game was nearing its end, you were sure that Scott would be fine. You didn’t know what had pulled him back from the brink of turning, but you were grateful. You had no doubt that Argent must have a weapon or two on him and if Scott wolfed out in front of everyone, he might have been dead before he could make it off the field.  

Near the end of the game, the sheriff got a phone call. He shot you an apologetic look before answering it, standing and shuffling towards the end of the row so he could get down the stairs. You didn't think much of it until you noticed the sheriff glancing quickly up at you from where he was standing on the ground in front of the bleachers. He looked worried and you knew that it must have something to do with either Derek or your dad.  

Cheers erupted through the crowd as the winning shot was scored, and you lost sight of your dad as people started standing.  

It took you a while to maneuver through the crowd until you could get down to the ground and find him. He was no longer on the phone, but he still looked like something had disturbed him.  

"Dad? What's going on? Is everything okay?" You asked as you approached him, feeling worry begin to take hold of you.   

"Come here," your dad urged, reaching out to grab your elbow and tow you over towards an empty section of bleachers. "Sit down," he coaxed, nodding towards the bench.  

You could feel fear building up and threatening to overwhelm you. You were so sure something had happened to your dad that you were shocked by his next words.  

"We had to let your cousin go," he admitted with a frown. "The body they found was killed by a wolf." 

"Okay," you managed to say, not sure how to process the information when you had been preparing yourself for something much worse. You suspected that the body belonged to a victim of the alpha, so it wasn’t a huge surprise that the culprit had been pinned on a wolf. It was doubtful that the lab techs knew werewolves existed. 

"This is going to hurt, kid, and I'm sorry I've got to tell you this," he continued, drawing your attention once more. He crouched down in front of you before putting a hand on your knee, attempting to lend you a bit of comfort before his next words. "But the body they found belonged to Laura Hale." 

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