#No more reading fanfics late at night anymore

[robots-here-and-there]

Random thought; its a shame that no Transformers media ever mentions or make use of the Turing Test.

[thepandalion]

I have a fic idea and I dont know if I want to write it or not send help

[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. Three years after the harrowing events in Silent Hill, James Sunderland has survived the haunting memories of his past but carries the heavy burden of grief and guilt. Adopting Laura, James strives to create a normal life for them both, but the echoes of his former life linger, haunting him in moments of solitude.

As he navigates the challenges of fatherhood and a corporate job, James grapples with PTSD and the lingering shadows of his late wife, Mary. His daily interactions are fraught with anxiety, especially when it comes to Laura's teacher, Y/n. Young, vibrant, and filled with warmth. But as Y/n becomes an unexpected source of comfort and tension in James's life. He is drawn to her kindness and beauty, yet he feels undeserving of her attention, burdened by the ghosts of his past.

When Y/n reaches out with genuine concern for James's well-being, he wrestles with feelings of guilt, lust and longing, torn between the desire for connection and the fear of betraying Mary's memory. As James's pent-up frustrations bubble to the surface, he finds himself navigating a complicated emotional landscape where love, loss, and redemption intertwine.

❛ Part 2 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Hello everyone! After years of being more or less in the Silent Hill fandom, the remake rather inspired me... :') After seeing how cute James is in it, I felt like I was rediscovering his character. The story is a bit different from what we usually see, but I hope it will appeal to the (few, I don't think many would be interested in a silent hill fanfic) people who read it.

➜ ┊: chapter 1/?.

James woke up again, his body snapping upright in bed, his breath ragged and uneven as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His chest rose and fell with frantic breaths that refused to calm, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a prisoner desperate to escape. The room around him was silent, still, and blanketed in shadows, the faintest silver glow of the moon seeping through the thin, worn curtains. It painted his surroundings in an eerie light, enough to make out the vague shapes of his furniture but not enough to chase away the weight of the darkness.

He knew it was early—much too early. The alarm on his nightstand wouldn’t go off for hours, not until the unforgiving numbers clicked over to 7 a.m. He set it religiously, every night, clinging to the hope that one day he’d wake naturally to the sound, as if that simple act could restore some semblance of normalcy to his broken life. 

But that never happened.

James never woke peacefully anymore. His body, his mind, refused to grant him that mercy. Instead, he jolted awake in a cold sweat, his body rigid, his pulse racing. Each time, it felt as though he was being pulled from some unseen nightmare—ripped out of a hellish dreamscape that he couldn’t remember clearly but always left its mark. The fear, the panic, the suffocating sense of dread stayed with him, lingering like smoke in the air long after his eyes had adjusted to the dim glow of his bedroom.

He pressed his palm against his face, wiping away the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin. His body felt tense, coiled like a spring that had been wound too tightly. His muscles ached from the constant strain, from the battles he fought every night within the confines of his mind. The nightmares weren’t just dreams. They were fragments of a past that refused to stay buried, haunting him in the dead of night when the world outside was quiet and his mind had no distractions to keep the demons at bay.

The medication bottles on his bedside table gleamed faintly in the moonlight, their labels worn from use. He reached for them out of habit, his fingers brushing the cool surface, but he didn’t open them. No matter how many pills he swallowed, how many prescriptions doctors wrote, nothing ever worked. Sleep was supposed to be a sanctuary, a refuge from the waking world, but for James, it had become another battleground.

He let his hand drop back to his lap, staring down at his shaking fingers. He could feel the tension still coursing through him, the residue of whatever nightmare had dragged him awake. His body hadn’t yet realised he was safe, that it was just a dream, and the adrenaline still pumped through his veins. Every night, it was the same—this restless terror that clung to him, trapping him in a cycle he couldn’t escape. He longed for sleep, yet feared it in equal measure, knowing that the darkness of his subconscious held more horrors than the light of day ever could.

For a moment, he considered lying back down, closing his eyes, and trying again. 

But the thought alone made his stomach twist.

With a sigh, James decided to give up on sleep altogether. There was no use lying there, waiting for his heart to calm down or for the remnants of his nightmare to fade. His legs still trembled as he swung them over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath him grounding him just enough to pull himself up. The shadows in the room seemed to shift as he stood, though he knew it was his mind playing tricks again. He had long stopped trusting the darkness.

He moved carefully, trying to stay silent as he made his way to the door, not wanting to wake Laura. She was the only constant in his life now, the only reason he hadn’t completely unravelled. But even the thought of her, sleeping peacefully down the hall, wasn’t enough to ease the tremor in his hands. As he stepped out of the bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards echoed too loud in the silence of the house, and for a fleeting moment, his breath hitched.

Sometimes, in these quiet hours, he could swear he heard them—the monsters. That same sickening creaking sound they made, their grotesque forms dragging across the cold. Or worse, the heavy, slow scrap of metal—a blade being dragged along the ground. His body tensed, instinctively waiting for the ominous presence of that thing— he came to call Pyramid Head. He hadn’t seen it in three years, but its presence still lingered, like a ghost lurking in the corners of his mind. His chest tightened as he imagined that scraping sound growing closer, louder, but he knew… or at least, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t real. Not anymore.

On the worst days, though, it wasn’t just the monsters. 

Sometimes, he would hear her—Mary. Her voice, soft and sweet, like the Mary he remembered before everything went wrong, calling out to him. It always started the same way, a gentle whisper at first, like she was in the next room, waiting for him. And each time, it grew louder, more urgent, until it was a siren’s call, relentless and cruel. It was enough to make his heart stop, to make him question everything, and then he’d remember—he knew where that call would lead. Straight into oblivion. Straight into the abyss of his own guilt.

On other nights, he could swear he felt Maria—her warmth next to him in bed, the way her body would press against his. It was so vivid, so painfully real, as though she hadn’t died in his arms multiple times, as though Silent Hill hadn’t swallowed her whole. She had been a ghost, a reflection of everything he had lost, and yet�� sometimes she felt alive in those moments. His doctors told him it was all hallucinations, the remnants of trauma deeply embedded in his mind. Certified and explained away in clinical terms, but knowing that didn’t change how real it felt in those fleeting, terrifying seconds.

Even now, as he stood in the hallway, his breath uneven, James couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere—beneath the layers of his fragile reality—the horrors were still there, watching, waiting.

James padded quietly into the kitchen, his bare feet brushing against the cool tiles as he reached for a glass. The water flowed smoothly from the tap, cool and refreshing, and he drank it straight, the crispness washing over him. It helped clear his mind, if only for a moment, pushing back the lingering echoes of the night’s terrors. 

After finishing the glass, he flicked on the small lamp in the living room, its soft glow spilling light across the space, chasing away the oppressive darkness. He made his way to the couch, settling himself in front of the window, where the city still lay shrouded in early morning silence. Outside, the world was just beginning to stir, but here in this moment, everything felt suspended in time.

They had moved far away from Silent Hill, away from Maine altogether, as if he was still trying to escape the town’s haunting pull. When Laura had expressed her desire for a place near the coast, saying she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun and breathe in the salty scent of the ocean, he had obliged her wishes. It was the least he could do for the little girl who had become his lifeline, the one bright spot in his otherwise dark world. It had taken time, but he had learned to appreciate the small things—like the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the way the sunlight danced on the water’s surface.

He pulled his journal from the side table, the worn leather cover familiar against his fingers. The pages were filled with thoughts, memories, and an ongoing dialogue with himself—one that his doctor had encouraged. Writing was meant to help him sort through his feelings, to separate reality from the nightmares that still clung to him like shadows. It was a way to document the moments that felt tangible, grounding him in the present.

With the pen poised above the page, he took a deep breath, letting the silence of the morning wrap around him. 

Date: [XX/10/1993]

Another night of waking up in a cold sweat. The dreams feel heavier lately, more vivid. I can still hear Mary’s voice sometimes, like she’s calling out to me. I know it’s not real, but the longing… It’s hard to escape. I need to remember that I’m here now. That I have Laura. She needs me to be present. I need to plan my day—take her to the beach, show her the tide pools, maybe? She deserves to explore, to laugh, to feel alive. Maybe it will help me too.

James paused, staring at the words he’d just written. The ink was still wet, and he felt the weight of each line pressing against his chest, a mixture of hope and dread swirling within him. 

He continued, allowing his thoughts to flow onto the page.

I’ve been thinking about the way the ocean looks at dawn. It’s a beautiful sight, the horizon slowly illuminated by the first light of day. I want to share that with Laura. She deserves to see the world as it is. Maybe if I can show her that, it’ll help me remember what it feels like to be alive, too.

He turned the page, feeling the familiar texture beneath his fingertips, grounding him in a moment that felt too fragile. The nightmares are starting to blur again. It’s like I’m drifting between memories and dreams. I know I should talk to Dr. Fischer about it, but I hate feeling so exposed. Every time I sit across from him, it’s like peeling back layers of skin. I don’t want to keep reliving the past, but I also know I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s a part of me now—part of what makes me who I am.

But sometimes, I wonder if I’m doing enough. If I’m enough. Laura is so full of life—she deserves happiness, yet I feel like a ghost in my own home. The laughter that fills this place is often followed by a silence that weighs heavily on me, as if I’m a spectator in my own life, watching a play where I don’t belong. 

He paused, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, fighting against the swell of loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Some days, I can still hear Mary’s laughter, the way it used to light up the room, but now it’s a whisper in the wind. I wish I could reach out to her, ask her for forgiveness, tell her how much I miss her. But she’s gone, and I’m left with nothing but my guilt and the memories that won’t let me go. It’s a bitter irony—I have another chance at life with Laura, yet I feel more alone than ever.

I thought time would heal me, that the scars would fade, but each day feels like a new reminder of what I’ve lost. I watch Laura play, her laughter cutting through the silence, and it fills me with joy and pain all at once. I want to protect her, to shield her from the darkness I carry. But how can I do that when I’m still fighting my own battles?

Anyway, plan for today: Take Laura to the beach, explore the tide pools, and have a picnic.

As he continued to write, the rhythm of his thoughts began to settle, the initial chaos giving way to clarity. He documented everything he hoped to achieve that day, the things that could distract him. 

After some time, the soft patter of small feet echoed in the hallway, and Laura emerged from her room, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She settled next to James on the couch, curling her legs beneath her as she leaned against his shoulder, still waking up. 

“Did you even sleep at all?” she mumbled, her voice thick with the remnants of slumber. 

James chuckled softly, the sound warm and gentle. “Just a little. You know how it is,” he replied, glancing down at her. The early morning light filtered through the window, illuminating her features and casting a soft glow around them. 

“Not again,” Laura sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “You should really take better care of yourself, you know.”

James smiled, closing his journal and setting it aside, feeling the comforting weight of their shared silence. His relationship with Laura had evolved significantly since that first day they met. In the beginning, there was an undeniable tension, a wall between them built from grief and uncertainty. Laura had been sharp-tongued and defiant, often testing his patience with her stubbornness. But over time, that wall had crumbled, brick by brick, revealing a bond that had become more profound and genuine. 

“Maybe I just like the quiet,” he teased, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “It gives me time to think.”

Laura rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, right. More like you spend it worrying about everything,” she shot back, her familiar sass coming through. But he could sense the softness in her demeanour, the way she had begun to let him in, and it filled him with gratitude.

There were still moments when she wouldn’t call him “Dad”—it felt too heavy, too final—but there had been instances where the word slipped out, once or twice. The first time he had felt a rush of warmth and something almost like fear at her words. It had caught him off guard, pulling at his heartstrings in a way he hadn’t expected. It was one night after a particularly rough day at school. 

The kids had been relentless, and when she had come home, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She had cried so much that night, seeking solace in his arms, and in that moment of vulnerability, she had whispered it—Dad—like it was a fragile promise, something she wanted to believe in.

He had held her tightly, whispering reassurances as she poured out her heart. It was one of the hardest days for both of them, but that single word had changed everything, reinforcing their bond in ways he never thought possible. 

The shrill sound of James’s alarm cut through the quiet morning, signalling that it was finally 7 a.m. He groaned softly, the sudden noise pulling him from the lingering remnants of his thoughts. “Time to get moving,” he muttered to himself before swinging his legs off the couch and standing up.

“Laura,” he called out gently, “you need to get ready for school.” 

Laura groaned but slowly pushed herself upright, her hair sticking up in tousled spikes. “Do I have to?” she whined, rubbing her eyes.

“Yes, you do,” James replied with a chuckle, heading into the kitchen to start breakfast. He could already hear her muttering under her breath as she dragged herself away from the comfort of the couch, but he couldn’t help but smile at her antics. As he prepared breakfast, the scent of eggs and toast filled the air, mixing with the cool October breeze that slipped in through the slightly ajar window. 

He could hear the soft shuffle of Laura getting ready in the background, her footsteps echoing through the hallway.

When breakfast was ready, he set the table, placing a plate in front of her just as she joined him. They ate together in comfortable silence, the clinking of forks the only sound between them for a few moments. 

“So, there’s this kid in class…” Laura began, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and worry. As she recounted her stories, James listened attentively, nodding along as she shared her concerns about a class project and the kids who were teasing her again. She spoke with an earnestness that made him proud, she was a smart little girl.

“...and I do think the teacher likes me a lot,” she finished, her voice dropping slightly, smiling shyly.

James reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on hers. “You’re doing great, Laura. I’m so proud of you,” he encouraged, hoping to convey his support. 

Once they finished breakfast, he cleared the table while she dashed back to her room to grab her backpack. The familiar morning routine helped ground him, a stark contrast to the chaos that often filled his mind.

Then, James returned to his room, feeling the familiar weight of his thoughts returning. He turned on the water for a shower, the warm spray washing over him, almost as if he were trying to cleanse himself of his sins and guilt. Each droplet felt like it could wash away a little more of his guilt, his pain, and his memories.

After his shower, he stood in front of the mirror, towel drying his ash-blond hair and tidying it up, shaving his stubble. The cold air from outside seeped through the window, sending a shiver down his spine as he dressed for the day. He pulled on a simple shirt and jeans. 

But as James stood in front of his closet, the morning light filtering through the curtains, his gaze fell upon his signature khaki jacket hanging quietly amidst his other clothes. For a moment, he hesitated, his heart tightening.

The jacket felt heavy with the weight of the past. He recalled the feel of it against his skin as he navigated the fog-laden streets, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth it provided. It had shielded him from the elements, yes, but it had also cloaked him in the pain of his choices, the guilt that clung to him like a second skin. 

James swallowed hard, staring at the jacket, the muted fabric whispering secrets of the past. He could almost hear the echoes of Mary’s voice, feel the pang of loss that accompanied every memory. It was as if the jacket was tainted, infused with the blood and tears of that time—but also her scent, her warmth and gentle touch.

Perhaps… Today, he could indulge himself.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the swell of anxiety that rose within him. This jacket is just a piece of clothing, James, he reminded himself, yet it felt like so much more. With a decisive moment, he pulled it from the hanger and slipped it on, the familiar weight settling comfortably on his shoulders. 

James looked at himself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was a man still fighting battles. With a shameful sigh, he adjusted the collar, feeling the jacket’s fabric against his skin. When he stepped outside, the brisk October wind greeted him, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside. 

Laura stood at the door, a look of surprise mixed with concern crossing her face.

“Why are you still wearing that jacket?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gestured to the fabric. “You know… after everything that happened in...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the name of the haunting town.

James shrugged, a faint smile creeping onto his face. “I still like it. It’s comfortable.” 

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re so weird, James,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder as they made their way down the path toward the car.

“Weird or not, let’s get you to school on time little girl,” he said, his tone quite firm. Together, they stepped into the brisk morning air, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

‧───────────────

Dropping Laura off at school had become a routine, but for James, it was anything but simple. As they approached the bustling entrance, he felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a sense of dread creeping over him like a heavy fog. It wasn’t the school itself or the noise of children chattering and laughing; it was the attention he attracted.

In a small town where traditional family structures were the norm, a single father with a daughter who didn’t even remotely resemble him stood out like a sore thumb. James had chosen to keep his past private, and he was grateful that Laura’s adoption remained a secret. He avoided any conversations that might lead to questions about their relationship or as to why he was alone, fearing the scrutiny that came with revealing the truth. After all, in the eyes of the world, he was just a man dropping off his daughter, and that was how he wanted it to stay.

As they parked and stepped out of the car, the sun shone brightly, but it felt cold against his skin. He could already sense the gazes of the mothers lingering on him as he helped Laura with her backpack. Their eyes were sharp, curious, sizing him up like sharks circling prey, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of vulnerability. James kept his head down, focusing on Laura as she adjusted her straps and prepared to head inside.

“Have a good day, okay?” he said, forcing a smile as she turned to him, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she waved goodbye.

“Bye, James!” she called, her voice full of cheer as she dashed toward the school gates, her ponytail swinging behind her. 

With her back turned, James felt the full weight of the mothers’ stares. He could almost hear the whispers beneath their breath, speculating about him—why he was alone, where Laura’s mother was, and why they didn’t look alike. It was all too easy to imagine the conclusions they would jump to, and he wanted no part of it. 

Every step he took toward his car felt like walking through a minefield. He avoided eye contact at all costs, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as he navigated through the throngs of parents and children. Conversations buzzed around him, but he focused solely on his breathing, trying to ignore the anxiety tightening around his chest.

As he passed a small group of mothers standing near the entrance, he couldn’t help but catch snippets of their conversations, even as he tried to block them out.

“Did you see him? He looks so sad,” one of them whispered, her voice dripping with faux concern. “Who could leave such a handsome man alone?”

James felt a familiar flush creep up his neck, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. He quickened his pace, but their comments followed him like shadows.

“I know, right? A single father is so sexy,” another chimed in. “I wish my husband was as committed to our son’s school life.”

He clenched his jaw, biting back a retort. The last thing he wanted was to be part of their gossip, yet he was helpless against the words that floated through the air like smoke. Each compliment felt like a reminder of everything he wanted to avoid—attention, scrutiny, and the inevitable questions.

As he reached the edge of the parking lot, he heard another mother say, “I heard there’s a parents-teacher meeting tonight. Can you imagine? He’ll probably be all alone again. It’s such a shame.”

The words hit him like a cold slap, and he paused, taking a moment to gather himself. The thought of attending the meeting, sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over him. Why did they have to bring that up now?

He finally reached his car, fumbling for his keys in his pocket as he tried to push the whispers from his mind. The weight of judgement lingered in the air, but he didn’t look back. He slipped into the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly as he gripped the steering wheel. “Just another day,” he murmured to himself, willing his heart to calm. 

James had avoided women religiously since he came back, erecting barriers around himself that felt both protective and suffocating. The loss of Mary had left a gaping hole in his heart, one that he couldn’t bear to fill with anyone else. Allowing himself to indulge in the warmth of another felt like an insult to her memory.

In the years following her death, he had retreated into himself, building walls high enough to keep the world—and the painful reminders of his past—at bay. He threw himself into fatherhood, pouring all his energy into raising Laura and ensuring she felt loved and secure. She was his anchor, the one bright spot in the dark fog of his grief. Yet, in avoiding connections with women, he had inadvertently created a deep well of pent-up frustrations within himself—frustrations that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Every time he caught himself looking at a woman, whether it was a fleeting glance at a passerby or—especially a longer gaze at Laura’s teacher during a school event, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. What am I doing? He would ask himself, immediately diverting his eyes, as if the very act of looking was a betrayal of the love he once held dear. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t ready to move forward, but in truth, he was terrified of what that would mean. 

In the quiet moments, when he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the weight of his solitude. The nights grew long and lonely, and sometimes he found himself longing for the comfort of another person—a hand to hold, a voice to soothe him. 

But the thought of crossing that line felt insurmountable, like stepping onto a precipice with no way back. He often wondered if this self-imposed exile was healthy or just a way of avoiding the inevitable. Deep down, he knew that if he ever did let someone in, it would come with a torrent of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face—the guilt, the grief, and the fear of moving on without forgetting.

Sometimes, when the darkness of the night enveloped him and the oppressive solitude weighed heavily upon his chest, James found himself struggling to resist his deepest, most shameful urges. Alone in the dim light of his bedroom, the air thick with silence, he would reach for the only source of warmth he had left—his own body.

But every time he started to jerk himself, trying to think about anyone other than Mary, he would falter. His thoughts would slip, no matter how hard he tried to redirect them. The moment he ventured into the realm of fantasy, attempting to conjure images of the warmth he longed for, his mind would betray him. Instead of the embrace of another, he would see Mary’s face—her soft smile, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, the lightness in her laughter that had once filled their home. The memory of her enveloped him, suffocating and punishing him in its intensity, and he would feel a deep-seated shame clawing at his insides.

But jerking off while thinking about his dead wife, the one he had killed, felt utterly wrong. 

With a trembling hand, he'd stroke his hardening cock, trying to drown out the memories that haunted him. But no matter how hard he tried to push them away, they always crept back in, taking over his mind and filling him with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Images of Mary would flood his vision, her soft smile and sparkling eyes etched into his mind, along with the lightness of her laughter that once filled their home.

As he stroked faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, he could feel the pressure building inside him. But just as he was about to reach the edge of ecstasy, he would see her face again, and the guilt would consume him. How could he possibly find pleasure in this, knowing what he had done to her? 

The guilt was overwhelming, flooding his senses as he would try to push it all away, but it clung to him like a shadow. Tears would fill his eyes, hot and stinging, blurring his vision as the shame washed over him. He would cry, feeling pathetic and broken, as if indulging in his own body was another betrayal on a long list he had made in his mind. How could I even think of anyone else? He would chastise himself, the guilt wrapping around his heart like a vice, squeezing tighter until it became unbearable.

Knowing that he could never truly find solace in this act, James would eventually release his warm cum spilling onto his hand and stomach. But even in the aftermath of his orgasm, the guilt remained, and he would lie there, spent and broken, wondering how he could ever redeem himself.

It was a cycle of longing and despair that left him feeling more isolated than before. He would swipe at his tears, but they would keep coming, relentless and unyielding. The echoes of his cries seemed to linger in the air, a haunting reminder that he was still trapped in a cycle of grief that he could never escape…

‧───────────────

The day had finally drawn to a close, and the muted hum of office chatter began to fade as the fluorescent lights overhead flickered in their final moments. James gathered his belongings, the familiar weight of his briefcase resting heavily in his hand. The corporate world had wrapped around him like a well-worn coat, the same job he had held before, one that felt both calming and predictable. 

It paid well enough to keep the bills at bay and provided a stable life for him and Laura, allowing him to indulge her little whims—the occasional treat, a new book or doll, or even a day out at the beach. 

As he waved goodbye to his coworkers, offering polite smiles and half-hearted chuckles, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of isolation. Their lives seemed so vibrant, filled with laughter and casual conversations about weekend plans, while he felt like an outsider peering in. Part of him wished he could simply slip away unnoticed, disappearing into the anonymity of the evening. But the thought of the upcoming parent-teacher meeting loomed over him like a dark cloud, the spectre of his insecurities rising to the surface. 

What if Laura’s teacher had concerns about her progress? What if she brought up issues he was completely unaware of? The prospect of engaging in a discussion that could highlight his shortcomings as a parent filled him with an unfamiliar anxiety. He recalled how he had struggled to help her with her homework due to his absent mind, the frustration evident in both their faces as they would argue over James’ implications. Laura would always end up saying that she wished she had a better family…

As he walked through the now empty parking lot, James’s mind drifted to the scenario of the meeting. Maybe it was a bit late, and he secretly hoped Laura’s teacher wouldn’t want to linger past the working usual hour to talk with him. He envisioned himself slipping away, feigning an urgent call or an unforeseen obligation, but guilt gnawed at him, tugging at his conscience. 

He couldn’t let Laura down; she had come to rely on him, and he owed it to her to at least try.

“Just get through it,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear the impending doubts swirling in his mind. The crisp October air washed over him like a cleansing wave, invigorating him for just a moment. Inhaling deeply, he felt the coolness slice through the tension that had built up in his chest throughout the day, if only temporarily.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of his ageing car, he turned the key in the ignition, the familiar rumble reassuring him, if only slightly. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard; he still had a little time before he needed to pick Laura up from school. As he drove toward the school, the streets blurred by in a rush of colors, and he allowed himself to mentally prepare for the meeting. 

Maybe he could muster enough courage by the time he arrived, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this meeting would push him closer to confronting the ghosts of his past—something he had been desperately trying to avoid.

Thoughts of Mary flitted through his mind, uninvited yet persistent. What would she think of him now? Would she be proud of how he was trying to raise Laura, or would she shake her head in disappointment? These questions haunted him as he navigated the familiar streets. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions roiling within him. 

The school building came into view, and he parked in a spot near the entrance. As he sat there for a moment, staring at the looming structure that housed his daughter’s daily adventures. With a deep breath, he pushed open the car door, stepping out into the cool evening air. 

As he approached the entrance, he reminded himself that this was part of the job of being a parent—a role he was still desperately trying to fully embrace. After all, it was true she deserved more than a father lost in his own grief.

As he approached the school gate, he spotted her standing there, the last child waiting to be picked up. His heart sank at the sight; he had hoped to arrive earlier, to be there for her when the final bell rang. A wave of guilt washed over him, but when Laura turned and her face lit up with a smile, that guilt was momentarily pushed aside.

At least she wasn’t angry. 

“James!” she called out, her voice bright and cheerful, as she stretched out her hand toward him. He could see a small backpack slung over her shoulder, and his heart swelled at how she looked—so much like a little girl embracing the world, unbothered by the worries that often plagued him.

“Hey,” he replied, kneeling slightly to take her small hand in his. 

As he thanked the school attendant, a friendly woman with kind eyes who had watched over Laura, he glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her teacher. He didn’t see anyone lingering by the entrance, and a relieved sigh escaped him. Perhaps she had decided to leave, not waiting for him to discuss whatever concerns she may have had about Laura. That was one less thing for him to handle, and he felt a slight weight lift off his shoulders.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” he suggested, his tone light as he turned to lead Laura away. The sight of her eager nod and bright smile made his heart feel lighter, even if just for a moment. He began to walk toward the car, feeling a sense of normalcy return to him—until a soft voice called out behind him.

“Mr. Sunderland!” 

Here’s an expansion on James' perception of you:

James turned, the sound of your voice pulling him back from his thoughts. You were striding toward him, your expression a mix of determination and urgency, the late afternoon light catching in your soft hair. 

There was something striking about your presence that always made his heart race, even amidst the rising anxiety he felt at these interactions. It was as if you carried a warmth with you, an energy that seemed to radiate in the space around you, igniting a flicker of something long dormant within him.

“I was just about to leave,” you said, a hint of breathlessness in your tone as you approached. “I wanted to talk to you before you went. Is this a good time?” You looked unsure.

James glanced at Laura, who was watching the exchange with curious eyes. He felt the familiar knot of anxiety twist in his stomach but nodded, trying to mask his apprehension with a calm demeanour. “Sure, I have a moment.”

“Laura’s been doing really well, by the way,” you continued, your voice lightening as you spoke about his daughter. “She’s incredibly bright and has made some good friends this semester. I’m really proud of her progress.”

James felt a flicker of warmth at your praise. He was grateful to see Laura thriving, especially after the rough patches they had navigated together. “Thank you. I know she’s been working hard,” he replied, glancing down at her, who was beaming at your words.

“But…” you paused, your tone shifting slightly. “There are some areas where she might need a bit more support. I think if we work together, we can help her really shine.”

James felt a wave of gratitude and unease wash over him. While he wanted to support Laura, the idea of deeper involvement with her teaching felt daunting. “What do you suggest?”

Your eyes met his, and he felt a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability in that gaze. You began outlining a few ideas, your passion for teaching evident in your animated gestures. He found himself hanging on your words, drawn in by the way you spoke.

As you began to speak about Laura’s progress, he couldn't help but take in the little details—the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the kids, the way your hands moved animatedly as you explained your thoughts, and the curve of your soft pink lips. It struck him how youthful and beautiful you looked, filled with a vibrancy that he found both comforting and terrifying. 

He had known you for years since Laura started school, but he had always kept his distance, avoiding lingering too long in your presence. Every encounter felt like a double-edged sword; he wanted to connect, to know you better, but the fear of what that meant held him back. Your passion for teaching shone through, and it was evident that you genuinely cared for each child, especially his daughter. 

Yet, for James, that made you all the more dangerous.  It was a kind of warmth that he couldn’t dare to approach or touch, as if it would burn his skin. Your laughter and bright smiles were like sunlight piercing through the clouds, illuminating the shadows that loomed over his heart. 

But it also reminded him of how far removed he was from that happiness. 

The innocence and light you carried felt worlds away from the darkness he had endured. It made him question if he was even deserving of your kindness, let alone your attention—even if it was strictly professional. You had a purity about you that felt both inviting and forbidding. It was the kind of innocence that reminded him of everything he had hoped for once—everything he felt unworthy of now. How could someone like you, who radiated joy and hope, ever understand the darkness that clung to him? The guilt and despair that wrapped around his heart like a vice? 

Yet, as you continued, he realised that part of him didn’t want this moment to end. Just a short while ago, he had dreaded this conversation, but now he found himself wishing to listen to your soft voice all night long.

As you concluded your thoughts about Laura, your smile remained bright, and for a moment, James caught himself wishing he could linger just a bit longer in your presence, absorbing the warmth you exuded. But the instinct to retreat kicked in, a familiar defence mechanism rising to shield him from the vulnerability he felt around you. 

“Thanks for the feedback,” he said, forcing a smile as he tried to mask the storm of emotions brewing inside him. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

You smiled back, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, concern? 

He couldn’t quite decipher it. 

As you stood there, a moment of silence stretched between you, and James noticed a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. You looked shy, as if you were unsure whether you were crossing a line by speaking up. 

“Mr. Sunderland,” you began, your voice soft, “are you okay? I’ve noticed you’ve looked... a bit tired lately.” 

The question caught him off guard, and for a fleeting moment, he found himself wondering if it was painfully oblivious or truly observant of the details that everyone else seemed to overlook. But quickly, he concluded that he must have been projecting his exhaustion more than he realised, and he must definitely look tired. 

The question wasn’t intimate.

He forced a smile, trying to shake off the weight of your concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied too quickly, dismissing your worry as he nodded almost vigorously. “Just, you know, work and everything.” 

For a heartbeat, you searched his face, perhaps hoping to see something more, a glimpse of the truth that lay beneath his carefully crafted exterior. But after a moment of hesitation, you seemed to accept his response. You nodded, though there was still a hint of worry shadowing your features. 

“If you or Laura need anything, please let me know,” you insisted gently. “I’d be more than happy to help.” 

The kindness in your offer made his chest tighten, his heart pounding with a mix of gratitude and desire. He appreciated it, truly, but it also fueled the raging fire of lust that had consumed him. Here you were, simply trying to be helpful, and yet he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have you all to himself, to explore every inch of your body and lose himself in your embrace.

His mind raced with vivid, graphic images of you—unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your tantalising curves; running his hands over your smooth skin; kissing and licking your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. He could almost taste the sweet moan that would escape your parted lips, the moan of a woman ready to surrender to his sinful, wanton needs. The very idea of it made his breath catch in his throat and his cock twitch in his pants.

He felt like a beast, a predator stalking its prey, as he watched you. Every move you made was a tease, every word you spoke a seductive whisper that echoed in his mind and stoked the flames of his desire. You were a forbidden, irresistible delight that he craved with every fibre of his being.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper and his voice painfully strained. “That means a lot.” He managed to nod, hoping to convey his gratitude without revealing the turmoil churning inside him.

James' lips curled into a polite smile, but his dark thoughts raged like wildfire beneath the surface. He tried to ignore the forced gentleness of his own tone, reminding himself that he was only being polite. Yet, every word he uttered was weighed down by heavy lust for you, and the knowledge that he should never let these desires surface again.

As you stood there, a mixture of warmth and uncertainty radiating from your presence, he felt a pang of regret. You were offering him a lifeline, yet he felt as though he was dragging you into a murky depth he didn’t know how to escape. The moment hung between you, a fragile thread of connection that he wanted to reach for, yet feared would only end in disappointment. In your eyes, he saw kindness, concern, and a spark of something he dared not acknowledge. But with every passing second, he also felt the walls he had built around himself begin to tremble, as if you might be the catalyst for change he had been both longing for and dreading.

“I should go,” you said, breaking the silence, and James felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment wash over him.

“Right,” he replied, forcing his mind to focus on the present. “Thank you Miss, and have a good night.”

You offered him one last warm smile before turning to leave, and he watched you go, feeling the weight of what had happened. The kindness you had shown him stirred something deep within—a longing he couldn’t quite satisfy.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Yandere!Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : yandere themes ; basically a forced pregnancy ; late term pregnancy complications ; Minho is like, the worlds worst narcissist in this ; let me know if there's more ; Word Count : 6.9k A/N : The amount of research that I did for this one is crazy, but I also learned a lot so... building knowledge while writing fanfic is a plus! This request has been in my ask box for probably over a year and a half now, so... I hope that whoever requested it... I hope you enjoy! (Also, this was supposed to end WAY worse... But you all weren't ready to be sucker punched with sadness, so...) Request : Anonny : Pregnant with yandere leeknow/ yandere leeknow as dad Aaaangst

In The Beginning…

“Minho…” You called timidly from the bedroom, the way you called for him was about the same volume as when someone would talk regularly to a friend. When you spoke it was nothing more than a mouse-like whisper, always scared of what would happen if you raised your voice a little too much. Your doting boyfriend came into the bedroom, his hair tousled and wet from his shower, his eyes always seeming to carry a seductive look, dark and hungry for you at all times. “M-Minho…” You spoke his name again, this time more nervous now that he was standing in front of you. 

A chuckle built in his chest as he sauntered over to you, water wrinkled fingers that were warmer from the hot water he had been standing under, trailed across your cheek, one finger slipping under your chin to tilt your head up as he towered over you. “Mm? What do you need, darling? Are you hungry? Thirsty? I know that last night was quite… exerting for you…” He teased, and you felt your body heat up at the mention of the sinful activities you had taken part in the night before. 

“Uhm… n-no…” You stammered, blinking a few times as you seemed to lose your train of thought constantly when he was standing so close to you, looking at you as if you were a delicious meal that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. “We… We didn’t use protection and… Usually you’d get me a… a plan B pill and… I just was wondering if you had gone and… and gotten it by now?” You were always so nervous around him, still not quite sure what made him tick. One second he was happy, or at least he seemed happy, and then the next he was going through an outburst that had you locking yourself in the bathroom until he came to the door apologizing and giving you the same spiel that he would never do it again. You hated when things got like that, you tried to avoid getting him to that point at all costs. 

“I decided you don’t need it anymore.” Minho spoke nonchalantly, as if he was the one who could make that decision for you. Your mouth opened to protest, and he stared at you, waiting for you to say something, anything that would give him a reason to lash out. It’s like he wanted a reason, he wanted to go off on you, like he enjoyed seeing you scared, enjoyed being the hypocritical hero when he comforted you after making you cry. “Think about how wonderful it would be, to have a part of me growing inside of you… you’d be mine, all mine. You’ll never leave me…” His hands moved down to your stomach, as if there was already something in there. “I’ll pick up tests in about 2 weeks, I want to be right here when you take them and read the results.”

The First Signs…

Sitting at the dining room table, the chicken still in your mouth after you had taken a bite, an awful sensation washed over you. A sort of sickness that you couldn’t fight back, and an urge to throw up that you couldn’t breathe your way through as you usually would. “Mm’scuse me…” You mumbled through the palm of your hand that was clasped over your mouth as you ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you, not even bothering to lock it as your body practically folded over the toilet. 

“Darling…” Minhos soft cooing from the other side of the door had goosebumps forming on your skin. When he cracked the door open, you could see a rather excited smile beginning to spread across his face. “Are you alright?” The juxtaposition of his expression and his words made your head reel. He looked too happy for someone who had just watched their girlfriend throw up all of their dinner. You nodded your head in response, making sure the contents of your stomach were cleared out before taking a few steps to the sink and washing your face and then rinsing your mouth out with water. “I thought you loved that chicken… Hmm, I wonder why it would make you sick all of a sudden…” 

He stepped into the bathroom fully now that you were done being ill, the nausea seeming to be completely gone now, as if it hadn’t been there at all. You knew exactly what he was insinuating, and while it might seem that way, you weren’t ready to accept that it could be what he was thinking, you didn’t want to accept it. “I think they just changed the frying oil or something…” You excused, dabbing at your lips with a bit of toilet paper before exiting the bathroom, Minho right in tow. You couldn’t be pregnant, that would make him all the possessive, all the more obsessive and overbearing. You wouldn’t be able to ever leave, not that you were able to do that now anyway, but it would be so much worse. You probably wouldn’t even be able to look at the windows without him lecturing you. No… pregnancy wasn’t an option for you. 

As you stood at the sink, getting a glass of water from the tap to wash out the taste, Minho stood behind you, his hands placed gently on your stomach. It was the softest he had ever touched you, but you knew that it wasn’t exactly for you, it was for the little demon spawn that he assumed was inside of you. “Does my baby not like the fried chicken? Hmm? Whatever you want, daddy will get it for you… As long as your mommy tells me.” How could he sound so sweet? It was gag inducing, how he pretended to be so caring when he was practically trying to hold you hostage using a potential child. 

The next days were the same, the sudden nausea not even having the common courtesy to creep up on you, instead, hitting you full force, barely allotting you enough time to run to the bathroom or the trash bin to vomit. It didn’t matter what you ate, each day at the same exact time, it was always the same. You could see the light in Minhos eyes growing brighter each time it happened, but you were in denial, and you quite liked being in that state. You didn’t want to accept that there was a very real, very high possibility that you were now carrying his spawn. “I must be coming down with something…” You mumbled, resting your head in the palm of your hand, suddenly feeling exhausted, as if you hadn’t slept in days. It was another sign, another symptom, you knew that, but you hoped that Minho would overlook it. 

“Well it has been 2 weeks, more than that actually, my darling.” The smile that he was was nothing short of sinister as he ran to the bathroom and returned with two boxes in his hands. You knew this time was coming, you had been dreading it, hoping that you would get your period at any moment now. It never came though, and you were terrified of what the tests would undoubtedly reveal once you took them. “I’m sure taking them would answer a lot of your questions… Here…” He slid the boxes across the table, but you refused to even look at them, instead staring out the window, trying your best to block out everything that he was saying. You didn’t want to be pregnant, not by him at least. How could you even be happy bringing a child into this type of lifestyle? “Darling…” He murmured the pet name softly, but rough hands suddenly gripped your chin, turning your attention to him fully. “Take the tests. Now.” 

You huffed loudly, pushing yourself away from the table and snatching the boxes up before rushing to the bathroom. You knew well enough that if you didn’t get there in time and lock the door, he’d probably try to come in and watch you take them just to make sure you weren’t fabricating the results. It would have been a good idea, but you knew he’d notice. There was no way you could just run the test under the sink water and pretend they were negative. It’s not like he’d let you go if they were anyway, he’d just keep trying and trying… and once you started showing… He’d probably be more pissed off that you lied to him. 

“You’re taking quite a while in there… Do you need help?” The question was genuine, but you glared at the door, knowing that he wouldn’t see it. It was the only time you could make those kinds of faces at him without being reprimanded for it. The tests laid on the back of the toilet seat, and much to your dismay, the second line showed up faster and darker than you ever expected it to. “Fuck!” You thought to yourself as you unlocked the bathroom door and flung it open, slipping past him as he rushed in. He was too preoccupied with being excited over the tests to focus on you, at least for right now. All you wanted to do was sleep and hopefully wake up from the nightmare that you had been living in for the last 3 years. 

The First Trimester… 

There was no bond forming. For the most part, you tried to forget that you were pregnant at all. It was easier during this stage. Other than the nausea and the exhaustion and the slight pulling and pinching sensations you’d feel in your lower back and upper thighs, all things that you could write off as any other reason, you didn’t feel pregnant. You were still in denial, you didn’t want this. Minho wanted this, and he was the only one happy about it. This was the happiest you had seen him though, he was absolutely elated, but he was also overly protective, which was becoming a real pain in the ass. 

“I can get dressed on my own.” You muttered as he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to help you pull down your shirt after you had just put it on. “I really don’t like the hovering, it’s making me uncomfortable.” Were you allowed to be honest with him now? Would he excuse it as your hormones going crazy because of the baby? He wouldn’t yell at you, right? Not when you were in such a fragile state. He reached out further, grabbing your wrists, rather tightly, and pulled you towards him. Of course, he wouldn’t dare try to be so rough anywhere around your stomach, but everywhere else was still fair game. 

“You’re carrying my child, and as long as you are, I can hover as much as I like.” He hissed, and even though you didn’t like his tone, you were grateful that he wasn’t yelling. “I know you don’t want it. You’d probably be overjoyed if you miscarried. I won’t allow that to happen though, so just be good for me, let me help.” His expression immediately shifted, his head tilting to the side as the most innocent looking smile had his teeth flashing up at you. It was like whiplash, it made your head hurt. “So what would my babies like to eat today, hmm? Are you craving anything in particular?” He cooed, although his attention was still primarily focused on your stomach. 

Any other woman would want a man like him, a man that treated them this way and got this excited to find out they were pregnant. Any other woman could have him and all of his psychopathic tendencies. “I’m craving a nap.” You snapped, and you watched his nostrils flare out at your disobedient tone, but he didn’t say anything, instead getting off the bed and yanking the covers back for you, waiting for you to climb onto the mattress before carelessly throwing them back over your body. “Thank you.” You mumbled, rolling over onto your side so that your back was to him, tucking the covers around your chin and squeezing your eyes shut. It wasn’t just the raging hormones that tired you out, it was Minho too, him more than anything honestly. Living with him, well, no, not living, being stuck with him, was the most exhausting thing ever. 

“I’ll wake you up for your vitamins and for lunch.” He said sternly, more like a strict caregiver than the father of your unborn child. You hated him. You hated that he did this to you, that he chose you to be the object of all of his desires. Why did he choose you? He still hadn’t told you why, he just insisted that you were the one that he wanted. Now you were carrying his child, and you feared that you’d truly be stuck with him forever. What did you do to deserve that? 

The Second Trimester…

Most women would get an ultrasound at around 9 weeks. However, you had yours at 20 weeks. You didn’t go to a doctors office, instead, Minho had the doctors come to you. Even still, he didn’t want you leaving the house. Before the doctor was even allowed to see you, he had to sign an NDA, with Minhos reasoning being that he was an idol, and he didn’t want the public to know about his fiancées current condition. You still didn’t know when you had gotten engaged, but apparently it had happened at some point before the doctor's arrival. 

Seeing your baby on the screen made it impossible to deny that you truly were pregnant. It also made it hard for you to hate it as you during your entire first trimester. Was it truly the baby’s fault that their father was crazy? Did it’s fathers behavior make the baby inherently evil? No… of course it didn’t. The baby was still a part of you, and you were a good person. You wouldn’t allow your child to grow up to be like Minho. “It’s a girl.” The doctor said, pointing to the screen as if you’d understand what you were being shown, but Minho was mesmerized by what he was seeing, his jaw slacked in awe. 

“That’s my daughter… Our daughter? Really? Is she healthy?” It was Minho asking all the questions that most women in your position would be asking. You were too caught up in your own thoughts though. A baby girl, you were carrying his daughter. She’d be more like you, right? Maybe having a daughter would change the way he is, he’d become normal, a man that you could actually love and welcome having a family with. He wouldn’t want his own daughter to be with a man like himself, right? 

The doctor turned up the volume on the little tv, a rapid pulsing sound filled the room, both you and Minho were silent as you listened. “She’s healthy, very healthy.” The doctor said, smiling to both you and Minho. You were… happy. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you stared at the screen, watching the baby squirm around, and you couldn’t wait to be able to feel her moving beneath your skin. “I’ll print out the pictures and then be on my way. I’d like to make another appointment for next month though, make sure she continues growing the way she should. I also want some bloodwork from you…” He motioned towards you, and you swallowed thickly, looking at Minho who looked slightly annoyed at the doctor's pushiness. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong, we just like to make sure that there’s no underlying problems. Better to be safe, right?” 

His words had you tensing up, your hands moving down to your stomach, rubbing over the small swell that had begun to form as your daughter grew bigger. “Why… Why would there be underlying problems? What could be wrong?” You squeaked out, not wanting to look up at the doctor, worried that his expression would give you a silent answer, one that you were scared to know. Minho was still, like a statue, only his eyes moving between you and the doctor, but there was no answer, just a soft sigh and a gentle tapping against your hand to try to calm you. The gesture was supposed to make you feel better, but you heard Minhos teeth gritting together. 

“It’s just precautionary. This is your first appointment since you’ve gotten pregnant. It’s to make sure both you and the baby are healthy and that there are no problems now or in the future. From what I see though, you and your daughter are perfectly fine. You have nothing to worry about.” Your hand was held lightly by the doctor who offered you a reassuring smile, but before you could thank him, Minho was, quite rudely, ushering him out of the room and shutting the door. On the other side of the door, in the hallway, you could hear Minhos aggrivated voice, low enough that you couldn’t make out what he was saying, but you could feel it, reverberating through the walls and the floorboards. He was talking so fast that the doctor didn’t have a chance to speak, and before you knew it, the front door was slammed shut and then Minho was storming back into the bedroom. 

“Touching you… Holding your hand… Who the fuck is that guy?!” Minho growled as he shut the door behind himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the door. “You don’t need any more fucking doctors. You were doing just fine without them. There’s nothing else we need to know anyway. Our daughter is healthy and that’s what matters. There’s no need to have some touchy ass fuckwad coming in here, looking at you… Ugh!” You could see the heat radiating off of him, he was beyond angry, he was absolutely irate, and while you didn’t want to push him any further, what the doctor had said prompted you to speak up. 

“Min… Honey…” It was an attempt to soften him up, you never called him that, not unless you were trying to get him to agree to something. Most of the time it never worked, but it at least would keep him from going off as rashly as he would without the pet name. “What if there is a… a problem… I think we both should know. We don’t need to keep him as our doctor… We can find someone else… But I think the bloodwork is important.” You sat up on the bed, trying to get a better look at him, trying to read his expression, but he was completely blank. “Minho…” You tried to get his attention, unaware that you already had it fully and he was just deep in thought. 

“No…” His hand was held out, one finger up to silence you as a chuckle was huffed out of his parted lips, his breaths coming faster and faster as he pushed himself away from the door. “I know what you’re doing. I know what this is…” The pet name didn’t work, nothing would work, he was already angry as it was and you were simply making things worse. “You want him to come back… You want him to take you away from me. That’s what you want. I know you! You’ve wanted nothing but to leave since you’ve been with me! He can’t have my fucking daughter! And he sure as hell can’t have you!” He climbed onto the bed, straddling you and holding your face between his hands. It wasn’t exactly painful, maybe you were numb to the pain it might have caused at first, but now you just found it annoying. “What do I need to do to make you stay!?” He shouted, his breath fanning across your face with every word. It’s like he was using all of the air in his lungs to enunciate every syllable. 

“Minho, stop it.” You whispered, knowing that the wrong word, a wrong look, saying it in a way that he didn’t like, it would only have him spiraling deeper and he’d drag you right along with him. “Please… h-honey look at me… I’m not trying to leave you… I just want to know that me and the baby are healthy, that there’s nothing wrong. I don’t want anything to happen to either of us… I want her… Honey, I want a family with you…” Sure, you were really sugarcoating it to try to get him to calm down, but you also really needed to know that everything would be okay. The last thing you wanted was for something to happen to you and him blame your daughter for the rest of his life or vice versa. 

His hands dropped down to your shoulders, his body now shuddering, although you didn’t know if it was because he was about to cry or if he was just shaking with anger. It was always hard to gauge his reactions or how he was truly feeling. It had you on edge all the time, and you felt like a tiny rodent, cornered by a feral cat. “Nothing is going to happen to either of you…” He mumbled, his head hung low, his hair curtaining his face. “Stupid fucking doctor, putting that shit in your head, scaring my darling…” This wasn’t what you wanted, his anger once again shifted towards the doctor who was just trying to do his job. “Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you and our baby?” You shook your head, of course he wouldn’t let something happen to either of you, not because he cared, but because he couldn’t fathom the thought of not owning you anymore. “You’ll be just fine, darling. You’re overthinking what that jackass said.” And with that, it’s like all of the anger washed away, a sudden wave of calmness rinsing him clean of the negativity. “Let’s get something to eat. My girls are hungry, aren’t they?” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before shifting off of you and off of the bed, grabbing your hand and carefully helping you up to your feet. The sudden shift had you feeling dizzy, but it was welcome, at least he wasn’t yelling at you. 

The Third Trimester… 

Something was wrong, although you weren’t sure what it was. The ongoing nausea, the headaches, the blurred vision, you knew there was a problem. All you could think of was the argument that you had almost 15 weeks ago, wanting to at least have bloodwork done to make sure you were okay, but of course Minho had denied you of the simple procedure. If anything happened to you, it would be his fault, but he wouldn’t look at it that way, no, it would be someone else’s fault, it always was whenever he fucked up. 

“Someone’s tired…” He whispered when he walked into the bedroom where you were still laying. It’s not that you were actually that tired, you just couldn’t move without feeling sick. When he pulled open the curtains, you squeezed your eyes shut, groaning loudly as the bright sun only amplified the raging headache you were already suffering through. “Sorry, darling. Can’t lay in bed all day. Gotta get you up and moving. Come on.” He yanked the covers back and his eyes landed on your feet which had become so swollen you could barely even fit them in your slippers anymore. “What happened?” He whispered, although there was a slight panic in his voice as he gently grabbed your ankle and lifted it, looking over the extremity for any signs of injury. 

“I think… I think…” You kept starting the sentence only to be left practically winded after only saying two words. “Problem…” You settled for one word, hoping that it would get your point across and that he’d take some kind of action. He blinked a few times, backing away from the bed, his hands running through his hair as he seemed to be fighting an internal battle with himself. “Please…” You pleaded, your hands cradling your swollen stomach. If not to help you, at least to help your baby who he seemed to want more than anything. 

“Shut… Shut up! I’m thinking!” He screeched, suddenly pacing back and forth as his breaths came out sharply, sounding more like whistles as they came through pursed lips. “Why would you let this happen! What even… God dammit!” He shouted, his fist colliding with the wall in an act of frustration, and even though he was fully across the room, you jumped at the sudden act of violence. He would never hit you, no matter how mad he got he had never actually hit you, but when things got this bad, you always feared just how far he would go or how far gone he was. “What am I supposed to do?! Take you to the hospital?!” 

Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what he was supposed to do to keep both you and your daughter from potentially dying. “If I could just… have her… get her out… we could be… okay…” You said breathlessly, and he whipped around in your direction, his eyes wild and crazed. It truly seemed like he was losing his mind. “Min… I don’t want t-… to die… please…” You begged, the sudden onslaught of tears only making it harder to breathe. 

“Fuck! You think I want you to die!? You think I want that!?” He questioned, and soon his hands were back in his hair, tugging at the ends as he let out a loud scream. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it! It’s what you wanted to happen! You wanted to leave me so bad! You’d rather die than be with me!” He was once again blaming you, yelling at you for something that you didn’t even understand at the moment. You didn’t know what was happening, so why the hell was he attacking you for it? “Such a fucking bitch! God! Fuck! Get up!” You were being… belittled… insulted… cursed at for… dying? At least if you did die, you wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. You wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. But did you really want to leave your poor baby with someone like him? 

Getting up was a daunting task, it took you longer than it usually would just to swing your legs over the side of the bed. Every small movement made you feel like you had run a marathon, your breaths becoming more labored, your vision becoming spotty, and the urge to vomit became more of an oncoming threat as the bile from your otherwise empty stomach rose to your throat. There was no time to get to the bathroom, you weren’t even on your feet yet, and before you had any time to even warn Minho, you were doubled over, heaving up the acid that burned your throat on its way out. He watched, not coming close or helping you, but he watched, his lips parted and his eyes blinking rapidly as if what he was seeing wasn’t true. “Sorry…” The word was spoken in a single raspy breath, your head hung low with both shame, embarrassment, and pain. Your throat was scratchy now, and it felt like fire was being held against the back of it. Tears pricked your eyes and snot ran down your nose, stopping at your upper lip, and you didn’t even have the energy to wipe that away. 

“What happened…?” He asked, his voice once again soft, laced with the false tone of worry. It used to make you think he cared, but now you knew it was an act. It was all an act. “Let’s… Let’s go…” He said, his voice wavering. He truly didn’t know what to do, but he knew that he didn’t want to do this. It’s not like he had a choice though. You looked awful, like you were already standing at death's door, and that terrified him. He had seen you sick before, but he had never seen you like this. “C-Can you walk? Do you need… Uhm… Shit…” He was tripping over his words, but when he saw you try to get up on your own, he rushed over, his arm wrapping around you. 

Looking at you this close, he could see that your face was swollen too, and beads of sweat lingered on your forehead. “She hasn’t moved… Min… I’m- I’m scared…” You whimpered, and he pulled you closer to him, letting your body fall against his side, trying to take all of your weight as he walked you towards the front door. “Min…” You breathed out his name, your head falling against his shoulder. He hummed to let you know he heard you, grabbing everything he needed with one hand as he walked through your shared apartment. “If you have… to save any of us… save her… save the baby…” You wheezed, all of your weight falling against him, everything that he had been carrying was dropped immediately to catch you. 

“No… no no no! Stop talking like that! Stop it!” Minho shouted, his voice trembling from the sobs he tried to hold back. “I’m not losing either of you, dammit! I-…” He sniffled softly, and while your eyes had been closed the entire time, trying to block out the light that shone through the window in the living room, you could feel his eyes on you. “I love you… You know that, don’t you? I’m not… If anything happens…” The thought was stopped before he could get the words out, but you were stuck on the three words he had said prior. Love was such a strong emotion, you hadn’t felt loved the entire time you had been with him, and he had never said it before now either. Did the thought of you being gone forever make him change? If you did make it through, would he go back to the way he was before? Maybe death was the only escape… 

I’ll Make You Stay… 

There was no way the doctors would make him choose… It couldn’t be that serious. You were absolutely fine, right? He hadn’t noticed anything wrong until today… or were you just that good at hiding things from him? Why would you hide something like this from him? Were you afraid of him? Why were you scared of his love? He just loves you so much! What’s wrong with that? He wanted you to be with him forever, he wanted you to be his darling, why did you make it seem like that was so awful? He’d show you that you could be happy, that he could make you happy, you just had to stay with him, you had to stay. 

“Why can’t I go in?” Minho asked once again to the nurse who slipped out of the room. Each time he said it he was more irritated than the last. He just didn’t understand. What could be so wrong that he couldn’t be there for the birth of his daughter? Every time, the nurse would just sigh, getting more agitated with him. “I’ll just go in then. You can’t keep me from seeing her. That’s my wife, that’s my daughter! If you won’t tell me what’s going on then I’ll just-“ 

The nurse cleared her throat, although it sounded more like she was groaning. He tried not to let it bother him the way it usually would. He had far better, far more important things to worry about than the bitchy attitude of the nurse. “She didn’t want me to tell you. I’m trying to respect her wishes. She wanted to be alone.” The nurse explained, but it only stirred up more questions in Minhos now overactive mind. What was the reason behind you wanting to go through this alone? Did he not have a say in being able to watch his daughter be born? It was unfair, and once everything was over with, he’d be having a talk with you about how rude and humiliating it was for him to sit out in the hallway while you were delivering his child. He opened his mouth, not even to speak, just to breathe, and the nurse started talking, as if she assumed he was just going to continue complaining. “Both of them are not well. The last thing I wanted to do was go against what could possibly be her last wish. Are you understanding now, sir?” 

Your… last wish? It sounded like you were dying… It couldn’t possibly be that bad… Is it? Why would you want to be alone during a time like this? How could you leave him this way? Do you not even care about his feelings? It’s like you want to make him miserable! All he wanted was to have a family with you, to make you stay with him forever, and now you’re trying to get away by dying!? You were so selfish! Why couldn’t you just be healthy?! He had done everything right. He made sure you ate and had your vitamins and did daily exercises and that you always got enough sleep. If anything happens to you and the baby… It would be your fault! It would all be your fault! 

“An early blood test would have shown that this was a possibility. It would have potentially kept this from happening. If she was getting proper appointments, this would have been caught before it got this bad. Who was her OB?” The nurse asked, her clipboard resting against her forearm, her pen held in her other hand, as if she was waiting for the information to jot down. The mention of your doctor had his mind pausing for a split second… This is why you needed the bloodwork done? Why had no one told him that back then? Why was he not informed of the risks that would come along if the bloodwork wasn’t done? This still wasn’t his fault though… No, the doctor should have talked to you and him more about the benefits of getting early bloodwork done. 

It was the doctors fault… If he hadn’t been so touchy with you, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal for him to come back and do the bloodwork. It was all the doctors fault, and if something were to happen to you or the baby… Minho would make sure that the doctor paid for it. He told the nurse the doctor's name, trying not to let his smile break through the mask of sadness that he was wearing, but it was hard. The thought of getting that guy to potentially lose his job, it was nice, and he couldn’t help but feel a little… overjoyed, knowing that if anything were to happen to you and the baby, it wouldn’t be in vain, at least the doctor will suffer as well. “I guess I’ll… wait out here…” He said, the frown once again returning to his face as he dropped down into the chair beside your door. It was still hard not being in there with you, knowing that so many people were looking at you, touching you… He felt like he was going to lose his mind, and the only way that he was keeping himself slightly sane was by constantly telling himself that he could potentially lose you and his daughter if those doctors didn’t help you. 

He was in and out of sleep the whole time, his head falling against the wall and his eyes drooping shut, only for them to shoot back open whenever an alarm would go off, looking up at the light above your door to make sure it wasn’t for your room before drifting back to sleep once more when he realized it wasn’t. It had been hours, he finally stopped counting after the seventh, when the door finally opened and one of the nurses, different from the one before, walked out. There were dark circles under her eyes, she looked frazzled and exhausted, but there was no urgency, there was no sadness… Was everything okay? Would he be able to keep you and his daughter? “Sir…” She started, and Minho sat up straight, his eyes hopeful as he looked up at the nurse. “I don’t want to sugarcoat anything, I don’t want you to get excited just yet… Although your wife and the baby are… alive… That doesn’t mean that things are… okay.” It was like all of the hope was drained from his body immediately, even after hearing that you were alive… How could you still not be okay? 

“Well… what’s wrong? What happened? I mean… I need some information here!” He was trying not to get worked up, but the way the nurse seemed to be beating around the bush was highly aggravating. For Christ's sake, he’s your boyfriend, the father of the child, and she was talking to him like he was some nobody. He deserves… No, he needs to know what happened! “How is she not okay? Is the baby okay? Come on, tell me something, dammit!” He didn’t care if she was tired, or if she was emotionally worn out after helping you. That’s her damn job, and part of it is telling him what the hell is going on. 

She sighed loudly, clearly not happy with the way that Minho was talking to her, but he didn’t really care for that either. He wasn’t even allowed in the damn room, the least she could do was tell him what had gone on while he was locked out in the hallway. “The mother had preeclampsia which advanced to class one HELLP, which I will not go into full detail about, a simple google search will tell you what it is, but I will say that she had the most severe case of HELLP that I have ever seen in my years of working here. We were at a point where we worried that we would have to choose whether she lived or the baby lived. She had to have blood transfusions before we could even deliver the baby, she was in the early stages of kidney failure, and while we were in the process of trying to help the mother, the baby went into respiratory distress. We had to do an emergency c-section, which wasn’t easy because we were worried about hemorrhaging, which did in fact happen. The baby is currently in the NICU, she is underweight, we have to do tests to check her platelet count, she’ll most likely be in the NICU for a couple of weeks, and that’s minimum, especially if her platelets aren’t normal. The mother needs to stay because we have to make sure she doesn’t have any other underlying health issues, and we need to monitor her closely because the first couple days after delivering a baby with HELLP syndrome could be fatal. So yes, the mother and the baby are alive… But they are in no way, shape or form, okay or healthy enough to come home anytime soon. Does that answer your questions, sir?” 

Minho didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t understand anything that had been said to him, all he knew was that it was bad and that you wouldn’t be going home with him. How could you let things get this bad? Why didn’t you tell him? Surely you must have felt ill or something when this was all going on? And that damn doctor… Why did he have to touch you? Why did he have to make him so angry? If he had just been a normal doctor, he would have been allowed to come back and do your bloodwork. This all could have been avoided! It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t! How was he supposed to know that something like this could happen?! He had never read anything about this online! He didn’t know something like this could happen! It wasn’t his fault! 

“Anyway…” The nurse spoke once more, taking Minhos silence as an opening. “She’s resting, they both are. There’s going to be doctors in and out of the room constantly, so, if you’d like to go in there, you can, but I wouldn’t expect to get any rest. If I were you, I’d honestly just go home, get some sleep, and come back in the afternoon. They’re not going anywhere, it’s going to be a long road ahead of the both of them… And you need to get as much rest as possible to prepare for it.” And with that, she walked away. He was left alone in the hallway with his thoughts, the faint sound of a heart monitor beeping just beyond the closed door to your room was the only sound he could really focus on. 

You were alive… You had stayed… You weren’t leaving him. He would have his family, and he would have it with you, his perfect darling. Nothing like this would ever happen again, he had his baby girl, and he had you. The two of you were all he needed. Once he had you and his baby back home, he’d make sure he never had to let you out of his sight again. You were going to stay with him, he would make you stay. That’s why he wanted the baby in the first place, and in the end, he still got exactly what he wanted. 

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[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

A/N: Currently unedited. Sorry. 😬 Read at your own risk, I guess. 😅 Also no word count because I’m lame.

Part 1 - Lilith

Lilith sighed, closing out of TikTok. Every other video was some video about him. Concert footage, old stream footage from five years ago. His music. She couldn't escape him, no matter how hard she tried. Though it stung, she couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of him. Years of constant work had paid off. Noah had made it. The band had made it and was now one of, if not the, biggest band in the scene right now.

But, God, it still hurt. For four years it had been him and her against the world. Her sitting there night after night, day after day, encouraging him and supporting him. Pushing him to keep going when he just wanted to give up. The first three years had been hard, and sure they'd argued, but it had been good. Great, even. It wasn't until their second album came out that everything started to fall apart.

Suddenly it was like he was finding reasons to fight with her. He would stay out later and later. Drank more and more. And no matter what she did, it just seemed to push him further and further away. That last year had been a nightmare. All culminating in the night that he didn't come home until 6am.

The night that when he finally came home, he couldn't look at her. God, she could still smell the perfume that clung to him as he pushed past her, headed upstairs for the shower. Sure, she could have followed him and confronted him, but what good would that have done? They'd have just fought some more and she was so tired of fighting. Instead she'd packed her things and left while he washed off the smell of another woman. Like a coward.

Part of her hated herself for leaving quietly like that. But she just didn't have it in her anymore. One call to Jolly on her way to her best friends had confirmed her suspicions, anyway. Jolly, though reluctant, had confirmed he'd left with another woman that night. In spite of everyone trying to stop him. Noah hadn't cared.

"Earth to Lilly!" Sadie shouted, snapping her fingers in front of her face.

"Hmm?"

"You good? You've been zoned out for like 10 minutes."

Lilly sighed. Was she good? Yes, but no. Having him plastered everywhere was wreaking havoc on all the healing she'd thought she had done.

"Yeah. Just can't escape his fucking face anywhere these days."

"Ew. He doesn't deserve this success. Not after what he did."

"Sadie," she groaned. "You were like siblings at one point. You know how hard he worked for this. Don't be like that."

"Bitch, you should be more like that. After what he did? Moving you out here with him? Just to cheat like the gutless bitch he is?" Sadie huffed, leaning back in her seat. "You haven't even been able to go on a successful date in five years!"

Lilith squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples. Sure, Sadie was right. And she should probably work through why that was, but that was too daunting of a task. She already knew it was because she was constantly afraid she wasn't enough. That there was something just fundamentally wrong with her. Logically she knew that wasn't the case. That it was him and only him that made him do that. But God, it still sucked thinking about it.

"Sadie..."

"I'll stop. I'm sorry. It just pisses me off. Jolly's still mad at him, you know."

"I know." She chuckled. "He reminds me every time he's here. And Matt. And Nicholas."

Her and Noah may have broken up, but the boys had never stopped treating her like she was family. They still came over regularly. Still had family dinners. It was because of that Jolly and Sadie finally got together. Part of her wondered if Noah knew all of this. An even bigger part of her hoped he didn't. Not out of anger or spite. For her own sanity. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed him. Far more than she should. And knowing that if he knew they all still spent time with her and he didn't once in five years try to reach out and at least apologize? That could very well break her.

Her phone pinged, alerting her to a text. And so life went on. Lilith checked the notification, smiling at Jolly's name appearing. Her smile quickly fell, however, when she read the message.

"Anniversary dinner in Danny's honor coming up on the 26th. Mason really wants you there. We all want you there. You loved him, too."

Fuck. She'd missed last year's. Made some excuse so she didn't have to see Noah. Him and Danny had been close. Of course he would be there. Fuck.

"I've been requested at an anniversary dinner for Danny."

"Noah will be there."

"I know." Lilith groaned. "I can't keep avoiding him forever."

"Good chance for him to grow a pair and apologize."

Lilith laughed, though it was hollow. Noah admit to mistakes he made? Fat chance in hell. He was more likely to spend the evening avoiding her just as much as she would avoid him.

"There's about as much of a chance of that happening as there is of me going without my morning chai." Her phone pinged again.

"Yes, Noah will be there. No, you don't have to talk to him."

It was like Jolly had read her mind. A genuine laugh escaped her, her chest feeling light again. Jolly knew her a little too well sometimes. With a grin she responded, pushing the thought of being around Noah out of her mind.

"See you there."

She could do this. She could be around Noah. It wouldn't be that big of a deal. After all, they ran in the same circles. It was a miracle she'd even avoided him for this long. Everything would go smoothly and be totally fine. It was just a dinner. What's the worst that could happen?

Tags: @fadingintothegrey

[jazzmasternot]

Hazbin hotel college AU head cannons

Note: decided to write these out after reading @sprainedwriting’s fanfic about Adam being a frat boy and I took that concept and ran with it.

Obviously this is based off of my own university experience where I attend a really big public university in the southern US. so that’s where my takes are coming from.

This is also my first time writing anything on here so there’s that aswell.

Charlie

Majors in musical theatre, but not performance education. She wants to be the unhinged theatre teacher that everyone loves. Lives in one of those really fancy student apartment lofts with keke. And is part of the cat club where she feeds the cats on campus

Vaggie

She probably does something super hard like biomedical engineering (let’s go women in stem!) which takes up allot of her time already. Is also an RA for one of the dorms on campus which is good for her bc free housing and gets paid to do her homework at the front desk. Met Charlie in an English class and have been together ever since. When she’s not on call she’s spending the night at Charlie’s and Charlie’s almost always sitting at the front desk with vaggie even tho she doesn’t work or live at the dorm and no one says anything bc it’s just not that deep.

Alastor

Majors in audio engineering and runs the campus radio station that people definitely still listen too. He went to community college first then transferred to a four year (to save money ofc) and is a commuter where he still lives with his mom. Does work study where he works the front desk of the library where he does his homework and works on his scripts for his radio show. Has no interest in working with Vox since he runs the tv channel simply bc he doesn’t want all that extra work. Still takes his notes on pen and paper and still has a nightmare of a time figuring out to electronically submit all his assignments and take his tests.

Angel dust

Okay so hear me out he majors in math ikik it sounds crazy but every gay math major I’ve ever met acts just like Angel dust. Goes to raves and frat parties even tho the guys don’t want him there but he always brings girls with him so the kinda have to let him in. Does nude modeling for extra cash at the art school so he’s kinda a celeb over there even tho he’s not in anyway related to that major.

Husk

Majors in Restaurant and hotel management and is one of those college students that are in their late twenties so already has more life experience than most other ppl here so he doesn’t do allot of the stupid college that allot of other ppl do. Lives in some off campus apartment that’s just a large house rented out to students made to look like a apartment (yk the ones in talking abt) works at the dive bar located just off campus that everyone goes to atleast once in their four years.

Sir pentious

Majors in mechanical engineering or industrial design I can’t really decided. Definitely uses the 3D printer all the time and is on the robotics team, which wins every competition they go to.

Nifty

She’s changed her major so many times nobody knows anymore. Is part of the kpop club and has biases complete with intricately decorated covers, like she has so many photo cards. Also runs the campus hotties account where it’s just a bunch of candids of cute guys taken from far away. Will also get really pissed if you don’t wash your dishes bc it will attract bugs so if ur her roommate you better do the dam dishes.

Cherry bomb

Art major and is the one who got Angel the nude modeling gig. Is always pulling all nighters bc she kept postponing the assimgment till the last minute. Has probably vandalized a couple buildings surrounding the university but hasn’t been caught. Goes to raves and the aforementioned frat parties with Angel. Also has a traffic cone in her dorm room for no other reason than just bc.

Vox

Majors in multi media marketing, runs the campus tv and YouTube channel. Definitely the president of a frat that inflates his ego more than it already is. Always at sporting events at the front row with all the frat guys giving everyone the inside scoop and game commentary. Is very pissed that alastor won’t work with him. Treats himself like a campus celebrity even tho ppl could care less and are just trying to get their degree.

Valentino

majors in film and media productions yeah he’s one of those. Always asking if you’ve seen pulp fiction and telling you that you need to watch some random black and white movie that’s only in French. Will definitely invite you over to watch something with you but we all know that’s not the case. Also all his film projects has allot of unnecessary nudity and sex under the guise of artistic expression, even when it’s so not relevant to the plot. Unless it’s a film that he’s making for the university in which case Vox is controlling every aspect of it which in this case is a good thing. Smokes in his dorm room without a care in the world and has really loud inconsiderate sex at any random point in the 24 hour day cycle.

Velvette

Majors in public relations and runs the university’s Instagram account. She’s always walking up to ppl with a lil microphone to ask you to tell us what you’re wearing. Speaking off she always comes to class dressed up (like the international students) no leggings and tennis shoes for her. Also is definitely in a divine nine sorority, and runs their insta too.

Carmilla

She’s a professor for the aerospace engineering dept and shes here bc she got sick of making rockets for Lockheed Martin and reatheon. Hella smart and ppl are baffled that she chose to give up a seven figure job to teach a bunch of college kids but she’s so chill abt it tho.

Zestial

Definitely English lit professor, makes you read the books no one’s heard of and not the classics. Always brings his own open regular coffee mug from his house to sip his tea from instead of a thermos, everyone asks how he doesn’t spill it on his ride to work. Also just straight up has an electric kettle in his office so he can have tea whenever he wants. Takes turns with carmilla eating lunch in each other’s offices.

Rosie

Studies agriculture sciences and food processing. Will probably run a slaughter house when she’s done with her degree. Hangs out with Alastor in his radio booth from time to time just to gossip about whatever drama is going around lately. Wears long skirts and a tote bag all the time. Is always sweet to Charlie and Emily, also loathes Vox just as much as Alastor she just finds him annoying.

Lucifer

Is probably a religion professor that’s not religious at all and is super laid back in his class like one easy discussion board post a week. The kinda guy to be like “it’s so nice out let’s have class outside today guys” or “if I make this shot ur all getting extra credit on the quiz this week”.

Adam

Definitely majors in finance and is a frat boy. And his band plays at all the said frat parties. Is very insufferable to talk to at parties will try tell you how crypto is the currency of the future and how wolf of Wall Street is his favorite movie. Has a Saturdays are for the boys flag in his room and navy blue sheets. Oh did I mention he vapes he definitely vapes those Mike Tyson ones that taste awful and look like bricks yeah those. Always gets drunk at the tailgate way before the game is even started.

Lute

Yeah she’s in premed and wants everyone to know she’s better than you bc of it. Everyone else’s major is easy compared to hers so don’t you dare complain about all your assignments in her vicinity. She’s basically made it her whole identity like she’s in the premed honors society, future doctors of America. Types her notes on her laptop and then rewrites them with all her gel pens and fancy highlighters, like thee be so colorfull and pretty then the title would be something like blood clots. Still friends with Adam bc they went to the same highschool together and always helping him with his homework in turn he gets her into the tailgate tents and frat parties so she always gets free alcohol.

Emily

Majors in Elementary education and looks like it too, with the Stanley cup, James Avery charm bracelet, and all. She also takes super pretty notes but she does them in class which is super power all in itself, like her desk is scattered with gel pens and highlighters of every color and swears by her bullet journal. She also feeds the cats on campus with Charlie and runs the arts and crafts club on campus where they always host events like tote bag painting in the grass area of the university. Also doesn’t drink bc she’s not twenty one yet even tho she’s in college and definitely won’t smoke even tho most of the ppl that show up to her events are total potheads

Sera

She’s like the university president who doesn’t actually GAF abt the students and just fund’s athletics and raises tuition every year under miscellaneous fees. She tries to come off as supportive when she’s out in public but no one’s buying it.

[delayedstrawberry]

Mihawks' Echos Of Regret

Summary: 25 year old Dracule Mihawk and you broke up two months ago, and since then you’ve kept out of each other's way. That’s until Mihawk goes to a party, and sees you cozying up with a man he doesn’t know. So to deal with the situation he drinks a little too much and lets his emotional possessive feelings take over, even though the breakup was his fault. Fandom: One Piece Relationships: Mihawk x Reader, Mihawk x Female OC Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Female Reader, Shanks, Trafalgar Law, Boa Hancock and Nico Robin. Chapters: 3/3 Warnings: Physical/verbal Abuse, anxiety and heavy alcohol usage Notes: Hello♡ Just to clarify things before you read, this AU is set 20 years in the past where everyone who’s old/older in the current One Piece is now younger. So Mihawk is 24, Crocodile is 26 and Doflamingo is 21 etc etc. Although there are a few characters I have changed entirely to fit the story, like Robin is 23 and Law is 25. I posted this Fanfic on my AO3 as well (DelayedStrawberry). I made Mihawk super possessive and angsty in this, so I hope you enjoy! Word count: 10,364

Chapter 1: Mihawks Possesive Grip

Dracule Mihawk had been dreadful for the last 6 months of your relationship, it felt like those 4 years together just went down the drain without any explanation. He had suddenly stopped giving you attention, there was no more communication, no kisses or hugs, he barely talked to you anymore, he frequently became angry for no real reason and cuddles were non-existent. The main problem was that he’d be out working longer and more often, so you’d end up spending hours upon hours at home alone, while he was out hunting marines. It was like a switch had flipped inside of him and you had no idea why. He used to be this sweet, caring and loving boyfriend, then he became this heartless jerk. For months you had begged Mihawk to tell you what’s wrong, cried for hours at his feet to at least hold your hand, but he’d always brush you off. So…one night when he had come home from work, you told him you’re leaving. All hell broke loose once you uttered those words. And for the next few hours there was yelling, screaming, tears and hateful insults thrown around like spit fire. You could see how angry he was through your own heavy tears and blurry vision, especially when he ended up demanding that you don’t leave. But it was too late, the damage was done, you had endured too much pain. As you left the house you once shared, he yelled at you at the top of his lungs, but you could barely hear him over your own grieving sobs. It was the ugliest and messiest breakup of your life, that’s for sure.

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It’s a dark night in a town located within the Grand Line, the only things heard are the footsteps of Shanks, Mihawk and the party down the road. The moon casts a dim light on them as they walk towards the chaos, illuminating the damp pathway ahead of them. Shanks seems to be in a pretty chipper mood tonight, thinking about all the different women he’ll get to meet and “hangout” with. Mihawk on the other hand, is in quite the emotional state, his mind is occupied with one thing only…you. His footsteps are heavy and slow, a hint of distress hidden within his blank expression. He feels a lot of anger, but at this point he’s not sure who at.

“Lighten up Hawkeyes, it's gonna be fun!” Shanks swings his arm around Mihawk’s shoulder, squeezing his bicep. “You don’t have to be so grumpy.”

Mihawk just grunts quietly, not feeling in the mood for a party or Shanks’s enthusiasm. “I still fail to see why you insisted I join you.” He speaks in his usual dry annoyed tone.

Shanks grins, releasing Mihawk from his grip and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You need to do something other than work, and you never know…maybe you’ll have a great time.”

“You just need a babysitter once you get too drunk, that’ll really be a great time.” Mihawk sighs, giving Shanks a sidelong glare.

“Aww come on, your pal Crocodile will be there.” Shanks muses, the sound of music and people laughing getting louder and louder the closer they get.

“I don’t like his presence.” Mihawk responds flatley, his eyes wandering to the house parties' front lawn, where some people have already passed out.

Shanks gives Mihawk a punch in the arm and laughs. “You’ll be fine, at least promise me to have a few drinks, for relaxation purposes.”

Mihawk grunts again. “Fine.”

Shanks pats him on the back with a lot of force, making Mihawk groan in annoyance. “That’s a good Hawky.”

As they finally reach the house, the boys start walking up the driveway towards the front entrance, passing by some people on the way up. Mihawk starts feeling a little paranoid, thinking everyones eyes are on him. It’s really freaking him out, since he’d rather not be on anyone's radar right now.

They start strolling up the polished steps to the door, Shanks practically skipping up them. On the other hand, Mihawk reluctantly walks up the stairs, taking one step at a time, trying to drag out this moment for as long as possible.

“Stop hitting me, it’s irritating. And don’t call me Hawky.” Mihawk grumbles, his hand massaging where Shanks had struck him.

Shanks just grins and eagerly pushes the door open. The first thing that hits is the sound of laughter, loud thumping music and talking all mixed together like some sort of hell, at least according to Mihawk. There have got to be at least hundreds of alcohol bottles scattered around the place, and the coloured lighting is so damn bright, it bounces off the walls like someone on crack. And as they step inside, the house seems to expand, revealing a labyrinth of different rooms filled with drunk young adults. Every room seems to have a purpose for the night, each with its own unique vibe. One room has people playing pool, another dedicated to dancing, a few spaces for chilling out and the backyard is lined with tables which harbor mountains of food. Shanks spots the host, this girl named Boa Hancock, and he casually brings up his hand to say hi.

After taking this all in, Mihawk takes a step back, this is all so overwhelming…too overwhelming. He knew he shouldn't have come, he hates parties, noise and mayhem being his worst nightmare. But before he knows it, Shanks is guiding him through the pool of people, heading towards the alcohol at the back of the room.

As they reach the alcohol table, Shanks picks up a bottle of Vodka to inspect, while Mihawk tries to keep calm as he looks around.

After a few moments, Shanks hands him half a cup of booze, a smirk on his face. “Here, drink.” Mihawk looks down at the cup and sighs, knowing he can’t turn back now, and downs the whole thing in one gulp.

Shanks chuckles, pouring himself some alcohol, filling it to the brim before chugging it all down and filling it up again.

Mihawk looks at him, his eyes narrowing. “Careful, Redhair.”

He grins, downing the liquid whilst looking at Mihawk with a smug look. After swallowing, he fills his cup once more. “You think too much.”

“You hold your liquor like a leaf holds water.” Mihawk sighs, putting his cup down on the table and crossing his arms.

Shanks laughs, bringing the cup up to his lips again. “I handle my liquor just fine!”

“Do you want me to remind you of last time?” Mihawk glares at him.

“No no, let’s not bring that up. My stomachs stronger now, I promise.” Shanks smiles, looking over his cup, while Mihawk just rolls his eyes.

As they stand there for a moment, taking in the electric atmosphere, a few girls at the other side of the room seem to be looking Shanks over. They’re giggling lightly between themselves and sharing looks. His face switches to more of a thoughtful expression as he notices them, his eyes wandering over their frames, a hum leaving his lips. “Alright, Hawky. I’ll talk to you later.” Then without another word, he pats Mihawk on the shoulder and starts to walk off towards the women.

Mihawk sighs, his attention going to the rest of the room, his mind wandering slightly. Why does Shanks have to think with his dick all the time? Can’t he relax for once, maybe hangout with the person he dragged along…Mihawk shakes his head, pushing the thought away. It’s worthless mulling this over, it’s Redhair, he’s a lost cause at this point.

Some time passes and Mihawk finds himself standing against the wall, his eyes fixed on the floor. He doesn’t particularly have anything else to do, or anyone else to talk to, especially since Shanks walked off a while ago. He doesn’t mind having no company. The vodka doesn’t seem to be affecting him much, his thoughts still clear and legs still steady. With no buzz to take the edge off, his mind fills with thoughts of self hatred and stress. His inside turmoil is a stark difference to the moods of everyone around him. The party goers are all carefree, laughing, dancing, the atmosphere a drunken mess. Even though none of their attention is on him, he still feels as if everyones watching him, judging him. He softly sighs as he takes his hat off and puts it in front of his face, running his slender fingers through his dark hair, trying not to have a panic attack or a mental breakdown…or maybe both at the same time.

“I just need to pull myself together, it’s fine, I’m fine…” He quietly mutters to himself, a lump forming in his throat which he swallows down. He inhales deeply, trying to keep his composure together, sensing he’s on the verge of falling apart. After a few moments of calming himself down, he takes one last deep shaky breath. Putting his hat down from his face, Mihawk looks around at the party. His eyes land on Shanks who’s in a corner of a different room, heavily making out with a blonde girl, his hands running up and down her body as he squeezes different parts of her. Mihawk feels a twinge of jealousy, which is a foreign feeling, especially when it comes to Redhair. Why can’t he have it that easy? Why can’t he just…not be himself sometimes. Life would be way easier if he could be more like Shanks, maybe he could even be happier, more content. Mihawk doesn’t even understand WHY he’s feeling this way. He feels a little desperation running through him the longer he thinks about it, his eyes darting to the vodka on the table. He groans internally, knowing it may not be the best idea, but he decides to go ahead anyway.

He makes his way back over to the drinks, picking up a large cup and filling it. And he thinks it over for a moment, but only for a moment, since the next thing he feels is the burn of alcohol running down his throat and settling in his stomach. He can’t help but close his eyes, the amount of alcohol in his body feeling foreign. After getting used to the feeling, he opens his eyes again, pouring more liquid into his cup.

When he’s finished, he puts the bottle down back on the table, his hand slightly shaking. Maybe he could pick up some girls tonight, forget about you. His eyes then flicker back to Shanks, the thought growing stronger. But no, he would miserably fail, and the thought of being with another woman makes him feel sick. So instead of going ahead with his plans he decides he’ll switch rooms, a room where he can’t see Redhair, feeling his jealousy rising higher the longer he can see them.

Keeping a hold of his cup, he starts walking through the large house, getting bumped into multiple times, a growl forming in his throat.

Mihawk decided to settle into one of the dance rooms, figuring he’ll be out of the way, and blend easily in with the background despite his height. His back rests against the wall, the cup still in hand as he lazily looks over the crowd, maybe this wall will be different from the last.

For the next few minutes Mihawk stands there slowly drinking his vodka, the people in front of him not seeming to notice he’s there, which feels like a relief. Thankfully the loud hum of people and music drowns out most of his anxious thoughts, for now. He honestly just wants to get out of here, but Shanks would be on his ass for the next few weeks if he goes home early, leaving him with no choice but to endure these torturous hours.

Mihawks’ mind grows a little bored as he finishes his drink, setting his cup down on the nearby table, finally feeling a bit tipsy. The people around him are still dancing, making out, drinking…So for now he’ll just stand here counting the amount of dust particles that fly past his face. But after a few moments of counting he fixates his vision on something, someone, in the crowd. You.

His eyes widen, and it feels like the noise around him disappears. Your memories together come rushing back like a heavy wave…when you’d look at him like he was the only man on Earth, your giggles when he poked your stomach, the way your hair felt between his fingers. And you’re just as beautiful as he remembers. He feels like he’s gonna throw up, not just because of the alcohol he drank, but because you’re sitting and smiling on a couch with another man. Another man who isn’t him. He swallows, not knowing what to do as his hands bawl up into fists at his sides. He studies the man you’re talking to…black hair, tall and slim, tattoos, piercings and unfortunately very attractive. He doesn’t recognize him, at least not at first, not at this angle.

He feels anger running through his veins, how dare he talk to you, how dare he even share a smile with you! His heartbeat quickens as he keeps watching. He can see you’re comfortable with this man, your face lighting up when he whispers in your ear, playfully swatting each other's arms. Mihawk can’t look away, his face growing slightly hot from the sheer amount of possessiveness and jealousy. But after a few minutes of staring daggers into you and the man, he finally tears his gaze away. He begins to scan his surroundings, trying to find anything to distract himself with. He spots a half empty bottle of gin on an end table nearby, and without thinking he grabs it, drinking the rest. He takes a deep breath when he finishes swallowing, slamming the now empty bottle back onto the table. Mihawks’ eyes dart around the other surfaces, to see if there’s any more alcohol nearby. There isn’t. So he strides to the next room over, the kitchen, knowing that’s where he can get some more.

Mihawk finds himself frantically drinking 3 more bottles, not even taking note of what they are because he simply doesn’t care right now. The need to get the images out of his head is urgent, wanting to push his thoughts away as fast as he can. But after putting the 3rd bottle down, it just makes him feel worse. His mind begins spinning and he rests on the kitchen counter, mulling over the options he has right now.

After pondering for a while, he knows what he’ll do. There’s still a lot of full bottles around him, so he grabs a whiskey bottle and brings it with him as he walks back through the rooms.

Mihawks’ decided to keep an eye on you, hoping you won’t see him. When he gets back to the place he saw you last, you aren’t there anymore. His eyes frantically scan the other rooms, hoping you didn’t go upstairs with that dickhead. But he thankfully spots you leaning against the wall with the stranger. His blood boiling again, he moves to a spot where he can watch you. Sitting down at a table, he glares at the both of you. Mihawk doesn’t know what he’d do if you saw him right now, but he’s too drunk to really care about that.

Mihawk sits there watching you from a distance, the man's hand caressing your arm, leaning in to talk in your ear. You ignore the people dancing and drinking around as you listen. And for the life of him, he can’t figure out who that boy is! It’s driving him insane not knowing what's going on between you two, and the fact that you’re so close. It takes all of his self restraint to not get up and rip you away from him, or better yet, rip that boy to shreds.

Two blazing yellow hawkeyes are fixed on every move the two of you make, he can’t stand seeing you with someone else, but he can’t do anything about it. You’re broken up, but it’s killing him, his heart feels like it’s being passed through a blender over and over again. He takes a big gulp of whiskey, not even feeling the burn anymore.

Thankfully, right where he’s sitting, he’s got a better angle on what the boy looks like, feeling like he knows him, or knows OF him. Mihawk turns the question around in his head, looking over his features and inspecting his tattoos intently. And that’s when it clicks. He knows who you’re talking to. Trafalgar Law. There have been a few recent newspaper headings about Law, he’s this new hotshot running around the ocean, causing trouble and seemingly very talented. Mihawks’ vision goes red, tensing his jaw, he can’t believe you’re cozying up with some idiot! You’re not Laws, you’re HIS. No one should be touching you but HIM. No one should even LOOK at you! He takes a swig of the whiskey to try and calm down, and then another, and then another, and then another…until it’s all gone within a few short minutes. He growls deep within his throat when he realizes there’s no more alcohol, and the sight of Law and you together makes him angrier by the second. His mind starts going hazy from the amount of poison in his system.

Mihawk's attention is drawn to Shanks walking down the stairs, hand in hand with the blonde from earlier, making him more furious. He grunts under his breath, watching as Redhair and the girl walk into another room together, to presumably get something to drink.

But his attention doesn’t stay on them, instead his head snaps back to you and Law. Trained on every facial expression, movement, and straining his ears to try and hear what you’re saying. It’s no use, you’re too far away and the party’s too loud.

Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Law takes your waist and presses your bodies up against each other, a grin on his face as you giggle and begin swaying to the music together. This is the final straw for Mihawk, seeing your bodies against each other makes his jealousy turn into pure rage. He squeezes the empty whiskey bottle in his hand, the glass groaning and cracking slightly. The control he had earlier cracks along with the glass, shattering in every direction. The sight is driving him mad, Law shouldn’t have his hands anywhere near you in the first place. You’re his. HIS. Mihawks’ body tenses, he wants to pull you away from each other, but on the other hand he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Law looks you in the eyes, and as Mihawk observes his rage only heightens. He knows what that sort of look means. And that’s it. He can’t take it anymore. The alcohol in his system is making him unpredictable and reckless.

He hastily rises up from his seat and begins walking through the crowd. As he makes his way to you, he pushes people out of the way to get to you faster, not wanting to waste anymore time.

Finally, he reaches you. “Y/n.” Mihawks’ voice comes out demanding and angry.

You jump slightly, your eyes widening as you see Mihawk standing beside you, Law raising his eyebrows. “Mihawk??” You stammer.

“We need to talk, now.” He glares at you, making you a little nervous. Law tightens his arm around you, feeling like something's off but overall very confused, and stays out of it.

“W-what??” You feel like your heart is going to combust right here, right now. You haven’t seen him since you’ve broken up, the pain of looking at his face and hearing his voice a little too much.

Mihawk gives out a low growl. “We need to talk, right now, ALONE.”

He leaves nothing for discussion, so you look up at Law apologetically before answering in a firm tone. “Fine.”

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Before you can protest, Mihawk takes your wrist and drags you to the backyard, finding a spot behind some bushes where the two of you can’t be seen. The party is still present in the background but not as loud. You can tell he’s drunk, like you are too, his eyes look hazy and disoriented, but he was never a heavy drinker so you figure it’s not that bad.

He lets go of your wrist and faces you, a dark look in his eyes.

“What the hell is your-”

Mihawk cuts you off. “What were you doing with that guy??” He blurts out, staring daggers into you.

You feel slightly taken aback, not expecting his question. “That’s none of your business, can I go back now?”

“No. Not until we talk.” He crosses his arms, so you cross yours too.

“About what exactly?” You ask sternly, a little nervous.

Mihawk growls, making you tense up slightly. “About you…being so close with that guy! You think I’d just allow that to happen??”

“Wha…what the fuck??” You furrow your brow, feeling a little confused and annoyed.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’? You seriously thought I’d be okay with you doing that?” He raises his voice.

“Drac-” You stop yourself, nearly calling him by his first name. “Mihawk…we’re broken up. You don’t have a say in this.”

You can see Mihawk's brain short circuiting when his name nearly spills from your lips. “I don’t care if we’re broken up.”

“You’re deluded.” You bring your hand up to rub your temple, you can tell this is going to be a difficult conversation.

He scoffs. “I’m not deluded, he just shouldn’t touch you, simple.”

“For the last months of our relationship you didn’t put your hands on me once, so why do you suddenly care if Law does?” You say angrily, thinking that this conversation is useless.

Mihawk visibly stiffens when you say that. “God, you’re still hung up about that? Get over yourself! I had my reasons. And it doesn’t change anything, you can’t be cozying up with another man.”

“Yeah ‘I had my reasons’, that’s what you kept fucking telling me. You have no right to tell me what to do.” You spit back, feeling a dagger through your heart at his familiar harsh and dismissive words.

Mihawk steps closer, his eyes flashing angrily as he towers over you, his voice harsh. “The hell I don’t. You’re mine, y/n. Your body is mine, and so is your attention.”

You start feeling a bit panicked, but that quickly makes way for anger when it sinks in what he just said to you. “EXCUSE me? MY body is yours? MY attention is YOURS???”

“Yeah, you heard me. I put too much effort into you for some lanky nobody to take you away from me.” He responds firmly, furrowing his brows.

“But I’m not yours, Mihawk. I broke up with you and you know it. So stop pretending like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.” You start getting impatient.

This just makes him angrier. “You’ve been mine for years, some breakup isn’t gonna change that fact. I’ve claimed you.”

You’re speechless, looking at Mihawk in bewilderment.

“See, you can’t even deny it.” He glares down at you.

“Well-...what do you mean you’ve claimed me? What are you talking about??” You can’t help but want him to elaborate, but you have a feeling you won’t like the answer.

“Because I’ve fucked you.” Mihawk says firmly, his eyes not leaving yours.

Now you’re really speechless, this man has gone insane, and he looks serious about this too. It chills you, your fight or flight kicking in. You step back from him and try to walk away, but you gasp, feeling his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“No.” He says, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Mihawks’ eyes are dark and dangerous, leaving you no choice but to get pulled back to stand in front of him, the hold on your wrist unwavering.

You try to keep your composure, trying to come up with the most logical thing to say back to him, despite your mind being slightly hazy from alcohol. “Listen to me, I’m not yours, and fucking me doesn’t mean you’ve claimed me.”

“You ARE mine. No one, except for me, has the right to be so close to you.” He spits out.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you pushed me away!” You respond angrily.

Mihawks’ grip on you tightens. “We’ve been through too much. I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

“Too bad, this is YOUR fault. Now let me go, I want to enjoy the rest of the party in peace.” You keep your eyes firmly on his, not backing down.

“No. I…I can’t let you spend time with another man, especially not Law.” He responds, clearly not wanting to back down either.

“What’s wrong with Law, huh? Is it because he’s a better man than you’ll ever be?” You ask, the words feeling foreign and wrong.

“It’s because…he doesn’t deserve you. He’s a rookie and a fool!”

“You don’t know anything about him!” You yell in disbelief.

“I know enough.” He states firmly.

“Well…I’m not yours anymore, so get over it.” Your own words feel like a punch to the gut.

Mihawk clenches his jaw, not liking your words either. “No, y/n.”

You’re getting a little frustrated at his constant ‘no’ answers at this point. “Why can’t you just let me have a nice night with someone? It’s the least you could do.”

“Because you’re mine, y/n. I…I can’t handle the thought of you being with someone else, I saw enough while we were inside.” He responds a little quieter, but anger seeps through his words like daggers ready to strike you.

“Well that’s your damn issue!” You say angrily, getting sick of him.

Mihawks’ eyes flash with anger again, the grip on your wrist unrelenting. “My issue? Do you seriously think this is just MY issue?? I will never be okay with you running off with someone else when I’M the one who put in the work to keep you. I invested years of my life on you, I poured my heart and soul into your every damn breath!”

“Yeah, you did. But then you PUSHED ME AWAY!” As you say this your voice rises, and you try to pull away from him, but it’s no use.

“As I said, y/n. I have my reasons.”

“Uh huh, ‘I have my reasons, I have my reasons’. Blah blah blah, all I hear from you is bullshit because you’ve never GIVEN me any of these mysterious reasons!” You bark back at him, your blood boiling.

The hold he has on your wrist gets stronger, making you quietly groan in pain. “You…you wouldn’t understand.” Mihawk responds in a rough and angry tone.

“You keep saying that…” You say in a defeated voice as you keep looking into his eyes, the man you once loved completely gone.

“I mean it, it’s just…complicated.” He says, frustration clear on his face.

“Whatever asshole, let go of me.” You can’t help insulting him, even though it feels like a knife through your chest.

“As I already said, I can’t let go. I won’t let you ‘have fun’ with someone who isn’t me. But you don’t listen, do you? Typical.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I never listen! You KNOW I do, I was the one person who always listened to you! Why do you have to be like this?” You say a little pleadingly, getting increasingly uncomfortable with the pain.

“You clearly aren’t listening to me, you are MINE.” He says in a dark tone.

This situation is internally freaking you out, he looks like he’ll snap you in half or throw you into his basement. The parties too loud for anyone to hear your fight, plus no one can see you, meaning you need to get out of this all by yourself.

“I’m not yours. We’re broken up! How many times do I have to repeat that? I feel like I’m going crazy. I can hangout with whoever I want, even Law.” You yell at him, feeling like his hand is gonna leave a mark.

“So, what is he to you then? A boyfriend? A lover?? I swear if he’s seen you without your clothes I’ll-”

“Okay, enough. I don’t have to answer that.”

“Yes you do, tell me. Now.” Mihawk leans his face a bit forward towards yours, so close you can smell the strong alcohol on his breath.

“He’s not my boyfriend, happy?” You say in a growl.

“No.” He glares at you, and you know exactly what question he wants answered.

“Fine…we aren’t lovers. Now let me go.” You say darkly as he leans back out from you.

“I’ll never let you go again, I’m not letting a man take what’s mine, I claimed you a long time ago.” His voice low, but there’s a hint of satisfaction after finding out you haven’t slept together.

Your voice comes out harsh and angry. “Don’t start with me again, you don’t ‘claim’ someone. Do you realize how deranged you sound?”

“I spent years caring for you, fucking you and giving you my heart. Nothing will ever change that, not even breaking up, no matter how much you protest or tell me otherwise. ” Mihawk ignores your question.

“All that doesn’t mean shit when you’re the one who poured it all down the drain like it was nothing.” You spit back, feeling like you’re gonna cry from the mention of it all.

“It doesn’t mean shit huh? Well, it does. You’re MY woman.” He says firmly.

“I am NOT your woman! And you know exactly what led to that fact. Now LET GO, and let me get back to the party.” Your voice raising again, desperate to get out of this, deep fear growing in your stomach.

“The only way you’re going back to the party is if you’re going with ME.”

Before you can respond, the intense feeling of his tightening grip grows, so you let out a whimper of pain. “I’m not going to the party with you. I’m here with my friends, people who actually care for me.”

“From now on, I won’t let you out of my sight for a moment. You’re staying by my side, and then we’re going back to our house where you belong.” Mihawks’ response is rough and final.

Dread washes over you, he looks and sounds really serious about that, which is horrifying.

“You’re delusional! Do you really think I’d spend the rest of my night with you, then go back to a house I don’t even live in anymore?” You shout erratically.

“You don’t have a choice, you’re coming home with me tonight. And I will NEVER let you go again.” He growls at you, getting in your face.

Tears sting your eyes from the pain, frustration and fright. You can’t help but speak to him in a frustrated tone. “To hell I’m going home with you! Last I heard you don’t even live there anymore either, you’re living with Shanks!”

“I still own the house. I just…didn’t want to stay there for a while. So stop fighting me, I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

“You’re insane!” You yell angrily, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Maybe I am insane, but I couldn’t care less. You belong to ME, y/n.” Mihawk jerks your arm forcefully making you fall forward into his chest. His hand unwavering as you try to free your arm to move away.

You feel a searing pain in your wrist from how hard he’s holding you, and you whimper out. “OW OW OW Mihawk you’re hurting me!”

He scoffs. “I don’t care if I’m hurting you.”

Those words feel like a stab to the heart.

“You’re mine and you’re coming home with me, end of discussion. You can struggle with your weak pathetic little arms of yours but there’s no use, you're not getting away from me.” Mihawks’ voice is cold, his insults breaking your heart into more pieces.

You feel an overwhelming sense of panic, pain and hurt, as you struggle to get your wrist out of his grasp. “You don’t care that you’re hurting me? You’re gonna leave a damn bruise!”

“I don’t care if I leave a bruise, that just means my mark will be on your skin, telling everyone who you belong to.” He responds darkly.

Tears begin rolling down your cheeks, the pain of your wrist growing, and the terror you feel overwhelming. “Just leave me the hell alone!” You whimper out desperately.

“Stop resisting me, you’re mine and you’re coming home with me. That’s FINAL” Mihawk barks out, his eyes glancing over your tears.

“No, no! It’s not final, please just let me go. Don’t you understand? I barely felt welcome in ‘our home’ when we WERE together!” More tears running down your cheeks, but your pleading only furthering his hold on you.

“Again, that doesn’t matter. I’ll die before I let you be with another man.” He yells at you harshly, you whimper again as your pleads land on deaf ears.

You begin crying a little harder, groaning louder, the pain so intense and constant.

“Stop resisting me. You can struggle and cry all you like, y/n, but you’re coming home with me and I’ll show you I’m the only man for you.” He says darkly, but his voice is laced with slight guilt as you cry harder. Mihawk never liked it when you cried.

“OW! Y-you’re not the one for me, you treated me like I was worthless!” You sob, your knees starting to feel a little weak.

“Oh, shut up. I didn’t treat you like that. I just had a lot going on, I never stopped loving you.” He yells harshly, his voice slightly desperate.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you acted like you didn’t love me, you can’t just say you had a lot going on!” You plead.

Mihawk’s grip on your wrist is only growing fiercer, his eyes dark and wild as you plead and cry. “I do love you, I always have and I always will. You belong in our house where I can keep you safe.”

“Please let go…it hurts…it hurts so much…” Your sobs sounding weak.

“I can’t…I know I was a shitty boyfriend, but you still belong with me. Why can’t you see that?” This time his voice is laced with anguish and stress, the darkness in his eyes lessening ever so slightly.

“No, no…no…please let me go…it hurts so badly…” You plead through your sobs.

“I know I’m hurting you, but I can’t handle the thought of you being with another man. It’s MY job to make sure you’re safe and happy.” Mihawk mutters.

“No…you’re the one who made me UNHAPPY for MONTHS! So let me go.” You whimper in pain.

He doesn’t release you, instead his face twists in guilt. “I can’t…I promise I’ll make you happy, you just have to come home with me, that’s all you have to do. Please…calm down y/n.” His voice softens as he begs.

You sob even harder, knowing nothing would get resolved. “You won’t make me happy! I begged with you for months to tell me what’s wrong, and I tried everything to make you feel loved. But I got nothing in return! Even now, you won’t tell me what happened.”

Mihawks’ frustration rises again, speaking harshly, his voice ragged. “I’ll make up for it.”

“You’ll make up for it? Then what the hell is THIS? You truly don’t care about me, do you? If you cared for me you’d let me have a nice night, but instead you’re inflicting pain on me. Let go!” You sob.

“I can’t…don’t you understand? I’ll do anything to keep you…I promise I’ll take care of you. I’m sorry it hurts…” Mihawk responds roughly, searching your eyes.

You feel intense anger rising up again, but you still sob uncontrollably. “Don’t give me those lies! You won’t take care of me! Did you take care of me while I was crying beside you in bed? Did you take care of me when I was crying and pleading for you to tell me what’s wrong? Did you take care of me when I got really sick and you continued to ignore me? Did you take care of me when I had a rough day and I was crying on the couch? NO!!! I PRACTICALLY SPENT 6 MONTHS ALONE, DESPITE MY BOYFRIEND BEING IN THE HOUSE. BUT YOU ACTED LIKE I WASN’T THERE AND TREATED ME LIKE A CONSTANT NUISANCE!”

He tenses up. “I’m sorr-”

“DON’T! DON’T YOU DARE SAY SORRY YOU BASTARD!” You yell at him through heavy sobs.

“...but you belong with me.” He responds in a ragged whisper.

“I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE EVER AGAIN.” You scream.

“Don’t say that…you don’t mean that.” He whispers, his face grief stricken.

“YOU’RE A COLD, STOIC AND HEARTLESS MONSTER!” You say at the top of your lungs, still crying.

“Please…I love you…” He breathes out raggedly, sounding sincere as he pleads, the grip on your wrist finally loosening slightly.

“No…you don’t! Let me go…please…it hurts…it hurts Mihawk please…” You sob and plead, at this point you’re beyond terrified.

“I don’t know how…” He whispers sadly.

“Then I have no choice…” You sob, while Mihawk furrows his brow in confusion.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swinging your leg back to get some force going, and kick him in the nuts.

He gasps in pain and immediately lets go of your wrist, his whole body doubling over as he sinks to his knees while clutching his groin.

You open your eyes, your hand on your very bruised wrist. The sight of him lying on the ground groaning in pain making your heart clench. You keep sobbing heavily as you force your legs to start moving, your muscles stinging in protest.

“Please don’t go…please…don’t go…” You can hear Mihawk whisper to himself as you leave, but you don’t turn back, and instead stumble into the crowd.

Your eyes try to scan your surroundings through your heavy tears, tripping over people's feet as you try to navigate the rooms, feeling like you’re going to have a panic attack if you stay here any longer. When you finally see who you’re looking for you whimper from relief, quickly going towards her.

“Robin…” You sob desperately.

Robin looks up from the conversation she’s having, her eyes immediately widening at the sight of you crying. “What happened? What’s wrong??”

You collapse into her arms, both of you sinking to the floor. “It was…Mihawk. Please take me home.”

Her eyes narrow at the mention of Mihawk, and she firmly holds you as she helps you stand back up. She swiftly leads you out of the house and onto the front lawn, the cold wind hitting your face, feeling a bit more at ease now that you’re out of the crowded noisy house.. “What did he do, honey?” She gently places her hands on your shoulders.

You can’t help but continue crying, so instead of saying anything you take your hand off of your wrist and show her the damage.

She gasps, immediately taking your wrist and assesses it. “That…fucker.” Is all she manages to say. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you home, you can take a shower and I’ll make you some tea.”

You nod, still sobbing uncontrollably. Robin puts her arm around your shoulders, and starts to lead you back to your house.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk remains slumped on the ground behind the bush, his hands still on his groin, desperately trying to soothe the pain, letting out soft groans. He’s so hazy from the alcohol he’s consumed tonight that thankfully the pain levels aren’t at the max, but it’s still excruciating. He can’t believe you actually kicked him.

The memories of your conversation consume his mind, but everything seems so unreal right now. He starts to silently cry to himself, his emotions too strong to keep bottled up.

He doesn’t know how long he stays on the ground for, but he definitely feels very sick and extremely exhausted. It probably wasn’t a good idea to mix all that alcohol, and so damn much of it.

Notes: I really enjoyed making him so possessive in this, I was giggling the entire time lol

Chapter 2: The Aftermath

Notes: This chapter is a little shorter♡ I wanted to write about what happened after their huge fight! I’ll be getting into the more dramatic stuff in the next chapter, so stay tuned ;) Content warning though, there is a little area that is about throwing up, so if that’s not for you don’t read or skip Mihawks' part.

You slowly come back to reality from your deep slumber. Your bedsheets feel smooth, your heart rate slow, the air you breathe crisp. The sounds of people merrily talking and walking on the street start to hit your ears, letting you know the world has begun moving again. The birds singing melodic songs as they chat amongst themselves, and the ocean crashing onto the shore creates a sense of peace. You start to smell the candles that were lit last night, and the unmistakable smell of waffles drifting through the air. The sunlight from your windows shine past your closed eyelids, kindly telling you it’s morning, gently coaxing you to get out of bed.

But your mind isn’t fully awake yet, so you lay there for a few moments to get used to being half conscious again. Everything's so calm, as if you’re on a cloud, not even knowing who you are or where you are. Unfortunately, when you wake up, the memories of the night before return to you.

As your haziness starts to fade, your focus is shifted to your aching wrist…and your eyes suddenly snap open, the light making you wince. The recollection of what happened comes slamming into you like a train.

The party, dancing and laughing with Law, Mihawks’ angry and possessive demeanor, the loud and heated argument, the strong hold on your wrist, and the kick to his groin. Your heart starts beating faster, and the once calm morning sounds begin to have a bitter edge to them.

You spend no more time laying in your bed, the adrenaline kicking you into high gear. Your body aches in protest as you sit up, and you run your hands over your face.

“Dammit…” You curse under your breath, your head buried in your hands.

Lifting your head back up, you take a deep breath, this is gonna be one hell of a long day. Despite your reluctance, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, standing up, and walking over to the chair where you left your clothes.

As you lazily get dressed, the pain in your wrist reminds you of everything that happened, and you feel a pang of hurt in your heart. You had been enjoying your night, Law was sweet and charming, you were looking forward to spending more time with him. Mihawk just had to intrude, and you were hoping to push him out of your mind for once…

You let out a weary sigh, nothing makes sense anymore. A growling noise from your stomach brings your hunger to attention and reminding you of the comforting smell of waffles. For the time being, you’ll try to push aside the memories so you can focus on breakfast. You open the door and leave your room, starting to walk down the hallway.

There’s music from the radio emitting through the air as you walk down the stairs, and you can hear Robin humming to herself in your kitchen.

Robin gives you a kind smile when she sees you, waving away some of the waffle smoke from her face. “Good morning y/n, how did you sleep?”

You lethargically walk over to the window and open it up, letting the smoke out. “I slept alright I guess…” You appreciate her warm welcome as you walk into the dining room.

“That’s good, honey. I’m nearly done with the waffles, it’s a miracle you have all the ingredients in your kitchen.” Robin says softly as she puts on another waffle.

“Yeah, I haven’t gone shopping for a while.” You reply tiredly, sitting down at the table and resting your chin on your palm. Your eyes look over your bruised wrist, which is resting on the table.

As the waffles keep cooking and Robin continues to hum to the music, your mind keeps going back to Mihawk. You feel overwhelming emotions starting to bubble over, now that you’re more awake. A lump forms in your throat and you put your hands over your face, taking a deep breath in hopes that it’ll just go away. It doesn’t go away, and tears that had been accumulating in the corner of your eyes spill onto your cheeks.

A few minutes go by and you hear the clink of a plate hitting the table top. You remove your hands slightly and you see Robin laying out the waffles, plates, cups and cutlery. You sniff and wipe away your tears, doing your best to compose yourself as she finishes setting the table.

Robin sits beside you and gently caresses your back. “Eat some food, maybe you’ll-…uhh never mind.” She smiles and retracts her hand, putting some waffles on her plate.

You smile faintly as you also grab a waffle. “Thank you…” Your voice slightly hoarse.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the music from the radio filling the room.

As you pick up the cutlery, you can’t help wondering why Robin cut herself off, but you shrug it off. You take your first bite, the flavors hit your tongue like an explosion on your tastebuds. They're buttery, not too sugary and the texture is so soft. “Damn, these are really good.” You murmur as you take another bite.

Robin smiles to herself, and the two of you continue to eat.

The taste of food helps take your mind off things a little, but you don’t begin to feel any better. Your minds still clouded, the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks again.

The two of you finish eating and Robin begins cleaning up, assuring you that it’s fine she does it herself as she doesn’t want you to exert yourself.

While Robin finishes cleaning, you retreat to the living room and plop down onto the couch. Your tears take no time to escape your eyes, and you sigh softly, leaning forward and burying your face in your hands.

You pay no mind to the sounds going on in the background, your mind faded into a pit of sadness and distress. The overwhelming feeling of everything crushing you into the ground.

“Let me have a look at your wrist, y/n.” Robin says as you feel her sit down next to you and reassuringly puts her hand on your back. You groan and move your hands, putting your hurt wrist onto her lap, revealing the red marks and bruises.

She looks at you worriedly, gently removing your tears with her thumb. You can see Robins’ got some bandages and ointment bottles on her lap. “…how’s the pain today?” She says softly.

“Mmm…pretty bad.” You wipe some of your tears away, your body shudders as you remember the reason behind the bruises.

“Aww, honey. That’s not good. I’ll get it fixed as best as I can, okay?” Robin says soothingly as she gently takes your wrist to inspect it.

You wince as she touches you, clenching your skirt with your other hand. “Okay. T-thank you.” You choke out.

She sighs as she looks you over, opening one of the ointments and lathers some on her hand. Robin begins to gently rub the cold liquid on your dark purple skin, being light with her fingers.

As her soft care washes over you, you feel the overwhelming tenderness of the injury. The physical, and mental. “Why-...why did he have to do that?”

“He just seems like an angry and sad person, but that doesn’t excuse his actions.” Robin responds, her eyes darkening slightly at the mention of Mihawk.

“It was just so intense…I just-...I just wanted to have a night without conflicts or drama.” You mutter sadly, tears streaming down your face.

She continues to apply the ointment, speaking softer now. “I know, I know. It wasn’t fair on you, he should’ve kept to himself.”

Tears fall down your face faster. “It really wasn’t fair, and I can’t believe he hurt me. When we were together…he promised to never lay a hand on me.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “Any man who hurts a woman deserves to go to hell.”

“What do I do? He said he’s still in love with me, and then threatened to take me to ‘our house’ whether I want to or not. He was so scary, Robin…” You look at her with distraught eyes.

She thinks to herself for a moment, finishing off rubbing the ointment in. “y/n…that’s not how someone in love should act, even if they’re drunk. He was acting extremely possessive and controlling, which is a huge red flag. Don’t go anywhere near him, okay?”

You nod your head, taking a shuddering breath.

Robin starts to put a bandage on your wrist, thinking for a moment before responding. “Do you still…love him?”

Silence falls over the two of you and you avert your eyes, hesitating. Despite everything, you still missed Mihawk. “I…I love the guy he used to be…” You murmur sadly.

“That makes sense. It’s okay, I’ll help you through this, I promise. Just remember who he is now, an aggressive and dangerous person.” She says tenderly.

“O-okay…” You say quietly.

She finishes putting the bandage around your wrist and puts everything to the side. “There, that should help the healing process. Let me know if it gets worse.” Robin says as she puts her arms around you, bringing you closer to her.

You put your arms around her waist and rest your head on her shoulder, softly crying onto her shirt as she rubs your back.

Robin runs her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you to the best of her abilities. It feels comforting to be in her arms, feeling her kind warmth. The room feeling more pleasant in her embrace.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk wakes up from his restless slumber and immediately groans in pain, his head pounding. The injury he acquired last night shooting through his body, his heart rate spiking. The bed sheets feel rough on his skin, serving as an unwelcome reality check. Sounds of two boys arguing on the street and shuffling of feet are heard through the closed window, letting him know the world is the same as ever. And the birds seem to be silent, or just not around. There’s also an unmistakable suffocating smell of musk, puke, sweat and the heat is close to clammy. The room is dark and unwelcoming, the curtains filtering out the light from outside. Not even a flicker of sunlight touching his pale skin.

He reaches his hands down and clutches his groin, groaning into his pillow and curling into a ball. Mihawk memories from last night wash over him like a cold bucket of water. Anger, self hatred, disappointment and shame fill him all at once. His memories reminding him of how stupid he was last night.

He remembers the god awful party, his unease, seeing you with Law, his extreme anger, drinking who knows how much, dragging you off somewhere, yelling at you, the constant harsh and possessive words, the hold on your wrist that left a dark bruise, you kicking his groin and leaving him there on the ground. Mihawk also remembers the aftermath.

He groans again as he remembers throwing up into the bush for a while on his hands and knees, the pain or the alcohol spurring it on, who knows. Shanks found him a while later, drunk as a skunk, and dragged Mihawk back to his house. For the rest of the night until the early hours, Mihawk spent them throwing up in the bathroom until his throat was sore and his body weak. He doesn’t know when he managed to fall asleep, just that he hasn’t been asleep for that long.

Mihawk whimpers to himself as he tries to keep his bearings, his mind still slightly hazy from just gaining consciousness again. He remembers the look on your face when he grabbed your wrist-...There’s a loud slam of a door opening down the hall, and he can hear Shanks running to the bathroom, hurling into the toilet.

He winces and puts the duvet over his head, wanting to drown everything out, one hand still on his groin and the other rubbing his temple to try and lessen the headache. Mihawk can’t help but feel overwhelming guilt, shame and disgust. He can’t believe he let his feelings blow up like that last night, and towards you of all people. Nothing in that moment mattered when he saw you with that prick, so he unleashed everything on you, all his claims and threats. He hurt you. He ruined everything, more than it already was.

However, anger still lingers under the surface of his skin, even though he’s woken up with a lot of regrets. He still doesn’t like that you were with that dumbass, touching you and making you laugh. A part of him can’t help but be glad he got you away from Law, but at what cost?

A wave of dread washes over him when he suddenly remembers how he talked to you, Mihawks’ possessive side flared up in the worst possible way. He remembers when you liked his possessiveness, but you aren’t together anymore. But in his drunken state he didn’t care, he just wanted you back. He softly whimpers again, shutting his eyes tightly, he hates himself. Hates how he treated you, hurt you and scared you. Everything he did was wrong and idiotic, he was a complete prick.

After a few minutes he decides he needs to check his wound, so he opens his eyes and takes the duvet off his head, opening the curtains beside him. The sun barely makes it into the room, a large tree blocking the sunlight. Mihawk takes a deep breath and sits up, his stomach searing with pain, his head hammering and his nausea still present. He takes a deep breath to try and collect himself for what he’s about to see, before he pulls the duvet off of his legs. Mihawk slips his finger under his boxers, he gently lifts them just enough to see the damage. His eyes widen slightly. His nuts are completely inflamed, bruised and red, they’ve never looked…this…bad before. Despite the sight, Mihawk can’t hold back the half smile at the sight, Miss y/n can really pack a kick.

Mihawk decides to just remove his boxers, tossing them aside. The mere feel of them on his inflamed skin is too much to handle. He takes a deep breath after removing them, the tenderness feeling slightly more calm. But a moment later the heat and discomfort set in again.

He takes a few moments to gather any strength before he slowly pushes himself up off of the bed as carefully he can, his stomach and balls flaring up again. Mihawk slowly shuffles over to the wardrobe to fetch some loose fitting pants, the pain searing the whole way. He slowly opens the wardrobe and looks through it. He hopes it won’t irritate his sensitive nuts and stomach too much, already feeling like they’re being ripped apart.

Thankfully he finds some good pants, but even as they settle on him, the fabric still rubs him in all the wrong areas. But he has no choice but to endure it for now.

Mihawk walks across his room, wincing as he goes, opening the door to step into the hallway. He takes a deep breath and starts making his way down it, going to the bathroom where Shanks is still puking his guts out.

“You alright?” Mihawk says roughly, reaching Shanks who’s hunched over the toilet. His stomach churns more than it already is, watching as he throws up again.

“Yeah…I’m fine. Just…really hungover.” Shanks responds breathlessly, sweat dripping down his nose and back.

Mihawk silently assesses his state, before speaking again. “I’m sure you are, I told you to be careful last night, redhair. Do you have some Aspirin or something?”

Shanks grunts weakly, not appreciating his comment. “Yeah…it’s on the counter behind me.”

“Alright then, try not to puke again while I grab it.” Mihawk says, going to the counter and picking up some aspirin, his stomach doing another flip. He doesn’t wait to get any water and just immediately swallows it.

Shanks murmurs weakly. “So…what happened to you last night?”

Mihawk freezes slightly. “Nothing.”

A heavy silence falls over them, Mihawk can tell Shanks feels disappointed he won’t open up…again. Guilt starts to creep in but he pushes it aside.

Mihawk moves to the door frame and gives one last look at Shanks before leaving, he can see the hurt in his expression and Mihawks’ heart clenches. But he doesn’t say anything, instead he goes to the kitchen, intending to get some food.

He practically limps there, the pain excruciating. Mihawk knows the only option for food is bread, as Shanks doesn’t exactly take care of household needs. So he walks to the container and brings out a piece, unfortunately it’s a little stale, but it’ll have to do. Mihawk then starts his search through the cupboards to find any sort of spread, but to no avail. He groans to himself, running his hand down his face, he knew he should have gone shopping yesterday.

Mihawk cuts his losses and leans against the counter, not daring to sit on a hard surface right now. He takes a bite of the stale bread, the flavors dull on his tongue.

As he eats, Mihawk is accompanied by the sounds of Shanks’ retching echoing through the house, so it isn’t completely silent.

The longer he stands there, the more emotional he becomes. It’s just all so shit. He can’t help but let tears roll down his cheeks as he chews and swallows, dissociating as he looks down at the dirty floor. Mihawks’ mind goes to you. Your fearful, hurt and confused expression plagues his thoughts and he knows it’s all his fault. But also a little anger, not being able to erase the image of Law holding your waist.

He can’t manage to consume any more food, so he puts the half eaten slice down onto the counter, despite still being hungry. He just feels like the worst person in the world. Mihawk slowly walks to the freezer and opens it up. He searches through it, knowing what he needs has to be in here somewhere.

After a few moments he lets out a sigh of relief when his eyes spot it, small bags of ice. Mihawk eagerly grabs one of the bags. He can almost feel the pain and discomfort easing as he holds it.

He retreats with a limp back off to the guest room, shutting the door behind him and immediately removing his pants. Getting into bed and with his back leaning against the headboard.

A deep breath escapes him as he looks at his groin, knowing what he’s about to do isn’t going to feel too good. He slowly lowers the ice onto his nuts and groans, the cold feels good but the contact is still difficult to bear. He keeps one hand on his groin to hold the ice in place, and his other hand gently resting on his stomach. Mihawk leans his head against the headboard and looks at the roof, last night swirling around and haunting his mind.

What in the world is he meant to do? He doubts you’d ever want to speak to him again, or see him again…and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you. It was stupid to make all of those decisions, he made all of his issues into your issues…maybe leaving the party would have been the better move. But on the other hand, he still doesn’t want you with someone else…but he knows he went way too far.

He could leave this town and never look back, forget about you, Shanks and everyone else. Mihawk could live a life of extreme solitude, find a home on some abandoned island, living the rest of his days in isolation.

He sighs, knowing it won’t really fix anything, since he’d just be running away from his problems. And he would probably go insane, since he’d only be talking to himself. He knows he can’t forget about you, no matter how hard he tries. But it’s a tempting idea, maybe he’ll feel less alone and hur-

Mihawk suddenly loses his breath. He’s thinking of avoiding his issues again…just like he did with you. But maybe this time…it could help him feel better for a brief moment.

He breathes out. Maybe he could talk to you, if you let him, and then-…

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, he’s stuck and doesn’t have any control. Mihawk can’t even bring himself to tell Shanks either, so how is he supposed to navigate this? It’s all such a mess, a big ugly mess. It’s hopeless.

He feels his head drop and he puts one hand in front of his eyes, his emotions getting the better of him. Mihawk begins to softly cry into his palm, his tears heavy and thick, his sobs deep and painful. The pain gets worse in his nuts but he can’t control it right now.

It feels suffocating in this empty space, feeling the harsh loneliness. The room feels more unbearable as the only embrace is the darkness that surrounds him.

Notes: This chapter was so fun to make! I LOVED making the parallels between the two, and poor Mihawk is really going through it.

Chapter 3: Turning the Page

Notes: This chapter answers a lot of questions so get ready! I’m sad this fanfics come to an end since I’ve LOVED making Mihawk into the messiest young adult, but I’m really happy with how I made the drama unfold and I hope you are too♡ 

It’s been around 4 days since the party and the altercation, 4 days of aching and misery for Mihawk. He’s barely slept, his swollen throbbing nuts are also a constant reminder of his drunken behavior and your kick. He’s irritable, exhausted and his stern expression is darker than normal. Shanks has tried to talk to him multiple times but he won’t open up, so he’s settled for fussing over Mihawk like a mother. Which Mihawk really does appreciate, even if he doesn’t show it very well. It’s not like Redhair to be so distressed. Mihawk suspects Shanks’ worry was more due to the situation and not his injury, and the guilt he must have felt for leaving Mihawk alone that night. 

Since Mihawk hasn’t been able to do much, he’s been  laying or sitting around, or crying in his room. He’s guessing he could have filled at least a large bucket with his tears by now, maybe even more. His mind involuntarily trails to his relationship with you, the good parts. He reminisces about all the mornings when he was too tired to function, so you shaved his facial hair for him. Helping to get your shoes off while you’re holding a million shopping bags that you insisted you could ‘handle’. But he tries to keep these memories at bay, he doesn’t want to get too consumed by them. Especially since he doubts anything can get fixed now, considering the hell he’s put you through. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Mihawk sits at the edge of Shanks’ porch, his feet in the grass, an ice pack at his groin, under the shade of the house. Occasionally wincing from the pain. The trees sway in the wind as a light breeze runs through, the smell of flowers surrounding the garden and frogs jumping into the pond to escape the other wildlife. But instead of really looking at the serene world around him, his mind focuses on all the mistakes he’s made. It’s his default now…thinking about everything that happened. 

He sighs, he finally made a decision this morning. It took a few days and some mental back and forth to get to it. Whether this decision is good or bad, he doesn’t entirely know. But he’s come to his own conclusion on what he has to do next. 

He’s gonna try and talk to you, to apologize. 

Mihawk figured there would be no point in running away again, nothing would be settled and he’d regret it. Even if you don’t accept his apology, which he’s already prepared himself for, it’ll be a sort of closure…he’s hoping. 

But he doesn’t know what’s going to happen when he shows up at your apartment, he’ll probably get kicked to the curb. But he has to try…right?

“Mmm, you should take that stick out for a date since you like it so much.” Shanks chuckles, startling Mihawk slightly. In his zoned out state he didn’t realize he was staring at a stick that lay in front of him, and he definitely didn’t realize Redhair was behind him. 

“Sh-shut it. I was just concentrating.” Mihawk grumbles, avoiding Shanks’ gaze. 

Shanks chuckles again, sitting down beside Mihawk. 

“What are you thinking about? And for the love of god don’t say ‘nothing’.” 

Mihawk opens his mouth to tell him ‘it’s nothing’ again. But before he can respond, Shanks cuts him off.

“Please, Dracule. I’m anxious about you, okay? Just give me something.” 

Mihawk sighs deeply. The troubled and pleading look in Shanks’ eyes makes him feel guilty. “It’s complicated…” He starts, fiddling with his jacket.

Shanks keeps his eyes trained on Mihawk, holding his breath in hopes he’ll keep going.

“I’m going to apologize to y/n, happy now?” Mihawk says slowly and carefully.

“That’s a start, but you still haven’t told me about what you did.” Redhair responds softly. 

“You’ll judge me…” Mihawk says quietly. 

“I won’t judge you, you should know that by now…when are you going to apologize to her?” 

“Tonight…” Mihawk mutters, still not looking at Redhair. 

Shanks sighs, putting his hand on Mihawks’ shoulder, not saying anything more.

Mihawk appreciates the calm silence. He feels like the last few hours before he goes to your house are going to be the quiet before the storm. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The cold air hits Mihawks’ cheeks, making them slightly red as he walks through the urban area. His palms are clammy and there’s an underlying feeling of dread. His footsteps are the only thing heard in the dark empty avenue, everyone seems to be relaxing after dinnertime. Mihawks’ still walking with a slight limp, the pain and discomfort from his injury still very much present. 

His breathing starts getting a little more uneven the closer he gets to your home, he wants to turn back but he forces his legs to keep moving. Mihawk can’t help but think over all the possible scenarios, each one being worse than the last. 

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches your street. He takes out the piece of paper with your address on it with a shaky hand. Mihawk looks it over quickly just to make sure, before putting it back. 

“Fuck…” He mutters to himself, feeling his heartbeat quicken when he sees your house. This is really happening. 

Finally reaching your doorstep, Mihawk swallows thickly, his body shaking uncontrollably, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He tries taking a few deep breaths but it doesn’t work, he’s too on edge. Mihawk groans to himself, running his hands down his face in distress and overwhelm. 

Before he’s tempted to leave, Mihawk quickly reaches his hand up and knocks on the door before he can wimp out. He’s got no choice but to go forward with it now. 

A few moments pass and he hears someone walking on the other side, making him tremble even more, feeling like he’ll throw up. Which really wouldn’t make a good impression.

The door opens, but instead of you standing there, it’s Robin. She immediately furrows her brow and glares at Mihawk, and starts to swing the door shut. 

But before it closes, he jams his foot in the way. “Please…I need to talk to y/n.” Mihawk quietly pleads through the crack of the door. 

“Get out of here, bastard. She doesn’t want to see you, and I don’t want you near her.” Robin speaks in a hushed angry tone. 

“P-please…I’ll keep my distance, just let me talk to her.” Mihawk pleads again, his voice shaking. 

Robin huffs to herself, looking him over suspiciously. “I’ll go ask her, stay here.” 

Before he can thank her, she kicks his foot hard so that she can close the door, slamming it in his face. Mihawk takes a deep shaky breath, hoping you’ll say yes, and biting his lip from the pain.

A couple of minutes later the door opens again and Robin looks at him with her piercing eyes. He feels dizzy from the anxiety of anticipation.

“She’ll talk to you. But before you come inside, are you drunk?” Robin says sternly.

“N-no, I haven’t drunk since…” Mihawk trails off, unable to meet Robins’ eyes. 

She scoffs under her breath, clearly not happy with the current situation. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You walk down the stairs, your hand gripping the railing from unease. Agreeing to talk to Mihawk maybe isn’t for the best, but you’re hoping to get something out of it. 

As you step onto the floor and go towards the front door, you see Mihawk standing there beside Robin. He looks like a fucking wreck. 

He’s got dark circles under his eyes, his body visibly trembling and his clothing is anything but neat. You take a breath and look away from him, not wanting to look at him longer than you have to. 

“What do you want?” You manage to say, your voice a forced murmur. 

He takes a deep breath. “I need to…apologize to you. If you’ll let me.” 

You look up at Robin, who’s got her arms crossed and shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well then…go ahead.” You mutter.

“No I-...I want to do it properly, to sit down with you. Please?” He says pleadingly. 

You sigh. “And you won’t come near me?” 

Mihawk furiously shakes his head. “I won’t come near you, I promise, y/n.”

“Fine…Robin I can deal with this, I’ll let you know if I need you.” You say quietly. 

Robin seems skeptical but accepts that you need time alone to talk. She comes over to you and whispers.

“If he does ANYTHING, I’ll be at my house.” She squeezes your arm and you nod. 

As Robin leaves she can’t help but glare at Mihawk again, a shiver running down his spine from her silent threat. Once she’s gone he shuts the door and turns to you, his eyes lowered.

You groan to yourself and start walking to the living room, Mihawk silently following after you. 

Two couches are up against neighboring walls so you don’t have to sit beside Mihawk. You both sit down, taking a seat furthest from him.

Heavy silence falls over the house, Mihawk's unsteady breathing and his rapid heartbeat being the only indication that people are here. 

He finally looks up at you, his face contorted with shame. You look at him for a moment before looking away again, you can’t bring yourself to keep eye contact just yet.

Mihawk clears his throat, speaking shakily. “I’m really, really sorry, y/n. I w-was a prick, an asshole, an idiot and I was completely out of line. I-”

He swallows, the silence looming over the two of you again.

“I made horrible decisions that I really regret. I’m…god, I’m so sorry…I never should have hurt you, and I never should have…taken it so far.” He manages to finish, his voice filled with regret.

You listen to him quietly, taking in his words. He sounds sincere, for the first time in a long while.

“Just because you apologize, doesn’t make it all okay.” You say shakily.

“I-I know, I know that. But you…you deserve an apology.” He responds.

“What happened that night.” You say firmly as you get to the point, leaving no room for him to lie or get out of it. You know it’s a sudden shift to the discussion, but you need answers.

“I lost my mind.” He shamefully whispers.

“Take me through it, all the details.” You say slightly shakily, your body tensing in preparation for what you’re about to hear.

Mihawk quivers slightly, looking at his hands. “Well…it started when I saw you dancing with that assh-I mean uhh…Law. I saw how close you two were, like you were flirting or something. I just…couldn’t handle it, I lost it. And it didn’t help that I was already on edge, I was dealing with anxiety just by being at the party, especially when Shanks left me alone. So to try and deal with it all, I drank…a lot. I had…5…maybe 6 bottles…I don’t know. I was just so angry, overwhelmed and jealous, more than I ever have been in my entire life.”

You had suspected he drank a lot, but not that much. And you’ve never seen or heard Mihawk this broken before, he’s usually calm, keeping his emotions and speech in check. Instead he’s fumbling over his words like a moron. 

He continues. “So then after I drank, I sat down to..watch you…” He whispers the last part, his cheeks flushing.

“You watched me and Law?” You ask with a hint of disbelief.

“Y-yeah…I’m sorry for that too. But after a while I had enough, so I went to confront you and then…you know the rest.” Mihawk says, taking another deep and shaky breath. 

While you keep silent his eyes flicker down to your wrist, that’s still bandaged, another wave of guilt etched on his face. “I’m sorry for hurting you, I can’t believe I did that…” 

“I…” You begin. “This is a lot to take in, I wasn’t expecting you to apologize.”

He nods. “Yeah, I honestly thought that I’d…”

Another silence falls over the house. You glance over at Mihawk who’s white as a sheet.

“Seeing you with that guy, it was like the breakup was set in stone.” He says quietly, his voice laced with despair. “Like I could never get you back.”

You look away from him. “You should have gone home.”

He visibly flinches, taking another breath. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and lie to you. I don’t regret taking you away from him. I regret how I did it, I regret drinking so much, I regret how I hurt you and yelled at you. I should have calmly talked to you, but I was too out of my mind for anything like that.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to you either way.” You mutter, pain clutching at your chest.

“But it would have been better than what I ended up doing.” He sighs.

“I looked into your eyes and you weren’t there. You were so…scary. ” You say quietly. 

He leans forward and puts his head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I know I was. I wasn’t the man you used to care for, I don’t even recognise myself. Never in my life did I want to be seen as scary to you, seeing the look on your face…I’ll never forget it. I always swore to protect you, not hurt you. I hate myself for it.” 

A few tears roll down your cheeks as well, the pain in your chest only increasing. “Why didn’t you let me go? I was crying…”

Mihawk shudders, the reminder of the incident taking over. “I regret holding onto you so tightly. I just couldn’t let go. I didn’t know how to…I don’t know how to let you go. You’re the love of my life. I can’t even begin to explain the irrational fear and possession I felt that night. 

“You said you didn’t care that you were hurting me.” You mutter chokingly. 

“I wish I could tell you I didn’t mean it, but I did. I didn’t care about anything else, I needed you to be mine again. Even if that meant I was hurting you. Although, after a while I came to my senses a bit more…that’s when you kicked me.” 

You nod, remembering that a few minutes before you kicked him that he had panicked a bit, his guilt seeping through his anger. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Served me right, I threw up into the bushes a few minutes later. Then when Shanks took me to his, I spent the rest of the night puking my guts out which I deserved as well.” He states, wiping away some tears.

Despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but feel worried over his health. “Really? All night?” 

“Mhmm, I couldn’t stop, everything I drank just got hurled out of me for hours. I couldn’t get a decent sleep either…” Mihawk cringes to himself as he trails off, the memory clearly being unpleasant. 

“Oh…” You would say more, tell him you’re glad he’s okay, but you shouldn’t. 

“And the next day…god. I was disgusted with myself. Remembering what I’d done to you…the things I said to you.” He mutters. 

“Yeah it was pretty brutal…” You whisper. 

“It was, I was. I-I hate how I treated you, it was physically and emotionally damaging. You really didn’t deserve that.” His voice raw.

“Yeah…” 

He looks at you, jealousy thick in his voice. “I didn’t…ruin your relationship with Law, did I?” 

“I don’t have a relationship with him, we met that night and we were just having fun. I told you that.” You look back at him.

Mihawk takes a sigh of relief. “O-okay, I know you told me that. I would apologize for stopping the ‘fun’ but I don’t think I can bring myself to do that. I’m sorry.” 

“I honestly didn’t expect you to apologize for that thing in particular, it’s fine.” You say quietly. 

He nods slowly.

You add on. “And umm, if I saw you with another girl I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I wouldn’t go to the lengths that you did, though.” 

“Yeah, you’re strong and I’m…a complete mess.” He sighs, running his hand down his face.

You look at him, feeling a bit of empathy, but you push it aside.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I’m sorry…I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m sorry for making a good night into a bad one, I’m sorry for the words I said  to you, I’m sorry for acting insane and unhinged, I’m sorry for harming you…and I’m also sorry for how I treated you in our relationship, I really am sorry…could you ever…forgive me?” He pleads, searching your eyes for anything he can grasp onto. 

“How do you expect me to forgive you when you haven’t even explained half of it.” You sigh, leaning back into the couch and looking up at the ceiling. 

He goes deathly silent, and you can practically feel the cogs turning in his head. 

Eventually, he sighs. “Shit…” 

“Look…I don’t think I-” He begins, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t.” 

Mihawk shuts his mouth immediately and looks away from you, and you feel a pang of disappointment.

“You don’t understand…I can’t tell you, you wouldn’t understand, no one would.” He says quietly. 

You groan. “Then MAKE ME understand! I need to know why you distanced yourself from me, then the other night you…you said you still loved me. Nothing makes any sense.” 

He hesitates. “I know I don’t make any sense…I’m sorry…”

Frustration starts to bubble up to the surface. “Please, I deserve to know. You owe me an explanation.” 

Mihawk fidgets, opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

Tears form in your eyes, you feel like you’re getting nowhere. Even if he’s apologized, at this point it just isn’t enough. 

You hunch over and put a hand over your eyes, the tears trickling down. 

He immediately notices your crying, and becomes slightly frantic but not moving from his seat. “N-no! I’m sorry, y/n! Please don’t cry, I’m sorry okay?” 

“Just tell me what happened, did I do something wrong??” You softly sob as you finally look up at him again.

His face turns from frantic to mortified and breathes out. “W-what?? No! Of course not!”

“You barely even looked at me, all you did was focus on being a marine hunter and ignoring me.” You choke out.

Mihawk looks distressed as he watches you, and you can tell he wants to comfort you but he keeps his distance as promised. “I-I know…I shouldn’t have…been like that, I’m sorry.”

“Please…tell me why.” You say pleadingly. 

He’s silent for a moment, before saying quietly. “Everyone will judge me…you’ll judge me…especially you…”

“Please, tell me. I won’t judge you, I promise…” You plead once more.

Mihawk goes silent again, looking at the floor. You feel desperation take over as he shuts down, breaking you down even more.

“Please! Dracule…” You sob heavily. His body reacting slightly at the sound of his given name from your lips. 

“I thought…pushing you away would fix all my issues…” He confesses in a hoarse whisper, closing his eyes. 

“What do you mean?” You sob.

He starts getting overwhelmed, his demeanor shifting. He suddenly stands up from the couch. “It’s too much…I came here to apologize a-and that’s what I did.” 

Your eyes widen as he starts walking out of the living room, so you quickly get up and grab his arm. He stiffens at the contact, but obliges as you turn him around to face you. 

“Please…” You look into his uncertain eyes, heavy tears covering your face. 

“I should go back to Shanks’ house, I’m sorry I turned up.” He says quietly.

“No..please! I won’t judge you, just tell me what happened. Please…don’t go, don’t shut me out again.” You whisper desperately. 

Mihawk stands in silence for a few minutes. Your hand still gripped onto his arm as he looks at the floor. 

He finally looks back at you, shame and guilt written all over his features. “Okay…okay.”

Your heartbeat speeds up, gripping his arm a little tighter.

Mihawk lowers his eyes again, taking a deep breath. “It all started because…I had a rough childhood.”

You feel slightly taken aback. He’s opened up about his childhood briefly before, but never in detail. And what has that got to do with anything?

“My parents abandoned me when I was a kid. They just…left me. Ever since then I’ve been scared that…t-the people I love will eventually leave me as well.” He whispers sadly.

You slightly loosen your  grip on his arm, his confession sinking in. 

“I guess I’ve never really gotten over that. I was worried you were going to leave me like…like my parents did. ” He takes a deep shaky breath before continuing. “I decided to distance myself from you. I was paranoid that you were going to break up with me, I thought it wouldn’t hurt as much when it happened if I’d already pushed you away. It just consumed me fully. But..when it did happen…when you…I couldn’t handle it.” 

The air seems to leave your lungs.

Mihawk gets overwhelmed again, taking another deep breath. “You have to understand y/n, I thought it would be easier. I was so scared you’d leave me! I-I didn’t want to be hurt again. I thought if I put my walls up, and you left, I wouldn’t get hurt. But I was wrong…so insanely wrong. Pushing you away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

You stand there in a shocked silence, your mouth slightly agape, your lungs screaming for air. 

Heavy tears start falling down his cheeks, his breathing slightly labored. “I’m sorry…it was the biggest mistake of my life. It pained me to distance myself from you, you have no idea how many times I broke down in the bathroom. I just thought it was for the best...” 

Nothing prepared you for this.

“I became a different person, I wasn’t the man you fell in love with. I was cold, distant, angry…and it was all my own fault.” He whispers hoarsely. 

Before you can control it, you let go of his arm and sink to your knees, your sobbing starting up again. All this time, and this is what he was afraid of? You feel your emotions falling apart, confused and sad. 

He looks down at you with horrified eyes, not knowing what to do as he continues crying. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I can go, if you want.”

“You can’t just leave!” You shout through your sobs, startling him heavily. 

“O-okay I won’t go anywhere…I just don’t…” He fumbles. 

Mihawk watches you cry for a moment, before carefully sitting on his legs in front of you. He takes your upper arms gently, trying to give you some sort of support. 

“I’m sorry…” He repeats quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You question him, looking into his eyes again.

He swallows. “B-because…I was afraid you’d want nothing to do with me after you found out how truely damaged I am. I was scared that you’d see me differently and think I’m pathetic. And I didn’t want to burden you, all I wanted to do was protect you.”

“I never would have done or thought that…I would have tried to help you. To reassure you.” You sob.

“I didn’t…know that…” He whispers, a sigh leaving his lungs.

You sob a little harder, making him panic.

“What is it?? What’s wrong??” He says desperately, his heartbeat quickening.

You speak to the best of your abilities. “Knowing that you were going through so much, for months, years. That you were scared…that hurts me, Dracule. All of this is so much worse knowing you were in pain too.” 

He nods his head slowly, understanding where you’re coming from. He gently caresses your arm with his fingers, trying to calm you down somehow. “Dammit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did, I should have communicated with you. Please don’t feel bad for me.”

“Why couldn’t you be a heartless asshole, it would have made it easier.” You heavily sob.

“I’m sorry for not being a heartless asshole…instead I’m just this huge mess. You deserved better.” He says shakily. 

“This is so much to take in at once…” 

“I know…I…I should have told you years ago. I let it snowball into the biggest mistake of my life.” He says shamefully. 

“I just…I can’t believe it…” You choke out.

Mihawks’ eyes widen impossibly large. “Y-you don’t believe me?? I promise I’m telling you the tru-” 

“NO! Not…not in that way. This is all just so…I didn’t expect this to be the reason.” You sob.

“O-oh, thank god. What did you think the reason was?” He whispers nervously.

“Either…you were a heartless monster, or I did something wrong, maybe you stopped loving me…anything but this.” 

“Fuck…I’m sorry for making you that worried. I was so caught up in my paranoia of you leaving, that I didn’t think you…really cared.” He whispers, tears in his eyes.

You sob a little harder. “But I cried beside you in bed, many times. I was upset, Dracule. You saw that.” 

Shame constricts his features again. “I did…yeah. But I was too trapped inside my own mind, I convinced myself you weren’t being serious. That it was just you guilt tripping me.” 

“Guilt tripping you?” You repeat slowly.

“I thought that was a way for you to make it my fault because you were going to leave me. I know it doesn’t even make any sense…I’m so sorry…I can’t even imagine the pain I’ve put you through.” He whispers brokenly. 

You look at him with confusion, your tears falling rapidly.

“I’m gonna start working on myself, I promise. Whether we’re together or…not. The party was really eye opening for me, I can’t keep living in this mental state. I’m destroying myself and everyone else around me.” He says shamefully, looking into your eyes.

“All the things you said to me that night…” You whisper as another strangled sob leaves you.

“I was at the end of my line, the emotions I had been feeling for years boiled over.” His cheeks go slightly pink from shame but he holds your gaze. “I didn’t mean any of it, I was angry and drunk. I definitely didn’t mean that you belong to me because I’ve fucked you, I said that out of pure drunken possessiveness and jealousy. I was grasping at anything and everything to make you listen to me.”

“So you aren’t possessive over me…?” 

He takes a shaky breath. “I am possessive over you, but not to that extent. I promise. It still shouldn’t become your problem though, the way I acted that night isn’t who I want to be. I’m sorry for acting so unhinged.”

“I just wish you would have come to me before it got this bad.” You stammer.

“I wish that too, I wish I didn’t push you away. But you have to understand, at the time I thought that…you’d leave.” He lowers his gaze.

“I never would have left you, I loved you. I would have done anything in my power to be there for you, I’m not your parents.” 

“Dammit…why’d I have to mess it all up…” He mutters to himself.

Another silence falls over the two of you, except for the sound of your crying. Both of your minds working overtime. 

“Is there any way…you can forgive me?” He finally whispers, lifting his head to meet your gaze again.

You take a deep breath, sensing the anxiety radiating off of him. “Y-yes…”

His eyes widen and he’s speechless for a moment. “Thank y-you, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear on my life I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

All of these confessions and decisions are too much for you to handle, and you start crying even harder. Mihawk panics slightly.

“H-hey…don’t cry, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry for not telling you about it all, just please…” He says shakily, looking at you with a worried expression. 

You can’t help but keep crying, overwhelmed beyond belief. 

“Y/n, look at me.” He says shakily as he cups your cheek, guiding your face so he can look into your eyes. “I promise I’ll be better, and it’s all going to be okay. I’m so sorry for taking you through hell, I’ll never forgive myself.

Mihawk then hesitantly wraps his arms around your body, bringing you flush against his chest as you cry. He rests his head on your shoulder, his hand soothingly caressing your back. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, your arms going around his waist, needing comfort more than anything right now. 

“Please stop crying, I can’t take it when you cry so hard…it breaks my heart...” He whispers pleadingly, but you can’t stop. 

Mihawk sighs deeply, knowing you won’t slow down. So he holds you tighter and settles for whispering positive affirmations in your ear in hopes that it’ll help.

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

You’re not sure how long you’ve been crying for, all you know is that Mihawks’ embrace feels like the most comforting thing you’ve felt in months. His words have a soothing effect on you, bringing you back down from feeling so overwhelmed. The touch on your back feels nice, like home.

As your sobs become small sniffles, your body resorts to trembling from the intensity.

“That’s it, can you take deep breaths for me?” He whispers. You start to take deep breaths and begin to take note of his familiar scent, calming you further. 

He keeps you like this for a while longer, making sure to tread carefully. Mihawk then leans out and cups your cheek again, looking into your eyes with his warm honey coloured gaze. 

“Sorry for getting this close to you…”

“It’s fine…I needed you.” You whisper.

He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, keeping his voice soft and quiet. “Okay, I was just making sure.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, making him freeze for a moment. 

“Please don’t thank me, I’ve done too much to-”

You cut him off. “You’ve been going through hell as well, it must be hard to navigate abandonment issues all by yourself…”

He sighs. “It has, but there’s no excuse.” 

Your arms tighten around him. “Yeah…” 

Mihawk nods slowly, processing your words before changing the subject slightly. “Can I…look at your wrist? I need to see what I’ve done.” 

“Sure.” You whisper, and unwrap your arms. 

As you remove the bandage, his eyes are locked onto the area, his heartbeat quickening. 

The bandage falls to the ground and your dark bruised wrist is exposed. Mihawk takes a moment to look over the damage, his hand coming up to gently hold it. 

“I’m sorry…” He whispers in utter guilt for the millionth time.

All you can do is stay silent, there’s nothing much you can say right now.

Mihawks’ eyes fill with tears, letting them fall down his face. He takes a shaky breath, putting your wrist down and wrapping his arm around you again to keep you close.

After a moment, you speak up. “Umm…how do your nuts feel…?”

He chuckles lightly, which catches you off guard. “I’m in constant agony, I can barely walk properly.” 

“I kicked you pretty hard, I won’t be apologizing for it though.” You mutter with a slight smile.

“Good, don’t. I think you kicking me in the balls brought me to my senses more than anything else. I should be thanking you.” He whispers, holding you closer. 

Taking a deep breath, you breathe in his scent again. “I missed being held by you.”

“I missed holding you.” Mihawk responds, his face deep in your hair and his voice filled with remorse. “I hope you know that I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you and I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.”

“I…” You pause. “As I told Robin, I love the man you used to be. And right now you feel like the man you used to be.” 

You feel his heart skip a beat and he whispers quickly to himself, so quiet you nearly don’t catch it. “I can work with that.”

He tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, and you feel him close his eyes against your neck.

“Y/n…this may be asking too much but…” He whispers hesitantly. “Is there any possible way you’d give me a second chance?

“Y-yes, there is. But only if you promise to communicate properly with me.” You whisper back nervously.

“I’d do anything to get you back and keep you, so yes. A million times yes. I’m done pushing you away and hiding my feelings. I couldn’t bear losing you again.” He says sincerely, his body trembling again.

“I’ll give you that second chance, but you don't get a third. Got it?” You whisper sternly. 

Mihawk leans back out, his hand going to the side of your neck as he looks into your eyes. “I got it, you have my word.” 

“Okay…good.”

“Does this mean that…you’re mine again?” He whispers chokingly, his hand trembling. 

You nod, your heart skipping a beat. “Yes, I just want my boyfriend back. I need you back.” 

“You have me…I promise you do. We’ll get through this, I’ll work on myself and treat you like you deserve to be treated.” He whispers, caressing your cheek again.

“O-okay…” You whisper back.

“Can I kiss you?” He says in an unsure tone.

“Please.” You murmur.

Mihawk sighs in relief, and leans forward. He gently connects your lips in a sweet and tender kiss, pouring all of his feelings that have been in a dark corner for months. 

The two of you pull out after a minute and you look into his eyes, his gaze full of love.

“God…I’ve never seen anything more beautiful…”

“I’ve been crying…” You whisper back.

“I don’t care, you’re still the epitome of beauty in my eyes.” He murmurs. 

You rest your head back onto his shoulder, holding him tightly. Mihawk goes back to caressing your back, holding you close to him.

As the two of you spend a few minutes calming down and process everything, you stay silent. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

Your breathing and his has mostly gone back to normal, but there’s still an air of unease.

“Can we…take a bath?” You whisper softly, breaking the silence, your body still slightly trembling from the aftermath.

“Sure, anything for you. Would you like me to-”

“Yes.” You reply quickly.

He can’t help but smile, before helping you up to your feet. “Lead the way, I haven’t been here before.” 

“Oh yeah…that’s right.” You mutter, intertwining your fingers and starting to walk to your bathroom with him.

As you walk, he looks around your home properly for the first time tonight. “How did you get this place so fast?” 

You shrug as the two of you get to the bathroom, flicking the light on and shutting the door. “I was lucky, it was for lease when we uhh…broke up, so I decided to rent it. How did you know I lived here, by the way?”

Mihawk leans down and turns on the bath, his hand under the water to test the heat. “Shanks knew where you lived. He was at the local tavern, and it slipped out while he was having a conversation with the owner about houses.” 

That damn tavern owner never seems to keep his mouth shut about everyone's business. 

He gets the right temperature for the water and fills the bathtub up fully, then stands up, turning to you. “Come here. I can remove your clothes, let me take care of you.” He looks at you with soft eyes.

You nod, feeling a tiredness grow. 

Mihawk smiles and starts taking your clothes off, being sure to be careful with every movement of his hands. 

When he’s finished he looks over your body, admiring it. “You’re just as gorgeous as I remember…”

You lightly blush, and then watch him as he takes off his own clothes. 

He sets everything to the side and extends his hand, you take it without hesitation and you step into the bathtub with his help. He slowly follows behind and sits down, guiding you down with him. Mihawk gently sets you down between his legs, your back up against his chest, his arms encircling your waist and his head resting on your shoulder. 

The warm water surrounds your bodies, making you both sigh in relaxation. 

“Are you comfortable, darling?” He murmurs, the nickname making your heart skip a beat.

“Very comfortable, thank you.” You murmur back. 

“Good, now just relax. I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.” He mutters, taking your bruised wrist in his hand and bringing it up to his lips. Mihawk softly kisses your skin, his arm tightening around your waist. 

You relax against him, being careful to not hurt his nuts further. He continues to kiss your wrist as his hand caresses your stomach.

“I love you…I’m sorry for everything.” He whispers in a low soothing tone through kisses.

You sigh deeply. “I love you too…”

“I’ll never do something like that again, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He says softly.

“Mmm.” Is all you manage to say, making him smile lightly. 

Mihawk puts your wrist down and wraps his other arm around you, breathing in your scent. He begins slowly kissing your neck and shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed. 

˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

The two of you stay in the bathtub for around 30 minutes, letting your bodies rest and soak in the heat of the water. 

When the water begins to cool, Mihawk carefully stands and helps you out, then dries you off carefully. He then dries himself off, and when he’s finished you take his hand.

“Can you stay tonight?” You say pleadingly, making his eyes soften.

“Of course, darling. I want to take care of you.” He says softly as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

You start leading him to your room in a comfortable silence, with him tightly holding onto your hand. The two of you haven't even bothered to re-dress.

The two of you make it to your room and you get into bed, pulling the covers over you. Before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you close to him. Your arms wrap around him as well. Mihawk looks into your eyes, his hands gliding over the smoothness of your skin.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Can you kiss me, Dracule?” 

He smiles, leaning in and gently kisses your cheeks, eyelids, forehead, nose. He kisses all over your face until every inch has had his lips on your skin. “I love you so damn much…is that enough kisses for you? I’ll give you hundreds, thousands, if that’s what you need.” 

You sigh, making him furrow his brow in worry. “Not good enough. You have to kiss me for every tear that’s fallen because of you.”

His eyes soften even more, slight guilt in his gaze. “I can do that, but how many would that be, my love?” 

You think really hard for a moment, looking back on all the times where you’ve cried because of his shitty behavior. After a few moments you come to a conclusion. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three.”

Mihawks’ eyes widen the moment you announce One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, and you can tell he’s got an urge to laugh. Despite the serious night, you can’t help but be grateful that he’s amused by this. “One thousand, six hundred and eighty three, huh? Darling, are you absolutely sure you counted that many in…a few seconds?” He pinches your cheek lightly.

“Did I stutter?” You whisper, holding him tighter. 

Mihawk laughs softly, gently pinching your cheek again. “You’re adorable…but no, you didn’t stutter. I guess you’re just a fast counter.” He talks between laughter.

“So…will you do it?” You whisper, a slight smile at the corner of your lips. His laughter lighting up the room.

“I could never say no to such a wonderful request.” He giggles lightly, then leans into your neck to kiss it.

“One.” He whispers softly against your skin.

He presses another kiss into your neck. “Two”

You melt into his kisses, your eyes fluttering closed as you surrender to the feeling of his soft lips. 

“Three.”

You’re finally in his arms again.

“Four.” 

His heartbeat.

“Five.” 

His warmth.

“Six.”

His scent.

“Seven.”

His breathing.

“Eight.”

His skin.

“Nine.” 

Mihawk stops kissing your neck and moves his lips to your own. He kisses them gently, his lips moving in sync with yours for a few seconds. Both of you know you’ll be here for a while with how many kisses you demanded. 

He pulls away briefly to say…

“Ten.” 

You only want him whispering sweet things in your ear all night long, for the rest of your life. 

Notes: I had to make the ending for this really sweet, after all the angst♡ I hope you enjoyed reading! 

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | January 8th-14th 2024

TWO MONTHS UNTIL SEASON 7!!!

I'm sorry it's late and I'm sorry if I missed anyone but my ao3 history was sortof a mess 😩 I think maybe some userscript I downloaded is fucking up my history. oh well. (or else someone has hacked my ao3 account and has been reading House M.D. fanfic?!?!? (how the fuck did I even get in my history, I don't even remember searching for anything that had House fics in the results wtf))

Complete

Followed By Ghosts by itsanapothecary (Canon Divergent, S1-S2 | 21K | Teen): Instead of hiding the truth about Daniel from their children, Margaret and Philip memorialize their lost son in every one of their remaining children's accomplishments. Growing up, neither Maddie nor Buck felt like they could escape the shadow of their brother. When Buck finds the 118, he gets a chance to be his own person, although the looming attention from his parents and weight of expectations threatens to jeopardize what he's built in Los Angeles.

no harm, no foul by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Getting Together | 5K | Mature): Eddie knows how Buck feels. Buck knows how Eddie feels. So why is Eddie giving him the cold shoulder instead of talking about it?

what to do when evan buckley breaks into your house at 3:17 in the morning by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Love Confessions | 3K | Teen): After a night out drinking with Maddie, Buck (kind of) breaks in to Eddie’s house.

Wait For It by oliviacirce (PWP, Post-S6E6: Cursed | 8K | Explicit): Buck kind of liked not jerking off.

in a fix by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Getting Together, PWP | 4K | Explicit): Buck gets himself into a bit of a sticky situation, and Eddie helps him out.

we were lucky once (could be lucky again) by hattalove/ @hattalove (Post-Break Up | 1K | Teen): which they're not together anymore, but they can't sleep apart.

Mark Me Like a Bloodstain (Burning Red) by sirencalls/ @usersiren (Vampire Eddie, Post-S4, PWP | 3K | Explicit): “Eddie, you’re freezing,” Buck says, worry creeping into his tone. “Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital—” “No.” His voice is echoey and strange, definitively not human, and he picks up on the way Buck’s pulse quickens. Fuck, he’s scaring Buck. The human part of him is ashamed, guilty for making Buck ever be afraid of him. The vampire part of him is delighted, is even more wanting because of it, and that’s why he calls himself a monster.

Kinktober 2021 series by sirencalls/ @usersiren (PWP | 31 works | 68K | Explicit)

all that is you makes up all that is me by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S6E11 | 1K | General): “I was just checking if you’re ready…” Eddie says faintly, trailing off as his eyes track the path of the lightning seared across Buck’s skin. -or- In the aftermath of a lightning strike, Buck and Eddie have a conversation.

Long Overdue by mansikka (PWP | 3K | Mature): Eddie realizes his feelings for Buck are more than platonic; what's he supposed to do now?

kiss me, kiss me (i don't know if i can let you go) by ipretendtobesane/ @useramor (Getting Together, Accidental Kissing | 10K | General): If anyone ever asks- they were both drunk. Eddie knows they weren’t, he and Buck don’t like to drink during the week, regardless of whether or not they work the next day. If they are working, they don’t want to be out of it on the job, and if they’re not they don’t want to be out of it when Christopher wakes up the next morning at 7:00am with more energy than either of them can handle. But there’s not really a good explanation otherwise. No other way to explain why, as Buck was walking out the door, Eddie leaned in and gave him a soft kiss goodnight.

til there was you by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Hurt Buck, Married Buddie | 16K | Mature): In which Buck's appendix tries to kill him in the middle of a busy shift, and Eddie has to stage a dramatic rescue.

spread a little christmas cheer by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S3E10: Christmas Spirit, PWP | 1K | Explicit): Eddie has a realization at the Christmas party and goes the wrong way with it.

do you love me? all you gotta do is say yes by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Friends to Fiances, Crack | 3K | Teen): “It’s always pretty fun to see a former fuckboy from your grad school era bootycall list all domestic and settled down.” or, two boy best friends and an ex lover walk into a grocery store. everyone is on their normalest behaviour.

🔥 Echoes of Your Name by sirencalls/ @usersiren (Canon Divergence, PWP, Sex Worker Buck | 9K | Explicit): Of course he’s immediately wary of it. Porn videos have never worked for Eddie, so why would the audio version of them be any different? It’s the same strangers faking the same moans and whines as the other actors, just without a pretty face to go with it. Eddie thinks it’ll almost be less effective—seeing every tiny reaction that someone has to what you’re doing to them is part of the fun—so he doesn’t have high expectations. He doesn’t expect it to work.

marry me, eddie diaz by elisela/ @elisela (Marriage Proposal | 1K | General): There’s a long silence, and then, “you do that a lot,” Eddie says, looking over at him strangely. “I do what a lot?” “Ask me to marry you,” Eddie says. “I know it’s just a joke, but I feel like—” he stops and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

sit present in the darkness by elisela (Post-Shooting, Established Buddie | 4K | General): In the midst of stories about their jobs, catching up on what the kids have said, and making endless fun of each other, Eddie’s sitting at his seat with his phone face down on the table in front of him. Occasionally it will buzz and he’ll look around the table, pick it up when he thinks no one is watching. He types something quickly, looks over his shoulder at the kid’s table—where Buck has been since the food was brought to them—and puts it down again. Face down. Karen knows this game. She’s played it before, almost lost.

WIP

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 13/? | 31K | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

🔥 and if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Canon Divergent Season 6, Friends with Benefits | 2/18 | 9K | Explicit): or, an alternate look at season 6 where buck and eddie have been casually sleeping together since before the beginning of the season. somehow, this changes both everything and nothing at all.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 106/? | 290K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 9/? | 15K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 12/? | 105K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 21/? | 106K | Explicit | ❗️Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 a foundation of trust and love we cannot see by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (FWB, BDSM, Sub Eddie, Dom Buck | 2/17 | 24K | Explicit): “It’s like I want to explore it and dive into it, but it’s not exactly like I’m seeing someone to try this all out with,” he explains, doing his best to keep down the annoyed huff that threatens to escape him at every other word. Buck nods to himself before steadily going silent. For a minute, Eddie thinks that this is the end of their conversation. “I can show you if you’d like.” Eddie nearly chokes on his beer.

Love Ends. by rowan_wood (Exes to Lovers | 5/17 | 7K | Explicit): But what if it doesn't?

Re-read

🔥 Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania/ @hmslusitania (Getting Together | 4K | Teen): When he gets home for the night, Buck turns to the one source of information that’s never let him down: the internet. But where does one go for relationship advice from complete strangers online? Which is how, ten minutes later, he finds himself on Reddit with a shiny new account and username. It takes him a while after that to craft his question for r/Relationships, but he thinks he’s got it pretty accurately conveyed before he hits post.

🔥 You Could Be The One I Keep by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 6K | Teen): Eddie finally get's up the nerve to ask Buck out, his best friend accepting much easier than Eddie ever dreamed. Things are better than ever between them, the two of them becoming even closer, going out on several dates—only problem? Buck has no idea they're dating, like not even the slightest clue.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 1

Went a bit sideways yesterday with my wandering mind and started a TLOU fanfic. Here's chapter 1 of "Lavender," an age-gap grumpy/sunshine friends-to-lovers (and eventually friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers) fanfic that starts pre-outbreak.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: Not much yet! Whole fic will be very NSFW so minors DNI. This chapter is very basic. Mild violence, mention of masturbation.

Synopsis: You're a college student in Austin, Texas, who gets a summer job nannying Sarah Miller. It's not long before her dad sees you as more than a babysitter - or more than a friend.

Austin, Texas, April, 2000

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up toward the Texas night sky, air surprisingly cool for April in Austin, trying to keep the tears that were building in your eyes from actually falling. Like that would make a damn difference. You took a deep breath and looked down at your phone. 

You only had a few numbers saved. You hadn’t made many friends in college, the only girlfriend you had was in the frat house behind you, hanging out with her boyfriend. She was out. Your grandmother was across the country, so she was obviously out. The handsy guy who’d brought you to this damn party was a big hell no. Which pretty much left…. Joel Miller. Your boss. You winced, thumb hovering over the call button for a moment before pressing it. 

“Kid?” He answered quickly. That somehow made it worse. But at least he didn’t sound half asleep. “What’s going on, you OK?” 

“Hey Joel,” you sniffled a bit. “Sorry to bug ya, I know it’s real late…” 

“Kid,” his tone changed, almost warning you. “I told you you could call if you needed somethin’, what’s goin’ on?” 

His accent got stronger when he got keyed up. You’d noticed that over the year you’d known him. 

“Could you…” Shit, you were really going to have to do this. You sniffed again. “Could you come get me?” The words all started coming out of you in a rush then, you couldn’t really stop them. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late and I think I can walk it if you can’t but I went to this party with this guy and he’s not really what I thought he was and I just can’t stay here with him anymore and…” 

“Kid,” he cut you off. “I’m coming to get you right now, are you close to campus?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffed again, looking back at the frat house and reading him the house number. 

“I know where that’s at,” he said. His voice was calm, soothing. “I’ll be there in less than 10, you safe?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to get out of here…” 

“Stay put,” he said. “I’m comin’ to get you.” 

“Thanks, Joel.” 

You flipped your phone shut and put it in your purse before smoothing the back of your sundress down and sitting on the curb, hoping the plethora of cars on the street blocked you from easy view. Your feet - in platform sandals that you’d been stupid enough to paint your toenails for earlier that day - were in a puddle, but it was hard to care. 

You were just finishing up your junior year of college and this was only the fourth guy you’d gone out with so of course he had to be a massive jerk. It was just your luck. 

You’d expected a bit better when you moved to the Lone Star State to go to school. It had been a change of pace from your small town in upstate New York where you’d lived with your grandmother all your life. You wanted something bigger, to actually get out of that little town and see some of the world before you settled into whatever life had in store for you. And the south was supposed to be nice. That’s what everyone said, southern hospitality and all that. But it hadn’t been very nice. 

You’d tried to make friends with your roommate freshman year and you kind of had. She wasn’t mean or anything, you just had very little in common. She was an athlete so the demands on her time were many. She was studying music when you’d rather jump off a bridge than try to perform anything for anyone. She had a lot of friends there already - she was from Houston, so plenty of her high school classmates were there, too. You’d probably spent a little too much time trying to fit in with her. By the time it was apparent that you were fine as roommates but not friends, everyone else seemed to have friends, too. 

Which wasn’t the end of the world. You’d only had two close friends back home, anyway. You’d never been very social, preferring to be on your own and quiet instead of with people. Too much time with anyone else exhausted you, unless it was the RIGHT person. 

But there was a difference between alone and lonely and you found yourself lonely here a lot. The dating scene was, somehow, worse. The first guy you’d gone out with since coming to school hadn’t even made it past date number one, he was so self absorbed it was like you had been taken to dinner just so he had someone to talk at. Number two ended up asking for your roommate’s number when he walked you back to your dorm that night. Number three had made it as far as date number three but got a little ticked that - when his hand traveled up your shirt to your bra - you’d asked him to stop. He left you at a gas station and you’d had to call a cab to get back to your apartment. 

The guy tonight had been looking a bit better. Or so you thought. He’d pressed you against the wall in the hall outside your front door and kissed you at the end of your last date, his hips against yours, his tongue dipping into your mouth. You’d liked it, for a moment, until he pinned your wrist to the wall and tried to put his hand down your pants. He’d stopped and apologized, though, when you asked him to stop. That, you’d thought, was a good sign. That he was respectful, kind. So when he’d asked you to go to a party with him tonight, you’d said yes. 

But when you actually got there, he kept trying to get you to drink whatever concoction had been mixed directly in coolers in the middle of the room, pressing red plastic cups into your hand at every opportunity and getting more and more frustrated when you insisted on sticking with bottled water instead. 

Eventually, his hand had gone up the back of your dress as you threw a ball in beer pong, his fingers brushing against your lower lips before sliding up and groping your ass. You whiffed the shot, practically jumping away from him. 

“What the fuck, Jeremy?” You asked, tugging your dress down on instinct. 

“C’mon baby,” he’d said, all but stalking after you. “You gotta give me something…” 

“No, I don’t,” you glanced around you. There wasn’t much help to be had here. “I’m going home.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said, reaching for you. You stepped back again. Then there was a change in his face, like a switch flipped. He was no longer the nice boy who’d, for your first date, asked to take you to the art house movie theater in town. He was a hulking man, one who had six inches and at least 100 pounds on you, who felt he could take what he wanted by right. “I just want to make sure you have a good time, let’s get you a drink…” 

His hand closed around your wrist and he started pulling you toward him. 

“I don’t want a drink,” you curled the hand in his grip into a fist and covered it with you other hand, yanking it free. “I’m going home. Don’t call me again.” 

You stalked out of the party, trying to keep your cheeks from burning. 

The 10 minute wait for Joel seemed like an eternity. You kept glancing to your watch, feeling like ages had gone by when it had only been a minute or two. Only eight minutes had passed when you heard your name being called from behind you. You winced, hoping Jeremy wouldn’t find you where you’d tucked yourself away to wait. 

No such luck. 

“Hey!” He prowled over to you, his lips curled into a snarl. “Who the fuck do you think you are, embarrassing me like that?” 

You stood up, instinctively backing into the truck behind you before you realized that you probably should have fucking moved somewhere else before you were cornered. 

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you…��� 

He grabbed your wrist again, firmer this time, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you sharply against his body. 

“Well, you did,” his breath smelled like liquor and cigarettes and his body was hard. You squirmed, trying to get away from him. “You really fucking embarrassed me…” 

“Hey!”

A car door slammed and your head whipped around. Joel was storming across the sidewalk toward you, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt - he hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes. 

“This isn’t your business,” Jeremy snapped before turning his attention back to you. “Stay out of it.” 

“The hell it ain’t,” one of Joel’s hands went over your shoulder, pulling you back from the other man’s grip and putting you behind him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave her alone.” 

Joel looked to you, his brown eyes wide as they looked you over. 

“You OK?” He asked. You nodded. “This the guy?” You nodded again. His jaw clenched but he nodded toward his truck. “C’mon Kid, let’s go.” 

“Nah man, I don’t know you,” Jeremy came around you, grabbing your wrist again and yanking on you. “You’re not just gonna take off with my date…” 

Joel punched him, hard, across the face before catching you around the waist so you stayed up while Jeremy fell to the ground, groaning and clutching his face. Joel set you down gently before standing over Jeremy. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” his voice was oddly calm. You just stood there, holding your sore wrist to your chest. You hadn’t realized when you’d started almost hyperventilating but you were almost gasping for breaths. Joel turned back to you. “You’re OK, Kid. You’re OK.” 

He put his arm around you, pulling you into his side and steering you to his truck. He helped you up into it, watching as you buckled yourself in before getting into the driver’s seat. 

“That asshole know where you live?” He ground his teeth a bit, flexing his hand he’d punched Jeremy with on the steering wheel. 

“Yeah, he picked me up,” you were still holding your wrist. “Is your hand OK?” 

Joel glanced over to you before looking down to his hand. 

“Been in worse fights than that,” he said. “How’s your wrist? Need to take you to the hospital?” 

“Oh God, please don’t,” you groaned. “It’s just going to be a little bruised…” 

“Should report it to the cops,” he muttered. “That fucking asshole…” 

“And, what, get you arrested for laying him out?” You asked, brows raised. “It’s fine, Joel, really…” 

“Well I’m not taking you to your place,” he growled. “Not safe, not with that… You can stay with us for a bit. You said you’re moving soon, anyway, right?” 

“I really don’t want to put you out…” You began but he cut you off. 

“You half live there in the summer anyway,” he said. “I’d rather know you were safe. ‘Sides, Sarah’s at a friend’s house tonight. You can sleep in her room, don’t even have to put anyone on a couch. When do you get into your new place?” 

“Three weeks,” you sighed. “It’s really not that big a deal, this kind of thing happens all the time…” 

“Don’t make it right,” he glanced over at you again before putting his eyes back on the road. “You can stay with us for a few weeks, we’ll go get some of your stuff tomorrow.” 

You watched him for a moment. There was blood on his knuckles, the streetlights outside catching on the shaggy curl of his hair, his eyes narrowed on the road in front of him. 

It was lucky that you’d ended up working for Joel Miller. You’d know that before, too. He’d put an ad in the paper a year before, looking for a nanny for his then 9-year-old daughter, Sarah, and you’d been looking for a way to not take out more student loans. A simple enough arrangement. 

You’d met for the first time at a coffee shop near campus. You showed up a few minutes early - you always did, being late made you anxious - and Joel showed up a few minutes late. You’d recognized him by the look of general discomfort on his face, a look that made you smile a little. He was clearly out of his element, interviewing nannies, looking around a coffee house filled with college girls so that he wouldn’t even know which one to approach. You saved him the trouble. “Mr. Miller?” You asked, brows raised. You’d worn a sundress that day, too. But you’d put on the only blazer you owned with it, trying to look somewhat professional. Not that you really knew how. “Hi, I’m here for the interview?” 

“Hi,” he looked relieved. “Sorry I’m late, got held up on a job… Can I get you a coffee or… somethin’? I’m gettin’ somethin’…” 

“Sure,” you smiled. “Thanks.” 

You stood awkwardly beside each other in line, Joel insisting you order first which made you feel bad when you got an iced lavender latte and he just got a black coffee. 

“Sorry, I’m such a sucker for lavender,” you smiled, somewhat sheepishly, over your cup. “There’s a lavender farm down the street from where I grew up, could always smell it on the air at the right time of year…” 

You were babbling. You set the cup down. 

“Sorry,” you smiled again. 

“No, no, you’re good,” he smiled a little too. “I’ve never done this before, so…” 

“Me either,” you said quickly. “I nannied for the kids of some friends of my grandma’s but they already knew me, so didn’t need an interview.” 

“So, you’ve got experience watching kids?” He asked, turning his paper cup absently in his fingers. 

“Oh yeah,” you nodded. “I love kids, I started babysitting when I was 13 and have nannied in the summer since I was 17 but I’m staying here this summer because of my lease, so I need something local.” 

“You’re not from here then?” He asked. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m from New York? Not like.. the city. The state. The boring part.” He laughed a little at that. You smiled. “I came here to go to school. I’m studying to be a teacher.” 

“A teacher?” He asked. You nodded. “You must like kids. What do you want to teach?” 

“High school biology?” You asked more than answered. “Really, I’d love to be a pediatrician but the loans… But teaching high school would be great. There were some teachers I really connected with in high school, the ones who believed in me and trusted that I could become something. That’s what I want to be for someone else, you know?” 

He nodded and took a sip of coffee. You tried to not watch his throat as he did. Mr. Miller was almost weirdly attractive - way hotter than any dads you’d worked for in the past. You didn’t want to blow this interview just because it felt like you could write a book of poetry about the man’s jaw alone. 

“Can you tell me about your daughter?” You asked after a moment. “I think you said she was nine?” 

He nodded again. 

“Yeah, Sarah,” he said. “She’s a good kid, smart as a fuckin’ whip.” He noticed that he cursed, his eyes going wide. “Shit… sorry, no…” 

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “I’m a big girl, I can handle some adult language.” 

He looked relieved. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Sarah’s… I don’t know what I did to deserve a kid like her but it had to be somethin’ in a past life because it sure as shit ain’t this one. She’s such a sweet kid, so smart - way smarter than me, not a clue where she got it from - funnier than hell. You’ll love her, everyone loves her. She’s easy to watch out for, part of why I’ve never had to do this before. We had neighbors who were happy to look after her for me during the summer but they moved to Dallas about a month ago.” 

“Could I meet her?” You asked. “I mean, assuming you’re interested in potentially hiring me, I’d like to meet her, get to know her a bit…” 

“Well,” Joel looked awkward again. “You’re… the only interview I got. I must not be offering enough, didn’t get any other takers…” 

“I’m not opposed to being a last resort,” you smiled. He laughed. “And I’m fine with the pay. It’s enough that I won’t need to take out another student loan.” 

“That’s good,” he sighed. “Because I’d love to offer more but…” 

“I get it,” you said. “Will I be meeting Sarah’s mom?” 

“No,” he replied. “She hasn’t been in the picture in years. Her loss, but still. It’d be nice to have a… female presence in her life.” 

“That’s hard,” you leaned in a bit closer to him. “I’m really sorry. If it helps, I know a bit about what that’s like. My dad left before I was born, my mom not too long after. I grew up with my grandma. She’s great, I love her more than anything and she’s done so much for me but… I dunno, I guess I was always wondering why I couldn’t be enough for them to want to stick around.” 

“Speaking from experience,” he replied. “It ain’t got shit to do with you, Kid.” 

It was the first time he’d called you that. Now it was practically all he called you, you couldn’t remember the last time he’d said your name. You kind of liked it. Your grandmother had been the only person close enough to you to have given you a pet name, it was nice to have a term of endearment from someone. Even if it was a bit infantilizing. 

You realized Joel must have been fucking flooring it to get to you as fast as he did. It took almost 15 minutes to get back to his place and the TV was still on when you stepped into the living room, a horror movie you didn’t recognize playing. 

“C’mere Kid,” he jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Should ice that wrist.” 

You followed obediently, still cradling your injured arm as he rifled around the freezer. He pulled out a bag of frozen corn and dropped it on the counter before squeezing it a few times to break it up. He wrapped it in a towel. “Hop up,” he patted the counter and you obliged. He held his hand out and you put your injured wrist in it. He turned it over gently in his hands, examining you. 

“You’re already bruising,” he growled. “Should’a fuckin’…” 

“You got me out of there,” you cut him off, voice gentle. “I don’t even want to know what might have happened if you hadn’t come to get me…” 

“Me either,” he muttered, gently pressing the frozen vegetable bag to your arm. You winced. “Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” 

“Positive,” you replied. “Nothing’s broken. I broke my arm once when I was a kid, it was way worse than this. They’d just send me home with some Tylenol right now.” 

You looked at his hand. 

“You’re sure you’re OK?” You frowned. He glanced down. 

“Definitely,” he said, going to run his hand under the faucet. He glanced up at you. “You know how to throw a punch?” 

“I think so?” You replied. “How hard can it be?” 

He shut the faucet off and dried his hands before stepping in front of you.

“Let’s see,” he said. “Make a fist.” 

You obeyed, using your uninjured hand. He shook his head, taking hold of your fist. 

“Your thumb has to be on the outside of your fingers,” he said, gently opening your hand and freeing your thumb. He nudged your fingers closed again and brought your thumb over the top of them. You’d never noticed just how large his hands were until you saw them contrasted with yours. “Like that. You’ll break your thumb if you do it the way you had it. When you go to punch, bend your knees a bit. It’ll stabilize you. All your power is going to come from your lower body, start there and carry it up. Strike with your middle knuckle and then follow it through.” 

“Thumb outside, knees bent, start low, follow through,” you repeated, your hand still in his. You tried to ignore the electric current that ran over you where his skin touched yours.

“Right,” he said, releasing your fist. “So next time some asshole puts his hands on you, do that at his nose, OK Kid?” 

“Something tells me it won’t be as effective as when you do it,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his. 

“Maybe not,” he shrugged. “But it’ll still hurt and give you a chance to run. Which is what you do. And you can always call me. OK?” 

“OK.” 

He helped you down from the counter. 

“Don’t know about you,” he said. “But I’m a bit too keyed up to sleep quite yet. Want somethin’ to drink?” 

“Is it weird to ask for a beer?” You almost winced. 

“Not like you’re workin’,” he said, going for the fridge before turning back for you. “Wait, you turned 21 last fall, right?” 

“Yes, Joel,” you smiled, rolling your eyes a little. “I’m fully legal. Well, except to rent a car.” 

He laughed as he got two beers from the fridge, opening them with a bottle opener that was attached to the counter. He passed you one and you both went to the living room, the credits rolling on whatever horror movie he’d been watching. 

“Sorry I made you miss your movie,” you said, sitting on one end of the couch and taking a sip of beer. 

“It was shitty anyway,” he shrugged. 

The TV switched to a commercial break before teasing “When Harry Met Sally.” Joel went to change the channel but you stopped him. 

“What, don’t tell me you like that… romance crap,” he was almost teasing you. 

“Have you ever seen ‘When Harry Met Sally?’” You asked. He made a face. You rolled your eyes. “Joel. C’mon. It’s one of the best movies ever made.” 

“No,” he scoffed. 

“It is!” You insisted. “The dialogue? The pacing? The acting? Ugh, so good. It’s one of my favorites. Give it a try, pretend there’s a heart somewhere in there.” 

He was still looking at you, skeptical. You’d somehow closed the gap on the couch, your arm brushing against his. 

“I will lose all respect for you if you just refuse to even try it,” you challenged. 

“Oh because you’ve got so damn much of that,” he snorted. You elbowed him playfully. “Fine, Kid. We’ll watch your little romance movie. But only because you had a bad night and I’m not a total asshole.” 

“You’re not?” You clutched your chest in mock surprise. 

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

You kept glancing over at him as you drank your beer, your legs tucked up beside you as he leaned against the arm of the couch. He was actually paying attention, you’d give him that. 

“Well?” You asked during the second commercial break. 

“It’s… not bad,” he looked over to you. 

“You like it!” You twisted to face him. 

“No, I do not,” he fought to keep from smiling. “I just don’t… dislike it.” 

“Joel Miller: father, contractor, rom-com lover,” you smirked, taking a sip of beer. He just shook his head, a twitch in his jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you tickets to opening night of the next Meg Ryan movie, it’s the least I can do.” 

You caught him stifling a laugh more than once and, about an hour into the movie, checked your injured wrist before taking the still half frozen corn back to the kitchen and coming back with two bottles of Shiner, passing one to you. 

The beer made you bold - and tired. Your head drifted onto his shoulder and he didn’t stop you, your blinks becoming longer and longer until your eyes stayed closed and you fell asleep against him. 

*** 

You’d been right about the movie. Joel shouldn’t be surprised. You had good taste in most things. The books and music you brought around, the food you invented on nights where he worked late and you made Sarah dinner. Your taste in men left something to be desired, though. 

Joel ground his teeth, glancing over at your sleeping frame, the almost empty beer bottle still in your fingers. He gently took it from you, setting it on the side table to not disturb you. You sighed happily and pressed yourself closer to his side. His eyes trailed down your body. You were wearing one of your damn sundresses again - seemed like that’s all you wore this time of year. He thought you were going to be the death of him the summer before, him coming home every night to see you in one of your damn sundresses or cut off shorts and a tank top, looking soft and sweet and beautiful as you made dinner or did a science experiment with Sarah. 

He’d never known a person as kind as you. That he was sure of. The first time he called you on a Saturday morning to ask if you could come watch Sarah on your day off - there was an emergency at a job site and he was desperate - and you made it sound like he was doing you a favor, not the other way around. 

“Of course!” You sounded actually excited. “Do you think I could take her to the zoo? There’s a cool program there on Saturdays, I was thinking of asking to take her sometime, anyway…” 

He’d tried to pay you for it but you waved him off. 

“I’m just hanging out with my best friend at the zoo, why should you pay me?” You looked at him like he was crazy. Sarah was glowing. 

You were everything bright and good and the fact that someone had put his hands on you… He ground his teeth again. He was surprised that you weren’t more upset. He’d have expected you to be crying, at the very least. It sounded like you had been when you called. But, by the time you got to his place, you were your usual self. Like somehow one asshole wasn’t going to ruin your outlook on the world. 

Joel hadn’t realized how strong the drive to protect you would be. He’d never needed to before. He’d told you pretty early on to call if you ever needed something. He’d even told you to call if you were drunk at a party and needed a safe ride - didn’t want you getting in a car with some idiot college kid who’d had a few too many behind the wheel. You’d rolled your eyes a bit but said thank you all the same. But he wasn’t expecting you to ever need to take him up on it. At least, not like this. 

He hadn’t realized that he’d run out of the house without shoes on - without even locking the damn door - until he was halfway back with you safely beside him. You’d sounded so hurt and so scared, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He’d had to keep himself from beating the shit out of the man who’d been holding you. 

And now you were asleep on him. 

There was so much wrong with what he was thinking about you. There’d been so much wrong with what he thought about you since the day he met you. He called you Kid as much as a nickname as to remind himself that you were far too young for him, closer to Sarah’s age than his own. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were barely out of your teens when he met you. Men who preyed on young women disgusted him. He wasn’t about to become one just because he could spend all damn day just watching you exist. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch. Was it fair to even have you work for him this summer if he felt this way? He was going to, regardless, he just wasn’t sure how shitty he should feel about it. Offering you his home as a place to stay for a few weeks wasn’t a smart move, though. He was already around you all the damn time when Sarah was out of school - and pretty regularly outside of that, too, you coming by a few times a month to keep an eye on her when he needed to take care of something on evenings or weekends. You even tutored her in math and science when she hit a rough patch back in February, you figuring out her stumbling blocks and reframing it so she could wrap her head around it. Sarah had been so excited when she got an A on her test, the first thing she wanted to do after telling Joel was call you. He’d heard your excited yell through the phone from a few feet away, Sarah beaming with pride. You, in his space, with your damn sundresses and your CDs and your books in fucking French were going to kill him. 

He tucked your head tighter to him, slipping an arm below your waist before maneuvering you into his arms. You sleepily mumbled something - totally incoherent - and he carried you to Sarah’s room, setting you gently on her unmade bed. He took off your shoes before tucking you in and paused. You’d painted your toenails red, the same shade as the cherries on your sundress. You’d painted your fucking nails for the asshole who’d put hands on you. He clenched his jaw for a moment before pulling the blankets over you and closing the door behind him. 

Joel tried to think about anything but the way your breasts looked in that dress, knowing you were just down the hall, as he fucked his own hand before passing out alone. 

He woke up before you the next morning and stood awkwardly in his kitchen, wondering what he should do. If you were a woman - well, a woman he’d fucked - he knew what he’d do. He’d try to make you breakfast, something that was good enough that you might want to come back and fuck him again. What did he make for his babysitter who he rescued from a bad date and then fell asleep on his arm? 

He started with coffee and waited, standing there awkwardly leaning against the counter where he’d had your hand in his the night before. Thankfully, you woke up not long after him, shuffling into the kitchen in bare feet, your hair mussed and mascara on your cheeks. You’d put on an oversized zip up hoodie that Sarah had stolen from him and never given back, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, the sweatshirt not that much shorter than the dress below it. 

“Morning sunshine,” he teased you. It took you a moment to register that he was there, looking almost surprised when you did. “Coffee?” 

You wordlessly nodded, shuffling to the kitchen table and sinking into a chair before putting your head down on the table. He smiled and shook his head, pouring you a cup of coffee and adding some milk and sugar before putting it in front of you. 

“Not a morning person?” He asked, sitting beside you. You shook your head, lifting the mug to your lips and taking a long drink. You looked surprised again, looking from the mug to Joel. “Use your words, Kid.” 

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?” Your voice was still scratchy with sleep. 

“Took a guess,” he shrugged. “Didn’t quite have the materials for a lavender latte.” 

You glared at him before taking another sip of coffee and sighing happily. 

“How’s the wrist?” He asked, nodding to your arm. 

“Fine,” you said, stretching it out in front of you. There were black and blue fingerprints on it. Joel clenched his jaw. “Just a bit sore. How’s the hand?” 

“Fine,” he said, voice gruffer than he’d intended. You just nodded and drank more coffee for a moment. 

“So,” you said, setting the coffee cup down and crossing your sweatshirt-clad arms on the table. “Did I fall asleep on you last night? And if yes, how embarrassing was it?” 

“You did,” he replied, half smiling at the memory of you against him. You groaned, putting your head down on the table again. “Not embarrassing though. You only snored a bit, sounded like a very small chainsaw…” 

“I snored?” Your head shot up from the table, eyes wide. He just laughed, taking a sip of coffee. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Cruel. That’s what you are, you’re cruel. Such a weird trait for a man who’s favorite movie is ‘When Harry Met Sally’ but what do I know…” 

“You hungry?” He asked after a moment. “I could make you somethin’. Not sure what you might want…” 

“You have to get me to my apartment today, right?” You asked, fidgeting with your mug. He nodded once. “Well, there’s this great diner around the corner from me, makes the best waffles you’ve ever had in your life…” 

“Not a Waffle House is it?” He asked, quirking a brow at you. You glared at him. 

“No, Joel, it’s not a Waffle House,” you shook your head but you smiled a bit all the same. “I could take you to breakfast? It’s the least I could do…” 

“I know what I pay you, Kid,” he said. “I’ve got breakfast. But yeah, let’s go get these famous waffles. I gotta grab Sarah this afternoon, was thinkin’ of calling Tommy and having him meet us at your place…” 

“Why?” You frowned. “I’m just grabbing some clothes and stuff, hardly need a team for heavy lifting…” 

“Because if that asshole comes around again, I’ll need someone to keep me from kicking his ass,” Joel said wryly. 

You rolled your eyes but went along with him, finishing your coffee and walking barefoot to Joel’s truck, your shoes from the night before dangling from your hand. You rolled the window down on the drive, hanging your head out with your eyes closed until Joel got closer to your apartment. 

“Turn right here, instead of left,” you said, pointing to a place with red and white awning up ahead. “It’s just up there, on the right.” 

You led the way inside, the small restaurant bustling for early on a Saturday. One of the waitresses did a double take as she saw you with your face all but pressed against the dessert case. 

“Girl, what are you doing here this early?” She asked, snapping her gum.

“Just getting an early start,” you smiled. “How’s your morning going so far Luce?” 

“Oh you know how it is,” Luce looked you up and down. You were still wearing Joel’s hoodie from Sarah’s room. “You doin’ a walk of shame?”

“Luce!” You swatted her arm. “C’mon, give me SOME credit. You know I’d tell you immediately how it was if that ever happened.” 

The waitress barked a laugh and shook her head. There was a bell at the kitchen window and she looked behind her before going back to you. 

“Sit tight for like three minutes,” she snapped her gum again. “I’ve got a table that’s ready to cash out, let me run this food and take care of them and you can sit with me.” 

“You’re the boss,” you gave her a small salute before turning back and smiling to Joel. “Prepare to have your life changed, Joel. I’m telling you, these waffles? Will ruin you.” 

“Nah, you’ve built them up too much,” he shook his head, frowning. “Can’t be that good.” 

The waitress you’d talked to before brought you to a table and put menus in front of you before leaning in conspiratorially to your ear. 

“Thought you said this wasn’t a walk of shame?” She looked Joel up and down. 

“Luce, this is my friend Joel,” you gestured across the table. “I look after his daughter in the summer. Joel got me out of a tough spot last night…” 

“He could get me out of a tough spot any time,” she winked. You gaped up at her. Joel just laughed. “Sorry, sweetie! We’ve just been dying for this girl to actually come in with a man at some point. She’s been on dates, never seems to go anywhere! She’s too cute to die alone, if she doesn’t have hope none of us do.” 

“No, you’re right, this restaurant is life changing,” Joel smirked at you. You went red. 

“Thanks Luce, I’m going to just die here now, appreciate you,” you smiled sarcastically up at her. She just laughed. 

“Usual drink, babe?” She asked. You nodded. She turned to Joel. “And for you sugar?”

“Just coffee.” 

“A purist,” she snapped her gum. “Be back.” 

You watched her go before groaning and burying your head in your arms. 

“I really should have known better than to bring you here,” your voice was muffled. “This is really on me.” 

“How often to you come here?” Joel asked, smiling as you emerged from your makeshift shelter. 

“Every Saturday,” you said. “Usually like an hour before close when it’s a bit slower. I sit in….” You twisted and pointed to a small, two-seat booth in the corner. “That booth so I’m out of the way and I just people watch and have coffee and waffles and catch up with everyone here. They’re all really sweet. Plus they’ll sometimes send me home with stuff from the display case that’s getting tossed that I then use to bribe your daughter with during the week.” 

“That explains the sugar highs,” he said dryly. 

Luce returned, putting something frothy in front of you and a coffee in front of him. 

“Whatcha eatin’?” She snapped her gum again. 

“Can you do me just the hugest favor,” you bit your lip, eyes wide. Luce sighed. 

“Tell me,” she said. 

���Can you make the sampler for my friend here?” You asked. “He’s never been here before and he absolutely HAS to understand the depth of affection I have for the waffles.” 

“Only because it’s you,” she shook her head. “I just let you get away with murder…” 

“It’s because you love me,” you smiled. She just sighed. “And I’ll do… the chicken and waffles please.” 

She turned to Joel. 

“You’re getting a bunch of waffles sweetie,” she said. “Whatcha want with em? Eggs?” 

“Scrambled.” 

“Any meat?” 

“Bacon.” 

“Done,” she took your menus. “Don’t let her run roughshod over you like she does over me.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel smiled. 

“I’ve made so many mistakes in the last 24 hours and this might just be the worst,” you sighed, taking a sip of… whatever it is that you ordered. 

“You just make friends with everyone, don’t you?” He asked, watching you across the table. Your face turned serious for a moment and then you smiled again. 

“I try to,” you shrugged. “But I end up on my own most of the time. Which is totally fine, by the way, I like being by myself. Lots to do and solitude is a good way to do it.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“What about you?” You asked, stirring your drink with a straw. “Haven’t seen you bring many friends around. Except Tommy but family doesn’t count.” 

“Not a lot of time for friends,” he shrugged. “Got work, Sarah….” 

“Rescuing hapless college students.” 

He smiled. 

“I stay busy.” 

You stirred your drink again, bobbing your head slightly, in time to a song Joel could barely hear over the buzz of people in the cramped restaurant. 

“You really tell them all about your dating life?” He asked, half smiling at you. 

“Oh God,” you groaned and then laughed. “Yes. But only because it’s basically non-existent and I have almost no one else to talk to about it. Luce is convinced she’s a matchmaker. Maybe I should listen to her, she’s been right every time I’ve told her about a guy I’m seeing.” 

“Every time, really…” Joel’s jaw twitched a bit. He didn’t like thinking about you with other men. But he did have fun making you squirm a bit in your seat. “How many times is that, exactly?”

“Are you asking me about my love life, Joel?” You teased, leaning across the table at him. 

He matched your stance, his face ending up only a few inches from your own. Even now, you smelled good. Sweet, floral. A bit like lavender. 

“Curious about your track record,” he replied. You laughed. 

“It’s real bad,” you said, sitting up straight again. “Jeremy was the fourth guy I’ve gone out with since I came to Texas. He’s the only one who made it to date four and we saw how THAT ended. The others weren’t QUITE so awful. One came close to being that bad but otherwise, just run of the mill not working out. Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of guys beating down the bio-lab door to get at the teacher in training.” 

Joel sat back in his seat, too. 

“Men are idiots,” he shrugged. “Especially when they’re in college. They wise up when they get older.” You bit your lip for a second before shaking your head to yourself. “What?” You scrunched your nose and shook your head. “C’mon kid. What were you going to say?” 

“They get better when they’re your age?” You blurted, blushing as you asked it. 

He watched you for a moment. 

“Like to think so.” 

Luce had been right. You’d ordered him a mountain of waffles. There were three of them, each quadrant a different flavor, topped accordingly, looking like a rainbow of food in front of him. He gaped at you and you shrugged, smiling as you cut into your own. You were right, too, though. They were the best waffles he’d ever had. And he wasn’t even that crazy about fucking waffles. Luce whispered something in your ear when she gave you a hug as you were leaving and it was enough to make you swat her on the arm before going to the truck, still smiling and shaking your head when you buckled up. 

Tommy asked few questions when Joel had called to ask him to come to your place and he’d beaten the two of you there, leaning against his truck. 

“Hey Tommy!” You hopped out of the truck and waved. You always sounded like whoever you were greeting made your day just by being there. It never seemed fake, either. Joel didn’t understand it. 

“Hey Kid,” Tommy smiled, hugging you briefly. “Heard I’m here to run interdiction.” 

“Your brother is paranoid,” you rolled your eyes, absently fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie. Tommy noticed the bruises at your wrist in the brief second they were exposed, grabbing your hand and shoving the sleeve up your arm. 

“The fuck is this?” He looked to Joel. 

“It’s nothing, really,” you took your hand back and Tommy didn’t fight you on it. “Just a… misunderstanding that Joel got me out of last night, that’s all.” 

“Misunderstanding my ass,” Joel muttered. 

“Some guy do that?” Tommy demanded. “What, he your boyfriend? Where is he?” 

“No!” You closed your eyes for a second and crossed your arms, Joel noticing the first traces of pain on your face since he’d picked you up last night. So you weren’t as OK as you looked, you were just damn good at hiding it. It passed quickly. “No, it’s just a guy I’d gone out with a few times and it just… didn’t go the way he wanted is all, it’s fine, it’s a misunderstanding, it won’t happen again, it’s fine. I promise it’s fine.” 

It didn’t look settled for Tommy. Didn’t feel settled for Joel.

“That’s why we’re getting some of her stuff,” Joel said. “He knows where she lives, she’s gonna stay with Sarah n’ me until her new place is ready. Wanted you here in case he showed his face.” 

“Afraid you can’t take him alone?” Tommy smirked a little. Like he knew the real reason. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel muttered. 

“OK so if the dick measuring contest is done, can we go inside and stop making a scene?” You fished your keys out of your purse. Joel’s eyebrows went up. He didn’t think he’d ever heard you say the word ‘dick’ before. Or be quite so blunt. 

“Sure Kid,” Tommy said. “We’re at your service.” 

“Such gallant gentlemen,” you smiled a little, leading the way to your apartment. It was on the ground floor of the small complex, a neighbor saying hi to you as you passed and giving a cagey look to the men trailing behind you.

Joel had never been inside your apartment before but, when he stepped inside, he imagined it was what it would be like to step into your mind. 

Everything was light and bright with soft things everywhere - a blanket draped over the back of the couch, pillows on a beanbag in the corner. There was a small cluster of plants on your windowsill and Christmas lights framing your bookshelves which were loaded down to the point that the boards were sagging in the middle. 

“Give me like five minutes to get changed?” You said, setting your purse down on the small breakfast bar that looked to serve as your only dining space. “Make yourselves comfortable, help yourself to anything…” 

You disappeared down the short hall and Joel took a minute to indulge his curiosity. He started with your bookshelf, the most worn copies. “Pride and Prejudice” looked like it was hanging on by a thread, the spine barely readable. He almost laughed. That fit you. “The Bell Jar” was also particularly worn. He hadn’t read that one, so he pulled it off the shelf and looked at the back, frowning. This seemed less like you. Or what he knew of you. He put it back. There were a lot of books on your shelf he didn’t know, and a lot that were in French that he may have known something about but fuck if he could tell what they were. 

You didn’t have many pictures, something he found oddly disappointing. There was one photo you’d framed of you with a girl who was the same age but it was years old, you couldn’t have been more than 15 in it. The few others there were looked to just be photos of you with an older woman, who must be your grandmother. There was a painting on the wall next to the bookshelf, almost too big for the space. A lavender farm. Of course it was. 

“I painted that.” 

Joel hadn’t noticed you come back in. You were still tying your mass of hair on the top of your head, wearing jeans and a threadbare t-shirt and the canvas tennis shoes you wore with fucking everything - the damn sundresses, the shorts that drove him crazy. He looked back to the painting. 

“It’s good,” he said. He wasn’t lying. He’d have never guessed you hadn’t bought it somewhere. 

“It’s that lavender farm, near my grandma’s place?” You stood next to him, looking at the painting. “Anyway, safe to say that can stay for now. Is it OK if I bring my plants? I don’t want them to drop dead because I’m not watering them when they need…” 

“Sure, Kid,” Joel smiled a little at you. “We’ll find a spot for them.” 

You looked relieved, finding a big, plastic tub to pack the plants in before going back to your bedroom. Joel followed you there and you handed him a worn duffle bag as you started to grab things to pack. Your bedroom, like the rest of your home, was you personified. There was a quilt on the bed that had to be about as old as you, tiny flowers covering the thing. The windows had frothy, white curtains, your bed had about six too many pillows. Stack of books on the nightstand, pressed framed flowers on the walls. All sweetness and softness and light. 

“Can you…” your face scrunched. “Close your eyes for just a sec?” 

Your hand hovered by a dresser drawer. He laughed. 

“Sure, Kid,” he obeyed, closing his eyes. “Pack your underwear without this old man watchin’.” 

“Not that old,” you muttered. He smiled, resisting the urge to sneak a peek at what it is you wore under those little dresses. 

It didn’t take long for you to gather your things, you turning in circles in each room a few times, muttering to yourself before nodding once, a sense of finality to it. 

“We can always come back if you forget somethin’,” Joel said. “But that’s a ‘we,’ no comin’ here on your own.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “But still, trying to avoid leaving stuff for school behind. I have exams soon, I need to study… Think I’m good, though.” 

You grab your purse and one of the three bags you’ve filled with the things you’ll need to survive a few weeks with Joel and Sarah. Joel grabs the other two, Tommy the box of plants and you fill up the bed of Joel’s truck. You’re about to get in your old car - a beater from the early 80s that Joel is still amazed made it from upstate New York to Texas in the first place - when a late model Ford F-150 that’s never done a day of work in its life pulled into the lot, closing your car in. You froze, a deer in headlights, as the fuckin’ guy from the night before stalked over to you and threw you against your car. 

Joel was over to you before he even realized he was moving, pulling the man away from you and shoving him to the ground. 

“What’d I tell you, boy?” He growled, pulling a fist back and bringing it down on his face. “Told you I’d kill you if you touched her again, didn’t I?” 

Joel hit him again, the man trying to protect his face, and he pulled his fist back to hit him again when you caught it, pulling him back. 

“Joel!” You were yelling it, like you’d been screaming it for a minute. Maybe you had been. Tommy was on him then, too, pulling him off the man on the ground. “He’s not worth it, Joel, he’s not worth it…” 

Joel got to his feet, breathless, the man on the ground curled in on himself. He turned to you, your eyes still wide. He wanted to hug you, hold you close. Instead, he just looked at you. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. You nodded once. He turned back to the man on the ground. “Take your truck and get the fuck out of here.” 

The man scrambled to obey and you watched, your body stiff, until he was out of sight. You deflated a bit when he was gone, the hint of a tear at the corner of your eye. 

“You’re OK Kid,” Joel said quietly. You looked at him, your eyes wide, trusting. “I’ll keep you safe. You’re OK.” 

You looked at him like you believed him.

[luna-writes-stuff]

As The World Falls Down, Nikolai Lantsov

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending

Word count: 2650

Tw: IS IT STURMHUND OR STURMHOND BECAUSE IT SOUNDS GERMAN SO I’VE ALWAYS SAID/WRITTEN STURMHUND BUT NOW THE TUMBLR TAGS ARE TELLING ME IT’S STURMHOND (yes I’ve read the books). Unintended infidelity, marriage, slight heartbreaking, Luna is an Alina-defender 4 life. Let me know if I missed any????

Summary: Nikolai’s proposal to Alina was strictly political. It made for a perfect alignment, even if love was lacking. Both parties agreed to this. However, Alina doesn’t know Nikolai is technically already married, though not on his birth name. He didn’t think much of the proposal, but you did. And after days of avoiding him, he finally talks with you, and you have a much-needed heart to heart.

Requested by @naushtheaspiringauthor

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“There's such a sad love Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel Open and closed Within your eyes.”

Sturmhund’s wife. Those were the words echoing around in your head. Sturmhund’s wife. Not Nikolai’s; Sturmhund’s. And the reality of it came crushing down after those awful words left his mouth.

You hadn’t officially married Nikolai. No - your contract stated his pseudonym. This was to ensure no hunters would come after you, trying to sell you for ransom or power. It was a very strategic move. Legally, you were bound to Sturmhund, but it was never something you and Nikolai had any difficulty with. He was Sturmhund after all, and between the two of you, that never stood in the way. It was weird to consider, but after only a couple weeks, you realised that the contract was the only thing that stated otherwise. Truth for you still was that you were married to Nikolai, and that had never been a lie.

Well, that came to stab you in the back after only a year.

“I'll place the sky Within your eyes.”

A reasonable part of your brain told you it was logical - it was smart. Of course Nikolai would propose to Alina. Politically, it made sense. It was a genius move. But the other eighty percent of your brain stenched from the betrayal. Seething fury and pain was buried deep underneath your skin, and no matter how nice and loving Alina had been, you couldn’t escape sneaking glares her way.

You never meant to. She was sweet and kind - she didn’t deserve it. But she was going to marry your husband. And he hadn’t even discussed it with you. That might have been the most painful about the entire ordeal: he never asked you.

It was never brought up in conversation, nor had he hinted towards it. It made you begin to wonder how long he had planned this out. And if he ever was going to tell you or ask you before proposing. Years spent with Nikolai before your marriage should have told you he would never do this out of love, but it felt like rubbing salt in a wound.

You hadn’t spoken to him in three days. In truth, you hadn’t seen him in three days. It might have been pettiness, but you were frightened you might do something stupid when you saw him again. So, you tried your very best to avoid him for as long as you could.

“There’s such a fooled heart Beatin' so fast. In search of new dreams A love that will last Within your heart.

Unfortunately, Nikolai wasn’t stupid. He knew you were avoiding him. He also knew exactly why. Then, every single time he tried to find you, something came in between. It was late at night, when he finally felt enough was enough. He had laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling endlessly. Sleep hadn’t come easy to him these last few days. You weren’t even showing up in your shared room anymore. Your pillow had gotten uncomfortably cold, and the clothes in your shared closet hadn’t moved since he made his decision.

Sitting up straight, he ran a hand through his hair, casting a glance to the empty spot beside him. Then, he stood up, hastily pulling on his robe as he left the room. Everyone had gone to sleep already, and the last people in the halls were either half asleep or keeping a watchful eye. A brief nod of recognition was given his way as Nikolai walked through the chilling halls.

He had no idea where to even start looking. You wouldn’t be in the most obvious spots; he knew you better than that. Tolya and Tamar had refused to tell him anything, even though he was sure they knew something. Their attitude towards him had changed slightly after his exchange with Alina, and he was sure they didn’t agree either. He didn’t mention it. He knew they’d shout at him, and he had enough on his shoulders as it was.

“I'll place the moon Within your heart.”

At night, Tamar would visit you, sometimes going with you to get some food in the late hours of the night. It was the only moment you could be given any peace. Right now, though, you had been alone.

Sitting at the long empty table, you chewed on a sandwich, topped with your favourite condiments. It was the most enjoyment you could get out of your day, and it was best celebrated in silence.

Papers of negotiations and terms were sprawled out across the kitchen, some weapons sitting in the corner of the room, hidden from plain sight. It never surprised you. You knew everyone had to be on their toes. It made it easier for you to focus on other things.

Like this delicious sandwich. “As the pain sweeps through Makes no sense for you. Every thrill is gone, Wasn't too much fun at all.”

“I might have known,” You heard from the entrance of the dining room, successfully drawing your attention. An unwanted scowl climbed onto your face as you stood up, holding the sandwich in one hand and the plate in another.

“I was just leaving,” You spoke with a full mouth, placing the plate in the sink, before making your way to the doorway. Not giving him another word, you pushed past him. “Wait,” He mumbled, grabbing your shoulder, forcing you to stop. You shrugged it off, turning around to face him. He looked slightly betrayed at the gesture, but composed himself quickly. “Can we not talk?”

“About?” You asked, disinterest in your voice. “Your new wife? She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” “Darling-“ Nikolai tried, but you had already turned around. “Goodnight, your highness.”

So, maybe you wanted to run up to him, sob into his shoulder and voice all your worries. Maybe, internally, that is what you needed most. But the mere sight of him now caused your blood to boil. And you could weep around that thought. Where he had once managed to make your heart skip a beat every time he looked at you, it now caused it to sink in agony. He made an oath to love you and no other. He made a promise. And political or not, it stung.

“But I'll be there for you. As the world falls down. Falling in love.”

You weren’t surprised when his quick feet caught up with you almost immediately, then slowing down to match your pace. You hated that he did that. He always did that. Asshole.

“Listen, I should have discussed this with you,” “Should you?” You interrupted, not halting your movement. “I don’t know. It’s not as if I am your wife or anything.” “Darling, please,” Nikolai pleaded, now grabbing your upper arms and keeping you in place, turning you to face him. “I love you, and only you. You know this.”

You didn’t respond to this, your eyes casting to the floor instead. You couldn’t see the change in Nikolai’s features upon your silence. You didn’t see how his eyebrows furrowed in heartbreak as his eyes reflected the same sadness you had felt this entire time. “You know that I love you, right?” He repeated, his voice now unsure.

The silence that followed was as terrifying to you as it had been to him. He hadn’t meant to make you feel this way. When he proposed, he didn’t think much of it, expecting you wouldn’t think much of it either. But the opposite finally appeared to be true, and now being directly faced with it, Nikolai cursed himself for not seeing it earlier.

“I'll paint you mornings of gold. I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now. We're choosing the path Between the stars.”

“Hey,” He tried, his hands gently falling from your arms as one of his fingers tapped your chin, causing you to redirect your gaze from the floor to his face. “You know I love you, right?”

Your lower lip trembled lightly as you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know anymore, Nikolai.” “Oh, darling,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you as he forced you into his embrace. And finally, after three days, you broke, your eyes breaking its dams as tears began to stream down your face, your shoulders shaking with your sobs.

“There is no one in the world I could ever love other than you,” Nikolai assured, his head resting atop yours as his fingers began to rub soothing patterns on your back. “Please, do not think you are anything less to me than everything.” “Why wouldn’t you ask me?” You sobbed, not looking up at him, instead keeping your head buried in his chest.

“I don’t know,” He answered truthfully. “I didn’t mean much by the proposal. I didn’t think too much of it as anything other than a paper.” He continued, placing a comforting kiss on top of your head. “And because of that, I didn’t think you would make much of it either.” “You were wrong.” You countered, your hands now grasping the back of his robe. “I know that now.” Then, he moved his head, looking down at you. “And I should have asked you before. I see that error.”

“I'll leave my love Between the stars.”

“If you had asked,” You started, your voice unsure. “And I would have said no, would you have still asked her?” A beat of silence echoed, before you felt him shake his head. “I wouldn’t have.”

You raised your head at this, your teary eyes forcing contact with his, seeking his face for any hint of deception. When you couldn’t find any, you sighed heavily. “I want to understand,” you muttered. “But part of me feels so betrayed.” “I know,” Nikolai whispered, one hand making its way to your face, wiping away stray tears. “And I do not blame you for this.”

“Alina is lovely,” you continued. “She doesn’t know we’re married. She doesn’t do this to harm me. Yet, part of me envies her so much. Every time I see her, I just want to punch her in the face.” That got a tiny chuckle out of him. “She doesn’t deserve that, Nikolai.” You scolded. “No, but it’s a little funny.”

“As the pain sweeps through Makes no sense for you. Every thrill is gone Wasn't too much fun at all.”

When his laughter died down, he looked at you in sincerity. “I can break it off,” He decided. “Easily. It wouldn’t hurt her feelings. In truth, I do not think she feels anything for me. She is lovesick over Mal.” “Nikolai,” You interrupted him. “As someone who wishes to end this war, I see that this would be a good solution.” He shook his head. “And as my wife?”

When you thought about it for some time, Nikolai filled the silence. “The brutal truth.” He clarified. “Don’t make me feel good about myself.” You shrugged at that, your features falling slightly. “I’d ask for both your hands. Not just one.”

With those words, Nikolai’s hands intertwined with yours, squeezing them affectionately. “Then, you shall have them.” A heavy feeling settled into the pit of your stomach, the ominous truth lurking over your shoulders, almost laughing at you menacingly. “The people need an end to all of this.” “There are other ways to solve this war. Other, peaceful ways.” Nikolai countered, pulling you back into his embrace.

“But I'll be there for you. As the world falls down. As the world falls down. Falling in love.”

When he didn’t feel you copy his hold, he continued talking. “Marriage was option one. There are a hundred others.” “You could have started with these.” You mumbled, wiping the final few tears off your face. “Well, this one was the easiest,” Nikolai explained. “But I think that keeping my one true wife is worth the struggle.”

The lump in your throat began to slowly vanish at those words, anxiety still there, although less severe. As if he sensed it, Nikolai broke his hold on you. “Come morning, I’ll talk to Alina. You have my word.” Your hand shot to your arm as you rubbed it, trying to distract yourself. “I think it’s just the looming threat of the darkling.”

Cocking his head from side to side, the prince agreed with you. “It is terrifying.” “What if we cannot win this?” You questioned, doubt heavy on your mind. You knew it was on Nikolai’s too, but he had always been better at hiding it. Royal training tends to do that to you. “For the first time in years, we have a chance,” he assured. “And if not, I’ll die protecting that which I love.” You raised your eyebrows at this, already knowing what was coming, but you gave him the chance to say it out loud: “That’s you.”

Finally, a small smile climbed onto your face. “Sap.” “You married me for it.”

“As the world falls down Falling in love. As the world falls down.”

The late hour had started to dawn on you, exhaustion slipping back into your features. You were too tired to think more of the war, and make the issue bigger than it was. You spoke with Nikolai, which hadn’t been on your list of things to immediately get to. Be that as it may, it brought enough relief, and you found yourself slightly grateful for him stalking the halls late at night.

“Promise to not propose to anyone ever again?” You asked, trying to leave the matter for what it was. “Not ever after I asked you?” Nikolai retorted in a joking manner. You didn’t laugh at this. “That was a joke.” He clarified.

“It wasn’t funny.” “I know,” He quickly corrected himself, wiping the smile off his face, sincerity shown once again. “That was too soon.” You nodded at him, but leaned into his side, offering him some form of assurance.

“Makes no sense at all. Makes no sense to fall. As the world falls down Falling in love.”

“Come back to bed, my love. I haven’t slept well in days.” He muttered, an arm wrapping around your figure as he held you against him. “Neither have I.” You confessed, which caused him to look at you in slight confusion. “Truly?” When you nodded at him, he nodded his head, seemingly lost in thought. “Well, you wouldn’t say. You still look absolutely breathtaking.” You couldn’t suppress the heat rising to your face at his words, your heart skipping a beat.

When he didn’t speak after that, you took it as your queue to fill it. “I’m sorry.” You voiced. Furrowing his eyebrows, Nikolai squeezed your shoulder. “You have nothing to apologise for,” His feet began to walk through the halls, dragging you with him as he made sure to match your pace. “You were completely in the right to question my decisions and feel hurt because of it. My mistake was thinking that my reason for actions would be interpreted the same for everyone.” He cleared his throat as he thought over his own actions of the past few weeks with regret. “Clearly, that is not the case, and I know that now.”

The second smile of the night climbed upon your face as you looked up at him. “Are you apologising to me now?” “Shh,” He shushed you quickly. “Don’t tell the others.” You shook your head, nudging his side slightly. A content grin spread on Nikolai’s face as he looked down at you. “I love you, darling.” He shared. “Will you say it back?”

Giving him one fake-hesitant look, you gave him a joking nod. “I love you too.” His free hand grasped yours, bringing it up to his lips as he placed a light kiss on top of it.

“Thank you.”

“As the world falls down. Falling in love.”

[laforzadelvoila]

Reunion (Chrollo x Pakunoda)

Notes: I've been really interested in Hunter x Hunter lately, and although I haven't finished reading all the manga arcs, I've been following the new chapters and have developed a fascination with Phantom Troupe, in particular with these two characters.

I've been thinking a lot about Chrollo and Paku's tragedy, so this little one-shot is an outgrowth of that. I don't know, maybe I will write other fanfics about them or other HXH characters.

I'm sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language.

The small, skinny black kitten let out a weak meow, catching the attention of the tall, slender teenager girl who was walking among the debris piled up in that dump. The blonde girl crouched down and petted the poor cat, who began to purr weakly. She took a piece of bread out of her pocket and offered it to the little creature, who desperately accepted the portion of food, tearing off chunks of bread.

Pakunoda gave a sad smile. Since she was a child, she had the habit of feeding the abandoned animals she found in Meteor City with the little she had left, even when she herself barely had anything to eat. The cat finished swallowing the bread, rubbing itself affectionately against the gentle girl's hands.

“Paku?” a simultaneously strange and familiar voice called her.

When she turned around, the cat ran towards the owner of the voice: a teenage boy the same age as her, with completely black hair, eyes and clothes. For a moment, Pakunoda barely recognized him, but it didn't take long for her to realize that this grown-up young man in front of her was her best friend and childhood crush, whom she hadn't seen in three years.

“Chrollo?” she approached the boy, who was petting the black cat.

Paku knew that the Chrollo she had known as a child had already died three years ago. After all, a part of herself, her innocence and her dreams also died on that same rainy night when the two, together with their friends, discovered Sarasa's dismembered body inside a garbage bag suspended from a branch of a tree. The brutal death of their dear friend was the final straw for the Something Troupe; the miserable inhabitants of Meteor City did not officially exist on paper, making them easy targets for heinous people with macabre interests — long before Sarasa, other children there faced a similar fate — and they couldn't simply accept anymore that their lives didn't matter to the world, that they would never have justice in their lives. All that amateur troupe wanted was to have fun dubbing episodes of Power Cleaners and cheer up other children as wretched as them, but as long as they lived in a place as vulnerable as Meteor City, they would never truly have peace or security.

Pakunoda wanted to remember all of this so that there would be no doubt about what she should do next, so that she would never forget her motivations, why she and Chrollo decided to follow such a dark path: to never again let the inhabitants of Meteor City, human beings with dreams and full of life, be treated like mere punching bags by outsiders. They would be villains who would terrorize the world, damning their own souls so they could protect their bonds thinner than water, and yet thicker than blood.

“You look so tall!” commented Paku, laughing, astonished. When they were kids, Chrollo was easily one of the smallest kids in the Troupe, but now he was almost as tall as her. “And your voice, you sound so mature now—”

“And you've become even more beautiful,” Chrollo said affectionately, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

Paku didn't know how to react for a moment, feeling her cheeks burning. When she first saw Chrollo that evening, she thought not only about how much he had grown, but also how handsome he had become, and her beating heart was taken by surprise by the boy's sweet sincerity.

“You know, you too,” she laughed, shaking her head in amusement, which caused her bangs to slide slightly to the right.

Chrollo was very close to her now. When he raised his hand to straighten her errant lock of hair, Paku finally registered the closeness between them and, startled, suddenly pulled away, her heart racing. The boy was very surprised by her abrupt reaction, the two looked at each other for a few confusing seconds, as if they were strangers; the cat jumped back to the ground in the meantime.

“I'm sorry,” the young man finally said, seeming to feel guilty, although he himself didn't quite understand what had just happened.

He assumed she didn't want him to touch her, and Chrollo feared he had invaded her privacy without realizing it. He felt naïve. Why had he thought that he and Paku would be as close as before? After all, three years had passed, why had he thought that the feelings they had for each other would be the same as before? Paku had no reason to continue to reciprocate those feelings, especially considering that because of the path Chrollo and his friends decided to take, he could never offer her the life she deserved. And the guilt he felt about it tighten his heart.

“No!” Pakunoda quickly tried to explain herself, nervously. “You didn't do anything wrong, I just forgot to tell you that… you can't touch me. And I can't touch you either.”

Chrollo looked surprised and intrigued, but stayed silent so she could continue her explanation.

“Three years ago, when we all swore to offer our lives and follow you on this mission, we also decided that we would find ways to become stronger,” Paku told him “While you were away on your training journey, we were also training.”

“So all of you can also use Nen now?” asked Chrollo, unable to help but feel proud of his friends.

“Yes,” she nodded “I am a Specialist, I trained with Renko-san. My ability allows me to 'read' people's minds from physical contact, in particular their memories.”

“If you are a Specialist, then your ability must have restrictions,” said Chrollo, starting to understand everything.

“I swore on my Nen that I would never read your memories,” Pakunoda finally revealed.

There was much unsaid in the silence that followed. In truth, Paku's restriction was about never touching the person she loved most, but admitting the last part out loud was very difficult. Chrollo deduced, partially correctly, that she had decided never to read his memoirs out of respect of his wish that no one else would know what was written in the terrible letter left by Sarasa's killers. That was true, but Pakunoda's decision was also related to her fear of her own feelings; the life they swore to follow offered no room for love, especially for the one who would be their leader. At least, that's what she believed.

“It's okay,” Chrollo smiled gently at her. “Thanks for everything.”

Paku raised her head, looking directly into the boy's obsidian eyes. She forced herself to smile too. In the end, they concluded, the most important thing was that they would always be by each other's side. They both thought about the last time they touched: during Sarasa's funeral, Chrollo and Paku held hands as they watched the small coffin being buried.

They didn't need to speak out loud what they thought so that the other could understand. Something about their relationship that they both always appreciated was the fact that they understood each other so well, practically like soulmates. Paku feared the increasing emotional distance between them that would inevitably occur, but was aware that it was all for the greater good. She tried to avoid thinking about the idea that she had somehow given up on understanding the person she loved.

“Chrollo, you son of a bitch! You finally came back and you didn't even come looking for us?” a thunderous cheerful voice that suddenly interrupted them made the ground shake.

Uvogin had always been a tall guy, but now he was over two meters tall. He and Chrollo shook hands, though the younger one ended up being lifted off the ground in the process.

“Don't be like that, Uvo. I was looking for you guys, but it just happened that Paku was the first one I found,” Chrollo explained calmly, amused.

Pakunoda and Chrollo exchanged glances. She wasn't sure if he had actually found her first “accidentally,” but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were finally reunited.

Behind Uvogin walked Machi, Shalnark, and Feitan, but there were still other members to appear at the first meeting of the Phantom Troupe. Chrollo knew that from that day on, they would be The Spiders, they would be the most terrifying criminal group in the world, and there was still much work and sacrifices to be made — and, having assumed the role of leader, he needed to focus on their mission.

“Everything will be fine,” Chrollo and Paku thought, hiding their anguish and insecurities.

[scrcndipix]

red dawn. 06 | jeon jungkook.

The fall of the Baegyum Dynasty was imminent. Sangyu and his Insurgents from the Clans of the Mountains, known enemies of the royal family, have attacked the Sacred City of Ilsan, once the capital of an empire, now was reduced to ashes. And you have only one mission: to protect with your life the princess and heir to a broken realm. In your way to the neighboring kingdom in search of protection, you find yourselves in Yerin Woodland, territory of werewolves —ancient enemies of the Baegyum Dynasty who would gladly kill an Ilsan priestess like you.

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jeon jungkook x f reader.

wordcount: 13.4k

warnings/contents: nothing serious. just Luna being Luna and Jin and Jimin the bestest boys ever. angst???? (kind of). mentions of isolation and illness.

a/n: ... hi! i know it's been a while (like 3 years lol). i don't really have an excuse, just got into uni after the last chapter and didn't really feel like continuing the fanfic after that. during this time, i've matured the story and gained more perspective. i won't pressure myself to write anymore; i'll update when i'm truly satisfied and confident in what i'm doing. i understand that many people might not want to read it anymore. but for those who do, here's a new chapter. i hope you like it. i will maintain the old taglist, let me know if you want to be removed! take care. 💓

taglist: @shatzkrinslinzki @elliegrace1999tvd @channiespup @wooya1224 @veronawrites @itsoktheresbts @fangirl125reader @holyhumorliteraturelight @danyxthirstae01 @jamlessstars @chimchoom @jksusawife

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The last snows of the season were melting in pools of crystal clear water across the Clearing. In the mornings, the air was so chilly that it froze them, but it hadn't snowed in weeks. The last blizzard occurred on the night of your arrival to the pack, and since then, the signs of the arrival of spring had been clearer and clearer. The days were longer and the afternoons warmer.

As you came down for breakfast that morning, two days after your release on parole, you found out that the members of the pack were in especially good spirits and tremendously relieved.

"Jungkook took the farmers to the fields this morning to check their condition before sowing time after the next full moon," Jimin recounted, sitting on a high wooden stool, while Jin, at the stove, carefully stirred the contents of a huge, steaming pot, "and apparently they're all ready for this year's season despite the hellish winter we've had."

One of them was carrying the Cornerstone, as usual. You sensed the strap stirring and tensing almost lazily when you reached the threshold of the kitchen. The strands of light ghosting around you where you couldn't reach them, though you almost could. It was Jin who was bearing the medallion.

"Ah, thanks the Moon." The older Omega seemed to be very relieved. "Hoseok told me the other day that we were running out of our grain reserves."

Jimin nodded, humming. "Yeah, and since elk have migrated to the Yugseon Steppes earlier this season, we'll be able to organize hunting trips as soon as the snow melts enough for the paths to be clear."

You cleared your throat, not finding any other way to make yourself heard. They both turned their eyes to look at you when they heard you enter the kitchen, and a smile automatically formed on their faces, welcoming you.

"Welcome to the world of the living," Jin greeted you, refocusing his attention on the pot.

Jimin chuckled, pulling a stool away from the counter for you to sit next to you. You suppressed an apologetic smile as you settled in; Jin had strictly forbidden everyone to interrupt you while you slept, stating that it was best to let you wake up on your own, so that you could rest and sleep as long as your body asked. As a result, you didn't usually emerge from your room until late in the morning, even noon.

"Did you sleep well?" Jimin asked, with a mocking tone that made you finally smile.

"You shouldn't get me used to sleep all I want," you replied, leaning your elbows on the counter, "by the time you want me to get up early, it'll be too late."

Your playful answer made them laugh. They were getting used to you behaving like a normal person, laughing and smiling more usually, playing along their jokes and talking comfortably. It was a slow progress, but it was still progress.

"Nonsense." Jin's words were categorical. "You will be more helpful during the sowing if you are fully recovered. So do as I say, I am the healer here."

He shook his wooden spoon up and down, in a threatening manner, before putting it in the pot again. You nodded, forcing a smile although they didn't realize it wasn't genuine. Even if you had all the time you wanted and more to sleep, you couldn't rest properly. You spent most of the night awake, staring at the wooden panels of the ceiling of your rooms. The reason? Nightmares. Horrible, dreadful nightmares. Despite the fact that all of them were different, they all ended the same way.

Your hands stained with dark blood and a mountain of wolves' corpses before your shaking frame.

But of course, you couldn't tell them about that. It's not that you couldn't, because you knew that if you could trust someone in the pack, it was them. No, it wasn't like that: you didn't want, it felt too close to home for them to talk about that episode of your lives just yet.

"Have you ever participated in a seeding, Luna?" asked Jimin, leaning his chin on his hands.

"Kind of," you answered, shaking your head from side to side contemplatively, "it was customary that the High Priestess blessed the fields before the seedtime. Everyone thought that brought prosperity and good harvests."

The two Omegas were listening attentively, just like every time you told them about your life in Ilsan. They wanted to leave a record of everything they didn't know or anything their books didn't have. You found yourself softening whenever it happened, because you couldn't tell why, but seeing them truly interested in your thoughts and experiences made you happier than you would like to admit.

For the first time in forever, someone listened to you and kept in mind your opinions. For the first time in forever, you felt like you could speak your mind because your point of view was as valid as everyone else's. Jimin interrupted your thoughts dragging you back to reality.

"Did it work?"

"Well, I guess so. We never had problems with droughts or plagues. My blessing or pure luck? Only the Moon knows."

They chuckled at your words and Jin placed two bowls of chicken noodle soup with two glasses of warm herbal tea. One was for you and the other for Jimin.

"I can't wait for this year's Vernal Equinox Fest" Jimin commented, munching on his noodles, "you'll love it, Luna. It is one of our biggest celebrations."

You nodded, taking a sip of tea. You had read about it before, all their festivals were perfectly described in the books of the Great Library of the High Temple —Vernal Equinox Fest, Summer Solstice Fest, Autumnal Equinox Fest, Harvest Festivals, Great Moon Festivals, etc. Werewolves' culture depended a lot on the hunting seasons and the farming and lunar calendars, since that was the only way they had to measure the time. Their festivals were large and very important for them, being the most relevant social events in their life in community

Before you could add anything else, someone opened the front door with heavy steps before closing it again. The three of you turned your heads to the kitchen door.

"Anyone here?" Taehyung's voice ecchoed through the corridors from the vestibule.

Your stomach sank in anguish at the sound of the young Beta and you just wanted him to go away. Avoiding Taehyung at all costs had become your main purpose since the incident of the effigy. Even if he didn't seem to hate you at all. That's what disturbed you. He should hate you. He had to, right? How come he didn't? He had treated you normally, even almost jokingly. He told you that he trusted you. How the fuck could he trust you?

You stirred in your place almost uncomfortably. He had to be lying, he had to be pretending. Maybe he was just trying to make you feel save and relaxed enough to be vulnerable around him; maybe he was trying to get close to you, so that he could attack you where it hurt you the most.

Hana's face came to your mind, and your heart skipped a beat. The princess seemed to be already close to him, and that only made you feel even more anxious.

"In the kitchen!" Jin answered, bending down to lift a cube of fresh water to pour it into a new pot.

You turned back to your bowl of noodles and shoved a spoonful into your mouth, pretending Taehyung wasn't approaching the kitchen in that exact moment. Maybe if you ignored his presence, he would just disappear. His steps became louder as he got closer to the room and he poked his head out of the door. 

"I don't know what are you cooking, but I want a bowl of that. It's smells like heaven", he said as he entered the kitchen. 

Jimin smiled. "Good morning, Taehyung-ah," he greeted, spinning on the stool to face him, leaning his back on the counter, "did you hear the news? Seedtime is coming!"

Taehyung flopped down mindlessly on the other stool besides you, gesturing Jin to hand him his own bowl of chicken noodle soup. 

"Yeah, Yoongi hyung told me this morning during our patrol. I guess that by pure stadistic, something good had to happen to us already," from the corner of your eye, you saw he was looking down at you with raised eyebrows, "and it is actually the reason why I am here."

Jin and Jimin waited patiently for him to swallow his first two spoonfuls of soup. Even you mustered the courage to turn your head to glance at him, expectantly. The way he looked at you when he said that the forthcoming sowing was the first good thing to happen to the pack after a series of unfortunate, fateful, disastrous, nightmarish events, told you what you already knew —you were part of those unfortunate, fateful, disastrous, nightmarish events.

"Alpha Kim asked me to introduce Luna to some people today", he explained at last, "since we are starting to prepare for the next winter, people think that she should help too."

You remained silent, munching slowly on your own food. Even if the deal you made with Namjoon and Jungkook only forced you to help them in the war with your power and the Cornerstone's you thought that them wanting you to collaborate in the pack's daily labors was just fair enough. After all, you needed to eat and a roof over your head, and also make amends for your past mistakes. Not that stirring some soil for the sowing or weaving willow baskets for storage could repay them for what you did, but well, it's the thought that counts, right?

You wish.

Jin frowned slightly, abandoning momentarily his cooking task to look at Taehyung directly in the eye.

"It's too early for that, she is still recovering. I talked with Jungkook about it and-

"Jungkook approves it, hyung. " He interrupted softly. "He was with Namjoon when they sent me here. Time flies and with Sangyu in wait, we need all the help we can get."

You sighed ever so slightly, yet earning their attention. Why were they talking about you like you weren't in the room? You were not a person of just sitting and wait for things to be done magically. Since you can remember, people have decided on your life and your fate, you had no voice to speak yourself. Back in Ilsan, no one expected you to have an opinion or a point of view, rather the opposite. And now that you were not the High Priestess anymore, you had all the right to speak your thoughts, helping was the least you could do for them, and you prefered better not to give the pack more reasons to despise you. The sooner they got used to you, the sooner you would stop hating yourself for what you did.

"I'll do it," Jin puffed in disbelief and Jimin frowned, "I'm much better and I'll try to help as much as I can."

Jimin huffed as well, trying to reason with you. "Luna, you cannot just-

"I am not asking for your permission," you cut him off, not trying to sound agressive, but firmly anyway, "I am informing you."

You were not having it, not anymore. As much as you appreciated Jimin, he wouldn't get to tell you what to do. No one would ever decide on your behalf if you could help it. He looked away, biting on his lower lip seemingly frustrated.

Jin glared at you, lifting his spoon to threaten you again with it. "If I find out that you are overworking yourself in any way, I'll put barriers on your bed again and tie you up to them. Got it?"

You smiled at him sheepishly, he sighed loudly, but he made do with that. He took the Cornerstone off handing it to Taehyung, and felt relieved just from the very idea of doing so. Jimin also seemed happy to be away from the medallion for a while. Even if he knew he was going to be the one carrying the jewel during more time because he was the closest to you, he wasn't able to get used to it. Jimin's perfect skin turned pale and sweaty if he had the Cornerstone for a long period of time. The same happened with Jin, though he avoided carrying it as usually as Jimin had to.

Probably because it terrifies them. Yeah. The Cornerstone killed six of them that day, remember?

Your eyes travelled to Taehyung's face; he was clenching his jaw hard, but apart from that, nothing revealed how much he actually hated that medallion. He took it from Jin's hand and put it around his neck. The jewel shone on his chest when a ray of sunlight hit its silvery surface. His eyes shadened almost instantly, and he cowered a little, as if someone had just put an enormous weight on his shoulders. The strap tensed abruptly, like claiming your attention. You felt so bad for the three of them and so thirsty of your former power that you stepped in almost without realizing.

"I could be more helpful if you just let me carry it again," maybe your tone of voice shown a little too much how eager you were for the Cornerstone, because the three men looked at you eye widened, almost scared, "I- I mean, I know you don't like having it and I could do a lot of things, and-

"Don't even think about it," Taehyung said, abruptly, almost harshly.

You didn't push any further, because you knew that would probably had set all their alarms. And you didn't want the Alphas to know that you were trying to recover the medallion even if that's what you needed to do, because how the hell did they expect you to protect them if they wouldn't give you your weapon?

Jimin cleared his throat in order to break the awkward and tense atmosphere that settled between the four of you like dripping and dense fog. He stood up from his stool.

"Well, I'll see you later then, Luna. I have to check on the pups at the Nursery." He bowed his head goodbye to you and to his hyungs before heading to the back door of the kitchen.

You watched him go before turning your head to the Beta to your right, he was already watching you when you locked your eyes with him. Taehyung tilted his head to the corridor. "Come on, it's almost midday."

You got up from the stool, handing your bowl to Jin. He seemed to be annoyed by the situation, but resigned to it anyway. You sighed silently and tried to ease his obvious disagreement.

"It was delicious, Jin, thank you," he hummed, accepting your praise and the bowl, still refusing to look at you, so you pressed a bit more, "can I have seconds at dinner?"

He glared at you, putting his spoon in the steamy pot again. "You'll get bellyache, missy. A balanced diet is essential for a prompt recovery," he turned your back to you, placing the bowl in a washbowl besides the counter. Without even turning to look at you, Jin let out a loud sigh before partially turning his face over his right shoulder. "But I can make it for lunch tomorrow if you want."

You nodded, satisfied, and turned around to follow Taehyung out of the kitchen. You tried to keep a sufficient distance behind him so as not to engage in any superficial and awkward conversation, but close enough not to appear strange or be noticed. Your footsteps on the creaking wooden floor filled the heavy silence between you and accompanied you until you reached the door. When the Beta opened the door and let you go first, you had no choice but to surrender and prepare for the uncomfortable conversation that awaited you from the Pack House to wherever he wanted to take you.

Stepping out onto the porch, the cold air of early spring filled your lungs and immediately cleared your nose. The sun timidly shone through translucent clouds that opened up in large gaps here and there. Numerous puddles of muddy water surrounded the homestead on all sides, the result of roof drippings, from which the last remnants of winter snow had already disappeared. The path that crossed the pack village like a central axis was also muddy and filled with puddles where children jumped and frolicked.

Taehyung cleared his throat to get your attention, and you snapped back to reality, realizing that he was already waiting for you at the bottom of the porch stairs. You apologized under your breath as you hurried to catch up with him, jumping over one of the puddles to avoid getting your boots dirty. He waited for you to reach his side before walking again. The Cornerstone shone once more on his chest as the young man turned towards the clearing, dazzling you in the process. There was something mocking and sarcastic about the way the medallion seemed to seek your attention all the time, as if it wanted to remind you that it was there, and that you had to reach it even if you couldn't. Taehyung didn't miss the glance you cast at the jewel, but as soon as you realized that the Beta was watching you, you looked away as if you had been caught doing something wrong.

"I'm sorry we have to do this," he said, turning his gaze forward. "Carrying the Cornerstone in front of you without allowing you to touch it, and being close to it all the time, but it's Jungkook and Namjoon's orders."

You clenched your fists inside the sleeves of your shirt. You hated not finding any trace of mockery in his voice. He should revel in it, be happy to see you suffer because you couldn't wear the pendant around your neck. He should laugh at you, feel satisfied by carrying the Cornerstone and forcing you to be near it without even touching it. But no, his apologies seemed genuine. And you hated it. You hated not finding the hatred that you were supposed to receive from him.

What are you playing at, Taehyung?

That question had been swirling in your mind relentlessly for the past two days, and no matter how much you wanted to find an answer, you couldn't. And you didn't have the courage to confront him directly and demand answers because he had already given them to you. He trusted you because Jimin did.

You shook your head, shrugging to downplay the matter. "It's okay, I understand, or at least I'm trying to. I'll get used to it."

Taehyung nodded without saying a word, and you both fell into silence again. The truth was, you didn't understand it, nor did you understand what the Alphas were waiting for to return the Cornerstone to you, since it was the only way you could fight and defend them in case Sangyu decided to make his entrance. You sighed, avoiding another puddle languishing in the middle of the road.

It was becoming hard to ignore the leash that tied you to the medallion, which tightened more frequently and stronger. The strands of energy weaving around you grew brighter every day, even in broad daylight, even when far from the medallion. And now that you had it closer, now that you could almost touch the Cornerstone, it even seemed like you could reach them.

You reached out to them experimentally, hoping to see them disappear as they always did as soon as you tried. But no, they didn't disappear. You brushed against them. The leash tightened so abruptly that you almost stumbled over a stone in the path. Taehyung stiffened at your side and stopped, clearing his throat, almost coughing, as if he had choked on a nut. Your blood ran cold, and you were almost afraid to look at him, fearing that somehow he knew what you had done. When you turned around, you saw that he had brought a hand to his chest and was frowning, and he also turned to look at you.

You tried to play it off. "Is something wrong?"

Taehyung seemed to consider his words for a moment before shaking his head and continuing to walk.

"No. It's nothing, let's continue."

Of course, you didn't insist. The sooner he forgot about it, the better for you. Still, the pounding of your heart and the trembling of your hands did not diminish in the slightest. One thing was clear: you had managed to reach the strands of light without even wearing the Cornerstone, which until then, was thought to be impossible. No High Priestess of Ilsan had ever achieved anything like that before, of course, none had spent so much time without the stone. Without daring to move your head from side to side to avoid drawing the Beta's attention, you saw from the corner of your eye that the strands of light still shone brightly around you, even more than before. The leash was so tight that it almost seemed about to physically drag you towards Taehyung.

There was also another thing that was clear, he had felt it. You didn't know how much, or how, or why, but he had noticed something. You squeezed and loosened your fingers trying to calm the beats of your heart, which pounded frantically against your ribs, at this rate, you were sure that all the werewolves in the pack could perceive your distress and nervousness from miles away. There were many things you hid from the members of the pack, perhaps out of pure instinct, because you still didn't trust them enough to tell them. And although you highly doubted that it was a good start for a war alliance, it seemed even more dangerous for them to know what you had just discovered. They kept the medallion out of your reach precisely so that you couldn't use your power for the time being, and if it came to their ears that you could use the Cornerstone to channel that power without having to wear it, the Moon knows what they would do to try to keep you under control.

The memory of the darkness, the cold, and your sanity unraveling like sand between your fingers sent a deep chill sweeping over you. No, you couldn't go back to the isolation cell again. So you stayed silent and kept the secret. Another one.

In an even more uncomfortable silence, you arrived at the Agora, where you could see for the first time and in all its splendor the morning market of the pack. You didn't know that there were so many people living in the Clearing until that moment, and it was the first time you had seen so many souls gathered in one place since the night of your escape from Ilsan. Anyway, it could never overshadow the market days of the chaotic capital of the Rowan Empire. The circular plaza was filled with wooden stalls covered with colorful fabrics, forming a smaller circle following the shape of the Agora around the effigy of the Moon Goddess, which rose in the center of the place.

There were people of all ages scattered in the square, many of them leaving offerings to the goddess, while others walked among the market stalls, inspecting the materials and chatting animatedly with the owners of the stalls. In Ilsan, the markets were the epicenter of theft and fraud, but there, like everything else that happened in the Clearing, everything seemed to move at a different pace.

Something you did notice and couldn't help but ask about was that no one carried any kind of currency on them.

"We don't believe in the monetary system that humans use," Taehyung explained, shrugging as you immersed yourselves in the crowd, "it's much simpler for us to trade with goods or ration cards. Each family in the pack specializes in manufacturing something that we all need, so we simply use exchange to have everything. When that system doesn't work, we pay with ration cards, which are exchanged for something from the pack's common warehouse: grain, wool, wood... Whatever is needed."

That left you as amazed as it did perplexed. Until then, you were unaware that a community could function in such a simple and effective way; it was nothing more than a utopia for a population as large as Ilsan or the great city-states of the South. Once again, the werewolves surprised you with their civilization, often much more advanced than those who called them beasts.

"Don't you ever have problems with that?" you asked, puzzled, while dodging two women who were calmly discussing the value of a ball of wool. "I thought that it is impossible to maintain a completely egalitarian society; there will always be someone who has more than the others."

Taehyung shrugged, without turning to look at you. "We're not a society like yours, Luna, we're a family. But to answer your question, of course we have problems, and not just with the distribution of our resources. But don't worry, Jungkook and Namjoon handle them wonderfully."

Somehow, it didn't seem strange to you to think that the pack operated like the perfectly oiled machine it was thanks to the leadership of both Alphas. You didn't know much about the pack leaders at the moment, nor how their predecessors managed the position, but you had met many powerful men throughout your life as High Priestess, and somehow you knew that none of them could hold a candle to Jungkook or Namjoon.

Call it intuition or experience, but deep down you knew. If the packs had survived Sangyu's attacks, with no wars or internal disputes and with systems as simple but delicate as those, it was because the leaders were exceptionally good at their jobs. Without another word, you followed Taehyung through the rest of the market, enduring with all possible composure the hard stares from all the pack members you crossed paths with.

Since the day you were allowed out of isolation, word had spread throughout the pack that the witch from Ilsan who ruined the last night of the blue moon was still there. By that morning, everyone in the Clearing knew who you were and what you were supposedly going to do for them. If any of them appreciated your efforts or your goal of protecting them from Sangyu, none of them let you know. Quite the opposite.

When you left the Agora and the hustle and bustle of the market behind, you could afford to release the breath you didn't know you had been holding, though not for long. Beyond the circular plaza, the village still extended a bit further. In that part of the clearing were the largest and oldest-looking houses, probably for larger families; there were scattered wooden buildings that looked like barns at first glance, and the rest of the space was made up of meadows surrounded by wooden fences where several domestic herds of cows, goats, pigs, and some chickens and hens grazed peacefully.

There was one building that stood out above the rest. It was also made of wood, circular, and covered by a dome of branches and huge leaves that almost seemed to be your size; it had circular windows forming a clerestory at the highest part and double doors that seemed as heavy as a mountain. You wouldn't have known what that building was for if the answer wasn't precisely at its doors.

There were two elderly people wrapped in white and immaculate clothes. They reminded you of the ones you had to wear as a Novice and later as High Priestess; white was the color of the moon and purity, so said the Patriarch. A nasty shiver ran down your back as you remembered it. Those same clothes were worn by Elder Sang and the other elder who had waited for you to come out of the cell that morning.

So those must be members of the Gerusia. And probably the building was their headquarters, or something like that. They seemed to be discussing something in a low voice, sitting on a long stone bench at the entrance of the place. One of them saw you and pointed you out to his colleague, whispering something in his ear. The looks of hatred and arrogance they directed at you before getting up and entering the building did not go unnoticed by Taehyung, nor did the spit that one of them spat at your feet as you passed by.

If you were in Ilsan, half a dozen Praetorii would have jumped on them just for looking you in the eye; for not bowing to you, they would have been whipped and would have spent three nights in Ryu's dungeons; for spitting at your feet, they would be on their way to the gallows to be hanged.

However, you forced yourself to ignore them and look the other way. Taehyung didn't do anything to correct their behavior either, though you understood. Only the Alphas could confront an elder, especially from the Gerusia. Who knows the trouble that would arise if the murderer witch and foreigner committed such a disrespect with a council elder.

The more unnoticed you passed, the better; the fewer reasons you gave them to hate you, the better. If that meant having to endure treatments as humiliating and degrading as those, you would. You just wished that all the bad things they did to you would come back to them someday. Multiplied by several figures, if possible. The Goddess was wise, and wove your destinies accordingly.

The Goddess shapes the back for the burden. You would have to settle for that for the moment.

"Don't take it personally, Luna," the Beta half apologized when the men had closed the doors behind them, "they take the Sacred Law too seriously. Someday they'll give in even if it hurts their pride."

You sighed, vaguely nodding your head and suppressing the urge to demand to know why he didn't spit at you like they did. He had reasons enough to do it.

"Is there a section in your Sacred Law that obligates you to spit at me?" you asked, knowing that the tone you used hinted at more bitterness than you would like to show.

Taehyung bit his cheeks for a few seconds as he thought about his response. "Not exactly, but there are some about how our enemies are treated, especially those with whom we have had direct confrontations."

You raised an eyebrow. As far as you understood since you were born, werewolves were hostile to anyone who got too close to the Yerin forest, let alone to those who dared to set foot in their territory. You had heard many legends of people who went and never returned, especially travelers and explorers who tried to open a faster and safer route to Ghaleen and the Eastern territories through Yerin. The Steppe Road that descended to Imhan Pass around the forest to the south was plagued by bandits and mercenaries in recent years.

"Do you mean basically all outsiders who step into the forest? I imagine that for the elders, anyone who isn't like you is against you."

Taehyung stopped and turned to look at you, hands on hips and a serious face that made you want to be able to shut your mouth as you did in Ilsan. You also stopped walking and took a step back to keep a more prudent distance from him; the Beta frowned at that last gesture and let his arms fall to his sides as he sighed, as if trying to explain to a child for the tenth time why he couldn't eat a whole box of candy at once.

"Look, Luna, I understand that the elders are not saints in your devotion and that their behavior is not appropriate, but it's not right for you to assume things about how we work here when you have no idea," well, you deserved that for being a loudmouth, "and even less as if we were inferior to you. We are not savages, we were not the ones who attacked and ended the other party's diplomatic mission, or were we?”

Okay. That was a low blow, but probably deserved, if we're being honest. Much to your chagrin and to the detriment of your pride, you averted your gaze with pursed lips, not daring to respond. Taehyung understood the message of surrender and sighed again, softening his expression, though he still seemed annoyed. Did you want to anger him so you could feel guilty about his grandmother's situation more comfortably? Well, probably, you couldn't deny it.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought up that topic again," you almost wanted to punch him for apologizing and making himself look like the bad guy in that situation. He had every right to be angry.

"I'm sorry, that was foolish of me," you conceded, looking back at him with some reluctance. "I don't think you're inferior, or savages, in fact... you're the most civilized community I've ever known."

Taehyung nodded, accepting the apology. "You must learn to understand our way of life and, above all, the Sacred Law. Although it may not seem like it, the Gerusia is wise and helps the Alphas a lot in decision-making and law enforcement... for all of us, not just outsiders."

He said the last part in a lower voice, with a more restrained tone, as if it were something he shouldn't mention. You frowned as your mind connected dots at a speed that impressed even you, and the answer came clear as a candle lit in the darkness of a cave.

"Were they the ones who decided to expel the... rogues?" you asked, also instinctively lowering your voice.

Taehyung glanced at you for a couple of seconds with narrowed eyes, perhaps wondering how you knew that. When you thought he was going to speak to answer you, he turned to walk away, physically avoiding your question as well. You didn't waste time and hurried to catch up with him to walk by his side; one of his strides was like two of yours, but the height difference wasn't going to stop you this time. You remembered that although you had ended eight members of his pack, they had done the same to your sisters from the Ilsan Temple. Well, technically it wasn't them. However, the expulsion of the wanderers from the pack was what gave them free rein to attack Ilsan without remorse in the first place, and if that hadn't happened, you would never have had to take anyone's life. It's not that you wanted to apologize or justify your actions in that way, but it was nothing more than the relationship of cause and effect. The Patriarch always said that chaos is a ladder; and that everything you do, every decision you make, is a step that determines the next one. The flutter of a butterfly in Vinland Desert could unleash a storm in Terlheslin. In this way, everything you do in the present will affect the future, just as the present is what it is because of the decisions made in the past. The whole ancestral hatred relationship you maintained with the werewolves was actually the top of the ladder; the product of a chain of terrible events.

Probably that part of the story where the werewolves massacred half of the Ecclesia was deliberately ignored by all members of the pack, so they could call you a monster and hate you without feeling any guilt. The Beta didn't answer you, but you didn't give up. Although Namjoon and Jungkook had told you the truth during your last conversation in the cell, you knew they hadn't told you everything.

Who were the rogues and why did they hate humans so much?

"I know it was like that. That they were the ones who attacked Ilsan, not the werewolves of the Clearing," you saw that the young man listened to you despite everything because he looked at you from the corner of his eye. "The Alphas told me in the isolation cell before they took me out. But they didn't tell me who-"

"That's a subject I can't talk about, Luna," Taehyung interrupted you, not slowing down his pace. "It's not up to me to tell you. If Namjoon and Jungkook didn't, there's a reason... We've arrived, come on."

You sighed. There were many unresolved mysteries about the pack's past swirling around in your head. Both you and they were hiding things from each other, although you hoped it wasn't as obvious to them that you weren't telling the whole truth as it was to you. That only evidenced what was more than clear: neither the pack trusted you, nor did you trust the pack, no matter how kind Jimin and Jin were to you.

You didn't add anything else, although you wouldn't have been able to if you wanted to. You had reached one of the last houses in the Clearing: one that was especially large, dark, and regal-looking. There was a pergola with a roof of moss and branches near the entrance, under which a large group of people were chatting animatedly around a large table. A squad of children ran around playing, jumping in puddles and climbing nearby trees. A huge tin pot was placed next to the table, over a fire, bubbling emitting a warm smell of homemade food that immediately opened your appetite even though you had just eaten a little while ago. A young and slender woman stirred the contents of the cauldron with a ladle the size of her forearm. Only when you approached close enough, you saw that she was carrying a baby wrapped in a cloth tied to her back.

"Dasom noona!" Taehyung called out as you left the path to approach the front garden of the house where the pergola was.

Everyone turned to look when they heard the Beta, greeting him warmly and patting him on the back. Not knowing quite how to proceed, you stayed a little behind in silence. When the werewolf men's eyes moved from Taehyung to you, they lost any friendly glow they might have had at first. However, the only look that really made you feel intimidated was that of the woman next to the cauldron; there was a latent and icy hatred hidden in her Beta blue irises.

"Is it her?" she asked, shifting her gaze to Taehyung. He nodded and the young woman looked you over again in a way that made you feel as uncomfortable as self-conscious. "She seems frail, I can see her bones under all that clothing from here."

Her words were poisoned, and although they were prepared to hurt you, what really hurt was the wave of poorly disguised laughter that the comment raised among the rest of the people who witnessed it from the table. You clenched your fists behind your back until your knuckles turned white, resisting the call of the Cornerstone, which whispered from Taehyung's chest, challenging you to pull the strands that tied you to the woman to shut her up in the worst possible way.

Taehyung wasn't laughing. "Dasom, please."

The woman rolled her eyes and turned to you, leaving the ladle inside the cauldron. Taehyung seemed to take it as a sign of peace, because he sighed before looking at you.

"Luna, this is Dasom, my older sister," the Beta said, pointing at the woman with one hand, "and Namjoon's mate."

You couldn't hide the surprise that this new information caused you. You didn't know that Namjoon had a mate, and apparently, at least one child, although it didn't seem strange to you in some way. He was a young and healthy Alpha, after all. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if Jungkook had also formed his own family.

Because you took his away. Or at least, part of it.

In addition to clenching your fists, you pressed your lips together. You were sure that when you opened your hands, your nails would have dug into your skin so much that they would have left four crescent-shaped marks. Then, Dasom's aversion in her eyes when she saw you made more sense.

You had also killed her grandmother that day.

This will haunt you for life.

"Well, let's see what you're made of, Priestess," she commented, in such a mocking way that you would have given her a murderous look if it weren't because suddenly you believed you deserved it more. "Have you ever made willow baskets or herded a flock?"

Dasom knew the answer, she probably knew the obligations of the priestesses and the luxurious lifestyle they led. She knew that you had never seen those domestic animals in your life unless it was for some sacrifice or served at a banquet for the nobles of Ilsan. She just wanted to humiliate you a little more.

You let her do it. You shook your head, still with your eyes fixed on the ground. You heard the cruel laughter of her companions again, who seemed to be having a great time with the situation. Taehyung didn't intervene again.

In the misty morning: wet meadows, dried leaves, and absent birds. It was late autumn. Even the streets of the normally chaotic citadel of Ilsan were immersed in a sluggish lethargy that day. But that was only the calm before the storm.

Inside the Imperial Palace, the world was completely different. It seemed like a bubble of madness and frenzy in a calm sea. The recent times had been tense for life at the court after Empress Yuran's multiple and tragic miscarriages, but nothing had prepared humans for what was about to happen that day.

And least of all, you.

Six Praetorii escorted you along one of the palace's immense corridors. That military order, expressly at your service, had been founded the day after the massacre of the Ilsan Temple to prevent something like that from happening again.

As you turned a corner in the hallway, the muffled sound of a crowd shouting and booing reached your ears. You swallowed hard, halting your steps suddenly. The Praetorii immediately stopped without breaking their ring formation around you. The Guard Commander addressed you without looking into your eyes, always with his head tilted down.

"Luna, we must proceed. They are waiting for you."

You nodded, but still did nothing to move from the spot. You knew what you were going to do, you knew what they were going to force you to do. When at dawn the City Guard brought word to the palace that they had sighted and captured a pack of werewolves in the vicinity of Ilsan, you already knew that neither the Patriarch nor the Empress would let them go unpunished for that.

Not after they had murdered all the novices and priestesses of Ilsan in a single day.

The Commander shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable, unsure of how to make you walk. They couldn't touch you unless it was to physically protect you, after all, or speak to you disrespectfully.

"Luna, please."

To your left, the youngest soldier of them all spoke. It was Kai, the closest person to a friend you had. He was barely fifteen, seven years older than you, but he had already graduated from the military academy with all honors, which had earned him a place in the palace garrisons if he wished. Despite the strict rules surrounding the ritual procedure by which people were supposed to communicate with you, Kai looked you in the eyes and spoke to you as what you were: a little scared girl.

That's what gave you the strength to start walking. All the soldiers followed you as if orbiting around you. The corridor turned again a little further ahead and ended at a stone archway that led to a huge inner courtyard. The Empress's Courtyard, the main one in the entire palace. All the permanent resident nobles of the court were there, as well as most of the inhabitants of Ilsan.

The Patriarch had allowed the entry of commoners into the palace, a historic milestone in the memory of the Sacred City. The crowd formed a wide circle around the center of the courtyard, where some City Guards held motionless a series of furry shapes that you couldn't clearly distinguish from your position at the courtyard entrance, but that you knew perfectly well what they were.

Although the boos and insults toward the werewolves didn't cease, the nobles and commoners parted left and right to open a path for you. The Patriarch was there, facing the werewolves, waiting for you. You moved through the people like a condemned woman to the gallows.

Although you were going to be the executioner.

It wasn't strange to you that the Patriarch had summoned you to take care of that task. After all, it was always the High Priestess who executed important prisoners of war. There was a whole ritual ceremony for sacred executions in the name of the Goddess. But they usually took place in private.

That wasn't a ritual, it was a public execution, probably for the entertainment of Ilsan's inhabitants, to humiliate the werewolves as much as possible in their last moments of life. The closer you got to the center of the courtyard, the sicker you felt. As much as you hated the werewolves, you didn't want to do it, just the thought made bile rise in your throat, threatening to make you vomit what little you had for breakfast.

Your distressed situation awakened the bond with the Cornerstone, and the leash twisted, eagerly pulling, taking your breath away. Three years had passed since the Junction, and your connection with the medallion was more than consolidated, but you were still very susceptible to sudden changes in the energy flows exchanged with the Stone.

So, by the time you reached the center of the courtyard and the Patriarch forcefully turned your arm to face the crowd, you were bathed in a cold sweat that only increased your paleness. The Patriarch raised a hand to silence the crowd, while discreetly digging his nails into your shoulder with the other.

“Citizens of Ilsan and nobles of Her Imperial Majesty Yuran of Baegyum's Court; may health, life, and prosperity be granted unto you” the Patriarch began to speak, his voice echoing naturally off the courtyard walls, “behold the cause of our infinite rage and sorrow, behold the murderers of our Sisters and our former High Priestess; may her travel be brief.”

The crowd rose in a wave of indignation that materialized in the form of insults and more boos. Someone threw a stone, and although you had your back to the beasts, you heard a howl of pain from one of them. You had counted eight. The Patriarch let the people vent their anger for a few seconds before silencing them again.

“As dictated by the laws of the Sacred Scripture, it is our Luna who must end the lives of these impious creatures.”

The grip the man maintained on your shoulder tightened, and you were sure it would leave a bruise for days. The Patriarch turned to look over his shoulder at the werewolves as if they were insects stuck to the sole of his shoe.

“Blood must have blood, and that spilled in the Great Temple must still be avenged.”

Once again, the courtyard filled with voices that seemed unintelligible to you; the sounds reached you muffled, distant, as if they were very far away, yet they filled your ears in a way that almost felt like they would burst. Blood must have blood. That was perhaps the most important sacred quote of the entire dominant religion in the Rowan Empire, even for werewolves. Everyone knew it and respected it, followed it and practiced it.

The Goddess's singular commandment. And also your order to follow, that was your starting gun. The nobles and commoners, still relentless in their efforts to humiliate the creatures with their derogatory and degrading comments and the occasional stone, looked at you with fury emitting dangerous sparks in their eyes. That was the flash of collective hysteria.

The Patriarch, in the face of your apparent passivity, gave you a shove toward the werewolves that nearly sent you straight to the ground. The creatures bared their teeth and huddled in place, bristling defensively.

Indeed, there were eight. Three gray ones in different shades; two redheads and two browns, one of them significantly older-looking than the other. Finally, in the center, there was a huge wolf, much larger than the rest. It was a pitch-black color, its eyes red, staring at you in such a threatening way that you almost recoiled.

It was an Alpha. The Cornerstone had no effect on it, which meant that...

“Avenge your sisters, High Priestess” urged the Patriarch, in the same tone of voice he used to preach his previous speech. “Avenge the Sacred City, the work of our ancestors, the foundations of our world.”

You trembled so violently that the medallion swayed on your chest, emitting pale flashes when the sun hidden in the fog reached its surface with some of its rays. The leash tightened abruptly, making you cough.

A part of you wanted it, you couldn't lie. A part of you wanted to return all the harm they had done to you, added up and multiplied by a thousand. The other part of you, much larger, was horrified by your own thoughts.

“Do it, Priestess!” the Patriarch shouted, starting to lose patience.

The crowd's shouts increased, some beginning to move towards you. And yet, you heard nothing but your own heart pumping blood at an astonishing speed in your ears. You stood petrified, staring into the red eyes of the black wolf in front of you.

Next to him, the older-looking brown wolf growled fiercely at you, showing canines as long as your skinny hand. The rest of their packmates did the same, trying to wriggle under the ropes that held them down to the ground. The Alpha was silent, impassive, with his nose held high and a haughty gaze that made you feel even smaller.

The Patriarch took two steps forward and grabbed you by the back of your neck with claw-like fingers, forcing you to stoop abruptly to be at the beasts' level. Some nobles suddenly fell silent, and the boos wavered at the holy man's gesture.

No one, not even him, was allowed to touch you. But everyone seemed to forget that small detail when they heard the words the Patriarch articulated, leaning over you towards your ear. He didn't whisper them, he shouted them in your ear so that everyone could hear.

“Don't you remember, Luna?” he accused, digging his nails into both sides of your neck. “Don't you remember your sisters' corpses? How these monsters ripped their lives away in front of you? Kill them! I command you in the name of the Goddess!”

The shouts of indignation filled the courtyard once again, and this time you heard them as if they were shouting in your ear, echoing, as if inside a cave. Tears bathed your cheeks and flooded your eyes when you opened them to face your fate. The leash writhed with such fury that you thought it would break, and before you could even realize it, you had stretched towards the strands of light that connected you to the werewolves. You grabbed them tightly and with a sharp pull, broke them.

The werewolves' bodies fell to the ground immediately, lifeless.

Silence fell in the Empress's Courtyard like in a tomb, only the echoes of the boos accompanied you for a few seconds before dying in the vastness of the air. No one dared to utter a word. A dull ringing settled in your ears, and your vision blurred, you staggered and fell painfully to your knees in front of the Alpha, who was still alive. You had never exerted so much energy in the three years you had been bound to the Stone, and suddenly you felt as if a herd of wild stallions from the steles had trampled over you.

The creature had remained as petrified as you at first, and moments passed before it reacted. The werewolf let out a chilling howl that made the crowd take a few steps back, screaming in fear as they cowered behind the line of security formed by the Praetorian Guard.

The Alpha tried to rise and lunge at you, but the ropes and the soldiers holding him back prevented it. The Patriarch pulled your arm back to move you away from it, dragging you across the courtyard floor, while turning to his personal escort.

“Bring me the Reaper's Tear!” he ordered. “Let's put an end to this once and for all.”

That seemed to snap you out of your stupor, because you turned your head towards him like a spring and began shaking it compulsively to refuse, while trying to free yourself from his grip. You knew what that Reaper's Tear was and what it would signify.

"No! I don't want to! Abeoji, no! Please, Abeoji. Don't make me do it, I-"

The slap silenced you, and the nobles and commoners exchanged astonished looks and whispers. Such aggression was punishable by death. You brought your free hand to your left cheek, which was beginning to redden. The characteristic metallic taste of blood filled your mouth.

"You will, Luna," the Patriarch seemed to hesitate, perhaps afraid of his own actions. There would be no way for the Ecclesia to overlook this, “it is your sacred duty.”

A soldier approached with a long white wooden case and bowed to open it for you. He didn't meet your eyes when he said, "The Reaper's Tear, Luna."

You shook your head frantically, trying to pull away, but the Patriarch pulled your arm towards the case. Inside was a double-edged saber, almost as long as your forearm. Embedded in the hilt was a white gem in the shape of a tear. The scriptures said it was a tear of the Goddess solidified into a precious stone, found at the source of the Idris River, in the Northern Mountains.

You had always feared it, but never as much as in that moment. It was an execution weapon, used for special cases where the Anchor Stone was ineffective. It was mainly intended for High Priestesses who had broken their vows in some way.

The Patriarch gripped the saber and closed your fingers around the hilt, using his own hand to cover yours and prevent you from letting go of the weapon. The previously noisy crowd had become as silent as a group of millennia-old statues. The Patriarch looked at the soldiers holding the wolf down with a grim expression.

"Hold the ropes tight. If anything happens to our Luna, you will face the consequences."

In response, the men pulled on the ropes holding the creature to the ground. The Alpha was forced to shrink further into the ground, so much so that he couldn't even lift his head from the cobblestones, and the rope dug into the skin of the pack leader, eliciting a deep growl as he showed all his teeth. You sobbed again, though the Patriarch didn't care, he kept pulling you towards him. There was no way you could escape his grip, as he held you firmly against him with one arm, while grabbing your hand with the other.

"Abeoji, Abeoji, please. I beg you-

“Silence, child,” the man cut you off, half-whispering by your ear, “High Priestesses do not plead.”

You had been explained many times since you passed the Junction. You must not ask; you must demand. And you wanted to do it, you wanted by all means to regain control of the situation and not have to beg anyone. By the time you wanted to realize it, you were eagerly seeking the strands that connected you to the Alpha and thus give him a clean, dignified, and painless death.

But almost all the power you had accumulated in the Cornerstone had dissipated like mist after killing seven wolves at once, so the strands of light were very weak, flickering, like stars in the distance. In addition to that, and as you already knew, an Alpha's strands were not reachable for you; they avoided your touch like oil avoids water.

The Patriarch stood in front of the wolf, still holding you with a force that numbed your whole body. He raised his arm, dragging your armed hand with him, ready to give him a cold-blooded death. Your tear-filled eyes barely managed to discern what was happening in front of you, and you weren't even aware that you were screaming. Still, for a moment as ephemeral as eternal, the gaze of the pack leader came clear and unobstructed into your field of vision.

It had stopped growling, and its body languished on the ground, defeated. In its sad, red eyes, there was no hatred.

There was forgiveness.

You cried louder, screamed louder, writhed more violently. You frantically searched for the strands again, but this time not the ones that connected you to the wolf.

You wanted the Patriarch's. Your arm was already descending on the Alpha's head; you stretched as far as you could towards the strands, trying to grasp them, but it was already too late.

Your eyes snapped open, and the darkness of your room welcomed you back to the land of the living. You opened your mouth, seeking air with your irregular, shallow breaths, your hands clenched into tight fists gripping the sheets between your fingers. You instantly realized you weren't the only thing you were holding onto tightly.

The strands were there, and you clung to them as if your life depended on it. But there was a problem; you weren't wearing the Cornerstone, obviously, and it wasn't even near you. You had no idea what happened to the pendant at night, but you had somehow managed to tap into its power to channel it anyway.

You let go immediately, scared, terrified. How was it even possible? You had grasped the strands in real life after dreaming about it. And even more panic set in, settling in the pit of your stomach like a tombstone at the entrance of a crypt.

Your body reacted before your mind did, and you were already sitting up on the mattress, hugging your knees tightly. What if you had unintentionally hurt someone? In your dream, you had killed seven wolves, just as it happened on that fateful day. Those nightmares had been more than recurrent in recent days, and in fact, there hadn't been a single night where you hadn't dreamed of something similar. But none had ever been so concrete, so detailed.

So realistic. Just as it had happened that day.

In the darkness of the room, you huddled in place, trembling. It wasn't because of the cold, as the Pack House had a heating system that left you as amazed as the rest of the innovations the Clear presented in contrast to the wild and grotesque image you had been instilled with about werewolves. It wasn't the cold, no, it was fear. Of yourself and what you could unwittingly do.

You found it impossible to fall back asleep for the rest of the night, even though you tried. You needed all the energy you could gather for the tasks that would be assigned to you from then on, and it wasn't as if your body had fully recovered from everything that had happened since you arrived at the pack. But you couldn't complain. Keeping silent and obeying was all you could do.

You thought it would be easier to earn respect among the werewolves, or so you had imagined when Namjoon and Jungkook proposed to support them in the upcoming war in exchange for your "freedom" and the promise that Hana would be safe. Not that you had any other option but to accept; playing with Hana's well-being was inconceivable for you, and you wouldn't have endured being isolated and sane for much longer. At that moment, it had seemed like a beneficial deal for both parties, but you were increasingly realizing that it actually only made things easier for them. You, on the other hand, remained in the same position as before. Maybe out of a cell, but controlled, deprived of your vital energy source, watched, and hated.

What had really changed?

That same question was on your mind when later that morning, you saw a cow up close for the first time.

Dasom had taken you to the corrals on the south side of the Clear, where the sun warmed the grass most of the day. That was where the cows gave birth to their calves and where they were raised for the first few days before being moved to the greener, fresher pastures in the northern area. Anyone would think that a small newborn calf next to its mother was an endearing sight to immortalize forever as a memory; Mother Nature in her kindest form; the circle of life, blah, blah, blah.

It terrified you from the moment you heard their lowing up close.

Digging your heels into the muddy ground, you came to a sudden stop. Dasom, the Cornerstone hanging on her chest, looked at you, raising an eyebrow, with a smirk of superiority that would have made you angry if you weren't too busy trying not to run in the opposite direction.

"What are you waiting for, priestess?" she asked, leaning her arms on the corral fence. “Come on, get in. Cows don't herd themselves.”

Clenching and unclenching your fists under the sleeves of your shirt, you tiptoed to the gate of the corral. The cows watched from inside every step you took as they chewed the grass leisurely. They didn't seem to get upset when you infiltrated their domains, nor when you approached them and their offspring. One of them emitted a deep moo, to which two others responded.

The sound startled you, and you flinched. You heard a small wave of barely contained laughter rise behind you, and when you looked over your shoulder, you saw several Hippei and other pack members watching you with a mix of mockery and curiosity that made you blush with embarrassment. Dasom smiled, satisfied and pleased with herself.

Determined not to let them have fun at your expense, you turned to face the cows. Come on, you had survived a city takeover, an arrow shot, and had lived until then in a pack of werewolves. How could a seemingly harmless grass-eater like that scare you?

Pulling on the mothers' bells to guide them into the corral stable wasn't so difficult, especially because they followed each other. They seemed accustomed to it because the cow you chose to lead first didn't even moo when you started pulling on her collar. The rest followed at a painfully slow pace, but eventually, they all ended up inside. The calves didn't stray from their mothers, so they naturally moved with them.

Except for one. It was smaller than the rest, and more agile. Although you tried several times and in different ways, under the mocking gaze of the other werewolves, the calf didn't even let you get close to it. Luckily, it still didn't have horns and was too young to really hurt you when it pushed you out of its way with a headbutt. It sent you backwards onto the ground in a puddle of mud, and it entered the stable alone.

With a heavy heart, you rose from the ground, trying to maintain your dignity as best as you could, and slammed the barn door shut. As you turned to look at Dasom, she didn't bother hiding the smirk of satisfaction on her face.

"We may question your methods, priestess, but not your results," the laughter was widespread. Some of those present began to move away to tend to their respective tasks, seeing that the show was over. "Alright, go tidy up. I'll talk to Namjoon about your next assignment."

You didn't even spare her a last glance before bowing your head slightly and slipping away from the corral towards the Pack House. The mud made your already soaked clothes cling to your body like a second skin. You hugged your torso and quickened your pace. You prayed not to run into anyone familiar until you reached your room, but you didn't even reach the main door before it swung open.

You managed to halt your steps before colliding head-on with someone.

Please let it be Jin. Please let it be Jin.

"Luna?" you cursed under your breath in every language you knew as you recognized Jungkook's voice. You didn't have the courage to look up. The embarrassment tingled in your cheeks. "For Moon's sake, what happened to you?"

Seeing that you didn't react, the Alpha gently lifted your chin with the back of his index finger. His touch sent shivers down your body, and you swallowed hard. Now you were more than obliged to answer.

"Dasom thought I could use some experience herding a flock," you admitted quietly, avoiding eye contact.

Jungkook tried his best not to offend you with a laugh and cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I see, those little ones can be quite unruly. Go change or you'll catch a cold with your clothes this wet," you hugged yourself tighter, feeling mortified, trying to make yourself small in place. Seeing your discomfort, he seemed to want to change the subject. "A calf knocked me to the ground the first time I tried to herd them into the barn...," that almost drew a smile from you. "Besides, I fell flat on my face, so you've done better than me."

You dared to look at him, perhaps to see if he was teasing or being serious. He simply gave you one last half-smile before stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter the house.

You obeyed without saying another word.

That night, you dreamed again of the day you killed the wolves. And you woke up screaming, clutching the strands as tightly as if you had never left the Cornerstone.

The next day, by Jungkook's order, Hana was allowed to have breakfast with you at the Pack House. Sitting at the table in the backyard garden, she barely stopped talking long enough to swallow the oatmeal cookies that Jin, pale from carrying the Cornerstone, had specially baked for her. But it didn't matter to you; just seeing her golden skin regain its vibrant color and the sparkle of happiness in her eyes was enough comfort for you. That's how you knew your pain was worth it. Hana was happy in the Clearing. And you would be willing to return to solitary confinement as long as it stayed that way.

The pack accepted her. They adored her. Even Hoseok. Hana made flower crowns for him and Yoongi every day, and they wore them on their patrols. That sight wasn't funny enough to alleviate the terror you felt towards both Hippei. The memory of Hoseok's fangs on your neck on the night you entered Yerin was enough to make you feel so scared you could vomit.

Shortly before noon, Taehyung arrived at the house with Yeji to pick up Hana and take her with the rest of the children to help prepare the meal for the Hippei going on a long patrol. You could barely hold back the tears when Hana kissed your cheek before running off to Yeji. She waved goodbye and disappeared into the house. You knew the Alphas didn't allow you to spend much time with her to remind you who was in control, and you were grateful that Hana didn't realize those things. Everyone told her that you were very busy helping the pack (which was partly true) and that you would soon be able to spend more time together.

That was just a message to you.

Cooperate, and we'll allow you to see her.

So that's what you did. You helped Jin, now without the Cornerstone, clean the breakfast dishes and headed to the Nursery, where Jimin was with the mentioned gem, performing his own tasks of caring for the youngest pups. You were not allowed to enter the Nursery under any circumstances, so you simply knocked on the door and stepped back a few paces.

"I'm coming, Luna!" Jimin's voice was perfectly audible from the other side of the door.

Your bond with the Cornerstone churned inside you with such force that it almost made you nauseous. You took a deep breath, and upon opening your eyes, you saw the strands as vividly as if they were something physical that everyone could touch. You instinctively reached out, thirsty, hungry, but the strands avoided your touch. You brushed against them. Your whole body vibrated. Sweat began to bead on your forehead. It was agony.

You looked up at the sky. The zenith was approaching again. That thought hadn't left your mind since the moment you left the cell. If you weren't given the Cornerstone before, the stone itself would kill you when you tried to put it on, if they ever allowed you to do so. That had to happen before the Cornerstone regained its maximum energy with the Zenith.

And yet, you were sure you would need a good excuse for the Alphas to even consider the idea.

Jimin came out of the Nursery with a furrowed brow, and you immediately moved away from the strands. The Omega's face seemed to relax somewhat, and he rubbed his eyes. It was clear. The stone bearer could feel it if you tried to reach the strands. That was dangerous. But Jimin wasn't, right?

"Hello, are you okay?" you asked, trying to control the tremor in your voice.

"Yes, it's just that..." he seemed to hesitate for a second. He didn't seem very sure about admitting that wearing the stone made him feel unwell. "I'm tired. I haven't had a good night."

You forced a smile and waited for him to stand by your side to start walking. Your morning task was to weed the fields to the south of the Clearing for the upcoming planting.

"It seems we're both in the same boat, then," your words made Jimin look at you carefully for the first time. Despite starting to gain some weight and generally looking healthier, dark circles still framed your eyes.

“It must be something seasonal,” Jimin agreed, with his characteristic warm smile. Although it didn't last long. “Lately, no one sleeps well. Jungkook has been waking up the entire Clearing two nights in a row in the middle of the night...”

He suddenly fell silent, perhaps realizing that you were not a reliable member of the pack and that he shouldn't talk about those things with you. Lest you use it against him in some way. However, although that would have hurt you in a normal situation, you were too busy processing what he had just said.

Two nights in a row. The nights you woke up clutching the strands. You almost trembled. What if Jungkook found out in some way?

“I really can't imagine someone like Jungkook having a nightmare,” you said, pretending not to have attached much importance to it. “He and Namjoom don't seem like the kind of people who are... afraid of something.”

Jimin turned his gaze forward and seemed to ponder your words. You evaluated his face. He seemed on the verge of wanting to say something. His lips were pressed. There were too many things you didn't know about the members of the Pack. Everything was working against you. You needed answers. Any, at least.

You seized the opportunity.

“Jimin, what's going on?” you asked, halting your walk. If he couldn't be distracted while walking, there was a better chance that Jimin would succumb to the pressure of your questions.

He looked at you. His eyes were filled with the desire to respond. To trust. Hope surged in your chest. You didn't have time to feel bad about what you were about to do; you were too anxious for it. You reached out to the strands and deliberately brushed against them in desperation. Jimin grimaced, and his shoulders slumped. It worked; that was all it took to break down his defenses.

“The Cornerstone... I told him that getting close to it is dangerous, that it makes you sick...” His voice seemed to be dominated by a weariness that you hadn't seen in him until now. “But he doesn't listen to me.”

Did that mean that Jungkook also wore the Cornerstone? When? During the day, someone always accompanied her or was near her, except...

At night.

Was that why he woke up screaming? Did you... manage to hurt him?

“Not long after you arrived, before they sent you to the isolation cell, Jin hyung found something in one of our oldest tomes. One that was destroyed and of which we only preserved a few pages,” he spoke so softly that you had no choice but to lean in close enough to feel his breath on your face. “It said that the power of the Cornerstone only manifests if there is a living vessel, that it...”

“That it only works if the High Priestess wears it, yes,” you completed, but that wasn't all. You were aware that they knew more, and not just from what you had told them. “And also...”

“The Cornerstone must always have a bearer. Even when it's not the High Priestess. This is how the balance is maintained. If the Cornerstone is left alone for too long, without someone to carry it...”

“No one knows. It has never happened, but... It's better not to find out.”

Jimin looked up at you. You nodded. Yes, that was a basic principle. You doubted they would believe you if you tried to explain it, so you had limited yourself to saying that you needed to be close to her to avoid getting sick. That was true, but not the whole truth.

Even so, they knew it all. They knew you hadn't been entirely truthful. Your stomach tightened. A cloud covered the sun and a cold wind rose in the Clearing, tousling your hair.

“Jungkook takes care of it at night, doesn't he?”

Jimin simply nodded.

There was finally complete truth between you and the pack. If they knew that, perhaps they could understand you, perhaps they would understand that all this would be of no use if the zenith killed you. You reached out and clasped Jimin's hand. He started, but didn't pull away. You were trembling. He noticed and took your other hand, concerned.

“Luna, are you okay?”

You didn't respond immediately. Your head was spinning in every direction, evaluating every possible thing that could happen if you did what you were about to do. You looked into the Omega's eyes, and he returned an intense gaze.

You would never be completely sure if you could trust him until you tried. But you needed to trust someone for once in your life.

You couldn't do it alone.

“Jimin. I haven't been completely honest, with you or anyone, and... I'm going to be honest now.”

The Omega squeezed your hands. At no point did you see a hint of anger or mistrust. Only hope. He knew you kept secrets, just as you knew they did the same. You had to start somewhere if you wanted the alliance to make sense... and if you wanted to survive the war that was to come.

“I'm listening, Luna.”

[moonlit-escape]

𓍢ִ໋ 🧨⛧˚ ༘ ⋆ Zenix Mystreet headcanons !!

i might be insane but i honestly think he has a very sweet voice. not like, kawaii~chan sweet obviously, but i mean it has a very sweet tone to it, it's just also very crunchy. so anyway

5'9.3 (176cm)

pansexual (partly me projecting i guess but mostly he just has the vibes)

dobermann / rottweiler energy (big scary dog but actually just really protective and also dopey as hell)

his favourite color is pink, actually

has naturally POINTY TEETH !!! the other shadow knights (laurance included) were always jealous of it

pieeeeercinggggssss snake bites, industrial spikes, and normal earlobe piercings he got done at claires

he sucked ass at skating, unlike the other two, so he did ballet instead

constantly cussing that's why he wasn't allowed screentime in mystreet

puts his feet on ppl

still thinks sasha's witch practices are bullshit, but he doesn't say anything about it anymore and just lets her be. sometimes even lets her practice on him

gene lets him into the junkyard late at night to smash shit when he's had a bad day

lowkey thinks that he, sasha, and gene are in an open polyam relationship and the other two have no idea.

would bark at people

he wanted to start an "on wednesdays we wear pink" thing w the shadow knights So Bad but the other two shut him down Immediately (gene: i'm more into purple, actually) (sasha: zenix you closeted poser.)

GIVE HIM his Fuckign BABY PINK SNEAKERS!!!!!

so smart but acts so stupid sometimes. but i guess all 3 of them do that

affectionately aggressive. he bites, he insults, he hugs too hard. he hits and shoves, he grabs too tightly. he pulls on hair. he complains a lot. he won't let people help him. but his intentions are good. he wishes he knew how to convey that

honestly takes really good care of himself, he probably has the best hygiene in the whole household

surprisingly good with kids

the only one on the street laurance will let help him babysit his baby brother when he gets to watch over him every month

this has also lead to them hanging out occasionally by doing other oddly domestic activities. but, they always end up making it totally chaotic (ex: going to ikea and pretending to be a toxic couple, having a shopping cart race in the grocery store parking lot and almost wheeling out into traffic, almost burning down the kitchen bc zenix finds cooking boring and won't stop explaining the entire plot of shadow the hedgehog and then proceeding to read shadow fanfic out loud)

comes home with a redbox movie every weekend and he, sasha, n gene will have a movie night together

used to and still has a nintendo ds. it's the red n black one, but it's so covered in stickers you can't even tell. has a ren and stimpy keychain on it

definitely was obsessed with classic 90s and early 2000s cartoons

likes vampire movies and books a loooott lost boys is one of his favourite movies

says fuck twilight though the only good thing abt it is the movies have killer soundtracks (he was viciously jealous of bella bc he had a crush on robert pattinson)

is sasha's proofreader

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 2

A/N: Here is chapter 2 of this little fanfic idea I had, I've had way more response than I had anticipated on the first chapter. Thank you for that! If you're new here, you can find it on my profile. I'm still figuring out how to work Tumblr, so bear with me while I figure out how to put in links and masterlists and all that stuff.

Word count: 1113

I left the townhouse after breakfast, not needing to be there any longer as Amren and Azriel spoke to Rhysand. Opting to wander into the city, I remember to tuck in my wings close as the icy winds nip at the exposed skin. Several citizens send me smiles as they pass me in the streets. I don’t even realize I walked onto the Palace of Thread and Jewels until I’m standing front of the Ruby Dream. I cringe when I remember the official name of the atelier, it seemed a good idea when we were drunk, but I really should’ve sobered up before giving Rhysand the filled in form. Not that it wasn’t a nice name, it’s just a mouthful. Ruby Dreams, Emerald Kisses and a Sapphire Embrace. It's kind of obvious why we shortened it to Ruby Dream. Kenna laughed at me when she first found out, but she loved the sentiment of it, she told me after she was done laughing.

I’m welcomed by a warm and calming sensation as I walk through the door, Kenna’s voice drifting out from the backroom, “I will be right out, look around all you want!”

A grin blooms on my face, “Don’t bother, it’s just me.” Little wheels are heard rolling over the floorboards and Kenna’s head becomes visible in the doorway to the backroom as she leans back in her swivel chair.

I start walking her way to the atelier in the back as she straightens, “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today?” Her sentence sounds more like a question, combined with a set of furrowed brows. “Is something wrong?”

I reach her work station and lean against it as she turns  to face me properly. I chuckle softly, “No, nothing’s wrong.” She sighs in relief and turns back to her workspace. “Just stopping by.”

“Well, in that case,” she shoots a grin to me and I know what she’s about to say. “There’s plenty of work to do, if you’ve got some time to spare.” She gestures to the pile of custom orders and I frown at it, sighing.

I really needed to sort that out. “We’re not taking anymore customs for the time being.”

Kenna snorts, “I’ve been telling you that for months.”

Rolling my eyes at her, I take the pile of forms in my hands and walk to my own workspace, which… is not how I left it. “Kenna?” My eyebrows raise and I look at her.

She smiles shyly, and I narrow my eyes, she’s not shy. “Mrs Hallow needed some adjustments to her ring and she absolutely did not want me to touch it.”

I breathe in deeply, “Mrs Hallow needs to chill, this is her fourth adjustment this month, what does she want this time?” I put the stack of orders in the paper organizer.

“It’s all on the form, she basically wants the stone to be set a little deeper.”

I sigh once more but sit down at my desk and start reading through the form, looking at the ring and seeing what can be done.

The rest of the day is spent working through all of the custom orders, planning which ones to start around what time. The adjustments to Mrs Hallow’s ring only took about half an hour, so I just worked through the stack of paper, forgetting all about the dinner in the House of Wind.

“I thought you had a diner tonight, that’s why you had the day off, wasn’t it?” Kenna breaks through my concentration.

“What?”

Kenna stands up, stretching and points to the clock on the wall. “Dinner? Our High Lord?”

My eyes widen and I shoot up out of my chair. “I-”

The female laughs and nods, “Go, I will lock up.” I grab the jacket I had thrown over the back of my chair earlier and whirl towards my friend, giving her a quick hug before running to the door.

I hadn’t realised it was closing time already, which meant that I was officially late for dinner. My wings flare out as soon as I scan the streets, making sure there’s no citizens around that I could hit. I take to the skies, rushing to the House of Wind, I should’ve known I would get lost in the paperwork.

As soon as I touch down, I hear Amren’s sharp voice, “-your bones were Made.”

I take a moment to breathe in deeply, so I don’t seem as flustered. I stroll into the dining room a second later, feeling the tension as Amren and Feyre stare at each other.

Amren’s eyes flicker to me as she notices the movement in the corners of her eyes, “Nice of you to join us.” I roll my eyes with a small smile in response.

Cassian turns in his seat to see me walking up to him as he’s closest to the doorway. “Oh please, we all know she loves to make an entrance.”

“I learned from the best.” I wink at him right before I reach him and pull him in for a half hug while pressing a kiss to his cheek. Giving Azriel’s bicep a squeeze, I continue to round the table to reach Rhys.

I treat Rhys with the same courtesy as Cassian but his attention remains on Feyre. “She’s pretty.” I whisper with a small grin playing on my lips.

“Don’t you dare.” He hisses in return as I walk away with the grin widening in amusement.

“Good evening,” I stop in between the High Lord’s chair and Feyre’s. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.” The human girl looks away from Amren and she takes me in, which makes Amren lose interest and turn to Mor. Feyre’s eyes widen when she looks at my wings and I tuck them in just a little bit tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m not as much of a brute as the other two.” I cock my head to the side, gesturing to the two other Illyrian’s at the table.

“Lyssa, nice to meet you Feyre.” I give her a dazzling grin and I see Mor match mine in the corner of my eyes. Glancing to her for a second, our eyes meet and my grin only widens.

“Be nice.”

“Oh come on, Rhys. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone new to tease and flirt with.” Feyre’s cheeks turn slightly flushed.

Rhys pinches my side, “Behave.” But when I watch him study Feyre I know he’s glad I got some sort of reaction out of her. I roll my eyes, but go to sit down. Deciding to listen to him for once, I settle into my seat next to Mor.

A/N: Let me know how you liked it and if you wanted to be added to the taglist! (I'm sorry of I'm not doing the taglist thing right, I literally do not know what I'm doing here?!)

Taglist: @inloveallthetime

[lala3244]

A crush on Lucifer

~ This is a request from @venture-venus, it is a bit long but well when you are inspired it helps! I do hope you like it. I tried to follow your request as you explained it very well! ~

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Ik I read this before or the troupe but for an obey me!Lucifer x Mc fanfic what if Mc was developing a crush on him and thought it was mutual because he was kind to them, took them out, let them come to his study, and so on. One day Mc was bringing some tea after hearing Diavolo was stopping by so they peaked into the office and overheard the pair talking, revealing Lucifer was doing all of it just to make Mc happy as the exchange student. A pov for Lucifer can show Dia prodding at him saying smth that he’s doing a lot more than he needs to so he obviously likes them but Lucifer being prideful (esp during the first season) pushes away. Mc is of course sad and distanced themself, and so on.

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Warnings: Some angst I think? Hurt/comfort

also, English is not my language and I know sometimes, English speakers wouldn’t use the expressions or sentences I used as even when I read them, they sound a bit off but my brain is not used to speaking English regularly anymore so it can’t think of another way of turning the phrases! I do apologise for this!

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You were sitting at his desk, a book and a notebook open in front of you. You had a test coming up next week and you didn’t feel ready for it so you had asked the prideful demon for his help. He had agreed but with one condition: you had to come to his study every night even during the weekend. So that was where you were. Lucifer was explaining to you a chapter on potions when he leaned down to show you a passage that was important and he put his hand on your shoulder for support. Your breath hitched at the touch and you looked to the side and you realised how close his face was to yours. His beautiful face. You couldn’t help but stare at him. He side-eyed you. “Are you listening?” You blushed furiously, feeling the warmth invading your entire body and you got scared that he could feel the sudden warmth but he didn’t move or say anything. You just nodded stupidly and looked back at the book while writing something on your notebook. He stood up. “Well, it’s enough for tonight. Same time tomorrow okay? And don’t be late.” You picked up your books and stood up. “I know you think you have to do this so that I don’t fail but I still want to thank you for your time and help… and patience. You are a good teacher, Lucifer.” With that, you left in a hurry without waiting for an answer. 

You opened the door of your bedroom and jumped on your bed, hiding your face in your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were developing a crush on Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, a Lord of Hell. As if, you, a simple human, a nobody really could ever be with him! And could a demon and a human even be together? You thought about that moment when you were staring at him and you groaned. How embarrassing that was! But you were glad he didn’t say anything. You decided to change your mind so you went to the bathroom and got ready for bed. You went to sleep but it wasn’t a peaceful one, you kept waking up, bad dreams kept happening so you decided to stay awake and go through your notes again. An hour went by when you heard a knock on your door. You stood up and opened the door. Lucifer was standing there, arms crossed and a frown on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” You lowered your head. “Yes, I was but I kept waking up and every time I fell back asleep, I had a nightmare so I decided to stay awake and read for my test.” His arms went on his sides and his face changed into worry. “You still need to sleep. Would you rather I stay with you until you fall asleep?” Your eyes widened as you hear his words and you could feel a blush coming. You cursed yourself internally. You hated the fact that he could make you blush so easily. You lowered your head as to hide your face. “Yes, I would. Thank you.” You left the door open so he could follow you and you went under the covers. You were watching him as he was closing the door and you couldn’t help but admire him. How his hair fell on his forehead, how his posture was always so perfect, how his eyes were observing everything. You were starting to daydream when you felt him sitting next to you. He moved so his legs were lying on your bed and he leaned his back against the headboard. He looked at you and pulled you closer. You stopped breathing, waiting to see what he was going to do. He moved you around so that you were on your side, head on his chest and your arm around his stomach. You let him move you as you knew you were no match anyway but when he finally settled, you were surprised by what was going on. It was actually comfortable to use him as a pillow. He put his hand on your back and soothingly rubbed it. You finally let your breath go and breathed normally again. You let a few seconds pass before whispering. “Good night, Lucifer. Thank you.” You were starting to feel sleepy and his hand rubbing your back helped you relax more. Lucifer smiled at you, even though you couldn’t see him and waited a few minutes to be sure you were asleep. “Any time, darling.” Then he kissed tenderly your hair.

You got woken up by your alarm. You sat down slowly and looked around. Of course, no Lucifer. You lied back down again and took the covers with you to hide your whole body. You replayed the evening in your mind, eyes closed, it was actually nice. Maybe he cared about you more than you thought? No, that would be crazy! But… you snapped your eyes open. In your sleeping state, you thought you had heard him talking and calling you darling. Surely it was a dream. It wasn’t possible! But what if…? You heard one of the brothers calling you for breakfast. You couldn’t say who it was but you left begrudgingly your bed, not really ready to affront the brothers. You weren’t really hungry, having slept so little didn’t help with your appetite so you went back upstairs after drinking only a cup of tea and got ready for RAD. You all left the House of Lamentations, you would usually walk with Mammon, as the second born liked to brag about his schemes he came up with during the night but today, he was busy talking with Levi. You smiled fondly as you watched them together. You felt a presence next to you and you looked up, still smiling. Lucifer had started to walk next to you and he looked down at you. “Why are you smiling?” You chuckled. “It’s just cute how Mammon and Levi interact with each other.” He looked at them, an eyebrow quirked and he chuckled too. “Yes, they can be.” You were all greeted by Lord Diavolo at R.A.D’s entrance. You looked at the Prince who was, clearly, watching Lucifer with a smirk on his face. You said hello to the future King and went to your first class, leaving the brothers with him. The day went by, uneventful. Sometimes, you would catch glances of Lucifer and he was always watching you. He would smile at you when he saw you. 

You hated yourself when you had a crush because you would read every word, every gesture as a sign that they liked you and you were wrong more often than not so you tried to stop yourself hoping but that evening when you were finding yourself in Lucifer’s study, you couldn’t help but hope. For once, he was sitting. Not standing behind you but sitting next to you. Your knees touching slightly, he would brush his fingers accidentally against your hands and you kept telling yourself. “Don’t hope! Don’t hope! Don’t hope” and you failed miserably when after your study session he said that he would take you out after the last study session to celebrate your good results. You laughed and had said “We won’t know for another week.” He smiled. “I know you’ll pass.” It boosted your ego and when you looked at Lucifer’s eyes, you swore you saw a glint of pride. 

When you went back to your room, you couldn’t help but think about the subtle touches the demon gave you. It wasn’t like before. It felt like it was as if your bodies were attracted to each other and they needed to touch one way or another. You shook your head. You needed to stop thinking like that. To stop thinking like there was ever any hope but, still, your mind kept coming back towards those fleeting moments when his fingers were barely touching you. It sent electricity through your body and it kept feeding in your crush. You sighed, loudly. You looked around your room and decided you needed to get out so you went to the kitchen. You were making yourself a cup of herbal tea to help you fall asleep when you heard someone at the door. You tried to listen for a clue of who it was but you were too far away to hear anything. A few moments later, Asmodeus arrived. “Hey hon! Lord Diavolo is here! Lucifer asked me to make some drinks for them.” You smiled at the Avatar of Lust. “I’ll bring them the drinks if you’d like?” He jumped happily and kissed you on the cheek, giggling. You laughed and you busied yourself with the drinks. It took you a few minutes to get everything ready. You knew what Lucifer liked as you had brought hot beverages to him before but you didn’t know Diavolo’s preferences so you put on display different flavours for him to choose. Once everything was on the tray, you took it and left the kitchen.

You arrived in front of the door which was slightly open and you stopped. They were talking and you heard your name so you listened closely with the tray in your hands. Lord Diavolo was speaking. “… brothers told me you slept in their room last night?” You heard Lucifer groaned. “Who told you that? Never mind. I saw the light on in their room so I went in to check if everything was okay and they told me they had bad dreams so I proposed to stay with them until they fell asleep.” Lord Diavolo chuckled. “And you help them with that test?” You tried to see what was going on inside and you saw Lucifer stand up. “They asked me for help. I can’t let an exchange student fail. It would look bad on you or me.” Diavolo was sitting on a chair. “True. But every night? You don’t even do that for your brothers, I don’t think you would spend that much time with someone if you didn’t have any feelings for them.” Lucifer turned to face Lord Diavolo. “What are you insinuating, Diavolo?” Lord Diavolo stared at Lucifer. “You barely speak to Simeon and Luke who are also exchange students in the Devildom. Simeon was your brother as an angel but with this human you do a lot more to make sure they are comfortable and happy. I think you like them. A lot.” Lucifer stared down at Diavolo. “Stop it. I am THE Avatar. Of Pride! I won’t let myself have feelings for such a fragile human., an inferior being.” You took a step back, punched by Lucifer’s words and hurt by the hatred you could hear in his voice. You wanted to leave but they were waiting for the drinks. You braced yourself and opened the door. “Good evening Lord Diavolo! Here, I brought you some drinks, I didn’t know what you liked so you have the choice.” You put the tray down on the desk then looked at Lucifer who had an angry face on. Tears started to well up and when Lucifer looked at you, a tear fell. Lucifer’s eyes widened and concern could be read on his gaze. You wiped your tears quickly and said your goodbyes to the Young Prince. Lucifer stood up. “Wait…” and you left without looking back. 

You went to bed, not even bothering to brush your teeth, change or even get under the covers. You just plopped down on your bed, face down on your pillow. And you hurt. You hurt so much that your chest was painful. You moved your head so you could breathe better but you still had difficulty breathing. It was so painful. You couldn’t believe Lucifer had such hatred against humans or you. Your heart broke. You idealised the demon so much in your mind that to think that he could hate you that much was unbelievable, how could he be so nice and kind to you. A sob escaped your chest then more followed and you couldn’t stop them. You sobbed as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest, as if someone tore a piece of your soul. To know he didn’t like you like you did was okay, he had a right to not have that kind of feelings for you but you thought you were, at least, friends and apparently, he saw you nothing more as a pet. You laughed. A pet is loved, not hated. So for the Avatar of Pride, a human is even less important than a pet. A rat? A pest, that was what you were. Now, you were laughing hysterically and crying. You were alternating both. After a couple of hours, you fell asleep, exhausted by your rollercoaster of emotions. 

You woke up and tried to open your eyes. You touched them and you realised they were puffy from all of your crying last night. You checked your phone and saw that you had no notifications. You cursed Lucifer and his pride. He knew he hurt you but his pride didn’t let him apologise even via text messages. You got up from your bed and went to the bathroom, hoping that some cold water could help reduce the puffiness of your eyes then you went to the dinner room to have breakfast with the brothers. They all looked at you when you walked in but they don’t say anything. You mumbled a greeting to all of them and sat down in your seat. You ate your breakfast in silence while you felt their stares on you. You finally looked up after finishing eating and you saw quickly, all their heads turning to their plates, except Lucifer. He was reading a newspaper while sipping his coffee, unconcerned by your appearance. You felt your chest constricting at the obvious neglect the Avatar of Pride felt about you. You stood up abruptly and left the room, stomping your feet like a child throwing a tantrum but you didn’t actually care. None of the other brothers dared moving and all looked at Lucifer, who just shrugged his shoulders.

It was the evening. You had spent your whole trying to avoid the brothers and especially the eldest but when it was finally time for you to go and see him for your study session, you hesitated. You couldn’t face him, not after what he said but he texted, asking you to still meet him in his office at the same time as usual. So you went, anxious. You, now, knew he hated you and you were scared to say or do something wrong. You decided to just focus on the lesson and what he has to say about it. Not on him, not on his hatred. You remembered one of the first time he threatened to kill you because he felt you were a threat to his family. It was scary then but you just assumed he was a big brother protecting his brother. Now, you knew it was something entirely different. You shakily knocked on his study’s door and opened the door. He was standing by his desk, his back facing you. After a few seconds where you had stayed by the door, he turned around with that charming smile and showed you a chair. “Please, sit down.” You followed his order quietly and sat down. You started unpacking your stuff but he stopped you. “Today, we are doing something different. Here’s a mock-up test. You have an hour to finish it and together, we will do the corrections and see where you need to study the most.” You nodded, speechless. You started your exam and thought it was quite easy, well you hoped but it was actually nice to not have to speak to him for a full hour. The hour went by quickly and he took the paper. He read it quickly and you saw him nod to himself multiple times and when he was almost done, you saw a small proud smile on his face. Your heart bursted with pride and he gasped. His eyes fell on you while you were looking at his desk, basking in your pride. You thought you had passed when you saw the smile and you were so proud to have done so well as you weren’t prepared to have an exam that day. You looked at Lucifer with a big grin, oblivious of his turmoil. “So? Shall we start correcting?” He stared at you for a while longer and you started to get anxious. You were seeing an emotion in his eyes that was unfamiliar. He cleared his throat. “Well, except a few small mistakes here and there, there is nothing to correct.” Your chest swelled even bigger and he staggered back. You frowned. “Are you okay?” He nodded. “Well, keep reading your notes for the next couple of days and you should pass easily.” You nodded, relieved that you didn’t need to spend more time with Lucifer. You left the study and on the way there, you bumped into Asmodeus. “Hey hon! Tomorrow evening, we are going out to The Fall. Would you like to come?” You nodded and jumped excitedly. “Yes please! A night out before my test should help me relax a bit!” Asmo laughed and kissed you good night. 

The next day, you felt better and glad that Asmo had asked you for a night out. At least, not all demons hated humans. You knew you would finish early today so you had asked the Avatar of Lust to go shopping with you. You spent the rest of the afternoon trying on different outfits and you finally decided on one. It highlighted your body in all the right places and unconsciously you chose a black and red one. You realised it once you had bought it. Never mind. Asmo ushered you in his room so you could both get ready and he took you out for dinner. As you were in a hurry, you had left your D.D.D in Asmo’s room. It dawned on you when you wanted to take a picture of the two of you. You shrugged it off and went to the restaurant. You walked in arm in arm with the fourth brother and the maitre d’ showed you to your table. You looked at the menu while listening to Asmo who was explaining everything in there. You saw a shadow covering your table so you looked up. It was Lucifer, he looked pissed, arms crossed. “Don’t you look at your phone.” You stuttered “s-sorry, I-I left it at home.” He shook his head. “Very well, I will talk to you tomorrow.” And he left. You looked at Asmo when you realised. He had promised you to take you out tonight as it was supposed to be the last day of your tutoring. You excused yourself to Asmo “I’m sorry Asmo, I’ll be back! Choose for me”. You ran after the Avatar and caught his arm. Even though, you were still heartbroken and mad at him, you couldn’t help but feel sorry. He might not hate you that much if he was there waiting for you, right? And there you go, hoping. Again. He turned to face you. “What?” He was calm but you could see the anger behind his stare. “I’m… I’m really sorry Lucifer. I really didn’t mean to.” He crossed his arms. “Well, you are human after all, you discard things when you don’t need them anymore.” You stood there, speechless. “I don’t… that’s hurtful!” He smirked. “Is it?” You gasped and anger took you in. “Of course, you’d say that . I am only a pest under your protection. Something that you don’t want but still have to live with and can’t get rid of soon enough. You know what? I’m glad I have forgotten your invitation. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve me, you don’t deserve anything. You are only good to scold and teach but nothing else.” You turned away and went back inside. You threw yourself in the arms of Asmo who was waiting for you at the door. “Asmo, I want to go home please.” He nodded and walked past his brother, frowning at him to ask him silently what had happened. 

Spending the rest of the evening in Asmo’s room had helped you feel better and you were actually glad that you didn’t go out as your test was a bit more complicated than the one Lucifer made you take. You knew the answers, it’s just that the questions were weirdly worded and it didn’t make sense at first what they were asking you. When you finished your exam, you left the classroom and you saw Lucifer waiting for you. “How did it go?” You shrugged. “Fine I guess. The questions were kind of difficult to understand.” He nodded. They do that, yes. So it wouldn’t be too easy to answer.” You shrugged again. “Ok, well thank you for asking about my test but I don’t want to be late for my next class.” He nodded again and watched you leave. You shuddered and cursed yourself at how you felt butterflies in your stomach when he asked you about your test but then you reminded yourself, he did it to make sure he did a good at teaching you, not for you but deep down, your crush which had developed into more was still present and you could forgive him anything. You made a promise to yourself, to stop thinking about him and for that you needed to avoid him as much as possible. Avoiding him felt impossible. He was everywhere, you went. You wanted to do your homework in the library? He was there talking with the librarian. You went for a hot drink in a random coffee shop you never went, he was there having a coffee. You went for a walk, he was on the same pathway. You wondered if he had put a bug or a curse on you to know where you were going. And the next few days were pretty much the same. Even in the House of Lamentations, he was everywhere no matter the time except for your room, of course. So, you would hide in there every evening, avoiding him, and as a consequence, his brothers too. After a couple of days, the other brothers got worried but when Asmo told them about the argument with their brothers they decided to leave you alone. They didn’t want their brother on their backs again. You felt betrayed when none of them came to see if you were okay or even at breakfast, they wouldn’t look at you. 

It was snowing. You liked the first snows. It was always so immaculate and quiet. You liked the stillness in the sky and the invigorating cold. For the past few days, you had barely spoken to anyone in the house but you were glad, you had other friends at RAD, otherwise, you would feel really lonely. You had walked from RAD with Simeon and Luke to the House of Lamentations. It had been snowing for a few hours now and when you walked you could hear and feel the crispness of the fresh snow. You stopped and looked up at the sky, enjoying the feeling of each snowflake melting against your skin. You got startled when you received a snow ball on your coat. You looked around and you saw the two angels running away, laughing. You made a snowball then a second one quickly and ran after them. You laughed as you tried to aim at their backs and you got them. You had managed to arrive in front of your temporary home. Lucifer and his brothers were all on the porch, watching you. Mammon was the first to move, grabbed some snow and threw it towards you. You dodged it and tried to do the same but when you aimed for Mammon, you tripped and you sent your snowball on Lucifer. You froze mid-stumble and waited for a reaction. He looked at the snow that was slowly melting on his coat then at you. He slowly walked towards a railing and with a hand, gathered the snow and meld it in a ball then he threw it. It got you on the side of your head, it wasn’t a powerful throw but enough to unfreeze you and to start a snowball fight with Lucifer. The brothers joined you too, Mammon and Asmo played with you and the angels against the other five brothers. You played for a couple of hours but you asked to stop as no one was really winning and you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore. You hugged Simeon and Luke and thanked them for earlier. 

When they left, the brothers had the time to realise that you were cold. Your lips were becoming blue and you started shuddering uncontrollably. Lucifer ushered you to your room. “Get undressed, I’m going to run a bath for you.” Your teeth were shattering and you slowly started to undressed. You tried to lay your clothes down so they would dry but you decided to just let them as is because you were shaking so much. You wrapped a towel around your body and walked quickly to the bathroom. You didn’t realise how much the cold had penetrated your bones. You could barely feel your legs and feet and all your limbs started to be painful as you were slowly warming up with the heat from the house. Lucifer was still in the bathroom, making sure the water was not too hot for your cold body. He turned around when he saw you walked in. You weren’t really thinking at that point. All you needed was the warm water so you took off your towel and slided in the bathtub. There was enough water so that it covered all your body. Lucifer was watching you, slightly panicking at your actions and once you stopped shuddering, you looked at him. You chuckled when you saw his panic look but you quickly got embarrassed when you realised why he was panicking. “Thank you Lucifer. I’m alright now. You can leave, I won’t be long.” You smiled shyly at him and he nodded, his gaze looking everywhere but you now. You stayed a few minutes, rubbing your limbs to get the blood flowing, warm. You emptied the bath and you grabbed the towel to dry off. You left the bathroom enveloped in your towel and ran towards your room.  Lucifer was there, rummaging in your closet for warm clothing. He laid them on the bed for you. “Put that on. I’ll come back later because I would like to show you something but I don’t want what happened earlier happening again.” You chuckled. “Sure, Lucifer. I’ll get dressed appropriately.” He smiled. This charming smile that made you melt every time, no matter how angry you were at him. 

He went by your room and whisked you away to a new coffee that was in an incredible spot. You could see the whole city and the view was breathtaking. It was on a roof of a tall building and you didn’t know there was such a place in the Devildom. He ordered two hot drinks and when they were done he brought you outside. You shivered at the temperature difference and Lucifer instinctively came closer to you. You leaned on the railing to have a proper look at the view. The snow was everywhere, covering the city with a white sheet. You felt the demon coming closer to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. You could feel his body’s heat even through your layers. “It’s only to keep you warm while you are outside.” You giggled. “Of course, Lucifer” He hummed happily then stopped. He turned you around so you were facing him but you were still in his arms. You gasped as it was sudden and you looked at him, surprised. He looked straight into your eyes and put his forehead on yours. He closed his eyes. “I am sorry”. You waited for him to look at you. “For what?” He sighed. You knew he knew but you wanted him to say it. “For what I said in my study.” You moved your head on the side so you wouldn’t look at him anymore. You started to completely pull away but his embrace tightened. “I-I don’t have any excuse. I went too far. My pride was speaking for me when Diavolo said out loud what I was denying to myself and I let it fester instead of just going to see you and to apologise to you as you deserve. You were right, I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve a lot but I really hope you can forgive me someday.” You didn’t move your head while he was speaking, you looked at the city’s lights, blurred by the tears that were starting to fall. You didn’t look up either when you started to talk. “It hurt, you know? To hear such hatred from you. To hear that I was an inferior being because I was a human. I felt like you never wanted me and I was just an inconvenience even though you have been so kind to me.” He sighed again, lips strained into a thin line. He hugged you tighter, your head was now on his chest and you could hear his heart. “As I said, i don’t have an excuse for what I said. I could say I didn’t mean it but at the moment it still hurt you and for that I apologise, again. If there is one thing I would never do on purpose, it’s hurting you. What I said was me defending myself against Lord Diavolo’s true claims but I shouldn’t have used those harsh words.” Your tears were still flowing while you listened to him through the vibrations of his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he kissed you on the top of your head. You waited to stop crying before pulling away. He grabbed your face with both hands and gently, with his thumbs, he wiped the tears off your cheeks. He kissed your forehead, both your eyes, the tip of your nose then each of your cheeks and he stopped his lips in front of yours. “Do you think you can forgive me?” You leaned into his hands. “I don’t know? Do you hate me or humans?” He chuckled then leaned in to press a soft kiss on your lips. “No, I don’t hate you nor humans.” 

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THE END

Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

[lady-evelin]

Do you have Obikin fanfic recs about unexpected omegaverse au? I'm looking for fics that do something nontraditional with alpha and omega dynamics like having the same assignment or transformation such as bitching or reverse of that called studding. If you know any please send my way ily 🖤

Hi 💕

Sorry for the late reply! I've only read these fics with the theme you want, I love when Obi-Wan transforms from alpha to omega 😏

I would like to recommend more but I have only read those 😔

I hope you enjoy them! 😊

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ ༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

i shouldn't cry (but i love it) by blahzarry

Obi-Wan knew alphas that liked to be taken existed. He knew it was possible. But not once in his life had he felt even tempted to try it.

This is my favorite! Obi-Wan helps Anakin through the routine and ends up yearning for the alpha with all his might, wishing to be his omega 😏

2. Mandatory Metamorphosis by DeanSWade

It was clear now, that Obi-Wan couldn't be left alone. He desperately needed someone to take care of him. To think of him first, before anyone else, as he would never think for himself. Anakin could do that for him. He could keep him safe, by his side - happy and sound. As his mate. It was a perfect plan, truly, the one that will work and finally put his Master out of harms ways for good. There was only one fault with it. Obi-Wan was an Alpha. No. Wrong. He wasn't quite Omega enough, yet.

Anakin realizes that Obi-Wan would be a perfect omega for him, so he begins to convert him and take him at night so that he becomes an omega. 😈

3. Venom with a charm by obisky

“They found that all the Alpha’s were killed by the Omega’s of the colony, they injected this into them for extra strength and agility. It caused them to go into a heat that the Alpha’s got intoxicated from and then…they massacred them.” They had filled Obi-Wan up with a heat-inducing mega drug that was made for him to murder Anakin and Qui-Gon.

Ohhh I love this one! Obi-Wan is drugged, but the drug is a poison that makes him go into heat and kill his mate. Anakin sacrifices himself for the good of the mission and Obi-Wan, leaving him in the hands of an omega who tries to kill him at every opportunity 🔥

4. king of wishful thinking by Anonymous

Obi-Wan grabs Anakin and pulls him into a corridor along the hallway where he pushes him brusquely against a pillar thicker across than three of them. Obi-Wan grabs Anakin’s groin through his robes and wraps it firmly around the base of his dick, squeezing his cock threateningly. Obi-Wan has never, ever touched him in this way. “You better get control of this knot, Anakin, or so help me I will leave you back at the Temple. You’re not a teen alpha anymore. You follow my lead while we are working. Do you understand me?” Anakin swallows, can’t speak from the sensation of having his manhood caught in Obi-Wan’s tight, threatening grasp. Obi-Wan squeezes a bit harder and twists his grip so that he has Anakin’s balls in reach. “Do you understand, Alpha?” Obi-Wan repeats. ***** Both Anakin and Obi-Wan present as alphas. Anakin decides that this doesn’t matter.

OMG!! this is so sexy, Anakin introduced himself as alpha and desires his alpha master, surfing the net in an attempt to learn more to make Obi-Wan his 😏, realizing years later that Obi-Wan wanted the same 👀

5. In space, no one can hear you scream by nativeofthenorthpole

Obi-Wan spent his whole life believing that he was an alpha. So imagine his surprise when he goes into heat. While trapped in a spaceship with his alpha Padawan.

In this fic Obi-Wan begins to go into heat on a mission and Anakin becomes jealous because his instincts scream at him that he must protect the "omega", already on the ship Obi-Wan goes into heat and Anakin helps him, guiding him on the path to becoming a Beta to an Omega 🥰

6. tents & knots by pomegranatedoves

Prompt: Alpha Obi-Wan's hole gets wrecked by Alpha Anakin's knot.

This one has a lot of porn 😏 where Anakin is in Obi-Wan's tent and gives him his knot, both are alphas 😘