#any sort of living arrangement knowledge

[anonyhex]

I was like "oh I should research this pleasure dom thing to make sure I'm doing it right" and next thing I know I'm driving myself crazy going through a "sex menu" for Wyll and Astarion to figure out what Astarion would actually WANT that Wyll would be comfy with and wondering about the dynamics of like "wait ok so if this is right after the end of the game and I'm assuming this is Duke Wyll ending, where are they staying? Wyll's dad's house?? That's awkward! Is Astarion going to be dealing with the headache of trying to prove he should be the owner of the Szarr estate and then going through all the work it would take to SELL the damn thing so they can get a place without Wyll's dad fucking with their sex life? Are Ulder and Astarion going to be having constant arguments and driving Wyll up the wall? WILL HE EVER ACTUALLY GET TO FUCK HIS FIANCE WITHOUT THE FAMILY DRAMA AND POLITICS DRIVING HIM INSANE?" (I have still not beaten the game. I should probably beat the game if I want to go more in depth than "idek there's a forest nearby they can fuck in")

[halfvalid]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁

speak teeth

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

alternate title: i need the lord

rating: explicit

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position

author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.

tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.

Roronoa Zoro did not like you. 

The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal. 

It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew. 

In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue. 

Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom. 

You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement. 

Nobody else was, though.

And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?” 

There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?” 

You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!” 

“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.” 

“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.” 

“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing. 

“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market. 

“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?” 

“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.” 

“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.” 

“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.” 

Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.

You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth. 

“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.

Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked. 

“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.” 

Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—

“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade. 

“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.” 

Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.” 

“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—” 

Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.” 

“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?” 

“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back. 

You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.” 

“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look. 

“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?” 

“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.

“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes. 

“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!” 

“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back. 

“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t just—” 

“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.

“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him. 

“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position. 

“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store. 

“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face. 

“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—” 

The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart. 

“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now. 

“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.” 

Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.

You were kissing Zoro before you could even think. 

“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.

And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this. 

Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe. 

His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.

He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat. 

There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh. 

Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.” 

“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?” 

“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.” 

“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”

Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would. 

Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly. 

“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point. 

You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with. 

He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more. 

You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—

He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development. 

Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”

Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.” 

“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him. 

“I am not.” 

“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.” 

“Leave me alone,” you muttered. 

Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.” 

You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?” 

Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.” 

Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed. 

“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”

Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.” 

You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.” 

Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?” 

“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”

Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.” 

You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.” 

Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered. 

This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue. 

Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises. 

Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit. 

His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured. 

Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered. 

“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you. 

You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth. 

“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back. 

“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation. 

“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?” 

“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.” 

“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours. 

One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.” 

“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember. 

Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties. 

He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered. 

Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?” 

“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.” 

“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.

“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length. 

There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point. 

One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss. 

You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.

Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.

Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge. 

You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite. 

Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him. 

There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning. 

You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side. 

After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.” 

Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it. 

“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage. 

“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.” 

You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that. 

© halfvalid 2023

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ¹

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: once upon a time, you weaseled your way into the demon pirate hunter's confidance, and maybe even his heart too. but one bounty gone wrong leads to you being left behind, and you just can't understand why. now, zoro's departure draws near, and your tolerance of his bullshit has run thin. it's time to face this, or risk losing him forever.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, angst with a happy ending (sort of), mention of alcohol, an oc i really like :), reader has a backstory, takes place three years before Zoro meets Luffy

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: lost at sea

The breeze washed in from the sea, brushing your hair away from your face so you couldn't hide behind it any longer. 

The stitched up slash across your back throbbed with every breath you took, and honestly, you were shocked you were even standing this long. But you’d spent three days lying in a stupid bed, arguing with your green-haired companion to no avail. You couldn't stand to lay down any longer.

He was leaving you on this stupid fucking island, and there was nothing you could say to dissuade him. 

So now, standing on the docks of Syrup Village, you tried to ignore how your heart ached watching Zoro make arrangements with the captain of a nearby supply ship. Despite every hardship you’d known in your life, never had you felt so helpless. And that was saying something.

It felt like just yesterday you’d been an apprentice under a skilled apothecary, studying chemistry and botany day in and day out, displaying prowess in the field. You were on your way to opening your own apothecary one day. Until the pirates attacked. 

For years after they sieged your village, you were the decorated captive of cruel pirates, forced to use your knowledge and skill to craft poisons that would end hundreds of lives over the course of your imprisonment. The fates of your faceless victims haunted you by night, even now.

But then, after so long of that neglect and servitude, you were freed. It was just over a year ago the pirate crew was torn apart by a single boy with green hair and three swords. His intention hadn't been to rescue you, of course, that was clear by the bounty he took on the captain of the ship. But he didn’t leave you there, and to you, that meant everything. 

Zoro found you annoying to no end, what with your insistence that you repay your debt to him despite his insistence that he wanted nothing to do with you. Still, he never truly forced you away, not finding it in himself to do so. 

So leads the tale of how you forced your company upon the notorious Demon Pirate Hunter, becoming his life’s greatest annoyance, and consequently, his only friend. 

Zoro had never been too socially inclined, always managing to say the wrong thing. He felt glaring was the extent of communication he needed—and you never minded. You let him have his silence and made a little game out of trying to make him be the first to break it. 

When he glared, you glared right back, keeping his stare with twitchy eyes and silly expressions until he had to break the contact, lest you discover the smile hidden on his face.

Eventually, he stopped trying to ditch you at every port, opting to feign sleep and curl into your side atop a musty inn mattress, shared to “save beri” as he put it. You knew it was more than that, of course, but you let him keep the pretense that he wasn’t fond of you for at least a little while more. 

The pair of you fought side by side, tracking down pirates by day and whispering in low-lit corners by night. The happiest you’d ever been was by Zoro’s side, but all happy things end.

Zoro’s most recent bounty had gone very, very south.

One moment you were in the middle of following Zoro’s lead, taking out the sparse crew with your dagger. It was supposed to be a simple job, with you covering Zoro as he went for the captain of the crew. Key word being supposed.

The motions leading up to the fatal moment were still a blur, but you would never forget the cold terror that rushed through you as sharp steel slashed the skin of your back. You collapsed immediately, the pain so great that your body chose to go numb to protect you from the intensity.

And though now you swore you were fine, Zoro saw every paranoid glance you cast over your shoulder, as though afraid it would happen again. Suddenly you felt thrown back in time, meek and terrified in the face of cruel pirates, crafting whatever poison they required.

You weren’t very surprised when Zoro told you he wanted you to remain in Syrup Village, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

The village doctor, a woman called Vee, didn’t hesitate to agree to letting you room with her. She had been looking for someone to split rent with anyway. Vee said she could always pay you to deliver medicine, and after hearing of your background in apothecary, she was very excited to expand on your teaching through an apprenticeship. (You hated to admit you were excited to learn how to cure people, not kill them).

It was all so sudden and unreal. Zoro seemed so eager to leave you behind. He hadn't met your eyes since you’d regained consciousness and your entire being ached from the absence of his ever faint smile. 

You didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

Zoro's eyes remained on the ground as he approached you, and only when he stood right in front of you did he raise his gaze scan over your body. Still, he never looked you in your eyes. “Are you sure—”

“I’m fine, Zoro,” you cut him off, saying his name sharply, coldly even. In all honesty, you were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep away the pain in your body as well as in your heart. “When do you leave?”

“Sunrise.” So soon. The words left his lips like they had no significance at all. Like this wouldn't be the last time he ever saw you. You’d always known Zoro would put his dream above you… but it was very different to experience it in real time.

It seemed he finally realized what a burden you were. It was only a matter of time, really. You cleared your throat, feeling a burn rise from your neck to your tongue as words begged to be let loose. 

Not seeing much point in holding back anymore, you let them. 

Your gaze flicked back to his face as got right in his line of sight, catching his eyes and locking him in place. The air felt heavy. “I’ll be better in a week at best. I—”

“No.” 

It was like getting smacked in the face all over again. To save you the shame of having him see you cry, you turned your face away, a new wash of anger coming over you. “Fine. Fuck, see if I care… You snore anyway.”

Your voice broke off into a weak crack, and you were turning on your heel to leave him on the pier before he could say anything. With tears rolling down your cheeks, you walked into Vee’s little home, sat on the cot she’d given you, and took off your boots. It didn’t feel like home when you slept your sorrows away. There was no warm body at your back, no arm slipped around your waist that would be gone in the morning, off getting a lead on the next bounty.

Sleep found you, somehow, and your dreams were filled with memories of days much better than this.

જ⁀➴

Zoro hated this. Every emotion he was feeling was another dagger to his lungs. Every break of your heart was a scorch on his chest. 

He downed another drink, tossing it back in one motion. You’ll be safe here. Syrup Village was… quaint. Free of any action, free of any danger. Though, the more he looked around, the more he thought that this was not your type of scene. He couldn’t explain why, he just knew: you were going to hate this place.

But you were safe. That was all that mattered.

Zoro called the bartender over for yet another drink, not keeping a tally of how many he’d downed that night. Swirling the alcohol around the glass, he forced away every feeling and every doubt. In Syrup Village, you would recover, away from the danger his line of work required.

Never again would he hold your dying body in his arms.

A figure sidled up to him at the bar. He glanced over. There was Vee, the village doctor, and your new housemate. She looked less than pleased as she snapped for the bartender. Receiving a glass of vodka, she turned to Zoro with steely eyes. “She’s beside herself, you know.”

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this. “What do you know?”

Vee’s brows drew with the challenge. “I know that poor girl is lying in my house crying over you, asshole.” She tipped her drink back and slammed it back down. “Let me tell you somethin’, Pirate Hunter.”

Zoro waited, eyes locked on the counter. “The moment she woke up, you know what she said?” Vee let out a weary sigh. “She said where’s Zoro? Is Zoro okay? I need to see Zoro.”

“Your point?” 

“My point,” Vee nearly snarled. “Is that I’ve known her what, two days? And it’s already plain to me. If your plan is to make her care for you turn into loathing, you’re on the right track, pal.”

Gripping his empty glass, Zoro was at a loss. He knew you cared for him. Hell, he cared for you just as much, if not more. Which is why he had to do this. You could barely even stand—he saw through your act in seconds—and it’d be much longer than a week for you to entirely recover from your injuries. He felt like clawing out his hair, like screaming even. Why did the right thing feel so very wrong?

Vee leaned on the counter, kissing her teeth. “My advice? Don’t leave with her thinking this is on her.”

“Why would she—”

“Trust me.” Vee settled him with a glare. “She thinks this is her fault.”

Vee knew nothing, Zoro told himself. Vee had no right to step in on his relationship with you, or lack thereof. There was no way in hell Zoro would let Vee’s words get to him.

Which is why he was sitting on the curb across from Vee’s house, trying to figure out what to say to you that would salvage the only friendship he’d had since Kuina.

His head in his arms, Zoro tapped his toe on the cobblestones, and closed his eyes. What would Kuina think of him, so frazzled over a girl like he was a kid again. Not just any girl, though. This was you, so it mattered more than he was ready to admit. 

A little grin worked its way up his face. Kuina would call him a coward. She’d punch his arm and tell him to just lay it all out.

“She hates me,” he whispered to no one. “I’m making her hate me.”

Like a ghost, he swore he heard the smug voice of his sparring partner at his side, a ghost's words burning into his brain: What are you gonna do about it, Roronoa?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, pathetically regretting every choice that led him to this moment, but it had been long enough for the street lamps to shut off, casting the road in a dull darkness enough to make him start creating figures in the shadows. 

Rubbing at his eyes, Zoro decided he needed some sleep. He left early in the morning, after all. But you, his heart screamed, in direct contrast with his head. 

You had completely infiltrated Zoro’s life. You were brash and defiant, insisting on following him around the East Blue until you could repay him for freeing you from your bastard captors. You stayed even after your life debt was paid, your hurricane person sticking to his side. You were like a bruise he discovered one day, unsure where it’d come from and at a loss as to when it would go.

Even now, you were a sore on his heart, working your way into his very soul.

His every blink was haunted by your smile. His every move was watched by your admiring gaze. These days he couldn’t even breathe without knowing you’re safe. 

Zoro knew that even if he left and never turned back, he’d never get rid of you. There was too much of you wrapped up in him, and it was terrifying.

He raised his eyes to the house across from him, and glanced over the hand painted sign reading Healing Remedies and Modern Medicines swinging in the midnight breeze. The light in the top window taunted him, the draping curtains daring him to walk in and reconcile.

But what if you didn’t want to? Your temper had always been reliable, never failing to rain upon those who wronged you. Zoro had never had the privilege of being on the receiving end of your wrath, and he was in no mood to start. 

A sigh forced its way out of him, heart thundering for reasons beyond him, and Zoro had to wonder why exactly he cared so much.

He was the Demon of the East Blue. The most feared pirate hunter this side of the Grand Line. He wielded Wado Ichimonji. And yet, Roronoa Zoro was crippled by the thought of how crestfallen you had looked that evening. When he’d told you no, something he rarely ever did. If only he could just tell you…

The light in the window went off, and he was really, truly, completely in the dark.

His head hit his knees, one hand going to rest on his sword. Zoro had no clue what to do. Perhaps… Perhaps it would be best to leave it all at this. You would grow to hate him, eventually, but you would never be hurt because of him ever again. 

“You’re gonna catch a cold.” 

Zoro just about unsheathed his sword, halfway standing by the time his eyes readjusted to the dark, and the outline of you settled in his head. You stood there in a nightgown with your arms crossed, expression unreadable. 

He relaxed, sitting back on the curb and averting his eyes. He heard you scoff, the fabric of your dress rustling as you moved to sit beside him. “Idiot,” you murmured, and he had to agree.

Instead of saying what he wanted to, Zoro demanded, “What’re you doing?”

Your eyes burned into the side of his skull, unrelenting in your blatant scorn. Sucking in a breath and letting it out, you felt your tolerance for bullshit meet its end. “I'm sitting. Zoro?”

When he barely even hummed in reply, face turned away from you, you rolled your eyes and grabbed his chin, jerking him around to look you in the eyes. The surprise on his face would’ve been funny had you not been pissed. “Zoro, grow up.”

Zoro would’ve given you the world. He would’ve killed anyone, stolen anything; all you had to do was ask. Yet, he couldn’t seem to find the words, no matter how he tried to force them. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to…” As the sentence faltered on your tongue, Zoro saw that same starvation for the right thing to say in your eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Releasing his chin, you shifted to face Vee’s house, hugging your knees to your chest and allowing the silence to swallow the conversation whole. Your frustration was palpable, radiating off your skin and latching onto Zoro, till the both of you were simply sitting on the curb amidst the complexity of emotions in the air.

It was infuriating.

You raked your hands through your hair and whirled on him suddenly. “I want to know why you’re abandoning me.”

“You’re injured,” he deadpanned, prompting a hefty sigh from you.

“Wounds heal. I’ll heal.” You searched his face, finding he betrayed absolutely nothing, per usual. “Do you think I’m weak?”

His rebuttal was immediate, and quick to be cut off. “I—”

“Because in case you don’t remember, I was on a pirate ship for years before I met you.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know I’m not easy.” Suddenly out of breath, you expelled all your thoughts. “I know I’m annoying and I probably do more harm than good and trust me, I know I’m a burden but I thought maybe… I thought maybe we were friends. I thought that maybe…”

Faltering, you forced yourself to face him, if only to see how much damage you’d done. Imagine your surprise when you found his gaze already zeroed in on you.

His eyes had always been beautiful, always so deep that it felt like you could drown in them if you let yourself. And now they bore into you with an intensity you were unaccustomed to.

“You’ve never been a burden,” he told you.

Raising a brow, “Never?”

You swore you could practically see the memories replayed in his eyes as a little smirk pulled at his lips. “Maybe at first.”

As quickly as it’d formed, your grin slid away, replaced by that same hopeless frown.

You felt it like cupping water in your hands; Zoro was slipping through your fingers with every second that passed. “I just don’t understand. I mean, I get that you liked the lone bounty hunter life but—”

Zoro shook his head. “That’s not it.”

At a loss, you looked at him with a pleading sort of gaze, glassy eyes nearly driving him over the edge. “Then tell me what is. Because I’m just gonna keep spitting out words and we both know that won’t end well.”

For a long time, he didn’t say a word. Maybe he couldn’t, you thought. Was it unfair to demand explanations from him? You were on the brink of telling him to forget everything and wishing him a safe journey, when he spoke, a quake in the usual even tone of his voice.

“Do you even remember what happened?”

It took you a moment to realize what he was talking about, and then the bandages wrapping from your back to your chest became all the more tangible, and your throat went dry. “I… Of course I do,” you said, not entirely sure it was true.

Zoro passed a hand over his face, fidgeting. “Do you remember how much blood you lost? How deep that wound is?” He could barely meet your eyes now, every ounce of the confidence you knew and loved gone missing. “Do you remember that your heart stopped beating?”

You hadn’t known. You hadn’t known any of that… but Zoro did, you realized, aching as he seemed to glare at the space ahead of him. “If I hadn’t gotten you here in time, you would have died.” His jaw set, tight fists rested on his knees. “You nearly died because of me.”

You reacted instantly—you couldn’t stand that look on his face—swiftly reaching for his hand and taking it in yours. “I didn’t die,” you insisted, “because of you. It is not your fault.”

He squeezed your hand. He didn’t really believe you, and you weren’t sure you could say anything to convince him. And when he met your gaze, you swore your heart swelled as realization set in.

You’d always had a hunch that your feelings were reciprocated—you’d always felt that he loved you too. Yet now, as you stared into his pretty eyes, it became a truth settled into the depths of your longing heart. So that’s what this is all about, you thought.

This all felt so wrong. How could he be leaving in the morning, with so many things left unsaid? And if you finally put these emotions to words now, what good would it do? 

The prospect of never seeing him again was worse than death itself. There was no way you’d let this be goodbye forever. 

“Zoro,” you whispered, tugging on his hand to draw his attention. “Sleep with me?”

His eyes slowly raised to your own, soft despite their cold, and he stood, taking you along with him. You led him into Vee’s house and up to the room she’d supplied you with. Zoro’s hand never once left yours, his thumb running circles on your skin. 

When you grimaced as you tried to lay back on the bed, Zoro was there in an instant, letting you squeeze the life out of his hand as he settled down beside you. 

He couldn��t help it: ”What was that about being fine?”

It dragged a laugh out of you, and you gazed over at him with your adoration wrapped up in your face. Zoro had never done anything wrong in your eyes—well, except leaving you behind, that is.

You brushed his hair off his forehead, your fingers drifting down to graze his cheek. At long last, the little smile was back on his face, though a bit sadder than usual. You’re sure your own grin looked the same. “You’re pretty when you smile.”

Zoro half rolled his eyes, shifting so he was lying on his side as you laid on your back. “Yeah, you’ve told me.”

“I wanna tell you again,” you shrugged. There was so much you needed to say, but the air was already so full of words, and you were tired. Tonight, you could lay by his side once more, and pretend watching a random barge take him away wouldn't tear your heart in two.

જ⁀➴

Zoro’s spot on the bed was cold when Vee came storming into the room the next morning.

Bleary eyed, you blinked sleep away as her frantic words left you confused to no end. You sat up only to have a dress thrown in your face. Looking it over, you questioned, “What?”

“Get up!” Vee ordered, her tan face a furious shade of red. “Up! Up!”

Your mind wasn’t catching up to your body. Your gaze fell to the bed, and the place where Zoro should have been. The sheets were tossed aside and his boots were gone. A cold pit formed in your gut. “Where’s Zoro?”

Vee exasperated, “The pier!”

In an instant your feet hit the floor, eyes blown wide, all air seized from your lungs. “No! He can’t—”

“Well, he is.” Without warning she spun you around and started to unbutton your night dress. “Put this on. His ship is almost set to leave.”

You’d never dressed so fast in your life, though you lacked shoes and the dress was only halfway tied in the back. You were decent, and that was enough. Bounding out of Vee’s house and through the streets, not one apology left your lips as you dodged in and out of people and carts, set on a desperate sprint to reach the docks.

“I’ll kill him,” you heaved. “I’ll chase him and find him and kill him, dammit.”

Your back ached and your limbs felt weak and you really needed a glass of water, but none of it mattered. If you didn’t make it, none of this mattered.

The flag of the merchant’s ship came into view. The sailors only had a few more crates to load, and then they’d be off. You couldn’t see Zoro anywhere, so there was only one thing left to do: you invaded the ship.

Running up the gangway and ignoring the shouts of the crew on the dock, you stood at the center of the ship’s deck and rounded in a circle, eyes scouring for that green-haired little bitch. 

Chest heaving, you nearly whimpered when you still couldn’t see him. Would you have to search the whole ship, turning everything upside down? 

You jumped when a hand clamped down on your arm, and you whirled around to find not Zoro, but a very tall, very surly man with a single scar running from his left eye to his jaw. His grip on you was enough to send a shock of fear through you.

“I don’t take kindly to stowaways,” he barked. “And really, you’re not even trying to hide. At least commit to it if you’re thinkin’ of hitchin’ a ride on my ship.”

As you gulped and stared up into his darkly narrowed eyes, there was really only one thing on your mind. “Where is Roronoa Zoro?”

The captain of the ship gaped, and before he could get out another word, a very familiar man rushed down from the helm, a frustrated set in his brow.

You were in no mood for his temper. In a swift motion you broke away from the captain and stormed over to meet Zoro halfway. “There you are, son of a bitch.”

Zoro’s heart was in his head, worried about the deathly glare you now gave him. He steeled himself and started, “I told you—”

“How dare you!” You shoved at his chest, barely knocking him back as crimson tendrils creeped in your vision. “Is this really how you want to leave things?”

He stood solemn, eyes almost sad as they met with yours. “I thought it would be best.”

“For who?” You couldn’t deny the break of your heart, the pieces of it under the sole of his boot. You hoped he saw it on your face. You hoped he acknowledged the damage he’s doing. 

The captain awkwardly came up behind you. “Your lass is gonna have to pay for passage, Roronoa.”

“I’m not coming.” “She’s not staying.”

The pair of you kept in a dangerous staring match, your words overlapping.  

Still, the captain shuffled on his feet, saying, “Listen, we have a schedule—”

You whirled on him, locking him in place with a single glare. “Give us a minute.” Then, with more sympathy, “Please.”

The captain sighed, rolling his eyes and waving it off as he continued to prepare to depart.

There was little ignoring the curious stares from the ship’s crew as you slowly turned back to Zoro. “You’re a coward.”

“I know.”

“I’m not done,” you said, holding up a hand to stop him. Zoro’s lips snapped shut, his gaze lowering for a moment before he brought it back up, waiting for the blows of your anger. 

You took a breath, and finally, “I get why I can’t go with you. I’m a liability. You can’t become the world’s greatest swordsman if you’re busy keeping me alive.” You took a step closer, partially because of the eavesdroppers all around and partially because you wanted to be near him as long as you could.

“So I’ll stay. I'll live and train with Vee and become the greatest fucking apothecary Syrup Village has ever seen. And maybe I’ll even forgive you for trying to leave without a goodbye, if you can tell me why.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Why what?”

You could have screamed at this man you had the displeasing pleasure of falling in love with. “Why do you care so much?”

“You know why,” he said, stubborn as always. Only, maybe he wasn’t being stubborn, you considered as something like hesitation hovered in his gaze. 

Still, you persisted. “No, I wanna hear you say it.” You reached out for him, gently setting a hand on his arm to ease some of his tension. “I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth before you sail away from me.”

“You make it sound so definite,” he said, huffing a laugh as he forced a pained smile.  

“Zoro.”

His deep eyes burned into you as his hands rose to softly caress your jaw, his hold featherlight. The spinning of the world began to still, the earth on its axis slowing to allow you just enough time. He got impossibly closer, breaking your anger down to a soft annoyance. You really couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“Not like this,” Zoro murmured. “When I tell you how I feel, it’s gonna be when I have the time to show you.”

You rested your palms on the hands that cradled your face. “I’m impatient.”

He only grinned, though it barely reached his eyes. “I know.”

You couldn’t bear to waste this precious time crying, choking down the fire in your throat. You teased, “So what I’m hearing is that you like me too much to leave me stranded forever?”

“Something like that,” he said, hands drifting to your waist.

From somewhere behind him, the captain bellowed, “Roronoa!”

“I know!” Zoro called back, never removing himself from you. He pursed his lips before enveloping you in a hug that nearly knocked the breath out of you. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Your fingers carded through his hair. You hid your face in his neck. Anything to relish the feeling of his arms around you. “I suppose I forgive you.” Squeezing him closer, “Just promise to write.”

Pulling away, he pressed his forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You cupped his jaw in your hands and locked with his eyes. “I'll get stronger. I'll come find you someday, or you'll come back, or—something. But we’ll sail together again. Swear it to me.”

He couldn’t help the smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. Then, Zoro did as you asked. “I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

“Good,” you said, voice finally cracking under the pressure building in your chest. 

Somewhere in the village, the morning bell rang true. The sun was fully up over the horizon line. Not a cloud disturbed the bluer-by-the-second sky. A perfect day for sailing, you mused. 

You stepped away, swiping at your eyes, and smiled as best you could. It was watery, most likely, and conveyed every bit of your melancholy. Casting a look over his shoulder you saw the captain standing there, ticked and holding up his wristwatch. The breath you let out was shaky as you turned back to Zoro.

“Goodbye,” you said, as if that word did this feeling any justice. Before he could say a word in return, you’d lunged forward to press your lips to his cheek, your hands steadying yourself on his biceps. It was quick, nothing but a peck, and enough to make you lose your nerve instantly.

Skin warm and grinning like a fool, you pivoted in a whirl and made for a quick escape, only getting two steps away when an arm hooked around your middle and pulled you back into a broad chest. Zoro’s breath was loud in your ear, so loud you could hear his goofy smile before you saw it. 

Your back still hurt like hell, yet nothing could sway the stretch of your lips as you swiveled in his embrace, finding yourself once again in between his arms. In an instant, memories of months gone by haunted your eyes; memories of nights spent sleepless, only filled with the soft graze of his fingers against your arm; of nights in hasty argument over trivial things such as money or fleeting jealousy; and of moments so dear they nearly felt domestic.

And when he drew you into a feverish kiss, his hands clawing at your shirt to just get a grip of you, the sensation of lips on lips made it feel as though he truly was breathing in your soul and giving you his own in turn, the two energies intermingling in a promise sealed with love and lust and labor. 

Your ears were ringing when you registered the morning bells had stopped, and you retreated from the moment. Zoro squeezed your hips, eyes shut as he sightlessly pecked your lips again, then pressed a kiss to your forehead. You leaned up and peppered a few kisses to his jaw.

Finally, time had had its fill of freezing, and commands to depart from port were barked out.

Meeting your eyes, Zoro sighed out another apology before tugging you in one last time, his arms wrapping you up in a warm embrace that had your stitches crying out again. You grimaced despite yourself.  “Injured. Still injured.”

He laughed, and you swore you’d get drunk on the sound if you weren’t too careful. 

"I'll come back," he whispered in your ear. "I'll be the greatest swordsman and you'll be the greatest apothecary in the world."

"That's quite the duo."

“Lass!” called the captain, standing next to the gangway, preparing to pull it in. “You goin’?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless as you took Zoro’s hand, kissed his palm, and turned away before it was too late. You ran off the ship, down the gangway, and far off into the docks. Your head wanted to run back to Vee’s little house and woe around the rest of the day. Your heart wanted something else entirely.

Like you’d been caught in the gut, you froze, instantaneously backtracking in a sprint to the edge of the docks. The ship taking Zoro away was a good way out, but not far enough to block your voice. 

Cupping your hands around your mouth: “Zoro! Roronoa Zoro!”

That mop of moss green hair appeared at the ship’s railing. You grinned from ear to ear and bellowed, “I’m impatient! I love you, Zoro! I love you!”

At such a distance, you couldn’t see his exact reaction, and he couldn’t hear the whispers of the passersby that broke out at such a confession. But he’d heard your every word, his hands gripping the railing like he thought he might slip through the wood of the deck and fall right into the belly of the ocean. 

A few sailors whooped and hollered and one dared to clap him on the shoulder, and he would have severed that hand from the man had it not been for the red hot affection coursing through his veins. You were waving, and so he raised his hand and limply waved back.

He would be writing to you the moment he got a hold of some paper, Zoro decided. Until then, he stood at the edge of the ship, watching Syrup Village and Gecko Island and you grow smaller and smaller, and then gone. 

There was a tightening around his lungs, and as he retreated into the depths of the ship, he knew his heart had remained on land with you. One day, when you were healed and he was strong enough to make sure you never got injured again, he’d have his heart back, and you along with it.

Until then, your paths diverged, to be met once again some years later. 

જ⁀➴

Nami’s little ship taking on water was the least ideal occurrence possible. Yet, deep inside, Zoro found it incredibly funny to watch the orange haired girl scramble around all frustrated like this. 

“Gecko Islands,” said Nami, drawing Zoro out of his thoughts. She was hunched over her map with Luffy over her shoulder, per usual. “I think we’ll be able to make it before the ship sinks.”

Those words took longer to process than they should’ve, but Zoro couldn’t help it. Gecko Islands? How long had it been, three years maybe? No longer than that, he was sure. His eyes went unfocused at the memory of a laugh that could easily end him and bring him back to life all at once.

“Swear it to me.”

“I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

Nami nodded to herself, saying, “Syrup Village is known for its ships. I say we dock there and ditch this junk.”

He couldn’t believe that luck. Zoro’s lips threatened to quirk into a grin before he got a hold of himself. He rested his hand on his swords and snuffed. “I’ve got a friend in Syrup Village who could help us.”

Nami took off her readers and rolled up her map. “You have friends?”

He shot her a tight smirk. “Just one.”

“And he can help us?” asked Luffy as he took to the ship’s helm. 

“She might.” Zoro checked on a knot here and a rope there. With his back to his temporary crew, he let out a small smile. “If she’s happy to see me.”

A surprised grin took Nami's face. “And if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” he assured, only half certain, if he was being honest.

It'd been three years since his promise, after all. Whatever happened next, Zoro could only be certain of one thing: oh, how he missed you.

[takerfoxx]

Personally, I feel that the reason Suletta and Miorine work so well as a couple is the same reason why they didn't work for me at first: they're just such fundamentally different people, with total opposite personalities, upbringings, values, desires, needs, strengths, weaknesses, traumas, the list goes on. If it weren't for the very strange set of circumstances that forced them to form a connection, I honestly doubt that they would even be friends, so much so that for the first few episodes, I found myself feeling weirdly disconnected from their relationship, and even found myself wondering if they even liked each other.

I mean, take a look at Suletta. She's a country girl from Mercury's mining colonies who never had any friends of her own growing up. She's a clone created in part to replace her older sister, in part to usher in her mother's plan to free her sister, and in part to be a weapon of revenge, leading to an extremely bizarre relationship with her mother that is equal parts affectionate and neglectful. She loves being around people, but is so socially anxious that any sort of interactions sends her into a stuttering fit. She's terrified of confrontation, and yet is larger and stronger than most, and put her behind the controls of a mech, and she will turn you into mincemeat. She's a total klutz when it comes to dealing with other people, and yet stays cool in a crisis and isn't phased by dead bodies. She trusts with her whole heart, measures her relationships by the value she gives to other people, blames herself whenever others let her down, can and will take a life without flinching to protect those close to her, and is delighted by something so simple as having others laugh at a joke that she made.

Now, take Miorine. A rich girl from an extremely powerful family, she lost her mother, quite possibly the only person to ever show her genuine kindness when she was a child, was "raised" by her contemptuous and neglectful excuse for a father, and grew to resent everyone and everything around her. She hates being around people, but has the confidence and social knowledge to play the game. She's tiny and physically weak, but also angry and assertive. She openly loathes her father and will insult him to his face, but also desperately craves his approval. She's been used as a commodity her entire life by people who see her as a stepping stone into power, and is bound and determined to make everyone who tries damned to a living hell. She was raised in luxury in space, but dreams of running away to what is essentially a refugee camp of a planet. She wants so badly to be allowed to stand on her own two feet and be respected for her own accomplishments, but has no real idea how to do it. She views relationships as transactions, has exactly zero patience for other people's nonsense, can and will sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of the select few that she cares about, will run headlong into the most harrowing of political battles, but also fall apart completely when confronted with the reality of death.

And, like I said, for whatever reason I just didn't feel the sparks between them at first. Their whole relationship just felt like a mutually beneficial arrangement, like it was said to be.

But then we got to that magical episode, where they had that amazingly written misunderstanding in the greenhouse, followed by that incredible argument on the space station, and I realized that this was the plan all along, and Suletta and Miorine are actually perfect as a couple...once they've managed to bridge the gap between their extremely different life experiences and massive communication issues.

See, what's so great about them is that while they are extremely different, those difference are also perfectly compatible. One's strength is the other's weakness, and together they make each other better. In a way, they're less opposites and more of two halves of one complete whole. It was Miorine's confidence that allowed Suletta to start standing up for herself, to learn confidence and make real friends, to figure out what love is. And it was Suletta's bravery that inspired Miorine to find a way to make something of her own, to seek out ways to use their families' legacies to help people instead of hurt them, to bridge gaps long carved out by blood. And in the end, they were two desperately lonely girls who just wanted someone to truly, honestly, and unconditionally love them, and they found it in each other.

Granted, it was rough going for a bit. Like I said, they had such different ways of seeing the world, they didn't communicate in the same way, they didn't see relationships in the same way, and they ended up hurting each other just trying to do what they thought was best. But they also forgave one another. They strove to better understand one another. And they came to realize just how much they needed each other. And though it took even greater loss and pain in order to achieve it, they finally found their happy ending. They found each other.

[madschiavelique]

Can I request a Gale, Astarion and Wyll with a gn! Reader who has epileptic seizures? I’ve had them since I was a kid and for me they usually happen within an hour of me waking up. Luckily I’ve been seizure free for a year so far!! :)

I understand if you are uncomfortable writing this!

hi love!! first of all CONGRATS ON THE ONE YEAR SEIZURE FREE !!! second of all i'm sorry i took so long to write it but i wanted to document myself first to write that properly! i have no idea if i made justic to it, and i would love for you to give me some returns in case i didn't portray it well <33 special little note of thank you for my friend @duffyyy911 who helped me greatly to write this !!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : gale, astarion, wyll

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : none, mostly comfort (as far as i know), gender neutral reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 966 ( ~ 300 per characters)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ gale :

Chances are that, completely unbeknownst to him in the first place, gale was the one to make have you start a seizure.

Poor guy was just casting dancing lights or colour spray, and the next thing you knew you were on the ground, and he was completely lost.

He had read one too many books, many about spells and a few conditions. He was no doctor, but he was a wizard that had sufficient magical knowledge and an unrelenting hunger for reading who was ready to do anything to help his companions.

He was quick to help, although a bit overthrown by panic and surprise, he tried using the most of his spell slots possible to keep you in place and keep a proper eye on you until it was all over.

After that incident, you can be assured that in every city or village or places you passed that he would be on the hunt for a library with as much information on the seizures as possible.

He was alert at all times, remaining at your side in case anything happened.

You can be assured that he’d always have a scroll of Hold Person on him to cast, a spell of Resistance or Sanctuary ready to crack under his fingers, preparing Sleep, Feign Death or Slow to ensure at any times that whatever might cause a seizure could be countered by his thorough preparation and attention.

He’d arrange the softest bed for you, whatever pillows and spells he could use to get you to have some proper restorative sleep were all cast and placed under you.

He’d read by your side, waiting for you to wake up and simply looking after you. He’d kiss your forehead when you’d start moving, softly emerging from your much comfortable slumber.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ astarion :

At first, Astarion thought it was a joke, or at least some accidental fall from you when walking on some of the ice that made you prone after a quite stressful fight.

But you were starting to be strangely prone, the kind that looked quite painful.

“Come on, I know ceremorphosis or whatever the name of it is couldn’t have caught up to you just now darling.”

But as Shadowheart came to help you, a look of worry in her eye, Astarion’s chest clenched.

“It’s not a joke, Astarion. It’s a damned seizure.”

He immediately came to your side to help Shadowheart, panicked and feeling like a complete idiot. “Are they okay ? Are they dying ?!” 

After positioning you correctly on the ground, Shadowheart reassured him that you were not nearing any death at the moment.

It is only after the seizure had passed and some well deserved rest on your part that he asked you questions about the event.

On one hand, he’d try to find some sort of positivity in this situation. “We can just live a vampire life you know, hiding from the sun would be a great start.” But he would find that if you’re in the dark all the time, wouldn’t it just make it easier to induce a seizure then ?

So at first, he’d have no idea as to how he’s supposed to help you. But with the help of Shadowheart eventually, he’d pick up on the things to do next time.

He knew how to place you properly, what to do to just ensure that you’d be safe no matter what, and was always here to take you to bed after a seizure happened.

He’d look after you while asleep, threatening anybody in the camp that if they were to make any loud sounds or anything that could wake you up, he’d make sure to make them his next meal.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ wyll :

If there is one thing the blade of frontiers doesn’t know how to handle, it is you, the leader of the group, having a seizure.

He has fought many enemies in his years, but one that comes from within his partner is a whole new one.

When you went into a seizure for the first time in front of him, you were just practicing some of the basic magic and swordsmanship that Wyll had knowledge of at camp. Your target was the trunk of an old dead tree, and Wyll wanted to show you - mostly impress you - by casting an Eldritch Blast to straight up destroy it. 

Multiple crimson zaps and flashes crisped the air as he perfectly hit the trunk, turning to you with a proud smile, “See, just like th-” but he stopped dead in his words as he saw you on the ground.

He knelt immediately, throwing his sword away as he placed his hand on your shoulder calling your name repeatedly.

In complete and utter panic, his eyes not leaving you, he heard strong steps stomping the ground. Next second, Halsin came next to the both of you, his sixth sense for the ones in need calling for him. 

“What’s happening to them ?” Wyll would ask, his voice breaking as he watched how Halsin gently placed you on your side on the ground.

“Just a seizure,” Halsin explained, concentrating on examining you, “do you know if they are stressed ? did they drink properly since this morning ? any bright flashes of light happened before that ?”

Wyll’s heart got tight in his chest as he realised his desire to impress you had caused this to start. After getting reassured by Halsin who explained to him how to handle such situations in the future, he stayed with you next to your bed, waiting for you to wake up.

He kept holding your hand all the way till you woke up, his guilt still holding his stomach in a tight knot. You reassured him about it, explaining to him your symptoms, how it’d happen like Halsin had mentioned, and kissed his trouble away.

[kanansdume]

Pro-Jedi Headcanons for Jedi/Clone Ships

Fox actually really loves being in a relationship with a Jedi because they're the only group of people where being in a relationship does not automatically involve any major obligations or expectations aside from basic decency and respect for each other. The relationships can be literally anything so long as both people involved are happy with the arrangement. Fox loves Quinlan, and he really enjoys spending time with Quinlan, but has no actual problem with Quinlan being gone for long periods of time on missions because he's got a life he can live beyond Quinlan and people he cares about who aren't Quinlan and this is Quinlan's life, this is his duty and his passion. They keep in contact when they can and absolutely spend time together whenever both of them happen to be on the same planet, but their relationship is probably more like third priority for both of them and they're both okay with that.

Cody obviously is not Force Sensitive and so isn't officially a member of the Jedi Order, nor does he need to be, but he genuinely ADORES Jedi culture and participates in a lot of the parts of it that are open to outsiders, both with Obi-Wan and without. Cody loves meditation and makes sure to do it regularly, he spends a lot of time in the archives doing a lot of research into anything and everything he can think of, he occasionally gets into debates with other Jedi about some of those things he has researched because debates are a time-honored Jedi pastime, he helps cook in the kitchens with the Padawans, he learns the katas and figures out how to incorporate them into his own fighting style and lack of ability to use the Force, his clothing style starts looking more Jedi-like, etc. He just really enjoys the aspects of Jedi culture that he's allowed to participate in and has a lot of appreciation for the parts of it that are closed.

Bly discovers that he really loves to teach. He likes learning new things himself, too, but more than that he loves to pass on what he's learned to others. It's something he learned from Aayla, who was constantly trying to teach little things to him and the rest of the men about whatever topic caught their fancy (or hers), just because it felt good to pass the knowledge on to someone else. Occasionally Bly is able to teach a short class for the Jedi, but mostly he travels around and teaches others, passes on what he's learned throughout the galaxy and learns from everyone else in return. And then he comes back to the Temple and meets up with Aayla and the two of them tell each other everything they've learned in their travels.

Gree's fascination for other species ends up being very helpful and pairs well with Barriss's chosen career of healing. Gree starts adjusting some of his learning towards figuring how healing works for all kinds of different people and ends up working in medical research alongside Barriss. The two of them maybe join one the Medical Corps in their respective roles to help distribute aid to all of the different places in the galaxy that still struggle in the wake of the war. Gree still loves learning about various fauna, as well, but it becomes more of a hobby than a career, although he does end up adopting several pets that do well in a life on a starship. Barriss has named all of the pets because it turns out she's actually REALLY good at coming up with names. Gree isn't sure how she does it, it can't be a Force thing because Luminara is absolute garbage at it. It's just a Barriss thing and luckily Barriss is always honored and happy to come up with yet another name for any new pets Gree manages to find and adopt.

Kit spends a lot more time at the Temple after the war is over and finds a lot of peace through spending time with the younglings. Monnk occasionally comes in to visit and inevitably ends up helping wrangle or teach a bunch of little kids things like painting or swimming or various sorts of games. Monnk might never admit it, not to Kit at least, but he also finds spending time with the younglings healing. He ends up adopting several children of his own, a mixture of clone children taken off of Kamino and regular war orphans, which leads to creating a little group home/shelter for kids on Coruscant with nowhere else to go. Kit often comes down to volunteer there and spend time with Monnk's children and organize different sorts of supply drives to keep it running. The kids call him Uncle Kit, which Kit adores and Monnk thinks is ridiculous. Kit and Monnk also often organize "field trips" with their respective groups of younglings to either the shelter or the Temple to help strengthen acceptance and understanding between the different groups.

Mace introduces Ponds to the joys of theater and acting and while Ponds has VERY little experience in this area, he really enjoys listening to Mace talk about it so passionately, so he starts learning more and more about theater in order to participate better because it seems like Mace perhaps doesn't have very many friends who share this particular interest. Eventually, Ponds realizes he's got some INCREDIBLY strong opinions about theater actually and Mace suggests that he write up some of his thoughts as articles on the holonet and they end up very popular. Ponds manages to unwittingly end up a theater critic and starts getting press passes to see all of the new plays and shows early and always makes sure to bring Mace along as his plus one because no one is more interesting to talk to them about than Mace.

Plo Koon is someone who takes a lot of more religious Jedi practices very seriously and practices them quite often on the ship and even the battlefield and was happy to explain them to anyone who asked and taught them how to join him if they were interested. Wolffe always felt a little awkward about it, it seemed weird to take part in a Jedi ceremony if he's not a Jedi, but the routine of it fascinated him. Routines had always been calming, but after the destruction of his first battalion, routines are something he relies on as much as he can. He listens to a lot of Plo's discussions about the different practices and ceremonies and the ways they help him find peace and balance. After the war ends, he takes up a position as one of the civilian workers inside the Jedi Temple and gets to see plenty of the other Jedi also practicing these different little ceremonies, sometimes the same ways Plo did, sometimes with slight variations. Eventually, he does ask Plo if it would be okay if he learned some of them and joined in occasionally, and of course Plo says yes and sits him down to help teach him, and Wolffe starts truly feeling the peace that everyone says they've won.

Colt and the other commanders on Kamino had learned to band together early on and one of the things they often did for each other to relax was give massages while bitching about their day. One day, during a meeting with Shaak Ti, he notices her fidgeting a little and that she seems a little stiffer than usual. When he asks about it, she admits to feeling a little sore because she hasn't been able to take the time to stretch and exercise the way she used to and meditation on Kamino is sometimes difficult. Colt offers to give her a massage if she's interested and once Shaak Ti ensures he's not offering out of a sense of obligation, she takes him up on it. This turns into a tradition where they give massages back and forth after the official reports are done and they can just bitch to each other about their day. After the war is over, Colt moves to Coruscant with most of the rest of the clones and sees how many of the clones and Jedi are just incredibly physically worn down. He's no healer, but he has two working hands and two working ears, so he volunteers with the Jedi healers as a masseuse and physical therapy assistant.

Keeli was incredibly impressed by the way the people of Ryloth had been able to take what at first glance seemed like such a barren landscape and really transform it into the most beautiful place to live. Cham Syndulla introduces Keeli to his personal landscaper and Keeli manages to keep in touch up through the end of the war. After the war ends, Ima-Gun convinces Keeli to take some classes on gardening and landscaping at the Jedi temple. Keeli finds he loves getting his hands dirty in this kind of rich soil, or figuring out the best kind of light for a plant so that it gets what it needs AND looks as beautiful as possible so others can enjoy it. Ima-Gun can often be found out in the gardens with Keeli, helping with the planting or just meditating nearby as they quietly enjoy each other's company. Keeli eventually starts up a gardening and landscaping company for people on Coruscant to try to bring more greenery and plantlife to this place so devoid of it.

Eeth retires from the Council after the war (he knows Agen will do wonderfully at the job in his place) and does a lot of work with grassroots organizations that primarily work to help resettle refugees from the war. Lock insists on coming with him, which Eeth tries to tell him isn't necessary at all, but Lock isn't swayed. Lock says that this is the exact kind of work he'd want to do anyway and Eeth spent enough time during the war ordering Lock to retreat and leave him behind, so now that Eeth can't order Lock around, he's planning to stay as long as Eeth is willing to have him. Lock can tell that Eeth is struggling with figuring out who he's become after the war and where he belongs, and Lock honestly feels the same way, so they may as well struggle through it together. Eeth knows he'll always be a Jedi, it's in his bones and his blood, but that life might look a little different now than it used to, and he's happy to live it with Lock at his side. If he and Lock can help each other heal and put their past behind them by helping refugees of the war they fought, it'll be a life well spent.

During the war, Doom found that one of the best ways to get Tiplee and Tiplar to slow down and relax was to catch them while they were eating. However this often proved a little difficult because the food served on the ships wasn't exactly pleasant to eat and didn't inspire anybody to linger or savor it. So Doom learned how to cook a little and figured out ways to trade on different planets for foods to try and spices so he could cook things for the twins that they might actually enjoy for a while. Tiplee and Tiplar are both incredibly receptive to his efforts, although to his dismay, he discovers that they don't actually have particularly similar tastes: Tiplee has a sweet tooth a mile wide and Tiplar wants everything as spicy as possible. So Doom keeps having to try new recipes to appeal to them both. They both insist he should open up a shop after the war is done and while Doom is very flattered, he doesn't think he's all THAT good. Once the war ends, though, they make sure to introduce him to the Temple kitchens so he can try his hand at cooking with better access to ingredients and equipment and he ends up falling completely in love. Eventually he lets Tiplee and Tiplar convince him to try opening up a small pop-up food stall as an experiment and when that explodes in popularity, he concedes and gets an actual restaurant.

Neyo is pretty stoic generally and is not easily moved to emotion, but the first time he saw Stass Allie dance nearly brought tears to his eyes. She was so graceful and so emotional in her dancing, it was almost like he could see inside her soul. He leaves before she can see him standing there staring like a fool, but somehow he keeps catching her dancing in different areas of the ship after that, always alone. One day after the war is over, she invites him to the Temple and takes him to a class she's teaching to some younglings and it turns out she's teaching them a traditional dance. She tells Neyo he's welcome to join in if he wants, but he's also welcome to just watch if he'd rather do that. The first time he just watches. It's still mesmerizing to see the younglings figuring out the steps even if they're not as graceful as Stass is yet. They're putting their whole hearts into it because they have nothing to hide and Neyo can't help the longing he feels. The second time, he decides to join in. Stass teaches him a LOT of traditional Jedi dances and explains that some of them are for ceremonial purposes, some for meditation, some for physical therapy, and some just for artistry. He likes all of them in their own way, but he prefers the artistic ones that force the dancer to put more of themselves into the movements and be creative with it. He hasn't always been allowed to showcase how he felt before and hasn't known how to communicate it even when he was, but this feels like a way to communicate without ever needing to say a word.

[lets-try-some-writing]

AU idea.

Orion Pax and Megatronus as the Sam and Coby of Cybertron.

Thats it. Have fun.

Yes to this whole thing.

I imagine in this alternate universe, the whole affair with the revolution is still going on, but it is in dire need of funds and very much on hold for the time being. Megatronus hasn't been able to afford some essential upgrades needed for him to make his way to the position of Champion and so has put himself up as a sword for hire through gladiatorial channels. Orion Pax on the other hand has been assigned by Alpha Trion to investigate supposedly haunted locations in order to determine if it is a relic, a monster, or a natural occurrence causing the whole mess. Naturally, Orion isn't going to go wandering anywhere without some sort of protection, not when he's Alpha Trion's not so subtly favorite student. And so he put together a ragtag team of individuals willing to help him go exploring for the sake of history and the archives.

Orion was required to document his exploration and findings as part of the archive's regulations. But since he couldn't be doing any serious exploring while also handling a camera, Orion hired Ratchet to handle all that. Ratchet, being a medical student at the time, needed the extra funds to get through the rest of his training. Orion might as well have been a walking piggy bank. Too proud to accept Orion's gifts and offers to sponsor him, Ratchet took up the position of camera mech somewhat happily. Steady servos ensured that Orion's explorations were always perfectly recorded, especially since Ratchet did not have a tendency to scare easily. Ratchet and Orion being close friends is a pleasant bonus when it came to their arrangement.

Jazz was also hired, but only on paper. He was gunning for the chance to drag Orion off somewhere less than safe, and so he was more than happy to offer himself up as a guide. Having become well acquainted with the streets and generally knowledgeable on most basic things around the planet, he was the perfect assistant. He was the one who took to scouting out the haunted locations and digging through the files on the places to find their history before Orion arrived. He may have been hired as a guide, but under the table he was also very much involved in the arduous task of keeping Orion out of criminal activity.

As for Megatronus? He was originally hired as a body guard in the event that things went sour. Orion being a living shanix pile ensured that Megatronus was all but willing to throw himself into a grinder if it meant protecting his client. The gladiator assumed that following around a middle caste archivist wouldn't be all that hard. At most, he would be dealing with a few broken floors and possibly a gang or two. Nothing too terrible, especially with legal freedom to beat the slag out of anyone who got too close to his client. He was very wrong, but quickly found himself wrapped into friendship despite the trouble.

This messy group began posting the recordings of Orion's explorations to the datanet in an attempt to bring more interest to places of significance (at least for Orion's part). But the interactions between the four mechs present quickly led to them developing a following.

Megatronus unintentionally became the logical atheist. When entering a building, ninety nine percent of the time, he and Jazz could pinpoint the source of the "haunting" as being in large part due to an issue with the structure of the building. Creaky floors? The foundation was messed up. Screams from the basement? Yeah there was a gang down there. Don't worry he took care of it. Odd heirlooms causing illness? The thing was covered in toxins commonly used in the pits. Megatronus always had a reason for things they encountered, and often Jazz would back him up with humor. But of course, the few odd times the haunting was genuine and a real relic was involved, Megatronus became the comedic character with his firm inability to accept the oddity. Even when Orion Pax emerged from buildings with glowing relics that prompted the archivist to speak in strange tongues, Megatronus chalked it all up low fuel levels and took care to tend to his client. It did not matter if a mech was forcefully possessed or not. He had a reason for everything. His interactions with Ratchet largely amounted to him throwing rude gestures and posing heroically just to agitate the Doctor in training when nothing else was going on.

Ratchet quickly gained a name for himself as the usually quiet but incredibly sarcastic and tired face behind the camera. He refused to show his face when avoidable and instead made commentary when Megatronus was trying to be logical and failing or whenever Orion was obviously being ominous. As the mech responsible for filming, he often put editors notes all throughout each video posted to the datanet. He became known for being totally and completely unphased by absolutely everything. He was too tired and too done to really give a frag when a mech got possessed or a building was discovered to have once been home to a Unicron cult. He and Megatronus were applauded for their snarky commentary and quips aimed at each other. Jazz and Ratchet were not often seen interacting on camera unless something went horribly wrong, in which case the camera was thrown to Jazz so Ratchet could take up Megatronus's job and beat the ghost, ghoul, or whatever the problem was into scrap. His interactions with Orion were quickly regarded as legendary simply because Ratchet did not care and would calmly pull Orion away from the mystical garbage if he felt the need to.

Jazz was the swiftly dubbed comedic relief. Whenever something unfortunate happened, he was quick to make light of it. Actual mystical events were regarded with a whistle and a quick picture snapped. Buildings with secrets were regarded with vague interest above all else, and actual murder cases were swept away. Some called him insensitive, but compared to Megatronus who was forever there to offer rationality and Ratchet who simply didn't care enough, Jazz was a relief. He was also renown for doing Megatronus's job more often than not when Orion wandered somewhere he really shouldn't have. Jazz performed feats of athletics and agility that left viewers in awe, especially with how casually he did so. The mech was the resident mystery and yet regarded everything with a smile. Beloved by the camera and largely liked by the rest of the team, Jazz was a fan favorite.

Orion Pax was the one who started the whole mess that was their ragtag group, and whether he meant to or not, he created the most trouble. Orion usually played the role of walking Wikipedia article when the team dealt with cases where the haunting was a result of actual issues rather than anything mystical. However, he had a habit of finding all the danger and waltzing directly into it within five kliks of entering a site. He was quick to find every secret and reveal it. And when there were actual powers involved, he somehow managed to get wrapped up into it. He was always the one being thrown across rooms, possessed (to which all attempts failed shortly thereafter. the ghosts are unanimously terrified of him), harassed my artifacts, or otherwise called into the fog by strange whispers. He was loved by the fans of his adventures simply because was completely normal right up until he wasn't.

Just a group of four mechs, all trying to get on with life, somehow managing to waltz into every issue Cybertron has to offer. Megatronus became famous long before he became a Champion and it was simply because he happened to be a logical atheist above all else. Ratchet became CMO through sheer force of will which scared the scrap out of his competitors. Jazz shot into the higher ranks of spies due to the fact that while working with Orion, he wiped out dozens of criminal organizations. Orion for his part returned to the archives at the end of it all seemingly untouched. But if anyone looked closely, they could see he quickly became a living repellant for oddities with malicious intent. The things of the dark feared him and the things made in times long past seemed to gravitate toward him regardless of his seeming normality.

[mayhem-things]

Y/N starts to work for Euro in Helvete but when the heat between them grows they almost get caught by a customer

tw: slight mentioning of nsfw content

(1329 words)

thanks for 40 followers! It means a lot to me

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In the small town of Oslo, Norway, nestled amidst the cobblestone streets and historic buildings, there was a record shop called "Helvete" Owned by the enigmatic Øystein Aaserth, it was a haven for music enthusiasts seeking solace in the world of vinyl. Øystein had always been passionate about music, and his knowledge was unmatched in the region. He took great pride in his carefully curated collection and longed to share it with someone who could truly appreciate it.

One sunny morning, Y/N, a young and vibrant individual with an immense love for the depths of Norwegian black metal music, found herself wandering the streets of Oslo. Y/N had recently moved to the city, seeking new adventures and a fresh start. Upon noticing the sign which strongly reminded her of the Venom logo belonging to Helvete, she couldn't resist stepping inside. The door chimed as Y/N entered the record shop, greeted by the warm and inviting scent of aging vinyl. She marveled at the neatly arranged rows of records and couldn't help but feel an immediate connection to the place. Lost in the melodies that floated through the air, Y/N didn't notice Øystein's intense gaze as he observed her from behind the counter. He had a way of spotting genuine music lovers, and Y/N's energy resonated deeply with him, differencing her from the other posers who would step into the store from time to time. As Y/N made her way through the aisles, meticulously sorting vinyls and occasionally humming along to a tune, Euro couldn't help but be captivated by her presence. The way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the way her slim fingers danced delicately across the records, it all fascinated him. With a smile on her face she purchased multiple vinyls of Venom, Bathory and Dissection.

She left the store yet the thought of her beauty stayed. To Euro's surprise she came back, purchasing more vinyls.

Days after days she returned, and Y/N became a regular fixture at Helvete, much to Øystein's delight. They would engage in lively discussions about artists, albums, and the magic of music. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, a harmony of shared passions and budding connection.

One evening, as the sun cast a warm glow over the record shop, Euronymous couldn't contain his growing affection any longer. With a gentle smile, he approached Y/N, their eyes meeting in a moment of anticipation.

"You know,"

he began, his voice filled with vulnerability,

"I've been searching for an employee for this place. I've been searching for someone who understands the profound impact music can have on our lives. Would you like to work for me?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected offer, her gaze locked with Øystein's. Unable to contain her excitement, she eagerly accepted, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her.

As Y/N began her new role at Helvete, she found herself immersed in a world of musical enchantment. Together with Euronymous, they spent countless hours organizing the records, discussing rare finds, and delving into the depths of the underground music scene. The more they worked side by side, the more they discovered the profound connection they shared.In the quiet moments between customers and the sound of vinyl spinning, Euronymous and Y/N engaged in deep conversations about their shared love for music, their dreams, and the mysteries of life such as the depths of satanism and the true evil hungering inside them.

Their thoughts intertwined effortlessly, forming a tapestry of understanding and intimacy.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, their relationship deepened. They became each other's confidants, trusting one another with their secrets and vulnerabilities. In the hallowed space of Helvete, their bond evolved beyond that of colleagues; it became a friendship forged in the fire of their shared passion.Yet, amidst the rhythmic beats of their growing friendship, a subtle undercurrent of something more began to surface. A flicker of attraction danced between them, both aware of the unspoken desires that lingered in their shared glances and lingering touches.

The chemistry that had sparked from their initial encounter continued to simmer, yearning to be explored.

One evening, after the shop had closed its doors, Euronymous and Y/N found themselves alone, surrounded by the echoes of music. In the soft glow of the dim lights, Euronymous looked into Y/N's eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, there's something, well uhh, fuck it" He uttered as he couldnt find the right words to admit to his feelings. In the end the instinct overtook and consumed him. As a result he grabbed the back of her head , bringing her lips up to his. Y/N's heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. The kiss hung in the air, pulsating with anticipation. With a mix of vulnerability and determination, she reached out, her hand finding Euronymous's, their fingers intertwining. while giving  in to his lips, leaning in to deepen the intimacy they just commited to.In that moment, the barriers between them dissolved, and they surrendered to the undeniable chemistry that had simmered beneath the surface. Their lips met in a passionate kiss once again, igniting a fire that burned brighter than any record on the shelves. The world around them faded away as they explored the depths of their desire, their souls intertwining like a harmonious melody.

In that moment, the boundaries of Helvete blurred, and the music that surrounded them served as the backdrop to their love story.

As Øystein and Y/N shared an intense and passionate kiss after another, their connection grew stronger with each passing moment. Lost in the heat of the moment, Y/N's back accidentally bumped into one of the shelves in the vinyl store. The records rattled and shifted, momentarily breaking the spell of their embrace. But the interruption did little to deter their desire. Ignoring the commotion they had caused, their lips found each other once again, fueled by an undeniable chemistry that electrified the air around them. Her arms found their way behind his neck, pulling him closer, feeling  his breath against her soft skin. The world outside ceased to exist as they surrendered themselves to the intoxicating dance of their intertwined souls. Euronymous couldn't help but slide down his cold slender hand down her torso, finding it's way under her shirt. Y/N froze as she felt his hand finding place at her left breast, drawing circles around her nipple. It gave Y/N goosebumps and shivers found their way down her spine. The action caused both of them to feel more aroused and their longing just fueled with lust even more with each passing moment.

However, just as their passion reached its peak, the sound of the door chime echoed through the shop, announcing the arrival of an unsuspecting customer. Startled, Øystein and Y/N quickly broke apart, their faces flushed with a mixture of desire and embarrassment.T 

he customer, a middle-aged man with a bemused expression, walked in and glanced around, oblivious to the momentary indiscretion. Øystein, the consummate professional, composed himself and greeted the customer, while Y/N attempted to regain their composure.

As the customer browsed the shelves, Øystein and Y/N exchanged nervous glances, their hearts still racing from the intensity of their kiss. They realized they needed to act quickly to avoid any suspicion. Y/N discreetly adjusted her clothing, smoothing out the creases and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. With a newfound resolve, she joined Euro at the counter, ensuring that their actions betrayed nothing of their intimate encounter. The customer, seemingly unaware of the charged atmosphere, made a few purchases and left the shop, leaving Øystein and Y/N alone once again. 

As the door closed behind the departing customer, a shared sense of relief washed over them. They exchanged a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgement of the powerful connection they had just experienced. It was a moment they would cherish, a memory woven into the fabric of their budding romance.

With a renewed sense of anticipation, Øystein and Y/N resumed their duties in the record shop, their fingers delicately handling the vinyls with a newfound tenderness. Their gaze lingered upon each other, a silent promise of more intimate moments to come, as they continued to explore the melodies of both music and love in the enchanting space of Helvete.

[in-halingstardust]

hi love! i saw your hsr matchup event is live and i'd like to send my request~ pronouns: she/her/they/them gender: female spice tolerance: spicy personality indicators: intj 5w4 ; melancholic-choleric signs: pisces sun / taurus rising / taurus moon hogwarts house: ravenclaw alignment: neutral good alignment preferred gender to be matched with: male

personality: studious, business-minded, tech-savvy, a little bit of a perfectionist, tends to overwork, stubbornly independent, calm and composed, intimidating at first glance (according to colleagues), reserved and extremely introverted, protective to loved ones, obedient and respectful to authorities but will not hesitate to call them out if necessary, blunt, idealistic, highly organised, loves to play video games or read and write books on spare time, passionate, drawn to mysterious, historical, gothic, and horror subjects

hobbies + likes: researching abandoned and haunted places, writing, reading, exams, stationery, business-related topics (esp finance), coffee shops, bookstores and libraries, electronic shops, technology, video games, dark royalty / dark academia aesthetic, classical literature, classical music, detective/crime/mystery/horror stories (esp. from 19th century), cats, history, listening and belting out to musicals when alone, greek mythology

dislikes: bugs, studying repetitive subjects without gaining new knowledge, failure to meet own expectations, unnecessary change

physical description (in case you need it): dark brown hair that reaches the middle of the thighs, brown almond eyes, warm ivory skin tone, top hourglass figure, wears glasses and switches them out with purple contacts sometimes, always wears a necklace and a pair on rings on both hands

if you need anything else, feel free to ask! thanks!

First of all, I want to say I absolutely love your works with the TWST fandom! I have read through so many of them on my "main" (well more like my dead) blog. This is a little longer, but more of a thank you for me for your stories :,D

I'm going to pick Dr. Ratio for you! ⋆⭒˚.˚.⋆⭒˚.⭒˚.⋆

You and Dr. Ratio I feel have similar interests. Like-minded individuals striving to know more about this dysfunctional world. High expectations, a sort of strive for the greater knowledge of the world. There are only a few who can stand on the same stage as you two.

It's almost a sort of rivalry. A small smirk that is passed with one grade is higher than the other, the glances while the other is presenting, the small inside jokes that are layered between sarcasm and logicality. If any one of your classmates were to explain this they would simply say genius' brains are on a different universe. It's not because of that.

Lets be honest. It's because of the sex,

❥ For the serious front that you both pertain in front of your colleagues, your neck itches from the tight blouse buttoned up to your neck. What’s wrong? Ratio states, it’s a question he already knows the answer to. Don’t want to show off my handiwork? Underneath thin cotton you hide a line of bite marks from the previous night, littered across your body in an arrangement of shapes. ❥ He gets this way when he is in a good mood. ❥ You give him a little push, enough to calm the faint tint across your cheeks. It’s hard not to think about last night. Reminiscent of strong muscles holding you down by the hips- bruises still forming-, his hands wrapped around your hair pulling gently to gain more access to your neck. The way you cried out for him last night and his muffled groans against your skin… ❥ No. You breathe in and out. It’s just a distraction from the presentation. Besides, if you both passed there would be a reward afterwards…Not that you have ever failed.

[charcubed]

I have thoughts on Benedict Bridgerton's future.

Spoilers for Bridgerton season 3 below.

Have I read the Bridgerton books? No. Have I seen the show? No. Can I mind my own business? Also no! And I’ve been on queer Benedict watch since day one because I am who I am as a person and my sister looped me into this because she knows how I am!

So with that in mind… fuck it. Here’s my half theory, half pitch for what I’d love to see them do with Benedict now that he’s gloriously explicitly pansexual (and THANK GOD FOR THAT) based on what I know of his story. [Side note: this post originally called him bi but I've edited it to reflect that he's confirmed to be pan]

-I’m aware his love / endgame in the books is Sophie. Considering what they’re now doing with Francesca and Michaela (FUCKING LOOOOOVE THAT!! THANK GOD FOR THAT TOO!!!!!), I strongly doubt they’d gender-bend Sophie for Benedict.

-I’m also vaguely aware of Sophie’s story being like a Cinderella redux and her being an illegitimate child.

-With that (very) baseline knowledge in mind, + how the show has so far handled Benedict… I have a vision.

-Let Benedict and Sophie fall in love and be committed to one another.

-Let them also both be pan or bi.

-And let them be polyamorous.

-HEAR ME OUT!

-There are 2 big reasons I say this:

-The first is that they’ve had Benedict describe his newfound pansexuality and queer joy as feeling “free” (love that so much), and crucially he also told Tilley he didn’t want to close the door on that feeling of freedom quite yet through any commitment to one person. So… I think it would be incredibly reductive if they still did that with him later, and there would be unavoidable optics that would allow shitty people to say “okay, Benedict had his fun and his whore era; now it’s time for him to get serious and suddenly fall madly in love with a woman he commits to forever.” When a character is pan or bi, it’s very hard to pull that off successfully. Is that enough reason to not do it? Not quite. Would it make Benedict less pan? Of course not, because pan men who are in relationships with women are still pan. Nonetheless, the framing of it would be very precarious here mostly because Benedict’s pansexuality thus far is sort of tied to him having fun and feeling purposeless and waffling about in (if you will) the eyes of society. Getting him to settle down is a slippery slope to – in the eyes of idiots with no media literacy – getting him to no longer be pan. Additionally, they JUST pulled that “okay no more whore era, it’s time to get serious” shit with Colin too. Are they gonna more or less repeat that with Benedict? Why would they? It would be boring and basic as fuck, if you ask me.

-The second and even stronger reason I say let him be married and poly is that it would fit his personality far better than the “time to get serious” approach. The baseline is already in what he’s been doing and saying this whole time, and it’s not very subtle in my opinion. Benedict is an artist (who is currently almost repressing his artistry but that’s a tangential yet different topic). He commiserated with Eloise (who may also be queer) about wanting something more or a different life beyond society’s expectations. Rule breakers or people who stand out as boldly contrarian in a crowd win Benedict’s notice, and that was his whole thing (and queer subtext) even back in season one with Henry Granville, who essentially outright dared him to think on the courage it takes to live “outside the traditional expectations of society.” Benedict’s gotten a taste of that now that he knows he’s queer himself, but it should be taken further. And it’s further emphasized in how he speaks in season 3: another recent time he mentioned the concept of being “free,” it’s in reference to couples who are married and are given more leeway by society to then do as they like as a unit; Henry Granville and his wife were also an original example of that with their arrangement that allowed them to explore their queerness with other people. Add onto that how Benedict speaks of love in season 3 more than once conceptually – how it’s not finite, and how he has an abundance of it to give. He even briefly fantasizes about how he, Tilley, and Paul would explain themselves in public. That goes beyond the simplicity of a man who just wants to have fun or doesn’t want to be serious. Why should all of that disappear because… what, he suddenly meets a woman who rewrites his brain chemistry? Let him truly "be bold"! Let him commit to someone he loves more than anyone else, and then let him have the passion and room in his heart to enjoy an abundance of love and fun and freedom with others too!

-DO YOU SEE THE PICTURE I’M PAINTING?

-Toss onto that the rough idea that Sophie’s very existence and their relationship will be “rule-breaking” on principle already, right? She’s an illegitimate child, she may or may not have a role as maid a la Cinderella, she’s (from what little I understand) not a traditional or “fit” match and all that other bullshit. It lends itself to the idea that Sophie won’t think much of rules herself either and will possibly inspire further bold courage in Benedict. And if they’ll eventually already be breaking rules by being together, why not add on some more? Or, counterpoint: if this version of Benedict wouldn’t find much pause in the breaking of those basic sorts of rules, what other breaking of rules could maybe require courage or introduce conflict / angst / miscommunication in their relationship? Yeah, there’s gonna be the whole “I must find this person who bewitched me at a masquerade ball! Who can she be!” element in the plot I’m sure but… we’ve all seen that before. Let’s branch out a little bit here, people. Let’s dream bigger. Let’s spice it up with some down-the-line “I feel immense guilt because I’m in love with you but I still find other people hot and I crave a freedom I don’t know how to articulate, and it’s definitely not a temptation to cheat but it’s a feeling within me nonetheless, and it’s clearly not something my tunnel-vision wife-guy brothers experience” or whatever.

-Anyway. Here’s the last thought I’ve got (for now). Concept: don’t ask me how, but within the Cinderella-esque / hidden identities plots, let Sophie cross dress as a boy at some point. Let Benedict not know it’s her. Let Benedict still be attracted to her anyway. PULL A MULAN IN THIS BITCH.

-Okay. That’s it.

-Who knows? Maybe this show will give Benedict just his straightforward romance with Sophie and then they’ll explore polyamory for the 2 of them later as a side plot in another season. But eh, I don’t think it would do it justice. I do think they could pull it off in a season centric to him while keeping both romance and queerness front and center. I do think it’s possible!

-Remember… This is part pitch and part prophecy.

-I have a vision. I’ve foreseen it. Benedict and Sophie, pan/bi polyamorous couple who are deeply in love and also like to invite a third into their bed together on occasion. (Or maybe they like to even have their own individual trysts that they then get to go home and tell each other about while having sex with each other.)

-I genuinely think it makes the most sense. They put all that shit in the show that I referenced above, not me. I may be insane, but this really isn’t a shitpost, alright? I argued my case.

-Thank you for your time.

-PS Yes, I am indeed aware that I'm under-qualified to have an opinion here. Don't tear me to shreds. This is how I have fun.

[sanctuary1988]

~Handsome Stranger | 1 | Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: strangers to lovers? fluff, angst, minor injury, blood, this is a light chapter tbh. Mentions of marriage, talks about arranged marriage, age gap (huge), historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.3k words

A/N: Guys, I have fallen in love. In honour of my new obsession called Lee Soo Hyuk I'll write this story and hopefully many more! I'll warn you, this story will get darker as it progresses and will follow canon although it is settled before the series so the characters from The Scholar Who Walks The Night will not appear in this fic (apart from Gwi, obviously). This is some sort of a prequel so I hope you will enjoy it!

I'll update when I have time, dears. I just started my business and I'm also working part-time while also going to college at night so, yeah. I'll do my best so please let me know your thoughts! Happy reading everyone :)

Gwi looked at her with an intriguing gaze, eyes sharp under the candles' light.

"I would not hesitate to let someone as clever as you take the throne. You remind me of a woman I used to know. That woman was clever and ambitious like you."

Hye-Ryeong swallowed, testing the waters with her next question.

"Did you care for her?"

Gwi looked at the distance, as if his mind was transported back to his memories from centuries ago.

"I had feelings for her. I had never cared for a mortal woman before."

Some tension filled the cave, the flickering candles allowing soft light to illuminate the place.

"What happened to that woman?"

Asked Hye-Ryeong once more, wanting to know if there was only another small crumb of the vampire's past who sat in front of her.

"I killed her."

Was his answer, the words came tumbling from his lips without resistance at all but there was a heaviness in his voice that made a tremble travel down her spine. Gwi looked up at her, his eyes swarming with the memory of his distant love.

"I could not help it. She had my child without my knowledge."

Hye-Ryeong looked at the man before her, with almost sympathy in her gaze. Almost. The idea of him killing someone he loved made her stomach twist with emotions she wasn't quick enough to grasp.

"A child between a vampire and a human being is said to kill vampires."

His voice sounded deeper than usual, dripping with the disgrace of his actions.

"What happened to the child?"

She asked in an almost shy way, for a moment fearing what his reaction to such an inquiry would be.

"The child likely died since it occurred over 200 years ago."

Gwi looked down at the drawing he was making, the image of his love made memories he had long since buried in his mind resurface, opening scars and bleeding with poisonous remorse for what he had done to the only woman he had loved in his long life and who also loved him back.

200 years ago.

Darkness fell over the village, clouds covered the moon, not allowing any kind of light to illuminate the dark city. The royal palace was silent, as if it were desolate. No soul walked through the gardens, no oil was being burned. Everything was still. Everything swam in a dark sea.

Except for one soul who walked the royal grounds as if he owned it. In a way, he did. Gwi, was his name. A name that few knew but all to whose existence lived in their minds feared to no tremor.

He walked among the night. Watched over the village. His domain. His kingdom. For he had ruled over the most powerful man in Goryeo for years. Through generation over generation of royal princes. He ruled it all. He owned it all. He had it all to his reach, everything a human would ever want in their miserably short life he had conquered it.

He paraded through the still gardens, a soft yet cold breeze made his silky dark hair fly softly. A sigh escaped his lips, the full moon was approaching and that only meant he'd have to go hunt once more. Like every month.

Gwi halted in his steps when he smelled the sweetest aroma he had ever felt in his astonishingly long life. His feet walked with a mind of their own, going toward such sweetness he smelled through the air and made his eyes cloud with crimson desire.

Blood.

That was what he smelled. The substance that he needed, craved to live. Blood was life to humans, and it also meant life to vampires like himself. The smell got stronger, he felt his heart beat in his chest wildly in anticipation.

However, he had to stop himself before approaching the source of such an electable aroma. Gwi hid behind some bushes, his curiosity and intrigue getting the best of him as he watched a young woman crouched down on the ground, a finger between her lips as she sucked her own blood from her small injury.

You had left your room late at night in order to find some peace among the darkness. Your mind was troubled, so was your heart. You've had little time for yourself the last few months, leaving the night as your only free time of your day. As ironic as it sounded.

While walking the large palace grounds, you encountered a small hidden garden filled with beautiful roses. In the midst of your curiosity, you bent down and picked one, then another and another. Already thinking that you could put it in a nice vase back in your room when you returned. But a hiss escaped your lips as a thorn teared at your flesh and blood oozed out of the small wound.

You placed the rustic bouquet on the ground and sucked on the injury, trying to stop the bleeding. However, a sudden noise made you halt in your actions. You looked around, the little lamp you had brought with yourself did little to illuminate your surroundings.

You knew you shouldn't be out of your room alone, especially at night. The warning of your father was still fresh on your memory from the first time he caught you leaving the safety of your bedroom. With quick movements you grabbed your lamp and walked hastily back to your room, leaving the roses behind. Completely unaware of the vampire watching over your retreating figure as his eyes held curiosity for that beautiful woman with a delighting scent.

Days passed and he was still mesmerised by that woman he saw in the gardens the other night. Gwi sat on his throne, daytime illuminated the city yet he was forced to remain in his underground palace. A beautiful construction between the darkness. His own paradise.

The chief counselor was suddenly in his presence. The old man bowed down slowly at the vampire before greeting him with irony dripping from his words.

"My Lord, thank you for allowing me this audience with you. I am truly honoured to be in your presence."

Gwi sighed, already bored with this interview as he signalled him to start saying what he wanted to say.

"My Lord, you know everything that occurs in these palace walls. Every gossip and truth is delivered to you first."

"Get on with it."

The Chief Counselor gulped, his hands tangling in front of him to stop them from fidgeting before he spoke once more.

"As you may know, my daughter has been ready for marriage for years now but I would like your wise opinion, My Lord. She possesses an extraordinary beauty and I know her marriage would be beneficial to the council."

Now that picked Gwi's interest. He leaned forward on his throne, his eyes piercing as he looked directly to the Chief Counselor's intimidated eyes.

"Who do you have in mind, Counselor Lee?"

The old man lifted his head in an almost challenging way that Gwi didn't like at all.

"Kang Ju Won, My Lord."

Gwi hummed to himself, as if he were genuinely interested in this marriage. Perhaps a part of him was as Jun Won had been rebellious against Gwi's orders. Not enough to get him killed yet... but still something that the vampire despised with all his being for loyalty is the most important thing in the world, even more so than love.

"Your beautiful daughter shouldn't go to waste with an old man like him but I will not deny how advantageous that marriage will be for me. You can start the preparations for the wedding, Counselor Lee."

The latter bowed down, not being able to suppress the smile that stretched over his aged features.

"I will, My Lord. Thank you for giving your consent, your opinion is the only thing that matters to me."

Gwi looked at him with an emotionless gaze, his sharp features looking even sharper as the candles around him flickered ever so softly. He gestured for the counselor to leave and he did so silently. Leaving the vampire alone with his thoughts once more in his enormous underground palace.

He didn't know why he had left his palace that night. The full moon was tomorrow, his senses and instincts were sharper than ever but Gwi found himself walking through the gardens like a couple of days ago when he saw the mysterious woman of the roses and sweet scent.

A scent he hadn't been able to forget, in fact it had impregnated into his memories and something within him prompted him to search for her once more.

He halted in his steps when he heard a soft sound coming from around some bushes. Gwi turned around, curious as ever so as to know the source of the sniff-like sound. He rounded a corner and was met with the same woman from the other night. He looked at the way she was crouched in front of the same roses, her elegant dress puffing around her yet this time she was crying.

"A rose never cries, let alone at night."

You gasped at the sudden voice that spoke next to you. It startled you, causing you to fall from your crouching position directly into the ground. You looked up only to spot a tall and handsome man dressed in dark robes with pale skin and long, dark hair. His voice, deep as the ocean, made you shiver as you found yourself under his intense gaze.

"Who are you?"

The man before you tilted his head to the right ever so slightly, the motion made you gulp for some strange reason. He was astonishingly beautiful with a mysterious aura around him that told you to get away but at the same time pulled you to not take a step back and leave his presence.

"Why are you crying?"

He completely disregarded your question, not that you noticed as you were enthralled into his amazing looks and that voice of his... it made you tingle all over your body. It almost seemed as if he had hypnotised you. Perhaps he did. At the lack of your response he crouched down, taking in your features with his sharp and dark eyes that looked like he held a starless galaxy in his irises.

You sniffled, wiping the remaining tears from your cheek with the back of your hand as you broke eye contact with the handsome stranger, eyes setting on your lap as you spoke once more.

"My father is going to marry me off."

Gwi sat down, he didn't know why he did it. He didn't know why he was there, let alone why he engaged in conversation with the beautiful woman of the magnificent natural perfume.

"What a lucky man for he'll get a beautiful wife."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at him, nearly gasping at the proximity.

"I don't want to get married. Not yet at least."

He lifted an eyebrow at your open statement, at your honesty despite you both being strangers. But something about that honesty stirred a part of him he didn't want to admit he had in the first place.

"Who is your father, petal?"

The rumbling of his voice was as deep as thunder. It made you swallow as you looked into his eyes.

"Lee Beom Seok."

Gwi had to hide the surprise from his face at the name that left your lips. So you were the counselor's daughter. Now it kind of made sense for your father to want to marry you off for you were, indeed, rather beautiful. No other mortal woman has ever been that mesmerising to the vampire before in his long life. That is until you came.

"Do you really wish for the marriage to be cancelled?"

He said in that thunderous voice of his you couldn't help but nod to answer him, not finding words to speak your own desire. Gwi sighed before he stood up while you watched his movements, elegant on its own.

"I can make that happen, petal."

You sniffled at his words. Your hands fidgeted with the ornament on your dress as you looked up at the handsome stranger who offered you a way out of the nightmare you were going to be forced to live in.

"I can stop your marriage from happening, that is if you come with me."

He extended his hand toward you, a silent invitation to take it. Take it and free yourself from this unwanted marriage but, what other chain going with him will put around your neck? You had learned the hard way that nothing is free in this cruel world and right now, you don't have much of a choice but to accept the last straw of hope given to you.

Your hand found home in his and Gwi pulled you up to your feet with a soft yet delicate motion. He wasn't going to admit it, let alone speak it out loud but... in a very deep part of his dead heart, he liked the feeling of your smaller hand in his large palm.

"You made the right choice, petal. Now tell me, what is your name?"

You felt how your heart quickened in your chest at the intensity in his dark eyes. You looked up and spoke in that voice he was starting to really like.

"Lee (y/n), My Lord."

Gwi smirked, pulling you to his side as he began walking back to his underground palace with your hand still clasped in his.

"From now on, you serve me, sweet petal. You are mine now."

January/28/2024

Drabbles are open!

~ Masterpost

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Then do you mind doing age gap(obviously legal) headcanons with current ville but dark? Like he uses it to get you to do things like move in w him super early and rely on him?

Ville Valo Age Gap HC’s

Ville Valo X Gn!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, toxic relationships, controlling behavior, manipulation, insecurity

An: Thank you for the request!! As a note, it is implied that Y/N is American and does not speak Finnish in the slightest (as the language barrier is kind of integral to some points)! I always love writing dark fics, and this was no exception! Please feel free to shoot me an more requests of a similar nature! :)

You had been living in Finland for three months while not having any knowledge of the language, meaning that you had to rely on your boyfriend, Ville, for just about everything

Not that he minded having you on his arm 24/7.

Though there was no denying he made enough money for the two of you, as he assured you whenever you brought it up, lazing around your shared flat had left you seeking purpose

At first, when you brought it up, he’d come with with ways to distract you- fill your time a little

Like the time he suggested you go look for homes in the countryside: that little apartment was clearly too tiny for the two of you, and he knew you loved the rolling hills and lush forests Finland was known for

Or that day he offered to introduce you to his father, which wouldn’t be that awkward for you if he didn’t own a sex store (and the fact you met him for the first time there)

But Ville knew he had to give in at some point so, just to keep you busy, he worked out a plan.

Without your knowledge, he put in a few good words (and a handful of euros) at a radio station owned by one of his friends and got you hired

You spent all day buzzing around- running coffees, grabbing papers from the printer

But you were thrilled to finally have something to do that you came home everyday and gushed to him about how exciting your day was!

Ville would just sit back with that smirk on his face, finding your enthusiasm cute

Like a puppy chasing it’s own tail :)

And also like a puppy, he just couldn’t stand to leave you at home while he went on tour.

When you had concerns about how much time you would be taking off, he just told you not to worry about it

When you brought it up, your boss was…surprisingly fine with you taking four weeks off work (which Ville also arranged)

Finnish employers, he said- they’re very lenient about this sort of thing.

And as you followed on his heels for that dizzying whirlwind of a month, you started to notice he caught the attention of a lot of women

A lot of women who were likely more attractive than you.

Despite your concerns, it was clear Ville only had eyes for you

Wether it was on the road or at your flat, he was near constantly doting over you like some prized possession

Life couldn’t get much better than this, you thought,

So what sense was there in ever returning to the states?

[captainclickycat]

So the other day I came up with an idea for a Wooden Overcoats themed escape room.

(There's a bit more to the story vis a vis me having a slow work day and having taken an ADHD medication didn't want to waste it so I spent the time learning about ciphers and stuff and I felt like this knowledge would be best applied to escape room design, but anyway)

It would be a cool premise, I thought. The idea would be that you're a new hire for the Funns and you had to get a corpse ready for the funeral on time, and if you ran out of time the family would switch to Chapman's. So in order to properly customise the funeral, you'd have to find out all about the deceased, by uncovering information in the form of old grainy polaroids, diary pages, newspaper articles, recipe books and so on. Like there'd be a bunch of wacky hats scattered about the room and you had to find out which wacky hat was the guy's favourite, to bury him in. Also you'd have to arrange the embalming fluids by colour and pick the right flavour.

And maybe even if the Overcoats thing was too niche, I reflected (and anyway wouldn't one have to like... get the rights, or something?) maybe just a funeral home themed escape room in general. Loosely inspired by WO, perhaps, with the odd little homage reference, but in broad terms just a room in its own right with more of a generic theme.

It would, I reflected, be fun and sort of zany in a morbid way, but also very poignant. It wouldn't just be about death, it would make you think about life, and the legacies we leave behind, and the kind of connection you can end up feeling with someone you've never really met in any literal sense as you learn more about them and the kind of life they lived. It would be fun on a surface level - wacky hats and everything - but also sort of subtly philosophically thought provoking. And then I imagined trying to explain this to someone who didn't get the reference.

What I'm getting at is I'm beginning to understand how Antigone felt when she was trying to explain the concept behind Memento Mori.

[jupiterredolent]

ALEXIS GETTY & SAM COLLINS

I think what appalls me is that people scale over these crucial details when defending Alexis' actions against Sam. It has me scratching the crown of my head every time. By all means, say what you will about her, but do not proceed to tell people they are in the wrong for having opposing views toward Alexis, specifically speaking with the audience on Tiktok.

Now to start, in the seventh video of the Vampire Mate series, Audio RP| Getting Closer to Your Vampire Mate, Sam states, “She (Alexis) and I were friends of the sort back when I was still human. The kind of friends that don’t do much talking when they’re together if you catch my drift. I didn’t want anything more than that and she kept saying she felt the same.” [8:01 secs - 8:30 secs]

Sam stated clearly that both he and Alexis had a mutual understanding of their relationship and that it would be nothing more than sexual. Thus, Sam never wanted and never saw an eternity with Alexis, nor was he willing to make that sacrifice.

“A friends-with-benefits (FWB) relationship is one in which two people are physically (sexually) intimate with one another, yet they’re not committed to each other in any way. People involved in a friends-with-benefits relationship enjoy spending time together, but their relationship isn’t romantic and has no strings attached.” said Lloyd, Stacy Laura in the article “What Does Friends With Benefits Mean and Is It the Arrangement for You?” in Brides, 26 Sept. 2022,

Sam was incredibly passionate about being a healer. In the Redacted ASMR Timeline in 1999, Erik explains, “Sam starts coursework part-time at the Dahlia Academy for Magical Novices, pursuing certification in Healing.” And then in 2003, “Sam graduates from D.A.M.N. with his certification in Healing and begins work in the field.” With this, we have knowledge that not only was Sam exceedingly diligent, but was also greatly motivated in his studies.

In D.A.M.N., it's not outlandish to assume that they learned about all different types of species and magics, one of which included vampires. In Audio RP| Getting Closer to Your Vampire Mate, Sam says, “ […] I told Alexis I could do it, but she starts talking about turning me. And I told her no. I said I can do this and even if I can’t, I don’t want that. I don’t want to live like that […]” From this, it’s not unlikely to assume that Sam had a general idea of vampirism and knowledge about turnings. It was also likely he had several vampires as his patients during his work as a healer. Furthermore, he knew if he was turned, the healing magic that he adamantly cherished and enjoyed, would diminish tenfold and would have to be learned once again. “[...] I was a healer. Damn good one. One of the best.” Sam explains [12:20 secs - 12:28 secs]

Sam was at peace with being human. He understood that becoming a vampire meant solitude and the inability to take satisfaction in minuscule things in life as he used to.

Taking a step back, in Inversion| The Void They Leave Behind, Lovely’s life source has been stripped away by Shades which leaves them in a grave condition. Because healing is unable to penetrate what's been done to their core, Vincent is left with the tough decision of turning them. He says, “[...] Do you want this? It’s forever. I love you and I will spend eternity at your side if you let me. But I won’t do this unless it’s what you want. It would be a new life.” [31:44 secs - 32:17 secs] From this we can gather Alexis, a much older vampire and under the teachings of William, had exceptional knowledge of the extent of turning someone, the consequences of doing so without consent, and, even more so, knew this very fact when she and Sam got into that dire accident that also left him with life-threatening injuries.

Back to Audio RP| Getting Closer to Your Vampire Mate, Sam tells Darlin’, “[...] She starts grabbing my head, tilting it to the side, telling me she’s gonna make it all better, and I told her no. Pushed her hands. She was too…” [13:25 secs - 13:52 secs] Sam not only verbally told Alexis that he didn’t want to be turned, but physically too. Physically tried to shove her away. Later, he also tells them, “She made me look her in the eye and dug her nails into my skin so my eyes snapped open so she could trance me, and then she turned me.” [14:31 secs - 14:48 secs]

Again, in Inversion| The Void They Leave Behind, Sam says, “Your body knows how, Vincent. Blood for blood.” And then Vincent responds, “Blood for blood.” [32:48 secs - 33:00 secs] This alone makes me feel even more unsettled and quite frankly sickened by Sam’s turning because not only did she drink from him, but she deliberately forced him to drink her blood.

Most of what I’ve seen on the defense of Alexis has not only made it seem that Sam’s suffering and trauma from his circumstance should be disregarded, but has made it seem she should be forgiven for her horrid actions and, frankly, crimes against him and his bodily integrity. Forgiveness is offered not owed, nor is it to be expected under any occasion.

That is all I have to say.

[talonsandtails]

talk about fierceteeth's worthiness for queen; praise the catholic little bugger

Have some fierceteeth art made for the occasion

Oh boy, you asked for this!

First off, I’d like to start with why I don’t think Glory should continue to be the nightwing queen.

In the wof universe, the tribe a dragon belongs to seems to be a core part of every dragons identity. We constantly see dragons boasting about their tribes. The series likes to act like it’s just nightwings who are stuck up, and while the nightwings took it further, really every tribe thinks they’re superior. We can see it countless times in both written dialogue and unspoken thoughts.

Culture and heritage is something very important to most every dragon. So going off that context, it’s not fair for the nightwings to be stripped of that. That’s not to say that the arrangement they have with Glory is bad. They quite literally had no other option. The nightwing tribe certainly needs rehabilitation, and to pair them with a tribe like the rainwings is exactly what they need. It benefits both tribes, with the nightwings teaching them to be tougher(so I like to imagine) and the rainwings teaching them to be better dragons in general. But the series is acting as though the nightwings are gonna be ruled by the rainwings forever, which just isn’t fair to them. After they get themselves sorted out, the nightwings deserve their freedom.

So, onto why I think Fierceteeth is the best candidate.

First and foremost, her fierce, selfless loyalty. Besides how much of a jerk she is, her most prominent character trait has always been her loyalty to those she loves. Fierceteeth would do any and everything to protect what she holds dear. Now recognition and fame is definitely her MAIN motivation for wanting to be queen, no doubt about that. But it’s not her ONLY motivation. She states herself, her reasoning for what she did; “Everything I did, all my so-called “crimes,” were for the good of my fellow nightwings. I was trying to find us an ally who would restore our power. I was trying to save us from being controlled by another tribe. I was trying to make sure we had a real home of our own!”

Fierceteeth feels as though the nightwings are held captive by the rainwings, and that because of this they won’t be able to be restored to the great powerful tribe they once were. And considering the way nightwings were raised on the island, this reasoning is understandable. There’s also an interesting point that’s brought up by the nightwings a couple times. Again, as stated by fierceteeth, “They deserve a queen who cares about them and understands what they’ve suffered.” A sentiment shared by seemingly many nightwings at first was that Glory didn’t and would never care for their tribe. And yeah, she hated them at first. I think it goes without saying that you don’t want a ruler who hates you. The nightwings also seem to be bonded by the terrible experience they all shared living on the volcano. Imagine your country has been an uninhabitable hellscape for longer than anyone around you can remember, every person in a leadership position is wiped out, and then some random US politician or something with no knowledge of your culture or what you’ve been through swoops in to take advantage of the situation and claim ownership of you. That’s what it was like for the nightwings at first. They didn’t see themselves as refugees, they saw themselves as prisoners. It’s reasonable that they would want a ruler who understands everything they went through, so that they would be properly represented. The nightwings need a queen who will fight tooth and nail for them, just like fierceteeth would. We already know she cares greatly for her tribe.

She’s not selfish, either. We can see this when she and strongwings were caught sneaking out. Strongwings offered to take full responsibility for the incident. Fierceteeth could have easily gotten away scot-free and nothing would have changed, strongwings would still have loved her. But she insisted she be punished along with strongwings to prove a point about her devotion. When it comes to the people she loves, Fierceteeth genuinely wants what’s best for the nightwings, not herself. She’s an odd blend of selfish and selfless, in that she’s a brat about empathy and all that, but she simultaneously always puts herself at risk to defend her loved ones. She would be the type of queen who puts her tribe before herself.

So what of her leadership qualities? Based on the new info in the guide, I think we can actually conclude that she is a very good leader. Fierceteeth says she’s “pretty much the boss” of the new nightwing settlement. Granted, this is likely just how Fierceteeth sees herself and not wholly accurate. But based on the fact that she seems heavily involved in everything that’s going on there, and the fact that she’s the one managing trade with Glory, I’m inclined to believe that this statement is accurate. She, at the very least, serves as figurehead. And based on some of the context, I think we can conclude that the nightwings in renewal are beginning to thrive. Fierceteeth herself, for one, is healthy enough to produce at least three eggs, as far as we know, while on the volcano it was rare for any dragon to even produce one. The dragons are healthy enough that they’re able to indulge in art. They have enough resources and free time to devote to trying to put together a play. They’ve been researching the old libraries in the night kingdom. They’re not exactly rolling in food and riches, as fierceteeth herself says life there Is tough. But they’re happy, their healing, and their living. So fierceteeth evidently isn’t a terrible leader. Now yes she obviously probably isn’t managing everything, but I don’t imagine that’s how it works for queens either. If Fierceteeth were to be crowned queen now, with how ramshackle renewal is, nothing much would change in their arrangement. And by the time they’d gotten themselves together enough for fierceteeth to resemble more of a queen and take on more responsibility, she would have already had some experience, and I imagine the other queens would probably have helped teach her how to run a kingdom.

And in general, fierceteeth has the qualities of a good leader. She cares for her people, she puts their needs first, she’s smart, strong, brave, and doesn’t take crap from anyone. I’d also like to mention that I can’t imagine fierceteeth would be cruel, either. She is absolutely a jerk, no question there. But fierceteeth isn’t putting down the other nightwings for their newfound interest in art. She seems to be actively helping with the play, even though she’s stated she thinks art and history is stupid. She’s aiding her fellow nightwings in something that’s important to them, even when she herself doesn’t see any point to it.

There is still a risk to consider; with a nightwing queen who still stubbornly hangs on to that “nightwings are superior” complex, wouldn’t that run the risk of the nightwings remaining a terrible tribe? I think I can safely say that no, they wouldn’t. First off, a lot of the other nightwings are changing this sentiment. For another, attacking the other tribes is gonna be the very last thing on the nightwings minds. Every dragon in pyrrhia collectively agrees that they want peace, which includes the nightwings. Heck, the reason they hid for so long was because they were terrified of being attacked by the icewings. I’m sure a war is the last thing they want. I also can’t imagine they’d put “brainwashing our tribe” in high priority, when they have so many other things going on. Rome wasn’t built in a day, which leads into my third point: The social climate in Pyrrhia is changing drastically. Everyone is working towards a more accepting society. The nightwings aren’t so isolated that this is gonna fly right past them. So by the time that they’d actually get around to worrying about the brainwashing, that mindset would have mostly disappeared. I just can’t see fierceteeth caring about it very much when there’s so many other things for her to worry about.

This is basically a roundabout way of saying that no matter what that mindset is gonna fade out over the years.

Would Fierceteeth be the IDEAL queen? No. But I thinks she’d be an excellent queen to start with when it comes to rebuilding the nightwing tribe. A solid foundation, is how I like to think of it. Fierceteeth is rude, selfish in many other areas, bratty, and overall not a pleasant person to be around. But she’s selfless in providing for her loved ones, she’s brave, she’s smart, strong, and shown to be capable of leadership. I don’t think someone needs to necessarily be likable to be a good leader.

Man I’ll be surprised if anyone reads this far lol, but thanks taking interest in my useless ramblings.

[courtforshort15]

Not the Same

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GNReader

Word Count: 2900ish

Summary: You don't like her, this woman who enters his life just as suddenly, just as savagely as she leaves it. You know Matt is deserving of so much more than she gives him, and it breaks your heart.

Warnings: none really. Slight angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

You don't like her.

In fact, you hate her.

You know hate is a strong word; one reserved for the most vile of people, the ones who hurt and maim and destroy innocent, unsuspecting lives. Ones who take take take, without giving anything in return.

But honestly, hate is exactly what you feel for her, and it takes years for the feeling to go away.

It takes years for the curse she leaves behind to slowly begin healing. She is a glacier; cold and stubborn and incapable of sustaining life in the cracks and crevices between sheets of ice. Years go by before things unfreeze, though the process is slow even then.

It's not the fact that she makes Matt happy, or the fact that Matt is so clearly in love with her, as much as it pains you to admit, loathing the way it's her and not you tucked into his side and under his arm. It's the fact that she hones in on every one of his vulnerabilities, every one of his insecurities, and exploits them. You struggle watching the two of them together, aching with the thought that Matt deserves love and happiness and good things.

Because Elektra, despite her designer clothes and polished accent and sharp, all-knowing smile, isn't a good thing.

You don't hate her in the beginning. You certainly aren't a fan, but given that you've never seen Matt smile so much, you force yourself to at least give her a half-hearted chance. You give her several chances, if you're being honest. Several chances to prove she's not as awful as she seems to be at first sight, several chances to prove how much she loves him, several chances to be a positive thing in his life.

But she's doesn't take those chances, doesn't even acknowledge them, and you hate her for it.

You find yourself wishing, praying for her to be better than she is. You need her to be better than she is. At least then Matt would be with someone who almost deserves him, someone who is almost as good as him. Loving this man from afar rips your heart to shreds, nothing but blood and scraps of muscle held loosely in your hand, but at least you would be able to rest easier if you knew that someone was taking care of and loving him the way that he needs.

Instead, you are left with the knowledge that she is not worthy of him, and you hate her for taking this man's heart, knowing he could have the world if he asked for it. You don't know Elektra well, but you've observed her enough that you know she would never be willing to give it to him.

But you would. 

You’d give him every damn corner of the universe, every strategically arranged atom that could make up anything he could ever want, and you’d kneel at his feet while placing it into his gentle hands.

She is selfish, and she yanks him along for this ride of hers, uncaring of any sort of trouble she could lead him into as she amuses herself. He follows her so willingly, to your ever-present misery, ready to do her bidding for whatever she needs. He hardly lets her lift a finger, carrying all the weight of the relationship on his shoulders, even while he refuses to acknowledge how she so clearly dances ahead of him, as if she’s already aware that she’s going to leave him behind.

You watch in confusion as Matt changes almost immediately, almost overnight, and he doesn't change for the better. The man sitting next to you in class is someone you don’t recognize, someone who is distant and so wrapped up in this woman that he becomes unaware of everyone else who considers him one of their own. He’s a far cry from the man who holds your hand through panic attacks or shares his french fries with you after you swear you aren’t hungry.

Matt has always been effortlessly charming, wide smile beautiful and enticing, dark eyes lit up in humor when you make a stipid comment or when you trip over your own two feet. But now he has shifted into something aloof and disinterested, and the flicker of annoyance that crosses over his face when you ask if he wants to grab coffee between classes absolutely cuts you to the bone.

The people in his life are so suddenly forced to go on without him, absolutely reeling with the realization that Matt could just drop them so easily, so unconcernedly.

(“Don’t push us out. That’s not fair.”

“But she loves me.”

“We love you, too, Matt.”

“It’s not the same.”)

It…kills you. It’s like you’re a used toy placed in a box and shoved away, something meant to provide vague memories years down the line.

You've been in relationships before, so you understand the giddiness of new love. You understand how exciting and how breathtaking and how wonderful it is to find someone who might fit into your life so perfectly. You understand how focus shifts to this new person as you devote yourself to learning as much about them as possible, focusing in awe and wonder as you soak up every single cell that makes up this person you’ve fallen in love with.

But this isn't that.

Years of friendship has given you insight to the inner workings of one Matthew Murdock, so you can see that he is completely, all caution to the wind, in love with her. And you can grudgingly admit that you see slivers of affection on Elektra's face when she looks at him. But it's more than that.

It's obsession.

Matt spends all of his time with her now, every spare moment, and she acts if she is the sole gate-keeper of his time. She is vicious, territorial, and uneasy to work with, demanding that every little second he has to be spent in her presence. He starts missing classes, starts skipping your weekly study dates, stops showing up at his part-time job at the disabilities resource center.

If it was just those things that had changed, you'd probably just call him out on his shit, knowing how much school has always meant to him and not wanting to see him quit. But ultimately you know it's his choice, and if he wants to ruin his grades and chances of success, that's on him.

And if it was just his friendship with you that was affected, you might have let it go. He’s still your friend, even if it doesn’t feel like right now, and you’re acutely aware of the fact that you'd forgive this man for anything and everything. It might break your heart in the process, but you know that you'll spend the rest of your life trying to make him happy, even if it's from the sidelines as he loves and promises himself to someone else.

You somehow manage to scramble your broken pieces into your clumsy hands from where they currently sit at his doorstep, desparate to get to a place where your hatred for this woman does not batter against all the corners in your mind. And even as you mourn for the man that had once been so kind and soft with you, your heart breaks further, sadly aware that he's hurting Foggy, too, and that it's not something you can easily push aside.

Foggy is the kindest person you've ever met. Made of glee and dad jokes and sunshine in a bottle, and he definitely doesn't deserve the way he's being treated. Your fingers twitch at your sides, wanting nothing more than to hit him with one of his heavy textbooks and tell him to snap out of it, and you're absolutely positive that Foggy would be second in line.

You hate Elektra. Not because Matt loves her, but because she's pushed aside everyone else Matt loves...and he's let her.

When she abruptly leaves, cutting herself so completely out of Matt's life with rusty shears meant to hurt and maim and destroy, it's you and Foggy who help put him back together. Even with as much pain as he's caused, as many tears you’ve shed, you fight tooth and nail for him in his depression, even while he fails to fight for himself.

(“She left me.”

“We’re still here, Matt.”

“It’s not the same.”)

It's years before you learn how Elektra had managed to get her claws into him so deeply, cutting down to the bone and staying there, regardless of any pain it may have caused him on their way down underneath his skin. She had loved him in her own way, not because of all the good she was able to see in him, but because she had seen and welcomed and matched the darkness in him.

Matt is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, he reveals to you one day. And even while you seethe and scream and cry at him, you get it now. He is a man that you know has so much light in him, the kind of light that is white and blinding and warm, yet he sees himself as a man doomed to only live in a world as black as the nothingness that is his lack of sight.

He doesn't need to tell you in order for you to understand the appeal of Elektra and the way she had captivated him, though now he admits that he hadn’t been drawn to her like a moth to a flame, but rather like a stray cat to a wealthy home. He doesn't need to tell you how desperate he'd been for someone to see the darker side of him, how desperate he'd been for someone to see that side of him and love him for it.

At some point he begins to understand how toxic she was for him, how manipulative, and you’re there by his side as the realization finally sets in, the trauma of it burning him so harshly it causes blisters and leaves behind missing patches of skin and muscle. You do your best to hold him together through it, because as awful as the scar she's left behind is, a piece of him mourns her when she's laid to rest for the first time, and then the second.

The true horror of the situation comes from the fact that you know there’s a tiny part of him that wishes he had been laid to rest, too. You know there’s a tiny part of him that will always be buried with the dust and rock and ash that lays underneath the new building on 44th and 11th.

It takes time for him to heal. Years and years of abandonment trauma is difficult to break down, difficult to break through, and you make sure you prove day in and day out that you're not going anywhere, despite how much he may throw at you, despite how much he tries to test you and shove you away with hands bloodied by the gashes gaping open in his heart. But all of his efforts to keep you away are futile, because staying by his side is still the easiest thing you've ever done.

(“Aren’t you tired of having to pick me up off the ground, over and over and over?”

“That’s what friends are for, Matt. To help when needed.”

“Yeah, when someone is having a rough time at their job, or fighting with a partner. Not cleaning up after a vigilante who can’t get their shit together. It’s not the same.”)

You help guide him into a new chapter in his life, though sometimes he remains frozen in the one behind him, feet glued to the ground even while he tries to force them forward. Gradually, though, he begins to spend less and less time focused on the past, more on the present, and eventually, more on the future. He finally reaches a point where he achieves balance, in a way you've never seen him existing and thriving in before.

Nelson, Murdock and Page flourishes, he begins to trust in the way law enforcement has been flushed of any crooked officers, and at last he allows himself to rest here and there, at last he gives himself permission to slow down, if only for a moment. Peace is all you have ever wanted for him, this beautiful man who has always struggled to find harmony within himself.

Peace changes him.

And in changing him, it changes you, and changes the way you fall into each other. It alters the way he begins to orbit around you, finally, finally, echoing the way you've always orbited him. He becomes the force holding you up after you’ve spent years doing the same for him.

It takes a good long while for him to understand the love you've always felt for him, initially puzzled that someone could accept him so completely and ardently, without question and without asking for anything in return. And it takes even longer for him to realize that this love is for both sides of him, not just the side that exists between sun-up and sun-down.

Once the full weight of your love for him is at his feet, once he feels it settle in his chest, it's as if a dam bursts, and he suddenly finds himself willing and able and hungry to grasp it and return it in its entirety, and then some.

Your first kiss is as turbulent as he is, reflecting both his desire to be gentle and savor the moment, and his need to take what he wants, consequences be damned.

This unconditional love is something he never thought he'd have, he says. Something that he had known, deep down, was missing with Elektra. It's an idea that has unexpectedly moved from nonexistent to abstract to tangible, and he tells you he's in awe of it, in awe of you.

He’s had your heart in his hands for over a decade, and you cry when he finally hands you his.

He has always loved you, he mumbles into your ear one night, legs tangled together on his soft silk sheets. But he doesn't lie to you and tell you that his love for you has always been there in the same capacity as yours has been for him. You both know that he had only ever seen you as a friend until recently, and even though you tell him not to, he regrets all the time he spent looking for something that was right in front of him the whole time.

Elektra had come along and understood him in a way he'd never dreamed of, and she had been willing, and selfishly eager, to accept the pieces of him that he'd always felt he had to hide. Though he sees now how his love for her had almost damaged him to a point of no return, he is grateful, he says, believing she had freed him from a life that wanted to chain him into inaction.

Day after day, night after night, he tells you that he loves every piece of you; he loves you for your laughter, he loves you for your willingness to help others with no thought of yourself, and he loves you for your ability to think first and act later. It's something he has never quite managed, he admits with a quiet laugh.

He loves you for the pieces of you that never give up on him, the pieces that never let him push you away, the pieces that love him, even while he can't always love himself.

But your favorite part is when he tells you that he loves the way you accept every piece of him without thought, without fear, without judgment, and that he vows to love and accept every piece of you the same way.

(“I love you.”

“You loved her once upon a time, too, Matt.”

“But not like this, sweetheart. Never like this. It’s not the same.”)

And it's enough. It's more than enough.

You find yourself struggling to move past the hatred you feel for her, the hatred for what she did to him. But eventually, you accept the truth that she freed a part of this wonderful man; this man who is so good that it breaks your heart to know he doesn't see it in himself. She freed the part of Matt who, without it, might have been shackled to a world in which he would never have felt complete. She was the one who gave him the encouragement he needed to embrace this side of him, embrace the Devil, embrace the part of him that could do more.

He doesn't use that freedom and darkness in a way Elektra would have anticipated, or in a way that she would have felt matched her own dark desires and intensity. Instead, he chooses to channel his anger and skill into a way that helps people just as much as his hard-earned law degree does. He fights with both his fists and his words, and you love him all the more for it.

You remind yourself, every day, that Elektra once upon a time had been the one to give him what he needed, though she had ripped it away brutally when she realized she wasn't going to get out of it what she wanted. But you are what both Matt and the Devil need now, what he will always need, as the pair of you move forward together. You both know it, both revel in it, and are now unable to pick apart the pieces that are you, and the pieces that are him.

You've taken years to get here. It may have been bittersweet and painful and full of truths that went unspoken, but he is the love of your life, and you believe him when he swears to you that you are his.

Hell's Kitchen doesn't deserve him. The neighborhood doesn't deserve the blood, sweat, and tears he willingly sacrifices for it, but you know he will never give up on it and the people who call it home. You aren't quite sure if you will ever deserve him, either, but you know you will spend the rest of your life trying.