#first part of my new multi chapter is up!

[runawaymun]

Hey! Any advice on writing multi chaptered fics or just longer stories?

I feel like I'm okay for like snippets but have no idea how to write the middle of a story or move a character or story from point a to point b.

And asking you because you're writing is phenomenal and I'd love some advice.

(But if no brain space for advice I totally get that too and feel free to hide this ask or something)

(Anyway great updates on boundless and the one shot Brimbrond)

Sorry for taking so long to respond to this! I just wanted to take some good time to gather my thoughts because oh man oh boy I am a bit of a nerd about plot structure, even if I pants it a lot of the time -- because middles and structure absolutely plagued me when I was a beginner and so I spent a long, long time studying it and breaking it down.

I'm going to start with some very, very basic advice and then get into some more specific stuff. So let's talk first about how to structure a long-form plot first.

DISCLAIMER: this is how I personally structure plots. More often than not I veer off my own track. And this is a very western way of structuring a plot. It's well worth looking into how storytellers from around the world structure their work because it can vary wildly (Miyazaki is a great example of this). Take this with a grain of salt. It's a guideline which I find helpful. This is going to get very, very long. Bear with me:

When I'm first thinking about how to create a plot around a story I want to tell, this is the process I walk myself through, and it tends to work about 75% of the time for the stories I like to tell (I'm not much of a thriller or mystery writer and those tend to have different kinds of structure). Main recipe is as follows:

Status quo - establish the setting and the character. Do this by the middle-to-end of chapter one, preferably. You can get away with drawing it out a bit in sci-fi or fantasy works that require more worldbuilding, but try not to.

Inciting incident - I won't tell you to start in media res, as that varies from writer to writer and story to story. Generally you want to have this somewhere in chapters 1-3. Say we're talking about LOTR - I'd say the inciting incident is when Bilbo goes invisible at his birthday party and leaves for retirement. Everything sort of snowballs from there (Gandalf confirming this is The One Ring, the Ring being passed to Frodo, the adventure beginning, etc. etc). This is where your character can lose something, or be confronted with a huge problem, or gain some new information. This is the point where your story really picks up.

Point of no return - your character has been presented with a problem or is put in a situation and now they have to decide what to do about it. Sometimes characters choose to run away, or choose inaction. It's up to you and your character as to what they do next.

The annoying part - the most helpful way I've ever found to think about middles is in terms of a series of decisions and consequences. Your character must decide what to do (or try to get what they want), and this will then come with consequences to those decisions. I ignore a lot of writing advice because writers seem to be very cagey about how they compose middles and plots for some reason, but the one piece I heard that helped me was: "What does my character want, and what stops them from getting it?" -- and this can be anything, right? Frodo wants (has to) take the Ring to Mordor. Luke wants to learn to be a Jedi like his father. Inspector Poirot needs to catch the murderer. Odysseus wants to return home. Each of these characters are going to make a series of decisions toward their goal, and they may be working from incomplete information, or bad paradigms, or racing against the clock, or against impossible odds. They're going to make mistakes. Over and over and over again. The middle is a series of decisions, consequences for those decisions, and obstacles (more on that later).

Point of no return 2, electric boogaloo (i.e. the actual midpoint to the story) - the part right before the climax -- the climax IS NOT the midpoint of your story, nor is it the end. This is your midpoint where Everything Fucking Sucks. Your character's back is against the wall. They have to change, or fail.

Paradigm shift: your character learns something new, or develops in some crucial way that leads to:

The climax/confrontation: 3/4 - 7/8th of the way through your plot. Frodo decides to keep the ring. Luke uses the force to blow up the death star. Anakin's fear and the manipulation from Palpatine overtakes him and he turns to the dark side. Inspector Poirot gets his last crucial piece of information and gathers everybody together for the Big Reveal. Odysseus gets home and chases the suitors out of his house. Etc. Etc. This is that Big Point in the story we all think as the most important or crucial point (but it's not. That's the key here. THE most important point is the whole middle of how we got here).

Consequences and paradigm shift 2 electric boogaloo: varies from story to story, but this is the fallout of the last decision or confrontation. Your character may reflect on what they've learned. The killer goes to jail. Frodo returns to the Shire and it's saved, but not for him. The journey your character has been on has irreparably altered them, or the world around them -- for better or for worse.

Resolution: the place where you land the story ;) what is the final impression you want your readers to have of your character, or this world?

Alright so that's all kind of nebulous. Let me give you a slightly more specific form of this plot structure that I use pretty often, because I almost exclusively write character and relationship-driven stories since that's what interests me most:

So most of this looks much the same (the inciting incident is some kind of meetcute. The characters then have to decide if they want to have some kind of relationship -- I like to name this part the callback). Then we have a whole weird squishy section of building interest and tension, before once again we have The Big Fight (darkest before the dawn or what have you), before one or both characters have some kind of paradigm shift, they confess their feelings (or resolve the fight or whatever), and the security of the relationship is established -- happy go lucky times, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

So the middle here is of course still squishy and nebulous, but the focus here is still on "What decisions are the characters making? What are the consequences of those decisions? What are they learning, and how do they respond to it?" Maybe the tension is in one character being more reticent, while the other is more open. Maybe the tension is a sexual tension (will they, won't they?). Maybe a character is working off of incomplete information, or a misunderstanding, and that needs to be cleared up before the relationship (or even their own personal growth) can progress (both Elrian and Thalionel in Stars and Boundless Sky follow this pattern). The middle is a push-pull between your character's desires and outside forces that are stopping them from getting what they want, or achieving what they want to achieve.

So okay, that's all well and good. That's basic plot structure. Let me get into my thought process about middles specifically:

Begin with your ending in mind. I do not mean that you need to have like the whole resolution to your story fleshed out. If you're that kind of writer, great! But if you're more of a pantser like me, then that can be a big ask. Instead, ask yourself: what do I want my character to have learned by the end of the story? How do I want them to have changed, or grown? Do I want it to be for better, or for worse? Is there a specific plot goal you have in mind? (saving the world, or catching the murderer, solving the mystery, exorcizing the ghost, the couple getting together at the end, the found family finally gelling with each other, or whatever).

Once you have that thought in mind, now start to think about what your character might need to get from their starting point to their ending point. If it's a murder mystery, this is your information gathering section. You can lead your character to wrong or right conclusions. Have them make mistakes. Etc. etc. If it's a romance, this is where you create a string of scenes where the characters have opportunities to interact and learn more about each other (works for platonic slowburns, too). If this is a traditional hero's journey, this is where you plop in your actual journey.

Not to repeat this ad nauseum, but your middle is all about getting your character to your end goal, but in the most difficult way possible lmao. Let them make mistakes. Let them make bad decisions -- and then follow through with the consequences of those bad decisions. Give them bad information. This is where understanding your character's fundamental flaws becomes extremely important. Your entire plot, imo, stems from your character's fundamental flaws -- because ultimately that is what is going to slow them down the most from reaching their goal. Sure, you may have the big bad evil guy (bbeg), but we're not worried about him. That's an external factor and that's easy to drop in when you need a quick problem to place in front of your protagonist -- but that problem needs to be in service to your character or your worldbuilding. Teach them something. Give them an opportunity for growth. Aragorn needs to lead at Helm's Deep so he can inhabit his leadership role. The mountain pass of Caradhras needs to force the Fellowship through the mines so that Gandalf falls fighting the Balrog and comes back leveled up and ready to fight, and other characters in the fellowship have a chance to grow into their roles without relying on Gandalf for leadership. Your middle is all about crafting little opportunities for character growth, always while moving toward your end goal -- whatever that may be.

The paradigm shifts are crucial, and they can shift for better or for worse. It's up to you and your characters and the story you want to tell as to which it'll be.

If you're bored, your reader is bored. Only write what excites you, skip all the rest, and make it make sense at the end -- I'm so serious. Yes you need to add in breaks for pacing (like the whole Rivendell section in LOTR), but in those breaks still make sure that you're either expanding your worldbuilding, or giving your characters and opportunity for growth.

If you want to tell a really long (novel length) type of story, sideplots and alternate POVs are your best friend. They are structured exactly the same as a regular plot, they're just simpler or smaller and generally work in service to the main plot. Maybe there are side characters or side relationships you'd like to develop. Maybe there's a smaller mystery or a part of your worldbuilding you'd like to explore. Action plots can be side plots to romantic or platonic slowburn plots, just as much as it can be the other way around. And this is not something you need to structure out the gate. Just be curious and playful. Find points in your story that interest you, and explore them a bit. You'll find that they expand the story.

Biggest and best tip I can give you, when all is said and done, is to decide what kind of story you want to tell and then examine how other people are doing it. If you want to write a superhero story, pick out your favorites and look at how they're structured. If you want to write a mystery, same thing. If you're writing a romance or a drama, again -- same thing. Look at the pieces of fiction that you like, figure out what you like about it, and then apply it to your own work.

That's all the general advice off the top of my head. IDK how helpful this was lol. If you want more tips on middles I can try to look at it a bit more in depth, but to be quite honest middles are really what defines a genre. Romances have different middles to thrillers. Thrillers have different middles to mysteries. Mysteries have different middles to dystopian sci-fis. Etc. Etc. So take the general advice with a grain of salt and look more specifically at the genre of story that you're looking to tell.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk <3

[scarlettrust]

Summary:

Buddy always had a hunch that someone on her crew would betray them…

Never in her wildest dreams did she expect that person would be Juno Steel.

————

this fic is a very long time coming- and i am so excited to share it with everyone. its an s3 canon divergence featuring nureyev’s debt plot line. so spoilers up to s4, but nothing from the most recent season.

massive thanks to @violetsinviolence for the gorgeous banner and @melonoverlord for betaing this

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part 1

i decided to make a full-fledged multi-chapter fic out of this idea that i posted a few days ago with a cyoa ending potentially

thanks so much to everyone who showed so much love for it and hope you enjoy this series!

this is my first time writing for gravity falls so i hope to do it justice!

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader/ford x fem!reader

original fic idea | part two

tag list: @awitchersbard / @theilluminatidragonqueen / @jazzypop-op/ @maryclanders/ @chaimshelii /

@starship606/ @swimmingrascalbatdragon / @stanfordsbaby

He wasn’t in bed.

You woke up in the middle of the night to find the space beside you empty, the blankets cool to touch, indicating that a warm body had not even slipped into the sheets. Begrudgingly, you slip out of the warm comfort of your bed to search for your lover.

Your bare feet pad against the wood floorboards, creaking with each step you take. Your fingers balancing a candle that you used to illuminate the way, too lazy to try and turn on the lights. 

You descend down to the basement, pushing open the metal door that reveals an intricate lab full of oddities and gadgets with a triangle shaped portal looming just behind the glass window. You let out a yawn, approaching the figure that had his back turned towards you. His six-fingers spin the pen in his hand effortlessly as he rests his chin in the palm of his hand.

Your soft yet groggy voice calls out as you place your hand on his shoulder, “Ford, come to bed. Your research will be here in the morning.”

Stanford jumps at your sudden touch before relaxing when he hears the sound of your voice. He puts his pen down, placing his hand over yours with his thumb running soothingly over the back of your hand, “I’ll be there soon, just head back upstairs. I just need to finish this last equation that's been driving me mad the whole day.”

“Stanford…” You say with an edge to your voice, knowing that he could easily stay up the rest of the night working tirelessly on this portal that he had been working on for the past few months.

“Alright… I concede. You win this round, my dear.” Ford sighs, turning to face you finally with a tired smile. He gets up from his seat, pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head before following you up the stairs but not before looking back at the portal.

-

You had the dream again.

It always starts the same. Walking down a staircase, the floorboards creaked with each step you took. Your eyelids feel heavy almost as if you’re resisting the urge to fall asleep. Your feet carrying you down to a basement. The warm flames of the candle you hold illuminating the way.

Your fingertips push the cool metal frame of the door to reveal a figure sitting in front of a desk, facing away from you. Your hand reaches out to touch their shoulder and as they turn around to reveal their face to you, you awaken.

Your eyes open abruptly, staring at the dark ceiling as your alarm echoes through the empty room. Slowly sitting up in bed, you instinctively reach across to turn off your alarm and turn on your lamp before your hand reaches to open the drawer of your bedside table, feeling around for something. Your fingertips brush against leather and wrap around the item, pulling it out to reveal a journal.

These dreams happened almost every night over the years. It had gotten to a point where you started logging them, just trying to find any pattern or meaning behind them.

You turn to the page labeled ‘The Basement’ - adding another tally mark in the margins that you used to keep track of the frequency of each dream. You close your eyes, trying to conjure up any distinguishable features from this mystery person but nothing new arises. 

Sighing, you shut the leather-bound journal, putting it to the side.

Now was not the time to be worrying about your cryptic dreams, you were supposed to be getting ready for the trip you had been planning for the past few months. 

A road trip through the Pacific Northwest, starting in Northern California and making your way up to Seattle.

You hop out of bed to start getting ready for your journey ahead. After completing your morning routine and slipping on some comfortable clothing for the long drive, you make your way to the kitchen, grabbing the map that was stuck to the fridge with a magnet from your alma mater, Backupsmore. 

Having already packed your bags into the car the night before, your feet make a beeline out the door, wanting to hit the road before sunrise to give you enough time to hit the places you wanted to visit on the way up to your final destination for the day, Portland. 

Unraveling the map in your lap, your eyes scan over it, reviewing over the route you had planned out today. Your gaze lingered on one particular spot you had circled closer to Portland that was unlike any of the stops you had chosen.

Gravity Falls.

You couldn’t explain what drew you in to choose this town to stop in out of all the surrounding towns near Portland. You knew that you had an old friend, Fiddleford, who had moved out to this area to do research. You had even visited him once during his time out there. However, you hadn’t heard from Fiddleford in years, correspondence seemingly dropping off as he stopped answering your calls and your letters always ended up returning to you.

Trying to push aside thoughts of your lost connection, you put your car in reverse, pulling out of your parking spot and heading out onto the open road. The winding roads take you through the lush forests that enveloped the region. As each hour passed, you could see the sun slowly starting to make its way up the horizon and decided to stop to watch the sunrise at Redwood National Park. 

After the brief stop that you used to stretch your legs and grab a cup of coffee, you make your way back on the road. Your original plan was to stop at almost every National Park on the way up to Oregon but after hitting a pocket of traffic that put you behind a whole hour, you decide to skip a few stops and make your way directly to the town of Gravity Falls, figuring it would be your last stop with the remaining amount of daylight you had left.

Unfortunately, you had hit another bump in the road, pretty much derailing the first day of your methodically planned out trip.

Your car had suddenly stopped in the middle of the forest about five miles out from the town.

Cursing under your breath, you step out to assess the cause of your delay. Your hands pop open the hood of your car, breathing a slight sigh of relief when you don’t see any steam or smoke. Figuring that the most likely cause is the battery dying on you, you pull out your phone, trying to look up the nearest towing company to hopefully bring you into town to get it looked at.

As you’re waiting for the screen to load due to the poor signal out in this forested area, a gruff voice calls out, asking if you need a hand.

You look up to see a red convertible with the phrase ‘El Diablo’ etched on the side on the other side of the road. Its owner, a man with gray hair, glasses and a stubbled yet chiseled jawline, wearing a black tank, a shiny medallion that sat on his exposed graying chest hairs, and a brown leather jacket, stares back at you, one hand on the steering wheel while his arm dangles lazily outside of the rolled down window.

You pause, taken aback as something about his features seems… familiar. You quickly snap out of your stupor, realizing you’ve just been standing there in silence.

"Uhm… yeah if you have jumper cables, I just need to get my car running to get to the next town and hopefully get a replacement battery,” You reply, figuring this option would be way cheaper than hiring a whole tow truck.

"Of course, I have jumper cables, toots - look at my car, you think I haven't been stranded out here myself." The stranger chuckles, making an effortless U-Turn with one hand before pulling his car close to yours. Your cheeks warm at the nickname given to you by this man you met literally seconds ago, This guy’s a total silver fox.

You step to the side to give him access to hook up the jumper cables after he fishes them out of his own trunk. You both stand in silence while he attaches the cables to your car before his deep voice cuts through, "So uh, what brings you out here? You just driving through?"

You almost chuckle at his awkward attempt to make small talk, "Sort of. I'm doing a whole road trip through the Pacific Northwest. I was gonna check out this town ahead, Gravity Falls, before I make my way up to Portland."

The older man blinks, expecting you to just be passing through the town at this time of a day. Normally, tourists only stop into town in the early hours of the day on their own journeys up north. His lips spread into a grin, pulling out a business card from his leather jacket. "Well, if you're stopping by, you gotta check out the Mystery Shack! One stop shop for mysterious oddities!"

You take the business card with a giant question mark on the front. He retreats back to his car, turning on his engine before nodding over at you as a signal for you to start up your own engine. You slip back into the car, slipping the card into your pocket before turning on the ignition. You breathe a sigh of relief as your car stutters back to life. Glancing up, you see him grinning back at you before the two of you step out of your respective vehicles.

“Thanks again for your help… sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand out in gratitude. The silver fox’s large hand envelops yours, shaking your hand firmly, “Stan Pines, nice to meet ya. It’s no problem, wouldn’t want to leave a lady like yourself stranded in the middle of the woods.”

“Do you say that to all the ladies that end up stranded in the woods?” You can’t help but tease, earning a hearty chuckle from Stan. “Well, let’s just say that’s not a common occurrence out here. So you thinkin’ about stopping by the Mystery Shack?”

You pause, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you thumb the edge of the business card Stan had given you. On one hand, you should probably be heading back on the road to make it to Portland and this Mystery Shack sounded like a tourist trap. On the other hand, the sun was starting to set and you weren’t keen on driving through the forest in the dark. Maybe it would be best if you stayed the night in this quaint town and start again the next morning. As you look up at Stan, you make your decision, deciding to appease the man who helped you so graciously.

You also had to admit you found him quite charming and curiosity got the better of you.

“Sure, lead the way.” You say with a casual shrug. Stan grins, “I’ll make sure you get a personal tour of the Mystery Shack. No need to worry about other tourists.” Your eyebrow raises in amusement before slipping into your car, “What, you know the owner?” You blink at the smirk that spreads across Stan’s lips, “Sweetheart, you’re looking at the former owner, Mr. Mystery himself.”

You bite back a giggle, “No wonder you were laying it on thick, just trying to get more tourists to visit, huh?” Stan rolls his eyes mirthfully “Hey, I was trying to lend a helping hand… though I have a good sales pitch, don’t I?” He grins, shooting finger guns towards you with a wink.

This’ll be interesting. You think to yourself as you follow behind Stan in your car, pulling into the empty lot of the Mystery Shack. You snort, seeing how the S dangles off the side spelling out Mystery Hack, before pointing it out to Stan as he exits his car. His features grimace as he grumbles out, “I noticed” before beckoning you to follow him, twirling his keys on his index finger.

Stan proceeded to give you a detailed tour of the Mystery Shack, spinning elaborate tales surrounding the variety of taxidermy animals that he had mismatched together. Despite the absurdity of it all, you can’t help but get sucked into his tales, seeing the clear passion and excitement he had for this place. You burst out into laughter at the sight of the Sascrotch to which Stan beamed at, “Good one, right? Probably one of the highlights of the Mystery Shack.”

You weaved your way through the shack, though there were certain sections of it that looked oddly familiar. Almost like you had walked down these hallways before. A wave of deja vu hit you as you walked through the doorway into the gift shop. “Usually this is the part where I try to sell people on an overpriced souvenir but I have a feeling that the whole schtick isn’t gonna work on you, is it?” Stan admits.

“Probably not but I’ll take a look around and see if there’s anything that catches my eye.” You chuckle, making your way around the space as your eyes scan the various trinkets. Your fingertips run across the mugs with question marks painted on them. You decide to use this opportunity to make small talk as you mill around the gift shop while Stan leans back against the counter, “So, you said you’re the former owner? Who owns it now?”

“One of my former employees, Soos. Kid’s been working for me since he was… well a kid. Only person with as much passion as me about this place.” Stan says, glancing over at the Employee of the Month picture that still hung behind the counter that showed a younger Soos. “What made you step down as owner?” You hum, thumbing through the t-shirt rack. 

Stan smiles fondly, “Me and my twin brother actually just got back from traveling, we’re only in town for the summer. It was always our dream to travel the world together by boat, and we finally got to make that happen.” You look up, smiling at how warmly he spoke of his brother. Stan catches you staring and crosses his arms defensively, “What?”

“Nothing,” You say, shaking your head before thumbing through the assortment of keychains and stickers that were displayed. “So twin brother, huh? What’s he like?”

“You’re sure asking a lot of questions… not sure if I should be flattered but it feels like I’m being interrogated by a government official.” Stan comments with a grin. You pause with dramatic effect before looking up and admitting, “Well technically, I do work for the government.”

Stan freezes, his stance becoming defensive as he looks you up and down, “Oh shit, really? Man, these cover-ups are getting better and better but I swear I haven’t broken any laws… recently at least.” Your warm laughter fills the room, finding the look on his face priceless, “Relax, I work for the National Parks.” Stan’s posture relaxes at the realization and he rolls his eyes, “Alright, you got me good. So what do you do? Are you like a park ranger or something?”

“No, I’m a geoscientist. I pretty much study rocks and fossils. Kinda boring day to day but sometimes I’ll come across a precious gemstone and keep it for myself… even though we’re not supposed to take anything off a dig site.” You admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Using the government’s resources to your own advantage? I like the way you think.” Stan chuckles.

You pick out a magnet to add to your fridge when you return as a reminder of your side quest at the Mystery Shack. Stan rings you up though you notice a significant markdown in the original price after he insists on giving you the employee discount. As you walk out of the gift shop outside, you round the corner back to your car. 

Little did you know that you would run into the man that you once loved as someone with a long tan trench coat was outside fiddling with a device with his back turned to you. Stan elbows you in the arm to catch your attention, "That's my poindexter brother that I mentioned, Ford. He's always working on some geeky invention."

"You know I can hear you, Stanley?" Ford sighs, turning around to face you two.

Time slows down as he meets your eyes, memories flooding back to him before landing on the last memory he had of you - your back turning away from him, your hand slipping through his fingers after he chose to continue with his research despite your pleas.

He freezes, seeing the woman that left him all those years ago, "Y/N?" He calls out to you.

You blink, staring back at this man that you had never met before calling out your name.

Stan is just as confused as you are, looking between the two of you. 

You tilt your head in confusion, “Uhm… sorry, have we met before? How do you know my name?”

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 1

college football player!buck x plus size!eader

summary: you're having a bad day and you run into an attractive guy in the hallway on your way to class. your frustration gets the better of you and you snap at him, but he’s intrigued by your attitude, and goes out of his way to keep talking to you.

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

A/N: i'm so excited to release the first chapter of my new multi part fic! i definitely started in the middle of this fic and then worked my way back, so this isn't my fav chapter, but if you wanna see them freak nasty in future chapters keep reading!1! i also tried to make the reader race inclusive, but please let me know if there's anything i did wrong so i can correct it!

warnings: both characters are a little mean to each other (oops), slight enemies to lovers??, a touch of slowburn??, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You huff as you walk into the arts building on campus, tripping as your foot hits the doorframe. It’s not enough for you to fall, but it’s enough to piss you off ever more than you already are.

You’re running late, and it seems like everything is going wrong today. First, your alarm hadn’t gone off, meaning you basically had to run to campus for your 9am lecture. You walked in late, which wasn’t really a big deal, the professor paid you no mind as you walked in. It did matter, however, that you had to trip over bags and feet to the middle of an aisle, squeezing yourself into the last seat available in the lecture hall. Then, when you went to get yourself a little treat between classes at the Starbucks on campus, some guy bumped into you and made you spill half your drink on your shirt, meaning you had to race home to shower and change before going back to campus for your later class, which is where you’re heading now.

It’s your last year of college, so while you know your way around campus, it’s the first day of classes, and you’ve never had a class in the lecture hall your next class is in.

Your head is down as you look at your phone, pace slowing slightly as you triple check what room number you’re looking for when you feel a large body hit your shoulder.

“Watch it.” you hear a deep voice say as you look up from your phone, blinking slowly for a moment before something in you snaps.

You whirl around, jaw clenched as you make eye contact with perhaps the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen, not that you notice that through your rage. On any other day, you would’ve apologized and been on your way, but today, you have had enough, your patience gone.

“You ran into me.” you bark back, barely having time to think about what you’re saying. You feel a little bad as you see his eyes widen, but your thoughts are so clouded by frustration at how the day was playing out that you didn’t care. Deep down, you know he’s probably right, you weren’t watching where you were going. But he didn’t have to be a dick about it, right?

“I’m sorry, excuse me, princess.” he says sarcastically after a moment, as his surprised expression is replaced with a smirk. He hadn’t expected you to respond the way that you had, and this intrigues him. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes trailing down your figure, taking you in.

“Thank you! Was that so hard?” you reply in the same tone, matching his stance and crossing your arms over your chest, not even noticing the way “princess” rolled off his tongue so smoothly. You also don’t notice the way his eyes roam over your body, taking in your soft curves, the way your chest moves to keep up with the quick beating in your chest.

“Someone’s feisty, huh?” you roll your eyes at this, wanting nothing more than to be done with the incredibly handsome man and go to class. You’re already late enough, you really don’t need this.

“Only when someone deserves it.” you reply sharply, jutting your hip out as you tilt your head to the side, glaring at him.

You’re met with a scoff, and he fights back a laugh at the way you’re looking at him. You’ve got an attitude, but he’s got to admit, you’re gorgeous. The way you’re glaring at him kind of makes him want to push you against the wall and kiss your attitude away, but he also kind of likes the way you’re not backing down. He wants to keep you here. Willing to do anything to keep you standing here, he steps closer to you, licking his lips as he looks down at you, that smirk still on his face.

“You should lose the attitude, princess.” he teases, a playful glint in his eye as he sees the way you react when his words hit you. His words have the desired effect. You aren’t going anywhere. 

“Or what?” you hiss, your jaw clenching at his words. You’re really not in the mood to be told off by a man who thought the world revolved around him. On any other day, you’d already be on your way, but now, you just want to slap the stupid smirk right off his stupid attractive face. And what the hell was up with the nickname?

“Or I’ll make you.” he challenges, gauging your reaction, hoping he hadn’t crossed a line. With the way you hadn’t walked away yet, he has a feeling that you weren’t going to tell him to go to hell.

You pause for a moment, suddenly taking in the look in his eyes. He was arguing with you, sure, but you had only just realized how he was looking down at you, almost flirting with you. For a moment, you’re overcome with nerves, realizing that your temper has gotten you into a situation you never thought you’d be in.

“I’d rather die.” you get out. You bite the inside of your cheek as you hold eye contact, trying to keep up with the attitude that had been blinding you earlier.

You watch as his tongue slowly traces the inside of his cheek, his lips parting as he chuckles softly. He notices the way your breath stills for a moment and you blink slowly, how his words had momentarily snapped you out of your angry haze. 

He’s so close to you that you can almost feel the heat radiating off of him, but you refuse to back down, already this far into the argument.

“You might say that now, princess, but you haven’t seen me when I’m nice. I’m sure you’d like me if you dropped the attitude.” he states, eyes trailing down your figure again, taking in your cleavage peeking out from your shirt slightly, the way your clothes fall on your soft belly and thick thighs.

“That’s never gonna happen.” you say, letting out a shaky breath as you try not to look away. The class you’re currently missing comes to mind as your glare falters for a moment, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing to a stranger in the middle of the hallway.

“Don’t be so sure, princess.” he teases, licking his lips again as his eyes study your face. 

What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t be talking to this man. You have class, and you took your frustration out on him when he mostly didn’t deserve it. You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek as your face grows hot. You have to get out of here before this goes any worse than it already has. If you don’t walk away now, you’d realize how cute he is.

“I have to go to class.” you tell him softly, a hint of coldness still in your voice as you turn on your heel, walking down the hallway and out of sight.

He watches as you walk away, his eyes shamelessly trailing down to your ass as you go. He chuckles at your hasty departure as he bites a lip. If he met you at a party, he’s sure he would’ve already made you a flustered mess for him, but you didn’t seem like the type of girl who’d be at one of his team’s parties. The way you rushed off to class like that? While part of your exit was to end the conversation, there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes that tells him you truly were late to class, and not very happy about it. He wants to see you again, wants to try to get you to lower your guard so he can get to know you at a time where your temper isn’t getting the better of you.

You let out a long sigh as soon as you get far enough away from him, and you can feel that your hands are shaking ever so slightly. Why did you do that? You should’ve just apologized and kept walking because now you were really late for class, and you had basically yelled at a guy when you were pretty sure you had run into him. He was attractive, and built. You think he’s on the football team. Your roommate has a type, and you think you remember seeing his face when she showed you the entire team roster while she forced you to play drunken smash or pass during the summer.

Now that you think of it, what the fuck? Why did he immediately tell you to watch it? And then, why did he just come onto you like that? Did he just immediately assume that you would fold and apologize if he laid on the charm? You shake your head at the thought, scoffing as you pull out your phone again, realizing you had gone the complete wrong way as you stormed away from him. You turn again, hoping he was gone when you walk back to where you ran into each other, and to your delight, he was. 

You finally find your lecture hall and quickly slip in, silently celebrating when you realize that the doors were at the back of the room rather than the front, meaning you wouldn’t disturb the class. You scan the lecture hall, seeing an empty seat on an aisle a few rows from the back, and you silently make your way over. You sit down and pull your laptop out of your bag, quickly opening the class homepage to follow along as the professor goes over the syllabus.

You’re so focused on not drawing attention to yourself that you don’t notice him in the back row, eyes immediately on you as you sneak past him.

He smirks to himself, noticing the difference in your demeanor as you walk past him, head ducked, as if not to disturb anyone further by your lateness. With the way you snapped at him before, he half expects you to walk in with your head up, daring anyone to act annoyed with you as you make your way to your seat.

He keeps finding his eyes darting to the back of your head as class goes on, trying to think of a way to talk to you again, hoping you wouldn’t roll your eyes and keep walking if he tried.

You try to catch up on what the professor is saying about the syllabus, trying to add assignment and test dates to your calendar as she speaks. As the professor wraps up the class, you continue working away, trying to finish adding the dates, knowing you would forget to do it once you got home.

He stays in his seat when class ends, eyes glued to you as you keep typing on your laptop for a minute or two while the people around you start filing out. He puts his laptop away haphazardly, his eyes still trained on you as you do the same. He stands up at the same time you do and walks over to the door, standing in front of it.

You see him as he reaches the door, rolling your eyes as he blocks the way. All you want is to get home and crawl into bed, you really don’t want to deal with him right now.

“Where are you going, princess?” he teases, that stupid smirk returning to his face as he hears your sigh. He keeps far enough in front of the door that you could slip out if you really wanted to. He doesn’t want to scare you, he just wants more time with you.

“Home.” you reply shortly, crossing your arms over your chest. The way he looks down at you has you on edge again. He’s too smug for your liking, and now that your brain had time to process, you couldn’t not notice his blue eyes, his large arms. Your action doesn’t go unnoticed by him, as his eyes are immediately drawn to the way your arms push your chest up slightly.

“No more classes to run off to? No more rushing around and running into strangers?” he teases, giving you a once over.

“I didn’t run into you.” you tell him matter of factly, but your voice is not as loud as it once was. You know he’s right, but it’s far too late to change your mind. Why wouldn’t he let this go? You’re already embarrassed about the way you acted, you really don’t need him to keep reminding you.

“Ah, but you did. You were looking at your phone, trying to find your class, probably. You stormed off in the wrong direction and had to double back, didn’t you?” he says in an amused tone, chuckling softly as you raise your brows. You’re slightly surprised he’s smart enough to put two and two together.

“I might’ve apologized if you weren’t being a dick. Do you think the world revolves around you?” you fight back, waves of embarrassment hitting you as you realize that he had noticed you went the wrong way.

He doesn’t answer as his lips part slightly, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He takes a step ever so slightly closer to you, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks after a moment. He’s both amused and confused at your reaction to this. It’s as if you’re unsure if you should continue arguing with him, or give in and walk away, but that’s what has him so intrigued. He wants to know what you would be like behind closed doors, how you would react to his touch as his hands make their way down your body.

You scoff, shaking your head as you maneuver around him and out the door. The nerve of this guy. Why did he have to be so infuriating? And hot?

He raises his hands in mock surrender as you step around him, his gaze following you as you walk down the hall. 

As you make your way out of the building, you feel yourself let out a shaky breath, biting your lip as your brain is overcome with thoughts of him. You try to get your mind off of him, taking your phone out of your pocket to text your roommate and ask her if she wants to do a movie night tonight. She immediately responds with a yes, asking what movie you had in mind, but your brain feels so foggy that you can’t even think of the endless list of movies you’ve been wanting to watch.

Instead, you think of the way he looked down at you, how his eyes trailed down your body, drinking you in. You think about the way you could see his biceps flexing under his shirt as he crossed his arms. You think about what he called you. Princess. It was weird at first, but as you keep thinking about it, you can’t help the way it makes your stomach flip. Why did he ask you if you had a boyfriend? He couldn’t have been interested in anything more than pissing you off. You shake your head to yourself as you try to clear your head, finally making it back to your apartment complex.

And him? He walks the whole way home thinking about you as well. He can’t wait to see you next week in class, hoping that you’ll have more classes together. He’s hooked, and he’s desperate to break down your walls and learn more about you.

next chapter

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[milaswriting]

Update. — 3rd October 2024

Well, helloo. If you're following me and reading this then...you must really hate me for my lack of activity on this blog. I apologise for that. Doing a masters degree really kicks my ass, and leaves me with no time to write. But Golden has never been dead or abandoned, it's very much always at the forefront of my mind.

And, for that pure reason, I know it's a story I haven't been 1,000% happy with so the story is going through some major changes. Probably, the first is that it's being rewritten. A (somewhat) new plot written with whole new software—we're making the move to Twine.

My reasoning; I've spent over a year learning the coding which makes me want to rip my hair out. I get to have a lot more ownership over my work, the customisation options are stellar, and you guys will get to read it for free.

The reasons for rewriting has been because I want to fix the cringey writing from when the story's first demo was released. It's mostly from the earlier chapters, but then the thought of plot changes came to me and I wanted to implement those. Realistically, the majority of what's being rewritten is what I had planned for book two—so I'm just bringing that forward. I'll update the synopsis closer to the release of this rewrite.

The changes (which can be subject to change): I'm getting rid of the university idea (though you can still choose careers that are related to those degrees from the options that'll be given) (e.g., if you liked the nursing student option, then your MC can work as a nurse). I'm thinking that the MC will already know about the supernatural world to some extent—there'll still be a lot of suspense and mystery and things to unravel, that was always going to remain. And, in this rewrite, my thought is that the MC and the gang will be working at a multi-agency organisation — called The Everbrook — where the aim is to bridge the gap between humans and supernaturals. To make the world run smoothly, so to speak.

The ROs are the exact same! No changes to that—the only change is that them and the mc will somewhat know of each other already. The genre is the same. MC is still as they are, a Lehsian socialite with a pretty (yet peculiar) birthmark. The parents will have much, much less of a role, but they'll still be mentioned here and there.

This seems like a load of word vomit, but I feel like these changes will improve the story. I'm hoping that it'll make MC less of a spare part in the story, allowing them to have more autonomy in the supernatural universe, especially with their enhanced skillset.

I've done the customisation in terms of the UI layout for Twine already, and it should be mobile friendly too. With that done, I've started writing and I'm a few thousand words in. A lot of what I've written in the ChoiceScript version can still be used, but also getting back into writing a story from scratch is something I'm looking forward to.

I feel like this is a bittersweet thing because yay to a new and better story, but also the time it's going to take to get it out. I'll debate whether to release the whole ten chapters, or do a few chapters at a time, like splitting it up into chunks (releasing three chapters now, and three chapters later on).

Another reason as to why I've taken so long to mention this, other than learning code and the rewrite, is just the whole process of this being a little nerve-wracking. The whole thought of a rewrite of something I've put so much effort into is scary, but it'll be worth it.

I'll accept any questions you've got, and I'll create an FAQ regarding all of this too. But, most importantly, you're in the loop of how this is progressing. I really appreciate everyone's kind words about this story: loving the ros, re-reading it, still sticking by my writing—it means a lot. So, thank you and I hope the future of this story is what you want and more.

PLANS.

Finish introductory scenes.

Finish chapter one.

WORD COUNT.

2.2k (rewrite)

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Not Alone

Authors note: My mental health is currently in the toilet (once again, I'm sorry y'all I'm trying so hard to get my one-shots out and finish up my multi chapter stories) so I wrote this to help myself feel better. Maybe it'll help some of y'all too ❤

Summary: Y/n has been suffering with immense negativity from her mental illnesses. Normally when this she self isolates and waits for it to pass, not a good coping skill surely but it keeps her safe. But this time, unbeknownst to her, Natasha has observed her slight changes and struggles during this period. So when Y/n takes a sudden leave, Nat knows she has to do something to show how much she cares and prove to Y/n that she's not alone.

Warnings: alludes to: anxiety, depression, PTSD, spiraling, suicidal ideation

Word count: 1773

Natasha Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

   It was movie night at the Avengers tower, and much to Natashas dismay you were once again absent. It wasn’t normal for you to miss out on things with the team, either as a whole or one on one hangouts. But for the past few weeks that's exactly what's been happening. It was gradual at first, but as time went on your lack of involvement only grew and your excuses as to why eventually stopped entirely. And while the rest of the team has taken notice of this behavior and is also a bit worried, it's Natasha who is affected most by your absence.

   She had thought that she was just being anxious due to her feelings for you mixed with the sudden distance you were making. But then she realized that was only part of the reason. What really impacted her were the changes she perceived in you. At first it was small things, like you losing focus during a meeting or skipping breakfast. But things had escalated, and far too quickly as far as she was concerned. Your gaze had become distant, your smile failed to be as bright, your laugh lacked its usual luster, you were eating less and sleeping more. But worst of all, you were throwing yourself into whatever mission came along. Even if you weren’t healed up from the last one yet.

   Unfortunately she knew exactly the headspace you were currently in, and she knew it wasn’t a good place for anyone to be. But especially you. It honestly hurt her to watch you suffer as you were, retreating in on yourself instead of seeking help. Or at least seeking her out, you usually confided in her whenever anything was bothering you. But she knew this made her a bit of a hypocrite because back when she was a new SHIELD recruit and struggling like this she certainly wasn’t letting Clint through the walls she built around herself, no matter how hard he tried to be there for her. But to her credit, when she was at her worst, she did reluctantly seek the archer out and let him in. 

   While she wants the same outcome for you, she doesn’t want you to have to hit your lowest point like she had before you reached out and accepted help. So she decides that she needs to act first and approach you. Maybe it's because she knows her friendship with you is closer than her and Clints had been at the time or maybe it's because she's hopeful that you return her feelings and have a bit of a weak spot for her, either way she's almost sure that you’ll be more recipient than she’d been. Which is why she finds herself quietly getting up from the sofa and slipping out of the room just as the movie begins to play. 

   She heads down the hall for the elevator but decides she doesn’t have the patience for it and so she opts for the stairs instead. She gets to your floor and heads straight for your door, where she doesn't hesitate to knock. As expected she receives no answer from you but it doesn’t deter her from knocking again.

   “Y/n, I know you're in there. Don’t make me pick the lock” she says. And it had been an attempt at a joke, but when she still gets no sign of movement from you she decides to do just that

   Your door opens with a familiar squeak that has you shifting in your bed, and your brows furrow as you watch Natasha reclose your door, “Didn’t think you were serious”

   “I’m always serious” she replies, knowing that outward image was far from what she allowed you to see

   “Not with me you aren’t” you grumble, managing to briefly make the corners of her mouth twitch in amusement. 

    But that amusement doesn’t last long as she takes in the state of your room. The blinds are shut with curtains drawn and a blanket has even been hung up over the curtain rod to block out all possible light from entering the space. Your dirty clothes are no longer limited to the hamper in the corner and are instead tossed recklessly about the floor. Your trashcan is shoved full of take out containers, a few dirty dishes are stacked on your nightstand, and the only light source is your dim bedside lamp.

   Her eyes scan over your appearance next and her heart sinks further. Based on your messy hair, dark eye bags, paler than usual complexion and crumpled up blankets she can assume that your prolonged stay in bed hasn’t been a restful one. Your scowl deepens when you notice her looking you over and you subconsciously shift under her gaze.

   “Can I help you with something Natasha, or do you just not get the hint that silence means I’d rather be alone?”

   She sighs and tries not to take your cold demeanor to heart. She knows you're just trying to keep yourself from being vulnerable with her. She decides to test her luck and steps further into the room, and when you don’t say anything about how close she is now she takes a seat on the edge of your bed.

   “I’m worried about you” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper

   “I’m fine” 

   “I know what fine means, Y/n.” she states, her gaze softening as she looks at you again, “And I know you aren’t okay right now”

   “I don’t need to be checked up on Natasha, I’m capable of looking out for myself and I’m telling you that I am okay.” you tell her, but the lie is more difficult to get out to her than you anticipated

   “Don’t do that.” You swallow the lump in your throat and she continues, “Don’t lie to me. Please” 

    “Why do you assume I’m lying?”

   “Other than the fact that I’m a world renown spy you mean? Or the fact that you never shut me out like you've been doing?” She turns towards you more and reaches out for your hand, and though you stiffened at the contact she isn’t deterred, “I know because I’ve been where you are, and I know it's a hell of a road to go down alone.”

    Part of you wants to admit that she's right, to confide in her like you normally would until your walls all come crashing down and you're letting everything out through tears while she wraps you up in her embrace. But the other part of you is still hesitant to be vulnerable, especially with Natasha. Once she saw those darker parts of you, those thoughts and feelings that you wish you didn't have but dealt with in some part daily, you were sure she’d turn away just like everyone else who offered to be there for you. And honestly that was something you knew your heart just couldn’t take. Not with meaning as much to you as she did now.

   “Hey” she gently calls out, likely sensing your inner turmoil, “You don’t have to suffer in silence alone, because you're not alone. I’m right here, and I hate seeing you like this. Please let me in. Even if I can’t help, I can at least be here to support you. Please don't keep shutting me out”

   You aren’t sure if it was the honesty and vulnerability in her voice, or the unshed tears in her eyes that finally had you breaking, but you suppose that didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that you were finally letting her in.

   “I don’t know what to do anymore Tasha” you admit as your voice trembles, and you push past your tears to keep going, “Everything just gets so hard and it's like I can’t even function. All I can do is the bare minimum, and thats so fuckin pathetic. I’m an adult, an Avenger for god's sake, and all I can do is lay in bed and wish I just didn’t even exist”

   “Detka(baby), no. It’s not pathetic, not at all. With everything you’ve gone through and how tough life has been for you, it makes sense that you’d have some days where that all just gets to be too much”

   You can’t help but scoff, “So many people have gone through what I have and they don’t struggle like this. And so many people have it worse. Just look at Bucky, or Wanda. Hell, even you- ”

   “Don’t do that, don’t compare your struggles to others. Everyones brains are different and everyone handles their traumas differently too. What matters is these things affect you, and sometimes you struggle because of them. That's it, no one else's situation bears any sort of weight on what you went through or how you deal with it.”She stresses, “You are allowed to feel how you feel, and you're allowed to not be okay.”

   A sob finally slips past your lips and without a second thought you're sitting up and flinging yourself at the redhead. She quickly wraps her arms around you and pulls you close, letting one hand soothe your back while her other gently cradles the back of your head. Your hands clutch at the fabric of her shirt tightly and you bury your face in the crook of her neck, letting your tears fall against her skin. She doesn’t mind honestly, she's just happy to be the one that you get to turn to when things get hard.

    “I just don’t wanna be here sometimes Tasha, it all gets to be too much.”

    “I know detka(baby), I know. But I am so proud of you for continuing on and so glad that you are here. You are so important. And even more so to me” she whispers, kissing the top of your head

    “I just feel so lost. So alone.”

    “I know, but I’ve got you now and I’m not letting you go. We’ll figure things out together. I promise. Whatever you need Y/n, therapy or time off missions, I’ll help you get it.” she says, tightening her hold on you, “Good days or bad, I’ll be right here.”

   The conviction she speaks with lets you know she means every word, and you know she’s not leaving your side.  You know you're safe in her embrace, and you feel incredibly grateful knowing she's going to be there to help care for you. And though you're still reeling from the turmoil within your head, you find yourself feeling like maybe things were going to start looking up from now on, as long as you had Natasha beside you.

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm  @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura

Summary: This was supposed to be a Rhysand x Reader Calanmai One Shot and boy oh boy did it spiral into a whole, multi chapter AU fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ It’s now a what if Rhys’s mate was someone other than Feyre and they both end up Under the Mountain together fic

Content Warnings: Eventual Smut, Some Suggestiveness because Rhys is here, I mean look at him everyone wants that male; canon typical violence, UTM. Each chapter will have listed content warnings.

Part Two is here

————————————————————————-

“Stay inside, away from the windows. Make sure the doors are locked.” It’s the same speech every year, the same frantic, worried rant about staying away from those types of parties and the trouble they could bring. Never mind that you’re an adult, have been for awhile, and are perfectly capable of making the decision on your own and had decided years ago that Calanmai wasn’t really your scene. A party in a library sure, but an outdoor orgy in what was basically the High Lord of Spring’s backyard was about as opposite of you as you could get.

“I’ll be in the attic, organizing my books,” you swear and your uncle’s graying head bobs with a heavy sigh of relief as he shuts the door. Some of the livestock have gone missing--most likely the result of several visiting fae whose scene definitely is Calanmai--but he couldn’t make complaints to the High Lord until he was sure they hadn’t simply wandered out of the padlock on their own. He’s taking all three of the farmhands with him, leaving you alone in the house.

It would be a blissful couple of days. The house quiet. You plan to make tea and practice the new bread recipe you’d found tucked into one of your carefully preserved books from two centuries before. You’ve accumulated quite a collection of things in the years of your uncle’s ceaseless wandering. He’s never stayed anywhere long.

If you could focus on it, that is.

Calanmai might have never been your scene, but it did something to you every year you couldn’t explain. It had started a couple years ago; a strange whispering on the wind at first, a voice begging you to “Come. Come and see.”  The next year, after being ignored the voice had come with phantom drum beats, an echo of the ones that would sometimes crest the hill between your farmhouse and the High Lord’s estate; the voice more urgent, the drum beats like a pulse in your skull. The following year the visions started. You’d go to sleep and find yourself drifting through the air, wings beating above you, shadowy hands holding you as you flew over the bonfires and beating drums, bodies writhing and merging beneath you, before depositing you in the darkness of what you could only describe as some sort of ancient cave. When you’d woken up you found yourself half way up the hill in your sleep clothes, unsure of how you’d even gotten out of the house. You’d never mentioned it to your uncle, he was prone to worry, but it was becoming clearer and clearer every year that there was something out there that wanted you out on Calanmai. True to form, you’d started hearing the drum beats upon waking this morning, their beat a steady pulse in your temples.

Still, whatever beckons, you're not interested in meeting. You’d seen a couple priestesses and gotten a sleeping tonic that would knock you out for the night, all you needed to do was pass the time until nightfall, take the tonic, and in the morning, all would be right again. Never mind the ache in your chest you’d feel in the morning, the blaring loss a living thing in your soul, as if your decision to stay away had torn something apart in you. It was a manageable wound, for your family’s sake. Memories of your parents had been hazy at best, it had always just been you and your mother’s brother. He’d said something had happened in your home court, that he’d had no other choice but to take you and run, never any other details. Your powers were a strange, unmanageable thing that prowled beneath your skin, a restless beast you couldn’t tie to any court to try and figure out where you’d come from. They weren’t seasonal, not ice or flame or wind; you’d imagined as a kid you’d gotten them in the Night Court, the darkness that sometimes sparked from your fingertips unruly enough to make it plausible, but there was nothing definitive. And your parents, for all the good things your uncle said about his sister, had never tried to find you, leaving all questions unanswered. Left you alone with your uncle and your constant moving with his job. He worked hard to make a life for the two of you, you owed it to him to not cause any trouble, to stay inside and cook and read and help him with his trading business as best you could. Whatever it was out there that beckoned, it was not worth seeing the pain on your uncle’s face. He’d escaped something, that much was clear, you would not damn him to something else, even for your own peace of mind.

This year feels different though, and you can’t deny it. The voice more urgent, the drum beats louder. You find yourself rubbing your temples, a headache building, as you try and fail to read the recipe in your hands. The words blur, a swirl of indistinguishable colors and shapes. You pinch you eyes closed, shake your head as if to clear the voice, trying again and again to make the words make sense, but the drums won’t stop beating.

You hurl the book across the room, knocking a picture off the wall, glass shattering on impact.

“Leave me alone!” You hiss at no one, teeth bared. Talons form at your fingertips, dark shadows whispering over your skin.

“Come. Come and see,” begs the voice.

You draw a breath, then another, and another until the shadows disappear and the talons retract. If you blow the roof off the house, like last time, you’ll have to move again. Beyond your uncle’s disappointment there’s the issue of… her. The war bands, the bogge, the Attor, always a threat looming over your travels, pushing you further and further away from busy cities, all enough on their own, but the Blight adds another layer. Your Uncle said the war she helped wage against the humans was devastating, but the one she could bring here? Sometimes you wonder if she’s the reason you move so much, as if your uncle has been trying in vain all these years to escape the war path closing in on Prythian. He’d never dare delve into the Human Lands, but Spring is one of the few places she has yet to ravish. You can’t risk another move.

You focus on controlling your breathing as you sweep up the glass, and leave the picture of you and your uncle on the table. You’ll find a new frame tomorrow, for today, it’s best if you take that sleeping tonic and avoid any further outbursts.

You make quick work of double checking the locks before changing into your sleep clothes and climbing into bed. It’s only just starting to get dark, the last few rays of sunlight fighting to break through your worn curtains. The priestesses didn’t mention how long it would take to work, or how long it would last, but the drums are still so loud, and the voice won’t stop pleading. It’s a nice voice, if your honest, but you can’t go out there. You won’t.

The vial in your hand is cold, the glass pitted like it’s been used before, it’s contents a bright blue color that glitters even in the darkness. You down it in one gulp, the taste like bursting, overripe fruit. The effects are immediate, you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillows.

  The house is strange, twisted; the wooden walls thorny, gnarled like old tree trunks, the wind howling through the gaps of what used to be the windows. Fire light flickers through the gaps, casting shadows across the space as you stumble from the bed, bare legs caught in sheets suddenly made of vines.

It’s wrong, all wrong.

You stumble on legs that don’t quite work right down the stairs, slashing yours hands open on the thorns that had sprouted out of the railing alongside dark, night blooming flowers.

“Come. Come and see.”

The flowers bloom at the sound of the voice, the violets petals glowing in the darkness, leading you like wisps out the front door, now covered in vines and leaves. Disoriented, you follow the flowers out into the night, the stars dazzlingly bright overhead.

The world outside is not the one you know, the rolling hills now scorched and burned, the trees gnarled and twisted. Dark shapes with glowing eyes sit on the dying branches, starring only at you, some growling, others hissing.

There’s a single line of flowers, twisting away from the leering eyes and you race after them.

“Come. Come and see.”

You’re running before you know it, scooping up flowers as you go.

Something behind you still growls, it’s footsteps rattling the ground behind you. No matter where you look, you can’t see it, like it’s wholly veiled in the darkness. It has your heart pounding in your chest, the beat steady like drums. You push yourself faster, following the flowers over the ruined hills.

The flowers lead you into another wooded area, the trees still barely clinging to life here, their fallen leaves crunching under your bare feet. Branches tug at your shift, tearing the thin materiel, clawing at your exposed legs. Still, the thing behind you prowls closer, it’s breath hot as flame as it chases you.

The flowers wind around trees, deeper, deeper, into the dark, the only light the stars and the flowers; it’s your only chance at escaping. You push, going as fast as your legs can carry you, the drum beats of your heart still echoing in your ears. Soon enough the flowers direct you in a straight line, directly into the mouth of a cave. It feels wrong, going into a cave with some sort of beast snapping on your heels but what other choice do you have?

You reach the mouth of the cave, hand brushing the rough rock, gasping for breath. The darkness beyond beckons, “Come. Come and see,” but there are no flowers here. No stars to light the way, only the darkness of night and shadows.

The thing beyond you roars in challenge as you set one foot in…

You jerk awake like your soul is coming back into your body.

Maybe it is, because you’re not in your bed. There’s half a dozen cuts across your bare legs, staining the bottom of your torn shift, mud splattered across your legs. It feels like you’re wading through soup as you assess yourself, your mind muddled, unable to process where you got the glowing, violet flower in your hands. When you finally have the presence of mind to look up, you are in fact starring at the cavernous mouth of a cave you’ve never seen before.

Somewhere in the distance, the drums pound. Firelight dances among the treeline behind you. You’d gotten outside. On Calanmai. The tonic not only failed, it had left you so horribly vulnerable and queasy you were shaking. You need to get back home, back inside where it’s safe.

From somewhere in the shadows of the trees not far from you, a voice says, “I’m pretty sure I saw her go this way!”

Ice shoots through your veins, feet freezing in place.

The flower seems to warm in your hands, as if reminding you it was there, of the dream that had brought you here. You glance at the cave, the darkness beckoning. It might be a safe place to hide, if those voices are in fact looking for you. They are clearly male, and a few of them at that, and alone in a shift on Calanmai…

The cave might be a terrible spot, you’re pretty sure you had heard something about High Lords and caves, specifically on Calanmai, but the drowsy effect of the tonic has not entirely worn off, and with the voice drawing closer you don’t have time to try and remember what it was.

You step into the darkness, praying it isn’t the worst mistake of your life, and the darkness envelopes you like a caress. It’s almost as if it… moves, shadows and night itself twining around your legs, your arms, brushing along your spine with feather light touches. As if darkness is acquainting itself with the feel of you. You shiver, nervous, but the touch is not unwelcome.

Voices sound outside, but they are muffled, veiled.

Another step, then another, the flower still clutched in your hand blooms, glowing a little brighter. The scent of jasmine and citrus flows from it, fills all your senses.

The cave descends, the ground sloping a bit, and then you have to duck to follow the worn path. There should be loose rock along the path, but it is smooth, like sand beneath your bare feet, like someone had come along and swept out the debris. There’s nothing there to hinder your progress towards what you can only assume is the heart of the cave.

Perhaps this is all a part of your strange dream, that would certainly explain the flower, but what other choice do you have no but to keep going? From behind you, those voices from the woods sound again, as if they have stepped into the cave too.

“You’re sure she came in here?”

“Where else would she go out here?”

“Do you think Mistress will let us have a little fun before she gets her hands on her?”

Its that that makes you freeze, all thought eddying from your head.

The flower shrinks in your hand, the light dimming, even as the darkness of the cave twines itself around you, the caress like a cat rubbing against your legs, as if it’s trying to soothe you, calm you. You can’t move.

The sudden shift in the air of the cave is palpable. Goosebumps raise on your arms as the temperature drops, as the darkness deepens.

“What the fuck?” One of the men hisses.

And then the screaming starts, the blood curdling cries rattling the walls.

Still you can’t move, can’t see, can only stand there in the company of the shadow still rubbing soothing circles into your back while the earth trembles and dust rains down from the cave roof.

Just as quickly as the screaming starts, it stops, the only sound know the subtle drip of something wet hitting the floor. Your senses are sharp enough for you to scent the cooper tint of blood in the air, but even your keen senses can’t pick up what caused it. You can’t hear anything either, no footsteps, no fighting. It’s over.

You exhale a shaky breath, hands still trembling around the flower. Until it suddenly dies, the petals falling from your cupped hands. You’re strangely attached to it now, hands scrambling to catch the petals in the dark when that same glow appears around the bend in the cave.

Another flower, a way out!

You step towards it, not stopping to ask yourself why this one is smaller, so far away from the ground. Its not until you’re nearly upon it, nearly slamming into it, that you realize it’s not a flower at all. It doesn’t truly click into place until a firm set of hands grabs hold of you, stopping you from slamming right into the owner of that glowing set of violet eyes.

You might have screamed, were it not for the voice that says, “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

The world tilts before you as it clicks into place that you know that voice. It’s the one that called you out here.

[deecotan]

🌱 Deeco's ZoSan Fic Rec List 🐥

Hello hello! This is going to be a slight rework for my zosan fic rec list, because I wanted to re-organize it and add some new fics while I'm at it, so this is going to be longer than the first. Feel free to check it out!

Latest update: November 2023

Because I started making this list long before August 2023, I won't add any fics that specifically take place in live-action setting because I haven't read much of them yet. I might consider updating this list to add fics with live-action setting in the future.

—GEN/T FICS

Sketches of Life (and Love) by Fledgling (Teen, 2.9k)

An exploration of a headcanon where Sanji likes to draw in his free time. This fic always leaves me with a warm feeling every time I read it because how endearingly sweet it is. It’s basically a domestic fluff story about both ZoSan and the Strawhats crew in general.

green with envy blues by adietxt (Gen, 1.5k)

A cute fic about Zoro being jealous. Jealous!Zoro has been one of those tropes that make me screech like a feral animal every time I come across it and this fic does exactly that. It’s pretty short and simple but it captures the characters very well. It’s set during pre-timeskip which makes it even better to me because pre-TS Zoro possesses that boyish quality that post-TS Zoro doesn’t necessarily have anymore.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Fuck, Marry, Kill (or, how Usopp becomes the best matchmaker of the sea without really trying) (Teen, 4.8k) — Usopp introduces the Strawhats to a game that ends up causing Sanji to overthink things - a lot of things.

Old Men Blues by postmoderne (Gen, 2k)

Quoting directly from the fic’s summary, “Sanji and Zoro: two ancient fucks (in love).” because this is exactly that, a story about old men ZoSan. Old Zoro and old Sanji are both still as stubborn as ever and it’s endearing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Something Golden (Teen, 1.6k) — Canon reimagining where Zoro met Sanji at the Baratie pre-series.

Meet me under the orange tree by candelina (Gen, 3.9k)

A canon divergence AU where Zoro and Sanji met as kids, as Zeff opened up Baratie in Zoro’s hometown. It’s an adorable and heartwarming story of little Zoro and little Sanji’s friendship. There’s also a part two which is also worth reading. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The whole world will know (2.3k) — Old men ZoSan fic, this one involves Zoro deliberately showing himself to the Marines for god knows what. It’s sweet, it’s beautiful, and it shows that Zoro is as reckless and idiotic as he is a loving, devoted husband.

Zoro’s Boyfriend, Who Lives In Canada by donutsandcoffee (Gen, 2.6k)

Modern AU, where Zoro’s friends try to stop him from believing that his imaginary, totally made-up boyfriend actually exists. Of course Zoro’s boyfriend doesn’t actually exist, because with the way Zoro describes him he’s way too perfect to exist and how can anyone so perfect actually exist? A hilarious story of misunderstandings.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Prison Blues (Teen, 2.8k) and it’s a long way forward (Teen, 5k) — serve as both a ZoSan story and a great Sanji character study. 

The Three of Swords by 8ball (Teen, 30k, multi-chapters & completed)

A medieval AU with knight Zoro and prince Sanji, a concept that starts to really grow on me after I begin to read this fic. In this story, Zoro is a cursed knight appointed to serve Sanji, a kind-hearted prince whom Zoro eventually pines over. It’s a beautiful take of prince and knight AU; devoted knight Zoro is something that I didn’t know I need. It also has a sequel.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Ocean's Child series — a canon-divergence mermaid!Sanji AU

(I Want) Someone to Love Me by three_days_late (Teen, 7.9k)

Sanji is about to turn 17, so he hopes that he can get his first kiss before that. A cute high school AU that involves everyone wanting to kiss Sanji (honestly, who doesn’t) but only one person gets to actually do it.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Blood Red (Teen, 400 words) — this might be a little biased because this fic is inspired by my comic, but it’s also a perfectly good reason why I must add it here; this fic is able to capture the spirit of the comic perfectly. If you want to read a short exposition of Zoro showing his darker, yet protective side, then this fic is worth the read. Warning for blood & hints of violence. The Christmas Swap (Teen, 37k, multi-chapters & completed) — a modern AU in which Sanji and Reiju switch partners during Christmas so they can attend their family gathering without having to come out as queer. It’s a wonderful story about family, relationships, and the struggles of maintaining those things as a queer person. The Only Way Out (Is Through) (Teen, 4.8k) — a beautiful Prince Sanji and Knight Zoro story, where circumstances forced them to separate & unable to be together. It also has a side Nami/Vivi. I Have Loved You for 1000 Years (I'll Love You for 1000 More) (Teen, 8.9k) — Another Prince Sanji & Knight Zoro AU involving time travel & the sacrifices you go through for the ones you love.

Curly Angel by APTX & translated to English by NMTD (Teen, 9.4k, two chapters & completed)

In this alternative canon universe, everyone has a guardian angel, and Zoro’s just happened to be Sanji. Hilarity ensues.

Let me be your Inspiration by TheWanderers (Teen, 19.8k)

College AU where Sanji is an artist/painter - another fic that explores Sanji as someone with an artistic streak, but also so much more. It’s a beautiful story that starts out with Zoro having to model for Sanji’s painting but ends up falling in love with him. I love the way the author adapts the characters’ canon backstory into this universe.

Retrogade by Hazel_Athena (Teen, 21.9k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got badly injured after a fight, and ends up losing a big chunk of memories - it doesn’t bother him too much until he notices how weird Zoro starts to act around him. A really good temporary amnesia fic with some really delicious pining!Zoro material. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Medieval ZoSan series — a medieval arranged marriage AU. Renegade Queen (Teen, 76k, multi-chapters & completed) — a canon divergent AU where Sora lives and takes all her children with her - it's more of a Vinsmoke family story with ZoSan on the side.

Nothing Happened (Gen, 16k, multi-chapters & completed)

An angsty survival story where the Strawhats get stranded in a middle of the seas with no means to escape and rapidly declining food stock. This fic does a really good job at keeping you in suspense, and the way it handles Zoro and Sanji's relationship destroyed me emotionally. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Each A Love Song (Gen, 8.6k) — Sanji is frustrated because Zoro’s surprisingly popular with women when he doesn’t even like them back. A story of a confused Sanji trying to find love and being the World’s Most Oblivious Man. Three Blades (Gen, 5k) — a Western AU where Sanji is a saloon owner and Zoro is a bounty hunter.

The Melody of Missing You by BleuReivers (Teen, 11k)

Zoro is forced to confront his feelings in the aftermath of Sanji's departure during the Whole Cake Island arc. I love the way this story examines Zoro's softer, more vulnerable side in a painfully beautiful way, and the whole fic has this hazy, dream-like vibe that really fits with the plot.

Sick Day by Styx_in_the_mud (Teen, 1.3k)

Zoro gets sick, and Sanji takes care of him. A short sick!fic with a simple premise but very cute nonetheless.

—MATURE/EXPLICIT FICS

Deep by CharlieNozaki (Mature, 171k, multi-chapters & completed)

This is There Are Many Benefits to Being A Marine Biologist: The Fic. Okay jokes aside, this is a modern fantasy AU fic where merpeople exist and it mainly tells about marine biologist Sanji and merman Zoro. It has an interesting premise and deals with some heavy subjects in later chapters, hence the Mature tag. It has a sequel, though it's currently ongoing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Game — a Modern AU with slight fantasy-ish element, where Zoro and Sanji are young orphans who find a mysterious game that might be able to change their lives.

Delphinium by toastie_bread (Mature, 39k, multi-chapters & completed)

Set in modern AU, stylist Sanji meets with police detective Zoro after his beauty salon got robbed; a cute rom-com story. There's also a side LawLu.

Steady, As She Goes by auspizien (Explicit, 155k, multi-chapters & completed)

I’ve always loved auspizien’s fics and this is the one fic that made me fall in love with their writing. This is a modern AU story where Zoro is an ex-agent with PTSD who meets and befriends Sanji, a paramedic. It’s a multi-chapter fic filled with humor, angst, pining, action, and good ol’ slow-burn.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Android Acquaintance (Explicit, 10k) — dystopian cyberpunk AU with android Sanji and bounty hunter Zoro. This fic partly inspires me to make the Blade Runner 2049 ZoSan art!

The Tribulations of Temptation by SweetyGreeny (Explicit, 18.5k)

Zoro accidentally sees Ace and Sanji doing… the do, and then spends days after that feeling shocked, confused, angry, and disappointed.  A delicious story of pining and jealous Zoro. There’s a slight AceSan in the beginning but the endgame is still ZoSan.   OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: A Siren’s Sinking Song (Teen, 12k) — a canon-divergent AU where Sanji is a siren who one day meets a peculiar swordsman from a wandering ship; this story is beautiful and I love the idea of siren!Sanji, but please note the major character death TW.  The Burden of Blondes (Explicit, 11k) — Sanji finds out that Zoro has a thing for blondes, and for some reason he feels uneasy. A fun story with some good smut, and inspired me to make an art loosely based on it.

Thy Fearful Symmetry by Harubo (Explicit, 14.3k)

A modern AU where Sanji is a tourist visiting a tiger reserve during a family vacation and Zoro is a detective investigating a poaching ring. All of Harubo’s fics are godsend but I particularly love this one because the setting reads like a perfect rom-com drama movie about a stressed, overworked chef meeting a handsome detective. There’s also a nice tidbit where the Vinsmoke siblings are trying to get along with each other.

Done Dirt Cheap by Balderdashfromafool (Explicit, 99.7k, multi-chapters & completed)

A Western ZoSan AU, where Zoro is an outlaw and Sanji is a small town chef. This one is fun and lovely, and as someone who doesn’t read a lot of Western-themed stories, I love the way the author describes the Western setting in this fic. 

The Fox's Heart by Shadowcatxx (Explicit, 32k, multi-chapters & completed)

Historical/mythological AU where fox spirit Sanji falls in love with human samurai Zoro. A pretty heavy story about forbidden romance but ends with a happy ending. The fic deals with some period-typical issues like homophobia, misogyny, sexism, and transphobia, as well as some depictions of violence and (slight) animal abuse, so please be aware of that.

Mine by burnwaywardbird (Explicit, 4k)

A pure PWP fic of Zoro “punishing” Sanji for flirting with strangers. Super kinky and involves slight dom/sub undertones. Also, while this is mostly pure PWP, this fic is technically part of a series and while can be read as a standalone, I highly recommend to read the other parts as well (especially the ones preceding this fic).

pretty sanji series (Pretty & Surprise) by kickingsanji (12.6k in total)

A series of fics exploring Sanji's femininity and Zoro discovering that he has a thing for Sanji being pretty & wearing pretty things. As a Pretty Sanji truther, I love these fics to bits, not only because it handles Sanji dealing with his insecurities when it comes to his gender expression in a gentle, respectful way, but also because the smut is very good.

All Will be Well by thecrownofclowns (Explicit, 17k)

An incredibly sad but sweet zombie apocalypse AU about Sanji trying to survive the zombie outbreak all by himself, before eventually meeting Zoro. One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics.

—OMEGAVERSE (ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA) FICS

Onigiri by himaaneko (Teen, 2.3k)

Very cute domestic family fic of Zoro, Sanji, and their son. For those who prefers a softer omegaverse with family/love-children fluff on the side, this fic is for you.

Bite Me by Shadowcatxxx (Mature, 15k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got attacked while he was alone on the ship, causing him to go into heat. Zoro tries to help, but not without consequences. An exposition on how Zoro and Sanji handle their dynamics, and their feelings towards each other. Please mind the tags with this one.

fever by adietxt (Explicit, 6.4k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm pretty sure that this is the first omegaverse ZoSan story that I have ever read, and one of the best ones I've ever read for a good reason. It involves Sanji, who suddenly got into his heat, and Zoro, the first one to discover Sanji in heat and learns for the first time he's an omega. I won't spoil anything, but I can say that the ending is great, the porn is delicious, and Zoro being possessive is exquisite.

Steps of Calidity by auspizien (Explicit, 42k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm gonna preface this by saying that the smut here is ungodly good and very, very hot - and to be perfectly honest, one of the main reasons why I like this fic so much. But the plot is just as good and has an interesting take of how omegaverse dynamics might work in a modern world. Don't forget to mind the tags as well.

Sweet by ElAlmaDelMar (Explicit, 1.8k)

Sanji starts lactating during his pregnancy; Zoro finds it very hot. This one is just straight up kinky. It's a sequel to another story but can be read as a standalone.

[finniestoncrane]

Pornstar!Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, multi-part au fic cooper howard is a former actor, novice pornstar, and current wasteland escort. reader mistakes him for a bounty hunter and ends up getting far more entwined in his lifestyle than they intended in a bid to get what they need from the first 'kind' person they've met in a long time🤎

☢️ Chapter 1: A Bombshell, word count: 3.5k exposition time!! cooper's recent divorce has hit hard, personally and professionally. vault tec have made it impossible for him to find work in any movies so he's turned his talents to porn to make some money. as horrible as he thinks his day is though, his future is only going to get worse (reader shows up next chapter) request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: age gap reference, angst, oral sex, pornography

From the corner of the small, hideously decorated set, Cooper watched the skeleton crew work to clean things up after the last movie wrapped just an hour before. His skin began to crawl, a shudder rolling through his body, as he considered the fact that he hadn’t seen anyone take away dirty sheets or bring in clean ones since he arrived. 

And he was expected to fuck in these conditions. It was a living nightmare.

Trying to lighten his mood, he murmured what was supposed to be a positive sentiment.

“At least it’s not snuff. Way my luck’s going, wouldn’t that just be the cream on top of the pie.”

Cooper looked up to the ceiling, shielding his eyes from the bright studio lights which provided a familiar, albeit less high-end warmth than he was used to. He was working though, so he couldn’t complain too much. A paycheck meant he wasn’t out on the streets, the hot sun beating down on his face instead. And he had to face facts; the snap of some powerful fingers and he could be out on his ass at a moment’s notice, fired even from a gig like this. 

No prospects. Vault Tec had made sure of that not long after he’d confronted Barb. She’d gone straight to her bosses, that panel of cruelty he’d listened in on, and their retaliation, preventative measures to ensure they could continue on their journey of annihilation, had been swift and immeasurably evil. His reputation was ruined, the earth in which he’d grown and nurtured a career scorched, much like they intended to do with the rest of the world. Any upcoming opportunities, any interest that anyone held in him, gone. 

They’d been thorough, efficient. News reports, gossip between housewives, notes passed across the desk during auditions. They’d made sure he’d never work again, not in anything worth while, of course, holding his earnings hostage. And when he thought that was all they could take from him. His life, his money, his house, his wife. They had come for more. Armed Barb with the best lawyers money could hire and then offered him the worst deal. 

His silence in exchange for some brief, supervised moments with his daughter. Something about alcohol abuse, a half-truth at most, but enough to convince the judge. 

It felt cruel to him, that he was put in a position where he had to choose between Janey and the rest of humanity. A shitty thing to do to a man, that’s what he thought of it. And a shitty choice to make. And a shitty decision when he threw altruism to the side and secured the rest of humanity’s fate. He was just as complicit as they were, really, if he thought about it too hard. Which of course, he did. Each night as he struggled to sleep in his apartment. But whatever time was left, he reasoned that he might as well spend it being as happy as he could, even if that was only for one day a month when he was allowed to see Janey.

What was it? Two days ago he'd taken her to the zoo? So almost another month until he saw her again. A month of work. Blood, sweat, and tears. So much sweat.

He let his gaze fall down, taking in his body. Wrapped in a robe, nude underneath it, primed quickly by the makeup artists who seemed to only be making sure that his body hair was tidy and he wasn’t going to sweat too much during his part. Neatly trimmed pubic hair and strategically shaved nipples wouldn’t save him from that though. This was his third film, and each time his nerves, his guilt, his unrelenting shame as he drove his cock into the expert, very formal, professional cunt of whoever his co-star was, it was certain that he’d be sweating copiously only ten minutes in. 

“Coop? Hey, Coop! Howard! Keep your head in the game. Both of ‘em, heh.”

Now he was being bossed around by the lighting guy, someone whose name Cooper had forgotten already. The snorting laughter echoed in Cooper’s mind, bringing him firmly back to reality from his daydreaming. It was more mindless worrying than daydreaming, really, but it was the only reprieve he got these days, and now it seemed he couldn’t even find a moment of peace for that. 

Daydreaming suggested something positive, thoughts filled with desires or nostalgia for days gone by. But there wasn’t a single remaining vestige of his former life that he was happy to cling to, all of it tainted with soured memories and terrifying future prospects. And knowing what he knew, he still had to keep going. He had to pretend like nothing was wrong. A fake smile plastered on his face despite the mess that he was in. 

“Howard? Come on, man. Pull it together.”

The lighting guy was calling on him again, and this time he had the gall to look at Cooper with an impatient, furrowed brow. 

“You know they used to call me Mister Howard.”

“And they used to say I looked young and fresh faced, shit changes, man. You coming or what?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Keep your pants on… at least you get to.”

He knew he shouldn’t be so flippant, but his patience had worn thin over the past few months. Now that there was nothing to be charming for it was no longer second nature to him. He was rude, cold, and found he was losing himself. Deep down, there was a voice scolding him. Telling him to be thankful that when there were no more studios with their doors open to him, that he was at least able to find some places willing to hire. And while it was a lot less glamorous, he should still be grateful. 

But it was hard to feel that way when his new profession was clouded by his own insecurities.

Cooper was well aware that he wasn’t by any means experienced when it came to the world of sex. His first foray into anything of that nature was with his highschool sweetheart on prom night. An unfortunate experience that taught him nothing and ended up igniting the spark that ended that first love. Then there was Barb. He’d met her in college and they’d been together until their bitter divorce. A single one night stand between then and his current career, and that was his sexual history summed up neatly.

It always struck people as funny when they learned about his very short list of sexual conquests. He was Cooper Howard. Charming, charismatic, handsome, famous. A verified heart throb. But he was woefully unsure of what to do with that reputation, and always had been. While other stars would flirt with fans or interviewers or even directors to get a little bit more attention, Cooper was never able to offer anyone anything but a genuine and pleasant smile and maybe at a push, a mischievous wink to accompany his signature smile. He wondered how much of it had to do with the fact that he only had eyes for Barb, but even when she had pushed him to ‘play the game’ he’d still found himself unable to. 

Now, all of a sudden and based on a perception of him that was built upon years of good PR, he was thought of as some kind of casanova, and expected to act as such. He had to act like the kind of guy who charm the pants off a woman, with very little plot to back that up, and who could fuck for thirty minutes solid in front of a crew and without cumming too soon,

Interestingly, at least to Cooper, they had told him that would be the hardest part. Stamina. The suspension of orgasms. But he found it all too easy, mostly because there was never a point where he felt any kind of deeply sexual attraction to his co-stars. Much the same as his previous acting roles, he’d always viewed it as a job. It would be inappropriate to have any other feelings. The women he worked with now were beautiful, skilled, talented. But Cooper wasn’t in love with them, and he found that made it hard to coax an orgasm out of him. Luckily, that seemed to suit his new bosses pretty well. He was handsome, a known commodity, and could last a while before they worked him up to his big finale, even if they had to cut the cameras while they waited for him to get to it.

“Alright, Howard. Robe off, let’s see that cock.”

Sighing, his eyelids closing as he tried to separate himself from his actions, Cooper shrugged off the robe that covered his body, letting it slink to the floor and pool at his feet. Despite the heat, his skin still prickled as it was exposed. Nipples hardening, hairs standing on end. 

“Can we get a little enthusiasm, Coop? Like your other movies?”

Cooper muttered under his breath.

“You can get the same enthusiasm when I’m getting the same paycheck.”

“What was that, buddy?”

“I said, where do you want me?”

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Ok, Phoebe’s gonna be on her back, that ok, doll?”

“Of course!” 

“Perfect… so, you’re gonna be here. We’re doing missionary first, then maybe we cut to some doggy style. Remember, eyes away from the camera, and make sure that whatever you’re doing we can see those genitals. They’re the real stars!”

This was his life now. His body getting first billing above his soul under whatever lewd title this was going to be given. 

“Mr Howard? I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan. I watched your movies as a kid, you’re like, my dad’s favourite star.”

His co-star, Phoebe, if he remembered correctly, was laying on her back on the bed, waiting for him. Her big, green eyes were wide with excitement. She’d been a fan. And when she was a kid. Looking at her now, he wondered how he hadn’t noticed how young she was. Barely pushing her early twenties, fresh-faced, keen, full of hope. 

How would her dad feel about him now? Would she mention this? Talk about meeting Cooper Howard, but skirt around the exact details? Or would she brag? Maybe it was just him who had a disdain for this line of work. He certainly didn’t judge anyone else on the set. Only himself. 

“Uh… thank you, darlin’. Always nice to meet a fan.”

Phoebe giggled, a sweet sound that made his heart sink. She spread her legs wider, eyes flitting down to his cock which he was stroking slowly in a bid to get it stiff. 

“You ready to go?”

“I’m ready! Mr Howard?”

Cooper looked down in dismay, his flaccid member refusing to play along. A stubborn diva, it turned out. 

“Is… is there something wrong, Mr Howard? Is it me? I’m so sorry, you must be used to much bett-”

Cooper’s natural empathy, at least the last reserves of it, were pulled out of hibernation as Phoebe began to blush, embarrassed at what she perceived as her inability to turn him on.

“Oh, no, darlin’. This is a ‘me’ problem. You don’t worry about it at all, ok?”

He placed a hand on her bare shoulder, all lust evaporating as he comforted her, smiling back as she beamed appreciatively to him. 

“God damn it, ok, let’s get Harv in, he can do his scene with Phoebe, that ok, doll?”

“Oh for sure! I’m good to go.”

“Perfect, you’re an angel. You, Howard. We can shoot the exposition scene just now. Go to wardrobe and get your outfit.”

Oddly thankful, even though he was embarrassed at his inability to perform, Cooper headed to the small room where they held the small wardrobe for cast members. The exposition scenes were his favourite to shoot. Of course, they were poorly written, and his co-stars weren’t exactly professionally trained actors. But it at least felt like old times. Lines to memorise, a character to portray. And limited sexual encounters for him to fuck up.

Besides, it was porn, and he was the star. Which meant there was a lot more wooing. A lot more women, various actresses playing a myriad of characters, all of whom were seemingly desperate for Cooper’s cock, whatever role he happened to be playing. Once the exposition was out of the way, he had to fuck. But these scenes? He got to be enticed, which always made it a little easier on him. He might have even been looking forward to it today. A stroke to the ego, among other things. A boost to his confidence, and a little physical comfort to stave off the looming spectre of complete loneliness.

When he sifted through the rack and found his name on a plastic covered bundle, however, his brief glimpse of joy was stolen away. 

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was close enough. The deep blue shirt, bright, golden yellow detailing. And the hat. Not identical, but anyone watching would know that he was supposed to be portraying his old self. A cowboy, the Cooper Howard people knew and loved.

On the table behind him, he rifled through the ‘scripts’ until he found the one with his name scribbled on the top. Ten lines, some room for ad-libbing. All of it cowboy themed. Pulled directly from his movies, albeit changed a little for the sake of copyright infringement. 

He couldn’t do it. 

But then he remembered Janey. How badly he’d wanted to treat her, to spoil her. And how little money he had left after alimony. And how expensive the rent was at his new apartment, which was overpriced, disgustingly decorated, and didn’t even allow pets. 

Maybe everything would be ok in the world. Maybe he’d go on living, get to see retirement, see the world flourish, the wars end. Maybe, Vault Tec and Barb would see the light, change their ways. Maybe it was all for nothing. 

So maybe he better get his shit together and start making some money, so that what was left of his future wasn’t so abysmal.

“Put on a smile and go get your cock sucked, Cooper. Not the worst day in the world, really.”

WIth a sigh of resignation, he chose to listen to his conscience, the little voice that steered him in the right direction, and put on the suit. The material was a poor quality, some cheap polyester deal, ill fitting, too baggy for his frame. And the hat was clearly something from a cheap party supply store. But as he looked in the mirror at himself, he could push away the feeling of seeing a ghost and focus on the positives. He looked almost like himself again.

“Mr Howard? They’re ready for you.”

The polite knock and the soft voice of the only runner on set came through the door, and Cooper exited, surprising the young man in the corridor.

“Oh wow.”

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just… you look like you did in your movies. I’m a little bit starstruck.”

“You gave me my coffee this morning.”

The runner looked to his feet, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to explain himself.

“Yeah, but that was… now you look… y’know?”

Trying not to be impolite, Cooper pushed past him, muttering under his breath.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

Back in what the director insisted on calling “the studio” despite it being a hastily fabricated sound stage in the middle of some tacky, shared ownership mansion in the hills, Cooper was met by a new woman who introduced herself as Veronica, before quickly telling him that everyone called her Ronnie. He smiled, clutching her hand between both of his in that confident way he used to greet fans, smiling at her as she bit her lip and smirked. It was a flirtatious look, one that gave him a bit of a boost as he subtly eyed her up and down and judged her silently.

“She definitely likes you… and she’s not too bad to look at herself. Look at you, seeing the positive side of things! Well done, Cooper. Well done.”

He made his way through the first few lines, trying his hardest to maintain a look of arousal as his co-star clumsily worked through hers, emphasis and inflections all over the place, the puns not quite hitting right the way she was delivering them. But he could forgive it all as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Well, I have to give you something for saving me from those bandits, kind sir… maybe this will be enough to repay you.”

She was adept at unbuckling his belt, repetition and muscle memory aiding her, and he could feel his erection stirring as she pulled his flaccid cock free from his pants and began to stroke it. 

“Now, ma’am… that won’t be necessary…”

Cooper’s voice trembled over his words as he took his semi-erect cock from her and began stroking it slowly himself to keep the erection building. 

“... I did what any good man would.”

“Then let me do what any good woman should.”

He cringed hard at the line, but luckily, the grimace was covered by his mouth dropping open as Ronnie took his cock in her mouth, sliding her lips over the tip with a gentle ease that made him forget momentarily how terrible his life was at that point. 

Her tongue slid over the tip, teasing over the slit and collecting his pre-cum with a satisfying moan that vibrated through him, tingling over the sensitive nerve endings. Cooper was able to sink into it, some of the muscles in his back loosening as he let himself go. Something so satisfying about the way she held him, one hand on his testicles, the other stroking his shaft as he lips puckered around his head. 

Cooper wanted to show her. Not that she was doing anything wrong, she was doing a better job than anyone else had. Ever. But he wanted to guide her, to ease her throat over his length, to breathe through her nose as he filled her mouth, to show her how he liked it. He kept himself to himself, however, putting his fingers in the belt loops of his pants so they couldn’t reach for anything before he could stop them, like the back of Ronnie’s head to down to her round, firm breasts, or even letting his fingers trail over her-

“Cut! For fuck’s sake.”

“Just as things are looking up…”

Cooper’s attention was focused on the director who sat lazily in his folding camping chair. All of him reacted to the interruption, the disruption of his genuine pleasure, finally, for the first time in who knew how long. Tense, irate. And not in the mood.

“Alright, alright… I thought this was gonna be a one take situation, but geez, Howard. If it’s not one thing, it’s the other with you! You got lines to be getting through, imbecile! How you got hired before, I’ll never know. If it wasn’t for that wife of yours, you’d-”

“Now wait just a damn minute!”

Cooper pulled away from Ronnie, his cock bouncing around as he stomped in a way that might have seemed comical to the crew if he hadn’t looked so intense, filled with complete rage as he shook a pointing finger at the director.

“I am sick of taking this from-”

Everyone was jolted into a panic as a rumble spread through the ground. One burst.

“Can’t be an earthquake…”

The runner had only just come into the room when everything in Cooper’s vision was blocked out by a bright, white light. A quick flare, like a firework, or a flashlight being turned on in a dark room. He could see it still, but smaller, and somewhere on the horizon, down in the city. 

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Get down.”

It was perhaps the last truly selfless thing Cooper did. The glass landed on them, some people got splintered by the small shards as they fell to the ground. But they’d avoided the worst of it. And he didn’t need to help them. These were not people he cared for. They were people who were cruel, difficult, practical strangers. People who didn’t deserve what Cooper knew was coming.

He thought of that day a lot. Of how he’d had it somewhere in him, a long, long time ago, to offer himself or his wisdom in exchange for nothing, to people who these days he’d sooner shoot in the head before spitting in their cup. 

Bitterly, he indulged himself, hoping that at least some of them were suffering a fate worse than his, if such a thing actually existed. 

“Maybe the mutants.”

There was hardly any time this evening for him to satisfy his desire for revenge with fitful fantasies, however, because he was rudely interrupted by who he expected was yet another customer tapping on his shoulder. A new client who didn’t know the rules.

No touching before payment.

So he turned to politely inform them, and make sure they didn’t forget it next time.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

[fic rec mlist] ot8 x reader | multi x reader

main mlist | next (member-specific)

only general themes and tags are listed - please read through the author's specific tags and warnings

both sfw and nsfw fics are included. minors please dni with nsfw fics and respect the age restrictions put into place by the writers (suggestive, smut, and trigger warnings are highlighted in red)

🩶 favourites

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nil author synopsis

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(part vi) author synopsis coming soon

we ransacked the city | @tenelkadjowrites

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letters to a ruined king | @setsugekka (nb: links to ao3 as fic is no longer available on tumblr. author permission to share received)

pairing: hongjoong x reader, seonghwa x reader, yunho x reader, san x reader

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if there’s one thing you remember as a mantra from growing up in a street thief guild, it’s ‘trust no one but your own, don’t get wrapped up with the wrong crowd.’ unfortunately, these seven pirates and their irate captain have left you with little choice.

as the world caves in (to eden) | @atzfilm (nb: links to ao3 as fic is no longer available on tumblr. author permission to share received)

pairing: hongjoong x reader, san x reader, wooyoung x reader, ? x reader

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better than me? | @beahae

pairing: san x reader, ft. seonghwa x yunho x wooyoung x reader

genre: bf!san x reader x bf's best friends!seonghwa yunho wooyoung, smut

length: twoshot - 10.4k

it’s always been just a harmless game, flirting with your boyfriend, san’s, good friends. he’s even in on it. but one night, he starts pushing things further than ever before. 

last updated: 01 april 2024

[deepfivetraveller]

King Baldwin x Time!Traveler!reader

chapter 1

Chapter 2 here

Okay I’m a little new to writing romance so please take it easy on me. Btw I’ll try to keep y/n as neutral as possible but since this is set in the ancient era and religion is very important, y/n shall be hinted as being Hindu since that’s the only one that seems neutral in this situation.

“Alright that's all for the lesson. And since its complete I expect all of you to be thorough with ‘Life of King Baldwin iv’ during this weekend since there will be a test on this very topic next wednesday. Have a great weekend by the way.” The professor stands up and closes his laptop and all the other students start packing up.

“He had a pretty hard life didn’t he?” One of your friends chimes in. You look at her unsurprised. “You mean king Baldwins?”

“Duh! Poor man suffered an incurable disease almost his entire life! Imagine having skin infested in bacteria, euggh!” She recoils in disgust. “Imagine the cure to that disease being bacteria itself! Pretty sure Leprosy can be cured using multi antibiotic therapy.” Another friend joins in the conversation. You finished packing up your bag so you get up. “But no matter what, you gotta respect him. He never used his illness as an excuse to be a bad king.”

“That’s true….” Your first friend agrees. “He’s tough. When I catch a normal cold I give up all of my responsibilities since I’m sick. Wonder how hard it must have been for him.” All of you exit the classroom. A few minutes go by and topics have changed. A fun conversation lasted for a while before it was time to go, so you three parted ways.

As you entered your home your first thought was to take a cold shower after a long, hot and sweaty day. While eagerly hopping into the shower you get reminded of the conversation you had with your friends a while ago. What did king Baldwin even look like? There were no images in your textbook. Curiosity got the best of you, making you draw back the shower curtains to leave. You wrapped a towel and went towards the table where you kept your mobile, typed a quick ‘King Baldwin the 4th images’ and hit enter. Two images popped up. One being an actual painting from the 12th century while the other being an image reconstructed by scientists which looked…realistic to say the least.

His face in the second photo was majestic. His mouth and nose were almost non-existent, having only two triangular shaped holes instead of a nose. His skin was dry, withered and stretched while having the hue of a dry leaf during autumn. Even though he was severely disfigured his eyes were pure and bright, having a child like innocence towards them. King Baldwin was…Quite handsome.

Okay that’s enough now snap out of it! It’s probably just some AI prompt message image anyway. If anyone found out you found him handsome they’d call you crazy. Plus now is not the time to fangirl over a dead king, now's the time to study. In an attempt to distract yourself you pick up your books to do work. Hours painfully go by as you study but finally, finally it was bedtime. You could care less about eating dinner or even taking a shower, you plop yourself onto your bed and wrap the soft blanket around your body. Thoughts about King Baldwin strike your mind again. Seriously, what's wrong with you?! Why is this man plaguing your thoughts all day?

A sigh escaped your mouth from irritation. If only it was possible to console him for his losses or better yet, cure him entirely. The world would have been a better place if he had the lifespan of a normal man.

But there is no point thinking about this, time to go to bed now. As you try to go to sleep your body keeps doing the fake fall thing, annoying you to the core. And finally when your bodys heartbeat was steady and your breathing was quiet, your body did that fake fall thing again but this time it was actually a real fall.

Eyes widen as you try to grab onto the air to prevent your fall but of course, you fail. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for that split second before you finally make an impact on the cobblestone path?

Owch! That fall really hurt, especially at the back of your shoulders! You hope it’s not bruised there. But after that reality check, you look around only to find yourself in some village?

You can see a few small huts and buildings beyond the grassy field. Where are you? How are you here? Why are you here? Too confused and dazed from the fall, you try to look around for people for help. That is until a holographic screen with text pops up.

Congratulations Ms. Y/n. Your wish to cure King Baldwin has been approved by the ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. You are now at Jerusalem, Year: 1181.

“What?”

Yes it’s true Ms.Y/n, you really are in the 12th century.

Your blood is now boiling in anger. “Just because….Someone wishes pity over a dead king DOES NOT ACTUALLY MEAN THEY WANT TO CURE HIM!” You try to grab onto the screen to shake it vigorously but your hands go right thru.

Now now, let’s calm down and try to get over with this together I’m sure we’ll find a solution.

“Calm down…CALM DOWN?!?!?!? I’m in the middle of nowhere in Jerusalem during the 12th century and you want me to CALM DOWN???? I don’t even know French and not to mention I’M NOT CHRISTIAN!” You were screaming with your hand in the air. Pretty sure you woke someone up.

Y-Yes but that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about communication, the language module for french had been uploaded into your brain while you fell here.

The screen flickers a little, maybe due to fear.

Uploaded knowledge? “But I’m a woman from the 21st century! I can’t live here! I’m wayy to accustomed to the privileges of my time!”

That’s one of my perks miss! By using currency of this time you may purchase products of your time thru me! The screen changes to an online store. For now you have access to basic necessities like food and clothes. As you complete missions you shall unlock other parts of the online market! The screens display brightness increases due to enthusiasm, convinced it has impressed you.

You however look at it in exasperated shock. “How is this even possible?” You say with dread in your voice. “Who sent me here?” You ask, no, demand.

Like I said You’ve been sent here by ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. I’m pretty sure you can’t read that since mortals don’t have the capacity to….

Mortals? Is this the play of some higher being? God even? Too many questions float through your head, making you visibly tired. You can feel the bottom of the skin beneath your eyes folding, an indicator you’re developing dark circles.

Ah. It looks like you’re tired. It’s night anyway. You should sleep.

“But where do I-”

“Excuse me madam.” You turn around to see a man standing behind you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.”

So he can’t see the screen. From his ragged outfit he seems to be a commoner. He also genuinely seems worried so you guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

“Yes, sorry for that.” You say embarrassingly while you get up. “You see I’m from the family of wandering traders, here to sell spices from my land. I was talking to myself since I was quite irritated at how I didn’t have an inn for the night.” The explanation seems responsible enough I guess.

“But I don’t see any goods with you… And how did a young lady such as yourself travel alone? Where is your husband?”

Crap. He’s doubting you. You need to give him a reasonable explanation fast or he’ll call you a witch or something.

“Oh no sir you’re mistaken! My father is the one who has the spices, it’s his business after all. We had to split ways during travel due to inconveniences, I’m merely here to help him!” You put on your best smile to convince him.

“O-Oh I’m sorry madame! H-Here let me lead you, I know an Inn nearby.” Good. Looks like he believes you. But now it’s your turn.

“I’m sorry sir but how can I trust you?” You step back a little. “What if you take advantage of me? How shall I testify my innocence? The locals would definitely believe you over me.”

“No no please don’t! I’m a married man. My wife’s right there.” he points at the lady standing just outside the house, looking worried. You look at her and she nods her head in reassurance. “You seem like a noble from your land madame judging from your colorful dress, why don’t the both of us show you where the inn is?”

Hmm….Guess colorful clothing is rare here. And he really does seem like he wants to help.

“Very well then. Both of you show me they way.” The man eagerly tells his wife the incident and both of them show you around. The screen follows you, showing you a winking emoticon.

Congrats Ms. Y/n! You have officially begun your first mission!

[starryevermore]

i will go to secret gardens in my mind ✧ tamlin

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader

summary: you have always been a wallflower, but to tamlin, you are the finest rose in the garden. 

word count: 7,676

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, unrequited feelings, pining, multi pov, plot twist perchance??, not proofread 

PART TWO

The Spring Court had been rebuilt. What would have been a joyous occasion under any other circumstances, for perhaps any other court, left your family scowling as they looked over the invitation that landed on Rhysand’s desk this morning. An invitation to all courts—to come to Spring and celebrate the burgeoning court. No one, it seemed, wanted to go. It was understandable, of course. After everything that Spring’s High Lord, Tamlin, had put Feyre through—had put your entire family through—it almost felt like walking into a trap. But call you naïve, or perhaps a tad too optimistic for your own good, but you wanted to believe that Tamlin might have truly turned over a new leaf. Sometimes, it took someone losing everything to learn the value of all that they hold dear. No one wanted to go, it seemed, except for you.

Well, and Lucien, but he often fought in Tamlin’s corner. “Tamlin is a far cry from what you remember him as,” he said. “What he did to Feyre was horrible, but he’s trying to make amends. Isn’t the point of the Night Court to offer second chances?”

“We don’t owe that worm a second chance,” Nesta snarled, her eyes narrowing at Lucien. 

“It might be good for Feyre to close this chapter of her life,” Lucien continued. 

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Because you care so much about Feyre’s wellbeing. Remind me, what were you doing while she wasted away in that manor?”

“All I’m saying is, you should consider hearing him out. We all were troubled after Under the Mountain. His actions were, are, shameful, but that doesn’t mean he cannot regret what he did.”

You noticed the tension in Feyre’s shoulders and reached out, placing your hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to go. I just thought it might be fun. We haven’t just gone out in so long.”

Rhysand’s narrowed gaze turned on you. “Then we can go to Rita’s, or take a walk down the Sidra. Hell, I’m sure if we asked Tarquin, we could have a nice trip down to Summer if you’re wanting to go somewhere warm. We don’t have to go all the way to the damned Spring Court for fun.”

A sigh escaped your lips. You rose from your seat, turned to leave. “Forget I said anything.”

Feyre looked up at you. She said your name, standing to follow after you. “If you want to go—”

You waved her off. “It’s alright. I didn’t want to go that bad. I only thought it would be fun, but Rhys is right. We can do something else instead.”

She said your name again, but you ignored her. You understood why she of all people would be apprehensive of going to Spring. Trust and believe, you understood. Tamlin was hardly the most wonderful person in Prythian in your eyes. He let Feyre waste away, he sold you, Nesta, and Elain out to Hybern in a vain attempt to get Feyre back…At every turn, it seemed like he was dead set on humiliating her. But when it was all said and done, he still gave up a kernel of his power to bring back Rhysand. “Be happy, Feyre,” he’d said. It was nothing groundbreaking, it was not even close to an apology for all he’d done, but it seemed like a step in the right direction. 

As you retreated to your room, you didn’t have to look to know you were being followed. Ever since Elain had accepted the mating bond with Lucien, Azriel always trailed so close behind you, he was like a second shadow. When you reached your room, you left the door open, allowing him to slip inside. The door clicked shut behind him. 

You took a seat in the bay window, looking out over the city of Velaris. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

The cushion sank underneath Azriel’s weight. You moved over, avoiding your knees knocking into his. “I just want to know what’s going on in your mind.”

“Does it matter? Rhysand has made his decision clear.”

“Of course it matters. It matters to me.”

It should’ve tugged at your heartstrings to hear him say those words. But all you were reminded of was how Azriel pined after Elain for so long, and for Mor for centuries before that. You were all too aware that you were just the latest object of his affection. “I don’t know. I just…It feels like something is calling for me to go there. Something trying to tug me along until I finally cross over Spring’s border.”

When you spared Azriel a glance, you noted the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. “You should tell Rhys that. He might be more amenable.”

“Rhysand is hardly amenable to anything that isn’t already in his favor.” You shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m Elain, with some vision about why we need to go to Spring. I just…I don’t know. I have a feeling it’s somewhere I should be.”

Azriel looked you over. Perhaps he was trying to ascertain if you’ve lost your mind. And maybe you had. You could hardly explain the feeling, deep in your chest, that pulled you towards the Spring Court. The feeling only intensified when you learned of the invitation to come to Spring’s celebration. “I’ll talk to Rhys for you. He’s been wanting to forge alliances with the other courts. If he’s able to extend a hand to Spring, other courts might be willing to work with him.”

You shrugged again. “Do as you please.”

He reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it. At least you found a modicum of comfort in the gentle squeeze. Azriel’s mouth opened—to say what, you weren’t sure, for a knock sounded against your door. It opened shortly after, Feyre slipping inside. Her eyes fell to your joined hands. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. You pulled away. One of his shadows trailed after you.

“We’re going to Spring,” she said, smiling. But it didn’t reach her eyes. 

You stood up, crossing the room in a few strides, then took Feyre’s hands. “We don’t have to if it’ll cause you pain. I don’t mean to dredge up those terrible memories.”

“I am High Lady. I can set aside those feelings for one night, if it might end in an alliance that will benefit my people. Besides, Lucien might be right. It might do me some good to speak with Tamlin under better circumstances.”

“Are you sure?”

She offered you a smile. “I’m sure.” She squeezed your hands. “You haven’t asked for much since you’ve come here. The least I can do is give you this.”

You shook your head. “No, Feyre, you’ve already gave up so much for our family—”

“Hush. If I didn’t want to do it, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Fine. But the second you’re uncomfortable, we all leave, okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Okay.”

Rhysand was certainly giving you the cold shoulder since Feyre insisted that you all go to the Spring Court, but you could hardly find it in yourself to care. Not when you finally got to trade in the darkness of Night for the blossoming life of Spring. You couldn’t wait to finally leave Night’s borders. You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had the opportunity to leave, save for the war with Hybern. Other than that, though, you had bounced between Rhysand’s many homes, going to whichever place made you least likely to pick a fight with the High Lord. These days, that was primarily the House of Wind, since he had given it to Cassian and Nesta. That, of course, left you with even fewer chances to go out. If you didn’t have an Illyrian to fly you down, you would have to brave the 10,000 stairs. And you were no Valkyrie—you were sure you wouldn’t even make it down a few dozen before throwing in the towel. Of course, you were certain that Azriel would be more than pleased to be at your beck and call. 

After all, he sat on your bed now, watching as you rifled through your dresses, trying to pick something out to wear. 

“You look beautiful in anything,” he said. “Why are you putting so much effort into this?” A hidden question was on the tip of his tongue—Were you trying to impress someone? Perhaps him?

“My mother always said, when you go outside, you look your best because you never know what will happen.”

Azriel stood up, crossing over to your wardrobe. A scarred hand wrapped around yours, stopping you from flicking through the dresses. His voice was husky as he asked, “And what do you think will happen?” 

Your face grew warm. Even if you knew that he was only pursuing you because you were an Archeron, for a male to be so close to you…Well, it was easy to get you flustered. Stuck between Nesta’s vivaciousness and Elain’s sweetness, it was easy for you to fade into the background. When your family was better off, everyone flocked to Elain. After your family became rich again, Elain garnered so many men’s attention. Even Feyre, when your family was its lowest, found herself with someone, if just for the pursuit of pleasure. But you…You were a wallflower through and through. 

“Anything. Nothing,” you said. 

Your breath stilled as Azriel pulled a dress from your wardrobe. It was a beautiful blue tulle dress. Silver stars littered its entire body. There was a tasteful slit up one side. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, you knew there was a matching pair of long, sheer gloves. You had gotten it for Starfall, but found yourself tucking it away in favor of a simpler gown. It, however, wasn’t lost on you that its color complemented Azriel’s cobalt siphons well. 

“You should wear this,” he said. “In case something does happen.”

You found yourself nodding. 

A soft smile crossed his face. It took everything in you to not look away, lest you give him the wrong idea. You may have been a wallflower, but you were not a demure female. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

You nodded again. 

Azriel placed the dress in your hands. You expected him to leave, but he lingered still. His hand grasped yours, pulling it up to meet his lips. He made eye contact with you the entire time, hazel eyes twinkling, before he pulled away. 

When he was finally gone, a sigh escaped your lips. A part of you, you recognized, should have been delighted at Azriel’s attention. He was an attractive male. He had so many qualities that you admired—protective, loyal, kind. But anytime you looked at him, you were reminded of his past history with females. How he pined after Mor for centuries. How he fixated on Elain. In both cases, each made it clear in their own ways that it would never go further. And here you were, certain that you were sending clear signals that you were uninterested, and yet…There he remained. Where was Rhysand, telling him to leave you be? Could you only be left alone if you had a mate?

Perhaps it would be easier, you mused as you changed into the dress, if this tug in your chest was for Azriel. That, by going to Spring, something would happen that would make the bond snap for him. At least if he was your mate, you could convince him to get a home of your own, far away from the busybodies occupying the Inner Circle. At least you would finally feel free enough to breathe on your own. 

You spared a glance in the mirror, satisfied with your hair and makeup, before leaving your room. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see Azriel waiting on the other side of the door, shadows swirling around him. His face brightened as he saw you. An arm was extended toward you. You took it. 

“Beautiful, just as I expected.” Azriel smiled at you. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

All eyes were on the Inner Circle as you entered the manor, but you were too busy looking at everything else. Spring was…Mother, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever seen before. Not even Elain’s gardens held a candle to the beauty housed here. It was difficult to imagine how a Court so ethereal could have been in ruins just months before. It was easier, though, to see how Feyre could fall in love with this land. 

It was even easier, you mused, to fall in love with Spring’s High Lord as he stepped into the Inner Circle’s path. It was the first time you really got a good look at him. When you were taken, you hadn’t dared look at your captors. And when you came out of the Cauldron, you cried so hard you couldn’t see. But the male before you now…Wow. 

“Welcome,” he said, extending a hand to Rhysand. As Rhysand shook it, he turned to Feyre. “Thank you all for coming. I cannot imagine it was an easy decision to make.”

Feyre tilted her head in your direction. “Thank Lucien and my sister. It was their convincing arguments that brought us here.”

Tamlin’s emerald eyes fell to you. Something in your chest tugged harder, but you couldn’t dwell on it as Azriel took a subtle step in front of you. A charming smile passed across the High Lord’s lips. “Well, thank you, too,” he said. “And if I may, I must offer the utmost apologies for everything that transpired the last time our paths crossed. There is no excuse for my actions.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of the Cauldron. The memory of being submerged as a human, reemerging as a fae…How everything was so different, too intense. It was, perhaps, the darkest part of your life thus far. You prayed it was never so dark again. “It wasn’t all bad,” you found yourself saying. “At least now I can live a long life with my sisters.”

“That is a generous way to think about it,” Tamlin said. He took a step toward you, a hand outstretched. His eyes flicked to Azriel as a growl escaped the Spymaster. Still, he reached for your hand. When you slipped it into his, he lifted it toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Something, something akin to joy, swirled inside of you. A tendril of a shadow pulled your hand from Tamlin’s. “Would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?”

“I—” The Inner Circle tensed around you, though you caught Lucien rolling his eyes at their antics. A dance didn’t seem so horrible, but you hated the way Feyre looked so uncomfortable at the prospect. You wished you were a daemati and could see what she was thinking. “Perhaps later. I should like to spend some time mingling.”

Tamlin seemed disappointed, but he still smiled as he said, “Of course. Have fun.”

He nodded at Feyre and Rhysand before disappearing into the crowd. 

“It was like he disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Y/N,” Mor remarked, plucking a glass from a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Don’t,” Feyre warned. She looked at you, her eyes wide with worry. “Don’t fall for his charms. Dance with him if you so wish. But…I don’t know how much I believed him to have changed.” 

“I won’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done to you. It will take more than charming smiles and offers for dances to win me over,” you said, turning away from her. Your heart clenched at her distrust. Well, perhaps it wasn’t distrust. To be here, to be in Spring again, must have been extraordinarily difficult for her. But you were her sister. You knew her struggles, her pain, better than most. You weren’t going to throw all that away because Tamlin was kind to you. You weren’t that sort of female. 

A scarred hand caught your wrist before you could slip away into the crowd, perhaps find a nice corner to hide in and people watch. “Would you? Like to dance?” Azriel asked. 

“I see Kallias and Viviane. I would like to say hello.”

You could feel the Inner Circle’s eyes on you as you disappeared into the throng of fae. Though you were no daemati, you could practically hear their collective thoughts: You would be better off with Azriel. But what did they know about you?

Coming here was a mistake. You’d decided so hours ago as you could see various members of the Inner Circle keeping tabs on you from the corner of your eye. Despite hardly making a move from the corner you resided in, save for trips to the refreshment table or conversations with the few friends you had made from other courts, they still hovered. You wondered if it was under Rhysand’s orders, or perhaps Feyre’s. To make sure you didn’t slip away to dance with Tamlin, become the next pretty thing trapped in his gilded cage. 

You sucked your tongue against your teeth as you watched Azriel approach you from across the room, Nesta and Cassian slipping off onto the dance floor. The changing of the guards. Your eyes rolled. Of everyone, Azriel’s presence was the worst. While the others would linger, he would stay by your side, trying to coax conversations out of you or pull you over for a dance. It might have been sweet if you weren’t all too aware that it was a vain effort to keep you from Tamlin. And unlike the others, who would have been merely following orders from the High Lady and Lord, Azriel had his own ulterior motives. 

When you lost sight of Azriel, dancing couples blocking each other’s view of the other, you took the opportunity to slide out a nearby door and into the hall. They would be furious to learn you left—especially when it was because of you that they were even here. But you couldn’t handle the hovering any longer. 

The music from the ballroom soon faded into the background as you walked down the hall, searching for some sanctuary. There were groups of fae lingering around the hallway, but none paid you any mind. It was refreshing, if you were being honest. They had no idea who you were, who your sisters were, of what they had done to save Prythian (or doom this court). You smiled at one couple, wrapped up in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of all that happened around them. 

You spied an open door and slipped inside. It was far smaller than the ballroom, but still grand. Paintings hung along the walls—a few you recognized to be in Feyre’s style. The thing that caught your eye, though, was the handsome piano in the middle of the room. A smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you’d had a chance to play. During your family’s dark years, you of course didn’t have access to any instruments, much less one so expensive. When you arrived in Velaris, straight out of the Cauldron, you had clung to the instrument, letting all of your pain flow out of you until there was nothing left. These days, though, you had strayed away.

You took a seat at the bench and ran your fingers along the ivory keys. You tested a few notes to see if it was still in key, but you didn’t make it very far. 

“Do you play?”

Tamlin stood in the doorframe, watching you curiously. Panic settled in your chest. If the Inner Circle, if Feyre, found out that you were alone with Spring’s High Lord, you knew they would be less than pleased. But that tug in your chest—it pulled harder than it ever had before, and that brought you an odd sort of comfort. 

“Yes.”

“May I hear you play something?”

You eyed him, trying to ascertain if this was some trick. As much as you wanted to believe your family was being overdramatic, you did wonder if they knew something you didn’t. When you sensed no ill motives, you gave a nod. 

As you pressed down on the keys, it felt like everything melted away around you. There was no inter-court politics to be wary of. No Shadowsingers following close on your heels. No sisters whose heart would surely break if she knew you were letting him in. Just you and the music that flowed out. 

“That was beautiful,” he said as the final note rang through the room. He took a few steps closer to you. Tamlin extended a hand. “I wish, though, that I could still hear it while we danced. If you would like to, that is.”

You stared at his outstretched hand. 

“Just say the word if you don’t wish to. I know you didn’t dance out there, but I thought, perhaps, without all those eagle eyes watching you—”

You took his hand. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That’s alright. Neither am I.”

Tamlin was a right liar, he was. As he spun you around the room, you clumsily just missing his feet, you knew he was a liar. But the awkward dance made you laugh, harder than you had in a long time. The tug in your chest pulled more than it ever had before. 

“If this is you at your worst, I would hate to see how skilled you would be after a few lessons,” you teased. 

“We could take lessons together,” Tamlin suggested. The thought made your smile grow, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Maybe after tonight, your High Lord will let you visit more often.”

“Perhaps—” you began to say. 

“That will never happen.”

Shadows swirled around you, tugging you out of Tamlin’s arms. You gasped, a chill running down your spine. Large wings kept Tamlin out of your view. When you tried to look around Azriel, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place. 

“Did he do something to you?” Azriel asked. 

“What? No!”

“You just disappeared. Everyone’s in a panic. Feyre looked ready to kill, Nesta ready to hide the body. We didn’t know what happened to you. We didn’t know if you were hurt or—” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Tamlin. “—or worse.”

“I’m fine! I’m not some damsel in distress—”

“Of course not. But you have to understand—”

“No! You have to understand that you are not my knight in shining armor, Azriel! I am not so stupid to just waltz headfirst into danger. If I ever found myself in such a position, I would have screamed or called out for Rhysand and prayed he was listening. I do not need saving, especially not—” You caught Tamlin’s eye over Azriel’s shoulder. Something snapped into place, a golden thread tying you to him. “—especially not with my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. Hurt, maybe? Or anger? “He can’t be—”

“He is. He is the reason I felt the calling to come to Spring, Az. He’s my mate, and you have to respect that.”

Behind you, you heard a flurry of footsteps as the room quickly filled. Your eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. Was it not enough to have to deal with Azriel? Did everyone else have to come, too? 

Feyre’s voice rang through the room. “Y/N, come here, please.”

“I should be allowed to make the choice to come, shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what the Night Court is all about?” You looked at her, a solitary tear dropping down your face. “What? Are choices not allowed when it goes against your wishes?”

“Please,” she repeated, her hand reaching out for you. 

Tamlin stepped around Azriel, stood by your side. “I would not hurt her, Feyre. I have given you every reason to distrust me, to hate me, but I wouldn’t do anything to her.”

Feyre closed the distance between the two of you, Rhysand hot on her heels. She snarled at Tamlin, “I have every reason to not believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I understand—”

Her finger jabbed at his chest. “Don’t. Don’t you dare give me any honeyed words or false promises about how Y/N—my sister—being your mate changes things. A skunk still stinks even when it hasn’t sprayed.”

“Feyre, please, can’t we just talk this through—” you tried. This was going horribly wrong. You hadn’t imagined any of this would happen just by following the tugging in your chest. A mate, you might have suspected. But all of this—

Her head snapped toward you. Her eyes glazed over as Rhysand spoke into her mind. When they cleared, she spoke with the authority of a High Lady but with none of the love of a sister.“You said we could leave if I became uncomfortable. I would like to leave,” Feyre said. “Rhys, please, get her out of here.”

Rhysand’s hands were on you, winnowing you away, before you could even dare to make your protests. But you didn’t miss the pain in Tamlin’s beautiful emerald eyes. 

Feyre had made a terrible mistake. Since that horrible, awful ball, you were moved into the River House so she and Rhys could keep an eye on you. While you might not have been able to leave the House of Wind without an Illyrian to fly you down or otherwise brave the 10,000 steps, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to go. At least here, they could make sure you remained in place. Anyone who wished to see you, save for Spring’s Cauldron damned High Lord, could. They just needed to make are that something horrible wouldn’t happen. 

But you hadn’t left your room in weeks. They would send food up to you, but would find only small bites taken out of it when they came for the next meal. You had said scarcely a single word. The only time you would move from your bed was to take a bath, where you would sit for hours still. Once, Feyre had gone to check on you, to make sure that you hadn’t hurt yourself, and found you staring at the bubbled water, unblinking. You hadn’t even realized she was there.

The only person you seemed to respond to was Azriel. He would go to your room, crawl in your bed, and play with your hair. Sometimes, Feyre would linger in the doorway, watching you and him. Azriel would talk to you, try and convince you to leave your room. You would only cry.

And now, Feyre paced the length of Rhys’s office, chewing on the corner of a fingernail. Rhys sat at his desk, his face leaned against his palm. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know how to make this better. She, she’s wasting away in there.”

Rhys let out a sigh. “There is an obvious solution to the problem, though not the preferred one.”

Feyre spun on her heel, narrowing her eyes at her mate. “You know perfectly well that I can’t just let her be with Tamlin. It would be safer sending her into a viper’s den.”

He rose and crossed the room, took her hands in his own. “You don’t mean that. You and Tamlin were not right for each other, especially after everything that happened Under the Mountain. You no longer wanted the same things as him. Was his actions wrongful? Of course. He could have tried to help you, but you also pushed him away. It was doomed from the start.”

“And I should let her go into a doomed relationship with him?” Feyre poked her finger at Rhys’s chest. “She is too good for that. She deserves a better mate.”

“I agree. But the Mother found reason to bind their souls together. You once thought I was something straight out of a nightmare, but look how far we’ve come.”

“I recall you hating Tamlin for everything he did to me.”

“And I do. I still do.” A sigh escaped Rhys’s lips. “But I also look at Y/N and remember having to leave you behind in Spring. I remember collapsing in Mor’s arms, begging for just a chance with you. I was a shell of myself then. I worry that if we keep them apart, we’ll lose her either way.”

Feyre turned away. She looked toward the door. For a flicker of a moment, she wished she could go back to that horrible cottage, when she was still a human. Even if survival was a struggle at best, she didn’t have to worry about your sweet soul being taken advantage of. 

“Send a letter to Tamlin,” she finally said. “Tell him he is welcome to come here. If Y/N so wishes to leave with him, she may. But make clear, if a single hair on her head is harmed, if we receive a single word that she is being treated as anything less than what she deserves, it will constitute an act of war.” 

Tamlin stared up at the River House. He had moved faster than he had ever moved before when the invitation to come to the Night Court was extended. So fast, he realized with a glance at his feet, he forgot to put on shoes before winnowing away. He hoped you wouldn’t mind. Ever since Rhysand had winnowed you out from under his nose, he had been a mess. If Tamlin thought losing Feyre was him at his lowest, it paled in comparison to losing you. Worse yet, he had the previous experience to know he couldn’t give into his desperate impulses and expect everything to go smoothly. No, he had to tread carefully. 

Still, he found himself sending you letters over the last few weeks. Tamlin never received a response, but he never expected one. He wasn’t sure how well you were being surveilled, if the Inner Circle were taking active steps to keep you from contacting him. But he hoped his words brought you some modicum of comfort. 

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock. Rhysand looked him over. “You didn’t have time to at least make yourself presentable?”

“I thought if I took too much time, the invitation would be rescinded.”

Rhysand’s brow raised. “I wasn’t aware you could have such intelligent thoughts. You know, since you had sided with Hybern so readily in the beginning.”

Tamlin bit back a snarl. It would not end well to pick a fight with Night’s High Lord. He knew good and well he was out-powered, and he was sure that Feyre’s threat should also extend to any threat her own mate faced. Instead, he said as diplomatically as he could manage, “It was a terrible mistake, but one I would make again if it would give me a chance to live a long life with my mate, should she so have me.”

Feyre appeared, pushing Rhysand out of the doorway. She, too, scrutinized his appearance, nose wrinkling at the sight of him, but at least had the courtesy to say nothing about it. “You came quickly.”

Somewhere in the distance, Tamlin could hear Cassian chortle and mutter something about “that’s what she said.” 

“I did not know how long this invitation of hospitality might remain open.” Tamlin searched Feyre’s eyes, searching for a sign of your wellbeing. “Is she alright?”

Tamlin watched as Feyre swallowed, her hands subtly shaking. She had always cared deeply about her sisters, perhaps you more than Nesta or Elain. Where Nesta could hold her own and Elain was sweet enough to charm any potential suitor, she worried that you were too quiet for your own good. Too willing to slip into the shadows and be forgotten. 

“She has hardly eaten since that night. We…We have fixed dinner. We thought she might be more amenable if you brought a plate to her room?”

“Of course, of course,” Tamlin said. Feyre moved out of the threshold, motioning for him to step inside. He did. “Has she…?”

“She hasn’t said a word. She just sits and stares. I thought females were able to suppress the bond. I don’t understand why she is so afflicted.”

Tamlin suppressed an eye roll. He had to play nice, at least until he could see you again. Until he could find out if you wished to be his mate. “You took her choice away, Feyre,” he bit out, weighing his words carefully. “Anyone would be heartbroken by such a betrayal. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Rhysand snarled, but Tamlin ignored him. He maintained eye contract with Feyre until she looked away, gesturing to the dining room. “Take a plate to her room. Just up the stairs, third door on the right.”

He gave a curt nod and did as directed. Every step weighed him down. Tamlin was grateful, at least, for the plate in his hand, to distract him from the sinking feeling in his chest. Neither you nor him had closed off the bond. Tamlin felt every bit of your anguish and he had done everything he could to send comfort down the bond. Every day, he prayed to the Mother that it helped you. Now, as he stood on the other side of your door, he wasn’t sure it did.

The door was ever so slightly ajar. Tamlin pushed it open. The sight nearly made him fall to his knees. You were laying in bed, back to him, staring out the large window overlooking the gardens. If it wasn’t for a subtle rise and fall of your chest, he might have thought you dead. Tamlin stepped inside, walking around your bed, until he faced you. He set the plate on your nightstand and knelt in front of you. 

“Have my dreams begun to torment me, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“No,” Tamlin whispered back. He reached out, cupping your face in his hand. His thumb run over the swell of your cheek. “I am here. I am real. Feyre allowed me to come.”

“I cannot even trust my subconscious now,” you said. You rolled over onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Your comforter moved with you, revealing the papers you kept clutched against your chest. Your eyes fell shut. 

Tamlin sat on the edge of your bed. He reached over and brushed your hair from your face. “Open your eyes, please. I am here. Feyre had Rhysand send me a letter, inviting me here. I can show you if you like?”

An eye opened. “I doubt you could. Everyone knows that written word in dreams hardly makes sense.”

He pulled the letter tucked away in his pocket. Carefully unfolding it, he pressed it into your hands. Your other eye opened. Slowly, you sat up, dropping the other letters—his letters—from your grip. Your eyes scanned over the page, once, twice, three times. Slowly, you looked up, as if seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re here?”

“I am.”

“Feyre allowed it?”

“She did.”

Your hand moved to your mouth. You chewed on your thumbnail. “She would hate me if I left.”

“She would not. And, even if she did, that is her burden to bear. Feyre cannot keep you sheltered here anymore than I could her.” Tamlin grabbed the plate and held it out to you. “Could you eat first, before we talk about this? Please?”

You stared at the plate for a long, silent more. Tamlin nearly thought you hadn’t heard him. He was ready to ask again, the words on the tip of his tongue, when you looked up at him. “Could we go to the gardens to eat?” 

“Of course.” 

Tamlin extended a hand to you. You slipped yours into his grasp. Joy soured through him. He bit back his smile as he helped you to your feet. His hands were quick to move to your waist, steadying you as you swayed. How long had you been laying there, in that bed? Had you even left it? A part of him, a territorial part he worked hard to keep at bay, had half a mind to scold Feyre for waiting this long. He, of course, would be a hypocrite if he did. But you also deserved someone in your corner. 

Slowly, the two of you moved out of your room and down the stairs. At the creak in the wooden steps, all conversation in the dining room ceased. There was a scrape of a chair. Feyre appeared in the doorway as you reached the bottom step. You didn’t make eye contact with your sister as you turned for the exit. 

“Y/N wished to eat in the gardens,” Tamlin said and followed after you. He did not wait for Feyre’s response. 

You stared at Tamlin, chewing on the bread that Elain had made. He made no protest when you plopped yourself on the dirt path. He only sat across from you and watched as you slowly ate your food. It nearly made you sick, if you were honest. You hadn’t experienced this level of hunger since you were human. You remembered when Feyre would bring food home, how you would have to eat slowly so you wouldn’t vomit it all up. There was something about such extreme hunger that it almost felt like food couldn’t save you from the gnawing pain. 

“I still do not quite believe you’re really here,” you said. 

“I can promise you, I am.” Tamlin reached for your hand, and you allowed him to take it. His thumb stroked over your knuckles. “I have missed you. If I wasn’t concerned that an unprompted arrival would have waged a war no court could surely handle, I would have come sooner.”

“It was not right what they did…” You trailed off. 

Tamlin’s emerald green eyes twinkled with curiosity. “But?” he prompted. 

“I am not sure I can find it in my heart to leave them,” you said. His face dropped. His hand started to pull away, but you tightened your grip. “Feyre and Nesta are still here. While Feyre may have given the order to take me away, she is my sister. She sacrificed so much for our family. I feel like I would be throwing it all back in her face to go to Spring with you. At least when Elain left, she was going with Lucien to Day. People she could trust, you know. I worry that if I leave with you, she would never see me again.”

He straightened. “I would never keep you from your sister. Any of them. I have done little to prove such, but I have learned from my mistakes with Feyre. I have grown, am still growing, from them.”

“Not because of you,” you corrected. “You know how she feels about you. Even if I extend an invitation to her, she still may never come. And she may never extend one back. I could never forgive myself if I damaged our relationship so.”

Tamlin’s eyes searched yours. For what, you couldn’t be certain. 

“If she does so, she would be the one to damage the relationship. I have hurt her greatly, I understand. But, if she chooses to plant herself between you and I, that is her choice to make and her consequences to bear.” He reached over, cradling your face in his hand. “You are a grown female. If this is a mistake of its own, then it is your mistake to make. She cannot keep you here any better than I tried to keep her in Spring.”

You looked away. You pushed the plate away and began to rise. Tamlin followed after you. As you began to walk down the path, he trailed after you. He kept a distance between you, far enough that he wasn’t on your heels but close enough that he could be at your side in a few long strides. 

In your heart, you knew he was right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, no matter how hard you tried. After everything Feyre has done, after all she has suffered, staying with her was the least you could do. Yet, why would you sacrifice your happiness for hers when she was so quick to rip it from you without even listening to what you had to say? You could not yet forget  the cold look in her eyes as she ordered Rhysand to winnow you away. She was not your sister then. She was anything but. 

“Come to Spring,” Tamlin said from behind you. You paused in your step. You did not turn, but you listened. “It does not have to be permanent. Come to Spring, see if this is worth it. If you decide that it is not, then I will not stop you from returning here. I will respect whatever choice you make, but I would appreciate it if you could give us a fair shot. That is all I ask of you, I swear it.”

You turned. You looked past Tamlin at the River House. You were certain that Feyre and Rhysand were trying to listen in on the conversation. You were sure they were waiting for your answer. But, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what they thought. After all, they hadn’t cared to ask if you even wanted Tamlin as a mate. 

“One chance,” you said. “One chance, and if I decide to that I would rather a relationship with Feyre, you must not follow.”

“I promise, whatever you decide in the end, I shall respect it.”

Feyre watched as you gripped Tamlin’s arm, an apologetic smile on your lips. She had a million things she wished to say to you—a hundred warnings, a few hundred thousand promises to have her door open to you if you ever want to come back, and an acceptance to the offer to visit Spring in a month’s time. Instead of saying any of those things, she mouthed a goodbye while Tamlin winnowed you away. 

Rhys’s hand fell to her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. Somewhere in the distance, she could see Nesta and Cassian hovering. Elain and Lucien busied themselves with clearing the dishes. 

“She’ll be alright,” Rhys said. “He is not so stupid as to make the same mistakes again.”

Feyre hummed. “Is this where you say it's different with mates?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen too many awful mated couples to say that with any ounce of sincerity. But, I will say, he does seem different with her.”

“And if he isn’t,” Nesta said, stepping toward her, “he will pay tenfold for any pain he causes her.”

Feyre nearly laughed as she watched Cassian nod enthusiastically to Nesta’s threat as he bounced Nyx on his hip. She could only hope that you knew how protected you were—that you had the entirety of the Night Court to support you should trouble ever make its way to you. But any laughter she had, any words she wanted to say, died in her throat as shadows flooded the River House. 

Azriel. 

Shit. Rhys had sent him off on a mission a few days prior. Azriel had been reluctant to go—one of the few times she was certain that Azriel would fight her mate to the death on an issue. But it was Feyre’s promise to keep you safe in the River House that gave him leave to go. She had forgotten that when she had the letter sent to Tamlin, when she bid you goodbye. You were gone now and, worse, you hadn’t said goodbye to him. 

“Where. Is. She.”

Feyre turned, looking at Azriel’s towering form darkening the doorway. His wings were flared out behind him, beating furiously as his shadows continued to search the home for any sign of you.

“She has gone to Spring, with Tamlin.”

Azriel growled. His nostrils flared. The shadows began to swirl around Feyre. Rhys took a step in front of her, ready to block any attack sent her way. Would Azriel attack her? Why would he be so upset about not being able to say goodbye to you? She knew he pined after you, but she thought it was like Mor and Elain. Something one-sided. Had she missed something? 

“It was her choice, brother,” Rhys said. “We are welcome to visit her whenever we so please. If you would like, we can go now, just so you may have a chance to talk to her.”

“If I go to Spring, I’m bringing her straight here. This is where she belongs. Not with that swine of a High Lord.”

“She has every right to choose to be with her mate—”

“No!” Azriel snapped. “I am her mate!”

It felt like time froze. Everyone stared at the Shadowsinger. Even Elain and Lucien came out from the kitchen, concern about his antics. Feyre blinked. No, that couldn’t be. Tamlin was your mate. You had felt the bond with him, and he you. 

“Triads are a thing of legend,” Rhys said slowly. “They haven’t existed in millennia…Cauldron, no one has ever been sure they were ever truly real. You aren’t suggesting…”

“All I know is that the bond snapped when I found her crying after Nyx’s birth, so certain she’d lose her sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in one fell swoop that all three of you surviving overwhelmed her. It snapped as I held her, trying to reassure her that all was right. That no one would hurt her or her family.” Azriel took a step toward them, glowering. “You have sent my mate into a lion’s den. Lesser males have killed for lesser slights.”

“Azriel, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” Feyre tried. 

But he was already gone—wings rustling against the wind as he flew away. To where, she couldn’t say for certain. 

PART TWO

[fatuismooches]

fabulam diu oblitus - prelude.

synopsis: The tale of the raven and the sparrow has long been forgotten by most, but some will always remember.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is the first part of a multi-chaptered fic that became too long to put into one post. It is a telling of your and Dottore's life as a fairytale, with fragile reader because yes. Thank you to all of my followers and anons who helped me figure out the animals that should be used and especially my lovely moot @kaixserzz!

prelude. first interlude. second interlude. postlude. sequel.

“Once upon a time, there was a baby raven. The raven was an inquisitive and curious hatchling who wanted to explore things that no one else had ever dared of. But because of his ideas, the raven was beaten, shunned, and cursed for the entirety of his childhood. Eventually, as soon as he reached adulthood, he was chased away from his nest, and from that day on, the raven swore to never trust a single soul ever again. But one day, the raven came across a sparrow, who seemed to love to challenge and test him at every possible moment.”

When Zandik was exiled from his hometown, he thought that he was prepared for what was to come, for he had experienced the worst of what humanity had to offer. He knew better than to give any other person the time of day and resolved himself to be cold and closed off. And he didn’t mind being that way, as everyone at the Akademiya was a sore, shallow disappointment. He wondered if anything of substance ever went through those brains of theirs. Ignoring his classmates had garnered him a poor reputation, but it didn’t bother Zandik too much as he was far more interested in his personal research.

That was until he met you.

You had barged into his life out of nowhere, much to his dismay, and invaded his space, now occupying one of the beds in the dorm. You had greatly sabotaged his workspace and time, as now he had to be conscious of what he worked on in your presence. He had to be careful in his own bedroom because of you. It was positively infuriating. But perhaps the most confusing and annoying thing was your attitude towards him. 

You were… kind. You would smile at him. You would inquire into his studies and research with supposedly genuine interest (he had yet to deduce whether you were being real or not.) You would cook for him and continued to do so even though he had yet to thank you for it. You would run errands for him willingly without any protest. You would shut down anyone talking shit about him immediately.

Zandik didn’t like it.

—

“Despite the sparrow’s kind nature, the raven couldn’t bring himself to accept it. It wasn’t unheard of for ravens to prey on sparrows, and at some moments, sometimes the raven wanted nothing more than to swallow up the sparrow so they wouldn’t be in his hair anymore. But there were no opportunities for the raven to do that, so he was forced to endure the sparrow’s presence. However, he came to realize that the sparrow had far more strengths than he initially gave them credit for. Over time, it blossomed into a most unique relationship, one that should have never been possible.”

Zandik wanted you gone. Your behavior didn’t sit quite right with him, for reasons that weren’t hard to guess. But there was nothing he could do. No amount of harsh words or bickering could seem to deter you. Surely you heard of the rumors? Of what he possibly could have done? Of what he could possibly do to you? And yet you insisted on sticking around, despite his vehement denial of your presence.

Although Zandik didn’t like you, that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate your usefulness. And more recently, your intelligence as well. You didn’t think like the other scholars at the Akademiya. You weren’t short-sighted or close-minded, you were always open to new ideas and discussions. You were willing to listen to him even while he was being rude and made zero sense, always having a notepad handy to write down his words. At first, Zandik thought you were mocking him, but a quick investigation into your notes made it clear that you were one hundred percent serious. 

Naturally, you didn’t think exactly like him either for obvious reasons, but it was… refreshing. That made you far more intelligent in his eyes than any other brain-dead scholar. Yet at the same time, your excessive kindness made him think you were painfully stupid. Especially when his cruel insults and ignorance didn’t drive you away, and at some point you had the audacity to start giggling at him whenever he did so. Very strange, stupid, and smart.

He had dubbed you an enigma. Indeed, you were puzzling and difficult to understand. Normally, he enjoyed the challenge when it came to stuff like ancient texts or questions that arrived from his research, however, he wasn’t sure if he liked these qualities in a person. He liked your curiosity but your personality made him feel things he didn’t want to. But much to his dread, even this scholar wasn’t totally immune to your sweet charms, and he was slowly but surely beginning to warm up to you.

—

“Against all odds, the raven and sparrow became one and the same. It seemed as though the two could not be separated.”

You were always sure it was going to be a long and arduous journey, becoming Zandik’s friend, but you were well aware of what you were getting yourself into. Though even you could not have anticipated how much Zandik would like you, despite it always being your goal. It started off gradually, and it took you a bit to realize his small changes toward you. 

Something you realized was that Zandik enjoyed being genuinely listened to. Perhaps because no one had lent him an ear, or even then never took what he said seriously. Perhaps he was mocked and shut down. So you listened. And he told you more, and more, and more every time. You could be doing your own thing, and Zandik would drag you away from it, under the premise that his work was far more important. The audacity! But you didn’t really mind, except the times he woke you up in the middle of the night to check over his conclusions. 

Even still, it was hard not to find his bursts of excitement and passion cute. It was hard not to find how he inhaled your cooking cute. It was hard not to find his little grunts of approval at your work or the reluctant compliment of “Good, I guess” cute. And oh, and don’t get you started on the way he blushed when you got a little too close, and then promptly told you to fuck off. Zandik was so cute. Unhinged. Not a good or nice person. Mean. But cute. 

Eventually came a time when Zandik stopped trying to get rid of you. He stopped locking you out of the dorm and he stopped throwing insults at you for merely existing with him. Instead came times when you two would “hang out” as you would put it. You’d teach him how to cook but uncharacteristically gave up after one lesson because he was truly that bad. You would do group projects together and then snicker to one another about how the other groups’ work paled in comparison. You two would go out together, initially for the purpose of research, but end up spending some time relaxing in the soft plush of the forest together. No words were said, but perhaps fingers and legs accidentally brushed each other every now and then.

These were good times, Zandik admitted to himself.

—

“Despite their blatant differences, the raven and sparrow seemed to fit together perfectly, wings and beaks tucked into each other effortlessly. Both had accepted each other for who they were, something no one else had done for either of them. Many years passed, and the two developed feelings for each other. However, neither of them was sure how to express their love.”

The good times lasted far, far longer than Zandik could have ever dreamed of. You had remained a constant in his life for many years. He could have never imagined you’d stick around nor would he tolerate your presence for so long. It was now that he realized that there would always be a vast amount of possibilities in this world, ones that he would never believe existed, but they certainly did. You were an example of that.

Another thing he realized was how differently his body and mind could react around you.

Zandik realized, that sometimes his palms could get hot around you. Not sweaty, but hot and tingly. It was a strange sensation. He realized, that when your skin came into contact with his, instead of feeling like he had just been scalded, he simply felt… warmth. Not the overbearing or underwhelming kind. It was just warm. The worst part was, he realized that on very few and rare occasions, his heart would speed up a bit and get stuck in his throat. It was horrible. Zandik despised it.

And his mind, his mind would unconsciously favor you. He would wonder, what time were you coming home? Did anyone bother you? When you didn’t understand something, his mind automatically went to the idea of explaining again (begrudgingly?) instead of leaving you hanging. He hated group projects even more now when they weren’t with you because his mind instinctively knew that other people simply could not hope to compare to you in the slightest. His mind grew in various ways over the years, but this particular aspect… he was confused. This part wasn’t necessarily a hindrance, but it was odd and he couldn’t control it. Zandik preferred to be in control, especially of his own body, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand. 

You, on the other hand, completely understood your own feelings as well as Zandik’s. There was no doubt about it. You were in love with Zandik. Zandik was in love with you. This was the irrefutable truth. You couldn’t determine exactly at what point he began to like you romantically, but you knew you had liked him for years. You were just glad the pining was mutual now because the feelings were starting to weigh heavy on your heart. But now, you found yourself in a plight.

How to finally confess to Zandik.

You really had no idea how to do it. If it was any normal person, you’d probably have an easier time. But no, this was Zandik, which made everything complicated. You had gone through multiple different scenarios in your head, and none of them seemed right. You thought about it, in the morning, during class, while eating, on expeditions, before bed. Yes, the procedure of making Zandik your boyfriend was occupying your mind far more than it should be, embarrassingly enough.

Zandik noticed your continuous contemplative state of mind as well. He wasn’t much of a fan. No, not at all. Did you realize how much of a nuisance it was to be explaining or giving instructions to you and then find out you’re staring into space (which coincidentally happens to be his face) instead? And then he has to snap at you to pay attention and instead, you just give him a silly smile? It was nonsensical. At some point, Zandik had decided this had gone on far too long and demanded you tell him what had occupied your mind so much that it turned you into an airhead. Unfortunately, it was mostly unsuccessful as you two only had a little back-and-forth, with you defending that you were just tired lately and Zandik calling you out on that bullshit. But he let it go.

Was he worried? No, of course not. It was just that having his assistant’s mind not focused on him was entirely bothersome.

… Alright perhaps he was a little worried. Just a little. He didn’t like it when you were troubled.

—

“But thankfully, the sparrow found a moment to show their true feelings. Was it the perfect moment? No, perhaps not. But it became one. And amazingly enough, the odd duo had become an odd couple.”

It was the most average of nights. Really, incredibly average. The two of you were stuck on the floor doing a group project for the past few nights. It was a lot of work, meant for a group of people, but of course, you and Zandik refused to add anyone else to the group, so now you two had been grinding the work together for a while. But neither of you minded. It really was much easier with the two of you anyway.

Right now, Zandik was rambling on about what to add and what to do next and the comparisons and contrasting of the data and a variety of other things. Normal Zandik things, as he pointed and waved his hands to make his point. But all of his words entered one ear and came out the next for you. You were far too busy admiring his beauty.

Zandik didn’t notice your adoring stare, no, of course, he was too caught up in his rambling, but that was okay. You didn’t know what came over you, but an impulsive thought to just make him see came over you. To taste him. To let him taste you. To let him realize the depth of your feelings. To let him realize the extent of his own feelings too.

And so for the first time ever, you cupped Zandik’s cheek, to which his words came to an abrupt stop. He practically swiveled his head around to give you one of those signature looks of his, and he had your hand that was on his cheek in a tight grip around your wrist, nails digging into your skin as an automatic response to such blatant physical touch. It hurt, but that was when you took the opportunity.

After all, it was hard to focus on the pain when his lips were on yours. 

You were kissing Zandik, who was immediately practically screaming into your lips, along the muffled lines of “whadahelareyodoigmph?” And you would have chuckled at his reaction, were it not for how entranced you were by kissing him. It seemed, that after the initial shock, Zandik piped down and also began to process what was happening. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t move away. His grip on your wrist loosened, and you took the chance to intertwine your fingers with his instead before pulling away in satisfaction. Zandik’s face was red and his lip quivered in a half-hearted scowl, probably cursing both you and himself because of the fact he enjoyed a mere kiss that much. But he wasn’t the only one affected. Your own heart was hammering out of your chest as you tried to stop yourself from smiling too widely.

“You know, I’ve…” you paused, trying to control your heartbeat, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” So this was what was occupying that idiot mind of yours, Zandik thinks. How stupid.

Zandik's eyes flickered to yours, bearing a half-hearted glare, and they only said one thing: oh, he hated how easily you made him feel disgustingly weak, and how his fingers tremble in anticipation when you’re near, and how his heart beats far too much for what’s to come next, but oh, he demands that you do it again right now before he goes mad. So you did. You kissed Zandik again, and this time he kissed back.

His pointy teeth grazed your lip as he awkwardly kissed back, clearly unsure of what he was doing. But that was okay. You were probably his first kiss, after all, the idea of doing such a thing with anyone was revolting to him. Before he fell in love with you, of course. Well, this was your first kiss too, but you had read enough books to know what you were doing. You caressed his hair, gently rubbed his arms, and perhaps pushed him down on the bed a bit. It was very nice, to have years of feelings condensed into these kisses.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of the night after the kissing session, the group project now long forgotten. Except when you squeaked in pain since he had the gall to bite down on your lip, then swipe your bloody lip with his tongue deviously. You should have known that Zandik being inexperienced in something only lasts for a short time.

When you two finally went to sleep, Zandik allowed it when you climbed into his bed and delicately placed a hand on his chest, cuddling into him.

—

“The sparrow and raven’s romantic partnership began just like that. Nothing else needed to be said. In all honesty, nothing had changed much between the two who had been friends for years, except for the addition of an overwhelming amount of affection from the sparrow towards the raven.”

You and Zandik were dating now. It was truly a dream come true. Truly a dreamlike moment to randomly kiss his cheek and then watch him become a mixture of flustered and angry at you for doing such things. Truly a dreamlike moment to be able to squeeze his hand under the table when people were talking about him. Truly a dreamlike moment to be able to hold him and caress him all over, to watch his face as he received the love he never received as a child. And truly a… laughable moment as he familiarized himself with holding you, which took much work and effort. 

It was fine though. You were positive your relationship would endure throughout any kind of struggle.

—

“Though, like any kind of relationship, the two sometimes encountered a few bumps and turns that would perhaps set them back. But, these problems never lasted too long because… the sparrow and the raven had unusual ways of solving their problems sometimes.”

Zandik wasn’t very strong. Smart, a definite yes, but his physical abilities weren’t anything special, which was why you took it upon yourself to fight whenever the need arose. So when he came back to the dorms one day with hastily wrapped bandages and cuts and bruises, naturally you were extremely worried.

“Who did this?” He didn’t respond to you as he made his way to the bathroom and you quickly followed after. Zandik was digging through the cabinet for more medical supplies, the previous bandages now lying on the floor.

“Zandik,” you murmured. You knew that people didn’t like him, but you didn’t think it would go to such a physical extent. Most people had the common sense to leave him alone or merely talk about him instead. But now that you thought about it, you had an idea of who it could be. Ugh, those fools from the recent expedition. When Zandik exposed their faulty and false research in front of everyone with ease, they seemed to grow some kind of grudge against him. 

“Zandik, let me see.”

“There’s no need.” You watched as he roughly treated the wounds, his emotions clearly showing in his actions.

“Zandik, I can-”

“I said no,” your lover harshly snapped, gritting his teeth. He was trying to stop himself from saying anything else because he could say things he didn’t mean when he was in this kind of mood.

“Okay then,” you acquiesced and let him be. As much as you wanted to comfort him, it wasn’t a good time now. You needed to give him some space first. But at least when you left the dorm, you had a goal in mind.

You didn’t return until it was pitch black outside, and similarly, all the lights in the dorm’s building were off, so you wandered through the darkness until you reached your room. Ah, the door was unlocked too. Zandik must have left it open for you. You just hoped you didn’t get any blood on the doorknob.

The room was dark. Zandik probably went to sleep early. You went straight to the bathroom to clean up. After all, your hands and clothes were all icky with the blood of your classmates. Flipping on the light and looking at yourself in the mirror, you examined yourself. Good thing you weren’t wearing a nice outfit. And your face, not a single scratch of course. They couldn’t lay a hand on you and they wouldn’t be laying a hand on Zandik ever again.

“Where were you?” The sudden voice nearly made you jump. Zandik was at the doorway. So he was awake.

“Oh, Zandik. Hello. I was simply out with my friends, you know?” You gave him a reassuring smile. Obviously, the scholar knew that was a complete lie. He knew what you had done, he just had trouble understanding why. And how too.

Zandik came up to you and grabbed your hands, surprising you. His watchful eyes checked them thoroughly, the blood not bothering him in the slightest. You were truly unharmed. If you weren’t, he would have done something a lot worse than what you did.

“What, are you worried?” You teased. He seemed to be feeling better. Zandik only huffed in response.

“Why would you do that? Now the Akademiya is going to be behind your back.” Classic Zandik, using negativity to mask his appreciation.

“No, they won’t. Our little friends got beaten up by some Eremites instead. They told me so themselves,” you giggled almost a little crazily at his expression. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Zandik.”

“Even so, it was,” he paused for a quick second to think, “a fruitless waste of time. You could have been helping me instead.” Again, you couldn’t help but laugh at his words. It would really kill him to be truthful for once, huh?

“Look,” you placed both your bloody hands over his own. “You are my boyfriend, are you not?” You cocked your head to the side, waiting for a response to which he nodded. “Precisely. So by that logic, I am yours, and you are mine. And naturally, I like to take care of things that are mine. Especially if that happens to be my brilliant blue-haired scholar,” you smiled. Perhaps you seemed a touch bit possessive. But this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, no, you two belonged to each other after all. Zandik didn’t respond but he unconsciously gripped your hands a little bit tighter.

“Just make sure no one sees you doing the laundry,” he huffed.

“Yes, love~,” you pressed a kiss on his cheek to which he made another grumble but made no effort to stop you. After you two got cleaned up, a restful and peaceful sleep came naturally.

—

“Underneath the moon and stars, the two shared years' worth of memories, touches, and love. Though even the moon couldn’t quite understand this seemingly impossible couple, it still bore witness to their endeavors every night without fail. But one day, tragedy struck. The sparrow fell sick to a terrible illness.”

Your relationship with Zandik had become one of the highlights of your life. Perhaps it seemed like you were too crazed for the man, but what was love if you two weren’t a bit crazy for each other? Your life was truly a joy with this grouchy and easily irritable scholar who went a wee bit soft at affection. Well, that was if you excluded the few ailments you had come down with recently.

It started small at first. 

Seemingly minor things affected you. Perhaps a painful throb in your head that wouldn’t seem to go away, but you passed it off as the stresses of exams and school. Aches and pains when you moved your body, but maybe it was just from sleeping in awkward positions because you kept passing out in the middle of the night after pulling yet another all-nighter with Zandik. Sometimes you felt unusually cold, or perhaps hotter than normal. But you thought it was nothing too big, maybe something was going around in the Akademiya.

That’s what Zandik thought too… at first. You were a strong person, no stranger to fighting whether it was people or Ruin Drakes. You would bounce back. In fact, in the beginning, he thought you were overdramatizing your pain. Groaning and whining and clinging to him in an attempt to convince him to stay in the dorms today instead of going out on this expedition. Of course, he shook you off and rolled his eyes, telling you to hurry up. He didn’t miss the tiny sigh you let out, and the slight twinge in his chest but that was quickly washed over by the thought that you were simply milking your unwell condition in an effort to gain more of his attention. 

He didn’t miss how you were much quieter than usual, leaving his voice to fill the silence as you two walked. He didn’t miss your slow and tired steps, to which you had to ask for him to slow down which he begrudgingly did. And he certainly did not miss when you tripped and nearly fell were it not for him catching you in time.

Zandik was about to scold you for your carelessness but the words died on his tongue at your expression. Dulled eyes and pants, your chest heaving up and down due to the strain. You swallowed before your eyes sparked back to life again, seemingly recovering from that little fall. 

“Sorry,” you smiled at him with a hint of nervousness. “Guess I didn’t get enough sleep.” Yeah, you went to sleep a bit late last night, but it wasn’t a three AM kind of night. It was rather earlier than usual, to be honest. So you really weren’t sure why your body was acting like this. Zandik looked at you, silent and unimpressed, but you think he bought it. After that, you tried to return to your normal chirpy self despite the throbbing of your head. You were saved by the fact that this expedition was only examining plants and fauna for a class instead of the normal expeditions you and Zandik carry out.

It did not get better from then. Zandik surely noticed from the way his usual rude comments gradually turned into silence and quiet help at your genuine condition. He wasn’t stupid. He could tell that you were being real. But it all boiled over one afternoon.

You wanted to ignore your deteriorating state badly. You wanted to pretend that it didn’t exist. If you admitted it to yourself, then everything would be over. For what good were you when you were stuck in bed all day? Not just to yourself, but to Zandik as well? You knew he would never leave you, wouldn’t ever hate you but… still, it bothered and worried you more than you liked to admit. So whenever it was possible, you did some tasks for your lover.

Today’s errand was simple. You’d done it multiple times before. You just had to retrieve some parts Zandik ordered (legally, this time) and bring them back to the dorm. And you had done just that… only with a minor hiccup. Yes, it was only a small setback, being pushed and shoved by some of your classmates who didn’t like you or Zandik. Yes, it was just an insignificant occurrence, your body too weak to fight back and put them in their place like you normally did. And since it was so trivial, you didn’t want Zandik to know. So when you got back to the dorm, you put on your smiling face and acted oblivious, handing your boyfriend the purchase and then scurrying to the bathroom. 

Not to mention, there were some scuffs and marks on your uniform. They looked to be only minor, but Zandik still noticed them immediately. Your uniform was crisp and pristine before you left, after all. And whenever you got into an altercation, you’d tell him every time. This time, however, seemed different. Now that you looked back, you were pretty damn obvious, but your knees were hurting really bad.

The scholar waited a few moments before waiting outside the bathroom door, listening in. What he heard were whines and grunts of pains, and then something falling supposedly from the cabinet, and then a string of curses from you. You were definitely hurt.

“[Name].” His tone was flat and serious, and immediately all noise from the bathroom became nonexistent.

“…Yes?” That tone of voice. You were guilty of something.

“I’m coming in,” he didn’t bother giving you a grace period despite your sputters of protest. Zandik found you near the sink, only in your undergarments, Akademiya uniform discarded to the hamper, now stained with small patches of blood. Knees and elbows scraped and bloody. Instinctively you moved your heads to cover your elbows at least, in an attempt to minimize the severity of the situation… which didn’t really work.

“Oh… hey Zandik!” You smiled nervously. “See this,” you motioned to your injuries, “I just tripped and fell again. No big deal!” You had a good and believable excuse. It was just that your execution of it was really bad and your boyfriend could see through you easily. But he didn’t need you to tell the truth, he already had a hunch as to what happened. Plus, if you truly had fell, the gashes wouldn’t have been so deep.

“...” Zandik seemed expressionless as he went behind you and grabbed the bandages and the necessary supplies to disinfect it, before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the bed. You opened your mouth to argue but closed it again, probably realizing there was no getting out of this. It was eerily quiet as Zandik uncharacteristically treated your wounds with more care than usual. Most of the time, he was rough with it as he scolded you for being dumb, rolling his eyes as you chastised him for being so mean. This time, however, most of the sting was from the liquid cleaning the wound. He finally wrapped the bandage neatly around your knees and elbows, before he broke the silence.

“You’re not leaving the dorm tomorrow.” You snapped your head up at this statement.

“Excuse me? Yes, I-”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying in bed.”

“You can’t decide that for me. I can go where I-”

“Not when you’re like this,” he bluntly stated. It was harsh, but it was the truth, and you knew it. But hearing it like that hurt, even though you knew this was Zandik’s way of looking out for you.

The room was quiet again since you couldn’t argue any further.

And so, you had decided to take a break from going to classes for a while. Well, it was more like Zandik had decided that for you, his words being that it would be a great inconvenience for both of you if you continued to act like this, and so he confined you to bed rest and refused to let you leave. Sure, his expeditions would have to be delayed, he lamented, but it would be a waste of time to go when you weren’t in tip-top shape. So stop being an idiot and fighting him and rest already. You know, Zandik’s typical way of being worried. He even took the time to teach you everything, and of course, keep you updated on how shitty the professors were.

So now, your days consisted of resting in the dorm, sometimes doing homework that Zandik brought home, or your own hobbies. But you did feel bad. You didn’t like sitting around and doing nothing all day long when Zandik had to be by himself now. If you were going to be stuck in the dorm all day, the least you could do is tidy up a bit. And of course, cook for the two of you.

Cooking and sometimes even baking were things you liked, but it became one of your favorite things because of Zandik. It sounded strange, but you liked seeing him well-fed and not living off of his inedible cooking. Today you would make… shawarma wraps. Yes, you were in the mood for that today. And so you got to work preparing and cutting the ingredients. The only problem was… your hands were far more shaky than you wanted them to be. The knife quivered in your hands and now the vegetables were being cut weirdly.

Indeed, it had been harder to steady your hands nowadays, so you tried to go for easier food to prepare. But you really wanted to eat some shawarma wraps today,  so you continued on. If you just focus your hand, then surely the knife would just-

…And now, there was blood spurting onto the countertop and dripping on the floor. Just great. It was like nothing would go your way ever again once you came down with this mysterious illness. You blinked back tears the whole time you clumsily wrapped the cut and cleaned the kitchen. 

It was a horrible feeling really, to suddenly be unable to do things that were once so easy. To have things you once loved doing feel like a daunting chore now. No matter how hard you tried to avoid thinking about your illness, it felt like it was consuming your life now. You didn’t want it to start defining you… but it hurt. So badly, that you didn’t even bother putting up your usual cheerful front that evening. Zandik took one look at your hand and could deduce what happened. He would have scolded you, were it not for your terribly gloomy expression.

Once again, in pure silence, he redressed your wound (which was poorly wrapped by your unsteady hands.) You didn’t want to speak, nor did you want Zandik to speak. You didn’t want any pity or reprimanding right now. You quietly rested your head on his shoulder, requesting nothing more.

—

“From then on, the little sparrow’s condition only went on a downward spiral. It seemed like no amount of rest and medication could hope to help them recover. Slowly, it seemed like they were becoming a shell of their former self… quiet, tired, and closed off. The raven could only watch as his beloved grew farther… and farther… and more distant from him in more ways than one. In fact, it would be more fitting to call the sparrow a butterfly now. Butterflies are beautiful, but transient. They are truly a joy to admire, but if one gets attached, they will only end up in a world of pain as the butterfly leaves them far too soon.”

You had long given up on classes and work. The assignments Zandik brought home were piled up in a corner. Just looking at them made you feel exhausted. You tried to do some every now and then, but how could you focus on school when you felt like you were physically and mentally deteriorating with every passing day? Though, many had no sympathy for your current predicament which was why you found yourself in your current predicament.

Kicked out of the Akademiya. How embarrassing. Yes, you were not joking. They had a letter of expulsion delivered right to your door for being absent and missing too many assignments, and an order to pack all your belongings and leave within a week. You were not very surprised and kind of accepted it. Zandik on the other hand, had a few choice words for the messenger, before slamming the door with a bang. He was much more wildly upset about this than you were, a spew of curses directed towards a multitude of people in the Akademiya came flying out his mouth. He wouldn’t accept this, he said. But both you and him knew there was nothing to be done, especially since they would never listen to an outcast such as himself. So in due time, you found yourself admitted to Sumeru’s local hospital. Zandik’s expression was grim, which you tried to change.

“I know you’re going to miss cuddling up to me at night, dearest,” you teased in an effort to lighten up the mood. “Don’t miss me too much!” Zandik, however, did not have the slightest reaction, which made your smile dim.

“Hey,” your tone dropped a bit. “Don’t look so glum. Otherwise, you’re really going to make me think you can’t live without me.” This particular tease made his eye twitch.

Zandik scoffed, “You overestimate yourself. I am not so helpless that I would need you to be near me at all times. Furthermore, I suggest you be ready for when you come back. We have a lot of work to catch up on.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Oh, how perfect it was, despite all the changes in your life, Zandik never changes, does he? With his harsh words veiled with some kindness underneath, a silent promise to you that he will make you better and you will be healthy again in no time.

“Of course, of course, love. I promise I’ll be ready to be worked to the bone by you after all of this,” you smiled softly. Zandik rolled his eyes, but at that moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

And it… kind of was, for a while. If you ignore the whole context of the situation. You were surprised to see Zandik make time for you every day to visit you in your dreary hospital room, but he did. He would bring you things sometimes, books or puzzles so that your brain wouldn’t get bored. The hospital staff were initially on guard at his presence every day, for his reputation had spread even beyond the Akademiya, but they got used to him after many repeated visits. 

Zandik, on the other hand, didn’t realize how much different you made his life until you were actually gone. He told himself that he could deal with it, that he had done it long before he ever met you, so he would be fine.

He wasn’t.

No longer could he bask in you and everything that came with you. Your brains, your intelligence, your strength, your efficiency, your productivity, your voice, your smile, your laughs, your horrible jokes, your touch, your cuddles, your body - you, you, you. No longer could he call for you and you would be there in an instant, arms swung around his shoulders. No longer could he fall victim to being the taste tester for your new recipes. No longer could he consume your very being… it was driving him mad. He despised how you weren’t at your rightful place at his side.

And he despised how dull your eyes had gotten. For the first few weeks, it was “normal” at least. You’d still be excited to see him. Listen to him. Converse with him. Beg him to stop trying to cook again and just buy takeout. “Normal” things. But now, it was very different. You never outright ignored his presence but, you were far more distant. Barely speaking full sentences, save for the “mhm” and “uh huh” that sounded more forced than anything. Not even mustering the energy to reach out to him or brush your fingers against his You had asked for your bed to be placed right next to a window, and every time he visited, you were in the same position. Staring out the window longingly, gazing down at the city.

And there was nothing Zandik could do. There were no words he could say, no amount of comfort he could provide that would somehow make things better. No, the only thing he could do was solve the issue itself. He was best at that anyway, the scholar and researcher in him paying off. The Akademiya’s libraries were overtaken by him, day and night. No medical text went unread by him. He looked for answers during class lectures. During meals, during the early hours of the morning, and depths of the night. He looked and looked and looked without rest.

But one day, Zandik realized that perhaps he hadn’t taken things seriously enough.

He arrived at your hospital room like any other day, only to see a few nurses crowded around you, fussing and worrying to each other until they saw him, visibly stiffening. It was then his eyes flicked down to your body, which looked… oddly lifeless and unmoving. His brain figured out what this meant before his heart did. One already knew what happened while the other didn’t want to accept it.

“Err…” The nurse fiddled with her clipboard, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, especially to one such as Zandik, “As of today, [Name] has fallen into a coma…” He couldn’t pay attention to the rest of her words. 

The whole world went silent to him at that moment. Everything around him did, as he could only focus on your figure.

—

“With the sparrow now asleep with no signs of waking up, the raven uncharacteristically found himself at a loss.”

Zandik decided it was time to occupy himself with other activities. Like the hospital in the desert he worked at, treating, or rather experimenting on the patients there. It was for a number of reasons. Staying in the empty dorm room without you bothering him every couple of minutes was beginning to drive him more than just mad. Going to the hospital to be greeted by your sleeping body provided nothing but a flurry of negative emotions in him. To curve his growing curiosity and thirst for knowledge. And although Eleazar wasn’t what you were afflicted with, perhaps studying it could provide some insight. 

It was entirely morbid, cruel, and unethical, whatever word one wanted to say would probably fit the bill. Using corpses as material for “medicine”, driving his last remaining patient mad. Yet there was no part of him that felt guilty. That felt bothered. In the end, all he could think about was how satisfying the results of this experiment were. He cured Eleazar. Perhaps he could cure your illness too. Zandik was, in fact, excited.

Zandik continued to visit you every single day to check on you. It wasn’t like the staff cared much at this point. It was then he started keeping dedicated notes on your condition. He wasn’t much of a doctor nor was he experienced in the medical field, but the Akademiya’s library had proven to be more useful than he thought.

He took your vitals. Your heart rate. Temperature. Everything. Everyday. This time he injected you with what he hoped would cure and wake you up. Nothing. There was zero reaction internally and externally. It was a failure. It was frustrating.

Zandik, as a child, was used to being rejected. He never got what he wanted. Which was why as an adult, he made sure he acquired everything he wanted. Regardless of what, why, or how, nothing would stop him. And now that he was hitting that same block again, no matter how hard he tried, he was starting to seriously get irritated. Not at you, but at himself. This happened before, but this time there was also the fact he didn’t have your inquisitive mind or soothing presence to make him feel better.

Not to mention there was also Sohreh. Initially, he managed to tolerate her thanks to your coaching, but now that he had so many things to deal it, he found it harder and harder to deal with the Amurta. She was also the only one who had the decency to send condolences for your current situation, though he brushed her off before she could even get the words out. Yet by some annoying twist of fate, the girl kept popping up randomly around him, whether that was expeditions or group projects together.

When Zandik found his hands around her neck, he wasn’t surprised at himself. He didn’t feel anything at all, actually. On the same day, he went to visit your sleeping body and traced your veins with the same hands that killed your classmate. He wondered if you would feel any different to him if you knew what he’d done. If you would perhaps leave him. From how deeply you were sleeping, it seemed like he would never receive that answer though.

The days that followed were nothing noteworthy unless Zandik’s further spiral into madness and experimentation for both your sake and his innate desire were to be described in-depthly. Soon enough, he was banished from the Akademiya and into the desert. Despite his dislike for that place, it was a hindrance as he still needed somewhere to conduct research… and your body was still in a Sumerian hospital. But no matter, he’d make do.

It was then he met a gray-haired Khaenri’ahn man who offered him something that was too good to pass up and bestowed a name upon him.

Doctor? He was obviously no doctor. At least not one that helps people. Quite the opposite. If you were here, surely you would be laughing and cackling along with him at the irony of that name. But Zandik liked the ring of it.

And so Il Dottore was born. He just wished you were here to see it.

—

“Many, many centuries went by, and the raven progressed with his research in all areas and became akin to a God himself. However, his sparrow remained in a deep sleep and he could only watch as he failed to help his slumbering beloved.”

Dottore was now a man of many feats. To list them all would take a large amount of time, and the only person who would be willing to sit and listen was you. And you kind of did in a way, because for centuries, your sleeping body would be the first one to know about anything. Dottore would tell you of his accomplishments, his failures and successes, his useless co-workers, and how no one could ever compare to the assistant you were to him. And how despite the fact there was no doubt that his research and progress were entirely fulfilling, there was still a distinct emptiness and boredom in his life that only a certain someone could satisfy.

He wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The same conversation was exchanged between him and a segment every day:

“Are there any updates on [Name]’s condition?”

“No, nothing to report, Prime.”

The segments too would bemoan about the situation and wonder when you would wake up. Yet there was nothing that could be done. Countless resources and time had been exhausted on you, yet he had nothing to show for it. The only solution was to wait for you to open your eyes on your own, however long that may take. Dottore would undoubtedly wait though, what was a few more centuries, after all?

—

“But one day, a miracle happened. The bird woke up from their eternal rest, utterly confused and lost.”

Nahida rubbed her eyes and stretched out her body. To think that was only the beginning part of the fairytale! It was truly a long tale, yes, the one of Zandik and [Name]. Yet every part of it was intriguing and left her on the edge of her seat. And what better storytelling was it than to leave it on a cliffhanger?

[jinx-xxed]

Beautiful Thing Caged

Chapter 1; Strange sight

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; My first multi-part fic!! I’ve never been able to commit to one before so I’m really hoping I’ll be able to see this one through cuz I have some good ideas for it :]. I hope you enjoy, that’ll help keep me motivated too!! Also thanks to my bestie for the idea for the chapter titles ♡

This writing is based on this fan art ! It made my jaw drop to the floor when I saw it and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Part 2 ⇨

Summary; The First Order Agencies have come across a new, strange creature and it becomes your job to study it. You get far more than you bargained for.

Content; Werewolf AU, modern AU, werewolf Kylo Ren, human reader, scientist reader, soulmates, angst, feral Kylo, like legit feral bro does not know about human society, there’s a part where he eats a bunch of raw meat (I did not enjoy it), Kylo’s being studied in a lab, he studies you too, he’s scared and sad and angry (what else is new), lots of tension, neither of you know how to feel

[Each chapter will have specific content warnings. This story will eventually have 18+ content.]

Wc; 3.5k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“I’m sorry?”

You look down at the sheets that had just been slid to you across the mahogany desk. It’s a thick packet stapled together, the papers perfectly crisp and white. On them is paragraph upon paragraph detailing the new assignment that your superiors at First Order Agencies have decided to place on you. Your hands reach forward from where they’d been resting in your lap to tentatively flip through the packet, your brows creasing further with each page.

Studying an unknown creature. Studying something that nobody knows what it is or where it came from, something that the only thing people know about it is that it’s incredibly dangerous. You briefly scan over the pages dedicated to the description of the creature—black fur, wolf like appearance, supposedly male, huge, able to take on a humanoid state. You see that in place of a true name, it’s been given the label of OB-2637. Written at the bottom of the description is “BEWARE CREATURE, WILL ATTACK. STAY IN DESIGNATED OBSERVATION BAYS FOR SAFETY.” Lovely. There’s no pictures attached so your imagination is free to run wild, thinking up an image of a hulking beast with drool covered teeth and ragged fur covering its misshapen body. You shudder.

“Wh- why is this being given to me?” You ask, looking up at the one who’d given you the papers. He goes by Hux and he oversees your sector of the Agency, making him your boss. “I’m just a nature observationalist. I feel like I’m not-“

“You’re the most qualified one in this facility.” Hux states. He sounds uninterested, his shrewd face giving no insight as to what he thinks about the Agency housing a dangerous, unknown creature of unknown origin. “We agreed that with your knowledge about the “wild world”, it would probably give you the most insight on this… thing. You’ll be paid generously for your work based on your findings if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

You’d seen the amount they were offering you, it was certainly nothing to scoff at. You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I’m concerned about. I’m more concerned that this seems above my level. I’ve never dealt with something like this since I’ve been here.” You say. You’ve been with the First Order for almost five years now. It’s a government agency that’s kept tightly under wraps, mostly because the Agency deals with things that they think “normal civilians” shouldn’t be made aware of. It took a lot for you to get accepted into this position.

Hux leans forward against his desk, the dimness of his office making his features look even crueler than usual. “If you really doubt yourself that much, then you don’t have to take this job. But I’ll make it known that if you turn this down, it’ll go to the next best person and I don’t think they’ll be as… compassionate towards this thing as you will be.” He says. His tone is so heavy, so serious. It holds so many implications that have your palms sweating. He shrugs as he relaxes in his chair. “I’m sure they’ll probably end up killing it. Theres a lot of people in this place that want to dissect that creature piece by piece. So it’s not just about your qualifications, it’s about how you’ll decide to treat another living being—that’s why you were the first pick.“

You swallow and your spit almost gets stuck on the lump in your throat. You look again at those papers, at what will be waiting for you in those lower levels of the facility. You think over Hux’s words, you roll them around in your mind in the same way you’d roll something in your mouth to get the taste of it. You know that he’s right, that anybody else would kill this creature just to get a thorough look at it. Anything in the name of science, after all. You know the people working in the First Order are not kind-hearted, most are cruel and cold. You have few friends in this place, even after the amount of time you’ve spent here. Your answer becomes clear to you. You don’t want this creature to die.

“I’ll take the assignment.” You say at last, steeling yourself so you don’t lose your nerve. You can do this. Surely it won’t be that hard? You just need to observe some type of animal, find out what it is, where it came from. That’s your whole job. You do that every day.

“Good choice.” Hux nods. He digs something out of a drawer. “Sign this and then be on your way.” He gives you an NDA, one that’s specifically catered towards this assignment. You’ve signed countless versions of these since you started working for the Agency, so it’s nothing new as you fill out everything you need to. You think nothing of them now, it’s not like you have people in your life to tell about your job anyway.

Hux takes the paper once you’re done. “Floor twenty. Your badge has already been approved for access. You shouldn’t experience any trouble.”

That’s a stern dismissal if you’ve ever heard one. You stand from your chair, smoothing out your lab coat as you go. You grab the packet of information; it’s not much but it at least gives you something to go off of. “Thank you, sir.” You say. Hux merely grunts in acknowledgment, already buried in the paperwork for something else.

You leave his office, taking a deep breath when the door shuts behind you. Holding the packet close, you walk through the halls of the building’s upper floor. When you think about it, the above-ground section is like a mask to the public eye. It’s all of the boring offices, gaudy paintings littering the walls, carpeted floors. It’s unassuming and basic and meant to hide what lays below the surface: all of the Agency’s experiments, their studies, and their classified documents stuck behind vaults. That’s where most of the employees are, that’s where your own office is. There’s few people upstairs and the ones you do manage to pass don’t even spare you a glance on your way to the elevator.

One of the two elevators opens a second after you press the button. You step inside and hit the button for the twentieth floor. The door closes without anyone else inside, leaving you blissfully alone. There’s no classic elevator music that plays, there’s only the sounds of the machine working to keep you company. Your hands frequently change position on the papers you hold to try and keep from drenching one spot in your sweat.

It feels like an eternity before the elevator begins to slow and there’s a resounding ding as it reaches the twentieth floor. The second lowest floor in the facility; you can’t even imagine how far underground you are. The hall you enter in to is pure white, fluorescent lights bouncing off the walls and floors. There’s nobody you can see and you know based on your packet that the only other people involved in this assignment are guards and a few nutritional specialists. You’re on your own.

The halls of this floor hold few doors, instead mostly housing holding cells and laboratories. You use your badge when you come upon authorized entryways, that unsmiling face in your picture getting you the beep you need to pass through. You’re halfway to where you know you need to go when you begin to hear strange noises. Clinking chains, the faint snarl. Sounds of struggling. You really should just turn back, try to ignore all of this and pretend you don’t care about the fate of some defenseless animal. You know you can’t though, so you keep walking on unsteady legs.

There’s one final door you need to pass through, one last door keeping you from a sealed fate. You feel the sense of foreboding prickling the back of your neck, your shirt sticks to your spine from your perspiration. The door beeps in response to your badge, your hand hesitates on the handle. It opens into a massive room, snow white in color with a black rim. Theres very little inside it; there’s data pads built into the walls for recording observations and there’s a one way window stretching along the right wall. You don’t know who would be on the other side. The room is separated by a massive pane of reinforced glass, stretching from floor to ceiling, spanning the entire length.

You finally see what that glass is meant to keep in and everything seems to freeze. That’s no animal, no creature, or bizarre thing. It’s nothing like what they made it seem. That’s a human. A human male kept in a cage, thoroughly restrained. His body is just the same as yours, albeit much larger and far more muscled, but he has the same limbs, the same fingers and toes. No paws or excess fur, just sharp black nails at the ends of his fingers that have put claw marks in the floor. His attention turns to you then and you see his face. He’s what you’d describe as beautiful; his features are both sharp and soft at the same time, his nose strong, and his pale skin dotted with moles and freckles. His face is framed by waves of black hair and he’s captivating, even with blood smeared on his chin and neck.

Your eyes meet. God, his eyes. They’re human, they’re round and the pupils are blown out with his emotions. Even from your place at the other side of the room you can tell the honey brown color and you can see the fear swimming in them. If you didn’t dismiss it as you being crazy, you’d say there was some sort of spark that flared between you both for some inexplicable reason. Like there was a sort of understanding rooted deep down that you didn’t understand. Then it was gone.

And then the frozen second snaps and everything is thrown back into motion. His expression shifts into something angry and fierce and he makes an attempt to lunge at you. His movements are so powerful, even with every limb bearing thick cuffs with chains connected to the wall, even with one around his neck. He comes so close to the glass, his hands reaching in your direction, those claws scraping uselessly against the floor. You flinch back on instinct, your breathing coming fast and hard. It’s then that you see the ears and tail on the man. They are indeed akin to a wolf like the papers said, black ears sitting in his hair and a large, fluffy black tail protruding behind him. When his mouth opens in a snarl, you see the unnaturally sharp canines that he has. They’d rip you apart in no time.

He tries a few more times to get at you before realizing it’s useless. It’s probably not a new feeling for him. He retreats more against the back wall where the chains are connected, making them go slack and giving him more movement. He tries to shrink himself which is hard with such a huge body, his tail coming to wrap around his feet. He doesn’t have much within his cell—only a small cot and a singular blanket as a bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in the other corner.

You swallow. You realize how long you’ve been standing there without moving so you take one very small step forward. Then another and another until you’re about halfway towards the glass. He watches you with such intensity the entire time it makes you nervous. You try to take another step before he growls at you, a deep and rumbling sound that has you freezing. When you retreat, he stops.

“Okay. I’ll stay here then.” You say, standing in the spot you’d been in before that last step. This is where you’d begin. Small things to make him more comfortable in this unfamiliar environment; you’d follow his rules.

Seeing no chairs around you, you lower yourself to the floor. It’s cold even through your layers but you don’t mind. You have no room to complain when you look at him with no shirt or shoes, nothing to really keep him warm besides thin pants and that blanket on the cot. You study him in silence, just like how he studies you. You feel confusion over the conflict of the report versus what you see before you. The report had first described a wolf-like appearance that could take on a humanoid form but all you see in front of you is a human man with wolf ears and a tail. Maybe they’d overexaggerated?

Now that a fragile peace has settled between the both of you and he’s sitting still, you’re able to see the scar running along the left side of his face. It travels all the way down his collarbone before finally stopping. It’s deep and jagged and you can only imagine how badly it must’ve hurt; he’s lucky he didn’t lose his eye from it. Looking over him, you see he has a multitude of scars all over the planes of his body. He’s a fighter, then. With the way he’d lunged at you as soon as you entered, it doesn’t take you by surprise.

You clear your throat from your nerves. You begin with stating your name. You don’t even know how much he can understand you or if he can at all but you continue anyway. “I’m not here to hurt you. I know you probably don’t trust that, and I understand. We just want to know more about you.” You say. You inwardly cringe because this all sounds so weird to say to another human. You clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. “If you can speak, it would be a huge help if you’d explain some things about yourself. What’s your name and age? Where’d you come from?”

You don’t get a response—you didn’t expect one. He sits there with his knees up to his chest and his face partially hidden by his hair just staring at you, his eyes so wide and telling that it’s hard not to meet that stare. This is how it’ll be then. That’s fine, you’re used to sitting in one spot for hours and watching for an animals every minuscule movement. That’s what you end up doing, merely watching him and studying his body. Every twitch of the finger, every tense of the muscle is something you keep note of. It’s a good way to get a basis of information about what you’re studying so you always have something to compare to. You log everything in your mind for now, thinking how you’ll need to remember your laptop for next time.

There’s a sudden noise that leaves both of you startled. You sit up straighter and his ears perk up as a door to the right inside his cell opens. His wolf ears flatten back against his head and he scoots farther from the door, his chains clinking with the movement. You watch curiously as a human-shaped, somewhat janky robot enters with a plate balanced in its hands. You never see much of the Agency’s robots, mostly because most of them are unfinished and unpolished, but it seems they’re useful when real people don’t want to get near a deadly thing. The robot drops the plate unceremoniously on the floor and you notice with a start that blood splatters. The robot leaves.

Both you and the beast-man look at the plate before he decides to move towards it. You make another mental note about how much he surveys his surroundings before deciding what to do, as if weighing all options and possibilities.

The plate is rather large and holds a copious amount of raw meat, seemingly from multiple different animals based on the coloring and sizes. Blood slowly drips off the edge of the plate, pooling on the white floors. You can’t help the revulsion you feel looking at it as he inches closer, sniffing the scent of meat and blood into his nostrils. His eyes widen at it, pupils expanding, and he immediately takes a massive slab into his hands. His teeth tear into it like it’s paper, those fangs ripping it apart as blood drips down his chin. Despite your disgust, you’re also fascinated. So his digestive system can handle raw foods—like a wolf. I wonder what the layout of it is. What kind of bacteria is in there? You think, pondering over the idea as you watch him eat like a beast.

He finishes most of the plate, leaving only a few tinier pieces that he pushed aside. He must not like the taste of that particular animal. He seems more at ease now that he’s been fed, the worry of whether or not he’d get another meal satiated. He’s unbothered by the blood on his clawed hands and face as he sits back down and returns to watching you. When his eyes find you again there’s a shiver that goes down your back. There’s something in them you can’t place and it creates a weird feeling in your gut that you can’t decipher.

The rest of your day goes by without a hitch. You sit on the floor and study the beast-man in silence. You don’t try talking to him anymore, you’d rather not make a fool of yourself if he won’t say anything back to you—if he even can. He doesn’t do anything, there’s nothing to do in his cell anyway. He sits and watches and at one point he laid down on his back facing you so he could still keep an eye on you. There was one last meal time where you got to see him eat a bunch of raw meat again which wasn’t… great for your own appetite.

Hours passed before the lights finally began to dim, meaning the facility was shutting down for the night. There’ll still be people working the entire time, of course, but they shut down a majority of the power in the unused areas. You sigh to yourself, unfolding your body and getting up with a grunt from the stiffness in your limbs. The beast-man who had been drifting off before is now fully alert, wide eyes watching. You go to move towards the door and he growls at you. It startles you, makes goosebumps pick up along your arms. You look back at him with furrowed brows, confused. “I’m leaving, alright? I won’t bother you anymore.” You huff. This is what he wants so why is he getting pissy? You feel annoyed about his attitude for a second before you remember he’s the one stuck in a cell and you’re not. He has a right to be mad with you.

You sigh again and go to the datapads in the wall by the door. Since you don’t have your laptop, you take a few minutes to input the things you observed today that you’ll just transfer over later. You find yourself writing down a lot more than you thought you would and it makes you feel accomplished, like you actually did something today. When you’re finished, you put your hand on the door handle, ready to leave. But you pause, you look back at him and you know it was a mistake instantly. He looks so sad, so alone and afraid in that large, white room. You struggle to tear yourself away and open that door before you do something crazy.

You shake your head as you enter the hall, the door locking firmly behind you. Your mind feels like it’s shut off while you retrace your steps; back through the winding halls, back up the elevator, back into the main building. Back to your car where you grip the steering wheel with a deadly force, staring blankly at the road on your long drive home. Then finally, back to your small house where there’s no lights on inside because there’s nobody waiting for you.

You unlock the door and step in, a wave of something like loneliness washing over you when you do. It’s strange, it’s never been like this before. You try to ignore it as you shed your lab coat and make a simple dinner and sit on your couch. You don’t move for a moment, your brain deciding that now is a good time to rerun everything from today. That was a man. It wasn’t a beast, not really. And they have him stuck in a cell like that. It’s inhumane, isn’t it?

You find yourself with your head in your hands, groaning loudly as some form of release. “God, what have I gotten myself into?”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Part 2 ⇨

[yukarishoodie]

One of my favorite ORV headcanons is that TWSA has as much practical living advice as it does the metaphorical.

There's a 3-page long description of lsh dressing and bandaging yjh's wounds in the early rounds, intimately describing all the bruises and cuts and scrapes and the way they were handled. Kdj saw this as a humanizing moment for yjh and shipping fuel, but the next day he gets beat up by bullies and decided to dress his wounds himself since the school nurse isn't around (and they were getting tired of him anyway). It's sloppy and he had to rebandage himself after it unravelled, but it prevented an infection, and he got better over time.

In another chapter, yjh notices ljh having panic attacks in the middle of battle and teaches her a few tricks to steady your breathing and center herself faster as part of combat training. The description feels like text you'd see in a training handbook and completely breaks any sense of pacing. Kdj remembers it the next time he has one and was able to calm himself down before his relatives find him and punish him like they did before.

In yet another chapter, yjh avoids the eyes of fellow incarnations and picks his words correctly in a game of three questions with nosy constellations. They were oddly dry and mundane for an apocalypse setting with superhuman powers. Kdj remembers them the next time he spots paparazzi lurking around the corners.

A chapter has yjh instructing knw, ljh and yma on how to make do with instant ramyun and add a few things to it to keep it somewhat nutritious (yjh isn't happy about it but it's the least he can do since they're gonna split for a multi-day scenario and he can't cook for them). Kdj remembers it when he tried to make ramyun for the first time in his new place after moving out of his relatives'. He remembers curling his hand to chop the scallions because knw got scolded for improper knife handling, and he remembers when to put in the egg because ljh got sternly corrected for confidently shouting out the wrong answer. Kdj didn't injure himself, and it was the fanciest and most delicious meal he ate in a while. (He remembers yjh patting his sister's head for getting everything right, and almost brings his own hands to his head before stopping; no one's gonna praise a college student for making ramyun right.)

There was a chapter that came out around the time kdj was job hunting, where the party gets tangled in a subscenario involving securing a position through interviews. It felt contrived even with kdj's tolerance to TWSA shenanigans, but he takes note of what everyone does anyway and tries some of them in his job interviews. He comments that some of the actions felt unrealistic with his own experiences in job interviews; tls123 replied with a lighthearted apology (she's never had to bother with interviews, and she doubts she'll ever get to; she's grateful that it was still useful.)

(Kim Dokja, rereading TWSA over and over again in the train, feels the love and has no idea what to do with it.)

(05/06: added the food segment because i loved all the food-related notes <3)

[naomihatake]

Solitude

you can find other zoro fics here: Naomi's archive

pairing: zoro x fem reader

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, consumption of alcohol

summary: One would expect the swordsman to unwind after a battle, but there are times when he can't help but think. Alcohol doesn't always come in handy when a specific crewmate he grew fond of cuddled a tad bit too close to his heart.

word count: 3.3k

theme song: 'Daylight' by David Kushner

A/N: It can be imagined with both anime and opla Zoro. I don't know if he's slightly ooc or not, but I genuinely wanted to dig into this side of a relationship with the swordsman. The awkward times when he's getting used to it and simply accepting everything as a new part of his life.

I didn't forget about my multi chapter fiction, I just didn't find the inspiration for the 8th chapter. I couldn't help but write this for my own comfort and I want to mention that this original art of @tea917339 inspired me (check it out, it's absolutely amazing!!!)

I'm always open for your opinions and comments, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts with me! <3

Usually, nights with the Straw Hats were lively, even after battles that left the crew members injured and bleeding. They would pick each other up and cheer up by simply bickering — that's what Zoro thought. 

The same way Luffy's hand extended to help him back on his feet after he plopped down on the ground to rest. The same way Zoro reassured Chopper after the kid tried his best not to get emotional afterwards. The same way Sanji threw some remarks and the swordsman spat back in annoyance. And, for fuck’s sake, Nami reminded him for the tenth time that day he owes her berry for something he completely forgot about. Usopp was sighing in relief every time he remembered they escaped with life again while Robin agreed with a soft smile on her face. Truly, it was almost insane — Zoro wouldn't exactly call that a miracle because he's doubtful of its existence. 

However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer up once the celebration of their victory was over and everyone went into their rooms. He was on the night watch and all he found himself capable of doing was burying in memories of all kinds, be it happy or not. With not enough alcohol in his system yet, it was rather hard to push those thoughts into the back of his head. 

The swordsman sat on the deck, his back resting against the wooden cabin. Hidden from prying eyes, he found peace in the temporary silence. Rare were the times when the crew was so peaceful and it was usually during the night, when they were asleep, because otherwise they would've caused a mayhem. 

The side of his mouth curled upwards at that thought. It was equally annoying and endearing, since in the months spent with them he found a lot of things about himself. Like the fact that he found his crew to be a family, like the way he sometimes found peace even in the chaos caused by them. 

Or like the presence he grew way too fond of along the way. That witch — she truly was one, judging by the effect she had on him. Only a spell could've made his mind get so clouded, only some unknown force could've managed to soften his edges so well. She joined the crew from the first day and he believed that a spell had been casted upon him since the first time they gazed at each other. 

Right. Zoro gulped down. The effect she had on him was equally annoying and pleasant. 

Annoying because he should've focused on his promise to Kuina, not get lost in between fairytales. He wasn't by any means the charming prince riding a white horse and he didn't intend on becoming one anytime soon. It filled him up with feelings unknown to him. Zoro might be a fan of adventures and he had rather insane ideas — as one might say —, but such sentiments were an entirely new path to walk on. 

First and foremost, it bothered him the fact that he wasn't sure he could fulfill both his promises and whatever the fuck was going on between him and the witch. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening, it was all in a blur, even if everything was clearing up whenever he saw her. 

That's when he's reminded why he likes their relationship — what kind of, he didn't know. When he saw her, there were always sparkles in her eyes and the smile on her face would grow wider, lines of happiness appearing on her cheeks. The curl of her lips would make his heart skip a few beats and he would relax his shoulders unconsciously. Eyes filled with joy looked at him as if he was the very reason behind her purest sensations. 

Also, not to mention how warm the depths of his chest felt when she was near. The heat would rise to his cheeks, which he sometimes found uncomfortable, but Zoro never ran away. A side of him wished so badly to go the other way and never look back, ignore her and those stupid damned feelings, but he never gathered enough courage to do so. Every single time, he would remain stuck, with his eyes stuck on her frame and fingers aching to touch and lips tingling to kiss. 

God fucking dammit. 

With a curse rolling off his tongue casually as he closed his eyes, the back of his head collided with the wooden wall he rested his back against. Zoro sat with his knees bent and feet planted onto the floor, only his Wado Ichimoji in his proximity. With its hilt glued to his shoulder, the sheathed sword was in between his fingers. By that time, he held it for comfort.

If that's what he could call it. The swordsman wasn't sure what else to associate it with. Or was it familiarity? The white sword was the only memory he had of a long lost friend and his first home at the dojo, by the side of his sensei. It was the only object tying him to his past, to his beginning, to times when he was much weaker, but determined nonetheless. 

To care about his promise was familiar. Zoro wouldn't give it up — proof was the simple fact that he still achieved to become the strongest swordsman in the world. One day, he will meet Mihawk again and when he does, he will be stronger than the first time he encountered him at Baratie. 

Looking back, it's been so long since. So long since a new life appeared before his eyes and he accepted it with no hesitation. He was a pirate, a Straw Hat, Luffy's first mate. The swordsman swore to help his captain achieve his own dream. 

Those promises were familiar. The erratic heartbeats caused by the witch weren't. The sensation settling in the pits of his stomach when her gentle fingers would brush over his arm weren't. It was foreign and it didn't sit well with him. 

Kuina. 

He still saw her face in his dreams sometimes and it was usually her ghost haunting him. Other times, in her place would be one of his friends and each time it was harder to fall asleep. 

When awake, memories of her replayed so vividly in his mind. Swords clashing together and whistling as they cut the air in half. A grin brightening up Kuina's face when he would fall on his butt and cuss her out again. They promised that one of them would become the greatest, but he was the only one capable of that, because her bones lay in a grave somewhere far away. 

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the night sky with scars scattered all over it. A calming view, even if there was tumult inside of him, hidden in between ribs that broke with each new pump of his heart. His brown eyes fell to the floor and he crossed his arms on top of his knees, gripping the sword tighter. His chest puffed up with air when he inhaled and he let out a heavy sigh. 

“Zoro?” a soft whisper made him jump out of his thoughts. 

The swordsman snapped his head and he was greeted by the sight of someone he didn't even know he was searching for. A side of him wished to say something along the lines of “fuck off” while the other side desperately wanted to soak into her presence. 

A witch, indeed. 

His eyes ran up and down her figure. She didn't seem surprised to find him there, in a rather hidden spot, which meant she didn't search for too long. Did she even search for him or did she also wish to be alone for a while? The first place to search for someone during night shifts was the crows nest. 

She held two bottles of what he guessed to be alcohol and she swung them carefully before stepping closer. His chest tightened and he found it harder to breathe, even if it was inevitably easier than before at the same time. For some reason, she had that effect on him. 

Maybe he knew that reason all too well, but he just avoided thinking of it. 

“You told me we'd drink something together,” she reminded him in that warm voice of hers. 

The sweet melody that calmed his nerves. 

He didn't know what kind of energy radiated off him, but her behavior was far more gentle than usual. She wasn't hesitant, the witch never hesitated around him, she was just mindful of her actions and words. 

He didn't know why for a second he saw understanding in the curl of her lips when she crouched down. Unconsciously, Zoro knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at her gestures. 

The bottles hit the floor and she let go of them. Her eyes sparkled like they always did, but there was something different that time — a warmth they held only when she comforted Chopper or encouraged Usopp. Warmth similar to the shy rays of the sun of the morning, when the cold is still lingering and there's a specific scent in the air. Gentleness he only ever saw in her, because Luffy's kindness was different. 

A warmth so humane that was visible for the crew alone or those in need of it. 

The witch recognized something in his demeanor and Zoro had no clue what that was about. He could only see it in her gaze. 

“I suppose it isn't really the perfect time for me to butt in, hm?” she whispered. 

Like a promise only for him to hear. A secret. 

“How'd you find me here?” he found himself speaking before he thought it through. 

The question made her shrug. 

“I pick up easily on your energy. It's quite unmistakable, y'know?” 

There it was — one of the main reasons why she had the nickname of Witch both on the ship and outside of it. She's spoken about that for a few times and he had to admit he understood what she meant. However, the swordsman only felt those “energies” (as she liked to call them) in specific moments. He remembers that time in Lougetown when everything felt like energy instead of palpable objects, the reason why he won that fight. 

Sometimes he seriously wondered if she hadn't met his sensei at some point in her life. 

“What is it like?” once again, he asked before thinking. 

The witch pulled her lips in a tight line and hummed, gathering the right words to describe it. Her gaze bounced around and she grimaced once, when she probably found her choice of words to be unpleasant or inappropriate — she always scrunched her nose when it was difficult to find the proper terms. 

“It's sharp, but warm. Kind of steady, constantly flickering. For example, Luffy's energy is always all around the place and Chopper's gets out of control easily. Robin has the steadiest energy of all of us, even if it was kind of… strange lately.” 

Zoro arched his eyebrow at the last piece of information and only received a hand waving through the air. 

“Ignore the last part, I'm still figuring it out myself. No need to worry.” 

The swordsman knew the energy she was talking about was different than what he felt when she was in presence, but he wondered if whatever laid in her heart interfered with her ability to distinguish his being from the others. 

He watched as the witch looked at the bottles next to him and then clicked her tongue, deep in thought. 

“I don't know if they'd help you tonight, but I'll let you be.” 

None of those words were accusatory. They were all coming from a place of kindness and patience. 

Suddenly, her fingers curled around his bicep, below the bandana wrapped around his arm. Skin on skin, her touch was hot and pleasant, even if very confusing. 

What was she thinking? 

His puzzled feelings were written on his face. Uncertainty laid in his dark brown eyes and his fingers held onto the sword tighter. He didn't even notice when the grip on his Wado Ichimoji loosened up. 

Her gaze was reassuring as ever and she gently rubbed her thumb into his tensed muscles. 

Zoro had to at least admit to himself that vulnerability was uncomfortable. Without spoken words, she picked up on it. 

“I don't know for sure if I'll get to sleep tonight, so you could cut your night shift in half.” She's having issues with nightmares again? he silently wondered. “I'll be in my room, reading. Do what you see fit.” 

Instantly, she was back on her feet with her back straight and walked away. The swordsman didn't know what happened or what he should understand. 

He was utterly and completely confused. What just happened? 

Oh. The witch gave him space and time to think. She also told him where she was in case he decided to grip at the promise of comfort and hold tightly onto it. The opportunity laid right in front of him and he was the only one to decide whether he used it to his advantage or not. 

Zoro didn't notice when his shoulders relaxed. His body wasn't as tense as a few minutes ago, his back didn't feel as stiff. The exhale he left wasn't heavy anymore. 

The swordsman knew what this was about. Maybe it was the time to just accept his feelings and get on with it. He had to suck it up and deal with it, even if dealing with her wasn't the right way to word it out. It always felt more like she was dealing with him. 

With closed eyes, he remembered the last time her lips brushed by his. Gosh, it was so hot and his blood was bubbling like lava in his veins. It wasn't an accident, he intended on kissing her back with fever, but he had a hard time accepting everything. It was… weird. Facing that reality was troublesome. 

She has yet to lose her patience. The witch remained firm and each one of her questions were answered by gestures instead of words — something familiar for him. She was far more skilled with expressing herself even when sensitive topics came up. 

That was a miracle. Her presence alone could be compared to a miracle because it was completely unexpected and somehow always caressing him the right way. It was scary how accurately she could read him and the same applied to him. 

The sky before his eyes continued to sparkle with stars and he remained still in his place. His fingers caressed the scabbard of his sword as he blinked in the darkness, the chill air of the night invading his lungs. 

It was complicated and so simple at the same time. Zoro knew the answer — he just had to come to terms with it. 

Just as age promised, the witch sat on the bed in her room with a blanket warming her up. The lamp on the nightstand by her side casted a golden light over the pages of a book sitting in her lap. It was hard to focus on the story — a captivating part of pirate's history, sometime before the appearance of Gold D. Roger.

Her thoughts were followed by the swordsman. Zoro's mood was… sad at best. She didn't expect to find him in that state, but she quickly came to the conclusion that leaving him alone might do him good. 

She tapped her finger over the pages of the old book and clicked her tongue. Was it right to leave him? The witch never saw him in a similar mood and she also realized she didn't know how to help him. There could be a lot of ways to bring him back to earth or at least keep him afloat. Those ways were only known by him. All she could do was guess and hope for the best outcome. 

Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. When it opened wide, there was Zoro's tall silhouette, his white sword in his hand and one bottle of alcohol in his other. He came closer, his face hard as a stone. The pink hue painting his cheeks was the only detail giving away the fact that he drank one of the bottles she brought hours ago. 

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” he said with a gruff voice as he plopped down on the mattress. 

There were only a few hours left before the sun would rise up from the sea. 

“You've probably guessed already,” she averted her eyes from his figure. 

“Nightmares again?” 

The witch only nodded, eyes focused on the book. Zoro let the sword against the couch. 

“I won't fall asleep, so you could as well take a night off,” only then she looked at him again. 

His darkened eyes have been locked on her since he entered the valley. The witch wanted to move, to eventually get away from his knowing gaze, but she knew there was no possible way to do it. 

“Are you alright?” she blurted out. 

She had to fill that silence with some kind of conversation. Maybe that wasn't exactly the wisest decision, considering his shoulders visibly tensed and he straightened his back. A frown appeared on her face. She regretted talking. 

The witch figured out he needed more time to sort his thoughts. 

“Why don't you go to sleep?” she tilted her head to the side. “The fight has worn us all out. You could rest for a while.” 

“And you?” 

“We'll be sailing for a few days. I can sleep ‘till afternoon.” 

“Nothing will happen for as long as you're on this ship with us,” the reassurance slipped so easily. “Do you trust us?” 

“More than anything,” the witch responded with a faint smile. 

Several weeks ago, her answer and reaction would've been so different. She made so much progress since she first met them, her trust now fully laying in their palms. Long ago, she would've backed away at such a question and, if they were lucky enough, the witch would admit she “needs time to adjust”. 

At first, all he did was lean close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. The swordsman only intended to enjoy some peace while he shared his booze with the witch. From time to time, she'd gulp from the bottle and then give it back to him before continuing her lecture. After each two minutes, the room would be filled by the rustling of pages. 

It didn't last long until he fell into her trap and tiredness dragged him glued to her. With his head in her lap, Zoro bumped his nose in her thigh. The witch's fingers ran through his hair and he let out an audible exhale, eyes closing instantly. Greeted by darkness, he felt warm not only on the inside. The blanket she curled around herself earlier was now covering his upper body as he sunk into the soft mattress and her. 

One of his hands curled around her knee and he dug his fingers into her flesh. Her leg jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but when he tried to move away, she muttered a sweet “It's okay”, stopping his movements. 

The oxygen in his lungs was exchanged with her perfume and he bit back a groan. Her voice was like a lullaby, even if there weren't many words rolling off her tongue. Zoro wasn't bothered by the light of the lamp, completely forgetting about the world around him once her fingers continued running through his hair. 

His hand traveled up, until it fully rested on her thigh, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin material of her pants. Truth be told, he's never felt better. 

She was a remedy. His remedy. 

“Good night.”

Zoro heard her whisper solely because he was near her; otherwise he would've confounded it with the night breeze. 

Maybe giving in to her affection isn't that bad.