actiniumsarchive - Tumblr blog

[actiniumsarchive]

[actiniumsarchive]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 "𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇" 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊— 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

if there was one word you could use to describe wriothesley, it would be cold.

contents. 7.4k+ wc (please give it a chance 🙏) f!reader, a non-canon annual animal hunting competition, furina being in her matchmaker era, cliche but that’s kinda the point, there's a trope called the “cold duke of the north” trope that describes a very stereotypical male lead, super similar to the “company ceo trope”! picture creds: @/ochaiit - x notes. “on a scale from one to ten how self-indulgent was this alexis” a ten. i need him.

being a government official under the rule of focalors, you often have to do things you don’t want to do. the job description means a lot of things, including (but not limited to) enduring tedious meetings with neuvillette and rescuing stray kittens lurking outside the palais mermonia, but this really takes the cake.

“will you be a dear and let me know how wriothesley is doing?”

you blink as furina claps her hand excitedly, leaning forward to stare gleefully at the cookies that line the plate before her.

“…sorry?”

“well, i realized i actually don’t know that much about the fortress of meropide,” she smiles flippantly, completely enamored by the sweet treats in front of her, “i want you to do some routine check-ups and make sure everything’s running smoothly!”

“but i—”

“i’m sorry but i already let him know, so i’m afraid you don't have a choice in the matter.” her eyes peer up, that cat-like quality in her iris making your eye twitch; she gives you a close-eyed smile as she pushes the tray to the middle of the table, “here, take one as a gift! you can even give one to him if you’d like.”

“i’m alright, thank you.” you smile, waving your hands in front of you as the traitorous back of your mind wonders how you ended up with someone like her as your archon (seriously, your prospects in sumeru would fare far better), but you attempt to shush it as best as you can as your back sinks onto the plush pillows on the edge of the couch, your fingers unconsciously picking at the loose fuzz.

she studies your stature closely, barely disguising the glint of suspicion in her eyes.

“why do you look so flustered? does the duke make you nervous?” her grin shifts from virtuous to a more mischievous flavor as she daintily plucks a cookie off the tier, “hot and bothered, even?”

“no!” you protest quickly, shooting up from your position; her smile is teasing at best and almost evil at worst, making your face feel even more aflame as she chews on the cookie thoughtfully, patiently waiting for you to defend yourself more.

“i just…” you grimace under her stare, “don’t think he likes me is all.”

her eyes widen in surprise — real surprise, from what can you tell (a rarity from your archon). “whatever do you mean?”

“i mean, he’s always so…” you pause, biting the inside of your lip as you try to think of the word, “cold? he avoids me at every event he’s forced to come to, and when i think he’s just in a bad mood or something, i see him chatting up neuvillette or clorinde five minutes later! i haven’t done anything to him and he finds every excuse not to talk to me!”

“it doesn't seem like that big of a deal to me, maybe he’s just nervous?” she shrugs, her feet rocking back and forth as her heels hit the back of the couch.

you wrinkle your nose. “why would he be?”

your archon thinks for a moment, and for once, you think she might actually be genuine.

as soon as her mask slips, though, her playful smile is back on her face, and she bounds off her lounging position, grabbing a small cake to bring to her table.

“anyways, just check in with me once you’re done visiting down there, okay? i’ll get you access and everything so you don’t need to worry about that!” she sets the plate on the wooden desk — you stand up, knowing that this is her way of ushering you out.

“goodbye now!” she waves cheerfully as you make your way to the door, “i’ll have neuvillette send you the schedule later!”

you hope later means never.

(unfortunately for you, neuvillette has the schedule at your doorstep by sunset.)

I.) MUSCLES FOR DAYS (HARD-ROCK ABS, REALLY?)

“and this is where the inmates live,” wriothesley holds his hand out, helping you up the stairs, “the dormitories are all here; every person has their own bed, room, and bathroom, and although curfew is strict, it’s not unreasonable. so, are we done here?”

you look around the hallways leading to the rooms, split off into four clusters across multiple levels. furina and her insatiable curiosity for the deep fortress of meropide will be the death of you.

“i’ll be down here again if we're not,” you turn to him, showing him the crude map you’ve drawn of the fortress layout, “does this look right to you?”

he tilts his head, his pale eyes squinting at the rough sketch you’ve made before he lifts his right eyebrow, “i’m not sure why you put “gross food” in the cafeteria section, but other than that, it looks about right.”

you used to think wriothesley could actually be quite handsome if he talked to you more, but that was before his tactic switched from avoiding you to subtly pissing you off (the eye candy definitely helps, though).

“for furina,” you smile noncommittally, “she wouldn’t enjoy the food down here, it’s too heavy.”

his nods in acknowledgment. “it’s good that she can have you do her dirty work every time she wants to check up on this place, then.”

your eye twitches as you fold the map back into your pocket distastefully, biting your lip as your shoes clack against the steel floor, the iron lanterns providing some very much-needed warmth to the lack of it.

he's not wrong, she’s sent you down here multiple times for the past few weeks for “research” that the warden could easily provide her, but she's been insistent on sending you instead; today and the past three days have been about her pushing you to create a personalized map for her (as if she would ever go down there willingly). wriothesley’s comment definitely wasn't needed, but as long as you can get out of here as quickly as possible and return to where the sunlight actually shines, your day is still redeemable.

that is, until sigewinne ruins everything.

“your grace, your grace!” she runs up the other side of the steps as the two of you are making your way down — you quickly turn around at her panicked tone only to be met with wriothesley's abdomen, his ruffled black dress shirt tucked into his pants and his startled expression only a single step behind you.

you make a noise and take a step back out of surprise, only to have your foot trip on the step below you.

it all happens too fast for you to perceive, because one moment your heart drops in preparation for some inevitable head injury from the metal that makes up the damned place, and in the next, you feel someone's arm pull yours back, harshly stalling your fall as a blur of black and red envelops your body; your chin bumps painfully against his as you crash onto the floor, the pricking stinging at your skin and fuck, did you just—

wriothesley’s eyes are screwed shut in pain as his shoulder rams into the floor, a soft groan leaving his lips as you feel your face heat up, too flustered to move — his adam’s apple bobs as your warm exhales fan his neck, and archons, it feels like you’re lying against a wall. a soft wall, but a wall nonetheless; your arms grip at his biceps as you push yourself off of him after half a minute, his forearms sliding lax off of your back, grimacing. did he just take the brunt of the fall for you?

you stare down at him in horror, the heat from your hands contrasting the cold metal, the faint red on his lips contrasting his pale skin; his eyes open, dazedly staring at the ceiling instead of you.

it’s almost funny how he still somehow manages to avoid your gaze even when he’s injured.

you scramble off of him in the next moment, moving to extend a hand to his, helping him up with as much strength as you can muster (it is your fault anyway), trying to cover up the faltering mess you are.

it doesn’t help that you hang your face down low, avoiding eye contact as the heat creeps into your ears.

his lips are parted ever so slightly, a shaky breath escaping them before he heaves out a heavy sigh. “what hit me?” his fingers gingerly touch his chin as sigewinne bounds over to his side, calling his name out worriedly.

he didn’t feel your lips on his—? “my forehead,” you blurt out quickly, swallowing, patting your forehead, “i must’ve bumped your chin, i’m sorry.”

he blinks in confusion before he sighs for the umpteenth time (it really does seem like he's always sighing when you're around), straightening his back.

“be more aware of your surroundings next time,” he says stiffly, “i'll have deakin escort you back up, i apologize for not doing it myself.”

your expression sours at the thought of deakin before you remember that the warden is in front of you, and you flash a fake smile. “i'll see him up there, then,” your eyes flit to the melusine who stares innocently at you, biting the inside of your lip, “it was nice running into you, sigewinne.”

she offers to give you a small check-up with apologetic eyes but you refuse quickly; you can’t be down here for another second, not the way wriothesley’s pale eyes burn holes into the back of your head as you leave.

deakin is as rude and boring as ever, your interaction with wriothesley has rendered any ability to ever make eye contact with him again useless, and you’re a little bit more than pissed at furina for sending you down there in the first place, so when you see her waiting with hearts in her eyes and an excited grin on her face when you step out of the elevator, you have to mentally prepare yourself.

“so,” furina smiles innocently, “how did it go?”

you swallow, your cheeks warm under her gaze.

“…i think i accidentally kissed him,” your chin throbs, but not as fast as your heart is, “and i don't think he noticed.”

II.) THAT SPECIFIC HAIRSTYLE (WHY DOES HIS NEW HAIRCUT LOOK THE SAME?)

despite how incessantly you plead, furina insists on sending you back. you think she's been reading too many isekai novels that yae’s publishing house has been pushing out recently — not that they're bad, but because it's impossible to be blind to her motives.

“let me guess,” you shoot him a playful look, “they call you a demon on the battlefield.”

wriothesley raises an eyebrow. “i’ve never touched a battlefield in my life.”

to your surprise, the man didn't mention your embarrassing mishap that occurred on that very first day, which either means that he's just as mortified as you are or that you’d misjudged his character from the beginning, and he's actually a saint in disguise.

you think it might be the latter because even with your constant badgering over these past few weeks, he's never once complained; he just hangs back, letting you explore the nooks and crannies in the fortress without much grievance.

the excuse is a safety check this time, which is infinitely worse than the past days because you actually don't have many qualifications to decide what is safe and what isn't.

“are you good with a sword?”

“i prefer my fists.”

“i think swords are cooler.”

“keep talking and i can show you first-hand just how much cooler my gauntlets are.”

you laugh to yourself, your fingers trailing against the rusty pipes of the fortress and your snickers echoing against the hollow copper.

you glance at the man next to you as sneakily as you can, taking a moment to admire his stoic features. his words may have seemed to be mean-spirited, but he remains as aloof as he’s always been; his eyes shift to yours before you immediately turn away, staring up at the screws and bolts that line the area. you swallow, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

you and wriothesley aren't particularly best friends, no, but there are times — certain hours of the day and depth carved into your short allotments with him — when you feel a small connection buzzing between your fingertips and his, or when you catch him looking at you just a little bit longer than he’s supposed to. it gives you a childish sense of hope, the kind that lights giddy fires in your heart when he turns his head in your direction.

“so what’s up there?”

“hm?” wriothesley stops in his tracks at the sound of your voice, following your finger to the dark edges of the hallway. the tube you stand in is supposed to be empty, save for the random crab that stumbles its way in through the large pipes or overgrown flora covering certain areas, but you’re not lying, something is sparkling in the distance up ahead from you.

it’s dim enough that he can’t make it out until the two of you get closer, and through tentative steps, the two of you slowly approach it.

it’s a pool, he realizes, stopping no more than a few centimeters away from the platform's edge, barely inches above the still water that lies flat below him. you’re right behind him, peeking shyly from behind his shoulder to the clear blue under you (he feels your breath on his jacket for just a moment, your eyes peering at the water as if you're staring right past his skin).

“…this doesn’t bode well.” his voice doesn’t echo as much as it should, not with the swamped area and the sound of the fortress’s money practically going down the flooded pipe drain in front of him.

“wait, what do you mean?” you come up from behind him, kneeling down on the pavement. the loose rock digs into your knees and your hands grip the edges as you lean down as far as you can, practically bringing your chin to the water’s surface — you can’t help the wide smile that appears on your face as you turn to peer up at the man; from this angle, it’s beautiful, with seaweed and sand caved into the pool just a few feet away with shells and crustaceans alike, “can’t you use this to swim or something? i’m sure the inmates would love to stretch their limbs!”

“unlikely.” his face is grim, “this was supposed to be a drainage tube that also blocked water from entering, the fact that it’s broken down this much and for this long…i can’t even imagine the damage it’s done to the metal surrounding the area. it's already surprising enough that the left wing of the fortress hasn't been affected yet.”

it’s around this moment that you realize that you don’t like this expression on wriothesley’s face.

it's too similar to the cold and unfeeling appearance he used to parade around you, but it's worse because the way his eyebrows furrow and the way he bites his bottom lip shows something unnatural for wriothesley, something you've never quite noticed.

you know that realistically, he's probably worn “worry” before from deep within the shadows of his office and far from the blue sky that you know, but in all your years of knowing him, you've never seen it, the sullen gray that pools in his iris, the tense in his shoulders. it doesn't feel like him — a powerful and handsome warden such as himself should be gallivanting around with sly grins and open arms, not beating himself up over a mistake that no one's noticed before this.

“hey, did you get a haircut?” you ask randomly, swinging your fingers mindlessly across the still water.

he seems to shake out of his brooding stupor at your words, shifting his eyes to look down at you. “you’ve noticed?”

no.

“of course i did!” you lie through your teeth, creating ripples around your skin as you stare up at him. he nods in acknowledgment, his small frown still pulling at his lips as he contemplates his new problem.

there's much to do after all, the plumbers, builders, and conservationists will all cost a hefty amount of mora he doesn't know he can spare, not with the leaks in the right wing and the upgraded dorm construction that's already underway (it's not as if this isn't urgent, though, it's most certainly one of the more dire cases, however time-sensitive it is). it's been a while since he's applied for a loan, but maybe neuvillette could help him out, or maybe furina would even give him a free pass and tap into the treasury—

a splash.

“wrio?” his head quirks up again, this time because of the sudden nickname (unexpected, but not unwelcome), only to be met with the sound of a flick and something wet and salty on his face. he closes his eyes out of instinct, letting out a noise akin to a strangled gasp, spluttering on the water that sits on his skin as he hears you practically snort next to him.

your head is leaning against your free hand, brazenly smiling at the shocked look on his face — not the normal guilty look of a prankster, but the fact that your other hand still has water dripping off of it and that no playful seals are rippling underneath the blue leads him to the simplest conclusion he can think of.

“what was that for?”

to distract you, to make you feel better, because i wanted to — the explanations flood your head, but you respond by flicking him again, spraying small drops of saltwater back onto his face.

“your hair was just a bit messy, new haircuts tend to do that,” you stand up, reaching your hands up to fix his hair, ruffling your fingers where the black roots part on his scalp, swiping his cheek with the dry part of your wrist afterwards. your palm feels warm, despite how cold the water that settled on his skin felt, your nails grazing ever so softly against his temple, brushing one last time against the damp hair that lies on his forehead.

you step back, happy to see that his frown is indeed turned upside down (more like in complete shock, but you still count it), gently tapping his shoulder before you begin to make your way back through the hallway. “c’mon, let’s go talk to furina and neuvillette about this, i'm sure they'll get it fixed in no time if i'm there!”

his heart thumps loudly against his chest.

“why would it matter if you were there?”

the golden light from the lanterns reflects off of your jewelry as you turn back, a playful smile on your face. “they like me more, obviously.”

you lead the way, and after a moment of hesitation, he follows.

(he's not sure why, but in that moment, he thinks he might follow you anywhere you go.)

III.) COMMUNICATION ISSUES (SERIOUSLY, IS HIS FACE STUCK ON THE SAME SETTING?)

if there was one word you have to describe wriothesley, it'd be cold.

“hey, are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?”

his prison is far deep down in the sea where the sunlight doesn't touch, to say his personality is mysterious would be an understatement, and his cryo vision only seems to be a physical representation of his attitude.

“i feel like i could freeze in these temperatures myself.”

your nail leaves your mouth after the girl oh-so-rudely interrupts your musing — you turn your head to look at her — she’s being rather sarcastic for being someone who’s supposed to be here and comfort you, but you suppose that’s always been the way furina’s acted.

“you’re an archon,” the words escape your lips unceremoniously, “it’d be rather disappointing if you froze by a humble mortal’s stare.”

she both looks and behaves the same way you’ve known her ever since you walked into her palace at five years old, your eyes filled with wonderment at the destiny that awaited you if you chose to serve the archon the same way your parents and theirs had.

she has the decency to look worried, though, with her eyebrows furrowed in distress and the cerulean mixing with teal in both of her irises widening in concern. wriothesley’s eyes don’t look like hers, you think, hers are prettier by far, who would ever think—

“humble mortal’s glare.” she gives you a pointed look; you stick out your tongue before turning your head to face the copper that’s on your right.

you really wish you were looking out a window right now, perhaps a flower pot would be on the windowsill, with navy blue curtains tied neatly on the side? perhaps a bird would come to feed on the seed that lies outside, or a pretty nurse would be here to help tend to your wounds, but as much as you try to imagine it, the ugly red-orange of the metal stands out like a freak of nature in your eyes, reminding you just where you are.

“wriothesley and sigewinne should be here any moment,” furina places a hand on your shoulder, her gloves daintily patting it, “i think i’ll see myself around here — to check if your map is as correct as it could’ve been. i could fire you if it’s wrong, y’know!”

“don’t go near the cafeteria,” you sigh, staring forlornly at the wall, “you’d hate it.”

she blows a raspberry in your face, and you manage a snort, as much as you can without your stomach killing you.

knock knock.

your laughter halts immediately, and furina glances momentarily at the door; it swings open (rather rudely, you think, without much delay nor care) as wriothesley and sigewinne step through. his hair has grown ever so slightly since the last time you saw him, and the eyebags under his eyes are more prominent than usual, but still, he looks as handsome as ever.

“focalors,” wriothesley bows slightly in respect at his archon, sigewinne following his lead as furina curtsies back. the man spares a glance at you, only to be met with a bone-chilling glare that sends him facing furina immediately, a hospitable smile on his face.

“i’ll have deakin — not deakin—” he immediately corrects himself, “i’ll have chambodouc escort you through the fortress; sigewinne, i have something to discuss with the patient, are you free to take furina to the shop? wait outside when you’re done.”

sigewinne agrees happily, none the wiser to the daggers you pierce into wriothesley’s back with your eyes (either that, or she doesn’t care), skipping her merry way to chambodouc as your archon abandons you, trailing not too far behind. wriothesley sighs as he closes the door after them — your eyes watch consciously as he drags his body to pull the chair next to you out to sit down.

“are you alright?” he doesn't take the time to get comfortable, immediately on the edge of the seat with his back hunched, “do you feel too hurt anywhere?”

the stingrays that attacked you are far more forgiving than he is.

“no,” you say simply, “it aches, but sigewinne is masterful at her craft.”

he nods, rubbing his thumb against the ring on his pointer finger. there’s a second of silence that passes through, and for once, you think you might be able to enjoy a moment of peace to yourself, but the hunk of black and red decides to open his mouth again.

“…you really shouldn’t have been out there—”

you groan. “oh my god—”

“diving near here has always been known to be dangerous, something worse could’ve happened.”

“really? it’s almost like i was willing to take the risk, have you ever thought about that?”

he bristles. “you are in no position to be satirical right now—”

“and you are in no position to be here right now!”

the beat of silence comes again, but it’s heavier this time, too heavy for you to pretend that you could ever be at peace in your tawdry hospital bed in the fortress of meropide. you exhale, fluttering your eyelids closed as you muster up as much courage as you can before you ask him, “why are you here?”

at first, you thought you might’ve been looking into it too much — your ability to overthink is one of the reasons that furina hired you after all — and it honestly seemed like your relationship was fine before furina changed your schedule to something useful (in fact, it felt like you might even get closer to him), but he had gone radio silent ever since you stopped coming to the fortress regularly.

that’s why you’re surprised, you think.

you find yourself wondering if he’ll actually respond to your question, but by the way he remains silent, you’re afraid he might just get up from his seat and walk out. you shift, tilting your head down so that you meet his eyes; he almost jumps at the sudden movement, but he remains seated.

what kind of person do you have to be to ignore someone’s letters for weeks and show up at their injured bedside in the same breath?

how can he sit next to you with furrowed brows and concerned eyes when he asked neuvillette for your timetable so that you wouldn’t be in the palace when he went up there, not knowing you were just outside the office?

how could he practically reduce your relationship to what it was before furina assigned you down here?

“hey, did i do something to you?” you ask him bluntly, and his face falls in horror, “did i say something wrong? because if i did, you really should’ve just told me instead of—”

“no, no!” he waves his hands in a sort of protest, and he pauses, his lips wringing in hesitation, “you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“so what’s going on?”

the duke looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, but he stays anyways. “i’m not avoiding you because of anything you did,” he utters his words slowly and meticulously, as if his entire reputation depends on them, “it’s my own shortcomings that are at fault.”

you blink.

“i don't have many…acquaintances outside the fortress, so i'm not exactly sure how to keep up with others,” his tone sounds strange — timid, even, “so when i got your letters, i kept holding it off because i wasn't confident i could say what i wanted to correctly.”

he continues, his posture unfitting of a duke, his shoulders hunched with shame. “it'd always be at the back of my mind as i did my duties, but it'd be far too late at that point to send one back without an excuse, which i didn't have. i never meant to make you wait for so long, it was just difficult for me to reply.”

your eye twitches. how has anything ever gotten done in the prison?

“so you thought it'd be better to just avoid me altogether?”

“i knew you'd be angry, rightfully, of course.” he tacks that last part as an offering of peace, a point of understanding he hopes you can connect.

“you do understand that i'd actually get angrier as you went longer with no reply, right?” you cross your arms, leaning back on the metal headboard of the hospital bed.

the man cocks his head to the side. “well, it makes sense now that you've said it.”

…okay, well now you feel bad. the cold warden of an even more unforgiving prison more resembles a man kicked to the side of the road, a solemn pout unconsciously playing on his lips as he practically sulks in his seat, and your heart melts for him just a little bit.

“so you were actually worried?”

“yes.”

“about me?”

“yes.”

“and you weren't avoiding me because you despise my presence?”

“of course not.” his answer is firm and definitive before he quickly adds, “but that doesn't mean you must forgive me, truly, i completely understand if you feel uncomfortable here, and we'll be sure to get you out as soon as—”

“it's okay, you don't have to keep apologizing.” the words escape your lips as you sigh in consolation, the relief washing over your body as you shift forward.

he nods, “…i really am sorry—”

“oh,” you joke, “be quiet.”

what you don't expect is for him to do exactly that, closing his mouth immediately as he stares at you in earnest.

if you weren't already so smitten with his eyes, you might find it creepy how bright they are — the wholeheartedness practically seeping into the pale hues. you feel heat crawl to the back of your neck, a heat that really only makes it's appearance when wriothesley gets close to you.

“let’s just start over and completely reset everything,” you fight back the incessant warmth, pulling your lips back into a tight smile, “clean slates.”

“…everything?” he echoes blankly, his eyes blinking in some sort of astonishment. he doesn’t want to reset everything, but he supposes he’s in no position to refuse if you want to, so he straightens his back, attempting to fix the frown that pulls from his lips. “alright, if that’s what you want.”

the seriousness in his expression makes your heart melt again, punching through it as if the past couple of minutes of your messy attempt to build your walls up again were mere seconds with toy blocks. 

yeah, you think, maybe gauntlets are better.

“…are you going to the chasse this year?” you tilt your head.

his eyebrows furrow. “i typically don't attend those types of events.”

“it would be wonderful if you did,” you smile; you've only been this close to wriothesley once, but his face shrouded by the dark lighting of the broken-down corridor could hardly compete with the sight you see before you, “rumor has it that a rather lonely official would appreciate your presence.”

“oh?” a hesitant, faint smile appears on his lips (you wonder just how wide his grin could be—if it's a toothy smile you can imagine in your head, if his canines are as sharp as you think they might be), and he glances up at your eyes again, “and would you consider this rumor to be true?”

“you'd have to be there to validate my answer anyways, wouldn't you?”

his expression cracks again, his mouth curving up as a chuckle escapes his lips. “i guess i would.” his head naturally tilts as he laughs, but you can barely think of a response to the sound of his laughter echoing in your ear, your face surely hot enough to boil the ocean around you.

his laugh is so cute.

“your smile suits you well, monsieur.” you end up blurting out the words without thinking, a wavering lilt in your tone as you gaze up at him in some awestruck stupor.

his lips are so cute.

he seems to freeze at the compliment for just a moment, before he bows his head. “thank you.”

he’s so cute.

the man suddenly gets out of his chair, keeping his head low before he turns around, practically making a beeline for the door, “i think i hear sigewinne outside, actually, so i probably shouldn't keep her waiting — i'll see you at the chasse!”

with that, he slams the door behind him, leaving you staring wide-eyed in the empty room.

…did you offend him somehow? you blink back your confusion, hesitating for just a moment before you clear your throat in the silent air, deciding that waiting for the fortress’s nurse to tend to your wounds is probably the best course of action. your face is hot and your fingers burn as you move to smooth out the wrinkled sheets that lie on top of you before folding the edges back neatly, leaning back onto your pillows with a strangled sigh.

how embarrassing.

on the other side of the door, sigewinne curiously peers up at her duke. he hasn't moved since he barged out of the room, his back as stiff as a line, one of his hands still on the metal handle and the other attempting to cover the lower half of his face.

“wriothesley,” she asks innocently, “why are you so red?”

IV. ASSET JEWELRY (OH, A BROOCH? FOR ME?)

out of all of fontaine's cultural festivals, the chasse is probably your least favorite. you don't really find hunting all that appealing nor do you like fraternizing with rich nobles who’ve never worked a day in their life, so the entire event is pretty boring for the most part.

“are you looking for somebody?”

neuvillette peers curiously at you as you sigh, flopping back into the seat next to him.

”no,” you grumble delicately, the dejected pout on your face a clear indicator that you’re lying, “i’m just bored is all.”

“well, please let me know if there’s anything i can do to pique your interest,” the man smiles softly as he rests his head back on the seat, somewhat of a knowing glint in the purple of his eyes, “or if there’s somebody that i can point to help you out.”

your eye twitches.

you make an embarrassed noise at his comment, and he continues to smile as the two of you overlook the stragglers that trickle into the open forest.

there are lot of familiar faces that you can see socializing with each other amongst the crowd; lynette and emilie, for example, are sipping on tea on the east side with many of the other ladies, conversing amongst the buttered biscuits and board games.

navia and clorinde are in a different corner, dressed in pantsuits and equipping their hunting gear as they talk, and you can even see charlotte bouncing around lyney and the rest of the crowd with her trusty camera at her side — all of these familiar faces, and still, the one that had promised to show up hasn’t yet.

“i’ll be right back,” you announce as you stand up again, and your head swivels to the man sitting beside you, “you’re fine to announce the event without me, right?”

“please, go ahead,” neuvillette gives you a close-eyed smile (it’s almost suspicious how agreeable he’s being), taking another sip of his tea, “furina will be here any moment, so we’ll be fine without you.”

the sun glares in your eyes and the leaves from the trees barely make enough shadow to provide shade against the relentless heat, but there are less people back here, so you’re quite positive that no one will disturb you on your quick break—

you give him a swift nod before you make your way down the steps before immediately turning to head back towards the exit.

you contemplate making an honest run for the gate and leaving before anyone can stop you, but your duty to fontaine is important, even if it caters to a hunting competition you’ve never appreciated since your youth. so, you branch off, turning to an open clearing nearby instead.

a hand grabs your arm, pulling you back.

a barely disguised shriek leaves your lips as your elbow hits the chest of your attacker, and they let out a grunt in response. you come to a horrifying conclusion that that particular wall of a chest feels far more familiar than you’d like to admit.

“wriothesley?” you quickly turn around, your feet tangling themselves against the soft dirt, and he catches your shoulder quickly, your body steadying against his palm. you look up, and your eyes sparkle.

“hi,” he gives you a wry smile, “fancy seeing you here.”

the suit he wears is far more fitting for a rich duke than his usual dress uniform — a long hunting coat drapes over his broad shoulders, buckled at the very middle with gold accents, a red dress shirt peeking out from behind the fur. his hair is styled differently too, swept back to reveal his forehead, a few rebellious strands sitting near his eyebrow.

you feel warm, and you're acutely aware that it's not because of the sun.

your eyes make the mistake of darting to his palm, zeroing in on the rings that line his knuckles, the veins that run on his skin, his fingertips on the edge of your shoulder. he seems to notice, because he quickly releases you from his grasp.

“um,” you clear your throat, ducking your head down just a bit, “yeah, you too! i honestly didn’t think you’d show up.”

his eyes dart to the side. “of course i did,” he says casually, “you asked me to come, didn't you?”

your cheeks flush.

“i'm glad you did.” you bite the inside of your cheek, and your eyes fall on the sword by his hip. “will you be competing?”

“i will,” he nods, his hand resting on the hilt; it looks new sheathed behind it’s cover, like it’s never been used before, “are you?”

you laugh, the smile breaking through your lips, “no, i’ll just be spectating today. i’ve never been into hunting, even if they are just robots.”

his eyebrows raise in surprise, and he falters, shifting with something in the pocket beside his sword. “a-ah, well,” he almost looks embarrassed underneath the sweltering sun, a sheepish grin on his face, “i guess that makes this useless, then.”

he pulls a small jewelry box from his pocket before carefully clicking it open, revealing a beautiful brooch in the middle. it’s the same deep red that’s the color of his suit, cut and polished, pinned and soldered to a golden casing, an intricate floral pattern fanning out past the gem. “i had hoped to wish you luck,” he admits, “i hope you still accept it.”

if you weren’t warm before, you surely are now.

giving jewelry to someone during the chasse was never just a tradition of good luck, no, it signified interest too. the novels that furina reads flood back into your head ー multiple women begging the crown prince to accept their charms, one girl accepting her lover’s and going on to win ー the flush on your face gets deeper, it’s so hot you might burn.

“this is how i know that you’re supposed to go outside more,” your voice comes out unnaturally high-pitched, “nobody has been trading jewelry for many years now.”

he hums. “i know,” he delicately takes the brooch out, clicking the box shut. he puts it back in his pocket, before he delicately grabs your hand, placing the jewel on your palm. it’s cool against the fire you feel on your skin at his touch, and he gently closes your fingers over it, making a fist. “i’m a romantic at heart. and, furina’s recommended your favorite books to me.”

of course furina is behind this.

you can hear a horn blaring from a distance, a sign that the event is about to start.

“can i confess something?”

you blink, and you look at him curiously. “sure?”

it blares again.

with the swift rush of the breeze that wafts past you, he leans down, his lips right next to your ear, his jaw tilted towards yours. “i’m only competing because i thought you would be as well,” his tone is soft and deep, “secretly, i hoped that i’d be receiving a piece of jewelry from you too.”

he steps back, and he gives you another smile. that’s two, you think. “since i’m not, though, please take care of that for me — if you cheer me on, i’ll be sure to win!”

with that, he walks away, the horn sounding a final time with a thunderous roar of applause. there’s a faint sound of neuvillette welcoming the diplomats, but if you’re being completely honest, you can’t hear a single thing behind the hot ringing in your ears. as wriothesley walks away, your thumb brushes against the jewel.

the forests of fontaine have always been beautiful, despite the random treasure hunter group or fatui members here or there, so you’re glad to be able to reconnect with the greenery after spending so much time in the city.

you think he might be prettier.

V.) A SOFT SPOT FOR THE FEMALE LEAD (WAIT, WHAT?)

if there was one word you could use to describe wriothesley, it’d be cold.

he’s aloof on good days and almost mean on bad days, his reputation is lower than the ground where the fortress of meropide resides, and his undoubtedly dark past leaves him closed off from the rest of the world.

he is…sweet, though.

“madame,” he taps on your shoulder, and you’re greeted with a different suit than the one he bore during the competition. it still looks exquisite on him, the long cape trailing past his tall legs, a tight navy vest hugging his chest, “what are you doing out here?”

“monsieur,” you smile teasingly as you set your wine glass down on the edge of the balcony. the moon is high in the sky now, the cold chill of fontaine’s atmosphere clear against the breeze, “i just needed a break from the festivities is all.”

he nods. “it’s pretty hectic in there, you made a good decision coming out here.” he exhales softly, closing his eyes, “...it did make it harder to find you, though. i was looking for you all night.”

when did wriothesley become such a natural flirt?

“i apologize,” you smile sheepishly, shifting your body to the side to allow more space, “here, feel free to join me!”

he accepts your invitation with a small smile, resting his arms against the stone, his head lying close to yours.

“congratulations on winning the hunt, by the way,” you play with your fingers, “seriously, i don’t think anyone stood a chance against you.”

“i admit that the sword was pretty cool.” his smile grows wider as he stares at the trees in the garden of the palais mermonia.

“i knew it!” you exclaim, nudging his shoulder in excitement, “gauntlets couldn’t have scored half of the points you got with a sword.”

“half is pushing it,” he snorts, and he looks down, his arm moving just a bit closer to yours, “besides, i had some motivation.”

you flush, becoming increasingly hyperaware of the brooch that you wear proudly on your dress. “i’m pretty good with a sword, y’know,” you inhale, “i could always teach you more sometime.”

“i’d like that,” he glances up at you, his blue eyes staring holes into you, half-lidded against the brightness of the moon, “it’d be nice to meet with you outside of official business.”

“we can call it non-official, then,” you smile innocently, “as long as furina doesn’t know.”

he chuckles lowly, and you can’t help but follow him, copying his movements. 

it’s silent for a moment with both of your heads rested on your arms, a cool breeze ruffling through your clothing as the party rages on inside. your voice comes out soft, almost a whisper that gets carried on with the rest of the night, “can i confess something?”

he perks up. “sure.”

“i would’ve accepted your brooch in a heartbeat if i wasn’t so shocked,” the embarrassment crawls up your neck, onto the tips of your nose, “even so, the only thing that i was thinking about was rushing back home and finding one to give to you.”

it’s like the atmosphere warms up with the way his eyes light up, and if you look closely, you can see a faint red that brushes against his cheeks. 

“i’m happy that you reciprocate,” his smile is smug, despite the blush that threatens fire on his body as he leans in closer, a teasing look in his eyes, “if you’d like, we can rush right back to your home right now.”

“why, youー!” you gasp in mock offense, hitting his shoulder. he practically cackles at his joke, and you glower, “you’re dangerous.”

“for you, i’ll try not to be.” 

his finger interlocks with yours absentmindedly, and he grins as the music begins again, “would you spare a dance with me tonight?”

the live orchestra plays live in the background warms up their instruments as guests begin to get into their places in the middle ー he leads you easily from your spot on the balcony, one hand on your shoulder, the other on your waist. 

the duke may be cold, but he makes you feel a fervor unknown to anybody else.

 “it would be my honor.”

wriothesley grew up around danger; his childhood was constantly filled with the fear of people who lurked behind dark corners, his teenage years spent fighting to reverse the system that was once used to punish him. he’ll try to be the least dangerous that he can be (although he’s pretty sure that’s not the danger you were talking about), and for you, he’ll endeavor to do his best.

much like the letters that he’ll continue to send you, he seals his pledge it with a kiss.

SIGHS. thank u for reading if youve made it this far!! wriothesley responding to letters is me w/ my texts 👎👎 fuck online communication that shit is unnatural

[actiniumsarchive]

knots

synopsis: lyney has been head over heels in love with you since the two of you were only ten years old. the only problem? you're friends with lynette and not him. so he spends the next 8-9 years pining over you with seemingly unrequited feelings

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: angst to fluff, misunderstandings, happy ending, best friend's brother trope, an insane amount of obliviousness and pining, idiots to lovers pretty much, the ending is kinda rushed

disclaimer: i know character ages in genshin are a rather controversial topic of discourse within the community. i personally think of lyney and lynette to be around 18-19 years old and i do mention age in this fic as it follows a bit of a timeline. if this somehow bothers you, please just don't read or try to start an argument over it in my comments

notes: THIS IS SO CUTE IM SOBBING 🤧 i did throw in a lot of angst though i'm so sorry but i saw the opportunity and took it. the end is fluffy (and kind of rushed sorry) though‼️ the title is also inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo as i think it's very fitting for this fic. thank you for the request! (this is my third time posting this cause the first time it didn't show up in the tags)

Lyney was jealous as a kid. It was hard not for him to be when him and Lynette were first introduced to you and you had barely even acknowledged him. He was only ten at the time, but he was so excited to make new friends outside of the House of the Hearth that he was stunned when you had only really talked to Lynette. You had only ever offered him a small wave and a smile to go along with it before running off with Lynette.

It wasn’t fair in his eyes. He was the one more interested in you anyway, not her. She had merely tagged along because he forced her too. Now here she was stealing his potential friends.

You’d clicked instantly with her. Both of you were more on the quiet and shy side, contrasting Lyney’s sunny and outgoing personality. You both liked the same foods, the same clothing, the same everything. Lyney wanted to share those with you too, but it was hard when his tastes differed from yours and you didn’t seem to pay much interest in him anyway.

And growing up, he’d always been around. You’d hang out with all of them, don’t get it twisted. It wasn’t like you’d ever told him he couldn’t spend time with you guys. In fact, you often spent a lot of time together. You were sweet. You loved helping them with their magic tricks, even though they normally failed since you were all thirteen by the time they really began taking it seriously. You’d pretend to be shocked when they guessed your card, despite knowing exactly how the trick worked. You’d be on standby when they performed more dangerous tricks. Hell, you were even an assistant for them nearly eighty-percent of the time.

Lyney was grateful for it all, but he still couldn’t shake the ever growing crush on you he’d developed three years ago when you first met. He wanted you to be closer with him more than his sister. It was selfish, he was well aware of that, but he was the one with a crush. Not Lynette.

Lyney was the one to pick you up and put a bandaid on your knees when you fell at the playground. Lyney was the one to always share his snacks with you, even when you usually said no. Lyney was the one to always sit next to you when you were feeling a little down and let his knee rest quietly against yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull yours away. Lyney was the one who was in love with you by the time you all turned 18.

When the fateful performance happened and they were revealed to be Fatui to the general public, he was sure you’d leave them for good. You had obviously known they were Fatui, but you didn’t know of the extent to which they acted, the crimes they had committed. In your eyes, they were only in training, because that was all they had told you. As close as you were to them, they could never let you know the full details. It was against the rules.

Lyney was so sure you’d up and leave that it was the second time he had ever truly felt anxiety in his life — his sister being taken was the first, but here you were making him feel that horrible pounding in his chest all over again. He was so sure that the ache in his chest would have to make room for more than just jealousy, but grief among heartbreak. That you’d look at them in fear and never speak to them ever again. That he’d never get to profess his love to you.

You proved him wrong, and rather unexpectedly so. You’d shown up to every second of their trial and helped the traveler out as best you could to exonerate them. You’d stuck by their side through it all and made sure they were alright. He was so surprised you almost made him cry.

When they were freed from it all and the crisis was solved, you’d only hugged Lynette and Freminet. That was the part that stung the most. But at this age, Lyney was too nervous around you. How could he not be? You were so pretty and sweet and kind that he didn’t know what to do, especially when he was confused as to where he stood with you. You were all of those things and more with everyone. Everyone but him.

So he pulls away.

He doesn’t want to. God, he’s so in love with you he doesn’t want to ever spend a second away from you, but you never reciprocate any of it. So perhaps, he decides one day, it’d be best to just move on and focus on other things. Lynette could have you to herself and he’d find someone else, no matter how much he wanted you the most.

And you hate it, because well, you’re confused. Which sounds unfair, and in some ways it is, but Lyney was a special light in your life that you couldn’t get too close to. Not because you didn’t want to. No. Of course not. He didn’t realize that you were too scared to. You were so different that you shied away from him, despite feeling all the same toward him. He was like the sun and if you got too close to him, you were scared he’d burn you.

Lynette pushed you toward him regularly. You never seemed to escape her late night gossip sessions where she told you all about how her brother was practically drooling over how good you looked or how sweet you were. You found it endearing while she found it disgusting. Despite it all, though, you had confided in her about your crush on him as well, but how terrified you were to try to actually approach him. She almost slapped you right then and there.

Lynette thinks you’re both stupid. And she’s right. Because now you’re both stuck in a huge misunderstanding. Lyney thinks you hate him and you think he hates you. Could anyone really blame her for being so annoyed?

“You need to talk to him,” she finally breaks one day, about to pass out in her chair from her social energy running out just from hearing about the entire situation nonstop for the past week. You stare at her mortified as she gives you an unimpressed stare.

You nearly choke on the drink you were sipping on just a moment ago, catching a few passerby’s attention as you do, “Why do I have to be the one to say something?! He’s the one that started avoiding me!”

“Are you dense?”

“No?”

She stares at you for a long minute and sighs.

“You’re both idiots. He likes you. You like him. You were too shy to say anything and now he’s decided to move on,” she explains, unimpressed. Did you really not see it after all these years?

“Move on? What?” you place your hands on the table in front of you, panic swimming in your eyes. It all hits you so fast you feel your heart practically about to burst out of your chest.

“I have to go, sorry!” you jump out of your chair, yelling a string of apologies from behind you as you run from the cafe.

It takes you an hour to find him after your conversation with Lynette ends abruptly. Freminet was nice enough to let you know Lyney had gone down to the outskirts of the main city to work on some magic tools by the beach. It was just an excuse to get away. All three of you knew it, but Lyney wasn’t the type to say how he truly feels in fear of being a bad leader.

You wished he had said something sooner. Though perhaps you should’ve been the one to take notice long ago that his advances were more than just friendly.

You suddenly feel regret build up in your stomach at the way you treated him all these years. You were so afraid of your feelings you sabotaged yourself in the process and unknowingly hurt him too.

You find him sitting in the sand, legs crossed as he quietly fiddles with a few parts for some magic props.

“Mind if I sit?” you practically whisper from beside him. Lyney doesn’t even look at you. It’s cold and and unlike him and must be exactly how you looked all these years. He nods anyway.

You watch the waves crash in front of you. Over and over again as they grow closer with the deepening hours of the night. The stars reflect gently upon each and every one of them yet you can’t get yourself to focus on them.

You fidget with a small flower in your hands. It was tucked away gently in your pocket, the petals sticking out to prevent it from getting crushed. It’s a vibrant pink and even with its petals closed for the night, it still looks beautiful in your hand. It reminds you of all the times Lyney had dropped the very same ones at your doorstep or somehow tucked away on a piece of your clothing without you noticing. You hadn’t bothered to look into the meaning back then. You never knew rainbow roses were a declaration of love.

Lyney still sits quietly next to you, now messing with the hat he had taken off when you arrived. His lavender eyes avoid yours, but you don’t hesitate to drop the flower gently into his hands.

“I never knew the meaning of these,” you turn to him and say softly. Your eyes match your voice and he knows you’re telling the truth, even if he doesn’t want to believe it. When he doesn’t move to touch it, nor get rid of it, you speak again, “It’s uh…it’s for you. I picked it on the way here. I thought you’d maybe like it.”

He finally picks it up and turns toward you, a mixture of emotions pooling in his eyes. You see the anger, the fear, the pain, and the love all at once. You wish you had seen it all sooner.

“Why are you giving this to me?” Lyney asks quietly. It comes off a little colder than he’d like, you see it in the way he winces after. You only stare at him with a sad, but hopeful look in your eyes. You couldn’t take back the past, but perhaps you could change the future.

Quietly, you take it from him and tuck it above his ear. He’d done the same to you one time, only it was part of a show and you thought it was just for the act. Oh how oblivious you were back then. “You know what it means to give someone one of these. Lyney, I…I never meant to push you away all these years. I was just scared because I liked you, and Lynette was easier to get closer to than face my feelings for you. Even if we were just ten years old. It was immature and for that, I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his face brightens a bit, “Do you really mean it? You’ve really liked me all these years? Or are you just saying all this to make me feel better?”

You nod, confirming your words and he breaks out into laughter. A sound you’ve dearly missed. Sadness doesn’t suit Lyney.

“Can I…?” He says scooting closer to you, eyes glancing in between yours before falling to your lips. You nod, a small laugh escaping you as you lean in to meet him half way.

Lyney’s lips are soft against yours as he kisses you eagerly. You reciprocate the feeling, matching his pace until you both pull apart out of breath. You laugh nervously standing up and extending a hand, “Wanna go home?”

Lyney jumps up, his hand in yours and nods. He interlaces his fingers with yours tightly, not letting you go after all these missed out years.

When you return to the House of the Hearth, Lyney turns and places one last kiss to your lips. It’s short and sweet and lets you know that he’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow. You turn and walk away after, wishing him a goodnight as you do. But before you can walk away completely and turns and shouts, “7 PM tomorrow at the Hotel Debourd! I’ll pick you up!”

Lynette appears behind him suddenly, rolling her eyes and waving to you before shutting the door on her twin, “You’re hopeless, brother.”

[actiniumsarchive]

the weight of words — alhaitham x mute! reader

notes: based off of this tiktok i found a long while ago featuring a poem that serves as the base for this fic <3 i feel like this is very poorly written / rushed and it lacks a good flow but i wanted to get it out asap bc i didn’t have any more energy to write it LOL

tags: italics represent handwritten notes, reader is implied to be rlly smart / top of the class, implied depressive episode (reader), self deprecation (reader), fluff → angst → fluff, may or may not be an inaccurate rep. of mute individuals, ooc alhaitham, not proofread

this was a little more irksome than he wanted to admit.

at the very top of the akademiya, far away from prying eyes, sat a student bathed in sunlight. from a distance, he observed. you held a book in one hand and an apple in the other, while your legs dangled off of the ledge. he couldn’t discern much from your backside.

but what bothered him the most was that you were seated in “his” spot. the spot he always crept away to during lunch, mainly for its isolation and breathtaking view.

without hesitation, alhaitham approached you. he tapped on your shoulder and stared with an intensity akin to the blazing sun in june. “excuse me,” he began. “i normally sit here. i would greatly appreciate it if you moved to another place, as i’m most accustomed to this spot.”

a silence washed over as you stared up at him. your lack of response left him annoyed — did you find this funny?

however, as you set down your book and snack gently, alhaitham found himself surprised for the first time in a while.

a notebook sat on your lap as you wrote rapidly. the man watched quietly.

i’m afraid not. there are countless other spots up here, and i just happened to get to this one first.

a sigh slipped from his lips. while he wasn’t unfamiliar with stubborn personalities around campus, this particular interaction seemed to interest him more than it irritated him. alhaitham nodded and sat beside you, much to your surprise.

he listened as you flipped your page and began writing again, this time taking up less space on the paper.

why do you like sitting here? you passed the notebook to him.

he wrote much slower in comparison to you, however, his handwriting bore an elegance you had not seen before, as if each letter carried a song in the ink. you found it beautiful.

the lack of noise.

his short response made you smile — simple and straight to the point. another thing you deemed wonderful.

he did not hand the notebook back to you, but instead, continued to write. i dislike unnecessary sounds. they serve as useless interruptions. up here, i find that in comparison to the chatter of students, the ambience is soothing. alhaitham placed the notebook in your lap gingerly and looked into the distance, his gaze absent yet his thoughts reverberating.

you continued this back and forth with him for the entirety of the lunch break. the lines engraved on your palms spilled over with ink smears, and you found your dominant arm growing weary. you did not write your goodbyes on the paper, therefore leaving your conversation unfinished. you left with a smidge of warmth in your heart and a smile on your face in hopes of meeting him again the next day.

from afar, you could see the way he sat leaning slightly more towards one side, and the occasional tapping of his fingers against the table as he wrote. he drank from a small mug of what you presumed to be coffee, but rather than holding the handle, he gripped the cup from its mouth. another intricacy that piqued your interest.

he noticed your stare after a few seconds, eyes of jade and clementine meeting yours. without a word, he relocated to your table, sitting directly across from you. “hello,” he greeted softly. “i didn’t know you frequented this place either.” his gaze flickered over to your notebook peeking out of your schoolbag, and when you pulled it out to respond to him, he found himself getting uncharacteristically excited.

i don’t, actually. i wanted a change of pace, but i’m not sure how much i’m enjoying it. you pushed the book across the table to him.

is it too loud to study? that’s surprising.

you looked up at him questioningly for a moment before jotting down your reply. i’m not studying. i’m just here to read. his lips upturned noticeably at your words, an expression you wished to carve into the crevices of your memory for eternity. he was painstakingly beautiful.

alhaitham didn’t respond for a handful of seconds, instead opting to look outside the window to his left. strands of sunlight draped themselves onto his perfectly crafted face and fell between each strand of hair. a view that compared to the one at the top of the akademiya.

a conversation of short responses — ranging from questions about your darshan, to your favorite season, to the books you enjoyed reading — ensued, the evidence splayed onto the paper. you appreciated his company, for it was rare that anyone sought to talk with you.

he asked another question, his curiosity seeping out endlessly. why do you communicate like this?

a thin-lipped smile etched itself onto your lips. the ink of your pen ghosted atop the paper, your hesitation evident. i was born mute. i have no voice, therefore i cannot communicate in a normal manner.

you grew increasingly anxious as he looked at you with an expression that was terrifyingly unreadable. your hands rested atop the notebook, keeping it away from him for reasons you didn’t understand quite yet.

“that’s okay,” he spoke, the baritone of his voice cutting through your shared silence. “i don’t mind it. actually, i think i prefer it. over the grating voices of the other scholars i know, at least.” he went on about his senior, a friend in kshahrewar who apparently could never keep his mouth shut in his presence. you merely listened, soaking in his words and absorbing each syllable that spilled out of the cracks between his teeth. your confession rendered you utterly silent, but seemingly, he paid no mind.

again, your conversation ended without a proper goodbye. your notebook sat still on the table. moments after his departure, you stayed in your seat, contemplating the complications of this newfound acquaintance.

alhaitham’s life revolved around routine and quiet. he needed both to go about his day in an efficient and satisfying manner; otherwise, he would end up feeling rather unfulfilled and bothered.

perhaps that is why he found himself so drawn to you. in comparison to many of his classmates, who were incessantly obnoxious and needlessly talkative, you were quiet, not just vocally, but in every other aspect. your handwriting was consistent and each letter looked just as neat as the other. your responses were similar to his in that they were direct and honest. and, oddly, you radiated a warmth that he could not see in anyone else.

his next encounter with you wouldn’t be for a handful of days. he knew you were a student, thus resulting in his confusion — he had never seen you around campus until that day.

he ran into you during one of his lectures. you sat right beside him in a seat that wasn’t usually occupied. he began to question you with pen and paper, as usual.

since when were you enrolled in this class?

i always have been. this isn’t a necessary class for my darshan, it’s just an extra period for me to increase my credits. i don’t come to class very often.

he quirked a brow up. you fiddled with your pen.

interesting how i haven’t heard of you until now. alhaitham smiled softly at your muffled giggle, one that he had not heard until then. the noise swarmed his chest with a lightness he could not replicate.

you might have fallen too soon.

alhaitham was a simple man, yet alluring all the same. you had snuck away his perfections and imperfections in a different notebook. for instance:

3 - straightforward and direct

21 - prefers tea over coffee

44 - can’t sleep without a weighted blanket

your ever-growing infatuation for him began to blossom in the cavities of your stomach, and soon, it would infect everything above. you could not bear it — nights spent in solitude, where he would discuss his interests (which were minimal) until you fell asleep; afternoons spent in comfort, where you would share a slice of cake to celebrating a particularly difficult exam. he consumed your very being, the neurons that invoked muscular response and the veins that carried your blood here and there; all of it was him. and yet, you could not meaningfully share this with him, your silence embedding your heart in a crevice far away.

it seemed that he got to it first, anyways.

alhaitham asked you a simple question — if you were capable of speaking for a day, what would you say? he had begun carrying his own memo book to conversate — another addition to the list.

you sat in silence for a brief period before writing, every thought and feeling and idea that has ever encountered my mind would leave my lips.

he wrote, then i will give you just that, and more.

when you began dating alhaitham, you found that he was much more eager to “speak” to you consistently. he would write in his same font and present to you a variety of inquiries, ranging from plans for the day to what you wanted for dinner. he was the epitome of a loving man, a far cry from the tales of coldheartedness and brutality you’ve heard of him. and yet, something began to gnaw at your lungs as he did so.

alhaitham was your voice to speak through — he was the monotonous ramblings, the heavy whispers, the gentle laughs; he held all of those for you. seemingly, life became far more breathable.

but your love was just as restricting as it was kind. to speak is to suffer, but to not speak at all is beyond that — it is torture. nights were spent staring at alhaitham’s sleeping figure, questioning whether he truly felt the affection you expressed. gifts, contact, quality time; what good was it if you could not do something as simple as converse with him? it extended beyond him, as well — for reasons unknown, it grew increasingly difficult to communicate with your new professors and classmates, the downturns of their lips as you pulled out a notebook gut-wrenching. you questioned if alhaitham felt the same.

you began to spiral.

a rapid set of knocks arrived at your door at a questionable hour. the sun hung high in the sky, albeit obscured by your curtains. a soft buzz rung in your room.

“i know you’re inside,” a voice spoke from the other side of the wood. he knocked again.

you made no move to open the door, nor to approach it, nor to get up from your bed. in response, the hinges creaked and heavy footsteps neared.

“why have you locked yourself in here?” alhaitham asked, his tone indiscernible. you didn’t see it, but you heard him shuffling around your bedroom. “where is your notebook?”

it was silly. he spoke as if you could respond, and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to be sorrowful or upset.

he pulled the blanket from off of your head, his face indifferent as he witnessed your disheveled state. “i’m not sure what’s going on, but i can assure you i will wait until you’re well enough to speak to me again. i will always wait.” alhaitham set his own memo book and pen beside your pillow. a warm hand held yours, a signal of reassurance. “please get better as soon as you can.”

he turned around to leave, and you could not bring yourself to reach out for him. what would you do? would the words crawl out of your throat, akin to a miracle? or would you plead at him with desperate eyes in hopes he’d read your mind? you did not know. every instance would inconvenience him in some way — that you could not bear.

you did not step foot outside for another week. alhaitham (and kaveh, much to your surprise) had left meals and gifts next to your door, all of which remained untouched. you were in stasis.

each thought had been replaced by a fog so asphyxiating that it had drowned every word the moment it rose to the surface. a bubbling exhaustion boiled in you. you wished to speak, to express anything at all, to apologize for inconveniencing those around you, and to apologize to alhaitham for putting him through such an obstacle.

as if sensing this desire, he arrived at your dorm again, this time with a more gentle appearance and a large bag behind him.

you reached out for the notebook he placed beside you a week prior. why are you here?

he kneeled down beside you, paying no mind to your disheveled appearance, and spoke softly, “i’m sorry.” if it were fitting, he would have laughed at the instantaneous furrow of your brows. “i should’ve realized. and in failing to do so, i have failed you.” alhaitham took the notebook and pen from your grasp, and with an unrivaled delicacy, he held you.

“i would give up my own voice if it meant i could spend an eternity with you,” he began. “i do not care if you lack a voice of your own. you’re still embedded in my heart all the same.”

you had not written to him for days. and yet, he understood everything. he read the words displayed in your features with a familiarity no one had demonstrated.

758 - willing to help me heal.

alhaitham sat across from you, his back hunched over his work and his face framed with a mix of feather-gray hair and wispy sunlight. he wrote with an unmatched fluidity, as if time were escaping him.

he let out a sigh as he set down his pencil and sat up straight. “why must you sit with me if you’ve finished this assignment weeks ago? it’s as if you’re mocking me.”

it’s entertaining. he grabbed the notebook from your side of the table and wrote haphazardly, contrasting his smooth technique before.

it’s really not. i feel as if i’m being ridiculed and observed under a microscrope. it’s horrible, he teased.

you’re smart, anyways. you’ll survive.

afternoons in the akademiya’s library were once suffocating and exhausting. to be surrounded by peers who could only sneer and misjudge and question was unpleasant. now, as you sat with your lover in a soft silence, you felt at peace.

[actiniumsarchive]

be my valentine?💝

[actiniumsarchive]

SILVER LINING

synopsis: you can’t seem to love him in the way he loves you

characters: ayato x gn!reader

wc: 485

warnings: pure angst, hurt/no comfort, reader is implied to be one of ayato’s servants

notes: this is somewhat inspired by some recent events in my personal life and the painful feeling of not being able to return someone else’s feelings. also i’ve been extremely burnt out lately with work and all, so i’m using this as a way of getting back into things slowly :’)

It’s late when you return to the warm indoors of the estate. Hours of cleaning alongside Thoma for an event taking place the next day left bruises on your hands and a dryness in your throat.

“Took you long enough,” a warm voice murmurs from beside the door frame. Blue eyes stare lovingly down at you as you walk in tiredly. If it wasn’t for the dull candle light illuminating the room, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed him.

“Ayato?” you question, dusting off your hands as you turn to look at where he stands with his arms crossed, “Why are you still awake? Shouldn’t you have gone to bed hours ago?”

A breathy laugh falls from his lips, “I was waiting for you, dear.”

You feel your throat tighten a bit, somehow becoming even drier than your work had left you. There’s an ache in your chest, one that’s becoming all too familiar as the days pass, “You shouldn’t have…really.”

The faint glimmer in Ayato’s eyes seems to fade as you walk past him. Hesitantly, he clears his throat and bounces slightly off the wall to catch up with you, “Is…is something wrong?”

“No, I…” you begin, but his hand grabs yours and turns you around to face him, a concerned look painted across his face.

“You what?” he interrupts. This time around, however, he’s more defensive, like he’s scared of what you have to say. Although he’s asking, you know he doesn’t want you to finish what you were saying. It creates a sense of terror in you too, but you can’t pretend any longer.

“We can’t do this anymore,” you whisper with your chin tucked to your chest and your eyes looking anywhere but him. His finger gently lifts your chin however, forcing you to look at him.

“Please don’t say that,” his voice almost cracks, but he fights against it.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words just don’t come out. It’s then that you feel the burning sensation in the back of your eyes and the tiny lump forming in your throat, “Ayato, I can’t pretend I feel the same. I really wish I could, but I just don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he says in the most painful tone you could imagine. In the near decade you’ve known him, Ayato had never once shown you this side of him — so vulnerable, so delicate. It shatters your heart in ways you can’t even imagine.

So as he lets your hand go, you take a step back from him. And all at once, the months you’d been dancing around one another had faded into meaning absolutely nothing. The love he felt for you would never be reciprocated. Tears fall one final time as you slide into your bedroom of the estate and a gentle whisper falls from your lips despite his pleas not to.

“I’m so sorry.”

[actiniumsarchive]

MISTLETOE

synopsis: one year after your devastating breakup, you and neuvillette find yourselves under the mistletoe

characters: neuvillette x gn!reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: angst to fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, mentions of breakups, the steambird being exploitative

notes: woooo first christmas fic for this year is done! this definitely could’ve been way longer, but i’ve got like four more to write and i’m pretty happy with how this turned out. this concept was also originally going to go to wriothesley but i think neuvillette suits it better :)

The first thing that makes it really set in that the holiday season has arrived in Fontaine is the pesky decorations.

Everywhere you go there seems to be some sort of string of lights, faux presents, and little snowmen. Don’t get it twisted, it isn’t like you’re some Scrooge when it comes to the holidays, but it hasn’t quite been the same ever since, well, ever since it happened.

Your shoes click and clack against the brick flooring of Fontaine’s main city floors. The same ones that are beginning to ice over from the cruel frost of winter air. And it doesn’t exclude you either, not with the way it snips at your nose and makes it hard to breathe even when you’ve barely stepped foot outside.

“Good morning!” Charlotte calls to you as you walk past her, a hand eagerly waving you down with that mischievous glint in her eyes. Part of you wants to duck behind a bush and pretend you don’t see her, but you’re better than that.

You send her an apologetic smile and pull your coat a little closer. You slow your pace a bit but don’t stop moving as you respond, “Sorry, Charlotte. I know I said I’d interview soon, but I really can’t today.”

“C’mon, the whole world wants to know the tragic holiday tale of you and Monsieur Neuvillette! Let it be a present to the subscribers of the Steam Bird!” She pushes your buttons carefully, camera ready to strike incase you change your mind or make any comment on the matter.

If you hadn’t had any reason to turn that interview down beforehand, you certainly do now.

Even though you hate the way she looks so disappointed when you walk away, it serves all of Fontaine right for meddling with people’s private business. Seriously? Did everything have to be entertainment to these people?

You scoff as you walk away, mumbling something about forgetting that interview if that’s what she wanted all along. Naturally, she doesn’t hear it, nor does she get to see your sour reaction as you desperately walk away from her and that stupid camera.

When you finally make it to the Palais Mermonia, you check in quickly and one of the Melusines, Liath, hands you a few letters that had been dropped off for you prior to your arrival. One carelessly slips from your cold hand before you can even register it happening. When you pick it up, your body had shifted ever so slightly and for a second, just a split second, you shoot a longing glance at the doors to your right. The doors that led to his office. To him.

“Is something the matter? Do those letters not belong to you?” Liath interrupts with a puzzled expression as she tilts her head.

You snap out of your thoughts and quickly scramble to compose yourself. You hold the stack of letters close to your chest as you take a step back and awkwardly laugh, “Oh uh no! I just um, got a little distracted, sorry.”

“You got distracted looking at the Iudex’s…doors?”

You hesitate, mouth agape and unsure of how to respond, “I uh, yeah I guess I was.”

“Interesting,” she says suspiciously, squinting her lilac eyes at you, “he asked about you this morning, actually.”

“He did?” you say all too fast, perking up at the mention of his name. It’s pathetic, really. You internally thank the Archons for Melusines not being all too good at understanding human behavior.

“Yes,” she answers simply, crossing her small arms one over the other.

“And um,” you push further, not realizing the way you eagerly take a step forward, “what did he say?”

“Nothing. He merely inquired when you would be coming in today.”

You can’t help the disappointment in your voice as a quiet, “Oh,” slips out. Part of you wants to ask if there was anything else, maybe some sort of expression or tone of voice she caught, but you hold yourself back.

Get it together. It’s almost been a year.

One tragic year since the two of you split. One long, tragic year since you wished you could’ve worked something out, even if it meant you could’ve had a little more time together. It was mutual, but truthfully, you never wanted him gone. You only wish you could’ve realized it at the time.

“Thank you,” you nod and walk away while trying to hide the dismay you felt. She doesn’t say anything else.

As you walk to the other end of the hall, you notice someone had placed some illuminated garland around the frame of your door and a miniature Christmas tree in the corner a few feet away. It isn’t as extravagant as the decorations they had placed around Neuvillette’s door, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

The inside is a lot less spirited and looks like your normal dreary office. You pay no mind to it as you get to work right away, trying desperately to keep the interaction between Neuvillette and Liath out of your head. You even keep the door to your office open a little bit, letting the hushed voices in the main corridor fade into white noise while you scribbled away at some documents for the court.

And it works. You don’t even notice eight hours pass until it becomes too dark to see what you’re writing. Nor do you notice that there isn’t anyone outside anymore and that the only noise filling the space is the quiet holiday tune your phonograph plays from across the room.

You sigh and set down the pen from your cramped hand. It was December 23rd. Two days before Christmas and here you were, alone and with nothing to do for the holidays but working away in a cold office.

It makes you frown the longer you think about it. So you stand quickly, shutting off the lamps in the room and placing everything away in their files for the night. Quietly, you exit the room and lock the doors behind you as you begin to head out for the night thinking that perhaps you could go and at least treat yourself to a meal or some shopping.

You don’t expect to bump into someone the moment you turn around.

“I’m so sorry!”

“My apologies.”

You both rush at the same time.

You freeze when his deep voice hits your ears and you instantly take a step backward.“Neuvillette..?” you whisper, glancing up into the familiar blue eyes that belong to the man you once called yours. The question is more to yourself than to him. Almost as if you can’t believe he’s actually standing in front of you.

He clears his throat tensely and mirrors you in taking a step back, “Sorry, I was unaware anyone else was still here.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve watched where I was going,” you say, eyes not straying from his, “and it isn’t too surprising, I mean, it isn’t like I have anything to be doing for the holidays since…nevermind.”

Neuvillette catches what you were about to say but saves you the headache of having to do any sort of explaining. Instead, he motions in front of him and pulls the keys out from his pocket, “Shall we go? It’s getting rather late. I can lock the doors behind us.”

Us. It’s weird hearing that again.

You wordlessly nod and follow his lead. Like the gentleman he always was, Neuvillette opens the door and lets you out first. You stand a few feet away by the small set of stairs as he locks it quickly. Gently, you reach your hand out from under the overhang and feel small bits of frost falling onto your hands.

“It’s snowing,” you say wistfully, admiring the delicate snowflakes falling upon your palms. Neuvillette turns to look at the sky as he walks up to stand next to you. Peeling off one of his navy blue gloves, he lets the snow reach him too.

“A rare sight for Fontaine,” he hummed with a small but warm smile on his face. Fontaine didn’t usually get cold enough to the point of snowing. It had been a long time since you had seen it either.

He turns to look at you the same time you turn to look at him. A gentle laugh falls from your lips but it stops the moment he points to something above you, “I believe this is mistletoe. I’m sure the Melusines placed this here. One of them mentioned learning about it in a book to me the other day.”

You’re surprised how conversational he is with you.

“We don’t have to,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. There’s hurt in it, and you have a hard time disguising it. It’s evident by the way his eyes soften as he looks at you.

Neuvillette exhales as he looks to the floor and then back to you, “You know I don’t like to break traditions.”

You take a step closer. He does the same.

“Are you sure? It’s been a year since…you know? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—“

Neuvillette cuts you off by gently placing his lips on yours, interlocking eagerly. They’re warm and soft like a fireplace as they melt away the frost from your body. You reciprocate easily once you get over the initial shock, wrapping your hand around his neck to bring him in closer.

When you pull away, you feel a burning sensation in your throat and a tingling feeling in your eyes. You don’t know why, but the kiss makes you want to cry.

Neuvillette doesn’t distance himself either. Instead he places a gentle hand on your back as soon as you nod, pulling you into his affectionate embrace. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, just like you used to do, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

[actiniumsarchive]

adamantine dreams — h. aki

one bed + "wait, don't pull away... not yet."

synopsis. there was a time before you when aki found it hard to sleep. call it sleep debt or whatever, but he's going to squeeze every ounce of rest he can get from his body now.

wc. ~1.2k

— for @naosaki 🫶 i love you | event masterlist ✉️

He used to have nightmares.

They started when he was young and naive, back when he felt like the world could fit into the palm of his hand and the grief he sheltered could flatten armies of enemies.

Sleep did not come easily to Hayakawa Aki.

He was a dead man walking. A corpse with tar black lungs and nothing left to lose. As much as he willingly sacrificed, and as much as he tried to put on a brave face, death petrified him. He spent most nights tossing and turning, eluded by rest leaving him in worsening condition by the day.

There was nothing in the world he wanted to do more than to close his eyes and have the world be still. To sleep without jolting awake at even the tiniest creaks of the floorboards. To be able to be at peace without the sound of a gunshot seared into his memory.

Aki had given up on such a dream many, many years ago.

Then you came along, declared that you were bunking with him while he blankly stared at his single bed in his single room in his apartment that was eerily quiet considering his horribly rowdy roommates, then promptly crawled under the blanket and fell asleep.

He had three choices that day. One, kick you out and risk being reprimanded by Makima herself, which, honestly, sounded the most appealing at the time. Two, sleep on the hardwood floor and develop back pains that would make him devil food by the end of the day. Or three, his least favourite but most logically sound option: sleep in the bed, pressed up against the wall and putting as much distance between your bodies as possible.

And, well. The rest is history.

He discovered a different type of devil wandering the earth. It had warm skin and a cute smile and fit into his arms as if it were shaped from the same clay of which he emerged.

It had no ill intent and sought not the smell of human fear, but the scent of cigarettes and black coffee.

You were a certain kind of evil he couldn't fight, no matter how much he wanted to try. His time was running thin—sand trickling through an hourglass with no signs of stopping.

Aki was hurtling toward his death at a record pace.

He thought he had made peace with that—with the fact that he would never be able to sleep like a little boy again, safe and sound. He was aware that his life was a race against the contracts he had forged years ago, back when he thought devil hunting was the only salvation in the sick world he lived in.

If he could take them all back, he would.

There was nothing he could do now but close his eyes and pretend the days weren't whirring by. He had heard as a child that time flies with the one you love, and he scoffed at such a notion once upon a time.

He would give it all up. Heart, soul, his own flesh if he could stop time just to spend this moment with you for an eternity.

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of your alarm. Aki has long since awoken, groggy but well-rested.

He was always the first one awake. While his mind has been blissfully quieter recently, his body had an awful tendency to jerk into consciousness anyways. He watches your rousing expression carefully, attempting to freeze time itself in the form of a memory.

Warm sunlight pools against your body, swimming in his navy blue sheets. Skin to skin, smile to smile, you kiss him slow and sure—a gesture he has grown familiar with over the past year since you showed up.

"Morning," you yawn, arm draping over his body and a hand slowly trailing from his chest to his neck then finally settling on his cheek.

"You have morning breath." He tells you bluntly, flustered as always.

You snort softly, feigning offense rather poorly. "As if your breath smells like roses right now?"

"Better than yours," he refutes. His fingers deftly squeeze yours until you release his face. You huff dramatically, snatching the blankets with you as you forcefully roll over in bed.

"Fine then. Guess I'll get on with my day without bothering you with my morning breath."

His hand shoots out to capture your wrist as you shuffle out of your side of the bed. Yanking you back, he smothers you under his weight to prevent you from escaping.

"Don't go. Not yet."

"Aki," you laugh while trying to wriggle away to no avail. "I have to go to work."

"Stay home today," he complains, burying his face into your hair so you can't see how absolutely red he's gotten.

"I can't!" You giggle. You start squirming again so he can release you. He does this time, towering over you with some sort of narrowed expression.

"Just stay a little longer," he murmurs, swooping back down to press his lips to your forehead. "Stay."

It's starting to sound more like a demand than a request, so you surrender. Your arms open wide again and he collapses back onto you with a thump.

"You're crushing me," you wheeze from beneath. He shakes his head.

"Deal with it."

"You're seriously going to go back to sleep like this?!"

"Not my fault you make it so easy to fall asleep."

"Didn't know I bored you to death like that," you tease, purposefully dodging the real meaning behind his words because, well, he's equally talented at flustering you.

There was a time before you when Aki found it hard to sleep, tormented by the visions of his entire childhood vanishing in a fraction of a second. It was those nights that were especially unbearable, never relieving him from his painful existence and forcing him to listen to the explosion of guns in his ears over and over again.

Call it sleep debt or whatever, but he's going to squeeze every ounce of rest he can get from his body now.

"You're heavy," you whine one last time for good measure. He doesn't do anything but smile against your skin, savouring every second of your body under his.

Despite your complaining, your hands tangle into his hair almost instantly and you tug him just a bit closer, heart to heart.

Sleep washes over him. You really must have been a devil in disguise, offering up the most despicable evil of all: love.

He knew his time was short. He knew that love would only make it hurt all the more.

But your fingers are combing through his hair and he can feel the gentle rumble of your voice in your chest as you tell him your plans for the day just as his eyes start to feel heavy.

There's a weakness you expose in him, a gap leftover from his lonely childhood yearning for companionship. You fill in all the missing pieces—complete him in a way that revenge and hatred could not.

So he figures, maybe it would be okay to be selfish and just close his eyes right now. Be loved. Sleep and dream of nothing but a future he could never have with you.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[actiniumsarchive]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬, 𝑨𝑺 𝑺𝑬𝑻 𝑰𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑬✩

𝑨𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒖𝒎'𝒔 2.5𝒌 𝑭𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 !!

status: open! ✩ event masterlist

note: thank you so much for 2.5k followers! i am very grateful for the love and support you guys have shown for my writing this past year, it means so so much to me. so thanks to everyone who’s new and those who have stuck around. i can’t wait to see how this blog continues to grow <3

interested in participating in the event? more details are below the cut!

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 ✩

for this event, i will be celebrating by writing pieces based on different au’s! we all love the canonverse for genshin, but it’s nice to see our favorite characters in different universes. so, by combining the meanings of crystals as prompts + different au’s, i’ll be writing short stories based on your submissions! note that for some of the crystals i used the opposite meaning so there would be angst and fluff prompts available!

𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑰𝑷𝑨𝑻𝑬 ✩

send an ask (can be on anon!) with your selected character + au + crystal(s)

you can send choose up to 3 crystals, but only one au and only one character!

i will only be writing for the same character/au up to two or three times, so everything will be on a first come, first serve basis. if you’re unsure about your character or au being available, you can include a backup in your ask.

please be sure to check the rules before sending an ask! any asks sent pertaining to the event that do not follow the rules will not be written. i also have the right to refuse any request. if i get a lot of requests for this event, it’s likely i won’t be able to write all of them, but i’ll try to get through as many as i can.

sample ask: “hi, act! for your event, can i request wriothesley + actor au + selenite, garnet, and angelite?”

𝑨𝑼'𝑺: choose one!

note: once an au is crossed out, it cannot be selected again. i will allow up to two or three uses of the same au before it cannot be picked again.

artist

actor

bookstore

coffee shop

college

florist

detectives

photographers

royalty

soulmate

time travel

tattoo artist

𝑪𝑹𝒀𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑺 : choose up to three!

amber - sickness

amethyst - betrayal

angelite - confessions

black diamond - mistrust

citrine - warmth and comfort

clear quartz - healing from hurt

emerald - loneliness

fluorite - clarity

garnet - self consciousness

hematite - protection

howlite - surrender

jade - gentleness

lapis lazuli - nobility

lepidolite - stress

moonstone - new beginnings

peridot - compassion

rose quartz - pure love

ruby - weakness

sapphire - clouded vision

selenite - hope

serpentine - mystery

sodalite - miscommunication

topaz - forgiveness

tourmaline - sadness

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺: choose one!

note: characters will be crossed off after being taken. the same character can only be written twice :)

men: albedo, diluc, kaeya, venti, xiao, zhongli, baizhu, scaramouche, ayato, heizou, kazuha, itto, thoma, alhaitham, cyno, tighnari, kaveh, dottore, neuvillette, lyney, wriothesley, childe, and dainsleif

women: mona, beidou, yelan, ningguang, hu tao, ayaka, kujou sara, kokomi, nilou, dehya, clorinde, and arlecchino

credits: genshin character art is all official art and belongs to hoyoverse (but i altered the coloring over them!). the moon/stars dividers and animated orange dividers are from @/cafekitsune !

[actiniumsarchive]

Can i request OPLA zoro where he doesn't get along with reader but calls her my girl in front of a baratie waiter who was flirting with her.

my girl

zoro; 2,438 words; fluff, kinda enemies to lovers, fem!reader, straw hat!reader, lots of banter, slow...burn?

summary: just cause you don't see eye to eye doesn't mean zoro's down to watch you get hit on while he's in the same bar, either.

a/n: again. i've got no excuse. pls continue to send more requests feed my opla!zoro obsession u__u

it is perhaps what therapists and psychiatrists would call an incompatibility of character. or maybe something about you and him that simply acted like two jigsaw pieces from completely different puzzles. or maybe luffy had just jinxed it when he’d said the first time that he sensed some “tension amongst the crew”, but it’s no secret that you and zoro don’t exact see eye to eye.

in fact, sanji thinks, it might only be a matter of time before you each try to take the other’s eyes out permanently.

“you’re really not worried?” he asked luffy as they’d watched zoro and you bicker all the way down the wobbling boardwalk leading up to the baratie, you sniping at zoro for getting in your way and zoro biting back something equally acerbic and childish about you being too clumsy to be a good pirate.

“huh? why would i be worried? they get along just fine!” luffy had laughed, eyes bright and round as he’d readjusted his hat and bounded off towards the entrance, whooping about being hungry enough to take down an entire sea cow.

“wh —”

“bit rich, since you and zoro are always at each other’s throats, no?”

nami bumps sanji’s arm as she strolls by him with a stack of empty crates. sanji squawks, readjusting his own bags before jogging after her.

“c’mon, you know that’s different!”

nami smirks but doesn’t grace that with an answer, instead, she lets her eyes flicker back to where you and zoro are still snarking at each other even as the bewildered looking fishman at the front leads you all around back to the kitchen entrance.

“— wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d just —”

“yeah? and if i’d just stayed put like you said, the entire going merry would’ve gone up in smoke cause last i checked, wood is very flammable!”

“the merry’s not that fragile.”

“you wanna bet?”

“yeah, maybe i do —”

“what’s goin’ on here? didn’t i tell you lot to get lost?” zeff’s gruff voice interrupts your bickering as the peg-legged chef looks from zoro to you and then the rest of the crew, “gotta new one, didya? don’t remember you from the last time these idiots were here.”

“she’s barely an upgrade from the clown head —”

you slam your heel into the toe of zoro’s boot and he hisses, nearly dropping his armful of crates.

“what he means is that i’m the brains of the operation —”

“we don’t need brains —”

“oh, so you’re admitting that you didn’t have any before i got here?”

zoro glares, dropping the crates as luffy pushes past you both to clap zeff on the shoulder and offer him a huge stack of berry.

“we came to pay you back for the meal last time! and to buy a new one! and… maybe some extra food stuff if you’ve got it.”

zeff opens his mouth to answer but it’s drowned out by the sound of your voice as you jab a finger into zoro’s chest.

“— just because you can’t hold more than one cohesive thought in your head at once doesn’t mean that —”

“— what’s that even supposed to mean? like you can think about two things at once?”

“enough! you two — outta the kitchen, now! i won’t have your lovesick teenage yappin’ distractin’ my line chefs!”

you both jump at zeff’s voice, and an unpleasant heat creeps into your cheeks as you realize that the entire kitchen had indeed gone very quiet, most of the white-clad workers staring at you and zoro.

“i need a drink,” zoro says, rolling his shoulders as he sidesteps you and pushes his way out of the kitchen.

“look, sir, i didn’t mean —” you take half a step forward but zeff jabs a finger at the doors still swinging in zoro’s wake.

“i said out!”

you glance between zeff and the rest of your crew for a split second before turning and scrambling from the kitchen, looking abashed.

“oh no, c’mon zeff, you didn’t need to yell at her like that —” sanji sighs as he tries to go after you, but nami nails him in the stomach with one of her arms.

“nope. this is something they need to work out on their own. and you’re on grocery shopping duty with me, remember?” she flashes him a smile even as he deflates slightly and turns back to the work of haggling rations out of the baratie’s storerooms.

you find zoro already posted up at the bar, even though the hour is still early enough that there’s only a few other patrons, mainly keeping to themselves. you fight the urge to march up to him and give him an earful about embarrassing you in front of sanji’s old master like that but zeff’s words about making a scene keeps your lips clamped shut.

instead, you seat yourself as far from zoro as humanly possible and wait for the bartender to sidle over. he flashes you a winning smile, making no attempt to conceal the way his eyes drag from your hair to your face and then down to your cleavage, where his gaze rests for a beat too long before he clears his throat.

“what can i get you, gorgeous? something sweet and bubbly, perhaps? or maybe something a bit more dark and… seductive? i can have a custom drink whipped up for you in a few if you’d like… on the house, of course.”

he shoots you a wink that has your eyebrows hiking up your forehead.

“laying it on thick, are we?”

the bartender shrugs, seemingly unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm.

“place like this doesn’t exactly breed subtlety.”

you make a noncommittal noise before sighing, “i’ll have a dirty martini, shaken not stirred, straight, with a twist, please.”

to his credit, the bartender doesn’t miss a single beat, “ah, a woman of taste, though i’ll admit that i prefer my martini’s naked instead of shaken, hm?”

he waggles his eyebrows and if it weren’t for the loud cough from down the bar drawing the bartender’s attention, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

at the opposite end of the bar, zoro taps his empty drink glass against the waxy hardwood, a vein ticking in his jaw. he’d listened to the entire exchange with a growing annoyance festering in the depths of his stomach. and here he was, hoping for a moment of quiet without the sound of your voice yammering in his ear. he shoots the bartender a glowering look as the man refills his drink and tries to make his way back down the bar to you.

zoro tosses the entire drink back in one and sets the empty glass down with a loud clack, clearing his throat as the bartender turns to stare at him. he holds the man’s gaze for a full three seconds before looking pointedly down at his glass and the bartender’s face visibly reddens.

“here you are, sir — the last three are on the house.”

the bartender lines up five identical drinks in front of zoro before marching away and zoro has to give it to the guy. he does make a good, stiff drink.

still, as he tries his hardest not to glance down towards where you’re sitting, sipping slowly at your martini, he can’t help overhearing the stilted stabs at conversation floating down the length of the empty bar. the bartender lavishes you with questions, asking about your travels, who you came with, where you’re from. you, for your part, never give him an answer more than three words long — travels were good, my crew, an autumn island.

zoro briefly wonders why you don’t tell the guy off like you so often did him. then, he briefly wonders if the fact that you’re always so easily set off by him means something. then, he not-so-briefly wonders why, if he’s always been so bothered by you, that he’s still thinking about you in the precious few hours he has to himself.

he clicks his tongue and downs another drink just as you finish your first.

“c’mon darlin’ — just a hint — what about the first letter? shall i try to guess?”

you sigh into your now empty glass as the bartender asks your name for the third time in a row, though to no avail. suddenly, a warm, solid presence appears next to you and the next thing you know, zoro’s arm is brushing up against yours as he leans over the bar to bear down at the bartender.

“right, now if you’re done trying t’pick up my girl, i think i’d like the check.”

the bartender blinks up at zoro, uncomprehending for a second before a blotchy redness seeps into his cheeks.

“y-your — you haven’t said a word to each other since either of you got here!”

you swallow passed a bewildered laugh as you glance up at zoro to find a challenge clear in his eyes. you slowly swivel back to the bartender with a light smile.

“ever heard of a lover’s quarrel?”

the bartender sputters as he stares between the pair of you for another long second before scurrying off to fetch the check. zoro chuckles under his breath, his earrings clinking softly in the dim light.

“damn — i really wanted another drink,” you say, staring at your empty glass.

wordlessly, zoro plops one of his in front of you. it’s the second to last.

you bring it up to your nose for a sniff before making a face.

“god that smells awful!”

“fine then, more for me.”

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t drink it!”

you bring the glass to your lips for a small sip. it’s tastier than you’d imagined but it still burns a line down your throat as you shiver.

“h-holy shit —” you cough, wiping at your mouth, “how many of these have you had?”

zoro shrugs, sipping on his own glass with a careless ease, “dunno. don’t really keep count.”

“ugh… this could knock out a war elephant…” you make another face before you take a second sip.

“figures you can’t hold your liquor, drinkin’ whatever girly shit you ordered.”

you round on him, “martinis are not girly!”

“tch. whatever.”

you settle into a huffy silence. zoro’s arm is still pressed against yours and neither of you makes to pull away. for a while, the only sounds in the bar are the soft clink of ice on glass and the light, liquid splashing of the ocean waves.

“why didn’t you tell him off?” zoro’s voice is quiet and when you turn to look at him, it’s to find him staring. you hold his gaze steady and don’t look away.

“why should i? he’s no one to me.”

“you don’t seem to have a problem yellin’ at me.”

you shrug, your eyes flickering back to the too-strong drink in your hand.

“i don’t tend to waste my breath on people i don’t really care about,” you say, your voice soft and careful and honest. zoro sucks in a slow breath, his mildly alcohol addled brain trying to process what you’d just said but his thoughts are interrupted by a peel of loud, raucous laughter echoing in from the dining room beyond.

“c’mon, sounds like dinner is served,” you say, grinning as you push off the bar, jerking your head towards the dining room door.

zoro lets out the breath before downing the rest of his drink and leaving the empty glass on the bar to follow you.

at dinner, you bicker less than usual and zoro is even more quiet than he normally is. though he wastes no time ordering another round for the table. no one really comments till zeff comes round at the end with the check.

“dinner’s already paid for but i was told that this is for the ‘lovebirds from the bar’,” he says, as he drops the drinks bill in front of zoro with a deadpan sort of look.

for a full ten seconds, no one moves. and then, usopp’s jaws hit the floor as sanji’s eyebrows jerk towards the ceiling. nami sits back with a satisfied smirk as luffy nods happily at the two of you before turning to grin at sanji.

“see? told you they get along fine!”

sanji has the decency to sputter just as usopp leans forward to point between you and zoro.

“wait… whaattt?”

you make to tug out your wallet but zoro slaps a stack of berry on top of the bill.

“give our compliments to the bartender,” he says with a slight smirk as zeff takes the money, glancing up at the two of you.

“yeah? what’d he make that’s got you so impressed?”

you purse your lips as you make a show of shrugging, waving a nonchalant hand through the air.

“oh, just a mean dirty martini.”

zeff lets out a loud bark of laughter as he takes the berry and clomps back towards the kitchens, shaking his head. zoro chuckles beside you as he stretches an arm over his head and lets it settle casually on the booth back behind you.

later, as everyone is making their way back towards the going merry, nami catches up to you on the docks, looping an arm through yours and pinning you with a meaningful look just as sanji sidles up to zoro and bumps him with a shoulder.

“so…” nami says, grinning as she tugs you forward a few steps.

“so.” sanji clears his throat, casting zoro a sidelong glance.

“wanna tell me what that was about?” nami asks.

“care to elaborate on that back there?” sanji questions.

you and zoro both take a deep, long breath. zoro glances up to see the way you toss a lock of hair over your shoulder, your bright laughter carrying back on the breeze. you allow yourself a smile, and you don’t have to turn to feel zoro’s eyes on you as both of you turn to your respective companions and say —

“i’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

opla!zoro reqs are (as always) open!!

[actiniumsarchive]

how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)

synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.

warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 

zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 

“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 

“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”

you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 

the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 

“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”

“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 

you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 

zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”

“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 

at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 

“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  

zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”

“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 

zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a minute to realize he’s not walking alongside you.

“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 

you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”

before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 

“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 

you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 

“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 

he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  

“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 

“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 

“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”

“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.

“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”

zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 

“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.

“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 

you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 

going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 

“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.

usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 

abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”

the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 

the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”

“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”

before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 

“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 

“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 

the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 

“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 

“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 

your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”

“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 

kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 

klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 

giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 

luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 

“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”

she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 

“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 

“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 

his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.

the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.

“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”

he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”

his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 

“hey, you comin’?”

you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 

“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 

“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.

nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 

“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 

“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 

you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.

nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 

you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”

“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.

nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!” 

at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a kimono. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 

“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.

he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  

“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 

“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 

his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 

“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 

as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 

“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 

“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”

you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 

“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 

he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”

you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 

luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 

“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.

“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 

dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”

“very on brand.”

“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”

arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 

once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.

“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.

you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.

looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 

kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 

“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 

“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 

while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 

“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”

you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.

kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 

he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 

you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 

“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 

“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.

“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 

you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”

zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 

his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 

before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 

luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 

“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 

“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 

“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.

you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.

“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 

“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.

“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.

all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 

“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.

“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”

“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.

kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”

the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”

you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”

zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”

you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 

“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.

he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 

you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”

he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.

“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”

kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”

“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”

“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 

the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 

he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”

you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”

he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”

“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 

“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”

you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”

“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”

you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”

you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”

the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 

“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.

that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.

kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.

zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 

sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.

“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.

he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”

you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”

“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”

his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”

the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 

you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.

“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”

“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”

he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”

you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”

that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 

though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.

“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.

zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”

“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?” 

now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 

a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.

“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  

he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 

when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 

“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.

you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”

you both know that means yes.

[actiniumsarchive]

(scenario, if it’s alright ?) diluc and kaeya with an s/o singing them to sleep :’0 or just softly singing to them for comfort/in general (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) i’ve been listening to rises the moon by liana flores n i can’t help but imagine how soothing n healing it must be for their s/o to sing to them that way hhngghfnsdjnxjsn . . . their chest would swell in affection and look at them with hearts in their eyes while s/o sweetly holds them in their arms n stroke their hair tenderly . . . (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♡

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

synopsis: in which you sing your restless lover to sleep

characters: kaeya, diluc x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, nightmares, vague mentioning of diluc’s past, i accidentally made diluc’s kinda angsty (sorry)

notes: anon, this is so cute!! i used to be obsessed with rises the moon for such a long time, coincidentally i would also use it to fall asleep sometimes. thank you for the request!

Kaeya:

It was close to two in the morning when you awoke from your sleep suddenly. The room around you was cold and silent, haunted by the evening shadows that enveloped everything around it aside from the gentle candlelight that flickered from the other side of the room.

You laid back down for a few moments, falling aimlessly against the warm sheets below you. Your eyes focused on the white ceiling above you as they shifted between squinting and widening to adjust from just previously being asleep. A quiet sigh fell from your lips as you relaxed for a moment. Instinctively, your hand inched toward the other side of the bed where your boyfriend normally slept. When all you could feel was the cold sheets where he should have been laying, your eyes snapped back open.

Somehow, you hadn’t even noticed his presence had not existed within your bed, but was instead sat in a chair at the desk tirelessly scribbling away at a piece of paper. Originally, you had just assumed the flicker of the candle was due to carelessness on your part. That, perhaps, you had just forgotten to put it out before allowing yourself to fall into a warm slumber for the night. But alas, that was not the case.

Sitting upright, you hung your feet over the bed. You shivered at the touch of the freezing wooden floors when you arose from your spot. Wrapping your hands around your waist in a desperate attempt to keep warm, you quietly walked toward the desk where he was sitting.

You stopped right before him, tenderly placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning down to peer at what he had been writing. He hardly gave a reaction, but didn’t stop you from gently massaging his shoulders.

“Kaeya,” you softly murmured, not wanting to disturb the silence of the night. His hand rushed to finish one final sentence before he placed the pen against the desk where it should have been the entire time.

“I’m done. I swear,” he assured you, turning around as he stood up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he pulled you closer to him. Resting your head against his shoulder, you begun to sway back and forth with him.

After a few more wordless seconds together, you pulled back from him but kept his hands in yours, “Come to bed…please.”

Sleep seemed to have been evading Kaeya for the past two weeks. You were well aware it was because of his upcoming expedition and all the hard work and preparation that came alongside it, but that didn’t mean you could excuse the way he was neglecting his health.

He nodded silently, giving into you just as he always did.

When you got into bed, you tucked the covers over the both of you. Scooting closer to him, you propped your arm up a bit so you could lean over him. Brushing his hair softly with your fingers, you whispered to him, “Are you having a hard time sleeping again?”

Kaeya mumbled something softly as he nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch, “Sing to me? Please?”

A tender smile pulled at your lips and a hushed laugh escaped you, “Of course.”

And so, you quietly began to sing him his favorite song. Your voice was quiet and soft, and it was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard in his entire life. It didn’t overtake the rustling of the trees outside the window or the calm crackling of the wick candle you had decided to let burn a little while longer. It had only taken a minute or two before Kaeya had entered a peaceful sleep. Thanks to you, it was the first one he had gotten in weeks.

And when his breath evened and his eyes were firmly shut, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Sleep well, love.”

Diluc:

It was the middle of the night when you awoke suddenly, a feeling as though something was wrong shook within your chest. The soft pitter patter of rain made its way to your ears as you glanced at the window next to your side of the bed, thunder following suit in big booms. You almost shook the feeling off all together had it not been for the bright flash of lightning revealing your boyfriend sitting upright in bed, head within his hands.

The room had been so dark, and with the thunder and rain occupying what normally was filled with silence, you hadn’t even noticed him.

“Diluc?” you called out to him hesitantly, not used to him being up at such hours of the night. Not unless he was off doing work as the Dark Knight. When your hand made contact with his shoulder that was left bare by the white tank top he had worn to bed, he jolted softly away from your touch. You pulled your hand away instantly, like you had just been burned.

There was a moment where anxiousness began to boil in your stomach, whispering that you had done something to hurt him. Your eyes darted across his form as they began to adjust to the darkness of the room, starting to give into those worries. Maybe you had said something wrong at dinner? Or maybe he finally had gotten sick of you like you always worried he would?

A gentle sob stole you right from out of your mind before you began spiraling yourself, placing your attention back on him. It was a small action, but one that made you realize just how absurd those possibilities were. Diluc loved you, and had reassured you countless times there was nothing you could do to change that. You felt your heart ache when another sob left his mouth. Instantly, you moved closer to him, placing your hand against his back to rub gentle circles against it. “I’m here, okay? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” you whispered softly, careful to not make things worse, especially when you were unaware of what was going on with him.

Finally, his head raised from his hands and his big ruby eyes met yours, a pool of tears filled within them. His mouth opens and shuts a few times before he just shook his head and fell into your open arms, head against your shoulder and arms slung lazily around your waist. His sobs were barely audible over the rain as he mumbled things about his father, Kaeya, and all the trauma he had built up over the years against your chest. Finally things clicked.

You stared down at him with knowing eyes, a pitiful but comforting look within them. It wasn’t often that nights like those would occur, but they did happen nonetheless. It had been so long since the last one that you forgot about them all together.

He’d told you about them when you first began dating, but it was not a subject Diluc often enjoyed conversing about. Honoring his wishes, you opted to never bring it up unless he did first. His mind would plague itself with nightmares filled with horrid details from the darkest depths of his memories. So dark that he’d wake up in a cold sweat, eyes welled with hot tears, and unable to control his spiral of emotions. The only thing that could reassure him on those nights was you. You were the only thing keeping him from crumbling in on himself from how much he had held in his pain over the years.

Keeping him within your arms, you gently laid backwards until you were leaned up against the frame of the bed you both shared. Diluc shut his eyes tightly, a frown grew deep across his features. An expression you hated to see painted on his face, too beautiful to be tortured by such treacherous emotions.

“Please,” he mumbled out so quietly you almost missed it, “sing to me.”

You nodded with a gentle hum, running your fingers through his hair as you shut your own eyes. A soft melody left your mouth, a song that was well known across Mondstadt that you knew he loved. You didn’t sing loudly at all, but somehow it was enough for Diluc to drown out the sound of the rain and the painful memories flowing within his mind.

Eventually, his arms grew limp around your waist and his breath evened out. Peacefulness took hold of the features that the frown once desperately clung to. The tune that echoes from your mouth sung him carefully to sleep.

You slumped down into the bed next to him, eyes blinking a few times before they shut for the night. And before you could fall asleep, you hugged him tighter, reassuring him of your presence, even in his sleep. Nothing could ever hurt him, not for as long as you were there to protect him.

[actiniumsarchive]

pretty in that

ABOUT

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!monkey d. luffy | live action!nami

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: you have a hard time picking a dress for dinner whilst in kaya's mansion. zoro (sort of) helps!

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of "y/n", special straw hat appearances (nami & luffy), soft zoro

author's note: i'm a sucker for dress-up scenes so i KNEW i was gonna write smth like this once that ep3 scene started playing. reader chooses a dress at the end; dress is non-described so you can imagine your ideal dress!

You were on Nami and Zoro’s side when it came to whatever was going on in Syrup Village. Kaya’s mansion made you feel vaguely unsettled, and stepping into the building made your heart pound quicker than you would like to admit. But if there was one thing that piqued your interest, it was the order of changing clothes for dinner. You’d been stuck in the same few outfits for weeks now, and the promise of something new—and formal—was nearly exciting, although you’d never admit it in front of Nami and her disapproving gaze. 

Kaya’s kindness combined with the private guest room and bath you were treated to helped soothe your nerves. Soon you found yourself being led to the giant closet the rest of the Straw Hats were already in—Nami was trying on various different pieces, and Zoro seemed to have something in hand too. 

“Ah, there you are!” Luffy said, swiveling on his heel and giving you a big grin as you entered the room. You stared in disbelief at all of the racks around you. Hell, there were even clothes hanging from the ceiling. 

“Well, we certainly have a lot of options,” you said, skimming a hand over a nearby rack. There were a variety of different fabrics, but they all felt expensive: silk and velvet, damasks and brocades. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“I’m just trying on anything,” Nami called from where she was, before stepping out from the room divider she’d been changing behind. She wore an emerald dress with a plunging neckline, the patterned silk clinging to her curves, and did a little spin. “What do you think?” 

Luffy shrugged. Zoro wrinkled his nose, barely glancing up from the armchair he was lounging on. “I think it looks nice,” you offered, but Nami still seemed dissuaded. 

“Ugh, these two are impossible. What are you going to wear?” 

“Uh, I’m getting there,” you said with a little laugh. “It’s a bit overwhelming; I’d rather help you guys pick first. Luffy, have you found something yet?” You turned towards the man in the center of the room, who nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, I found this!” He raised up a black waistcoat. You frowned at it. 

“Um, Luffy, waistcoats are supposed to be worn with a suit,” you said, then paused, seeing his blank look. “...Never mind.” 

“And I’m wearing black,” Zoro added, despite the piece of clothing slung along his lap definitely not being black. You exchanged a glance with Nami, who just rolled her eyes. They’re stupid, she mouthed, then returned to the rack she was glancing through. She worked quickly, pulling out various numbers that she scrutinized before either setting on the couch beside her or putting back. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Need me to find you some pants with that, Cap?” Nami and Zoro let out identical groans as you spoke the pet name, both turning to give you exasperated looks. You suppressed your laugh. 

“Stop calling him that,” Zoro said with a tired sigh. “You’re encouraging him.” 

“Kind of the point, yeah,” you said cheerfully. While Zoro and Nami were both still largely unconvinced about the whole pirate crew thing, you’d joined the bandwagon rather quickly. Zoro rolled his eyes, and you turned towards the racks to find Luffy some slacks. “Assumedly you need something other than that shirt too?” 

“I’ll look later,” Zoro said passively. You watched him out of your peripheral vision. He was outfitted in a patterned kimono, his three swords slung along his lap. He didn’t seem too interested in his surroundings, though what he was doing, you weren’t sure. You let him be, turning to page through the racks of clothes again. Finally you found a pair of slacks that seemed like they’d fit Luffy. 

“Here,” you said, passing them over to him. “And find some shoes while you’re at it.” 

“Why does she even have clothes that don’t fit her?” Zoro murmured, sounding as baffled as he could get. “What, she just casually has clothes in all four of our sizes hanging around?” 

“Rich people own things just to own them,” Nami called. She’d changed again; this dress had a halter neckline and was blush pink. Zoro motioned with a hand at it, and Nami frowned, glancing down at the dress. “You don’t like it?” 

“Eh,” Zoro said. Nami made a face. 

“At this point I think you’re hating just to hate.” She pulled up a few more options, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed them. Luffy was seemingly satisfied with what you’d given him, because he took the pieces off of their hangers and slung them over his shoulder. 

“I’m off,” he announced. “Gonna go change in my room and do some exploring before dinner. Have fun!” With that, he left, and Nami sighed, turning towards you. She held up her final two options—a red cheongsam with delicate gold embroidery and a pastel blue dress with an a-line skirt. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you studied the two.

“I think the blue one might wash you out a bit,” you said eventually; it’d clash with her hair no doubt, and make her skin look even paler. The shade wasn’t a right match with her eyes, either. “I like the cheongsam; I think you should go with that one. It contrasts nicely with your hair.” 

Nami raised up the dress again, inspecting it. “You’re right,” she said, ducking back behind the room divider to change. You started pursuing the racks again; Nami stepped out a few moments later, successfully outfitted in her new dress. “Okay, I’m going to go do my hair in my guest room. Good luck.” 

“Bye,” you called, watching as she left the room. You clicked your tongue, almost alone now and with absolutely zero options of clothing. As much as you liked the idea of new clothes, the abundance of options was starting to seem a little daunting. “Okay, now that Nami’s done, it’s my turn to play dress-up.” 

Zoro laughed from where he sat, and you startled, almost having forgotten he was there. He was watching you attentively, his attention having diverted from whatever it was he’d been thinking about earlier. “You like this kind of thing?” 

“Well, I mean.” You shrugged, peering at a few of the pieces on the rack in front of you. You pulled out a deep green dress, eyeing the lace by the neckline before setting it back. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” 

“Not really what I’m into.” 

“You wear jewelry, so clearly you have some fashionable instinct,” you pointed out, bending over to glance at the clothes hiding by your knees. These were all skirts or unreasonably short dresses, with so little fabric you were uncertain they would cover anything at all. “Unless the earrings are for another reason…?”

“Three swords, three earrings.” 

“Makes sense. What are you wearing with your shirt?” You glanced back to see Zoro’s answer, but he merely shrugged. “Do you want me to find you some trousers? A suit?” 

“You don’t need to find clothes for me. I can do that myself.” Still, Zoro made absolutely no move to do so. You rolled your eyes, but turned your attention back on what you’d be wearing for the dinner. Vaguely you wondered how Zoro would look wearing a suit. You flushed almost as soon as the thought popped into your head, shoving it into the very back of your skull and banishing it from seeing the light of day. 

“If you say so,” you said instead, mostly to distract yourself from the beyond inappropriate thoughts starting to run through your head. Honestly, you barely knew your crew mates—the four of you were close to tearing each other’s throats out before you ran into Buggy, after all. And the fact that Zoro was, well, conventionally attractive—and you tried to keep your thoughts on that and that alone, anything emotional was strictly out of the question—shouldn’t be something your mind lingered on. 

You picked out the first dress that looked to be your size. It was dark purple, backless with a tight trumpet skirt. Ducking behind the room divider Nami had used, you stripped off your clothes, donning the dress. There was a mirror along the other side of the divider, and you turned, trying to appraise the dress on your figure. The color didn’t look entirely right, and you were uneasy about the lack of mobility the skirt might have—Kaya’s staff were still extremely suspicious, after all, and you’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Let me see,” Zoro called from outside. You tugged at the dress, suddenly nervous, but stepped out after you couldn’t find a good enough excuse not to. Zoro’s eyes ran up and down your figure, and you did a slow circle, showing off the dress. The bare skin of your back prickled. 

“You’re not going to be able to move in it,” he eventually said. 

You huffed out a breath, the nervous energy that had accumulated in your chest leaving with the action. Something in your belly stirred; disappointment, maybe, that Zoro had only commented on the practicality of the dress, not how you looked in it. But you pushed those thoughts away with an angry shove. Not the time, and definitely not the person to be thinking those sorts of things about. “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about. Let me find something else.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t flicker from your body as you started across the room, ducking between more racks to find something. “You dead-set on a dress?” 

“I haven’t worn a dress in a while,” you answered, picking out a red one before remembering Nami’s choice and setting it back. “Might as well take the opportunity.” The next one you pulled was blue, all shiny and soft. The material looked like some kind of tender silk. You set it aside to try on. “Why?” 

“Haven’t seen either you or Nami in a dress before.” 

“Actually, you have. I’m wearing one right now and Nami tried like five on earlier,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to shoot Zoro an unimpressed look. He scoffed, though there was a smile at the edges of his mouth as he turned his head away. Your next choice was soft pink, and made of tulle that vaguely resembled a puff pastry. You pulled it up. “Think I should try it?” 

“I mean, pick whatever,” Zoro said, though he seemed mildly disgusted by the amount of fabric the skirt had, all bunched up with layers like something a ballerina might wear. “What are you trying to achieve with the dress?” 

“What am I—I’m trying to look nice, Zoro,” you said, stifling your laughter. You set the pink dress back, replacing it with a sage green number instead. “Not everything has ulterior motives.” 

“You always look nice.” 

You froze, a soft chill curling around the back of your neck. Carefully, you straightened up from where’d you been bent over yet another rack of clothes, turning to look Zoro in the eye. His eyes hadn’t moved. “Oh,” you managed out, throat all dry and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Well, thank you.” 

Zoro cleared his throat, a dull noise he made in the hollow of his throat without even parting his lips. His gaze flickered away. “Yeah. Go try those on.” 

Wordlessly, you stepped back behind the room divider and slipped on the blue dress. It had a texture like water—it was some kind of high-end silk, flexible enough that it was near liquid in movement. The dress itself fell to your ankles, and had a simple square neckline. You stepped outside, doing another slow twirl. “Better,” Zoro said. 

“Better how?” 

“You can probably run in it.” 

You twisted your lips, trying to suppress the urge to turn them down into a frown. “Okay. It’s not doing it for me.” You ducked back behind the divider to change yet again; the sage green one was satin, with long sleeves and a neckline you hadn’t anticipated would be that deep. 

Still, upon exiting the divider and turning for Zoro again, he didn’t have any worthwhile feedback. “It’s kind of plain,” he said eventually, not meeting your eyes. 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest; you had to almost resist stomping over to the racks to find something more, and spent another few minutes gathering dresses and trying them on. 

To your immense disappointment, each one garnered little to no reaction from Zoro. You even shoved on one of the tiny, too-little fabric dresses you’d disapproved of earlier, but all Zoro did was scan you from head to toe and say, rather flatly, “you’d get stabbed pretty easily in that.” 

Frustration bled into your nerves as you hid behind the divider again. You glared at yourself in the mirror—your skin had started flushing with how annoyed you were getting, which might’ve been funny had you not been so ticked off. Men, you thought, irritated. Was it really so hard to tell you that you looked pretty? 

He’s a bounty hunter, you had to remind yourself. He doesn’t care about this kind of thing. Besides, he was the last person you should be setting your sights on anyway. You tugged at the short dress, the hem just barely grazing the tops of your thighs. 

You heard footsteps approaching from outside the divider, suddenly too close as you snapped yourself out of the reverie of thoughts you’d been lost in. Zoro turned the corner, arm propped up against the divider edge as he peered in, brows furrowed. “You stopped coming out,” he said. He was still in his kimono, swords tossed over one shoulder. The shirt he had was, assumedly, left on the couch he’d finally stood up from. 

“I’m frustrated,” you told him blandly. His frown deepened. 

“Because of… clothing?” 

You suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape your lungs. “Never mind. I’m fresh out of ideas.” You pushed past Zoro, opting to stand in the center of the room as if analyzing it from a different view would magically give you more options. Zoro turned to stare, still looking perplexed. “With so many options, it’s hard to make up my mind, that’s all.” 

“Uh huh.” Zoro was still studying you. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No,” you said hastily. Too hastily. The words had ripped out of your throat like a hiccup, and you seriously needed to learn how to lie a bit better because now Zoro’s expression was even more confused. “No. Why would I be mad at you?” 

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning away from Zoro to stare at some of the clothes hanging on the wall above his head. These were too high up to properly look at, and as you stepped back, you glanced through the dresses hanging off the arch of the ceiling. You perused them without too much interest, eyes glancing over the various colors and fabrics until— 

Zoro stepped next to you. “Hey,” he said, and you jolted, head snapping down to look at him. You let out a noise of irritation, then turned your focus back on the ceiling. 

Your gaze flickered through the racks until finally falling on one particular dress hanging by the mouth of the room. It was somewhat hidden, tucked in a little corner beside a few other pieces, but from your vantage point it seemed about your size. 

You took a step closer to it, surveying it with your neck craned. The material looked soft and comfortable but it still retained shape, and the color—even in the dim lighting of the closet—was one of your favorites. The undertone would suit your skin perfectly. And, well, you didn’t want to put all your bets on one dress you hadn’t even touched, but it was certainly promising. 

Zoro stepped past you, barely exerting any effort to reach up and bring the dress down from where it hung up high. “This one, right?” he asked, and you swallowed, some of the annoyances you had towards him dissolving as he extended the dress hanger towards you. You nodded wordlessly, taking it. You stood there for a second before Zoro gestured with his head towards the divider. “Go try it on.” 

You did so, retreating safely behind your wall and stepping out of the little dress. You surveyed the one Zoro had grabbed for you again, heart lodged in your throat. It really was beautiful, and exactly your style; now that you saw it up close, you could safely affirm it was your size too, but nervousness still pulsed through your veins at it. 

Carefully, you slipped it on, adjusting the fabric around your hips and fixing up the neckline to rest evenly on your skin.

Zoro spoke out from the rest of the room. “So why are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not—” you sighed, dropping your arms before returning to fiddle with the dress. “I’m not mad at you.” 

“Is it because I wasn’t being helpful with the clothes? Because I already said that’s not exactly my area of expertise—” 

“It’s not because of the clothes, Zoro,” you said sharply, cutting him off. Zoro clicked his tongue, the sound reverberating around the room and thudding in time with your heartbeat. You turned your attention back onto your reflection. “It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it.” 

‘I’m worrying about it,” Zoro deadpanned. You sighed, adjusting the dress one final time before arranging your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror. It fit you perfectly, emphasizing all the right places and hiding all the parts of your body you were more insecure about. “Changed yet?” 

“Yeah,” you said, voice limp. 

“Let me see.” 

You bit your lip, suddenly nervous about how he’d react. Knowing him, it’d be something like it’s okay or the color’s fine; perhaps can you even walk in that? or weird shape if he was feeling a little more critical. Still, you stepped out anyway, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you spun for him, letting him look at the dress from all angles. When you’d finished posing you glanced up, eyes meeting him tentatively. 

“It’s…” Zoro cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away from the dress on your figure to flicker up to your face. His gaze dropped again nearly as fast, like he couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “Uh.” 

“It’s what?” you prompted, turning to face the nearest mirror. Your lips twisted into a worried frown, turning to glance at the dress again. Was it really not as perfect as you’d thought originally? “Do you like it? It’s my favorite so far, I think, but if you don’t like it—” 

“You look pretty in that,” Zoro blurted, cutting your rambles off with the strident, too-loud sentence. You froze, eyes flickering to meet him in the mirror. Carefully, he glanced up at you, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“Oh.” 

Zoro coughed, averting his gaze as you slowly turned around to face him. You couldn’t see properly with the less-than-ideal lighting of the room, but his face seemed to have taken on a ruddier complexion. “I like it,” he said, words softer than they’d been before. “It’s the one.” 

There was a little rush of something through your veins, and you felt vaguely lightheaded. “Okay,” you barely managed to squeak out. “Thanks.” You stumbled back behind the divider, sucking in a deep breath and trying to regulate your breathing. God, this was actually shameful at this point. 

You composed yourself quickly, gathering all the dresses you’d tried on and abandoned to return to their proper places. Zoro was still watching you attentively, and you glanced over your shoulder at him. Sparks prickled along your skin as your eyes met. “What?” you asked. 

“You’re acting weird.” 

“Am not.” 

Zoro stood up, rolling back his shoulders and stretching his head from side to side. He glanced through the racks and, without even a minute’s hesitation, plucked a suit jacket and matching pants out from beside him. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

“You’re just grabbing those without thinking about it?” you demanded, eager to change the subject. Zoro rolled his eyes.

“I picked them like fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “Just didn’t grab them until you were done your whole… thing. Now spill it. You’re all red again.” 

You swiveled towards the closest mirror, unable to suppress your gape as you saw that your skin had indeed turned a distinctive shade of scarlet, flushed undertones creeping their way up your skin. It was entirely recognizable even in the terrible lighting. Even your skin was treacherous, now. “Nothing,” you muttered, unable to meet Zoro’s eyes as you spit it out. “I was annoyed because you weren’t telling me what you thought of the dresses.” 

“I… did, though?” Zoro said, perplexed. You let out a grating sigh, cheeks flaring even hotter now that he was forcing you to confess the entire extent of your sins. 

“Yeah, like, practically,” you said, wrapping your arms defensively over your chest. “You’ll get stabbed in that so easily. You won’t be able to walk. I just wanted you to tell me that—” you cut yourself off with another groan. “Don’t make me say it.”

Zoro blinked. “I have no idea what you’re edging towards, so you’re going to have to say it.”

“I just wanted you to tell me I looked nice!” you finally burst out, turning so you wouldn’t have to look at Zoro’s face. God, you were going to have to quit the Straw Hats after this. It was so entirely stupid. 

“But—” There was a laugh in Zoro’s voice, and you glared down at the floor, all of your dignity having left you by this point. You had no shame left to feel anymore. “I said ‘you always look nice’. Doesn’t that insinuate—” 

“That’s not the point,” you said hotly, tone almost argumentative now. “I wanted you to think I looked pretty in a dress, Zoro.” 

Zoro didn’t respond for a moment, brows creasing and face taking on a baffled expression. “But why—” Zoro cut himself off, and you turned even redder, holding your breath as he finally connected the dots. A single word fell from his lips, like a soft breath of air as he spoke. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, unable to stop the almost whining tone your voice took on. Zoro stepped closer to you, a hand wrapping around your wrist and forcing you to look up at him. 

“I said you looked pretty in this one.” 

“I know,” you insisted, still all red, “which is why I’m not totally mad at you, but—” 

“You looked pretty in all of them,” Zoro said. He didn’t look bashful, per se—you didn’t think Zoro could get shy—but his voice was low, all hoarse in a more tentative way rather than one of his grating remarks this time. “For the record.” 

Your breath caught. 

“This one’s my favorite, though,” Zoro muttered. And then he was leaning down to kiss you, the ghost of his lips just on the corner of your mouth. You gaped up at him in shock as he averted his gaze, staring at some spot about your head. “Was that—” he started, before clearing his throat and trying again with a little more of his dignity this time. “Was that okay?” 

“Yes,” you blurted fervently, and before you could fix up the moment with something more, well, suitable, your big mouth ruined it for you. “But I think we’re holding up dinner. You should get changed, and I still need to find shoes.” 

You bit your tongue immediately after the words had been said, but it was too late—Zoro coughed, turning away from you. You panicked, and now it was your turn to grab his arm and tug you towards him. “Wait!” 

Zoro glanced down at you, perplexed, and then you leaned up to kiss him square on the mouth. He stumbled back, surprised, but adjusted quickly, hand going to cradle the back of your neck and pressing you right to him before you finally broke apart. 

“You should steal it,” he started. You stared up at him in question. “The dress, I mean. You should steal it.” 

“When am I ever going to need to wear this again?” you asked, perplexed. Zoro shrugged, fingers tugging at the edge of the dress's neckline. 

“Dunno. Just take it. She probably won’t even notice.” 

“You’re adorable,” you teased; Zoro wrinkled his nose but didn’t complain, opting instead to move away and pick up the clothes he still hadn’t changed into. “Go change. See you at dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, his eyes not straying from your figure as you ducked out of the room. Before you could fully leave, though, Zoro grabbed your wrist, spinning you around towards him.

You didn’t have enough time to ask what he was doing when he leaned around to kiss you one final time, his hands cradling your face as your lips moved against each other. It was only a moment later that he stepped away, looking rather sheepish but not very apologetic as he finally let you go. 

“You look more than pretty,” he murmured, eyes sinking into yours, and your throat dried, any words you might’ve formed dying away within seconds. “You always look more than pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, and then he ducked back inside the closet to change. 

© halfvalid 2023

[actiniumsarchive]

★ SUPER SHY

sanji (opla) x fem reader

genre: angst to comfort !!

notes: request !! this is a bit of a long one… also, yes. the title is inspired by new jeans hehe. also, request have been closed for a bit because my inbox is flooded… i appreciate the support and will open requests again soon once i finish most of them!

you were sitting as you listened to nami complain about how the crew was running low on money because of luffy’s food needs. you thought about bringing up her clothing addiction, but since you wanted the ship to stay intact, you kept your mouth shut.

“and i always tell him that we have enough to last us in the kitchen, but he never listens! i swear next time he spends money on food without telling me i’ll-“, “nami!”, sanji called out, walking out the kitchen with a tray of drinks. he quickly made his way over to the table that the two of you were at.

“nami, take this. it’ll help you calm down. i know luffy can be stressful”, sanji smiled, handing nami the drink. “why thank you, sanji”, she smiled back, taking the drink from his hand. “hey! what did i do?!”, luffy shouted from the front of the boat where he was watching usopp fish. sanji simply didn’t answer, continuing to smile at nami as he pushed off luffy’s whining.

finally, he turned to you. “for you”, sanji quickly said, handing you your drink and walking off. your eyes narrowed at the short lived interaction. it seemed like he didn’t care about you as much as he did nami. maybe you were overthinking it. but what if you weren’t? had you done something wrong? did you offend him or something?

“y/n?”, nami called out, tapping your shoulder. you jumped at the sudden touch, snapping out of it. “are you okay?”, she asked, a small bit of concern on her face. “yeah, i’m fine. i’m gonna go to the bathroom”, you smiled, quickly dismissing yourself. before she could further question you, you were already gone.

you quickly shut the bathroom door behind you, letting out a sigh. looking up, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. walking closer, you began picking at parts of your face.

is there something wrong with me? sure, i’m not as pretty as nami or other girls, but am i that bad that someone like sanji would barely acknowledge me…? he flirts with every woman he can, yet he always ignores me… that says a lot, huh?

before you could even realize it, there were tears streaming down your face. insecurities were swallowing you whole, it was unbearable. you leaned against the door, sliding down it as you tucked your knees against your chest and laid your head on your knees.

“hey, who’s in there? i gotta use the bathroom”, zoro asked, banging on the door. you jumped at his sudden presence. “sorry, i’ll be out soon”, you replied back, your voice unexpectedly quivering. you didn’t hear a response for a moment, the silence making you a bit nervous. “i’ll just wait, it’s fine”, he replied. before you could respond, he walked away. you sighed as you rested your head against the door.

the day passed by quickly as everyone was seated eating the dinner sanji had prepared. “where’s y/n? nobody ever skips dinner”, sanji asked, holding an extra plate. everyone looked around, shrugging. “i haven’t seen her since this afternoon, she might’ve fell asleep early”, nami answered. sanji rose an eyebrow but didn’t choose to question it.

after everyone, or so he thought, had left the kitchen, he started cleaning up what was left. “what the hell are you still doing in here?”, sanji groaned, being faced with the sight of the green-haired swordsman when he turned around. “quit whining, i can go wherever i want”, zoro fought back.

“did you say something to y/n earlier?”, he asked, picking up a random fruit on the counter. sanji rose an eyebrow as he continued scrubbing the dishes, “no? why are you asking me that”, he asked. “well, i saw her leave right after you gave nami and her those drinks. then i went to the bathroom and she was in there. sounded like she was crying or something”, he told him. sanjis eyes widened at what he said, pausing everything he was doing. “she was crying…?”, sanji muttered, turning to look at zoro who was playing catch with a random apple. “yeah, i guess. but if you say you didn’t do anything then maybe it was something else”, he shrugged, placing the apple down and walking out. sanji stayed in the same position he was in for a moment, thinking about what zoro said. he didn’t remember ever offending you, so what could’ve happened? he sighed, finishing up the last bit of the dishes left before closing up the kitchen.

soon enough, everything was packed away and sanji was able to go to sleep. he let out a yawn as he closed the kitchen door, rubbing his eyes. “finally, i’m exhausted- SHIT”, he exclaimed in shock, running into someone. “who the hell- y/n?”, he questioned in surprise. your eyes were wide as you realized who you had run into. you muttered small curses under your breath as you began to back away. “sorry, i’ll get going”, you started, beginning to turn around as you started to walk away. “no, wait”, sanji interfered, grabbing your wrist. your eyes widened at the motion. “were you gonna try to get leftovers?”, he asked. you let out a light laugh, trying to skim over the topic. “what? no! i just- well…”, you stuttered. yeah, you were busted.

“why weren’t you at dinner? nobody ever skips dinner”, sanji asked. his hand was still on your wrist as he looked into your eyes, a small bit of concern being prominent. “wasn’t hungry”, you muttered, looking away from him. he rose an eyebrow at your odd behavior, something was up and he knew it. “you don’t expect me to believe that when i just caught you trying to sneak leftovers, right?”, he asked, cocking his head to the side. “it doesn’t matter, just forget it. im going to bed”, you sighed, trying to pull your hand away from his hold. “tell me what’s wrong, y/n. did something happen? did someone say something?”, he asked, trying to look you in the eyes, something you were dodging.

“where is this concern suddenly coming from?”, you muttered just loud enough so he could hear you. that left him even more confused than before, his eyebrows tightening as he tried to figure out what you meant. the silence finally pushed you to look at him. you wanted to scoff at his confused expression. “you don’t care about me like the others, and you don’t have to pretend to because it’s just us here”, you told him, your voice a bit stern. his eyes widened at your words, shocked and lost. “wait, what? where is this coming from?”, he asked, a mix of concern and confusion lacing his words. “you always avoid me, sanji, and it hurts. it hurts a lot. you don’t look at me the same way you look at nami and other girls, you always keep our conversations short, hell, sometimes you don’t even look at me when we’re talking. i get it, maybe i’m not pretty like nami, or as entertaining as luffy and usopp, but is that really enough of a reason to hate me?”, you ranted, your voice cracking. once you started, you couldn’t get yourself to stop, it was a never ending pile of word vomit.

once you finished, you sighed, sniffling as you wiped a few tears running down your face. the silence was deafening as you looked at the ground, anxiously waiting for his response. “…is that really what you think?”, he finally muttered, his voice just loud enough so you could hear him. your silence clearly told him what your answer was. “y/n, look at me”, he asked. you remained still, your eyes staring daggers into the ground. he sighed, gently moving your head with two fingers so you’d face him. “listen to me when i say this. i do not hate you. it’s the complete opposite of that, actually. if i knew what i was doing made you feel like this, i would’ve stopped being such a wimp”, he sighed. you rose an eyebrow at his choice of words. “wimp?”, you questioned. “the truth is that i really, really like you. so much that i become a nervous wreck around you. that’s why i kept our conversations so short and never looked you in the eye. cause if i did, i’d probably explode on the spot. but to think that because i was such a coward that i had you feeling like this, had you skipping a meal all because i was nervous. i’m such an asshole”, he spoke, his regret being notable in his tone.

your eyes were blown open at his words, your jaw a bit agape. this whole time you thought he hated your guts, but in reality, it was the complete opposite. he was just nervous around you. you didn’t even know someone like him could get nervous around women. before you could reply, you felt his arms wrap around you, knocking the breath out of you due to shock. “im sorry, y/n. please forgive me. it hurts to see you cry, and it’s even worse knowing it’s my fault”, he apologized, his voice dripping with sorrow. you opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t even find words. you were shocked to say the least. sanji took the silence as a form of not accepting his apology, so he sighed. “it’s alright, i understand, i’ll-“, “NO! no, wait. i’m just shocked, that’s all… i forgive you… it’s alright”, you yelped, grabbing onto the sides of his arms. his eyes were wide for a moment, but quickly softened. a small smile grew on his face as he looked at you .

“you know what would be a nice make-up gift, though?”, you started. “what is it? i’ll do anything, you name it”, he answered quickly, pulling away from you to look you in the eyes. just as you were about to speak, your stomach let out a loud grumble. the two of you froze for a second. “guess my stomach spoke for me, huh?”, you laughed. sanji let out a light chuckle.

“one fresh plate coming up!”

© mirkoluvs. please do not copy, modify, or repost on other platforms. thank you !!

[actiniumsarchive]

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

synopsis: in which you find out the truth about lyney’s identity

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 695

warnings: pure angst, established relationships, breakups, reader has a past with the fatui, mentions of physical harm and death, major spoilers for the 4.0 archon quest

notes: i am officially in writers block and want to die because of it. also, i know this idea is a little old since the quest came out a few weeks ago, but i still wanted to write something about his identity. also, yes, i would forgive lyney, but this blog has not seen pure angst in awhile so…🙂

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you finally break the silence. Your arms are crossed as you lean back against one of the brick walls of the Opera Epiclese. Lyney stands approximately three feet away from you.

He’s silent, unable to answer the burning question. It’s been on your mind all night ever since Furina had so proudly announced it to all of the court. Lyney was a part of the House of the Hearth. Part of the Fatui.

“I can’t lie to you,” he carefully picks his words, terrified of further upsetting you.

Cutting him off, you scoff and turn away from him further than you already had, “What? Like you haven’t been lying to me this entire time? Real funny.”

Lyney takes a single step closer to you.

You take one back.

“Please, I wasn’t lying to you. I just left out some parts of the truth, that’s all, I swear!”

“You are part of the Fatui, Lyney. The Fatui! How can I trust you when you’re part of an organization who hurts people, kills people, even,” you frown. Not a single part of you isn’t affected by the hurt you feel. He hears the way your voice is beginning to break too, like the truth of it all is finally beginning to set in.

His hands come together as he pleads, “I promise I’ve never hurt anyone, not ever! Not everyone and everything in the Fatui is evil.”

For the first time tonight, you turn toward him and look him in the eyes. Your arms become uncrossed as you feel anger fuel your every action, every thought, every feeling. Walking toward him step by step, you hold out a finger, digging it into his chest as you speak, “You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re a part of something dangerous, Lyney! I don’t care if you aren’t the one doing the killing or the hurting, you still help them. What about all those people I told you about? My friends and family who got hurt by the Fatui? Did that mean nothing to you?”

He watches as tears form in your eyes at the mention of them. Of course he remembered, how could he not? The day you confided in him about your past and all the misfortune that you were dealt by the Fatui was eternally engraved in his mind. The organization who had taken so much from you that you swore you would find a way to end it one day, even if it meant dying. You had laid everything out to him and the entire time he was on their side.

You take two more steps back from him, voice shaking as cave in on yourself, “No wonder you were so quiet that day. God, and here I was thinking you actually cared.”

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, tempted to reach a hand out to you, but not willing to scare you off. For all he knows, this could be the last time he ever sees you, “I care about you so much it hurts me. I really was horrified by the things you told me, I promise you that. Understand that I’ve only ever been talking to you as just Lyney. Your Lyney.”

It takes everything in you not to run into his arms and forget all of this is even happening. Give into his pleading words and return to who you thought was the only person who had ever really loved you. You want to pinch your arm to wake yourself up from the cruel nightmare, but somewhere deep inside, part of you has already accepted the truth and the fact that there is no universe in which you could accept his true identity. And so you take one final look at him before you take your final step, allowing the tears to fall from your eyes as you bid him a permanent farewell.

Lyney would never forget the final words you spoke to him. Four words that managed to break both your hearts more than the truth had.

“You’re not my Lyney.”

[actiniumsarchive]

roommate!lyney annoying you, fluff, kissing, profanity lol!!! feminine french pet name used once (1), implied secret relationship. written in like 30 mins not proofread

“lyney, who the fuck ate my takeout?!”

that’s a stupid question; there’s only the two of you in this dorm room. exasperated, you throw yourself back on the couch, grieving your lost takeout that is most likely sitting in your boyfriend's stomach. lyney pops out of his bedroom with a cute smile and guilt hidden in closed eyes. he walks to you in slow steps, hands hidden behind his back.

you watch him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“ma chérie,” lyney purrs, and you hope there’s enough venom in your glare to take him down, “do you want a magic trick?”

you stare blankly. you do not want a magic trick.

lyney makes an undignified noise, flopping himself on top of you and the one-seat couch; you barely manage to get your laptop out of the way before he crushes it. “come on, entertain me. you have been giving your laptop more attention. do you want a magic trick or not?”

“if it’s about my food, i’m about to make you disappear.”

lyney fans his face as he turns, whistling. “you’ve done it again. you’re so charming when you glare so heatedly at me like that,” he coos, pressing his nose on your cheek and smiling against your skin.

you groan, pushing his face with your palm. “are you a freak?”

“if calling me that is what it takes for you to realize i just want you to look at me,” he agrees solemnly, muffled by you smothering his lips.

“i know i’m your roommate and everything, but you have a twin. do you have to bother me? aren’t you all for ‘family is everything’ and all that? how will they react if they see their lyney clinging onto his roommate like a lovesick parasite?”

“lynette doesn’t even like talking. and i like looking at you,” lyney says, nearing a whine. he persists in slotting himself between the couch armrest and your body, arms wrapped around your waist. it doesn’t budge when you tug on it.

“you can look at me without bothering me.”

lyney blinks owlishly. “oh?”

“entertain yourself,” you snarl, shifting so your back faces him. he buries his nose on the back of your neck, humming thoughtfully.

he then he kisses where your skin is bare, sighing softly. “i’m sorry. i wanted to take you out tonight.”

“dumbass,” you say, adding more to your essay with hostility in your fingers. “how are we going to enjoy dinner if you’re already full?”

“i can enjoy dinner if i see you enjoy dinner.” he sounds so serious about it, too. “hey, look at me for a sec. there’s something on your face.”

instinctively, you turn your head, startled when lyney takes it as an opportunity to kiss the side of your lips. “hey—” he interrupts you with a kiss on the other side. “lyney, you—” and then he seals the deal by kissing you properly.

it’s a little uncomfortable with the angle, but that’s far in the back of your mind with the press of his lips and the warmth he’s emanating. lyney’s a personified heater; it does help that he loves touching you in any way he can whenever you get too cold.

you have to pull away yourself, gasping deep breaths. lyney looks extremely pleased with himself. “you eat my takeout and try to distract me from my essay—do you want me to request a new roommate?”

but as you return to your laptop, you realize it’s gone. the pillow you’ve used to place it on top of is notably empty. you check the corners and peer at what you can with lyney’s arms caging you, but it’s not anywhere either.

“what? where the hell did you put it?”

“let me treat you dinner, and maybe i’ll tell you after our date,” lyney sing-songs, expertly swerving from your attack with a bright laugh.  “come on, up you go.”

lyney doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants; it’s the wisest decision to give in as soon as possible anyway.

a/n hello guys this is like a practice round bc i have a longfic for lyney in the works !!!!!!!! but this is kinda lame so idk HELPP

[actiniumsarchive]

only one bed troupe with sae itoshi except he kicks in his sleep. like, full on shoves you with his foot until you’re dangling off the very edge of the mattress and very much awake. he hogs the blanket too; ensuring you never get as much as you need– and when you reach your breaking point and try to wake him up, he then fully shoves you off the bed.

(who made one bed troupes romantic again? because the only romantic thing about sharing a bed with itoshi sae is that he wears hello kitty matching pyjamas if he trusts you enough.)

and when you land with a ‘thump’ on the wooden floor at 3 am in the morning, he finally wakes up and realises what he’s done to his first and only bedmate since he was 6 years old.

sae, in the dead of the night, is unexpectedly sweet when he’s awake, you think. because the whispered apologies that never leave of his mouth finally slip out, and he’s applying a small bandage to your wounded knee with a tenderness you’ve never seen in him before.

because if it meant to be coddled by sae, you’d gladly volunteer to fall off your bed a million times.