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reidingandwriting · 23 days ago

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Nice To Meet Ya! > w.w. & l.h.

Word Count: ~1,900

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, it’s (the beginning of) a throuple over here

Warnings: Fem!reader (she pronouns used like. twice in the very end), to be expected amounts of cursing and vulgarity from Wade, lots of cursing in general tbh, maybe a little OOC Logan, still getting to learn how to write his character well (Deadpool and Wolverine gave me brain worms so I had to write this immediately after watching)

A/N: This may become a little bit of a series! I’m having so much fun writing them since I Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine so there will be a lot of solo & duo content with these two. This part is a little Wade focused but the next part is more Logan focused 🫶🏻

Next Chapter

You never in a million years imagined this would be your life. You were raised by busy parents, and you quickly became self sufficient. Independent. When you hit your teenage years, your parents… god knows where they went, to be honest. All you knew is you had a house to yourself, you didn’t have friends anymore, and as lonely as it was, you found a bit of comfort in the solitude. You worked as a bartender at this bar not too far from your house, and you were a crowd favorite. You always brought in the biggest tips and many of the patrons were protective over you.

Your longest regular was the merc with a mouth- Deadpool. Wade, as he introduced himself once, a faint whisper. The fabric of his mask rubbing against your cheek as he whispered the name in your ear. Wade Wilson.

He was... Loud, to say the least. You didn’t think he had an off switch. He insisted he did- but you’d have to go under his suit to find it, he teased you. He never stopped talking and there was no such thing as small talk with him; if you were talking to him, he was downright vulgar, and the quite frankly gross sense of humor was entertaining. He also flirted like it was his job. Much like the rest of his vocabulary, his flirting was pure filth that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. And god forbid any creep start talking to you.

“Hey, princess, sorry I’m late. Too busy blowing my load to the thought of you, then remembered, wait! I can come see your fine ass in person whenever I want. Wanna finish me off?” You could practically feel the smirk Wade was sending you. You gestured for him to lean in, waiting until he was leaned against the bar, chest hovering above the countertop as you leaned in.

“In your dreams, dick for brains.” Your lips brushed against where his were covered by his mask, and you smirked when you heard the sharp intake of breath. The gasp almost impossible to hear, but it made your heart flutter all the same.

“You, sweet thang? Always. Holy fucking shit, that was so hot.” You and Wade had quickly become friends, his personality meshing well with yours. After ‘baby knife’ had somehow found itself in the hand of some perv that had been borderline stalking you at work for weeks, you found a new part of his personality. His protectiveness. He was as chipper as ever, but with the manic energy of someone who could, and would, kill someone who mildly inconvenienced someone he cared for. Unhinged, barely holding onto his minimal self restraint to splatter the guy’s blood all over the wall. Wouldn’t want you to have a mess to clean up, he admitted once it was just the two of you.

He offered to walk you home once after he’d known you for a few weeks, and now it was habit. You loved the times you had with just him. He was the same old Wade, but more open about himself. More vulnerable. These walks were where you got to know Wade, and he got to know you. You had let him crash one night, not that long ago, when it was storming hard. He had already insisted on walking you home, storm be damned, and you repaid him with a home cooked meal, some trashy movie, and a night of conversation on your couch until you dozed off, your head lolling to the side and landing on his shoulder.

Hours later, you had woken up, now lying down and the comfortable weight of Wade’s hand in your hair from where your head rested on his thighs. By the time the sun rose, you were alone in your living room, the only trace Wade had been there being a sloppy drawing of the Deadpool mask and a heart he scribbled on the whiteboard of your fridge. You smiled at the doodle and left it up, it still being up there today.

You stood at your spot behind the bar a few weeks later when someone new walked into the building, and you tilted your head. Newcomers weren’t entirely unheard of, but they were pretty rare, especially on a weekday. You took in the man as he stood near the doorway; brown hair, and oh fuck, good beard. The leather jacket he wore did little to hide how muscular he was and you watched as he scanned the room. Body tense, as if looking for potential threats. Potential ways out if danger occurred. Not like anyone would mess with him, aura alone enough to scare off anyone within a ten foot radius, let alone the hard look in his eyes.

Still, he walked over to the bar and took a seat. You offered a gentle smile, watching for another second before speaking. “You seem like a whiskey fan.”

His hazel gaze shifted up to meet your eyes, and you felt as if he was staring right into your god damned soul. It was intimidating, it was hot, and you couldn’t decide whether you should look away or lean in and-

“Yeah. Whiskey’s nice.” He nodded his head towards a bottle behind you. You nodded and went to pour a glass as he spoke again. “You always try to guess orders?”

“Only the interesting ones. Or the pretty ones.” You winked before turning, smiling when you heard the slightest huff of amusement. “Haven’t seen you here before. New in town?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You turned back around, setting the glass in front of him, propping up on your elbows as he drank. “Thanks.” He looked familiar but god, you couldn’t place where you had seen him before. You made light conversation, most of the talking done by you, but you found that you didn’t mind. He listened, intently. Everything he did seemed to be intense, like it was his default. You were grateful for the slow night, getting to see a glimpse of the man behind the bulletproof walls he had clearly built around himself.

“You thirsty slut! Of course I’d find you here.” You heard Wade’s voice before you saw him, and an annoyed scowl took over the unknown man’s face.

“Thirsty slut? Thought that was your autobiography title,” you said and Wade gasped in mock offense.

“You know I don’t read! Mocking the illiterate, how dare you?” Wade hopped onto the counter, hip almost knocking the glass of whiskey over.

“I don’t get how you’re late to a place you wanted to go to.” The brunette man said, voice low and rough, and Wade waved a hand dismissively.

“So uptight, can you believe it? Need to pull the stick out of your ass, maybe put it in-“

“La la la la la, not listening,” you sang, covering your ears, and Wade turned to you.

“You traitor! I leave you alone for five minutes and Wolvie has his claws in you.” Wolvie… Holy fuck, you were trying to flirt with the Wolverine. “And, Peanut, you know I’d never be late on purpose. Except I really needed to piss, then I got distracted by this really cute dog outside and I ended up totally abandoning my favorite dog.” Wade reached out to pat him, and you watched as a sliver of claws extended from his hands. A warning that didn’t seem to deter Wade much, but he did put his hand down. “Well, might as well introduce you.” Wade told you his name was Logan, and Wade told Logan your name in return.

You and Wade continued to talk, Logan yet again preferring to listen rather than join the conversation. Wade told the story of how he met Logan, how together the two of them essentially saved the world, and how the two of them were now roommates. Begrudgingly, according to Logan, but Wade seemed thrilled about his ‘roomie’.

It was hours later when the three of you left the bar. Wade insisted on walking you home, taking your hand in his and skipping down the street with you. Logan was a few paces behind you, his presence a comforting sense behind you. Where Wade was loud, in your face, Logan seemed to be the quiet lurker type. He’d hide in the shadows, making himself known when he felt threatened. You walked up to your front door, unlocking the door and Wade helped himself inside. You rolled your eyes and turned to Logan, who lingered on your doorstep.

“If you want to come in, you’re more than welcome. At least one of you has manners,” you called towards where Wade stood in your kitchen and cackled. Logan nodded, muttering a ‘Thank you’ as he walked inside, his shoulder brushing against yours gently. You shut the door behind you and Wade opened your fridge.

“Aww, pookie, you kept my drawing!” There was a hint of an unfamiliar emotion in his voice… something, something new. You couldn’t place it, yet you smiled anyways.

“Of course I did, Wade.” Now that you were in the safety of your house, Wade’s mask had been discarded on your kitchen counter and you could see the smile on his face. “Get out of my fridge, you leech.“

“I’m starving,” Wade whined and you turned to look at Logan. He stood a little awkwardly, and you gestured to the couch, taking a seat and smiling when he followed suit. He sat on the cushion furthest from you, but you didn’t question it.

Logan couldn’t help but study you. There was an obvious familiarity between you and Wade, you matching his wit and comebacks, but you were different when you spoke to him. You were quieter, more reigned in. Strangely not out of fear, but as if you were trying to make him comfortable. You switched between Wade and Logan like it was second nature, and the more he talked to you and the more he watched you and Wade, he felt himself begin to relax just a little.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Wade, ever the charmer, let out a dramatic yawn, throwing his hands up in the air as he stretched. “Well, cupcake. I think it’s about time we head home. Old man is already up way past his bedtime.” Wade yelped as he jumped back, barely missing the claws that protruded from Logan’s hand, and he stuck his tongue out at him. “Grumpy grandpa.”

You stood and Logan followed suit. Wade kissed your cheek before saying goodbye and stepping outside, leaving you and Logan alone.

“I hope I’ll see you again, Logan.” Your voice was gentle, your smile even more so, and Logan nodded.

“I’ll be around. Don’t think I have much of a choice with that one.” There was a sliver of fondness mixed with the exasperation in his voice, and Logan started to walk outside. “Goodnight, bub.” Logan closed the door behind him, lingering until he heard your locks click shut. He caught up with Wade a moment later and Wade gave him the biggest shit eating grin ever.

“Is someone melting the big bad wolf’s heart?” The metallic clang followed by Wade’s pained grunt made Logan laugh, and Wade shoved his shoulder.

“Wait until she sees what an asshole you are. Then she’ll realize I’m the better half of this friendship.” The two men continued to bicker the entire way home, both of them thinking about when they’d get to see you next.

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year ago

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we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

#it's so god damn insulting u know. even redbubble threw its shitty payouts directly into my paypal asap #inprnt

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n0tamused · 1 month ago

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Have you by any chance seen someone on Twitter posting a translated version of Xiangli Yao's daily schedule? How about writing something like what his schedule would be with the reader (already in a relationship) maybe on a day off? Something like: 8:00 AM - get up and start day 10:00-12:00 AM snuggled in bed with y/n as a result. Or - 4:00 PM - prosthetic maintenance. ambushed from behind. (Imagine nuzzling him from behind while he tinkers with his hand 🥺) Something like a bunch of small drabbles in 1 work? I guess finding someone to write for him awakened something in my brain, I'msorry.

A/n: I have heard of this schedule but tbh I didn't see it myself before I got this request lol, I really find the idea sweet so I hope I did it justice! And no need to apologize, I am happy to write for Xangli Yao

Contents: Xiangli Yao x GN!Reader, fluff, short drabbles, established relationship not proofread

Saturday:

08:30 - Wake up

It’s been many years since Xiangli Yao has practiced this continuous cycle of waking up at certain times, to the point he did not need an alarm clock anymore. It was 8:14 when he came to his senses, morning light sleeping through the blinds and softly caressing his eyelids to open. He turns away from them, shifting sluggishly underneath the blankets, knowing that work wasn’t waiting on him today.

He is greeted by your sleeping face, relaxed and soft as the few spots of light from the blinds danced over your cheeks and lips. The light didn’t seem to disturb you, something he was thankful for as he shuffled closer and wrapped his good arm around you, bringing you closer to his warmth as he nuzzled his nose into the top of your head, breathing in your scent as your hair tickled his skin. He feels you mold into his shape, your sleep heavy arm going underneath his and over his side, the blanket keeping your shared warmth trapped, shielding you from the chilly morning.

09:30 - make breakfast with my beloved :)

Well, it may have been 9:10 by the time you both willed yourself to leave the comforts of eachothers arms. It was hunger that pulled you both from bed, stumbling into the bathroom. Xiangli Yao was next to you as you washed your face while he brushed his teeth. He handed you your toothbrush after you blindly found the towel next to the sink and brushed your face dry.

Although he had gotten used to being the one to prepare breakfast for both of you during workdays, the weekends did allow more time, and so Yao did try to listen to you more when you said you wanted to help or do more of the work since you don’t usually get the chance to do so. He did convince you some times before, letting you so simply sit aside and look pretty while he whips you up your favorite, but today wasn’t that day. You woke up with more energy and a craving for good quality time and to get your hands busy.

What ends up happening is a table full of food, a big but balanced breakfast of veggies and fruit and needed protein. While you were setting up the table, Xiangli Yao poured you both the juice you made the weekend. He may not think about it too often, but he always feels like the richest man in the world when he shares mornings like these with you.

13:00 - go to the market, restock groceries

His prosthetic arm is holding the basket while the fingers of his other hand are intertwined with yours. Xiangli Yao was yet to become truly used to these public displays of affection, but he never disliked them. The thing was that such little acts of affection flustered him so much at first and he’d rather not catch someone ogling him while his cheeks are red as the tomatoes you were looking at now. He was used to it, he tells himself as he slowly lets your fingers slip from his hold when you say you can use some of the tomatoes. He remembers you mentioning a recipe some time ago that required a good amount of tomatoes. He helps you pick out the best ones and he adds it to the basket after the purchase is done. Although today’s shopping trip ended with more bags than either of you expected, Xiangli Yao vehemently refused to allow you to carry any of the bags.

You ended up stopping at the local dessert shop, purchasing a few sweet goods for home. You mentioned how the chocolate cake he got looked oddly similar to Xiang-LEE. Now he couldn’t unsee it..

16:00 - prosthetic maintenance(p.s. keep your back guarded!)

How oddly homely it felt to have your arms around him while he tinkered away on his mechanical arm..

Although at first you only observed him from the doorway, he chose to skillfully ignore you when you began to sneak closer, almost as if he couldn’t see you from the corner of his eye.

You knew he knew too, but it's a game you both chose to play every evening when the sun began to lean in to kiss the mountains.

You hum as you put your chin on top of his head, peering down at the assortment of open wires and metal plating scattered about on the table. There's a screwdriver in his good hand, and he's clearly doing something, but you're unsure what. Perhaps you'd ask one day, tell him to explain how his arm really works, but that is not today.

He feels you leaning in and kissing his cheek and then his temple.

“The meal is soon to be done. Don't keep me waiting all alone at the table, Xiangli Yao”

19:00 - Free activities

Xiangli Yao can't help the chuckle that escapes him as he witnesses your scowl and furrowed brows, and all for the little board game with black and white pieces. You've won the round from last night and he deemed it appropriate to ask for a rematch, although he only wished to make you blow off the steam. You've been rather stressed this week, perhaps some back and forth of the game could allow a reprieve.

“You've been thinking about your next move for quite some time now, my love…” he tries, a smile plastered on his lips, both amused and sympathetic.

“...I got it…shh” you return, pushing your chin into the heel of your palm. He hums in response, and another few heartbeats of silence pass before he sees your face light up, as if a star had whispered the next act into your ear. Your fingers deftly move across the board and move your piece across the checkerboard.

“Checkmate!”

He laughs, his chest shaking with joy as you beam at him. You beat him. Again.

22:30 - bedtime

Mornings are where Xiangli Yao thrives. He is a morning person to the last bone in his body and on work days it is not rare for him to rise before you and his alarm, but they don’t bring him nearly as much relief and joy as bedtime does. Your sleepy face as you go to brush your teeth and change into your bedwear always has his heart softening, his own movements slowing down as his entire body yawns for the comforts of the mattress and comfortable blankets.

He is sitting at the edge of the bed, tinkering with his prosthetic arm for the last time and setting it aside on the table right next to his side of the bed. His prosthetic is cold and rather uncomfortable to sleep with for both of you. From behind he hears you exiting the bathroom and the sound of your bare feet against the floor hurrying up has him turning around to see how you crash into the bed, your face buried into your pillow with a low groan, a breath of relief as weight is taken off your feet.

He shuffles, telling you to get under the blankets while he turns off the lights. Once he remembered you both joking about being afraid of the dark, and although it was all just a joke - Xiangli Yao has been the one to turn off the lights since then.

He hums as he returns, sliding under the blankets and finding the warmth of your body with searching fingers, pulling himself closer until he was wrapped around you. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent before laying a lingering kiss to your cheek, bidding you goodnight.

#-dragon.treasure #fluff #xiangli yao #wuthering waves #wuwa #wuwa xiangli yao #wuthering waves fluff #wuthering waves xiangli yao #xiangli yao x reader #xiangli yao x you #xiangli yao x rover #xiangli yao x gn reader #gn reader #xiangli yao imagine #wuwa fluff #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader

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always-just-red · 1 month ago

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A/N: So I threatened a while back to write MC arresting Sylus since he literally won’t shut up about it. Thought this would be a silly fic but it ended up an angst-driven exploration of how his time with MC is probably finite and ill-fated?? Anyway Sylus is too soft for this, I’m sorryyyy (Sy I love you! I would never do this to you! ‘Didn’t it come from your imagination, though?’ Ssshhhh you don’t know what you’re saying!! 🥰)

To Remain Silent

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus has told you to arrest him one too many times...

Genre: Emotional rollercoaster honestly? Some angst, some comfort (and a lil spice for flavour)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, vaguely established relationship, gets a little steamy at the end (mostly kissing tbh), artistic licence applied liberally since this would be WAY too risky for MC to actually attempt 😭😭

| Word count: 2.7k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus knows this isn’t real.

You watch him through the glass of his cell, and the subtle tint to it lets you know that he can’t watch you back. He’s sat on the single bench inside, leaning against the far wall, his long legs stretched out before him. His hands are cuffed— tucked away behind his back— but he still looks comfortable. More than comfortable: at ease. At home. Bored.

“You think I can’t feel those pretty little eyes of yours on me?” he mutters, head back, eyes closed. “I’m at your mercy, kitten. Are you really only going to look?”

You tap a button on the glass. “You should start taking this seriously.”

He smiles at the sound of your voice, but his eyes don’t open; there’s still nothing to see. “I’m taking it very seriously, sweetie.”

“I don’t think you are.”

The smile turns even more smug: a confession, all by itself. He sits up and leans forward, like someone who’s found a change of conversation to be interesting. His eyes open— managing to find you, somehow, and— can he see you? No. It’s an educated guess, he’s just selling it with confidence.

Leisurely, he rises from his seat and saunters over to the glass. “Let me see you,” he orders, then bargains: “Please? This is so very—” he toes the division— “one-sided.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, can you? This is hard enough without the windows to your soul baring your heart and your mind to him, like they always do. You should have worn those sunglasses he bought you for that undercover assignment. This is what they’re for, right? Hiding.

With a circular swipe of your finger, the glass before you clears and Sylus meets your gaze.

“Hi,” he teases.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Hey.”

“This is quite some effort you’ve gone to, kitten. And all for me, no less.”

“What effort?” you dismiss plainly. “You practically slapped those handcuffs on yourself.”

It’s not an exaggeration: from the cuffs to the ride here, not a single stage of his arrest has been resisted. The closest he’s gotten to a lack of cooperation was when you’d first restrained and dragged him from his study, where he’d been inclined to point out that the bedroom was the other way.

“Well, I didn’t want to cause a fuss,” he smirks. One of his hands is brought forward, and his handcuffs now hang uselessly from a finger. “Tell me,” he says, letting them swing as he holds your gaze, “what am I to expect now I’ve been so masterfully captured?”

You glance at the restraints, unmoved. “That isn’t for me to decide.”

A door behind you slides open, and— right on time— an altogether more impressive presence joins you before the cell. Sylus glances her up and down as the click of her heeled boots come to a stop; he has never met your captain, but he knows her face.

“You really cashed in all your favours, didn’t you, sweetie?” he observes. He turns to address the woman beside you: “We haven’t been introduced. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jenna interrupts, her tone as incorruptible as yours.

Sylus’s arm lifts, resting on the glass above you so he can tower over you, despite the partition. “Is that right?” he purrs absent-mindedly, dropping his head so he can speak into your ear. “Sweetie… I thought you could keep a secret.”

He’s goading you into your usual game, but the stakes don’t interest you. “You were wrong.”

You’re at your own table, dealing your own cards. Does he want to play? You think he might. His lips are curving at the delicious prospect of a challenge. You’ve given him a taste of it. He wants more.

Jenna is studying her clipboard, acting oblivious. She senses the impasse. Asks Sylus: “Do you know why you’re here?”

He huffs impatiently. “Enlighten me.”

“Sylus,” you scold.

Red eyes widen a fraction.

You see it.

Good.

…

Sylus thinks this might be real.

You said his name. His real name: the one with sharp, bloody strings attached. The one on all the posters. The one in your precious Association’s archives, linked to stacks of files and crime scene photos, most of which he isn’t even responsible for.

Sylus. You said: Sylus.

It was worthy of a grand reveal— the sort of plot twist that delivered the suspense of so many thrillers— but here you are, speaking it like it’s nothing. Not a slip of the tongue; not a mistake. And it’s different here. He’s not your Sylus. He’s theirs.

Their murderer. Their monster. Their convenient little scapegoat for everything dark and unholy.

The captain is reading him a list, reeling off every crime— each alleged sin. As if he needs a reminder. As if all the time in the world could ever let him forget. “Needless to say, Mr Sylus,” she summarises, “due to the nature of these crimes, you may prove exempt from our standard procedures. A case like this is… unprecedented. Onychinus has much to answer for. You have much to answer for.”

Sylus hasn’t really been listening; it’s all senseless bureaucracy. “You have the wrong man,” he says, because whatever you’re doing— whatever stunt this is— a confession is sure to derail it. You know that, don’t you? You must be counting on it: holding that guilty breath of yours and hoping he’s smart enough to not be Sylus.

You don’t look worried in the slightest. You must have an awful lot of faith in him.

He studies you, waiting for a small, deliberate smile or a moment of weakness. Give him a sign, don’t give him a sign— it doesn’t matter; he’ll find one. His intentions must be clearer than yours, because you step up to the glass to face him.

Do it, your silence says, even though the rest of you is illegible. You want to look? Look.

His eye could light like a crimson fire— could burn the truth out of you— but it won’t. It’s a promise he made what feels like a lifetime ago, not long after you’d met: Your thoughts and desires are yours to give, not his to take.

Even here. Even now. He’s a man of his word, after all.

Impressed? You smile faintly, but there’s no warmth to it. “Captain,” you speak, your eyes not leaving his, “can you give us a minute? Please?”

“Of course,” the woman answers with a nod.

Sylus does not see her go. He hears it: the retreating rhythm of her shoes. He feels it: it’s just the two of you, alone again. Well, the two of you and that ‘hidden’ camera in the far corner of the room. “Whatever game this is,” he grins good-naturedly, his teeth gritted, “it stops. Now.”

“It’s not a game, Sylus. I told you to take this seriously.”

“What are you doing?” he snaps, and that good-natured grin didn’t last very long.

Your hands land on your hips. “My job.” When he scoffs, you continue: “Did you really think this would end any other way? After everything you’ve done?”

He laughs and it’s deeply sardonic. He’s no saint— to try to convince you he was would be a crime worthy of punishments far worse than this. But you know him. You know the line and what stands on each side of it: everything he’s done, yes, and everything he’s been made to take the fall for.

You wouldn’t do this to him. Would you? “You want to play pretend? Fine,” he hisses. He wants to wrap his Evol around that godforsaken camera and annihilate it. “You caught the big, bad boss of Onychinus— congratulations, sweetie. Sure. Let’s say that’s who I am. A man like that has power, right? So what’s to keep him— me— from escaping? Right now?”

“You’re not going to leave, Sylus. Wanna know why?”

He’s sure you’re going to tell him, and you do:

“Because you’re all talk. All smoke and mirrors. You want to go? Go. But there’s not a single person in this building who wouldn’t give their life to bring you back. Someone will catch up to you eventually, and what then?”

“I’ll have a lot of fun, I imagine.”

“You’ll do nothing,” you correct. “Because those people out there? They’re my friends. My family. You hurt them? You hurt me. Make all the threats you want, Sylus— we both know the truth.”

He towers over you, still, but it’s hard not to shrink at your next words:

“You don’t have it in you.”

Your eyes are sharp: whetted with resentment. Sylus is your reflection— your worthy opponent, always— but he just can’t look at you like that.

There’s a quiet hiss as you slide a finger over the cell’s control panel. White, neon light carves through the glass partition: two vertical lines that bleed upwards, either side of him, before bending to meet each-other. The glass between them shimmers, then fades.

Sylus stands on the precipice of the doorway, cool air crawling past him. He stares up at the camera, then down at you. Your arms have folded again as you watch him— a narrative of apathy.

“How about it, Sylus?” you ask bitterly. “Still think you can outrun fate?”

“No.” Not since it started wearing your face. Fate is you, putting a bullet in his heart, and him, waking up so you can do it over and over again. Maybe this is real. Maybe it isn’t. “What do you want from me?” he entreats softly, because you’ll get it— either way.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you sneer, and your hand shoots out, grasping a fistful of his shirt. You use it to drag him out of the cell, closer, lower, so that his face is mere inches from yours.

“No,” he repeats. “Say it.”

Your eyes burn like pyres: so dangerous, so beautiful, so suited to being the death of him. “I want you—” you begin, as they flit briefly to his lips— “to tell me…”

“What?”

“How you cheat at kitty cards.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?

Sure enough, you drop his shirt and burst into laughter— irrepressibly you again. The fire in your eyes has simmered down into something warm, safe, and comfortable, and— gods— you’re even crying. You’re doubled over, holding your stomach as though it hurts. You lift a hand to wipe your wet cheek. “Your face,” you get out between gasps, “oh, your face!”

Yours is not the only laughter, but it’s the only laughter Sylus hears.

“We so got you, Skye!” Tara’s vaguely familiar voice resounds from an intercom.

There’s some confusing static with it— more tittering voices— and Sylus suspects he’s found himself the star of your colleagues’ after-work entertainment. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks up at the camera. “Is the whole office—”

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping away another tear. “Figured it would be good for morale. Good practice, too.”

“Practice?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm with a hum. You’ve apparently gotten a handle on the hilarity of the situation, because you approach him with something close to composure. Meditatively, you smooth down the fabric of his shirt. Straighten his collar. “For when we catch the real Sylus one day.”

He captures your wrists; that’s a lot of tenderness for someone who just tried to give him a heart attack. Maybe he’s a little too rough, because you pout at him in a way that makes him instantly soften his grip.

“You ok, Skye?” you enquire with an ironic smile and an adorable tilt of your head.

His thumbs are feathering over your pulse points, and slowly, he leans in to deliver a message, just for you: “If I say no, will you make it up to me?”

…

Sylus knows this is real.

His mouth is on yours and it’s relentless, desperate; you made him wait for it. How long has he been wanting to trap you against the nearest wall, just like this, so he can kiss you until he forgets just how cold you can be?

He’s been very patient. He didn’t roll his eyes or utter a word of complaint when you’d dragged him to join your colleagues for dinner. It was your victory party, your ‘I made you look like an idiot’ party, but he was his usual, charming self, and your friends all adored him for it. They’d spun him the tale of his ‘arrest’— the planning, the preparation, and your lightbulb moment:

“Hey, guys, have you ever thought about how Skye kinda looks like Sylus?”

Only he could understand how wickedly clever it was. His eyes had sought yours as he listened, lazy, content, and so obviously biding his time. You’d smiled at him. He’d smiled back.

And he’d stayed smiling, even after the party was over and you’d had to walk a slightly-tipsy Tara home. She’d refused a taxi, insisted Sylus escort her— oh, and you could come, too! He’d lent her his arm: humoured every squeeze and chuckled at each remark about the size of it. You’d had to swat her away, in the end.

“I’m just teasing, y’know?” she’d giggled as the three of you arrived at her front door. “Skye knows I’m just teasing. You’re such a sweetheart, Skye. Imagine! You— the leader of Onychinus!”

She’d laughed, much too loud for such a quiet street, and with a less-than-subtle wink, left the two of you alone. Which is how you’d ended up here, in an alley around the back of her building, because it was Sylus’s turn to drag you somewhere.

His attentions have moved lower; there’s a subtle clink as his fingers find the clasp of your shirt collar and he peels it back, exposing your neck. His lips leave yours, trailing down, down— past the line of your jaw and over the soft, vulnerable column of your throat. You gasp as he brushes over a sensitive spot, and you could swear you feel him smile.

He’s always been passionate, but this is a different fire, fuelled by something you can’t ignore, no matter how much you want to:

Relief.

“Sy,” you murmur breathlessly, your hand in his hair, tugging gently. “Sy, stop.”

“Mmm?” he acquiesces, voice sinfully low as the cold evening air takes his place kissing your neck. His eyes shine like blood spilt in the dead of night— lingering on you. He looks drunk.

You lift a hand to cup his face and run your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Sylus. You know that, right?”

Those dark eyes find clarity with your words, full of apprehension for just how naive you can be. The future will turn on you just as quickly as a wild animal someone boasts about having tamed, and aren’t you foolish, thinking you can control something like that?

Besides, that’s his job.

“I know,” he says like he’s supposed to— ever the martyr, following the script. He goes to nuzzle into you again, but your hand is still tight in his hair and he groans as you use it to pull him back.

“I mean it,” you reassert, forcing him to look at you. You don’t care that it’s ridiculous. You don’t care that fate is so hot on your heels that you have to keep running. You’re tired. He’s even more tired.

Isn’t it nice to stop and catch your breath?

Pretend you have time: His gaze is full of faith and oh, the world is going to enjoy punishing the two of you. “I know,” he insists, because this is the second time you’ve fooled him tonight. You feel his hand on your face and you let him kiss you— again, then again— so achingly slow, so arrogant.

The world can wait; he wants to punish you first.

“Do you really want to know—” he distracts as he finds that sensitive spot on your neck again— “how I cheat at kitty cards?”

The pad of his finger is chasing the path of his mouth; it tickles. You whine: “Tell me later, Sy.”

“Ok,” he breathes against you.

Later. There’ll be a later.

Won’t there?

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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l3monlem0n · 7 months ago

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Some Murder Drones Episode 7 screenshots I thought were interesting and my thoughts on them :>

SPOILER WARNING!!!! is spoilering

Nori, despite being a middle aged woman with a child, appears to be an Otaku or otherwise likes "edgy" and "scene" stuff, as well as listening to nightcore, very much like her daughter. Good for her tbh you're never too old to have fun

She also has a photo of Khan and what I can only assume is baby Uzi, though it appears to have blue eyes, but maybe it's just the lighting. Still very cute she has a pic of her husband

As well as all the previously mentioned Otaku stuff, she also drew herself as an anime character. She has a skinsona. Phenomenal (pos)

Nothing much here, just Uzi coughing up blood. Girl got the goop (gore) inside of her already

Lab Space. Apparently the Church was just down there and not even the humans know why. The canonicity of this is questionable; it could just be a joke

OT, as per google, stands for "Occupational Therapy". Makes sense for the context, and makes the bottom text funnier

"Fun Time To Universe Big Crunch: 87". The Big Crunch is a hypothetical way the Universe could end, where the universe folds on itself and shrinks into a single point. 87 "what" I don't know. If it's months, that 7 years and 3 months

Honestly the Murder Drones lore is super confusing. I think what this is trying to say is that every other Zombie Drone is doing poorly, (Except for Yeva), they are trying to reactivate 002 (Nori) via the USB. I'm not sure what this means. Maybe they only got the results they wanted from the two of them, and are trying again with Nori since she was the only other one that worked (also why they got Yeva when she failed; this may all be referring to how the episode opened up) Also, the date says SER. As revealed in the episode Cabin Fever, Copper-9 has months that Earth does not. SER most likely stands for Seramorris, the month revealed in that episode

Looks like the "bad event" wasn't the first one. Certainly was the last one though lol

Just a good pic of ghost/hologram V with the scary stuff. Might use this as a wallpaper

You can literally see the hole in his neck where N bit him in...

...And it's to the point his HEAD FALLS OFF. (including because I didn't notice the first time around)

Yup, the idea that Uzi became the Admin for N and V is completely true. I wonder what would've happened if she didn't, since Cyn didn't react whatsoever

friggin bug (very pos)

You would not believe how difficult it was to get a good pic of this (I'm using snipping tool lmao). Always a pleasure to see Uzi's doodles. Things her gun can do (upper right):

NOT judge her

Forced prom date (?)

Allows her to say she had friends before she frickin murdered them with sci-fi machinery

The cut off text at the bottom: Plan B: Normal gun + Shoot really fast

This is while Tessa is looking for something in the lockers. Claws, chains, magnets, Wings, and scribbled "HELP". Looks like the lockers were all specifically to hold the infected worker drones. Oof

We are in the future now baby. We have rererererereCAPTCHA. Funnily enough, it still couldn't stop a robot

There is a message board where someone who doesn't like robots is talking. They also are scared. Also no one else is using this system, which is unsurprising. "Ur aight ;)" Wait is the winky face intentional foreshadowing? Or unintentional?

We get the names of a bunch of other Worker Drones. Unfortunately for all 029 fans, her name was not visible. (also can someone tell me what "JWEB" could be short for?) And Yeva is said to have a patch. That may be the crucible thing idk

Cyn (which I will be calling this version Skyn [Skin + Cyn]) apparently took of the space suit just to give Doll the Withered Foxy jumpscare. Honestly really terrifying. If this photo was teased before release I think the fandom would've exploded

Just N being a good boy :3

The MDs, Cyn's pets. Nori refers to them as "Nerfed" so the "Entity" can ensure control, and says they were made to destroy other hosts. I don't know why Cyn would want them dead, but I'm not the loremaster here. YouTube line is there because I couldn't be bothered after the Railgun image

Probably already confirmed, but doubly confirmed that a symptom of the Solver is giving Drones organic insides. A Worker Drone body with a rib cage and guts. I wonder what would happen if the infection continued uninterrupted (also R.I.P. Doll I loved you :frown:)

I'm sure everyone noticed, but when Uzi tried to manipulate Tessa, the ERROR noticed appeared. Already hinting Tessa is not all she says she is

Apparently the Solver can create Black Hole Saws. Interesting development (Blackhole Blitz)

I know most people (I think) see this as a joke and N just being a bit of goofball. But honestly, I think he did it intentionally to shock Cynuzi and give Nori a chance. In the Pilot, he licked V's sword to surprise her too, which means he isn't unfamiliar with doing something weird and surprising for the advantage

Skyn eating Doll's core. R.I.P. Doll again. Seriously, was that Doll in Core Form like Nori was? Or was Nori a fringe case because she was "Exorcised" and this is just a regular core? Questions, questions. Also yeah the Solver also gives you a Core. Fun

This tag makes me think that this body is Cyn's actual body. Not longer a hologram, but her actual body from the mansion. The reason Tessa gave N, J, and V their names was because that was the first letter of their Serial Designation (she's very uncreative). However, Cyn's tag was slightly faded, which meant her SD couldn't be seen, so Tessa gave her the name "Cyn" after her P/N, even though the other 3 already have the same P/N as Cyn (Tessa, again, is very uncreative)...

...and for some reason, Cyn or the Solver, which ever theory you subscribe to, decided to wear Tessa as a skin suit for some twisted reason. It did help her with the Captcha. Also scary because this doesn't have the right proportions for an adult (unless Cyn really forced that skin on), which leads me to believe that this is a Younger Tessa, and she faked having an older voice. Maybe I shouldn't call her my wife... I'm sure Eldritch J is still available :^)

(Seriously, the eyes are burnt out, leaving two eye holes over the visor, so she gives herself two X eyes so it looks better. Also yeah we found out what that thing on the "It Came From Copper-9" poster came from. It really was Cyn or Skyn)

Just a frame of the final...frame... for coolness. I'm probably also going to use this for a background. Also, this is definitely Copper-9. You can see the ring and ringless moon together on the right. Uzi somehow got sent to orbit after falling in the meat hole

Well that was all for now. This series has consumed me entirely, body and soul, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Goodbye and goodnight

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velariscalling · 5 months ago

Text

Morally Grey - An Azriel Imagine

Characters: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Cassian drags the IC to his new obsession: open mic night at Rita's, and much to his delight, Azriel has been paired up to sing with the Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive language.

A/N: My first ever imagine is HERE!! Honestly I've been so nervous to put this out as it's all very new to me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I'm really looking forward to see how my writing develops as I post more, but for now, I hope you enjoy my first post! It's just a load of silly fun tbh. And finally, thank you so much to @sarawritestories for helping me out with the ending, you're the best! <3

Soundtrack: 'Morally Grey' by April Jai feat. Nation Haven

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

Rita’s was bustling.

As it always was on a Friday night, really. They probably should have known better than to come on a weekend, but the welcoming vibrancy of the bar was a welcome reprieve from a long week’s work. Y/N took a deep breath as the music hit her, exhaling as she let any remaining stress seep from her body and into the night.

Before she could think too much about the busy days she’s had as of recently, a hand grabbed each of hers - one perfectly manicured, one covered in swirls of black ink - and pulled her in the direction of the bar. Mor flagged down a barman who recognised them immediately - it wasn’t a rare occurrence for the Night Court’s Inner Circle to make an appearance here.

After a moment, she handed her a shot glass filled with bright green liquid. “Bottoms up, you’re gonna need it tonight,” she grinned, already having necked her own. Feyre giggled as Y/N raised a questioning eyebrow at the blonde, throwing back her shot anyway and wincing at the tangy liquid.

“And why is that, exactly?” Y/N cocked her head at her friend, who’s brown eyes danced with excitement.

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes playfully, already flagging down the barman for yet another shot, just for herself this time. “You really think Cassian’s going to let us miss out on tonight? He’s been preparing his song with Rhys for days.”

It’s true - Cassian’s favourite night of the week was their newest tradition, open mic night at Rita’s. Four songs, four duos, randomly selected. Or so he says, anyway. He probably matched himself with Rhysand so he could convince him to sing Mysterious Girl together.

Feyre gripped Y/N’s hand from her other side, clearly trying her hardest to hold back a squeal of excitement. “How are you feeling?” She knew that there was more to that question than meets the eye. It wasn’t a secret that Cassian’s little game had paired her up with Azriel, much to his delight.

She put on her mask of indifference that she had mastered over the months of knowing the shadowsinger, refusing to give any details away of her incessant feelings for him that prodded at her constantly. “I am feeling absolutely fine, High Lady,” she smiled, eyes shining, but a scoff from her left interrupted her.

“Please,” Mor drawled, looking at her with a face that said, don’t even try. “You literally can’t fool anyone, especially not us, so drop the act.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t mastered her mask as well as she had initially thought, her twin’s nod of agreement cementing that conclusion. “Okay fine, but what do I have to be nervous about? You are all the ones who should be nervous when we out-sing you.” She smirked at them, but they shared a knowing look.

“There it is, changing the subject,” Feyre chuckled, nursing her drink in her hand. Y/N scowled at her, but she could never actually be mad at her. Frankly, she was more irritated by the fact that she knew her so well. “What? Y/N, this is what happens every time we bring him up.”

She opened her mouth to argue, when an arm was slung over her shoulder, and Feyre’s. “Ladies,” Rhysand’s melodic voice sounded over the music as he appeared between the sisters. He nodded at Mor with a grin, who was already on her… third, or fourth shot? Who knows. “Cass will have a temper tantrum if I don’t drag you all over to the stage right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with a laugh and allowed her mate to spin her into his arms, and they both made their way over to the Inner Circle’s area of the bar. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight of them, knowing that her twin, her double in every way, had found her happiness. Mor looped her arm through hers as they walked behind them, her eyes following Y/N’s gaze. “You’ll have that soon, you know.”

Y/N looked over at her. She was so breathtaking, her brown eyes contrasting her golden hair, and her signature red dress hugging her flawless body in all the right places. Any male or female in this room would be lucky to get her, and yet, she didn’t care. Next to her, though, Y/N felt like nothing. As if Mor could sense her thoughts, she squeezed her arm affectionately. “Come on. Tonight’s the night you’re going to show that other side of you- oh don’t give me that look, I know it’s there.”

Y/N huffed, a lighthearted sound, and shook her head softly. “I wish I had your confidence,” She murmured, a dry joke.

“Babe, you’re sexy. When are you going to realise that?” The sheer certainty in Mor’s voice had Y/N raising her eyebrows at her friend, who simply nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Channel it tonight. I’ll be watching.” She winked, and released her arm as they arrived at their own table right in front of the stage.

Rhys and Feyre had already taken their seats at the centre, High Lord and Lady looking elegant as ever. Cassian sat to Rhys’s right, his excitement akin to a golden retriever, as Amren, who was sat next to him, clearly tried her hardest not to throttle him. Next to Feyre sat Azriel, his looming shadows making the already dark bar appear pitch black in his presence. There were two empty chairs to his left, and finally Nesta sat at the end of the table, clearly trying to make the most of as much peace and quiet as she could get before the night’s shenanigans unfolded. Mor was quick to take the seat next to her, leaving Y/N between her and Azriel. He gave her a short smile as she sat down, ever the emotionless. “Are you ready?”

The low, icy voice of the shadowsinger never failed to take her by surprise. If the living embodiment of darkness could talk, it would sound like him. She looked at him, his hazel eyes glowing even in the darkness, and replied, “Are you?”

Before Azriel could respond, a flute of sparkly champagne slid from Y/N’s left into view. She turned to see Nesta, wordlessly handing her the drink, with grey-blue eyes that told her that she, too, thought she needed an extra little liquid confidence tonight. She noticed Mor biting her lip so hard she looked as though she may explode, and she rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she turned back to Azriel. To her surprise, it appeared as though a similar grin was tugging on those lips as well.

He merely raised his glass to hers, eyes shining with a grin that he wouldn’t let fully show on his face. She picked up her own glass and clinked it against his, matching his honey gold gaze.

Let the night begin.

It’s safe to say that the performances of the night were… well, entertaining. Cassian was a little too excited dragging Rhys up to perform their number first, giving major boyband energy up on that stage. Feyre was in fits of laughter, but Nesta looked like she wanted to claw her eyes out… but perhaps secretly enjoyed it behind that mask of disgust. Y/N’s two sisters were up next with a rendition of Love Story in which Nesta was surprisingly involved, followed by Amren and Mor’s take on Lady Marmalade, which was frankly the worst thing anyone had ever heard. If the monster lurking beneath Amren’s skin was anything like her singing voice, then Mother help us all.

It wasn’t long before her friends were cheering and whooping as Y/N stood from her seat - the final song. “Get him girl,” Mor whispered as she passed her, Azriel on her heels. She felt the shadows licking at her ankles as she ascended the steps to the stage, gripping the microphone that had been handed to her on the way.

As Azriel situated himself to her left, she stole a quick glance at him. He was looking at the floor, uncharacteristically tense under the gazes of all their friends. It was no secret that Azriel had the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard, a gift from the Cauldron itself, but it occurred to her now that maybe no one else had heard it before. Aside from her, at the couple of short practices they had done. Even then, she didn’t think he was giving his all.

Y/N faced the front and prepared for the music to play - she was more of a seasoned performer than Azriel. She had played her fair share of gigs around Velaris, a good handful of which on this very stage. If she was showing some confidence, she hoped that it would spark some inside of him. She steeled herself, breathing in deeply as she raised the microphone to her lips, and the music began.

“He’s got gold eyes, crooked smile, knows that he drives me wild,”

She felt the heat of the spotlight on her as she let her voice ring through the bar. It was soft, to begin with, giving the song room to breathe, to build. She looked over at the man she was sharing the stage with, noticing tension already lost from his shoulders at the sound of her voice. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, and she knew then that he’d realised how she’d changed the lyrics to fit him, those perfect golden eyes.

“Can’t help myself, no I’m not in denial,”

The smile she sent his way was telling, it spoke a hundred words. But it wasn’t just her grin that conveyed the message she sent: you’re okay, you’re with me, move with me. There was something between them, an invisible thread connecting the two of them, body and soul and mind. Certain thoughts, certain feelings - she could feel his, and he could feel hers. A bond like this had meaning, they both knew this, but neither of them were bold enough to explore it, acknowledge it. Across that bond, she beckoned him: Azriel, you’re with me, and I’m with you… play with me.

“I know he’s no good for me,”

There was a flicker of something in the shadowsinger’s eyes, as if his mind had decided to pull him down an alternative route to the one he was prepared to go down, the one where he’d back out and run. A shadow of a smirk lingered on his lips, as his own shadows danced around him excitedly, egging him on. The weaving tendrils were clearly more than satisfied with the idea that flashed through their master’s mind, whatever images Y/N’s words had conjured up. Azriel, play with me.

“But when he gets down on his knees,”

The spark in his eyes only seemed to brighten as he brought the lyrics to life, sinking slowly down onto his knees before her. The shit-eating smirk he wore on his face in response to her evident surprise could have sent her to her own knees as she beheld him, kneeling, for her. Mother spare her. A quick glance to her right at the others confirmed that they had all had the same reaction she had, and she feared that the bar staff may have to assist in picking their jaws up from the floor. Azriel’s face was challenging, knowing, yet almost the picture of innocence as she felt his response in her mind: You told me to play with you. She sent one word back at him: Bastard.

If he was going to play dirty, so was she.

“He’s so eager to please, knows the right frequencies,”

He reached a hand out as if to touch her - where, she wasn’t sure - but she grabbed it before he could make any contact. Scars felt rough against her soft skin as she walked slowly, teasingly around him and she sang the chorus, her heeled boots tugging her posture upright so her body curved in all the right places. She caught Feyre’s eye as she circled Azriel, still knelt on the floor and looking as though he was more than content to stay there forever. Y/N’s sister looked like her eyes were about to bulge out of her head, her smile growing so big that Y/N thought it would be too big for her face. Next to her, Rhysand simply winked, an encouraging smirk boosting her confidence.

“They say he’s morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite colour,”

As she made her way back to the front of Azriel’s view, still gripping his hand as he held it upright for her to use, she slowly lowered herself down to a squat in front of him as she sang the line. From this angle, she was now much closer to his face than before, and she noticed the subtle sheen of lust glazing over his eyes. It almost made her lose balance - almost. She brought his hand gently to her lips, placing a chaste kiss onto his marred knuckles, and he took in a sharp breath. Most people flinch when they see his hands, or grimace, or turn away. Not Y/N. No, she thinks Azriel’s scars are part of his story. The backstory to a warrior, a survivor. Scars are not the memory of what happened, but a testament to who you have become.

“Morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite…”

She rose to her feet, prepared to give Azriel some space to begin his verse, remembering the nerves that clung to him barely a minute ago. As she began to turn, taking the first step away from him, something cold slithered around her ankle, and one around her waist. The shadows pulled her straight back to where she was as the music lowered, and held her in place, as if they knew that hearing his voice would send her to the floor. And Mother above, they knew her well.

“What can I say? No I don’t pray, but for your body, I’ll worship,”

She could have sworn her knees buckled, but she couldn’t tell from the shadows holding her still. Azriel’s voice was like silk, so soft and pure, yet it lit her insides on fire in a way that she’d never felt, burning her up like a beautiful, dying star. If his voice was to be the thing to send her to her death, then so be it. She would die very, very happy. He reached out once again, and this time she did not stop him as he ran his hand up her thigh all the way to her waist from his position on the floor. Even kneeling, his Illyrian frame was intimidatingly large, her body standing not too much taller than his. His eyes watched his hand intently as it traced the curve of her side, as if they didn’t have an audience, one that was most definitely gaping at Azriel’s sudden brazenness.

“Girl don’t be afraid, my love’s a grenade, just be a good girl, you can take it,”

Like an angel rising from the ashes of war, Azriel stood slowly, wings flaring as he rose to his full height. His gaze was already intense when she was the one looking down at him, but now that he was the one towering over her, the darkness in his eyes shot electricity straight through her body and into her core, her head reeling with thoughts so sinful that nothing could save her. His hand on her waist squeezed on the words good girl, and she was forced to bite her lip hard to stop herself from reacting in a way that would later be incredibly embarrassing. His eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her bottom lip as she released it from her teeth with a pop.

“Call me insane but for you, I was made, I’d burn the world down if it’d make you feel safe,”

The fire in Azriel’s eyes blazed as he took one step toward her, and another, and another, closer and closer. The upper hand that Y/N had held up until now had slipped, yielding step after step backward, her control completely faltering. She had always known that doing this with Azriel would likely create some… tension between the two of them, and he must have known, but Cauldron, this was unlike anything she had ever expected. Azriel was so close that she felt his body heat, felt her face warming, likely for everyone to see under the harsh glare of the spotlights.

“It’s you that I crave, and nothing compares to your taste,”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel like Azriel meant every single word he was singing. No, he didn’t write the lyrics himself of course, but the way his eyes burned with such feeling, and… what looked to be desperation, told her there was much more to this than meets the eye. And Gods… the way his voice cracked ever so slightly with a primal need as those final words left his mouth had her praying to whatever higher powers she could to forgive her for the damning shivers he was sending straight to the very heart of that taste he craved so badly.

As the chorus rolled around once more, their voices finally blended as one, and nothing had ever sounded so right. Azriel’s shadows danced freely around the two of them, creating a tornado of darkness, of intimacy, where they were right in the eye of the storm. The song continued, and the pull between the two of them was magnetic, almost hypnotic as they completely forgot about the audience they had; their family who were most definitely gaping like fish out of water. Y/N could feel Azriel’s warm breath on her face as he sang, his angelic voice whispering less-than-angelic promises that only she could hear in the way it trembled.

Y/N honestly didn’t think that Azriel could get any closer - what she failed to consider was that the shadowsinger was in so deep that he wasn’t planning on stopping until there was absolutely no space left between them. As the song once again softened, Azriel took his chance and leaned impossibly closer, abandoning his vocals in favour of a different use of that mouth. Y/N inhaled sharply as Azriel’s lips brushed against hers, gently, experimentally. Some instinctive part of her that knew this was right pushed her forward to press her lips a little harsher against his, earning a shiver from the shadowsinger. She heard a soft rustle coming from behind him as his wings twitched from the anticipation.

As he pulled away, Azriel heard a shaky exhale escape her lips, caused only by the feeling of him, the heat of two bodies pressed close together, the rush of meeting the lips of the person who, deep down, you know is made for you. Your partner. Your mate. That shiver he elicited from Y/N was the final straw - the last thing he needed to cement his plans for the night. His face still inches from hers, he whispered with a voice so low he wasn’t sure it had even come from him, “You’re mine tonight.”

One moment, the IC were watching dumbfounded at the scene playing out in front of them, some wondering if they really should be averting their eyes (apart from Cassian, who sat with a shit-eating grin on his face). The next moment, the stage was empty, a whisper of shadows the only thing left standing in their wake. Azriel had disappeared in a flash, winnowed to who knows where, taking Y/N with him.

“Goddamn, Az,” Rhys chuckled into his drink after a beat of shocked silence. “Nicely done.”

“No! But they didn’t even finish their song!” Cassian pouted, gesturing wildly at the empty stage as the music still played from the speakers.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s their priority right now, Cass,” Mor giggled, practically vibrating from excitement and pride, exploding with glee at what had taken place since her little pep talk earlier.

Rhys set his glass down on the table in favour of throwing an arm over the top of Feyre’s chair. “It’s about time those two did something about the obvious, right?”

As Feyre’s eyes sparkled with delight for her twin, she giggled at his words, overjoyed at the knowledge that Y/N may at last feel the happiness of having a mate. A partner for all eternity. “Yeah… finally.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel x you #acotar x you #acotar imagines #azriel imagines

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ghsface · 2 months ago

Text

It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay...

Bau team x bau!reader

Sumary: Sometimes I need to remind myself and others that survival doesn’t just mean being okay, it means learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?

Warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, lots of blood, some dark humor at the end, cuts on arms, bathtub full of blood, no use of t/n (if you don't feel good reading this please don't read it, I also tried to approach this topic with too much care and delicacy and respect, I hope not to offend anyone)

Author's note: September is suicide prevention month. "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" is something that you always hear people say.. and it's true.

speaking from my personal experience, it's something that was on my mind many months many years ago, and I was able to put those thoughts aside thanks to people who I thought were never going to help me, it was a long and very hard process but now I can tell you that I'm completely fine, once they told me if you have people to write a farewell letter to it's because at least someone cares about you, you may have heard this before but it's true, you will always have someone to support you even if you think you have no one, also once they told me if you ever have these thoughts again or even try again ask for help it doesn't matter who just ask for help, whatever way ask for help, those words marked me almost all of my adolescence tbh and it helped me, I hope that if you are going through this alone, you can talk to me, my messages will always be open for whatever it is help or just talking, feel free to do so, if you read this up to here I really appreciate that you did<333

The BAU team was uneasy. It wasn't often that someone on their team disappeared without a trace, much less you. Emily Prentiss had been the first to notice your absence, as you never missed work without notice. Days ago, you had requested a brief leave for personal matters, but you hadn't returned to the office or answered any calls or messages since. As the days passed, worry turned to fear.

JJ, Spencer, and Emily decided to go to your house, as they could no longer ignore the fact that something wasn't right. The atmosphere in the car was tense. JJ kept his hands tightly on the wheel, while Spencer stared out the window, his mind wandering through thousands of possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emily, in the backseat, checked her phone over and over again, hoping in vain to receive some news from you.

When they arrived at your house, the silence was deathly. The windows were closed, and the door seemed intact, but there was something in the air, something that made them hold their breath. Emily pulled out her gun, and after exchanging a worried look with JJ and Spencer, they decided to go inside.

“anyone home?” JJ shouted as she walked down the hallway to the entrance. There was no response.

Spencer’s heart was pounding as they made their way into the living room. Everything was in order, not a sign of a struggle, but something wasn’t right. Every step they took, every corner they inspected, increased the feeling that something terrible had happened.

It was Emily who first noticed the bathroom door ajar. She approached it slowly, holding her breath, as a dark foreboding took hold of her. Pushing open the door, the scene she found was enough to make her stomach turn.

There you were, in the bathtub, submerged in the red-tinged water. Your arms hung at your sides, covered in deep cuts, blood still slowly flowing from the wounds.

“Oh my God!” JJ exclaimed from the doorway, her voice cracking.

Spencer walked into the room behind her, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. She’d never felt such paralyzing fear, such sharp pain in her chest. The air became thick, almost impossible to breathe.

Emily was the first to react, rushing to you, her hands shaking as she tried to pull your unconscious body out of the water. “Call an ambulance, JJ!” she screamed, trying to stay calm, though her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Spencer knelt beside you, her eyes flooding with tears. “You can’t do this... you can’t leave us like this,” she whispered, her voice thick with desperation.

JJ tried to call 911, but the desperation in his voice made the words catch in his throat. He finally managed to give the address, but the operator informed him that the ambulance would take a while to arrive due to an accident on the main road. Without wasting any more time, JJ made a decision. “We can’t wait, we have to take her ourselves!”

Without thinking twice, the three of them carried you out of the bathroom, wrapping you in towels to stop the bleeding. Spencer held you, his hands still stained with your blood, as they rushed you to the car.

The trip to the hospital was agony. Every second that passed, every breath you took, or stopped taking, was like a stab in the heart of each of them. Emily, driving at full speed, struggled not to lose concentration while JJ, from the backseat, pressed on your wounds, trying to keep you conscious. Spencer kept talking to you, murmuring words of encouragement, pleading with you not to leave, to stay with them.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital, and the doctors immediately took you into surgery. The BAU team, who had been alerted, arrived soon after. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Garcia joined Emily, JJ, and Spencer in the waiting room. The hours passed slowly, each minute a silent torture as they waited for news from you.

Spencer kept staring at his hands, your words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t shake the image of you, limp and lifeless in that bathtub. He felt helpless, riddled with guilt for not realizing what was happening to you. He loved you, more than he’d ever dared to admit, and the thought of losing you was too painful to bear.

Finally, the doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave. “She’s stable for now, but the blood loss was significant. We had to suture multiple wounds and are monitoring for possible nerve damage. It’s a miracle they brought her in on time.”

The relief was palpable, but so was the sadness. They knew that even though you had survived, the battle wasn’t over. They would have to face the reasons why you had gotten to that point, figure out what had happened, and most of all, be there for you, to help you heal.

Spencer walked up to the ICU door, looking at you through the glass. His eyes filled with tears, he rested a hand on the glass. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad you were,” he whispered, feeling the weight of guilt crushing him.

Emily and JJ accompanied him, each feeling a mix of relief and pain. They knew the road to your recovery would be long and difficult, but they were determined to be by your side every step of the way, no matter what it took.

When you were finally able to open your eyes days later, the first thing you saw were the tired but relieved faces of your teammates. You knew you had plunged into a darkness that seemed insurmountable, but seeing the people who loved you by your side, you knew you wouldn’t be alone on the road back to the light.

The dim glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights welcomed you back into the conscious world. Your head hurt, and you felt the weight of the blankets on your body, but what caught your attention the most was the soft sound of someone breathing next to you. You slowly turned your head and met the tired, worried eyes of Spencer, who had been watching over you.

“Spencer…” your voice came out as a whisper, rough from lack of use and medication. You were surprised at how weak you felt, as if a large part of you had vanished.

He sat up instantly, his eyes filling with relief at seeing you awake. “You’re awake…” he said in a tone that reflected a mix of joy and pain. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... If I had known… If I had noticed something…” The weight of his guilt hit you hard. Even though every fiber of your being was exhausted, you couldn’t let Spencer carry that pain. But before you could answer, the door to the room opened, and Emily and JJ rushed in, closely followed by Hotch and Rossi.

Emily approached you, tears in her eyes, but keeping her composure. “You scared the hell out of us,” she said softly, gently taking your hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, understand? We’re here for you, always.” JJ sat on the other side of the bed, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Whatever you’re going through… you can tell us. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, everyone waiting for you to say something, anything to help them understand what had brought you to this point. You knew they were worried, that they wanted to help you, but it wasn’t easy to put into words the storm that had been building inside you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking, feeling tears build up in your eyes. “I didn’t want them to know… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Spencer looked at you in pain, his hands shaking slightly as he took yours. “You would never be a burden to us. Never.”

Hotch, who had been watching silently, stepped forward. His voice was firm, but with a tinge of compassion that he rarely showed. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever led you to this, we’re going to be with you every step of the way.”

Hotch’s words, so simple and full of promise, were what finally broke the dam. The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to flow, and with them came a wave of emotions you’d been suppressing: the despair, the loneliness, the pain that had consumed you in silence.

Emily wrapped her arms around you, holding you with a strength that anchored you in the present. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to not be okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking with her own pent-up emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you felt like you could breathe, if only barely. The lump in your chest didn’t go away entirely, but the presence of your peers, your friends, gave you the strength you needed to start talking, to share what you’d been keeping to yourself.

You told them about the pressure you’d felt, the feeling that you were failing, that you couldn’t live up to expectations. You told them how each day had gotten harder to bear, until one day you just couldn’t take it anymore. The words came out in fits and starts, mixed with sobs, but they listened to each one with patience and understanding.

There was no judgment, just support. And as you spoke, little by little, you began to feel the weight that had been weighing you down begin to lighten, if only a little.

When you finally finished, the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Spencer was still holding your hand, and his gaze reflected both pain and resolve. “You’re not alone in this. You won’t be anymore,” he said firmly.

Hotch nodded. “We’ll have to work together to get through this, but we will. We’ll help you find the support you need, and we’ll be here for you, too.”

Rossi, who had been watching from the back, came over and gently patted you on the shoulder. “Remember, that’s what family is for, to be there in the worst times and the best too.”

At that moment, although you knew the road ahead would be long and difficult, you also knew that you wouldn’t walk it alone. The team weren't just your colleagues, they were your family, and with them by your side, you began to believe that, perhaps, you could find a way to heal.

And although the darkness still lurked, the light of hope, however small, began to shine again.

ONE YEAR LATER...

1 year into recovery brought with it a new version of you, a version that, while still scarred, both physically and emotionally, was fully committed to moving forward with humor and gratitude. You had rejoined the team fully and found a balance between work, your personal life, and your healing process. Your colleagues had learned to appreciate your new style of humor, even when you surprised them with your comments from time to time.

One afternoon, while you were in the office cafeteria with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, you decided to break the silence with a joke, something you had perfected over those past few months.

“Did you know I’ve developed a new skill?” you said, as you poured yourself a coffee. The three womens looked at you curiously. “Now I can say that I’m an expert in abstract art. I just need something sharp and a bad day.”

There was a moment of surprise, but then Emily was the first to laugh, shaking her head. “You know, no one handles dark humor like you.”

JJ nodded, smiling. “True, but at least now we know you do it with complete command of the situation. Although I will never stop being amazed by your ability to make jokes out of something so serious.”

“Well, my traumas, my jokes,” you said with a wink, and the group burst into laughter. They had learned to take your humor as a sign of your progress, a way to remind yourself and them that you were in control, that you wouldn’t let yourself be overcome by the darkness that once trapped you.

Garcia, who until now had been listening in silence, smiled and gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, I think you should consider writing a self-help book: ‘How to survive work and not go crazy. ’ It could be a best-seller.”

“Sure, with special chapters on how to choose something sharp and how not to use them when you have a bad day,” you joked, and everyone laughed again.

Towards the end of the day, as you were gathering your things to head home, you ran into Rossi in the hallway. He looked at you with his typical knowing expression, but with a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, kid I love seeing you make those jokes. It’s a sign that you’re okay, but it’s also a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yeah, Dave, I know. Sometimes, I need to remind myself and others that surviving doesn’t just mean being okay, but learning to laugh at what scared us. And if I don’t do it, who else will?”

Rossi let out a soft laugh. “You know, you can always count on me to be your audience. I’m not as good an audience as Spencer, though.”

“Thanks, Dave. I’ll keep that in mind for my next show.”

As you left, you knew you were surrounded by people who understood you, who supported you, and who accepted every part of you, even the darkest ones. But most importantly, you knew you had found a way to move forward: with a smile on your face, a joke on your lips, and a team that, no matter what, would always be by your side.

And as you walked out the door, ready to face whatever came next, you couldn’t help but make one last comment to yourself. “Well, if I survived the bathtub, I’m ready for anything. I just hope there’s more wine and less blood next time.”

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly🫧

#dr spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #emily prentiss #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #angst with a happy ending #bau team #jennifer jareau #spencer reid angst #emily prentiss angst #jennifer jareau angst #aaron hotchner angst

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lewisvinga · 8 months ago

Text

american | logan sargeant

summary; y/n was never one to mess around and rebel against her parents, until she met a fellow american, logan

warnings; clubbing/partying, drinking

word count; 1.15k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; american boyyyy, not rlly proofread tbh

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

“Y/n, fix your posture and stand up straight.”

Y/n’s mother scolded her as they entered a family friend's house. They were invited to an event to kick off the summer at the Sargeants, friends of the L/n family, in Miami.

Y/n sighed as she listened to her mother and stood straight, fixing her knee-length dress. She was never one to disobey her parents. Despite studying at the University of Miami, she never attended parties or drank. She never rebelled.

Her mother hums in satisfaction as they walk farther into the house to head to the backyard where everyone is. Y/n was soft-spoken and quiet, following her parents around as they greeted everyone.

But after an hour, she got thirsty and decided to get a bottle of water. The water cooler was right next to the beers and other alcoholic beverages. She glanced at the cooler for a second too long when a voice interrupted her.

“Well, Y/n L/n. You look so pretty.”

She looked up in shock and was met with familiar icy blue eyes and a cheeky smile she hadn’t seen since she was 13. “Logan! You’re back?” She exclaimed with a smile.

“It’s been a hot minute but the Miami Grand Prix is next week and I had this week off.” The Blonde explained with a smile. His head then nodded towards the cooler of the alcoholic beverages, “Which one do you like?”

“Oh, no!” Y/n exclaimed, quickly shaking her head before reaching for a water bottle. “I don’t drink. Never have.”

“And you go to UMiami and you don’t drink? At all?”

She simply shrugged in reply, fiddling with the ends of her yellow sundress. “No. Don’t really party either. But it’s fine, I like to focus on studying-“

“Nonsense!” Logan interrupted her, “You’re still a goody two shoes. You were always scared to step out of line.” He chuckled.

Her eyebrows furrowed up as her cheeks started to heat up. “No!” She said in defense. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t want to break any of their rules. I’m grateful for all that they give me!”

“Hey,” The Williams driver began with a cheeky smile, “Wanna head out of here? Take a spin ‘round town. The weather's nice.”

His blue eyes remained on hers as she let out a small hum. She glanced back at her parents who were already drinking and busy talking to their friends. She looked at him with a smile before saying, “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Oh, Springsteen!” Y/n exclaimed as the familiar voice of the singer began to play in Logan’s Porsche. The top was opened and there was a slight breeze as he drove through the neighborhood.

“Of course!” The Blonde replied, glancing over at her. “Dude he’s like the king. Don’t you think?” He said, tilting his head down so she could see his eyes from above his black sunglasses.

She chuckles as she adjusts the Prada glasses resting on her nose. “Oh, hell yes! That guy can sing. But personally, I’m a fan of Elvis.”

“Presley?” He asked in shock.

“Oh, yeah! He’s the best.”

“What’s your favorite record of his?”

“I’m a big fan of Burning Love at the moment.”

Thankfully, there was a red light right at the neighborhood exit. Logan reaches for his phone which is already connected to his car to play the song. Y/n couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh as the familiar intro began to play.

The light turned green and he began to drive on the main roads. The speed limit was higher which meant that as he sped down the roads, the strong winds compensated for the hot sun shining down on them.

Y/n felt very relaxed even though she and Logan secretly left the party. The breeze and Elvis’ voice relaxed her as she went into a deep conversation with him.

Thankfully, her glasses covered up her curious eyes as they glanced over him. He had gotten quite a bit of a tan but it made him glow in the Miami sun. He was much taller than when she had seen him last when they were 13. And if anything, he had gotten a lot more attractive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his teasing voice. “What are you staring at?” He asked with a smile, noticing her glances at a red light.

She immediately froze in the spot and began to stutter. “I- Well. The trees are lovely and-“

“Relax! I’m just messing with you.” Logan said between laughs as he focused back on the road and the green light, “Besides, I think you’re pretty good-looking now too.”

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes as she leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. She glances to her side, watching the buildings and people turn into a blur as the wind blows her hair behind.

Part of her wanted to stay obedient to her parents. After all, they were parents and provided everything for her. They paid for her college, her car, her clothes, and bags, the least she could do was listen to their rules.

But another part also wanted to be a carefree college student. She wanted to have fun and not regret her days in college. She wanted to be young, dope, and proud like an American.

She turned to look back at Logan before saying, “Let’s go clubbing. I want to have fun.”

The blonde looked at her shocked before his lips curled into a smile. “Oh yeah? What’s gotten into you?”

“Just done with being afraid to break my parents' rule. I want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Well, it’s Miami, so we gotta get you a new dress.”

Y/n furrowed up her eyebrows as she glanced down at her long yellow sundress, brown Hermes sandals, and white cardigan. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” She asked with a frown.

Logan raised his eyebrow. “Y/n, you’ve lived in Miami your whole life. The party scene is different here.” He explained, taking a right turn which fortunately for them, was a shopping center. “Honey, you need to put on that party dress. Like you said, you want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Fine,” Y/n said with a smile as he searched for parking. “But you’re coming with me! I have my dad’s credit card and a mall filled with designer stores. And I’m gonna make sure I find the right outfit.” She grasps her Chanel bag as Logan exits the car and quickly rushes to her side to open the door.

“Well, anything to be young, dope, and proud, right?” He said, holding his arm out. She immediately hooked her arm with his, ignoring the faint blush on both of their faces.

She glanced up at his ice-blue eyes as she let out a content sigh, “Like an American.”

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant scenarios

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revasserium · 2 months ago

Note

hi! I've been reading your opla!zoro stuff and I wanted to tell you your writing is so gorgeous! it's truly breathtaking, you're really talented ❤️ i've looked through your prompts tag, im not sure how requesting works, but could I ask for "edge of falling" or "the spaces between us" (whichever one you like the most) with zoro and fem!reader? i'm a goner for longing and feelings realization and the prompts give me those vibes, but i'm sure anything you write will be lovely <3

reqs are open!

the edge of falling

opla!zoro; 7,475 words; fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, passing mentions of: cult!, physical violence, & trauma/cult-programming, ex-cult member!reader, strawhat!reader, traumatized!reader, protective!zoro, healing from past trauma, learning to trust etc, angst with a happy ending!, a metric TON of plot

summary: "Lie to me," Time said to Love; Love smiled and said, "I promise, I'll never let you slip away."

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! i uhm idk what happened with this fic tbh. there's def uh -- longing of SOME kind here??? welp. pls read the tw list! there's some dark-ish content in this. but i promise it ends well u__u

prelude: in which a fox teaches you to speak

Time is the greatest liar, so you are told, over and over and over. For the longest time, you think it’s the only truth you’ll ever know.

But we will live forever…

So long as you do the things you’re told. So long as you make the Fox happy. So long, so long, so long.

There is no way to mark the passage of time in the compound; with no sunlight to guide the way, you are left to other, more primal ways of keeping track — that elusive, silver-fish creature — time — always slipping through your fingers when want to hold on most.

You measure it in wounds, in the time it takes for a fresh wound to seal over, for the scab to break and reveal the soft, tender pink flesh beneath. You measure it in gulps of water, in bites of cold food, in the droplets of artificial rain that they let fall through the ceiling sometimes. You measure it in rewards too, in long baths and hot meals, in the evenings when the Fox would tell you stories in his low, lilting voice instead of leaving you in his seething silences.

And he is ever so good with stories. If you stay still and keep quiet, and let his voice wash over you like a hungry tide across a rain-starved beach, you can feel the words seeping into your bones, ringing out till they feel like nothing but god’s given truth.

As long as you’re good… I promise I’ll make you live forever.

Like this, you learn the weapon of words, the power of speech, how to listen for lies, and how to tell them, and tell them, and tell them.

The Fox is good at lying; you’ll just have to learn to be better.

act i: yet another sad, desperate soul

Roronoa Zoro has never been a man of many words, but it would be remiss to say that he isn’t a man of his word — you see, when he does speak, he speaks with intention. And always, with conviction.

“Hey. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, then, is the first lie he tells you.

“Liar.” You spit out the word, drawing back, your body a tangle of livewire nerves, your eyes darting back and forth, an entire life’s worth of fight and flight caught on the hair-pin trigger of his breath as he jolts back slightly and blinks at you.

“Y-you — you can’t know that,” you say, your voice still ragged. But Zoro sees it for the attempt it is — an olive branch, however tentatively extended. And he takes it, wordlessly.

He nods once, reaching out to help you up. The compound crumbles around you, and you unconsciously wrap your arms around yourself, as if to hold yourself together, to keep from shattering into a hundred million tiny little shards of pain and mistrust.

“The fox-guy’s dead! But it looks like this whole island’s gonna blow!” Nami races out of the massive, temple-esque structure just as it starts to collapse from the inside out.

Luffy slingshots passed, cackling as Sanji and Usopp bring up the rear. On the Merry, Robin and Chopper are waiting, and the second Zoro manages to hoist you onto the main deck, the ship careens off into the dark tumult of waves.

You skitter away the minute Zoro’s arm slips from around your waist, and he turns to find you pressing yourself back against the railings, staring at them all with wide eyes, your expression caught halfway between fear and consternation. He takes half a step back, crossing his arms just as Luffy bounds forward with a bright, unassuming smile.

“Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” He makes to slap one of your shoulders but you duck out of the way, chewing on your bottom lip.

Robin clears her throat gently and offers you a smile, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze darting between them like a trapped animal, but after another beat of stillness (punctuated only by Nami swearing softly to herself as she steers the Merry around a particularly difficult formation of rocks), your entire body seems to soften, and Zoro uncrosses his arms again, resting a hand casually on the hilt of his blades.

“Th-thank you…” you bob your head once, swallowing hard passed chapped lips and a raw throat. Your white linen dress is stained with blood and dirt, a tear at your collar making it slip from your shoulder.

“’S alright now, darlin’ — how bout we run you a nice, hot bath? I could cook you just about anything y’like. Fancy a drink as well? I think a bubbly would be good for a —”

“Lay off, cook.” Zoro cuts Sanji off with a scoff, barring Sanji’s approach with an arm in the gut.

You watch them with dark eyes, your expression curiously blank.

“Will you let me look at your wounds?” Chopper offers.

You jump a little at his voice, piping up from your left side. You glance at Zoro once before looking back at Chopper and nodding.

Sanji tucks his hands into his pockets and watches as Chopper leads you beneath the deck, Zoro following a few steps behind. He lights a cigarette as soon as the trap door clanks shut.

A beat of silence, and then —

“Wow, that island really, really sucked!” Luffy says, turning back to his crew.

Sanji lets out a puff of smoke as Usopp slumps down against the main mast with a groan.

“You can say that again.”

“What happened?” Robin asks.

Sanji sighs, shaking his head, “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

Below deck, Chopper dabs at your wounds with expert ease as you sit very still on the kitchen island and Zoro watches from the sofa, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“These surface wounds aren’t that bad but…” Chopper trails off, his eyes running over the network of old scars that mar your skin, layers and layers of them — down your arms and along your torso.

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice smooth as polished marble, “I’m —” you swallow, “I’m fine.”

And if it weren’t for the hiccup, the slight hitch in your breath, you would’ve been utterly convincing. Your expression is flat, your voice, even more so.

Across the room, Zoro makes disbelieving noise, “If it hurts, just say so. Chopper’ll fix it.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” you say again, tugging at the sleeve of your torn shift, your tone now a bit more honest, your words tired and resigned. Zoro looks to Chopper, who gives a faint nod of acquiescence before Zoro stands up and jerks his head towards the door.

“Cook’s right — you should wash up before dinner.”

You follow him down the hallway, through a small door that leads into a washroom that’s much cleaner than one might expect a ship’s bathroom to be. A large, wooden soaking tub sits in the middle of the room, and a clean change of clothes has already been laid out on a bench next to the bath.

Zoro grunts after he takes a once-over of the room, satisfied that all’s in order, and makes to leave.

You tug at his sleeve, head lowered.

“Can you…” you lick your lips, “can you stay?”

Zoro glances down at your fingers curled into his shirt sleeve before his eyes flick up to find your face. You’re looking at some indiscriminate point over his left shoulder, but your lips are trembling and your jaw is set.

He lets out a long breath, slowly twisting his body towards the room and you.

“Sure.”

He makes a show of turning around to face the door as you slip off your clothes and sink into the steaming bath water. A long exhale and the light slosh of water is all the indication he gets that it’s safe to turn back around.

He leans himself against the door, his swords propped on his shoulder, his head lolled back, his eyes closed.

He listens to the soft sounds of the water, to the faint splashes as you rub the grit and grime from your skin, inch by inch.

“We were only allowed to bathe as a reward for doing a good deed.”

Your voice makes him open his eyes, his gaze focusing in on the shape of you, nearly submerged in the bathtub, your hair slick and sticking to your pale shoulders. Even in this dim lighting, he can see the patterns your scars make against your skin. Water glimmers along the contours of your face as you run your palms along your cheeks, rubbing at them till they’re ruddy with color.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Quit bein’ so rough,” he moves forward without thinking, reaching out a hand to help you with some of the more stubborn pieces of dirt but he pauses, realizing how utterly still you’ve gone.

You stare at him for a long moment before relaxing back into the water and shifting towards the edge of the tub to allow him better access.

He runs a callused thumb along your cheekbones, wiping away the remaining dirt there.

“What was a ‘good deed’?” he asks, letting the tips of his fingers skim the warm water’s surface.

You shrug, “Mostly anything that made Mr. Fox happy… so all of us would —” you take another breath, your hand opening and closing beneath the surface of the still bath water, “we’d spend all our waking hours trying to think of something — anything — that’d please him. No matter how small… no matter how… terrible.”

“This Mr. Fox… what was his deal, anyway?”

You stare down into the dark water, now rapidly cooling from warm to lukewarm.

You take a deep breath, lifting a hand out of the water to distort the image of your ghostly reflection.

“He… was a liar. Except… he could make all his lies sound like the truth.”

“It was uncanny, really,” Sanji says, now at full throttle in the kitchen prepping for dinner service, Usopp lounging on sofa, his feet propped up on the hanging table.

Chopper and Robin both frown.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks.

“It was like… the guy could say anything and make it sound like the truth — even though you knew somewhere inside you that it can’t be real. Like — he could tell you the sky was green and every single part of you would believe him, even though you’re outside and starin’ up at the sky.”

“Yeah! Like he said I’d never be able to beat him and… for a second, I kinda almost believed him!” Luffy offers, munching on a bushel of apples and spitting out the seeds.

Robin’s brows furrow, tapping at her chin with a thin finger.

“It sounds like the Uso-Uso no Mi…”

“Ugh, what a weird, scary power…” Chopper shudders, shaking his head, his tiny hooved hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “I’m sure it’d mess with people’s heads!”

“It sure did. But he also used it to feed false information to the Marines,” Nami says, slipping through the half-opened door to join the rest of the crew on the sofa, “ran a series of taverns that just so happened to be situated in major Marine towns.”

Sanji glances up from a huge, steaming pan of paella, a cigarette caught between his teeth.

“So what was his end goal then? Just to fuck over the Marines?”

Back in the bathroom, you run your fingers along the edge of the tub as if playing an invisible piano.

“Power, domination… I don’t think he had a goal or purpose… I think… he just got off on it…”

Your voice is light, conversational, almost as if you were talking about the weather. But Zoro sees the glazed look in your eyes, the tightness at the edges of your lips.

“You called me a liar,” he says, reaching into the tub and flicking you lightly with a bit of water.

You blink, a smile threatening the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah… guess I did.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He pulls out his hand and wipes it on a towel, leaning back to stare at you.

You shrug, “Sometimes… people lie to others, and sometimes, people lie to themselves. It’s the ones we tell ourselves that are always the most convincing.”

“I don’t lie. ‘Specially not to myself.”

You let out a tiny laugh, “But I guess… sometimes, if you believe in something hard enough… it’ll just start to be come the truth.”

There’s a note of… something in your voice that Zoro doesn’t like, but he can’t put a name to the feeling so he stays quiet as you continue the laborious work of scrubbing your skin clean, till all the water in the tub’s gone cold.

The rest of the evening passes as most evenings on the Merry do after a big fight — with a lot of food and even more booze. With music and laughter, and new crew member, sitting in the corner, watching mostly and smiling occasionally. No one pushes you, though Sanji does make a valiant effort in getting you to admit to your favorite foods, and Luffy tries two or three times to drag you into the more raucous celebrations (mostly involving way too much meat being roasted on a spike).

No one questions the way Zoro never wanders too far.

No one questions the way your eyes track him around the room, or how, even when Robin and Nami finally get a laugh out of you, you still instinctively searched for Zoro’s figure till you’ve found it in the other corner, a bottle caught between his lips, his eyes half-shut but his gaze caught on you like a fish to a seaman’s hook.

act ii: everything and nothing

A week passes, and then another. And you slowly, but surely, come out of your shell — it’s a strange sort of blossoming, the way you reveal yourself in shards and pieces, jagged and jarring. The shrapnel bits of your personality peaking out amidst the flotsam and jetsam of all your manifold defense mechanisms.

You’re a brilliant liar, but even better at spotting a lie, and it’s a thing that none of the crew had ever really thought about until you’d come along, casually poking holes in their daily deceits.

“Mm! These pancakes are perfect! Just the way I like them!”

“The new dress looks beautiful, Nami.”

“I absolutely did not finish the last bag of popcorn… Luffy did it!”

You clear your throat.

“Okay fine… the pancakes were really good but… but I like them… sweeter.”

“The dress is… well, everything looks gorgeous on you, of course, you know that Nami! But — the color… clashes just a tiny little bit with your… hair.”

“I might’ve uh… taken a few bites out of the popcorn bag… last night… but I was keeping watch and I needed to keep my energy up!”

Robin titters, a sphinx-like smile spreading across her lips.

“Apparently, 60% of people lie at least once every 10 minutes,” she says, casually taking a sip of orange juice as Zoro runs through his daily training regime, seemingly unbothered by the chaos currently taking place on the main deck regarding the “popcorn incident”.

“Dunno why people bother,” Zoro says, working through a set of single-armed burpees.

“I suppose it’s just human nature. We want other people to like us… so we say what we think they might want to hear, instead of what we really think. It’s harmless, mostly,” Robin remarks, leaning back against a white planter box, basking in the shade of the tangerine trees.

“Till it isn’t,” Zoro says, finishing up his workout and pushing himself up for a long stretch. He casts his eyes once more towards where you’re now laughing as Usopp tries to think of some new tall tale to tell.

It only takes you half a second to turn your head, and Zoro wonders at the kind of life you might’ve led to make you so sensitive to another person’s gaze. What must’ve happened to warrant this kind of alertness? But then again, he’d been a hunter long enough to know exactly what being hunted looks like.

He caught a glimpse of it at the compound but — still, his fingers itch toward his swords, his jaw clenches tight enough for Robin to cock her head and raise a brow.

“Yes… until it isn’t…” she echoes, her eyes also trailing towards you.

Zoro holds your gaze for a second before rolling his shoulders and looking away, squinting at the far horizon.

“Oi. Looks like trouble.”

Robin straightens, and a second later, Chopper sounds the alarm from the crow’s nest.

“Marines! Marines!”

There is the shink of swords being drawn, the gentle echo of Robin’s voice as her arms multiply. There’s canon fire and a lot of yelling. But at the end, there’s only bodies and blood and the tattered remains of the Marine’s ship, bobbing in the stained sea below them.

“Should we go after them?” Sanji asks, lighting up a cig, watching as the tiny emergency boat rows off into the distance.

“Nah. We’ll be alright!” Luffy says, wiping a hand across his nose.

Zoro turns towards you, sheathing his swords.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you say, your voice immediately taking on an unctuous sheen that makes Zoro take a step closer.

“You hurt anywhere?” he runs an appraising eye down your form and nods in the knowledge that at least you don’t look hurt.

“No… I —” you chew down on your bottom lip, fingers digging into the bare flesh of your arms. But you back away from him the moment he tries to take a step forward.

“Hey — quit that,” he taps at your wrist with the hilt of his sword, the touch hard but not harsh, forcing you to pull away.

“It’s — I’m — I’m alright,” you say, insistent and mollifying. Zoro runs his thumb against the hilt of his blades and scoffs.

“Liar,” he says, tossing the word casually back at you in a way that makes your breath hitch. Then, he turns, and marches below decks to tend to his own wounds.

A deafening silence rings out around you as you stare down at the ships blood-drenched planks before Robin places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon now — lets get your back looked at.”

Below decks, you find Zoro dabbing gingerly at a large slash on his right arm.

“Here, you’ve missed a spot —” you reach out to take the iodine soaked cloth from Zoro’s hand, only to have him jerk away. You flinch back, wide-eyed.

Zoro softens, if only ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” he says, a harsh edge to his voice as he goes back to trying to twist around himself enough to see the spot he’s missed. You purse your lips, watching him for a second, two seconds, three — before you glance back at the place Robin had been only to realize that she’d gone.

“May… I?” you reach out your hand, palm up, tentative and imploring. But you hold yourself still, waiting for Zoro to make the next move. And he does, eventually, sighing as he turns back around to drop the piece of cloth into your palm.

You reach forward as he turns to his side, offering up his arm as you slowly start to wipe away at the bits of dried blood caking his skin to reveal the raw, red gash, the angry, raised flesh around it. You lean forward, blowing slightly as you daub at the wound, making your way down his bicep till the entire cut’s been coated in iodine.

“There. All done.”

You lean back to toss the cloth into the sink but Zoro stops you. He catches your wrist in his good hand and with a slight tug, has you toppling forward towards his chest.

“Turn around.”

His voice is soft, but firm. And it leaves no room for protests as you stare at him for a long moment before sighing and resigning yourself to your fate. You turn to show him your back.

A disgruntled huff is all you get before you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro rummaging around the first aide kit for a fresh piece of cloth, and the pop of the iodine bottle opening again.

“Who did this?” he asks as he slowly reaches out to tug a thin spike from your skin, small as a needle and just as sharp. You bite back a wince.

“The porcupine guy…” your voice trails off as Zoro grunts.

“Right.”

He tugs out another spike; it tinks against the metal of the sink as he tosses it away. A brief sting, and then the cooling feeling of the iodine cloth.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Zoro sighs.

“Geez, he really got you bad, didn’t he?”

“Not really,” you say, and you feel Zoro’s hands pause.

“No?”

You shake your head, “I’ve… been through much worse… and lived to tell the tale so…”

Zoro doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re talking about your past on the island, inside that windowless compound. He can see it in the scars that mar nearly the entirety of your back, the criss-cross lines of what looks like knife-wounds, the occasional puckered marks that look suspiciously like burns. He steels himself then, and continues to work — plucking out a spike and cleaning out the wound.

“You were right,” he says, when he finally finishes cleaning up your back and you both straighten to face each other. He wipes his hands clean and winces slightly as he flexes his newly bandaged arm.

“Right about what?” your voice is innocent, but the flash in your eyes tells him that you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“That first day — I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t… make sure that no one ever hurt you again.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides and you can see the muscle ticking in his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

You reach out, tracing a thumb along his jawline. When you pull back, there’s a small daub of blood on your finger and you wipe it away without breaking his gaze.

“No, you couldn’t but… you tried.”

Zoro scoffs, “Tryin’s not good enough.”

“No,” you jerk up to glare at him, your voice harsh in a way that he’s only ever heard right after they’d rescued you, the edges of your words raw and ragged as a serrated blade, “trying is everything.”

interlude: truth or dare

It gets better after that, and you grow and bloom and grow some more. Zoro does too, though in his own way — he gets stronger, gets faster, hits harder. And though you two never quite agree on anything, he is always by your side, and you’re somehow always by his.

“’M not even a lil drunk —”

“Liar~” you singsong, giggling as Zoro shakes his head, tipping the remains of a bottle of sake back down his throat before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Mm… ‘s that all I am to you? Just another guy who lies?” Zoro swings lazily on the hammock hung on the main deck, his eyes half-lidded and alight with the dancing firelight.

“Stupid question — drink,” you answer, bringing our own bottle up to your lips.

Zoro laughs, quiet and pleased as he reaches for a new bottle.

“Alright then — truth or dare?” he asks, uncorking the new bottle and reaching out to offer you some. You bat him away, your movements languid and heavy, your back pressed against a heavy wooden barrel, one leg propped up to support your arm, the other stretched out long and lithe in front of you.

“Truth,” you say, your voice easy, your smile even more so.

“Alright then — do you trust me?” Zoro’s voice dips, and your eyes flash up. There’s a sobering light somewhere behind the alcohol soaked haze clouding his gaze and you can tell by the steadiness of his hands that he’s not nearly as drunk as he might seem.

“What do you mean?” you ask, casually evading the question.

Zoro tuts, “’S not an answer.”

“I’m asking for a clarification.”

Zoro shakes his head, taking another soft swig, “Simple question — do you trust me?”

You purse your lips, mulling over the myriad answers you could provide and make it sound like the truth. But that’s not really how the game goes. So instead, you take a deep breath.

“I — I want to,” and it’s the way your voice breaks that makes it honest, the way you can’t hold the truth in by the seams of your careful cadence, no matter how hard you try to smooth out the ragged edges.

“So… that’s a no,” Zoro says, keeping his tone even. You can’t help reaching for him — imploring.

“Not yet but —”

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

“I guess…” Zoro leans back, casting his eyes up at the wild, dark sky, careening above the ship in an ecstatic spread of stars and, long sinuous, moon-silvered clouds, “why d’you want to trust me? Doesn’t seem like something you’d be eager to do after… y’know, everything.”

You lick your lips and stare into the empty bottom of your glass.

“Honestly?” you say, “because you’re kind of a shit liar —”

Zoro lets out a soft, rumbling laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

“But… also because you’re the only person I’ve met who… who treats words so carefully — I mean…” you swallow, leaning forward slightly as Zoro drops his gaze back down to you, “it’s like — my whole life has just been people saying things they don’t really mean, and never meaning what they say, and then trying to figure out what’s really happening — trying to say the right thing, not the thing you mean but the thing you think they’d want to hear —” your breath quickens, “and — and if you don’t or if you’re bad at it, then bad things happen to you and the people you care about —”

“Hey.”

A hand presses down on your shoulder and you gasp, your breath knifing through your chest as you clasp your shaking hands to your sternum.

“Breathe. You’re okay.”

You nod, unable to say anything as Zoro sits in front of you, his hand like an anchor in a summer storm, keeping you tethered.

You breathe and take stock of your limbs — feet, legs, hands, arms. It’s then that you realize Zoro’s crouching in front of you, your drink glass resting by his side.

“Thanks,” you say, nodding as he gives your shoulder a slight squeeze before pulling away. Physical touch has never been one of your strong points, and it seems Zoro’s learned that without you ever having to tell him.

It’s strange — the sudden knowledge that somehow, his understanding of you has been wordless and implicit. Complete, from nearly the day the Straw Hats had picked you up on that island. You’d never had to explain, never had to draw your boundaries.

And yet somehow, he knew. As if he’d always just known.

“Truth or dare?” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper, shifting to make more space for him on the dark deck of the ship’s forecastle. Zoro sits down in front of you, crossing his legs.

“Dare.”

You don’t fight the grin as it lifts the side of your lips.

The quiet pulses between the pair of you like a heartbeat.

“Tell me a secret.”

“Gotta be more specific,” Zoro’s grin lilts to mirror your own.

“Any secret,” you say, “something you… something you wouldn’t otherwise say out loud.”

“Isn’t that what a secret’s supposed to be? Something you don’t say?”

You laugh, tasting the sound like a mouthful of champagne, bubbling up through you and spiraling towards the endless summer’s night.

“Quit stalling!”

“Think I wanna kiss you.”

A gasp slices through the air between you. You feel the weight of it in your throat, the white-hot flicker of his gaze as he glances down at your lips. You wet them without thinking, and as Zoro lean’s in, you can sense the night around you slowly coalescing into something warm, something solid. Like a marble clutched in a child’s palm, or a pearl held on an oyster’s velvet tongue.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

He stops just short of your lips, his nose almost grazing yours. You can nearly taste the sweet sake on his breath —

“Dare.”

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes flutter and for a second, an eternity revolves in the space between your heartbeats. Faintly, you register the gentle rocking of the ship as an indolent wave catches her starboard side.

You close your eyes.

For a second, there is space. For a second, there is breath. For a second, there is gravity. And then — all of that disappears. All of it eclipsed by the kiss. And then, the kiss is all there is.

All there was, and ever will be.

There’s a graze of fingers against skin, the bump of legs against legs against thighs against knees — there’s knuckles and noses and hair falling, hair being tugged into closing fists. There’s the clink-clink-clink of earrings, and the clatter-clap-clat of swords and hilts and rough, wooden planks.

There’s the dull thunk and baseline rumble of a glass being knocked over and rolling away.

But all of that is afterthought. All of that is supplement, a postscript, marginalia and footnotes.

Because there, then — there is only the kiss, and nothing but the kiss: a catastrophe of inevitability, smooth as a secret, and whisper-sweet.

When the pair of you pull away, there’s a chaos of wings against your ribcage.

There’s the honeyed, lambent light in Zoro’s eyes as he grins down at you.

“Truth — or dare,” a breathless gasp punctuates your words.

Zoro’s grin only grows as he tips your chin back between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dare.”

It’s only then that you realize his cheeks are wine-flushed, his chest rising and falling nearly as fast as yours. You swallow slow and track his eyes as he watches the pale bob of your throat.

“Kiss me again.”

act iii: fool’s gold

It takes all of three hours for Sanji to get something out of Zoro, and three days before Robin and Nami manage to wheedle something out of you.

“No seriously! Things have been different since that one party we had —” Nami presses her palm to the kitchen table, here eyes wide. Robin sits on the couch, her expression one of mixed amusement and near academic interest.

“Different how?” you reach into the cookie jar and fish out a crumbled corner of what used to be a double chocolate chip cookie.

“Ugh! You know what I mean!” Nami turns to Robin, motioning towards you, “Help me here!”

Robin laughs, tossing up a graceful hand, “I suppose something does seem… changed.”

“Something?” you ask, licking at a smudge of chocolate on your thumb.

“Well…” Robin says, drawing out the syllable and making to examine the nails on her long, thin fingers, “it’s definitely not nothing.”

You allow yourself a smile, “Something’s definitely not nothing.”

Nami lets out a frustrated groan, but she’s smiling too.

It’s been long enough that you’d learned to relax around them, and you’d since also learned that nothing is so sacred as the sanctity of sisterhood. That bonds between friends might be forged in fire and brimstone, but bonds between women are forged in cinder and smoke — in the wreckage of after, when the fighting’s been done and all that’s left is the mending.

“What’s all this giggling about?” Zoro ducks into the half-ajar door, staring at the three of you.

Nami cocks an eyebrow; Robin shrugs.

You, for your part, smile and bat your lashes.

“Oh nothing,” you say.

“Just girl-talk,” offers Nami.

“Nothing to interest a legendary swordsman like yourself,” Robin polishes off.

Zoro’s eyes narrow, his gaze jumping between the three of you before it lands on you and he scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever. We’re docking soon.”

And that’s all he offers before sauntering back out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him, but not before you catch sight of the redness at the tips of his ears as he hurries away.

You give it a beat of three seconds before pushing to your feet and following after, humming to yourself. Behind you, Nami and Robin share a knowing look.

“Definitely not nothing,” Robin says as she stands to follow you.

The island, if it can even be called that, is nothing more than a rough conglomeration of steep cliffs strapped together by a thin band of land barely wide enough to be categorized as a beach.

“Well! This is something!” Luffy declares, his arms akimbo on his hips as he stares at the island.

“Yeah… it’s uh… something for sure,” Usopp agrees, making a face as he squints at the cluster of rocks that look more like the jagged edges of a broken bottle than any kind of proper land formation.

“We’ll just anchor here for the night… get some good rest, and then...” Sanji’s words trail off, interrupted by a ghostly wail that rises from the gathering of dark cliffs, turning them into an echo chamber until it seems to rumble through the sand beneath them.

“… gold, all gold! — no, not a liar — please!”

A shiver etches itself up your spine and instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself.

Zoro steps out in front of you, as if to shield you from whatever might come. His thumb presses against the hilt of his swords, his shoulders tense as corded wire.

“Uh… everyone else heard that too, right?” Chopper asks, peaking out from around Robin’s legs.

“Yep. Definitely not just you,” Sanji confirms.

Luffy grins, “Seems like there’s someone else on this island! Maybe they can show us around!”

Time passes by strangely on the island — one minute, the sun is still hanging low on the far horizon, and the next, the sky is the color of a bullet wound, darkness seeping in around the horizon.

“Whoever’s here on the island — they sure aren’t making it — easy —” Sanji grunts as he hoists himself up a slippery piece of rock face, sweat glistening on his forehead as he squints into the looming blackness.

“Luffy? You sure you know where we’re going?” Nami shouts, her voice ringing back in a way that makes everyone wince and cover their ears.

Zoro grabs your elbow a second before you slip, fingers digging into your flesh even as you steady yourself against him.

“Sorry — thanks,” you say, unsure of which one you really mean.

“Yeah! I can smell something — like a campfire! And… cooking!” Luffy’s voice calls back from somewhere in the gathering dark. Everyone shares a glance before bracing themselves and trudging on.

By the time you all catch up to Luffy, no one is certain of what time it is, only that it’s dark. But the kind of darkness that seems to cling to the skin — a darkness so dense it starts to take on shape and weight.

It presses in around you and you feel your breaths shortening in your chest.

Beside you, Zoro reaches out to brace a hand at the small of your back.

“Oh! I see a light ahead! C’mon!” Luffy’s voice rings out from somewhere up ahead, followed by the patter of sandals on stone. The rest of you follow, and then all too suddenly, light flickers to life in what seems to be a huge, subterranean cave deep within the cliffs of the island. It casts stark shadows against the slick, cavernous walls.

You frown, goosebumps rising along your arms and legs.

But before you have time to dwell on the wrongness of something there, Luffy’s voice snags your attention like a thread on an errant splinter.

“Hi! Oh, wow — that looks delicious!”

You turn a corner to find Luffy hunkering down over a blazing campfire and the silhouette of someone sitting opposite him, a sharp spike held out in front of them, turning slowly over the flickering flames.

“Oh… please… come join me — sit and listen to a story — I have so many stories — so many adventures to share!” the figure across the fire seems to quiver with the dancing flames, his voice filling up the whole of the cave, loud and boisterous and eager. But strange and hollow too.

You frown, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

Ahead of you, Usopp and Chopper both take tentative seats next to Luffy, who had cheerfully plopped down next to the fire.

“Wow, this looks great! Are you here by yourself? I’m here with my crew! Are you a pirate too?” Luffy asks, his endless enthusiasm pouring from him like a spring.

Robin, Nami, and Sanji all hold back, but you take a step forward, and then another. Something compelling you towards the voice, pulling you closer. There’s a desperation, a loneliness with which you’re all too familiar — you inch closer, and then closer, till you’re almost level with Luffy, and you lower yourself to the ground next to him, Zoro dropping down beside you, his knee pressing against your leg in a silent reassurance.

“Come… come closer! It’s a good story — I promise!”

“Truth,” you mutter, just beneath your breath. Beside you, Zoro lets out a puff of breath, though his stance doesn’t loosen.

Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of the rest of the crew drawing just a step closer.

“Once upon a time… there was a city on an island where everything, and I mean everything was made of gold!”

The figure across the fire sounds cheered, elated even. Behind you, you feel Nami take half a step closer. Cold seeps into your veins despite the warm, dancing flames, and your fingers dig into the hard packed earth beneath you.

“I found it — I did! With my crew — the best sailors and seamen around! But the king… he was greedy! And he wanted his own men to take the treasures, so he forced me to lead them to the city again —”

“Truth,” you say again, but something in the tone of the figure’s voice makes you frown.

“Except… the city had gone… and there was nothing left… nothing but lies!”

You shudder back, swallowing hard. All around you, the darkness presses in with long, thin tendrils like so many loving fingers. The fire flares up, casting sparks up towards the cave’s ceiling, where stalagmites hang like broken teeth in a petrified monster’s maw.

“Oh… don’t be scared… come back — I won’t hurt you —”

“Liar!” you spit, the word scraping its way out of your throat.

Zoro leaps to his feet just as Luffy does the same. The fire flares again, a second before snuffing itself out, but in that second, you finally catch sight of the figure, hooded in shadow, sitting across from you — it has the shape of a man, tall and broad, but the limbs of a spindle-legged monster. It wears the darkness like a cloak, with beady, red eyes and a too-wide mouth.

“Don’t! Call me a liar! That’s what they called me — that’s what they called when they killed me! KILLED ME FOR TELLING THE TRUTH!”

You scramble back, Zoro nearly lifting you off the ground in his haste to pull you away. Luffy whips back his arm and swings it forward but all it catches is tendrils of shadow.

“Hey! That’s not nice!” he shakes off his fist, frowning as he stares at the bits of wriggling darkness still clinging to his skin.

“Run!” you shout as everyone bolts for the lightless path you all took to get to the heart of the cave.

“NOT A LIAR! NOT A LIAR! I FOUND IT! THE CITY! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE ME!”

You clap your hands around your ears and race for what you hope is the exit. Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of Zoro’s blades whistling through the air*.*

“Damnit! How’dyou fight a shadow? There’s nothin’ to hit!”

“Quit tryna hit it and just run!” Sanji’s voice answers a second before he breezes passed you.

“Why don’t you believe me? Why?!”

“We — I believe you!” you shout, your chest a thundering mess of footfalls and scrambling bodies, and against all instinct, you turn around to face the darkness again, cupping your hands around your mouth, “I believe you! I know — I know you’re telling the truth!”

“What’re you doing?” Zoro asks, leveling himself by your side, his arm pressing against yours. Behind you, the thinnest sliver of light is creeping into the cave from what you assume is the entrance.

Morning. Has it really been that long?

Time is the greatest liar, you remember, suddenly, violently, the thought tearing through you like teeth.

“I — he’s telling the truth,” you say through gritted teeth, even as you take a few steps back. Inside the cave, the figure seems to shrink back from the encroaching light.

“What truth?” Zoro asks, his blade held aloft, his stance wide and ready.

“All of it,” you say, forcing your voice to be gentle, turning your face back towards the darkness, “I know, I can hear it — I know you’re telling the truth — about the island, the city — all of it!”

“Yes… all I wanted was to get back to the city… but… no one believe me… and I died… I died for it!”

“I know, and I’m sorry… no one should be punished for telling the truth —” your voice cracks.

“I tried!”

“I know…” you say as the figure shrinks and shrinks and shrinks and the light behind you grows and grows and grows, until you can feel the warm seeping into the skin of your back.

“And trying is everything,” you say, biting your lip as Zoro wraps an arm around your waist.

“Come with me… I’ll take you to the city — we can go together!”

You shake your head, heat prickling at your eyes as you turn away from the darkness of the cave and towards the light of the oncoming day.

“Liar…” the word falls from you like a rock, or a tear, cast off the cliff that greets you and Zoro as you both stare over the edge. The rest of the crew is nowhere to be found, but Zoro’s arm is still around your waist, and you can feel his warm breath by your cheek.

“Hey — do you trust me?”

You look up; in the dawning, morning light, Zoro, with his sun-kissed skin and dark moss hair appears to be limned in gold.

And maybe it’s the air, or the sea, or simply the angry pieces of this jagged, left-behind island of shadows like broken teeth trying to tear apart the sky, conducting his voice into a cacophony of echoes that sing and scream through the crags and eves of the valley beneath — but the whole island seems to reverberate with the question —

Do you trust me?

You close your eyes and breath. When you open them again, your heartbeat is steady. And when you speak, the rising sun streaks the tips of the saw-toothed peaks in strokes of molten gold. The valleys beneath you conduct your answer into an entire single-syllabled symphony —

Yes.

You feel his arm tighten around your waist, the wind as it tangles soft fingers in your hair. All around you, everything is light, and light, and light.

“Jump!”

You close your eyes, and jump.

-----

footnotes/appendix

uso-uso no mi translates to "lie-lie fruit"; i made it up bc it would be too op to have in the actual animanga i think

the "acts" refer to a classical 3-act structure that most movies/plays/scripts are written in: setup, confrontation, and resolution... with a smattering of other things sprinkled in for ~vibes~

in much of classical japanese and chinese mythology, foxes are associated with trickers and lies, often turning into beautiful women to deceive men, luring them into forests and mountains before taking their lives

the "figure" in the last scene is... can you guess? noland! kudos to anyone who figured it out as they were reading *\ (>o<) /*

did i absolutely take the "do you trust me" line from disney's aladdin??? HELL YEAH i did !!!! tru trust is my kink u__u

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zegrasdrysdale · 9 months ago

Note

im having a feeling that you don’t write much for this player (because he’s so underrated)

but im desperate for luca fantilli smut

like chain swinging, bruise inducing, dirty, “rough” sex.

maybe it’s ovulation- maybe it’s just me ?

idc i just need him to call me his, claim the fuck out of me 🤝

[ pent up ] l. fantilli

pairing : Luca Fantilli x fem!reader

summary : after a rough loss, Luca needs to let out some steam

warning(s) : smut ! kinda rough sex, p in v protected sex, oral (m receiving), possessiveness, pet names during sex

author’s note : i also need him to claim the fuck out of me tbh. anon you were so real for that

༺═──────────────═༻

She sat in her dorm room on campus with her laptop open and homework in front of her as she watched the Michigan boys lose their third game in a row. The horn sounded and she watched all of them basically sulk off the ice. Captain Jacob Truscott sat on the bench for an extra minute as his teammates make their way into the locker room.

It's not like they didn't play a good game tonight. They played well defensively without taking too many penalties, but puck luck was not in their favor as they lost 3 to 1 to Penn State. Several shots rung off the post and she wishes every single time that posts weren't a thing.

(Y/N) pretty sure she almost broke her desk chair every time a puck hit the post. She's surprised that she actually didn't end up breaking her chair. She did break multiple pencils in frustration.

A text comes through about forty minutes after the game ends.

luca ♡ - 10:38 pm can i come to your dorm when i drop my stuff off ? wanna see you

She doesn't say no. She can never say no to Luca Fantilli. He has this thing about him that makes it impossible for her to say no to her boyfriend.

It’s nights like tonight where she’s glad she lives in an on-campus suite with her best friend from home. Luca can come and go as he pleases without disturbing her friend since it’s just the two of them in an apartment-like suite. If he’s not at the hockey house then he’s here with his girlfriend.

She sends her friend a text to let her know that Luca is coming over. Her friend sends her back a ‘🚫👶🏼’ in reply.

Less than a half hour later, there’s a knock on the door of the suite. (Y/N) goes and answers it since she knows it’s Luca. Plus, her room is closest to the door. She’s always answering it.

When she swings the door open, a worn out Luca stands on the other side. He’s in his game day suit and Michigan beanie. He looks exhausted, yet he looks like he needs to let out some frustration at the same time.

“Hi, my love,” she softly says. “I watched the game. You guys should’ve had that.”

Luca just nods and walks past her into her bedroom.

He is definitely not happy with how that game went. He should’ve had a hat trick at least with his half a dozen shots on goal. Either the Penn State goalie had him beat or the post did.

It wasn’t an easy night for any of them. Luca takes loses like this personally.

She shuts the door and follows him into her room. She kicks the door shut behind her and Luca throws his beanie at the wall in frustration.

“It’s games like this where I wish I didn’t play this sport,” he confesses. “Half the time it’s fucking puck luck and the other half of the time it’s skill. It truly pisses me off sometimes. It’s so frustrating.”

Immediately, she’s walking up to him and sitting him on her bed. He looks up at her as she says, “Hockey is just a stupid sport. You get frustrated because you love it. You hate to love it. I understand.”

Luca plays with the hem of her Michigan hockey hoodie. “It just sucks sometimes,” he sighs. “I feel like the worst teammate when I can’t score a goal or set someone up.”

“I know,” she replies as she runs her fingers through his hair. Luca in turn slides his arms up her hoodie and pulls her in close to him so his face his buried in her stomach “Is there anything I can do to help you get out some of that frustration you’re feeling?”

He mumbles an “I don’t know” into her hoodie. It’s a lie though. She knows what he wants. She always knows what he wants after a rough game.

She leans down and presses soft kisses to the top of his head. “Let me take care of you then you can do whatever you want,” she tells him.

Before she knows it, she’s sinking down to her knees in front of him. She lands so hard on the joint that she is afraid she might’ve bruised her knees even though the floors are carpeted.

Oh well. Pain always comes before pleasure anyway.

Luca watches as she unbuckles the belt he’s wearing. She tosses it to the floor with a smile on her face. When he finally realizes what she’s doing, he kicks off his shoes and lifts his butt off the mattress so (Y/N) can get his pants off. The suit pants and boxers come off at the same time because she’s become a pro at undressing her boyfriend.

With a smile and a kiss to his thigh right above his knee, (Y/N) takes Luca’s semi in her hand. He watches her with big eyes as she slowly begins to move her hand to pump him. Soft noises pass Luca’s pretty lips as she slowly pulls him closer to an orgasm.

This usually helps Luca relax. It also sometimes ends with her being unable to walk the next day but it’s a Friday night. There are no classes tomorrow. She doesn’t even have to get out of bed if she doesn’t want to.

She glances up at Luca, whose eyes are watching her every move. She bites her bottom lip for a second before she takes him in her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around the reddening tip of his dick for a second before she put as much of him as she can into her mouth. She sucks for a second before she blows him.

“Fuck,” Luca gasps as she begins to move her head up and down. “So pretty with my dick in your mouth.” She smirks around him and takes him even further. Her hand makes up for what she can’t fit.

Luca’s fingers curl in her hair while she moves her head. One of her hands is on the base of his dick while the other snakes into her shorts so she can get pressure on her core.

Soft whines pass her lips as she uses her own fingers to work herself close to an orgasm. It’s only temporary. Her boyfriend’s fingers will replace hers shortly. She knows Luca can only last so long before he’s pinning her to the mattress.

He pulls her hair back into a makeshift ponytail in his fist. She hums at the feeling as Luca moves her at a pace he likes. He takes his time with her.

One of her fingers slides into her pussy and she whines. A part of her wishes that Luca would just get his hands on her already.

It’s like he can read her mind though because it’s not long after that when he finally speaks up.

“You look so beautiful on your knees for me, baby,” Luca pants. “Need to be inside you though.”

(Y/N) pulls back and licks away a drop of saliva that has started to roll down her chin. “Whatever you want, Luca,” she tells him. “If you need to then use me to let out some of that pent up frustration.”

His bright eyes darken and he pulls her to her feet almost immediately after the last word leaves her lips. He pushes the hoodie off of her body to reveal that she has nothing on under the hoodie except for a pair of shorts and pulls her down onto the mattress. He hovers over her and she can’t help but smile up at him.

Luca leans down and captures her lips in a bruising kiss. She hums and bucks her hips up so she can get some pressure, whatever pressure she can find on her core. He pins her hips down to the mattress for a second before a hand finds its way into her Lululemon shorts and panties.

A groan passes her lips when his fingers run through her folds. “Luca,” she mumbles. “Not tonight. Just fuck me.”

He detaches his lips from hers after a second and finds her neck. He sucks and nips at the skin on her neck right under her ear. She sighs and kisses the swell of his ear. A bright mark will be visible right where he’s nipping at and she truly does not care.

Luca could cover her entire body with marks and she’d happily show them off. She’s never been shy to admit that she is Luca’s girlfriend. Especially when other girls try to talk to him after games or on campus when going to classes.

“Already so wet for me, baby,” Luca mumbles. “This just from sucking me off?”

She nods and hums. “All for you,” she sighs. “I am yours.”

He backs away from her neck and gets on his knees between her legs. She watches as he pulls off his suit jacket and unbutton his shirt. Her eyes land on the gold chain around his neck with the number 63 resting between his collarbones. The chain that she got him last year for his birthday.

She knew he wore it, but she has never seen it on after a game. It’s rare for Luca to wear this specific chain during a game since it was a gift from her for his 21st birthday.

Since it’s on now, she knows it was the chain he wore for the game. It turns her on even more if it’s even possible.

Luca notices that she’s looking and smiles. “Wanted to sport my girl during the game tonight,” he tells her. “Just to have you close.”

His words shoot straight to her core and she pulls him down into a hot kiss. Lips are bitten, tongues are shoved into each other’s mouths. The cool 63 rests against her neck right under her chin. Despite her skin being hot, she shivers.

He peels off her shorts and panties, throwing them to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Luca breaks the kiss to reach into her bedside table to grab a condom. She bites a mark into his chest while he rips open the tiny package with his teeth and slides its content onto himself.

“Ready for me?” he questions as he comes back to hover over her. He lines himself up with her but waits until she gives him an answer. She sucks in her bottom lip and nods. “Need to hear you say it, pretty girl.”

“Fuck me before I do it myself,” is her response. Luca can’t help but laugh. She grows slightly annoyed at the fact that he isn’t blowing her back out and bucks her hips so he slides k to her.

The laughing stops and (Y/N) lets out a soft groan at the familiar stretch of Luca’s dick inside of her. She stares up at Luca and watches the 63 swings lightly in her face.

Luca pushes himself completely into her and lets her adjust to his size. He’s slightly above average, but he’s also kind of thick. It’s a lot to take sometimes and it’s why she can’t walk the next day if it’s too rough.

Right now, she’s hoping he channels all his frustration into fucking her because it’s been a little bit since they have been able to have a moment like this.

“Move, Luca,” she breathes out after a minute. “I’ve been ready for you to move for like ev- oh!”

He pulls nearly out of her before he slams into her. She lets out a loud groan and Luca covers her mouth. “Let’s not wake up your friend, yeah?” he says. “Last thing we need is for her to walk in here and see you begging me to fuck you.”

She nods and Luca uncovers her mouth. He very slowly but very deeply moves into her. Her mouth falls open and she lets her legs fall apart for him. The swinging chain moves the quicker he moves.

In a spur of the moment decision, (Y/N) leans up and softly bites the chain. Luca smiles and shakes his head before he picks up the pace.

The bed begins to creak beneath them but that doesn’t stop them. Luca’s mouth is on one of her breasts while his hand rests on the other one. She gasps when she feels him bite a mark into the skin.

“Mine,” he mumbles. “All mine.”

“All yours,” she confirms. “All yours to do whatever you want- fuck!”

Luca slams into her at the same time he reaches down between them to get his fingers on her clit. She cries out in pleasure before Luca pulls out of her. She whines at the loss of contact.

Then he turns her onto her belly and pulls her hips up to meet his. She sighs happily when he fills her up again. “Whatever I want,” he repeats into her ear. “On your knees, pretty girl. Wanna see how you look while I fuck you on your knees.”

With his help, (Y/N) rises to her knees with him still in her. He wraps an arm around her waist and lightly wraps a hand around her throat. He doesn’t put any pressure but fucks up into her. Her head falls onto his shoulder. Luca kisses her cheek.

“Such a good girl,” he praises. “Letting me do what I want with you.”

She whines in agreement as his fingers find her clit. She sighs, “Luca. Please.”

“Please what, baby,” he asks against her ear.

A sudden knot forms in the pit of her stomach. Her legs begin to shake. “Wanna come,” she pants.

Luca kisses the swell of her ear and cups one of her breasts with his free hand. “Go ahead and come,” he tells her. “I’m not that far behind you.”

It’s not long after that when she’s clenching around his dick. She cries out his name as she comes. All she wants to do is fall onto her stomach but Luca is holding her up.

She sees stars as her vision goes white. She’s pretty sure she has never come this hard in her life, but that’s the affect Luca has on her. She also realizes that she doesn’t mind being fucked on her knees. That’s a conclusion she comes to while out of it.

When she comes down from her high, she’s sprawled out on her belly. Luca is wiping her leg down with a warm rag and is leaving soft kisses on her back. “Sorry if that was too much,” he mumbles. “I just needed to let out some frustration.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I liked it. It wasn’t bad. Got some new marks to show off.”

Luca laughs and throws the cloth somewhere on the floor before he covers them up with the blankets on her bed. She cuddles up against her boyfriend and lays her cheek on his chest.

“You’re okay though?” she questions as she looks up at him. “I know you were upset about the loss so I just want to double check to make sure you’re okay.”

He nods and brushes her hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he tells her. “Frustration and anger come with the sport. The last thing I want to do is take either out on you.”

“The only time you’re ever allowed to take frustration out on me is when you’re fucking me,” she warns him. “Lay a hand on me and your ass is on the curb.”

Luca smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli smut #zegrasdrysdale request

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bsverryin · 1 year ago

Text

: ̗̀➛ Seeing HSR men with another woman

Who?

╰┈➤ Blade,Jing yuan, Gepard,

situation?

╰┈➤ Seeing them cheerful with another woman they never talked about.

✎ angst with comfort, they call you with nicknames, reader is insecure & sensitive but characters assures you!! HEAD CANNON'S ONLY!! Tbh the only reason why I thought about this was because I was replaced a few months later after a year of relationship (I wasn't assured enough bro😔) ,anyways enjoy reading, CANNOT ASSURE you of perfect grammar but I'm trying <3

: ̗̀➛ BLADE

Blade doesn't show his love that much and you understand, he wasn't the type to be all clingy with you. In fact you're the one who's really clingy and sensitive, so how could you ever survive being in a relationship with blade.? It's because he has a side that's only for you and only you can see. You're alone with him privately? He'd call you sweet names, You're taking care of him after fighting enemies? He'd kiss you after treating him. So then you thought how could blade talk with another woman looking CHEERFUL??

When blade came home that night, you weren't talking to him which was new to him, he didn't understand because whenever he entered the door, you'd always greet him with a big hug asking how his day was, or if he was hurt but today you were completely ignoring him, using your phone and sitting on the couch. He thought you didn't notice him so he buried his face on your neck and was about to kiss your cheeks but you stood up,looked at him then rolled your eyes.

You immediately entered your room, closing it with a loud bang. It's the only place where you won't see him because you don't sleep with each other. Minutes later you heard knocks on your door, You opened it revealing blade.

"Is there something wrong, Y/n?" He didn't call you by the nickname that he usually calls you with, you could see from his eyes that he's serious and worried if he did something wrong.

"No, goodnight." Was all that you could say because you knew if you told him about the thing you saw today, you'd be crying that's how sensitive you were, you closed the door after saying those words.

After what you said, he didn't talk for awhile but you heard footsteps all the time, it was blade that couldn't calm himself down thinking if he did something that hurts you, Finally you heard another knock on your door.

"Y/N, love? Please open your door. Let's talk about what's bothering you." It was the first time hearing those words from him! You immediately opened the door letting him in, you sat on your bed while he sat beside you.

"What's our problem?" Those words were so soft-spoken, it was your first time hearing those from him.

"Who was the girl that you're talking to earlier?" You looked around and around but him. It was an awkward situation and you didn't know what to do.

"The girl earlier? I don't remember.." He was silent for awhile then finally he realized what you were talking about.

"Y/N love, please don't take it the wrong way, you're the only one i love." He said as he held your hand.

"But you looked cheerful around her, who was she exactly?" You still didn't look at him but you let him hold your hand.

"It was for a mission, Love. She was associated with the enemy that stellaron hunters have been trying to find, I'm just fooling with her love, and who knows? I might just kill her in the end."

And you turn yourself in! You couldn't get mad at blade for that long because he's trying his best and it's rare whenever he's lovey-dovey to you, he ended up sleeping at your room and who knows what happened in that long night you spent with him.

: ̗̀➛ GEPARD

Seeing Gepard with another woman is not rare, it happens everyday because he's a captain always walking around belobog to ensure the citizens safety!! But today was different. He was Cheerful towards the woman he just saved, he wasn't blushing but he's smiling a lot. It reminds you of when you first dated each other he has that beautiful smile and looks really cheerful towards you but he doesn't have to be like that with another woman, right? or that's what you thought.

Gepard saw you looking at him and the woman he was talking to, he was about to leave to go to you but the woman in front of him stopped him and started acting shy while playing with her own hair, which you hated of course! You gave him a bad look while he felt bad that he couldn't come to you, you ran away after that.

A few days had passed and you didn't talk to him, whenever you see him patrolling you run away and avoid him as much as you can. He couldn't run after you because that woman is just always wherever he was and the fact that Gepard wasn't trying enough to get close to you hurts you the most. Which leads you into thinking that he maybe tired of you or doesn't love you anymore.

But destiny had other plans, The first week of not talking to him and giving him silent treatment, avoiding him didn't end really well. You were at serval's workshop to help her out because sometimes when you have nothing to do you just go there, you told her about what happened and she said it would be impossible for Gepard to unlove you because of another woman, soon after she left you alone. Serval said she wanted to get some fresh air but the truth is she contacted Gepard to go come to her workshop because of an emergency but in reality you were just there and she wanted you both to fix your misunderstanding together.

Gepard entered her workshop, and he saw you. You couldn't run because you're still finishing something serval assigned you to do.

"where's serval?" Was that all you could say to him, it didn't even feel like you're dating him at this point, because you think that he just doesn't try to be with you enough.

"she's busy...doing something outside." He talks with little pauses. He looked like he wanted to talk about something but he couldn't bring himself to. You were about to finish and exit serval's workshop but when you were about to open the door to leave, Gepard hugged you from behind.

"Y/n,babe I'm sorry we weren't able to date as much as we did before" He said as he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind.

"It's not about that... You know I respect your busy schedule but..the girl" you couldn't continue your word because your tone kept getting shaky and shaky.

"She said she was a fan but I got mad earlier because she kept following me around." He said with his usual tone sounding very sincere.

"She looks...prettier. Maybe you'll feel happier with her." Gepard suddenly stopped hugging you from behind and stood in front of you.

"Y/n, I'm sorry if I made you think it like that but, there's no one else I can love but you. I love you and only you."

You cried as he hugged you, you just missed him so much and it was your first time not talking to him, that 1 week felt like hell but at least now the problem is solved, Serval soon returned saying she might've heard your conversation with Gepard. Gepard blushed while holding your hand as you gave him a peck on his cheeks.

: ̗̀➛ JING YUAN

Jing yuan is too beautiful to not be surrounded by women, He's always cheerful and smiling around everyone whatever their gender is because that is how he is and you're completely used to it but this time it's different. Someone that you're completely insecure about was inviting him over for dinner and her reason was it was for business purposes, who stupid would believe that? Well either way, jing yuan didn't refuse that woman's invitation.

You told him a lot of times that you both can have dinner instead but he just kept kissing you telling you it's alright it's all about business which made you REALLY sad because even if it's for business why do they have to do it in a dinner way? And why is it the person that you're insecure about? Jing yuan left for dinner and you ate alone. It's alright eating alone for sure but your lover eating with another woman?? You're getting angry,sad and insecure by just thinking about it. It felt like forever waiting for jing yuan to come back, you kept thinking what if they weren't just eating and doing something else? No that's impossible you thought. You keep on replaying in your mind whenever Jing yuan tells you that he loves you more than anything, it's just not enough.

When Jing yuan comes back to your home together, he looks for you and spots you on the couch on your phone. He immediately kissed you then told you how much he missed you and wished he just stayed to have dinner with you.

"So how was your dinner with that business woman?" You said it not in a nice way, more in an aggressive tone which he looked worried about afterwards.

"It was strictly business, my love. It actually made my head ache." He said as he sat beside you and laid his head on your shoulders.

"You should've stayed." You said as if you were annoyed by him, he looked at you with a regretful face, he looked cute without even trying that you suddenly blushed.

"Yes, you're right I should've stayed. I apologize, my love. I'll make it up to you hmm? Let's take a rest first?" You let him slide this time because he's just too precious in your eyes.

The next day, you decided to treat him out to a fancy restaurant, you told him you're the only woman who should EVER take him out for dinner, he chuckled whenever you talk and deny that you are jealous. You know damn well that this man will never ever replace you and will love you until the end.

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