okay chew on this. Wearing nothing but an apron when Sylus comes home. Oh yeah, he doesn't like them! Guess you should just take it off...
Too bad he's on a touching ban though, huh?
This is a whole four days old but...
You're just getting up some fruit, humming thoughtfully as you sway to your own voice. It's the only way to stop the shit eating grin from overcoming your features as you hear the sharp clicks of Sylus' polished shoes. "Welcome home." You offer, not daring to face him just yet because you know you'll crumble the second you see his devastatingly handsome face... even if you had been pissed off.
"..." You know his view must be wild, with the maroon apron tied in a neat bow around the small of your back. "I'm cutting up fruit, but you're still on my shit list so it's just enough for me." Only then do you shoot a glance over your shoulder, smirking as you take in his dazed expression. You know for a fact there are still healing bruises along your thighs and ass from where his fingers had gripped too hard during sex.
And you know they are on perfect display for him right now as you stand in nothing but an apron. Backside completely exposed for him to admire. "Is it the apron? Do you not like it?" You turn back to your stupid little task, trying not to let the laugher slip into your tone as you start to cut again. "Oh that's right, Mr "I'll never wear an apron" you don't like them, right? Should I take this off?" Mocking his voice, you reach back and easily loosen the simple bow you had tied.
You use the same hand to reach back and pull the loop over your neck, making a show of dropping it to the side in a little heap on the floor. Now, you're completely naked in the kitchen, done with your fruit, and Sylus is still standing as still as a statue. As silent as one too.
"Well, I'll be eating this in our bedroom." You turn to face him, plate in hand, and give him a once over. "You probably have to get some work done, right? Since you've got so many better things to do." Your grin is wicked now, not at all ashamed or willing to hide your intentions upon seeing the sizable bulge in the front of his pants.
"Poor Sy, three days of no sex, no loving, no snuggles..." you trail off as you turn away, hips swaying just a little more than necessary. "Can't even stand seeing me naked without your cock getting all stiff, hmm?" Oh, you were playing so unbelievably dirty...
βΛ β§ β±β if you'll have me, βββββ zha lisu/charlie x reader. 3.5k words, fluff, hurt-comfort.
tags: early route, non-established relationship, timeline ambiguous but roughly between ch 9-10, reader feels down and insecure, depictions of self-isolation. unedited. lmk if i missed any tags!
premise: birthdays aren't great for you, but this year, perhaps it's the person you least expect who makes things even a little bit more bearable. orβin the midst of self-loathing, zha lisu reminds you just how much you're worth.
note: a birthday fic dedicated to the one and only @mephisto-reporting <33 and also coincidentally! the very first lnn fic from me ever? akfbwhf although zls isn't my main at all and i've only really read as far as ch13, i did my best to zero in on their early dynamic, and hopefully my interpretation of him does him justice. to lina, denial is a river in egypt, and happy birthday to you from both me and lisu!! i love you dearly <3333
The truth is, you hadn't bothered to open them for the past five or so minutesβthey'd been closed before you went to bed, and you make no move to open them now. Thin seams of sunlight manage to sneak in through the edges. They stretch pale little golden lines across the wooden floor of your room, brush your forehead like a soft little reminder that the day had already begun. But this sunlight doesn't feel quite warm enough anymore.
Not today.
Not now.
Now, where in your hand rests your phone, lock screen on, glaring at you in the face with a simple fact:
Today is your birthday.
Your blanket stays tangled around your legs, your hair an unruly mess against the pillow. The mug of tea you'd made the night before sits forgotten on your bedside table, a skin having formed over the surface sometime during the night. And you could get up. You know you should.
And yet you roll onto your side, and bury your face deeper into the pillow.
Perhaps, if the room stays dim enough, then maybe time will lose track of you.
Your phone vibrates.
Personal greetings, group chats, even promotional messages⦠There's one of those automated birthday emails, the ones from some stores you'd forgotten you even made an account with years ago, now cheerfully informing you that you're entitled to ten percent off a purchase you don't even intend to make.
Your stomach twists.
You flip the phone over so that the screen faces the mattress, smothering the glow before another notification can appear.
And it's⦠embarrassing, really.
Birthdays are supposed to be happy occasions, aren't they?
Adults don't hide from them like frightened children, adults answer their phones. They smile politely through awkward congratulations, accept cake from well-meaning colleagues, laugh when someone asks what they have planned. Adults don't spend the morning staring at the ceiling, wondering how another entire year just slipped by, while they somehow remain just⦠exactly the same.
You could count backwards all you wanted.
Last birthday, the one before that, the one before that, and the one before thatβ¦
Each one simply blurs into the next, more, and more, and kore, until all you can remember is that same vague feeling, of being left behind by some invisible current that everyone else had learned to swim against.
Everyone else except you.
Sure, many things might have changedβyou think back to the very man who'd been the bane of your existence, and the very man who'd slot himself right in the middle of the life you'd built for yourself, all with nothing short of the force of a hurricane.
A huff of indignance escapes your lips.
Zha Lisu would probably say something outrageous today.
Perhaps, for better or for worse, you could already picture the infuriatingly self-satisfied smile that would accompany it, the slight lift of his chin as though the entire universe had been waiting for him to make such a declaration. He would probably insist on dragging you somewhere expensive despite your protests, claiming that ordinary restaurants simply weren't worthy of celebrating someone associated with him. Then he'd spend the entire meal alternating between praising the chef, critiquing the wine, and somehow circling every conversation back to himself with such impossible confidence that you'd inevitably find yourself arguing just to keep up.
And you would tell him he was unbearable. He would beam as though you'd complimented him.
β¦But, not that it matters.
Even now, as you pull the blanket up a little higher and curl into it, the silence around you breaks from the distant hum of traffic and the occasional drifting of muffled voices up from the street below. Right outside, life continues with its usual certainty. Neighbors leave for work carrying coffee cups. Delivery scooters weave through morning traffic. The city moves on, even without ever asking if you're ready to move with it.
Your phone vibrates again.
β¦Hm.
If you disappear for just one day, nobody really minds.
You'll reply to the messages you've ignored tomorrow, apologize for being busy. You'll tell everyone you weren't feeling well. Because despite your own gratefulness, you simply don't know how to explain that there isn't anything particularly wrong. There's no dramatic tragedy waiting to justify all of this; nothing happened, nobody hurt you, you'd simply woken up feeling as though the world had moved yet another step away from you while you'd slept.
No cheerful sticker or birthday cake emoji could bridge that distance.
It'll be easier, once the date on the calendar changes. Easier, when this strange heaviness in your heart slips away enough for you to breathe again.
It's fineβ¦ I justβ¦ don't want to look at my phoneβ¦
It vibrates again.
A second later, the sharp buzz of your intercom jolts through the apartment so suddenly that you practically jump.
Wide-eyed, you freeze.
For a moment, you convince yourself it must be for another unit.
Then it rings again.
A delivery�
Noβyou hadn't ordered anything.
Is someone visiting�
You certainly weren't expecting anyone.
The intercom seems to pause, and you wait.
Five seconds.
Ten.
A tiny breath escapes you.
"...Must've left."
Relief settles quickly at the silence. And yet, compelled in that moment to take a peek at your phone, it lights up in that exact moment with a contact name you immediately recognize.
Dr. Peacock.
It makes you sigh before you even read what his message says at all.
That Zha Lisuβyou'd changed his contact name months ago after one particularly insufferable afternoon. He'd spent nearly twenty minutes listing his own admirable qualities, all with such unwavering sincerity, that you'd finally interrupted him just to ask whether peacocks ever got neck cramps from carrying themselves so proudly. To your chagrin, he'd merely laughed. Declared it "an understandable comparison." That for your information, peacocks were beautiful creatures with impeccable taste, anyway.
The nickname had remained.
You click your tongue.
Dr. Peacock: I know you're home.
Another message arrives before you've even decided whether to ignore the first.
Dr. Peacock: Your curtains are closed. That doesn't happen often, does it?
You press the phone against your forehead.
Of course. Of course he would notice your curtains.
And you should ignore him, of course. That would be the mature thing to do.
Instead...
You: Go away.
His reply arrives almost instantly.
Dr. Peacock: Hmm.
Dr. Peacock: So you're alive.
Dr. Peacock: Excellent.
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
You: Disappointed, aren't you?
Three little dots appear immediately.
Disappear.
Appear again.
When his reply finally comes, you can almost hear the smug satisfaction behind every word.
Who could have the energy to deal with such a man in this state?
Your phone switches off with another click of your tongue, and you turn away completely.
You don't notice the next set of messages he sends.
Zha Lisu should really just leaveβ¦
Three minutes later, the doorbell rings.
Once, then twice, then after a brief pause, a third timeβmeasured, unhurried, and carrying with it the unmistakable confidence of someone who has absolutely no intention of leaving.
"...He can't be serious," you mutter.
From the hallway beyond your front door, muffled by wood and distance but somehow still carrying every ounce of theatrical self-assurance you've come to associate with him, his voice floats into the apartment.
You snort, a little. Almost a laugh, one small, involuntary. You roll your eyes, and you almost even reply at that.
But instead, you lock the screen yet again, and press it against your chest. You don't quite see his last message before the doorbells stop altogether.
Beyond the door, you could barely make out the faint rustle of fabric, and there's a pause. Then, after another few moments, there comes the unmistakable sound of footsteps beginning to move away.
He's leaving.
He's really leaving.
And relief arrives exactly as you'd expect it to, because this is what you'd wanted.
Isn't it?
The apartment falls quiet again.
There's nobody waiting outside, nobody insisting to see you, nobody ringing the bell⦠You had gotten precisely what you'd asked for.
So, why...
Why is the silence now suddenly so much louder than you remembered?
Your fingers tighten around your phone as you continue staring right at the door, and your vision blurs. A single tear slips free before you can stop it, tracing a warm line down your cheek.
"..."
This time, you don't think.
You that if you do think, you'd stop yourself.
This time, you realize that you don't want to.
You practically stumble off the bed, nearly tripping over the blanket wrapped around yout legs. Your feet slap hurriedly against the wooden floor.
The lock, the chain, the handleβ
The door swings open.
The hallway is almost empty.
Near the elevators, you catch sight of a familiar broad backβ¦
"β¦Zha Lizu!"
Your voice comes out strained. It feels almost blocked, by this lump in your throat that you can't swallow.
And yet, Zha Lisu hears it instantly, and he turns.
For the first time all day...
You finally see him.
Face to face, even in this state of yours, hair a hopeless mess from the blankets, oversized pajama shirt hanging awkwardly from one shoulder. Right now, you aren't wearing the carefully composed expression you usually greeted him with, the one prepared with a sarcastic remark before he'd even finished speaking. Instead, your eyes are red. There are still faint tear tracks glistening against your cheeks, ones that you'd failed to wipe away completely.
Perhaps, you would dare to indulge in your delusions.
It almost feels as if something shifts in his expression, then.
The familiar sparkle of playful amusement remains, but it no longer occupies the whole of his face. Instead, his gaze⦠softens.
It feels, almost⦠gentle.
Such a ridiculous thought.
Could someone like Zha Lisu really be gentle to someone like you�
He walks over with careful steps then, one hand placed casually into the pocket of his trousers. "There you are," he hums. "I was beginning to think I'd have to submit a missing persons report."
You open your mouth.
Close it again.
The speech you'd somehow imagined during the frantic walk to the door now dissolves completely beneath his gaze.
Just, why exactly did you call after him�
You feel childish. Pathetic. This is Zha Lisu, and he should be the last person you would want to see today.
And, yetβ¦
You really didn't want him to leave, after all.
Realization flickers across his face with surprising speedβthat despite it all, you really had come to the door, anyway. That whatever wall you'd been hiding behind all day, you'd managed to push it open, just enough to say his name.
And Zha Lisu doesn't ask why your eyes are red. He doesn't point out that your voice had trembled when you called to him.
Instead, after a brief pause, he adjusts the cuff of his shirt with exaggerated composure, before offering you a familiar, impossibly self-satisfied smile.
"I knew it."
You look at him cautiously.
"...Knew what?"
"That the perfect man is simply too much to resist."
-
Β Another person's presence has a way of changing the shape of a room.
There are new sounds nowβcabinet doors opening with practiced confidence, the muted clink of ceramic against the countertop, water running briefly from the kitchen sink before stopping again. They're all ordinary noises, the sort that would disappear into the background on any other day. Today, they anchor you to the present in a way you didn't realize you needed.
You remain curled up in the corner of the sofa, knees tucked beneath your blanket.
Your embarrassment has only grown in the minutes since opening the door. Looking back on it now, you can't believe you'd actually called after him, can't believe you'd let him in. You surely hadn't planned to. You hadn't even known what you wanted to say. Somewhere between hearing his footsteps retreat down the hallway and watching the elevator doors begin to open, your heart had made a decision that your pride hadn't been consulted on.
You still aren't entirely sure why.
"You keep very little food here."
His voice drifts out from the kitchen with the casual observation of someone commenting on the weather.
"I've said it a lot, you know! And you never listen."
"I listen very carefully." The faintest hint of amusement colors his voice. "I simply choose the more accurate interpretation."
What part of anything I've ever said could make you interpret that I approve of our engagement?!
You don't say it.
Instead, you let out a tired sigh that lacks any real conviction, and huff once more into your blanket.
"β¦Zha Lisu, you're impossible."
"I appreciate the compliment."
"It wasn't one!"
"I've elected to receive it as such."
"...Well, your ego is unbelievable!"
"I prefer 'well-supported.'"
The exchange is so familiar to you that, for the first time all day, your lips threaten the beginning of a smile that you don't quite stop.
Ridiculous.
He really is so ridiculous.
It's ridiculous, to find him standing with his back to you beneath the warm light above the counter, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, diligently reading the instructions on a package of instant porridge.
Zha Lisu, this man who had introduced himself as utterly perfect, who wore tailored suits and expensive couture, who carried himself with enough confidence to fill an entire room by himself...
...now stands in your tiny kitchen and trying to make you a meal out of the limited ingredients that you had.
"You really can't say a nornal thing for one secondβ¦!"
He glances over his shoulder, "You haven't eaten, and you clearly don't want to leave this nest of yours. Of course, what else could I possibly do but make you food myself?"
"β¦I didn't ask you to."
"Hm."
"Zha Lisu, you don't have toβ¦"
"I know. But I'll make enough for two."
He simply turns back to the saucepan, stirring it with slow, unhurried movements.
The room settles into silence again, filled only by the gentle bubbling of water beginning to simmer. You watch him move around the unfamiliar kitchen with surprising ease, opening drawers you've never seen him use, locating spoons through what can only be described as unreasonable confidence and educated guesses. Every now and then he opens the wrong cabinet, pauses for exactly half a second, then closes it with enough dignity that it's almost convincing he'd meant to check there all along.
For reasons you can't quite explain, the tightness in your chest eases a little.
For the first time since waking this morning, someone else has quietly taken responsibility for the next small thing that needs doing. You don't have to decide what to eat, you don't have to pretend you're fine.
You don't even have to fill the silence.
Right now, he does all of that right for you, as naturally as if there had never been any question that he would.
And all this time, you'd been convinced that his pursuit of you had been nothing more than a hunter's instinct towards his prey. The way he teases you, toys with you, continues to get on your nerves just so precisely⦠In this game of cat and mouse, it has always seemed that you were merely a source of entertainment. Something no different from skiing, or horseback riding, or any of the interests he could have once been passionate about... but quickly grew tired of in the end.
But can someone like that really treat you with this kind of care?
Can someone like that really look at you as softly as he did, just now?
In fact, perhaps you know the truth.
Zha Lisu is narcissistic, vain, annoying, intolerable, and a nuisance in your life almost comparable to the thorn of a rose at your sideβ¦
But Zha Lisu is also intelligent. He's considerate, he's responsible, he's hardworking, and he's⦠kind.
He is.
It's just that you often choose to ignore it.
A rose has its thorns, but a rose is still beautiful.
And one way or another, you know that such a person has chosen you.
"Zha Lisu," you mumble, "why is it that you care so much?"
"It's not as if I'm anything special. You said so yourself, you didn't want this engagement, either."
"Neverthelessβ¦"
He reaches out, taps subtly at your chin.
As you raise your head, he leans in. And there's something thereβsomething you can't quite placeβthat twinkles in the depths of those prettyβinfuriatingly so, but prettyβviolet eyes of his.
"As the perfect man, my taste can be nothing short of impeccable. Therefore, the you that I see is the most exquisite that can possibly exist."
Something tells you that he means it.
For all that he says things, so freely, so frustratingly, and soβ¦ boldlyβ
It feels genuine.
Maybe, it's the way he looks at you.
Maybe, it's the way he speaks.
You catch the way his gaze moves slowly down to your lips, but he doesn't lean in like you expect him to.
Instead, Zha Lisu reaches to smooth your hair and tuck it behind your ear, and in a quick, fleeting peck, his lips press into the top of your head.
It was just like Zha Lisu to make such decisions for you. Just like him to make the assumption you would still want to celebrate.
Butβ¦
Perhaps, it's not such a bad idea, after all.
He really is⦠so ridiculous.
You get up, pad the floor over to him, and sit at the table. The porridge, simple as it is, especially for him, makes you smile.
a/n - ONCE AGAIN, VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY LINA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! gosh this was. omg kajsdhgnvkjdf so fun to write actually, but also very challenging at the same time, and i mean like? who wouldve thought id make a lisu fic before a jesse one?! LMAO wkjhdg i hope hope super hope i did him justice... since i've only started playing in sea server last month and not completely familiar with charlie yet, i'm a bit worried this might feel ooc... but it was also very fun to think about the kind of comfort you'd receive from him pre-relationship, given his kind of personality... wkjhdfkjd
βPeople cursed his existence, fabricated his sins, and celebrated his death.β
they took my dragon and my little wolf from meβ¦
before u throw tomatoes, please read this;
β i decided to make a short animatic js bcs the whole situation reminded me of how the people who wronged stayrus to the point he hated himself and tried to cater his looks js to fit in with others only to sacrifice himself at the end for the sake of his sorceressβs peace.
i cant believe this time it actually happened in real time but to the little wolf who havenβt even got the chance to reveal himself before its creator decided to removed him. tears were shed while making this icl, i do not agree with the decision to remove valko. however, i truly want them to give us a clear explanation regarding the issues that hurt the nation since it is a sensitive topic and i truly hope that they could fix this soon.
ive played this game since it first started and ive stayed since then. ive watched the ups and down and i truly hope that this wont be how itβll end. i wish nothing but peace and love between us players because i understand how important these characters have impacted our whole lives. thank u for reading and i hope u have a nice day.
The big bad boss-man of Onychinus has watched you listlessly mope around the base for far too long. The twins and Mephisto canβt get you to play. Youβre too sad to even submit to his clingy cuddles.
That simply wonβt do. At least this new shipment of state of the art weaponry needs a test run.
He strides past your view all dressed up in his riding leathers and packing heat. It makes you sit up from your sad moping in a fluffy blanket with a little wolf plush.
You watch him stretch out his neck and tug leather gloves on like a little cat peering over the back of the couch.
βSyβ¦ where you going?β
A swirl of his evol has his helmet settling in hand to tuck it under his arm while he puts on his sunglasses. He glances at you. It takes step strides for him to be in your space and pressing a kiss to your crown. Then heβs walking out the door, hand lazily waving.
βIβm getting your wolf back.β
You barely register his words before youβre scrambling around the base to get dressed too.
sylus isn't home and you're too tired and too drained to contact him. you're just too exhausted to explain yourself or reach out. you curl up around a giant grumpy crow plush and close your eyes.
you stir a little while later to the sensation of something snuggling up against your chest. you open your eyes to see mephisto, a warm little bundle of feathers dutifully keeping you company. you gently scratch his favorite spot, and he makes a soft clicking sound, satisfied.
sylus arrives not too long after that, and finds the two of you like this. of course mephie called him, but he didn't want to leave you all alone in the meantime, cause he loves you too :)))
There's a few things about you that Sylus finds peculiar. One of which is your texting style.
'Show me that cawk'
Your text lights up his phone, and the longer he stares, the more confused he gets. What exactly were you asking of him?
After a quick google search, he manages a slight grasp on the scenario. A calendar check confirms his theory for the reason you're asking for such a thing, and with that in mind, he's happy to oblige.
One might feel awkward taking nude photos for the first time. But of course, such a thing doesn't apply to Sylus. It's almost too easy for him to find a good angle, mindful to also include a sinful shot of just his abs.
He also makes plenty of use out of the bottle of massage oil in the nightstand.
After taking a dozen or so photos, and one short video, he sends them with the caption 'Does this satisfy you?' and sits back. You read it almost immediately.
And then...nothing.
For five minutes, Sylus waits. Doubt starts to creep up just a little. Perhaps the pictures hadn't been satisfactory. He hadn't included his biceps. Maybe you were mad?
'Come over. Quickly. Please. Can't cum without you.'
He doesn't bother getting dressed, never more grateful for his ability to teleport easily into your bedroom. You'd been expecting him to do so given the way you nearly launch yourself at him, shoving him onto the bed and clambering on top of him.
"Did you like the pictures?" He murmurs into your mouth, fingers sliding into your panties and making you melt into him.
"Y-yeah. But-fuck-the real thing is s-so much better."
sylus was a heavy sleeper when he knew you were safe, but he was an even heavier anchor when he didnβt want you to leave the bed.
the afternoon sun was entirely blocked out by the blackout curtains, plunging he bedroomn into a quiet twilight. you had climbed into bed just to keep him company while he took a muh needed nap, but after an hour of lying still, your limbs were getting restless. you shifted slightly, trying to slide out from under the heavy arm around your waist.
you were barely halfway to freedom when the srm tightened like a metal trap. with one effortlessly yank, sylus dragged you right back across the sheets, pulling you flush against his chest.
tsk. so close.
βgoing somewhere, sweetie?β
his voice is a deep, gravelly murmur that vibrates against your back. he didnβt even open his eyes, his silver hair messy and untamed against the dark pillows.
βi want water,β you whisper, a breathless laugh escaping you as you pat his forearm. βand youβre holding me hostage."
βthen stay captured,β he mumbles, his face burying directly into the crook of your neck. his warm breath tickled your skin for a second before his lips press a lazy kiss to your pulse point.
you let out a quiet gasp, wriggling in his grip. βsylus, stop! it tickles!β
βno,β he murmurs against your skin, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. his hands slide down to your hips, his fingers pinching your waist to make you squirm even more.
βyou are absolutely impossible when youβre sleepy,β you giggle, twisting in his arms until you are facing him. you reach up and deliberately ruffle his already messy hair, shaking the strands until they fall over his closed eyes. βlook at you. completely lost your edge now.β
sylus finally cracks an eye open. his crimson eyes are hooded snd thick with affectionate warmth. a slow amused smile pulls at his lips.
βlost my edge, have i?β he echoes softly.
in one fluid motion, he flips his body over, pulling you along with him until you were sitting squarely on his lap, legs automatically straddling his hips. your hands fly to his broad, bare shoulders for balance as you let out a gasp of laughter.
βif you think so, sweetie, youβre welcome to try and break out of this,β he says, hands gently resting on your waist, but his grip tight. he looks up at you, his gaze warm and amused.
βyou cheat,β you tease, heart doing a sudden happy flip as you lean down, face just inches from his. βusing your size against me."
βi use what works,β he whispers, his thumb capturing your lower lip and pressing down until your mouth parts.
sylus dosenβt give you another second to argue. he tilts his head up and catches your mouth in a lingering, sweet, soft kiss.
βthe playful bickering melts away into total warmth. it isnβt a demanding, but a lazy, lingering embrace of your lips that leaves you grinning against his mouth.
he nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours, stealing little, breathless kisses between light chuckles, his large hands rubbing comforting, rhythmic circles over your hips. you lean into him completely, your fingers combing gently through his hsair fully untangling the strands you just ruined.
βwhen he finally pulls back a fraction of an inch, his breathing is soft, his lips brushing an affectionate kiss against your cheek.
ββwater can wait,β he murmurs, his voice a low, cozy rumble. βstay right here, sweetie.β
βyou wrap your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder with a content sigh. βfine. but only because youβre warm.β
sylus chuckles softly, pulling the duvet up over both of you and holding you close against his chest. βwhatever helps you sleep, kitten.β
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