#(I got TAGGED that's so exciting thank you!!)

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[totalswag]

raw next question? pt 2 ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note the amount of support i got on my last fic is unbelievable, thank you so much. i tried my best for part two so i hope you guys like it. so, here you go 👀. raw next question

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after leaving a comment under rafe's post, he responds back showing interest and reaches out.

warning(s) flirting, kissing at the end, cuteness, and meeting rafe for the first time.

rafecameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk.

The only thing running through your mind is⎯what the actual fuck. To be fair, you were expecting a response or comment, not even a dm. You don't know what to say.

"Okay, we need to think of something to say because," you hesitate for a few minute, "yeah, I don't have anything to say" you trail off before stretching the back of your head.

Zoie lets out a breath: "I say we wait to respond then once we come up with a response, send it to him."

Five minutes later, you open your phone, click on the text, and begin typing a reply. "This is what I'm going to respond with," you say, pointing to your phone to the girls. 

yourusername: hey haha, thought I’d hop on the trend. didn’t expect you to reply tho.

Two minutes later, he responds.

rafecameron: oh, so I’m just part of a trend? damn, i thought i was special... 😔

yourusername: haha so funny, rafe

yourusername: i admit though you're attractive

rafecameron: ahh the truth comes out huh

rafecameron: since we're speaking the truth, you're gorgeous

Rafe and you started conversation among other topics. One of the main things you two found out is that you live an hour away from each other. By the end of the week, you exchanged phone numbers.

After Rafe responded to your comment, you two started leaving sly/flirty comments on each other's posts that spiked conversations between your supporters.

They're messing with us right?

They keep playing eye tag... HOLLA AT YO BOY!!

"Would you like to meet up sometime?" Rafe asked casually over FaceTime while searching the kitchen cupboard for something, his phone resting against a glass cup. 

It's been a month since Rafe and you have been texting and calling. Constantly texting⎯quick responses. It became a routine for the both of you. Learned a lot about each other in a span of a month.

Your back was against the headboard as you sat on your bed. He wants to meet you in person, and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "Yeah, I would like that," was all you could offer.

Peeping over his shoulder, Rafe chuckles quietly and smiles. "I'm thinking this weekend if you aren't busy?" "I would drive to you," he says, suggesting.

You raise your upper body off the headboard and reply, "I'll send you my address the day before, I'm not doing anything this weekend."

"Perfect!" He smiles.

Today was the day⎯Rafe and you are meeting for the first time. Nervous and excited about all this. You don't want to make a fool of yourself. Rafe was forty minutes away, in the meantime, you were on the phone with Zoie and Evenly.

Rafe offered to drive to visit you, and you couldn't help but be anxious. He was an hour away, yet his attempt to see you meant more than you could express.

"Bitches I'm shitting bricks" you confess feeling anxious, running your hands down your thighs, walking around the kitchen.

"Y/N, it's normal to feel this way especially since you're meeting him for the first time. Take a few deep breaths and if you need anything from us, we're one call, and few doors down" Evelyn reassures you in a soothing tone.

"Agreed, you got this, it's normal to feel this way," Zoie expresses.

"Thank you, you two are such great friends, I love you so much" you say with honesty, your phone buzzes, you put your phone back.

rafe: five minutes away

you: perfect, see you soon!!

You gasps, quickly putting your phone back to your ear, "he's five minutes away um, I'll text you guys throughout the day."

Once Rafe got to the apartment complex, you walked down the stairs to where he parked⎯he was getting his bags from his trunk. You were amazed how tall he was too.

Before you can say anything, he turns around and says, "Hey, Y/N," with a smile that conveys how happy he is to see you.

Seeing him in person made you realize he's even more handsome. Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off you, he couldn't help but think how he's standing infront of someone as beautiful as you.

"Hey, Rafe, It's good to see you" you say, taking a big breath and gazing up at his towering body. You grin and lean into the hug. The height difference between you two is insane. He

"It's great to finally meet you; you're even more beautiful in person," he says to you, smiling. You chuckle softly at his compliment, "thank you handsome" and smile.

After arriving at your place, you show Rafe where everything is and where he will be staying—either your bed or the guest bedroom, which has been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized. 

Rafe was happy to see your apartment and commented on how well it matches your vibe. He took his time looking around the apartment. Since you were already ready for the day, you spent ten more minutes in the apartment before heading out.

You have no idea what the plan was today. Rafe intended for a lasting and enjoyable day. You persisted on showing him around, but he said he wanted to be the one to take you places, even if he didn't know where. 

"This is has been such a great day, thank you Rafe" you tell him with full honesty as you two get settled to play mini golf.

He looks up from the floor and responds with a kind, sincere smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying it." "I remember you mentioning you loved mini golf too."

He is able to recall the small details.

Your heart sank to your feet since no male has ever recalled the small information you shared with them. As you playfully nudge him, you exclaim, "I can't believe you remember that."

He chuckles, "I'm just good at remember."

Mini golf was a lot of fun, with plenty of laughs and competition between you two. In the beginning, he noticed your concentration and took out his phone to record you until you spotted him flipping him off.

Towards the end of the night, Rafe and you drove to an ice cream shop and ate it outside. You had little conversations and learnt more about each other today.

Before putting a scoop of his ice cream in his mouth, he says, "We should make a tiktok."

After contentedly leaning back in your chair, you decided to do it. In addition, many who support you have been wondering if you two will ever cross paths. They're going to be amazed.

she knows remix slowed.

Rafe began lip-syncing, his expression playful and undoubtedly attractive. When it got to looking like the Fourth of July, you're officially coming with me, he switched the phone to you. You were already staring at him, eyes full of admiration, unable to conceal the warm smile on your lips.

The camera returned to him, and he tried not to chuckle, tilting his phone downward as he giggled. The final second of the video showed your arms wrapped around his neck.

rafe cameron: 👀

tagged yourusername

Fans were blowing up the comment section.

⇾ fan23: DO YOU SEE THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM!!

⇾ fan12: you know you have thirty minutes

⇾ fan1: i decided if i want y/n or rafe 😔

⇾ fan3: im sat for this

By the time you returned to your flat, the tension had grown to a point where it could no longer be ignored. Rafe took a step closer as you paused nervously by your door. His hand softly stroked your cheek, his gaze seeking yours, before he asked, "Is this okay?"

You barely had time to nod before his lips touched yours, gentle and languid, like if he was savoring the moment. The kiss was pleasant, but it also hinted at something deeper.

When you eventually pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, chuckling. "Best decision I ever made was replying to that comment."

"Best decisions I ever made was commenting" you softly say, smiling.

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

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[vividiana]

tastes like she might be the one

pairing: Astarion x f!Dark Urge · word count: 5.3k

rating: E for shameless smut (MDNI)

tags: blood drinking, period sex, oral sex, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, masturbation, Astarion being a little feral, porn with (some) plot, idiots in love, post-canon, general Durge spoilers

“Well, all of that’s to say that if you would like to… indulge, this might be your one and only chance to do so.” “Oh. I see.” Astarion’s eyes light up at the idea and Eve’s breath hitches when he takes a couple steps closer, his face just inches away when he says: “Then I suppose we better make it count.”

a/n: I did it, I succumbed to the Urge and wrote a period kink oneshot. hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

tagging some of my lovely moots who were hyping me up as I shared snippets from this fic: @khywren @nerdallwritey @xxnashiraxx @obsessedwhyyes @verbenaa @bby-bel-art @hellethil @arzen9 (thank you so much for getting excited about this with me. tbh it would have still been sitting in my wip doc if it weren’t for you all ❤️)

the title is from "LUNCH" by Billie Eilish

read on ao3 · dividers

As Eve is leaving the market, she feels her lower abdomen clench painfully in a manner she doesn’t recognize. She winces, tightening her grip on the grocery bags and tries to figure out what mundane malady it could be this time as she hurries back to the apartment. 

Soon, she reaches the familiar facade, but as she goes for the handle, the door swings open. Eve startles when she sees Astarion, wide-eyed and visibly tense. 

“What are you doing?” she yelps when he pulls her inside, standing just inches away from the pool of sunlight spilling onto the hardwood floors. “Get away from the door!” 

She kicks it shut behind her, the room safely dim again. But Astarion seems to pay no mind to the obvious danger, as he grabs the bags from her and puts them on the ground, before turning her around and assessing her body as if looking for something.

“What happened? Where is it? Show me.”

“Where is what? Are you okay?”

“The wound!” he shrieks, voice high-pitched from nerves. “Hells, I can smell your blood, I could smell it from blocks away. Did someone attack you? Who do I have to kill?” 

Eve freezes as the pieces connect in her mind. The pain. The scent of blood that was imperceptible to her but obvious as alarm bells to Astarion’s senses. 

Eve laughs at the absurdity of it, Astarion’s eyes widening even further as he tries to fathom what in the Hells she’s on about. Bhaal hand-sculpted her for one purpose and one purpose only, designed her to carry out his gory vision most efficiently, and yet he still made her bleed like this…?

“Oh, that petty son of a bitch!” Eve says to no one in particular. After a deep breath, she reaches for Astarion’s hands and explains in a calmer tone: “I’m not hurt, Star. I think I just got my period. It’s as novel to me as it is to you, honestly.”

She watches as Astarion’s expression cycles through a series of emotions, so clear and unfiltered. First confusion, then relief, and finally a peculiar mix of glee and dread. 

“Oh. Oh. ALRIGHT.” He takes a step back, frantically looking up and down her body. When his mouth opens again, words spill out in a chaotic monologue punctuated by nervous giggles. “Fear not, I am so prepared for this. Well, truth be told, my only knowledge about half-elves and menstruation comes from Shadowheart and I don’t know how reliable that is, she tends to be a tad dramatic, don’t you think? But let’s think hmmm… A bath! Would you like me to draw you a bath? Wait, no, you must be hungry, let’s make you some food first.” 

He reaches for the grocery bags and darts upstairs.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Eve asks warily as she follows him up to the kitchenette. 

“Oh yes darling, I am doing quite SPLENDID myself, I am just concerned about your comfort!!” 

Rather unceremoniously, Astarion turns the grocery bags upside down, produce tumbling in all directions across the counter. He grabs a small knife and begins to peel some potatoes whilst aggressively humming Down by the River.

As Eve watches his frantic movements, her stomach drops in realization. 

“Star…” she starts, walking up to him.

“YES, my dearest?”

“Is the blood… distracting?”

Astarion’s nervous, high-pitched giggle is enough of a confirmation.

“OH YES! Incredibly so! But do not worry about me, the concern right now should be YOUR COMFORT.”

“Oh gods,” Eve sighs, massaging her temples. “Is this what the next tenday is going to look like?”

“TENDAY?” Astarion stabs the counter, the tip of the knife wedged into the wooden surface. There is sheer panic in his eyes when he turns around and asks: “You bleed for a tenday?”

“I don’t know, this is a first! But as far as I know, people can bleed for anywhere from three to ten days?”

“THAT’S FINE. We will get through this together!” He yanks the knife out and resumes his task. 

Eve stands there for a moment, watching him, unsure of what to do with herself.

“Are you hungry, is that the problem? Would feeding on me help?”

For a moment, Astarion freezes. He turns around, knife in hand, his gaze slipping down Eve’s body for a split second.

“What exactly are you offering?” he asks when he meets her eyes again, and Eve can feel her cheeks grow hotter in an instant.

“GODS, ASTARION.”

“I’M JUST SAYING–”

“YES, I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING–”

“IT COULD HELP WITH YOUR CRAMPS–”

“OKAY, I’M GOING TO TAKE A BATH NOW, BYE.”

“SOUNDS GOOD, I’LL KEEP PEELING–”

“YOU’VE ALREADY PEELED A DOZEN POTATOES, THAT’S TOO MANY POTATOES FOR ONE PERSON.”

“I’M STILL LEARNING, GIVE ME A BREAK.”

“OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW, I LOVE YOU.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO.”

Eve storms off to the bathroom. As she starts pouring water into the tub, she tries to push away the mental image of Astarion’s head between her thighs.

She adds some lavender oil into the water and gets inside, the hot temperature helping soothe her cramps. She leans her head against the edge of the tub, trying to make sense of all this.

Perhaps the reason she doesn’t remember this happening before is because her body put this particular function on hold while she was fighting for her life every day, sleeping on the ground, and eating irregularly. But now in the six months since the Netherbrain fell, she has been able to finally feel safe, giving her organism a chance to settle back into its natural rhythm. 

It still doesn’t explain why Bhaal didn’t just skip this part in the design process, but Eve does not even want to begin to understand his sick and twisted ways, so she pushes those thoughts away and tries to relax.

After fifteen minutes or so, there is a light knock on the door.

“Yes?”

The door creaks and Eve opens her eyes to see Astarion with a mug in his hand, looking a tad embarrassed.

“Hello,” he says as he continues to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

“You can come in, I won’t bite.”

He walks up and places the steaming mug on a stool by the tub. Eve can smell the mix of chamomile, ginger, and something else she doesn’t recognize. Astarion kneels beside her, arms propped on the edge of the tub.

“I brewed you some herbs that should help ease the pain. And there’s stew cooking, it will be done in an hour or so.”

“Thank you.” She reaches for his hand and places a kiss on his knuckles, eliciting a soft smile.

“I’m sorry about earlier. It was a lot to process all at once. I thought you might be bleeding out on the street somewhere and I couldn’t do anything about it, I was just stuck inside waiting for you to come back. And then you waltz in here as if nothing happened and once I knew you were safe, the smell of your blood was–” He trails off with an absentminded smile. “Well, let’s just say I’ve gotten somewhat accustomed to it now, but it is still quite distracting.”

“I’m sorry you were so worried, that must have been terrifying.”

“It was. But I also should have known that if anyone was foolish enough to attack you, you could handle it just fine. Anyways, you should drink your tea,” he says, passing her the mug. She takes a sip, the herbal mix blossoming on her tongue, and hands it back to him. “Are you enjoying the bath?”

“Yes, the hot water is helping a lot. But, I’m afraid there is something wrong with our tub.”

“Which is?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

“It’s missing an elf.”

“Ah, an easy fix,” he says with a smile. 

Eve takes another sip of her tea as Astarion slips out of his clothes. She shuffles forward to make space for him, and he slowly lowers himself into the tub behind her, gasping as he touches the hot water. She leans back against his chest, nestling into his open arms.

After a moment of silence, Astarion asks:

“So, we don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to… But, um… Doesn’t this seem like a design flaw?”

“No, we do have to talk about him, because what in the actual fuck was he thinking? As if my whole life wasn’t bloody enough. And I can’t even justify it in any pragmatic way, because it’s not like I needed to bear more Bhaalspawn. I was supposed to be the last one!” 

“Daddy’s special girl.”

“Do not ever say that again.” She elbows him and Astarion laughs behind her.

After her bath and dinner, Eve decides to head downstairs and visit Derryth while the apothecary is still open. She explains the situation and asks for some menstrual cloths and anything that could help ease her cramps. The woman watches her intently as she listens, brows furrowed.

“Okay, so personally this is none of my business of course,” Derryth says, raising her hands defensively. “But as an apothecary, I feel obligated to ask: are you aware that you do not need to bleed every month? There are ways you can stop it.”

“There are?”

“Yes. Well, but first: are you and Astarion trying to conceive?”

Eve just stares blankly ahead as her life flashes before her eyes. It’s not something she ever thought to consider, she just assumed… Well, he is undead, after all.

“Umm… is that even… possible?” she asks weakly. “Given our… situation?”

“Under regular circumstances, no,” Derryth rushes to answer and Eve sighs with barely concealed relief, “but I’ve heard of some rituals… I don’t know, Eve, stranger things have happened. But no, unless you go out of your way to achieve it, you’re safe.”

“Okay. Then no, we are absolutely not trying to conceive. Gods, could you imagine–”

“I’d rather not,” Derryth says curtly. “Now, if that’s the case, then there is absolutely no need for you to suffer every moon. There are different ways you can go about it, the one that seems most popular with my clients is this tonic,” she says as she pulls out a couple of bottles from the drawer behind her and places them on the counter. “It’s fairly easy to use, it comes in these little bottles and you drink one the first night of each tenday. And there you go, problem solved.”

“That sounds… awfully easy,” Eve says as she eyes the medicine before her.

“Well, yes, because it is.”

“Does it have any side effects?”

“Of course it doesn’t. It’s supposed to make your life easier, not harder,” Derryth says with the patience of a parent explaining the most obvious concept to their child. 

Eve gets a month’s supply to try out, along with some pain medicine to help carry her over before the tonic starts to work. When she gets back to the apartment, she shows Astarion the bottles and explains how it all works.

“That’s probably for the best,” he says. “I’m glad you won’t have to go through this pain again.”

“Yes, me too, but…” Eve hesitates for a moment, but the memory of Astarion’s frantic energy from this morning is enough to give her the confidence to suggest: “Well, all of that’s to say that if you would like to… indulge, this might be your one and only chance to do so.”

“Oh. I see.” Astarion’s eyes light up at the idea and Eve’s breath hitches when he takes a couple steps closer, his face just inches away when he says: “Then I suppose we better make it count.”

There is a moment of tense silence as they regard each other, Eve’s chest rising and falling heavily at his proximity. 

But then the final thread of self-control snaps and Astarion pulls her closer, capturing her mouth in a greedy kiss, swallowing up the gasp that slips past Eve’s lips as she opens up to him. Suddenly, the air around her is all citrus and spice, Astarion’s scent and taste mixing into an intoxicating combination. It could easily sweep her off her feet were it not for his hands digging into her hips, anchoring her against him.

With a firm tug to her lower lip, Astarion breaks away, an undeniable urgency to his movements as his mouth slips down to her neck and he inhales sharply, head nuzzled against her. His voice is low and breathy when he says:

“Hells, you smell divine.”

With bated breath, she awaits the sharp sting of his fangs, wanting nothing more than to give him everything he craves. But instead, Astarion’s hands slip down to the back of her thighs and Eve’s body instinctively follows, like it’s a routine they’ve been rehearsing. She jumps, legs wrapping around his waist as if that’s precisely where they belonged. 

Eve sinks her fingers into his soft curls, kissing him with a newfound ferocity. She barely registers the steps Astarion takes until with a loud clatter, he kicks a chair out of his way, and she realizes they’re at the dining table. He lets go of her with one hand to push his notes to the side, pieces of parchment flying to the floor as he seats her on the edge. 

Astarion breaks the kiss, pinning her in place under his watchful gaze, the room silent save for the heavy pounding of Eve’s heart.

“Indulge, you say? Don’t mind if I do.” 

Astarion sinks down to his knees before her, and the sight of it alone is enough to make Eve’s head spin with need, the overwhelming desire to feel his mouth against her skin, to hear the savory sounds that escape his throat every time he tastes her. 

He tugs at her waistband and Eve lifts herself off the table just enough to let him pull her pants down and toss them to the side. Astarion swallows hard when she parts her legs for him and it looks like it’s taking him every ounce of self-determination to not rip off the final barrier between them and devour her right there and then. 

His hands reach up to push her back, and she leans away, propped on her elbows, not daring to miss out on a single moment of this hypnotizing spectacle. A low, guttural sound rumbles out of his chest as he presses his lips to her plush thigh and starts kissing up, closer, and closer, and–

Eve winces at a sharp stab of pain that begins to radiate down her thighs and up her spine in a throbbing, dull shiver, the hard wooden surface beneath her doing nothing to soothe her discomfort.

Astarion pauses, leaning away to meet her eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

“I, um–” she sighs, bemoaning the need to be rational at a moment like this. “I am loving this energy, I really am. But there is no way we’re doing this on a table, my back is killing me.” 

“I suppose we can make do with a bed, then.”

He wastes no time as he rises to his feet and scoops her up, and in that moment Eve is convinced that she could get used to being carried like this. Astarion rushes to the bedroom to find Scratch splayed out across the mattress, raising his head curiously as they enter.

“Out,” he orders with poorly concealed desperation.

The dog whines, but darts out of the room obediently, and Astarion kicks the door shut behind him. He lowers her onto the edge of the bed and retrieves some pillows to place under her back. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

“Yes, I feel quite spoiled, actually. Are you comfortable?” she asks, unconvinced, watching as he once again gets to his knees on the hardwood floor.

“Oh, trust me, I am exactly where I want to be,” he says in a tone that erases any lingering trace of doubt from her mind.

Eve falls silent as Astarion’s hands begin to snake up her thighs, lithe fingers reaching the hem of her underwear, eyes meeting hers for a final confirmation that feels superfluous given their current predicament, and yet he still seeks it. Eve nods slowly, her throat too tight with anticipation to utter a sound, and she watches as Astarion hooks his fingers in and begins to slide the garment off her body with nigh religious reverence.

Once it slips down to her knees, she can finally get a better view and gods damn it, she changed into clean clothes less than an hour ago and already the fabric is ruined, a dark, rust-colored stain blooming along the gusset.

Eve shuffles her legs, helping Astarion slide the underwear completely off her. She expects him to toss it on the floor, but instead she watches, transfixed, as he folds it meticulously before slipping it into his pant pocket.

“Excuse you–”

But her objection dies in her throat at the sight of Astarion parting her thighs with unmatched focus. For a moment he just kneels there completely still, pupils blown wide, watching her like a predator poised to strike. It would be unnerving if it wasn’t him.

He hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer, resting her legs on his shoulders.

Under his scrutinous gaze she becomes utterly aware of the wetness between her thighs, blood and arousal mixing into one. Suddenly, her mind drifts away from her kneeling lover to the softness of the silk bed sheets beneath her, the sheets that they got as a housewarming gift from Shadowheart, the ones that Astarion was so excited about, and however weakly, she whispers:

“Wait– We’re going to ruin the sheets–” 

Her words seem to snap Astarion out of his trance and he looks up from the sanguine scene before him to meet her gaze. 

“I can live with that.”

And as if to prove his point, he lunges forward, their moans mixing in unison the moment his tongue drags a firm line along her center. His grip on her tightens, surely enough to bruise, but Eve is way past the point of caring. Damn the bruises, damn the sheets, all that matters right now is the inferno raging within her, the ungodly sounds erupting from the depth of Astarion’s chest as he feasts on her like a man starved. 

Eve’s elbows give in beneath her and she falls back on the pillows, losing sight of his efforts. Instead she reaches for him, nails scraping against his scalp, legs crossed behind his head and urging him closer. Astarion’s nose presses deliciously against her clit as his tongue enters her time and time again, his groans vibrating through her core. 

One of his hands wanders to the hem of her shirt, lifting it up past the soft curve of her stomach. He leans away ever so lightly, lips brushing against her as he pleads:

“I need to see all of you.”

Eve complies, the tempo of Astarion’s tongue hastening the moment the linen slips past her the stiff peaks of her nipples. As she tosses her blouse to the side, she is struck by how completely bare she is before him, all the while Astarion looks as if he might have just come home from work, every button accounted for, every thread in place. A perfect picture of composure, were it not for the state of his curls, dampened with sweat and flattened against the grip of her thighs, nor the blood smeared against every inch of his exposed skin.

His tongue leaves her, but before she can protest this newfound emptiness, his mouth shifts up, lips closing around her clit with a firm suck as a single finger teases her entrance. Astarion slips inside with no resistance, one knuckle deep, tormenting her with how it’s simultaneously overwhelming and not nearly enough.

“Please, Star–”

But before the words fully leave her lips, they blossom into a wanton moan as he sheathes his finger, and beckons her, brushing against the spot that makes her feel weightless, like she is not of this world.

She bucks her hips into him and he moans against her cunt, encouraged by her reaction, and soon enough a second finger follows. He slides in slowly, the stretch combined with the suction of his lips pushing any previous aches and discomfort from her mind, leaving naught but an all-encompassing surrender, delicious pressure rising within her.

Through the haze, she reaches down, fingers teasing the points of his ears, and she knows exactly what she is doing, knows the effect it has on him, how it coaxes the sweetest sounds from his lips she is sure she will never get enough of. 

She recalls the first time she did it, over a year ago, back when neither of them knew how to define the curious companionship that has grown between them. It elicited the most unrestrained noise she ever heard from him and Astarion must have been taken aback by it, too, because he tore her hands away from him, pinning them above her head. He told her then that she was playing with fire but she couldn’t help it, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blaze. 

It consumes them both now, eliciting the most obscene sounds from her love, his fingers picking up speed as they dart in and out of her, brushing deep inside with every stroke. 

She knows she won’t last long, cannot last long, not with the way he has become fluent in the language of her body, knowing exactly which strings to pull to make her sing. 

And sing she does, mouth falling open with praises that get increasingly terser, until the only word she can remember is his name. 

She cries it out as she grasps the sheets, the moment the pleasure becomes uncontainable, when it lights up every nerve, every inch of her skin. It’s a trust fall and he is right there to catch her, just as he always is. Just as he always will be.

Astarion’s grip doesn’t soften as she rides out this crest, his mouth and fingers relentless in drawing every last one of her moans, her eyes shut in pure bliss.

But then eventually all of her energy evaporates, her thighs growing slack around him, and Astarion retracts slowly, placing the softest kiss on her clit before getting to his feet. 

Eve feels the mattress dip as he crawls towards her and she somehow wills her eyelids to open, only to witness Astarion’s bloodied fingers slip into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as he begins to suck. The display is enough to make her throat go dry, skin flaring up with want that never got the chance to subside. 

Finally when he salvages every single drop, he lets go, eyes meeting hers as his fingers leave his mouth. Eve takes in the gory state of him: there is blood on his lips and chin of course, but also some on his nose, and is that…? Yes, somehow a bit of it found its way to his brow line. She can’t help but laugh as she tucks a flattened curl behind his ear.

“You look…”

“Happy?” Astarion offers, making a show of licking his lips in a manner that is surely against some moral law.

“I was going to say insatiable.”

“You would be correct,” he admits as he cups her cheek. 

He kisses her deeply, his taste a heady mixture of them both, laced with the metallic tinge of her blood. And suddenly their bodies are flush against one another once more, hands wandering, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh. Eve’s hand slithers down between them, Astarion’s jaw going slack the moment she palms his still-clothed cock. 

Her breath hitches at the feel of him in her hand, but Astarion seems to have a plan of his own because he manages to compose himself, leaning away to ask:

“Can you take more?” 

“Try me,” she dares, the attempted edge of her words dulled by how breathless she is. 

A wide grin blooms on Astarion’s face, the tips of his fangs glinting in the moonlight when he asks: 

“How is your back?”

It takes her a second to register the meaning of his question. Truth be told, she completely forgot about it, the pain pushed out into the far corners of her mind by the overwhelming pleasure.

“It’s better.”

“Excellent. Do you think you can sit up?”

“Yes?” she says, unsure of where he is going with this.

Astarion leans away enough to pull his shirt over his head, and then rests on his back, tapping his shoulders as he says:

“Then sit.”

“What?” she asks, swallowing hard.

“You heard me.”

Slowly, Eve gets to her knees, trying to ignore the way the wetness pooled between her thighs seems to shift with the movement. But the shameless anticipation painted on Astarion’s face is enough to weed out any sprouting insecurities, and so she moves up, caging his head between her thighs and gripping the carved headboard for support. 

There is a moment of stillness when she hovers over him, and then Astarion’s gaze travels from her face down to her core and he licks his lips at the sight because of course he does.

Eve rolls her eyes and says:

“You’re ridicul–” 

But before she can finish the thought, Astarion grabs her waist and pulls her down, forcing an ungodly gasp out of her and suddenly all she can think about is how overwhelming the feeling of his mouth is in that position. Astarion gives her a slight, encouraging shove, and Eve starts rocking against him, chasing the friction that feeds the tempest brewing within her.

Astarion seems to be completely lost in the feeling, clawing at her thighs and moaning against her cunt in a way that vibrates deliciously up her spine. Eve wants to hear more of those sweet sounds, so she looks back, witnessing the erection straining against his pants and she reaches out to stroke him through the fabric. He groans, the movements of his tongue growing sloppier by the second, as she’s trying to unlace his pants with one hand without losing her balance.

“Need a little– Ah– Help,” she gasps when the task quickly proves beyond her current capabilities.

Astarion lets go of her thighs, nimble fingers moving to unfasten the garment in no time. He pulls his pants and underwear down just enough to free his untouched cock and Eve’s mouth waters as she catches a glimpse of how hard and flushed it is.

She leans back, propping herself with one hand as the other reaches out to spread the bead of precum over the head. As much as she can muster from that position, she starts to stroke him, encouraged by the truly obscene sounds that start erupting from his throat. 

But then she feels her side cramp up, her arm giving in beneath her. Astarion’s hands dart to grasp at her waist to keep her from collapsing.

“Bad idea,” she admits as she regains her balance, clutching at the headboard.

Astarion hums a noncommittal ‘mhm’ against her center as he settles back into a rhythm. His tongue is relentless in forcing ragged gasps out of her, but Eve wants to give him more, so in a flash of lust-laced genius, she offers:

“Bite me.”

Astarion’s eyes widen, his pupils dilated to the point where she can barely see the scarlet encircling them. He turns his head to the side and Eve would mourn the loss of his touch, were it not immediately compensated by the deep guttural moan that escapes his mouth the moment his teeth sink into her thigh.

Somehow, in all this time together, they have never done this. The initial sting is much sharper than usual, but as Astarion starts to drink, blood leaving Eve’s body in greedy pulls, she feels the familiar throbbing sensation begin to radiate from the wound, her cunt pulsating with every sip he takes and oh gods–

She watches mesmerized as Astarion reaches down and starts to pump himself and the image alone is enough to push her towards the edge. Her fingers slip down to her center to gather some of her slick before gliding up, tracing circles around her clit, her movements matching the rhythmic groans that Astarion makes with every mouthful of her blood. 

Eve knows that he’s close, recognizes it in the timbre of his voice, the furrowed line between his brows, the tension in his muscles as his strokes pick up pace. She swallows hard, wishing for nothing more than to watch him unravel beneath him, to witness–

It sneaks up on her this time, the electrifying shudder that tears through her body. Her mouth falls agape, knuckles white as they grip desperately at the headboard as if it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Through the bliss, she barely registers the final guttural moan coming from somewhere below, the thick, hot rivulets painting her back.

Astarion’s mouth reluctantly leaves her thigh, his tongue cleaning up any remains of blood off her skin. Eve can feel his hands come up to her waist to steady her, but for now all she can do is just sit there, breathing heavily, head spinning with blood loss and afterglow.

After a couple moments she wills her muscles to move, her legs shaky as she shuffles down Astarion’s body before collapsing on top of him. His arms drape softly around her and they lie there in silence, utterly spent.

Eventually, Astarion slips out from underneath her, and Eve would reach out to stop him if she had any energy left. Instead, she burrows her face into the pillow and listens to the soft clicks of Astarion’s heels against the floor (how did he keep his shoes on all this time?) as he rustles through some drawers. 

When he returns, she feels his palm nestle in between her shoulder blades, his voice soft and steady when he utters the incantation:

“Te absolvo.” 

Healing magic begins to radiate across her body, lifting the heaviness from her muscles and dissipating the fog clouding her mind. And then there is another sensation as what she assumes to be a warm wet cloth runs gently along her back before slipping between her thighs, erasing the evidence of whatever the Hells it was they just experienced.

Suddenly, Eve feels a pang of disappointment and she voices it by mumbling incomprehensibly into the pillow.

“I don’t speak Ghukliak, love,” Astarion says.

Eve groans before turning her face to the side. She meets his amused gaze, spotting the Amulet of Silvanus that adorns his bare chest.

“I said: ‘are you done already?’ You don’t want more blood?”

Astarion laughs heartily as he grabs another cloth to clean his stomach and chest.

“Oh, and I’m the insatiable one? I always want more blood, dear, but you look like you could use a break, you know.”

“Excuse you, I feel excellent.” 

And as if to prove it, she props herself up and sits on the edge of the mattress. She takes a sip from the water cup he left for her on the bedside table before getting to her feet. 

Astarion watches her intensely as she approaches. Usually, he’s much more relaxed after he feeds, but Eve can see that there is still some tension in his features, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as she steps into his space. 

She knows he’s holding himself back. 

And that just won’t do.

Her arms drape around his neck, and she leans in, lips brushing against his ear as she whispers:

“Take as much as you want, Star. It’s a rare treat, after all.”

Eve delights in the strained gasp that leaves his lips, in the caress of his hands that trail down to her waist before pulling her flush against him.

“How awfully selfless of you,” he drawls, leaning in to kiss her.

a/n: aaaaaand with that, I have officially passed 100k words on ao3. what a glorious way to reach that milestone 😅 I would love to hear your thoughts on this one, especially since I rarely write smut so any feedback is super helpful ❤️

[xxnashiraxx]

Snippet Sunday 🩸

I have been so busy these past couple of weeks and have not had a chance to post on a Wednesday, but making up for that today!

Thank you for all the tags over this past week, guys! Especially to @obsessedwhyyes @vividiana (I SAW YOU POST YOUR FIC, I'M ON THAT) @deadly-diminuendo @heylittleriotact @andromedaancunin @emmg -I hope I got everyone! 🖤

Here is a little snippet from Chapter 18 of With Stars to Fill My Dream! I'm a few words shy of 10k and I'm still not done 😬 Very close though! I still intend to post the chapter this coming Saturday, so I'm just juggling the ending since it was supposed to cut off at a certain event, but if I add that this chapter may turn into 15k and I don't think anyone needs a 15k chapter lol, so 19 will have my big cool secret that I'm excited to write!

Anyway! Here is just a bit from the creche! 🖤

A bump to her back shakes her out of the rapid devouring of self-hatred spreading into every cell in her body, stumbling and almost collapsing onto the ground below. “Watch it,” Astarion hisses, pressing up more firmly against her once her knees steady. “What are you-” “Draw your blade, we’re being surrounded.” “What blade? I have a goddamn knife, in case you haven’t noticed,” “It’ll be close combat soon enough,” He bites back bitterly. With cruel acknowledgement, she realizes he’s right, and she holds her dagger defensively, the feel of Astarion mimicking her stance as they lean on each other for support sending waves of confidence and dizzying uncertainty sparking through her veins. The pair of them really aren’t suited to this kind of punishing rhythm- the dance they weave teetering in and out of their favor with each blow and evasion. Constantly shuffling feet, ducking, and bending lend a kind of bizarre grace to each cohesive attack. He stabs, she parries. He parries, she stabs. A month ago, she’d been shaking in her boots at the prospect of some stranger following her through a dimly lit alley or confronting her for money. Now? She’s slashing her dagger and catching a chunk of githyanki ear in the cheek, sputtering and spitting the metallic liquid from her mouth onto the ground below. “Here, you need something,” Ofelia tosses over her shoulder, knowing he’ll hear her over the loud grunts of a woman who constantly swings her spear- as if she’d be lucky enough to land a successful hit on their cunning rogue. Ofelia presses the hilt of her dagger between gritted teeth before deftly swinging her lute to the front. It takes her but a moment to recall the spell, and the blink of an eye to choose something appropriate. Whether by her estimations or the surrounding enemies, she isn’t sure. Quick digits splay over the neck of the instrument with a prowess stemming from years of habitual repetition. The tune she defaults to when lost in thought—its weeping melody and slapping of skin to wood—floods her brain with familiarity. Like an old friend, it caresses her ears with a comfort long and lost. Emboldened by the teal magic that sinks into his pale skin, Astarion makes short work of the soldier before him with only the loud tearing of sinew and tissue being ripped from bone to indicate her termination. Ofelia turns to him, blood covering his face to paint his gaunt features in a shadowy mockery of the one she knows best. Polluting her thoughts of him, he does nothing but stare. If she’d been of clearer mind she would have paid more attention to the Inquisitor out of his periphery, elbows thrust backward as he lines his blade up with Astarion’s abdomen. “No!” She juts her hip out to knock him off balance, lute lowered in a measly attempt to block the blow. Aged wood and rusting strings do not, a proper shield, make.

If you're wondering what Ofelia strummed, yes it's the guitar solo from Bulls in the Bronx 🤙🏻

No pressure tags for my lovelies! 💗 @pinkberrytea @khywren @caffeinatedmunchkin @bby-bel-art @nerdallwritey @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @elinorbard @badbloodwitch @justabiteofspite @bloodinwine @ladyduellist @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lanafofana @bardic-inspo @busy-baker @marlowethebard @alwaysmauria

[the-kr8tor]

A Song Stuck in Your Head

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 17.8k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW violence mention, CW alcohol, TW death mention, CW food mention, CW blood and injury. Slowburn, Part 4 of ink and bedrock, noxian! Reader. Spoilers for s2.

A/N: Thank you for reading Ink and Bedrock!!

Ekko Masterlist

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Part 3 <<< Part 4

The chair under Ekko feels stiff as he skims through a pile of what are supposedly Viktor's documents. He had asked a favour to one of his firelights to look for any evidence of Viktor existing. And sure enough, after a month of turning up with nothing, the firelight pulled through. She said she found it in an undercity hospital, packed tightly together by worn down rubber bands atop of other hospital documents. The birth certificate isn't much, but it's evidence that he was real, you'll be ecstatic to know that your search is over. He can't wait to show it to you and for you to shove the evidence at the council's faces. You're right about one thing, you can't truly erase history.

While he's thinking about you, his ears pick up the sound of your laughter outside the treehouse. His brows knit together in confusion since you didn't schedule anything with him for today. It's one of those boring days when he doesn't get to meet up with you to talk to random people. Ekko has noticed that simply being outside has helped his head clear up. The companionship is a bonus, he thinks.

As he stands up from his seat, his knees creak, prompting him to stretch all his aching muscles from the prolonged position. Taking the papers, he gets on his board to meet up with you. It might not be his day with you, but you're already in the hideout so he might as well hand it to you.

Ekko's questioning look stays as he sees a crowd gather around you. “Please don't be an angry mob.” He mumbles under his breath as he lands right next to you.

“Hey, Ekko!” Your eyes brighten the second you see him, but you're already floating away when he landed. “Bye, Ekko!”

“Wha—” he stares wide eyed at the humming hoverboard carrying you. A chuckle sounds out behind him, when he looks at the source, he finds Scar grinning at him. “What's this? Is that your board?” He points at the squealing you, just floating above the crowd.

“Relax, Ekko.” Scar gives him a lopsided smile as he lifts up his open palms at Ekko in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “She wanted to learn how to ride so I showed her the basics. She's a quick learner.”

“Yeah, relax, Ekko!” Scar's carbon copied son smiles at him toothily. “I taught her.” He puffs out his chest proudly while his father mouths a ‘he didn't, I did.’

Ekko replies with a grunt, but he can't help but stare on with concern as you wobble atop the board while trying to balance yourself on it. He readies his own, just in case. The others find your lack of balance amusing.

“Take one step forward with one foot. Keep them separate.” Ekko instructs you, palms cupping around his mouth so you could hear it above the excited murmur.

“Okay,” you chuckle nervously, trying not to look down or else vertigo will make you plummet towards the crowd. You really don't want that to happen. “Got it, whoo!” Your shaky form subsides as the crowd hoots and claps at your achievement. “Thanks, Ekko! No thanks to you, Scar!”

Scar nudges Ekko, eyebrows wiggling at him. The firelights leader just gives him a hard stare, the same one he shows people he interrogates. Scar turns away immediately, but his teasing smile persists.

“You don't let anyone touch your board, why'd you even agree to this?” Now Ekko's giving him the same treatment like he's questioning Scar under a bright light.

Scar shrugs, “you're not the only one who's allowed to barter with her.” Ekko presses harder with a narrowed stare. Scar feels like he's about to get an hour more of patrol because of this. “I bet her that she can't stand on the board for a full five minutes without falling. If spark can do it, then she gets her interview with me.”

Ekko shakes his head, hands kept in his pockets but his feet stay on his hoverboard, ready to jump in. “How long has it been?”

Scar checks his pocket watch. “Two minutes, boss. Don't worry, she can do it.”

“Why didn't you just take her bribe?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Scar scoffs, “besides, it's worth it to see you all worried for our resident noxian.”

Ekko slowly cranes his head at Scar, eyes deadly and sharp.

“Shit!” Your yell and the crowd's shocked gasps immediately takes his attention away from his nervous right hand man. The hoverboard shakes, prompting you to fall on your knees and grip the sides. “Should it be making that noise?!” The way your wide eyes meet with Ekko's horrified ones has your worry cranked up to a hundred.

“I thought you fixed your engine?!” Ekko can't seem to take his eyes off you, like a trainwreck waiting to happen.

“I thought I did.” Scar says guiltily.

Then the engine sputters suddenly, green smoke billowing out from where it's not supposed to escape from, and with the board shaking and moving up and down uncontrollably, you suddenly fly off. Screams of terror fades in and out as the malfunctioning board takes you all over the hideout, leaving dark streaks of smoke in the air. With a thudding heart, Ekko leaps up in a split second, accidentally scattering the papers he gathered for you all over the crowd.

“Ekko!” You scream for him, knuckles gripping the sides desperately. There's a stabbing pain on your already broken wrist, the pain from it has your grip slipping.

“Hold on!” Ekko expertly flies, dodging buildings and the large protruding branches of his ginkgo tree. His hands reach for yours, but you're still too far for him to hold onto. Eyes widening, he sees a branch heading your way. It's dangerously close to clotheslining you. “Duck!”

Air stuck in your throat, you feel arms wrap around you instead of the pain of getting stabbed by a tree. He grips you tightly against him as you hide your face on the crook of his neck. His board spins around the tree from the momentum, leaves and sticks hit the two of you as he almost loses control until Ekko pushes down with all his might to stop it midair.

The hoverboard finally stops, meanwhile, Scar's hoverboard falls down rapidly, finally losing its fumes, it plunges down on sacks of flour placed next to the firelights bakery. White smoke puffs out like a volcano spewing out lava, filling the whole area with fragrant flour.

You blink, arms wrapped around his neck, and leaning away from the space you've hidden yourself on the crook of his neck as flour floats down on the two of you like snow. His arm holds you in place, while his other hand grips at your thigh while he holds you. He's kneeling on the board, half carrying you as the board floats above the wreckage.

Ekko stares at you, sun shining down on him, giving him a halo of light as the white powder floats in the air alongside the green glow of his board. His lips part slightly, as if he's about to say something, but he purses his lips together, adam's apple bobbing up and down while his thumb brushes away powder that landed on your cheek. His eyes shimmer, chest heaving against your own whilst you're completely frozen under him.

“Are you okay?” He finally speaks, eyes roaming around your form to check for injuries. If only you could see him through his eyes, you'd find the reason why his heart feels like it's about to burst out of him. He has noticed your attractiveness, it's hard not to, but now it's getting harder to ignore how beautiful you are under the glow of the dappled sunshine.

You swallow thickly, fingers kneading atop the back of his neck subtly. “I think so.”

“You're an idiot.” Ekko chuckles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“An incurable disease, unfortunately.” You smile, fingers gently plucking away a stray leaf stuck on his hair. He hums in appreciation. “Flour looks good on you, firefly.” Dusting off the powder off his shoulder, you can't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation.

His index rubs away more powder on your chin, near the corner of your lips. Your breath hitches in your throat from the contact. “You have more on you, spark.”

You're starting to love the nickname now.

“Now we match.” You point at the white flour that's surely on your head then to his hair. “Does it look good on me at least?” You whisper, eyes soft as you stare at him.

“I can fry you up and we'll see.” His knuckles brush along your jaw, leaving white powder to stick on his palm.

Beaming up at him, the hoverboard slowly comes down on the flour covered ground. But your eyes stay on him, while he mirrors the same look you have.

“My hoverboard!” Scar's booming voice pops the peaceful bubble you two have, prompting you and Ekko to move away from each other.

Ekko hops off his board, giving you a helping hand. Good thing he did, or you would've fallen off the hovering tech that's barely three inches off the ground. Your legs feel like jelly, and your hand atop his own lets out a searing heat akin to a furnace.

“Thanks.” You mumble, refusing to look at his flour covered face that mixes in with his face paint lest you completely fall down on your knees.

“My flour!” Ekko lets go of your hand when the baker worsens the commotion as he comes stumbling out of his bakery.

“We'll order a new batch—” Ekko tries to reassure the baker, but the way he's cradling the sack of flour with a large hole on it, he thinks it's better to let the poor man mourn than try to reason with him.

You groan, apologies spilling from your lips. Sorries were thrown towards everyone for making such a fuss, especially at the baker and Scar. “I'll pay for it.” You tell the baker, but it falls on deaf ears. “Great,” you say sarcastically, wincing at how you probably ruined your image with the firelights.

“Scar,” Ekko straightens up, brushing off the powder fluidly, a picture of a leader. “Please salvage all the undamaged flour, then take a couple of people and go out to trade a few of our tech for the rest. Take my board.” He pushes down the end of his board, flipping it upwards into his waiting hand and then giving it to Scar.

He says his pleases despite being the leader and says it all without a condescending tone even though he's technically mad at you and Scar. Well, maybe just you, you guess.

“Got it.” The guilty firelight looks at you apologetically. You know you have that interview with him now.

“And Scar.” Ekko calls him back, and the poor man seems to stiffen. “Two more hours of patrol tonight, yeah?” Scar didn't even protest as he slinks away from the crowd. The rest of the firelights disperse, afraid that Ekko would give them work too.

“And you,” the fierce leader turns to you, head tipping back with a subtle smug smile. “Pick up the papers before the kids use it as a coloring book.”

“Wait,” you chuckle nervously, “that's it?”

Ekko raises a brow at you, eyes unreadable whilst he crosses his arms over his chest. “You want more?”

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, no thank you, bossman.” You're already walking away towards the scattered papers. “Picking up those papers right now!”

Ekko can't help the soft smile from appearing on his lips as you fight with the wind to grab a piece of paper floating around. He hears a tiny scoff right next to him, looking down, he sees Scar's kid, mimicking his posture.

“Some people, huh?” The five year old says in a serious tone, chin held up high and arms crossed over his chest.

Ekko ruffles the kid's hair. “Yeah, some people.” He says, looking at you with fondness.

—

Knocking on Ekko's door the same way you always do, he doesn't groan at your sudden appearance. Instead, he lets you in with a tired voice.

Peeking inside, you see that the room has gotten much brighter than the last time you stayed. The windows are fully open, letting in the breeze and the sunlight, the room looks more organized than before too. The scraps that used to trip you are now in boxes that are placed in the corner. You guess he started picking them up one by one after you complained about almost slipping on a metal wheel. The armchair you always sat on is still there beside him, his familiar jacket is laid atop it, as if he's keeping it warm for you. The bed you spent a week on is still in the corner, a blanket perfectly folded right next to a cardigan you keep ‘forgetting’ to pick up.

But the man himself hasn't changed, he's still scrunched up on his work desk, always working on something that either sparks or creaks.

“Hi,” you start, walking closer to his form.

“No.”

“I haven't even said anything yet!” You laugh, settling down on the armchair, body splayed over it lazily, chin propped up on its arm, and eyes blinking at him.

“It's not our day, spark.” He says, not looking at you as he continues to work.

“I know that. Can't I visit my friend?”

“While you're here go get your jacket.” He ignores your previous comment, gloved hand gesturing towards the bed.

“I lied, I'm actually here for a reason.” Lifting up the heavy chair, you scooch it closer to him, wood scraping annoyingly against the floorboards.

Ekko sighs, finally placing down the tool on the table to address you; only to find out that you're already looking up at him, twinkling eyes while your head is perched atop your palms.

“What?” He can't help but notice the glint in your eyes and the wide grin you have.

Tilting your head, your elbows dig on your knees as you sway slightly. “A few of the firelights and their kids are going down to the river since it's getting hotter now.”

“And?” He says, seemingly uninterested.

Your smile is replaced by a hurt frown. “Are you still angry about what happened? I'm really sorry, Ekko.”

He stares anywhere else that isn't your face. “Not your fault.” You gently smile at him. “Unless you rigged the board to go haywire.”

“I'm an idiot but not that kind of idiot.” You chuckle.

“You're not an idiot.” Ekko reassures you sweetly, meeting with your eyes with a smile like your own. “Just annoying.”

“Some people call that tenacity.”

“And who are these people, hm?” He teases, twisting back around to work. You chortle, sitting back as you stretch your hand that's still encased in plaster. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Inviting you actually.” You trace the signatures and drawings on the cast. “They said that you can fish in the rivers now because of the project. Thanks to you, Ekko.”

“I barely helped.” He scoffs, carefully putting together colorful wires.

“You helped a lot, genius.” You nudge his leg with your foot, and he grumbles as his hands move. “Shit, sorry.”

You expect a reprimand, or even telling you to get out. But instead, he tries again, nudging you with his own foot in retaliation. His boot leaves dirt marks on the hem of your pants, but you don't care one bit as you smile at him.

“Come on, you're glued to that chair. There's an Ekko shape indented on it already. Even Poro's coming with us.” You bite your lip, still trying to get him to come with you. “Please? Go see your handiwork in person and not just on blueprints.”

Ekko finishes his work, laying down his tools and yanking off his gloves. “If I come with you, will you shut up?”

You shake your head with a grin. “Nope.”

With a roll of his eyes, he stands up, surrendering to your request. “...fine.”

“Can we ride on your hoverboard?” You ask excitedly.

“No.”

—

The warmth of the sun bears down upon the small river that lies in the deep canyons and valleys threading Piltover. The water shimmers under the light, now clean, free of any garbage and stifling air billowing out of the rocky crevices. Laughter echoes around, bouncing off the rocky walls around the river bed.

Thanks to the combined efforts of Sevika and Ekko, the clean up project was a success. The river is clean because of Ekko's own design that self filters the water using wind turbines and new pipes that won't erode for at least a hundred years. His own design would surpass him, he smiles at the thought that years from now, when he's long gone, the people of the undercity would still have clean water to use.

It took some convincing, but the council finally approved his design when Ekko appeared before them with a better blueprint than what their engineers designed. It was mediocre, you said after taking a peek at the blueprint. And that he would do much better than them. So he did, he created something bigger than him, turned it into something better. And he got to see the result of it. He had to stand in front of them while trying not to glare at the pompous looks they have on. But the headache was all worth it to see his people fish and swim in the river.

Ekko pauses from doodling on his notebook, eyes crinkling at the corners when he realizes that he's drawing you and not the river which he was supposed to do. He captured the way you smile perfectly, and the way he shaded your eyes matches your own. He suddenly feels heavy, chest tightening, but a comfortable one, not the same one that has him choking on nothing— It feels warm, like the sun shining on you as you stand in the river.

You try to catch fish with your bare hands, even with the cast around your wrist, you still went in. He warned you that it might be bad to go and submerge it in the water, but you got too impatient and went into the river to snatch a fish after waiting for thirty minutes with the borrowed fishing rod only to come up with nothing. So there you are, pants rolled up, blouse unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up and wet at the hem, looking like you belong right in the undercity. As if you were born here with the same fire in your eyes that you have.

Sweat dribbles down Ekko's brow, watching you laugh and smile with his people. Poro yips beside him, happily wagging his tail as he tries to get Ekko's attention. He smiles at the dog, palm brushing along his soft fur. You've been taking care of him really well, his fur is much softer and healthy, and Poro has been happier than usual.

It's been months since you came to Piltover, nine months to be precise, and four months since you were attacked. You still haven't properly interviewed Ekko, and you haven't forcefully pushed him for it, preferring to get a few bits here and there. You always seemed happy enough with those small pieces of information, like a puzzle you're trying to piece together. Yes, you're still annoying as ever, but you always mean well. Ekko now thinks that he has finally gotten to read you like you have with him. You give him a simple look, and he immediately knows what you're trying to convey. You grasp his sleeve, and he stays, waits for you to get a hold of the present. There's still a lot of things he doesn't know about you or your past, but he knows you as you are right now, and that's enough for him.

Ekko glances back at you, remembering all the times he saw you handle interviews with an open heart, patience and compassion towards the person. You don't just ask questions, you help them relieve themselves with the burden of carrying those buried emotions. Just like you have with him by simply being there.

You feel the familiar gaze on you, looking to the side, you see Ekko already staring at you. Waving at him, you grin happily at him as the water laps against your legs. Surprisingly, he waves back, although brief, you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

Scar's son stands next to you, watching at the waist deep water with concentration as he tugs at your blouse to get your attention. “Are you sure you'll get one?”

“Shh, you'll scare the fish.” You ready your hands, ignoring the slight ache inside the cast. The doctor said you can get rid of it in a few days. You're looking forward to freeing yourself, but you're not excited about losing your research partner.

An iridescent shine catches your gaze, prompting you to shoot your arms out into the water. Splashes hit your cheeks, but the slimy feel under your palms has you guffawing. “I got it!”

“You got it?” Scar's son asks, his eyes turning wide when you lift up the twitching fish. “She got it!” He exclaims excitedly.

“Fish!” You yell, lifting up the large fish above your head and showing it to Ekko. He laughs, clapping his hands together slowly. Then Scar's kid suddenly leaps up and snatches the fish out of your hands. “My fucking fish!” Your scream of anguish has Ekko laughing boisterously, a sound that has you turning your attention towards him and not at the kid running away from you.

He continues to laugh, belly starting to ache as you watch on with sparkling eyes. Poro runs away, probably terrified that Ekko's letting out a sound that he's not used to. Instead, the dog bolts after Scar's kid, yelping and barking at him.

You dredge the cool water, looking up on his perch, grasping the edge of the rock where he's sitting. Ekko calms down when he sees you peek at him closer as if you're in awe of him simply laughing. Water droplets slide down your temple, hair damp and clothes sticking to your skin. He looks away, finding the pebble next to him more fascinating than your wet blouse.

“What?” He asks, a smile staying on his lips, brown eyes sparkling under the sun. His hair is pulled into a full bun, twists away from his face because of the heat, and his pants are rolled up, tank top showing off his arms.

You place your chin above your palms, fully endeared by him. Flicking his knee, you chuckle as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Nothing.” There's a lilt in your tone. Your eyes glance down, spying the portrait of you on his notebook. Several portraits of you on both sides of the pages.

He follows your gaze, face heating up and immediately shutting the notebook closed. Looking up to meet with your eyes, you have the most shit eating grin on your lips.

“I have something for you.” You say, pulse quickening. You're glad that you're already in knee deep water that's cool enough to smother the searing heat on your skin.

To his surprise, you don't mention what you just saw.

“It better not be council secrets.”

You chortle. “That was one time, firefly.” You rummage through your wet pockets. “Besides, that was me showing you and Sevika how easy it is to steal council documents during your meetings.”

“Sevika almost pummeled you, spark—” the golden charm on your palm has him stopping mid sentence. He flicks his eyes towards you, and you bashfully smile.

“It's an old earring I have that I lost the partner for years ago.” You explain, voice soft above the sound of gurgling water, remembering who gave you the pair years ago. “I managed to convince a blacksmith in Piltover to melt it into a charm for you.” Pointing at the dainty thing, you briefly look over to him with a smile as he admires the handiwork. “I designed it,” he cranes his neck to gaze at you. “I know, I know, hold your applause.” You joke, and he rolls his eyes. “I got the hourglass shape engraved on it, and…” turning it over, you show him the small ruby embedded in it. “...look, pretty, right?” You ask, unsure of his reaction.

Ekko beams at you, smile brighter and warmer than the sun shining down on the two of you. “Yeah, pretty.”

You let out a shaky exhale, now noticing that he's mere inches away from you. “It's for your hair.”

“I know it's for my hair.” Chuckling, Ekko unties his hair, letting the platinum strands fall over his hair like curtains. He swears he heard you stop breathing. “What are you waiting for?”

Your hands tremble for a second, but he stabilizes you with a soft hand around your wrist. You've faced creatures straight from your nightmares, trolls, and a whole army, but your hands haven't trembled like this.

Ekko watches you as you lean further to clip the charm around your chosen twist. His eyes roam around your face, how the corner of your lips tilt up into a subtle yet unsure smile. How your eyebrows knit together in concentration as if you're trying to disable a bomb and not putting a simple accessory on him. The sunlight illuminates your very being, and he can't help but marvel at you.

“There.” You whisper, snapping the charm close, making sure that it's secure. “You look good.”

“Just good?”

Chuckling, you move his chin to face you fully with your index. He lets you. “Handsome.”

He gives you a lopsided grin, never thinking that you'd tease him back with more heat than he ever thought you could hit him back with.

His hand still rests upon your wrist, slowly lifting up towards your palms. “I need to show you something.” Tone serious, but still gentle enough for you.

“Okay, right now?” You blink at him as he gives you a helping hand up, voice an octave higher than usual. There's a warmth in your stomach as butterflies wake up from excitement.

“Yeah, if you're okay with that.” He helps you up on the ledge.

“I'm more than okay with it.” You quickly gather your things, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Come on then!”

“You're still wet.” He raises a brow at you as he grabs his hoverboard.

“Y’know what, it's less work for you.”

“What?” He snaps his head towards you so quick you swear you heard something crack.

“Nothing, I'm sure I'll dry off from the ride there.”

You get on the board with Ekko as he shakes his head with a slight warmth on his cheeks.

—

You peek over Ekko's shoulder as he flies above Piltover. Hundreds of roofs and balconies whizz by, the silhouette of you and Ekko on his hoverboard can be briefly seen near the rooftops and windows. A trail of green light flickers behind you, and the sound of the humming machine under you brings a familiar feeling of comfort. It almost feels like home.

His hair whips around the comforting breeze, sun shining down on the charm you gave him. Smiling, your arms wrap tighter around his waist with the excuse of being afraid of heights. He lets you hold onto him, your face pressed on his shoulder blade as he feels the subtle smile atop his skin. His jacket flutters behind you, warming you up from your recent swim.

He taps the back of your hand, a simple yet affectionate way of reassuring you.

Lifting your head up, you see the looming hextower. It's just a station for traveling blimps now, there's no trace of the arcane left in it anywhere. The familiar feeling of magic doesn't hum against your bones when Ekko lands the board on top of its expansive dome roof.

You roam your eyes with wonder at the structure and the view in front of you. Piltover shines under the light, its golden and stark white laden buildings are a sight to behold. Right in the middle of the two cities lies the bridge of progress that was once a witness to brutality now holds hope and unity for the ever changing cities. And Zaun, with its metallic structures, bold shapes and hidden natural beauties and resources has your heart soaring from the sight that was previously unobtainable for you.

You gaze at the whole place, and all you can feel is that you're home. You've found love in a place you didn't feel welcome nor needed, and yet here you are, finding that it has wiggled its way into your heart. It took a while, nine months of it, but you no longer feel the heavy gazes upon your back, the restrained hatred behind their eyes. The whole council respects your words now, they no longer cut your words off, or belittle or even be afraid of you. And you found that same respect for them while you have watched each of them work together or individually for the betterment of their home and its people.

Sevika and the people of the undercity sees you as an equal now. Vi and Caitlyn have become your close friends, Babette has become a friend and an informat of sorts, keeping an eye out in exchange for your sweets. Steb has become awfully close to you throughout the months, you have no idea how, but you guess you've managed to charm the enforcer. So far, the other enforcers don't look at you with disdain, probably after seeing your handiwork on the shimmer trade you and Ekko put a stop to. They might not know why you were there in the first place, but it doesn't matter to them as long as you're on their side.

It took a lot for them to accept you. Slowly, but surely, they've accepted you in their home. And you'll be forever grateful that they gave you a chance. Even if you're going to leave one day, like all the places you've been, it'll always leave a mark on you and a corner in your heart. But you feel that this place will be different than the rest. He made it different, and difficult to leave.

Then you look back at Ekko and you feel exactly the same, he feels like home.

He watches the sun in your eyes, the reflection of the blue sky dancing in your irises. Giving you a hand, you take it without a second thought as he guides you down the hoverboard.

His hand is warm, calloused palms in the shape of a weapon that fits right atop yours that bears the mark of war.

“You okay?” Clenching his hand, you watch as his eyes stare into your own, then over to the undercity. “Ekko?”

“This and the hexcore were the first things they cleaned up after the fight.” He looks back at you, still holding onto your hand, afraid that you'll slip out of his grasp and slide downwards into the hard ground.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. “You don't have to tell me, Ekko. It's okay, you ended it, and that's all that matters.” You can feel his fingers tremble against your own.

“I never wanted anyone to know, until you.”

You take a step forward, hand shaky with trepidation as you reach to cup his cheek. “Off the record then, firefly.” To your surprise, he leans against your touch, eyes closed as he rests upon your palm.

You give him time to gather his thoughts, thoughts that must've plagued him for three– almost four years now.

“You can write about what happened up here. So it won't happen again.” He says as his fingers bracelet around your wrist. His voice is soft, whispered only to you and the wind.

Leaning close, you look at him through your lashes, head tilting to the side to look at his downcast eyes. “Tell me, let me carry it with you.”

“After Vander, I raced up here.” His lips spills everything to you as he recounts everything that transpired on that very roof the two of you stand on. “Jayce was standing there, beaten up and about to give up while this…I don't even know what Viktor did to look like that.” You hold him close, and he pulls you closer against him with a hand on the small of your back. “But, he was about to finish it. They almost got me, his puppets,” he squeezes his eyes shut as the memory flickers in his head, how the darkness ate at him, how encompassing the void was, and yet how beautiful damnation was. “I saw the sky,” he opens his eyes to your gentle smile, and hands holding him in place. “And did it.”

“You were a goddamn meteor to him when everyone else were just stars to him.” You say proudly, remembering how everyone else described the void like space. “Take it slow, Ekko.” You whisper, thumb brushing along a small scar on his temple.

“The Z-drive.” Ekko abruptly leaves your warmth, turning around and looking at the same spot where the explosion shook the whole building almost four years ago. He stares at the dark mark it left, right next to the only remaining stain the arcane left before it departed Piltover. “I threw it at him as a last resort. Fought magic with magic.”

Your heart aches at the thought of him sacrificing himself for both cities all without other people knowing what he did. He can't fade into obscurity.

You make your way towards him. Slow footsteps, and heart thudding in place when you see the colourful veins sticking to the floor. “It looks like muscle, like flesh ripped out.” You say out loud. He side glances at you and you wince. “Sorry, that was morbid.”

“Always with the colorful descriptions with you.” A small smile ticks up on the corner of his lips.

“Can't help it, it's kind of my job.” you reach for his hand, pinky wrapping around his own. Heart beating rapidly as fear of rejection encapsulates you.

Ekko smiles, looking down briefly on your intertwined fingers. “I need to show you something else. Do you trust me?”

“Ekko, I'm on top of the highest building in Piltover where you can easily push me off, and yet I'm here.” Smiling, the sun illuminates you from behind, giving you a halo of light that has Ekko's breath staggering in his throat. “Of course I trust you, firefly.”

With a nod, he guides you back towards the hoverboard.

—

Ekko stops the hoverboard over a chasm, it's deep and dark with what seems like there's no end in sight. You swallow down the vertigo as you look down at the void. Slowly, he descends down. The only source of light is the green light his board emits.

“If you weren't going to kill me on the roof then you'll definitely kill me here.” You hold onto him, hands grasping onto the straps of his top. “My hands are getting clammy just looking at it.”

Ekko hums, hand holding your own in reassurance. “It's perfect, no witnesses.” He jokes, earning a smack on his shoulder from you.

“I'd like to see you try. You know I'll fight back right?” Whispering in his ear, goosebumps rise on his arms and you're ready to rub them down for him.

“I'll let you win.”

“And I won't hold back.” A sly smug spreads on your lips.

Ekko's gentle chuckle bounces around the cavernous walls. He grasps your hand atop his stomach, managing to wiggle his fingers around your own. It has you grinning from ear to ear as you hide your sudden bout of bashfulness on his shoulder.

“I'm guessing you already know what I've been doing in the mines?” You ask, tentatively looking over his shoulder to stare at him.

“You were in my backyard sniffing around, spark. ‘Course I would know.” He taps his thumb against the back of your hand. “What did you find?”

“Not much other than the appalling conditions the miners had to work in.” Sighing, you refrain from telling him the whole reason why you were out looking around the dangerous mines. You have a feeling he already knows.

“Are you okay?” He asks, noticing your sudden quietness as he glances down to look at the bottom of the chasm without fear. As if he has done it a dozen times before.

“Never better.” Smiling, your previous mood returns when you remember that he's still holding on to you. You don't want the ride to end. But alas, all good things must come to an end when the board hits something metallic.

Ekko pats your hand, signalling you to get off the board. You hop off, boots hitting the floating metal floors of what seems to be the remains of a structure. It creaks, making you hold onto the partial railing.

“Shit, Ekko, this doesn't look stable—!” Your eyes widen when he flies off and further into the chasm. “Ekko, you better not leave me here!” Hands sweaty and heart thrumming, you look around for stairs leading down below. The dark makes it harder to see, but with your hands in front of you, you try to get to sturdy ground. Before you know it, your feet brings you to a concrete ledge just behind the metal one he left you in. “I swear if he doesn't come back I'm going to—”

“Going to do what?”

“Fuck!” You jump in place, clutching at your heart. “You little shit!”

Ekko gives you a lopsided smile, snickering under his breath as he hops off the board. “What were you going to do if I didn't come back, hm, red?”

“I was going to…” you catch your breath, and step forward, the dark making it harder to look at what he's holding onto. “...to do absolutely nothing because you came back for me.” You smile sweetly, meeting him halfway.

“Huh,” he teases, free hand poking your side. “That's all?”

“Do you want me to tell you that I was planning on cutting off your balls or something?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I wasn't by the way. I'm not that mean.”

“I know, spark.” He sighs, “I—” he swallows down his anxiety. “I went down to get this.” Just as he says it, he brings the tech between the two of you, turning it on. The dim blue light flickers in and out, and the mechanical toy monkeys twitch and clap for a second before going dark. “This is the Z-drive.”

“The thing that caused the explosion?” You stare at it with curiosity, your fingertips brushing along the cracked glass.

“I activated it and threw it at Viktor. It doesn't work anymore, I picked up whatever’s left of it and built it again. But without the runes, it's just a paperweight now.”

“What exactly does it do?”

“Turn back time.”

You look at him so quickly that Ekko was afraid that you cracked something. “Shit, how'd you manage that?”

“You believe me? Just like that?” His brown eyes widen, in awe of what you just said.

“Yeah, it's you who said it. Of course I do.” You shrug casually, as if he just told you that the sky is blue. “Is that why you never told anyone about this? They wouldn't believe you?”

Ekko gazes at the tech in his hand, palm pressed on top of the cold glass. “That, and—” he sighs, rubbing at his face.

Your brows knit in concern. “Ekko,” holding his bicep, you try to comfort him. “Don't force yourself, take your time, please. We can do this another day if you want.”

He sniffs, walking around you to sit down on the dusty ground, head laying on the concrete wall of the chasm and legs dangling off the ledge. He places the Z-drive on his left as he pulls his leg closer to him so he could rest his arm.

You soon follow with the simple invitation from him as he gestures towards the space next to him with his head. Sitting down with the Z-drive in between you and Ekko, you lay your head on the wall, fingers playing with the sleeves of Ekko's jacket you still have on and legs dangling off the cliff edge.

The two of you listen to the silence, and watch as the shadows dance on the mouth of the chasm as sunlight tries to wiggle its way into the dark. You turn your head towards Ekko, cheek pressed on your shoulder as you listen to him breathe and stare at his chestnut eyes that you've grown awfully fond of.

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask, and he turns to you slowly. He nods, lips pursing together with a subtle smile. “Stop me when you're ready, okay?” He urges you with another curt nod. “I used to sneak my brother out to a sweet shop back in Noxus. Everytime he gets a high mark at school I take him there. Which was almost every night because he was the smartest out of the two of us. I call him my younger brother but he acted more like the oldest sometimes more than I did.” He smiles at the thought. “We only got caught once by our father, I took the beating and my brother never forgave him for it.” You clear your throat, letting the memory wash over you. “We grew up, I left first and he…he didn't forgive me for leaving him behind.”

Twisting in your seat, you hug your knees, chin placed atop it. Ekko listens in, eyes sorrowful as he gazes at you. “I reconnected with him, it turns out that he's a bigshot researcher now. Got all the ladies.” You chuckle at your own joke. “I had to convince him to talk to me. After a while, he started speaking to me again. Then I had to practically pull him out of his lab to bring him to the same sweet shop, only to find that they closed the place years ago.” You turn to Ekko again, head still placed on your knees. “He laughed at me for making a fuss out of it, then started bawling his eyes out. We both cried in the middle of the fucking street.”

“In Noxus?” You nod, biting your lip to stop the tears. “And no one fought the two of you for that?”

“The Noxus you have in your head sounds fun.” You giggle, inhaling shakily. “No, we–we reconciled after that. He didn't hold a grudge against me anymore. I'm happy that he forgave me before…” sniffing, you look at the device between the two of you, watching your own reflection on the glass. “He didn't let the past hold him down. I don't know what happened to you back then, but you don't have to be afraid of losing it all anymore.”

Ekko tries to reach for you, but the Z-drive between you causes him to retract his hand back to his side. He thinks he knows what you're trying to convey. You're right, he's an open book when he's facing you. “What happened to him?”

“I want to tell you, Ekko, but the less you know about them, the better.”

“What if they come for you?” Ekko clenches his jaw, brown eyes looking into the hidden fear behind your own.

You shake your head, eyes glassy as you stare off into the distance. “They won't.” Tapping the rune etched on your belt, you make it glow. The light flickers until it solidifies, illuminating around you and Ekko. “Mel gave me this when she hired me. Told me that it'll come in handy.”

“It did.”

“In more ways than one.”

Silence envelopes you and Ekko once again, it's a comfortable one as the warm light glows and creates shapes and shadows all over the walls. Now that there's light, you can see the colorful graffiti on the walls. Some are spray painted, and the fading ones are drawn by chalk and colored pencils. It's the same style that Sevika's arm has, doodles of cutesy things, pinks and blues dotted along the walls of the chasm and the metal floor, or what's left of whatever structure that used to stand here.

It's her place. You know it is.

“I know what happened to Heimerdinger. I was there.” He finally says, voice echoing around the chasm. You wait for him, brows furrowed together with worry. “He's gone, because of this.” Flicking the glass of the Z-drive, his brown eyes grow glossy.

“I'm sorry.”

Ekko closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again with determination. “Powder and I built it just a few days before it all went down.”

“Right here?” Powder, or Jinx, the same woman you've been trying to chase this whole time. Only for her to be a ghost of the past.

“Under the last drop.”

“But by that time,” you try to piece together the timeline based on all the interviews. “the last drop would've been already destroyed by Caitlyn's task force.”

“In a different last drop.” His eyes look into your own, trying to convey something that you're not privy to. He wishes that you already knew without him telling you so he doesn't have to recall it all.

“I'm confused, there's another–”

“in a different universe, with a different Jinx—Powder.”

Your eyes widen at what this could mean.

Ekko tells you everything, from start to finish. He tells you of his childhood with his friends and Benzo by his side. Then it all came crumbling down one day. He gives you all the details on how the firelights came to be, how he struggled for years before he became who he is right now. His tone is solemn, like he's telling a story that isn't his own.

With a trembling tone, Ekko recalls how he accidentally traveled to another place in another universe with Heimerdinger after Jayce showed him the titular hexcore. The place was shiny and perfect, it was everything he ever dreamed Zaun could be. What he has been working for his people this whole time. It was paradise.

You take the Z-drive and place it further away to move closer and hold his hand. Ekko surprisingly lets you, holding onto you as he continues to tell his story.

Then her name leaves his lips, the same blue haired girl you've been seeing every time you turn your head in the undercity. He said her name with trepidation, and yet, you can feel his emotions for her through the utterance. They made the device together, worked alongside the other just like he always dreamed of when he was just a boy. He missed her, unlike how the lanes missed her, but how a lover would. And not just her, another version of her too. You've deduced a long time ago that there was affection between them, but not like this, this… love was more than you ever thought they would have— had. That Ekko would have had for both versions of her.

He pauses, and you once again tell him that he can rest and take his time, but he continues with determination in his eyes. He needs someone else to know about it too, everyone who knew about the interdimensional travel is dead, he's all that's left. So when he couldn't hold onto the memory anymore, there would still be you to remember everything. With bated breath, and with every word he tells you, longing seeps out of him, a longing that can be felt through your bones. He wanted to stay, but he didn't— couldn't.

“Heimer just…” he swallows his grief, choking on all the words he hasn't said in years, all kept and locked in his mind. “He was just gone, turned into nothing. All it took was more than four seconds.” Your hand never left his own the whole time, not even when the sliver of sunlight above has faded away. “I was back in my own body, the Ekko in that world stayed with her.” His honeyed eyes look at the Z-drive sitting by his feet. “Then I was back here, talking her down from hurting herself. It took a few tries with it.” He gestures towards the machine, “but I did it, I showed her that there's still good left in her.”

“You did everything you could, Ekko. More than anyone could've done if they were in your place.” He nods, and grasps your hand in his own, squeezing it once.

“I know you have a question in that curious mind you have, spark.” He flicks his eyes over to you.

You chuckle softly, “you know me best.” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand as you continue. You've asked a million questions to thousands of people before, mostly laden questions. But nothing made you nervous like this. You're afraid that he'd get mad at you, leave you and in turn ruin what you have with him. Then you realize, you don't want to lose him. Maybe it's been in your head for a long time now, lingering and waiting to be noticed.

“Why didn't you stay in that perfect world?”

“I—” he inhales, “I have people here. I couldn't just… leave them.” His brows furrow, like a blade has stabbed him right in his heart. “I was trapped under the weight of everything I've ever wanted. But I don't belong there. Never will be.”

“You're better than anyone then, anyone would have taken the opportunity and stayed. You dug yourself out of that and left to save your own world.” Moving closer, you gently hold his bicep, making him look at you. You see the hurt swirling in those eyes. You feel it as you stare into them. “If it weren't for you coming back, Piltover, Zaun and even the whole of Runeterra would've ceased to exist. I wouldn't be here talking to you now if you caved in. You're incredibly brave, Ekko. Your act of selflessness saved us all. I may not represent the whole world, but— thank you. You're the best of all of us, Ekko.”

The corner of his lips curl into a smile. Heart filling with the same warmth you give him. “But this can't get out, right?”

You blink, he read you like an open book. “Yes, I know history has to be told, but this information cannot fall into the wrong hands.” He grasps your hand, squeezing it once, understanding your predicament to give out information without sparing a single detail. But this, this is beyond that. “If they know that there's another world out there to conquer…we can't let this get out.” You place his hand right on your heart, pleading with him. “I'm sorry, your story is important, but that's why it can't get out.”

“I know, spark. At least now this won't die with me.” Your heart drops down to your stomach from the hurt in his voice.

“It won't die with you, stop talking like you're fucking dying, Ekko, because you're not.” You reassure, moving closer, knee to knee with him as you place his hand back down to his lap. “You have me worried.”

Chuckling, Ekko's eyes flick over to your lips for a second, somehow, he wants the Z-drive to work again so that you'd hold his hand like this over and over again. “What can you write about then?”

You smile, showing how honoured and proud you are of him. “How you defeated hextech up in the tower together with the others and help clear Jinx's name and even help restore Viktor back into existence. He might've caused it all, but his contributions before that can't be erased.” Thankfully, he seems to be listening. “And how you used a device you invented with the help from Heimerdinger. Finally close his case. But I can't write anything about the other place. They could use this, they could go there and ruin that perfect place you told me.”

“Who would be able to do that? I barely got out.”

“There are forces out there that are more than capable. I'm sorry, Ekko. Please, don't let people know about the other universe. Think about the people there.” Think about her.

He looks at the walls where her mark still stays despite the ravages of time. “Okay, you have to keep it too.”

“I know, I'll take it to my grave.”

“Now who's the one sounding ominous?” He raises a brow, then stands up and dusts off his pants. You smile up at him, watching him reach out a helping hand to you. “I heard Jericho is making roast tonight.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?” He rolls his eyes at your playful jape. Taking his hand, he yanks you up. “As long as Jericho gives me your share this time.”

“I'm his favourite, spark, not you.” Ekko bends down to his knees, taking the Z-drive from the floor as he hops onto the board. “C’mon then.” He waits for you as you try to tamp down the warmth in your chest.

You stand behind him, hands instinctively placed on his waist. “Are you gonna show me where your secrets are buried?”

“If you don't stop I'll bury you with them.”

Your giggles ricochet around the walls as he takes you further below to hide the tech where it belongs together with what's left of Jinx's hideout.

—

You thought that the talk with Ekko would've brought the hatchet down between the two of you. Instead, it strengthened the bond you both already had. Ekko insists that what happened up in the hextower should be told, and you've been up all night with him inside his tree house trying to get everything right, to get every detail that happened that day. He doesn't balk at the nitty gritty side of what happened, he told you the story with truth and nothing but the truth.

The lights in his tree house were still brightly shining through his windows until the birds were chirping their morning song. And you once again found yourself waking up in his bed. Your eyes smiled at his scrunched up form on the armchair, the seat was moved closer on the bed, not sleeping on the same bed per se, but close enough to be affectionate. His cheek is squished against the armrest, face paint smudged from how he was running his hand over his face last night.

You still remembered how he spoke about everything with a soft voice, eyes downcast at his own hands as he wrote everything down for you even though you've told him that your wrist isn't hurting much anymore despite the plaster still on your hand. You sigh, still giddy at the memory from last night. And how he snuck in two cans of soup just for the two of you. He was avoiding your gaze when he explained that it was the only thing he was able to snatch from the kitchen while Jericho the chef was snoring away on the counter. He heated it up with his blowtorch and the two of you ate on the floor like a couple of students burning the midnight oil.

You move slightly to fix your posture, only to find that his stretched hand brushes along your own. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the thought of him holding your hand while he was falling asleep. Inching your hand closer, you gently wrap your index around his own. To your surprise, he closes his finger around yours. Glancing at his face, he's still in deep slumber, softly snoring away.

You want to stay there forever in his covers, and to sleep alongside him as he snores softly. But as you flick your eyes over to his pocket watch on the bedside table, the clock ticks close to midday. Gently unwrapping your finger around his warmth, you carefully flip the covers away from you. Your feet meet the cold hardwood floor, wood squeaking under your weight. Wincing, you take a look at Ekko, expecting him to wake up from the sound.

His sleeping face makes you smile fondly at him. “Like a baby.” You whisper into the room. Sneaking around, you gather your things, holding onto your boots and satchel around your shoulder. But before you leave, you quietly rip a page from your notebook to leave him a note.

Went to the doctor to get my cast off. Thank you for last night, make sure you eat something! Love, spark.

You tamp down a giggle by biting your lip as you scribble down a doodle of him sleeping and drooling all over the armchair. Satisfied, you place the note on his work table under a wrench. As you carefully make your way towards the door, you give him one last look. But you end up coming back to the bed, and flinging off the covers to gently lay it atop him instead of just his jacket keeping him warm. Patting it down silently, you smile and go back towards the door. All without making a squeak.

Victoriously, you leave the room with a soft smile.

Ekko opens his eyes once the doors click close, groggily looking at the empty bed that still bears your shape, and how the air still carries the lingering scent of your perfume. He notices the blanket around him, smiling and closing his eyes for another minute of sleep.

—

The way you abruptly opened the door to his treehouse was a stark contrast to how you closed it just this morning. “I knew I'd find you here!”

Ekko almost jumps in his skin, immediately hiding the project he was making under a sheet of metal. Your letter is tacked on the wall together with his important notes, he doesn't have enough time to hide that one. He looks over his shoulder, lips pursed into feigned annoyance.

“I told them to tell you that I was out on patrol.”

You shrug, beaming at him as you close the door with a well timed kick. “Your firelights don't like lying to me.”

“You bribed them, didn't you?” He narrows his eyes at you while you saunter confidently towards him.

“Nope, I just gave them the ol’ noxian glare.” You perch yourself on the table, hands bracing yourself.

“What does it look like?” He plays along, back leaning against the chair and yanking off his goggles to rest atop his head. He tilts his head as he stares at you with a raised brow. The warm light casts a shadow on him, which doesn't help your already clammy hands.

You lean close and make a face. “Like this.” Exaggerating your features, you make a ridiculous face, twitching eye and all.

Ekko laughs, shaking his head. He finally notices your hand free of the cast. “You got it off?”

“Mm-hmm!” You grin, leaning away as you show off your new and improved wrist as if you're showing off a diamond ring. “It's so much stronger now.” Opening and closing your hand, your heart almost stops when he takes your previously broken wrist in his hands gently, thumbs running along your skin like he's checking out new hardware. “That’s what the doctor told me.” Your voice wavers off as he kneads your palm.

“I highly doubt that.” He finds himself massaging your hand, so he gently lets you go as he clears his throat. “That's a myth.”

You inhale, steadying your quick heartbeat whilst you unconsciously run your finger over the warm skin he touched. “It's not, I broke my ribs once and now I can take a hundred punches to the chest.”

His brows knit together with concern. “Please don't tell me you tested it out.”

Raising your chin, you give him a smug smile. “I am a researcher, Ekko.” Chuckling, you nudge his shoulder gently. “I'm fucking with you.” He rolls his eyes, twisting in his seat to look at you better. Knee to knee, you try to make conversation. “What're you working on?”

“Just some parts,” you sense something's off. “What else did the doctor say?” He deflects and you wave your suspicions away.

“Just that it healed well. And he told me that you're due for a checkup. You didn't come back after you got your stitches out.” Poking his bicep, you tease him. “You're in trouble.”

Ekkk grabs your poking finger, and you clamp shut from the look in his eyes that spells either your demise or he's about to take a chunk out of your finger.

“I'm fine,” he says as he drops your hand to your own disappointment. “I don't need a doctor telling me I need more vitamin C.”

“You do need more vitamin C though.” Teasing, you try to take a peek at his work table, only for him to place both hands atop it to stop you from yanking the sheet metal away. “Fine, keep your secrets. But I'm not keeping mine.”

“Sevika and Vi are holding a party for you at the opening of the last drop.”

“Don't forget Caitlyn— hey! Who told you?”

“No one, I read it on your face.” Ekko puffs out his chest. Now he's the one smiling smugly. He'll never tell you that the firelights invited him first.

Scrunching up your face, you try to tamp down your grin. “You're no fun anymore.”

Beaming up at you, Ekko pokes your knee. “You haven't seen fun yet, spark.”

“Oh, so you're going to show me your dance moves then?”

He blinks, remembering the last time he danced. Remembering that last person he danced with. “I don't dance.”

You hop down from the table. “And here I thought I would get to dance with you before I leave Piltover.” Hoisting up your satchel, you turn to leave. “Anyway, please come to the party. I would love to see you there.”

Ekko's jaw tightens for a second before relaxing. In his bliss, he forgot that you have to go back home. To your real home. “Where are you going?” He follows you with his gaze, chair twisting around to look back at your retreating form.

“Lots of writing to do before I submit my first draft.” You sigh, already feeling the headache you'll have after hours and hours of work. “So I better get going— ah shit!” Eyes widening, you rummage through your bag and hand an envelope to Ekko. “Almost forgot, Babette's man gave this to me, which is weird because it's addressed to you.” Crossing the small distance, you give him the simple envelope. “Said something about apologising to me? I don't know what that meant when she was already cleared by the enforcers that she didn't have anything to do with what happened to us.”

Ekko takes the letter, brows furrowed together with worry. Knowing that the madam deals in secrets, he has a feeling of what's inside. “It's probably nothing, spark.”

“Do you think it's a coupon for the Vyx?” You swallow thickly, perishing the thought from your mind.

“If it is, I don't have use for it.” Ekko tosses the envelope haphazardly on the table, and can't hide the hopeful smile from appearing on your lips when he looks at you as he said those words. “Go and work, spark. Be careful, yeah?”

“I'll just be at my apartment, firefly. It's the safest place for me, apart from here.” You turn to leave, hand already on the doorknob when he calls your name softly. “Yeah?” Looking over your shoulder, he looks like he's about to stand up and make his way towards you— But is refraining from closing the distance.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he shakes his head. “Nothing, good luck.”

You nod, chest feeling heavy. “I'm going to need it, thank you. I'll see you in a few days, Ekko.”

As you shut the door, Ekko stares at the space you left. He listens in for your retreating footsteps before opening the envelope.

—

You're supposed to be writing today, but you can barely hold a pen after writing for three days straight. You went out of your apartment with an excuse of needing some fresh air, you don't intend to walk into Zaun with the sole purpose of seeing a certain white haired firelights leader. Well, maybe you are when your own feet move on instinct towards the firelights hideout.

As you cross the bridge of progress, your nose picks up something burning, like metal searing against melted iron. Heeding it no mind, thinking that it's just a smell from one of the factories in the undercity, you continue to walk through the busy bridge and into the city. A few people greet you as you walk by, their familiar faces politely smile at you. You wave back, smiling in return. Continuing to walk towards the lanes, the smell turns stronger, smoke wafting over your nose. Passing by the newly built last drop and Vander's statue, you decide to follow the smoke.

Your heart thuds in your chest, worry inching closer as you run towards a blaze nearby. An echoing commotion has you sprinting faster. Turning a corner, your eyes widen when you see an old building going up in flames. People rush by, trying to get their belongings incase the fire spreads to their buildings. Enforcers and civilians help by bringing in buckets of water and hosing the fire down. It's nowhere near the hideout, nor a place you know anyone lives in. You remember it being abandoned in the first place. But the way that the firelights gather around it in their ash covered hair and coughing up while they desperately try to get everyone out, your worries solidify when you don't see Ekko amongst the crowd.

Hands balling into fists, you try to unfurl it but it freezes in place, knuckles shaking, nails digging into your flesh. You bolt off towards the fire, heat kissing your cheeks and embers flying past you.

“Spark!” Sevika stops you, grabbing and stopping you before you get further in. “Stop!” She grasps onto you as you try to escape from her hold.

“Where—” your frantic eyes look at her. “What happened?”

“We got a tip that the last shimmer factory was here.” She exhales shakily, palm clammy on top of your shoulder. “It— shit hit the fan. We got most of them thanks to Ekko—”

“Where is he?” You almost scream. “Sevika, where is he now?” Taking her by the shoulder, your voice trembles, and her hold on you loosens. “Is he—”

“He's still inside—”

You sprint immediately, pushing Sevika off and running away before she could get a hold of you again. Familiar faces whizz past you, their calls falling on deaf ears as you ignore their cries. You inhale smoke and ash, heat blasting against your face. For a second, you're back home, standing on the ashes of your brother's laboratory with your palms still smoldering.

Enforcers help around the burning building, some tend to the wounded, a few help with crowd control. Steb finds you running, and he lifts his arm to try and stop you.

“Red, no!”

You dodge his hand, the pads of his fingers briefly brushing against your arm. Continuing on, no one can stop you as you jump over debris, and dodge concerned firelights and enforcers.

Before you brave the flames, Scar appears from within the fire, coughing and heaving out while Vi helps him carry out a platinum haired man in their arms with an owl mask still on his face.

Your heart drops to your stomach when you see his limp head lolling down to his chest. And the golden charm you gave him is covered in ashes as they drag him out of the fire.

“Ekko!” Quickly running towards him, you grasp at his face and he falls over you as Vi and Scar are trying to catch their breaths on the heated ground. You collapse on your knees, holding him and frantically slipping off his mask and then wiping away the ash on his face with your hand and sleeve. His eyes are closed, and breathing weakly. “Wake up for me, Ekko!” Shaking his shoulder, you roam your eyes for a medic. “Help!”

“We need some help here!” Vi yells, voice cracking, eyes wide as she stares at Ekko. Scar runs towards the nearest medic, trying to drag him towards you and Ekko.

“Hey.” You snap your head towards his weak voice.

“Holy shit!” Gasping, you give him a relieved smile. “What were you still doing in there?” You're already planning a way to fight back at the last chem baron who did this to him and the firelights.

“You're loud,” He wheezes, hand slowly reaching up to your face, thumb smearing the ash off of your cheek. His eyes flutter shut, hand limping and sliding off your face. “Stay with me, d–don’t do anything stupid.”

You cradle him in your arms, palm placed on his heart, “how'd you know I was already planning revenge, huh, firefly?” Your tone oozes affection.

“Because,” He heaves, “I know you, Powder.”

A tear flows down your cheek, clearing a path around the ash. The breath in your lungs is taken from your lips, “Medic!”

—

His dreams were a garbled mess of blue and red.

Ekko wakes up in the infirmary, chest panting, brown eyes frantically looking around. There's an oxygen mask on his face, helping him breathe through the panic. His breathing evens out when he sees you sleeping on the rickety chair next to him. Your head is on the mattress, laying beside his hip whilst you're clutching onto an ash covered rag as if it's your life line. Your face is tucked in your arms, but you don't seem to be sleeping from how tense your shoulders are.

The room smells of antiseptic and bleach that makes his nose itch. The humming lights and ceiling fans has him feeling right at home as the quiet snores of his fellow firelights fill the infirmary. He knows this place well from his numerous visits as the leader of the firelights and as a patient. Inhaling deeply at the clean oxygen, he weakly raises his hand up to yank it off and place it atop his chest.

Then, he simply places his palm on top of your head, and you immediately spring awake. Your eyes are red, heavy bags weighing you down. Shirt disheveled and crumpled, you look like you're the one who escaped death not him.

You try to speak but you don't find the words.

Ekko's hand slips from your head, falling down until you catch it mid fall. Placing his hand gently down to the bed, you give him a weak smile and take your hand back to his dismay.

“I'll call the doctor—” You try to get up, but his hand upon your wrist stops you. His grip is weak, but the determination is there.

Ekko calls your name, not spark, not red, your name, the last thing he heard in his dreams. “Can—” he coughs, and you immediately grab a glass of water from the bedside.

“Drink, it'll help.” Helping him sit up on the bed, your hand is propping him up by holding his back, while your other hand gently tilts the glass to his dry lips. “The doctor said you inhaled too much smoke, you should keep the mask on. Coupling that up with a few minor injuries from the fight—” you should've been there with him, knowing that he was there partly because of you. “he said that you'll be fine within a few days.”

He gulps down, and you help him sit against the headboard as he watches the melancholy look you have in your eyes. “What's wrong?” He asks you as if he's not the one abed.

“Nothing.” You place the glass back, and you unfurl your fists again only to curl it around itself once more. “Just— you got me— us worried for a second. I thought I would have to leave Piltover without a goodbye from you.”

“I’m fine, I've got great lungs.”

You chuckle weakly at his attempt at a joke. “Okay, I'll let you rest.” Patting his hand with the intention of saying goodbye, he unexpectedly intertwines his fingers around your own. “Ekko.” You sigh, not having the heart to yank yourself off.

“Were you here the entire time?”

“Yeah, you told me to. Or—” you swallow down thickly. “You told…Powder.” Ekko furrows his brows, the hurt is evident in your tone. “I did stay, even if that wasn't intended for me.”

“I called you Powder?” He's in disbelief at himself.

“Do I look like her, Ekko?” You blurt out, fingers trembling around his. He shakes his head, still holding onto your hand. “I thought—” you scoff at yourself. “Nevermind, just get some rest, okay?” You turn to leave, reluctantly pulling your hand away from him.

He calls your name, and the next thing he sees is the door closing shut behind you.

You inhale the fresh air as night slowly turns to dusk. You curl your fists, knuckles shaking as you still feel the heat against your skin. It would've hurt less if you don't feel anything for him, a knife to the chest would've hurt far less than this. Tears prick at your eyes, but you quickly wipe it away.

Crickets chirp from the bushes around the hideout as fireflies roam just above the gingko tree. Its leaves sways in the summer breeze, wind carrying your tethered sorrow within your stubborn heart.

“Do you even want to go home?” His voice suddenly appearing from behind has you immediately twisting around towards him.

Ekko clutches at his side, panting from the short walk while his lungs still haven't recovered just yet. His brown eyes shine under the moonlight as fireflies flutter close by.

“Shit, Ekko, you should be in bed!” You quickly close the distance, holding onto him before he collapses. He wheezes and lets out a dry cough whilst you whisk him away towards the nearby bench. “What are you doing out here?” You gently place him down, kneeling before him as his hand refuses to let you go. “I need to get you back inside.”

“No,” he coughs against the crook of his arm. “Stay.”

“Why are you being stubborn?” Your frustration is evident in your tone as you gently grasp his face. “Ekko, let's go back inside—”

“You haven't…” he exhales shakily, croaking out the words. “You haven't answered my question.”

“You interviewing me now?”

He meets with your eyes, his weak grip around your wrist. “Do you even want to go home?”

“I—” You purse your lips together, “Why did you want to go home when you were there with her? You've got no one here.”

He clenches his eyes shut at your deflection. Then he opens them again, looking at you fondly. *Always a dance with you. The words slither back into his mind. “I've got my people.”

“Yes, but they aren't her.” You push down everything you're feeling. Hurt, frustration, anger, and love. Standing up, for a second Ekko thinks you're about to run away, but that's not you, you don't run. As you sit beside him, he watches the moonlight frame the side of your face. “I—I remind you of her. Don't I? Is that why you've taken a liking to me?”

Ekko tries to reach for your hand but retracts it back to his lap. “Sometimes you do.” You close your eyes shut, unfurling and closing your fists. “I know you're not her.” His words are laced with grief.

“I'll never be her, Ekko.” You stare at his hand, wanting nothing else but to hold him. “I’m sorry I can't be her.”

“I know,” he finally faces you fully and holds your hand and slowly and gently unfurls each of your fists. “You're you, and that's enough for me.” More than enough. “Never be sorry for being you.” He says your name softly and full of love that you've forgotten how to breathe. “Do you want to stay?” With me? He utters the words with hope as his thumbs knead over the scars along the back of your hand.

“I–I’m not sure, all I know is that It's…easier here.” You look at him with melancholy. “Somehow, you made it easy, Ekko.”

He says your name as he fights his own instinct from placing his head on your shoulder. Your palm shakes as you hold him against you, cradling his head with such care that only a lover could provide. You've never seen him so vulnerable, not the leader, or the savior, just a man who has grown too tired to bare his teeth to the world. For once in almost four years, he lets his walls crumble further down, to bridge whatever gap is left between you, to be held and cared for.

“You make it impossible to hate you, Ekko.” You whisper to him, all truth and full of endearment for the man next to you.

Ekko's cheek is pressed against your skin, eyes closing as he listens to your faint breathing. His arm snakes around your back, fingers holding onto your waist as he lets your perfume wash over him until the scent of ash and smoke leaves his side only to be replaced by your presence.

“I—I understand how it feels. The grief…the longing.” You whisper so quietly that if he wasn't so close to you he wouldn't have heard you above the crickets. “Sometimes you assume you've moved on because you haven't thought of them for a while, but then you see a flower growing in the cracks of pavement—” you sniff, laying against him carefully. He holds onto you close. Just two people letting their grief lap at them like the tides. “The petals are in the same hue that reminds you of their eyes. Or a word said by someone else that they used to say all the damn time.” You chuckle bittersweetly. “Even splattered paint on a wall that's the same shade as their hair. It reminds you of them, it all reminds you who you lost.”

Reaching for his other hand, you enclose your fingers around him, letting his warmth soothe you. For the first time in a long time, you don't feel afraid whenever heat holds you close. You find it— him comforting you simply by being near his warmth. It no longer burns you or reminds you of the past, it lights up the path away from your shuttered past.

“I may not live a hundred lifetimes, but I've loved and lost too, Ekko.” You watch as his eyes gravitate towards your intertwined hands. “And I know we can't keep away from their song that's stuck in our heads but we can lower the music, not tune it out completely— let it keep us company like they have before. All I ask is for you to not quiet down my own song when I leave.”

With a simple broken look from him, you know that he doesn't want you to leave. And all you want from him is to ask you to stay, and you would. He hasn't.

“Out of all the universe out there, I just thought that you could love me in this one.” You smile at him, heart weighing heavy.

“Maybe I could…I could love you in this one.” Maybe he already has.

You chuckle, skin warm as you gently take his face and press a sweet lingering kiss on his cheek. You're at a loss for words. “I lied, I can't read you like an open book.”

“Then,” he wheezes but quickly composes himself. Sitting up, he holds onto your cheek, letting you lean against him. “Let me tell you. I want to wake up to your face every morning, for you to stitch me up together again. To tell me I'm not all that,” you chuckle, cheeks wet with tears that he wipes off with a careful thumb. “And to hold me just like this every night.” He swallows down his fear of rejection. “You told me that I don't have to be afraid of losing it all anymore, but I'm scared of losing you. You're not impossible to love, spark.” His hand trembles, chest aching for what he's about to say. “I can't ask you to stay. You've got places to be, a promise to keep. I can't be the one who'll hold you back.”

Nodding, you lean close, embracing him as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Then see me off,” he presses a featherlight kiss on your temple, an immediate yes. “Come to the last drop, dance with me like it won't be the last time.” Please ask me to stay.

Ekko holds you as if you're about to be taken away from him as he whispers a ‘yes’ against your warm skin. Incredibly warm. You feel like the sun against his flesh. But he doesn't let go or flinch away from the heat, he holds you tight, he'll be the one to fan away the flames, even if it's only for a brief time.

As your tears stain his shirt, your conflicted mind feels like there's a storm raging inside, pins and needles ebbing through your body, palms hot and sweating. But at the same time, you want to live, to have your cake and eat it too— and to love and be loved by simply being you. You'll find a way to stay, all without breaking your promise. It could be impossible, but you were raised to defy the impossible.

—

A week has passed, and Ekko kept his silent promise to you. He arrived at the last drop later than he intended, the party was already in full swing as he entered through the familiar establishment. The whole place was renovated, walls no longer seared with misshapen strange marks. Floors that aren't sticky are replaced with non-slip tiles that are perfect for the days when it gets too rowdy and the drinks start sloshing around. He still remembers the tables back then, how he used to spend some time there during the mornings when the place was still closed. As he takes a whiff of the air, it doesn't smell like the awfully familiar scent of amber and gunpowder anymore. It's like every bit of it was replaced but the foundation is still there, the history and the memories he had there still lingers in the walls.

As he moves through the crowd, colorful spotlights flicker in and out whilst music blasts from the speakers. Everyone who you've made friends with was there, he never realized that you even talked to this many people throughout your time in the two cities. He casually looks for you amidst the dancing bodies, but you're not there. Ekko sidles up to the bar, perching himself over to a stool, head on a swivel for your familiar crimson colors.

“You looking for someone in particular?” Sevika appears from behind the bar, polishing a glass and sliding it towards him expertly.

“What are you doing here?” His brows knit together in confusion.

“We answering questions with another question now?”

Ekko turns towards the bar, arms on the table as he rolls his eyes at the council member. “Spark, she said she'll meet me here.”

Sevika's lips curl into a knowing smile. “I volunteered to bartend, it's either this or stay through the ceremony. I swear every anniversary it keeps getting longer and longer.” She sniffs, shaking her head. “I like to remember the dead like this rather than cry about it with the others.”

Ekko's eyes widened for a second. “I forgot that it's today.”

“Mm-hmm, time flies by, huh? Four fucking years now.” She sighs, tapping on his empty glass. “What's your poison?”

“Whatever's faster for you to pour.”

Sevika scoffs, metal arm clinking against the clear bottle as she pours him a generous amount. “Gin then.”

His nose scrunches at the smell. “Sure.” Taking the drink, he twists back in his seat to face the dancefloor, hoping to finally get a glimpse of you.

Sevika leans over the bar with her own amber drink in hand. “You clean up well, Ekko.”

Ekko takes a sip of the alcohol, feeling the warmth line his esophagus. “You're not my type, Sevika.”

She lets out a guffaw, hand slamming down on his shoulder, making him almost spit out his drink. “Oh I know exactly what your type is. Someone who likes to play with fire, has an explosive personality, fucking smart.” As she talks, he sees you enter the tavern, shrugging off your red jacket and revealing an emerald dress underneath, shedding off all the red you used to wear. Sevika seems to notice it too as she follows Ekko's line of sight. From the way he quietly gasps as if air has been taken from his lungs, her suspicions from the beginning were right all along. “Can fight like hell, a good time to be around with, makes you smile. And most of all.” You wave towards Steb and saunter towards the bar to the beat of the music. “She's right in front of you, kid.”

“I have eyes, Sevika.”

“Oh I know, just wanted to remind you just in case you forgot or else I'll swoop in and replace you—” you make it to them with a bashful smile as your eyes sparkle under the lights. “Hey, spark!” Sevika clasps Ekko's shoulder again, hand heavy on top of him. “Fancy a drink?”

“Hi, councilor Sevika.” You say in a sing-song tone. “And no thank you.” She shrugs in reply, watching the interaction. Turning your attention to Ekko, your smile widens. “Hi, firefly, you look handsome as ever.”

Your eyes roam all over his outfit. From the turtle neck tank top that cinces his waist perfectly, to the dark green button up that's only buttoned at the last three silver buttons that makes you and Ekko look like you planned the whole outfit together. He has you weak in the knees. His lean arms are on display, sleeves rolled up neatly up to his elbows. You're glued on how his bicep catches the spotlight just right. As you obviously ogle him, your eyes bring you towards the warm yellow hue of his straight cut pants that's all held up by a simple silver belt. He kept his regular boots on, always on the go and ready to strike into action. But this time, his shoelaces are all tied together and not hanging loose. Ekko rolls his eyes, sighing deeply and bashfully as he rubs the back of his neck from how your eyes look him up and down like you're about to grade him on his look.

You smile, tamping down a giggle at the charm you gave him that's still on his hair. The light catches something on his chest, where the breast pocket is. And when you glance at it, you see a single red wildflower pinned to the fabric. A simple way of showing his affection but it makes your heart skip a beat nonetheless.

Sevika scoffs against the rim of her glass. Rolling her eyes and resisting the urge to push Ekko towards you to finally get some peace from the obvious pining.

“And you too— I mean, you look amazing— beautiful. Really really beautiful.” Fumbling, Ekko wants the ground to crack open and swallow him up. It's just you, and you help remind him of that fact with your smile and your hand reaching for him.

“Care to dance?”

Sevika whispers in his ear. “If you don't dance with her, I will.”

“Augh, this drink suddenly tastes like sewer water.” Ekko makes a face and you giggle at the two of them.

Sevika plucks the glass from his hand, “you'd know.” Pushing him off the stool, he almost stumbles towards you but you catch him with your hand on his elbows. But he accidentally steps on your foot from how he tried to balance himself without falling on top of you. “Shit, sorry.” He immediately takes his foot off of yours.

You wince, smile staying on your lips despite the mishap. “We haven't even started yet and you're already trying to break my toes.” Pulling him towards the dance floor, he lets you guide him with a lopsided smile on his lips. “Show me what you've got, firefly.”

“I've got nothing,” he awkwardly sways to the music as you start to dance to the dynamic and rich music. “You picked the wrong partner.”

Grabbing his hand, you lace your fingers with his whilst you help him move to the beat. “I didn't choose wrong,” you move closer, stepping in and out as you beam at him. “In fact, I chose right. I can't dance either!” Chuckling, you let him go as you twirl around the dance floor. “When other kids had dancing or piano lessons, I had shooting lessons!”

Ekko laughs at your plucky dancing. He takes your hand and holds it up to help you twirl around. As you move, the memory of Powder dancing in your place flickers in his eyes, blues and pinks flying across his vision. Then the kaleidoscope of lights shine on you once again and he's facing your smiling face and not her anymore.

Your laughter echoes in his mind, then it's replaced with hers until your hand is on his chest, and he's face to face with his spark again.

Tilting your head at him, your eyes narrow with concern. “Something wrong? You went somewhere else there for a second.”

Ekko brings his hands over to your own, holding you against him as he sways the two of you to the music. “Nothing wrong,” he smiles, tears pricking his eyes. You feel like sunshine on his skin, a reprieve from the cold. “I'm right where I'm meant to be.”

“Good!” You happily exclaim above the music as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than ever while he laughs and holds onto your waist. “Because I'm about to show you a noxian dance that's meant to strike fear into the hearts of men.”

“We're just swaying, spark.” He chuckles, chest warm as he keeps a hold on you lest you knock someone over on the dancefloor.

Your loud guffaw catches the attention of Vi and Caitlyn in their own little corner in the tavern. They give you a wave, and you greet them with a smile. All the while, Ekko's eyes never leave your face as he stares lovingly at you.

—

“Hey.” Ekko's voice appears from behind, and you smile at him from your place on the small balcony atop the last drop. “Thought I lost you to Sevika.”

You look over your shoulder as the lights of Piltover and Zaun provide a backdrop of you. The night is filled with glorious warm lights, a tradition to honour the people who were lost four years ago.

“Or Steb.”

He groans, making you laugh. “The fish guy, really?”

“The question is, why not?” You joke as he makes his way over to you.

Ekko has a sense of déjà vu. But this time, the world doesn't feel like it's on his shoulders. And yet, just like last time, he's on borrowed time.

“I got your jacket, figured you'd get cold up here.” He unfolds the fabric and holds it up to you.

Standing up, you smile through it as he helps you put it on. He even helps with fixing the collar. As he runs his warm hands over your shoulders, you can't help but feel like this is goodbye. It is, but you can't let it end like this, not when you've found your place.

You put your hand in your pocket, and find something metallic and cold inside. Your brows knit together as you lift it up. “What?”

“It's for you, to remind you of the lanes.”

Raising the silver chain, you see the familiar green sea glass surrounded by a simple frame that's engraved with a tiny firefly.

“It's beautiful.” You gasp at the sight of the light reflecting on the glass. Flicking your eyes at him, you find that he's already looking at you with affection. “Help me put it on?”

With a nod and a smile, he picks up the necklace and wraps it around your wrist. Locking the clasp, his thumb brushes along the scar left by the previous broken wrist.

“I love it, thank you, Ekko.”

He hums, brows slightly together, lips slightly parted as he brings your hand over to his heart. The two of you stare at each other for a while with a hundred words unsaid between you.

“Ekko,” you whisper his name as a breeze passes by. “I talked to Mel,” his eyes shine, hands still on your wrist. Shadows dance on his face as he waits for the news. “She approved the first draft, and would like for me to continue my research.”

“T–That’s good then.” His voice trembles with a silent protest.

“She also asked me to travel with her.” You play with a loose thread on his sleeve. Ekko's breath hitches in his throat. “I accepted the offer. But on one condition.” He calls your name, hands clammy atop your skin. “I get to stay here when she doesn't need me. And once I'm done with field research and interviews I get to write it all here. Not in some ship and not in Noxus.” You ramble, inhaling and exhaling as you wait for his reply. He stays quiet, staring at the moon behind you. “I–I want to stay, Ekko. I've got no one back home. With your permission I'll make this place my home too. And with Mel's help I can publish everything from here. A–And I can travel from time to time for research just like before and— for the love of everything that's good, please say something.” You give him a gentle nudge, anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

“You’re staying?” He asks, neck craning to look at you.

“Yes— mostly. But yes, I get to stay.” Grinning, you bite your lip, and your smile falters when he lets his hands drop to his sides. “I thought—”

“Can we start over?”

“What? Do you want me to explain it to you again?” You nervously laugh.

Ekko shakes his head, chestnut eyes staring into your sad ones. “I want to be better this time. Just like you said, we got off on the wrong foot.”

“If we didn't we wouldn't be here right now. Your stubborn ass got us here.” You reassure him, taking your hand and pressing a kiss on his knuckles.

“We take it slow, I won't be an asshole this time. Just– please stay. I want you to stay.”

You smile, nodding along, understanding that starting a relationship after everything he lost would be difficult for him. “Okay, we'll take it as slow as you want it to be. And I'm not trying to replace her, I just—” It's hard to find the right words for how you feel about him because love isn't enough, it transcends above it. How ironic that a writer cannot find the correct word. It seems love does that to a person. You forget the simplest thing to the most complicated emotion. And yet, he still hasn't let you go. So you decide to show it to him instead.

You want to be good for him.

You may not have been the first to his heart, but you'll be the one permanently etched in him. Hopefully forever if you let him.

Twisting his hand gently, you shake his hand in greeting, taking his request seriously. Telling him your name, he chuckles and shakes his head. “I'm from Noxus, and I'm here for research. I'm a historian you see, a really good one I've heard.” Winking, you grin as your eyes get foggy while tears gather in them. “If you're willing, can we be friends?”

Ekko takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes, he forgoes on his previous words. Pulling you by the hand abruptly, yanking you towards him until you collide into his chest. He takes your breath away as he presses his lips upon your own.

You gasp, eyes widened for a second before you reciprocate the kiss. Eyes closed, you hold him in your arms as your fingers run up the scruff of his hair and weave through the strands, pushing him impossibly closer against you. He tastes like mint, the warmth from the alcohol still lingering on his lips, ebbing to yours.

His nose bumps into your own, teeth clicking with his, but you two don't seem to mind as your lips kiss in tandem. Finding a rhythm, you smile as he pecks your lips lovingly. All the push and pulling has culminated into the kiss, needy and wanting to feel every inch of each other’s lips.

Ekko hums, the vibrations felt through the kiss and down to your chest. You feel like pliant clay in his hands as his palm is splayed over the small of your back, pads of his fingers pushing you closer until there's not a sliver of space between you. His thumb brushes along your cheek, feeling a tear slide down to his finger.

Ekko reluctantly pulls away for air, chasing oxygen at the sight of your kiss bitten lips.

“What happened to starting over?” You ask, half giggling, half in shock.

“I couldn't wait that long, sorry. I should've asked—”

You pull him back towards you, his knees touching your own, and his hands gripping onto your hips. “Thank you for not making me wait.” This time, you cup his face and lean in.

He kisses you softly, like it's the first time.

—

Your head rests upon Ekko's clavicle, hands tucked under the warm blanket as you sit on his lap whilst he makes himself comfortable on the same armchair you've grown fond of. Instead of reading with him, you watch his face as he audibly reads the final draft of your book, lips mouthing the words as he utters it. He glances at you from time to time, reacting to the words you poured blood and sweat into. It's not published yet since it's still pending approval from the council and Mel. But you'd rather have them take their sweet time since it means that you get to spend more time in the undercity with him until it's time to go out into the world once again.

He's getting an exclusive look at the book, its cover is stark white with golden trim that represents Piltover. And its brilliant lettering is in forest green, the same color your name is printed in. It represents Zaun, but for you and Ekko, it's a little secret for the two of you to share. It simply shows the love and care for the man before you.

“You said you'd read it with me.” He whispers, temple nudging your own as he reads with his eyes.

“I am.”

“No, you're just staring at me like I owe you money.” Ekko side glances at you, his fingers resting on your stomach pinches you playfully.

“Technically you do since you haven't paid me for the bet you lost.” Smirking, you poke his belly, finding nothing but lean muscle underneath.

He shoots you a look as you slowly lean up to kiss his jaw. “You promised, spark.” He says as if he's chastising a rowdy cat that's about to push a glass off the table. “We have to finish reading this or you'll ask me to read it all over again.”

You suck in your teeth, pouting at him and stopping from making your moves on him. He seems a bit disappointed that you actually conceded so easily. He was hoping for a bit of resistance at least.

“Well, how would I know if you like it?”

“I already love it.” Ekko places the bookmark you made for him in between the pages and closes the thick book. He turns to you fully, placing the book down on your lap and twisting to the side to hold you close. “The others will love it too, I'm sure.”

“I don't care what they think.” You place your palms on his chest, right above his heart as you gaze at him softly. “I only care what you think.”

He sighs longingly, ogling your face as if he currently doesn't have you on his lap and staring at him with so much love. “That would work if I'm the only person who's gonna read it.”

“Don't remind me that the whole of Runeterra will get to read my mess!”

Thumping your head on the crook of his neck, you groan like a petulant child not getting what they wanted for her birthday. He chuckles, hand petting your head as he presses a weighted kiss on your hairline.

“It's not a mess.” Whispering, Ekko reassures you. “I love it.” He shakes you lovingly but you don't budge.

He thinks that the looming date where you have to leave has finally gotten to you. Coupled that with the anxiety of your first solo work getting published— you haven't left his side in months. Ekko doesn't mind though, he got a bigger bed for the tree house just for the occasion. You didn't miss a beat at asking to stay with him for the time being the second you saw the new drawers and writing desk in a corner of the room.

“There's one thing though.” Ekko pauses, waiting for your reaction. Sure enough, you lift your head up, eyes narrowed to peek at him. “Just one criticism.”

You fully raise your head up, brows slightly furrowed together. “Okay.”

He acts out a wince. “Nah, it's nothing.”

Letting out an offended gasp, you take him by the collar, staring into his eyes, acting menacing. All he could do was give you a lopsided smile full of mischief.

“Ekko.”

“It's nothing.”

“Tell me!” You shake him until his laughter echoes throughout the tree house.

Ekko grasps at your face, puckering your lips and squishing your cheeks together. “Alright. Ask nicely.”

“No.” He raises a brow at your stubbornness. You're going to miss this once you leave. And you'll be looking forward to times like these when you get back home. “Fine, please.”

Ekko smiles victoriously. “The boy who shattered time.”

“What about it? It's the name I gave you in the book, you said you didn't like boy savior too much.” You shrug as he lets your cheeks go, arm wrapping over your hips as he listens in with a grin. “Besides, no one will truly know what it meant, and people will just think that you have that title because of the Z-drive.”

“Love, you're rambling.” He says with the utmost love in his tone.

“W–Well, I'm explaining myself.” The term of endearment that he has grown fond of using on you makes you stutter.

“I like it.” He chuckles, tracing your side with his knuckle. “It's better than boy savior, but couldn't you have made it the man who shattered time instead?”

“Hm no, it doesn't have the same ring to it. Don't worry though, you're my man.” Cuddling close to him, you take your sweet time at nuzzling his chest.

“You're a sap.” He says, hiding the sudden bout of flusteredness. Despite his words, he embraces you as he rests his chin atop your head.

“I love you too, Ekko.”

With a chuckle, he says the same three words to you, whispering your name gently against your skin. You can't help but cuddle closer, filling him with warmth as you smile atop his chest.

His heart feels full at the moment. He wants to stay like this forever, to hold you in his arms while you whisper kind and loving words to him. You want it too, but alas, there will be times when the two of you will be miles apart. But that makes the reunion much sweeter.

“I have something for you.”

Staring up at him, you look at him with curious eyes. “A present? For me?” You exclaim excitedly as he laughs and taps your thigh for you to lean away so he could grab it from under the armchair. “You hid it under my nose. Smart.”

Ekko hands you the present that's neatly tied together with a green ribbon. You take it carefully in your hands, unwrapping it as you clamp down your squeals with your teeth biting into your lower lip.

Your eyes scan the rectangle shaped device that has square buttons and a clear piece of plastic on the top. He encourages you to press the left most button by simply staring between you and the said button. As you press it, the plastic covering opens up and reveals another black rectangle with two circles on each side. You eye the curious thing.

“What is it?” You ask after wracking your brain for what it could be, giving up as you stare at it with a perplexed look.

“It's a recording device,” he points at the black rectangle that popped right out of it. “And that's a tape you can use to record sounds with.” You stare at him with wide eyes. “You're not the only one who has contacts from other countries. I got the blueprints for this one from Demacia.”

“You made this for me?” You feel like you're about to cry.

He senses it too, so he holds you closer, making you scooch as close as humanly possible to him. “Yeah, and a shit ton of tapes for you so you don't run out.” He sees your eyes water, and without missing a beat, he embraces you in his arms, pulling you towards his chest once again. “So you can come home to us faster.”

You lean back, hand pressing gently on the back of his neck as you stare longingly at his lips. He lets you lead as his soft lips brush along yours.

“You'll wait for me?” You whisper against his waiting lips.

“As long as it takes.”

A/N: please consider reblogging if you liked it!!

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[rootedinrevisions]

Hard Shell, Soft Heart

SUMMARY: Scott Miller has a reputation. He's tough, no-nonsense, and all business when it comes to storm chasing. But when the season winds down and his team finds themselves stranded without a place to stay, Scott shocks everyone by inviting them to his home just north of the Missouri border. What they don’t expect is the man he turns into when he's home - a devoted husband, soon-to-be father, and complete softie for his wife. As the team settles in for the night, they witness a side of Scott they never imagined, proving that even the hardest shells can hold the softest hearts.

WARNING: None. This one's pretty fluffy.

A/N: Thank you to @h-ngm-nssluttt for sending in the request for this! I really hope you enjoy it and I appreciate your patience and udnerstanding as I know it's taken a while for me to get it finished!

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

TAGS: I just realized I don't have a tag list for Scott. I have one for Tyler, Javi, and Boone. So feel free if you'd like to be tagged in any future Scott stuff!

The sun hung high in the sky as the Storm Par team pulled off the highway, the rumble of their vehicles echoing into the late afternoon. The excitement of the day’s chase had faded into the tired satisfaction of another successful, albeit exhausting, storm hunt. Scott Miller parked the van near the gas station, his eyes scanning the horizon as the rest of the team filtered out.

"Alright," Manny, one of the guys said, his voice clipped as he pulled out his phone. "Let’s figure out where we’re staying tonight."

Javi stretched, grinning as he looked around. "Anyone else craving a cheeseburger and fries? We could just camp out on this gas station floor for the night. There’s a diner right there if we get hungry."

Kate rolled her eyes, popping her trunk to grab her bag. "We’ve been on the road for hours, Javi. Let’s find a proper place to sleep. Then we’ll think about food. The last thing I need is to wake up with gravel in my back."

"Fine," Javi chuckled, following her toward the convenience store. "Alright, someone find us a hotel."

The rest of the team gathered around the gas station’s picnic table, pulling out phones to search for vacancies. The mood shifted from lighthearted to mildly frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Hotel after hotel in the area showed "No Vacancy" or "Fully Booked."

"What’s going on?" Kate asked, holding up her phone. "The whole county’s sold out."

Javi leaned over her shoulder, frowning at the screen. "There’s got to be something open. We’re in southern Missouri, not downtown New York."

"State fair," Scott muttered, not bothering to look up from his own search. "And it’s the weekend. Everyone and their dog’s in town."

Javi groaned, sinking into the seat next to Scott. "Of course. The damn fair’s going on. That’s why everything’s packed. Guess we’re sleeping in the vans tonight."

Scott’s eyes flicked over to Javi, a hint of something softer behind his usual professional stare. "We’ll figure something out. Hold on."

The others continued scrolling through their phones, muttering about motels, campgrounds, and any other possible option that might have an opening. After another moment of searching, Scott looked up with a faint, almost imperceptible smile as he got the text back he was waiting on.

"Actually," he began, his tone steady, "I’ve got a place nearby."

Everyone paused, eyes narrowing.

"Seriously?" Javi’s eyebrow arched in disbelief. "You? Got a place? Like, you found a hotel or—?"

"No, my house," Scott replied with a shrug, completely nonchalant. "It’s about an hour north of here. I’ve got plenty of room. It’s closer than any of the hotels I’ve found that are at least an hour and a half out."

A beat of silence followed before Kate burst out laughing. "Wait, you? You have a house? And you’re offering to let us crash there?"

Scott’s lips twitched slightly, and he shoved his phone into his pocket. "Yeah. What’s so surprising about that?"

The others exchanged puzzled looks.

"You’re not pulling our leg, right? You live in a real house? With a roof and everything?" Javi added, eyeing Scott with newfound suspicion. 

Scott glanced up at him, unamused. "I don’t have time for jokes, Javi. My wife’s expecting us. I already called ahead."

"Wife?" Kate echoed, her eyes widening. "You have a wife?"

"Yeah," Scott said flatly, clearly enjoying their surprise. "And a dog."

"Okay, now I’m confused," Javi muttered. "The Scott Miller we know lives for the storms and hates anything that resembles...normal life. And yet, here we are, hearing about a wife and a dog? And a house? What’s next? A picket fence?"

Scott smirked. "The house is in the middle of nowhere, we don’t need a fence. It’s got a wraparound porch though, a few acres of land, and yeah, a dog. His name’s Ben."

"Well," Kate said, her arms crossed, "I’m in. I’m dying to see this home of yours."

Scott turned to face them, his expression settling into its usual businesslike demeanor. "I’ll give you the directions. Don’t make me regret this."

The team exchanged glances, the disbelief starting to settle into genuine curiosity. As they piled back into the vehicles, Javi leaned over to Kate.

"So, who’s taking bets on whether he actually has a wife or if he’s just trying to be mysterious? I’m guessing it’s a secret sister or something."

Kate rolled her eyes, her lips twitching into a smile. "I’m more interested in this dog. A golden retriever, maybe?"

Scott drove ahead, his car kicking up dust as they followed in the rearview mirror. The rest of the team settled into a quieter, more contemplative mood as they cruised through the winding roads, each of them trying to picture the kind of life Scott Miller could be hiding behind his tough exterior.

* * * * *

The rumble of engines grew louder as the vehicles made their way up the gravel drive, the sound of tires on the country road familiar and comforting. You stood on the porch, your hand resting lightly on your round bump, a smile spreading across your face. You’d been keeping busy inside the house, preparing for their arrival, but now, with Scott finally home after a long storm season, the weight of the day’s tasks seemed a little lighter.

It had been a hectic few weeks, but the timing couldn’t have been better. The "off season" had lined up perfectly with your due date, and Scott would be able to be home for the birth. The thought made your heart swell—he’d be there for all the sleepless nights, the early morning feedings, the first steps, and all the moments in between. And right now, you couldn’t wait to have him home to help finish getting the nursery ready and tie up all the little details before the big day arrived.

You stepped to the top of the porch steps, the humid evening air brushing across your skin. The golden light from the setting sun made everything feel warm and welcoming, just the way you had always imagined your life with Scott would be.

As the vehicles slowed, you could see the team glancing around in awe, clearly taken aback by the farmhouse’s charm. The house itself was just as you had always dreamed it would be—big, cozy, and full of life. You could already picture the future in every corner. A few acres of land, the wraparound porch where Scott would sit after long days, the backyard where you’d let the baby play once they were old enough. The possibilities felt endless, and it all felt so right.

You glanced back toward the door as Scott’s truck came into view. His face usually all business, broke into a wide grin when he saw you. He threw the truck into park before stepping out, his long strides quickly closing the distance between you. His eyes softened as he reached you, and before you could even say a word, he was right there, his hand gently resting on your belly.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice low but filled with concern as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against your forehead, then lightly against your lips.

You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch. "I’m more than okay," you whispered back. "I’m just happy you’re home."

Scott’s hand lingered on your bump as he leaned back, his smile widening at the sight of you standing there, glowing with happiness. He placed a hand on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin. "I’m happy I’m home, too. And I’ll be here for all of it, you know that, right?" His voice was thick with emotion.

You nodded, your heart full. "I know. We’re really doing this, Scott."

The sound of the team’s voices coming up the drive drew your attention, and you turned to see them stepping out of the vehicles. The realization of how different this was for Scott—the man who spent so much of his life chasing storms, always on the move—was not lost on you. This was his home. And now, with you, it was your home too.

"Alright," Scott said, turning to the team with a teasing grin. "You all ready to meet the wife and... the bump?"

The team’s jaws dropped, clearly surprised by the sight of you.

“Scott really has a wife?" Javi asked, his voice full of incredulity.

"You didn’t tell us she was this... this..." Kate trailed off, clearly struggling for the right words, her eyes flicking back and forth between you, your bump, and Scott.

Scott shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. "Figured I’d surprise you."

Javi laughed, clearly recovering from his shock. "I gotta say, Miller, didn’t see this one coming. You’re hiding a whole family."

"Not hiding," Scott corrected, looking down at you with soft affection. "Just keeping it private."

"Well, we definitely didn’t expect the 'American dream' to come with the storm-chaser package," Kate teased, her eyes twinkling as she turned toward the team.

You chuckled, crossing your arms over your bump. "You get used to it, trust me."

As the team slowly made their way inside, Scott slipped his hand into yours, leading you into the house. "Dinner will be ready in an hour or so," you said.

Scott’s eyes sparkled with appreciation. "Perfect. I appreciate you, sweetheart."

Inside, the house was warm and inviting, with the smell of homemade food filling the air. The space was exactly what you’d hoped for—a family home, comfortable and cozy, with soft lighting and the quiet hum of a life shared between two people and soon, a little one.

The team slowly made their way toward the front door, still trying to process the fact that Scott Miller the tough, no-nonsense storm-chaser, was married and about to be a dad. You smiled to yourself, your heart full as you followed Scott inside, feeling that comforting weight of being at home.

After everyone had settled in, you got to work, eager to make the most of this time with Scott and his team. Since getting the text from Scott, you’d been preparing a hearty meal for everyone. 

The sounds of laughter and light conversation from the living room filled the air as you checked the temperature on the pork roast and prepped the bread to go in the oven. It was nice to have a moment to yourself, even with the others around, and you savored the feeling of being in your own kitchen.

Every now and then, you’d hear Scott’s voice in the other room, a comforting presence you hadn’t realized you missed so much. The team seemed to be loosening up now that they were off the road, chatting about the chase and the season winding down. Every once in a while, Scott would pop his head in to check on you, offering a quick kiss on the cheek or asking if you needed help.

"Need anything?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, eyes soft but still carrying that rugged edge.

You shook your head with a smile. "I’m good, babe. Go relax. I’ve got this."

He hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between offering help and leaving you to your own rhythm, but then he shrugged and backed out of the kitchen. "Alright. If you need me, just holler."

As Scott disappeared, Kate wandered in, glancing around at the food. "Need a hand?" she asked, a friendly smile tugging at her lips.

"No, I think I’ve got it handled, thank you though," you replied, giving her a smile of your own. "You go relax, I’ll call you when it’s ready."

A while later supper was ready but you needed ot finish the sides. But the table also needed to be set. You glanced towards the living room, not wanting to bother Scott but also not wanting to asks your guests for help either.

"Hey Scott, can you set the table on the back deck?" you asked, shouting towards the living room over your shoulder. "Dinner’s almost ready."

Scott’s eyes lit up with that familiar mischievous glint. He flashed a quick smile before walking over to where you stood. "Yes, dear," he said, his voice dripping with a playful tone that immediately caught the attention of the rest of the team.

The guys, who had been quietly milling around, shot each other surprised looks, clearly trying to keep from laughing.

"Did he just say 'Yes, dear'?" Javi asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Kate snickered, nudging Javi with her elbow. "I think he did. Didn’t know Scott had it in him."

Scott, not missing a beat, gave them a look over his shoulder. "Happy wife, happy life, fellas," he said with a knowing grin, before turning to you with a wink. "Right, sweetheart?"

You chuckled, a warm, affectionate feeling washing over you as you watched Scott seamlessly switch from the hard-ass storm-chaser to the loving, supportive husband.

"Of course," you replied, your voice full of adoration. "Thanks, babe."

With that, he walked out through the back door, the sound of him moving toward the deck cutting through the light banter between the team. You smiled to yourself, feeling that contentment you’d been missing when Scott had been gone on the road for so long. Everything felt right in this moment.

You moved back to the kitchen, checking the vegetable and pork roast that were in the oven to make sure everything was cooking evenly. The rest of the team slowly trickled into the dining room, chatting amongst themselves, their teasing continuing in the background.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and when you turned, you found Scott standing behind you, looking incredibly pleased with himself as he gestured to the back deck. "Table’s set," he said, the satisfaction clear in his voice.

You walked over to him, resting your hand lightly on his chest. "Thanks, babe," you said, your heart swelling with warmth. "You really are the best."

Scott grinned down at you, his fingers brushing against your bump. "Anything for you, sweetheart.”

*****

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, despite the initial shock from the team at seeing Scott so at ease in his own home. The teasing had been relentless, but Scott took it all in stride, offering nothing more than a smirk and a casual arm around your shoulders. Now, with the meal finished and the dishes put away, the team had trickled off to their respective spaces for the evening, exhaustion from the long chase finally settling in.

The night air was warm but carried the faintest breeze, rustling through the trees surrounding the house. Crickets chirped in the distance, their rhythmic song blending with the occasional quiet murmur of conversation from inside. You stood on the back porch, letting the stillness settle over you, one hand absentmindedly resting on your belly.

The sound of the screen door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. A moment later, Scott stepped beside you, a cold glass of sweet tea in one hand, the other immediately finding its way to the small of your back.

“Tired?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You let out a slow breath, smiling as you leaned into his side. “A little. But I’m just glad you’re home.”

Scott hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to your temple before guiding you over to the porch swing. He sat down first, pulling you gently into his side so you could rest against him. His hand found your belly without hesitation, thumb brushing lazily over the fabric of your dress.

“I still can’t believe the baby's going to be here soon. I'm glad I'll be able to be here for all of it,” he murmured. His voice was thick with a more vulnerable tone, something you didn't hear from Scott often.

You glanced up at him, catching the way his usual hardened expression had softened. “I was worried you’d miss it,” you admitted quietly.

Scott let out a breath, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t let that happen. The second I knew the due date, I made damn sure I’d be here.” His fingers traced gentle circles across your bump, as if grounding himself in the reality of it all. “Storm chasing is one thing, but this… this is the biggest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you reached up, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad, you know that?”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “Only because you’ll be an amazing mom.”

You smiled, shifting just enough to press a kiss to his jaw. “Guess our kid's gonna be pretty lucky then.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just sat there, swaying gently in the night air, wrapped up in each other and the life you were building together. The storm chasing season was over—for now—and for the first time in a long time, Scott Miller wasn’t thinking about the next chase. He was thinking about home.

And as far as he was concerned, he was exactly where he belonged.

[lotusbxtch]

WIP Wednesday Someday because I've lost track of time and it is a concept anyway

Thank you my darlings @for-a-longlongtime @joelmillerisapunk @penvisions @perotovar @baronessvonglitter for the tags! Sorry I haven't participated in WIP Wednesday for a hot minute -- it's been super busy at work and I've frankly not had enough brain power to do much writing. However, I decided to participate in the @happypedrohours challenge and got "Pero Tovar + lingerie", so here is a single line because I am a tease (or so daddy @mountainsandmayhem says):

You would have never predicted that such a delicate thing would be Pero Tovar’s undoing.

Excited for y'all to see what I cook up!

npt: @strang3lov3 @sin-djarin @mermaidgirl30 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @itwasntimethatdidit40 @almostempty

[shearlin]

Thank you for the tag!

I think this is the first time I'm doing a writing game, heh. Those are from my WIP "Songs Across the Ages" (or at least form the current version of it lol)

G - Good news: yes, I can. Bad news? It doesn’t matter.

R - Reeling in the excitement that started to bubble in him anew, he took to clearing the rest of the obstructions.

E - Every once in a while some brave adventurer would try their hand at clearing temples and dungeons scattered across the land of Hyrule, only to be defeated by the challenges awaiting inside.

A - “A riddle?” Wind cocked his head, “I thought it was supposed to be a boss room?”

T - This dungeon expedition was a disaster.

And I don't think I saw @tashacee or @adrift-in-thyme being tagged! So if you'd like to join, the word I got from the random generator is:

TRAIL

Word Ask Game

Rules: You are given a word - share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of that word!

Thank you @mistresslrigtar for tagging me 😊 (I love tag games! They're an outlet my tendency to ramble endlessly about things I really love). My word is SWORD! All sentences from the current WIP chapter of On My Honor.

S - Sliding silently inside, he quickly locked the door behind him.

W - "Where are you going so fast?" A hand grabbed Link's shoulder, jerking him to a halt.

O - "Only one way to know for sure," Link said.

R - "Right." They never would, though, Link already knew.

D - Distantly, the clock in the center of town chimed the late hour, and a surge of panic told him he needed to leave, and he needed to leave now, but his feet were fixed to the floor.

As for tagging others, I'm not sure who has already played, but I would love to hear from @poposusz, @silvrash-797, @amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet, or @fan-girls-r-us with the word LOVE (in honor of my love ❤️ for you all!)

[egrets-not-regrets]

Garbage Breath (2)

Author’s Note: I couldn’t stay being so mean to Kalium.

“No more eating garbage.”

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

**********************************************

Kalium restlessly waited for Kiri’s heartbeat to slow. Luckily, it didn’t take long before Kiri eased into slumber, her breathing steady as she slept. The Iron Warrior immediately snuck into Kona’s room, finally relaxing upon seeing his bonded child sleeping peacefully with no signs of discomfort or illness in sight. He technically was banned by Kiri from snuggling his bonded to give her daughter time to recover from the bout of food poisoning. Not that it made a huge difference, the work and training he had at the base kept him away from home for a few days.

Kalium quietly sat down next to Kona’s bed. He pulled up the fallen blanket to cover her again so she could keep warm. Baseline children were so absurdly fragile after all. Kalium frowned, remembering Osteron’s loud scolding about his carelessness. He should’ve known better. What if he accidentally allowed his beloved little bonded to be corrupted by Nurgle? What if she died from this? He stroked his child’s head. Thank goodness it was just a bout of food poisoning which was thankfully treated quickly. He will be careful next time and not be so quick to indulge her curiosity.

“Kalium?” A small hand squeezed his finger.

He looked down and smiled slightly, “I am here.”

Kona’s smile grew wide and she took a breath, about to call his name in excitement. The Iron Warrior quickly put a finger to his lips and hushed her, “Your mother is sleeping.”

A whoosh of air blew out as she exhaled her oncoming shout. Instead Kona quietly whisper-shouted, “Kalium!” and stretched out her arms for a hug.

Kalium grinned and pulled her onto his chest. Hugs. Those he could never deny his bonded.

“I missed you, Kalium.” Kona mumbled, snuggling into his embrace.

His expression softened as he gently patted her back, “Same here, Little Bird.”

“I’m sorry, Little Bird.” he added remorsefully.

His little bonded looked up at him, squinting her eyes. She then patted his chest in an attempt to comfort him, saying, “I feel better now. Mama said eating garbage made me sick. So no more garbage.”

Kona was so quick to forgive, Kalium thought. He chuckled at her childish attempt to comfort him and agreed, “No more eating garbage.”

Content, Kona was quick to fall asleep again while listening to the beating of his hearts. Holding her, the Iron Warrior got up and rearranged the pillows and blankets, then laid down on her bed. He pulled a small blanket to cover his sleeping child before putting hand over her, securing Kona to himself again. Kalium watched his bonded sleep peacefully for a while then drifted to sleep.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm back in the Tigers cage again.

(You too can join in on throwing a Rat Of A Man into a Tiger cage by reading Tiger Tiger)

[egophiliac]

time for skeleman

with the lack of any other info yet, all I can focus on are those Charles Lloyd-looking sunglasses. they are absolutely sending me. I feel like we're gonna fall through a tree or whatever and this stitched-up boney gentleman is gonna pop out from behind a gravestone and start serenading us with some smooth jazz on the saxophone.

or should I say...the saxoBONE???????

[kingkat12]

I’m super late but this was so exciting to do, thank you @bean-is-reading for the tag!!🥹💜

10 y/o Kat was a sad little depressed baby. it was the year I no longer felt like a child anymore, which is absolutely wild considering the fact I was TEN??? little tiny baby. I wish I could sit next to that girl and hear her out, y’know? she had a lot to say. a lot of interests. a lot of pain. and a very very big crush on James from Big Time Rush💀🙏🏻 AHAHAHAH

and 20 y/o me… damn. I spent two years digging myself out of a pretty large hole to get the freedoms I have now at 20, yet I’m wondering whether I will ever stop digging. miss thang no longer has a crush on James from BTR tho, yet the biiiig crush on Bill Skarsgård got me this far😭😭😭 if 10 year old me knew that I was writing erotica online for thousands of ppl to see and read, she’d have a heart attack… and on top of that, I think she’d find it quite cool, that little devil😭 anyway, 20 y/o me is studying my dream profession and tbh??? I think I’m quite cool now💀🩷🌸

(albeit I haven’t grown a cm… still under 160cm and I have deeeefinitely not made it my whole personality, nono, I wouldn’t dare🤭🫵🏻)

npt: @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @chaptersleftunwritten and anyone that wants to join!!<3

You from 10 years ago + you now

Made using this picrew

Ty for the tags @covetyou and @guiltyasdave!!!

Here’s me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 10 years ago I was uhhhhh 12 LOL 🙈 I was a very sad, very shy kid. I liked Marvel movies and Star Wars and I was very crafty. Always crafting and doodling. I used to draw on my hands and get yelled for it lol. I also really loved cats, and was very sad that I didn’t have one.

I’m 22 now. The doodling on my skin never stopped, and I have two kitties . I’m engaged to a lovely man and we share a shitty apartment and I’m in school to be a teacher. I think I’d really fuckin impress 12 year old me and I’m happy with that 🩷

Npt - @bean-is-reading @max--phillips @beefrobeefcal @iknowisoundcrazy @ovaryacted

[wardingshout]

Travelling for Day 4 of SpeSilverWeek! going to Mt. Silver to visit "the extended family"...

[rosynova]

(first off, i'm so sorry about the quality, i've been fighting tumblr for 2 hours trying to fix it and it doesn't want to work with me :') please click on the pics for better resolution!)

so ever since reading this ask from @blank-house i've had this little scenario in my head because of jamie's bit, and i've finally gotten the chance to sketch it out :>

[somegrumpynerd]

HEY. POINTS FINGER… any thoughts on how everyone reacted when the other joined the team? as in how did killer react when dust came, how did he and dust react when horror came, how did they all react when cross came, etc. i love love LOVE your bad sanses thoughts way too much they make me so happy. if i write hurt you write comfort and it’s awesome. also how do you think they slowly started to get closer? just.. bah give me your thoughts on them!!!! any thoughts!!!!!!!!!

You fool!! You’ve given me a chance to ramble about my special little guys and now this post will stretch on forever!! Mwahahahahah >:3c

No but seriously this is probably gonna be wicked long cause I have 1 million thoughts about these guys joining and meeting each other so uh, readmore for everybody’s safety and sanity

(^ I wrote that in the document before I started typing out my actual thoughts and uh

yeah no kidding, this is like a fucking essay so proceed with caution)

OKAY SO

I’ve said before that Nightmare got Dust for two reasons; one being that Dream had just recently started working with Ink (and soon Blue) so he and Killer were no longer able to gang up on Dream. He wanted somebody else to bulk up their numbers and give Killer a little back up. He also was starting to realise that Killer didn’t handle being alone very well, since this was when he most often got worked up and broke things around the castle (and sometimes tipped over into stage 3). Dust would be a perfect fit since he had the same amount of lvl and fighting experience as Killer, and since they were so close in circumstance they would be practically like brothers right?

The irony that he thought this about a guy he was recruiting to help kill his brother was apparently lost on him.

They absolutely hated each other. Like, it was instant. Killer saw him as a replacement, why would boss go out and get another sans - one with almost the same backstory as me - when I’m right here? Does he think I’m not good enough? Am I disposable and this is the backup for when I die in combat? He didn’t take it well. He took it all out on Dust too, not cooperating in battle, trying to start fights in the castle, etc. He couldn’t outright kill him because Nightmare had given him strict orders not to, but Killer loves a loophole. If he roughed Dust up down to 1hp and something else happened to finish him off, technically he’d followed orders.

Dust just straight up didn’t want to be there. Nightmare just showing up and yoinking him had worked fine with Killer, but Dust had wanted to sit in his empty au and die, he had no intention of joining a team or doing work of any kind - good or bad. The only reason he didn’t just lie down and refuse the entire time was that he had to fight back against Killer, as much as he wanted to die he refused to give this ass the satisfaction or lvl. He didn’t intend to be any help out in the field either, but again, Killer was making sure he got fired at so he had to retaliate to stay alive.

Eventually it got bad enough that Nightmare had to pull Killer aside and demand answers. In the year or so of knowing him Killer had never willfully disobeyed orders before, so Nightmare needed to know what had gotten into him. He dispelled the replacement rumour right away, he still wasn’t quite softened up enough to be sappy about it but he made sure Killer understood what a good worker he was and that Nightmare had no intention of losing him. It didn’t help a lot, they still hated each other for other reasons, but it eased a little.

Killer still had pretty frequent dips into stage 3, except now he would go straight for Dust usually. Nightmare had tried to explain what he’d learned about it to Dust, but he didn’t really believe that it wasn’t just Killer deciding to try and kill him for funsies. He only accepted it after a particular episode where he attacked Nightmare instead, which Dust knew Killer wouldn’t try in his right mind.

After he came back to his senses he sought Dust out. The air around Killer was very different after a stage 3, sort of sombre and almost calm, so Dust let them sit together and Killer apologised for giving him such a hard time. They actually talked for the first time in months while Killer was still calm (or tolerable, as Dust describes it), and it didn’t magically fix everything but, things were a little better. They still fought and argued and bothered each other but it wasn’t as sharp, there was a lack of real murderous intent in it all, and sometimes after an episode they would talk a little bit. It was the best Nightmare was going to get for now, so he took it.

They were still completely incompetent about taking care of themselves though. Neither of them would eat unless prompted and Nightmare didn’t have good enough knowledge of mortals to know when that should be to stop them passing out from hunger on the job. Not to mention the stars were now a full team, and with the way Killer and Dust would sometimes rather target each other on the field he could do with more backup.

Horror was the first of the group to get a choice in joining. Nightmare had taken note of how much Dust didn’t want to be part of things, and while it was in his best interests in the long run given his situation, Horror’s au was still mostly intact - though a little in disrepair. Horror was also the first in the group to have a good (and ongoing) relationship with his brother, so Nightmare knew he couldn’t just pop in and steal him, he had to be a bit more diplomatic with this one and offer a deal.

He gave Horror some time to think on his proposal - he would set up regular deliveries of food to Horror’s au in exchange for him joining their team - and was quite surprised when Horror agreed, with some stipulations. Horror was equally surprised when Nightmare agreed so easily to his terms (that he didn’t want his brother to know what he’d be doing, and that he wouldn’t kill). A little down the line the terms were altered to add that he would also be left to visit his au every week or so.

Horror was not impressed meeting the other two. He didn’t need his power as judge anymore to sense the lvl coming off them both, and given who they were working for he was instantly distrustful of them both (the uh, brother situation did not help). He was also in a place that had an abundance of food for the first time in probably years, so he was doing a lot of going hog wild in the kitchen and then getting very sick as a result.

Dust didn’t particularly feel anything for him. This guy hated him, sure, but it wasn’t forward and slashy like with Killer, it was just quiet loathing which was fine. That’s how Dust felt about himself so, y’know, mood. He did kind of feel sorry for him though, not just because of the whole famine and everything, but also because he was watching this guy eat like his life depended on it and then get sick and undo it day after day. He was the one who suggested Horror getting his food in moderation to Nightmare, which did help but was an absolute ordeal to enforce. Y’know how some people get hangry? Imagine that but you haven’t had a proper meal in years and now these people give you tiny amounts of food and don’t let you eat more for hours. The hunger mood swings were a sight to behold, you would never have guessed in those days that Horror specified not wanting to kill.

When his ability to eat had evened out and he was in better shape, Horror made a point of apologising to Dust for being aggressive with him. Over time he’d kind of softened up on him from his initial impression, since he could see plainly how wracked with guilt Dust was over his situation. It was a little easier to imagine that whatever he’d done was truly out of desperation and not just for fun, as Horror had assumed at first sight. 

They also both retained that classic sans laziness, so it was easy for them to share a space while saying and doing nothing. It made Horror the first person that Dust willingly spent time around in the castle (and vice versa since Horror was still largely suspicious of Nightmare and Killer - the deal seemed too good to be true and the stage 3 episodes didn’t help). As time went on, Horror kind of became Dust’s emotional support skeleton in a way. Dust had become quite averse to touch in his solitude and Horror very slowly brought him back out with casual gentle touches, until not only did he no longer freeze or stiffen at being grabbed but Dust would seek him out to flop next to on the couch. Horror claimed it was just returning the favour for helping with his eating situation, but really it was nice to have something resembling a friend here.

Killer, for his part, was going through This is My Replacement 2: Electric Boogaloo. Not to the same degree as with Dust, since Horror was quite a bit different, but Killer was still wary of this new addition. He didn’t really instigate anything though since, to be honest, Horror had the intimidation factor. He was like a foot taller than both of them, he had a cracked skull and completely different magic and it seemed like every time Killer saw him he was eating bread like a wolf eats a deer. So while he was going through his food moderating, Killer mostly just stayed quiet and kept his distance.

Horror had not softened on him like he had with Dust, since Killer didn’t openly show remorse. He still watched him with distrust, especially after seeing the way he scrapped with Dust for seemingly no reason other than for violence’s sake. Killer was still mostly targeting Dust in his stage 3s, but Horror had to be careful to stay out of his way since he was still working with much lower hp than the other two. What did start to convince him was seeing how similar Killer and Dust were after a stage 3 episode. Once Killer was slightly more composed (ie stopped crying), he became so tired and quiet and blunt about things he normally joked his way around. It was a little startling, but also started to bring Horror around to the idea that Killer might regret his actions too, just buried under several layers of whatever the hell is also wrong with him at any given time.

Killer and Horror only really started interacting after talking about Dust. Killer was asking how he got Dust to like him since he seems to hate everyone and everything else, Horror told him very pointedly it was because he wasn’t trying to kill Dust. Killer admitted he wasn’t trying to kill Dust, at least not anymore, he just wanted to fight for fun. It opened up a better channel of understanding, knowing that Killer did not actually have murderous intent behind his swings (stage 3 notwithstanding). It made it easier for Horror to occasionally get involved in the roughhousing which Killer delighted in, knowing that the other two knew how to hold back enough to keep him from dusting.

Speaking of stage 3, it was around this time that Killer and Dust made a very important deal. After a particularly rough episode with a little too close of a call, Killer showed up in Dust’s room and begged him shakily to make a promise - that if he ever got too out of control during one of his stages, Dust would kill him. He’d been told over and over by Nightmare that it was impossible for Killer to hurt him since he was immortal, but now there were more people around him where that wasn’t the case, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he came out of a stage and found himself alone. Dust promised.

It’s also worth mentioning that, once they were all close enough to be on speaking terms, Horror started bullying the shit out of these two about eating. Now that Horror knew neither of them were going to kill him, he felt safe enough to pick them up by the scruff and set them at the table to say they weren’t leaving until they had at least a snack. He let them pick what they would eat - he wasn’t that cruel about it - but he had to see them eat at least 3 times a day or they would hear about it.

It was by no means perfect or regular, but after about half a year Nightmare finally had henchmen who ate food and worked together (mostly).

Now here’s the problem… I still haven’t really figured out how or why Cross joined the team. Like, obviously there’s some kind of point in the events of underverse where it splits off into an alternate timeline, but I haven’t really figured out where yet so. Leave that one with me just a little longer. Cross joins.

Nightmare really truly didn’t intend to take anyone else in. They were (mostly) getting along, they were pretty well matched to fight the stars, he had no need of more mortals.

…but he was also pretty soft at this point. Every one of them had taken a blow to his I’m immortal I’m an island I don’t get attached to others persona and he’d gotten pretty damn fond of them all. This was why when he felt the sheer weight of loneliness radiating off of Cross, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave him.

So Cross entered the castle. 

He did not particularly intend to stay or make friends, he was trying to get his world back and nothing more. He even revealed a little down the line that he outright refused to kill, and was quite surprised to find that Nightmare was fine with that. At the start he was polite but not friendly with the others and mostly kept to himself.

Dust, as is often the case, did not really have an opinion. Another new guy, this one was self sufficient and didn’t bother him so he had no reason to get involved. He was content to be in the same room as Cross but didn’t start up any conversations.

Horror felt the need to speak to Cross, since Dust would happily stay silent for years and Killer was, well, Killer. Horror was somehow the closest thing to normal they had, so he was the one that made small talk. Mostly asking what Cross would like for meals and encouraging him to pick something he liked when he got the answer of “anything is fine”. As Cross settled in a bit more and actually opened up, they bonded over being the only two to enjoy food. Horror made a point of adding chocolate to the stock they kept in the kitchen and making tacos here and there for Cross.

Horror was also the first Cross kind of warmed to, mostly because he was the one devoid of lvl and Nightmare had mentioned he’d also said he wouldn’t kill. Learning a little about his au’s situation only softened Cross to him more, especially seeing that he still cared a lot for his brother and was trying to protect his home (even if Cross found it unthinkable that he lived away from it). It was through Horror that he also got accustomed to Dust, how being quiet and distant was kind of his default and that he also felt deeply haunted by the loss of his world. They weren’t exactly friends, but it was comfortable enough.

So now boss had taken in another new person, someone who takes orders like a soldier and fights with knives and ruthless precision and aims to be his righthand man, and Killer was ecstatic. By now he’d mostly put his fears of being disposable behind him, Nightmare had gotten a bit less subtle in showing how important they all were to him and Killer felt confident he wouldn’t be replaced. Which was a little bit funny, because the only guy he didn’t feel threatened by was the one who absolutely competed for his spot.

Cross needed to prove he was useful, he had to feel like he earned his keep and that all the training and suffering he’d done was for a reason. When Nightmare sent them on missions, Cross aimed to be the fastest and the most efficient and to report to Nightmare without question. Horror and Dust looking on would have expected Killer to see this 100% as a threat to his position as (self proclaimed) Nightmare’s second in command, and to go for this guy’s throat when nobody else was around.

But Killer was fascinated. Cross was completely different from any of them, bar Nightmare whose au is a whole different kettle of fish, so he had a certain element of unpredictability to him. Horror and Dust were both based on classic sans just like him, so to a certain degree he knew how they would feel about most things and what they might say, the only differences being in what they had experienced through their own timelines. Cross was based on a swap sans and his au had taken wild twists and turns away from usual events, so Killer had to learn everything about him by poking and prodding for answers or observing from a distance, much like back when it was just him and Nightmare. Cross was something new to be studied and Killer loved taking notes.

Cross did not see this as friendly. He was competing with Killer for approval, not realising Killer was playing their contest like a game. When he saw Cross training he would jump in to spar for fun, but Cross saw his rival trying to get a jump on him and take him out of the running. When Killer would hang around and pester Cross in their off time with questions, it didn’t seem like someone taking interest, it seemed like someone being nosy and looking for weaknesses to exploit. When Horror mentioned that Killer was being surprisingly contained and friendly, Cross really thought he was fucking with him.

The first time Cross was willing to even consider this was the case was when his locket came loose on the field and Killer ran back to find it, since one of the notes he’d taken was how the locket wasn’t something Cross would play about (the same as Horror with food). It didn’t make sense for someone who was seriously competing to have him kicked out to just hand his necklace back, no ransoms or attempts to crush it to upset him, just some vague remark about “owing him one” and then right back to Nightmare for orders.

Cross had to give him something of a chance after that, Horror helped a lot by telling him “he doesn’t want to hurt you, he just doesn’t know how to be normal”. It was mostly a playful jab at Killer, but reframing their interactions changed it significantly for Cross. Now they were sparring playfully and having friendly competition on jobs. He wasn’t as put off when Killer went into stage 3 because he knew he could match him in combat and the others were always on hand to help restrain or distract him. Cross also took note of how Killer calmed down a lot for physical touch, not unlike how Dust had warmed up to Horror. It went a long way into not only making him a little less combative for attention every day, but it seemed to put longer stretches between his episodes (which Cross had also started tracking so they wouldn’t be caught out by them as much).

For his part, Killer has disobeyed instructions in the past to benefit Cross, usually ignoring the task to help him if he’s hurt. He’s also given Nightmare nudges towards praising him because he’s noted that that’s what Cross needs in the same way he needs touch (not that Nightmare doesn’t praise them normally, but when Cross is going through it and needs something). He also doesn’t particularly like chocolate but has made a point of not admitting this to Horror so he can give his chocolate to Cross.

(It’s also worth noting that Cross is the only one, besides Nightmare, that has been to Horror’s au. He offered to help out during the food delivery and got to meet Horror’s Papyrus (who he is a little intimidated by but ultimately friendly with, even though it’s a little weird since he’s a good bit different from his own Papyrus). Dust and Killer can’t really visit for a few reasons, mostly because everyone will notice their lvl immediately and know what they’ve done. Dust especially doesn’t know how he would react to having a Papyrus in front of him again and doesn’t want to put Horror's family at risk to find out. Whenever he visits, his Papyrus asks about Cross now and sometimes tries to make tacos for him (key word tries, he’s still a Papyrus after all). He may have joked that seeing Cross sometimes is “like having another brother but younger and less lazy” and when Horror told him this Cross may or may not have cried.)

And that’s where we are now!

They’re a very strange group who’ve been through some inexplicable events and have all changed each other in one way or another. And whether or not it can be admitted, they are a family c:

Now onto how Nightmare was made emotionally open by each of them!! In this essay I will no just kidding could you imagine this is already like 7 pages long

If you got to the end of this post please drink some water and get yourself a snack

[sainz100]

2024 Hungarian GP | x (edited)