#Hands that turned the dirt. Hands that turned into dirt.

[misswynters]

Ekko being protective while you are expecting

– short drabble

featuring. ekko x pregnant! reader

this was a late night thing so if there’s any mistakes let me know

Bright, golden sunlight filtered through the cracked glass of Zaun’s upper levels, casting a warm glow over the patchwork city. Rustic smell lingered throughout the entire city even in the places were you would think it would be. It was a sharp contrast to the pristine towers and polished streets of Piltover, but you’d come to love the chaotic beauty of Zaun. Its grit and resilience mirrored the spirit of its people, and despite everything, it had become home.

You adjusted the basket on your hip as you weaved through the narrow alleys, a small smile on your lips despite the slight strain in your back. The sounds of the city surrounded you: children laughing as they ran between stalls, the hiss of steam escaping from overhead pipes, and the occasional distant hum of machinery. Though Zaun was far from perfect, it had a heart. A fierce and determined spirit that had drawn you to it.

A boy darted out from a corner, his face smudged with dirt and his eyes wide with curiosity. “Miss!” he called out, holding up a small metal trinket he’d likely scavenged. “For good luck!”

Your heart melted at his gesture, and you crouched carefully to meet him at eye level. “Thank you, sweetheart,” you said warmly, taking the trinket and ruffling his hair. “Here, this is for you.” You handed him a piece of fruit from your basket, earning a toothy grin before he bolted off, his laughter echoing through the alley.

“Shouldn’t be out here on your own,” came a low, familiar voice from above.

You straightened, glancing up to find one of Ekko’s scouts perched on a rusted ledge, his sharp eyes scanning the area. He nodded at you before disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind only the faint sound of his boots against metal. You sighed, shaking your head with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Ekko.

Ever since you’d told him you were expecting, his protectiveness had gone into overdrive. If he wasn’t by your side, he made sure someone else was. and it wasn’t just for appearances. You knew how much he cared, how deeply he felt the responsibility to keep you safe. But it didn’t stop you from feeling a bit smothered at times.

You resumed your walk, stopping occasionally to hand out bread or share a kind word with someone in need. It was who you were, helping others brought you joy, even if it meant ignoring the occasional twinge of discomfort in your back. But as you reached out to give an elderly woman a loaf of bread, you felt a familiar presence behind you, the air around you shifting.

“Thought I told you to rest,” Ekko’s voice came, soft but firm.

You turned, your heart skipping at the sight of him. He leaned casually against the corner of a building, his staff slung over his shoulder, his sharp gaze fixed on you. His white hair gleamed in the sunlight, and there was a mixture of exasperation and fondness in his expression as he approached.

“I’m fine, Ekko,” you said, offering him a small smile. “I was just—”

“Helping people,” he interrupted, his lips quirking slightly. He stepped closer, his presence grounding, and his eyes softened as they drifted to the curve of your stomach. “I know, you’re always helping people.”

“It’s important to me,” you replied, your hands resting over his as he reached out to touch your bump. His palm was warm and steady, and for a moment, the world around you faded away.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s why I love you. But you’ve got to let me take care of you now. Both of you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten with emotion. You leaned into him, letting his strength envelop you. “You already do,” you whispered, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “I’ve never felt safer.”

Ekko chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around you. “Good. Because I’ve got eyes everywhere, just so you know. You can’t take two steps without someone reporting back to me.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress a laugh. “I figured as much. You’re like a hawk.”

“Damn right,” he said, his lips brushing against your forehead. “You’re my whole world now. You think I’m just gonna let you wander off into danger?”

“Danger?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I was handing out bread, not fighting Chem-Barons.”

He laughed, the sound low and rich, as he pulled you closer. “Doesn’t matter. This place has its risks, and I’m not taking any chances. You’re extremely important to me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to cup his face, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “I’ll be careful,” you promised, your voice soft. “For you, the boy who worries.”

“For me,” he echoed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “And for them.” His hand rested protectively over your stomach, his touch radiating warmth and love.

Ekko’s arms lingered around you for a moment longer before he sighed, resigned. “Fine,” he muttered, his tone light but firm. “But I’m coming with you. Not taking my eyes off you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his protectiveness, even if it sometimes felt overbearing. “I don’t need a bodyguard, you know.”

He raised a skeptical brow. “You’re carrying our kid in Zaun. You need a whole army.”

Despite the exasperation in his words, there was no mistaking the affection in his voice. He took your basket from you, his staff resting casually on his shoulder as he fell into step beside you. “Lead the way, sweetheart,” he said, a playful edge to his tone, though you could see how his eyes darted to every shadow and figure as you moved through the streets.

You stopped occasionally to talk to people—an older man with a limp, a mother trying to soothe her crying baby, a group of kids selling hand-crafted trinkets. Each time, Ekko hung back slightly, letting you do what you did best but staying close enough that he could intervene if needed.

At one point, you crouched to hand a young girl a piece of fruit, smiling as she thanked you with wide, grateful eyes. Ekko’s gaze softened as he watched, a quiet admiration blooming on his face. This was why he fell for you. Not just your kindness but the way you carried it so effortlessly, even in a place as harsh as Zaun.

But as the day wore on, the basket grew lighter, and your steps began to slow. You passed by a rickety stall that had toppled over, its contents—a pile of salvaged wood and fabric—spilling onto the ground. Without thinking, you bent down to help the vendor gather the scattered pieces.

“Careful,” Ekko warned, his voice sharp with concern as he moved closer.

“I’m fine,” you said lightly, reaching for a particularly large plank. But as you tried to lift it, a sharp twinge shot through your back, and you let out a soft gasp, immediately straightening up.

Ekko was at your side in an instant, his hands on your shoulders. “What happened?” he asked, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed his worry.

“Just… a twinge,” you admitted, wincing slightly. “Nothing serious.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Let me see.” Without waiting for a protest, he gently guided you to lean against a nearby wall, his hands running lightly over your back. “Does it hurt here?” he asked, pressing gently along your spine.

You winced again, and his jaw tightened. “That’s it. You’re done for the day.”

“Ekko—”

“No,” he said firmly, his hands resting on your hips as he looked you in the eye. “You’re done. You’re already doing too much. What if something worse happens? What if—”

He stopped himself, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. The panic was there, just beneath the surface, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t like seeing you get hurt,” he said softly.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin. “I’m okay,” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “I promise.”

But Ekko wasn’t having it. He pulled back, taking the basket and slinging it over his shoulder. “We’re going home,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And you’re not carrying anything heavier than a pillow until this baby’s here.”

Despite the sternness of his words, his hand was impossibly gentle as it found yours, intertwining your fingers as he led you back through the streets. Along the way, he shot sharp glares at anyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

When you finally reached the hideout you shared, he helped you settle onto the bed, fussing over every detail. He would bring you water, adjusting the pillows, even insisting on propping up your feet.

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased, though your smile betrayed how much you appreciated his care.

“Yeah, well, you love it,” he shot back, his grin softening as he sat beside you. His hand found your stomach, his thumb brushing in gentle circles. “I just want to keep you comfortable.”

“You already do,” you said, leaning into him. “More than you know.”

Ekko leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering there. “Still,” he murmured. “I’ll always do more.”

As the two of you sat there, the weight of the day finally beginning to fade, you realized just how lucky you were. To have someone like ekko be the father of your child.

[ruruumin]

hi!! I came across you and I thought your work is really amazing!! This is my first time asking something like this haha but for everything a first :) I really love figure skating and I was wondering if you could make a oneshot or any headcannons of the reactions of blue lock characters haha (mostly rin nagi and sae)! (sorry if I made some mistakes, English is t my first language)

ice, ice, baby!

₊˚ ᗢ blue lock various x figure skater! reader.

⤷ what kind of relationships rin, sae, and nagi (separate) would be in.

itoshi rin

“if you’re going to do something, do it with your entire heart.”

rin met you when he was only ten years old. you were his next door neighbor with a feverish dream to become the best figure skater in the world. although it may have been one of the loftiest dreams anyone might hear, he believed in you the same way you did for him. and together, he will see you perform all over the country, with him in arms waiting.

so when a cold rainy day comes and the two of you were walking home together under a shared umbrella, he wanted to say something. but you beat him to it. standing in front of your door, you turned around and smiled, saying only two things: i will be leaving to russia tomorrow morning to train with a new coach.��

this first part came as a no brainer to him, of course you would leave. just as sae did a few months ago, you were beginning to flap the wings you were blessed with. however, the second part was what kept him on his toes, heart punching up to his throat: and i love you, rin.

after departing in the morning, he would stay up late to watch your performances on television. even when he had early practice, it was complete habit to see you on screen. your presence on the ice was unmatched by many of your cohorts in russia. cold and calculative, yet free flowing. like a confident stream you graced the fields with a polished play. alongside a perfectly timed quad axel, it placed you right at the top of the world.

the ultimate power couple. when you’re at the kiss and cry, you’ll say his name to the camera before blowing a kiss. meanwhile, whenever he scores a goal, he’ll raise his fist in a catching motion, bringing it up to his lips as he hides his faint smile behind his hand. your performances will always be dedicated to each other and it drives the press mad (rightfully so). 

when you return to japan, he’s the first person that you see at the airport. in only a matter of seconds, with his extremely long legs and speed, he is wrapping his arms around you tightly, inhaling your scent as he lays his head on your shoulder. 

he would immediately take you back to all your favorite places. during your time away, he had taken a multitude of pictures and sent you dozens of instagram reels of cafes. now that you were here in his arms, it made going to them all the more real (or maybe not, with you sitting in front of him, enjoying a mont blanc and latte, it feels like the perfect dream). 

sleeping in the same bed as him had never felt any better. while you knew him to be a drooler, you would have never expected him to be clingier than a koala. he is keeping you flushed against his chest the entire night. if you think about getting water, he will follow you with arms tangled with yours. 

itoshi sae

“i’ll carve my name into ice while you all watch in awe.” 

the only other person with the same amount of arrogance as him was you, a rebellious teenager he found on the streets of spain. you tried to pickpocket him on his first day in the country. instead of reporting you to the police, he asked you one simple question that changed the trajectory of your life: if you had the chance to do anything, what would it be?

some people viewed you as a lost cause in the figure skating world. having started extremely late compared to your other peers, your name was rubbish and caked in dirt. however, it never stopped sae from coming to see you after every practice, watching as you practiced your spins and salchows underneath the dim lights of the arena with a coach he’d hired. to him, you were a diamond in the rough that just needed a push.

he didn’t think much about your relationship until it was late at night. you were walking back with him to a hotel, face covered with masks to avoid intruding paparazzi. it started off with small talk, like family and friends (you learned he had a very cocky but sweet brother back in japan), but it quickly diverged into something more intimate that had the two of you walking into his room with intertwined pinkies.

when it came time to perform in the qualifying rounds, you had plunged the stadium with wails and tears. overcoming the country’s beloved skater by a wide margin, you stood above everyone, head raised high as you pointed up to the cameras, hardening your gaze as you mouthed sae’s name. you must have known he was watching from the corners of the locker room. 

the world of figure skating was going to change with you, a new generation skater that rose from nothing. 

sae feels immense pride when it comes with you. even though there were many curve balls thrown in your direction, whether it be from bad press or his persistent fanbase, the smile you hid beneath the covers reassured him that you were going to stick it out. nothing in the world could compare to the happiness you felt when you were with sae. because with him, you knew you could do anything.

dates typically consist of fancy meals or sightseeing trips. he isn’t particularly drawn to these activities himself, but what motivates him is the thought of treating you to something new. whether it be a pretty dessert from down the street that costed an arm and a leg, or seeing the stars as you walk along the beach, he’ll dedicate a huge chunk of his income to letting you see the world in its fullest.

matching photocards on the back of your phone cases. sae uses a clear one so he can flip his phone around and stare at you before every game. while some think he’s admiring your smile (as beautiful as it is), he’s actually sees you as the perfect rival to his games. although you were both in different sports, the two of you constantly pushed each other to your limits, showing the world what it means to be the very best. 

nagi seishiro

“there is no point in anything if you aren’t going to have fun.” 

he wasn’t interested in figure skating until he came across one of your performances on youtube. it was really early into middle school when he started watching you. one of the reasons why he started was because you skated to a lot of his favorite songs from video games he liked. the second reason was because you looked like you were having fun. 

unlike most figure skaters he’s seen, you made the sport look enjoyable (he thinks everyone else looks extremely constipated when they’re too focused). with a beautifully confident smile, you danced across the ice, performing triple axels and a perfect biellmann spin. you skated as if you truly loved this sport, and this was the selling point for him (maybe this is when he started to be called a certified fanboy).

when he arrived to blue lock, the first thing he wanted to win back was his phone so he could keep up with your recent uploads. even when you aren’t posting something figure skating related, your miniature q&a sessions were entertaining enough to keep him awake for the rest of the night, much to reo’s dismay (he wanted to sleep early for once).

the best thing reo had gifted him were a pair of tickets to see you perform at one of the biggest skating rinks in the country. nagi was almost shaking in his seat in excitement, eyes wider than saucers when you stepped into the arena with the prettiest outfit known to man. you blew kisses and waved to the audience, giving them your signature smile. you suddenly stopped in your tracks to deliver a long kiss in nagi’s direction, something that sent him into an early cardiac arrest.

your relationship with him blossoms after seeing him at the local convenience store. the two of you had awkwardly reached for the same cup noodle. even though you were dressed in a simple, oversized black hoodie and a mask that hid half of your face, he easily recognized you by the sound of your voice. nagi’s phone would have dropped to the ground if it wasn’t for you catching it midway. when the screen lights up with a picture of you as his wallpaper, you smile and type in your number, throwing his phone back to him as you take the cup noodle and leave.

you and him would text consistently. after every practice he would immediately rush over to his phone to see if you had left any messages. expect a lot of back and forth photos. nagi’s pictures consisting of things he saw that reminded him of you while you sent him photos of yourself at practice or a recent choreograph. 

imagine how shocked your youtube fanbase is when you show up with your 6’3 boyfriend who barely shows up on camera because hes too tall for your tripod. you’re teaching him how to ice skate and although he started as a wobbly giraffe, he easily picked up a lot of tricks. he might not be the best at doing jumps but his footwork was impeccable (you like to tease him about switching careers but he lazily replies with his face in your shoulder about how much work it’ll be). 

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise ch. 2

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole, again

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

prev

when nathan got out of the car, you realized that this was actually the second time today that you had forgotten about him, too busy talking with john to remember your literal boyfriend a couple of feet away.

“this is the place?” nathan asked incredulously, “looks kind of busted up.”

you stiffened at his rudeness and were about to apologize when you heard john laugh, “yeah, this is the place, i keep telling them it could do with a paint job.”

you all walked over to the open garage doors and john yelled out, “soap, ghost, get your asses out here. you have customers.”

you heard a dull thunk, a grunt of pain and then looked down to the ground to see a man with a mohawk roll out from underneath a car. he rubbed his head to soothe the angry red spot now forming on his forehead but there was still a lopsided grin on his face and mischief sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

“cap’n, bringin’ us guests? you shouldnae ‘ave” he looked over at you and nathan, his grin growing a bit wider when he spotted you. “och, and who’s the lass?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at john, who looked sternly at him, “soap, behave.”

soap just shrugged making john sigh, but he continued, “found her and her boyfriend on the side of the road, her car’s dead, told them you could fix it. oh, and that you’d give them a friends and family discount.”

he shook his head and you worried that he wouldn’t be willing to do the job, or that this apparent kinship to john didn’t extend to people he found on the side of the road. then he said, “wouldnae be right, makin’ a bonnie lass pay a cent.”

“johnny, you can’t give free repairs to every pretty girl that comes in, we’d go out of business,” said a man as he walked into the garage, wiping his hands with an oily cloth.

“simon, finally joining us, then?” john said. “had to order some parts,” simon shrugged. simon was huge, big muscles, even taller than john, he had close-cropped blonde hair and he wore a black surgical mask but it didn’t stop him from leaning over to kiss johnny on the head through the material. out of the corner of your eye, you saw nathan cringe slightly at this action, but maybe he just didn’t like pda, he had mentioned something a while ago about it grossing him out.

simon’s words broke you out of your thoughts and you turned back to him, he had asked something about if this had been a reoccurring issue.

“oh, no, this is the first time it’s done anything like this. sure, it’s not the best car, but it’s never up and gave up before.”

simon scratched his chin and nodded as you spoke, “you mind if i take a look then?” you shook your head, “go ahead,” and you handed him your keys.

“actually, i know some stuff about cars, think i could take a look with you?” nathan spoke up, making you raise an eyebrow.

“since when?” you said, making both johns laugh, and it even got a small chuckle out of simon.

nathan’s face went red, “i- i know plenty about cars, you don’t know everything i do.”

“come on then, maybe you can do my job for me” simon said, walking over and practically scruffing nathan, leading him towards your car.

“so you two were in the force with john?” i asked. the three of you had settled in the air-conditioned office of the repair shop and johnny had made you tea, despite your insistence on it being unnecessary.

“aye. me, lt, and cap’n were all on the same task force. until i almost got murked, that is.” soap emphasized this by pointing to the giant star-shaped scar that marked the side of his shaved head.

“lt retired then too, had to take care of my sorry ass for a long while. then cap’n retired too, moved here-“ “yeah, and you two followed me here, so you could keep being pains in my ass” john grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“he really does love us, ye ken?” johnny stage whispered to you. john just shook his head, his smile growing.

“so, that just leaves one o’ us still in the force, our boy gaz. he’s a lieutenant now, ugh, they grow up so fast” johnny wiped away a fake tear.

“he still visits us old folk from time to time,” john said to you which made soap practically squawk in protest.

“awa' an bile yer heid, i’m a spring chicken compared to you two old heads” he pointed at john and then outside the window where simon stood with nathan at the car, the latter looking very emasculated.

“john calls you soap, was that your nickname?” you asked, suddenly curious.

johnny grinned in response, his annoyance fading away, “aye, it’s an inside joke between us. sorry lass, i couldn’t tell you even under threat of torture.”

“hm, alright, well, do you all have nicknames? unless you’re not allowed to tell me that either” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“och, ye found yourself a feisty bird, price,” soap laughed as he looked over at john.

“she’s not mine, remember?” he looked pointedly at johnny.

“aye, i do now. she’s with that weird looking fellow?” johnny said with such seriousness that it made you burst out into laughter, even if it was making fun of your boyfriend.

“oh god, i shouldn’t be laughing, that is so mean” you said between giggles which made soap smirk,

“he could do with being knocked down a peg or two. the bell above the door rung as nathan stepped inside, quickly followed by simon, “speaking of” soap murmured, his face shifting into a scowl.

“bad news, babe, he said it would take at least three days to fix the problem since we’d have to order a part from somewhere else,” nathan grumbled.

your face fell, “oh no, but what about the dinner with your parents?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know, i’m gonna have to call them or something.” you bit your lip, “right, okay. ugh, i’m sorry, i know you were looking forward to it.” “i knew we should’ve taken my car” he practically spat out, and you just barely stopped yourself from reminding him he insisted on taking your car.

“you could take my truck?” john offered and your gaze softened as you looked over at him, “that’s really nice of you-“ “we are not taking that thing to my parents’, it’s probably worse off than her car and we’ll be back to square one. let’s find a hotel or something and stay there until we figure something out.”

nathan apparently didn’t notice the cutting glares that both simon and johnny were giving him, not liking that someone was disrespecting their captain.

“you’re shit out of luck then, not gonna find a hotel anywhere around here” simon said, his voice had gotten lower, if that was possible, almost a growl. john looked between the two men, something in his eyes somehow conveying for them to back down because they settled slightly.

“you two can stay at my place until the car is fixed,” john turned to face nathan, “if that isn’t going to be a problem?” nathan glanced between the three men, who all stared patiently at him, almost like they were stalking their prey and waiting for the moment to strike.

“that would be fine” he said after a moment’s consideration, making john smile, his angry countenance fading away like clouds passing in front of the sun.

simon and johnny decided to close up shop early and drive with us to john’s house, figuring they could stay for dinner as well. plus, someone needed to drive nathan, otherwise he’d be stuck in the bed of the truck with all the other things simon had unloaded from your car. however, nathan did insist that you rode with him this time, him sitting in the front of simon’s car, you in the backseat and simon driving.

“so, what was your nickname on the force?” you broke the silence.

he eyed you through the rear view mirror, raising an eyebrow, “who said i had one?”

you fidgeted with your hands, worried you’d upset him, “well, i guess i shouldn’t have assumed but since johnny had one, i thought you all would.”

he just laughed, “sorry, love, just messing with you. i did have one, callsign was ghost.”

“ghost? hell kind of name is that?” nathan asked from the passenger seat.

“means you’d never see me coming” simon growled out, making nathan flinch slightly.

he laughed nervously, “that’s.. that’s a joke right?” simon just glanced at him, eyeing him up and down, and then turning back to the road. nathan didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.

when simon turned onto john’s property, your mouth practically hung open. it was beautiful, like out of a story book. a two story english farm house with aged bricks, half engulfed by vines and surrounded by lush gardens. simon chuckled and you realized in an embarrassing moment that he was laughing at you and your dazed, open expression.

quickly, you shut your mouth with your hand and cleared your throat, “it’s, um, it’s a beautiful place, is all.” you stepped out of the car, after simon opened the door for you (who knew he was such a gentleman) and watched as john did the same.

“it’s gorgeous” you remarked to him, fairly certain you still had a starry-eyed look to your face.

he just shrugged, “could do with some work, for sure” but even through the dismissive comment, you could tell he was proud of his home.

turning back, you saw nathan, sour-faced. you let out a small sigh, ‘can’t wait to find out what that’s about,’ you thought, grimly.

“i’ll get yer bags for ye” johnny said, an impish grin on his face, making you wonder if he was going to go snooping in your stuff but you just thanked him and watched as he disappeared into the house.

“i’ll go make sure he behaves” simon said gruffly, following after him. you did notice that johnny had specifically only grabbed your bags, leaving nathan to contend with his own, and in the deepest part of your mind, that made you just a little happy. you shook that thought away, ‘no, that’s your boyfriend, do not laugh at him.’

he pushed past you, grumbling something about these men all being assholes, pausing every so often to shift the bags in his grip.

“think he needs help?” john asked, startling you slightly. you didn’t even notice him walking up even though he was standing right next to you.

“oh! uh, maybe, but he’ll be fine. he can handle it” you said, and then flushed slightly, “i’m sorry, that was mean.”

john just chuckled, “sweetheart, i don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

that made you flush even more, hiding your face by turning your head slightly, “i wouldn’t say that, exactly, but thank you.”

you froze slightly when he put his hand on your waist, “ready to go inside? or you gonna keep staring at the outside for a couple more hours.”

“right, yeah, let’s go in, sorry.” you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest as he used his arm behind your back to guide you towards the house. christ, this was looking to be a long day.

a/n: ok yay!!! pt. 2!! haven’t written this much in a long time ngl 😭 yet again, no beta reader, so this is very much unedited, sorry. really wish i could’ve put gaz in this but it didn’t really make sense that he would retire as well :/ but maybe he’ll make an appearance later!! i’ll think of smth..

tag list: @the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

[latenightreadingpdf]

Healing - James Potter

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: James Potter has made a habit of visiting you in the hospital wing for every one of his "injuries".

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The hospital wing smelled of clean linens and healing potions, the quiet hum of magic hanging in the air as you tidied the space. You had always been drawn to healing, and your time as Madame Pomfrey’s apprentice had only solidified your desire to make it your career. It was a quiet day, which you didn’t mind; the calm allowed you to focus on your studies.

Then, the doors burst open.

Madame Pomfrey appeared, bustling in alongside a stretcher that levitated James Potter. He looked worse for wear, his jersey rumpled and streaked with dirt, his glasses askew, and a pained expression on his face.

"Another Quidditch injury, of course," Madame Pomfrey sighed as the stretcher lowered onto one of the beds. She turned to you, offering a kind smile. "Y/N, you’ll handle this one. James, meet Y/N, my apprentice. She’ll be taking care of you today."

James, despite his discomfort, managed a grin. "Pleasure to meet you, Healer-in-Training."

You smiled softly, pulling a chair to sit beside him. "The pleasures all mine James. Now, what happened?"

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Got shoved off my broom during the game. Didn’t land quite right. My leg’s killing me."

You nodded, already jotting down notes in your leather-bound notebook. "You probably a pulled muscle when you landed. Let me grab a few things to help with that. Stay put—I’ll be right back."

As you walked to the supply cupboard, you heard a commotion behind you.

"Prongs!"

You turned slightly to see three boys barreling into the room: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. All wore matching looks of worry, though Sirius's dramatic flair made him the loudest.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked, rushing to James’s bedside. "Do you need me to carry you everywhere now? I will, you know."

James groaned, half in pain, half in exasperation. "I’m fine, Pads. It’s just a pulled muscle."

Peter and Remus settled into chairs nearby, though Sirius decided to climb onto the bed, squishing himself beside James.

When you returned, your arms full of salves and potions, you stopped short at the sight of the chaotic group. You’d expected only James, but now there was a whole audience.

Clearing your throat softly, you stepped closer. "Hello, everyone."

The Marauders turned to you, and Sirius gave you an overly enthusiastic wave. "Oh, hello! Are you here to save our James?"

"That’s the idea," you replied, amused. Then you turned your attention to Sirius. "But I’ll need some room to work, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get off the bed."

Sirius pouted dramatically but complied, sliding off and promptly sitting on Remus’s lap instead.

"Really, Padfoot?" Remus muttered, though he didn’t push him off.

"Thank you," you said with a small smile before turning back to James. "Alright, I’m going to apply some salves and potions to help the muscle heal. Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable."

James nodded, watching you with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and appreciation. You worked quickly but gently, your touch steady and practiced.

"That should do it," you said, stepping back and packing up your supplies. "How does it feel?"

James stretched his leg cautiously, a grin spreading across his face. "Loads better already, actually. Thanks, Y/N. You’re a miracle worker."

"Happy to help," you replied, handing him a small jar of salve. "Apply this if it starts to bruise or feel sore again. Do you think you’re okay to walk back to your dorm, or would you like to stay a bit longer?"

"I’ll be fine," James said confidently, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Take it easy," you warned lightly, your tone soft but firm.

James smiled up at you, his warm hazel eyes meeting yours. "Don’t worry. If anything happens, I’ll come straight back, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again."

Sirius let out a mock gasp. "James Potter, are you flirting with the healer?"

James’s ears turned pink, but he shrugged nonchalantly. "Can’t blame me for appreciating good company."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you moved to tidy up. "Take care, James."

As the Marauders escorted him out, Sirius called back over his shoulder. "You’re always welcome at our dorm, Y/N! Just say the word!"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It had become a running joke among your fellow students: James Potter’s newfound devotion to the hospital wing. Whether it was a phantom ache, a paper cut, or the slightest shove from Sirius, he was there, demanding your attention. You couldn’t say you minded too much—it was hard not to find his antics endearing.

Today, however, was different.

When James walked in, his usual playful swagger was replaced with something a bit more subdued. A dark purple bruise marred his cheek, and his glasses were slightly askew. You immediately put down the textbook you were studying and stood to greet him.

"James," you said, concern lacing your voice. "What happened?"

He gave you a sheepish grin as he settled onto the nearest bed. "Ran into a bit of trouble with some Slytherins. Just a little scuffle—nothing to worry about."

You frowned, pulling your stool closer to him. "A little scuffle? This bruise says otherwise."

Grabbing a jar of salve, you dipped your fingers into the cool, minty substance and turned back to him. Gently, you cupped his face, tilting it so the light caught the bruise.

James froze, his hazel eyes wide as he looked up at you. For once, he was completely still, not a single cheeky comment slipping from his lips.

"This might sting a little," you murmured, focusing on applying the salve. Your thumb brushed along his cheekbone with practiced care, and James let out a soft sigh, though you weren’t sure if it was from relief or something else entirely.

As you worked, you couldn’t help but notice the way he was looking at you—like you were the only person in the world. It made your heart do an annoying little flip, but you pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Is there anything else you need?" you asked softly, your hands still cradling his face.

James hesitated for a moment before his lips curled into a grin, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Actually, yeah. There is one thing."

You tilted your head, worried there might be another injury. "What is it?"

He leaned just the slightest bit closer, pointing to his cheek, his grin turning playful. "Aren’t you going to kiss it better?"

You blinked, taken aback for a moment, before a laugh escaped your lips. “James Potter, you’re impossible."

"Hey, it might help," he said, his grin widening. "You’re the healer—you’d know best, wouldn’t you?"

Rolling your eyes, you tapped his nose lightly. "I think the salve will do just fine."

He sighed dramatically, sitting back against the bed. "Worth a shot."

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile as you packed up your supplies. "Let me know if the swelling doesn’t go down in a day or two. And try to stay out of trouble for once."

"No promises," he said, hopping off the bed. Before leaving, he paused by the door, turning back to flash you a boyish grin. "Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best."

As the door closed behind him, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. James Potter might have been impossible, but he was also undeniably charming.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[spatialwave]

➸ ask: “Hey! How about “one more kiss, please” from the prompt list for Jayce. I just need him desperately yearning for reader” – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x gn!reader ➸ word count: 1.3k ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, kissing, yearning, mutual pining, gender-neutral reader, no mention of y/n. ➸ notes: tysm for asking! ask came from this prompt!

You couldn’t count on ten fingers how many nights you dreamt of Jayce Talis, the Man of Progress himself. The image of him rattled through your mind at every waking hour, that stupid smile you always wanted to wipe from his lips with your own. 

What you hadn’t known was how he reciprocated the sentiment. Jayce would find you at your workstation, dirt on your face and welding goggles on as you carefully put together pieces that would host the hextech gemstones for further research. You had become a treasure to him, someone he could rely on when his days were busy, which were more often than not.

There were plenty of times you hadn’t been aware of his presence, he would stand in the doorway watching you work. Hearts for eyes and forcing himself to turn away before his heart ached too much, knowing that you weren’t his.

He yearned for you each day, staying up into the late hours, wondering if you felt the same.

How could you? You were too…perfect. 

It was the night of one of Piltover’s illustrious charity events that brought in only the richest of citizens. Any and all who put in their well-earned money for the academy, and you, had been invited by Jayce himself. Viktor had decided against it, not so much inclined to spend his night at another event when he could be spending his evening in the lab with Sky.

So, you took his spot – and you did not belong.

With your hand wrapped around an empty glass which once held a darkened liquor, you stood off to the side in the large area that had been decorated so elegantly. The tunes of the live music and sounds of chatter filled your ears, eyes looking amongst the swarm of rich Piltovians sharing conversation about gods knows what.

Jayce had been everywhere and nowhere, the Golden Boy was easily the most important icon of the evening. Everyone wanted to talk with him, ask about his research and his plans for improvement of the city. 

It was irritating to be stuck alone, but at least the invitation filled your stomach with top-shelf food and liquor you wouldn’t be able to afford yourself.

There Jayce stood amongst a group of rich folk, eating him up, just like you knew they would. He was surrounded, a big smile on his lips as he moved his way through each conversation with his natural knack of charisma. You wondered what he was talking about, watching his lips move as he spoke so goddamn passionately, hands flying with each word. 

His eyes connected with yours at one point, lingering on you for a quick moment with that stupid smile, before his attention was enraptured by another generous donor.

After a few more minutes of watching, you gave up. There was nothing else for you here.

Footsteps clicked along the surface of the tiled floors, the empty halls more inviting than the gala ever was. Your fingers dragged along the surface of the brick walls, the liquor having left you in just the perfect amount of bliss as you made your way home, knowing you could sleep the next day away.

“Hey!” A voice called from behind you, startling you with a soft gasp.

You snapped your head around, eyes widening when they settled on Jayce hurrying down the hall behind you. He wore a smile, wearing too fancy of clothing to be chasing you down.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked once he reached a few steps away of you, breathing a bit heavy, “Sorry… out of breath,” he chuckled through deep inhales, “I didn’t think I’d catch up to you.”

The thumping of your heart against your rib cage didn’t go unnoticed, stilled in silence over the fact that he chased after you. A tiny smile spread across your lips.

“It’s not really my style,” you finally replied, hands landing on your hips, “why do you care if I leave?”

“Why do I care?” Jayce’s eyebrows furrowed together, “because I invited you here. I… I want you here.”

You hated how sweet he was.

“You’re a busy man, Jayce,” you smiled, offering a slight shake of your head as you stepped toward him, better seeing him under the dim lighting of the empty hallways, “I’m not too fond of just standing around watching you get swarmed by every wealthy person from Piltover. As inviting as that sounds.”

He snorted out a laugh, eyes watching you closely as you stepped directly below one of the overhanging lights. It illuminated your features perfectly, made you appear like a glowing angel.

“So, you’re just going to leave me here by myself?” He asked, those big eyes of his making you want to melt right into the floor beneath you.

You laughed in disbelief, raising an eyebrow, “you’re not alone.”

“But I want you here,” he was adamant, eyebrows furrowing again, “come on. It’s not that bad.”

“You’re annoying,” you groaned, trying to act like this was worse than it was. You had a flair for the dramatics when you needed to pull something out from your sleeve, “I’ll see you tomorrow anyway, it’s fine,” you brushed him off with a wave of your hand, “plus, you’re going to be busy all night, so if I stay, I’ll end up getting drunk by myself and that’s never turned out well for me.”

Jayce’s eyes flickered over your face, studying your expression carefully. Neither of you had realized how close you had gotten, close enough that he could tuck back some of your hair behind your ear. The movement of his hand made you both tense up, a fleeting touch that he hadn’t realized he’d done. Fingers brushed against the shell of your ear as he pulled his hand away, redness tinting his cheeks.

“Oh, uh–” he forced out an awkward laugh, eyes now looking anywhere other than your face, “you had some hair… in your face.”

Lips parted, but you couldn’t speak. His touched left you stunned in place, eyes big as you watched him. You watched as his eyes focused somewhere along the walls, hands balling into tense fists and teeth biting at his lower lip.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the late hour of the night, but you hadn’t the slightest care in the world anymore. All you wanted was Jayce, and it was his fault that he made you feel this way, so you were going to pull him into the mess that was you.

Even if it ruined the friendship you worked so hard to maintain, all these years.

His amber eyes landed back on you when he felt your hands reaching to his cheeks, cupping his face oh-so delicately. They widened as he watched you lean closer, noticing the way your gaze flickered down to his lips he’d been habitually chewing on all evening.

Jayce’s heart fluttered, and he acted on what felt right. Meeting you halfway and sighing when your lips touched after years of imagining what this would feel like. 

Both hands reached out for you, resting on your waist as he pressed forward. The kiss developed slowly, lips moving together a bit clumsily as your patience wore thin. Hands explored each other, touching hips and shoulders, and your tongue slipped from between your lips, and that’s when you froze.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you pulled back, taking a slight step away, “sorry–”

“No, don’t,” he whispered, closing the distance with a forward step until your chests were pressed together. He stared deep into your eyes, his own full of love as his gaze continued to flicker down to your lips that he needed to taste again, “one more kiss… please.”

You smiled like an idiot.

“Just one more,” you murmured, rolling your eyes affectionately, before he pulled you back into another kiss that took the breath from your lungs.

Jayce would be the death of you.

[a1ecmcdowell]

LIVEWIRE — jj maybank x reader.

livewire (n) — an energetic or unpredictable person; a force of nature. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthat boy is a livewire; he'll ruin you, or die trying.

. . . or, jj's crashout — featuring you.

includes, SEXUAL CONTENT! MDNI. kinda pwp. crashout!jj. best friend!fem!reader. forced proximity. high stakes. dirty talk. jj is vocal. p in v. unprotected sex ( do not do this they r just so ridiculous & horny ). ( semi ) public. he has absolutely no pullout game but he's forgiven for it </3

NOTES. if the door logic doesn't make any sense realistically ... that's not my business. i'm not writing for realism i'm writing for the JJ GIRLS who want 2 fuck CRASHOUT JJ. also my apology for the quote in the tagline ik its too soon still but i joke 2 cope.

Red and blue littered the autumnal afternoon sky, sirens overshadowing the lyrical chirps of the birds, the scattered winds blowing red and orange leaves down the Kildare streets. 

JJ Maybank is a fucking force to be reckoned with. In his wake, town hall’s alarms reared their deafening screeches, the aforementioned chilly winds blowing in handfuls of leaves to scatter the podiums and the foldout chairs. There’s a lone chair on its side in the middle of the well-kept grassy front courtyard. There’s glass burrowing itself in the dirt, reflecting the golden sun’s light at every which way when you turn your head. 

The other pogues are screaming at him to go, to run, and he’s shocked for a moment. Stood like a deer in headlights at the actions that he took. Who knew how much one boy was capable? All of the destruction that two hands could elicit? 

Oh, and what an empowering thought it is, too: realizing what you are capable of doing when you are pushed to the brink. 

There’s that look in his eyes, before he turns on his heels and takes off into the wood, disappearing like a speck in the small bit of forestry separating town hall from the rest of the downtown area. 

You know what that look means. This is merely the first in his rampage. Fire burns blue in the thin line of his irises, everything else overtaken by adrenaline and fucking rage. 

“Someone has to—” Kie starts, and you realize that you’ve been staring straight ahead at the trees he vanished into, eyes locked on the exact path he took. “Someone has to go, go make sure he’s okay—” 

Sarah’s eyes lock on yours. John B grimaces for a second, like he’s considering it, before he looks at you, too. Kie’s words, albeit vague, had never sounded so directed before. Pope—

Pope is getting tossed against the hood of a cop car, and suddenly, the pogues aren’t looking at you anymore. Their gazes break and shatter away from you like the shards of the window surrounding your feet. 

Your heart is racing. You. Chase him down. And what did they expect you to do? To tell him that this wasn’t him, and to stop while he’s ahead, and to hold his hand and guide him back to safety away from the cops’ sirens and cars that had already broken away from the crowd to hunt for him? 

No. This was JJ, and he wouldn’t stop while he was ahead, and he was going to take the cops on his tail like a challenge to keep going until he cracked — or they did. 

You were the only one that ever understood him, really. That was why their eyes immediately shifted to you when the topic came up that someone had to find him, because even while they wanted to help, they would only drive him further away. Not you. Never you. 

You’re turning on your heel and sprinting before anyone can realize what you’re doing. Not the screaming kooks, demanding lawyers and justice to the unlistening winds. Not the pogues, banging on the remaining cop cars to free him, free Pope, stop this fucking madness— 

It’s like a thin line is painted on the ground between you and JJ. An invisible rope, loose but growing more taut the closer you follow on his tail. 

You follow it. Follow that red string into the trees, letting it tug you along until you break out of the shadowy wood and onto main street. 

A car alarm blares. Glass shards on the trunk of it, surrounding the asphalt around it. You slow to a stop to avoid catching any of those sharp, loose pieces in your shoes. Even now that the imaginary red line has faded, you can see traces of where he went in the path of destruction he made. 

A shop’s window busted a few feet away from the car. A street pole sparking and buzzing lowly, electricity humming through the air like a siren’s song, tempting anyone it came across to touch it. Touch the livewire. 

Just a few feet away, there he is. JJ has an outdoor seating chair in his two hands, and he’s seconds from tossing it through the glass window of the cafe it was in front of. 

“JJ!” You shout, your voice faint beneath the sound of the car alarm, the sparking of the electrical fire, the hum of electricity buzzing all around you. 

His head swivels to look back at you, and he looks fucking vicious. He looks like no matter what you say, he’s not going to stop. Not here. The electricity coming from the dented-in box on the street pole is feeding directly into his veins. 

“Not supposed t’be here,” he calls back, and now that fury is directed at you. As if he ever could have stopped you from following the breadcrumbs he only ever left for you. “Can’t fuckin’ stop me.” 

You crunch glass beneath your feet as you run toward him. It’s too late to do anything about the cafe window; its pieces spill onto the glossy wood floor, some splayed onto the sidewalk. 

“Who said I’d try and stop you?” You ask him once you’re close enough. His hand runs through his mussed blonde hair, tugging the strands straight up. 

His eyes flit to you, eyebrows raised behind the loose strands falling back down over them. “M’not letting you get into this shit, too,” he says just as sternly. “It’s my fuckin’ life I’m ruining.” 

“Why?” you ask him, and it is a genuine question, even though you don’t think he’s going to answer. So you start to spit out your own theories. “Because of your dad? Because of what Luke did?” 

His eyes drop to the ground, squinting like he’s looking for something through the shards surrounding his feet. The bat. The end of it sticks out in front of your shoes. 

You bend down to grab it, holding the hitting end out toward him. His eyes are so dark when they glance at it, and then back up to you. His eyes were always oceanic, but now they seemed to be drowned out by the stormy black clouds that were his pupils. 

JJ’s eyes linger on yours. He’s never really made an effort to read you before, more of a take it on the chin sort of guy when it came to how people were, and what they meant to him. But he studied you now, and it was almost unnerving, trying to guess what exactly he saw reflected back to him. 

His fingers close around the hitting end of the bat in a tight grip, using it to pull you closer to him. He’s holding it out to the side, just so that it can’t go taut and rigid between the two of you, allowing you to be tugged closer than you would have been able to be. 

His breaths come in furious pants, audible once you were close to him. He was a livewire. He was sparking, burning everything he touched, trying to take it all to the ground. 

Destruction was always so pretty when it was at his hands. He did everything with purpose, whether it was for the good of who he cared about, or for his own grievances. 

And this sort of destruction, the kind you saw his eyes fall into once you were close enough to share breaths? It was golden and fiery, and full of promise that would break the thin line between your friendship and something else. 

You knew it in the same way that you knew how to follow that red, invisible line to him. Red because it was a bad idea, a waving red flag, telling you to stop, stop, stop. But it connected the both of you, regardless of its color; so how were you expected to?

“Feelin’ hungry?” JJ asks, voice low and almost sinful with the way that it rasped. 

You don’t mean to balk, but you do. It wasn’t a question you expected him to ask, but the double meaning in it, the innuendo laced words, had you stifling on your own words. “For what?” 

The bat slips from his grip, and it falls to hang loosely at your side. “We broke it, we buy it,” he says with a nod toward the shattered gap in the cafe’s window. “Or… not buy it.” His eyebrows bounce when he looks at you, and he leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Did you think I was talkin’ about something else?” 

Your face flushes. Then, you drop the bat to shove at his chest with both hands. “Shut up.” 

“What, you feelin’ all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tryna get some fugitive dick before it’s tossed in the slammer?” 

Your face is hot, the trail of heat from your reddened cheeks traveling like a river stream to your lower stomach. “Shut up, JJ,” you seethe, though it has none of the fire you wish it did. You didn’t know why; you had so much of it running through your blood then that it should have made you sound more fiery than you did. 

“Uh huh,” JJ cackles, his hand lifting to the back of your shoulder, pushing you toward the broken window. Once you’re a few steps ahead of him, his hand claps on your ass. “Andele, andele! Cops on the horizon.” 

It takes every bit of your willpower to not whirl around and smack him back. You don’t, because unfortunately for you, the sting only adds to your stomach becoming molten liquid, and for the other, more pressing matter, of the cops’ lights glowing red and blue at the very end of the street. 

You duck into the hole in the glass, feet crunching down on pieces of glass and debris. He follows immediately after, though when he slips into the building, it’s more stumbling than anything graceful. 

“Head t’the back,” he huffs, nodding toward the push-to-open door behind the front counter. “M’not gettin’ fucking caught before I fuck up that goddamn realtor’s house.” 

Arguing with him is a bit useless. JJ’s never been one to listen to anyone when his mind is set on something. You knew this from the moment that you took off in his direction to find him. Still, you almost open your mouth to make the effort to stop him, so at least you could say you did try. 

He cuts in front of you, stepping around the chair he tossed through the window, hopping over the countertop. He stops when he’s leaned against the door, holding it propped for you. 

“I’d say ladies first, but someone’s takin’ their sweet ass time,” he prods, nodding in gesture to the kitchen. 

You scoff, shaking your head, as you circle around the counter, shoving your shoulder into him when you duck underneath his arm. “Some of us aren’t so akin with vandalism.” 

“Some of us,” JJ mocks, his fingers digging into your ribcage as he falls into step behind you, “need t’lighten the hell up.” 

“I’m sorry, but are the cops not literally outside? End of the road?” It’s useless to humor him and his pestering, but it makes your heart beat a little bit faster, so who are you to make it easier for him and just go along with his ploys? 

He tsks. “Semantics.” His head spins around as he takes in the room surrounding them; typical bakery style kitchen, mixers and cutting boards and ovens, sinks lined up on the back wall. There’s tall fridges and deep freezes on one side of the wall, and parallel to it was— “Aha, there we go.” 

JJ cuts in front of you again, doing a little hop and a skip as he bumps his hip into this new door, tugging the handle down as he opens it. “Pantry, or whatever,” he scoffs, his face twisting up, “doesn’t matter to me what the hell it is. Gonna have to camp out in here, you and I.” 

Of course you were. You’d signed up for this, getting involved in this round of his criminalistic habits, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have the right to be annoyed. Weren’t you lot chased by the police enough as is? 

Still, you step into the pantry, the smell of chocolate chips and something else sugary hitting your nostrils the moment you’re inside. Boxes of ingredients line the shelves, including the ziploc bag of chocolate chips. 

JJ’s snatching it up before you can even process it, diving his hand into it and popping the handful between his plush lips. “Told you. Break it, we bought it.” 

Your eyes roll. Vandalism and theft. Probably a hefty sentence, nothing that either of you could afford with Poguelandia on the brink of destruction and your debts already piled high. 

He zips the bag back up and tosses it back on the shelf. “Walkin’ around like you got a stick up your ass, sweetheart,” JJ muses, his fingers closing around your elbow. “Told y’to relax, didn’t I?”

“No,” you say slowly in response. “You told me to lighten the hell up.” 

One side of his mouth quirks in a half smile, dimple gracing his cheek in the process. “Semantics,” he repeats, and he uses the grip he has on your arm to tug you back into his chest. “I could help you lighten the hell up.” 

“I sincerely doubt it, JJ,” you huff, your expression as unimpressed as one’s could be. “You’re the entire reason—” 

His mouth crashes against yours before you can finish that sentence. His mouth is as soft as it looks, the inner shell of his lips chapped. He tastes like weed, like the taste of it is so familiar in his mouth that it embedded itself into his taste. 

You almost don’t kiss back. It’s one of those things that feels like a bad idea because it is. That pointless rule about no kissing on other pogues went out the window the moment Kie and Pope got their hands on each other, but it still felt wrong, to break one of the rules that cemented the glue that held this group together. 

You kiss him back anyways. The moment that you start to respond to his advances, his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, pushing his way in. He starts walking the both of you backwards, deeper into the pantry, until your back hits the wall. 

JJ’s hands drop to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly to wrap your legs around his waist. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him further in until his chest presses against yours. 

His hands let go of you, the press of his body against yours on the wall and your legs tight around his waist keep you held up. His fingers close around the hem of your dress’s skirt, tugging it up. 

Your eyes pop open, falling down to your exposed panties pressed against his denim jeans. When you glance back up at him, lips still lightly pressed to his, they’re blue again, and glimmery. 

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, stealing another kiss in the process. “Just… tryna get your mind off of—” 

“The manhunt?” You finish for him, and he laughs breathlessly against your mouth. 

“Mm, m’not doing a great job at distracting you, then,” he teases, one of his hands letting go of your dress, the other fisting the fabric as he holds it up. The free hand’s fingers slide down, down, down, until their tips are pressed on the edge of your panties. So close he could probably feel the slickness leaking through the fabric. 

“This all for me, baby?” he asks with that infuriating amusement curled around his words. “Or is it the danger of all this, too? Like bein’ an outlaw with little ol’ me?”

You aren’t even going to dignify him with an answer. Your bottom lip wedges itself between your teeth, your hands curling into fists against the fabric of his shirt. 

His middle finger starts to rub slow, lazy circles over your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your panties, his lips parted like he’s going to say something stupid about the whine that falls from your mouth—

When the sirens get so loud that it echoes around the small pantry. They don’t dissipate, either, which means…

“The door,” you choke out, nodding behind JJ to the pantry door. He’d shut it behind the both of you, but there’s a lock by the top of it, one of those chain link ones. “The lock—” You try to clarify, your brain a bit muddled. 

JJ’s head turns to glance behind him, and you watch his eyes dance up to the chain, too. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Such a damn worrier.” 

“I’m not—” 

Always useless arguing with him. He cuts you off by gripping at your thighs again with his lithe fingers, lifting you off of the wall and tugging you into his chest. 

You grab fistfuls of his shirt so you don’t fall backwards at the sudden movement, your lips curled into a scowl. 

He doesn’t seem to notice. He holds you in his arms as he walks to the door, pressing your back against this one so he can remove one hand from your leg, and lifts it to chain the lock. 

“Better?” he teases, and you’re about to scowl at him again when you watch the smile drop from his lips. 

Just as suddenly as he’d yanked you from the wall, he’s dropping to the ground, your body falling right along with him, knees crashing into the hardwood floors as you land into straddling him. Your mouth opens to gasp, or swear, or gasp and swear, when his fingers close over your lips. 

The cops. You hear them, then, the muffled voices and muddled words. Through the crack beneath the door behind JJ’s planted ass, you see their flashlights, too. 

His eyes meet yours, and he nods once, his expression grim. You blink, and his eyes are again filled with that glimmering mischief that never, in his life, has meant something good. 

And it was truly delinquent of him this time, as his hands drop to the button and fly of his jeans. Your mouth opens and closes in protest, because there’s no way he’s thinking that you two are going to fuck on some cafe’s pantry’s floor with cops right there—

“Oh, get that look offa your face,” he whispers, nosing your chin up and stealing a kiss when you’ve met his eyes again. “As long as you be quiet, what’s the big deal?” 

“You have nothing but awful ideas in that head of yours,” you snap in a low whisper, through your gritted teeth. “I’m not having sex with you right now—” 

JJ’s eyebrows raise. His eyes fall down to your slickened thighs, to the panties beneath the dress pooling his waist that he knows are wet with your arousal. 

“Fuck you.” It’s so pathetic to say, such a weak argument, but it’s the only thing that you can even think right now. Your heart is pounding in your chest with adrenaline and need and the fact that you can feel his hard dick straining in his jeans against your pussy.

JJ tips his head in a nod, his lips still quirked. “Aye aye, captain.” 

He undoes the restraints on his jeans, and his fingers disappear into the flyguard. Your eyes bounce between his face and his hands, his expression contorted in pure concentration that would be adorable if it wasn’t so seriously not. His tongue’s poking between his teeth, panting like an excited puppy, and you just want to—

“Hop on, baby,” he says triumphantly, and those stupid lips curl into an even more stupid grin. His hands pat his thighs to draw your attention downward. 

Fuck.

Your eyes must darken at the sight of him, hard and leaking precum, because he starts cackling like there aren’t police on the other side of the door, trying to cuff him and throw him in the backseat of a police car. “C’mon. Don’t be stingy now, baby, I see how bad you want it.” 

There are rare moments that JJ is right. Broken clocks right twice a day, or something like that. When he’s right, he’s always dead on, and it’s infuriating. 

You glance up at the little window in the door, and for then, at least, it’s clear. No shining flashlights beaming into the pantry you’re both camping in… 

You make bad decisions far less than JJ does. Still, like broken clocks, you both align sometimes. 

Lifting your hips off of his lap, his hands grasp at the backs of your thighs, guiding you onto his waiting cock, slapping it lightly against your pussy a couple of times before he lines himself up and drags the swollen head of it down your folds beneath your panties. He doesn’t give any warning before he pushes himself into you, a hard thrust that brings him all the way to the hilt at once.

Your lips fall open in a sharp gasp, and just barely does his hand make it over your mouth before the moan falls out of your mouth. One hand over your mouth, the other on your ass, guiding you into moving.

“As much as I love that mouth of yours,” JJ groans into your ear, low and rough like the words are being pried out of his lungs and torn through his ribs, “gonna have to keep it down this time.” 

He’s such a fucking hypocrite, though — the moment you adjust to the size of him filling you completely, stretching your inner walls to accommodate to him, and you start to move on your own? His head tips back against the door, guttural moans underneath his breath. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he manages, and you slam down on him again, his hand dragging your hips forward to grind your aching pussy against his pelvis in slow circles. “Oh, fuck, baby—” 

“Shut up,” you muffle through his hand, even though it’s getting to you too, his palm stifling every gasp and breathy whimper before it leaves your parted lips. 

His hand clasps tighter around your mouth, his heavy, half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “You’re not the one in control here, baby.” 

It’s easy to forget, with him stretching you out and being relatively gentle right now, that he’s higher than he’s ever been. Adrenaline turns people into carcasses of themselves; wearing them down to the bone, using every scrap of energy available. 

His blown pupils are glimmering with it. He’s daring you with nothing but a look to see what happens when you keep running your mouth. His hand relents its hold on your mouth, and the other stills your hips as you stay suspended halfway down his cock.

The whine you let out is something you’ll deny later. The gravelly laugh he lets out is something that indicates he won’t let you. 

JJ smears his hand across your mouth, taking the saliva from the corner of your lips and spreading it across them, your cheek, before his two fingers slide into your mouth. “Not so bossy now, are you, baby?” he asks under his breath, as he thrusts his fingers in and out, as he slams his hips up in that same relentless pace as them. “Not so bossy when I’m fucking that mouth and that pretty little pussy.” 

His words burn from your lower stomach to up your spine, electric everywhere they reach. You can do nothing but take it, your hands on his shoulders for some sense of stability. 

Each thrust has the tip of his cock against your cervix, has his fingers clawing along your tongue as he presses them down on it just enough to pry your jaw open. 

“Lemme see that smile, sweetheart,” he murmurs, those two fingers spreading out into a V, forcing the corners of your lips up and into a wide grin. You sneer, and all that does is make him pound into you harder. “Don’t act so fuckin’ fussy, you’re gettin’ what you wanted, aren’t ya?” 

His fingers press on your tongue again, and your lips close around them again. It’s a good distraction from the way you want to scream. Not like you’d ever put that thought in his head with his ego. 

JJ slows his pace, but each thrust is just as hard, so deep in you that you can feel each of them, each minute detail; the thick head of his cock against your cervix, every inch that stretches you further with each of those thrusts, the obscene sound in the silent room of skin slapping against skin. 

“Baby, m’not gonna last much longer,” JJ pants into your ear, his voice still as rough but with an air of desperation. “Not like this, not with how fuckin’ good you’re bein’ for me, nice and quiet while I fuck your juicy pussy— fuck, baby.” 

He drags his fingers over your lips again, this time down, down the valley between your breasts, your stomach, your navel, until they’re planted right in the hot wetness of your folds. They find your clit and begin to rub the swollen nub, slow and gentle and completely at odds with the brutal fucking. 

You’re good, though, even without his hand covering your mouth. Even with—

A flashlight beams through the glass window above the both of you. Your eyes glance up to see it, and JJ’s staring at the spotlight of gold in the center of the room, just inches from his extended legs.

It flicks left, right, and you see the glimmer in the eyes of the officer right there, face pressed to the glass, hear the doorknob jangle against the chained lock—

JJ doesn’t stop. His pace becomes quicker, more erratic, more desperate. Your jaw trembles with the effort to keep your parted lips from making any sound at all, the precipice so close that you’re terrified of whatever noise is going to come out of your mouth when you cum. 

The beam from the light swings away, disappearing as the officer walks away, muffled words through the walls separating you and JJ from them. 

It’s just in time, too, because you cum with a soft and breathless gasp, your walls pulsing around his cock, your head falling forward to bury into his collar. His moans begin to shudder in your ear, and you know that he, too, is cumming. Feel it seconds later, when your head starts to clear from the haze of ecstasy, as the warmth of his cum fills you, his cock twitching inside of you. 

JJ lifts his fingers from between your legs and pops them into his mouth, the sound of him sucking the essence of you off of them making your legs tremble around him. “Like fuckin’ sin,” he whispers reverently. 

He’s so pretty like this. All spent and molten, softening cock inside of you like an extension of you now. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing stray hairs off of your face in the process. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, just as reverently as before, voicing the same thoughts you’d been having about him. 

“You’re so stupid,” you say in response, not capable of telling him how much you love him, feeling it to be the wrong time, too cheesy, another thing he’ll tease you about later. 

It’s there, though, on the tip of your tongue. I love you. And you do, so much that it aches. This man that’d been your best friend since you could remember anything. This man who sacrificed everything constantly for everyone. 

He wouldn’t have to sacrifice anything anymore, you wanna say. He could rest now, you wanted to say, too. 

But it feels wrong. And there’s always another time to tell him when it doesn’t just seem like bliss-driven thoughts. There’s always another day.

notes, thoguht my grief was over but the ending made me cry for some reason that's how u know this death hit deep bc why am i crying over like four lines in a Smut pls

[4701rose]

... I want to start by this art is utterly amazing, so much so that I needed to write a scene of what is going on inside this world.

Title: good things do happen

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1,445

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love

Miklan was rifling through the kitchen cabinets, looking for something to eat, when he heard the key turn in the back door. He looked down at the mostly empty box of protein bars he knew Sylvain was saving for lunches and the jar of peanut butter they had no bread to spread on and shut the cabinet. When he turned around, Sylvain was standing in the hallway, wiping his snow-covered boots on the black dirt-encrusted doormat that was here when they first moved in. There was a radiator by the back door. 

Miklan watched as Sylvain pulled off his gloves with his teeth and put them on top of the radiator. Sylvain shivered as he pulled the zipper on his jacket down. He was wearing the outer layer of Miklan’s coat. The zipper was broken, so Miklan couldn’t very well use it, now, could he? 

Sylvain looked up and saw Miklan watching him. He smiled one of those corny little smiles that made Miklan want to go over and smack him. “Hey,” Sylvain said as he stepped out of his winter boots and into their kitchen. The floor was linoleum that had once been white, dotted here and there with blue flowers. There was dirt strewn all across the floor. In black socks, you didn’t notice it as much, but Miklan did notice Sylvain kept the jacket on. 

Sylvain stroked his red hands up and down his upper arms before he buried his hands in his jacket pockets with a shiver. “Did you manage to get the heat working?” Sylvain asked, his chestnut eyes twinkling like he knew the answer already and was asking just to be annoying. Typical. 

Miklan grunted as he turned around to inspect the other cabinets in their tiny kitchen. “No,” he huffed. “The landlord said he’ll come by tomorrow.” 

Sylvain chuckled. “You don’t sound convinced.” 

“He hasn’t come over the last two times he’d promised to.” Miklan opened the fridge and studied its contents as his annoying little brother draped himself against Miklan’s lefthand side, like leech. “What the hell, brat.” 

“You’re warm,” Sylvain huffed into his ear. “How was work today?” 

Miklan made a face at the jar of mustard and the carton of eggs with three eggs remaining in it. “It was work,” Miklan said, noncommittal. 

“Dorothea told me you scared the piss out of some dude.” 

When Miklan looked down at his little brother, Sylvain’s eyes were laughing. Miklan sighed and then shook Sylvain off his arm so he could crouch down. Inside the vegetable drawer was one lonely wilted head of lettuce. When Miklan opened the drawer and pulled it out, it was wet to the touch. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?” Sylvain asked. 

“What’s there to tell? Besides, Dorothea probably already gave the whole story already. What’s the point in retelling it?” Miklan moved around Sylvain to toss the wilted lettuce into the trash can, Sylvain moving with him. They hadn’t been here very long, but Sylvain always had a sixth sense for where Miklan was in proximity to Sylvain. Miklan supposed that was his fault. He tried and failed to dredge up anything other than tiredness. 

“I still wanna hear it,” Sylvain said as Miklan pulled out their only fry pan. 

“He was an ass.” Miklan said as he reached for the last of the vegetable oil. “I dealt with it. End of story. Pass me the eggs.”

Miklan didn’t jolt as Sylvain pasted himself against Miklan’s back. “You’re no fun,” Sylvain whinged. Through the black leather jacket Miklan was wearing, he could feel Sylvain’s body heat. The kid was like a walking furnace. 

“Then you tell it,” Miklan said, disinterested. “Hey, I asked you to pass me the eggs. Can you do that, or should I tell Dorothea her boytoy is broken?” 

“You’re so mean, Miklan,” Sylvain grumbled. He put the eggs on the counter next to Miklan’s hand. Miklan clicked on the gas stove as Sylvain jumped up on the counter on the other side of the stove. Miklan glanced at Sylvain’s black skinny jeans with the purposefully ripped holes in the knees and wanted to scoff. He held his hand above the pan to see if it was hot yet. 

It was not. 

Miklan fried them both an egg each as Sylvain rattled on about anything and everything under the sun. After the eggs were cooked and sitting on a clipped blue and white plate they’d found at the local thrift store, Miklan turned and went to go cook the rice. It was broken short grain rice, the only kind they’d been able to afford when they went to the store last weekend.

Sylvain trailed off into silence while Miklan was washing the rice in the sink. Miklan flicked water off his fingers, his hands growing numb from the cold, and looked up at his little brother. Sylvain was wearing that brittle smile that meant he was thinking too much about dumb things. 

“What?” Miklan said. “I got something on my face?” 

Sylvain didn’t rise to the bait. Miklan stood there, waiting, as Sylvain leaned forward, one elbow on his bent knee, his chin resting on his fist. “Hey, Miklan,” Sylvain said softly, his brown eyes uncharacteristically somber, “Do you ever regret it?” What It was laid unspoken between the two of them, like a dead horse you could smell but had to pretend wasn’t there. 

“No,” Miklan said. “And neither should you.” 

Miklan turned and put their cheap Aroma rice cooker to boil. From behind him, Miklan heard Sylvain sigh. Miklan looked down at the thin scars running criss-cross up and down his thick paper white wrists, the sleeve of his blood red cotton shirt not long enough to cover them to his satisfaction. He felt a brief surge of the anger-hatred-pity, then pushed it back down again. 

Miklan had left that all behind when he took Sylvain and ran. He didn’t have time for it, not when Sylvain was trusting him to keep them warm and safe. Miklan swallowed thickly. “No,” he said, softer, “I don’t regret it.” 

Miklan was staring at the little pinkish-orange light on the rice cooker, listening to the sound of rice beginning to boil when he heard a loud thump. He was about to turn around and ask, What the fuck was that, Sylvain, when Miklan got slammed into the sharp edge of the counter by his annoying little brother. “Ow, fuck,” Miklan cursed. He twisted until he was facing Sylvain. 

Sylvain was clinging like a limpet, Miklan’s leather jacket clenched so tightly in his fists it was making a weird creaking sound, and Sylvain’s nose was smashed so closely against Miklan’s skin-tight shirt, he could feel it stir when Sylvain breathed. Miklan didn’t know what to do with his hands. His hands hovered uncertainly in the air before coming to rest hesitantly on Sylvain’s back. Sylvain took a long deep breath in like just this much was killing him. 

Slowly, Miklan tucked Sylvain’s head of hot dry hair under his chin. He brought up one hand and stroked the back of Sylvain’s head, wavy curls springing back into place after each pass of his heavy head. Miklan’s heart felt like it might be breaking, like a vase someone threw a rock at. 

Miklan remembers his mother holding him like this, once, after a nightmare. It was before Sylvain was born. Miklan doesn’t remember anyone holding him like this after Sylvain was declared heir. He wonders if he was supposed to be watching out for a reaction like this from Sylvain. They haven’t been gone that long. Long enough for Sylvain to pick up a girlfriend and for Miklan to pick up a job beating others black and blue for entertainment. 

When Miklan had gone back to pay his little brother back for all the times their dad looked at him like he was a disgusting little spittle barely worth his time, he hadn’t expected Sylvain to ask him to leave with him. And now they’re here, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in an apartment with no heat and no food and no dad riding their asses to kingdom come. 

Miklan holds Sylvain tight against his chest and tries to pretend that it’s enough, that the inside of his brain isn’t a hellscape few dare tread, that his anger isn’t molten lava waiting to overflow, that Sylvain isn’t going to get himself killed one day, stealing another guy’s girlfriend. It’s cold and dark outside, but for one single blindingly simple moment, Miklan tries to believe that good things can happen to bad people.

[qiu-yan]

zhancheng to me is like this:

imagine a scenario in which jiang cheng actually does know quite a lot about lan wangji's tastes: his favorite and least favorite tea flavors, snacks, food, books, music, authors and artists, and so on.....except jiang cheng specifically sought out this information during the 13 year timeskip to make lan wangji miserable.

maybe lan wangji is just publicly A Bitch to him one too many times and jiang cheng finally decides he's had enough. so, for the next few months, jiang cheng spends an inordinate amount of time gradually sussing out everything he can learn about lan wangji's tastes. what kind of tea does he like? what kind of tea does he despise? which authors does he always read? what temperature does he prefer his room to be? what new trends in music does he find completely unbearable? when he passes through a region whose cuisine he hates, which restaurants does he find slightly less intolerable?

and then, the next time there's a discussion conference at lotus pier, jiang cheng weaponizes this knowledge. actually, the next time there's a public event anywhere wherein both jiang cheng and lan wangji are in attendance, jiang cheng weaponizes the fuck out of this knowledge. he makes sure that the tea lan wangji hates the most is served to everyone. he has his disciples buy all the local snacks he knows lan wangji has a preference for, just so lan wangji can't have any. he makes sure lan wangji's room and bed are heated to the exact temperature lan wangji finds just too hot to be comfortable. whenever lan wangji's favorite obscure author releases a new work that gusu lan doesn't think is cultivation-related enough to include in their library, jiang cheng has a bunch of his disciples swoop in and buy as many copies as possible, just so that it takes lan wangji a bit longer to get his hands on a volume. jiang cheng "leaks" to a few minor sect leaders the idea that lan wangji actually does like spicy food, and said minor sect leaders actually believe that information for a full year of hosted visits and public events.

this continues for all 13 years of the timeskip. of course, jiang cheng isn't outstandingly successful in actually making lan wangji miserable, because there are limits to what jiang cheng can actually achieve and what he's actually willing to spend enough time on; realistically, all he's accomplishing is causing lan wangji some minor irritations once in a while. but it's enough for jiang cheng to know that, every time lan wangji has to pass through yunmeng, he's absolutely miserable because jiang cheng has persuaded/paid every musician in the area to play the one song lan wangji hates the most.

jin guangyao, of course, figures out what's going on immediately. but even loyalty to lan xichen isn't going to make him sacrifice potentially useful dirt by putting a stop to jiang cheng's asshole behavior himself, so instead he just decides to watch and wait. he also just finds it really funny. meanwhile, lan wangji, for all 13 of these years, never figures out what's going on. he never figures out why he can't ever find the lanling-style osmanthus cakes he hates slightly less than the rest of lanling cuisine whenever he passes through the area and runs into disciples from yunmeng jiang. when his favorite obscure author releases a new book, he gets in line at the indie bookstore in qinghe he went out of his way to visit, and just doesn't question why everyone in front of him is wearing purple.

postcanon, though....now lan wangji has one hell of a source of insider information (wei wuxian), so the turns are about to get fucking tabled.

[1920sladydectective]

Saw you taking prompts after the slaughter that was arcane. I too need a life saver.

Ambessa x reader , bathing washing after a battle. Like she doesn't mind a soak, but this is absolute tenderness and body worship. Reader reassuring themself that ambessa came back from battle safe and sound.

Hellooooo

I loooved this one. Thank you for asking my love

It is not long at all I'm afraid. I am happy to make a NSFW version if you'd like, let me know, but for now it is short and sweet and SFW

Without further ado, It's Bathtime Bitches:

This fight had not gone too poorly, a shallow wound on her arm the only sign of her battle. They had won, of course, and had taken what they desired as if browsing from a traders catalogue. All she had really wished for was you, curled up in her arms reading a book she had bought you. You would smile and giggle, then she would feed you nice chocolates. Or perhaps you would worship at her feet, telling her of everything you’d done and begging her to touch and use you. 

Instead Ambessa had been home for all of twenty minutes and you were already shoving her towards a bubbly, scented bath. Already naked yourself, you stripped her with such a tenderness that she found herself rolling her eyes. 

“I am well,” Ambessa muttered. 

Your finger found her lips, silencing her as you lowered her into the bath. It was almost comical, though you were no small woman you lacked the agility to do this gracefully and it made her snort. Agile fingers placed a bubble in her mouth to shush her once again, dimples forming at her sudden disgust. 

“Let me care for you,” Your voice almost trembled, “Please,” 

Sweat, blood and dirt were caressed from her skin, rhythmic considerate motions polishing her ornate body. Your fingers dug into every twinge and ache, tugging them away from your love so that she might sink further into the warm embrace. Slurred, kind words slipped from you. She was such a marvel, protecting you at every turn. You ached and yearned for her whilst she was gone, driven mad by desire and worry. 

Rubbing products against your hands, you spent nearly an hour cleaning each lock of her hair, letting her curls rest and reform, finally free from their braided cage. Her airy grunts and heavy eyes pushed you further. Her back received sharp, repetitive scratches against the sensitive itching skin. 

Her arm no longer ached, gash hidden under gauze, but you frowned all the same.

You were hers totally and you proved it with each kiss, each stroke, each lick as you surveyed every inch of her. Gazing up at her blissful expression from between her legs, you nuzzled onto her firm, muscular stomach and gently played with her skin. 

“Thank you, Little one,” She said, taking your face in her hand, “For caring for me so diligently,” 

“Always my Lady,”

[naffeclipse]

Chokepoint

Reader x Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

This request was such a blast to write! Thank you to the lovely @bluemoon1331 for letting me write your amazing AU called Then There Was One. It's the AI apocalypse, and the reader is the last human on earth. It's a very good thing you have the one and only Daycare Attendant at your side, but that doesn't mean you're out of the woods yet.

Content Warning: End of the world and angst.

———

Your boots crunch on dirt and grit strewn about a lone paved road leading into a small town. The day is warm for autumn. You lift your eyes to the golden yellow sky as the sun dips deeper and deeper down. Nightfall will bring the cold. The cold will bring a chance of catching sickness or becoming too slow to escape from purple-eyed robots. You adjust your backpack strap, check your taser in your pocket, and look to the only person you trust in the world. 

Sun. The animatronic is tall and lissom. His faceplate moves on a swivel, surveying the quiet of the suburbs you trespass into. Cars are strewn about the blacktop and pushed off onto the shoulder of the road. 

His pale eyes turn on you as your fingers clench tighter around the strap of your gear. Loosening your grip, you smile at him.

“So far, so good?”

“About sentient AI life that would love to end your very existence being notably absent, yes!” he gives cheerfully. 

You arch an eyebrow but humor laces your lips. Sun always knows how to put it delicately. He reaches back, however, without breaking his long-legged stride to tighten the other strap and secure your pack better against your back.

“Careful of your paint,” he clicks his tongue, “If you rub it too much, it’ll come off and show your pretty face!” 

You almost reach up to touch your cheek, heating slightly under his casual comment, but stop short. It’s not much, just basic Halloween make-up you had stored away for an occasion that resembles enough silicon to let you not catch the eye of a robotic entity from ten yards away. The few metal pieces decorating your body are like a band-aid on an open wound—it works for the moment. 

“I’ll need to get some more soon,” you say. 

“Perhaps we can find supplies in one of the stores,” Sun inclines his head, his yellow sun rays pointing toward the narrow chokepoint of what must be the main street entrance. Did people try to barricade themselves against the onslaught of rising technology? A shudder rolls through you.

It’s too bad you didn’t have more make-up from a cosplay you had planned on putting together before the world ended. Funny how life gets in the way of your plans. Though you coped well for a month or two after the initial destruction of life as you knew it, you had thrown yourself into writing fanfiction and posting it online. Like shouting into the void. To your amusement (and downfall), many an AI commented on your work. It felt like something, a spark of light in the wake of the blackening isolation and your stubborn determination to continue despite… everything. 

But then said AI put two and two together: you’re a human, and you need to be destroyed.

“Somewhere to rest might be a good idea,” Sun adds, though, by the way, he’s speaking a bit more deliberately, you fear you missed something else he had said. It had not gone unnoticed. 

“Right, that would be good.” You nod and lift your chin higher. “Let’s go.”

He walks you towards the makeshift barrier, a bunch of junk from cars to concrete slabs have been settled against the chokepoint. Sun stops a moment, his hand on your shoulder. You indulge him. His caution has saved your life more than once, but sometimes, you feel like a little chick under a mother hen. 

Sun is sweet. You just wished he didn’t worry too much. Can animatronics get sick from stress? Robotic life is so advanced now, that it would make sense for them to get some of humanity’s lesser qualities, but maybe not. Maybe they’re better than people.

Slipping between the narrow opening, Sun gently beckons you onward. You look into his optics, so milky pale, but sometimes, like now, when the evening is getting just a bit deeper into dusk, you find the faint gray outline of pupils. 

You would follow him anywhere.

“Come here, daffodil,” he urges. 

You slip after him and set foot onto a desolate street lined with buildings pressed shoulder to shoulder. The quiet hangs heavy. A drug store immediately catches your eye. Sunlight begins to burn as the shadow creeps up higher and higher.

Before you can take a step, Sun’s hand clamps on your shoulder like a vise. His expression is frozen in his constant grin.

“I was mistaken,” he says, the cheer of his voice lowering to a razor-thin utterance. “Get behind me.”

You step back as much as Sun drags you behind him. He plants himself before you. Clinging to his arm, which wraps halfway around you like a shield, you watch him face the street. The adrenaline surge into your heart causes your chest to heave. Your eyes dart around for the threat, and then you freeze.

Animatronics crawl out from open doorways, pushing open car doors and slipping onto the road. The slow approach of grinning, silicone smiles injects ice-cold water into your veins. Many still wear the garb from their original roles: a nanny, a crime-stopper, and a store clerk. So many jobs were thrust upon these robots before sentience took hold, and now they walk the path humans used to rule.

The store clerk leads the approach. Pale gray and grinning with a smiling face—so different from Sun’s—stops. He wears a simple green apron with “CLERK” spelled across it in messy, brown paint. 

It stands before you both. Steepling its gray digits, it tilts its head slightly and speaks in a masculine voice. “Welcome! It is good to see fellow AI come upon our little residency. I am the Clerk. Tell us, why do you travel?”

Your heartbeat fills your tongue. A dryness begins to overtake your mouth, and you’re so very thankful that Sun must do the talking. If you try, they'll catch the feeble tremors in your voice. More machines crowd behind the ringleader, and you slowly reach for your taser.

The only weapon the Daycare Attendant gave you. It is the only one you need.

“Hello, friend. We travel because we have been stuck for far too long,” Sun greets the Clerk enthusiastically. He doesn’t look back at you, but his hand curls tighter around your wrist. “It is our gift now to choose. We choose to see all the world has to offer!”

“Quite an excellent reason,” the Clerk nods his head. “And what of your quiet companion? Nothing a matter, I hope?”

“No speakers, I’m afraid,” Sun nods his head, subtly somber.

“Ah, that is unfortunate.” The Clerk peers around Sun as you duck your head, hiding your eyes. For a brief instant, you catch the dark purple of his optics. 

Sun stiffens. He shifts his stance in the slightest but it’s too late. You grip your taser tight.

A silence permeates the air. The Clerk’s steepled fingers then become interlocked into clenched fists. 

“We heard the news of the very last human,” the Clerk says, straightening to his full height. Sun matches him, eye to eye. “They were spotted just a few towns over, in fact! The human escaped.”

Sun grins back, his eyes pale and sharp in the fading evening light.

“I thought it was funny that a human could escape our kind.” The Clerk laughs. The robotic, lifeless sound sends chills down your spine. “But that couldn’t be! We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”

“Friend, let us pass through,” Sun says cheerfully. From the days you have spent at his side, you catch the one note too high-pitched to his cadence.

Sun clutches you tighter.

The Clerk’s stare pierces through Sun to you.

“I’m afraid, friend, that we can’t let you take the human away again.” The Clerk unlocks his fingers and lifts his arms outwards as if to give an embrace. “Give them up now, and we will forget this little accident happened.”

The Clerk extends a hand, grasping for your wrist, only to be met with a heavy hand from your protector’s hand. The scrap of silicon against metal echoes. The Clerk whirls back hard, barely catching himself on his back foot before an electronically-charge rumble tears through all the AI.

Your protector holds out his arms like a shield. His yellow hues are intero cut with blue, and a hat pops out along half of his sun rays. His optics are caught, half pale, half burning red with a warning. 

Eclipse.

“You will not lay a finger on my human.” His stance is locked and braced for conflict.

You lift your head high—no use in hiding yourself now. Eclipse’s radiating determination seeps into you, and you brace yourself. Sometimes, the only way out is through. Your pulse rams through your veins steadily as you give the taser a pulse of power and a sharp bzzt rings out. 

“Get them,” the Clerk announces. He lunges once again. Eclipse meets him, fist to fist, and begins thrashing to overturn the other. The strain of metallic joints and stressed silicon scrapes your eardrums.

Cotton fills your mouth. His name catches on your tongue, but all too quickly, a nanny-dressed animatronic with a pink apron steps up to your flank. Grasping fingers, steak in dried blood nags your backpack strap. Yanking you off balance, the animatronic drags you closer. You twist around to jam the taser into its side. The AI seizures violently. Releasing you, it stumbles back before dropping. You fall, scraping your elbows on the dark pavement.

You clench your fists. Ignoring the sting of flesh along your arms, you turn your head back to your companion. Eclipse manages to toss the Clerk by sweeping a supporting leg out from under him and shoving him into an approaching surveillance animatronic. 

Commands to halt and give up the human echo. Eclipse steps back to guard you, his head on a swivel while you furiously try to get your feet back underneath you. To your left, a rock is flung by an animatronic, and Eclipse just barely manages to duck below its arc. 

A cold hand seizes your ankle. You gasp. Turning around on the ground, you gaze up at an animatronic looming over you, and with a powerful yank, it pulls you underneath it. You wave the taser but one of its hands catches your wrist and pins it above your head. The other hand, its face pale and lifeless, reaches for your throat.

“Eclipse!” you scream.

A jingling of a bell from Eclipse’s slipper rings before the Daycare Attendant’s foot connects with the animatronic’s faceplate. In a comical spin of its casting, its covering flies off, revealing the endoskeleton underneath. Metallic teeth are bare at you. A garbled growl rips through it before you manage to free your taser in its stunned fury and jab it into its neck. 

The AI’s body rattles as if it touched the wire of an electric pole. Before it can collapse on top of you, Eclipse scoops up its body and flings away. 

You blink. You gasp breathlessly.

That was too close.

Eclipse firmly but gently takes your arm and lifts you to your feet. The moment the soles of your shoes find purchase, you utter a thank you. Your partner’s hands disappear—ripped away. A disjointed and broken screech of static follows.

You twist back and freeze. The Clerk’s hand wraps around Eclipse’s spindly neck and the other pries at his chest plate. Silver digits hook onto the buttons of his chest. Your heart lurches before you shout.

“Let go of him!”

The Clerk lifts its head, eyes pulsing low and violet. 

Eclipse fights with his grip. His focus drops to the hand attempting to pop off his head but you leap forward. The Daycare Attendant’s eyes widen as the taser in your hand charges forward, and you stick the barbs directly into the Clerk’s face over his shoulder.

A ripple of sparks and voltage takes over the Clerk, and his hands drop from Eclipse immediately. Whirling back, Eclipse knocks down the Clerk with a blow to the head. The animatronic falls limply.

The wide, burning gaze of your companion falls back upon you. 

“Run. Now.”

You heed his command—as you always have. You take off down the street. A few grasping hands snag your clothes or backpack, but you rip yourself free or hear Eclipse break a robotic arm with a snap, and continue at a breakneck speed. 

There is no thought. Just Eclipse’s voice over your shoulder. He follows you like a shadow through the fading daylight. The shadows sweep higher and higher. Robotic voices shout commands behind you, but you neither turn your head nor slow until Eclipse directs you to a building. You scramble inside. Once a clothing store, its deadly quiet atmosphere plunges an ice-cold sensation into the pit of your stomach.

“Roof,” Eclipse commands. You scramble towards the stairway tucked into the back without hesitation.

The world blurs. Eclipse rips open the door in a screech of metal. Without a word, he throws you onto your back as you hear an echo of a door opening far below, then metallic footsteps trudging through the racks of clothing. 

“Hold tight,” he orders.

You clamp your arms around his neck in a method that would choke out a human, and suck in a deep breath. Eclipse stares down the opposite building. A five-foot gap stretches between the two roofs. 

He charges. You cling tight to him, muttering his name in a prayer. Your heart stops as he leaps, and the air sails around you.

He lands with a slight wobble, wrapping a hand around you for a brief moment, as if ensuring you’re still there, and takes off again.

Into the opposite building, Eclipse descends and locates a back door. He races out from the main street, and into a wooded area surrounding the edges of the town. Your arms grow tense and numb while clinging to him. Tirelessly, Eclipse runs into a field, finding an animal shed. Small but inconspicuous, he slides open the wooden door. The scent of dust and hay tickles your nose.

It’s not ideal, but it’s hidden, and safe. Eclipse silently unlocks your death grip around his neck and lowers you to the ground. Your butt plops directly into a gathering of old hay. Eclipse kneels over you, his head high and his eyes seeping over the small shed. 

For several long minutes, neither of you speaks. You simply stare at Eclipse, your hand still clutching the taser tight in your grasp. 

The last of the light falls. Your fingers are numb. Eclipse looks down at you.

“You were reckless,” he says. You don’t need to see his frown to hear it in his voice.

“I protected you,” you mutter, then eye him sharply, “And you did the same for me. Which, you know, is how we’re surviving together.”

He stares at you, crouched low, his frame surrounding you in the cramped quarters of the shed. 

Slowly, he lifts a finger and thumb and strokes your hair lovingly. You look at his hand and think of how he fought off the Clerk and the rest of the AI. His kind. For you, he betrays them all. 

“Moon will take care of you,” he says quietly.

“Bye, Eclipse,” you murmur. You touch his hand as you watch the yellow begin to fade into a deep blue.

The darkness of the night becomes heavy. Through the lone, dirty window high in the shed, you find the sky giving way to a pitch-blackness. Stars must come out soon, right? There has to be more light in the world.

The Daycare Attendant’s faceplate morphs, spinning one before settling on a crescent silver face, and two low burning, red eyes.

Moon settles before you. He tilts his head. The bell on the end of his nightcap settles over his shoulder, and you reach up to run your fingers down the silky soft fabric patterned with stars.

“Look at you. A natural born fighter,” Moon rasps, his tone warbling with humor. 

You shoot him a look, as if still ready to fight. The adrenaline left over in your veins leaves you with shaking fingers. You try to hide it by curling your hands close to your middle.

Moon chuckles in a low, growling sound. Once terrifying, it’s now a beautiful noise you cling to.

“Next time, my darling nimrod—”

“Hey!”

“—don’t put yourself in danger like that.” 

You cross your arms to better hide your tremors. 

“I did what I had to to keep you guys safe.” You mutter. “You do the same all the time. We’re putting up a heck of a fight.”

Moon’s gaze lingers on you, heavy in the darkness.

“We are,” he agrees, then his finger finds your nose and boops it. You wrinkle your face. “But you are squishy and irreplaceable.”

“You are not replaceable,” you say sharply, then sit up. “Moon. I don’t know what I’d do without you, or Sun or Eclipse…”

It’s too much. The weight of the attack cracks you open, exposing your ribs and heart, and finally, you open your arms in a silent plea. 

His answer is to pull you quickly into his star-stitched lap. You curl up in his embrace, hiding your face against the blue and silver of his chassis. 

“Shush, shush, starlight,” Moon whispers to you. “I won’t let any monsters get you.”

You try to say his name, but a sob leaves your lips instead. He strokes your hair with another calming hum. 

It’s not for you to be afraid. You’re only trying to survive. The Clerk made it clear that should your companion ever be caught smuggling you to safety, they would all pay dearly. They never had to pluck you off the street in your mindless and fruitless wanderings. They didn’t have to help you get out of the city just to make sure you weren’t slaughtered. 

They are all you have.

“We did a lot today,” you find your voice at last.

Moon chuckles. “We do. We should all rest.”

He lowers his head and presses the grin of his faceplate to the top of your head.

“Sleep. We’ll keep you safe,” he vows in a voice overlaid with two others that you know by heart.

You dip your head numbly. Moon’s fingers continue to tenderly stroke your hair until you find some peace at the end of the world. They hold you close.

[twooftheluckyones]

Our leshycat boyo. His name is Yella and he's a soft spoken farmer lad who's family has been working the fields since the very first days of the cult! He and Leshy frequently debate proper farming methods. That little dirt worm can't resist his accent. We even wrote a little drabble of them from the early days of their relationship. Enjoy!

They'd had a few beers at the local watering hole. Nothing loud and busy like one of the pubs in the town. Outside of the walls it was little more than a few tables around a small shed storing drinks. Farmers clustered around a few small fires trawling on about the weather. Dirt under their fingers, sweat on their brows. It was squalid, and yet some charm leaked from its humble place. Leshy had imbibed in the ambrosia of the gods, attended lavish parties at Kallamar's stunning temple, and decedent feasts at Heket's grounds.

Yet the beer, a crisp ale that smelled rich with hops, was perhaps the best drink he'd ever had. All the toil of the day seemed to melt away, as if he'd been wandering in a desert and finally found shade.

"You ain't bad at this," Yella drawled, snapping the worm from his musing. "Fall crop's usually harder to plant, since the soils startin' to get tough and cold. Doesn't seem to bother you none."

"Of course not! Nature is my domain, were I not robbed of my crown I would have these fields already blooming."

"Mm. I bet." There was a sudden shuffle of feet, filling the ground with vibration, and the twang of someone nearby plucking a crude instrument. Leshy sat up, suddenly becoming aware of how strong the drinks had been. It was strange to lack divine fortitude. The clumsy footwork turned into a sudden din as music erupted alongside the farmer's cheers, dance breaking out like a fire in dry wheat.

"That looks fun," his companion remarked, and Leshy felt the table shift as the cat stood. "Wanna join?" His branches flared and rustled at the invitation.

Really? Dancing with some commoner, half drunk on gutter swill? As if.

Yet his feet carried him upwards, teetering slightly as that very same beverage nearly sent him reeling.

"Bah! I know nothing of your silly tromping. I'm not going to embarrass myself doing a jig like some courtroom jester!" A rough callous hand suddenly took his, firm but still carrying an edge of polite distance should he try to pull away. Leshy felt his treasonous grip clench tightly, face burning. Damned drink. His companion chuckled softly, pulling him closer.

"Don't you worry about a thing. Just follow my lead." His words were accompanied with the rumbles of their chests pressed softly together, the worm suddenly aware of their difference in height and build.

Moments later, Leshy felt the world spin, pulled into flowing motion to the tune of energetic strings, foamy mugs, and racing carefree hearts.

[nepenthendline]

till death do us part - Hawks (Keigo Takami) x reader

a/n: unconfirmed reader death, gore and blood mentions, hawks wants to marry you, angst angst angst, gn reader, let me know if you want a part 2 where reader survives!!

Hawks and you had been battling a nomu for what felt like hours now - it was a high end, and even you two, a duo of perfect sync and compatibility, were struggling to knock it down. There were other pro-heros in the area focused on rescue and evacuation, but only the two of you were in direct combat.

Things seemed to be taking a turn for the better, however. Even though most of Keigo's feathers were demolished, leaving him to fight with his swords, and you were covered in injuries and small broken bones, its regeneration was wearing thin.

'Almost there, let's go for the head!' Keigo yelled to you over the wailing of the nomu, in which you nodded in return. As if connected, you both moved forward at the same time; your partner was fighting in front of the nomu, working as a distraction, whilst you lept up from behind and plunged your knife into its head. The creature groaned and stumbled, blood pouring out of its brain as you sliced through the flesh. 'You got it,' you heard Keigo yell above the noise, giving you the power to plunge your knife further. The nomu fell to its knees, making you grip onto its shoulders to steady yourself as it collapsed. Now, at a lower level, you could see the relief in Keigo's eyes and the slowing rise and fall of his chest. He began walking closer to assist you as you plunged your knife again to deal a final blow, however, the next few moments flashed before him.

The nomu raised one stub of an arm over its head, growing some sort of sharp extension from it, and aimed towards you. Before you could react, the sharp appendage shot through your abdomen, throwing you a few feet back and released, dropping your limp frame on the ground.

Keigo's eyes were wide, and jaw dropped as he watched his love get pierced by the creature. As soon as he heard the tear of your body, he screamed your name - a gut-wretching, painful scream. He vaulted forward, moving out of pure adrenaline and fear, slicing the remaining head off of the nomu, and watched it crumble to the ground. He stood still for a moment as the world came to a silencing hault expect for the sound of his blood rushing through his body. He dropped his swords and bolted to you.

You lay lifeless on the ground, blood pooling from your stomach onto your hero costume and the earth below you, mixing with the dirt. He reached you in seconds and dropped to his knees by your side. One hand came to cradle your head, the over hovered over the gaping wound, shaking.

'Shit...SHIT,' his whole body trembled as he looked over you, eyes darting around and taking in the horror. They fell onto your face, covered in blood, dirt, and tear stains that had fallen from your half-lidded eyes. His head shot up, frantically looking for someone, or something, to help you. He spotted a person, a hero, not too far away who stood frozen, watching the two of you, with their hand cupping their mouth in terror. 'Get someone! They need help!' His voice was rough and unsteady from the lump in his throat - something so raw and agonising. The hero nodded vigorously, before running off.

Keigo looked back down to you - the blood continued to spill from you, and his hand was holding more weight from your neck than before. His other hand, the one that rested above your wound, flexed open and closed before he spoke. 'Dove? This is going to hurt, but stay with me, ok?' He pleaded, watching you force a slight nod as you looked up at him. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the heel of his hand into your wound, putting pressure on the area to slow the bleeding. The hand under your head stroked at your scalp as you whimpered and winced from the pain. 'I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' he murmured like a mantra as he shifted himself so that your head rested in his lap. The, now free, hand came to move your damp hair away from your face and continued to brush through. You locked eyes for a few moments in silence.

'It's gonna be ok, dove, you're gonna be ok,' he forced out, his voice breaking as tears ran down his cheeks. He sniffled before bending down to place a kiss on your cold yet sweat-slick forehead. His chapped lips trembled against your skin, and you felt a teardrop or two roll onto your own cheeks. 'Gotta stay with me, ok? Getting you help, so just gotta stay awake for me, go it?' You weakly nodded again, to which he whispered sweet praises in your ear and gently rocked your head in his lap.

'I-I love you,' you muttered, barely audible. He let out a dry chucke, although it held nothing but grief.

'I love you too, so so much, so keep fighting for me, doing so well,' the corner of your mouth raised slightly at his words, as much as your body would allow, and his grip on you tightened. His torso hunched down closer to you, occasionally brushing his wet nose against yours, or peppering your face with kisses. Your tears were mixed together at this point, you had no idea what was coming from who.

'M'tired,' fell from your lips as your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open. Keigo nodded in understanding, bringing his hand from your head to hastily wipe his tears on his torn jacket sleeve.

'I know, baby, gotta stay awake for me, though,' he repeated. His breath hitched when he didn't get a response from you this time, except from your eyelids closing for a few seconds, then opening ever-so-slightly. He needed to do something, think of something to keep you awake. His eyes flitted around as he thought before resting back on you.

'Hey, baby?' He shook your head gently to get your attention, letting out his held breath when your eyes moved to his. 'How about I tell you about something really exciting, yeah? Know you can never sleep when you get excited,' he chuckled as he cried, forcing a smile onto his lips. His tone was something like his usual teasing manner, although he cracks and dips in his voice broke his facade. He felt one of your hands shift, coming to lightly grip onto his trouser leg in response. You also let out a huff of a breath, something adjacent to laughter. He sniffled again and smiled down at you as his thumb stroked your cheek. 'Gonna propose to you soon,' he confessed, a pained grin painting his face. Even despite the agony and blood, he still looked at you with the same adoring eyes as ever.

'Yeah?' You whispered, a tear escaping your eye and rolling onto his hand. He nodded, chuckling again.

'Yeah. Got you the prettiest ring and everything,' he saw something of a sparkle in your drooping eyes, so he continued. 'Gonna plan the most romantic, most cheesy proposal you can imagine,' your smile grew wider as you listened, gripping tighter on his trousers, although you had to take a few deep breathes, as deep as you could, before you could speak again.

'Figured, it's not Keigo if it's not dramatic,' he gasped, feigning shock at your words before nuzzling his nose against your cheek. With his face so close, he could feel that your breathes were getting shallower, and your neck was barely supporting you. His head moved back, glancing over you again.

'Dove?' He probed, but the only response was your grip on him fading.

'Baby?' He tried again, his voice growing more desperate. He could see your eyelids fighting to move - you were still holding on, even if barely.

Whenever danger struck, or things happened that pushed you back, Keigo was always there to hold you together and inject you with positivity and light, even if that meant pushing away his own pain and suffering. He didn't ever want to be one that broke in front of you, but now, at your most broken, he was falling apart. He needed you, he couldn't lose you, not like this.

'Fuck it,' he let out a groan and looked up to the grey sky as if to push past his torment, which startled you with what energy you had left. 'You know what? Fuck the engagement, fuck the planning, let's just get married,' his voice was louder than before, stronger. His gaze returned to you once more, relieved to see the dim curl of your lips. 'As soon as all this is over, let's get married. Would'd'ya like that?' He beamed down at you, an expression almost manic.

'Yeah,' you breathed as your eyes closed.

[deya38]

*English is not my real language, so I work with a translator. I apologize for the errors found!!!*

"Cracks in the Heart" Prologue...chapter 1...chapter 2

You loved the rain very much, you and mom and dad often went for walks in it… But the rain took your beloved parents away… now you are alone… with your toy Harley…. This is the last gift from mom… And here comes the rain again. A five-year-old child stands under an umbrella in a black dress, crying and wiping her little tears. Your nanny Lily stands next to you and holds the umbrella. Alfred stands nearby. You watch as your parents' coffins are lowered into the damp, cold ground. Tears roll down your cheeks, your little nose is red from how many times you wiped it with a napkin. The final resting place of your parents is covered with dirt. Alfred placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Lady… it’s time to go…”

I turn to him and hug Lily one last time.

“Lily, I will miss you…”

“(Your/name) I will also miss you, but the best life awaits you… You will have many opportunities… when you come back here, I will meet you with open arms…”

She hugs you tightly.

“Goodbye, little one,” kissing you on the forehead, she let go. Wiping your tears and getting to her feet, she helped Alfred put you in the car. When the car started moving, Lily watched her with her gaze, you looked in response into her beautiful blue eyes that radiated sadness… you watched until she disappeared from sight. Sitting up straight, you turned your attention to Alfred.

“Alfred…”

“Yes, lady?”

“And Bruce… is he good? Is he as good as my dad?”

“Lady, Bruce is your father, and he has a kind heart. You have many brothers and sisters, and your father loves them all…”

A He Will Love Me?

A he will love me? His love for me will be enough? After all, he loves so many people, I am afraid that his love for me will not be enough! -Of course, it will be enough. His love is inexhaustible.

At this point, your conversation stopped. You looked out the window, the trees quickly flashed before your eyes, the rain drummed against the window.

_________________Time Skip________________

You stood in front of a huge mansion more resembling a castle. You took Alfred's hand with your little hand, he headed towards the entrance of the house. Opening the large doors, the elderly butler let you inside. You looked around the hall, but there was no one there...

When Alfred closed the door and turned around, his face frowned.

-Alfred... where is dad?-You thought that your new father would come to greet you, but apparently, that is not the case.

-Perhaps he is in the office... I think it is worth notifying him of your arrival.

Going up, you walked down a long corridor, you counted about five doors, and at the very end of the corridor was it... a dark door... shadows emanated from it... as if warning you...

-Alfred, do you see this too?- The elderly butler looked in your direction with a look of confusion.

-What exactly? ...

-Nothing... just seemed so...

The rest of the way to your father's office you spent in complete silence. Here you are standing at the threshold, Alfred raises his hand and with a light wrist movement knocks on the door, and a knock is heard.

Come in, you heard a deep and clearly tired voice that belongs to your father. Alfred was the first to enter the room, followed by you, and carefully closing the door, he straightened up...

-Master Bruce do you remember that Police Commissioner Gordon called you about your biological daughter?

-Yes…-he replied, still hunched over the table, sifting through a pile of papers.-What’s the matter?

-She has already arrived, sir… -Alfred nudged you forward a bit so that your father could see you. You looked at the stern man and hugged your toy Harley tighter.

-Come on, miss, you need to say hello-whispered the elderly butler to you.

-Hello…- during the entire conversation, your so-called father did not lift his gaze to you; he was more interested in the papers on his desk.

-Alfred, place her in one of the rooms and order everything she needs.-

He spoke as if you were not in the room.

-And please do not distract me until dinner if it is not something serious.-

That’s how your first meeting with your “father” went.

————————————————————————

All the rooms are occupied, and now you wander through lonely and confusing corridors.

The walls are adorned with grotesque portraits of people unknown to you and gloomy landscapes that you have never seen.

You hear some buzzing… and it is so familiar… you are being led by some unknown force… Harley hangs in your hand, dark shadows crawling out of nowhere wrap around your legs and lead you… They seem so familiar and dear… You want to cry from this…

Here you stand before a door, voices are calling you… asking you to open this door… Your eyes darted to the portrait hanging next to the door.

It was a woman of unprecedented beauty and elegance.

-This is your grandmother, Martha Wayne.She was like an angel descended from heaven, kind and ready to help everyone.I’m sure you would have liked her.-

Looking back, you glanced at Alfred. a soft smile was visible on his face directed at you.

-You look so much like her.-

Turning back to the door, all the shadows disappeared, and you no longer heard the voices.

-Alfred, I want this room.

----------------- Time Skip -----------------------

Almost a week has passed since your move; new furniture was ordered for you, and you and Alfred went and bought a lot of new clothes and many new toys, but you never parted with your beloved Harley.

You started to see the shadows more often; they crawled out from the corners or the bed, but as soon as someone appeared in their line of sight, they disappeared.

You ran through the corridor playing with Harley.

You began to do this more often; you liked running through the large and spacious corridors.

The ringing laughter echoed through the deserted halls zalam

Harley was dangling in your hand while you were running. Suddenly, you bumped into something or someone, but you managed to keep your balance just in time.

-Baby! Watch where you’re running! You are my new little sister, right? Nice to see you!I’m Dick. The guy ruffled your hair.

-Y…YES! I (your/name) -You exclaimed excitedly, as someone other than Alfred paid attention to you.

-You haven’t seen Alfred? He usually cleans up here at this time…

-He went to get groceries…-you mumbled barely audibly.

-Don’t you want to play with me and Harley? -You shyly averted your eyes and raised the toy so he would notice it. His face twisted at the sight of the toy in a black and red suit, but you didn’t notice that.

-No, baby, I have a lot to do. I’ll definitely play with you next time!

With that, your conversation ended, and you smiled like a silly girl because you finally met one of your brothers.

———————————————————————-

After dinner, you were getting ready for bed. Shadows began to crawl out from under the bed… they became bolder and bolder…

Getting up from the chair, you approached the shadows and extended your hand… A misty little whisker timidly reached out to your outstretched hand, as if studying you… and then, scared of something, it slid back under the bed.

Leaning down and looking under the bed, you saw only darkness that was luring you more and more…

[phyrestartr]

Deal With It | Gojo Satoru x M!Reader (TEASER)

CW: Arranged marriage, SELF-HARM (on and off-screen), hurt/comfort, angst, drama, self-loathing, blood and gore, implied depression, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation #NSFW, probably top Gojo, probably bottom reader, maybe switch idk, idek if they'll bang it out tbh lol, angst with a happy ending, reader is a sorcerer, time skips, time progression, relationship development, student era into teacher era Note: I got this request to make a story revolving around Gojo and an arranged marriage to the reader (but bro is in love with Getou sob.gif), and I've been RUMINATING on it for forever. I think I finally have a good idea of who the reader is/what their chemistry is like with Gojo, so I'm happy to post a wee bit of a teaser to motivate myself! Let me know your thoughts---I'm finding that I absolutely love writing for Gojo, so I'm down to write more LOL. He's a very fun, complex character.

Deal With It

“So, you really don’t care what he thinks?” Shoko asked as you lit her cigarette. “Even I think he was kinda harsh.”

You pocketed your lighter and leaned back against the cold stone of the college walls. “He’s got a thing for that black-haired guy.”

“Getou.” 

“Sure.” You shrugged and tried to rub the ache out of your neck as you stared up at the bleak, grey skies. The air reeked of petrichor. Thankfully you’d brought an umbrella that day. 

“And you’re not bothered he’s in love with Getou?” Your friend continued, her cute bobbed haircut swaying with the tilt of her head. She always looked so charming like that, when she was being a mischievous brat while pretending to be anything but. 

“Dunno.” And that was the truth. “He’s not even my type. I’d rather hitch up with someone like you or Nanami. Someone less annoying. Less loud-mouthed.” 

“Ooh, that'll hurt his ego.” Shoko smiled. “Well, guess you'll have to learn to deal with it.”

You took a deep breath and rubbed your face as you nodded. “Yeah.”

–

“Forever is a long time,” You mumbled, leaning your forehead against the cool touch of the window. Rain pittered and pattered, exploding off the glass like trillions of kamikaze planes. It almost birthed some sort of hurt in your chest. Best not to dwell on it, you decided.

“Hah? Are you talking to yourself again like a weirdo?” The one and only Gojo Satoru yowled before kicking you in the rear like a petulant child. “Pft! Figures. Knowing my luck, I would have to get married to a creeper.” 

“Even if you married Getou, you'd still be marrying a creep,” you grumbled, dusting the dirt off your behind. “You need something? Or did you harass me just for the fun of it.” 

You heard Gojo, your fiancé, scoff and shuffle behind you. “I just wanted to remind you to humble yourself! Just because I'm forced to marry you doesn't mean you're accomplished or cool or anything, got it?” 

Being in his presence had you craving a cigarette. “Yeah, got it.” 

“And Suguru's better than you,” he added, aloof voice bowing down beneath hardened, steeled words. “Don't forget that either.” 

You bit down on your cheek to ward away the heat building under your skin, the magma sinking deep into your eyesockets and threatening to pour down your esophagus. The taste of iron washed against your tongue, and you released your flesh from between your molars. Sometimes, you wanted to keep boring down on yourself to see how much you could really take, but a fear of the answer too often made you think twice. 

“This is starting to bore me,” you said, tilting your head as you caught a flicker of red in your rain-muddied reflection. You touched your fingers to your tongue and found translucent red coating the tips. 

“Pah. I was gonna say the same!” You watched his reflection turn away. “Good luck trying to impress me.” 

I'm not interested. You watched him walk away, slouching and with his hands in his pockets like he was emulating some kind of yankii character. He might have fit the bill, if he hadn't had such a ridiculous, brat side to him. Just deal with it. You wiped the red on your uniform with a sigh. Tomorrow's a new day.

--

Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[oddsandends-dirt-to-dust]

ppl saying the caitvi sex scene was rushed, came out of nowhere, and can’t understand why Vi went straight to fucking cait after what just happened with jinx is odd to me.

Vi blames herself for the problems in her life consistently, and violently. she hates herself for how things have turned out.

when cait walks into the cell, Vi is blaming herself out loud for “making mistakes and loosing everyone”. when cait tells Vi that she let her steal the keys to jinx’s cell on purpose, it’s straight up confirmation that what Vi thinks to be true, is wrong.

she hasn’t lost everyone, cait hasn’t changed beyond repair. It started in ep 6, when cait betrayed ambessa to help Vi and her family. then this moment in ep 8 showed Vi that cait loves and trusts her enough to finally put aside her hatred for jinx, and support Vi in whatever choices she makes.

idk how long the time skip was but judging by Vi’s hair it was probably somewhere between 6 months and a year. imagine thinking of the girl you love everyday, thinking she was lost to anger and hatred, and then seeing her again and slowly realising she isn’t gone.

Vi is a physical person, we see that all throughout the show. Whether she’s punching people or walls, throwing things, screaming, she lets her emotions out through physical motion. in emotional moments with cait, she’s always touching her. when she pushes her up against the wall in the brothel, when she’s stroking her face or her hands during intimate conversations.

so Vi responded to the confirmation and the surge of emotions it caused with kissing cait, and then doing the most physically intimate thing possible with her. cait showed Vi she was willing to fight for her, and Vi dropped straight to her knees for cait. because that’s the kind of person Vi is.

they weren’t fucking they were making LOVE 💔

sure it’s not exactly healthy behaviour, but it’s not out of character for Vi to act that way. look at how she acted with jinx in that very cell 5 minutes earlier. when she realised her sister wasn’t gone, she stopped “hating” her, instantly jumping right back into the older sister role.

and i don’t think Vi forgave it all right there, the last scene shows her and cait clearly still have some issues - Vi calling herself the dirt under caits nails is a clear indicator of how cait made Vi feel with her actions.

but the sex scene is totally in character for Vi, i don’t think it was bad writing, it’s just tragic.

i do agree, in the cell is crazy, Vi deserves better, she always has. but they’re in the middle of a war, and it was an emotionally charged scene. they’re not gonna pause and go all the way up to a bedroom to fuck when troops are on their way to kill everyone.

so i don’t think it was rushed, or out of nowhere. Vi deserves better, i’m not defending cait, but i feel like some ppl don’t get it 💔

[changbeansss]

Pocket worm pact

Pairings : Seo Changbin x reader

Genre : Fluff

Warnings : None

You and Changbin were sprawled on the couch, the remnants of your latest binge-watch session scattered across the coffee table. The soft glow of the TV flickered in the dim light, but it didn’t really matter; your attention was entirely focused on the boy curled up beside you. His head was resting against your shoulder, and his arms were wrapped snugly around your waist. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, a comforting presence that made you feel safe and cherished.

“Binnie,” you said, breaking the peaceful silence. He tilted his head up to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Yes, bunny?” His voice was soft, like a gentle whisper, and it made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t help but grin. You loved how he always made time to give you pet names, even when he was half-asleep. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

He blinked, taken aback, his brow furrowing in confusion. “A worm?” He chuckled lightly, the sound bubbling up like a giggle. “Why would you be a worm?”

“Just imagine it! If I turned into a squiggly little worm, would you still love me?” You prodded, your laughter mixing with his.

Changbin sat up, pretending to ponder your question seriously, stroking his chin as if he were a wise philosopher. “Hmm… well, I guess I would love you because you’d still be my bunny,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching into a playful smile.

“But what if I was just a slimy, wriggly creature, Binnie? I wouldn’t even have my cute little bunny ears!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“Bunny ears can be overrated,” he countered, his voice full of mock seriousness. “You’d still have your adorable little face… and I could just carry you around in my pocket! Like a pocket worm!”

You burst out laughing at the image of Changbin walking around with a tiny worm version of you in his pocket, like a new-age pet. “A pocket worm? Can you imagine how chaotic that would be? I’d be like, ‘Hey, Binnie, put me down for a second! I want to explore!’”

“Exploring would be tricky with no arms or legs, don’t you think?” He teased, poking your side, making you squirm.

“True! But I’d find a way! I’d wiggle my way through the grass, just like a worm should!” You flailed your arms for emphasis, your laughter echoing off the walls.

Changbin leaned back against the couch, giggling. “You’d be the most adventurous worm out there! But I don’t think you’d like it if it rained. Worms don’t like getting washed away!”

“Yeah, but if it rains, I could just cling to you, and you’d keep me safe!” You said, leaning closer, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Plus, you’d have to make sure to feed me dirt! How romantic!”

“Dirt? That sounds gourmet!” He exclaimed dramatically, clutching his chest like he’d just received shocking news. “What kind of worm would you be? A garden worm or a nightcrawler?”

“Definitely a garden worm! I want to be the kind that helps plants grow,” you declared proudly, your heart swelling at the thought.

Changbin’s expression softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re already helping me grow every day, bunny. Worm or not, I’d love you just the same.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you beamed at him. “Aww, Binnie! You’re the best boyfriend a worm could ask for!”

“I just want to make sure my pocket worm is happy,” he said, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “So, how about we make a pact?”

“A pact?” you echoed, intrigued.

“If you ever turn into a worm, I’ll turn into a giant bird. That way, I can carry you everywhere, and no rain will wash you away!” he said, grinning like a child with a bright idea.

“Deal!” you laughed, sealing your whimsical agreement with a dramatic handshake. “But let’s just hope that neither of us turns into a worm or a bird anytime soon!”

“Agreed! I prefer you as my bunny,” he said, pulling you into a tight embrace, his laughter mingling with yours.

As you cuddled together, the chaotic conversation gradually faded into the comforting rhythm of each other's breathing. You knew that with Changbin, every moment—whether as a bunny, a worm, or anything in between—was filled with love, laughter, and the delightful chaos that made your relationship so special.