#Twisted Ankle (trope) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misswynters · 2 months ago

Text

Gilded Cage part two

featuring. Ekko x fem!reader

wc. 15k

synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You're parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You're mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That's when you first met ekko, the firelights' leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.

trope. "enemies to lovers"

warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, drugs, kissing, death!, suggestive, kinda grinding against each other (clothed tho), angst

requested. by anon

a/n. it's more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) let me know if there’s any mistakes so i may fix it.

Darkness. An oppressive, suffocating void that seemed to stretch endlessly. You floated in its cold embrace, weightless yet crushingly burdened by the weight of your own thoughts. Memories flickered like dying embers, elusive and fragmentary. You could barely recall where you had been, what had happened, or how you had ended up here. The edges of recollection teased you: Ekko’s voice, steady and warm, calling your name. The heavy press of bodies at the Last Drop, the tang of alcohol mingling with smoke. Then a sharp, searing sting in your neck—and the world spiraling into oblivion. Now, you were adrift, lost in a sea of disjointed images and emotions.

Your mind was an unrelenting storm, twisting and turning with fears and insecurities you thought you had buried long ago. The sound of Margot’s cruel laughter cut through the fog like a blade, her words threading through your subconscious like venom. “He doesn’t care about you,” her voice echoed, dark and mocking. “You’re nothing to him.” You wanted to fight against it, but the darkness clung to you, invasive, as it dragged you deeper. Somewhere, faint and distant, there were voices that were sharp and unfamiliar. They seemed to be arguing, but the words were muffled.

“She’s worth more alive,” one voice said, cutting through the haze like a knife, dragging you closer to consciousness.

“Though, Dead might be less trouble,” another replied, cold and indifferent, a tone that sent a shiver of dread down your spine.

The words clawed at the edges of your awareness, snapping you back toward the surface of reality. Your body felt heavy, impossibly sluggish, but you fought against the pull of unconsciousness with everything you had. It was as if your mind and body were at war, one was desperate to wake up and the other held captive by a paralyzing weight. Slowly, agonizingly, your eyes fluttered open, and the harsh glare of a fluorescent light stabbed into your vision.

The room around you was cold and unforgiving, bathed in the sterile glow of artificial lighting that illuminated every inch of its metallic surfaces. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of rust and oil, and beneath it all lingered something acrid and chemical, clinging to your nostrils like a warning. The faint hum of machinery thrummed in the background, a low, ominous noise that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. You tried to move, but your arms were pinned to the cold metal chair beneath you, thick leather straps biting into your wrists. A matching set bound your ankles, and as you tested the restraints, they didn’t budge an inch.

A spike of panic shot through you as the reality of your situation set in. Your breath came faster, shallow and uneven, as your eyes darted around the room. The Chem Barons loomed before you, seated around an oval table at the far end of the room. The glow from the monitors lining the walls illuminated their faces, casting their expressions in stark relief. Each face was a mask of greed, malice, and twisted amusement, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent as they spoke about you as though you weren’t even there.

“She’s valuable,” one of them said, his voice carrying a sickening undertone of satisfaction. “Alive, she’s worth a fortune to topside. They’ll pay anything to get their hands on her.”

“Dead might be easier to deal with,” another replied, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “Still worth a decent haul. Less risk of her escaping, too.”

Your stomach churned as their words sank in. You were a prize to them, nothing more than a commodity to be traded for wealth and power. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to get out, but the restraints held firm no matter how hard you pulled. Your breathing quickened as you struggled, the leather cutting into your skin, and the faint taste of blood rose in your throat.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The smooth, taunting voice cut through the air like a blade, and your gaze snapped to the woman standing at the table. Margot. Her presence was magnetic in the worst way, her movements deliberate and calculated as she leaned casually against the table, arms crossed over her chest. Her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes alight with cruel amusement as she studied you, like a predator toying with its prey.

“Well, well,” she said, pushing off the table and taking a slow step toward you. “The perfect little topsider, all tied up and helpless. Not so high and mighty now, are we?”

You glared at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response, but the corner of her mouth twitched, as if she were amused by your defiance. She began to circle you, her heels clicking against the floor with each measured step, her presence oppressive and suffocating.

“Do you know where your little hero is right now?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. “Out there, playing the savior for Zaun. That’s his priority, isn’t it? Always has been. Zaun this. Zaun that.”

It seemed like the world around you shifted, like a bad dream slowly releasing its hold on you. And there it was, the overwhelming effects of the shimmer. Oh the pounding in your head, twisting of your thoughts, and voices echoing in your ears. Then it began to fade. It felt like dragging yourself out of quicksand, every inch a battle as clarity tried to surface through the chaos. Your breath came in shallow gasps, chest heaving as the purple haze in your vision began to lift.

Dim lights suffocated the room, illuminated by the faint flicker of old industrial lights dangling above. The Chem Barons lounged around the oval table, their laughter low and cruel as they watched your struggle with detached amusement. The factory scent in the air, mingled with the acrid sting of chemicals you didn’t want to identify.

Margot leaned casually against the table, twirling the now-empty syringe between her fingers with an air of smug satisfaction. Her lips curled into a grin that sent a wave of anger through you, though your body was too weak to act on it.

“Looks like you’re finally coming down,” she remarked, her tone almost conversational. “I’ll admit, I was worried for a moment there. Would’ve been a shame if you’d overdosed before we made use of you.”

You glared at her through the haze of exhaustion, your teeth clenched as you struggled to steady your breathing. “Go to hell,” you rasped, your voice hoarse and raw.

Margot chuckled, pushing off the table to approach you. “Feisty, even now. I like that,” she said, crouching in front of you so that her face was level with yours. Her eyes gleamed with twisted delight as she reached out, gripping your chin tightly between her fingers to force you to look at her.

“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, her voice low and almost admiring. “But spirit won’t save you. You’re nothing more than a bargaining chip now.”

You jerked your head away from her grasp, the movement sharp despite the lingering weakness in your body. Margot let out an amused laugh as she stood, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Here’s the deal, sweetheart,” she began, her tone turning more like one of a businessman’s. “We hand you over to topside. You get to enjoy whatever punishment they’ve got waiting for you, and we get our prize money. It’s a win-win, really.” The other Chem Barons murmured their approval, the greed in their voices unmistakable.

You stared at her, your chest tightening with rage. “You really think I’d agree to that?” you spat, your voice laced with venom.

Margot shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching into a mocking smirk. "Oh, I don't need your agreement, darling," she replied smoothly, her voice dripping with condescension. "I was just being polite by giving you the illusion of a choice. Hey, but maybe we can work something out. Give me something useful. A secret, a connection, something, and maybe I don't have to hand you over." Her words were a sick game, a mockery of negotiation. You weren't stupid; you knew she had no intention of letting you go freely. Your anger bubbled over as you leaned forward as much as your restraints allowed, glaring daggers at her.

"I'll see you rot before I help you," you growled, the force of your words surprising even yourself.

Margot's expression darkened, and the smirk fell from her face. For a moment, there was silence, tension crackling in the air like static. Then, without warning, she lashed out, slapping you hard across the face. The sharp sting of her hand against your cheek was enough to make your head whip to the side.

"Stupid girl," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You think you have power here? You think you get to decide anything?" She took a step back, reaching into her pocket and pulling out another syringe.

Your stomach dropped as you saw the familiar glow of shimmer inside it, brighter and more concentrated than before.

"No-no, don't," you stammered, panic setting in as she approached.

"Don't what?" she mocked, her grin returning with a sadistic edge. "You already made your choice. Let's see if we can loosen that sharp tongue of yours."

Before you could protest further, she plunged the needle into your neck. Pain shot through your body as the shimmer flooded your veins, an uncontrollable heat spreading through your limbs. You let out a scream, your vision blurring as the drug took hold. The world tilted on its axis, the edges of reality fraying as hallucinations crept in. The Chem Barons' laughter grew distorted, their faces warping into monstrous visages. The room seemed to shrink and expand simultaneously, and the voices in your head (the ones you thought had faded) came roaring back with a vengeance.

You clawed at the arms of the chair, your nails digging into the metal as you tried to anchor yourself. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that it felt like it might burst, and your breathing became erratic.

Margot's voice cut through the chaos, taunting and cruel. "Look at you, squirming like a cornered animal. It's almost poetic."

Your restraints clicked open suddenly, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself before hitting the ground. Margot stood over you, her hands on her hips as she sneered down at your trembling form.

"We're taking you topside," she announced, her tone laced with finality.

"Dead or alive, you're worth the same. But I think I prefer you like this, completely broken and barely holding on. It'll make the handoff more entertaining."

Two of her lackeys stepped forward, gripping you under your arms and hauling you to your feet. Your legs wobbled beneath you, the shimmer wreaking havoc on your motor control. The world spun violently as they began dragging you toward the door, your head lolling as you tried and failed to stay upright. Harsh sunlight hit your face like someone slapped you as they pulled you outside. The brightness was disorienting, and you squinted against it, your head throbbing. Air, heavy with the industrial tang of Zaun, and the sounds of machinery mixed with voices. Enforcers.

Ahead, you could see the bridge leading topside, a line of Enforcers waiting at the end with rifles slung over their shoulders. The sight sent a fresh wave of panic through you, and you thrashed weakly in the Chem Barons' grip.

"Let me go," you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

Margot walked alongside you, her expression one of smug satisfaction. "Save your strength," she advised mockingly. "You'll need it to grovel when you're thrown at the feet of the Council."

The closer you got to the bridge, the harder your heart pounded. You were barely holding on, your mind teetering on the edge of madness as the shimmer coursed through you. The voices in your head screamed louder, with the fear and anger that threatened to drown you.

Margot leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered "Don't worry, sweetheart. This is just the beginning." You gritted your teeth, determination flickering within you despite the haze.

The journey to Piltover’s inner walls was a blur of pain and exhaustion. Your legs refused to hold you, the shimmer coursing through your veins wreaking havoc on your body. Every step felt like a battle, your limbs trembling as Margot’s goons dragged you forward. The bright sunlight burned your eyes, and the Piltover’s bustling streets added to your disorientation. All of the voices of the enforcers were sharp as they spoke to Margot, thanking her and her men.

“Good work,” one of the officers said, his tone almost bored. “Your payment will be processed soon. We’ll take it from here.”

Margot smirked, her victory evident in her smug posture. She leaned close to you one last time, her voice a low whisper meant only for your ears.

“Enjoy the next chapter, darling,” she sneered. “If you survive, maybe we’ll cross paths again.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond. Instead, you slumped further as the Enforcers took hold of you, their grip cold. You tried to plant your feet, to resist, but your body betrayed you. Your knees buckled, and they dragged you forward without hesitation.

Piltovers inner walls loomed ahead, their pristine white stone a stark contrast to the grime and chaos of Zaun. Everything was suffocating, the streets lined with polished brass and bustling citizens who barely glanced your way. The shimmer made it hard to focus, your vision swimming with colors and shadows that didn’t belong.

By the time you reached the Council building, you were on the verge of collapse. The Enforcers hauled you through the ornate doors, their boots echoing loudly against the marble floors. Of course the air would be cold and sterile, filled with the murmur of voices and hurried footsteps as people passed by.

They led you into the grand council chamber, its circular design intimidating and imperial. The room was bathed in warm light from the massive stained-glass windows, depicting Piltover’s history in vibrant detail. At the center was the imposing council table, its surface polished to a mirror shine, where Ambessa Medarda sat like a queen upon her throne.

Beside her were your parents. Your father’s expression was like stone, his cold eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn’t even glance at you as the Enforcers placed you in one of the chairs facing the council. Your mother, on the other hand, was a picture of worry, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her eyes were wide as they took you in, darting over your disheveled appearance and the faint glow of shimmer in your irises. The moment the Enforcers stepped back, your mother rushed to your side. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it left you breathless.

“My sweet child,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. “I was so worried about you.”

You barely had the strength to return the embrace, but her warmth was a calming sensation to your anxious nerves. She pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, her hands cupping your face as she searched your eyes.

“What have they done to you?” she whispered, her voice breaking. Her gaze landed on the faint pink glow in your irises, and you saw her expression shift from relief to horror. “Shimmer…” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Her hands faltered for a moment before she composed herself, but the fear lingered in her eyes. She sat down next to you, her presence a small comfort despite the chaos raging within you. Your father, meanwhile, remained motionless, his gaze fixed ahead as if you weren’t even there. His indifference cut deeper than you expected, and your heart sank. He doesn’t care. He never has.

Ambessa’s voice rang out, commanding and unyielding, but the pounding in your head made it impossible to focus on her words. Your mother nudged you gently, her worried expression urging you to pay attention.

“Listen,” she whispered softly, but her voice carried an undertone of dread.

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on Ambessa. Her sharp eyes bore into you as she spoke, her words cutting through the haze.

“You have become a liability,” she declared, her voice devoid of sympathy. “A danger to the order and stability of Piltover. It is the council’s decision that you be sent to Stillwater Hold immediately.”

Your stomach dropped, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Stillwater Hold, the maximum security, isolation, a prison for those too dangerous to be allowed freedom.

“No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “No, you can’t—”

“This is not up for debate,” Ambessa interrupted coldly, rising to her feet. Her imposing figure seemed to tower over you, her presence suffocating. “You will be placed in isolation, cut off from all outside contact. Perhaps there, you will have time to reflect on your mistakes.”

Your mother’s hand gripped yours tightly, her knuckles white. She looked as if she wanted to speak, to protest, but no words came. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and you could see the conflict in her eyes.

Your father, however, barely reacted. He simply stood, his face betraying a flicker of surprise, but nothing more.

As Ambessa turned to leave, the Enforcers moved forward to restrain you once again. Panic clawed at your chest, your mind racing with the implications of her decree. You would be alone, cut off from everything and everyone you cared about. The thought of never seeing Ekko again made your heart ache, but then Margot’s words crept back into your mind.

He doesn’t care about you. He only cares about Zaun. But did he?

You shook your head, trying to dispel the doubt, but it lingered like a shadow. The Enforcers’ hands were rough as they pulled you to your feet, and your mother’s grip slipped away.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you looked at her. “Don’t let them do this.”

The hallway outside the council chambers was dimly lit, while there was golden glow coming from the chamber’s interior. The walls were lined with brass and marble, their polished surfaces catching faint reflections of the soldiers escorting you. Their grip was unyielding as they dragged you forward, your legs barely able to cooperate. Your body felt heavy, a dull ache spreading through your muscles, but the shimmer in your veins still faintly there. Almost like a silent threat waiting to be unleashed. Unpredictable.

Your mother walked alongside you, her hand clinging tightly to yours as if her touch alone could anchor you in this moment. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, her voice choked by the emotions roiling within her.

“You can’t do this to them,” she pleaded to the soldiers, her words soft but desperate. “They’re not a danger—they’re my daughter.”

The soldiers didn’t respond, their expressions stoic. They marched forward with mechanical precision, their polished armor clinking faintly with each step. You glanced over your shoulder at your mother, her hand tightening around yours as if she sensed the impending separation.

“Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Let me—”

Her words were cut off as the soldiers abruptly stopped, their grip on you tightening. One of them turned to her, his expression a mix of irritation and indifference.

“Ma’am, please step back,” he ordered firmly.

“No,” your mother said, her voice rising in defiance. “I won’t let you take my daughter!”

The soldier’s hand moved to pry hers away from yours, but she held on tighter, her knuckles white. Her desperation was palpable, each of her movements fueled by love and fear.

“Mother,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s okay—”

However, it wasn’t okay and it never would be. With being over dramatic that they would send someone to prison just for being a kind person. What kind of society was piltover, and how you could’ve been so blind.

The soldier’s patience snapped, and he moved to forcibly remove your mother’s hand from yours. The moment he yanked at her wrist, something inside you cracked. All the shimmer that had been bubbling beneath the surface roared to life, seeping in your veins. Heat spread through your body, the sensation almost euphoric.

Before you could think, your body moved on instinct. With a feral growl, you jerked free from the soldiers’ grasp. Your fists flew before you realized what you were doing, one striking the soldier nearest to you with a sickening thud. He staggered back, his helmet clattering to the ground, and you turned on the second soldier with the same ferocity. The shimmer gave you strength you didn’t recognize, each movement fluid and devastating. Your fist collided with the second soldier’s chest plate, sending him stumbling backward into the marble wall with a dull clang. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the shimmer’s intoxicating power coursing through you. The sensation was overwhelming, your limbs felt lighter, faster, and yet there was a wildness to it all, a lack of control that frightened you even as it exhilarated you.

Turning back, you stumbled into your mother’s arms, clutching her tightly as though holding her could tether you to the world and keep the chaos at bay. Her arms wrapped around you immediately, her warmth and familiar scent grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears burned at your eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again.”

“You will,” she said firmly, her hands gripping your face to make you look at her. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but her gaze was resolute. “I’ll find a way. I swear to you.”

Her promise felt like a fragile thread in the storm raging inside you. You wanted to believe her, but every step you’d taken since leaving Zaun seemed to lead only to destruction and despair. The sound of heavy footsteps broke the moment, and you turned to see your father striding toward the chaos, his expression carved in stone. His cold eyes scanned the scene: the soldiers disarmed and you clinging to your mother. His lips twisted into a sneer of disgust.

“Enough of this display,” he snapped, his voice laced with venom. “You’re embarrassing yourself, woman.”

Your mother flinched at his tone, her grip on you tightening as though she could shield you from his words. “They’re our daughter!” she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “How can you stand there and act like they mean nothing to you?”

“They don’t,” your father said flatly, his gaze flicking to you as if you were a mere inconvenience. “They’ve chosen to align themselves with filth, with criminals. They’ve disgraced this family, and I will not tolerate it.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and your grip on your mother faltered. The shimmer inside you pulsed violently, responding to your rising anger. You could feel it clawing at the edges of your mind, urging you to lash out, to fight back.

“I never chose this,” you spat, your voice trembling with rage. “You abandoned me long before I ever set foot in Zaun.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, pulling your mother away from you with a firm hand. She resisted, but his grip was unyielding, dragging her back as she cried out in protest.

“Let her go!” you shouted, lunging toward them, but the shimmer’s effects were waning, leaving your body weak and unsteady.

The soldiers had recovered by now, and they seized you once more, their grips like iron. You struggled, but the strength you’d felt moments ago was gone, replaced by an aching exhaustion.

“Take them away,” your father ordered coldly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Father, please—”

“You are no child of mine,” he said, cutting you off.

His words echoed in your ears as the soldiers dragged you away, your mother’s cries fading into the distance. Your heart felt like it was shattering in your chest, each beat a reminder of how alone you were. All of the halls blurred around you as you were pulled toward your fate. The shimmer’s residual effects made the world feel surreal, the edges of your vision tinged with purple. Your thoughts spiraled, looping back to the same unbearable truth: no one was coming to save you.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a flicker of defiance remained. The shimmer may have weakened, but it had left something behind. A burning determination not to let them break you. Never.

As you were led toward the transport that would take you to Stillwater, you clenched your fists, vowing to fight for every chance to escape, for every moment to prove them wrong. Whatever happened next, you would not give up. Not yet.

There were occasional crackle of old, sparking wires however the hideout was quiet. It should’ve been comforting, this kind of silence, which was a rare occurrence. But it wasn’t. It never would be, not with you missing.

Ekko sat hunched over his desk in the corner of the workshop, his head resting in his hands. The glow of the green light hanging above cast harsh shadows across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion etched into his features. He hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t have the luxury of rest, not while you were out there somewhere, alone. Or worse. Dead.

The thought of what could be happening to you tightened his chest. It wasn’t like you to not come back without a word, and the reality of your disappearance had hit him like a freight train. He could still see you in his mind, sitting across the room from him with that subtle smirk you always wore when teasing him. You were always a little guarded, but he could read the warmth in your eyes when you let your guard down around him. That warmth haunted him now.

He slammed a fist down on the table, rattling a collection of discarded tools and blueprints. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

The door to the hideout creaked open, and Scar stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the floor. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, he knew better than to try when Ekko was like this.

“Any word?” he asked without looking up, his voice clipped.

Scar hesitated. “Not good news.”

Ekko turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Spit it out.”

Scar exhaled, crossing his arms. “Word on the street is there’s a bounty on their head. Big money, too. Dead or alive.”

For a moment, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. He shot to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What?” His voice was a mix of disbelief and fury.

“You heard me,” Scar said, his tone softer now. “Ambessa is the one behind it. And who else would want that good amount of money other that the chem-barons. So if I had to bet…”

“Margot,” Ekko growled, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as anger surged through him.

“Yeah,” Scar said. “She’s got her hands in everything these days. If anyone’s got the resources to snatch someone up, it’s her.”

Ekko couldn’t think. He grabbed the edge of the desk and flipped it in one violent motion, sending tools, papers, and scraps of metal crashing to the floor. Scar didn’t flinch. He’d seen him lose his temper before, though never like this.

“They took my friend!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “They were safe, or at least I thought they were. I should’ve—” He stopped himself, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“You couldn’t have known,” Scar said cautiously.

“I should’ve kissed them when I had the chance,” Ekko muttered bitterly, his voice barely audible.

Scar raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his admission. “Wait, you mean—”

“Don’t,” Ekko interrupted sharply, his jaw tightening. He didn’t need his commentary, not now.

Scar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, boss, I get it. You care about them. We all do. And tearing yourself apart isn’t gonna bring them back. You need to focus.”

“I am focused,” Ekko snapped, his eyes blazing. “I’ve been doing everything I can to find them. I’ve been working nonstop! But every second that goes by, they could be—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Scar stepped closer, his voice softening. “We’ll find them, Ekko.”

Ekko turned away from his second-in-command, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his responsibilities as a leader, as someone who cared about you more than he was willing to admit, was crushing him. He thought back to all the moments he could’ve told you how he felt. How he should’ve told you. Now, he might never get the chance.

“Do we have any leads?” he asked after a long silence, his voice low.

“Nothing solid,” Scar admitted. “But I’ll keep digging. And so will the others.”

Ekko nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. If Margot had you, then time was running out. He’d seen what the chem-barons were capable of, how they toyed with their captives before discarding them like garbage. The thought of you in their clutches made his stomach churn. He clenched his fists again, his knuckles white.

As Scar left to rally the others, Ekko sat back down amidst the chaos he’d created, staring at the mess of blueprints and tools scattered across the floor. He picked up a small gadget you’d been working on before you disappeared. It was a half-finished invention with wires sticking out at odd angles.

He turned it over in his hands, a lump forming in his throat. You were always so brilliant, so determined to make a difference in this broken city. How could he have let this happen to you?

“I’ll find you,” he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you back.” The promise felt hollow in the silence of the room, but it was all he had.

Smoky air filled around the abandoned factory that thick with decay, the scent of rust and mildew clinging to the walls like an oppressive fog. Inside, the dim light of a single hanging bulb swung precariously, casting jagged shadows across the cavernous space. Crates were scattered haphazardly, some half-opened to reveal pilfered goods and shimmer vials, their contents glowing faintly. Laughter and the clink of glasses echoed faintly, a mocking contrast to the somber silence of the building’s other corners.

Ekko crouched in the shadows near a crumbling brick wall, his mask concealing his expression but failing to hide the fury radiating from him. His staff was collapsed and strapped to his back, ready to be wielded at a moment’s notice. He had been tracking Margot’s operations for days, every lead bringing him closer to you. This factory, this desolate place reeking of despair, was supposed to be your last known location.

Inside, three men sat around a makeshift table fashioned from a wooden pallet and a few stacked crates. They were laughing uproariously, playing cards, and passing a bottle of cheap wine between them. Their demeanor was casual, careless. They had no reason to suspect that death itself was crouched a few feet away, waiting.

Ekko’s fingers flexed over the edge of the wall, the faint creak of leather gloves breaking the ambient noise. The goons’ laughter paused, one of them squinting into the shadows. “You hear that?” he muttered, his hand hovering near his knife.

Ekko stepped into the light, his mask catching the faint glow of the overhead bulb. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but his presence was anything but. The sight of him was enough to make the men freeze, their drunken haze evaporating in an instant.

“Don’t move,” Ekko said, his voice low and cold, like the steel of a blade. He tilted his head slightly, a predatory gesture that sent shivers down their spines. “I’ve got questions, and you’re going to answer them. If you try to run, you won’t get far.”

One of the men, the burliest of the three, leaned back in his chair with a forced laugh, trying to mask his unease. “Questions, huh? You don’t look like an enforcer, kid. What do you want from us?”

Ekko’s fingers twitched, but he kept his composure. “Where is she?”

“Who?” another man asked, feigning ignorance as he leaned forward, his greasy smile exposing yellowed teeth. “We’ve got a lot of ‘shes’ around here. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Ekko took a slow step forward, the sound of his boots deliberate and sharp against the concrete floor. “Don’t play dumb. The girl you took. The one Margot had dragged out of Zaun. Where is she?”

The men exchanged glances, their bravado faltering under the weight of Ekko’s presence. But it wasn’t fear that made them hesitate, it was cruelty. Disgusting.

“Oh,” the burly man said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You mean your little girlfriend. Didn’t think a leader like you would be so sentimental. What’s it like, knowing Margot’s had her claws in her?”

Ekko’s grip on his staff tightened, though he didn’t extend it. Not yet. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said, his voice like gravel. “… She’s under my protection, which means you’ve made a very big mistake.”

The third man, younger than the others and visibly more nervous, chuckled weakly. “Margot did more than protect her. Injected her full of shimmer. Changed her forever.” He leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. “You should’ve heard her screaming. Begging for it to stop.”

Ekko’s vision got blurred. He didn’t remember crossing the room, but suddenly his hand was around the throat of the younger man, slamming him against the wall with a force that made the other two jump to their feet.

“I said sit down!” Ekko roared, his voice echoing through the factory like a thunderclap. The other two hesitated, their bravado crumbling as they realized just how dangerous this masked vigilante was. Slowly, they lowered themselves back into their seats, though their hands hovered near their weapons.

Ekko released the younger man, letting him crumple to the ground in a coughing heap. He turned his attention to the burly one, his body radiating barely contained rage.

“You think this is funny?” Ekko asked, his voice low and menacing. “You think I won’t rip this place apart to find her?”

“Relax, kid,” the burly man said, though his voice wavered. “You’re not a killer. Everyone knows that.”

Ekko smirked beneath his mask, though there was no humor in it. “You’re right. I’m not. But I don’t need to kill you to make you wish you were dead.”

With a flick of his wrist, he extended his staff and brought it down on the man’s hand with bone-shattering force. The sickening crunch was followed by a howl of pain, and the man clutched his mangled hand to his chest, tears streaming down his face.

“Now,” Ekko said, his voice icy. “Where. Is. She?”

The younger man scrambled to his knees, babbling incoherently. “She’s—she’s gone! Taken to Piltover! The boss wanted to claim the prize money! Please, man, that’s all I know!”

Ekko turned to him, his eyes burning with fury. “Where in Piltover?”

“I don’t know!” the man cried, his hands raised in surrender. “I swear, I don’t know! They took her meet ambessa at the council meeting! That’s all we heard before they left!”

Ekko studied him for a long moment, then stepped back, his staff retracting with a metallic click. “If I find out you’re lying,” he said coldly, “I’ll be back. And you won’t like what happens next.”

He turned and disappeared into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. The factory’s silence returned, but Ekko’s mind was anything but quiet.

You were in Piltover. That much he knew. But the thought of what they might be doing to you, how far they’d gone already, made his blood boil. He blamed himself for letting this happen, for not being there to stop it.

“I’ll find you,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped out of the factory. “No matter what it takes, I’ll bring you home.”

Shivering. The cold was the first thing you noticed. It crept into your bones and settled like a permanent ache, no matter how tightly you wrapped the thin blanket around yourself. The steel walls of your cell reflected nothing but your own hollow gaze, distorted in the warped metal like a ghost haunting itself. The dim, flickering light overhead buzzed incessantly, a monotonous drone that filled the silence.

Days bled into one another. Or were they weeks? Months? You couldn’t tell anymore. Food was delivered regularly, the plates piling up untouched on the small tray by the door. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, but the idea of eating felt impossible. It reminded you of before, of when Ekko had kissed you, then left you in an agonizing limbo of uncertainty.

Back then, you had at least been free. You could wander through Zaun, trying to escape the heartache in the neon haze of the Undercity. Now, there was no escape. No Ekko. No freedom. Just you and the cold steel cage that held you prisoner.

You sat on the edge of the cot, knees pulled to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The shimmer coursing through your veins was a cruel reminder of what had been done to you. It pulsed like molten fire, burning and twisting your thoughts. Your body ached, muscles spasming unpredictably, leaving you weak and trembling.

The voices were the worst. They came in waves, some screaming accusations, others whispering taunts.

“He’s forgotten you.”

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

“This is what you deserve.”

“Shut up!” you yelled, pressing your palms to your ears. But they didn’t stop. Instead, they multiplied.

“You’ll never see him again.”

“He’s better off without you.”

“You’re better off dead.”

Tears spilled from your eyes, hot against the cold air, as you rocked back and forth. You hated yourself for crying, for being weak, for breaking under their weight. But there was no one here to tell you otherwise. No one to hold you and say it would be okay.

You slammed the back of your head against the wall behind you, the dull thud grounding you for only a moment before the spiral began again. The sobs came harder now, wracking your body as you curled into yourself.

“Leave me alone,” you begged the voices, but they only laughed in response. And then, faintly, you heard something else.

“Hey!” The voice echoed down the corridor outside your cell, distant but distinct. Your head snapped up, your breath hitching as you strained to listen.

“Who’s there?” you croaked, your throat dry and raw from disuse.

The faint sound of footsteps grew louder, steady and purposeful. You squinted into the dim hallway, trying to make out the figure approaching the barred door.

“Leave me alone!” you cried again, shaking your head, convinced it was another hallucination. The shimmer had twisted your mind before; why would now be any different?

But the figure didn’t fade. Instead, it became clearer. Taller. Familiar. The scent of machine oil and faint traces of herbs reached you before the figure did, stirring something deep in your chest. Your heart raced as the figure came closer, the flickering light catching on the unmistakable outline of his goggles, his scarf, the curve of his jaw.

“Ekko?” you whispered, gripping the railing of your cot as you pulled yourself to your feet.

The figure stopped just beyond the bars, his hands curling around them as he leaned forward. “It’s me,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

“No,” you said, shaking your head violently. “You’re not real. You’re just—just another trick!”

“I’m real,” he said, his voice firmer now. “It’s me. See! Look at me.”

You stumbled forward, your legs weak and unsteady, until you reached the door. Your hands gripped the cold metal bars, your eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. But there was none.

“Ekko,” you breathed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

His hand covered yours, warm and grounding. “Hi,” he whispered, his voice thick with relief.

You choked on a sob, your knees buckling as you slid down to the floor. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here,” he said, his other hand slipping through the bars to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “In the flesh.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm against your skin a stark contrast to the cold that had consumed you for so long. “I thought…” You hiccupped, struggling to form the words. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I thought the same,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.”

Your fingers tightened around his, desperate to hold onto him, to convince yourself that this wasn’t just another cruel trick of your mind. “They said… they said you forgot me.”

“Never,” he said fiercely, his hand gripping yours with equal intensity. “Not even for a split second.”

You buried your face against the bars, your shoulders shaking as the tears came harder. “I’m terrified, Ekko,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“You’re real,” he said, his forehead resting against yours through the bars. “I’m real. And I’m getting you out of here.”

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, anchoring you to the moment. For the first time in weeks, the voices fell silent. All you could hear was the steady beat of his heart and the unspoken vow in his gaze.

The air in Stillwater Hold was suffocating, thick with the acrid scent of damp metal and the faint tang of saltwater. The dim, flickering lights overhead buzzed like angry insects, casting ghostly shadows on the cold steel walls. Ekko stood outside your cell, gripping the large brass key in his hand, his knuckles white with tension. His mask obscured most of his face, but his eyes burned with fierce determination.

He glanced at you through the bars, his heart breaking at the sight of your frail form. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, your skin pale and your frame too thin. The shimmer’s effects were evident in the faint tremors in your hands and the shadows beneath your eyes, but there was still a spark in your gaze, a fragile but unyielding fire.

He took a steadying breath and inserted the key into the lock, his movements quick but not careless. The lock groaned in protest, a sharp metallic screech echoing in the corridor.

“How did you get that?” you asked, your voice hoarse but laced with curiosity.

Ekko’s lips twitched into a small smirk, though the weight of the moment kept it from fully forming. “Long story,” he said, his tone light but tinged with weariness. He didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t press him. You could tell from the shadows in his eyes that whatever he’d done to get here hadn’t been easy.

He jiggled the key, muttering a low curse under his breath. “Of course, it has to be the trickiest damn lock in the whole place,” he murmured. You almost laughed at his frustration, the sound foreign and strange in this place of despair.

Finally, with a heavy clunk, the lock gave way, and the cell door creaked open. Before Ekko could fully process his success, you surged forward, throwing yourself into his arms with all the strength you could muster. The momentum knocked him off balance, and the two of you tumbled to the cold floor, his back hitting the ground with a dull thud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, the breath knocked out of him for a moment. But then his arms tightened around you instinctively, cradling you against his chest as though you might disappear if he let go.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your thin arms clinging to him desperately. “Don’t let me go,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Of course not,” he whispered, his voice breaking as his hand slid up to cradle the back of your head. He felt how much lighter you were, how your ribs pressed against him like fragile bird bones. It was like holding a shadow of the person he remembered, and it made his chest ache with guilt and sorrow.

Your tears soaked into his scarf as you cried harder, your sobs wracking your frail body. “I thought—I thought I’d never see you again,” you stammered, your words broken by hiccups. “I thought I was going to die here.”

Ekko tightened his hold on you, his jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Not a chance,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to stay strong. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your tear-streaked face inches from his. “I missed you so much,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only thing that kept me going.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The raw emotion in your voice cut through him like a knife, and he cursed himself for not finding you sooner. “Well no need to worry now,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “Im never going to leave your side”

Your arms tightened around him as if you were afraid he might vanish. “I’m never letting you go again,” you vowed, your voice trembling but resolute.

“I wouldn’t let you if you tried,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he held you close.

As the flood of emotions began to ebb, a small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corners of Ekko’s mouth. “By the way,” he said, his tone lightening just enough to catch your attention, “your mom’s got some stories.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “My mom?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Xerah Arvino. Fancy name, by the way. She’s got opinions, especially about me.”

You let out a weak laugh, the sound surprising both of you. “What did she say?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, his voice teasing. “She might’ve mentioned how you feel about me. Called you out, really.”

Your cheeks burned, the warmth of embarrassment cutting through the cold that had settled in your body for so long. “She didn’t,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“Oh, she did,” he said, his smirk widening. “Guess she wanted to make sure I wasn’t oblivious.”

Despite your exhaustion, you managed a small laugh. “She’s always been… direct.”

“I like her,” Ekko admitted, his tone softening. “But you, Firefly…” He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears. “I knew. I’ve always known.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket. “You did?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How could I not?” he replied, his voice filled with equal parts affection and disbelief. “You’re my light in the dark. Always have been.”

The warmth of his gaze, the steadiness of his presence, filled the void inside you that had felt so bottomless. For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed you might actually be okay. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as his hand stroked your back in soothing circles.

The inside of the air duct was surprisingly spacious, though its tight metallic walls didn’t leave much room for comfort. The hum of machinery vibrated through the structure, and the faint scent of oil and rust lingered in the air. Ekko’s hoverboard hummed softly beneath you, its energy signature blending seamlessly with the subdued mechanical symphony of Stillwater Hold.

“Hold on tight,” Ekko whispered, his voice low and cautious as he steadied the hoverboard under both your weight and his. His body was warm against yours, shielding you from the cold draft in the duct. You obeyed, gripping his waist tightly, your heart racing. Not only just from the escape but from the proximity, his warmth body against your own.

The hoverboard glided smoothly, its propulsion barely making a sound as Ekko maneuvered it through twists and turns. He had memorized the map of this place with a precision that made you marvel at his resourcefulness. You couldn’t help but wonder how many sleepless nights he’d spent planning this.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice steady but his grip on the hoverboard controls firm. His tone, though calm, carried the tension of someone who knew there was no room for error.

After what felt like an eternity, the dim blue light of the exit vent came into view. Ekko slowed the board and leaned forward, pressing a hand against the vent cover. It creaked slightly, and for a moment, you both froze, your breaths held. But when no alarms blared, he pushed harder, and the vent cover fell away, clattering onto the concrete outside.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded, your heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through your veins. “Let’s go.”

With a quick adjustment, Ekko angled the hoverboard downward, the two of you sliding out of the duct and into the open air. The cold night breeze hit your face like a splash of water, a stark contrast to the stuffy air of the ducts. The stars twinkled above, unbothered by the chaos below, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the promise of freedom.

It took longer than expected to navigate back to your house. The ride was quiet, each of you lost in your thoughts, the weight of the escape pressing heavily on your shoulders. By the time you arrived, the familiar silhouette of the Arvino estate loomed before you, its elegant structure bathed in pale moonlight.

As you approached, panic flashed through your chest. “Ekko,” you said, your voice urgent. “What if someone sees us?”

“They won’t,” he assured you, his tone confident. “Trust me.”

He steered the hoverboard toward a thick cluster of vines that climbed the side of the house near your bedroom window. Landing softly on the grass, he helped you off the board and gestured toward the vines. “Think you can climb?”

You nodded, though your body was weak from weeks of confinement. His hands hovered near your waist, ready to catch you just in case you were to fall.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

With his help, you made your way up the vines, the rough texture scratching at your hands. When you finally reached the windowsill, you pushed it open and climbed inside, tumbling onto the familiar softness of your room. Ekko followed quickly, landing with a quiet grace that made you roll your eyes at his ease.

The moment your feet hit the carpet, a deep sigh of relief escaped your lips. You turned and launched yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the comfort of your pillow. The softness cradled you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. Kicking your feet excitedly, you let out a laugh that was equal parts relief and joy. “I can’t believe we made it,” you said, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Ekko leaned against the wall, watching you with a soft smile. His arms were crossed, his frame relaxed for the first time all night. “You look happy,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

You turned over, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your feet dangling just above the floor. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you replied, your grin infectious. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

Ekko pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward you, his boots barely making a sound on the plush carpet. His smile remained, but there was something else in his eyes now. Love maybe?

Before you could process his movement, he leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and suddenly, he was so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His face was mere inches from yours, his breath brushing against your skin.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as his eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips. It was as if he was asking for permission without saying a word. “Hmm…” you whispered to yourself thinking about something, your voice barely audible.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking back up to meet yours. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, as though he was fighting to keep his composure.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. “Yeah. I just…”

“Just what?” he murmured, his lips quirking up in a small, teasing smile.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

But you couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond the way his presence seemed to fill the room. Slowly, as though giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned closer. The world seemed to fade into the background: the room, the night, the fear and chaos of your escape, until there was only him. Standing infront of you, leaning so close that you could feel him breathe.

“Can I?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips parted, and you nodded, the motion almost imperceptible. And then his lips were on yours, gentle at first. But the moment your hand slid up to curl into his jacket, he deepened the kiss, his other hand moving to cup the side of your face. The weight of the world seemed to lift in that moment, replaced by a heat that consumed you, chased away the cold and the fear that had gripped you for so long.

Ekko’s breath was warm against your lips, and when he closed the gap between you, it felt like the world tilted on its axis. The kiss was soft at first, an unspoken confession of everything the two of you had held back for the last few months. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him to believe this was real. His lips moved with a desire that sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers gripping your hips as though he never wanted to let go. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his jawline, tracing the sharp angles of his face, grounding yourself in the reality of his handsome face.

"You're lips are so soft," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and thick with emotion.

"I could stay that about yours," you replied breathlessly letting out a small chuckle. Your forehead pressing against his as you both caught your breath.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes searching yours. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of this... of you," he admitted, his voice soft but passionate, as though he needed you to understand the depth of his feelings. Of how much he had felt for you ever since the two of you met.

You smiled, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. "Took you long enough to realize," you teased, though your tone was gentle, almost reverent.

His hands slid up your back, pressing you closer, and you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest. The air between you grew heavier, more charged, as the kiss became desperate. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low sound from him that sent a shiver racing down your spine. The need that had been simmering between you for so long now threatened to boil over, every touch and every breath. Adding to the fire between you further.

You shifted slightly, pressing yourself closer to him, and the sensation made your cheeks flush. His grip on your waist tightened in response, his other hand cupping the back of your neck as he angled your face to deepen the kiss. His movements were urgent but deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment, every sound you made, every way your body fit against his.

Ekko's lips left yours, trailing along your jawline and down to your neck, his warm breath sending goosebumps over your skin. His fingers grazed the edge of your shirt, his touch featherlight but electrifying. "I love you," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with restrained emotion. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as your hands slid down his back.

Ekko chuckled, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips, this one slower and filled with something deeper. His hands never stopped moving, one tracing lazy circles on your back, the other brushing strands of hair from your face. This moment felt infinite, like the two of you had carved out a space that existed only for the two of you. It wasn't until the door suddenly swung open, flooding the room with light. Startled, you froze, your lips still brushing Ekko's, as you both turned to see Anya standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh-oh my! I'm so sorry!" she stammered, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to- I was just—"

Before either of you could respond, she quickly turned around, flicking the light off as she shut the door behind her with a hurried, "I'll come back later!"

The room went back into the darkness, the only light coming from the moon outside. You and Ekko stared at the closed door for a second, stunned into silence. Then Ekko broke into a quiet laugh. "Well, that's one way to ruin the mood," he said, looking back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You buried your face in his shoulder, groaning in embarrassment. "I am never going to hear the end of this from her," you muttered, your voice muffled.

He laughed again, the sound vibrating through you as he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist. "Hey, at least she knows you're in good hands," he joked, leaning back slightly to meet your eyes.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. "This isn't funny, Ekko!" you protested, though your tone was far too soft to be convincing.

"Come on," he said, brushing his nose against yours. "It's a little funny."

You couldn't help but laugh then, the tension breaking as you leaned against him, your forehead resting on his. Closing your eyes, the only sound was that of the wind outside.

The early morning light filtered softly through the cracks in the curtains, painting the room in muted hues of gold and pink. The air was still, and there was peace. Ekko’s arm draped securely around your waist as your head nestled against his chest. His warmth was a shield against the cold realities waiting just outside, and in his unconscious state, he held you as if you might disappear. The two of you had found sanctuary, one where, just for a few hours, the chaos of the world couldn’t touch you. The chaos that was caused by just wanting to help others.

That illusion shattered when the door creaked open, followed by the hurried, uneven shuffle of footsteps. The sound pulled Ekko from his slumber instantly. His eyes snapped open, his instincts sharper than ever, and he propped himself up on one elbow just as Anya stumbled into the room. Her hand clutched her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers and staining her dress in it. The sight of her broke through the last remnants of your sleep, and you sat up, a chill running down your spine.

“They… they took her,” Anya gasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe as she shut it behind her. Her voice was strained, trembling from pain and urgency. “Ambessa. She took your mother. They know… they know what she did.”

“Anya.” Ekko was on his feet in seconds, rushing to her side and steadying her before she could collapse. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the panic swirling just beneath the surface. “What the hell happened? You’re hurt—sit down. Let me—”

“No!” Anya interrupted, her voice sharp despite the agony etched across her face. “There’s no time. They’ll come here next. You need to leave. Now.”

You stared at her, frozen in place. Her words echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like they were coming from underwater. Your chest felt tight, your vision narrowing as her message sank in. Your mother. Taken. By Ambessa. It was too much, all of it crashing down like a wave threatening to drown you. You wanted to scream, cry, do something, but your body wouldn’t cooperate. You felt yourself disassociating, retreating into the safety of numbness that you once knew because facing this reality head on was unbearable. As soon as you try to catch a break, there’s always something ruining it. It was almost as if the universe didn’t want to you be happy.

Ekko’s voice broke through the haze. “We can’t just leave you like this!” he said, his frustration mounting as Anya winced and doubled over. He ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and pressed it against her wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “Anya, stay with me. Where is she? Where did they take her?”

“I don't know,” Anya managed, her voice weakening as her knees buckled. “Ambessa… she’s going to lock her away somewhere. She knows what your mother did, how she helped you.” Her gaze shifted to you, her eyes glassy but full of determination. “You need to get out of here before they get here.”

You barely registered the words. The room around you seemed to spin, but you couldn’t focus on anything. Ekko glanced over his shoulder, concern etched across his face as he noticed your vacant expression. “Firefly,” he called softly, but there was no use. Your mind was blocking him completely.

He guided Anya to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands searching for something to stem the bleeding. “Who else was taken?” he asked, his voice steady despite the urgency in his movements.

“Just her,” Anya whispered, wincing as Ekko pressed a cloth against her wound. “I tried to stop them. I swear I did.” She glanced at you then, her eyes filled with an fear that mirrored your own. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get to her.”

You heard the words, but they felt distant, like echoes in a tunnel. Your body moved on autopilot, standing and grabbing a bag, stuffing it with whatever essentials were nearby. Ekko was saying something to you, his voice low and firm, but the words seemed blurred together. It wasn’t until he placed his hands on your shoulders and forced you to meet his eyes that you realized he was trying to snap you out of it.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softening as he searched your face. “We’re getting out of here. You with me?”

You nodded mechanically, though your gaze drifted past him, your focus slipping again. Ekko hesitated, his brow furrowing as he studied you, but there was no time to dig deeper. He turned back to Anya, his jaw tightening. “We’ll get her back,” he promised, though the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

Anya sat there bleeding out with her hand holding her stomach, sadly there was too much blood. This was it for her. Your maid the one who you’ve spend you entire childhood with. Playing dolls, hide and seek, how she would help you with your homework due to yours parents being busy with handling trade routes, businesses and being councilors. You thought of her as an older sister, and now she was gone. Dead. All thanks to Ambessa and your father. That worthless excuse of a father.

After everything that just happened, how were you suppose to enjoy anything. The journey back to the hideout was a blur to you, not even focusing on how you moved above everything. The streets of Piltover passed by in a haze of colors and shapes, the city slowly waking to another day. You stood behind Ekko on his hoverboard, your arms loosely wrapped around his waist, your body moving only when the board shifted beneath you. You didn’t speak, didn’t cry, didn’t even flinch when the wind whipped against your face. The world felt muted, like you were trapped in a dream you couldn’t wake from.

Ekko glanced over his shoulder at you more than once, he had a worried look on his face. He didn’t say anything, every time he caught a glimpse of your glowing pink eyes and their unnatural light, it was a reminder of the shimmer coursing through your veins. He cursed under his breath, his mind racing for a way to bring you back to yourself, to pull you from the darkness that seemed to be consuming you. Slowly dragging you deeper into something he may never be able to help you get out of.

By the time you reached the hideout, the sun was fully up, casting harsh shadows across the abandoned buildings that surrounded the hideout. Ekko helped you down from the hoverboard, his hands lingering on your arms as he steadied you. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t acknowledge him either. He led you inside, the familiar smell filling the air, and guided you to the bed he had made for you when you first arrived.

“Stay here,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be right back.”

You sank onto the bed without a word, your gaze fixed on the floor. Ekko watched you for a moment, his heart aching at the sight of you so lifeless, so unlike the fiery, vibrant person he had fallen for. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and helplessness bubbling beneath his calm exterior.

Hours passed in silence. The hideout was quiet, the usual activity softened as the other firelights gave you and Ekko space. He stayed close by, tinkering with gadgets and pretending not to watch you out of the corner of his eye. You remained in the same spot, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes staring into the middle of the wall.

As night fell, Ekko finally broke the silence. “You need to eat,” he said, setting a plate of food on the table near the bed.

You didn’t respond, and he sighed, pulling a chair closer to sit beside you. “Listen. I get it,” he said softly. “You feel like it’s all slipping away. Like nothing you do will change what’s happening. But sitting here, shutting down—that’s not you. That’s not the fighter I know.”

His words stirred something deep within you, a faint flicker of the person you used to be. You turned to him slowly, your voice hoarse when you finally spoke. “What if I can’t do it?”

Ekko’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand in his. “Yes you can,” he said with quiet conviction. “I’m with you every step of the way. We will get your mother back.”

For the first time since the morning, tears welled in your eyes, though they didn’t fall. You nodded, the faintest hint of determination returning to your gaze. Ekko smiled, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before he stood. “Please firefly. Get some rest,” he said.

When you finally lay down that night, it wasn’t on the makeshift bed Ekko had made for you. You slipped under the covers of his bed, your presence wordless but clear. He hesitated for a moment before climbing in beside you, his arms wrapping protectively around you as you curled against his chest.

You were left in awe. The mural was breathtaking. Ekko had worked on it tirelessly for hours, the paintbrush an extension of his hand as he brought Anya’s face to life on the wall of the hideout. Her eyes sparkled with the same determination you remembered, her smile gentle but firm. Behind her, he painted a swirl of warm, golden hues interspersed with fiery reds, symbolizing her unwavering courage even in the face of death. When he stepped back, covered in smudges of paint, he glanced at you with a quiet kind of sadness.

“She deserved this,” Ekko said, his voice low. “She gave everything to protect you. To protect what’s left of your family.”

You nodded, unable to trust your voice. Standing before the mural, you felt the weight of her sacrifice pressing against your chest. A small, fragile part of you hoped that wherever she was now, she could see this tribute, feel the gratitude and respect that burned through your veins. The only family you had left and yourself and your mother. But how long would that last. What if she were to die, who else would you consider family? You surely wouldn’t think of your father. After everything he did to you. No. It was pointless, you had no family.

Ekko turned to you after a long moment of silence, his expression hardening. “We need to talk about rules,” he said firmly.

You looked up at him confused, as your mind left the empty void it was in. “Rules?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “You’re not to be left alone. Ever. If I can’t be there, one of the Firelights will be with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

The hardness in his tone left no room for argument, but you still tried. “Ekko, I don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his eyes boring into yours. “What happened with your mother? With Anya? That was a wake-up call. We can’t afford to take risks anymore.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. He was right, but the thought of being under constant watch gnawed at your independence. Still, the raw concern in his expression made it impossible to argue further. But knowing how you were, taking risks was going to hard.

“The second rule,” Ekko continued, “is that we plan carefully before doing anything. No impulsive moves. No rushing in without a backup plan—or two, or three. And if things go south, we need to be ready to evacuate the hideout.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of leaving the hideout behind, but you knew it was a necessary precaution. Ekko wasn’t just thinking about you, he was thinking about everyone who relied on him. All the children.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your fingers twitching at your sides. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Ekko relaxed slightly, though his expression remained serious. “Good. Now, there’s something I need to see.”

He motioned to the necklace you wore, the one he had given you weeks ago. You reached for it, pulling it from beneath your shirt, but your hands trembled too much to unclasp it. Wordlessly, Ekko stepped forward, his calloused fingers brushing against your neck as he worked the clasp.

There was a soft click of the necklace unlocking, making a shiver down your spine. Ekko lingered for a moment, his warm breath brushing against your temple before he pressed a gentle kiss there. His touch was grounding, pulling you out of the haze of fear and exhaustion that had consumed you.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and leading you back to his place. His workspace was cluttered with scraps of metal, gears, and tools, but the centerpiece was a large box that you hadn’t noticed before. Ekko placed the necklace into a small slot on the box, and with a faint sound, the lid unlocked and slid open.

Inside, nestled in protective padding, was a sleek wrist device. It was compact but intricately designed, with glowing blue accents that pulsed faintly. You stared at it, unsure of what you were looking at.

“What is it?” you asked, glancing up at Ekko.

“It’s a prototype,” he explained, a hint of pride in his voice. “Took me months to design, and I nearly got myself blown up more times than I’d like to admit, but I think it’s ready now.”

Concern flickered across your face. “Blown up? Ekko—”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “Relax, t’s fine. I’ve tested it. No explosions, I promise.”

You frowned but nodded, trusting him despite your apprehension. “What does it do?”

“It’s a utility device,” he said, picking it up and fastening it around your wrist. “It’s got a tracking function, a distress signal, and a shield generator for emergencies. If anything happens, you activate this, and I’ll find you. No matter what.”

You stared down at the device, the weight of it unfamiliar but oddly comforting. “You did all this for me?”

Ekko’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I’d do a lot more if it meant keeping you safe.”

He reached into the box again and pulled out a compact crossbow, its design as sleek and efficient as the wrist device. You stiffened at the sight, your stomach knotting with unease.

“I… I’ve never even held a knife, let alone a weapon,” you admitted, your voice barely whisper.

Ekko looked at you, his expression softening. He placed the crossbow gently on the desk and turned to you, taking both your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, grounding you as his dark eyes searched yours.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he said softly. “And I’m not asking you to become a fighter overnight. But things are different now. The people who did this to your mother, to Anya. They won’t stop. We need to make sure you can protect yourself if it comes down to it.”

You glanced down at the crossbow, then back at Ekko. His words made sense, but the thought of hurting someone, even in self-defense, sent a chill down your spine. Still, the determination in his eyes was infectious. He believed in you, and for him, you would try.

“Okay,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “Teach me.”

Ekko’s smile widened, but there was a flicker of relief in his expression as well. “We’ll start slow,” he promised, picking up the crossbow and turning it over in his hands. “It’s lightweight and compact, so it’s easy to handle. And it’s more for precision than brute force, which suits you.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly despite yourself. “Suits me? You saying I’m weak?”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, just saying you’re quick. Smart. You don’t need brute force when you can outthink your opponent.”

He handed you the crossbow, guiding your fingers to the proper grip. His hands were steady as they covered yours, showing you how to aim and adjust the tension on the string. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth of his touch, the way his focus never wavered.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That’s the key. Steady your hands, focus on your target, and breathe.”

You tried to follow his instructions, your fingers trembling slightly as you raised the crossbow. It felt strange in your hands, foreign and dangerous, but Ekko’s presence steadied you.

After a few practice movements, Ekko took a step back, watching you with a mix of pride and caution. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said, crossing his arms. “And when you do, no one’s gonna mess with you.”

You set the crossbow down carefully, exhaling a shaky breath. “Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. “For everything. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Ekko shook his head, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “You don’t have to repay me,” he said quietly. “Just promise me you’ll stay alive. That’s all I need.”

The weight of his words hung between you, heavy with unspoken emotion. You nodded, swallowing hard. “I promise.”

Satisfied, Ekko reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled back, gesturing to the desk. “We’ll go over more later. For now, you should relax.”

You nodded, suddenly aware of how exhausted you felt. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, and your body ached for sleep. Ekko led you to the corner of the hideout where your shared bed was now set up. You were tired for days, beyond exhaustion. Surprisingly now, you liked to sleep. Maybe, it was because of your lack of energy.

As you lay down, Ekko pulled a blanket over you, his movements careful and deliberate. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “Stay with me,” you whispered.

Ekko hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He kicked off his boots and slid under the blanket beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. His warmth was comforting, and as you rested your head on his chest, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Zaun. The streets were always treacherous with now people lingered around. Dangerous people. You were walking back from a short supply run as the sun began to set over the horizon, the weight of the crossbow slung across your back almost forgotten as your mind wandered. Ekko’s words about being cautious echoed in your head. Always make a plan, always think before you act. He had drilled that rule into you countless times, but none of it mattered when you turned a corner and saw the scene in front of you.

A little girl, no older than seven, was backed against a crumbling wall, her tiny frame trembling. Two men loomed over her, their gruff laughter echoing down the alley as they taunted her. She clutched a stuffed toy to her chest, her eyes wide with terror. One of the men reached for her arm, and without thinking, you moved.

Your crossbow was in your hands before you realized it, the familiar weight grounding you. The shimmer coursing through your veins dulled your hesitation, sharpening your focus. The first arrow struck the shoulder of the man closest to the girl, a sickening thud silencing his laughter as he staggered back with a howl of pain. The second arrow found the leg of the other man, sending him crumpling to the ground. You moved quickly, reloading and taking aim again, though neither man seemed eager to continue.

“Get out of here,” you growled, your voice cold and unyielding. The men scrambled to their feet, one limping heavily as they disappeared into the shadows without a backward glance.

The girl was still pressed against the wall, her tiny hands clutching her stuffed toy so tightly her knuckles were white. You knelt down in front of her, setting the crossbow aside. “Hey,” you said gently, trying to soften your tone. “It’s okay now. They’re gone.”

Her eyes darted to the weapon lying on the ground, then back to your face. “You… you hurt them that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, the weight of what you’d done sinking in. “I had to,” you said softly. “They weren’t going to leave you alone. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her grip on the toy loosening slightly. “No. Thank you, miss lady.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps behind you made you tense. You turned to see Ekko, his expression a mixture of relief and frustration. Of course, he would show up. He always did. You noticed the small device in his hand and realized with a sinking feeling that it was a tracker. He must have known the second you fired the crossbow.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice low but firm as he approached you. “I told you to think before you act, to make a plan.”

You looked down at the girl, then back at Ekko. “She needed help,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the guilt creeping in. “I couldn’t just stand there.”

Ekko sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he crouched beside you. His gaze softened when he looked at the girl. “Hey there,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Mila,” she said quietly.

“Well, Mila,” Ekko said, offering her a small smile. “You’re safe now. No one else is going to hurt you.”

The girl nodded, her shoulders relaxing just a little. You reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Do you have any family, Mila? Anyone we can take you to?”

Her expression darkened, and she shook her head. “My mom… she died a long time ago. And my dad…” She trailed off, her voice cracking. “He left. He didn’t want me.”

By hearing those words. Gosh it hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. You glanced at Ekko, who was watching you carefully, his brow furrowed. He knew what you were thinking. Your father had abandoned you too, leaving you to fend for yourself in a world that was cruel and unforgiving. Mila’s pain was all too familiar to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to push the memories away. “Mila,” you said softly, “would you like to come with us? We have a safe place where you can stay.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t believe you. “Really?”

“Really,” Ekko said, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’ll be safe with us. I promise.”

Mila hesitated, then nodded, clutching her toy tightly. “Okay.”

You helped her to her feet, glancing at Ekko as the three of you started back toward the hideout. His expression was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. He waited until Mila was a few steps ahead before leaning closer to you.

“We need to talk about this later,” he murmured, his tone serious but not unkind.

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’d do it again.”

Ekko sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. The gesture was enough to remind you that, no matter how angry or worried he might be, he was still on your side.

When you arrived at the hideout, the Firelights greeted Mila with curiosity and kindness, their youthful energy helping to put her at ease. You showed her to a quiet corner where she could rest, and Ekko gave one of the older Firelights instructions to keep an eye on her. Then he turned to you, his expression serious.

“Come with me,” he said, leading you to his workshop. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms. “We need to talk.”

“I know,” you said, sitting down on the edge of the workbench. “I broke the rules. I acted without thinking. But, Ekko, she’s just a kid. I couldn’t let them hurt her.”

“I get it,” he said, his voice softer now. “I do. But you can’t just jump into situations like that without a plan. What if they’d had weapons? What if they’d hurt you?” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you again y'know.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You stood and crossed the room, placing a hand on his arm. “You won’t,” you said firmly. “But I can’t stand by and do nothing when someone needs help and you know that. Its not who I am.”

Ekko nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours. “From now on, you need to be careful. Promise me that will you.”

“I promise,” you said, and this time, you meant it.

Ekko pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close to his body. He really did love hugging you. It’s not like you minded anyways, the way he hold you every time he did was endearing.

Shining bright through the sun was heavy as it seeped through the windows. Casting warm beams of light onto the small play area you and Ekko had carved out for the kids. Mila was a different child than the one you had brought in a few days ago. Her cheeks were fuller, a healthy glow replacing the pallor of malnourishment. Her hair, now free of dirt and tangles, was neatly braided in a style one of the older Firelights had taught her. She wore clean, simple clothes that fit her nicely, and the sight of her beaming smile was enough to make your heart swell. You began to love her as a little sister. One who needs to be protected from the harsh world.

You and Ekko sat cross-legged on the ground, surrounded by a mix of giggling children who were eager to show off their toys as they invent new games. Mila gravitated toward you, her tiny hands tugging at your sleeve as she laughed at something one of the kids said. Her joy was infectious, and for the first time, you felt a lightness in your chest that had been absent since everything began. One that only appeared when you would share special moments with ekko, or in the past when you would make memories with your mother and anya.

“Watch this!” Mila declared, holding up a toy dragon that one of the Firelights had carved from wood. She mimicked the sound of its roar, moving it around in exaggerated loops. The other kids burst into laughter, and so did you, unable to resist the sheer enthusiasm radiating from her.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Ekko teased, leaning back on his hands as he watched her antics. “Maybe we should make you our official storyteller.”

“Really?” Mila’s eyes widened, the idea filling her with excitement. “Can I, can I?”

“Of course,” you said with a soft laugh, though your voice came out a bit sharper than you intended. Mila didn’t seem to notice, but Ekko shot you a quick, concerned glance. The shimmer was still in your system, subtle but nevertheless present. It would sometimes heighten your senses, making you jittery. It was like holding a storm inside you, and no matter how hard you tried, it bled through the cracks sometimes.

Mila tugged your sleeve again, pulling your attention back to her. “What’s your favorite story? I can tell it to everyone!”

You hesitated, the warmth in your chest flickering. “Maybe later,” you said, your tone sharper than before. “Let’s keep it quiet for now.”

Mila frowned, her brow furrowing slightly. “But we’re not being loud—”

“I said keep it down!” The words snapped out of you before you could stop them, your voice harsh and biting. The shimmer roared in your veins, amplifying your frustration to a level that felt almost unbearable. Mila flinched, her toy dragon slipping from her hands to the ground. The head of the dragon broke from its body, and you watched as it rolled towards your feet. The other kids fell silent, their wide eyes darting between you and the little girl.

Mila’s bottom lip quivered, her hands trembling as she reached for the dragon. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She clutched the toy to her chest and bolted from the group, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Silence. It was suffocating. The other kids stared at you, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear. Ekko was on his feet in an instant, his eyes blazing as he grabbed your arm and pulled you aside. Away from prying eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he hissed, keeping his voice low but firm. “She’s a kid, and you just yelled at her like she did something awful.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said quickly, guilt clawing at your chest. “It’s the drug—it’s messing with my head. I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“You need to get it under control,” Ekko said, his tone softening but still stern. “The poor girl looks up to you. She trusts you. You can’t let the drug make you into someone she could afraid of.”

You nodded, your throat tightening as you looked in the direction Mila had run. “I’ll talk to her,” you said quietly. “I’ll make it right, okay?”

Ekko nodded, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before letting go. “You’d better,” he said, though his voice held more concern than anger. “She needs you to be better than this.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed the faint sound of Mila’s sniffles to a secluded corner of the hideout. She was curled up on the floor, her back to the wall and her headless toy dragon clutched tightly in her arms. Her small shoulders shook with quiet sobs, and the sight made your chest ache.

“Mila,” you said softly, kneeling down a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look at you, her face buried in the dragon’s wooden wings. “You yelled at me,” she said, her voice muffled but heavy with hurt. “I didn’t mean to be loud…”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I wasn’t angry at you, Mila. I’m just… not feeling like myself today but hat’s not an excuse. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m so sorry for scaring you.”

Mila peeked up at you, her tear-streaked face breaking your heart. “You promise you’re not mad?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes i promise you that,” you said, reaching out slowly. She didn’t pull away when you rested a hand on her knee. “You’ve been so brave and strong since you came here, Mila. I’m really proud of you. And I’m really, really sorry for making you feel like you did something wrong.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, she reached out and placed her tiny hand on top of yours. “Okay,” she said softly. “I forgive you.”

Relief flooded through you, and you pulled her into a gentle hug. She wrapped her arms around your neck, her headless toy dragon squished between you. “You’re my favorite grown-up,” she whispered, her voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You laughed softly, the sound tinged with emotion. “Well, you’re my favorite storyteller,” you said, pulling back just enough to see her face. “How about we go back and tell the others a story? You can even make one up about a scary headless dragon.”

Mila’s eyes lit up, her earlier sadness melting away. “Okay!” she said, her smile returning in full force. “But you have to help me make it really good.”

“Deal,” you said, standing and taking her hand. As you walked back to the play area together, you glanced over your shoulder to see Ekko watching from a distance, a small smile tugging at his lips. As you stood beside mila and the other kids, you somehow managed to glue the head back to the headless dragon. Now it wasn’t headless anymore. Mila looked up at you, thanking you for fixing her dragon. A smile crept up her face. Even thought it was a small gesture of kindness after you made her cry, she thought it was a big deal. It was precious how mila would think even the smallest things were the best thing. Adorable.

You definitely knew that you still had work to do on yourself. To control your emotions and impulses but as well as being a person Mila could to look up to. However as her laughter rang out again, you felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could be that person after all.

But was it true? The lines between reality and fiction began to converge. It all made sense as the waterfall’s thunder filled your ears. You stood motionless on the ledge, staring at the mirror-like surface of the lake below. Your reflection rippled faintly, distorted by the spray of water. You didn’t see yourself as you were, but only what you feared you had become. Mila’s tear-streaked face flashed in your mind, her sobs echoing louder than the rushing water. The guilt felt unbearable, pressing against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift. Your trembling fingers brushed against the edge of the rocky ledge, the cold biting into your skin. A sob escaped your throat as tears fell freely, mingling with the mist around you. You apologizing to mila and fixing her headless dragon was all fake. Your mind imagined it. So right now mila was sad, hiding in a corner as she cried. What a horrible person i am.

“Maybe they’d all be better off without me,” you whispered to the air, your voice trembling as it was swallowed by the roar of the falls. The words left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind. You had tried, tried so hard to fit in, to make Zaun feel like home. Yet every mistake, every outburst reminded you that you didn’t belong. The Firelights were kind, but they didn’t understand you. Mila didn’t deserve your anger, and Ekko didn’t deserve the chaos you continued to bring into to his life. You stepped closer to the edge, the rocks shifting beneath your feet.

The world seemed to narrow as you took another step forward, your gaze fixed on the lake below. You fell silently, the cold air rushing past you before the icy water enveloped you like a second skin. The cold was shocking at first, stealing your breath, but then everything went quiet. You sank deeper, the surface growing distant as the weight of the water pressed in from all sides. The noise in your head didn’t stop, though. It only grew louder, something you couldn’t escape.

Images of your mother flickered in your mind, her smile fading like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto. Anya’s laughter echoed, only to be drowned out by the sharp voice of your father. You’re not good enough. You never will be. The words clung to you like chains, dragging you deeper into the lake. You thought of Piltover and how it had abandoned you. Whereas with Zaun, you were nothing more than an outsider. Even here, even with Ekko, you felt like a burden. The water cradled you, its silence deceptive as your body floated aimlessly. You closed your eyes, hoping for darkness, for peace, but it didn’t come. Nothing was ever easy for you.

Instead, the world exploded in sound, a loud splash followed by muffled movements cutting through the water. You opened your eyes to see a figure diving toward you, moving with urgency. Ekko. His form was unmistakable even through the distorted water. He was always saving you after you do something stupid. How long would this last? When would it be the last time that he would save you?

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you upward with a strength you couldn’t resist. You felt the rush of cold air as he broke the surface, his grip on you tightened as he dragged you to the shore. His breaths came heavy, his movements frantic as he laid you down on the damp grass.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. He crouched over you, his hands gripping your shoulders as his eyes searched your face. “Do you even understand what you just did?”

You turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze. “I—I didn’t mean for you to find me,” you said weakly, your voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m tired of feeling like this.”

“That’s not an excuse!” His voice cracked, his frustration palpable. “You don’t get to just give up! And leave me like that.” He paused, taking a shaky breath before softening his tone. “Damn it.”

A small voice broke the tense silence. “Why did you do it?” Mila stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and tearful as she clutched her arms tightly. “Did I do something wrong? Was it because of me?”

Your chest tightened, the guilt suffocating as you shook your head. “No, Mila. No. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong. I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Mila hesitated, her small hands twisting nervously in front of her. “You said you cared about me. But then you yelled… I thought…” Her words trailed off, her voice breaking.

Ekko placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “It’s not your fault, Mila,” he said gently. “Sometimes grown-ups do stupid things when they’re hurting. But that doesn’t mean we stop caring. You’ve gotta trust me on that.” He glanced at you pointedly, his meaning clear.

You sat up slowly, your body trembling from the cold. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, this time to both of them. “I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking about what it would do to you. I never wanted to hurt either of you.”

Mila stepped closer, hesitating before reaching out to touch your hand. “Are you gonna be okay now?” she asked softly, her voice still uncertain.

You nodded, tears threatening to fall down your face as you squeezed her hand gently. “I’ll try to be. I promise.”

Ekko sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he helped you to your feet. “We need to find something to help you with this,” he said firmly. “I need the old you back. I want my firefly back.”

There was no way that a cure for shimmer exists in Zaun. And even if it did, even if someone had it, they wouldn’t give it up that easily. Not without a fight. Maybe you had to deal with your new life, the one were you were unstable and unpredictable. How can someone love a person like this. How can someone do deserving of something better like ekko deserve a person like you?

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notlongtolove · 2 months ago

Text

the fox and her hound

“a fox?” he repeated, and you nodded. “a vixen.” spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. so you show him. not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

content: a love story told through the allegory of a fox and a hound, mentions of metaphorical wounds

word count: 2k

note: no linked poem bc idk just thought of this and wanted to write it. mayhaps im taking this nature trope a tad too far lol but anyways i will probably come back to edit this.

a line: They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes.

On your first date with Spencer, you’d asked him what animal he’d be. He had paused, tilting his head just slightly. He’s never understood why people ask questions like these. What animal? What color? What season? Animals are animals, colors are colors. It would be impossible to pick one to embody his entire being. Such separate realms of nature, totally different worlds, he thinks.

But you’re sitting across from him, head tilted, eyes glinting under dim light. Pretty. So pretty. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, doesn’t want you to think he’s boring or stiff or unfun. He wants to answer correctly, even though he knows there’s no “correct” answer to this.

“Maybe a golden retriever,” he said, trying to keep casual, “or a beagle. Something friendly.”

Something safe, he thinks. Something pretty girls statistically like.

You had smiled then, slow and soft, lifting the glass of whiskey to your lips, you said with all the certainty in the world:

“I’m a fox.”

“A fox?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“A vixen.”

You didn’t explain it, just swirled your glass like you were swirling the word on your tongue. You loved the taste of it, loved the way it warmed your chest on the way down. Foxes are well-adapted to stay warm. Their thick winter coats, their long, bushy tails. They don’t need anyone to hold them when the frost bites or when the wind howls through the trees.

Spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. The dog stays close to the house. He doesn’t stray far, never been anywhere else. He doesn’t know. So you show him. Not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up. The forest is dense, you see, the paths are winding and uneven. The shrubbery is thick, sharp branches clawing at the skin. There are logs in the way and the dog stumbles over them sometimes. You wonder if he’s getting tired, if your hidden path is too hard for him to navigate. If the spiders that weave their webs in his face and the fire ants that bite at his ankles are too painful to endure.

So, sometimes, you stop. You sit together on the forest floor, catching your breath. You wag your tails lazily and just talk.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” he asks one evening.

The fox doesn’t answer right away. Her ears twitch, and her eyes flicker toward the trees.

“I don’t like the word never,” she says finally, “It feels like an impossible standard.”

The dog thinks about this, his brow furrowing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice soft.

But the fox knows her way through the forest. She knows every twist and turn, every trap hidden beneath the leaves. You tell the dog he’d never catch up, sometimes hiding, sometimes running faster—just to see if he’ll try. Spencer doesn’t tell you how he sees that every time you disappear into the trees, you always turn back. Always looking over your shoulder, always checking to see if he’s still behind you.

Eventually, you reach your den. Your fur coat is scratched and bruised from the branches and the logs, the forest leaving its marks on you like it always does. But you’re here. He’s here.

Silently, you wonder how many more times you’ll have to make this journey. You don’t think you can endure another. But you don’t say it.

Instead, you take him inside.

Your den is small, cobbled together from dirt and leaves, from twigs and scraps you’ve gathered over the years. You show him your dirt mantle, how you’d packed it tight with earth and how you’d lined with relics of your life. You show him the first flower you ever found, or what’s left of it—a brittle stem, its petals long gone. You tell him the story of the hound who crushed it.

There’s a feather on the wall, light and fragile, from the first bird you ever caught. You smile as you tell him the story of the chase, how fun it had been to run and run with your foxes until the world blurred around you. Until you were the only one left. In the corner, something glints: A metal buckle, tarnished but unmistakable. From the shoe of the first hunter who’d ever caught you.

You trace your fur with your fingers, telling Spencer your adventures and stories of the traps and the teeth, of the hunters who came with rifles and ropes. The dog sits, listening, understanding. You show him how the edges of your den are marked, too. The walls are carved with notches—five, ten, fifteen. Each one a hunter or hound you’d escaped from. You’re proud, you say, even as you run your hand over the rough lines. They’re proof you survived, that you’ve outwitted them time and time again. Not unwounded, not unbroken, but alive.

You tell him you’re very proud of yourself.

The dog tilts his head, watching you carefully. He sees the way your voice falters when you recount the stories of cages and leashes, how your tail twitches when you mention the hunters. Spencer thinks the fox is lying.

So, the dog tries to teach the fox his ways.

He clears out your mantle first. He takes down the brittle flower stem, the feather, the tarnished buckle. Then, he takes your paw and shows you how to sniff out the bright pretty toadstools, the ones that make the forest less dark. He shows you the rain puddles, not just for drinking, but for jumping in, for splashing until your laughter scares off the birds.

Together, you fill your den with new relics. Ticket stubs from the village fair, postcards you write but never send, laughter tucked away in secret corners. Kisses, soft and warm, planted like seeds that grow slowly into something that feels like home.

Spencer rubs off the old notches on your walls with the pads of his paws, the dust of their memory falling to the floor. In their place, you make new marks. Not notches, but drawings. A fox curled in the safety of her den. A dog lying beside her, his muzzle resting on his paws.

Night after night, you curl up beneath your mantle, snouts touching, tails tucked beneath you.

And then winter comes. Now, your walls feel too big for just a lone fox.

You see, the dog always listens to his master. He sits, he fetches, he stays. But always under command, always under the whistle’s call. And when his master calls, he has to go. Tail wagging or tucked low, he goes.

“You’re hardly ever here anymore,” your voice cuts sharper than you meant it to.

“Can we please not do this now,” he says almost pleadingly, his jaw tight.

For the first time, in the quiet of your den, the fox feels the cold.

The dog goes. The fox doesn’t follow. She can’t. She doesn’t belong where the dog goes—to places of shiny badges and polished shoes, of clean, carpeted floors and voices that echo off tall, glass walls. So she waits in her den, her fur bristling against the chill, her paws worn from pacing the same patch of dirt.

You try to remind yourself of who you are. A fox, sly, swift, clever. A fox, who doesn’t need to wait for anyone.

But still, when the forest quiets, you glance toward the trees. You press your ear to the ground, hoping to catch the faintest echo of his steps, the rustle of leaves under his paws. The fox runs her fingers over the edges of the drawings, tracing the uneven lines, patching the spaces in her den where the light and the wind get in with twigs and leaves. She roams the fields, trying to race the clouds again. But she doesn’t think she runs quite as fast without Spencer beside her. She chases her tail like he taught her, spinning in quick circles, but it’s not as fun when she’s alone. She doesn’t try to catch the birds anymore. It doesn’t feel the same.

When Spencer comes back, his coat bruised and worn from his time away, the fox licks his wounds. The scrapes and the scratches, soft and slow, patching his paws with the leaves she’s saved. He carries something in his teeth—a token, a peace offering, a sign that he thought of you while he was away.

A flower.

He’d found it near the river, petals still dewy, fragile and bright. He hopes you like it. You do.

You take it from him with careful paws, eyes tracing its delicate form before placing it on your mantle, next to the postcards and ticket stubs, next to the daffodils, peonies, dahlias, irises and all the other flowers he’s found for you over time. You think back to the brittle and dead stem you once kept and wonder if there’s any way to hold onto something that beautiful forever.

Because sometimes even beautiful flowers die.

And when it comes to fight or flight, the fox always runs. They say it’s in her blood, in her very nature to flee. So she bolts. She runs away from the den, away from the mantle and the flowers he’d collected. The fox doesn’t know if she can find flowers quite as beautiful as the ones Spencer has given her.

You don’t need the flowers, you tell yourself. You’ll find a new den, find new birds to catch, rebuild your mantle from scratch, carve new notches in your walls once more. You always do.

But the hound finds you. Bred for hunting. Tracking. Scenting. For knowing where to look and how to catch. Bred for the hunt, he always finds you. Your crouched back, tail down, ready to pounce or bolt if you have to. Every instinct telling you to run, to vanish into the underbrush before he can catch you.

“Open the door,” a voice calls, low and insistent.

The fox is curled in the corner of this den. It doesn’t hold the warmth of the last.

“I know you’re home.”

She shuts her eyes and digs deeper into the wall.

“Open the door,” he says, voice softening, pleading. "Please."

The fox exhales, and with a shudder that shakes through her, she reaches out and opens the door. She misses her flowers.

It’s not the chase you expect. No barking, no growling. You bare your teeth. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

“What do you want?” she asks, claws sharp.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then I’ll stay here until you do.”

And so the fox and the dog sit. They wait and wait then talk and talk. By the time the first rays of the sun creep above the treetops, the fox is laughing again. It’s a sound that is warm and bright, something that makes Spencer’s heart feel a little fuller, a little lighter. He thinks he understands now.

They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes. The way she finds the sunniest patch to lay in and closes her eyes, tail swishing in contentment. They only see the scars and the snarls. They don’t ever see the joy.

“Why don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice gentle but steady, the kind of tone that makes it clear he already knows the answer.

“I do,” you say quickly, instinctively.

He doesn’t push. He waits.

“I know you don’t,” he says finally, not accusing, just truthful.

You look away, fidgeting with your tail between your legs. “I’m trying,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says again, softer this time, his tail brushing lightly against your side.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee tsunami by niki

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader comfort

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milf-harrington · 1 year ago

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i read a fic yesterday (return of the king) where Steve swapped with Eddie at the last second at the end of s4 and ended up being the one who died and had to be left behind and then he came back as a vampire and it just got my brain TICKING.

So role-reversal AU where steve is the one who comes back basically kas-ified as is the common trope with eddie, but where eddie goes to steve, steve goes to robin.

lets say, for funsies, that they managed to kill vecna and max only ended up hospitalised for a broken elbow and a twisted ankle (from falling on it), so everyone has the time and space to grieve.

Steve’s death hits Robin the hardest because he was her person. He was her i-wish-we-could-just-merge-into-one-being. Her ride or die. Her soulmate. And he’d been taken from her, torn apart and left to rot in the very world he’d tried so hard to protect her from.

The others give her space to let her mourn quietly in her bedroom, dressed in steve’s clothes and listening to his music like if she just tried hard enough she could still merge them together and let him use her lungs to breathe, her heart to pump his blood, her head to share his thoughts. that she could single handedly go from a me to a we.

And then, one day, Robin starts acting weird. She doesn’t know the Wheeler’s phone number and on her way to find it in the phone book, she found the Munson’s first, and when Eddie picks up it’s too a very chipper Robin asking for a lift to the shops where she proceeds to buy an alarming amount of red meat and refuses to answer any questions.

And she’s just- happy. She’s weird and happy and keeps calling Eddie to ask him about Dungeons and Dragons lore and if he can take her to the library or to the butcher and if he can let her borrow his jumper please? I get cold easily. And then she just keeps stealing clothes, from everyone. Sometimes she asks, sometimes she’ll just take a jacket off of the back of a chair and act like nothing happened, sometimes she just sneaks off to go rooting through washing baskets.

Then comes the day she invites Eddie over, probably a week or so after her initial journey into Weird-Ville, nervously rambling about nothing right up until she closes the front door behind them and runs into Eddie’s back because Eddie’s just spotted Steve-fucking-Harrington peering at him from around the corner.

Apparently, a not-exactly-dead-anymore Steve crawled through Robin’s window one night and has since taken up residence underneath her bed.

“He was kinda- not all there, at first.” She tells him, chopping a steak into cubes and dropping them into a blender. Steve, winged and fanged and tailed, leans against the counter and watches her with sleepy eyes. “But we’ve been working on it.”

After the initial pants-shitting shock of having her dead best friend re-appear as a creature of the upside down, Robin had simply accepted it and moved on. Happy to have Steve back no matter what it looked like.

And what it looked like was blending raw meat, and reading together in the bathroom to bring back his ability to talk, and stealing clothes for the veritable nest Steve was building in her closet. The next step in her plan to re-domesticate her best friend, had been to introduce him to another person: Eddie, evidently.

Steve promptly spends 5 minutes being a feral little creature, scenting Eddie within an inch of his life like he’d done to Robin, and then attempting to plant him in his nest like a little ornament.

Just. idk. feral kas!steve seeking out robin for safety, who slowly re-introduces him to his humanity and then his future boyfriend.

#stobin #platonic soulmates #also a bit of #steddie #as a treat (for me)#monster steve harrington #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #this has been plaguing me all day #fic ideas

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therealcocoshady · 2 months ago

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Reader going into labor while Marshall is on tour 👀

Surprise Drop

A/N : found what I wrote for this Ask a while ago. I had literally forgotten about this One Shot, it was in an abandoned space of my Google Drive 🙊. I have no idea why I never uploaded it over there ! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it ☺️.

Mind you, I added my own little twist to it, because I cannot imagine him going on tour while his partner is pregnant.

CW : Cryptic pregnancy - CocoShady writing about Dad!Marshall again because I love this trope

As he was close to finishing his set, Marshall seemed in his element. The crowd was roaring and fans were rapping along as he spat his verses that resonated throughout the stadium. The performance was a testament to the amount of work that had gone into putting that tour together, from the elaborate scenography to the setlist. His team was watching him from backstage, knowing an interruption so close to to the end of the show was out of the question. But tonight, unbeknownst to him, they were in a rush to get him out of there as soon as possible. Thirty minutes ago, Paul, his manager, had received a call demanding that Marshall flew back to Detroit as soon as possible. He’d been about to tell the lady, whose voice he had never heard, to go to hell and not to call this number again if she didn’t want him to press charges for harassment, but she had pronounced the magic word : your name. « Y/N is in the hospital, so you’d better have my son in law on the next plane to Detroit », your mother had ordered in a tone that left no room for arguing. And, as if the news of Marshall’s long time partner were not enough of a compelling argument, she had added something about your life being at stake. Scary and cryptic enough.

After consulting Tracy and some other trusted members of the team, they had agreed to let him finish the show. They knew he’d freak out as soon as they broke the news to him and, frankly, they needed the time to handle the logistics details and hurrying him to the airport. The private plane had been chartered, the driver already waiting for him outside of the venue, and his bags had been packed. For now, though, only few people knew about the disruption. They didn’t have enough details, and they couldn’t risk freaking out the whole team with a possible tour cancellation. Hopefully, you’d be alright and Marshall would be able to keep the tour going. Paul was nervously pinching his nose, silently hoping that he wouldn’t have to call the insurance company. The simple report of a performance at a later date would cost tons of money. Not to mention the PR they’d have to handle. And the manager absolutely refused to think about the worst case scenario.

When Marshall finally wrapped the last song of the night, Paul gestured for him to hurry up, not allowing for a proper goodbye to the crowd. As soon as he saw the frown on his manager’s face, he could sense something was wrong. « We need to get you out of there. A plane is waiting to take you back to Detroit. Y/N’s mom called. She is in the hospital ». There was no mention of your life being at stake, Paul figuring out that the urgency in his tone was enough and that the last thing anyone wanted was for Marshall to have a meltdown. He felt his heart sink, his mind running through all of the possibilities, none of them being good. He’d had you on the phone merely ten hours ago and everything seemed fine. « What happened? Is she ok? », Marshall asked. « I don’t have more details, Marshall. But from what I gathered… It’s serious and you need to get back », Paul replied. That much, he had figured. You were strong and definitely not the type to have him fly back over a sprained ankle. If you’d had your mother phone his manager, it must be pretty serious. Enough for his mind to go to the worst-case scenario. His vision clouded as he imagined you in a hospital bed, after some car wreckage or another tragedy. However, his assistant shook his arm and reminded him that he needed to hurry up.

Within minutes, they were being escorted to a car and driven to the airport. Then started the longest plane ride of his entire life. He tried calling your phone but it went straight to voicemail every time. Same for your mother’s. And the hot shower taken in the private plane’s bathroom, nor Tracy’s word of reassurance were enough to ease his mind. After a couple of hours, he finally received a text from his mother in law, addressing the numerous texts and voice messages he’d left. « Things are progressing. We’ll explain everything in person as soon as you get there». He wasn’t sure who ‘we’ was, or what ‘things’ were progressing. By the time the jet touched down in Detroit, Marshall was a nervous mess. He went straight to the hospital, leaving Tracy to drop his stuff home and, as he rushed to the reception and through the hallway, he finally spotted your mother outside of a room. « Is-Is she…Is Y/N ok? » he asked, absolutely out of breath. His mother in law placed a reassuring hand on his forearm and nodded, an undecipherable expression on her face, that looked like a mix of relief and exhaustion. « Everyone is fine, Marshall. We’re glad you came so quickly » she replied in a gentle voice. He let out a sigh of relief. You were fine. You were alive and breathing and, in the moment, that was all that mattered. Without a second thought, he opened the door to the hospital room and finally set his eyes on you.

You were sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around yourself, your eyes wide and full of worry. You looked exhausted and fragile and he immediately rushed to your side, wrapping his arms around you. « Babe. Oh, God, you scared me. What happened?! » he asked. « Marsh, » you said softly. « I-I didn’t know. I, I swear I didn’t…». He didn’t register what you said, his undivided attention on you and the sensation of his beating heart, processing the relief, the fact that you were fine. But then, he spotted your mom walking towards a corner of the room, where a small bassinet was standing. His eyes widened in shock. « What the fuck? » he let out.

It couldn’t be. He’d been home just two weeks ago and you were fine. And most of all : absolutely not pregnant. He certainly didn’t wear his glasses as much as he should, but he was certain he would have noticed if your body had been preparing to eject a human the size of a watermelon. He stared at you, then you mother, in shock. Tears were silently streaming down your face, while your mom looked at him with sympathy, as she held a baby wrapped in a soft, yellow blanket. « They said it was a cryptic pregnancy, » your mother explained. « Looks like this little one was playing hide and seek. No symptoms at all ». For a few seconds, Marshall was unable to breathe. He looked at you, trying to wrap his head around the news, replaying the last few months in his mind, wondering if there had been signs he’d missed. But you hadn’t seemed tired, did not eat more than usual, did not put on much weight… Nothing. Then, another wave of realization hit him. The vasectomy. About ten months ago, you’d convinced him to get one. None of you wanted to have a baby and you were fed up with your hormonal contraception, so he had agreed. And yet, there you were, in the hospital after giving birth to a tiny human whose gender, according to the blanket, was neither boy nor girl. A tiny, pale yellow chick. But you didn’t cheat. You would never do that to him. That much, he knew. He stared at you silently, not understanding how it was possible. « The surgery », he said. « How… ? I-I’m supposed to shoot blanks ». You looked down, realizing the turn this was taking. You’d asked the nurse very same question. « They told us to keep using protection for two months after it », you whispered. « We didn’t », he murmured. « Holy shit ».

You looked at him, giving him an apologetic glance. « I’m sorry », you whispered as you teared up again. The past few hours had been a blur of pain and shock, and now you were terrified. You had never expected to give birth out of the blue, to a baby you didn’t know was there, and nothing had prepared you to deliver that type of news. Marshall pulled you into his warm embrace and help you tight before placing a kiss on your temple. « It’s not your fault, my love » he said. Then, feeling heavy and fearful, he got up and walked to your mom, to have a look at the baby. He was immediately struck by the resemblance to his own baby pictures, that didn’t leave any room for doubt. That was his baby. « Is it…? », he began, mesmerized by the tiny, sleeping infant. « A baby girl. A very healthy baby girl », your mother announced with pride. « And I think she wants to meet her father », she added with a soft smile. He swallowed dryly then nodded. She handed it to him, and he held her with gentle care, feeling his whole world shift. The tension of the night immediately melted away, giving way to tears of relief and emotion. « Hi there » he whispered. « I’m-I’m your Dad ». He took his eyes away from her, looking up to you. « She’s beautiful » he said, his voice thick with emotion. You nodded, visibly relieved by the way he reacted. You were still feeling distant and hazy, not fully realizing that this baby was yours. You’d held her a couple of times but nothing had kicked in yet. Marshall, however, seemed immediately taken by the little one, as he was looking at her with amazement. The initial tension in his stance had eased up and, minutes later, he was cradling her as if it were the most natural thing for him, with the confidence of someone who’d been there before.

You stared at each other in silence, his eyes silently assuring you that everything would be alright. Then, your baby girl stirred and let out a soft cry. As if she wanted to remind the room of her presence, commanding attention. He looked at you with a grin and shook his head. « Guess she’s got my attitude », he joked. You mustered a smile and nodded. « Yeah. Your knack for surprise drops too, it seems ».

#eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine

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helps-the-writing-brain-go · 3 months ago

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Billy - The Gamer

I don't think I've seen one of these yes, but I really love this trope

Billy wakes one day, finding his HP and MP restored to 50% for sleeping in a nest of cardboard boxes.

His minor scratches are gone along with his twisted ankle though he's still suffering from hunger and malnutrition

His usual quests are things he does anyway, though gamified I.e. picking up the trash he sees becomes a cleaning mini game in the park, he has a quota of newspapers to sell as a newsboy but if he sells over quota, he gets a bonus amount from the Game.

Getting his powers from the Wizard is part of a Mainline Quest

To access it, though, he had to be in the right place and time to help with an optional side quest of helping Tawny, either helping him escape from the zoo in his animal form or in his human form from being menaced by thugs

Billy can and has died, but idk whether to make it thar he wakes up from his last bed in the same timeline or if he reverts to last save, thus going back in time a bit

Becoming the Champion unlocks new magic side quests and more of the Main Storyline as well as a new map to the magical areas around the world, especially around Fawcett that he hadn't been able to access before

There are various skill trees that Billy works on and unlocks

Maybe Freddy helps him work out what kind of Builds he should go for and what Perks to unlock because he can be more than one as the Game affects him as both Billy and Cap

Maybe a secret third identity where he keeps going out with identity obscuring items and becomes known as a hard to find but always accurate appraiser (Because of the skill 'Observe') and a seller of rare and incredible goods like healing items or MP potions that have no side effects.

(Will probably write a part 2 some other time bc this is getting long but do u see my vision??)

#billy batson #captain marvel #shazam #dc comics #dc #gamer billy au #the gamer

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pedriache · 3 months ago

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I like (the idea) of you — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: You only ever knew one thing. You couldn’t stand Pedri. You were like the sun! Vibrant and cheerful and he was just.. there. Always sarcastic but also just too serious for your liking. But your friends insist he’s perfect for you.

Word count: 1.07k

Disclaimer/s: Playful threats , hints at (one sided) enemies to lovers sort of (?), banter, ect. part two

A/N: Making this because i’m rewatching Criminal Minds and I love Penelope and Luke’s trope so thats what this is! part two possibly lmk!

Agreeing to go out with friends for dinner was somewhat of a good idea, until you realize who else would be coming along. Pedri. The man who seemed to get on your nerves every time he opened his mouth.

Now was no different. You were sitting down across the table from him, in some sick and twisted joke, everyone left that specific spot open for you as you’d been the last to arrive.

With your lips pursed and eye’s narrowing, you watch the small smirk that threatened to pull on Pedri’s lips. “Oh shut it.” You huff, “there was traffic.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Pedri’s hands shoot up in mock defense, his amusement with you clear in his voice.

“Sure you weren’t.” You roll your eyes. Finding a distraction, you flatten the cloth napkin you had placed on your lap.

Once you were fully content that the napkin was straightened out, you return your attention to your friend’s conversation.

A nudge to your ankle steals your attention though, and immediately annoyance surges through you. “May I help you?” Your tone sharp, one you’d only ever used on him as being snappy wasn’t really your thing.

That’s one of the reasons you couldn’t stand the man. You were never like this with anyone. You were usually a very happy girl, always smiling, always doing things for others… but Pedri. Oh dear. He brought out a side of you, up until you met him, you didn’t know you had.

Pedri shrugs, “how’s your day going?” This was definitely a joke.

“Are you being so serious right now?” You laugh, “this is like—okay. Sunshine and rainbows, sunshine and..” You attempt to calm yourself, you need to be nice. You know it.

“Your day was sunshine and rainbows?” His stubbled cheeks rising as his lips curved. He knew what he was doing, and he was making it very, very hard to be civil.

“No—I mean. Well, yes. It was. But that’s not why I was saying it, weirdo.” You add the last part as a final dig. You were being so petty and Pedri laughs.

He laughs, and your stomach hurts. Why was it hurting? Were you coming down with something? That’s the only reasonable reason. Pedri’s eyes gleam with humor and you had to physically pull your eyes away. What the hell was wrong with you?

“You okay?” Pedri asks, his head tilting to the left in attempt for you to meet his eyes again. Something flashing across his face when you finally return gaze, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it meant.

“Yes, you just… you piss me off.” That seemed to be the only words you could form, his warm almond eyes burning into yours.

He laughs again, “why? I’m such a delight to be around, just ask anyone here.” His hand comes up to motion around the table, pointing to your various friends who were all busy with their own conversations.

“Delight? More like demonic.” Oh. Okay that did not make any sense. But, you digress. “Okay, thats enough from you.” You point accusatorially at him.

Pedri seems to be finding this all very entertaining, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Your eyes trailed the small motion before you came to your senses.

This is Pedri. The man you nearly hated. So why were you suddenly so attentive to his every movement, his every expression. Why was it making you feel so.. flustered?

“If i’m demonic, what does that make you?” The dark haired man raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows. He leans forward in his seat, propping his elbows against the table, and resting his chin in his palms.

Leaning forward, mirroring his movements, you wriggle your eyebrows. “An angel. A perfect, beautiful, angel!” Feeling content with your reply, you lean back into your chair and smile.

“Yeah.” He grins, nodding his head as if he actually agreed.

Oh! Oh, oookay. Right.

There was that feeling in your gut again. That awful churning. That feeling that made your heart stop beating. Why was he flirting with you? This was flirting right? But the problem lied within you. Why did you.. like it?

Pedri notices the crease in your forehead, his grin dropping. “Sorry—was that—“

“It’s fine!” You clear your throat, forcing a tight lipped smile onto your face. “Oh! The waiter!” Perfect timing.

Despite your attention diverting to the waiter, who was now taking everyone’s order, Pedri can’t keep his eyes off you. He scans your face, sinking in the details he rarely got to examine, since you usually sat as far away from him as possible.

“And you sir?” The waiter asks, awaiting Pedri’s order.

The group of friend’s all turn to Pedri, knowing grins on their faces as they see his cheeks flare burgundy. He stumbles over his words, spewing out his order rapidly.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered state. Pedri Gonzalez, with a blush you’d seen on him many times, but this time simply for being embarrassed. Glancing at your friend, you give her a look as if to ask, ‘what’d I miss?’

She chuckles, giving you a knowing look back. Still, you didn’t understand what was going on. Rolling her eyes, she leans over toward you. “Hey, have you considered what I asked you last week?” Asking it quietly as to not alert a certain someone of the conversation.

“I told you to drop that.” You groan, head tilting back before once again, turning back to her. “Never gonna happen.”

“Why not? I heard you talking earlier, you’re perfect for each other! He so want’s you—hey!” She gasps, hand covering her nose in hurt since you’d just flicked it.

“Fuck you.” Giving her the middle finger, you choose to ignore her giggles. Once her attention was stolen from you, your mind wonders to Pedri.

Sure, he was easy on the eyes, funny when he wanted to be (not that you’d ever admit that out loud), caring (also when he wanted to be), so sure. In most aspects, he wasn’t totally a bad idea.

You couldn’t believe you just thought that. Your brain had thought something nice about Pedri? Who were you?

For the rest of the night that’s all you could think about. Him and you. You and him. And for some reason, you didn’t mind it. In a way, you kind of… liked the idea of him.

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narrycherries · 1 year ago

Text

call it what you want✨part1

Harry is your best friend, but one day things started to change..

masterlist

word count: 8k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, bestfriends to lovers trope, fluff, smut implied/mentioned

It all happened very innocently, out of the blue and probably due to the built up tension between you two. It was a cool fall day, nearly a year ago, when your big group of friends decided to play a friendly game of baseball together. It was a Saturday afternoon, you were playing your second game of the day. Everyone was having fun, especially your brother and his best friend, Harry, who both love the sport. Harry went to college on a sports scholarship, as did your brother, so they were both very active. A few of your other friends have always played the game growing up, including yourself, so it was always a good time whenever you all planned a game.

But that particular game will always be lingering in your mind. You were running when you caught a bad cramp in your thigh. Harry wasn’t on your team, he was actually trying to get you out when you tumbled over and started crying. Everyone instantly became worried - fearing you broke your leg. But Harry reacted the quickest, and the calmest.

He tossed his glove onto the ground and made the short distance to you, dropping to his knees instantly. His hands grabbed your face and he tilted your head so he could see you.

“Hey, peach, are you okay? Did you twist your ankle?” He asked in a sweet tone, his eyes skimming your lower half for any obvious breaks or bruising.

You shook your head and grabbed the back of your thigh. “Hurts.” You muttered back.

“Pulled a muscle, yeah? I know that hurts. Want me to get you up?”

A whimper came from your mouth as you nodded. His arms went around you and he picked you up off the ground. Your arm flew on his neck, whining began to erupt as you realized it hurt to put pressure on your leg.

“Everything okay?” Austin, your brother, appeared at your side.

You weren’t sure if he had been there the whole time or not, because whenever Harry was around all you could focus on was him. And he had been talking so sweetly to you, his big hands touching you gently. You were lost in a trance.

It wasn’t uncommon. Harry and you were close, due to his friendship with your brother. You hung out a lot more with each other than others did in the group. He was your best friend these days, not really your brother’s anymore. It was platonic, though.

“I dunno.” You sighed, eyes shifting to Harry’s. “I can’t walk.”

“Want me to get her?“ Austin asked.

Harry shook his head and suddenly swept you off your feet. “I got her.”

He carried you to the dug out while the game started back up. You weren’t bothered by not being able to play. You felt horrible, your leg ached like it was on fire. Harry sat down on the bench and sat you on his lap. You were still holding onto his neck, fingers tangled in his long hair. It wasn’t unusual for you two to sit this way - but normally it was in private. Like on the couch as you watched a movie or the nights Harry gets drunk and you look after him - he’s very clingy with you and always, always wants to hold you. But now, in front of all your friends and your brother, this was different. You figured everyone would brush it off and just blame your injury and slightly dramatic reaction.

“Feels like my leg is gonna fall off.” You said with a pout as Harry rested his hand on top of your hurting thigh.

He chuckled, squeezing your waist for a moment. “M’sure it’s fine, doll. Just a cramp.”

“What if I can’t walk tomorrow?”

He smiled, leaning closer to you to lower his voice. “I’ll stay with you tonight. Take good care of you, yeah?”

“Please, bubby. It hurts so bad.”

He pressed a comforting kiss to your temple. “M’gonna give you a massage when we get home. Make it better, promise.”

You nodded back. “You’re the best.”

“Mhm, I know.” He smirked as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Still cocky, though.”

Harry insisted on going back to his apartment instead of yours that night. He had a drawer system he was building for his room and he wanted to get it done this weekend. So you went to his place, not minding staying there for the night. You were curled up in his bed, the soft blanket you picked out months ago wrapped around your body.

You always slept so comfortably in his bed - ever since that time he assured you nothing had happened in this particular bed and no other girl had ever been in it. The idea of you laying where someone’s naked body had been, even if the sheets were clean, was weird. You took a little pride in knowing you were the only person who’s been in his room.

“Are you done yet?” You whined as he walked back into the room. The dresser he was building was finished now and in its new place, yet he was still walking around occupying himself. “Harry.”

He looked over his shoulder and smirked at you. “Few minutes, darling.”

“I miss you.” You mumbled into the pillow, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’ll take a nap with you in a minute.”

You grunted. “Gotta rub my leg first.”

A shudder rippled through your body as you felt his weight press down on the bed, his lips against your forehead. “I know, sweet girl.” He pressed a kiss to your skin. “Five minutes, okay?”

“Four.”

He chuckled. “Five.”

“Three.” You pushed your luck.

Harry couldn’t resist it. He smiled against your skin. “Three, lovey. I promise.”

You always got what you wanted when it came to Harry. It made you feel special and loved - he cared more than anyone else about you. You kept your eyes closed as you felt him move away. You didn’t want to bother him because that would ultimately increase the time he had to stay away from you. So, you let him be and laid there silently, waiting as patiently as you could manage.

—

Harry was your favorite person to be around. Sometimes, you forget that he hasn’t always been your favorite person. You met Harry when you were thirteen and he was fifteen. He was the new kid at school, from a different country, but he was great at sports so he fit right in. He met your brother, Austin, and they became best friends. He was always over at your house on the weekends and during summer breaks. You used to argue with him over any little thing - more than you did with your own brother.

It was like that for a couple years. He would just join in on Austin picking on you, you’d get aggravated and tell them off to your parents. It all changed when you were eighteen.

You were at a party with your friends, and Harry and Austin just so happened to be there with their friends, too. This was before your two groups mixed together. A guy decided he wanted to flirt with you and when you didn’t return his behavior, he got touchy.

Harry had been watching your encounter from across the room, without you being aware of that. Austin went to do something, leaving Harry in charge of keeping an eye on you. It was an unspoken rule between the two of them - something even you didn’t know. The moment the guy’s hand grabbed your butt, and you shoved his chest in an attempt to get away, Harry knew what was happening. He shot through the crowd. His big hand grabbed your waist and he pulled you away from the guy and into his body instead. You were about to freak out, scared out of your mind, until you looked down at the arm around your stomach and saw some familiar tattoos. It was Harry.

“Back the fuck off.” He said coldly to the guy, eyes full of anger.

Your nails sunk into his wrist, wishing he could just sweep you away. But Harry loved confrontation- and he wasn’t about to let this guy get away with anything. Besides, you were only eighteen. It was the first big party you’ve been to, Harry knew you were going to be vulnerable.

“Gettin’ selfish, Styles? Didn’t know you were fuckin’ Austin’s sister.” The guy laughed, the realization immediately hit you - this guy knew Harry and your brother. “Does he know?”

“Fuck off before I shove your head through the fuckin’ floor.”

“Do it, then. Know you like to fight, Styles. Let’s go,”

Harry dropped his arm from your body, his skin ripping against your nails in the process. He grabbed your elbow to pull you behind him, but you spun around and quickly snaked your arms around him. He stood frozen for a split second, surprised that you did that but he figured you were terrified.

“C’mon, loverboy. Don’t let a whore stop you,” The taunting continued.

But Harry wasn’t paying him any attention. His left arm went around your shoulders, keeping you against him. He reached out with his right hand and grabbed the guy's collar. He held it tight, twisting the fabric to create more tension.

“If you ever touch her again.. I’ll fuck you up.” He spat out, then let the guy go.

Harry immediately turned you away from the guy and rested his hand on your lower back, not quite sure what to do. You were shaking, tears dripping down your cheeks as you kept your face pressed against his hard chest.

“S’okay, now, sweetheart.” He said in a mumble as he let his chin rest against your head. “I’ve got you.”

—

A happiness filled your heart as Harry finally came to the bed. He motioned you to roll over onto your back, so you did. You stretched your arms out as he pulled the blankets away from your body. You were wearing a pair of his briefs as shorts, along with one of his shirts. You had clothes at his apartment, but you always wanted to wear his stuff instead.

“Gotta relax for me, alright? Don’t be so ticklish.” He said with a lift of his brows, trying to be stern with you.

You smile sweetly. “I know, I know.”

Thankfully, all those years of him playing sports has taught him things about healing cramps and pulled muscles. So you never once doubted what he was doing. He grabbed your ankle and pulled your leg up, resting your foot on his shoulder. You winced as the position forced your muscles to stretch out.

“Harry.” You whimpered, reaching to grab your leg but he swatted your hand down.

“Relax, peach.”

“Rub it.. don’t pull it.”

He smiled when your eyes met his. “I know what to do, honey.”

You groaned as he grabbed the side of your knee and began moving your leg, pushing your knee to a bend - pulling a grunt from you in the process.

“Don’t want this part, Harry.” You felt tears swelling in your eyes from the pain. “Please, pretty please, just rub it.”

“Darling, if I don’t do this, the rubbing won’t make a difference. Please, trust me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. A mutter fell past your lips. “Never said I didn’t.”

Harry was well aware that you hated it when he said things like that - if it was the slightest bit against you, it made you upset. Of course you trusted him, why would he say that? Is he insisting you aren’t trusting him? Is it not obvious? Obviously, he knew and you knew he knew - but his reassurance was read wrong, you were slightly upset now. A bit dramatic, for sure.

“I know, lovey. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He said, the pads of his fingers were now digging into the back of your thigh, right where he knew you were aching. “Y’know m’always gon’ take care of you, peach. Don’t get upset.”

You nod a few soft times, your eyes shifted to meet his as you realize you were being a bit childish. Your arms fell to your sides and you took a deep breath.

“Play some music, lovey. Get relaxed for me. I’ll work your leg.. don’t worry about it.” He insisted as he took his phone from the pocket of his pajama pants and gave it to you.

You typed in the password, your birthday of course, and opened his music library. You had your own playlist saved, so you started playing it and slid the phone away from you on the mattress. He chuckled as you snarled your lip at his actions - he was stretching your leg again.

Harry couldn’t help but to stare at you as your pretty eyes closed. You were laid out on his bed, his hands on your body. He swallowed as he pulled his mind out of the gutter. You playfully wiggled your toes against his neck as he brought your leg up. He shook his head, grinning at you.

“I think you’re faking it.” He mumbled, gripping the back of your thigh as hard as he could, making you wince.

“Harry!” You squealed, kicking his hip with your other foot.

“Fine, fine.. I guess you’re really hurt, hm?”

“Yeah, obviously.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

He kept on with the rough, but pain relieving massaging. You let out small grunts here and there, each of them making his eyes flick to your face to make sure you were okay. You were content, despite the discomfort, because he was with you.

A few more minutes passed before your arms fell down to reach for the phone. Harry gave you a funny look as you changed the song and dropped the phone back down. He noticed the red blush coating your cheeks, your eyes avoiding his.

“Thought you liked that one.” He said with a chuckle as you let out a deep breath.

“It says the p word.” You muttered back, not wanting to talk about it.

Of course he wasn’t going to let that slide though. He kept his hands focused on your thigh as his eyes watched you so closely, not wanting to miss a reaction.

“What, pussy?”

“Harry! Stop!” You whined instantly, pulling laughs from his mouth.

He was amused by your distaste for that word. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t aware of, but usually the songs don’t bother you. He licked his lips and decided to give your leg a bend, working your muscles as much as he could. You winced as he pushed your leg, your knee bending.

“You’re such a grandma sometimes. It’s just a word.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t like hearing it.”

He lifted a brow, even though you hadn’t looked at him. “You only get irritated when I say it.”

“Because you’re my best friend.. I don’t want to hear you say it.”

“You’re so mean to me, yeah? Won’t even let me talk.”

You nudged him with your foot again. “Leave me alone.”

“Fine.”

The moment he let your leg go, you whined and tried to sit up to grab him. You failed and a spark of pain shot through your leg. He grabbed your thigh again, chuckling as you struggled through the discomfort.

“You’re the mean one. That’s the second time you hurt me.”

“Cause you’re bullying me.”

You smacked your lips. “It’s your fault I got hurt!”

He gasped. “What?”

“Yeah! You were gonna get me out so I had to run faster and hurt myself.” You lifted yourself up by your elbows, a pout on your lips as you gave him a hard glare.

“You know I always go easy on you.. I wasn’t going to get you out.” The curl of his lips into a smirk made your stomach bubble. “You get special treatment.”

“Yeah, cus you’re a pussy.” You cocked a brow at him, a cheeky grin covering your face.

“Me? If either of us is a pussy it’s you.” He chuckled. “You’re a bit of a crybaby.”

“Don’t say that!” Your smile dropped to a frown.

“See, you’re getting upset and I’m just joking with you, honey.” He leaned down a little, just to get a closer look at you.

“You’re so mean to me.” You huffed as your arms fell and your back hit the bed.

You knew he was joking and it didn’t really bother you, but the idea of him teasing you always made your stomach churn and your heart race. Every little snide comment was followed by a comforting mumble or touch, it was just teasing.. and it drove you crazy. Nobody else gets that treatment from him, and it makes you feel so special.

“C’mon, don’t be sad, angel.” He sighed out heavily as he realized you were still pouting after a few minutes went by.

You grunted, keeping your response very limited. He let go of your thigh and gently moved your leg so that it was bent and your foot was resting on the bed. You glanced at him, somewhat concerned as to what he was doing. You didn’t want him to stop, not even for a minute.

“Smile for me, peach.” He rubbed his fingers against your calf, knowing you were oddly ticklish there.

You groaned, trying your hardest to ignore his efforts. He didn’t like how you were acting, so he figured he could try to help. He ran his eyes down your body, but stopped as he saw your shirt had rode up a little and your stomach was exposed. If you were ticklish anywhere, it was definitely your stomach.

With no warning whatsoever, he shoved his hands up your shirt and started tickling you. You shrieked, kicking your legs up as he moved his fingertips against your skin. His laugh filled your ears and you couldn’t resist it anymore. You started giggling and squealing as he dug his fingers into your sides and stomach.

“Harry! Stop!” You whined through your first of laughter as he leaned down to move his arms further under your shirt, tickling up to the band of your sports bra.

“No, you won’t smile for me so I gotta make you.” He said with a chuckle as you tried to grab his arms.

“You’re so-so mean!” You couldn’t stop laughing, which was making him laugh just as much.

“Hey!” He yelped as you grabbed his elbow and sunk your nails into his skin. “That’s not fair.”

You grinned. “Don’t be a baby.”

“That’s it. I’m done going easy on you.” He chuckled out as he slid his hands down to your tummy, tickling around your navel and above the waistband - an area that drove you absolutely mad.

“No, please! Ha-harry!” You cried out with the biggest smile on your face.

He couldn’t help but laugh along with you as he tortured your nerves. It felt like a never ending sensation and it was causing you to curl your toes and squeeze your hands into fists. He was enjoying this entirely too much, and that was making you feel like you had the disadvantage.

In an attempt to throw him off guard, you tried to use your feet against his thighs to push him away from you. It was hard to concentrate your strength when you were gasping for air and twisting in his hold. Harry anchored a knee on the edge of the bed to strengthen his position. He was too strong for you to fight, but you didn’t give up.

“You’re a bully!” You said between laughs as you grabbed his forearms and tried your best to tear his hands away from your body, but it was a poor attempt.

Harry kept on, lightening up his movements every now and then to allow you time to catch your breath. But it wasn’t much time. He didn’t want you to retreat back to your previous mood. He wanted to see you laugh and smile and be playful with him. He wanted you to be happy, always happy.

For just a moment, he slowed down his fingers and shifted his eyes to your face. He needed to make sure you were okay and not too overwhelmed by everything. You caught his gaze and instantly grinned at him, a layer of blush covering your cheeks. He figured it was your body’s reaction from the tickling, a soft flush was covering your arms as well. The moment he decided to set aside for you grew into several long seconds, allowing you the perfect opportunity to get him back.

You grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward, immediately grabbing his waist to start tickling him. He let out a laugh as you curled one hand around his neck and brought him down even further, you needed better access.

“Don’t do it!” He said amusingly as you started pinching the skin behind his ear. He was sensitive there and it always made him cackle.

“Payback.” You smacked your lips, then shaped them into a smile as his eyes met yours.

You hadn’t realized how close you actually were to him. He was letting you have your way now, pulling him as close as you wanted and doing whatever you desired. His fingers had stalled on your waist, which surprised you. He had been so intent on tickling you that it seemed unusual that he stopped.

“Finally give up?�� You asked with a giggle, but it was too late. He slid his arm under the small of your back and started lightly rubbing his fingertips across your skin - causing you to burst into a fit of laughter. “No!”

Your nails let go of his skin and you instinctively grabbed his nape, applying pressure that caused him to lean further down. Your body began to flop around and limbs were twisting around his body, trying to be freed. He kept on, laughing the entire time as you went through hell.

The leg you had injured was resting on the bed, but the other had wrapped around the back of his thigh. “Please, please.. need a break.” You begged through a whine. The tickling was now truly hurting you.

He decided to be sweet to you, so he stopped moving his fingers, but kept them in place. You whimpered softly, feeling your body start to realize the pain was over for now. It felt nice to come down from the intense high, but you feared it would end quickly. To your shock, Harry dropped down so his head was next to yours, his lips gently pushing against your temple.

“I’ll stop.. for now.” His words were soft as his warm breath caused goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Thank you.” You whispered back while your fingers trailed into his hair.

“Only because I don’t want you to strain your leg.” You felt his smirk against your skin.

A heavy breath filled your lungs and slowly left your parted lips. “You’re supposed to make me feel better.. not make me hurt more.”

“M’sorry, peach.” He let out a low chuckle. “Want me to take care of you?”

“Yes.. that’s your job.”

He licked his lips and carefully placed a kiss on your temple again. “My job, hm? You’re a bit bossy.”

You shifted your head slightly to catch his eyes. You silently admired how pretty the color was. It was obviously something you were familiar with, but every time you saw them this close up you become intrigued. He furrowed his brows and gave you a smile, slightly unsure as to why you were looking at him that way. Little did either of you realize, he looks at you the same way all of the time, even if by accident. He had been doing it when you decided to distract him just minutes ago.

“Did I really hurt you?” He asked in the softest voice he could manage, not wanting to be too loud this close to your ears. He cared so much about you, even the simplest things were always being considered.

“No.. just made my tummy twist up.”

He licked his lips gently, turning his lips to a smile. “I can always rub the twist away.”

“I do like a good tummy rub.” You giggled back, thinking of the times when you would be on your period and he would insist on rubbing your cramps away. Just the slightest touch of his skin on yours would always make you feel better.

“I know you do, peach.” He quickly pecked your cheek, making your face flush even more.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You curled your fingers into his hair. “Even though the tickles hurt.. i feel better.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me. Like you said, it’s my job.”

A meaningless sigh slipped past your lips. “Can I give you a hug? As a thank you.”

Harry gave you a soft smile. “You don’t have to ask me that, y’know.”

Without saying anything else, you slid your arm around his torso and the other around his head. He let out a soft grunt as he fell against you, his face nuzzling against your shoulder. The amount of security you felt was incredible. You never wanted him to move. You were the safest when you were with him, that you were sure of. Harry moved his other hand off the mattress and under your body, pulling you even further together.

“Can I stay with you all weekend?” You asked in a mumble.

He swallowed softly. “M’supposed to go to the bar with the guys tomorrow night.”

A displeased grunt came from your throat. That made him smile. He turned his head, pushing his face into the side of your neck. You wanted to beg him to stay home so you could be with him, but you didn’t say anything. The fear of seeming too annoying or clingy was something you had to deal with a lot. Harry was your friend, that’s all..

“But.. I can always go with them some other time.”

You sunk your nails into his back. “So, I can?”

“Of course you can.” He pressed a kiss to your neck without even thinking about the location - it made you gasp. “Um, sorry.” He nervously laughed out, about to lean up but you tighten your arm around his head.

“Don’t get up yet.” You muttered, closing your eyes as you savored the feeling of his lips lingering on your skin.

It felt wrong to soak up the pleasure like that, but at the same time you were so consumed by it that it didn’t matter. You were not at all mad about his little action, in fact you wished he would do it again and again. But, in the end, Harry was your best friend and you shouldn’t feel that way. Maybe you were just tired and overthinking how you felt.. or maybe you were really being honest with yourself for once.

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Shh.. it’s fine.” You gently chewed on your bottom lip as you relived the moment over in your head.

“Do you.. wanna take a nap?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.. my leg still hurts.”

A laugh left his mouth. “Want me to get back to that?”

You thought for a moment about everything that had happened. The way you felt when his hands were touching your body, the way your heart melted when his lips pressed against your neck, the way your eyes seemed to get lost in his.. every little thing. Perhaps you were tired, and your judgment was altered. Or maybe you were tired of pretending the feelings you always got were fake.

“Can you.. do it again?” You asked in the softest voice he had ever heard you use.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t confused. He gulped as he thought about what to say back. Did you mean what he thinks you did? No, surely not.. you weren’t interested in him that way.. or were you?

“The.. massaging?” He asked innocently, hoping that was what you meant.

It wasn’t that he was opposed to the other possibility, he just didn’t want to seem desperate or weird by insisting that. To his surprise, you answered him truthfully.

“No.. Kiss me.. just.. just one more time?”

Harry’s heart began to race in his chest, causing his entire body to receive sparks. There wasn’t anything he wanted more right now than to give you what you want - whatever you want. He licked his lips and carefully placed them on your skin. You released the quietest moan he’s ever heard - it was hardly even a sound, and that alone made his heart explode. Even though you asked for just one, he decided to give you a few more. He created a short line of kisses along your warm skin, hoping you’d be okay with that.

“Harry.” You whispered his name, making his stomach drop. “Don’t stop. I.. I like it.”

He listened to your command and gladly kept going. He didn’t hesitate to move further up your neck, marking your skin with his lips. Your stomach was churning in the best way possible, making a wetness grow between your legs. You tried your hardest to ignore that, but it was difficult. Harry meant the world to you, he was your favorite person. Now here he is.. kissing your neck and holding your body like this, like he really, really cared about you.

A small lump began growing in your throat as he covered your jaw and suddenly came to a stop by the corner of your mouth.

“You’re so soft.” He said through a breath. “Gotta be gentle.”

You smiled sweetly. The movement made your mouth touch his lips just slightly. “You’re always so gentle with me.”

He pressed a feathery kiss to your skin, still avoiding your lips. “s’because you’re my little peach, hm.”

A breathy laugh slipped from your lips. “I.. I.. never noticed this.” You brought your hand to his cheek and gently used your index finger to tap on the little freckle.

He couldn’t help but grin at you, his dimples sinking into his cheeks. You bit down on your bottom lip as you trailed your fingertip over his skin, admiring the feeling and searching for new freckles. You didn’t see anymore though. Harry’s eyes watched yours intensely as they moved across his face. He felt like the world had stopped and time was frozen. It felt magical to be so close to you.

“You’ve got the slightest bit of.. green in your eyes.” He said quietly, which grabbed your attention. “Just a tiny spot of it on both.. barely there.. the blue almost hides it.”

Hearing him say that made your heart flutter. You realized how close he had been looking at your eyes because those spots he’s referring to were very faint and small. You only ever noticed them yourself when you were doing your eye makeup close up in a mirror.

You gently laid your hand over his jaw. Your thumb was rubbing against his cheek, the stubble growing from his skin was scratchy. You took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He muttered the words as quietly as he could, his eyes locked with yours.

Your cheeks were on fire. Despite his weight literally being on top of you, you felt weightless and blissful like this. Harry leaned his face back down, his lips peppering soft kisses across your cheek. You closed your eyes and mustered up every ounce of courage you could. The grip you had on his jaw tightened and you pulled him over, his mouth brushing yours. He wanted to so bad, so desperately bad. You swallowed, trying to keep your composure.

“Please.” You uttered out.

He didn’t wait any longer. His lips touched yours, pushing against your mouth as he let out a soft grunt. You moved your hand to the side of his head, your fingers grabbing his hair as you squeezed your eyes tightly, trying to savor the moment forever.

Harry’s hands were glued to your body. One had snuck down to your waist while the other was on your back. You hoped he’d never move them. You wanted to melt into his body, never be torn away. A whimper fell from your mouth as he gently moved his lips away from yours.

“Harry.” You whispered faintly, unsure of how to tell him you wanted more.

“I.. I, um.” He paused to swallow harshly. “I can stop.”

“No, don’t have to.” You said through a gentle whine.

His eyes moved to yours and you instantly felt your heart overflowing. He gave you the sweetest smile and lowered his lips back to yours, but he didn’t kiss you just yet.

“Your lips are so soft.” He whispered, chuckling as you gave his waist a playful squeeze in an attempt to distract him from your flushed cheeks. “Peaches are soft though, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a cute smile. “I guess so.”

“I know so.” He winked, then pushed his lips on yours.

Your stomach turned to knots as he started to move, guiding you with him. It was purely just lips, but the feeling was phenomenal. Harry’s gentle hold of your waist caused tingles to shoot through your body. You wanted him to squeeze you tighter, but you feared asking him. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin everything by doing too much.

A deep grunt filled your ears and made you pull your lips back. Your hand froze on Harry’s head as his eyes opened to look at you. He furrowed his brows slightly, wondering what was going through your head.

“Do you want to stop?” He said quietly.

You shook your head. “No, please.. no. Just.. wanted to see you for a second.”

He curved the corner of his mouth. “See me?”

“You’re.. you’re very nice to look at.”

His chuckle made you whine and furrow your brows at your own words. He gently kissed your cheek then made sure to return his eyes to yours. Your cheeks were covered in flames.

“You’re attractive.” You muttered once you gained some courage. “You know that.”

“You’re quite attractive yourself, peach.”

You scoffed. “Am not.”

“If you weren’t.. I wouldn’t keep doing this.”

His lips pressed onto yours yet again, sending an explosion of sparks through your body. You whimpered softly against his mouth while your fingers twisted into his hair. Naturally, his body began to relax against you, his pelvis nuzzling between your legs. You hadn't really noticed that your legs had fallen apart for him, the uninjured one was still wrapped around his thigh.

The kiss lingered for a few more moments before you decided to take it a step further. You stopped the soft pecking and parted your lips. Harry didn’t say anything, but he did copy your actions to slot his lips with yours. Before you could process anything, his tongue was slipping into your mouth. He grunted when your hand returned to his face and gripped his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours as you returned the favor with your tongue.

Your heart skipped a beat with each touch of his tongue against yours. You felt your core tingly, your stomach bubbling as his hands got greedy with your body. He was squeezing and sliding under your shirt, his hot skin burned against yours.

There was nothing in the world that could ruin this for you. You were both completely engulfed. Harry was grunting while you kept softly moaning into his mouth. He wanted more from you, wanted to show you how he felt but he didn’t. When your nails scratched down his bare waist, he let out a breathy moan, his lips tearing from yours for just a moment.

“Harry.” You muttered out and grabbed the fabric of his shirt, pulling at it.

He understood your unspoken request and he quickly snatched it off his body, throwing it onto the floor before returning to you. Your hands immediately hit his body - you rubbed over the contours of his muscles and ribs before settling on his sides again. You loved to cuddle with him and hold him there, so right now it was more than you could have ever imagined. It felt like he was yours and you could do whatever you wanted. Little did you know, he would tell you that if you asked.

Just as things were starting to heat up, you realized what was happening and who it was happening with. You furrowed your brows and opened your eyes the instant you felt his hardened crotch rutting against yours. He was deep in the kiss, both hands possessively holding your body. You gulped and turned your head so your lips could be freed. He huffed and tried to reconnect to your mouth, but you quickly brought your fingers to his lips.

“Harry.” You whispered, a frown covering the lips he had made swollen.

“What’s.. what’s wrong?” He asked nervously, unsure of what was going through your mind. Was it too much? Did he do something you didn’t like? He started to worry, his heart was racing for a different reason now.

“Just.. not this.” You mumbled back, gently pushing up against his hips.

He lifted his body up some, dropping his brows as your eyes returned to his. “M’sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered back, making sure to give him a sweet smile.

He licked his lips and flicked his eyes to your mouth. “Are we.. done?”

A thousand thoughts ran through your head but you settled on just one. “We don’t have to be.”

That brought a smile to his handsome face, which made you feel relieved. “Yeah? I.. I don’t wanna be.”

“Me neither.”

Harry placed a kiss on your cheek then chuckled against your skin. “Then let’s keep going.”

He practically swallowed your giggle, he wasted no time hitting his mouth on yours. Within a moment, you were locked back in. He picked up where you left off without any trouble or hesitation. It made you feel like you were worth something, like he really cared about you. Despite feeling that way, you constantly pushed back the lingering thought in your head: he doesn’t like you like that. He doesn’t love you the way you love him. He doesn’t want to be with you the way you want to be with him. He just wants to hook up. He just wants to use you.. Your mind kept twirling with the same thoughts over and over again, which were making you lose the sensations you had felt before you stopped the kiss. It didn’t feel magical anymore, it didn’t feel perfect - it felt scary. What if he never wanted to talk to you again after this? What if you went entirely too far?

“No.” You suddenly broke the kiss and whined to him, your hand gripping his shoulder while the other stayed on his waist. “Harry.. we can’t.”

It wasn’t for nothing, though. His crotch had been pressing into yours again, making your toes curl and your heart drop. It didn’t need to happen. He was your best friend, he was your brother’s friend - it can’t happen..

“No?” He furrowed his brows.

“We can’t do this.” You shook your head, letting your hand go down to his pelvis just so you could push him upward again.

He obliged with your movement and lifted his hips again. He hadn’t even noticed that they fell down. He was just as lost in the moment as you were. But now he felt like he had messed up. Was it too much? He should’ve never kissed your neck..

“Not now.. not ever.” You whispered out, squeezing your eyes shut as tears began to swell. You wanted to break down, but you hated when he saw you cry.

“Hey, honey, don’t get upset.” He sighed softly as he realized you were holding back tears. He recognized that every single time. “I didn’t mean to.. m’sorry. I really am. We.. we can keep .. going if you want or if you don’t.. that’s okay.”

You turned your head away from him, your hand coming up to cover your eyes. There was nothing you wanted to do more right now than cry your eyes out. Harry took a deep breath and gently tugged your arm away from your face. You didn’t fight him, there was no point. He was much stronger than you.

“No, Harry.” You felt a tear trickle down your skin. It was such an embarrassing moment for you, but Harry remained calm.

“Hey, if you don’t want to keep going.. It's fine. And.. if you don’t ever want to do it again, that’s okay, too. I won’t.. tell anyone or.. bring it up.” He told you with the sweetest tone and comforting squeeze of your fingers.

“You-you don’t.. get it.” You choked out.

He licked his lips and let go of your fingers. He gently pushed your hair away from your face. “Tell me, then. Tell me what’s going on.”

You huffed. “I want to, Harry. I want to keep going.. so bad.”

His hand found yours again and this time you didn’t try to push him away. You laced your fingers with his and gently whimpered as he gave you a squeeze. His eyes were glued to your face and you could feel his stare on your skin. You could also feel how warm your cheeks were and how wet they were getting from the tears.

“That’s all you have to say, peach. We can-“

“No, Harry.” You cut him off. “We can't! I can’t.. do this with you. You’re my-my best fr-friend.”

“Sweetheart-“ He tried again, but you didn’t let him get far.

“Harry!” You suddenly cried out his name, tears flooding your eyes as your head shifted on the pillow.

You felt like you were going to fall to pieces beneath him. He cupped your jaw and started rubbing his thumb over your skin. You loved it so much when he did that during a normal situation, so surely you’d like it now. You did. You felt comfort from his warm, soft skin. But yet you were still sobbing.

“Hey.. listen to me, okay?” He said quietly as you tried to turn your head in his hold. He shushed you for a moment, trying to ease you back down. “Listen, sweetheart. Calm down.. just take some deep breaths.”

His deep voice caused your stomach to burst with butterflies and your skin to get chills. He could look at you and you’d explode with emotion, but his voice drove you mad whenever he spoke like that. So low, so sweet and kind and comforting.. He wanted to take care of you, make sure you knew he was right there.

“There you go.” He smiled to himself as you started sucking in deep breaths and pushing them out through your nose. “Whenever you’re ready.. M’right here.”

His reminder was followed by the softest peck against your temple. He didn’t want to overdo it by touching your lips again. You needed some time to cope, and he knew that. He knew you so well. It made you feel safe. Harry knew how to take care of you and what to do when you were overwhelmed. You loved that about him.

After a few quiet minutes of thinking to yourself and trying to slow down your heart, you opened your eyes and looked directly at him. He gave you a smile and relaxed his features, waiting for you to speak.

“I.. I want to.. I really like kissing you.. I.. just can’t.. risk it.” Your voice was incredibly soft, but he listened.

“What are we risking?”

“Everything. Our.. friendship.” You whined, but tried your best to not let the tears return.

He rubbed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away part of the tear stream. “Why is it at risk, honey? We both agreed we liked it.. nothing wrong with that.”

“We’re friends, Harry. I can’t.. have these feelings for you.”

He frowned slightly. “Why not? I have feelings for you. You know I do.. you mean the world to me.”

“Harry.” You breathed out quietly.

“I’m serious. I’d kiss you to the end of time if you wanted me to.”

You licked your lips and swallowed harshly. “We can’t.. My brother would freak out.. everyone would.”

Harry exhaled, wishing he could make everything go back to how it was just minutes ago. But he couldn’t do that, and he felt guilty and responsible for the mess up. He should’ve controlled himself. He should’ve paid better attention.

“We don’t have to tell anyone about this.” He watched your face closely as you went from being sad to being annoyed.

“Harry, I know what guys talk about.”

“I would never tell anyone anything about you.” He was quick to retort your comment. His voice got stern and it made you lock eyes with him. “I would never disrespect you like that, ever.”

You huffed through your lips then pouted them out. “I’ve heard the things the guys say about girls they’ve-“

Harry interrupted you. “I would never tell a soul about anything that happens between you and I in private. Whether it's kissing or cuddling or anything.”

You couldn’t dare tear your eyes from his, so you just stared at him. You could tell he was being serious but he was also hurt by your assumptions. You gulped gently, pushing down the lump in your throat.

“You don’t trust me?” He asked in a mutter.

“I trust you more than anyone.” You gently hit your hand against his chest, forgetting it was bare until just now. “With my life.”

“Then why are you so worried about this?” He sighed back. “Nobody knows about the cuddling we do.. how you sleep in the bed with me or.. don’t wear pants while you’re here. You never have to worry about that stuff.”

“I dunno.”

“Do you really think I’d do that to you?” He furrowed his brows again.

“No.. I know you wouldn’t. I just.. need a reason.. for this to be wrong.”

“It isn’t wrong.” He muttered.

“Then why does it feel wrong?”

Harry lifted his head some, just to give you some space. He was about to move beside you on the bed when you let out a whimper and slid your arm around his waist to keep him there. He gave you a smile and shook his head in disbelief.

“If it felt wrong.. you wouldn’t want me to stay right here, peach.”

You shrugged. “Do you actually.. care about me?”

He scoffed. “Of course I do. You’re my favorite human. I’d do absolutely anything for you.”

You thought for a second about everything and eventually exhaled slowly. Harry watched you as your eyes moved to the ceiling, your mind was lost in thought. He waited patiently for you to say something.

“Would you keep this a secret?” Your eyes shifted to his and you surprised him by moving your hand up to his neck. “Like.. whatever we do together.. kiss or.. or whatever else.”

“Of course, peach.” He assured you with a smile. “I’ll never tell a soul.”

You gave him a nod and let your hand fall to his chest. The feeling of his chest hair against your fingertips made your heart jump. You had a weird thing you liked where you rubbed the light hair on his chest. He always found it funny, but he admired how it made you relax. It was comforting.

“Can we keep kissing now?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” He chuckled before finally returning his lips to yours.

…

[a/n: of course, this is just the introduction to this new pairing and short series! I am so excited for this one, It’s one of my favorite things i’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy! + this is more of a story telling format that includes “flashbacks” so I hope it’s not too confusing!]

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a-certain-romance · 6 months ago

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Can’t Help Falling

Characters/Ships: gn!reader x Yae Miko, Lisa, and Jean (separate). Pre-relationship for Miko’s part

A/N: Sorry to have kept this ask in the dark for so long D: the fluff was super fun to write!!

“You are like a walking fire hazard”

You wince at her harsh comparison, though she does have a point. The Narukami shrine is just so tall and steep, you can’t help but trip every now and then walking to and fro. Not that it’s much different when you’re on flat ground.

“You have a perfectly shaped fox tree yet you can’t have the trail be paved?,” you argue, right before you lose your footing and slip. Miko’s reflexes were fast enough to catch you at the very last second before you could tumble to the ground. Her arms circled your waist as if she were dipping you in the final moments of a couples dance.

“Oh now this feels familiar,” She taunts. “Are you intentionally using light novel tropes against me to gain my attention?” Her eyebrow raises, and you begin to feel smaller under her gaze. “You really don’t need to try that hard” she tsks before setting you back on your feet.

You awkwardly apologize before standing up straighter. “It won’t happen again.” She only hums in response, walking past you. “Come along now,” she beckons with a swish of her tail, “it’s going to take more than a simple cliché to win me over.”

“Oh hi cutie~”

Lisa’s lazy smile brightens at your entrance into the library. She’s sitting at a table with Razor across from her, books and loose papers spread out in nearly placed sections.

“Razor, don’t you want to say hi?” She asks. Razor remains seated on his side of the table. “They have bad luck, like Bennett.” He says bluntly, but nods anyways.

Lisa snorts, and your face flushes in embarrassment. “I’ll come find you when we’re done.” She turns back to Razor, a fond smile playing at her lips now that she knows you’re close by.

Unlike your other visits to browse the isles or talk with Lisa, you were on a mission. You needed a book. One that of course you realized was sitting on one of the top shelves— taller than you could ever reach. Maybe Razor’s comment held some truth. Deciding you didn’t want to interrupt Lisa’s one-on-one time with the wolf boy, you set a nearby ladder against the shelf and began to climb.

“I’m all finished with Razor if you still wanted to chat—“ her voice catches you off guard and you quickly lost your balance. The ladder falls and you go with it. But instead of hitting the hard flooring, you fall into something much softer. A sigh of relief escapes your lips but it’s quickly replaced by a loud yelp.

An electro shock runs through your body that only Lisa’s narrowed eyes can explain. “Darling, if you need my help please just tell me. I’m here for you, all you need to do is ask.” She ruffles your hair fondly. “Let me move this ladder and then we can have our regular tea break, okay?”

“Jean, I think you should carry the basket.”

A picnic at Windrise was just what you both needed. You were always one to encourage Jean to take more days off, and a nice lunch in nature was the most idealistic experience you could think of. But in retrospect, the idea seemed much better in your head. You’ve already lost count of how many times you stopped yourself from falling down to the grassy terrain.

Next to you Jean laughs and stops to hold out her hand; you grasp it and she leads you up to the base of the large tree. “I think you’re more than capable of carrying this basket dear. But if you insist,” she takes the basket from your hand and guides you over the roots. With her by your side you had faith that your clumsiness would not win out this time.

That is until your foot caught on a root, sending you into her arms as the picnic basket drops to the ground.

“Please be careful around here. One wrong move and you’ll wind up with a twisted ankle.“ Her face carries some worry as she sets you back on your feet.

“You caught me and dropped the basket?” You ask, a small chuckle escaping your lips. She shakes her head, “I’ll always be the one to save you.”

“My knight in shining armor~”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #yae miko x reader #yae miko imagines #lisa minci x reader #jean gunhildr x reader #jean x reader #🫀

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bee-the-loser-recs · 8 months ago

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~~☼ My Dino/Chan One-shot Fic Recs ☼~

𖤓 Promise ring By @lovelyhan 21k, fantasy royalty au, love triangle, childhood best friends, Prince Joshua, fluff, mutual pining, lots of drama, angst, smut, pressure from the Kingdom, menace Jeonghan, elemental powers

𖤓 Love guard By @tqmies 9.2k, lifeguard au, pining, reader is oblivious, misunderstandings, fluff, dates, one-sided enemies to lovers, whipped Chan, pretend drowning, attempting to catch attention

𖤓 Run to you By @wheeboo 2.7k, motorcyclist Chan, reader has home issues, best friends to lovers, worried about each other's safety, fluff, lil angst, twisted ankle, calling them in the middle of the night

𖤓 Do it already By @bitchlessdino 6.5k, best friend's brother trope, childhood friends to lovers, actor Chan, college graduate reader, fluff, smut, reconnecting, possessiveness, slice of life, yearning

𖤓 Cry baby & Cry for me By @toruro 7.9k & 5.1k, college au, tattoo artist Dino, cry-baby reader, smut, realisation of feelings, fluff, dinner dates

𖤓 The secret language of flowers By @leejungchans 6.5k, florist Chan, tattoo artist reader, fluff, slight angst, reader is originally dating Jeonghan, kind of asshole Jeonghan, break ups, pining Chan

𖤓 Of sticky notes and strangers By @leejungchans 3.8k, college au, leaving sticky notes for your crush, reader calls Chan cute boy, hidden identity, fun plans, fluff, humour, strangers to friends/implied lovers

𖤓 Scored By @leejungchans 12.4k, college au, sports column journalist reader, football star Chan, sort of rivals to lovers, fluff, teasing, humour

𖤓 Distraction, a fatal attraction By @sohnric 7k, college au, strangers to lovers, kind of situationship, drinking buddies & habits, kissing without any expectations, hidden feelings, confessions, fluff

𖤓 Worth a shot By @milfgyuu 1k, unknown au, discussion of bad hair and yearbook photos, teasing, fluff, cute relationships, white lies, humour, drunk conversations

𖤓 Bitchless By @milfgyuu 7.2k, roommates au, Chan is in a bowling league, teasing, sexual tension, fluff, quarantining together, smut

𖤓 Something in the midnight hours By @sluttywoozi 4k, fake dating for an event, best friends to lovers, work party, fluff, actually having feelings, cute moments, fake relationship, romcom, Chan mentions you're his girlfriend to his colleagues

𖤓 Does he know? By @hannieehaee 9.8k, college au, Chan is in love with reader, everyone thinks they should be together, reader has a boyfriend though, break-ups, pining, fluff, smut, falling for him, kind of emotional cheating, flirty Chan

𖤓 In case you didn't know By @shuadotcom 28.8k, 90s au, roommates au, brother's best friend, older reader, past flight attendant reader, fluff, smut, pining, Chan has been in love with reader for years, Vernon is reader's brother

𖤓 Size matters By @onlyseokmins 8.3k, college au, best friends to lovers, just straight up smut, mentions of hook-ups, friend and past hook-up Seungcheol, losers and idiots in love, slight fluff

𖤓 You give good love By @nachojaehyun Idol au, brother's best friend au, Hoshi is reader's brother, summer trip, fluff, smut, long time since they last saw each other, sudden attraction, family dynamics in Svt

#bee's recs #bee's navigation #seventeen fic rec #seventeen fic recs #seventeen x reader #lee chan x reader #lee chan smut #lee chan fluff #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino smut

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hwanchaesong · 9 months ago

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Chatoyant (Soulmate) Preview

pairing: Jay X F!Reader

synopsis: You've never believed in the braided vermillion strings that are supposedly tied in your pinky, where the other end is where you'll find your beloved. Not until you're standing in the middle of a story ridden room.

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, smut, fluff, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

You listened to Jay, your class representative, in boredom as he lists the do's and don'ts for your next destination. Apparently, it's some kind of history museum where millions of stories are etched on the items that are displayed there.

Certainly picked your interest, but not enough to make you excited.

"I want to go to the amusement park instead." your friend Sunghoon, who was sitting next to you muttered, to which you agreed to an extent, but hey, this is your country's archive, might as well enjoy it while you can.

You groaned and stretched your back when you got off the bus, a chuckle caught your attention so you turned with a frown, catching Jay red-handed on his attempt to cover up his amusement.

"You think this is funny? My back aching is worth the lols?" you asked in disbelief, making small talk with the man.

"You acting like an old woman is funny." he corrects, patting your shoulder in a casual manner, "Come on, let's get inside. It's too hot here."

He trudged towards the museum, leaving you there with your thoughts for a moment.

The touch felt like a zing, it's always been like that. Conversing with him was easy as a pie, skinship was rare but when it did happen, it's pure electricity. Although, you may put this in the 'I admire you type of crush' instead of overthinking things.

You shrugged, entering the building and occupying yourself with the exhibit.

It was nice, finding some statues or swords cool. Jake triggers your ijbolitis when he starts lecturing you and Sunghoon about the legend of whatever sculpture it was that caught his attention. (you have to admit, he's an adorable nerd)

Sunghoon begged you to stay, but you blew him a kiss and left him with the aussie, opting to enter a room that you haven't explored yet.

When you step foot inside though, a gush of air suddenly hits you. Which was weird, to say the least, since there are no open windows around, surely the place is airconditioned.

You sighed, brushing it off and sauntering towards the small bulletin, there you learned that the room is full of trinkets between two lovers, torned apart by the war.

A story of an empress and her general.

Then, time seemed to stop when you finally set your eyes on the largest painting hanging by the wall.

You felt a pang in your heart, especially when you saw the letters that they had exchanged. The clothes, jewelry, all of their personal belongings felt so... intimate.

It was uncanny and you dumbly stood there, thinking and staring at the art because it looks exactly like-

"It's like I'm looking right into a mirror."

A familiar voice suddenly spoke from behind and you gasped, losing your balance when you accidentally twisted your ankle in surprise, but fear not, your knight in shining armor dramatically caught you.

"Woah there," Jay peered at you with concern, "Are you okay?"

Will it be a bad decision on your part if you say that this is more than okay?

taglist

@lilyuwon @ramenoil

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skzdarlings · 2 years ago

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08. sharing a bed series ; skz ; i.n.

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 8/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: yang jeongin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers(&friends2lovers?), sharing a bed trope. reader is older than him but exact age difference is not mentioned. reader was previously married and the ex-husband is described as bad to her, though there are no detailed specifications of exactly what went on. reader going thru some growth, being rude to jeongin, resolving it. the sex is playfully rough, reader mentions "mafia" style romance novels for inspo lmao but it stays pretty tame considering that.

last chapter of the series :)

Of course it’s raining. On top of everything else that went wrong, of course a torrential downpour would hit your party.

There is a large expanse of wood on the vast acreage behind your house. To break some of the social tension, someone suggested playing hide and seek in the woods on the property. It wasn’t part of your plan but seeing as the party’s awkward tension was your fault, you agreed that an outside game sounded like fun. With the springtime sun beaming down on you and your friends, it seemed like a fine afternoon diversion.

You were already deep into the woods when the storm started. You strayed farther from the main path, confident in your familiarity with the terrain. It did you little good when the weather took a turn. The rain was not slow-coming but an immediate sheet slamming into the ground like blocks of solid concrete. You could barely see in front of you and the uneven earth quickly turned to a muddy sludge. Unsurprisingly, you slipped and twisted your ankle.

Now you are stranded, alone in the forest and far away from everyone else, shivering in the pouring rain as your wispy white dress was not designed for such fickle weather.

You seldom let your emotions get the better of you but today you let yourself cry. The tears come as rapidly as the rain, leaving you gasping and shuddering. You stumble towards a tree and slouch against it, trying to take the weight off your hurt ankle. You doubt anyone would hear you screaming over the storm and from this far away, and you don’t have a phone because this stupid dress doesn’t have pockets so you left it behind.

You are crying against the tree when rescue comes in the form of the last person you want to see.

You lift your head to Jeongin. He is also drenched but the thick denim of his overalls covers most of his body and his heavy-duty sneakers are marginally better than your flats. His glasses are streaked with raindrops and his black hair is a mop on his head. Still, he sees through the foggy glass and the messy bangs, his expression one of surprise and concern.

“Are you hurt?” he asks without hesitation, because of course he does. Jeongin is a good person. You have never met anyone as genuinely sweet as him. The guy is all dimple, his eyes constantly scrunched up with glee, always ready with a humorous comment and a steady hand on a friend’s shoulder.

He also has every reason in the world to hate you. You have done everything in your power to push him away, treating him like an enemy, no doubt convincing him of it.

He never stooped to your level. You are older by a few good years but you have undoubtedly been the immature one. You wouldn’t blame him for abandoning you now.

He doesn’t do that. He rushes toward you, leading with his hand outstretched.

“Where does it hurt?” he asks loudly over the rain.

The emotional parts of you are especially vulnerable right now. When he asks that, you stupidly want to gesture to your heart. Ridiculous and sentimental, you know, you know, but true regardless.

You point to your ankle and he dutifully looks down.

His bangs split unevenly when his long, ringed fingers push through his hair. He shakes his head like it will clear his vision.

“Okay,” he says. He opens his arms. “Come on.”

You hesitate. You have no reason to distrust him but he should distrust you. He should hate you. You want him to hate you. You know what to do when someone hates you. You know what to do when someone treats you badly. You do not know what to do with Jeongin, someone so sincerely himself, sincerely kind, sincerely good. He looks at you with nothing but concern, his arms open with a desire to help.

You suck in another unsteady breath.

“Come on,” he says again, a little more forcefully but not unkindly. He seems more perplexed than angry.

You make a slight motion towards him, still hesitant. He accepts it as an invitation and crosses that last step to swing his arms around you. Your hands find his shoulders as his arm slides under your legs. He hoists you into a bridal hold, so secure that you choke on more tears.

You want to apologize. You want to say so many things. You just hide your face as he carries you away from the tree.

There is a moment of shared panic when he stumbles in the mud, but he finds his footing again. He stops for a second under some thicker foliage, looking around, out of breath.

Your tears have subsided. With the pain alleviated from your ankle, your senses are slowly returning to you. You recognize where you are in the woods: far from the main path and even farther from home, but close to the old hunting lodge. You don’t hunt but your ex-husband did. When you took over the property after the divorce, you turned the little lodge into a cozy getaway. You haven’t visited in a while but it will provide a roof over your head until the rain subsides.

“Turn up past those bushes there,” you say, pointing ahead. “We can get out of the rain until the storm passes.”

You can’t raise your voice too loud, still blocked by residual tears, but you are close to his face. He hears you and does as told.

You crest a small hill and the single-room cabin comes into view. You swear it has never looked so warm and cozy.

He puts you on your feet once you are under the awning. Only when you are at the door do you remember you don’t have any keys on you.

“Fuck,” you say, welling up with exasperation. You slouch against the doorframe. “I don’t have the key. What was I thinking?”

Jeongin takes off his glasses and wipes his forehead. He blinks at the door.

“Um.” He looks at you sheepishly, raking his fingers through his messy hair again. “Do you mind if I—” He gestures with his shoulder to the door. “I don’t want to break it but you’re hurt and—”

“Yes,” you say, cutting him off and looking away. Those dark eyes are brimming with concern and you think your guilt might overflow. You don’t want to cry again. You wipe your nose on the back of your arm. “That’s fine,” you say, steady as you can. “I can get the locks fixed after. Just get us inside.”

He nods and folds up his glasses then awkwardly looks around. He gives you another sheepish look before handing them to you. You take them and hold them against your chest while hopping back on your good foot. You get out of his way, watching him roll up his wet sleeves and mutter something encouraging to himself. He cringes when he thumps into the door and it doesn’t give.

Much as you want to get inside, you don’t want him to hurt himself. After the second heavy thud, you reach out. Before you can stop him, he determinedly throws himself against it.

The lock finally gives. It takes one more shove for the door to fly open. He kicks the broken pieces of the shattered lock aside, too focussed on his task to notice how startled you are by the display. You are still processing it when he scoops you up again. He carries you across the threshold and kicks the door closed behind himself.

It is blessedly dry inside the little lodge but it is also freezing cold from lack of use. You are both soaking wet and the chill wastes no time stabbing its way to your bones.

There is a small couch that folds out into a bed and Jeongin sits you on it. He goes down on one knee as he gently places you down, mindful of your shivering. You look at him, his face not far in this position.

He ducks down, taking your hurt ankle carefully in hand. You hiss, instinctively withdrawing, but he holds you in place.

“How bad is it?” he asks.

“Not too bad,” you say. “Just sore.”

“Are you sure?”

You would say yes even if it wasn’t true. Jeongin kneeling in front of you, holding your foot in his lap, looking so attentive and concerned – it’s all a bit much.

You nod. Satisfied, he moves onto the next thing and reaches past you to hit a light switch. The room stays grey, lit only by the overcast light outside the windows.

“Of course,” you say bitterly, groaning. “Oh, of course the power’s out. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He snorts, his dimples deepening as he looks at you. Your gut instinct is to recoil from the flicker of heat under your skin, to look away from his smile. You let yourself hold his gaze a little longer than usual.

“You’re funny,” he says with another smile. He looks over his shoulder at the same time a shiver crawls up his spine. He shakes his shoulders and looks back at you. “Is that electric or will it work?” he asks, pointing over his shoulder to the unlit fireplace.

“It will work,” you say. You are about to explain how it works when he gets up and goes over without further preamble. You are watching him work when you realize you still have his glasses. “Jeongin,” you say.

He looks back at you, those silver-ringed fingers once more raking through his hair. His face is open as always, attentive, brows lifted. He really is very handsome.

“Yes?” he asks when you are quiet for too long.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you say and hold out his glasses. “You probably need these.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling up in that delighted way.

“Thank you. They’re just for distance,” he says. “I can see everything in here.”

He turns back to the fireplace and resumes his work. It only takes another second for the flames to sparkle then roar, an orange glow flooding the room. He smiles and claps his hands with satisfaction.

“Not bad,” he says. He is still smiling but his eyes look glassy with faraway thought. His breath of a laugh is not very humorous, smile softer when he says, “I’m not totally useless, I guess, right?”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to see his face. You don’t want to know if he feels good about throwing that at you. You definitely don’t want to know if he feels bad for saying it, because he shouldn’t feel bad. He did nothing wrong.

Jeongin has been nothing but kind to you from the day you met him. You have a mutual friend in common so at first you only saw him in other people’s company. Then your husband hired a team to do some renovations in the kitchen and, by sheer coincidence, Jeongin was one of the crewmen. You started seeing him a lot more often, and in your own home at that.

He was respectful and distant, at first, as was appropriate. Jeongin is nothing if not polite.

Jeongin is also undoubtedly a young man with a strict internal code. The better he knew you, the better he knew your husband. Your husband’s moral compass skewed considerably contrary to the kind-hearted Jeongin. You had thus far survived a bad marriage by pretending the worst of it away. Jeongin’s sudden affection and sympathy – his sudden acknowledgement of your situation being bad – was too much for you to handle.

You reacted badly. He only ever tried to help you but you were not good at accepting help; it meant admitting something was wrong. Even when you finally got around that stage, you still recoiled from his kind eyes and gentle words.

Jeongin likes you as more than a friend. He liked you from the start, when he was puttering around the worksite and you brought him lemonades and laughed with him about nothing.

You liked him too. You still like him. But Jeongin is young and sweet and hopeful and you…

You know it’s silly, but your heart feels used up. Someone like him should be with someone younger and full of equal hope, not you with your mess and baggage and nonsense.

You resented his kindness, his youth, his hope. You didn’t know what to do with his love.

You tried to convince yourself you actually hated him. When that didn’t work, you tried to convince him and everyone else. If you couldn’t hate him, maybe you could make him hate you. Maybe if he hated you, you could both move on. But Jeongin isn’t like that. He just kept moving along, just kept smiling, just kept looking at you like he could see right through your nonsense.

Today you went on a little tirade to your friend. You complained about feeling obligated to invite Jeongin to your party because you shared a friend group. You complained about Jeongin in general, describing things that weren’t true. You claimed he was naïve and annoying and always in your face, but that for all his pestering he never actually did anything useful.

You weren’t exactly careful about who was listening. Apparently, most of the party overheard you.

It was that foolish, twisted feeling: you wanted to be heard because you were bursting inside, but then you realized that was the wrong release. It brought no satisfaction, only shame. You embarrassed him and yourself, and for what?

“Jeongin,” you say in a small voice, already knowing that any and all words will fall woefully short of rectifying the situation. Still, you have to say something. With your eyes still closed and arms still crossed, you sigh and say, “I’m so sorry. You know you’re not— You know I didn’t— You know I don’t—”

You open your eyes. He is illuminated by the fire, all traces of his smile dissolved. He shivers and it seems to pull him out of his trance. He rubs his forehead, then he turns to you and smiles politely.

“It’s okay,” he says with a forced smile. “I’m sorry. Um. Miss. I shouldn’t have said—”

“Don’t apologize,” you say as firmly as you can. “Or speak formally. It’s fine. Jeongin, you— Me— I mean—”

Your stammering is half emotion, half the cold. His expression changes as he seems to recognize that. You are shivering so much your teeth start to chatter. You haven’t even dropped his glasses because it would mean uncrossing your arms.

He gets to his feet so quickly that he almost falls, slipping in the puddle caused by his own dripping clothes.

“D-do you have a phone?” you ask, to which he nods and retrieves it from the front pocket of his overalls. “C-can you call or t-text one of the boys and t-tell them we’re okay? We just need to w-wait out the st-storm. Sometimes th-they last a while.” You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, your gaze on the middle of his chest, but you can see he is shivering too. “We n-need to w-warm up so we don’t get s-sick. There’s sh-sheets— there—can we m-make a bed—” You nod your head vaguely in the right direction.

You close your eyes and rock a little, trying to warm up. It’s useless with your soaking heap of a dress clinging to every wet inch of you.

You can hear Jeongin bustling around, doing everything you asked. When you open your eyes, you see he has made a makeshift bed out of blankets and pillows near the fire.

He is facing away from you. A proper little burst of heat sparks inside you when he takes a breath and starts unclipping his overalls. He kicks off his shoes at the same time. You look away as he strips down his outer layers, sensibly removing his soaking wet things and laying them out by the fire. You open your eyes at the same time he turns to look at you, his hands on the waistband of his briefs. His ears are very red, chest and cheeks likewise dusted pink.

You think your mutual shyness might be providing more heat than the fire.

“Sorry,” he says, grabbing a blanket and covering himself. “It’s just—we should probably take off—” His voice squeaks and he clears his throat.

You find yourself smiling in spite of yourself. You nod.

“No, you’re right,” you say. “S-sorry for, um, looking.”

“That’s okay,” he says with a relieved laugh. He smiles and says, “You can look if you want.”

Jeongin has a remarkable ability to flicker between shyness and confidence. The sparkle in his eyes tells you that his comment was not a thoughtless blunder. Especially because he doesn’t wait for you to look away before tying the blanket around his hips and reaching under to shuffle out of his last article of clothing.

You look away and back again. You suppose he works a fairly laborious job and is in good enough shape to haul you up a small hill, but still. You find your breath stolen by his lean, subtle musculature, an effortless elegance to the long lines of his body.

He smooths down his hair. Your eyes are on his hands when you realize he is looking at you. You look away quickly.

“Haha, um, here,” Jeongin says. He holds up a sheet in offering and turns his face away, eyes closed. “You should change too.”

You stand slowly, arms still crossed though you finally drop the glasses on the seat.

“Thank you,” you say. “For everything.”

He looks at you, probably supposing it is appropriate because you are still dressed, but your thin white dress has soaked completely through. It is plastered to every inch of skin, the vaguest sheen of translucent white pulled over every dip and curve from your neck down.

His gaze jumps, surprised, dark brows lifting as he looks down the whole length of you. His mouth falls open and he looks away with the tips of his ears flaming red. He holds up the sheet again.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“No, sorry,” he says again. “I know you don’t… always like me…”

You lower the sheet but he still doesn’t look at you. You say his name and he replies with a hum.

“Jeongin,” you say again, heart pounding. “You can look too.”

He fumbles and drops the sheet. He leaves it on the floor and looks at you with surprised eyes.

Despite your words, he awkwardly covers his eyes when you reach for the straps of your dress. Your laughter is breathless from the cold, but he still paints a charming sight with his red ears and hand over his eyes, contrasted to just how lovely those big hands are, to the shape of him, to the flattering shadows cast by the fire.

You peel the dress down and let it hit the floor with a splat. You feel better to have it gone but you are still cold. You instinctively cross your arms again, rubbing your biceps.

“Jeongin,” you say.

“Hello,” he replies, eyes still covered.

“C-can you help me?”

“Oh.” He pauses for a second. “Help you… get undressed?”

You really are too old to act like a little girl with a crush, but you feel that way. You don’t remember the last time you felt like this, if you ever have. It’s nice, a little scary. You feel vulnerable and it has nothing to do with the amount of skin showing.

“Yes please,” you say. “I can’t reach behind me to unclasp my bra.”

“Oh,” he says again. “Oh. Okay.”

You turn around. You give in to your smile, helplessly charmed by his sincerity. Then he is touching you, his proximity radiating warmth, and the next shiver feels like the cold leaving your body all at once. He fumbles a little with the clasp but that might be because his fingers are still stiff, but he gets it undone. He steps back while you remove it. When you turn around, he is already holding the sheet in offering. He doesn’t cover his eyes though he does make a point of only looking at your face.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet.

Despite his undoubted gentlemanly politeness, you catch him sneaking a peek before you wrap the sheet around your body. You tuck it under your arms and tie a little knot. Like him, you shuffle out of your underwear from under the sheet.

He gathers your wet clothes and lays them beside the fire with his own. With a little limp, you approach the nest of blankets and pillows, all arranged cozily on the thick, fluffy rug not far from the heat. Even though it is obvious you will have to share the makeshift bed, you still hesitate just outside it. Jeongin is kneeling in the centre, stretching out the clothes so they will dry faster. He looks up when he sees you waiting.

He holds out his hand.

“You should rest your ankle. And warm up,” he says. “You’ll get sick.”

With only a little struggle, you manage to overcome your hesitation. You take his hand and step onto the rug.

You swear more heat alights under his gaze than from the fire.

He shuffles back, making room for you between him and the fire. You would try and argue, to offer him the warmer space, but you doubt he would let you and you are still so cold. You sit down gingerly, minding the sheet. Your movements are mutually stilted and awkward, but then you smile at each other and relax a little. You lay down so you are stretched in front of the fire, Jeongin sitting upright behind you. You gaze up at him, watching him look around the room.

“This place looks different,” he says, an understatement. The ugly little lodge has been redone, stripped of the hunting gear and tables and replaced with a little library and reading nook. There are plants under the window and little paintings on the mantlepiece. It is a lot more welcoming than before.

Perhaps it is that gentle coziness that makes you suddenly braver. This space feels safe. You do not hesitate in raising your hand, in stroking a few fingers softly down his arm. His skin does not feel cold anymore so when he shivers, you don’t think it’s from a chill.

He looks down, blinking those dark eyes at you.

“It’s still a little cold,” you say. You already know your next words are going to be so blatant and so cheesy, so you have to bite your lip to stifle your own amusement at them. “Maybe we should cuddle up for warmth?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He smiles, dimples deep again. “Good idea.”

There is some embarrassed, breathless laughter as you shuffle around. He pulls up a thicker blanket to cover you both. Even with your explicit invitation, he is clearly still uncertain about what you want. You show him, taking his arm and pulling it around you, laying down with your back to him, pressed close and separated only by your individual sheets.

You look into the fire, taking a few deep breaths. You feel him settle around you.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you say. “Definitely.”

“Good. Good.”

You smile, biting your bottom lip again.

You lay there for a while, listening to the fire crackle, letting the heat wash over you. He doesn’t budge an inch, as if scared jostling you will disrupt the peace. His arm is slung over your middle and you touch his hand. You trace your fingers over a ring. He exhales.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, his voice low. “It’s a little serious.”

Your heart races as you know there are a million serious questions he could ask you, but you nod. “Of course,” you say.

There is a breath of a moment. His hand turns under yours, fingertips brushing yours.

“Why,” he says slowly, “would you ever pick that wallpaper?” He points to the far wall. “It’s dark in here and it’s still so ugly it’s hurting my eyes.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard. Your laughter makes him laugh, his hand catching yours when you lightly slap at him.

“Jeongin,” you say with a little whine, “don’t torture me.”

“I’m not!” he says. “It’s a serious question!”

“Ahh!” You laugh some more, rolling onto your back and covering your face with both hands.

He laughs, tugging at your wrist to uncover your face. You pout at him and he just smiles back. He lays on his side and props his head in his hand, grinning down at you. You take his free hand and trace the shape of his ring again, looking up as his goofy expression softens.

“You’re funny too,” you say. “I’m sorry for being an idiot to you. I was wrong and you didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he says softly, looking down at where you are fiddling with his ring. “You were going through a lot.”

“Still,” you say. “I’m a grown woman and I’ve been acting like a child, bullying the nice boy I like because I don’t know what to do with my emotions.”

You thought that would be hard to say out loud, but once it’s out there you feel a lightness in your chest. You take in a deep breath.

“That’s not being an idiot,” Jeongin says after a moment. He curls his fingers around yours and squeezes lightly. “Maybe just a little stupid,” he adds.

You laugh again, rolling to face him and his silly grin.

“I really am sorry,” you say. “I know it’s not enough to say it, but—”

“It’s enough,” he says. “You know, I followed you when you came this way because I wanted to tell you that.” When you cover your face with your hand, he moves it. “Also,” he says, “you were running too far away from everyone else. They wouldn’t have found you if you hid so far out here, you know.”

“That’s the point of the game,” you say. “It’s hide and seek.”

“Yeah, but…” His free hand finds yours again. He looks into your eyes. “I don’t think winning like that is actually fun? If you’re alone, and never let anyone find you again.”

Oh. Of course Jeongin would ask ‘a serious question’ to spring a joke on you, then sneak the truly serious topic in a discussion of hide-and-seek.

You drop your gaze to your joined hands.

“I guess,” you say. “I guess also it’s… um, well.” You figure you might as well drop the metaphor as it isn’t fooling anyone. “You don’t get hurt when you’re alone, Jeongin. And the happier something makes you, the worse it feels when it hurts you.”

“I would never hurt you,” he says, completely serious. He squeezes your hand.

You look at him, smiling gently. You know that promise is a big one, and nearly impossible as people can hurt each other without trying. The declaration is innocent but also heartfelt. You understand what he means.

He seeks your gaze to ensure you understand him, so you look at him and nod. You feel a bit watery again.

“I know you would try,” you say. “Is it stupid how that scares me even more?”

“Oh,” he says, separating his hand from yours so he can cup your face. You think he is going to say something tender when he just smiles and nods and says, “Yeah, probably.”

You snort with laughter, grabbing his hand and moving it off your face.

“You’re terrible,” you say.

“Maybe,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “But… you’re the one who likes me, or so you said…”

“I take it back,” you say, starting to roll away.

He grabs your shoulder and pulls you back, giggling. “You can’t take it back,” he says. “We’re sharing a bed so… that’s the rules.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes. Sorry.”

You find yourself endlessly charmed by him. His cocky smile is cute, especially because the tips of his ears are still red. You find yourself tracing the curve of that ear, his blush darkening with your attention. His smile turns affectionate, his eyes creased with happiness. The unremitted pleasure draws you in and grants you access to the more confident parts of yourself. You let your body lead you, experience fueling instinct as you guide him onto his back and lean over him.

You touch the side of his face, fingertips tracing his jaw. His mouth opens and he blinks away his surprise.

“What?” you say.

“Nothing.” His smiles widens. He raises a hand to touch the side of your face too, surprising you in turn. “You’re pretty.”

The simplicity of the compliment makes you a little shy. You smile, leaning into his touch.

“You’re cute,” you say, only for his face to scrunch up with theatrical displeasure. “What?” you say, laughing. “You are!”

“Puppies are cute,” he says dryly. “Babies are cute. I’m not cute.”

“You are.” You can’t help but tease, his smile encouraging you. You poke his dimple. “Soooo cute. The cutest.”

You laugh until he slides one hand around the back of your neck. With his hand protectively cradling the back of your head, he flips you over so it’s you laying under him. You find yourself looking down the length of him, his chest and abdomen, the place the blanket parts. You look up when his nose nudges your chin, tilting your head back. You realize you were holding a breath and swallow one down, shaky.

He laughs but gently.

“You’re cute,” he says, voice barely louder than the crackling fire.

“I’m not cute,” you say, tipping your chin up. “I’m older than you.”

“Sooo cute,” he copies you. “The cutest.”

You realize this game of one-upping each other could quickly turn into a torturous teasing session – each of you just looking, daring, goading the other into more without fully surrendering.

You smile and tip your head, sighing in a feathery-soft voice and wetting your lips.

“Am I?” you ask, lifting a leg so it separates your sheet. You can see his breath catch.

You have butterflies inside you, fluttering away like never before.

You undo the knot of the sheet. You watch his eyes lower as you slowly peel the whole sheet open. All the playfulness leaves his face, his jaw gone slack, surprise once again taking over as he stares.

“Wow,” he finally says. “Wow. You’re— wow.” His expression shows he means it.

“You’re exaggerating.” You turn your face aside.

“I’m not,” he says. His hands move to either side of your head as he holds himself over you. It draws your gaze back to him. “Stop hiding, okay?” he says softly.

“I think I’m doing the opposite of hiding right now,” you say, a gentle joke that he answers with utmost seriousness: swooping down and kissing you.

It is not a soft kiss, burning and wanting, his mouth a hungry thing against your own. It feels like a kiss he has thought about, a kiss he can’t help but hurry towards.

Just as desirous, you fall too, the kiss so hard that you find it hard to slow down. He eventually guides you to a gentler press, closing his lips against yours, letting them linger.

A breath passes between you.

“Remember when you hated me,” he says, smiling, “and you tried to convince me we were incompatible?” He kisses you softly. “I think you were wrong.”

He doesn’t leave room for a reply. He kisses you again, just as hotly as before. This time he rests more of his body against yours and you can feel where he is already hard beneath the blanket. You can also feel it is more than substantial, drawing a gasp from your lips as he presses against you.

“Jeongin,” your voice comes out breathless. It is still more coherent than his reply, which is just a grunt as he starts kissing down your throat.

It is dizzyingly hot. You have to close your eyes to stay grounded, arching against him, running your fingers through his already messy hair.

You are still able to giggle when he struggles to remove the blanket. He laughs back. You can’t remember the last time you laughed during sex. It makes you feel like you are floating, light and carefree, driven by pleasure and nothing else.

He gets the blanket off but before you can look down, he is sliding his hand between your bodies. Your eyes close again, head falling back as his fingers stroke your inner thigh. He teases there for a long time, making you strain and buck and chase his fingers. Finally you whimper and grab some of his hair, pulling his face close to yours.

“Are you trying to make me hate you again?” you tease.

He smiles against your lips, his fingers just barely brushing between your legs. Your thighs part, making room, but he waits.

“You never hated me,” he says.

Your reply gets caught in your throat when he finally slides one finger against you. It is torturously not enough.

“Jeongin,” you say again, running your fingers to the back of his neck. “Please.”

“Tell me you hated me,” he says, even while proving you very much do not hate him: gathering so much wetness on his fingertips, lightly circling them up and over the most sensitive part of you. “Can’t you?” he asks. “Let me hear you say it.”

“I—I—”

“Hate me?”

You shake your head, opening your eyes to look at him imploringly. You gasp against his lips when he slides that finger inside you. There is a ring on the one beside it, the smooth ridge gliding against you. You cant your hips up, wanting more while he teases you.

“You don’t hate me,” he says, to which you shake your head again. He kisses you, licking into your mouth at the same time his fingers sink deep inside you. He is good with his hand, his fingers long and steady, working you up until you are soaking him and clawing at his shoulder.

“Please,” you say, dizzy from the stars bursting in every place his fingers reach. They curl inside you as if telling you to come. Your head falls back and his lips go down your throat as he brings you over the edge with his touch.

He doesn’t stop when you come, drawing the whole thing out so the peak seems to last minutes. Tears of pleasure spring to your eyes. Only when you are gasping does he carefully withdraw his hand.

He looks at you with a smile then kisses your cheek. With a smile, you lean in to kiss him, then he suddenly ducks. His hands dive under your thighs and then his face is right there, tongue taking a swipe at your still distended clit, making your whole body shudder. You dig your fingers into his hair, holding on and closing your eyes. It feels so good but you are still sensitive and not good at coming multiple times in a row, so after enjoying his very adept movements, you tug on his hair to lead him back up your body.

You grab his face and kiss him hard, tasting yourself all over his wet mouth. He moans into your mouth and presses hard against you. His hands cradle your hips. You spread your legs around him.

You feel lighter after coming. Relaxed, not just physically. Suddenly words are easier too, spoken thoughtlessly in such close proximity to his lips.

“I wanted you so much,” you admit. “For so long. Even when I was pretending to hate you.”

“I was here,” he says, kissing along your jaw. “I’m still here.”

“I know.” You tug on his hair, tipping his head back so you can kiss his face too. You nip under his jaw, his neck, luxuriating in the sound he makes. “This is going to sound silly, but I used to fantasize—no, never mind.”

“Wha—”

You roll him over before he can ask, taking a turn to work your mouth down his body now too. It sufficiently distracts him as your mouth dives down, down, down. You pause for a moment just to look at him, your gaze one of admiration and maybe slight intimidation. You haven’t slept with anyone since before the divorce and that was a while ago. Jeongin is bigger than most of your toys. When you put your mouth on him, you barely get past the head before you have to use your hand for the rest of him. You try to take a little more but you are very out of practice, choking a little and drooling all over him.

It used to confuse you: the idea anyone would enjoying giving pleasure this way. For the recipient, it made enough sense, but not as the giver. You realize now that difference in desire was partner. When Jeongin moans and curls his fingers into the rug, thighs parting to make room for you to comfortably sit there, you understand. Messy as it is, you eagerly dive back down, wetting him with your mouth and working him in your hand.

When he closes his eyes and drops his head back, he misses the pillow. The rug is plush and softens his landing, but you still hear a very heavy thump when his head hits the ground. He hisses, his face scrunching up in pain as he reaches to cup the back of his head.

“Oh my god,” you say, sitting up and wiping your mouth. You try not to laugh. “Jeongin, are you okay?”

He gives you a thumbs up with his free hand. Then he curses and sighs in exasperation.

“My hand is stuck,” he says, jerking the arm that is folded under his head. “My ring—is in my hair—”

“Oh nooo…” You are laughing properly now, in a fit of giggles as you climb up beside him to look behind his head. You help untangle the hair from the ring, though a few strands still get yanked out of his head. The sudden swing makes his head bounce, thunking into yours. You both groan in pain. You grasp your forehead and sit back on your heels.

“This is not how I pictured this going,” he mumbles.

“Which part? The storm, the threat of hypothermia, or the multiple injuries?” you ask.

He grins at you, then moves to kneel in front of you. He kneels upright while you are sitting back, putting you close to eye level with your previous task. You look there, reaching, but he takes your hands in his and holds them.

“Actually,” he says, “the part that surprised me most was you saying you thought about us,” he smiles here, “and it was so bad you couldn’t even admit it.”

You try to cover your face but he holds your hands, still grinning. You throw back your head and groan.

“It’s not bad,” you say.

His hand runs up your arm to your neck, thumb stroking your chin as he gently pulls you forward. You go up on your knees too, following his angle for a kiss. He leans close but doesn’t seal it, saying, “You know if you don’t tell me, I’m going to imagine the worst.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder. He pats the back of your head, still giggling to himself. You lean back to look at him again, pouting just a bit, then reaching between your bodies to take him in hand. You smile sweetly at him. “Can we fuck?” you ask, watching the flicker of surprise and desire cross his face. “Birth control, so I’m good if you’re good. Come on.”

You go to lay down but he catches the back of your neck, pulling you back to him. He lifts one eyebrow.

“You’re not gonna let this go,” you say dryly.

“I would never force it out of you,” he says, “but the curiosity is killing me.”

“Well,” you say, tingling under the attention of his intense gaze, of his hand so strongly holding your neck, of his nonchalance. He isn’t even trying. You take a deep breath. “It’s sort of what you just said.”

“What… killing me? You wanted to kill me?”

“No!” You smack his chest. “I hate you again. No. I just… Not that I wanted to the truth forced out of me but…” You look at his face, his expression curious but not judgemental yet. “You know all those cheesy romance novels? Like… mafia leader stuff? That.”

“You wanted me to be Italian?”

“Genuinely gonna kill you.”

“I’m kidding, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, continue.”

“You know what I mean! The button popping and bodice ripping stuff.” You mime tearing his nonexistent shirt open. “I liked you and I wanted to do something about it, but I also didn’t want to do something about it. So I wanted you to do something about it. No one needs to tell me what it’s like for a shitty guy to take advantage of you, so that’s not what it was— I just—” You sigh. “I wanted it to be easy. I wanted it to be you. Because you aren’t a shitty guy. You’re the best guy I know. So I would’ve let you have anything, because you would be taking what I wanted to give. And there would be no need to talk about it or work it out. It would just be… easy.”

“I like talking,” he says, tipping his head as if studying you. “But I think I get it.”

“Mhm?” you ask, a little dryly. You quirk an eyebrow at his cheesy, dimpled grin. “Sure about that?”

“Yes,” he says, smiling so bright it goes right up to his eyes. “I’m sure.”

His grip tightens on the back of your neck, pulling you right up against him. Your chests press together and you gasp, shivering when his lips graze your ear.

“Like this, right?” he speaks lowly. He threads his fingers into your hair, close to your scalp so there is a controlled, gentle burn when he tugs. “Just take.”

“Yes,” you say, rasping. “It’s already yours.”

“You’re mine?” he asks. His other hand is suddenly between your legs and this time he doesn’t tease, his knuckle parting your wet folds. Two fingers curl inside you. “Or this is mine?”

He tugs your head back, looking in your eye as he finger-fucks you, all the playfulness gone from his expression. His sharp features look suddenly more severe: the cut of his jaw, his cheekbones, his brow. You swallow hard.

“I can’t say,” you speak in a husky voice. “My husband would be angry. You should go before he finds you.”

His fingers move out of you, your thighs shaking in their withdrawal. The hand in your hair stays steady. Then he squints, looking almost cartoonishly fierce when he says, “I’m in the… mafia. I killed your husband?”

“Oh.” You bite back a laugh. “You don’t literally need to be in the mafia.”

“You did say—”

“That was just, like, a genre example—”

“Oh, okay, I get it now.” He nods his head. “I’ll stop if you say stop.” He clears his throat. “You don’t want a guy like that. And you don’t want your husband.” He puts a hand on your lower back and tugs, sweeping you over. His arms hold you safe as he spills you onto your back. One hand skims your body, hooking under your knee to bring it up around his hips. “You want me,” he says.

The gleam in his eye seems very genuine.

“That would be inappropriate,” you say, not needing to fake your breathy voice when he moves against you, the length of him hot and hard and close to where you want him. You clench around nothing, your heart picking up in speed with anticipation.

He smiles, not quite his usual smile.

“It would be very inappropriate,” he says.

Then his hands are on your hips and he is turning you onto your front. You sprawl with some genuine surprise, getting your arms under you only seconds before his hand is back in your hair. You lift when he pulls, his grip careful but strong. He holds you there, up on your hands and knees. He goes up on one knee behind you, careful when pushing inside you, then sliding in all the way and staying there.

Oh, you feel him. Not just because it’s been a while. You let yourself enjoy it, happily sinking into pleasure with the secure knowledge he will listen if you ask to stop, that his pleasure is tied to yours. So you let your mouth fall open and eyes close, let the heat of the flames brush over you, let him hold you how he wants. You take as much as he does, soaking in all that sensation. He fills you up and fucks you deep – fast then faster. You squeeze around him, practically singing with how you moan and sigh.

“Yes,” he says, pulling you back into his arms as he moves to lay on his side. He stays inside you, drawing your leg up and fucking you like that.

You look back at him and don’t mind at all when he breaks character, yet again, this time to kiss you sweetly.

“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks in a whisper, slowing down. “You’re so… small.”

“I’m not,” you say with a little laugh. “You’re just big, baby.”

“Baby—okay. That’s good. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know, Jeongin,” you say, hiccupping a little because he is still fucking you hard despite his gentle words. It makes you feel a little insane in a good way, him so very nonplussed as he screws your brain out. “Thank you,” you say.

“For what?” he asks.

“I don’t knooow,” you say, reaching behind you to hold onto him. “Just thaaank you, auugh, it’s good.”

“Oh, I get it,” he says. “For this. Okay.”

How he’s simultaneously cute and insanely sexy, your brain will just never compute. But he wraps an arm around you and puts his hips to use, fucking you until you can feel an orgasm building without even rubbing your clit. You think to try but all you can do is cling to him, letting your worries fly away as he pants and groans and holds you steady in his arms.

“Like that, like that,” you say, your last coherent sentence until you fall apart, repeating his name as he follows you over the edge.

He holds you tight, kissing whatever he finds first. He rocks you through the end of it, easing you into rest. When he pulls out, you shiver, and it has nothing to do with the cold.

You roll over in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kisses your cheek and temple, then rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m not cold anymore,” you say, making him laugh lightly.

“Me too,” he says.

“Thank you,” you say, leaning back to look at him. “For everything.”

He smiles that smile you love, cupping your face.

“Thank you,” he says, “for showing me your hiding place. Can I come here again with you?”

Joking right after sex was never a habit before, but you find yourself bursting into a silly grin and saying, “Baby, you already know you can come wherever you want—”

It makes him laugh too, the unexpectedness sending him over. You laugh at him laughing so much, curling up close to him with the heat of the fire at your back.

The cabin is warm. Your clothes are probably long since dry. The storm stopped a while ago and you only notice now.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin x reader #IN x reader #skz x reader

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