#didn’t turn out how I liked but I created something!

[yvesntul]

vi x reader’s first time together

18+ minors dni, fingering, intimate sex, fem receiving, oral sex, teasing, squirting, vi in love durr

‘ i can’t believe i get to touch you like this, ‘ you close your eyes feeling vi’s lips press against you, just above your pussy, too easily flustered to even look at her, ‘ you’re so fucking beautiful.. ‘ she commented, her lashes bat in a daze, a breathy laugh leaving your lips in attempt to brush it off, she knew you could never take her compliments serious out of getting nervous, but this was different, this was intimate, you both knew that. this was the farthest you both had gone in your relationship and she wanted to do whatever was possible to reassure you it was all okay. she sees your hips squirm under her contact, you were so worked up, such an easy button to push.

‘ vi, you’re teasing .. ‘

‘ mmm, am i ? or are you too nervous to tell me what you want ? ‘ her pixelated eyes hold a menacing glare with yours, but you’re too busy trying to fix your gaze upon anything other than her. the way she was taunting you during your first time with her was sickening, stimulatingly sickening. ‘ i- i don’t know, i want you, just do something already, please. ‘ she huffs a laugh, wasting no more time diving in. vi starts off with a tongue lick to your cunt, slowly licking her way up to your clit before wrapping both lips around the swollen area. your hands run through her hair. the vibrations of her working making you pull and scratch, causing her to grumble against you with pleasure.

‘ baby oh my god t-that feels so fuckin’ g-good- ohh! ‘ your hips move in sync with her mouth, rubbing your cunt against her face as she follows your path, ‘ all this time i didn’t have a taste of you, ‘ she mumbles and yet you’re already losing it, beginning to lose your patience along with your sanity. she was slurping, kissing, licking and penetrating your pussy with her tongue and she had no remorse while doing so. the lewd sounds from your mouth motivating her, pushing her to do so like it was her last breath here. her tongue continued to work as she sucked on what was almost driving you to the edge. ‘ don’t stop— ‘

‘ god, fucking love the sound of your voice right now, ‘ and that’s when vi slips 2 fingers in without warning, and to be honest, there was no need to. if anything, you needed to be warning her for the messy orgasm you were tiptoeing around. ‘ you’re close aren’t you ? i feel it. ‘ she quizzed and you frantically nodded, your breathing getting heavy. she admired you from her point at the end of the bed. her silence catching your attention as she worked her fingers into you. ‘ stop looking at me like that, ‘ you spoke before she smiled. ‘ i can’t look at my girlfriend ? ‘ ‘ no ! ‘

she laughed at how you tensed, her fingers thrusting into your gummy walls along with the impact from the tip of her tongue flicking against your clit — creating the perfect combination for nothing but pure bliss, ‘ i can feel you angel, just let go for me. give me all of it ..’ her words of encouragement were doing its damn thing, the knot in your belly starting to untie itself on vi’s behalf. your body begins to convulse, this moment felt like more than everything to you, especially to vi, hoping she’d be able to show you her love in every way she’s been wanting, with this only being the beginning.

‘ b-baby .. vi … i’m so close– oh my god .. ‘ she quickly intertwined her hand in yours as you squeeze her knuckles for support through your orgasm. you were too busy making the flesh on her hand turn pale from how hard you were holding on to notice how reactive you verbally were, vi loved every sound coming out of you though. it was a beautiful side of you she had never seen. ‘ i’ve got you babe, let go just like that. ‘ as she says this, you start to panic when you feel the certain pressure below you.

her finger is still working your hole, not pulling away for anything or anyone — not even you. vi sees your small hands trying to pry her own away, but she simply stops you by restraining the same hand pushing her. ‘ wait vi— this feels so different, please, oh my .. ‘ you babble but she didn’t care because she knew what was about to come. ‘ i know, baby. i know. ‘ she holds eye contact with you, feeling your walls begin to tighten around her fingers yet again. that’s when she moves faster, jabbing her finger in and smoothly adding another to completely rupture you. her hand was cramping, but she could take that on any day if it meant she’d be able to see you fall apart.

‘ you’re there. you’re right there, you feel that ? ‘ vi’s question not only earns a loud whine from you, but it finishes you off completely. ‘ holy shit i’m fucking c-cumming vi, oh fuck—” you felt couldn’t even pronounce a single word. the only thing you could begin to make out was her name, and even then, it was just hoarse whines. you don’t see it, but she does. she sees it all — the spurts of your cum soaking her hand, drenching the covers, the way your chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath, your eyes looking into the back of your skull with your lips parted softly as she slowly dragged her fingers out of your walls.

you were fucking breathtaking, she couldn’t believe you were hers.

‘ you did so good, you’re the most beautiful girl ever i swear. ‘ she huffs as you smile at her, you lightly grabbed her face with one hand, bringing her into a long kiss. she uses the weight of one elbow to lean over and place kisses onto your temple. your body is still coming down from its peak, and your vision was still foggy — but you still needed her. you still craved her touch like you had a sweet tooth. ‘ you okay ? didn’t hurt you did i ? ‘ ‘ no no, not at all, vi, i just wan’ more .. ‘ your pleading eyes search for her lips, and once you find them, you inch closer. vi seals it for you, pressing her plumped ones onto your own. you feel the same fingers that were inside you creep up to your chin, then lips — trails of your wet essence lingering on your skin.

‘ are you sure ? ‘

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

[sunni-stuff]

Adira and Mama have always celebrated valentines together. And now we have Simon, who in addition to wanting to create a connection with Adira, he also wants to recreate that "love" with Mom. So, this Valentine's Day, Simon and Adira team up to give Mom a wonderful gift!

Valentine’s Day.  

The holiday where people got all sappy, handed out cards, and smothered their significant others with roses and kisses. The streets would be painted in shades of red and pink, filled with the bustling energy of couples trying to outdo each other with grand romantic gestures. 

But for you, Valentine’s Day had always been about something else. Since Adira was born, it became a tradition to celebrate the love of your life in your own way. You didn’t need a partner to make the day meaningful; you had her. Every year, you’d gift her a small box of her favorite chocolates—indulgent, sweet pieces she’d greedily munch on, leaving her cheeks smeared with chocolate and her gummy grin brighter than the sun.  

You couldn’t help but remember the memory of how Adira’s love affair with that brand of chocolate started. Godiva Gold Collection—an unnecessarily expensive, fancy brand that had somehow become her favorite. You still had the box that started it all, tucked away in the closet of keepsakes, its shiny gold lid a time capsule of an unexpected moment from your early days at the daycare.

It was your first Valentine’s Day as an assistant, back before you had your own class. You’d been trying to keep a low profile, just another cog in the machine, but one of the dads had made that impossible. For weeks, he’d been flirting with you, persistent in a way that made you roll your eyes more than blush. Day in and day out, he’d linger a little too long during drop-offs or pick-ups, throwing out compliments like confetti. It was harmless enough, but you never entertained it beyond polite smiles.  

That Valentine’s Day, though, he decided to up the ante. Strolling in with his daughter on one arm and an elaborate, glittering box of chocolates in the other, he sauntered over to you with the confidence of a man who thought he’d already won.  

“I thought you might like these,” he said, handing you the Godiva box with a grin that was probably meant to be charming but mostly came off smug. “Figured you deserved a little something for always being so amazing.”  

You took the box graciously, murmuring a polite thank-you. And that’s when the moment turned unexpectedly sweet.  

Before you could even process the interaction, a tiny figure toddled into the room—Adira, barely one year old, her chubby legs carrying her as fast as they could toward you. Her little hand stretched up, fingers opening and closing in that unmistakable signal: I want.  

You smiled at her, heart melting as it always did. “Of course, little fox,” you murmured, placing the box carefully in her hands. She hugged it to her chest with the kind of pure joy that only a child could muster, her little fingers already fumbling with the lid.

The dad’s confident grin faltered as he watched the scene unfold. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait… You give chocolate to all the kids here? Isn’t that, uh, bad for them?” He gestured awkwardly toward Adira, who had now plopped herself onto the floor, fully engrossed in her mission to open the box.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood back up. “No, I don’t give chocolate to all the kids,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “Adira’s mine.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as the realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, darting between you and Adira as if trying to piece together a puzzle he hadn’t even realized was in front of him.

“She’s… yours?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, glancing down at Adira, who had successfully pried the box open and was now holding a truffle in her tiny hands like it was a treasure. “Yep. My daughter,” you said, pride evident in your voice. “She’s the reason I started working here, actually. Thought it’d be a good way to balance work and being there for her.”

The man’s face turned an odd shade of red, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. He had assumed, just like so many others, that you were childless and ready to play along with his flirtations. But you weren’t. And that, in some small way, felt like a victory.

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uh, thought you were single. And… you know, childless.”

“Nope,” you said with a small laugh. “Very much a mom.”

He began backing toward the door with an apologetic smile. “Right, well… I should get going. My daughter’s probably waiting for me. Happy Valentine’s Day!” And just like that, he was gone.

Wasn't he holding his daughter?

His swift retreat had you chuckling even as you turned your attention back to Adira, who was now blissfully munching on her stolen treasure. She looked up at you, her grin wide and sticky, chocolate clinging to her growing pearly whites.

“Yum!” she declared, holding up another piece as if offering it to you.

Now, every Valentine’s Day, when you handed her a new box, she’d squeal with glee, just like she did when she was a baby. And every time, it reminded you why you didn’t need flowers, cards, or romantic gestures to make the day special.

Adira was your Valentine. She always had been, and she always would be.

Valentine’s Day had arrived once again, painting the streets with an abundance of roses, teddy bears, and couples hand in hand. The air was charged with the energy of love—or at least, that’s how the advertisements made it seem.

For you, it was a different story. As a single parent, Valentine's Day didn’t come with the same excitement. Instead, it was a quiet reminder of the love you shared with Adira—the kind of love that didn't need gifts or fancy dinners. You had your own little celebration planned with her at home, but first, there was work.

The daycare was closing early that day, giving most of the staff the chance to spend time with their partners. But for the rest of you—those without a special someone—it was business as usual. The meeting, something about the upcoming budgets for the year, was mandatory.

As you wrapped up your workday, you felt a twinge of guilt. Adira wouldn’t have the patience to wait while you sat through the meeting. She never did, and today wasn’t going to be any different. So, in a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision, you called Simon. He was more than happy to help, even though the idea of being with Adira all afternoon seemed like a challenge. Still, he was eager to do what he could, giving you time to get through the meeting without worrying.

Unbeknownst to you, your apartment was currently in a state of complete disarray.

It all started when Simon, while rummaging through the pantry for snacks, stumbled upon a familiar gold box tucked in the corner. He didn’t know why the sight of the Godiva box stirred something in him, but it did. For a split second, his mind conjured up the idea that you had someone special—someone who’d given you the overpriced chocolate. His stomach twisted at the thought.

Why did that bother him? It wasn’t like he had any claim over you. You were just co-parenting. But still, the idea of some other guy swooping in and winning you over with fancy chocolates rubbed him the wrong way.

The thought simmered in the back of his mind until he turned to Adira, who was running around, triumphantly waving around her Barbie head like a trophy . An idea formed, one that made the edges of his frown soften into something more determined.

“How about we make your mom something special?” he proposed, crouching down to her level.

Adira’s eyes lit up, her face brightening with an enthusiastic grin. “Yeah! Special for Mommy!” She bounced to her feet, already brimming with elation.

“Alright, lass,” he said, ruffling her hair. “We’ll need a plan. Let’s get to work.”

By the time thirty minutes had passed, your apartment was barely recognizable. Flour dusted nearly every surface, glitter and scraps of colorful paper were strewn across the living room, and the faint smell of something slightly burnt wafted from the kitchen. Simon was in over his head.

He had underestimated two things: the sheer mess a three-year-old could create when left unchecked and the complexity of trying to bake cookies with said three-year-old as his assistant.

His phone laid on the counter, a lifeline to Gaz, who had graciously agreed to walk him through baking cookies. "Alright, I’ve got the dough… I think. What’s next?” he asked, glancing at the slightly lumpy mixture in the bowl.

On the other end of the line, Gaz chuckled. “Mate, it shouldn’t look like that. Did you actually measure the ingredients, or did you just eyeball it?”

Simon huffed, frustration bubbling as he wiped a streak of flour off his cheek. “I followed the recipe! Mostly. Adira added her own… interpretations.”

As if on cue, Adira, perched on a stool beside him, giggled mischievously, her tiny hands gripping the now-empty container of sprinkles. She enthusiastically dumped half of it into the bowl, sending a white puff into the air. She giggled uncontrollably as flour settled into her hair, making her look like a tiny ghost.

“Looks funny!” she declared, wiping her flour-dusted hands on his sleeve.

Simon groaned, but he couldn’t suppress the chuckle that followed. “Yeah, you look like you’ve been rolling around in snow.” Glancing at the concoction they were making, pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, “This is a disaster.”

“Oi, it’s not a disaster,” Gaz chimed in, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “You’ve just got… a creative helper. Roll with it. Kids love messy projects.”

As they moved on to rolling out the dough, Adira decided to take charge of the cookie cutters. She pressed them into the dough with all the strength her tiny hands could muster, creating wobbly fox shapes that were more abstract than symmetrical. “For Mommy!” she declared with each press, her little voice full of pride.

Simon’s heart softened at her excitement. Despite the chaos, she was having the time of her life, and he couldn’t deny that it was… fun, in a strange, messy sort of way.

“Alright, Gaz,” Simon said, propping the phone closer to his ear as he picked up a cookie sheet. “What temperature do I need to set the oven at?”

“Preheat it to 350. And keep an eye on those cookies—you don’t want them to burn.”

“Got it,” Simon replied, sliding the tray into the oven.

While the cookies were “baking” (a generous term for the mess he’d shoved into the oven), Simon pulled out some paper, markers, and glitter he’d found in your supply cabinet. Adira jumped in eagerly, grabbing a red marker to scribble a heart on a piece of paper.

“Mommy likes red,” she informed him with absolute certainty, her tongue poking out in concentration as she drew wobbly shapes.

“Aye, red it is,” Simon agreed, his own hands now dusted with glitter as he helped her glue a few sparkly hearts onto the card. “We’ll make it the prettiest card she’s ever seen.”

By the time the cookies were done, the kitchen was a disaster zone, glitter was everywhere, and Simon had flour smeared across his cheek. Adira was thrilled, though, holding up her homemade card with pride.

Simon pulled the cookies out of the oven, sighing in relief when they actually looked halfway decent. Adira gasped in delight, clapping her flour-dusted hands together.

“They’re perfect,” she declared, though one cookie was clearly missing a chunk where she’d snuck a bite of the dough earlier.

Simon chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You’re right, they’re perfect.”

By the time you got home, the chaos was still evident—scraps of paper littered the floor, flour smudged on the counters, and a sticky trail of frosting led to the living room. But in the middle of it all were Simon and Adira, sitting at the table with the slightly wonky cookies and a handmade card, waiting for you with proud grins on their faces.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy!” Adira exclaimed, jumping up to present you with her card.

Your heart melted at the sight, the mess fading into the background as you took in the scene before you. This wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was perfect.

Your voice caught in your throat as you held up the card Adira had made. The inside was adorned with little foxes, and the words scribbled across the page were a mix of Simon’s careful handwriting and Adira’s wobbly, childlike scrawl. The sentence read: “Call me Swiper because I’ve stolen your heart.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest tightening at the sight of it. The card was so simple, yet so heartfelt. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered love from the two people who had, in their own way, quietly wormed their way into your heart.

"You guys did all this…?" Your voice a little shaky, as you looked from the card to Simon and Adira, who were both sitting proudly at the table. Simon had flour on his cheek, and Adira’s face was a picture of joy, her hands covered in frosting and sprinkles. It was clear they’d both put their all into this little surprise.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face as he shrugged. “Well, Adira here had the idea. I just... tried not to burn the cookies.”

Adira giggled, holding up one of the cookies as if it were a trophy. It was slightly misshapen, with sprinkles all over it, but it didn’t matter. It was perfect in its imperfection. “Mommy, for you!” she exclaimed, her voice full of pride.

Your eyes softened, your heart swelling with love and something else you couldn’t quite place—appreciation, gratitude, maybe even a little awe. The moment was small, yet so significant.

“Thank you, Adira,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling as you knelt down to scoop her up into a hug. She squirmed in your arms, giggling as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, her little fingers gripping your hair with an uncoordinated but tender affection.

Simon stood back, watching the two of you with a quiet smile. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face was enough. He was content, knowing he’d been part of this moment.

“This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as she squished her cheek against yours, still grinning ear to ear.

Simon hesitated for a moment, a twinge of uncertainty crossing his face as he stood there watching the tender scene. He knew he wasn’t quite there yet, not in the way you and Adira had been all this time. He was a part of this moment, but he still wasn’t sure exactly where he fit in. His eyes flickered between you, your outstretched arms, and the small bundle of joy that was his daughter, so full of love and happiness—it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore.

But then, your words cut through the haze of his hesitation. "Why are you just standing there?"

You were smiling, the playful hint of a challenge in your eyes, but there was something more in your voice too—an invitation. You didn’t have to say anything else; it was in the way you held out your arms, in the way you pulled him in with your gaze.

Simon took a slow, steadying breath, his heart beating a little faster. He moved forward, tentative at first, before lowering himself to kneel beside you both. Adira giggled as he wrapped his arms around the two of you, her laughter echoing in the warm air of the apartment. He wasn’t just trying to fit into a place anymore. He carved one out for himself—right there, with you and Adira. And that, more than anything, felt like home.

It wasn’t the romantic, picture-perfect Valentine’s Day you’d imagined in the past, but it was better. It was real. It was messy, sweet, and full of love. The kind of love that came in small, beautiful moments like these.

And for the first time in a long while, you realized that maybe this was exactly how it was supposed to be.

A/N: I just wanna say rq, I appreciate the love AND to the anon who sent this, your brain needs to be kissed. I said I wasn't gonna do long fics as often but this was too juicy to pass up. Thank you!

ALSO, pls yall don't have to send me asks to be on the taglist! If you comment I'll add u!

TAGLIST: @pipedream411 @ficcharsimp009 @frogofrg @loonagabs @lunamoonbby @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @julesjuminos @tacticalgirlboss @teenagellamaangel @gifted-aurora @awildewit @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @t3a-bag @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @azaleapeachberry @terry2227 @rip-cod-brainrot @montenegroisr @sweetheartturtle2007 @hepprine @kodokunarisu-blog

[xetlynn]

ekko and reader friends to lovers where reader gets hurt and ekko freaks out and confesses his feelings

I was half asleep writing this, please forgive me for the weird writing🙏

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Investigation

[arcane] [main page]

Two Fireflies running through the back allies. Following the map that was given to them to track down some corrupt officers that have been known to go to a certain area of the Undercity to mock and terrorize defenseless people. 

Normally they’d have other people with them but today was just investigating what was going on. Making sure the rumors are true before creating an attack. “I can get a look up top. Stay here.” You speak behind a mask, motioning up the pipe covered in overgrown plants. “Be careful.” Ekko mutters as you were already halfway up the building. Partially ignoring his words. Almost falling a few times. 

Grabbing onto the ledge of the structure, lifting your torso upon it before throwing your legs over. Not very graceful looking but you didn’t care. You snuck over to the other side of the ledge and glanced over. Seeing three officers laughing as they were going towards a woman holding a large bag. You furrowed your brows before going back to the pipe. “C’mon, I see them.” You slide down slowly, if you didn’t have gloves you would’ve gotten scratches and some sort of burn from the weeds. 

You trip as you land on the ground, you catch yourself before falling and turning around to do a stupid pose at Ekko. He shakes his head, walking ahead of you. “Rude.” You whisper under your breath before sprinting after him. You turn the corner and hide behind a crater once the officers are in clear view. 

“Hey, princess! Where you going with that heavy bag?” The first of the three asks with a smirk.

 The lady looks at them in fear. “Uh-m.” She takes a step back. “Uhm? Is that Undercity for something we don’t know about?” The next one speaks. She glances around, not knowing what to do or say. They begin to corner her, backing her into a wall. “We asked you a question, lady. You gonna answer or give us some trouble?” The first one asks, hands on his hips. The third and second snicker. 

Your fists curl as your body tenses. Ekko looked over at you, he couldn’t see your face but he knew the exact expression you were making. “Don’t do it, [Name].” He says quietly in your ear. You roll your eyes, leaning away from him. “I’m not doing anything.” You grunt. 

“I know what you want to do though.” He looks back to the scene in front of him. The first enforcer smacks the back out of the girl's hand. It falls to the ground. You grab onto the crate, wanting to break it. “Check what's inside it.” The first one says to the two beside him. Second guy picks it up, shoving his hand inside the bag. Taking out a baby blanket and baby toys. “Are you pregnant?” The first guy tilts his head. “N-no, it’s for my little sister.” The lady stammers, watching them go through her things. “Ah too bad. My wife’s been needing a few things for our daughter…” He hums, pretending to be disappointed. You were shaking with rage. They’re from the Uppercity and they want to steal from the less fortunate!? How does that make sense? “[Name]. Please. I’m figuring out how to get the stuff don’t worry.” Ekko places a hand on your back. You shoot your head his way. “Hurry.” 

“My sister needs that stuff though.” The girl cries out, she goes to grab the bag but gets shoved back into the wall. You stand up, jumping over the crate and attacking the guy who pushed her. “[Name]!” Ekko grabs his head, irritated that you didn’t listen to him. He turns around the building, wracking his brain on how to help you and the other girl now. Making an escape plan. 

You attempt to choke the guy out, he flails around, reaching behind him to pull you off but you don’t loosen your grip. Legs wrapped around him like a koala to a tree. “You bitch, let me go!” The enforcer shouts, back into a wall and slamming your body. It barely affects you, you tear off his hat, pulling at his hair and scratching his face. “You like putting your hands on women? Huh?” You grit your teeth, unfortunately your attack didn’t last long when the other enforcers pulled you off of the main guy. 

You kick your legs. “Don’t touch me!” You scream, shimmying out of their grip. Kicking one guy in the crotch. Elbowing the other guy in the face. “Fuck!” 

You grab the closest thing to you, which was a metal scrap. You hit the one guy repeatedly until he was curled on the ground. When you look up to the second one he was already running away. 

Your attention goes back to the first guy and the guy who you had on the ground got up to follow the other that ran away. You take out your pocket knife, flipping it open. You jab at him but he dodges out of the way. The two of you go back and forth for a while until you step on one of the child’s things, slipping backwards on your ass. “Hah, stupid cunt.” The enforcer laughs. You slide your body backwards. 

“Oh. no you don’t.” He stomps down on your ankle, putting his full weight on you. You scream out in pain. Ekko comes running towards you as the officer twists on your already broken bone. Ekko takes the baby toy and breaks it over the guy's head. The enforcer turns to him, finally getting off of your ankle. The pain shoots throughout your body. You let out a sob, gripping onto your own jacket. 

Ekko fights with the enforcer, throwing punches towards his face. The guy couldn’t keep up with the hits, losing balance. The girl they were helping comes up with the scrap you originally had and bashes the enforcer's head, knocking him out. 

The girl breathes heavily, Ekko running down to your aid. You don’t move the hurt leg, just holding yourself as you cried. “Shit.” You mutter, throwing your head back. “You okay? Can you move it?” He touches your shoulder, his other hand on your knee. “No! I can’t! It hurts!” You hyperventilate. He frowns. “I can get someone to help. I’ll be right back.” The girl from before says, picking up her things. Ekko only nods in response as she runs away from the scene. 

“It’s going to be alright, I promise.” His body shakes, hating that you got hurt because he didn’t know how to help. Wanting to figure out a safe exit instead of joining the fight. “Ekko, it hurts.” You whine, grabbing onto his arm and gripping it. “I know, I know. Fuck. I’m sorry.” He looked around, he didn’t know where the girl was going or when she’d come back. 

Your best bet was getting you to the other Fireflies. There was a medic there. “Okay, I’m going to lift you up. You think you’ll be okay?” He questions, getting on his feet, crouched down to get into position to lift you up. “Maybe, I don’t know.” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut. You were sweating from how bad it hurt and the mask only made it worse. 

“Okay, on the count of three I’m going to lift.” He warns you, his arm going underneath your knees and the other firmly on your back. “Mhm.” 

“One… two… three.” His body goes up and you let out a squeal. The feeling of your ankle not having a place to rest made the injury ache. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats, running through the allies back to home. Your little noises of pain only made his heart hurt even more. It was his fault you were dealing with this. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He slows his pace a little just in case but you shake your head violently. “Keep going please!” You beg, your head against his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his body. He pushes forward, turning down the last ally. Two Firefly members stood in front of the entrance. “Open it!” He shouts, the two were confused at first but when they saw your body in his arms they hurriedly did as told. 

After getting to the medic, he worked his magic, wrapping your ankle. Ekko was outside the room the entire time, pacing back and forth as he had to hear your pain-filled cries. They gave you pain medicine but it hadn’t kicked in yet. 

When it went quiet he stopped in his tracks. His eyes were staring at the door. The medic comes out, Ekko attempts to rush in but he’s stopped with a hand on his chest. “Let us speak first.” 

Ekko’s eyes land on your body lying limp on the bed, chest heaving up and down. The medic closes the door. “She won’t be able to walk on that for 6 months. Whoever did that to her crushed it to a point that I’ve never seen before.” He tells Ekko whose nose is scrunched in anger. “Here’s the pain medicine she’s going to need for the next few weeks until the pain calms down.” He shakes the bottle before handing it over. 

“Anything else?” Ekko asks, antsy to see you. “No, go ahead.” 

The boy was next to you as fast as you heard the door open. You squint your eyes open. The light being bright after wearing a mask and tears not flooding down your face anymore. “I’m so sorry.” Ekko falls down to his knees, his head bowed down. “It’s not your fault. I was an idiot to think I could take them.” You sigh. “I’m sorry for not listening to you.” You sincerely tell him. He looks up at you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” He grabs your hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t help you. If I stepped in this wouldn’t have happened to you. Hearing your pain was like daggers through me. It’s my fault this happened. I can’t protect the one person that means so much to me.” He rants with a sour expression on his face. Gripping onto your hand. 

“Like that scream you let out, I repeat it in my head. It’s all I hear right now. How could I let this happen to someone I love?” He tears up, you watch him quietly as he vents. Your heart filled with butterflies by his words. “You love me?” You ask in a whisper. His eyes widened, just now catching what he just blurted out.

“I mean, I have love for you. Am I in love with you? Pssh, I mean I could be? Who knows? I say crazy things sometimes.” He lets go of your hand, now rambling on and on. 

“Ekko.” You smile. “Yes?” He asks with his hands behind him. Looking guilty. “I love you too.” You giggle.

“Really?” His head perks up, you nod, putting your arms out for him to hug you. He falls into your body, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“Thank god because I would’ve killed myself or something if you didn’t feel the same way.” He jokes, causing you to laugh loudly. “You’re so stupid.” You snort. 

“Whatever, you love me.” He proudly reminds you, keeping himself on top of you. 

[babydollisdead]

AGAPE - JINX X READER

contains: fluff, g/n reader, really short, no proofread

warnings: none

summary: you help jinx fall asleep.

A/N: This is my first time ever writing one of these!! I hope you enjoy. Sorry if she seems a little out of character, I’ll write a better one soon lolz.

“Jinx..?” You called softly from the couch in her.. “room.” She had been sitting at her desk for hours now, and all you could hear was mumbled curses and what sounded like power tools every so often. And the occasional spray paint can, of course.

When you didn’t get an answer, you huffed and rolled your eyes. She had said she’d be done a while ago. You trot closer to her, rubbing your sleepy eyes. But as soon as you see her hunched over form, you know something’s wrong.

Her shoulders are tense, and the way her hair is frizzy around her braids shows she’s been tugging at it. She fiddles around with some odd thing she’s creating, her nimble fingers making it look effortless.

“God dammit..” She mumbled, a small groan leaving her lips. You step closer slowly, tapping her shoulder. She slowly glanced up, a tired look on her face.

“You know, you said you’d be done a while ago.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. She rolls her eyes and smirks a little. “Got carried away. Sorry, toots.”

She goes to look back down at her.. well, whatever the hell she was making, and you quickly stop her.

“C’mon, Jinx. It’s late.” You give her a bit of a look, which earns a small groan from her. “You always are bothering me..” She huffs out as she stands up from her chair. You know it came from a place of love.

You were really one of the only people she trusted these days. Where everyone else failed, you seemed to not. It was almost fascinating to her. Jinx had gone so long keeping everyone at a distance, safe for the few she was close with.

But something about you.. just made her love you. She did kinda hate it. She’d say it was because you turned her into a lame sap, but deep down it’s because she’s scared.

Loving something meant you now have something to lose. And that was never a good thing.

She stretched, a few bones cracking. You smiled a little at how sleepy she seemed. “Those energy drinks ain’t working anymore, huh?” You teased, tugging lightly on her arm towards the couch. “I need to inject it into my veins.” She whined and you chuckled lightly.

You plopped down against the couch and she followed, flopping down right on top of you. A small sigh left her lips, and you could feel the tension leave her body. As if on cue, you rested a hand in her hair, running it over the blue braids.

“You ever gonna cut all this hair?” You spoke softly, watching as she cuddled into you. She shrugged. “I dunno. I think it’s part of my whole.. persona now.” She grinned and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“If you ever want to, i’ll help. Make it look all nice and not choppy.” You suggested. Her chin was resting on your chest. She gazed into your eyes for a moment, and it was a bit intimidating.

The way her eyes gleamed pink, almost blowing. You’d seen those eyes hold all different kinds of emotions, and still the intensity of them never failed to make you shiver.

Jinx then suddenly pressed a bunch of kisses to your face, and you squeaked before giggling. “W-what are you doing?” You spoke through giggles. She pulled away, a smug look on her face before she settled back down onto you. You could only imagine how dazed you look, all goofy and smitten with a bunch of dark kiss marks on your face.

“Just wanted to kiss you.” She hummed out, closing her eyes as she buried her face in her arms. Something she always did when she slept. You’d know. You spent so many nights just watching her as she slept peacefully.

You snorted. “God, you’re such a sap.” You spoke, continuing to play with her blue locks. “Your fault.” She retorted. A small smile remained on your lips as you sighed and cuddled close to her.

“Goodnight, Jinx.” You whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She didn’t say anything, but you did hear her huff softly, and she cuddled closer into you.

Actions always speak louder than words.

[meleeyz]

୭ 𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗧 𝗣𝗢𝗪𝗗𝗘𝗥 ˚. ᵎᵎ 

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ God, Wyeth and Violet are my precious babies, I'm excited to write the next chapter 😼 THIS IS A BIT OF ANGST BUT I PROMISE I WILL MAKE UP FOR IT, THE NEXT CHAPTER COMES OUT TOMORROW 😓

୨୧ THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT, IT MEANS A LOT TO ME

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Ekko stepped out of The Last Drop alongside you, his mind a tangled mess of emotions he didn’t know how to untangle.

“See you tomorrow, Silco,” you called over your shoulder, waving at the man. “And tell Vander not to forget the balloons this time. It’s Violet’s party, after all!”

Silco chuckled, his sharp features softened by a surprising warmth.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t disappoint. Powder would never let me hear the end of it.”

Ekko opened his mouth to comment on the absurdity of those words—Silco and birthday parties didn’t belong in the same sentence—but before he could speak, you grabbed Wyeth’s hand, ready to lead him down the street, and before Ekko could even process what he’d just witnessed, his son slipped his small fingers into his free hand.

“Let’s go, Dad!” Wyeth said with a grin, swinging their joined hands as they walked.

The simple gesture made Ekko’s chest tighten. It felt so normal. So… good. And yet, it brought a pang of sadness that he couldn’t shake. How much had he missed? The thought gnawed at him.

Wyeth glanced up, his expression turning sly.

“You think Mom will forget I’m grounded if I say she’s pretty?”

Your laughter drifted back toward them as you approached a street vendor, completely oblivious to your son’s plotting.

Ekko didn’t respond. He barely heard the boy’s words, his mind too busy grappling with the strange reality around him. Wyeth looked so grown, his bright smile and curious eyes a reminder of everything Ekko had never gotten to see. He’d been there for Wyeth’s first steps, first words, first everything… hadn’t he?

“Dad?”

Wyeth’s voice snapped Ekko out of his thoughts. The boy tilted his head again, mirroring the gesture that so often punctuated your own confusion.

“Why’re you looking at me like that? I didn’t even do anything yet.”

A sheepish laugh escaped Ekko.

“Nothing, kiddo. Just thinking.”

Wyeth raised a brow, unimpressed by the weak excuse, but before he could press further, his attention shifted.

“Mom! Aunt Powder’s place is up there!” he shouted.

Ekko followed his gaze, his stomach tightening at the sight of the towering structure ahead. The entrance was unmistakably Powder’s handiwork—vivid, colorful, and chaotically creative.

Your arm slipped through Ekko’s as you stepped closer to him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder. The gesture was effortless, familiar, and it sent an odd pang through him. It wasn’t just something you would’ve done in his world—it was something you had done countless times before.

Powder’s hideout loomed closer, and the knot in Ekko’s stomach tightened. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind—Powder laughing as she tinkered with one of her bombs, her face lighting up when she succeeded. But those memories felt so far away, belonging to someone who no longer existed.

“Aunt Powder!” Wyeth called, his voice echoing through the space as he dashed ahead.

Powder sat on the floor, her back turned to them. She was hunched over something, her shoulders swaying slightly. Ekko froze in the doorway, his feet unwilling to take another step.

She turned slowly, and Ekko’s breath caught. In her arms was a baby.

The child couldn’t have been older than a year, her curly white hair catching the light. Her skin was a shade darker than Wyeth’s, but her eyes—Ekko’s heart skipped a beat—her eyes were undeniably yours.

He stared, dumbfounded. It was as if the Ekko of this world had decided to create smaller versions of himself just for the hell of it.

“Powder!” You hurried past Ekko, reaching for the baby. Powder smiled and handed her over without hesitation.

“There’s my little Violet,” you cooed, lifting the baby into the air before kissing her cheek. Violet giggled, her chubby hands patting your face with affection.

Ekko barely registered the interaction, his focus drawn to a small shrine tucked away in the corner of the room. It was simple but striking—candles flickered in a soft circle of light, surrounding scattered trinkets and flowers.

His stomach dropped when he saw the pictures.

Vi’s pictures.

There was no mistaking her sharp features, her trademark smirk immortalized. The realization hit Ekko like a freight train.

He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t thought a world so perfect could still hold such grief. The weight of it settled on him, twisting his heart in ways he couldn’t describe.

“Dad?” Wyeth’s small voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. The boy’s wide eyes were filled with concern as he tugged on Ekko’s sleeve. “What’s wrong?”

You turned at the question, your gaze sharpening when you saw Ekko’s expression.

“Wyeth, why don’t you go play for a bit?” you said gently, brushing a hand over his hair.

The boy frowned.

“But I—”

“Please,” you said, your tone soft but firm.

Wyeth hesitated, then sighed dramatically before go.

Ekko's breath coming shallow as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Little Violet, with her bright eyes and curly white hair, cooed in your arms as you rocked her gently. You gave Ekko a pointed look and gestured to the spot beside you on the worn couch. Ekko moved mechanically, lowering himself onto the worn cushion, his legs feeling like lead.

His voice broke the silence, hoarse and uncertain.

“She’s... dead?”

Powder, seated besides from him, shifted uncomfortably, her face tightening.

“That’s not funny, Ekko.”

He turned to her sharply, his old friend—his childhood companion—now a stranger and yet not. His voice dropped, heavy with accusation.

“Was it you?”

Your head snapped up, your expression a mix of surprise and frustration.

“Ekko!”

Powder’s eyes darkened and her voice rising.

“It was you,” she spat. “You gave the tip. We went to that job because of you.”

The air in the room grew heavy as Powder’s words sank in. Ekko’s breath caught in his throat. His memories of another life swirled with the knowledge that here, in this version of the world, everything was twisted. His hands trembled as realization hit him. The raid on Jayce’s workshop... That was where Vi—this Violet—died. That was why there was no Hextech here, why this world felt so fragmented.

“I think you should go before I say something I’ll regret,” Powder said quietly, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

Ekko stood, the sudden movement making Violet stir in your arms. He didn’t look at you, Powder, or the baby. His body moved automatically, his legs carrying him toward the door.

“I’m working on it,” he mumbled, though the words felt hollow even to him.

You called after him, your voice sharp with concern, but he kept walking.

“Dad?” Wyeth’s voice called out from nearby, concern lacing his tone. Ekko didn’t respond, his thoughts too tangled and chaotic to register anything else.

You watched Ekko leave, your jaw tightening in frustration. The strange behavior, the short temper—it was too much. You handed Violet to Powder, murmuring softly.

“Hold her for a second, please.”

Powder’s expression softened slightly as she took the baby, hugging her carefully though her gaze lingered on you in concern. You followed him out.

“Ekko!” you called sharply. He didn’t turn, but you grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop and face you. His expression was tense, his eyes darting everywhere but to you.

“What the hell is going on with you?” you demanded, your tone low but fiery. “You’ve been acting weird all day. You know what tomorrow is—it’s our daughter’s birthday. You’re not going to ruin this over something stupid.”

That word—daughter—caught him off guard, sparking the storm of confusion inside him all over again. His mind rebelled against the warmth in your voice, the certainty in your words. How could you say it so easily, so naturally, as if everything about this world made sense?

He shook his head, his voice rising in frustration.

“I’m not ruining anything. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish.

“Powder didn’t do anything to you. If you’re tired, fine, but you owe her an apology. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Ekko swallowed hard, his throat dry. The words escaped before he could stop them.

“I’m not even sure those are really my children!”

The moment the sentence left his lips, he froze.

The look on your face was enough to make him wish he could disappear. Anger flashed in your eyes, but beneath it, he saw the hurt—the disbelief. He didn’t mean it like that.

God, he didn’t mean it.

“What did you just say?”

“I—” he stammered, the words tangled in his throat. “I didn’t... that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Ekko?” you demanded, your voice tight with controlled fury.

He wanted to tell you the truth. That he wasn’t your Ekko, that the children weren’t technically his, that he didn’t even belong in this world. But he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come, and the weight of what he couldn’t say crushed him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your jaw tightening as your anger simmered. Finally, you took a deep breath and stepped back.

“Go for a walk and cool off.”

Before he could respond, you turned and walked back toward Powder’s hideout.

Ekko stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where you had disappeared. The weight of everything—this world, its expectations, the people who had unknowingly tied themselves to him—pressed down on him, suffocating and inescapable.

He ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath.

“Great job, idiot,” he muttered bitterly to himself.

The streets around him blurred, the laughter and light of this version of Zaun clashing against the turmoil in his mind. He felt like a stranger in his own life, and no amount of sunshine or clean air could change that.

But as he stood there alone, one thought refused to leave him:

He just hurt the people who mattered most in this world.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You re-enter the cave with silent steps, the cool air brushing against your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself. Your chest feels tight, the pain blooming there sharper than any gunshot wound. You bite down hard on the urge to cry, swallowing it like bitter medicine.

When you reach Vi's sanctuary, Powder is holding Violet in her arms. She turns to look at you, and whatever she sees in your face makes her pause. Her expression softens, though it doesn’t lose the edge of mischief. She lets out an exaggerated sigh, the kind meant to ease tension and distract.

"Well, look who’s back," she says, forcing a smile that stretches a little too wide. “Guess what, Mama? Aunt Powder got new crayons!” Her voice takes on a sing-song lilt, as if a few minutes ago her old friend hadn’t accused her of being the cause of her own sister death.

Before you can say anything, Wyeth is at her side in an instant, his excitement bubbling over. Powder laughs and hand him the crayons, vibrant sticks of color in every hue.

“Take your little sister and draw something pretty. Something cool for Aunt Pow-pow.” she says with a wink.

Wyeth nods eagerly, leaning in to kiss Violet on the head. He scoops her up with the care of a child trying to prove just how grown-up he is and carries her to the makeshift tent Powder had set up—a cozy hideout of blankets, pillows, and soft light. Violet’s soft babbling carries over as Wyeth settles her down, and began instructing Violet on how they’d make the “best drawing ever.”

Powder straightens, brushing imaginary dust off, and finally looks at you fully. Her smile falters just a little.

“Alright,” she says, “spill. What’s up with your husband?”

You shake your head, frustration and confusion vying for dominance.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice strained. “He was fine this morning, and now… now, I don’t even know who I was talking to back there.”

Powder watches you closely, her blue eyes narrowing slightly before she lets out a small sigh.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said to him...”

You wave her off, sinking onto the small couch and resting your face in your hand.

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing.” Your voice is muffled, tired.

Silence settles between the two of you, heavy but not suffocating, just long enough for the tension to ebb. Powder leans back, her usual energy subdued but still present in the way her hands fidget with the edge of her shirt. Then, without a word, she drops something into your lap.

You look down and pick it up—a sketch, delicate lines drawn with an artist’s touch. It’s a design for a baby dress. The fabric in the sketch flows softly, a pastel green shade that feels gentle and light. Little embroidered fireflies dot the hem, their wings detailed with tiny lines of imagined thread. Flowers bloom along the neckline, subtle and sweet, and the sleeves are puffed ever so slightly, adding a playful charm. The waist is cinched with a sash, and a small bow ties neatly in the back, making it utterly perfect for a little one’s birthday.

You trace the design with your fingertips, your heart softening despite the ache still lingering. Ekko was just upset, you think. He didn’t really believe that those babies weren’t his, did he? Hell, they’re his spitting image. Violet has his nose, his hair, his everything, down to the small furrow of concentration she gets when she’s focused.

Powder’s voice breaks through your thoughts.

“What do you think?” she asks, her tone light.

You glance up at her with a faint smile.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, the words more heartfelt than you expect.

Powder waves it off like it’s nothing.

“Please,” she says, smirking. “That’s nothing. I’ve got like eight more gifts saved up for the princess.”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound breaking through some of the tension still clinging to you. Powder grins back, the energy in her expression more genuine now.

For a moment, the pain in your chest feels just a little easier to bear.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

tags: @xelzaria @honeyfewr @bubblegupyy @iwasholic @chaeisbroke @emforjin @itszazouu @kriss-w @moonlight-dreamer04 @iloveavatar

[solxamber]

Helloo, I absolutely love you writing! Your understanding of the twst characters’ personalities is phenomenal 😭❤️

May I request both Ace and Malleus crushing on reader simultaneously, and both are aware that the other likes reader (reader is oblivious hehe). Ace gets super insecure since he isn’t powerful nor of royal status and believes there’s no way he can compete against him, meanwhile Malleus gets super jealous since Ace has been friends with reader ever since and is the most close with him.

Ace x Reader x Malleus (Love Triangle)

a/n: the giggle i let out when i saw this!! such a fun concept and thank you so much 🫶🫶

It started with a normal day: you laughing at one of Ace's jokes, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind you. The storm in question was Ace and Malleus glaring daggers at each other over your oblivious head.

Ace was slouched in his chair, shooting side-eyes at the imposing figure standing too close to your desk. Why does he have to hover like that? he thought bitterly. Malleus, for his part, was casting pointed glances at Ace’s casual posture, as if silently saying, Is this the best you can do?

Neither could deny the truth. They were both hopelessly, tragically in love with you. And they both knew it.

Ace prided himself on being the guy you could count on for a laugh. But today, he was on a mission: show you how amazing he was.

“So, anyway,” he said loudly during your study session in the library, “I totally aced—get it?—my magic exam. Got full marks.” He leaned back smugly, hoping you’d be impressed.

Malleus, who had been quietly sitting nearby (because of course he was), looked up. “Impressive, Ace Trappola. But I suppose it pales in comparison to wielding centuries-old magic and commanding legions of loyal subjects.”

Ace choked on his own smugness. “Yeah, well, I bet you don’t even know how to mix a potion without turning it into swamp goo, huh?”

“Actually, I mastered potion-making at a young age. I created an elixir capable of reviving withered flora.”

“Cool, cool. Can you tell me how any of that helps the prefect with our history homework?” Ace shot back, leaning closer to you.

Malleus frowned. “History is one of my strongest subjects.”

“Oh my Seven—” Ace groaned and threw his hands up. “We get it. You’re ancient!”

You looked between them, confused. “Are you two okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Malleus said smoothly.

“Great! I was just explaining history to Deuce,” Ace lied shamelessly.

Lunch was another battlefield. Ace had secured a seat next to you and was recounting a funny story involving Grim, a mop, and a very angry caterpillar monster.

“…and then Grim screamed so loud, I think half the campus heard him! Right, Prefect?” Ace said, nudging you.

Before you could respond, the shadow of a tall figure fell over the table.

“Malleus,” Ace said with a forced grin. “Didn’t see you there. Like, at all.”

“I thought I would join you,” Malleus said, sitting directly across from you, his gaze unwavering. “Do you require assistance with your meal? Perhaps I could conjure something more fitting for your taste.”

“Okay, that’s just cheating,” Ace muttered under his breath.

“Conjuring food is a skill that requires great control,” Malleus said casually. “It’s a shame some rely solely on mediocre cafeteria fare.”

“Oh, so now the chicken nuggets aren’t good enough for you?” Ace snapped.

“They lack refinement,” Malleus said.

“Yeah? Well, you lack… I dunno, vibes!” Ace countered.

You blinked. “Ace, are you okay? You’re yelling about chicken nuggets.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” Ace mumbled, shoving a nugget in his mouth to shut himself up.

The tension boiled over during a school festival. There was a dance competition, and both Ace and Malleus signed up for one reason: to win your attention.

Ace went first, pulling off a routine filled with flashy moves that he definitely stole from a popular video. The crowd cheered, and you clapped the loudest.

“Not bad, right?” Ace said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “Bet I’m the first guy you’ve seen dance like that.”

Before you could respond, Malleus stepped onto the stage.

“I shall now perform a traditional dance of my homeland,” he announced.

It was graceful, mesmerizing, and undeniably magical—literally. The lights dimmed, and green flames swirled around him as he moved with perfect precision. The crowd was silent, utterly captivated.

Ace stood next to you, slack-jawed. “I… I can’t compete with that.”

You turned to him with a smile. “I thought your dance was amazing too.”

Ace lit up like a firework. “Y-Yeah? You mean that?”

Malleus, mid-spin, glanced at you both. His expression darkened.

Eventually, the competition escalated to new heights of absurdity. Ace baked you cookies, only to find out Malleus had hand-carved you a jewelry box. Malleus enchanted roses to bloom eternally, and Ace countered by organizing a surprise karaoke night with all your favorite songs.

But when you tripped and both of them scrambled to catch you, the ridiculousness reached its peak.

“You caught their hand,” Malleus said, an edge to his voice.

“And you caught their other hand!” Ace snapped.

You, still mid-air, sighed. “Can someone just catch me completely next time?”

Despite their antics, one thing was clear: they both adored you. And while their rivalry was exasperating, it was also… kind of sweet.

Well, for you, anyway. For them? Not so much.

Masterlist

[writingwithfolklore]

Who holds the power in your scene?

This is something we really explored during my time at film school, and is easier to see on the screen but still very applicable on the page. Essentially, in every scene there is one character who is holding the power—meaning they are driving the conversation, driving the action, they are in control because they are going after a goal, and if they are in power, are going to get the closest to achieving it. Every character should have some sort of goal going into every scene, and thus the power can and should shift between characters within the scene to create more interesting dynamics. So how do we do this?

1. Understand each character’s goal—and who is going to “win”

Each character comes into a scene with expectations that form their goal. Let’s do a breakup scene. Character A comes in with the expectation to go on a hike with their partner and have a good time. Their goal may start out as something simple like: “have a good time on this hike” or “avoid fighting with Character B”. Character B is going into this scene knowing they are going to breakup with character A, their goal is to literally just breakup with them.

If we know, as the author, that Character B is going to be successful, we know that this is their scene and they will ultimately hold the majority of the power. Vice-versa if Character A is successful in achieving their goal.

In knowing that, we can get into the actual mechanics of a power shift.

2. Character spacing and movement

Spacing and movement is the most obvious aspect in filmmaking, but may be forgotten on the page. In our example, I would place Character B ahead of Character A on the hike so that they are standing slightly above them on the incline. When they begin discussing their breakup, I would turn them around. Subconsciously, we know that B is “lording” over A, they have the high ground (har-har) and thus are the more imposing, powerful person.

Even the act of turning around would be a display of this power. So I would write it as,

B: Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something… I just don’t really think either of us are happy—I don’t think this is really working anymore. A: What are you saying? B stops walking, turning on their heel to face them. B: I’m saying I want to break up.

3. The Driver of Conversation

Seen a bit in the last section, whoever is driving the conversation, steering the topic and tone, holds the power. You may notice throughout dialogue that there tends to be a questioner and an answerer, or someone providing the action while the other(s) are reacting.

A: I thought we were trying to connect more. Isn’t that what this stupid hike is about? B: Well it’s not working. I’m sorry. I’m done trying.

However, a character can grapple for and shift the power by calling them out or otherwise steering the conversation in a way that they would like instead. At this point, A would likely have shifted their goal from “having a good time” to proving that they were right about some change they picked up on, or in another case, may be trying to convince them to not breakup. If you allow them to “win” for a portion of the scene, you can reverse the power.

A: This is because of that person you met at work isn’t it? How dare you try to pretend that it has anything to do with me. B: Hold on—this has nothing to do with her… A scoffed, stepping forward on the incline. A: You are such a liar. You have been since the day we met. I don’t know why I ever trusted you.

B: I didn’t lie about that. I swear.

And let’s reverse the scene back:

A: What is it then? What is this really about? B: We’re just too different! I’m sorry. B steps past A and starts walking back the way they came.

Power can shift because another character took it, but it can also shift by the character in power giving it up, either intentionally or unintentionally.

4. The leader of action

Otherwise, the person who directs the action; is winning the fight, points out directions or creates the plan, or otherwise is determining where the characters go next or what they do next, holds the power in the scene. A grapple for power doesn’t necessarily need to be verbal but could rather be two people going opposite directions and one of them relenting, for example. This one is more obvious because it’s very visual, but is still an important aspect to how characters “win” or “lose” their goals in a scene.

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, Prologue

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Okay, so 10 hours early, but I've gotten several requests about the start of the story, so here it is! This has been a big project (still not done with the last 3 chapters...), but so worth it. Remining the readers that this story is 18+ cause of alcohol, smut, drugs (?), throwing up (cause of alcohol, not ed) and other darker themes. Remember that Josh is severly mentally ill, so if you struggle with themes like that, I don't recommend this story.

Some chapters will not feature interactions with him, and some will be longer or shorter, but I'll try to make daily updates, so no worries! This blog is purely for my creative expression, and I don't really want tips or tricks about how to do stuff better, thank you. This whole thing is a way for me to relieve stress and just write without thought. Hope you enjoy, and if you do, please consider following and liking <3

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The booze was getting empty, and the night darker. The snowstorm outside had worsened, making the inside of the cabin feel like the perfect cozy place. Emily and Jess had been talking all night about some kind of prank. I don’t know what it was about, and I didn’t want to know. Knowing the lengths they’d go, I kept my distance. During the evening they’d been regularly going away together, whether it was in the bathroom or in the kitchen. They were alone, talking, occasionally giving loud snickers. If Emily wasn’t hopelessly in love with Mike, I would’ve thought she had a thing for Jess. 

Josh is slurring around, mixing up words and almost falling over. He’s basically being carried by Matt from place to place when he wants to go somewhere. Hannah is mixing drinks, leaving them on the counter for everyone. I guess it’s tiring being hosts. Well, not for Josh, but the others. I’m sitting on the sofa with Sam, Ashley and Chris. Ashley seems fine, as she doesn’t get very verbal while drunk, while Sam’s not drinking. She’s sketching on her notepad while talking, and I occasionally look over her shoulder to see the products. They’re gorgeous, every line perfectly in place. I’m mesmerised by her talent, her ability to create something so lifelike. She’s almost like Victor Frankenstein, just a little safer with her creations. She’s drawing Chris now, making sure to add that little glisten on his glasses. I look over at him, then the drawing, then him again. It looks so real. 

“I’m in awe” I comment, looking up at her. She gets a slight blush on her cheeks, clearly not used to such positive feedback. 

“Why thank you” she smiles back at me. 

“Ohhh let me see, let me see!” Ashley shouts, reaching out both of her hands for the pad. Sam complies, putting down the pencil and giving it to her. Ashley blushes as she looks at the drawing, biting her lips in an almost invisible manner. 

“Oh look-” she points at the drawing, holding the pat in front of Chris. 

“She even got some of your freckles” she smiles, still blushing as she looks down on him. Chris doesn’t open his eyes. His head’s resting on her shoulder, and when she nudges him, he gives a slight “mmm” in reply. She gives back the drawing pad to Sam, leaning back so Chris’ head falls in her lap. Luckily she manages to catch his head with her hands, slowly putting him down. He nuzzles into her, and she runs her finger though his hair while breathing out. She’s probably scared he’s going to wake up. 

I turn, giving Sam a look before we both turn to her. The motions make her look up at us, confused. 

“Sooooo” Sam begins. 

“When are you going to ask him out?” I finish, smirking. I can’t help it. It takes a couple of seconds before Ashley realises what we asked of her, and when she does, her eyes widen and both hands immediately go to cover Chris’ ears. Sam grabs my thigh, squeezing a bit to release the energy so she doesn’t laugh.

“Shhhh he might hear you!” she whisper-shouts, looking at us. 

“Oh don’t worry, he’s out cold” Sam teases, grabbing a shot glass and filling it to the brim with tequila. 

“Well, the brain can still recognise things while sleeping”

“Nerd”

“They’re a perfect match”

“Stop it!”

We both laugh, while Ashley’s still pouting. 

“Fine, sorry” Sam continues, giving me the shot glass. I look at her, she’s got a funny look on her face. 

“What is this for?” I ask, taking hold of it and bringing it to my mouth. 

“You seem more present than the rest.” She smiles, nodding to the glass. I drink up, give a grimage and start looking for the lime. 

“There’s no more”, Ashley laughs, and Sam joins her. 

“Asshole”. I move to the kitchen, trying to find some kind of drink to make the shot not come up again. Beth joins me. 

“You look awful”

“Thank you Beth”. She gives me a beer, and I drink it as fast as I can, killing the gross aftertaste. As I look over at her, she gives me a concerning look. I finish up, another bad taste covers my insides, and I run to the sink, feeling like throwing up. 

“Fuck fuck fuck”

“Shit sorry, I didn’t think you would drink that so fast!” Beth exclaims, running to the refrigerator and grabbing some orange juice. As she hands me it, I drink like a feral animal once again, determined to not let this ruin my night. Beth stands behind me, rubbing my back and holding my hair. Just in case. Nothing comes up, and after about three minutes I stand up, giving her a bitch look. 

“Karma’s coming for you Beth, that’s not okay.” She’s still smiling softly at me, whispering for me to follow her. I take her hand, and she leads me to the bathroom. We both sit down on the floor, and I begin to feel my whole body pulsing. Every breath is grand, going to the edge of my fingers. Fuck, I’m going to be sick tomorrow. 

“I wanted to tell you something” she starts, not looking at me. 

“What”

“The others were trying to get you blasted tonight”

“You think I’m naive, of course I know that. Sam never offers alcohol to anyone, and you know how I get”

“Well, yeah. I was kind of in on it”

“I know”, I responded, laughing a little. She looks over at me. 

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not, just fun, I wanted to let a bit loose on this trip”

“You know we have an agenda?” No I didn’t. I look up at her, her face slowly moving to the side, facing me. 

“And what is it?” She looks down in shame, and I get a weird feeling in my stomach. If this has something to do with Jess and Emily, I’m leaving on the spot. 

“Well, notice how Josh is also…”

“A little out of it?”

“Yeah, that”. Something clicks, a switch, a lightbulb, something, and I rapidly stand up. 

“Wait!” I exclaim, suddenly realising. My body is wobbling, and I grab hold of the wall so I don’t fall. Beth follows quickly, hands in the air around me in case I fall. 

“You’re trying to get me with your brother?!” 

“You like him don’t you?”

“Well Yeah"

“And you’re both drunk”

“So?”

“Drinks of bravery?”

“No”

“Yes”

“Absolutely not”, and I turn to leave. I go out in the hall, but she runs past me and corners me. 

“Okay, listen. Maybe this wasn’t the best approach, but don’t let the rest of the night go to waste, we’re having fun. No pressure on that area, okay? You’re just having fun tonight” she explains, a bit panicked. 

I can’t be mad at her, but I roll my eyes and give her a nudge, not feeling if I hit her or not. I grab her hand, and we both go to join the others. I know myself, and no matter how drunk I get, making a move on Josh is NOT something I will do. Ever. 

As we’re walking down the stairs, the people have gathered in the living room. Matt is on his way to the bathroom, walking past us and smiling. Such a sweet guy. We join the others, sitting down with Josh to my left and Emily on my right. Josh leans over. 

“Hey, want to get a smoke” he whispers, probably so Sam doesn’t hear. I look out the window, getting shivers just from seeing the snow. 

“The weather”

“We can do it through a window.” I look at the others, who are clearly busy. Nobody’s watching, and we could probably sneak out. 

“My room” he whispers, before drunkenly getting up, moving like a penguin up the stairs. He walks past Matt, who’s going down. 

“Need help Josh?”

“Do I look like I need help?”

“Yes”

“No I don’t”

Everyone laughs as Josh continues up the stairs. Hannah looks worried, but ultimately starts sipping her drink again. I don’t know how much time has passed before I decide to go. Emily, Jess and Mike went to the kitchen again, but not before drawing a bunch of stuff on Chris’ face. Nobody notices me slipping away, up the stairs and out of reach. 

I walk through the hall. Josh’s room is at the very end. The hall is spinning, doors getting mixed up. I open one of them, walking into a dark room. Makeup is spread throughout every counter, clothes everywhere. This is not Josh’s room. I drunkenly make my way out to the hallway again, noticing a door beside which is slightly ajar. 

As I arrive in Josh's room, his window is open, cold air flying through the room, giving me goosebumps. He turns around when he hears the door close, looking me up and down and smiling. He’s already got a cigarette in his mouth. I smile back, walking towards him. As I reach for the wardrobe to hold for balance, my hand slips. He’s quick to grab my arm, making a grunting sound when pulling me up. He’s got fast reflexes for someone who’s drunk so much. As I get my balance back, he grabs a pack from his pocket, opening it and letting me pull a cigarette out. 

“Got a lighter?” I ask. He smiles, taking the cylinder off my hand and holding it up to my lips. His eyebrows rise, and I take it as a sign to part my lips, leading to him placing cigarette in my mouth. His hand grabs hold of my chin, pulling me closer. He leans over, letting his burning end touch the end of mine. 

“Inhale” he whispers between teeth. I comply, lighting my own through his. I stare up at him, locking eyes. He doesn’t move away. Instead, his thumb shifts from my chin to my lips, caressing lightly. I’m drunk, he’s drunk, we don’t know what we’re doing. I pull away, away from his face and hand. 

“So we didn’t need a lighter” I say, leaning over to the window and blowing the smoke outside. He stands beside me, leaning over so we’re in the same position, arms brushing against each other. 

“You’re cold”, he tells me, looking up worried. His hand moves to my arm, grabbing. He’s warm, too warm. I sigh when he touches me, involuntary. Fuck. I blush, hoping he thinks my redness is due to the cold. 

“I don’t feel it”, I respond. A lie, but it’s okay. I’ll survive. 

“Damn, drank that much?” he says, walking over to the closet. 

“Not my fault”

“Really”, he sounds surprised. Walking back to me, a flannel shirt in hand. 

“The others are plotting” I state, as I put my hands out, letting him put it on me. When he finishes, he doesn’t button it, but leaves it open. 

“Plotting what?”

“Trying to get us together”

“Really? My sisters’ are in it too?”

“At least one of them”

“Shameless people. Trying to get her brother and best friend together”

“Yeah I know” I laugh, turning away and looking out the window once again. I take a few more drags of the cigarette, using too long, making it almost go out. He starts a new conversation. 

“You know, I thought about asking you out once”. I look surprised at him, he has his signature smirk plastered on. It’s my turn to be curious. 

“And?” He turns to me, looking down, I don’t know if he’s looking down my shirt or on my waist. 

“Well, friend group shit. Didn’t want to fuck it up”. My heart falls a bit, a heavy feeling in my chest. 

“Smart choice” I manage to answer. 

“I guess”. He sounds oddly disappointed, and I force myself to be more forward. 

“Especially since I would’ve said yes”

“What?” he asks, taking my cigarette and throwing it out the window. 

“Hey!”

“It was basically out anyway. But are you for real?” he continues, brows furrowed, and hands grabbing my shirt on each side of my waist. My face gets hot, arms wanting to feel him. 

“Yeah-”. Before I’m able to fulfil my answer, he drags me into him, chest to chest, meeting my lips in a sloppy kiss. Shocked, I pull away, walking a few steps back. I still hold onto the counter for balance, looking at him. He’s breathing heavily, a bit surprised by my response, and a little hurt. 

“Sorry, I got the signs wrong” he says, looking down. I take a breath, calming myself. 

“Is this a prank?”

“What”

“Is this a prank?” I say a bit louder, nearly shouting. Probably I am, I just don’t realize it. 

“Why would you think that?” he asks, a bit angry. 

“Because Jess and Emily were talking about some type of prank and people were getting me drunk and-” I ramble, breathing starting to get unsteady. I’m unsure about how to continue. I’m getting dizzy, needing to lay down. Josh notices. As my vision goes blurry, arms take hold of me, quickly moving me to the bed. My head is pounding, but the room doesn’t spin as much anymore. An arm is holding my head up a bit, and I feel a cold glass touch my lips. Instinctively I open my mouth, drinking the whole glass of water. He lays down beside me, and I can feel myself drifting off. 

When I wake up, it’s still dark outside. Josh is sleeping, so I make my way to the bathroom. The nausea is catching up, and I make myself vomit. Several times. Luckily, this means I’ll probably be spared in the morning. My head feels lighter, in a good way. When I’m done, I drink some more water and brush my teeth. I feel refreshed, and a little happy that was it. I don’t need to be stressed about being sick. 

As I walk out in the hallway again, I hear voices downstairs. They’re still up. I look at the clock, and notice I was only out for about half an hour. I decide not to join them. I’ve gotten enough tonight. As I make my way in the hallway, I notice Josh’s door which I didn’t close behind me. I walk over, looking inside. Josh is up, sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands. I walk inside, closing the door behind me. He doesn’t turn. 

“Hey” I say, trying to put on a light tone. 

“Hey”. His voice is emotionless, nothing to analyse, nothing to take from it. I walk over, sitting down in front of him on my knees. He still doesn’t look at me, only right down between his legs. 

“Can we talk?” I ask. He finally lifts his face, looking into my eyes. Before I can begin, he starts. 

“Do you really think I would do something like that?”

“What?”

“Toying with your feelings. Being part of Jess’ and Emily’s schemes?” Now it’s my turn to look down, shame filling my chest. 

“I was so drunk Josh, still am, but I panicked, and spiralled…” I feel a tear run down the corner of my eye. I was not planning on crying, but this night had been more eventful and emotional than most. He doesn’t hesitate to dry them, catching each one with his thumbs. 

“I know, now I’m the one spiralling, sorry” he whispers. I lean forward, hugging him around his waist. He hugs me back. 

“I didn’t mean to pull away”, I explain, not being brave enough to look him in the eyes while confessing. He pulls me away, looking at me. I can’t decipher his face, something hopeful maybe, but not too much. It’s now or never, I must tell him. Before he can ask, I get up, lean forward, and kiss him. He doesn’t back away, instead he grabs my thighs, leading me on top of him, still on the edge of the bed. The kiss is sloppy, as we’re still drunk and a bit dizzy. His hands wander to my waist, grabbing hold of the top of my bottoms. I bite his bottom lip, making him grunt in response. 

“Fuck” he mutters. Grabbing harder, making me gasp. He uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth. I let him. He moves his hands, signalling me to grind on him, and I do. I want him. Bad. My body warms up, the window’s still open, but I can’t feel the cold. As I move on him, he pulls off his own flannel, before dragging my shirt off. I do the same to him. Feeling him up from the lower part of his muscular stomach to his shoulders. My breathing quickens, feeling every curve of his body with my fingertips, trying to memorise it all. He's warm, tense but calm, and I melt into his touch. I lean forward to capture his lips again, and he meets me halfway. I can feel myself getting wetter by the minute, and before I know it, he turns us around, laying my back on the bed, hovering over me. He leans down again, kissing my collar and neck. I can’t help the whines that come out of me. I feel needy, hot. I need him. He stops by my breasts, looking up. 

“Do you want this?” he asks. 

“Yes Josh, please. I want you” 

He smiles in response, and I can’t help but mirror it. 

***

Loud bangs are heard on the door. I wake up with a headache, but luckily no nausea. I poke Josh, making him wake up abruptly, grabbing his head, a painful look on his face. His headache seems worse than mine. 

“Someone’s in the hallway” I say, leaning down and kissing his head. 

“Fuck” he whispers. “Let’s get this over with”

“What is it?” he shouts through the door. 

“Josh, we need you!” I hear Mike shout. “Your sisters are missing!”

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.2  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.3

p.2

AN: Thank you for reading part 2! Again each of these will be around 3k in length. Enjoy!

warnings: i'm putting these here for future chapters too, and ill sprinkle some in as I go. I want to make it clear, there is no underage sex, but later on there will be some more raunchy shit. this is somewhat non-canon compliant-make it up as I go

-ok for the real warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Another

Cleaning had always been second nature to you, a skill drilled into you by your clan as a symbol of discipline and control.

The ways of a proper young lady.

Back then, it had been another way to meet their rigid standards, but now, in Toji’s apartment, it served a different purpose. You weren’t trying to meet anyone’s expectations. It felt more like you were creating a space that felt livable, even comforting. As you scrubbed and tidied, echoes of your clan’s demands lingered in your mind.

Megumi stayed holed up in his room, avoiding you, though you suspected it wasn’t out of rudeness. Maybe he was still figuring you out, testing the waters before deciding how to interact. You couldn't blame him. This was all new and strange for both of you.

As you scrubbed the counters and sorted through laundry, you tried to keep yourself busy, hoping to quiet the restless hum of your thoughts. The spiraling.

But the silence of the apartment only amplified them, leaving you with little to do but reflect.

You thought long and hard about your next move—about what you wanted to do and what you were willing to endure. You hadn’t expected to make it this far, away from the suffocating grip of your clan, away from the ways they’d meticulously instilled into you. This already felt like a step up. 

No one was yelling. No one was crying. And most importantly, no one was punishing you for merely existing. And for once, you could breathe. 

But could you settle here? Could you turn this into a real home? The thought carried a weight you hadn’t anticipated, especially when you considered who you were married to.

Toji Fushiguro.

The infamous thirty-something gambler whose reputation preceded him. His name carried weight—none of it good. You’d only heard whispers about him before, rumors about the "Sorcerer Killer" who couldn’t see curses but had carved a place for himself in a world that didn’t want him. The name he was making for himself wasn’t the kind anyone would aspire to have. And now, he was your husband. Could he truly be better than what you’d left behind?

Marriage had never been a simple thing for people like you. It was a transaction, a tool for power and alliances, not a partnership. You'd settled your thoughts with that. But you couldn’t be sure what kind of man Toji would turn out to be. So far, he was an enigma—evasive, blunt, and not exactly brimming with warmth.

When you first met Toji, you’d been terrified.

His voice, gruff and laced with irritation, felt like a warning in itself, and his towering, muscular frame only added to the daunting image. You hadn’t known what to expect from him—your mind raced with possibilities. Many clan marriages ended in misery. Beaten wives, suffocating restrictions, and vows that served only to bind. The unknown had loomed large that day.

You’d been genuinely shocked when Toji had even shown up to the meeting. After all, he already had a history—a wife before you, a notorious rebellious streak, and a reputation soaked in blood. What had happened to her? The question lingered in your mind, twisting your thoughts into a frantic swirl as you tried to piece together what kind of man he was and what exactly you might be walking into. Not that you had much of a choice.

To your relief, he left shortly after the meeting, without forcing himself on you or issuing a set of suffocating rules. But even without his demands, you already knew your place. How could you not? The weight of the clan’s expectations had been drilled into you for as long as you could remember.

Still, the questions remained.

Could you trust him? Could he truly protect you from the very people who had pushed you into this marriage? Or would he become like the others you’d seen—the cruel, controlling men who treated their wives as tools, not partners? For now, all you could do was wait and hope.

If things got sticky, you could run. But the thought terrified you. Your clan wasn’t known for letting their investments go so easily.  They had their motives, their expectations for you, and you knew better than to think they’d let you walk away unscathed. The marriage was a tool to them, a means to an end, and the moment you stopped being useful, they wouldn’t hesitate to dissolve it.

The questions would start soon if you didn’t make an appearance at the estate for a ‘visit.’ You’d have to come up with something to keep them satisfied, a way to buy yourself more time. But would it be enough? You weren’t about to stoop to spying, but maybe if you offered them the bare minimum, it could hold them off. Still, you knew the risk. The moment they decided you weren’t fulfilling your purpose, they’d drag you back.

Back to the suffocating walls of their estate. Back to the life you’d fought so hard to escape. Back to another arranged marriage—this time, likely to someone far worse. Someone who wouldn’t tolerate even a shred of independence. The thought was unbearable, and yet, the fear of that possibility clung to you like a shadow, refusing to let go.

You had no illusions about what they were capable of. They’d find you. They’d make an example of you. You’d seen it happen before—to women who had dared to defy their place, who had tried to escape. The consequences were always swift, brutal, and served as a warning to others.

The only thing keeping you from that fate was this house.

Toji.

For all his flaws, for all the uncertainty that surrounded him, Toji was the barrier between you and the life you so desperately wanted to escape. The clan couldn’t touch you here—not while you were under his roof. His name and infamous reputation were enough to keep them at bay for now. But what about when he left the clan for good? You’d heard it whispered countless times—how he’d distanced himself, how he was already one step out the door.

So why had he even agreed to this marriage? It didn’t serve him. If anything, it seemed like another chain, another tie he’d likely resent. What had convinced him to take on a responsibility that did him no favors?

The thought nagged at you as you clung to the fragile sense of safety he unknowingly provided. As much as you despised the precariousness of your situation, you couldn’t ignore that he was the only thing keeping the clan’s shadow from falling over you entirely.

For now, you had to play the game carefully. Toji was unpredictable, but at least he wasn’t actively cruel. You’d take your chances with him over returning to the hell you’d left behind.

Still, he hadn’t returned, yet. When would he come home?  Sure it'd only been a day, but...

Would he even explain what this arrangement meant for you both, or just leave you to figure it out on your own? Would he have a list of rules like your clan house? Would you have expectations to sleep with him? You let out a sigh, feeling the weight of uncertainty press heavier on your shoulders. The hours were dragging. 

When lunchtime rolled around, you prepared food for both yourself and Megumi. Doubling the portions, you were glad he was starting to warm up to you, even if only slightly. Knocking softly on his door, you waited for a moment before it creaked open.

Megumi stood there, his expression unreadable as usual, but he took the plate with a small nod. “Thanks,” he muttered before retreating back into his room, the door closing firmly behind him.

So, you ate alone.

It wasn’t the solitude that stung the most—it was the familiarity of it. Sitting at the quiet table, your thoughts drifted to the countless meals you’d eaten alone back at the clan house. Sure this home was better than your previous, yet the echoes of those days crept back in, uninvited, and settled heavily in your chest. You’d thought leaving that life behind would make things different, that here, in this little apartment, you could find something resembling peace.

But for now, the silence was deafening.

You reminded yourself to remember that this was better and you needed to be patient. Megumi wasn’t cruel or rude—just guarded. He was still so young, still figuring out his place in all of this. And maybe, you thought, you needed to adjust to him just as much as he needed to adjust to you.

So, you cleared your plate, brushed off the dull ache settling in your chest, and told yourself that this was temporary. It was just a matter of time.

Later in the day, you decided to step out for groceries. The apartment was practically empty, the fridge holding little more than condiments and a few questionable leftovers. You couldn’t fathom how Toji and Megumi had been surviving off such meager scraps.  You’d noticed the state of things your first day there, picking up a few essentials just to scrape by. But today, you decided it was time to stock up properly.

Standing by the front door, you hesitated for a moment, glancing toward Megumi’s room. A small part of you debated whether to ask him to come along. It might have been nice to have the company, and perhaps the outing could bridge some of the growing gap between you. But you quickly pushed the thought aside.

He was just a kid, and this wasn’t his responsibility. It was yours. You were the one trying to build a home here, the one who had stepped into this precarious role.

With a quiet sigh, you grabbed your shopping list and headed out the door. It wasn’t a long walk to the nearby market, but as you made your way down the street, a faint unease crept over you. You couldn’t help but think back to your clan and their constant monitoring.

By the time you returned, your arms were weighed down with bags. Maybe you’d gotten carried away, but everything seemed so necessary. Stumbling through the front door, you dumped the bags onto the counter with a relieved sigh.

Megumi peeked out from the doorway, alerted by the sound. “You’re back?”

“Yeah,” you said, turning slightly to smile at him, still catching your breath. “Got some food for tonight.”

He frowned, his gaze shifting to the hefty bags on the counter.

“Didja walk all this back yourself?”

“Mhmm,” you replied with a small hum, stretching your back before reaching to start putting things away.

Before you could even grab the first item, Megumi stepped into the kitchen, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he gently nudged you aside. “Go rest. I’ll put it ‘way,” he muttered, his voice low and rough around the edges, but without any real bite.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected offer, but decided not to argue. Instead, you took a seat at the kitchen table, watching him move around the room. His movements were deliberate and efficient as he pulled items from the bags. He inspected each one carefully, as though weighing its importance before putting it into its proper place.

For a moment, you forgot the weight of everything else and simply watched. Megumi, for all his prickliness, had his own way of showing appreciation—even if he didn’t say it out loud. It was hard not to notice how much care he put into something so simple. He still reminded you of a grumpy old cat—aloof, guarded, but with moments of surprising thoughtfulness. There was something endearing about it, about him. A small giggle escaping you as the thought crossed your mind.

Megumi glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his tone flat, though the faint red at the tips of his ears betrayed his irritation.

“Nothing,” you replied with a light chuckle, a small smile playing on your lips. “Just thinking about how teenagers can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“Stubborn?” he repeated, his tone edged with skepticism. “I’m not stubborn. You’re acting like I’m some little kid or something.”

The amused smile tugging at your lips only grew as you tilted your head at him. “Well, aren’t you? Just a little bit, maybe?”

His scowl deepened, and the flush on his cheeks darkened, the faint hint of embarrassment making him look even more endearing. “I’m not a kid. I’m almost fourteen,” he muttered, his voice firm, though it teetered dangerously close to a pout.

You chuckled, unable to resist teasing him just a bit more. He was too cute when he got ruffled. “Fourteen, huh? Practically a grown-up. My bad.”

Megumi’s gaze darted away briefly before snapping back to you, his tone quieter but still holding a note of defiance. “You’re not that much older than me. You’re what? Sixteen?”

His words startled a laugh out of you, and you shook your head, unable to hide your amusement. “Sixteen? Try eighteen, Megumi. I’m officially an adult, thank you very much.”

His eyes widened slightly at the revelation before narrowing again, as if processing the information. “Eighteen?” he muttered under his breath, his skepticism clear. “You don’t look eighteen.”

Feigning offense, you straightened your posture. “Well, I am,” you said with mock indignation. “And as the adult here, I think I get to call you a kid.”

Megumi huffed, crossing his arms as the faint pink tint spread to his ears. “You don’t act like an adult,” he mumbled, quieter this time. “You’re more like a bossy older sister.”

That made you grin even wider. Was that supposed to be an insult? Because it only made him sound more adorable. “Bossy older sister, huh? I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He avoided your gaze, pretending to focus on folding one of the empty grocery bags. “Take it however you want,” he muttered, his tone clipped, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said playfully. “But I’m still older than you, and that makes you the kid, like it or not.”

Megumi frowned but didn’t argue further. Instead, he busied himself with the counter, his lips pressed into a firm line. “I’m not a kid,” he mumbled again, though the conviction in his voice had softened.

You raised your hands in mock surrender, your tone kind and teasing. “Alright, alright. You’re not a kid. You’re a very mature almost-fourteen-year-old. Better?”

He didn’t respond right away, but the faint blush lingering on his cheeks gave him away. Turning his attention back to the counter, he muttered, “Whatever,” though the twitch at the corner of his mouth told you he wasn’t entirely annoyed.

You leaned back in your chair, watching him with a mix of fondness and curiosity. Megumi had a way of endearing himself without even realizing it. His insistence on not being treated like a kid, the way he tried to act older than he was—it was all so very… Megumi-esque. And you hadn't even know the kid for long. Not even a day.

“You know,” you said gently, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to rush to grow up so fast. Fourteen—or almost fourteen—is a good age to just… be.”

Megumi glanced at you, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if to challenge your words, but there was no real bite in his expression. “I’m not rushing anything,” he said after a pause, his tone quieter, more thoughtful. “I just don’t want to be treated like some helpless kid.”

Now that got your attention. You tilted your head, your smile softening. “I don’t think you’re helpless, Megumi. Not at all. I just think it’s okay to let people care about you sometimes. It doesn’t make you less grown-up.”

He didn’t reply, his gaze flickering back to the counter, but you could see the wheels turning in his head. And then there was the way he lingered. The groceries were already put away, yet he didn’t leave. He didn’t know why he stayed. Maybe he didn’t want to admit it. But his actions spoke louder than words ever could: maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind you being there after all. Psycho-ex of his dads or otherwise.

While making dinner, Megumi hovered close to your elbows, his dark eyes following your every movement with quiet intensity. He didn’t say a word, but his focus was unwavering, soaking in every detail. Your cooking so far had been phenomenal. Enough to make the kid jealous. He wanted to learn, that much was clear—wanted to memorize the steps, the measurements, the little techniques you used. You had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t just curiosity. 

His silence didn’t bother you. If anything, it gave you the perfect opportunity to chatter away, filling the room with a one-sided conversation that you hoped wasn’t entirely unwelcome. You explained every step meticulously, breaking it down like a cooking show. Megumi didn’t interrupt or huff at you. Instead, he absorbed it all like a sponge, his head tilting slightly when you mentioned something new.

“Toji must not be much of a cook,” you remarked at one point, glancing at him with a teasing smile. His lips twitched upward for the briefest moment, a ghost of a smile that made your chest tighten with warmth. Even when you explained the most basic things, like how to dice an onion properly, Megumi listened as though it were the most important lecture of his life.

The thought made you pause for a moment. It made sense—Megumi was still young, and cooking had always been considered a woman’s role in traditional clan life. And considering Toji’s seemingly chaotic lifestyle and the lack of a maternal figure, it was no wonder this felt new to him.

Still, the conversation flowed a little easier that evening. Each fleeting moment of ease melted your heart a little more. You were already developing a soft spot for the kid, despite his grumpy attitude. That much was obvious. You hadn’t had many interactions with children back at the clan estate—everything there had been too rigid, too suffocating for anything resembling normal relationships. So this, the tentative beginnings of friendship, felt… nice.

But even in those moments, there was still a frigid layer of distance he maintain between you two—a protective barrier he refused to let you pass. Distrusting, yes, but not beyond reach. He was still trying to figure you out, sizing you up, before deciding whether you were even worth the effort of trusting.

Why the hell was this kid so frosty? Was it Toji? The absence of a mother? Or something else entirely? You weren’t sure, but the guarded way Megumi carried himself—the abrasiveness, the defensive huffiness—stirred something in you.

You’d seen plenty of kids like him back in the clan house. Some were cold and indifferent, their walls impenetrable. Others carried arrogance like armor, wielding it to hide their insecurities. But the ones who stayed with you—the ones who truly stuck in your memory—were those too weak to defend themselves, cast aside for showing too much emotion. Beaten into shape. Megumi wasn’t like that, obviously. But the thought of him enduring anything similar made you feel...protective.

When you finally sat down to eat, the food turned out fantastic. Megumi, ever stoic, simply nodded in approval as he ate, but you caught the way his chopsticks moved a little faster than usual, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.

“Not bad, right?” you teased lightly, hoping to draw a reaction from him.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours for a fleeting second before he mumbled, “It’s good.” Another almost-smile.

It was your second day in and you were starting to feel like this wasn't such a bad arrangement.

p.3?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

[smoochi-march]

Sunkissed - Aloe

Fields of Mistria | March x F Reader

Summery | A flustered March get's accused of earning his fair share of sunburns, in reality, it may be a mixture of minor burns along with his inevitable embarrassment.

Warnings | Overly Fluffy!

Word Count | 2566

“…I’m convinced you have no clue what you’re doing.”

March grumbled and sat at his work desk begrudgingly with his usual scowl. Brows furrowed, he’d bite his lower lip impatiently. Stealing glances towards you, his knuckles digging into his cheek while leaning over his workstation inside, the space impressively tidy. Sat with his arm propped up on the top of his desk, allowing him a vision of you close by all while allowing him to hide his face easily.

“…and I’m convinced you have no faith in me.”

You’d argue playfully, sorting through several pieces of equipment in your bag. Tossing some odds n’ ends aside, clearly in search of something specific.

“I don’t… can I continue my work? If you haven’t noticed already, I have a routine that you’re interrupting.”

March hated waiting, how’d he end up here, to begin with? Why was it he could never argue against you? He had remained the very definition of all bark, no bite. With you specifically, and it frustrated him to no end. It was always you. You, you, you. He hated to admit it, but he was wrapped around your finger.

Before this whole situation, he had been hammering away at his station…

It was significantly brighter today where most would rush towards Mistria’s beach in their favorite swimwear. He didn’t have the time for that, however, no matter how much he desired to lay off the work and relax. It's not that he disliked his job, it was anything but that. Left with a stockpile of requests, the mass majority being boring small projects such as bolts and nails, that was the problem. Tools to sharpen, all basic level blacksmithing. At this point, he’s itching for a harder task, something to test his unmatched skills… all the trophies in his bedroom prove that fact is more than a self-claim.

“Good morning, March! I’m about to head out for the mines, is there any ore in specific you’d like? Copper? Iron? Silver?”

A familiar voice beamed from behind him, halting any further action as he snapped out of his previous thought process. He’d immediately recognize the voice, after all, it was you. You, you, you. How much he'd give to see that smile of yours by his side at night, not just these brief mornings before you part ways.

“Morning.”

He’d respond nonchalantly, lifting an arm to his forehead to block the incoming rays of sun from his eyes. Turning his body around, he’d noticed just how close in proximity you had been to him.

“W-What the hell?- what’re you doing?”

He’d lean back against the anvil, glaring at you as you’d suddenly lift both your hands to his cheeks. Delicate hands cradle his face sweetly, so light it could be mistaken for a pair of feathers brushing over his inflamed skin. He made several attempts to create some distance between the two of you, but you seemed insistent on whatever you had intended to do. Your eyes analyzing him closely,

“…have you been working all morning? You’re pink.”

Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, so close he could feel your breath fan against his face. Further fanning the flames beneath his skin,

“Of course I was. Is there a problem with that?”

You’d raise your chin with furrowed brows, you always were the one unafraid of their expression, huh? He'd catch himself on these thoughts, clearing his throat to focus on the initial task.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t be working outside in this heat, look… you’re burning up!”

He’d turn his head away, only for your hand to guide him back to face you once more. Glaring daggers at you only to lose that sharp gaze, faltering, he’d let out a defeated sigh. Eyes closing before shifting to relocate anywhere but in your own, when have you gotten so beautiful? Or perhaps you always have been. Either way, he’d allow you to follow through with your concerned actions, not without his grunts or grumbles of disapproval. You knew better than to trust his words, his body language giving him away.

He may end it all if a single person catches wind of this interaction,

March was used to experiencing higher elements of heat, ignorant towards the clear sign of his skin losing its battle against the sun. So caught up in his work, he now had your hands brushing over his cheeks, before lowering down his neck... trailing towards his shoulders, and lifting his arms for him to take note of his burns.

"March, look. Please? You're burnt."

You'd realize your words may have been too firm, softening quickly after to smooth over any misunderstanding. He always took care of himself, his brother, and those around him. But found himself needing the help this time,

"You're making this a bigger deal than it has to be, you act like you haven't had a burn in your time working on the farm."

Sparing you a disapproving look, he'd then take in the true tenderness you held. He didn't mean to concern you, he'll have to take better care of himself to avoid you getting in a position like this again... Your eyes glimmer, only to be overcome by a passing cloud beneath the sun. Your face naturally flushed as a response to the heat, those lips of yours so close and parted ever so slightly. Drawing him in.

"Get inside, I'll be back."

Your thumbs gently caress his skin absentmindedly, hesitating to let go, he'd notice this. Hesitant to pull away as well, the couple now staring away from each other bashfully, unable to let go. They were left at a stalemate.

He's unsure exactly how long he stood there with you in silence, being the one to wear his signature frown.

"What about your trip to the mines?"

You'd raise a brow, tilting your head as you step away from him. Pivoting on your foot, hiding your expression from his gaze. He then could notice how your hands clasp each other behind your back, fidgeting nervously. What caused this anxiety? Was it him? The idea of work?

"It can wait, be right back! You better be inside once I've returned, if I catch you breathing next to that anvil of yours I'll nag you all summer."

March rolled his eyes, using the spare back of his hand to feel the warmth in his cheeks. It may have started as sunburns, his sun-kissed skin is rosy like the flowers you had first-ever gifted him when you situated in town... but you were certainly more dangerous than the sun ever was.

"...you already do."

He learned to love that about you.

"Ah ha!"

You'd exclaim with a sense of accomplishment, lifting yourself and waltzing towards March who behaved like an unimpressed teenager. Eye scanning over your body, landing on the tiny bottle in your hand.

"What is that?"

This question wouldn't receive an immediate answer. Watching you squeeze the bottle, popping the cap off... a green gelatin substance now pressed against your palm.

"Aloe Vera. I bought some the other day from Balor,"

Before he could speak, you'd ask another question. He didn't hear what you said. Lost in his world the closer you got, it was pathetic. Biting back his tongue, he'd nod his head to whatever you said. Gaining a smile in return, you'd rub your hands together, spreading the Aloe in your hands. Soon reaching to grasp his face again, making him flinch at the cool temperature.

"-I thought you'd put up more of a fight, y'know. I appreciate it, March. You know... for all you do at the forge for Mistria."

Voice rendering as uncharacteristically mother-like, his eyes shut with ease. Finding pleasure in your fingers working the aloe into his skin, rubbing his cheeks in a circular motion. His face had begun to cool down in a matter of seconds,

"Don't mention it, there's no need to concern yourself over trivial matters like a slight burn."

March huffed, eyes fluttering open when he'd feel your motions stop at the bridge of his nose, upon hearing his words. He couldn't tell whether or not he enjoyed the contrast in temperature, a battle between the soothing gel against his flustered face.

"Your health is not trivial. Take that back, ...Idiot."

You'd playfully pinch his cheek, making him hiss in pain, and smack your hand away from his face lightly.

The tingling sensation of Aloe is evident as ever on his skin, this felt strangely... intimate. He's had Olric help him apply sunscreen when he was young where he couldn't reach, but, never a woman so generously offered to ease his pain... he still didn't believe it was important, still allowing you the satisfaction in helping.

"Tch. Yes ma'am."

The small talk would come to a close, his eyelids weighing down. He'd feel your body shift next to him. Their hands met his broad shoulders, beginning to massage them with newly applied gel. Small groans escaping the man, fuck it felt good. Your hands were like magic, his body melting at your wake, finely shaped like putty in your hands. His tension was immense, you wished nothing more than to help. Stretching out his muscles, You were no professional, but he enjoyed your actions thus far.

The silence was comfortable, time slowing with each pressure applied by your steady hands.

“This should help with your recovery, want me to leave the Aloe with you? I’m sure you could use it for future use.”

Your voice fissured a crack in the silence, bringing a smile to his face. Faint, a mere ghost of what it could be. Hidden from your sight,

“Sure.”

March would hear you hum in response, tilting her head back in an attempt to make eye contact with you. Only for those eyes to widen with your face hovering directly above his. Both party’s eyes were wide, unable to look away from the other this time. The way your hands were situated on his bare shoulders, your face hovering above his… it all felt right. Tilting his head further back, he’d raise an arm. His hand makes its way to your cheek, hesitant, but progressive.

“…why go through all this trouble?”

March's voice held a share of his vulnerability, an expression masked behind his nonchalant attitude for far too long. Here, marks the beginning of an end. Or, so the two of you can hope. Old habits are a tough pill to swallow, to process, and to accept. To embrace.

“Trouble? I see no trouble in supporting the one I…”

You’d begin, struggling to continue your original sentence. Was this going a step too far?

“-the one you..?”

He’d inquire, no sign of his previous smile. Rubbing it off to hide beneath a mask once more, unable to express himself openly to you comfortably.

March’s attempt to lower his hand from your cheek results in failure, due to the grasp of your hand on top of his. Holding it in place, your eyes shimmering like the beautiful jewels you’d donate to the museum…

“The one I care for, of course.”

March felt his heart flutter, observing how your body language evolved. His hand trapped against your cheek, he couldn’t help but feel a subtle blush rise to his face. The aloe stood no chance of keeping him cool at this rate,

“I- I see.”

Silence.

He couldn’t bear it much longer, unsure whether or not they had been crossing the line between comfortable silence or a tense air.

You couldn’t help but press your cheek deeper within the palm of his hand, it was large, calloused, and long due for an easy day's work. Something you were capable of granting him if only he’d allow it.

“I like you.”

What?

“Like, I like you, March.”

It was all so sudden he could hardly process all you had said. Silenced by your lips that pressed themselves against the back of his hand. It was as if his eyes were opened, he watched as all the colors surrounding them became significantly more vibrant. Hyper aware of the position you put them in.

The unwillingness to leave him be, despite such a common injury… the lack of materials on hand to venture through the mines in your bag. Had this been your intention all along? Did you lie about the mines? Using it as a segue to get closer to him? He’d never experienced such a scene. Not just anybody was confessing, no, it was far greater. It was…

You.

“T-Think about it, kay’?”

You’d lend him a toothy grin, your blush rivaling his burnt cheeks. You had finally done it, you confessed to him. With all the anxiety rushing through your veins, you brush his bangs out from his eyes, feeling his thumb caress your cheek you forced him to hold. His expression was more visible than ever before, no longer safeguarded beneath his bangs, all due to how he sat on his stool, neck craned back as he looked up at you from a flipped perspective.

“…say that again?”

His voice was quiet, uncertain. However, you wrote that off as your imagination. Your eyes admire his body, the way his skin shines after your massage, the Aloe glistening with each curve of his muscle. His fluffy red hair lost some of its color while the black roots made themselves clear, he'd no doubt dye them again this coming Saturday.

“I like you, March.”

Following through with his request as you would any other time,

“…again.”

Again. He requested, and you delivered. A gentle smile permanently embedded on your face, allowing his hand to fall from your cheek.

“March, I like you-“

Willing to stroke his ego, you wrap your arms around him. Leaning against his back, your chin resting on his shoulder, not applying too much pressure. Worried you may harm him by pressing on the burns,

"If this is a joke, I swear I-”

He’d grumble, feeling you rest your head aside against his. Listening to the comforting sound of your breathing, losing the ability to speak.

“…of course not. For someone as confident as you are in your achievements, you sure are insecure. Not that I mind, I'll remind you that nobody holds a candle to you March...”

Following your words with proof of your legitimacy, you’d sneak your way closer to his body, your breath brushing against his cheek sending a shiver down his spine. You begin pressing your lips against his sun-kissed cheek, a featherlike attack directed toward his heart.

"...Y-you aren't so bad yourself. I guess... no, you're actually... never mind, forget it. Quit it, we'll never hear the end of it if somebody walks in on us." He'd find the strength to press a hand against your face, forcing your lips off his body, tensing up as you'd soon follow his words up with a hushed whisper in his ear. "-Can we take this to your bedroom then? if the idea of getting caught is all that concerns you..."

You'd ask genuinely, laughing as he'd struggle to look in your direction. Feeling as if you'd tighten your embrace around him, returning your nose back in the crook of his neck.

"...shut up."

Neither of you would say a word afterward, basking in each other's presence. Whether it was by choice, or you rendered the inexperienced blacksmith speechless. You were confident he liked you too, despite not saying it verbally.

[insidekatmind]

Between Friends and Feelings- Pope Heyward and JJ Mayback (love triangle)

The light of the sunset reflected on the waves of the sea, creating games of golden and blue light, while the cool wind gently brushed your skin. It was a quiet evening, a little different from usual, but you knew something was about to happen. The sun was slowly setting behind the hills, and you were sitting on the beach, your legs crossed in the warm sand, trying to relax. But something in the air felt different, and you knew it. Things were changing.

JJ and Pope had always been a part of your life. There had never been a time when one of them wasn’t by your side, though lately, their behavior toward you had changed. While once they were happy being just friends, now there seemed to be a silent competition between them. You couldn’t ignore it, even though you tried not to think about it too much.

"You like watching the sunset, right?" JJ said, breaking your thoughts. You turned and saw him approaching, his mischievous smile still present, but there was something different in his eyes, an intensity you couldn’t ignore.

"Yeah, it’s my favorite spot. I told you it would be nice to watch the sunset together, didn’t I?" you replied, trying to sound natural. But the truth was, his gaze was unsettling, as if he wanted to say something to you that you weren’t ready to understand yet.

Not long after, Pope arrived, and you immediately noticed that his posture was more tense than usual. His eyes, always calm and observant, weren’t quite the same. He was looking at you differently, as if he was searching for something you couldn’t define.

"You're here watching the sea too?" Pope asked, his tone calm but with a hint of nervousness that didn’t escape you. "I thought you’d prefer being in the city, with the music and the crowd."

"Even though I like having fun, sometimes it’s nice to be alone, you know?" you replied, trying to keep your composure.

The two of them sat down next to you, but the atmosphere had shifted. It wasn’t the usual company of friends sharing laughs and stories. There was an underlying tension that you couldn’t ignore, and you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Then JJ spoke again.

"You know, there’s something special about you," he said, his voice lower, as if he wanted to tell you something he had been holding back. "I’m not saying this just because we’re friends, but really, you’re unique. I don’t understand how anyone could not notice."

Your heart beat faster. It wasn’t the first time he had said it, but this time he seemed more serious, more sincere. The way he was looking at you made you uneasy, but at the same time, it made you feel an energy you couldn’t explain.

Pope took a deep breath, as if trying to decide whether or not to say something. "Yeah, but sometimes I think it’s easier to see all of this when you’re not so focused on yourself. Sometimes I think people don’t really see you," he said, looking you in the eyes with a certain intensity.

"I know you care about me, Pope," you replied, trying to understand what he was getting at. "But I don’t see how this fits into... everything else."

"It’s just hard not to notice you," he said, in a soft voice. "And I feel like you’ve always been more than just a friend to me. But maybe that’s just my head making me think that..."

His gaze was sincere, but also filled with something unspoken. His admiration for you was clear, but the fact that he hadn’t been able to tell you exactly what he was feeling made you uneasy.

JJ, seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, spoke up immediately. "Don’t worry too much, Y/N," he said, trying to calm you down. "I don’t want to make you nervous. It’s just that... sometimes I think we should be more honest with ourselves, with what we feel. We can’t always hide behind jokes and laughter."

And right then, the silence that had settled between you all became heavy. You knew there was a tension none of you three seemed able to face. Your mind raced, trying to understand what was really happening. You had always cared for JJ and Pope, but now you felt like something more was emerging.

The sunset was now fading, but the dying light only heightened the confusion you felt. The two boys were there, next to you, but their gazes on you were too intense. You didn’t know how to respond.

"Y/N..." Pope whispered, moving closer slowly. "I don’t want to lose you as a friend, but there’s something I can’t ignore anymore. I..."

JJ interrupted him, laughing nervously. "Pope, not now, come on," he said, but his smile didn’t seem as spontaneous. "We need to be honest with her, right? We can’t keep hiding what we feel."

Their eyes met for a moment, and you realized words weren’t necessary anymore. The tension between them, and your uncertainty, had reached a breaking point. Everything that had gone unsaid between you was finally coming to the surface.

[amethystpath-writes]

Could you please write a story where a fae and a human have been friends for about a year. However, the human finds out what the fae is, and freaks out, thinking the fae is toying with him or wanting to make him his servant or something. When in reality, the fae had always watched humanity from afar, and just wanted to play along to see what it was like to have genuine friends?

Always excited to see you in my inbox, love! <3

Listening to Stars

******

"You lied to me?" The human's voice cracked, and the fae felt the emotion like a whip.

"I would never," he responded, void of tone. It took control from the fae, to not respond how he wanted. To cry, or to yell, or to do anything with an overtly amount of emotion. He wanted to say, 'I would never lie to you; I can't,' but that felt like rubbing the fact in his friend's face.

"I never said I was human," he said instead, and instantly came to regret it. Rather than stopping while he was ahead, and possibly keeping his friend, the fae continued. "I wanted a friend! A real one. The fae..." He looked at his feet, not able to look the human in its eyes, then shook his head. "The fae are full of trickery and deceit. I didn't- I can't be friends with them."

The human could only scoff in return, obviously hurt by the fae boy, hurt that the fae would keep this a secret for so long. "You think I don't know your ways? That I haven't been warned all my life of the games you play?" He muttered to himself in the next moment. "A year. A whole year." It was surely meant for the human's ears only, but the fae heard it and wondered if his freind wasn't upset at himself as much as him for being fooled. Not fooled. I wasn't tricking him.

"Of course," the human started again, "a year is just a blink of the eyes to you. How many of you were in on this?"

"In on...this wasn't some elaborate plan!" The fae felt a heat like fire rise to the tips of his ears. "You all think we have the answer to everything, don't you? That our magic makes us so knowledgeable that we're bored and turn to trickery to entertain ourselves."

"Sounds about right."

Heat spread to the fae's hands as he clenched them in tight fists. He wasn't sure exactly what he was mad at. It could have been himself for hiding this secret for so long, ruining any chance of continuing to be friends with the human. If he had been transparent from the start, this moment could have been avoided. Then again, how could he blame himself when it was at the rest of the fae which created this perception of their entire race.

“What will it take?”

“What?”

“What will it take for you to believe me?”

Thinking, the human squinted. “Show me what you really look like.”

What he looked like? “And what would that prove?”

“Nothing, I just want to see.”

He didn’t change his appearance. It would just confirm his likeness to his human friend and push him away even more. “I’m not going to-”

The human shrugged. “I guess I’ll be going then. Have fun tricking the next”- he gasped.

Pale blue skin, freckles like stars, and a wicked point of the ear.

“So, can you really read the stars like they say?”

“Read them?” The fae’s brow lifted, and for two reasons. One, reading the stars? What did that even mean? Two, he expected a larger reaction from his friend, with all his demanding and suggesting there was so much distrust between the two of them.

“Yeah, like a book. They say fae can hear the stars, the stories of their creation and demise.”

A rumour. Humans loved to make those about the fae. Then again, this wasn’t the worst one he’d ever heard them spread.

“I thought you hated my kind. Now all of a sudden you want to know if we can speak to the stars?”

“Listen, not speak. You can hear their stories, but they don’t respond. The fae have their limits,” the human boy explained.

“Fae can’t hear the stars!” What an elaborate lie to create about something the humans know nothing about. “Your kind fears mine and here you are saying we talk- listen- to the stars? What do you even know of fae that’s true?”

A new argument sparked. “And what have you heard of humans?” Or so the human boy thought. He expected his friend to say something about pitchforks and torches or maybe even the fights that break out in pig pins, outside of village inns.

“I heard you make music. That you hold balls just to sway to said music and that there are people who specialise in twirly clothes. There are others that specialise in decor, plates of would coloured with berries or little…what did she call them?”

“She?” the human interrupted.

Memories flitted across the fae’s mind, but he kept his answer simple. “There was a girl, years ago, that ventured to our borders. The others fooled her into walking the way she came, but I followed her to a human town. She was a friend.” He stopped for a moment, looked the human boy in his eyes. “I did trick you, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t deceive you with magic. I knew your kind already. You make better friends than what the fae do.”

The anger from before melted away, and in its place was a melancholic blanket. It shrouded the fae boy’s mind, draped against his shoulders, and stained his teeth as he spoke.

“We can say goodbye now,” the fae said. “I won’t expect to see you again.”

“Your friend from before, do I know her?”

He didn’t expect the human boy’s to ask. In all honestly, he wished he wouldn’t have. “You did.” The pain he felt thinking about her was almost too much. At times, he would remember the human boy’s relation to her. At these times, the fae would make an excuse to go home, then hide somewhere deep in the woods so his own mind wouldn’t find him. They didn’t know about his relationship with the humans, but they knew something was odd.

“As in ‘used to?’ Was she from my village?”

“Your home,” he specified. “Do you remember the kid that visited your home, a friend of your sister’s?”

The human boy’s brows drew together, confused at the change of subject, no doubt. “When she was alive, yes. He was visiting his relative in another nearby village. Did you know them both?”

Nodding, the fae explained, “I knew her. I was him.”

Crickets chimed around the two of them, reminding both of the setting sun.

“It’s getting dark. I should go home before…anything happens.”

“The wolves don’t touch these woods.” But he understood. He hid beneath a guise, then did it all over again. “Take your time. I’ll be listening to the stars in the meanwhile. You can raise your torches and pitchforks.” He smiled as he caught the human’s eyes.

“So you don’t listen to the stars. You listen to my mind.”

“Only the second time I’ve done it, actually, but we’ll talk another time. Go home, friend.”

[maxdibert]

Do you think Snape was bullied or atleast treated poorly by students other than Janes and Sirius? How do you think people generally viewed him?

“Well, canonically no other people are mentioned, and I suppose if they had been, something would’ve come up. Or not, because Rowling can be pretty lacking when it comes to certain details, but oh well. I don’t think anything happened to him at his house because we know Lucius always viewed him favorably, and the fact that Severus adapted to the character and ways of the Slytherins of his time likely shielded him from being mistreated. That’s something I attribute to a large part of his eventual involvement with the Death Eaters.

However, I also don’t think his peers made much effort to defend him from others, because if they had, I’m pretty sure the bullying he suffered from James and Sirius wouldn’t have escalated as much as it did. I can imagine the Gryffindors probably egged on the Marauders against him out of loyalty and because they were the most popular students in their house. I don’t think they actively went after him themselves, but they probably cheered the others on or applauded when they started to humiliate him.

Honestly, I don’t see the Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws getting involved in that kind of nonsense, but I also don’t see them stopping it. They strike me more as silent spectators who didn’t want to get involved in conflicts and just turned a blind eye. Some might’ve thought it was funny, others might not have, but probably no one interfered.

What I’m pretty certain about is that, overall, everyone likely thought he was an outcast and unpleasant. Probably, aside from the Slytherins, no one dared approach him out of fear that associating with him might also make them targets of James and Sirius. This happens a lot with victims of bullying: their bullies manage to isolate them from others by creating a sense of danger for anyone who tries to approach or befriend the victim. As a result, the victim becomes increasingly excluded from their environment, making it easier to attack them while also progressively eroding their self-esteem.

[gwynrielshappyendings]

Sultry Solstice Snippet

Graphic created by @sadiegirl2021

Four more days!!

Follow @gwynrielshappyendings on Tumblr for more facts, polls, fic snippets, and other debaucherous holiday fun!

The Rhythm of Need by AnnyRhale

Gwyn’s breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked with his. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw as he looked at her, and a faint flush beneath his eyes that matched the heat in her own cheeks. His eyes flicked over her, taking in her bare shoulders above the water, the tops of her bare breasts, her hair clinging damply to her skin, her parted lips. She knew she should look away, that she should say something to break the tension. But she couldn’t bring herself to move, and the air between them thickened with every passing second.

Read more under the cut!

He should turn away, she thought. He was her superior—her partner. This moment teetered dangerously close to crossing a line they both knew existed. But he didn’t move, his gaze lingering as though he, too, couldn’t look away.

Forcing herself to swallow, Gwyn found her voice, though it came out barely above a whisper. “Azriel…”

“I…” She hesitated, not sure what to say. How could she possibly explain what he had just witnessed? She pulled her hand away from between her legs and used both to cover her breasts. The heat in her cheeks rose, her body still buzzing with the sensations she had stirred within herself. Yet, as mortified as she felt, she couldn’t bring herself to break their gaze.

Azriel’s eyes softened further, though his expression held a trace of hesitation. He reached for something to say, his words slow and careful. “I didn’t mean to… intrude.”

****

Gwyn swallowed, the warmth pooling through her veins as she held Azriel’s gaze, “You can join me…if you want.” The words slipped from her lips, barely louder than a whisper, her breathy tone making her shiver, even as the hot water soothed her skin.

Azriel’s gaze darkened, and he exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the crisp air as he met her eyes. “I don’t have anything on…underneath,” he murmured, his voice low, each word wrapping around her like a promise.

She could barely get the words out, her voice soft as she managed, “I won’t look.”

****

“Come here.” His voice was a command, quiet but firm, and Gwyn felt herself moving toward him as if under a spell. She slid closer, her breath hitching as he pulled her between his legs, her back pressing against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, the solid strength of him enveloping her, making her feel safe and wild all at once.

Azriel’s hands settled on her waist, pulling her snugly against him, his fingers grazing her skin beneath the water. “You’re so tense,” he murmured against her ear, his breath warm as his lips brushed her jaw. “I think I know what you need.”

“Relax for me,” he whispered, his hands slipping lower, exploring her. She closed her eyes and let out a content sigh as Azriel began to gently massage her breasts. His fingers pinched and pulled at her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

He trailed his fingers down her stomach, his touch grazing her skin with a possessive intensity. “Will you let me take care of you?”

[misspelledwordswizard]

Good morning, afternoon or evening. I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to take the opportunity to make you one with one.

We all know that Time and Twilight are related in some way. So, my request was about how Time and Twi would react to finding out that reader is their descendant with some family and obviously platonic fluff

This is so cute! I believe both would be like "girl dad mode on" hehe Thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3

I had been in the group for a short time. I’m not sure how I ended up here, or why, I just know that suddenly I was having to hang out with nine heroes from Hyrule who all had the same name. Okay, I can handle a little adventure, I may be a farm girl, but being a hero has always been a dream of mine, it’s in my blood. Literally. 

From the moment that strange group told me their names, or rather, name, and explained that they came from different times, I was already sure that I was related to at least one of them. Well, at least I know that I’m descended from a hero named Link who saved Hyrule. 

The only problem is that I have no idea which of them I’m related to, especially when they all look so similar and the timelines are so confusing! That’s why I decided to keep this information to myself until I knew for sure. 

— Oh, Malon sent hugs to everyone. – Time said, as he read the letter recently delivered by the postman. I’m still curious about how he does it, but I’m more interested in the name unknown to me. 

— Malon? Who is this? 

— Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met her yet. Malon is my wife. – The Old Man answered me, with a somewhat proud smile on his face, he must love her very much. 

— Oh, and she’s the owner of the LonLon Ranch, back in the Old Man’s era! – Wind added, this fact might be nothing more than a curiosity for most, but it ended up meaning more than that to me. 

If Time is married to the owner of a ranch, it’s likely that his descendants inherited it, and over time it may have become my family’s ranch. Could the Hero of Time be my ancestor? 

— Oh, and maybe you’ve already come to this conclusion too, but Twilight also comes from a ranch, it’s not for nothing that we call him Rancher. – The Champion completed, and only then did I realize the obvious. 

But then, which one of them is my ancestor? I could try to find out more details about it, but it would take too long if I did it that way, so I decided to open my mouth, maybe they can help me. 

— Well, then it’s likely that I’m a descendant of one of you two. 

All eyes turned to me, I think the two in question almost broke their necks with that move. Was that really that surprising? Soon everyone was around me, curious. 

— Why do you say that? – Time was the first to ask. Fair enough. 

— Well, I always knew I was a descendant of a Link, I just didn’t know which one of you, and since I come from a ranch too, I think it’s quite likely. 

— Why didn’t you say so before? – Twilight asked, I figured this question would come. 

— I didn’t want to create expectations, or else I might upset everyone and not get any answers. But I still don’t know which of you two are my relatives. 

A silence settled in as everyone looked at each other, as if they were deciding what to say. They knew something. 

— Hm, how can we say this? – Warriors began. – Both of them! 

I blinked in confusion, many doubts swirling in my mind. Both of them? But they were quicker to answer them. 

— It turns out that I am a descendant of the Old Man, so either you are a descendant of him and my ancestor, or a descendant of both of us. – Twilight explained, and then things began to fall into place. Indeed, there were doubts in my family as to whether we were descendants of one or two Heroes, with this the answer becomes clear. 

— In that case, I’m almost certain that both of you are my ancestors, I really wasn’t sure if I was descended from one or both of you. – I explained finally, reaching the final conclusion. Wow, a descendant of two Links, who would have thought. 

They both looked at each other for a moment, they even seemed to be talking telepathically, but it seems that their choices of actions were mutual, because in the next second I was being crushed in a hug by two strong men. I can’t breathe, it’s definitely a hug worthy of a father. 

 I was finally released from the grip and able to breathe again, which I did dramatically, drawing laughter from some of the boys. 

— I can hardly believe this, is this how you felt when you met me? – The Rancher asked Time, with a smile on his face. 

— Hm, basically. Oh, Malon will love meeting you! I’ll write to her about it. – The old man seemed happier than I had ever seen him in the short time I had known him. 

I myself was still processing all of this. I had not just met one of my ancestors, but two of them? Before I knew it, I was smiling like an idiot. It was like I now had two more dads. Even if one of them was almost my age, which was a little strange. 

— Oh, when I can, I want to show you the family books about you, so you can check the information! – I said excitedly and they happily agreed with me. 

— The food is ready! – Wind said, drawing their attention. 

— Come, sit near us, we have a lot to talk about! – Twilight said, guiding me by the hand to the rest of the group. 

— Yes, little one, tell us everything about you and your family. – Time completed, resting a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. 

Who would have thought I would have such a cool family walking with me all this time. 

[shadowybasementwitch]

Cherry Blossoms and Sarcasm

Tags: gojo × reader, gojo,fluff

Wirings: None

---------------------------------------------

The dim light of the Tokyo evening filtered into the common room of Jujutsu High’s dorms. You sat on the couch, comfortably sandwiched between Nobara and Yuji, with Megumi lounging nearby on a chair, flipping lazily through a book. The usual chatter had simmered down, leaving the room filled with a content hum of camaraderie—until Yuji broke the silence.

"Hey, (Y/N), you and Gojo-sensei have known each other forever, right?" Yuji asked, leaning forward with that curious grin of his.

"Forever feels dramatic," you replied with a chuckle, though your lips tugged upward at the thought. "But yeah, we met back in school when we were both sixteen."

Nobara’s eyes lit up, and she elbowed you playfully. "Oh, you have to tell us how you two became a thing! There’s no way he didn’t do something ridiculously over-the-top to win you over, right?"

Megumi let out an exaggerated sigh, but you caught the flicker of curiosity in his gaze. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he wanted to hear the story too.

“Well…” you began, leaning back into the couch as memories flooded in. “It all started in the spring of our second year.”

---

The cherry blossoms had just started to bloom, their petals creating a soft pink carpet on the courtyard ground. It was your first week back at Jujutsu High after recovering from a mission injury, and you'd just been cleared to train again. You were determined to make up for lost time—until a familiar, infuriating voice called out behind you.

“Hey, slowpoke! Back on your feet, huh?”

You turned to see Satoru Gojo strolling toward you, his hands shoved lazily into his pockets. His signature blindfold was tilted slightly, letting you glimpse those electric blue eyes that somehow managed to be both mesmerizing and endlessly smug.

“I was wondering how long you’d milk that injury for.”

Your jaw dropped, a mixture of disbelief and annoyance bubbling up. “Excuse me? I wasn’t milking anything, Gojo. Some of us actually take our recovery seriously.”

He smirked, completely unfazed. “Relax, I’m just saying you’re tough. But if you want to spar and prove me wrong…”

And that’s how it started. What was supposed to be a straightforward sparring session quickly turned into a battle of wills. Gojo was relentless—teasing, taunting, but never letting up. By the time you managed to land a solid hit on him, you were both panting and laughing like idiots, sprawled on the training mat.

“Not bad, (Y/N),” he admitted, grinning as he rubbed his arm where you’d hit him. “Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing a stray blossom petal at him. “And maybe you’re not as unbearable as I thought. But only maybe.”

---

“Wait, wait,” Yuji interrupted, laughing. “You’re telling me that Gojo-sensei flirted with you by insulting you during training?”

Nobara groaned, slapping her forehead. “Of course he did. What an idiot.”

“Let her finish,” Megumi said quietly, his tone neutral, though you caught the faintest hint of intrigue.

You smiled, continuing. “That was just the start. Over the next few weeks, he kept finding excuses to hang around me—whether it was challenging me to sparring matches or stealing my snacks during breaks. It was… annoying, honestly.”

“Annoying?” Nobara repeated, raising an eyebrow. “But also kind of cute?”

You laughed. “Looking back, maybe. But at the time, I wasn’t sure what his deal was. Then, one night, we got sent on a mission together—just the two of us. That’s when everything changed.”

---

The mission was supposed to be simple: exorcise a low-level curse haunting an old shrine. But, of course, things went sideways. The curse turned out to be stronger than expected, and it ambushed you before either of you could react.

You fought hard, but it managed to pin you down, its claws inches from your throat. Before you could panic, a flash of blue light tore through the air, obliterating the curse in an instant.

When the dust settled, Gojo was crouched beside you, his usually cocky expression replaced by something raw and vulnerable.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, almost hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “You scared me back there, you know.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I didn’t mean to.”

He smiled, but it was different this time—smaller, more genuine. “I know. Just… don’t do it again, okay? I don’t think I could handle losing you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for far too long. You didn’t know what possessed you, but before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks for saving me, Satoru.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and for once, he was completely speechless. But then that familiar grin crept back onto his face. “So… does this mean you like me?”

You groaned, standing up and brushing off your uniform. “Don’t push your luck.”

---

“And that’s how it happened,” you finished, smiling fondly at the memory. “After that, things just… fell into place.”

Yuji was practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s so cool! I can’t believe Gojo-sensei actually has a romantic side!”

Nobara sighed dramatically. “I still think he’s an idiot, but I’ll admit, that’s kind of sweet.”

Megumi, ever the stoic one, simply closed his book and stood up. “Sounds about right. He’s always been ridiculous, but at least he picked someone who can keep up with him.”

You laughed, watching as he walked toward the door. “High praise coming from you, Megumi.”

He glanced back, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As the others continued to chatter, you found yourself smiling. Being with Gojo was never easy, but as you thought back to those early days, you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.

_____________________________________

End