#surprisingly poetic

[mx-giraffe]

When it’s been three hours since you started trying to go to sleep, and everything is so dark and so quiet it’s like there’s nothing else in the universe except you and the calm, silent stars watching from millions of light years away.

So you’ve given up on sleep now.

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

Marie exploding the appendage Rufus would have used to r*pe her in the beginning and then later blowing up Kate's hand as she was about to use it to mind-r*pe Jordan

[feddy-34]

inspired by this lovely tweet from @ohymnia have some brain rot

under the cut: dubcon/noncon, omegaverse, forced mating, mpreg mention, idk man

but anyway that one brock/nick fic on ao3 where brock's never had anyone to share his heat with before and so nick offers to help out cuz he has a moment where he sees brock being alone sitting by his locker and nick can smell the preheat on him and he's like "damn my qb is kinda pretty"

but!!! brock says no

and nick is not a person used to being told no (see above image) so he's pissed. who does brock think he is? rejecting a second overall pick, multi million dollar contract, top DE in the league alpha? he's the last overall pick, nobody wanted him anyway. and nick's getting more and more ratched up and his scent is getting stronger and stronger until brock feels like he's suffocating. he wants to leave but what can he do? everyone else has cleared out of the building already (brock took a long ass time in the showers) and nick's got him perfectly cornered.

plus brock's an omega going into preheat, nick's heavy ass pheromones are really starting to take a toll on him. he can feel his scent glands throbbing, knees getting weaker as the urge to submit takes over. and really, would it be so bad? finally having someone to ease the pain that roars through him setting every limb on fire? "i know you haven't had anyone to help you, but i'm here now," nick says, and isn't he? he's right there, a perfectly viable alpha. some part of brock's brain tells him to resist, to not give in, but that instinct is getting quieter and quieter as brock feels himself pulled towards nick.

and before he knows it, he's on his knees.

nick takes him home, cares for him through his heat, does an okay job, but he never leaves brock alone. every single moment he's there, presence and scent filling up every room of brock's house until he feels like he'll never be able to escape nick. he finally gets him out when his heat is clearly over, only convincing nick by promising that he'll come over after practice.

it's the first moment brock's had to himself in days. his mind feels numb, automatically dumping sheets and blankets into the washer, making himself a quick snack, mechanically scrubbing himself down. until he steps out of the shower and sees the marks. brock is absolutely covered in scratches, bruises, bites, and the more he looks the more he feels them start to sting and pulse. did nick really do this? brock doesn't remember feeling much pain, but he also doesn't really remember much at all. staring at the perfectly defined handprint-shaped bruises covering his hips and waist, his stomach starts to sink.

but nick is nice enough at practice and he sits next to brock on the plane a few times and he takes him out to dinner once or twice and doesn't hit him as hard during scramble drills. brock feels like he's moving in a slight haze until his next heat rolls around. and nick finds him in the locker room again.

this time there's no resistance, brock sliding silently to his knees as the instinct tugging at the back of his mind is silenced. he's quiet as nick drives him home, head leaning against the window. he presses his mouth shut as nick grabs his arm to drag him out of the car. he bites his lip as nick messes up his carefully crafted nest. this time his mind is clear. he can feel every bruising hold, every sharp scratch, every aching bite. but nick's helping him, isn't he? brock's heard that it's supposed to hurt, even when you're with an alpha.

and there is some relief, when nick pushes in, when he rocks his hips back and forth in a smooth continuous notion, when he lightly trails his fingertips all over brock's body. and when his knot finally pops, it's the most relief brock has felt all day.

but then. the bite.

sheer piercing agony radiating out from brock's neck to every part of his body. he feels like he's going to faint, ears ringing and vision blacked out.

and it's okay, it's fine. nick helps him clean out the bloody mess left on the front of his throat, nicely placed for the whole world to see. brock purdy, officially claimed omega. of course he hasn't bitten nick back yet but they'll do that nick's next rut. right? and brock didn't actually ask to be mated but nick's just helping him and looking out for him, the way a good alpha would. nick says it's a dangerous league, that they're aren't many alphas like himself who would be willing to help such a low status omega. brock should consider himself lucky.

and so he lives his little mated life, alphas steering clear of him, even ones he used to call friends. nick scares them away with his dark glare and bared teeth. but that's alright because he just needs nick. all he needed was a good alpha, and now look how well things are going. soon enough nick's going to put a baby in him and then he won't have to worry about football at all. brock won't have to worry about players hitting him on the field, even though he lives for the adrenaline rush. he won't have to deal with leading anyone, even though that's all he's ever wanted in life. he won't have to deal with alphas cornering him when he's vulnerable, although only nick ever does.

but he's an alpha, he can take what he wants. and brock is his. his to use, his to rule, his to discard when he gets bored. and so if brock jumps when he feels those hands close around his waist, so what? so what if the locker room hasn't emptied yet and brock can feel the weight of their stares on his shoulders? so what if he has to wear more and more layers to cover up the marks that nick always leaves? so what if the cleaning staff have tried to slip him notes, asking about his screams?

he won't have to worry about any of that soon, now that his life's been taken away.

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

i'm sorry

i'm sorry

for not feeling so sorry

looking at your

sorry state

i'm tired

of being tethered

my mind is tired

chipping away at your mind

it's slow work

slow fixing

but i'm not a mechanic

nor a therapist

never want to be

yours

never want to be yours

i'm dreaming

i hope you do well

i don't want to see you succeed

but i hope you succeed

[thekagepro24]

A comically tall tree that I could see out of my window across the street had recently gotten chopped down. I'd stared at it for a couple of years now and admired its unique shape, so its absence brings about an empty feeling in me. Yet for some reason, the more and more I glance out of my window and see the blank space the tree had always preoccupied, the more and more I start to think there wasn't any tree there to begin with. Even though I have photos of the tree, even though I can physically prove it was there, my memories feel like they're being overwritten with what I see today.

I have gotten used enough to its presence to miss it, and used enough to its absence to forget it, and that contradiction baffles me.

[floortile34]

i feel lost. scared. lonely

step out into the sun. into the endless pain. alone in an opaque void, or maybe i just can't see through it enough to notice i'm not alone. it burns. is rotting in the darkness worse? drowning in the sewer?

infinite mazes of light, nobody aroung. this isn't real. the real light burns, this doesn't. i see so clearly yet there still remains no-one. fields of empty space, knee height. marble floors with no temperature

mirages of others. of company

endless seconds ticking by. however many millions. running around searching for a way out, tiring myself endlessly, never collapsing

my flesh bleeds – oozes, almost – with sickly purples

(legs numb now. alternating between writing tags and main post segment whatever this is called)

dragging my forearms across the subtle rough texture of the tiling. they bleed. they fall apart so easily. so weak. so brittle. so rotten through

i need ..... . .......i don't know what i need

please, i need whatever that thing is

someone tell me what i need

someone tell me what to do. where to go. i'm so lost in here. i'm running out of battery. it's always ticking down, never reaches 0, i feel like it's a lie. shepherd's tone

my sanity's slowly falling deeper and deeper into the infinitesimal abyss, or maybe not and it just feels like that. i don't know anymore. i don't remember anymore. i don't remember what i am. my family's fading from me. i'll be alone soon. without them

my ideas are running out yet i must keep writing. this is my purpose in life for... however long it's taken now. 10 minutes? i didn't check when i started.

...... ..............

■■■■ ■■■■■■ shall claim me soon

[crescent-cubed]

Face of a child,

Heart of a martyr,

Eyes of a dreamer,

Scars of a fighter,

Smile of a demon,

Tears of a coward,

Hands of a killer,

Heart of a lover,

Out front and center,

Chest ripped asunder,

Is what is found there

Just like the others'?

[cassmouse]

Working on my new main original project atm and-

'I'm not gonna go overboard on the poetic romance'

'I'm NOT going to make this too much of a romance'

And then

Oh my god I am going overboard with the romance

[the-cormorant]

March productivity challenge - day 5

today the magnolias bloomed and we cut up a heart in school.

Do you have a favourite movie in particular or do you like them by genre? What's your favourite movie and/or genre?

well, i am generally a big fan of animation, especially the studio ghibli film Porco Rosso is special to me in a personal way. But i believe my all time favourite film is Perfect Days.

[xo-summer-tyme-xo]

To my future wife

I’m sorry I can’t give you my whole heart.

See, I gave a piece to my parents,

And they squeezed it a bit too tight.

I gave a slice to all my friends,

They took them when they said goodbye.

I gave a bite to my lovers before you,

It soured when they let it sit.

I need to keep half for myself,

I can’t feel your love without it.

So. I’m sorry I can’t give you more.

I just didn’t want to give you something

I’d already used before.

-JA

9/3/2022

[sovamurka]

author: nikogonelubly_

Peter and Demian - the unlucky priest and his beloved Antichrist ☦️💔

[cavefairy]

i am cringe and i am free but holy shit put me back in 2015

[zezacle]

I wanna take you on a rollercoaster

I wanna tell ya that I'm feeling closer

I wanna push it right over the line

I wanna push ya right over the line

The line that you draw when you draw me near

The line that you draw when you draw me near

I WANT- I WANT- I WANT- I WANT-

I WANNA LEAVE YOU FAR BEHIND

[match-your-steps]

I visited what I thought was the sun

(but there was ice inside)

and everything there was in boxes

with prices I could afford

but I was not allowed to see the boxes,

and so I could not buy them

and I flew back home instead.

[suguann]

✎. he tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, but he's also kinda sweet?? [18+ only]

You like your new roommate.

Simon’s surprisingly better to have around than the last person who lived with you—a girl you knew from college who had an affinity for stealing your clothes and conveniently never had money for rent. He’s the type to make you soup when you’re sick, acknowledge you if you’re in the same room, water your flowers while he rolls his cigarettes on the fire escape, and carry your groceries up the four flights of stairs to your floor. 

He’s attractive, too, in the not-so-conventional sense, but in a disarming way, all small smiles and knowing looks and soft hair you know he doesn’t put much effort into—that sometimes curls around his ears when he lets it get too long—yet it still manages to look better than yours on the best days. 

He never tells you what he does for work, and you’re too polite to ask. But you have a feeling he makes enough to afford a place on the less crime-infested side of town—somewhere nicer than your cramped apartment with its outdated appliances, leaky faucets, and the bright neon sign atop the building across the street that shines through your windows all times of the day—but he says he’s not ready to live alone.

Something tells you there’s more to it than him being a lonely bachelor, but again, you don’t pry.

“Does this place have wi-fi?” is all he’d said the first time you meet, in a voice so smooth and only slightly broken up by his accent, clad in a shirt that looked two sizes too small around his arms and clutching a duffle bag in one big hand. 

Your brain was this shaken-up box of words and syllables that when you answered him, it came out in a nervous stutter. “Y-yeah, I’ll, er…I’ll give it to you—the password, I mean—once you've moved in. If that’s okay.”

He’d dropped his duffle bag in front of the room that would be his. “Consider me moved in.”

The smile he gave you, crinkling eyes and chuckling lightly, only made the stutter worse. 

You let his charm roll off you; you always figured it came naturally to him, a characteristic that comes with being attractive and good.

A handful of months later—of finding a routine around each other and lazy smiles in the morning—something changes the night you go out with a guy Mary from work eagerly sets you up with. 

His name’s Robb, he’s a doctor, and you both love cats; he has a house in Spain. Did I mention he's my cousin?

(A dull no way concealed behind your teeth.

If you hadn’t said yes, you feared your entire lunch break would consist of her waxing poetic over a man you're unsure about meeting.)

For a flicker of a moment, there’s an unreadable expression on Simon’s face as he watches you touch up your makeup in the hallway mirror and slip your hand into the crook of your date’s elbow at the door. There’s a slight glint of something uncharacteristically cold behind the mask of indifference before a small smile replaces it.

“Have a nice night,” you throw over your shoulder, except you don’t notice that he never says it back.

You mope around the apartment when Robb—who surprisingly exceeded your expectations of mediocre dates, not that you ever plan on admitting that to Mary—doesn’t reach out to you for three days. Then a week. You’re at that age to understand when people get busy, and a nice night doesn’t always mean it’s mutually reciprocated. But you liked him, and it felt promising after he’d kissed you goodnight against your front door. 

It had to have been the kiss that turned him off. Maybe he realized it was too much too soon.

When Simon finds you curled up in a ball under your comforter, one thumb gently wiping away your tears, he doesn’t even bring up your date. Instead, he orders your favorite take-out and puts on a sitcom you’d mentioned to him once—somewhat surprised that he remembers—the dreamy doctor who’d ghosted you blissfully forgotten with greasy food and a warm, comforting chest to rest your head on.

Simon’s there again—sweets in hand and a soft voice to soothe you—when another date (Rin from finance on your floor) a month later is a no-show, and a few weeks after that when Rin tells you without context that he can’t see you anymore. 

The third time of let downs feels worse. It’s worse because maybe there’s something wrong with you, and when you ask Simon, he’s too nice to rub salt in your wounds. He tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.

You've been Simon's roommate for a year, and he doesn't take it well when you tell him you're looking for a new place.

It’s after he comes home from a three-month work trip. The shadow that crosses over his face should’ve been your first hint that something is wrong.

Had you noticed the signs sooner, you wonder if you’d be less like prey caught by the softness of your underbelly, kept in place by the scruff, and sharp teeth at your neck.

"Beg me. Beg me not to cum in you."

"S-Simon," you whimper wetly, "don't cum in—ah—me."

His fingers hold your chin with an unyielding grip, ensuring your gaze doesn’t stray from his in the cracked mirror. You’re embarrassed by what you see, how spread open you are to his dark, inkwell eyes hungrily watching as you twitch when his other hand slides between your thighs.

"Don’t stop begging, love,” he growls, squeezing you tighter, “or I might forget."

There’s that dark look again, the one that sends a shivery feeling up your spine, possessive almost with how he traces every inch of you as if burning the image of you into his memory, the softness washed away by something more sinister. 

A little voice in the back of your head tells you to flee, but another knows he'd find joy in catching you. 

No one would ever think your sweet, attractive roommate would be the same man staring at you now—everything you thought you knew about him stripped away to reveal a new canvas, bare for splashes of paint to fill in the cracks—teeth marks imprinted along the curve of your jaw, on the inside of your thighs.

He hides it well. His humble personality doing the trick of being the impenetrable mask for what he’s concealing underneath: a raw obsession, an addict finally getting his hands on his favorite drug, someone who can’t recognize defeat and knows how to take.

“What do they have that I don’t? Hm? Must be a desperate little thing. My pretty slut,” Simon’s voice rumbles low against your ear, shy of unhinged. “They won’t treat you as good as I do. Don’t I treat you good?”

You whimper when his grip grows tighter, but he doesn’t seem to notice—like he’s not fully here with you. No trace of the soft, gentle man who keeps the freezer full of your favorite ice cream, who runs to the store when you run out of tampons and comes back with chocolate and a new pair of fuzzy socks. A few words have turned him into someone you don’t know. Perhaps you never did.

“Answer me.”

An indiscernible  squeak is the only sound you make. 

He chuckles darkly, his head dipping down to rest his lips against the fluttering pulse in your neck, a finger slipping through the alarming amount of wetness between your thighs where his cock rends you down the middle, and begins rubbing firm, tight circles over your clit, pulling a moan from your throat. 

“It’s okay, love,” he mumbles, words barely audible above your heartbeat swimming in your ears. “I’ll be everything for you. Everything you need. I’ll show you why I’m better.”

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights