Ember In The Dark Pt.6

ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ ~~ Masterlist ~~ ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Requests are open! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

Feel free to use my ask box to request anything, within reason. I am open to adding more fandoms to my list, but only if I've interacted with them, and know the lore of what I am writing is. I am also willing to add more things to the list of stuff I'm willing to write, depending on what is requested. I do not do Art requests, but I am thinking about doing commissions, eventually.

Art posts! ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

-Older pieces

-Mostly unfinished pieces

-Profile pic redraw

Things I will write ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

One shots

Fluff

Angst

Smut (assume characters involved in mature content are of age, obviously. Also, I don't normally just do smut for smut, I have to have some sort of plot device to keep the story moving.)

Full works

Headcannons

Multi-parts

Things I wont write (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

Any type of noncon

Incest

Anything mature involving anyone Underage

Literally anything involving the character Aoi Asahina. (I was threatened, and I do not wish to deal with that shit, at all. Any and all characters I think will put me in danger, expect them to be put on this list.)

Finished Fic's ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

-Ember in the Dark: Young!Silco x Fem!Reader (Full Work)

Oneshots ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

-Locked Tight: Yasuhiro Hagakure feat. Kiyotata Ishamaru (Smut) (Requested)

-Trust Fall Trauma: Sinner!Amity Blight x Hazbin Hotel. (Requested)

Part.1

Part.2

-Hellbound: The Owl House x Hazbin Hotel AU (Requested)

-Where the Hurt Doesn’t Reach: Multifandom x Reader (Requested)

Part.1 (Peko, Mikan, and Tenko x Male!Reader)

Part.2 (Sayaka, Celestia, and Sonia x Male!Reader)

Part.3 (Charlie, Emily, and Verosika x Male!Reader)

Part.4 (Mahiru, Toko/Genocide Jack, and Maki x Female!Reader)

Part.5 (Kyoko, Kaede, and Miu x Male!Reader)

Part.6 (Chiaki, Akane and Junko x Male!Reader)

-Terrible Prank- Better Apology: Demon Slayer x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-Ashes of Grace: Sera x Overlord!Male!Reader (Requested)

-Stronger than Chains: Mondo Owada (Requested)

-You Can Be Weak With Me: Inosuke x GN!Reader (Requested)

-Feral Loyalty: Verosika x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Headcanons ＼(^o^)／

-Journey into Intimacy: First time Danganronpa Headcanons (Smut) (Requested)

Part.1 (Mahiru and Kaede)

Part.2 (Kyoko, Celeste, and Toko/Genocide Jack)

-The Softest Spotlight: Sayaka x GN!Reader Fluff Headcannons

-A Little Too Close: Shuichi x GN!Reader Headcannons (Reqested)

-Carnival Hearts: Demon Slayer x Fem!Black!Reader Headcannons (Reqested)

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-All of Me, All of You: Demon Slayer x GN!Black!Reader

Part.1 (Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya)

-Mine, Loud and Clear: Verosika x Male!Reader (Requested)

-Melt for Me: Sub!Makoto Naegi x Male!Reader (Smut) (Requested)

-Soft Places to Fall: Genya x GN!Reader (Requested)

-Raised by the End of the World: Older-Sister!Reader x The Walking Dead (Requested)

Full works ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

-Ember in the Dark: Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Part.1

Part.2

Part.3

Part.4

Part.5

Part.6

Part.7

Part.8

Part. 9

Part.10

Part.11 (Last Part)

-Loyalty Cuts Deepest: Silco x Fem!Reader

Part.1

Part.2

-Drifting Between Worlds: Hunter x Fem!Reader (Requested)

Part.1

Part.2

Different Fandoms I am willing to write for! ♡꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱

Arcane

Attack on Titan

Avatar the Last Air Bender

Adventure Time

Black Butler

Baldur's Gate 3

Creepypasta

DC universe

Death Note

Danganronpa

Detroit: Become Human

Demon Slayer

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Homestuck

Marvel

My Hero Acedemia

Naruto

Peaky Blinders

Red Dead Redemption 2

Supernatural

Stranger Things

Sally Face

Soul Eater

Steven Universe

The Owl House

The Walking Dead

The Last of Us

Undertale

Hello my friend, I hope that you are having a good day! 😊 Well, For my first request, I wanted to see if you could do a headcanon with Demon Slayer AU x short black!reader (Short meaning like 5’2 in height and who’s ended up in Japan but has Trinidad and Tobago Caribbean roots/culture which includes the accent,food and of course Soca Carnival) who they date, want to marry and have children with in the future? ( You can choose how many kids each of them should have!)🐦‍🔥🌺🏝️🍹

A/N: Absolutely, @lelewright1234! I want to make it known, though- I am Indonesian-American. So, white and Asian. I did my best, though, with some research! If there is anything that is wrong, or inaccurate, please tell me! It's purely from me being ignorant. I did five characters to start with, if you want a part two, just request it and I'll start working on it :}

Carnival Hearts

Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Genya x Fem!Black!Reader Headcannons

Warnings: None that I can tell :}

Word Count: 3054

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tanjiro:

- The first time Tanjiro hears (Y/N)’s accent, he’s absolutely stunned: His eyes widen, he blinks a few times, and stammers, “Wh-what? Say that again?” Her voice is melodic to him, like music- rhythmic, warm, and full of life. Even when he doesn’t understand the slang, he’s enchanted by the way she speaks.

- Tanjiro becomes obsessed with (Y/N)’s cooking- deeply: The man had never tasted pelau, bake and shark, or curry chicken before… but now? He begs for them constantly. He’s always right beside her in the kitchen, apron on and eyes sparkling. “Okay, so I flip the roti- wait, why is it sticking- oh no, I messed it up again!”

- (Y/N)’s Music: When she hums soca music while cleaning, the first time, Tanjiro freezes mid-sweep. “What is this magical, energetic sound?! Why does it make me want to dance and fight demons at the same time??” Now, that music means good vibes, her, and home.

- Ever the gentleman: Tanjiro always leans down slightly to speak with (Y/N) since she’s only 5’2”- even if she insists it’s unnecessary. “Sorry!” he’d laugh, “You’re just so cute down there, I can’t help it!”

- Protective doesn’t even cover it: If anyone dares make fun of (Y/N)’s height or culture, Tanjiro remains sweet- but his glare? Cold as ice. It’s the kind of look that shuts an entire room up. “Speak with respect. Or don’t speak at all.”

- He’s a nickname machine: From “Tiny Tempest,” to “My Lil Firecracker,” to “Sunshine,” or simply a tender “(Y/N)-chan,” he always has something sweet on his lips when it comes to her.

- They balance each other perfectly: (Y/N) brings boldness, rhythm, and color into his world- while he offers peace, patience, and grounding. Together, they’re a heart-shaped hurricane of love.

- When Tanjiro proposes, it’s intimate and heart-melting: No grand show- just pure emotion. He might write to (Y/N)’s family back home to ask for their blessing, or maybe even learn to play a steelpan to perform a song. He could propose during Carnival, surrounded by joy and music, whispering, “You’ve brought so much light and color into my life. I want to dance through every day with you- through sunshine and storm. Will you marry me?”

- He’s all in for a culturally blended wedding: Traditional Japanese elements meet vibrant Trini culture. Yes, he wears the feathers. Yes, he’s bashful. But he does it with the softest smile, all for her.

- As a father? Tanjiro is dad of the year: Warm, affectionate, and involved. He teaches their kids sword forms, calligraphy, and compassion. (Y/N) teaches them how to cook Caribbean dishes, to limbo, and to live like joy is a celebration. “You are strong, kind, and beautiful,” he tells them. “From your mother, you carry music in your soul. From me, you carry strength and love. Never forget that.”

- Carnival becomes a yearly tradition for the whole family: The first time he joins (Y/N)’s family in Trinidad, Tanjiro is overwhelmed- in the best way. Their children race around in glittering costumes, she glows in feathers and color, and Tanjiro just stands there, heart bursting, whispering, “This… this is home.”

Inosuke: 

- First Impressions & Height Obsession: The first thing Inosuke noticed was (Y/N)’s height- or lack thereof. “OI! WHY IS SHE SO TINY?!” he’d shout, poking the top of her head like she was some strange woodland creature. But the moment she scolded him with that sharp, melodic accent, he froze. Eyes wide. Brain malfunctioning. He’d never heard anyone sound like that before- and something in him loved it. From that moment on, he started listening to her more than he ever admitted.

- Food is Love: (Y/N) introduced him to Caribbean food, and it ruined every bland meal that came after. Inosuke devoured curry chicken, red beans, fried plantains, pelau, and especially roti like a man starved. “WHAT’S THIS? ROTI?? I WANT ROTI EVERY DAY, WOMAN!!” he’d shout with a satisfied grin. He boasted to the entire Corps that only he got to eat her cooking. It was sacred. No one else was allowed.

- Culture Shock (But He’s Thriving): Soca music confused him at first. “WHY’S IT SO GOOD?!” he’d demand, as if the music offended him. But soon enough, he was obsessed. Couldn’t get enough. He’d hum it during training sessions, during patrols- he even hummed it in battle.

- Carnival Chaos: (Y/N) took him to Carnival once, and he thought he was stepping into a war zone. “THIS IS THE BEST FIGHT PARTY EVER!!” he roared, covered in glitter and feathers. “It’s a celebration, not a brawl,” she had tried to explain- but by then he was whining his hips, downing rum, and dancing like he’d been born on to do it. She laughed so hard, she cried.

- Mutual Respect & Affection: Inosuke was fiercely protective of her, but never controlling. He loved how fiery she was- whether they were sparring, dancing, or teasing each other. He saw her as unstoppable, and he adored that.

- Constant Flexing: He never shut up about (Y/N). “MY WOMAN COULD BEAT YOU IN A FIGHT AND STILL MAKE A BETTER CURRY THAN YOUR MOM.” He'd randomly scream, “I’M GONNA MARRY HER!!” even if she wasn’t there. Zenitsu rolls his eyes “Dude, she’s not even here-” “I KNOW. SHE’LL FEEL IT.”

- Marriage… Inosuke Style: He didn’t really understand traditional proposals, so one day he just declared: “WE’RE MARRIED NOW.” “We are NOT- where’s the ring?!” “I CAN GET YOU A ROCK FROM THE FOREST.” Eventually, with some guidance, he pulled together a proper proposal. He placed a shiny ring inside a coconut shell lined with flowers. “It looks like you,” he said. (Y/N) melted.

- The Wedding: Their wedding was a chaotic, glorious fusion of both of their cultures. Steel pan music rang out, the food was a rainbow of flavor, and the dancing was vibrant and wild. Inosuke wore his haori- with added feathers, of course- and went absolutely feral on the dance floor. Tanjiro cried. Zenitsu fainted. Tengen declared it the party of the year.

- Kids, Kids, Kids: “I WANT FIVE,” he blurted out one day, unprompted. (Y/N) nearly choked. They ended up raising a wild little gang- Inosuke trained them like baby boars. Tree climbing, bug hunting, sword swinging. She balanced that chaos with rhythm, affection, culture, and soca music. She taught them how to cook, how to speak proper Trini slang, and how to carry themselves with fire.

- Family Vibes: All of their kids had a little lilt in their voices, and Inosuke was obsessed. He bragged constantly, “YOUR MOTHER ONCE MADE CURRY BEFORE STABBING A DEMON. THE CURRY TASTED BETTER BECAUSE OF IT.”

- Jealous Husband Energy: Sometimes the kids clung to (Y/N) a little too much for his liking. “OI! SHE’S MY WIFE FIRST!!” She’d just smile, kiss his cheek, and whisper, “Don’t worry, you’re still my big baby.”

Zenitsu:

- First Impressions and The Accent That Changed His Life: Zenitsu fell hard the moment he heard (Y/N) speak. Her accent hit his ears like a thunderclap wrapped in silk, and he turned beet red on the spot. “M-Marry me!!” came out before he even asked her name. Flustered and starstruck, he started babbling about angels and destiny. Tanjiro had to physically hold him back to stop him from proposing on the spot.

- The Way to His Heart: (Y/N)’s cooking became his favorite form of magic. The first time she made pelau, he shed actual tears. His soul ascended after one bite of bake and shark. And don’t even get him started on callaloo. After tasting her food, he’d clutch his chest dramatically and proclaim, “This has healing properties… my bones feel younger!” He always tried to help in the kitchen, but usually ended up snacking on half the ingredients. “I’m sorry! It smells too good! Are you using love as a seasoning?!”

- Culture Shock (and Awe): The first time he heard soca, Zenitsu looked like he’d been struck by lightning. “It’s so intense!!” he screamed- before learning to dance to it with full chaotic commitment. “I’m trying to whine for you, babe!!” he’d cry while flailing wildly. Carnival was even more intense. At first, he thought it was a battlefield, then a blessing. “ARE WE UNDER ATTACK OR IS THIS… THE BEST PARTY EVER?!”

- Dazzled at Carnival: The first time he saw (Y/N) in Carnival attire, his jaw hit the floor. His soul left his body. From that moment on, he walked beside her like a bodyguard on royal duty. “STEP ASIDE! THIS IS MY GIRLFR- I MEAN FUTURE WIFE!!” He refused to let go of her hand, even while hiding behind her during the loudest parts. After the parade, glitter on his cheeks and hands still clasped in hers, he fell asleep mumbling, “I wanna do this every year… with you.”

- Forever Starts Early: Zenitsu talked about marriage way too early- but he meant every word. “What kinds of have engagement customs do you have? Should I bring mangoes? Do I ask a grandparent? I want to do it right!” He dreamed of a wedding that fused both their worlds. Kimonos and Carnival feathers, sakura petals raining on soca dancers, sushi and curry goat side by side. “I want our kids to eat roti and mochi. To dance like you and train like me. I want that life with you.”

- Soft-Dad Supreme: He cried when the baby kicked. Cried when they said papa. Cried when they sneezed. Every milestone felt like a divine experience. He proudly tried to teach them Thunder Breathing, though they leaned more into music and dance- just like their mama. “You must whine at Carnival and meditate under the stars. That’s your birthright!”

- Compliments Hit Different: (Y/N)’s accent was a weapon of emotional destruction. One soft “Good job, Zen” and he was emotionally spinning through the air. The first time she told him she loved him, he went completely silent for ten minutes, just… stared at a tree. Later, he tried to write her a poem but cried halfway through every draft. “You’re fire and storm and sun and… and I’m lucky I even get to stand next to you.”

- He Adores (Y/N) Completely: Zenitsu adored everything about her- her strength, her rhythm, her voice, her culture. He genuinely believed she was a miracle in human form, and loving her made him braver than he ever thought possible. “You make me feel like lightning can be soft… like I’m more than just fear. I love you. I choose you.”

Nezuko:

- First Impressions: Even before she could speak, Nezuko was drawn to (Y/N). It wasn’t just the kindness- it was the energy. She moved with rhythm in her step, laughed like the world wasn’t burning, and wore sunshine like perfume. Nezuko hadn’t seen sunlight in years... until she met her. Barely 5'2, yet her presence filled every room. And Nezuko watched, enchanted.

- Food and Comfort: The first time (Y/N) introduced Nezuko to her cooking- doubles, bake and shark, pelau- Nezuko was visibly shaken (in the best way). Words weren’t necessary; the tug on the sleeve and the pointed finger at the pot said it all, “More, please.” She always saved the last bite for Nezuko, and Nezuko always offered it right back.

- Music and Moonlight: One night, (Y/N) hummed soft Soca beneath the moonlight. Nezuko tilted her head, curious, then began to sway. Gently, she took Nezuko’s hands and guided her into the rhythm, fireflies glowing around them like tiny Carnival lights. At first, Nezuko mimicked her moves- but soon, she was dancing beside her like she’d been doing it her whole life.

- The Accent: Nezuko adored (Y/N)’s accent. Even after regaining her voice, she would listen like each word was a melody. Whenever she used Trini slang, Nezuko would pout in confusion, then burst into laughter with her. Sometimes, she’d try to mimic the phrases- badly. But that only made her laugh harder.

- Physical Affection: Nezuko was a cuddler through and through. With (Y/N) being so small, she often wrapped herself around her like a protective vine. Her favorite place was curled into her chest, listening to soft lullabies while fingers played gently through her hair. After nightmares, her voice was the only thing that could soothe Nezuko back to sleep.

- In Battle: (Y/N) had the charisma and quick wit- Nezuko was the shield and the fire. If anyone dared threaten her, Nezuko didn’t hesitate. No words, just fangs, flames, and unyielding fury. After every fight, she was the first to check on Nezuko. And though Nezuko always insisted she was fine, one gentle “sweet girl” would have her melting into her arms.

- Dreams and Futures: Nezuko’s dream was simple. Peace, a garden, and a home where she was safe. She pictured kissing (Y/N)’s hands in the open, no fear, no muzzle- just freedom. In her quiet moments, she imagined them walking hand-in-hand on beaches. One Carnival, she was gifted a small ring made of seashells. She cried. She wore it like it was made of diamonds.

- Motherhood: Nezuko wanted children- not from duty, but from love. When she looked at (Y/N), she saw a future full of joy. She imagined barefoot little ones laughing with their mother’s vibrant spirit and growing strong with her Kamado heart. She’d teach them to make onigiri, while their mother taught them to wind their waist to Bunji Garlin. She let them paint her nails, sticker her face- each one worn with pride. Together, they’d raise them on calypso lullabies, warmth, and wild joy.

- All She Wants Is (Y/N): Nezuko never needed riches or recognition. All she wanted was her- a life where love was louder than fear, where two cultures danced and bloomed into something whole. A home filled with music, sun-warmed skin, soft words, and love that echoed through time.

Genya:

- First Impressions: Genya didn’t know what hit him when he first met (Y/N). She was short- barely reaching his chest- but her presence filled the room like sunlight. When she locked eyes with a demon twice her size and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll go handle it,” before body-slamming the creature into the dirt, he was stunned. She was powerful, radiant, and her voice? Hypnotic. From the moment she spoke, he was completely captivated.

- Trying to Keep His Distance (and Failing): He told himself (Y/N) would never go for someone like him- too bright, too bold, too far out of his league. But she kept choosing him. Sitting next to him during breaks. Calling him “pretty boy.” Offering him food from her plate. Slowly, all the defenses he’d built began to crumble. She didn’t just see him- she wanted him. And that meant everything.

- The Soca Incident: On a rest day, (Y/N) tugged him up and started dancin while softly singing. He froze- eyes wide, cheeks red- while she danced like rhythm lived in her bones. He didn’t move that time, but the memory stayed etched in his brain. That moment? It haunted him- in the best way.

- PDA and Soft Affection: Genya had never known casual affection. It always felt foreign. But with (Y/N)? She kissed his forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world. Held his face and called him “my handsome warrior.” Every time, he melted a little more. Eventually, he started leaning into it- hungry for the gentle kind of love she gave so freely.

- Obsessed With (Y/N)’s Accent: He loved her accent. Completely obsessed. When he was alone, he’d mimic her phrases under his breath. The first time she caught him doing it, he panicked. “I wasn’t making fun of you! I- I just like how you talk, okay?!” From then on, it became their little joke… and his quiet comfort.

- Food Is His Love Language (Well, (Y/N)’s): The first time she made him pelau, he swore he saw heaven. Roti? Devoured. She warned him about the pepper sauce- he ignored her. Instantly regretted it. Still cried his way through the heat, sweat and tears mixing as he mumbled, “It’s so good…”

- Homesick Days: On the rare days homesickness crept in, (Y/N) would talk about home- about Carnival, the sea breeze, the music, the smell of spices in the air. He didn’t always understand, but he listened. Held her close. Asked questions. And when she smiled again, he’d hum the soca songs she loved, hoping it made her feel a little closer to home.

- Quiet Proposal, Loud Love: He didn’t need a grand gesture. Just (Y/N). One night during a festival, while fireworks lit the sky, he slipped a ring onto her finger with a trembling hand. When she turned to him, he was already looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered. No speech. Just, “You’re my home. Stay?”

- Visiting Trinidad and Tobago: He went home with (Y/N). Tried his best to speak patois- fumbled it, of course- but she giggled every time, gently correcting him. Carnival overwhelmed him at first, but she dressed him up in glitter and feathers, and he followed her into the crowd. Nervous, dazzled… and completely in love.

- The Softest, Most Anxious Dad: The first time he held their child, he sobbed. Couldn’t stop. He was consumed with protecting them- checking their breath, their warmth, their blanket. But when (Y/N) danced around the room holding the baby to a soca beat, he stood there in awe. Then he joined- awkward, stumbling, but smiling wider than ever.

- Culture Keeper: He learned every recipe (Y/N) offered- pelau, callaloo, bake, macaroni pie. Not just for her, but for their children. So they’d know where they came from. Every time she leaned over his shoulder and said, “You're getting it, babe,” he lit up with pride.

- Raising Strong, Joyful Kids: Together, they raised children rooted in both worlds- (Y/N)’s vibrant culture and his quiet strength. Their kids danced to soca, sparred with wooden swords, and laughed with wild joy. Watching them, Genya saw everything he’d ever hoped for- two hearts' love blooming into something unforgettable.

Art post!

These are some of my older, finished pieces. Most of my art is posted on insta, but I do have two art books posted ony Wattpad too (both of which are in my bio). I have a lot more of my old art in those, all from the age of like 12, all the way to current time. I won't lie, a lot of it is cringe, but art is a journey. It would be more surprising if I wasn't cringe in my early teens, to be honest.

Anyway, here is my art! It's a bit old, but I will post more recent art in another post :}

So for my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Yasuhiro Hagakure with chastity please?

In the fic, Ishimaru catches him masturbating in a public bathroom and tries to report him. But after Hagakure begs him not to while vowing to do anything, Ishimaru agrees but on one condition: Hagakure must wear a chastity cage for a whole month while he keeps the key. So Hagakure would have to put up with his new cock cage while trying to find ways to deal with his horniness.

What do you think?

A/N: I can totally do that, @princeasimdiya12! Fair warning, this is the first ever smut I've ever written, but I tried my best! Normally, I stick to x reader fics, but for requests, I'm more than willing to do ships and other stuff.

Locked Tight

Yasuhiro Hagakure (feat. Kiyotaka Ishimaru)

18+ MDNI

Warnings: Masturbation/Sexual Content, Chastity Kink/Denial, Humiliation/Embarrassment.

Word Count: 1950

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yasuhiro Hagakure wasn’t exactly known for being careful. Hell, half the time, he wasn’t even known for being aware. But even he had to admit- this? This was a colossal screw-up.

Because right now, standing in front of him, arms crossed and face burning red (from fury or embarrassment, Hiro wasn’t sure), was Kiyotaka Ishimaru.

And Hiro?

Well, Hiro was currently sitting in the boys’ bathroom, pants around his ankles, dick very obviously in hand.

He had been in too much of a rush, too desperate, and had completely failed to lock the door.

This was the consequence of that.

“I-Ishimaru! Hey, uh, good evening? Didn’t hear you knock, man!” Hiro stammered, hurriedly yanking his pants up.

“That’s because I didn’t knock!” Ishimaru snapped, his voice sharp with righteous fury. “And even if I had, it wouldn’t change the fact that you were engaging in highly inappropriate behavior! Do you have no self-control? No shame?”

Hiro winced. Oh, he had plenty of shame- he just had shitty luck and even worse timing.

“Look, man, it’s not what it looks like!”

Ishimaru’s eyes twitched. “Oh? So you weren’t indulging in personal gratification instead of focusing on your academic and moral duties?”

Hiro groaned. “Okay, okay, fine! It is what it looks like! But please, please, don’t tell anyone, man! I can’t have this kind of thing on my rep-”

Ishimaru huffed, eyes narrowing, the fire of justice burning behind them. “Hmph. I should report you. Such behavior is degenerate! A distraction from self-improvement!”

Hiro paled. “Wait, no! Look, I swear I’ll do anything! Just- just don’t make this a whole thing, okay? I’ll owe you big time, man, I promise!”

Ishimaru hesitated, tapping his fingers against his crossed arms, as if weighing a moral dilemma far greater than the situation warranted. Then, finally, his eyes sharpened with conviction.

“Very well,” he said. “I won’t report you. However- you will have to prove that you can control your impulses. That you can rise above your baser urges and show some discipline!”

Hiro gulped. “Uh... What exactly does that mean?”

Ishimaru reached into his pocket, pulled out something small, metallic, and deeply ominous. Hiro’s stomach dropped.

“The hell is that?”

“A chastity device,” Ishimaru said primly. “You will wear it for a full month. I will keep the key. This will teach you true restraint.”

Hiro stared at him, horrified. “Dude. You just carry that around?”

Ishimaru’s cheeks flushed slightly, but his expression remained steadfast. “I practice self-discipline as well! I have my own! This is a tool of self-control, not something to be ashamed of!”

“That’s a cage for my dick, man!” Hiro wailed.

“Yes, and you will wear it, or I will report you.”

Ishimaru folded his arms, looking positively thrilled about this arrangement.

“So? What will it be?”

Hiro groaned, rubbing his face. He had no idea how he was gonna survive this.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But I swear to god, if you lose that key-”

Ishimaru beamed. “Excellent! Your road to self-discipline begins immediately!”

Hiro gulped.

Yeah. This was gonna be hell.

Hagakure had made a lot of dumb mistakes in his life- falling for scam emails, trusting his own bullshit fortunes, getting stuck in a vending machine trying to grab a bag of chips- but this?

This was next-level self-inflicted misery.

Four days since Ishimaru had locked him up, and Hiro was already losing his goddamn mind.

It wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’t jerk off. It was that now? He wanted to more than ever.

Every little thing was a problem.

His boxers rubbed against it weirdly. His morning wood was absolute agony. Even just sitting wrong made the damn thing pinch.

And the worst part?

Ishimaru was acting like nothing was happening.

Every morning, the bastard would cheerfully stop by Hiro’s room and ask, “How is your self-discipline progressing?”

And Hiro? Hiro had to sit there, stiff as a fucking board (and not in the way he wanted), gritting his teeth and pretending he wasn’t about to explode.

“It’s fine,” he’d growl through clenched teeth.

Ishimaru would beam. “Excellent! Keep it up, and you’ll be a shining example of self-restraint in no time!”

Hiro wanted to die.

By day ten, he cracked.

“Ishimaru, please,” he begged, cornering the other man in the hallway. “I-I get it, okay?! Lesson learned! My self-control is ironclad! You can let me out now, right? RIGHT?”

Ishimaru just raised an eyebrow. “Hagakure, you agreed to one month.”

Hiro whimpered. “I wasn’t thinking straight! I had just been caught with my- you know! I panicked!”

Ishimaru crossed his arms. “And you believe that just ten days of discomfort has proven your growth?”

Hiro nodded so fast he gave himself whiplash. “YES! I have evolved! I have become a new man! A better man!”

Ishimaru hummed, clearly thinking it over. Then, slowly, a small, maddeningly smug smile crept across his face.

“Well, I do admire your enthusiasm, but rules are rules, Hagakure. A promise is a promise.”

Hiro stared at him in horror.

“You sick bastard.”

Ishimaru clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay strong, my friend! Only twenty days to go!”

Hiro slumped against the wall as Ishimaru walked away, whistling.

This was it.

This was how he was gonna die.

Hagakure had been locked up for ten days, and he already felt like he was on the verge of death.

But somehow- somehow- the next twenty were so much worse.

At first, he tried to be subtle about it.

Maybe if he just… rubbed against something, he could get a little relief? Not enough to actually get off, obviously, but just enough to take the edge off.

Big mistake.

The second he tried grinding against his mattress, the cage pinched in the worst way possible, sending a bolt of searing pain straight through him. He yelped, nearly tumbling off the bed.

Okay. New plan.

Pillows? Nope.

Rubbing with his hands? Absolutely not.

At one point, he even tried taking a warm bath, thinking the heat might help relax things-

Only for his body to betray him.

Getting hard inside the cage was a fresh new level of agony.

He almost cried.

Hiro was so desperate that his brain started working against him.

Everything felt suggestive.

The way his belt brushed against his hips? Sinful.

The vibrations of the washing machine when he leaned on it? Dangerously close to making him moan out loud.

And worst of all?

His own goddamn brain was edging him in his sleep.

He’d wake up from the dirtiest, filthiest dreams imaginable, fully straining against the cage, and holy hell, did it hurt.

He’d gasp awake, panting and sweating like he just ran a marathon, only to be left with zero relief.

He was losing his mind.

By the twentieth day, he was desperate. Absolutely feral.

He started trying to bargain with Ishimaru, offering anything to get the damn thing off.

“I’ll clean your room! For a year!”

“No.”

“I-I’ll give up porn forever! Forever, man! Just please!”

Ishimaru simply adjusted his armband, looking smug as hell.

“Discipline isn’t about temporary suffering, Hagakure! You’re making great progress!”

Hiro just threw his arms up in frustration and stormed off.

By now, Hiro had gotten so pent-up that he was at constant risk of embarrassing himself in public.

It was bad.

Anytime someone so much as brushed against him, he had to fight the urge to shudder.

When Asahina gave him a totally normal, friendly hug? He had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t make a sound.

And when Celeste leaned in just a little too close while asking about his fortune-telling?

He had to physically excuse himself before he humiliated himself in front of everyone.

He was turning into a goddamn animal.

By the last stretch, Hiro was not okay.

He was snappy, jittery, and absolutely obsessed with getting the key back.

It consumed his every waking thought.

He barely functioned like a normal human being anymore- just an overgrown, frustrated mess whose sole purpose in life was getting that damn cage off.

And so, on the final day, he snapped.

Hiro stormed into Ishimaru’s room, slamming the door behind him.

Ishimaru barely had time to look up before Hiro grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Give me the key.”

Ishimaru blinked, completely unbothered. “Now, now, Hagakure, there’s no need for viole-”

Hiro shook him.

“THE KEY, ISHIMARU.”

Ishimaru sighed, tilting his head in mock thought.

“I could let you out, but I must say, your progress has been-”

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD-”

Ishimaru smirked.

That bastard actually smirked.

“Very well,” he said, finally pulling out the key. “I suppose you have shown an admirable amount of restrai-”

Hiro didn’t even wait for him to finish.

The second the key was in his hands, he was gone.

Ishimaru just chuckled, crossing his arms.

“Maybe next time, he’ll thank me for it.”

Hagakure sprinted back to his room like a man possessed.

He didn’t even bother locking the door behind him- he just collapsed onto the bed, fumbling so hard with the tiny key that he almost dropped it.

His hands were shaking.

It took a few tries- his fingers were so clumsy from sheer desperation that he kept missing the lock-

But finally, finally, he heard the soft click.

And then, blessedly, the cage came off.

The sheer relief that flooded through him was indescribable.

He let out a ragged, shuddering breath, head tilting back as he simply existed in this moment of pure, unfiltered freedom.

A month.

A whole damn month.

And now, at last-

He couldn’t waste another second.

His hand was already moving before he even consciously decided to do it.

Hagakure grabbed his cock, shuddering at the feeling of being able to finally have something other than harsh metal against his throbbing length.

He slowly moved his hand up and down his shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as his head flew back against the bed.

“F-Fuck…”

His hips sputtered upward at the smallest of touches, his body searching for a release to the tension that had been building up for a month.

As his hand pumped faster, his eyes rolled back, a low groan escaping his throat.

“Hnng-”

It hit him like a tidal wave.

His body jerked uncontrollably as he reached his limit, thick ropes of pent-up frustration spilling over his hand and thighs.

He lay there, sprawled across his bed, completely and utterly wrecked.

His brain was fried.

His body felt like it had been through war.

But goddamn, was he satisfied.

The stupid little cage sat on his bedside table, looking small and unassuming, like it hadn’t just put him through a month of absolute hell.

He glared at it.

Never. Again.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Hagakure?” Ishimaru’s voice came through, chipper and righteous as ever. “I trust you’ve learned something valuable from this experience?”

Hagakure groaned into his pillow. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice hoarse from his earlier activities.

“And what is that?” Ishimaru asked expectantly.

Hagakure sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“…That I never, ever wanna go through that again.”

Ishimaru chuckled. “An admirable conclusion! I’m proud of your growth!”

Hagakure just groaned again, too exhausted to argue.

Ishimaru continued, “Now then! If you ever need assistance maintaining your self-discipline in the future, I’d be happy to-”

Hagakure threw a pillow at the door.

“GO AWAY!”

Ishimaru just laughed as he walked away.

Hagakure sighed, grabbing some tissues, shakily cleaning himself up.

He was so done with this whole ordeal.

He was taking a goddamn nap.

A long, satisfied one.

Ember in the Dark pt.1

Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

pt.2

Warnings: War, Violence, Death, illness, Grief, Poverty, Persecution, Oppression, and Child neglect/orphanhood.

Word Count: 2914

Summary: Nayesa, a refugee from Ionia, flees to the Undercity with her infant daughter to escape Noxian forces, suppressing her magic to survive. She toils endlessly to keep her child safe, but when the girl unknowingly uses magic, Nayesa realizes their past will always haunt them. She works herself to death, leaving her daughter alone in the unforgiving streets. Forced to survive, the girl joins a group of orphans- Vander, Silco, and Felicia- learning to steal, fight, and conceal her powers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The putrid scent of burning wood and flesh clung to the air as Nayesa ran, her breath ragged, her muscles screaming for respite. Behind her, the once-pristine forests of Ionia were choked with smoke, their vibrant greens now painted in the sickly fire glow. The rhythmic clang of Noxian steel against Ionian blades still rang in her ears, but she dared not turn back.

Her infant whimpered softly in her arms, her tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of her tattered robes. She adjusted her grip, pressing the baby closer to her chest, shielding her from the cold wind sweeping in from the coast. She couldn't cry- she mustn't cry. If the Noxians heard them, if they saw the faint shimmer of magic that still crackled beneath her fingertips, they would be hunted down.

She had seen it before. A woman who tried to fight back, her magic searing through Noxian armor- only for the warbands to descend upon her like beasts, silencing her screams beneath iron and blood. She had turned away, biting back her own fear, and fled. Magic is a death sentence. That was the one lesson Ionia’s war had taught her.

The boats at the shore were barely visible through the thickening fog. She stumbled onto the dock, her heart hammering as she found an old ferryman willing to take her. He was a man of few words, his face lined with the hardship of someone who had smuggled too many refugees, but his hand was steady as he took her trembling coin. No questions asked. She clutched her daughter tighter as the boat rocked, her gaze fixed on the horizon where The Undercity- dark, industrial, and suffocating- waited.

It was not home. It never would be. But it was safe.

The Undercity embraced the lost, the forsaken, and those with secrets to keep. Here, in the slums where even Piltovan Enforcers feared to tread, they could disappear. She learned to hide in the shadows, to suppress the flicker of magic in her blood, to live as just another nameless refugee in a city built on the bones of the forgotten.

Her baby would grow up not knowing Ionia’s forests, not hearing the songs of the wind dancing through cherry blossoms. But she would live. And for now, that was enough…

Nayesa’s fingers tightened around the threadbare cloak wrapped around her daughter, her mind drifting as the boat rocked gently beneath them. The salt-laden air of the ocean mixed with the acrid scent of smoke still clinging to her skin was a cruel reminder of what she had left behind.

Ionia was gone to her now. The home where she once played among the cherry blossoms, where the rivers whispered songs of old, where the spirits still danced in the wind- lost. She forced herself not to think of the faces she would never see again, the family she had abandoned to the fire and steel of Noxus. Guilt gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, but she buried it deep. She had no choice.

The ferryman, silent as the grave, guided the vessel through the thickening mist. His hands, calloused and cracked from years of toil, moved with mechanical precision as he adjusted the sail. Nayesa knew better than to speak- men like him survived by knowing nothing, saying nothing. Still, when his gaze briefly flickered to the bundle in her arms, there was no malice there, only understanding.

She exhaled, glancing down at her child. Small, fragile, yet warm against her chest. A spark of life amid the ashes of war. She traced a gentle hand over the baby’s cheek, whispering a promise she had no idea how to keep.

By the time they reached the docks, night had swallowed the sky. The towering, rust-streaked structures loomed overhead, their smog-drenched exteriors casting jagged shadows against the dim glow of neon signs. The scent of oil, metal, and damp earth thickened the air, an oppressive contrast to the crisp mountain breezes of Ionia.

She stepped off the boat, her legs weak from exhaustion, and nearly collapsed. The ferryman caught her arm- only for a second before slipping away into the murk, his presence vanishing as quickly as it had come.

Nayesa pulled the hood of her cloak low, blending into the throngs of workers, refugees, and outcasts that moved like restless phantoms through the lower districts. No one spared her a glance. In The Undercity, survival meant minding your own business.

The slums welcomed her with the cold indifference of a city built on desperation. She found shelter in a crumbling tenement, a place where the air was thick with the scent of rust and mildew, where the walls groaned under the weight of their decay. But it was a place to rest, to breathe.

Days blurred into weeks, then months. She worked where she could- scrubbing factory floors, mending torn garments, selling whatever scraps she could barter. She spoke little, kept her head down, and made sure no one saw the shimmer of power that still lived beneath her skin.

Her daughter, whom she named (Y/N), grew into the shadows of the Lanes. She never knew the wind-chimes of Ionia, never saw the blossoms bloom in spring, never ran through the open fields where the spirits once roamed. Instead, she learned the rhythm of the Undercity- the hiss of steam vents, the distant hum of chem-tech engines, the quiet desperation in every hushed conversation.

She would watch her at night, curled up in the dim glow of a flickering light, and wonder what kind of life she had truly given her.

Safe. But at what cost?

One evening, as Nayesa walked home through the winding alleys, she heard a sound that froze her blood.

Laughter.

A child’s laughter, light and unburdened, echoed through the filth and grime of the Undercity’s streets.

She turned the corner and saw (Y/N), no longer a baby but a bright-eyed child, her tiny hands outstretched as small, golden sparks danced at her fingertips. A wonder, a gift- one that could get them both killed.

Nayesa’s heart pounded.

Magic is a death sentence.

The war may have been left behind, but its lessons had not.

She rushed forward, scooping (Y/N) into her arms, extinguishing the light with a whispered hush.

No one could see. No one could know.

She had sacrificed everything for her daughter’s safety.

And now, the Undercity would demand its own price.

It was a city that took as much as it gave, swallowing the desperate and forgotten whole. Nayesa had always known it would come for her too, sooner or later.

For seven years, she scraped by in the underbelly of the city, enduring the choking smog, the filth-ridden streets, and the cold that seeped into her bones. She endured it all for (Y/N). Every coin she earned, every sleepless night, every bruise from the fists of those who thought a refugee woman was an easy target- it was all for her daughter.

(Y/N) was bright and full of wonder despite the bleak world around her. She didn’t remember the war, the flames that consumed their home, or the screams that once haunted Nayesa’s nights. To her, Ionia was nothing more than stories murmured in hushed tones, tales of Magic and rivers that whispered secrets to those who listened. Nayesa never told her the full truth of their exile, only that they had left because it was too dangerous to stay.

But the real danger wasn’t behind them- it was here, in the Lanes, lurking in the shadows, waiting.

Nayesa had felt the sickness creeping into her body long before she admitted it to herself. The air in the lower districts was thick with toxins, a slow, creeping poison that gnawed at her lungs. Every cough was deeper, wetter. Every breath was a struggle. There were chem-doctors in the Lanes who could cure anything- for a price. But Nayesa had no money for miracles.

She worked until she couldn’t stand. Then, she worked more.

She didn’t tell (Y/N). She couldn’t.

But children saw more than adults ever gave them credit for.

"Momma, why are you always so tired?" (Y/N) asked one night, her small fingers tracing the lines of her mother’s weathered hands.

Nayesa smiled, brushing a stray lock of soft hair from her daughter’s face. "Because I have the best little girl in the world to take care of," she said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And that’s worth everything."

But love alone wasn’t enough to keep her alive.

One morning, Nayesa didn’t wake up.

(Y/N) shook her at first, small hands gripping the worn fabric of her mother’s cloak. "Momma?" she whispered, her voice uncertain, scared.

She didn’t move.

The room was cold. The single candle by the bedside had long since burned out, leaving only the distant glow of the Undercity’s ever-present green smog filtering through the cracks in the walls.

(Y/N) curled up beside her mother, waiting for her to wake up. She didn’t understand. Not yet.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the gnawing ache of hunger set in, that the truth began to sink in.

Her mother wasn’t waking up.

She was alone.

No one in the Lanes cared about another dead refugee. There were no mourning bells, no neighbors offering condolences. By nightfall, scavengers would come, rifling through their tiny home for anything of value.

(Y/N) didn't wait for them.

She packed what little she could- her mother’s old cloak, a handful of stolen ration bars, a rusty knife too dull to be a real weapon- and ran.

The streets of the Undercity were not kind to the weak.

She learned quickly. How to steal without being seen. How to disappear when Enforcers patrolled too close. How to navigate the tangled maze of pipes, vents, and back alleys that served as the lifeblood of the Undercity.

She was small, fast, invisible. And she was hungry.

The first time she stole from a chem merchant’s stall, she was caught. A rough hand yanked her back, slamming her against a wall.

"Little rat," the man snarled, his breath reeking of grease and sour alcohol. "Think you can take from me?"

(Y/n) trembled, her fingers curling instinctively. A warmth flickered in her palms, tiny sparks of golden light dancing between her fingers.

Magic.

No. No, no, no.

She clenched her fists, forcing it down, burying it deep. Her mother’s warning echoed in her mind.

Magic is a death sentence.

She braced herself for the beating- but it never came.

Instead, another voice cut through the heavy air.

"Let her go."

A boy, older than her, stood in the shadows of the alley. His arms were crossed, his clothes patched and dirt-streaked, but his gaze was sharp, calculating. His black hair covered his eyes a bit, too short to tie back, too long to look completely neat. "She’s with us."

The merchant sneered but let her go with a shove. "Keep your rats on a leash…" he spat before stalking off.

(Y/N) coughed, her ribs aching, but she turned to the boy, confused. "I’m not with you…" she said, wary.

"You are now," he replied simply.

And just like that, (Y/N) found herself among the lost children of the Lanes- the orphans, the runaways, the ones who had no homes… Vander, Silco, and Felicia… They moved like ghosts through the city, stealing to survive, hiding in the forgotten corners where the Enforcers wouldn’t dare to tread.

(Y/N) learned their ways. How to fight, how to climb, how to read the shifting tides of the city’s underworld. But most importantly, how to keep her secret.

She never used her magic. Not once.

Not until the day she had no choice.

It happened during a heist gone wrong- when she was fourteen...

They had planned everything perfectly- distract the shopkeeper, grab the goods, and slip away before anyone noticed. But no plan ever survived the chaos of The Undercity.

The Enforcers came down on them fast, too fast. (Y/N) ran, her breath sharp in her chest, her feet pounding against metal grates and uneven cobblestone. She took a wrong turn- a dead end.

The Enforcers were closing in.

She panicked.

A flicker of warmth ignited in her palm. Then a spark. Then a flame.

Golden light flared to life, illuminating the alleyway in brilliant, searing heat. The Enforcers reeled back, blinded, startled.

And (Y/N) ran.

She ran until her legs gave out, until she collapsed in a forgotten corner of the city, her heart slamming against her ribs.

She had been careful. She had hidden it for years… But now they would come for her. In The Undercity, secrets never stayed hidden for long…

For seven years, she had hidden what she was. Buried it beneath bruised knuckles and nimble fingers, beneath the hunger and the cold, beneath the fight to survive. But now, the secret she had fought to keep was out. Maybe not fully- but it was a crack, and cracks always widened.

The others would know soon enough.

She couldn’t go back. Not yet. Not with the heat still on her.

So, she disappeared into the veins of the Undercity, into the places where the air stank of rot and rust, where even Enforcers hesitated to follow. The tunnels beneath the city were a maze- only those born to the Lanes could navigate them, and (Y/N) had lived here long enough to know every passage, every broken grate, every hidden crawlspace.

She found a hollow space beneath a collapsed structure and curled into it, pressing her back against the damp stone, pulling her knees to her chest. She needed to think. To plan.

But plans meant nothing when Silco was the one sent to find you. Silco moved through the Undercity like a shadow, his sharp eyes scanning every alley, every abandoned structure. He knew how to track a runaway. They all did; life had made them that way.

Felicia had been worried, of course. "She’s been gone too long," she had muttered, arms crossed, trying to mask her concern. "What if the Enforcers-"

"She’s fine," Vander had cut in, though his frown betrayed his doubts. "She’s one of us."

And Silco? He hadn’t said much. He had only grabbed a knife and set out.

(Y/N) was fast. Smart. She knew how to disappear.

But he knew her.

He knew the places she went when she wanted to be alone, the paths she took when she needed to breathe. And more than that- he knew fear.

He had seen it in her when they ran from the heist, when the Enforcers had almost caught them. But there was something else, something deeper in the way she had looked at them before she fled.

Not fear of getting caught.

Fear of being seen.

It gnawed at him as he moved through the city, picking his way through the forgotten tunnels. If she was hurt, if someone else had found her first-

No. He pushed the thought away. He would find her.

The search had fractured them into three silent battalions. Felicia, driven by equal parts concern and duty, combed through the labyrinthine upper corridors where the stale, clinging mist of decay blurred every step. Vander took a divergent route, his methodical pace revealing an unspoken determination as he retraced familiar paths that had once served as escape routes. And then there was Silco- moving like a whisper among the ruins, his focus as sharp as the blade he carried.

In the winding gloom beneath a collapsed structure, Silco’s calculated steps slowed as a fragile form emerged from the darkness.

She was curled up beneath a collapsed structure, half-hidden in the darkness, her body taut with exhaustion. She looked smaller like this, the rough edge she carried worn down by fear and fatigue.

For a moment, he just watched her.

"You gonna come out," he finally said, his voice calm, "or do I have to drag you?"

(Y/N)’s head snapped up, her eyes sharp and alert despite her exhaustion. She hesitated, her muscles coiled like a cornered animal.

"You alone?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Silco scoffed. "No, I brought a whole damn parade." He stepped forward, crouching slightly so she wouldn’t bolt. "What the hell happened back there, (Y/N)?"

She swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. "We got sloppy."

"Not what I meant." His gaze didn’t waver. "You ran like they were hunting you."

(Y/N) flinched, just slightly, but Silco caught it.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Finally, she exhaled, looking away. "I just… I can’t go back yet."

Silco tilted his head, studying her. "Why?"

She bit her lip, hesitating.

Because I have magic. Because I lost control. Because if you knew, you’d never look at me the same way again.

But she couldn’t say that.

So instead, she forced a smirk, weak but convincing. "Didn’t feel like dealing with Vander’s lectures."

Silco snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, you’re gonna hear them anyway. So get up."

She didn’t move.

Silco’s smirk faded. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You don’t have to tell me, you know. But whatever’s got you scared?" He straightened up, eyes dark. "Don’t let it turn you into prey."

(Y/N) looked at him then, something unspoken passing between them.

Silco had always been sharp, always seeing things others missed. Maybe he didn’t know the truth yet. But he knew something.

And that was dangerous.

Still, she took his outstretched hand...

Hi!! Love you're work btw! Can I request reader who isn't good at showing affection and the only way they know how is by giving gifts but the more they give the more they feel like their giving too much and like assumes their not even keeping the gifts. Maybe have the characters comfort them that they are, sorry of this didn't make sense 😓

Hi! I absolutely can do this :} can you give me the fandoms and characters you want this for? You can send them in another ask, or just comment on this post, and I'll get to writing it after all the other ones I'm writing :}}

YAYYY thanks for Kyoko/Celeste/Toko request it was awesome (the inclusion of Jack caught me off guard since I personally don't find her attractive but idm!!! /Gen I should've been more specific whoopsie haha!) very well written, I enjoyed it alot!

Ps. Unfortunately an infamous ableist, homophobic, fatphobic (amongst other awful things) user liked that post :( if you wanted to block them or not M/ommy/hon/da (without the slashes, they search their name up for people talking about them hence the censoring

Oh, my bad about the Jack inclusion! I hope it was okay nonetheless! And yes, I noticed that user, and I already promptly blocked them :}

Thank you for the warning. If you have any more requests, feel free to make them. I'll try to keep it strictly to the characters asked from now on. I consider Jack/Toko sorta the same person (or ya know, two people sharing the same body), which is the only reason why I added them lmao.

you write for helluva boss?

Yes, I do, @ultimategraffitiguy. I added it to my last of fandoms :}

ITS SO CRISP!!! I want the art book so baddddddd 🥺

Digital Artbook was released in Japan so I found some HD Silco concepts on twitter and upscaled them to an even higher quality

hi hiii, could I request headcanons or a one shot (completely up to you) that's a shuichi saihara x reader where the reader is kaede's brother/sibling? that whole dynamic?

(if not, feel free to ignore)

thank you <3

A/N: Yes, absolutely! I kept the reader gender neutral, since it wasn't specified. Hope that's okay :}

A Little Too Close

Shuichi x GN!Reader Headcannons

Warnings: Grief/Loss, Trauma, and Nightmares

Word Count: 1527

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Shuichi's first reaction to meeting (Y/N): He’s startled. Not because they’re intimidating, but because… They look like Kaede. Or maybe it's their energy, their expressions, the way they say his name. It throws him off. He fumbles with his hat almost immediately, tugging it low as he mumbles a polite greeting. “I didn’t know Kaede had a sibling…” (Y/N) smiles. “Guess she didn’t talk about me much, huh?” That makes him nervous. Not because of them- but now he’s overthinking what Kaede did say, and whether it was enough to prepare him for them. Spoiler: It wasn’t.

-They remind him of Kaede… but not quite: There are moments where they laugh or tilt their head just like she used to, and his heart squeezes. But then (Y/N) says something unexpected- sarcastic, bold, or quietly observant- and he realizes: They’re not her. And that’s… oddly comforting. They’re not a walking shadow of Kaede. They’re their own person. It makes him want to understand them more. Quietly. Carefully. Like a case he doesn’t want to mess up.

-Early awkwardness: He doesn’t know how to act around them at first. Should he treat them like Kaede treated him? Should he be distant, out of respect? (Y/N) catches him doing that weird thing where he hovers in a doorway, half-turning like he’s about to leave. They just raise an eyebrow and tell him to sit down. He does. Immediately. No questions asked. (They tease him about that later.)

-Accidental late-night conversations: The first time the two really talk is late- everyone else is asleep or gone, and the only sound is the ticking of a clock and some distant wind. (Y/N) asks him how he’s doing, really. He’s not used to someone asking without a motive. They don’t push, but they stay. That stays with him longer than their words do.

-Soft, silent comfort: He starts to notice how (Y/N) lingers when he’s feeling overwhelmed. How they never force conversation, but they offer it, like an open hand he can take or not. He realizes he likes their silence. It’s not awkward- it’s safe. Sometimes, they’ll just sit nearby with a book, or hum a tune Kaede used to play, and that’s enough to ground him.

-Little moments that get to him: (Y/N) fixes his collar without thinking. He freezes. They just go, “There. It was bugging me.” They bring him tea when he’s deep in notes. He thanks them with pink cheeks and a voice softer than usual. They laugh at one of his rare jokes, and he’s stunned for a second- then shyly smiles. He’s starting to look forward to making them laugh again.

-The turning point: He catches himself watching them one day- not analyzing, not deducing- just watching, with a kind of warmth in his chest that makes him anxious. He blurts out, “You’re… really different from Kaede.” “Yeah? Is that a good thing?” He hesitates. Then nods, voice low. “Yeah. It is.”

-Shuichi starts letting his walls down, little by little: At first, it’s subtle. He actually starts seeking them out instead of waiting for them to bump into him. They’ll catch him standing nearby when they’re talking to someone else, not saying much, just listening. He says it’s “out of habit,” but his eyes keep drifting to (Y/N). They ask if he wants to walk with them somewhere, and he says “Sure,” with this small, surprised smile like he wasn’t expecting to be invited.

-(Y/N) starts understanding his little tells: When he’s anxious, he tugs at his gloves. When he’s genuinely happy, his voice gets a little higher and softer. And when he’s looking at them- really looking- they can feel the intensity, even if he drops his gaze the second they meet it. They pretend not to notice when he stares a little too long, just to see how long it takes for him to turn red. (Spoiler: not long.)

-Domestic softness sneaks in: (Y/N) brings him tea or coffee without him asking now. They even remember how he takes it. Sometimes they sit beside him while he’s writing up notes on a case and rest their chin on his shoulder until he blushes and stiffens like a statue. He starts handing them his jacket on cold days without a word. He says, “You looked cold,” but he’s the one shivering.

-Kaede’s memory brings them together, not apart: One night, they’re both sitting in the music room. The piano sits untouched. (Y/N) says, “She’d hate how quiet it is in here.” Shuichi nods, staring at the keys. “She would’ve played something bright… even if no one was listening.” They play a few notes, a little clumsy at first, but Shuichi closes his eyes and listens. “You sound like her,” he whispers. “But… not.” They smile. “That’s the idea.”

-He confides in (Y/N), finally: He tells them he still has nightmares. About trials, about people he couldn’t save. They don’t try to fix it. They just listen, and then they tell him about their own fears. How losing Kaede still feels unreal. He reaches out, hesitates… then rests his hand lightly on theirs. No words. Just warmth. Just: I’m here.

-The “oh no I like them” moments: He overhears someone flirting with (Y/N) and nearly drops his notebook. He’s not jealous (he tells himself), but he definitely interrupts with something awkward and unnecessary. They ask if he wants to try cooking something together and he agrees way too fast, then spends the whole time pretending to be calm while he burns the rice. They fall asleep next to him during a late night chat. He watches them breathe for a while, then whispers, “I think Kaede would’ve liked this… us.”

-The shift: One day, (Y/N) brushes some hair out of his eyes without thinking. He catches their wrist mid-motion. “You always do that,” he says softly. “Like you’re not even thinking about it.” They shrug. “Maybe I just want an excuse to touch you.” Silence. His ears go red. Then, so quietly it’s barely there: “You don’t need an excuse.”

-The moment it finally clicks, for both of them: It happens quietly. No fireworks. No huge romantic gesture. Maybe they’re both watching the stars one night, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. (Y/N) says something like, “I wish Kaede could’ve seen this.” And Shuichi says, “I think she’d be happy. I mean… that we found each other.” There’s a pause. They both glance at each other. Something in the air changes. It’s not just comfort anymore. It’s something deeper. Something that’s been growing, slowly and patiently, in all the silences and half-smiles and lingering stares.

-Neither of them say it immediately… but it feels different: After that night, the way he looks at (Y/N) is different. More direct. Like he’s not afraid anymore. They catch yourself holding their breath when he leans close to show them something in his notebook. His fingers brush theirs and neither of them pull away this time.

-The first kiss: It’s so painfully gentle. Shuichi is careful, like he’s afraid to break something delicate. He hesitates right before, his lips just a breath away, and whispers, “Is this okay?” (Y/N) nods, heart fluttering, and he finally closes the gap. It’s shy and sweet and makes their knees go weak. When they pull back, they’re both red-faced and smiling like idiots. He covers his face with his hand and just goes, “Wow…” (Y/N) teases him: “What? Solved the case of your own feelings?” “Took me long enough,” he mumbles. 

-The “we’re official” moments: He doesn’t call them his partner right away. He just kind of… sticks closer. Sits next to them every time. Carries two drinks instead of one. He accidentally blurts out “my p- my partner.” in front of someone and then refuses to make eye contact for a whole hour. (Y/N) doesn’t tease him too much. They just take his hand and lace their fingers with his under the table. That shuts down his anxiety real quick.

-Soft, sleepy comfort: They take naps together now. Shuichi’s arms around their waist, his breath slow and steady against the back of their neck. He sleeps better when they're there. No nightmares. No tension in his shoulders. They kiss the top of his head before he falls asleep. He never says anything, but the way he exhales tells them everything.

-Domestic sweetness: He leaves them little notes when he’s busy, “Don’t forget to eat. I left your favorite tea by the kettle.” They write back on the same paper, “You’re cuter when you’re bossy.” He keeps that note in his pocket for weeks.

-The quiet confession (finally said out loud): He says it first. Not in a dramatic moment, but while they’re brushing his hair out of his eyes before bed. “I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I just… I do.” (Y/N) smiles. “I know. I love you too, detective.” He exhales like he’s been holding it in for months. Then he pulls them close and doesn’t let go.