#pawn-lane
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Holding him like a pedigree beast. Small pawn, big shrimp.
#i dont think they even have shrimp in vermund but who knows#we dont have shrimp where im from (similar climate)#ritens-art#dragon's dogma 2#pawn-lane#dd2-rickard#dragons dogma 2
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I'm completely spellbound by Dragon's Dogma 2.
Kassandra's Pawn ID (PC): ZIO32E71O128
#dragon's dogma 2#dragon's dogma ii#dd2#dd2 pawn#dd2 arisen#I love this little bugger#arisen-hildegard#pawn-kassandra#pawn-lane
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Also cracks me up in retrospect (because at the time I was just OOGHGHGHGHG and fawning over blushies) that the first Rann blushies were while doing the Glyndwr escort quest like. My boy was having a Realization watching Glyndwr fawn over Reverie.
#crow plays dd2#arisen x pawn#and then we ran into a drake and i had to sling glyndwr over reverie's shoulder and BOOK IT#(was our first drake encounter lmao)#going down memory lane ;w;#(it was like a week ago)
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Nobody fucking talk to me i just finished rewatching arcane and it was DEVASTATING I need to KILL
#i have some thoughts marinating about silco and loyalty especially in the last episode#and his relationship with jinx and sevika and vander and ough#its marinating its marinating#but like. vander's philosophy is loyalty above all else and the lanes reflect that when hes in charge#silco's philosophy is that every one betrays him/jinx and that's why he can fight piltover#unlike vander he doesnt care about the casualties or the suffering he causes because hes all alone. he cant trust anyone#but then last episode vander makes TWO choices that put loyalty above all else#the whole show we see silco's power crumbling. the chembarons are riled up marcus dies so he has no pawns in piltover etc#but he makes the decision to trust sevika's loyalty (even says 'i still believe in loyalty')#and bc of that she eradicates a threat for him. she kills finn and picks up his lighter (symbolising power) and gives it to silco#and THEN he chooses not to give jinx up not even to achieve an independent zaun#(granted we dont see it come to fruition)#but in making that choice he assures jinx's loyalty to him even after his death#silco was willing to give up everything hed worked for for jinx and so jinx gave up the chance of reconciliation with vi to achieve their#mutual goal#like. silco had made plans for peace and in setting off the rocket jinx destroyed that possibility#but silco was never gonna go for thag deal anyway AND silco was dead#like jayce said you cant make a deal with a snake and cut off its head#the deal was never gonna work. instead she returned to their original plan of building and using a weapon against piltover#which is the plan silco would have returned to if hed been alive given he wasnt gonna follow through on the deal for peace#so yeah. silcos undercity is built on power rather than loyalty but his control is fracturinf the whole time#its ultimately loyalty which keeps him in power and achieves his goals#ALSO the line 'is there anything so undoing as a daughter' is interesting here#because vander gave up his idealogy of pacifism to protect those he cares about in order to save vi#he gives into violence once again because its the only way to save her from silcos goons#but silco gives into loyalty and turns his back on his vision of a free zaun because of jinx#idkidk its all fun and muddled and hmmm#arcane
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pathfinder you fucking cunt you interrupted my post-victory rough-housing with my son
#dd2#I DIDNT THINK HED THROW HIM OFF LIKE THAT#i promise this is not pawn abuse i just like to pick him up and spin him around sometimes#sorry lane and allen for making you guys watch that#dd2 spoilers
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Changing Lanes
Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader
Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love
“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.
Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”
You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”
He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”
“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”
Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”
You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”
“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”
You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”
He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”
A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”
Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”
“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.
His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”
You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”
He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”
Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”
“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.
“It might be.”
You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”
He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”
You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”
Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”
“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”
“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”
You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”
“Like what?”
He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”
You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”
You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”
He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”
You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”
Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”
“Just promise me one thing.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What?”
You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”
He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”
***
“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.
Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”
You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”
He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”
“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”
He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”
You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”
Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”
“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”
Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”
“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”
He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”
You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”
He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”
Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”
“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.
He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”
You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”
He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”
“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”
Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”
You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”
He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”
“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”
He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”
***
“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”
You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.
“Charles?” You question hesitantly.
He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”
Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”
Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”
You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”
You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”
Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”
Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”
You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”
He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”
Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”
Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”
You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”
Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.
Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”
You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”
He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”
You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”
He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”
You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”
***
“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”
“Of course.“
Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.
Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”
Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”
The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.
“What do you mean?”
Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”
Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”
Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”
Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”
You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”
Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”
“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”
Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”
Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”
Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”
The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.
You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.
The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”
He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”
You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”
Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.
When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”
You squeeze his hand. “Always.”
***
***
***
Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”
You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”
“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”
You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.��
He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”
The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”
You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”
“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”
You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”
He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”
You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”
As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.
You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”
He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”
You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”
He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”
As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.
After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”
You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”
He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”
You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”
He nods. “I know we will too.”
***
“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”
You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”
He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”
Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”
Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”
You grin. “Only when it counts.”
The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.
Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”
You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”
He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”
“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”
“I always do.”
As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”
He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”
The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.
“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”
“Copy.”
The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.
“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.
Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”
The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.
“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”
He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.
“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”
He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”
The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.
***
“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”
You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”
He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”
“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”
“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”
The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.
“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”
He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.
Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.
“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”
However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.
“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”
He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.
The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.
Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”
You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”
He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”
As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.
Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”
***
The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”
You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”
He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”
“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”
As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”
Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”
You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”
He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.
An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”
Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.
Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.
He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.
As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.
It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.
That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”
You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”
He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”
You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”
He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”
You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”
He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”
“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”
***
“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.
You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”
Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”
You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”
Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”
You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”
The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”
Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”
Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”
But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”
Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”
Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”
You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”
Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”
Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”
Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”
Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”
You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”
Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”
***
“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”
The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.
“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”
The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.
Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.
You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.
“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”
The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.
“Push now! Just a few more corners.”
As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.
“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”
“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”
***
“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.
You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”
Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”
Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.
“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”
Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”
Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”
The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.
Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.
“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.
Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”
You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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Vander x Reader - 5 Years Later...(Part 2)
Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!
Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)
Part 2 to my Vander x Reader series - Part 1
I hope you all enjoy this! 💛
Thank you all for the continued support!💛
I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!
Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist
Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of grief, feeling of dega-vu
You knew the Undercity wasn’t the safest of places to go, at least that’s what your father had always told you.
So why were you down here?
Because as much as you appreciated your fathers protectiveness, what type of friend would you be if you let one of your closest friends go down there alone?
A pretty shit one.
Which is why, despite the risks, you went with Jayce down to the Undercity.
Besides, seeing as you were training to be an Enforcer and Jayce was just a student at the academy it was basically your job to escort him and make sure that nothing happened to him; that’s at least what you’d tell Greyson if she asked where you’d been…and your parents, if they asked which you hoped they wouldn’t.
“Remind me where we’re going?” You asked in a slightly hushed tone as the two of you turned a corner walking down a dimly lit alley, before
“I need to get some supplies for a project I’m working on,” Jayce answered simply; with an optimistic gleam in his eyes.
“What project?” you inquired, unable to keep your curiosity at bay; it had certainly been a while since you’d seen Jayce this excited about a project.
“It’s best I don’t tell you, until I can get it working,” he replied; his answer only furthering your curiosity, but perhaps it was for the best for you to know as little as possible…especially if the academy wasn’t aware of it, which by the seams of things, they weren’t. The less you knew the better; though it still played on your mind as the two of you continued walking through the Undercity.
To most people the Undercity was just an underdeveloped land across the river, deep in the canyons, beneath Piltover, filled with misfits and thugs; but as you walked through the lanes of the Undercity, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it.
The beauty of how vibrant the lights atop of the shops shone in the darkness; the difference of industrial architecture, making each building its own, if only in a little way.
It was different from Piltover, of course, but beautiful nevertheless.
Since you'd arrived down here you couldn’t shake this feeling of deja-vu…like you’d been here before.
It was odd.
You’d never been down here; not once; so why did it feel so familiar?
You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised Jayce had stopped walking until you walked into the back of him.
“Sorry,” you whispered, hearing a small chuckle fall from his lips.
“Lost in your own world again?” he teased, turning around to look at you.
You simply rolled your eyes at his comment and looked at the building you’d stopped outside; a pawn shop.
You shot Jayce a confused look; you didn’t understand what this place had that any of the shops in Piltover didn’t; except from some anonymity.
Down here no one knew him.
But that only caused the curiosity you had about his project to grow.
“Stay out here, I won’t be long,” he said before disappearing inside the shop.
You went to follow him, before you heard a song in the distance, that halted your steps.
You knew it.
But you were certain you’d never heard it before…
How did you know a song from the Undercity?
You turned on your heel, following the sound of the song; you knew it was risky, venturing off into the Undercity alone and you knew Jayce would be worried if he came back outside and noticed you gone, but you couldn’t help it.
It was like your feet had a mind of their own and before you knew it, you’d come to the source of the music, it was a bar, or at least that’s what you assumed it was seeing as it was called ‘The Last Drop’ and had a logo of a tankard in the middle of the name.
‘Why does this place seem so familiar?’ you thought to yourself, your eyes narrowing as you stared at the building in front of you.
You were about to take another step, before you felt someone grab ahold of your wrist; instinctively your training kicked in and your guard went up, ready to fight.
That was until you saw that it was Jayce who was holding your wrist; he was panting slightly with a worried look in his eyes, “I thought something had happened to you.”
“I’m sorry,” you apologized, guilt washing over you, “I didn’t mean to worry you,”
“It’s okay,” he answered softly, tugging on your wrist slightly, leading you away from the bar, “Let’s just get out of here.”
And with that the two of you made your way past the pawn shop Jayce had been in, passing a little boy with white hair leaning against the wall, he had a proud smile on his face that was until he saw you.
You waved at him politely, confused about why he was staring at you; but the little boy said nothing, he just continued to stare at you, his mouth hanging slightly agape as you vanished out of his view.
All you could think about as you made your way back to Piltover was how strange today had truly been.
The deja-vu, the song, the bar, the little boy….none of it was making any sense….
~~~~~~
Vander hated seeing Vi hurt; he also hated that she was a mirror image of how he was when he was younger, so eager to rebel against the topsiders…but it wasn’t that simple.
That’s what he was trying to get her to understand.
Every action had a consequence.
He knew that better than anyone.
He was the one who was too stubborn to call off the uprising, because he wanted to show Piltover that they were worthy of not being left behind on all the grand new ventures Piltover were indulging in; and because of that, he lost so many people that were close to him.
But no ones ghost was more haunting than yours.
He just needed Vi to understand that violence wasn’t the way to play this.
He knew Greyson would probably be paying him a visit soon; the kids, unintentionally, broke an agreement that he’d made with the current sheriff of Piltover, to keep a peace between topside and the Lanes.
A peace that was now hanging by a thread.
Once he was sure Vi’s injuries were clean, he rose from the table and began putting away the supplies he’d used to clean her cuts.
“Vander…there’s something else,” Vi began, halting Vanders movements and making his attention focus back on her.
“Go on,” he said calmly, though in his mind he was dreading the next words that were going to come out of her mouth; she’d just been part of blowing up a building in Piltover, what more could there be.
“Ekko said….he said he saw Y/n,”
Her words short-circuited his mind at the mention of your name.
“What?” he asked; thinking that maybe, somehow, he’d misheard what Vi had said.
“He said he saw Y/n walking with that topside guy that came into the shop,” she repeated, noticing how Vanders eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to process her words.
“That was partly why I went up there….to see if she was there,” she continued, rising from her seat, walking over to Vander and placing her hand on his arm.
She knew how much Vander loved you.
She knew how much losing you broke him.
She knew how much losing you hurt both her and Powder; who’d grown so close to you in the few years prior to the uprising.
That’s why she wanted to be sure that Ekko wasn’t wrong; she’d barely believed him herself when he first told her, but before the explosion happened, she was sure she heard your voice; but without actually seeing you, she couldn't be sure if it was you or if it was just the wishful thinking in her mind.
“She’s dead, Vi,” Vander stated; his voice remaining balanced; although the look in his eyes showed a growing sadness.
“You’ve never believed that,”
It wasn’t a lie; he didn’t believe it.
He might’ve said that you were dead; but Vi knew that deep in his heart, he had never believed it.
He never found your body; and without your body, he could still cling on to the hope that you were alive.
Vi never really understood why he couldn’t believe your death was real; but now she knew that he was right all along.
“Ekko got it wrong, it can’t have been her.”
“Vander, he knows what she looks like….” Vi tried to counter, they all knew what you looked like from the photos Vander kept of the two of you; but Vander just went back to putting away the medical supplies before heading to the stairs.
“He got it wrong,” he answered back, slightly harsher than he’d intended to,before leaving the basement entirely and heading to his own room.
He all but collapsed onto the side of your bed; his eyes landing on the photo of you he kept on his bedside table.
You were dead.
That’s what he kept telling himself.
That’s what he'd had to tell himself for the last five years to keep his own sanity.
But there was a little voice in the back of his head, a voice that reignited his failing hope…what if you weren’t…what if what Ekko said was true…?
Vander didn’t know what to believe….the memories from that day flooding back into his mind as the pain he’d felt re-entered his heart, tears fell from the Hound Of The Undergrounds eyes, as he tried to work out what to believe.
What if all these years you’d been alive?
Why were you in Piltover?
Why hadn’t you come back to him?
Did you blame him for what happened on the bridge….did you blame him for the deaths so many people had succumbed to…?
Is that why you never came home?
So many thoughts were running through his mind; but even if his mind hadn’t settled on a decision, his heart had; he needed to find out the truth.
And he would; just as soon as he’d smoothed everything out with Greyson about today's incident.
Taglist:
@xacatalepsyx @the-lone-librarian @conretewings @barbersjoy @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @newlosadventures @eternalgoddessofart @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @nagislemontea @dazecrea
I apologise in advance to those who have asked to be on the taglist and aren’t - I’m not ignoring you, I just can’t tag you in it for some reason :(
#vander x reader#vander x you#vander imagines#vander imagine#vander arcane#arcane vander#vander#arcane#arcane imagines#arcane x reader#arcane imaigne#arcane x you
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Vander x Reader Fic Summary + Chapter List
Title: Strong Drinks & Broken Links
Pairings: Vander x Reader
Pronouns used: None as of now. Vander calls reader “kid” a lot.
TW: None, other than strong language. Eventual smut, but reader is implied to be 21+.
(Will keep updating this post in place of a master list.)
Chapter list (So far):
1) Gray Hair & The Absence of Care [Released on 11/22/24]
2) Untitled for now.
3) Untitled for now.
4) Untitled for now.
[Summary below the cut.]
Summary
You’re stubborn. Too stubborn. Stubborn enough to make even a mule seem obedient.
But it’s not your fault. It’s not like The Lanes are exactly a place known for instilling useful habits into people.
Besides, you only do what you have to do to get by. Utilizing the skills you’ve learned over time. You steal, trade, and pawn what you can to make enough of a living for yourself. It isn’t ideal, but life is only ever anything but.
When you encounter an unfamiliar, and extremely unlikable, according to your standards, bartender, your whole world is turned upside down.
Whether it be some insatiable need to “save” every “troubled soul” he meets, or plain curiosity, he takes an interest in you. You’re not so quick to grin and bear the sudden interest, finding his forceful mentorship unbearable.
But when the man realizes you’re too stubborn to teach, he uses certain connections to threaten your only way of making money in the undercity. You end up having no choice but to shape up, or starve to death.
He makes it obvious that he has no doubts he can tame a brat like you quickly. Will you prove him right, or die trying?
#vander gif#vander arcane#vander x reader#eventual smut#vander x reader smut#Vander x female reader#Vander x NB reader#Vander x male reader#arcane#arcane fic#arcane x reader#arcane x reader fic
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beverlin will always be THAT BITCH to me. like. it’s the duality of being in love with the chosen one and being in love as the chosen one. it’s the both of them saying “he’s too good for me.”
like erlin will never be as strong or brave or significant as Beverly. he isn’t the one who killed the gods or the devils, he isn’t the one time was reset for over and over, he isn’t the one who saved the world. he was just one of the pawns on the board, the body on the altar. loving a hero of the realm casts a hell of a shadow. your hands must seem so small against his. how are you supposed to deal with that? when you’ve never been good with a sword, when all you do is give yourself over to other people?
and bev’s love is dangerous, because power is a magnet for risk. you kidnap lois lane because she doesn’t punch as hard as superman. you lock erlin in a crystal because the heart of a hero is the only part that’s flesh. there’s always a prison gem or an eternal damnation, and bev can’t shake it off. he’ll never be able to just sit one out because part of being important is that the personal things aren’t anymore, part of being important is that you never really get to go home. you don’t stop moving, something always needs to be saved, someone always has to intervene. your life isn’t your own. a hero is selfless. he puts himself aside.
bev walks, erlin trails. erlin rests and bev has to stay on his feet. it’s this inherent distance that they didn’t ask for, that they can only bridge if they really mean it, right? but it works. it works because they love each other. because they’re wrong when they say “he’s too good for me.” because an angel needs the ground when his wings are failing. and a cleric needs something to worship.
#something something the queer bond you develop with the boy you like at summer camp#beverlin#beverly toegold#erlin kindleaf#naddpod#not another dnd podcast#naddpod campaign 1
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Someone put a post (where they admit they straight up dont know these characters lol, and also spell damian as 'damien' so like. yknow.) in the tags saying that if you're a fan of Jon & Jay, you shouldn't buy super son. Well, as the crowned CEO of Jay & Jon, I'm here to tell you guys that you absolutely should.
Super Son did the amazing thing of hitting several marks that I predicted while still managing to surprise me in how they hit them. Which is high praise for any story: A great narrative should be able to both meet reasonable audience expectations (i.e, staying in character, setup payoff) WHILE STILL throwing in curveballs that tell you something new.
There's a lot I want to analyze and get into, namely how I think the rooftop conversation between Jon & Nia is really brilliantly done in what it says about both characters, but mainly I've been thinking a lot about how great those last few pages were and how I think Sina absolutely nails how Jon & Jay's specific issues interact with each other.
Jay's always been a blunt person. From their first meeting back in SOKE 2, hes said what he thinks, and rarely does he try and soften himself. More than that, his bluntness is often a shield from vulnerability, which Jay struggles with the whole scene. It makes total sense, after what hes experienced (re-traumatization at the hands of a friend) that he's displaying that trait again.
Jon, however, is immediately vulnerable. This is the most poignant confession of the issue: Not even in the amazing sequence of Nia helping him make a place in the darkness (look, its back, thanks isabel!) do we get this admission of fear.
And Jay, like always, embraces him. Sidenote, LOVE how they got in the thing Jon does where he's constantly tucking his face in people's shoulders during hugs.
But the moment ends, and we get here. First of all, cold af. I could feel the aura before I turned the page.
Second of all: Jay is totally valid in feeling this way. And it makes perfect sense that he would.
Sara was his everything. Getting her back was one of his main motivations in SOKE. Because of Nia's actions, she died horribly (do you know what happens to a person when they fall from that sort of height? I do. Its AWFUL.) for an unjust cause. Of course he's glad she can't hurt anyone else!
And that's when we get to my FAVORITE PART! Oh how I love this bit. Because like. You understand why Jon's angry- Its a harsh thing for Jay to say! Nia was the one who kept him sane while he was trapped in his own mind! But Jay, like always, is RIGHT: Jon DOESN'T get it. How could he?
Jon Kent will NEVER, ever, be put in this position. Out of universe, his parents are Clark Kent and Lois Lane. They'll ALWAYS come back. Hell, the fact they'll always come back is something Ma LITERALLY says to Jon in SOKE. He will never, ever have to know this pain.
In universe, Jon's a white american. Despite being queer, despite being an alien, he'll never know what its like to be this kind of collateral, delegated as pawns in a greater war for 'freedom'. That is what killed Sara at the end of the day: imperialism.
This next bit hurts my heart. Great job, guys!
For one: Jon claims he's not excusing the mistakes Nia made, but by downplaying it like this... yes he is. But did you catch that part? Right at the start of that bubble?
"I'm going to fight every day to make up for my own part in this."
That's where it clicked for me. Something I had been hoping for since Nicole first called them twin flames.
He's projecting.
Of COURSE he's defending Nia. Of COURSE he wants Jay to forgive her. It isn't just about the fact that she gave him support, it isn't just the dreams, its the fact that... well. If Jay can't forgive her... how could he EVER forgive HIM?
THIS is where the fact that Jon and Nia are so similar as character SINGS. They become mirrors to each other, evaluating their own self worth through the other, at the unintentional expense of the people they've hurt.
Jay's right, though. Again. Its almost like he's the embodiment of the truth or something. He doesn't HAVE to do anything.
When he starts crying though, I immediately was RUINED. This is the first time we have EVER seen him cry before during his entire existence of a character. And its not really even because his mom is dead (though yes, that) and its not even because of the argument. Its because Jay fundamentally wants to be understood, and he's not getting that.
Which is important for the next bit:
I want to first backtrack a bit to Son of Kal El again, specifically, issue fourteen, right here.
Hello, two-panel sequence that succinctly describes these two as characters. How convenient you are for me, a guy analyzing a work that isn't written prose.
Jon isn't good at letting go, for better or for worse. The things he cares about stay with him, and when something or someone tries to exit his life, he clings to them with all his might.
Jay however, both selflessly and selfishly, is willing to let go first if he thinks its better for the other person. To me this line so effortlessly summarizes who Jay is- he's a person who's accustomed to not having things, and will leave before it hurts and he gets too attached.
And that thought is ALL over this scene. Jay, who begins to let go, Jon, who both literally and physically CLINGS to jay, practically begging him to stay.
(Sidenote. This is like, the third time Jay mentions breaking up when Jon starts acting up. Good for you king, keep that white boy on his toes, let him know he ain't all that.)
Every little detail of this four panel sequence is killing me. "My worst nightmare is not having a home with you in it." His greatest desire. The thing that kept tipping him off in every fake reality Nia constructed for him- Jay's absence. Him wiping the tear of Jay's cheek. Jay walking away from him.
But what really gets me is how on this page, Jon talks about them as 'we', while Jay is firmly stuck in 'I.'
This is what made me LOSE MY MARBLES at three in the morning. Just utterly fucking off my rocker in a straightjacket talking to myself.
Because this is what JON wants. But is it what JAY wants?
Jon never asks.
What about what Jay fears? What about the life that HE wants? What if he doesn't want San Francisco? What if the life he wants is the life he HAD before everything went wrong? Jon outright says he wants a fresh start. But Jay, Jay's someone with such deep connections to what he just lost, what he likely WANTS to get back. His country. His mother. His sense of self. But. He says yes.
(Sidenote. FIRST I LOVE YOU WOOOOOOOOOO) To quote my buddy Dami: Oh, the drama of needing a future with someone who can't get over the past.
It is left unclear, by the end, whether or not Jay is saying yes to this because he genuinely wants to, or if he's only saying yes because he doesn't want to lose Jon, too. Jon doesn't stop to question whether or not Jay's only reaching after him because Jon's walking away. We, the audience, are left to ponder that for ourselves.
How much of Jay saying yes is him just accepting that this is the best he's going to get? That he's never going to be understood because nobody wants to understand?
He's an afterthought to Nia, an obstacle at best, and to Jon he's a particularly handsome prop in this little fantasy he has of running away and starting new. He's either not thought of at all, or when he is thought about, it's in the context of how he can emotionally fulfill the other person And you get why Jon did this. He's desperate, he's hurting, he just got tangible evidence that the time he has with the people he loves isn't ever guaranteed. He's been needing space from Clark and Lois for MONTHS because god knows they haven't been fulfilling his emotional needs. In a very real sense, Jay is who he has.
But wanting someone to stay with you so much that you'll... Not even ignore, but just not ever consider what they may want. The intentional isolation, moving halfway across the country away from all support systems. The need to cling to someone.
It reminds me of... something. Someone.
Don't tell Jon I made this comparison. He'll kill himself. Jon and Ultraman ARE similar. They're both such deeply lonely people who cling very tightly and even though it manifests in different ways and even though they have different core thoughts about it. The effect at the end of the day is the same, isn't it?
Is loving Jay not a brutal act of destruction?
There's so many more details about this story I love. Jon & Nia's conversation being vague enough that you have no idea how Jon meant what he told her but you KNOW how NIA took it (girl you can do better hes literally ugly!). Jon breaking a pillar by bonking his head against it (LMFAO). The pretty lies vs ugly truth dichotomy of Jay vs Nia here.
But this one scene, man. This one fucking scene takes the cake. STELLAR work all around. Every panel counts.
This better lead into a full Superman & Gossamer run or SOMETHING or I'm going to have WORDS with DC's editorial staff.
#jay nakamura#jon kent#jonathan samuel kent#gossamer#nia nal#jayjon#dc#wednesday spoilers#jonology#GOD THAT COMIC WAS SO GOOD
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quick pawn profile for a trend on bsky. scrimp is on pc. forgot to add platform info.
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Kassandra being an adorable tall bean.
#Look at her smile#she loves doing that#and how she keeps looking back at Lane lol#dragon's dogma 2#dragon's dogma ii#dd2#pawn-kassandra
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King Naga Shigaraki x Royalty Reader
-Naga & Humans have been beefing for years, thanks to competing for the same resources and of course, AFO stoking the flames of that -Eventually, the two simply decided to stay in their own lanes respectively. Only interacting when it came to trade or economic matters. -There was a golden rule, never EVER start anything on either side. To do so would result in a shitstorm. -Shigaraki was crowned prince after being adopted by AFO. He was feared, respected and beloved by his subjects. Tomura crowned himself king after murdering AFO in a battle for power. -Your family is a modestly sized royal family, powerful but not too big. You are the youngest of your brother and sister, aged 20. -Whilst your brothers harbored a resentment towards the naga, you stayed in your own lane. -Then, one of them did something stupid, dreadfully stupid. You eldest brother had made the horrible decision to attempt to raid one of Shigaraki’s villages, only to be met with Tomura’s furious royal court. -Your brother had attempted to steal valuable jewelry and even tried to abduct Lady Himiko as ransom. If it wasn’t for Jin then Toga would’ve probably made minced meat out of his face. -Tomura was outraged that puny arrogant Prince had the audacity to try and attack his people. So, he was going to be a little shit right back -Your parents were swiftly met with an invite to Tomura’s royal court as to discuss this matter. And they were instructed to bring their family. -“What have you done to my land and people is unforgivable. But I’m willing to forgive if you give me something of value in exchange for your pathetic son.” -Your parents were shaken, no doubt that Tomura wouldn’t hesitate to send his angry court after them. -Then, your eldest sister got an idea. The girl had never liked you, for your elegance, beauty and the fact that you were blossoming into a beautiful person made her rage with jealousy. -So, why not pawn you off to the Naga beast and not only get you out of the way but gain some other benefits. Like more land, materials, food and extra military service?
“I have an idea your majesty!” The court turned to your scheming sister, Tomura seemed rather unimpressed. “I humbly offer you my sibling in exchange for our brother.”
-Everyone was shocked, including you. How dare she try to pawn you off?! You opened your mouth to object but were swiftly glared at by your parents and siblings. -Tomura and his court contemplated it, a murmur of intrigued hissing swept across the room before Tomura answered. He would take you as his mate, perhaps they could repair tensions and Kurogiri was nagging him about finding a mate. -Thus, your new life began
#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x reader#yandere shigaraki#putting that there just incase#naga shigaraki
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santa, santa why do you hate me
summary:
So there he stood, severely out of breath with oil stains clinging to his shirt, sweat uncomfortably cooling his skin, and his socks soaked with melted snow. All that for a train that wasn’t riding anyway, for a Christmas party he didn’t really want to attend, and for one girl he’d been dying to see for months who would (allegedly) be there. If god gives his silliest battles to his funniest of clowns, then Ekko now considered himself the fucking court jester.
In which Ekko is down bad and Jinx doesn't really like Christmas parties.
rating: teen
word count: 7460
status: completed
crossposted to ao3
Tagalog Christmas music spills out from beneath the front door and onto the frosty pavement, where Ekko stands, waiting for someone to open up already. The music is so loud he can clearly make out the words even while outside (not that he understands any of it, all he knows is a few cusses Zeri uses so often even he's managed to pick them up).
The cheer of the holiday season affects even the deepest, grungiest levels of the undercity. Decorations linger outside nearly every row house on Zeri’s street, and fairy lights are strung up all over the lanes, the colors setting the snow-white streets aglow.
Even the weather must be in on the festivities, it started snowing three weeks ago and simply never stopped. This would be Ekko's first white Christmas in years. He might’ve appreciated the aesthetic, had he not been out in the snow for well over an hour by now.
Man, he hates the cold.
Heaving a tired sigh – his breath fogging in front of his face from the chill – he impatiently knocks on the door again, hoping somebody will open up already.
Feeling more and more restless, he taps his foot to the music while he waits, trying (and probably failing) to stop scowling. All things considered though, Ekko thinks he’s pretty justified in the fact that he’s pissed and exhausted now that he's finally made it to Zeri's party.
Luck was not on his side trying to get here. Then again, it never is so what's new? It hadn't started off too bad. After all, Benzo is a good guy and had been fine with letting Ekko leave the store early for the evening.
-
"It's colder than a polar bear's toenail outside," Benzo explained, inspecting a newly pawned antique for its value. "If you don't leave early, you might miss your bus."
But well, the holiday season was busy, even for a hole-in-the-wall shop such as Benzo's, and Ekko was pretty much his only employee (unofficially at that, but as long as he got paid he wasn't complaining). He couldn't just leave the old man to run the shop by himself on one of the busiest days of the year.
Plus, the money was good on Christmas Eve. Dumb Pilties always paid too much, but they were especially easy to overcharge when in a rush to buy a last-minute Christmas gift.
He checked his pocket watch for the time. Alright, he might not make it to Zeri's house on time by bus anymore, but he should’ve been faster if he took the train and then cut through the backstreets (and also much more likely to get stabbed with a shiv but fuck it, not the worst risk he’s taken).
But apparently, Santa just hated his guts. That's the only explanation for the series of unfortunate events that unfolded next.
The first incident was a rookie mistake. Ekko had been struggling to fix a broken pipe while simultaneously juggling a sudden rush of customers, so he'd tried to get the job done as quickly as possible to focus on all the incoming buyers.
But he'd done the job too quickly, sloppily even. He'd only just finished twisting the final cog into place when the pipe sprang, sending oil flying all over him in the process.
"Shit!" he'd cursed, frantically covering the burst pipe to keep the leak contained. It was about as effective as putting a bandaid on a gunshot wound.
"Ekko, what in the bloody hell happened?" Benzo demanded, stepping away from the cash register to assess the damage he'd done.
"My bad, Benzo." Ekko grimaced, reaching for all the paper towels he had on hand to cover the leak. "I'll have this fixed in no time, don't worry."
The old man sighed but nodded, "Alright, you just head out now after fixing this mess," before heading back to the counter to help the line of waiting customers.
Ekko eventually fixed the pipe and cleaned up the remaining mess. Too bad it had taken thirty more minutes than he had intended it to.
When he'd finally made it to the second floor of the shop, he looked down at himself with a grimace. His work overalls had saved his jeans from the damage, but his shirt had not been so lucky. Of course this had to fucking happen when he didn't have any more spare clothes left in the shop.
He looked down at his pocket watch again to calculate how much time he had left. The next train was coming in ten minutes, if he got there quickly he should be able to catch it.
"Alright, I'm out, Benzo," Ekko said, his attention caught between wrestling to properly zip up his jacket and not tripping down the stairs. "Merry Christmas!" he called over his shoulder as he exited the shop.
He wasn’t even sure if Benzo had replied with how fast he was out of the door. Ekko raced his way down the street, grimacing when snow slipped into the gaps of his beat-up sneakers, but he refused to slow down in the slightest.
All this for a Christmas party he actually intended to skip…
Christmas parties weren’t really Ekko’s thing– not when this was the one night of the year his parents were guaranteed to have time off. But Zeri had been harassing him to go for weeks now. He had dodged every invitation until she sent him one damning text message that changed his mind.
⚡️ Z BTW I invited your girlfriend You Who? Oh 😐 Jinx is not my girlfriend stop playing ⚡️ Z LOLOL but you still knew who I meant~ Ayy will you show up or not We’re gonna do karaoke you have to be there! You Alright sheesh Now get off my case already ⚡️ Z HAHAHAHA I KNEW YOUD SAY YES See you then 😁
Ekko couldn’t even find it in him to deny what Zeri was implying, embarrassing as it was. Because, yeah, that was all it took for him to skip out on spending Christmas Eve with his parents for the first time in his life. But he hadn’t seen Jinx in months so sue him, alright?
By the time Ekko made it to the station his lungs felt like they were on fire, sweat uncomfortably clinging to his skin beneath his padded parka. It was then that this evening went from mildly unlucky to absolute shit.
All the trains had been canceled due to bad weather conditions.
So there he stood, severely out of breath with oil stains clinging to his shirt, sweat uncomfortably cooling his skin, and his socks soaked with melted snow. All that for a train that wasn’t riding anyway, for a Christmas party he didn’t really want to attend, and for one girl he’d been dying to see for months who would (allegedly) be there.
If god gives his silliest battles to his funniest of clowns, then Ekko now considered himself the fucking court jester.
So that was that then, no more trains were riding for the evening and the next bus wouldn’t arrive for another forty-five minutes.
Ekko heaved a tired sigh and looked at the snow-coated streets ahead of him. It would take an hour to walk to Zeri's house from here, but it'd still be faster than getting there by bus (assuming the bus wouldn't face delays too).
He was about to make the long trek when he realized the road below the station had been cleared for safety. Ekko reached for his skateboard, pressed between his back and backpack. If he stuck to the side of the road, he probably wouldn’t get hit by a car. After all, there’s no way his luck was that bad.
Good news: His luck was indeed not that bad, seeing as he didn’t get hit by any cars.
Bad news: It was still pretty damn bad because one of the wheels broke off his skateboard and he fell face-first onto the sidewalk. At least the snow broke his fall.
With a groan, he stood up, plucking his injured pride and broken skateboard off the ground. Fine, he could take a cosmic hint. He’d just fucking walk there.
And so, Ekko had no choice but to trek all the way to Zeri’s house on foot. At least going through the city’s back alleys had cut his time down from an hour and three minutes to just forty-nine minutes.
Plus, he didn’t get stabbed with a shiv this time, so that had to count for something.
-
The door swings open and Zeri stands before him, dressed appropriately for the season in what might possibly be the ugliest Christmas sweater he’s ever seen. The pine green monstrosity reads “I’m sexy and I snow it”, depicting a reindeer holding a blunt of all things. She’s even wearing a pair of fluffy antlers on her head to complete the look.
“Didn’t know this was an ugly sweater party,” he deadpans. He would laugh to show that he's just messing around, but unfortunately, he doesn’t quite have enough holiday cheer left for all that.
Her grin transforms into a scowl. “Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too, dude.” She greets him by smacking him across the back, much harder than necessary but he supposes that’s his own fault. “Honestly, I called you like five times! Thought you weren’t gonna show. ”
“Almost didn’t." He sighs, removing his gloves and shrugging off his backpack and coat before finding an empty hanger to leave them on, his broken skateboard leaned sadly against the wall. “Had to miss out on my ma’s Christmas roast this year to be here.”
“Aww man,” Zeri whines. “You should’ve gone anyway and shown up later with some leftovers for me.”
He rolls his eyes, sarcastically quipping, "My bad, you can always try leeching me for food next year."
"I'll hold you to that," she laughs, before pausing when she sees the state Ekko is in. She makes a face at his disheveled appearance. "Oi, what the hell happened to you? Did someone jump you?"
"Ironically enough, that's the one thing that hasn't happened to me today." He takes off his shoes with a grimace, his socks still soaked. "It's a long story. You happen to have anything I can borrow?”
Zeri sighs, patting his shoulder and gesturing for him to follow her up the staircase. “Come on then, I’m sure tatay has some clothes lying around that’ll fit you.”
After handing Ekko a sweater and a pair of clean socks, she leaves him to get changed in the bathroom. “Just come downstairs when you’re ready.”
Ekko doesn't hesitate to change his socks first, breathing a sigh of relief now that his feet are finally free from their gross, soggy prison. He then takes advantage of the hairdryer hanging on the wall to dry the insides of his poor sneakers.
When he finally gets a good look at the sweater Zeri's picked from, he can't help but cringe. The damn thing is bright red: a Rudolph sweater complete with a fluffy red nose sewn onto it. Tacky as hell, but at least now he knows it runs in the family.
Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. He pulls his shirt over his head, tugging on the ugly (and itchy, great) sweater instead.
When he finally makes his way back downstairs, embarrassing Christmas sweater and all, he barely has time to set aside his shoes and stuff his things into his backpack, before he’s startled by an excited scream.
“Ekko!” He whips his head back to see Kay jogging over to him, excitedly waving her hands as if he would somehow miss her. It's harder not to notice Kay wherever she goes, she’s a walking ball of energy. “Finally made it, did ya? Shomi and I have been waiting for an hour already!”
“Good to see you, Kay.” He chuckles, allowing his friend to drag him further into the living room. Ekko blindly follows her, letting his eyes wander over the room.
The house is decked out with a dizzying array of ornaments. Reds, greens, and golds practically envelop the open kitchen and living room. And man, Zeri invited a lot of people. The living room and kitchen are packed with folks from all over their neighborhood, merrily chatting over the Christmas music playing in the background.
The one person Ekko is actually hoping to spot, however, doesn't seem to be among them.
He tries to mask his disappointment, but he must not be very successful since Shomi just raises a curious brow upon his approach and says, “What? Not happy to see us?”
“Of course I am,” he assures, extending his hand to dap them up. “Merry Christmas, Shomi.”
“I'd say it back, but something tells me it hasn't been very merry for you.” They squint at Ekko, before continuing, “Let me guess, you broke your board again?”
“...Maybe.”
“I knew it.” Shomi sighs. “Dude, you have got to start treating your board with more love.”
“What? I treat my board with plenty of love!” Ekko insists, affronted. “It's not my fault shit just happens to me.”
“Alright, we get it,” Kay interjects. “Your life is like a Looney Tunes episode and there’s nothing you can do about it. Onto more important matters, let me tell you guys about this awesome project I started working on!”
Ekko fondly rolls his eyes as Kay goes on her tangent. The trip to this party might've been awful, but maybe it's not all bad if he gets to see all his friends in one place again.
Between college classes and part-time work, it's becoming harder and harder for them all to spend time together like they used to. Their high school days are officially behind them, and with them, so are the days when they see each other constantly, just to hang out some more after school.
His heart twinges as he thinks about one particular person who that rings true for.
Then, like Santa has decided to bless him with one Christmas miracle in exchange for his suffering, he sees something from the corner of his eye. Something blue.
Ekko doesn't think he's ever turned his head so fast, his breath catching in his throat when he realizes that it’s not just a trick of the light. He’s really seeing Jinx.
She's buried herself as far back in the kitchen as she can, sitting slumped behind one of the counters with her eyes cast downward to the cup in her hands, playing with her straw.
Whenever someone gets in her vicinity, her head sharply snaps up, staring the person down until they back away, before she returns her attention to that cup. Ekko can't help but chuckle under his breath at the sight.
He doesn't know how long he's been staring, but it must’ve been too long since he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels an arm – Zeri's, who he hadn't even noticed approaching – slinging over his shoulder.
“Ekko, pare,” Zeri sighs, nodding her head towards Jinx, “you ever gonna make a move, or will you just keep being a chicken about it?”
“Oh, give him a break,” Kay speaks up before he can even retort. “You know those two having to be apart for months is basically ignoring a ‘Do Not Separate’ warning. Like you and Seraphine!”
Zeri laughs along to Kay's words before she bristles at the last sentence. “What?! I don't even like Seraphine!”
“Oh,” Shomi starts, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “is that why you kept whining in the group chat when she said she couldn't come to this party?”
“I…I invited her to be polite, okay! If anything, I'm glad she picked her stupid recital over my party.”
Ekko has to clench his jaw to stifle the laughter that threatens to burst from him at the incredulous looks Kay and Shomi exchange at Zeri's paper-thin defense.
It's not enough to spare him from Zeri's wrath, however, since she spins her head in Ekko's direction anyway and demands, “What? You got something to say too?”
He holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, I'm staying out of this.” Unfortunately, his voice shakes in amusement, which isn't helping him sell his case.
Realizing it's three-against-one, Zeri switches tactics and starts pushing Ekko toward the kitchen– Shit, towards Jinx, he realizes.
“Doesn’t matter, I'm sick of having to deal with you being all sad and mopey so just go talk to her!” He nearly trips over his feet as he gets pushed deeper into the kitchen.
He freezes. Fuck, what should he even say? They haven't seen each other since graduation– When Jinx told him she was moving away to be with Vi again. Months have passed since and Ekko still hasn't been able to stop thinking about the look on her face when she told him.
That carefully neutral expression, like she has to hide and pretend to be something else in front of him of all people; the far-away look in her eyes as she told him in an eerily calm voice, her face momentarily shuttering when he questioned “To Piltover ?” before she slid that mask back on.
He couldn't understand. Ekko and Jinx made fun of topside together; they didn't make plans to start living there.
But he did understand how much Vi meant to Jinx (hell, Vi meant a lot to him too) and he could see how she started picking at the skin of her nails; how she refused to even look him in the eye from where they sat beside each other– tucked close together behind the bleachers, hidden away from the rest of the world.
So he hid his own apprehension for her sake and forced a smile on his face as he covered her hand with his and said, “I'm happy for you.”
She gripped his hand back. Tight. Then relaxed her grip when she finally looked at him, her eyes wide and nervous. “We'll…still meet up, alright?” Her voice strained as she joked, “You're not getting rid of me that easy, mister.”
How Ekko wishes that had been true. He tried not to hold it against her, tried not to overthink and wonder whether or not she did it on purpose. But resentment still ended up growing somewhere low in the pit of his stomach.
They texted, they called, they made plans that they ended up canceling– sometimes Jinx, sometimes Ekko, but mostly Jinx.
And now he’s here, attending the same Christmas party as her– Because of her. And though he really shouldn't be, because they're still best friends at the end of it all, he's nervous as hell.
He forces his legs to move, getting closer and closer to her. She doesn’t seem to notice, her gaze having trailed off into the distance. He follows it and realizes she's looking at…a mistletoe?
Ekko frowns. He hadn't even noticed there was one until now. It inconspicuously hangs near a window far back in the living room, yet Jinx is glaring daggers at it, as if the plant had spit in her face and set her house on fire.
Well, that seems as good of a conversation starter as any. He takes a deep breath, trying his best to keep his voice light and amused as he asks, “Are you gonna beat the shit out of that mistletoe?”
She flinches, wide-eyed as she whips her head around to look up at him. “Ekko?”
She shoots to her feet, and before Ekko realizes what's happening, she's closed the space between them, her arms wrapped around his middle and her head resting on his shoulder.
Hugging her back isn't so much a decision as it is instinct, his arms wrapping around her before he can think twice about it. Her cheek feels startlingly cold pressed against the exposed skin of his neck. The shock of it must be why his heart skips a beat and he ends up shivering.
He buries his head in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She smells like lavender shampoo and grease oil, the combination strange, but so uniquely Jinx that it makes Ekko's heart squeeze in his chest.
Then, just as suddenly as she hugged him, she pulls away. Ekko blinks, struggling to reorient himself now that she’s no longer in his space. It’s stupid really, he's gone five months without her in his space, but just like that, he’d gone and forgotten already.
“Sheesh, you scared me,” she awkwardly laughs, picking her cup off the floor and putting it on the counter. She’s staring at that cup again, shutting him out the way she would anyone else. Ekko tries to ignore the twinge of hurt he feels at that.
“So,” she suddenly starts, hand jutting forward to flick at the Rudolph nose on his sweater, “what brings you here anyway?”
You did, he thinks. And she's finally looking at him again, smiling even, but something about it feels off– restrained compared to her usual unapologetic grins, or those softer smiles that slip out when she lets her guard down.
“Zeri invited me. Thought it'd be nice to see all my friends in one place again.” He shrugs, leaning against the counter with feigned indifference. “...What about you?”
She props her head up with her hands, eyes wandering over the living room before she responds, “This beats the stupid party Vi and her Piltie girl are throwing.”
Suddenly, she rolls her eyes and groans. Confused, Ekko looks over his shoulder to see the cause– And nearly groans himself when he catches Zeri whip her head around, pretending to be fascinated by the baubles in the Christmas tree.
“Well, it barely beats a stinkin’ Piltie party,” she continues.
He laughs. “That bad?”
“Please, Caitlyn is just…peak Piltie! The most condescending, stuck-up bitch I've ever met!” She spins to him, irritation pinching her face. “But then, every time I call her out on it, Vi goes all ‘You know she doesn't mean it like that, Pow’ or ‘Just try and get along for me, please’ and then I end up being the bad guy. Un-fucking-believable.”
She lets out a deep sigh, her anger seeming to drain from her with it, leaving only weariness in its wake. “I am trying...” She's picking at her cuticles. Ekko's not even sure she realizes. “It's the only reason I’m living topside and going to a stupid Piltie college.”
He covers her hand with his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know you are.”
The touch is meant to be comforting, but somehow the contact is electric. Their eyes meet again, and Ekko pulls away as if burned. At the same time, Jinx opens her mouth as if to speak, and he immediately regrets pulling away when she never does.
The silence that follows feels damning, impossible to break. Ekko hates it. Silences between him and Jinx are supposed to feel comfortable, not…awkward. When did things get awkward between them?
Jinx's attention is starting to wander, eyes darting around the room as she starts fiddling with that damn straw again. But Ekko didn't get this far after not seeing her for nearly half a year, just to fumble here.
His mind scrambles, searching for anything to latch onto to revive the conversation when he remembers “So what's with you and that mistletoe?”
For a moment, Jinx looks confused, as if she doesn’t know what he means. Then recognition lights her face before she scoffs and says, “Nothing. Zeri was just being annoying.”
“About a mistletoe?” Ekko frowns, puzzled but curious to learn how Zeri managed to get on her nerves this time.
Jinx doesn’t answer for a moment. And she looks like she’s…blushing? Unless it’s just a trick of the light. The red-green lights strung up around the house are making it hard to tell. Either way, now he’s very curious to know what Zeri did.
“...It doesn't matter, okay?” she eventually grumbles. “This party sucks anyway.”
It’s clear she’s done talking about this, so rather than push his luck, Ekko shrugs and attempts to lighten the mood. “At least there's karaoke.”
It doesn’t seem to be very effective. Jinx still looks like a grumpy, wet cat. “Hm, you don't say.” Then her eyes light up, the way they tend to when she has a mad idea. She turns to him with a mischievous grin. “And you're singing too?”
Ekko has a bad feeling about this, but nonetheless, he cautiously confirms “Yes?”
“Wanna do me a favor, boy savior?” He curiously hums so she'll continue. “Buy me some time by picking the longest song you can find.”
He gives her an unimpressed look, even though she’s clearly piqued his interest and they both know it. “Do I want to know what you’re planning?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it, ‘kay?” She flicks the red nose on his sweater again, like she can’t help herself. “Just open the door for me when I drop you a text, I gotta run an errand real quick. Be back in fifteen minutes, give or take.”
Before he can so much as answer, she rushes off to the front door. She already has her coat on when she pauses, sprints back to him, and asks, “By the way – completely unrelated to this errand – the breaker box thingy is in the same spot as in your house, right?”
He squints, considering for a moment. “...For the sake of staying out of this, I’m not answering that question.”
She grins and snaps her fingers anyway. “I’ll take that as a yes, thank you very much! See you in a bit.” With that, she goes back to pulling on her boots and then she’s out the door.
Around thirty minutes later (not that Ekko’s surprised, Jinx has always had terrible time management skills) he gets a text from Jinx, asking him to open the door for her. He slips away as subtly as he can – which isn't much of a challenge since Kay and Shomi are too engrossed talking about potential board mods to notice his absence – to open the door for her.
She quickly scurries inside, her face is flushed from the cold but it doesn't seem to affect her mood at all. Jinx is grinning from ear to ear…and hiding her hands behind her back rather suspiciously.
As if on queue, Zeri’s voice rings from the living room, making them both whip their head in her direction. “Alright, who’s singing next?!” she shouts, while everyone encouragingly cheers on the person who just finished performing.
Jinx turns back to him with a conspiratorial grin. “So, wanna do me that favor?”
Ekko pretends to contemplate it for a moment, just to watch her squirm a little, before he sighs and answers, “I’m still staying out of this narrative, though.”
“Whatever you say, buster!” She ungracefully kicks off her boots, before shooting him a smile that makes his stomach do a funny flip. “But thanks, I owe ya one.”
Ekko shuffles over to the living room while Jinx runs off to do….whatever she’s planning to do. He taps Zeri on the shoulder, gesturing for the karaoke mic in her hand. “Mind if I give it a go?”
“Finally!” Zeri cheers, blissfully unaware that she’s talking to Jinx’s partner in (probable) crime. She leans away from the mic, and asks under her breath, “So you finally make a move or what?”
He just scowls at her. Ekko has a stinging suspicion he might know how Zeri annoyed Jinx after all. “Just give me the damn mic.”
She holds her hands up in defense but concedes and backs away after handing him the karaoke microphone.
Ekko scrolls down Zeri’s catalog of karaoke songs, keeping Jinx's words in mind as he does. All the songs range from two to four minutes until he spots the one: Some ten-minute rendition of a Taylor Swift song.
…He can already feel the headache forming. Jinx better make this worth his time ‘cause he's about to belt it out to White Girl McGee music just for her. Ekko doesn't even understand why Zeri of all people would put that song in here, but if he had to guess, he'd assume this was Seraphine's doing somehow.
He’s about halfway through the song – struggling to match the rhythm of the lyrics since he’s only ever heard this song involuntarily through pop radio stations – when he sees Jinx appear in the living room out of the corner of his eye, her coat still on.
She’s biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh at him. Zeri and Shomi have long given up, the latter having pulled out their cell phone to film Ekko, no doubt to make fun of him until he’s in his grave. Ekko ignores them all and just focuses on performing the song as best he can.
…Just because he doesn’t like the song doesn’t mean he’s about to fumble his performance, okay?
The music comes to an abrupt halt when the power goes out and darkness falls over the room. No one reacts for a moment, and then quiet, confused murmurs fill the room.
Until a strange rippling sound suddenly cuts through it.
Someone turns on their phone flashlight, pointing it around the room to try and locate the strange sound. Ekko frowns – needing a moment to put down the microphone in the dark – before he turns his head to the source of the noise, now revealed by the flashlight.
There’s a living toad strung to the ceiling with a toy missile tied to its back.
Everyone just stares, flabbergasted.
Then the damn thing ribbits again and panic ensues, screams erupting all around the room.
Before Ekko can even react, he feels something– no, someone tug on his arm in the darkness. He turns his head to see Jinx shushing him and pulling away from all the noise – while Zeri frantically tries to prevent one of her aunties from trying to bat the poor toad with a broomstick.
“Where did you–” he starts as quietly as he can, before Jinx interrupts him by tossing his shoes at him.
“Not now, space boy,” she hisses, opening the front door once he’s finished lacing up his sneakers. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Ekko races to zip up his parka and pull on his gloves against the stinging cold. He barely has time to grab his backpack before Jinx pulls him along by his hand and drags him out of the house.
He nearly trips over his own feet, before he catches himself and runs with her. Ekko’s not even sure why they’re running, but when she looks at him over her shoulder – face flushed and eyes shining brighter than any Christmas light in the world, with that stupid, shit-eating grin that makes him a little too weak-kneed for his own good – he finds he doesn’t really care anyway.
They finally slow to a stop when they’re six blocks away from Zeri’s street. Ekko’s lungs feel like they’re on fire and the laughter that bursts from him isn’t helping matters at all. It’s just that, when he stops to think about it, everything about this situation is so stupid and so…Jinx.
“A–” he gasps for air, finally coming down from his amusement long enough to string a sentence together. “A fucking frog?”
“A toad, actually. A missile toad, I’ll have you know,” she says matter-of-factly, still grinning much too proudly for such a cheesy prank.
Ekko has so many questions, but knowing Jinx, she won’t answer any of them. Still, he has to ask “How did you even have time to turn off the power while hanging that thing up?”
“A magician never reveals her secrets!” she predictably answers, before pausing and adding, “Also I slipped a kid ten dollars so they’d do it for me on queue.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“Yeah, ridiculously funny,” she corrects, playfully glaring at him.
“Yeah right.” He scoffs but there’s no heat behind it, instead, he’s smiling so wide that his cheeks are beginning to hurt. It’s been so long since he’s seen her, that he almost forgot that being around her makes him feel like this.
He squeezes her hand in his. The action is instinctual, a habit more than anything– he’s always reaching for her in some way, and so is she.
Except for this time, apparently, because she pulls her hand away as if burned and doesn’t look in his direction as she mutters, “We, uh, should keep walking…There’s some stupid Christmas market by the bridge we can check out.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Ekko tries to swallow his disappointment, but it’s not working, so he just keeps his eyes trained on the ground, watching their footsteps in the snow as he walks alongside Jinx.
The silence that falls over them feels as daunting as the physical space between them, but he doesn’t feel inclined to break it this time. How can they feel so far apart even when they’re walking right beside each other?
With his head downturned, it takes Ekko a moment to notice that Jinx has stopped walking, but eventually, he realizes her footsteps stop appearing beside his.
He blinks and turns around to see her standing frozen on the spot, hands tugging at the hem of her leather bomber as she frowns at him. He raises a curious eyebrow at the sight and is about to question what she’s doing when she finally speaks up.
“Alright,” she starts, marching to stand before him and crossing her arms, “what’s with your hot and cold attitude the whole evening?”
I could ask you the same thing, he thinks, instead he just frowns. “My what?”
“You heard me!” She scowls. “One moment you're happy to see me and then you're all mister Grumpy Pants. What gives?”
“Jinx.” He lets out a frustrated sigh and turns to look at her. She squirms under his gaze, and that just makes Ekko feel worse, but he’s tired of bottling this up. “Are we seriously just gonna pretend we both don't know exactly why that is?”
“I..” she trails off, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, “I'm not really sure?”
“Really?” Ekko asks, exasperated. “Were you not sure every time you blew me off either?”
“Wha– You blew me off too!” she argues.
“That's different! I actually couldn't go when I canceled.”
She scoffs. “And you think I didn't?!”
She looks so affronted that it shuts Ekko up, leaving him scratching the back of his head in frustration. He’s such an idiot, always letting his temper get the best of him. Now he’s gone and ruined things and doesn’t know what to say to fix this. Nothing makes him more uneasy than a problem he can’t solve.
It seems Jinx doesn't know what to say either, she just stares down at the ground, toeing shapes in the snow with the tip of her boot.
“I just…” she trails off with a sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” he rasps, “me neither, I guess.”
“...Hey, do you–” She tentatively looks up at him. “Do you want to have a snowball fight?”
He blinks. Then he barks out a laugh, utterly taken aback by her suggestion. “A snowball fight?”
“Yeah…Yeah, why not?” Jinx looks a little more self-assured now, grabbing his arm and dragging him to a corner of the street where the snow is piled high, having remained untouched by passersby. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”
Something eases in his chest at her childlike giddiness, and he can’t help but huff an amused breath as he teases, “What? You gonna start crying again if I toss one at your head?”
She scowls at him again, but there’s no heat behind it this time. “Nope, definitely gonna laugh when you slip and fall on your ass again though.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
He rushes to kneel down and scoop up a wad of snow after he sees Jinx do the same. She’s disgustingly fast, Ekko’s barely formed a ball by the time she’s already tossing one at his head, forcing him to dodge.
“We’ll see about that, mister!”
“Oh, it’s on!”
For a moment, it’s like they’re little kids again, sneaking out when Vander isn’t paying attention to play in the snow together. All their hurt and complications melt away just like the flecks of fallen snow on his face. Ekko wishes he could stop time so he could just enjoy this moment forever. Or that he could bottle up this happiness and keep it in his pocket for the rest of his life.
However, as it has all evening, the weather cares little for his plight. Cold and unforgiving, the snow keeps falling on them, until eventually, the chill is too biting for them to goof around any longer.
They’re giggling like children when they fall into step beside each other again, their arms brushing against each other with every step. Ekko feels so warm and giddy, he finds he doesn’t care all that much about the cold anymore.
From the corner of his eye, he catches Jinx cupping her hands close to her face, blowing air on them.
Ekko curiously frowns. “You don’t have gloves?”
“No,” she rubs the palms of her hands together in an attempt to warm them up, “I just did my nails. Wasn't about to ruin them with some stinky gloves.”
Ekko rolls his eyes, setting a hand on her shoulder to stop her in her tracks. “Here,” he removes one of his gloves, reaching for her hand so he can carefully slide it on, “you have tiny ass hands anyway, so these won’t ruin your precious manicure.”
She scoffs, “My hands are not tiny! Yours are just stupidly big.” He shakes his head with a chuckle at her ridiculous argument. “...But thanks," she finishes, bumping her shoulder against his own.
As they begin to walk again, he can’t help but glance down at their ungloved hands. And then he’s nervous all over again. Because Ekko honestly isn’t sure if his heart can take another hit, should she pull away from his touch again.
He hesitates for another moment, before deciding to bite the bullet anyway. Tentatively, Ekko reaches for her hand with his own now-ungloved hand, pulling both into his pocket.
When Jinx whips her head in his direction, his eyes flicker in her direction, but at her wide-eyed, confused expression, he quickly finds himself glancing away again.
He clears his throat and fights to remain straight-faced despite the building awkwardness, as he explains, “Just so our hands don’t get cold, you know?”
“Oh.” From the corner of his eye, he sees her sharply nod. “Right…That makes sense.”
Despite Ekko’s concerns – and both their refusal to look each other in the eye – neither of them let go. Her hand feels ice-cold in his but that only spurs him to hold her hand tighter, trying to give her as much of his warmth as he can.
It’s all he focuses on, even when they finally approach the bridge separating Zaun from Piltover. Just as Jinx said, a Christmas market is in full swing on the bridge. Stalls selling trinkets and treats are set up across the entire length of it.
But none of the ornaments and decorations are as pretty as Jinx’s smile as she curiously peers at them all; and no hot beverage could ever warm him the way her hand in his does, her fingers intertwined with his.
When Jinx finally tires of window-shopping (he honestly wasn’t paying attention, watching her was much more fascinating) he offers to buy them hot chocolate, while she goes to find them a seat — an empty bench beneath an overhang.
“Thanks,” she says, as he hands her the carton cup.
She tries to play it off, but Ekko can see the way she lights up with delight upon spotting the large dollop of whipped cream he requested the vendor put in her drink.
With an amused huff, he shrugs off his backpack and sets it down on the edge of the bench, before sitting down beside her. The bench is frigid beneath them, it urges him to slide closer to Jinx, just ever-so-slightly.
But it’s enough to press their thighs together, and Ekko needs a moment so he can focus on the heat radiating from the cup in his hands rather than that point of contact.
The hustle and bustle of the marketplace has started to die down as time drags on. Ekko feels restless as he watches everyone go their separate ways — families heading home with giggling children in tow, teenagers conspiring where they should go next, vendors working together to close up and disassemble their stands — while the snow continues to fall from the sky like powdered sugar, further blanketing the white streets.
“Jinx, I, uh,” Ekko starts, setting his untouched hot chocolate aside, “I just wanna say I’m sorry. You know, for what I said earlier.”
“Oh.” At the sound of her voice, he glances at her. She’s smiling at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Were you still worrying about that?”
He attempts to laugh, but a humorless sigh is all he manages. “I’m trying to be serious here, you know.”
“I know.” The pad of her thumb idly traces the rim of her empty cup. “It’s just…You were kinda right–” She winces and stammers, “I mean– Shit– No, you weren’t right. I wasn’t ditching you on purpose, it was more like…”
“Like you just…gave up?” he fills in when she never continues.
She frowns, eyes flickering up to look at him. Ekko doesn’t think he could look away even if he tried. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
“Me too,” he confesses. “I think I let my frustration get to me, when really…I just missed you.”
She takes a sharp breath and Ekko’s eyes are drawn to the parting of her lips like a moth to a flame. He moves in closer, just ever-so-slightly, then Jinx suddenly looks away, startling him.
“Oh– Hold on, I just gotta…” She starts rummaging through her pockets, the sudden, frantic movement breaking whatever spell he’d been under. “There!” She triumphantly pulls out–
“A mistletoe?” he questions dumb-founded, eyeing the plant that Jinx apparently just had on her person the entire time.
“Well, yeah. Would be a waste to just throw it away.” She twirls the stem between her fingers, raising her arm so it hangs between them. Ekko thinks his heart might actually beat out of his chest. “I…don’t have to explain what this is, right?”
He can barely hear what she’s saying anymore, focusing on her mouth again; on the curve of her cupid’s bow, which he’s a little too familiar with; on her teeth, with that cute little gap, which traps the slight pout of her lower lip.
He swallows, his voice barely audible as he asks, “Are you sure?”
“Ekko?” His eyes flicker back up to hers, now crinkled in amusement, but there’s something softer there too — something that puts him at ease. “Just kiss me already.”
And that’s really all he needed to hear. He slowly leans in, waiting to see if she’ll change her mind, instead, she closes her eyes and meets him halfway.
The first press of her mouth is chaste, soft. Then she pulls away, but only for a moment, before she angles her head to lean in for another kiss.
She tastes sweet — like chocolate and cream and that plum lip balm she always wears — and Ekko finds himself desperate for more, feelings he’s held back for so long spilling out from him and into the kiss. He raises his hand to cup her cheek, her skin soft and cold beneath his palm, and gently tilts her head so he can deepen the kiss.
Then she suddenly pulls back from him, their lips parting with a wet smack. “Oh! Don’t tell Zeri about this. She’d never let me hear the end of it.”
Ekko blinks for a moment, processing her words, then he just groans, “Jinx, I could not give two fucks about Zeri right now.”
His words startle a bewildered laugh from her, and Ekko smothers the sound with his mouth when he leans back in to kiss her again, and again, and again.
She’s still smiling into the kiss as she wraps her arms around his neck, and Ekko’s pretty sure she just dropped the mistletoe on his head. He finds himself smiling back, and then they’re simply reduced to giggling like school kids while stealing kisses from one another.
#timebomb#ekkojinx#ekko#jinx#arcane#league of legends#writing#fanfiction#modern au#christmas fic#hungry posts
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Luz and Willow; Problem and Solution
A dichotomy I’ve noticed in Luz and Willow’s arcs and how they converge/parallel in For the Future is that they both struggle with the same basic idea that they shouldn’t ask for help, that they don’t want to be a burden on others. But I think they also operate on opposite sides of a particular premise; Do people need me, am I helpful for them?
Luz sees herself as the Problem Child, she’s cursed to destroy everything she touches, her presence invites chaos and issues. That’s how she was seen in Gravesfield, and she’s very much a disruptor to the status quo, befitting her out-of-context status, her unpredictable creativity, her penchant for rebellion, her drive to try and find out, etc. And while it ultimately leads to good, the road there is tumultuous, it could’ve been done better, Luz causes problems. For Luz it’s not as emphasized, but she doesn’t want to be seen as weak, because she fears being seen as a burden.
Willow doesn’t see herself as effective, at the start of her arc and near the end of it; She can’t do anything right. She’s not even causing chaos or anything, there’s just nothing remarkable about her, nothing she can accomplish. In her introductory scene, Amity tries to “joke” over how easy it is to miss Willow, she’s a wall flower who’s trying not to be seen as she hides in her hood, and she tries not to see things that bother her, hence “Out of sight, out of mind.” Stay in your lane and don't attempt what you want.
Boscha bullies her, not because Willow did anything to affect her (Not yet anyway), but just because she happened to notice and find Willow’s ineffectual, pointless existence hilarious. Maybe she wanted to possessively defend Amity from someone who had her first, while ignoring that Amity already –seemingly– left Willow for her, because she’s inherently insecure and paranoid like that. Both can be true, and one of them definitely is.
Luz is chaotic, she’s good at causing a mess, and she can and will weaponize that against people like Belos at the end of seasons 1 and 2; Sometimes sabotaging an enemy is necessary to help the rest! But as we see in S2, Luz’s mistakes ultimately culminate in what she sees as her greatest mistake, the one with the biggest impact of all, something that would harm everyone she’s ever met in the isles, including Willow; So Luz sees herself as a ticking, dangerous time bomb. And it’s why she resolves to stay in the human realm at the start of S3; She pushes people away because she also thinks she hurts them, and their desire to stay is a self-destructive mistake.
Whereas in S2, we see Willow begin to build up her confidence; She realizes she IS capable, she’s quite strong and effective. She’s nurturing, she can defend people, she can even lead them as a team captain that others look to for strategy! Where Luz and Amity fail (the former being a surprise given her track record), it’s Willow who gets Hunter to defy the coven for someone he’s met.
She beats Hermonculus at his own literal game, and Hermonculus is established in Willow’s debut as one of the driving forces behind Willow’s ostracizing by her fellow students by emphasizing how ineffective she is to everyone, inviting them to notice and laugh at her; He’s arguably the true antagonist of Willow’s debut episode, with Amity just another pawn pitted against a fellow student, so seeing it come full-circle was catharsis. And this is after defeating Boscha at her own also literal game!
Between this and finally, truly reiterating to Amity something she’s never understood since their childhood, since their debut –that Willow is effective and good at helping– you can see Willow affirm her belief that she’s dependable. That she’s helpful. Even, that some people need her, like Hunter, or Amity coming to her for advice, or Willow uplifting Gus as his first friend, etc. All the while, Luz is coming to the ‘realization’ that she’s the opposite. S2B is Luz at her most damaging, S2B is Willow at her most capable.
So you have the backdrop in S3 of Luz thinking she can’t help people at all, and Willow believing she’s very helpful. And both of them want and believe in the same thing; To be helpful to others. And thus they both fear being a burden by asking for help. For Luz, this is just the natural extension of her destiny as the Problem Child. For Willow, it’s just a reminder of the ineffective person she used to be, her traumatic past. Luz thinks she never escaped her identity, Willow believes she has but is so afraid of going back to that.
In their mutual climax, Luz believes she’s the root cause of the problem, Willow thinks she’s the solution that’s failing to be a solution; Flapjack died and Hunter is in a lot of pain because of Luz, Willow isn’t able to make him feel better. This whole situation with Kikimora using the threat of the Collector to become someone in power and a threat is Luz’s fault to begin with; Meanwhile Willow is reminded by Boscha that she’s someone people are counting on to get them out of here; Boscha is like Willow here, she feels pressured to protect Hexside from the Collector, who is a lot like Luz, down to imitating her intentionally.
So again, they have the same wants, just coming from different presumptions of how close they actually are to these things, and neither’s anxiety is more or less valid than the other’s just because one sees herself as more capable now and the other doesn’t. Camila reiterates to Luz that mistakes are just a part of life she can’t keep blaming herself for, while Hunter reassures Willow that she didn’t do anything wrong. Camila and Hunter admit they made their loved one feel ineffectual in some way.
And the epitome of this is that Luz and Willow are the ones who need to hear this, Camila and Hunter are the ones who need to say it… Yet it’s Camila who goes to Willow for advice, who has an interaction with her early in the episode, a different kind of parallel; Because they parallel one another as people who see themselves as in charge, as the ones who are responsible, as the “motherly” (quotations for Willow) nurturing figure.
And Luz and Hunter’s parallels are self-explanatory, per the prior episode and trauma bonding over guilt on something they can’t control, actually making each other worse, plus feeling responsible for Flapjack’s death. So it’s this cross-section of parallels and foils, and it’s where all four culminate, before Luz moves on to cap off the show because it’s ultimately her own.
Just. Something about how Willow is the first friend Luz makes outside of the core LEK trio, and the first main cast member in that regard. They’re both kids struggling over different yet dismissed and even mocked reputations at school. And their arcs both converge, with Willow’s arc essentially the final one outside of LEK bookending everything in the finale with the Collector, who is also explicitly Luz, and their journey comes to an end from him and the viewer understanding Luz’s.
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svthub's secret garden: a spring collab
This spring, love is in the air! Take a stroll through our garden and discover our secret world of colorful blooms. Who knows who you might run into...
This collab will contain a combination of SFW and NSFW works. See each individual fic for tags and warnings.
Join the Secret Garden taglist!
peony: one trick peony • @wongyuseokie [NSFW] fluff/angst • csc x female reader
synopsis: choi seungcheol could only do one type of floral arrangement, and the rest he’d pawn off to you, granted he got a ton of orders, but he would always take the orders for arrangements that he could never do. this time he went too far. he took an ‘only peonies’ arrangement–a painfully delicate flower–and took an order for a wedding, and with your luck, you’re the only two florists available that weekend.
tulip: my destiny • @wonuhour [SFW] fluff/romance/angst • yjh x female reader
synopsis: when he first met you he didn't think anything of it but he felt drawn to you. When you two started to spend time with each other he fell in love with you. So he takes you to the tulip garden, hoping you felt the same for him, since this is the place you two met each other for the first time.
dandelion: whichever blooms first • @strawberryya [SFW] fluff/hints of angst • hjs x gn reader
synopsis: a dandelion is resilient, it can weather any storm, and at the end of its life it will even grant wishes to whoever sees its worth as something more than a simple garden weed. your relationship with joshua is the same, you hope, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a wish that your love will last a lifetime anyways.
rhododendron: sunkissed • @junkissed [SFW] fluff • husband!wjh x wife!reader
synopsis: this year for your anniversary, jun takes you on a trip down memory lane through the flowers of your past together.
carnation: be sweet • @heartkyeom [NSFW] angst/smut • prince!ksy x princess!reader
synopsis: with your country’s finances in trouble, an arranged marriage with a fellow royal is the only viable solution. yet, kwon soonyoung is not a good person, a good prince, and he is certainly not meant to be someone’s husband
foxglove: by line • @wonwussy [NSFW] smut/drama • jww x female reader
synopsis: you know the hotshot ceo is up to no good, and with the interview that can make your career, you’re finally going to have proof.
lily of the valley: valley of broken dreams (and lilies) • @duhnova [SFW] angst/fluff • ljh x female reader
synopsis: you met jihoon when you were both young and dumb — a promise you two made to become big in the music industry laid shattered years later when you lost your ability to sing, and now you have to live in the shadow of your boyfriend while you struggle to come to terms with your broken dreams.
orchid: he was sunshine, i was midnight rain • @dkakapizzaboy [NSFW] fluff/angst/smut • lsm x female reader
synopsis: he was sunshine and roses and you were orchids and moonlight. two very different people in the same industry. he was loved and you were feared, he was a warm cup of tea on a cold day and you were a bucket of ice cold water. what would happen if two highly sought after, up and coming sustainable fashion brands decided to work together on an exclusive, once in a lifetime collaboration?
zinnia: everlasting love • @sluttyminghao [NSFW] fluff/smut • kmg x female reader
synopsis: mingyu wants you to know how much he loves you after dropping hints for years, and takes you on a date you'll never forge, and maybe you'll also figure out you love him too.
lavender: and we meet again • @idyllic-ghost [SFW] fluff/angst/romance • xmh x reader
synopsis: there is something familiar about that house on the hill, even though you swear that you have never seen it before. but you’re drawn to the lavender fields and the oceanview - and the lonesome looking man you see sitting on the porch. when you approach him there is something in his eyes that you cannot understand - a knowing, a deep feeling. the question is, will you ever have enough time to figure out what that look means?
hyacinth: how flowers bloom • @cheolism [NSFW] fantasy/smut • bsk x reader
synopsis: every year, you and the god of spring meet at the edge of the clearing to perform the ceremony that decides if winter will endure or if spring will prevail, repeating the ceremony weekly until spring finally wins. after you won the last five weeks, keeping the world under your icy spell, seungkwan decides to use alternative tactics to dominate you and bring spring back.
trillium: trillium • @beahae [NSFW] fluff/smut • hvc x female reader
synopsis: vernon is flying in to see his girlfriend. oh shit, that’s… you. being away from him since it happened a few months ago makes it hard for it to feel real, especially after two years of what you both convinced yourself was a purely platonic friendship. now that he’s here in the flesh, you are determined to make it feel real. and very non-platonic.
forget-me-nots: promise ring • @lovelyhan [NSFW] fantasy/fluff/a pinch of angst/smut • lc x reader
synopsis: no one would've guessed that the daughter of the town’s royal mage has a soft spot for the clumsiest fire elemental in the entire realm. but when the crown prince suddenly asks for your hand in marriage, you're forced to consider how you feel about a certain lee jung chan a lot more seriously.
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