#they like have their own things going on im not getting into right now but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pampushky · 16 hours ago

Text

they hang on every breath

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 5 - 4k words

First of all:

GO BIRDS WE FUCKING DID IT AGAIN! SURPRISE! IM AN EAGLES FAN! anyway enjoy <3

previous part | next part | masterlist | series masterlist

October, 2005. FIA Headquarters, Paris

When they’d first founded the pack, Niki was the original Prime Alpha. James Hunt had been the Prime Beta. At the time, there had yet to be any omega to work in any formula series, let alone drive or work on the car. So Marlene had been the Prime Omega then, completing all the proper paperwork for the pack to be recognized by the FISA, FIA, and any other group that tried to argue against the rights of the drivers.

Then James had died in 1993 before being able to step down, leading Aryton to take over as the Prime Beta the next week, only to follow after James in 1994. The pack had almost crumbled, and Niki had never quite gotten over either of them, just silently watching as a nervous Mika took over as the Prime at the next race.

Micheal had been his paddock pup, with Mika beside him, the two rather rambunctious and energetic about everything. Shiny-eyed and seeing the good in everything where Niki had been dulled by the deaths he’d witnessed, and the severance of his mating bond.

Marlene, luckily, cared about the pack just as fiercely as her former mate, staying in the Prime Omega position well after Niki had stepped down and let Micheal take the reigns.

And by then, there were omegas allowed to drive. It had been the 90s— it was finally seen as barbaric to prevent someone from driving based on their designation— and now it was nearly a decade into the 21st century! Yet it wouldn’t be until 2001 that a suitable candidate for Prime Omega really emerged.

Which was what was causing such a headache now.

Niki was in no mood to be here right now. But the FIA had insisted that this was the only time the pack situation could be amended and that Fernando could finally be appointed as the Prime Omega, with Marlene there to witness and step down to let him take over.

Two hours, just to change all that. Even with Niki, Mika, Micheal, and Marlene there to speed things up and get everything done. Two hours with a squirming four-year-old who did not like being stuck in a stuffy hallway in a brand-new city, who seemed very content to make it everyone’s problem.

You had been squealing and chirping angrily for the past hour, with no sign of stopping.

Apparently, having two Prime Betas not being present (regardless of the fact that both were very publicly not alive anymore) complicated things. At least the official had the decency to look ashamed when he asked Mika where Ayrton and James were, to give their consent on this change. Or perhaps it was the death stare that Niki was giving him, with you looking equally as confused from where you’d been standing behind his legs. Those same, piercing eyes looking at the official, who finally stuttered out the approval and finally let everything move forward.

It’s not as if Niki wanted to drag you along to all of this. You’d been perfectly content to stay curled up in the nest in Höf. However, Mathias had business to attend to, and Lukas was at the factory testing, some favor that had been called in by a friend when their driver hadn’t been able to. Marlene had to be in Paris for the meeting.

A true stroke of bad luck, but looking at his own burn scars and the tiny compression gloves that were made to fit you, Niki reasoned it could always be worse. Your eyes meet his, as though he’s looking in a mirror, before you whine to Marlene again, high-pitched and more frustrated than anxious.

You wanted to explore the new city! That’s what your Sisi had said you could do when all of this was over. He’d take you to get crepes and help you make the coziest nest possible in Micheal’s Paris apartment to watch Lilo & Stitch for the thousandth time with Marlene and himself.

It was a waiting game now.

Marlene was gently bouncing you in her arms, whispering to you to keep you entertained, and failing. Your little face was scrunched up in annoyance and you were puffing up your cheeks. Looking at your adoptive grand-dam with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, and failing to get what you wanted. Marlene was well-versed in your attempted bribery and ensured you weren’t too spoiled by Niki.

Your hair was growing back, now about three inches long from your scalp, and a shocking white color that rivaled even the oldest members of the grid.

“Likely from all the stress,” the doctor whispered, after telling Niki the news, one sunny April day after you’d been given a full body exam, to check the progress of your healing, and to examine the full extent of the damage to your scalp. “It’s not thinning, and seems healthy otherwise. It’s actually quite thick, so it’ll require constant grooming and maintenance when the pup is able to access her canine form. The scalp has been, by some miracle, untouched, so, thank God above for that,”

The doctor looked over her shoulder to you, where you were sitting on the bed, examining the scented rabbit that bore your dam’s scent. Watching as Lukas and Mathias made it dance and play with you on the bed. You reach for the rabbit, with little hands, wearing a compression glove and sleeve. It would be a week until you were discharged. And you were starting to adjust nicely to the new routine of your life.

And now your hair was being gently smoothed down to your head by Alonso, talking to you in Spanish while you looked up at him with wide, examining eyes, before wordlessly opening your arms for the Spanish omega to hold you with a little chirp. Making a little huffing noise from your nose as that was familiar to anyone who had been around pups.

You felt safe there. Even while Micheal, Mika, and now Fernando discussed the pack, with Marlene coaching the omega who would finally take over for her. You were curled against Fernando, eyes closed in content, purring. A little barret with blue and yellow in your hair to hold it out of your face that Nando seemed to have pulled from nowhere. Micheal scowls at the Renault merchandise. Likely already planning on dressing you in a head-to-toe outfit of Rosso Corsa the next time he’s visiting.

“She’s a Ferrari fan.”

“She’s a baby,” Nando sticks his tongue out, still every bit as immature as he was when he was first promoted to F1, but now seen as an equal to Micheal. “And she’s got im–im–im— oh, merde, what’s the English word?

“Impeccable,” Mika provides helpfully, the Finn simply happy to be there. Riding on the high of now officially having a new Prime Omega. “Being in accordance with the highest standards of propriety.”

“Thank you. She has impeccable fashion taste. It’s not my fault the color scheme is so much better.” Nando coos, and you make another little huffing noise.

The three current primes of the pack all freeze, before trying to play off how excited they are about your quiet happy noises. Especially Micheal, who has already lost control over some parts of his canine form, as though he’s a teenager again. His tail thumps against the wall, as Mika makes a happy crooning noise from the back of his throat. And Fernando preens, cooing to you. His instincts winning over. He’s beyond proud to be holding you, the youngest member of the pack, the sweet little pup that has been secretly snuck into so many different races, all to protect your identity.

Marlene turns back to Niki, silently mouthing ‘Are you seeing this?’ just as you make another happy huffing noise into Nando’s shoulder. Cue the mental happy dance that Niki knows he and Marlene both doing right now because you had only let your immediate pack and Micheal hold you. And you were now actively cuddling into Fernando’s shoulder— huffing! Like a pup!

When Max Mosley himself came to hand over the documents, even he cooed over how you’re now asleep against Fernando. Drooling on his shoulder with the mottled side of your jaw and cheek pressed into his formal wear. You’re an adorable little thing, snuggled into the Prime Omega’s embrace. You wake up the moment they leave the building, blinking slowly at the sun.

Marlene takes you then, laughing at the sleepy chirrups and whines you make at her, slurring between German and English as your Sisi rubs the sleep lines on your cheek. You squirm at their touch and clearly want to be let down. Your steps are wobbly, but you’re determined, taking several which steps away, as fast as you can on your warped leg. It drags slightly as you step, making it so you’re not as fast as you think.

“Oh, the littlest member of our pack,” Micheal coos, lifting you easily to sit on his shoulders, laughing at the angry squeal you make after being caught. You grip onto his more wolfish ears that have revealed themselves, as though you’re going to steer him into the direction you want him to go.

“Mick? Mick and Gina?” You lean over, to look at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “Here?”

“Auf Deutsch fragen, Mausi.” Micheal looks at you, grinning. Mika seems to scowl a bit, letting out a stream of Finnish that the German just pokes his tongue out at him, like a child. Fernando just laughs, snickering into his hand before you turn your eyes onto him again, making grabby hands for him.

And who is he to say no to you? Not when you look so sweet, with the little prescription sunglasses to protect your eyes on, and a sun hat tied under your chin. Both had been swiftly added to your wardrobe the moment everyone had left the building, pulled from Marlene’s purse while you squirmed. “Oh, bebeita, so precious, I will get you whatever you want,” Fernando coos, letting you down, but holding you by your hand so you can’t run off. Walking slowly beside you as you look around, eyes wide and amazed by the new city.

Final Day of Spring Testing, 2024. Sakhir, Bahrain

You’re leaning against the pit wall. Watching as all the final promotional pictures are taken of the drivers. All of them, standing in front of the cars, wearing serious expressions as they look into the cameras.

Testing had finished an hour ago. You were required to be there for a few promotional pictures, and an article that the New York Times wanted to publish about you— the first woman to become a race engineer, and now to move up to a high-tier team like McLaren. You found that a bit insulting to Williams, that no one had really looked into it when you’d first been promoted, but after everything that had happened there, you were a bit disgusted by the team.

Logan seems to shrink under the gaze of his team principal. You prickle, a protective instinct pushing into the back of your mind as you sink a bit lower. Oscar will handle it. That’s his courting partner after all, if anyone would fight to defend Logan, it would be Oscar. He’d raced against him since childhood. James turns, just enough to catch your gaze from where you’re leaning. He freezes, as if seeing some phantom, before turning on his heel and stalking into the Williams garage with an utterly furious look on his face.

Quietly, you head back into the garage. Your cheek twitches, aching. It almost seems like your skin, especially your scars, was prickling with all the tension in the air. Will had been quietly dismissed after handing in a written apology that was passed onto you by Andrea.

Before you do anything else, you breathe in. Letting yourself smell the air around you. Burnt rubber and fuel. There’s clanking around you as mechanics work on a few separate parts. There’s the sound of typing as you sit, going over data on the monitors. Flipping through a notebook and scrawling down a few, final notes.

Eggroll sits loyally at your feet, with her back to you, watching every single person who approaches. She’d been trained to react to his scent. To bay loudly and bark and to create such a racket that it would draw everyone’s attention to her and to see what was causing it.

But for now, she’s silent. Letting you work. Eyes trained on the track.

Chills run up the back of Lando’s neck and he shivers. He looks over to the pit wall, where you had previously been leaning and watching him, expecting to see you still there. He’s not quite sure why he feels disappointed that you’re not watching him anymore.

1 Week to 2024 Season Opening. Norris Residence, Monaco.

Lando’s not quite sure what to make of you. You’ve officially been his engineer for a month now. You were… polite enough. Maybe a bit cold. But polite enough. No-nonsense, and clearly, it was helping him, as much as he hated to admit it.

He says as much to Max, who cackles on the other side of the call. He can’t stop laughing, enough that he can almost imagine he’s still living in England, and they’re karting again. Having a sleepover, still pups, and arguing over FIFA matches.

“Piss off, man,” Lando sinks lower into his chair, arms folded over his chest. They’re just waiting for the lobby to fill so they can start another round. “You’re acting like she’s some miracle.”

“Mate, because she is,” Max says. Lando can hear the aggressive typing on his side. “Here, let me stream this quick, get out of the game. We can play more later.”

Max googled your name as Lando slumped into his chair. Recent articles all pop up, including the one you’d been getting photographed for on the last day of testing. Part of Lando also wants to google what exactly your relationship with Oscar was, but when he does, he only gets a picture of you walking beside Logan from last season, with Oscar trailing behind, not even fully in focus in the background.

A Wiki link gets dropped in their personal chat. And then a large PDF file a few seconds later.

“She has her own wiki page!”

“That’s not that cool,” Lando sulks, but he clicks on the link regardless. The current image of you is one taken from the press briefing when you’d first been introduced, with your braided hair and black turtleneck. You’re making a little scowl, and looking slightly to the side, as though you’re annoyed at something. Lando feels a bit smug when he sees his name linked under Driver’s Worked With. “I have a wiki page. I’m probably mentioned, like, a dozen times in hers!.”

“Yeah, but, you’re famous. You’re a driver, and a damn popular one at that. Race engineers don’t normally get that much attention.” Max chides.

That’s… a good point. Your page is… shockingly long, for someone a year younger than him. A quick scroll through makes Lando realize that there is still quite a bit he has yet to figure out about you.

“Why the fuck is it so long?” Lando mutters as he scrolls through the Early Life section, which inadvertently jump-scares him with a picture of toddler you, covered in shiny, pink burn scars and staring at the camera with wide, confused eyes. You’re in a little sun hat, and you’re holding onto Niki’s hand, while walking in the street. Your sire is glaring at the camera. A few other F1 drivers arc around you, notably, with Micheal Schumacher almost in front of you, as if to prevent you from being seen.

Stupidly, he briefly thinks about how weird genetics were to pass down Niki’s scars to you, before he smacks his forehead and realizes how impossible it is to inherit burn scars from your sire.

Oscar had mentioned you’d survived a house fire. But based on how you looked now…. Lando’d just assumed that you’d gotten lucky and not gotten badly burned. He’s more confused by the whole situation now and actually starts to read the article.

Lauda was born in North Carolina, to her mother, Magnolia Davis. Though Niki Lauda has refused to comment on any questions to how she was conceived or when, it is suspected that the former champion had a short-term affair in early 2001, based on her October birthday.

Not much is known about the first four years of her life, other than the fact that Davis had primary custody, and the two lived in Banner Elk until her Dam’s passing in March of 2005, due to a housefire that also left Lauda with chronic medical conditions. Official reports on the fire have blamed outdated electrical work for causing the fire, due to the age of the cabin that the two lived in. Niki Lauda took custody soon after, relocating the four-year-old Lauda to Austria.

That was surprising.

“She’s got medical conditions?” Lando tilts his head. Looking back at the picture of a toddler you. The wide, confused eyes, and the way the skin along the right side of your jaw seems… sticky, with an odd shine to it.

“You’re joking,” Max deadpans.

“No— she—” Lando stutters, oddly defensive. You’d never seemed to have issues, you looked, and acted (for the most part) normally! “—She never mentioned any!”

“Mate.” Max sounds almost disappointed. “She’s deaf in one ear. Legally blind, too, I’m pretty sure.

“Don’t give me the mom tone! And again, she didn’t mention any!”

“You do know she’s like,” Max pauses, and Lando just knows he’s scrolling through your wiki page even more, trying to find other things to hold over his head. “... a prominent disability rights advocate, right? Another medical condition, that bum leg of hers—”

“You didn’t know that before reading this.”

“I did not,” Max concedes, failing miserably at hiding his smug snickering. “But you should have!”

“Fuck off, I went on a phone cleanse for a month before coming back to work,” Lando mutters, sinking further into his chair, sulking like a child, and scrolling down further. Section titles like Education & Research, Disability Rights Work, and Personal Life all beckoned to him to read more.

“So…” Max trails off. “Wanna be nosy together?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Lando spends the next three hours with Max, stalking all your social media posts, your admittedly impressive library of published articles of your research on how the aerodynamics and design of F1 cars could be used to create more fuel-efficient everyday cars, trains, and boats that could eventually help phase out the usage of fossil-fuels in cars altogether.

Your early life section is still bleak even after the two initial paragraphs.

It is unknown why the Davis pack did not take custody of Lauda after her Dam’s untimely passing. Leaked documents from the now-defunct Banner Elk hospital have revealed that the pack signed away their next-of-kin and pack rights, along with requesting a no-contact order to be upheld until Lauda reached legal age, or in the case that the then-pup died due to her injuries.

According to reports that were granted by a FOIA request, investigators at the scene of the fire were there to retrieve the bodies of Lauda and her Dam, when she was discovered under a metal bedframe near the remains of Davis a few feet away. Davis was buried in her pack’s grave plot in the Old Elk Valley Baptist Church Cemetery. It is unknown if Lauda has attempted contact with her Dam’s pack.

The public became aware of her existence when tabloids were given access to photos of Lauda spending time with her Sire’s pack during her stay in the hospital. The article published was titled “Die Ratte und das Mäuschen!” which resulted in her gaining the nickname “Das Maus” which has stuck with her since.

By all accounts, Lauda claims to have had an otherwise normal and happy childhood with her sire’s pack, and made her first official public appearance in August 2005, leaving the FIA Headquarters in Paris, with her Sire, Niki Lauda, and other members of the Formula 1 Pack after Fernando Alonso was appointed Prime Omega. She has said she was close with 7-time World Champion, Micheal Schumacher and was regularly seen spending time with his pups when in the paddock to accompany her Sire.

Not much else is known about Lauda’s early life, with the pack being very private.

Well, shit. No wonder you were a bit cold. You probably barely remembered your Dam, even without considering the traumatizing end she’d met. There aren’t any pictures provided of your Dam— Magnolia— and only a handful of pictures of you as a pup. None before the fire. He tries to imagine it. There’s only one of you with your little ears and tail out— one of your eas is more of a little patch of fur. You’re grinning up at a much younger Nico Rosberg, who has you tucked under his arm like some ball. There’s a blur where your tail would be, peeking out behind you, showing that you must have been overjoyed to be there with the German. Your grin is infectious as you look up at him. Little fangs jutting out over your bottom lip.

It’s actually quite adorable. With how fluffy your hair is and the little snaggle tooth hanging on your lower lip. He can almost hear the happy squealing noises from the picture.

Did you make those noises when you were with your Dam? Or were they reserved for when you lived in Austria, joining him at every possible race, bounding behind in your canine form, as a tiny puppy? Yapping and screeching behind him, while probably being followed by various Formula 1 legends intending to keep you behaving.

Which was. An amusing idea, to say the least. Picturing a younger Fernando Alonso, or Alain Prost running after you. Perhaps even a rookie Lewis, holding you by the scruff and padding towards the Ferrari garage in his canine form. The massive black wolf holding a tiny puppy.

You had been affiliated with Mercedes for while— that’s where you’d gained the majority of your experience— serving as a race engineer to the lower divisions. Also giving some of the most out-of-pocket comments to the younger drivers to encourage them forwards out of spite.

He’s so busy working on learning more about you— apparently, your favorite color is red, you’ve had three service dogs before Eggroll, and you have an irresistible love of mochi— that he doesn’t notice two different things he’s done.

One. Nowhere in the article does it mention your designation, which was still a very big mystery to him. Maybe his instincts had started to really calm down now, but Lando’s pretty sure you’re an Alpha. Maybe it’s projection. Maybe’s it the basics of genetics he remembers from his middle-school biology classes he took online. If your mother was a beta, there was a large chance you could be an Alpha. The chances for you being a beta were low, a 25% chance. He didn’t know all of the exact science behind it, but he knew it wasn’t looking good.

And two.

Lando and Max had, in their online stalking frenzy, found your various social media pages. And more importantly, Lando had stumbled across your LinkedIn page. While many didn’t know he had a LinkedIn, he did. It was a more private one, one his Sire encouraged him to make. But he still had one regardless and he occasionally would recall he had it and would update it, as he actually had just a few days ago, when his brother had been teasing him about it. He vaguely knew that people could see when he was on their page, but he didn’t really know much else.

He also didn’t know that he was still logged in.

At 12:27am, an hour behind Monaco, you get a notification on your phone while Oscar and Logan bicker about what late-night food is best to order at the moment.

Lando Norris and others have recently viewed your profile.

tags: @charlesgirl16@boo8008@the-holy-trinity-l@laura-naruto-fan1998@amalialeclerc@vellicora@st0rmzi3@poppyflower-22@hiireadstuff@seonghwaexile@mrsmelinda@actuallyazriel@noam-rosier-icr

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader

72 notes · View notes

spitdrunken · 2 days ago

Note

RUNNING TO YOUR INBOX. for the valentines thing: Adam Hazbin Hotels fat ass and uhhh 🔪 &/or 🕊️

hes so perfect for that combo im giggling

HIIIIII <33333 have a little prequel piece to an order and a curse!!!!! where you are all still human! and reader has decidedly less mixed feelings about him (AKA Hates Him LOL)

notes: INCEST (parent/child, reader is an adult) unhealthy relationships, references to past (incestuous) pregnancy, breeding kink, extremely dubious consent, biblical references, definitely not period-appropriate language

===

Your father truly believes he's the one who has it the hardest. You've grown numb, accustomed to the curse that God has placed on you. To bear fruit again and again, in pain, with no say in the matter. It has been this way for so long now.

But your father never stops riling against the work that is required on the land, to feed himself and his family. Every single day he complains, even with your brothers now working along also. His resentment seems to encompass the idea of labour as a whole. (Perhaps that is the reason he was assigned this curse. You could hardly think of a worse way to punish such a self-conceited man.) Again and again, you've listened to him complain.

He hates the calluses on his hands, a result from holding his tools for hours at a time. The scars on his arms from yanking thistles out of the ground and their merciless yanking on his flesh. The dirt that gets stuck underneath his broken nails. The sweat and grime that cover his body in layers and layers and layers. The way his body has become thin and lean, a tightly bound knot of muscle and nothing else, clearly outlining his missing rib.

("When I get the fuck out of here," he'd say, hair sticking to his forehead and a mouthful of hard bread in between his jaws, "I am never going to stop eating. Not even for a fucking second. I looked so much better when I had shit to eat!")

You've asked to go outside. You're sure that you could help, like your brothers do. You'd kill to feel the dirt underneath your feet, the wind against your skin, the sun glaring in your eyes. Instead, he keeps you inside, always and forever. Not even your mother is chained up as tightly as you are. You simply aren't allowed to leave.

Instead, you have your own purposes at home. When your father returns from another long day of working the land, angry and miserable and exhausted, you're there to take the edge off. He'll slump back wherever he's seated, and let you do all the work for him.

"Let you outside? You're screwing with me, right? I prefer…" He pants, then sucks in a breath. "To have your hands nice and soft. Squeeze a little harder, yeah, that's right." You know exactly what he likes, exactly how to get this over with as soon as possible. You don't even complain or fight it much anymore. Why bother? He hisses when you bring him to the edge, hand latching on your waist and squeezing down hard. It's the most he's moved since you've started helping him 'settle down for the evening'. "No, no, no— Slow down." He gives you that lecherous, wide grin that lets you know how the rest of the night is going to go. Though it sends a shiver up your spine, heat pools in between your legs as well. You tell yourself that it's your body trying to make it easier for you. "It'd be such a waste, baby. You should have a seat, too. Gonna fill you up nice and good." He really needs to work on his lines. But you nod. It's never a struggle to get him inside of you, your body perfectly moulded to fit with his.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #cha.adam #cw.incest #cw.yandere #cw.breeding #cw.dubcon

42 notes · View notes

starrysan · 13 hours ago

Text

nouvelle vague

↳ ᴘᴜᴇʙʟᴏ [15]

masterlist || prev chap || next chap

pairing: korea local!yunho x new to city!reader [smau]

a/n: this ones sad.. sorry, not proofread

2nd person pov

after the long meeting with her boss and some agents from the other branches on a zoom call right after, you were exhausted. laying on your bed and scrolling on your phone. it was barely 3pm. you still weren't 100% sure what to do, but you had an idea. you called the only person you knew to call. "chris? you're still up?" you ask to which you get a slightly sleepy but awake chris answer.

"yeah I am what's up?." of course he was up.. typical crazy hours of the night awake chris bahng. "I think.. I know where im going to pick" you say closing your eyes to make sure this was the right decision. "oh that's grea-" he starts to say. "im coming home" you say before he could finish his own sentence. "oh that's great y/n" he replies after a moment of silence on his end. "you don't sound as happy as I thought you'd be" you reply. "well I am excited I promise. I just.. are you sure?"

"I thought it through and.. yeah im coming home chris" you say again. "I miss you a lot and.. as much as I know you won't admit it, I know you're struggling chris.. lix called me last night" chris curses slightly away from his speaker so you couldn't hear it but you obviously could. "what'd he say?" chris asks. "I mean a lot but basically what we talked about the other day. chris you know you don't have to hide anything from me"

"I know y/n but I know you love Korea.. it's all you talked about for the past year. are you sure you're making the right choice?" he asks, almost a bit nervously. "I had a lot of time to think.. and yeah I do. some things that happened only confirmed it. but anyway, I'm coming home flights in 2 days so I've got to pack. bye chris"

you hang up the phone and stare at your empty suitcases in front of you. or.. one slightly packed suitcase and 2 empty ones. you almost second guess yourself but stop your thoughts before going to start packing your things. you go easy packing clothes first. luckily it was still summer. no heavy jackets to pack.

you put in your shirts, pants, the skirt you wore when you first met san.. the pants yeosang and mingi insisted you bought. they were a strange shade of pink you'd never wear, but looking at them now, they were almost endearing. you finished packing most of your clothes before packing other things you brought or bought while in Korea.

you put in your polaroid camera. not before looking through all the photos you'd taken on them. the first photo you took with wooyoung and jongho after they picked you up, the street food with yeosang and mingi, han river and ice cream with san, ducks and the pretty picnic you had with seonghwa and hongjoong, seoul tower with yunho and san, the beach with yunho.. oh and of course how could you forget? the lock you had bought hoping to put it up with yunho.

you feel a tear drop onto the lock you grasped in your hand. "fuck" you mutter, wiping it away with your sleeve. you put it in your bag as well before covering it with some plushie mingi had bought you from a store in myeongdong. you were making the right choice. at least you thought you were. it was too late to think a coherent thought anyway.

fucking yunho. you think to yourself as you finished packing the second suitcase. you think about the kiss he so casually left on your cheek. like it was still there. it was like it stung your face. like a memory you only slightly wanted to get rid of. you didn't even realize how exhausted you were as you fall asleep on your packed bag and only wake up when you see your friends through the ring camera. shit your friends.. you didn't even tell them...

you quickly buzz them up, and panic slightly. what would you do? how would you tell them? what would they say? what if they hated you after? your thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell which you stood up to go answer. "hi guys" you say quietly as the seven boys pile in. they notice your bags on the floor.

"so what'd you decide to do?" wooyoung asks, breaking the silence first as they were all either at your table, on the floor, or on your bed. "I-" you start. but your mouth goes dry, you lose your words, you forget how to fucking speak. even though they said this was your choice, which it was, you still felt so fucking guilty for leaving them.

but chris- you didn't know what to do not like you had a choice anyway as your passport sat on the table with your boarding pass you had printed earlier that morning nestled inside it. it seemed to go unnoticed by the boys at first till- "ah.. back to Aussie Australia?" mingi said, trying to make you laugh when he saw the look on your face.

"um.. yeah back to-" your voice broke.. you couldn't even say it out loud as you feel your tears start back up again. "Im sorry" you said. you didn't even know what you were apologizing for. going home? for crying and absolutely falling apart in front of them? for not telling them till now? you didn't know.

seonghwa gets up from the floor and hugs you first. you two weren't as close as say you and wooyoung and jongho were but that hug alone was comfort enough. you cling onto his arms like he would vanish if you let go and sobbed into his shirt. probably drenching it but you didn't even care. the rest followed close behind. even jongho who you knew hated physical contact was joined in on the hug.

after you calmed down a bit and got some water yeosang grabbed from your fridge you sit back down and collect yourself. "yeah i'm going back I think seeing how everything's going to play out I think its my best option" the boys nodded. no one said anything not really sure what to say anyway. "if that's what you have to do then its what you have to do." yeosang says. "when's your flight?" san asked. "tomorrow" you say quietly.

"TOMORROW?" wooyoung practically yells which you nod. "but we cant even have a goodbye party or anything?!" mingi exclaims after. "its ok" you say simply. "its not goodbye.. its see you later" you say to which jongho side eyes you. "cringe as hell" he says and you laugh. you laugh for the first time in 4 days.

"did you tell yunho?" san asked which made the room go silent again. "I tried texting.. and calling he never responded" you sighed. maybe it was for the better? you didn't want to think about it. the yunho topic was soon glazed over as everyone helped you pack before leaving in the late hours of the night everyone giving you hugs and saying goodbye one by one. "don't crash the plane" jongho says to which you laugh and flick his forehead.

your left in silence once again as the clock strikes 1:30am. your flight was for 10am. wooyoung insisted he drove you but you declined, not wanting him to mess up his sleep schedule even more. you try to get sleep which barely worked and you were out the door by 7:30am.

you put your house key in a box in your landlord's office, thanking him before you start your walk to the subway to get to the airport. before you could comprehend what was happening, yunho appeared infront of you, looking absolutely out of breath. "yunho?" you say confused.

extras!

I honestly dont like writing in anything pov other than 3rd but I did this in 2nd person pov very deliberately so it wasn't in third person where you're just watching this unfold from the outside, or 1st person where you're in it, its in 2nd person where its like you're right there but you cant change anything about it. (I love deliberate storytelling mwahaha).

ty for reading!

pls fill out the taglist form if you'd like to be added <3

taglist: @mimikittysblog @matchahintonagar @crownj1min @katsukis1wife @staytinyluv @ffenjoyerdazme @soupbinlily @ateezswonderland @yvnhoos @yunniverse @linearities @kattarrynnka @dalsuwaha @coffeewwithdrawlheadaches @spenceatiny18 @wonderz-real @akunoeyebrows @imogenlovess @mystic-megumi @xh01bri @sparda1234 @wooyoungsbrat @cryplnk @cosmicrecs @peraltasvibe @lcvejjooong @istansquirrels @ocean-minho @hanjiyunho @juicyjaxxy

#starrysan #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smau #yunho #yunho ateez #yunho imagines #yunho x reader #yunho fic #jeong yunho

42 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 18 hours ago

Note

sorry for the random vent, but this whole transandrophobia discussion is making me so sad. or more ike.. the reaction to it.

Like... the trans people I know irl (be it transmasc, transfem, nonbinary, something else...) are AWESOME. Supportive and kind, a community. Yet, for some reason, on tumblr there's such animosity?? Over transmascs wanting to talk about their oppression?? And sure, some of that is probably terfs wanting to break us apart, but i dont think that's all it is. And I just... why do we get called horrible things, like transmisogynist, antifeminist, MRA, for that? I've had literal trans guys tell me they hate all trans men that talk about transandrophobia, because it's a "dog whistle" for hating trans women? When it's literally not?? like. i feel like i'm going a bit insane. I get told absolute vile things that "transadrobros" are apparently saying, but i never seem to witness it first hand. the reaction to a bunch of people talking about their own oppression is literally making me feel gaslighted about what is, and isn't being said.

Why can't online spaces be more like irl? Why can't we lift each other up, protect each other, listen? I hope it will be like that again. But NOT by silencing trans mens struggles, villifying them and sweeping everything under the rug. But at this point, i fear that's where it's heading. Idk if it's the majority of the trans community thinking like this, or if their voices are just very loud, but it's making me feel alone.

it's great to hear you have good irl spaces like that, that's awesome. and i've had the same experience irl as well, as people im extremely close to online.

i agree so hard. i dont understand why people who say transandrobro aren't being called out on it. i don't understand why people who start misgendering trans men and mascs when they don't agree with them don't get called out on it. i don't get why people who shit on intersex trans people don't get called out on it. i don't get why people who are awful to nonbinary, genderqueer, gnc and other gender variant people and don't get called out on it. it's awful.

being called an mra hatefully is so exhausting. why do people think thats a bad thing in this context. trans men are treated like shit. ive seen people freak out over the word transmisandry. it doesn't matter what it's called, it's real. people in the queer community are treating masc queer people like shit. people do it outside too but people are doing it inside rn. people are not allowing queer masculine people to talk about anything right now and it just sucks

transmascs get called terfs constantly despite being trans men. they get called transmisogynists. it's so hard to criticize anything transfeminine people do without getting attacked. it's so hard to address transandrophobia inside of queer spaces without getting attacked. it's so hard to point out that everyone has internalized bigotry to let go of no matter what without getting attacked. it sucks

people take the pain cishet patriarchy has caused them and take it out on trans men and mascs instead of the establishment that holds them down. it sucks. the fact that transmascs legitimately just cant dole out criticism anymore without getting called a slew of awful names is just. come on. people tell trans men to die every day. people tell trans men they're confused girls every day. i always get misgendered when somene disagrees with me. people always treat me like i'm an unreliable narrator for being a hysterical cis woman who wants to be special

it sucks. im sorry you go through this too. people are so hostile right now its getting to be not worth it

#asks #feedback #intracommunity issues

23 notes · View notes

astermagnolia · 2 days ago

Text

I've decided to post my stalkers and cryptids headcanons (but about the individual first)

(also fyi, these are my own for my soulmate au)

Starting with Bernard:

• He's the oldest of the four and an only child.

• Im making him half mexican on his mothers side just cause i can (and because I'm Mexican-American)

• he's majoring in culinary arts and physics and minoring (is that a word?) in restaurant management. In canon he's majoring in physics. (Do i know anything about college? Hell no! Am i gonna pretend to know even though Google is free? Yup!)

• he played baseball growing up. I don't know why but he just gives me those vibes.

• He understands and reads Spanish more than he can speak it.

• hes gay/cis and uses he/him

• Bernard learned cooking through his mom and whenever his grandma came over he'd cook with her. When she passed, she gave all her recipes to him.

• 100% conspiracist, through and through. If given the chance, or has any time, he would go to haunted locations or locations where bigfoot is like how unsolved did.

• he hates it when someone insults his food when they don't have any basis to judge. If it's because of personal preference, yeah fine, whatever. Food aversion? Perfectly understandable. But then if they start calling his food "the worst thing they've tasted" then hes throwing hands

• he learned how to skateboard through tim and 100% down to get a piercing after seeing Danny in them.

• he still has his journal where he wrote his dreams whenever he dreamt of the others and has it somewhere safe. Sometimes, he'll go back and reread some of the entries.

• He expresses his love by cooking with the others. Whether it be just them chilling on the counter just chopping vegetables or them trying to learn how to cook a simple meal with him, he loves it.

• whenever one of his partners is stressed or just not feeling well, he'll cook them their favorite meal. Even if it's for multiple days.

• he's the big spoon! He loves cuddling his boyfriends and tracing circles on the back of their hands or on their backs.

• he's not a "i can fix them" partner, he's a "i want to see what chaos they do, but also take care of them as they try to dominate the world." Partner.

This is all I've got right now, will do the others soon.

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #danny fenton #wes weston #tim drake #bernard dowd x danny fenton #bernard dowd #tim drake x bernard dowd #bernard dowd x wes weston #danny phantom #headcanon #polyamory #gay #stalkers and cryptids #tim drake x wes weston #danny fenton x wes weston #tim drake x danny fenton

32 notes · View notes

s0m3b0dy2u · 2 days ago

Text

"but roman..."

"why didnt you script youre immune to hate" / "why did you literally script haters into your dr???"

three words: because it's funny.

I scripted that hate doesn't bother me, and that i think it's funny. also, im very petty and i cant do dumb shit just to spite the haters if there are no haters. i did script that my friends dont get any/get very little hate. for example, people only think good things about theo because he literally posts the most gorgeous photographs, shes amazing at their job, and hes just the kindest person to literally everyone they meet. nico has haters in the way any loud and obnoxious youtuber will but theyre very few and far between and he also finds them funny, but in a slightly different way then i do. felix's legitimate work is amazing, and theres so little room for criticism to begin with, and most of his shitty takes are on tumblr, so hes safe. venus gets the same kind of hate anyone that makes the kind of music she does will, also largely angry christians like i have in my hatebase. she, of course, is the best at handling hate out of any of us. shes absolutely brutal. shes also the first to clap back if any of her friends get any hate to begin with. of course, she has the largest fanbase out of all of us so... yk how that goes, im sure. she also like... thrives off of drama.

also, i've litterally written whole critical articles about myself, if anyone wants to read them

Blasphemy Disguised as Art: The Dangerous Message of Empire’s 666

Style Over Substance? The Fall of Rome’s Theatrics

etc.

the first one is my favorite (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

lets talk about 666

the only reason the ep (or even me in general) blew up as hard as it did is because of christian supremacists.

!! i dont hate christians or christianity, and i do not intend to mock the religion itself !! 666 is about my own personal struggles with religion !! also, the christians im talking about here are the kind that hardly live like christians--the ones that dont live and lead with kindness, but instead anger, and the kind that would condemn you to hell if they saw you walking down the street holding hands with someone of the same sex because "its a sin." the bible says we, as humans, are in no right to judge one another, etc. etc. etc. the reason i didnt script people like this out in this dr is because theyve greatly helped shape the person i am today--for better or for worse. (i feel the need to mention, now, i did script out homophobia, transphobia, and other forms of discrimination) !!

these people, maybe they saw the album cover, read the lyrics, or even just read the album and song titles, whatever it was they got so pissed. most of them havent seen anything else about me, and just jumped to the "hes encouraging devil worship" "he thinks hes better than God" etc etc etc. this lead more and more people to seeing my stuff and so... yeah

also the people that are like "EMPIREs too theatric" "romes too dramatic" like... no shit?? thats my whole thing?? idk what to tell you. my fans eat it tf uppppp too.

the people that are like "mmm maybe try making happy music now?? :/" piss me off tho like no???? my whole thing is doom and gloom. i am death incarnate, im fuckin--IM A VAMPIRE OK IM SUPPOSED TO BE VAMPIRIC ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა /silly

also theres nothing funnier than tiktok comments like "you need jesus" and "go read the bible" pllssss what????? (╥﹏╥) lmaoooo

and like keep hating, all youre doing is making me more famous??? idk like....

i also love ironic haters

like yes, lets pretend we hate each others guts while were sitting in a cozy lil cafe tg

lets say we hate each others music and then drop a collab not even a week later

૮꒰˶> ᴗ <˶꒱ა

uhhhh rant over

if youre still here, how was your day/morning? remember to take care of yourselves, drink some water, eat something--even if it's just a little bit--and take a break if you need to. i love you all <3 have a nice day/night

#desired reality #rant post #ranting #musician dr #reality shifting #shiftblr #anti shifters dni #shifting community #shifters #shiftingrealities #reality shifting community #reality shift #shifting antis dni #shift #shifting blog #shifting script #shifting reality #shifting realities #desired realities

25 notes · View notes

maplegyu · 2 days ago

Text

Went into this with no expectations! I just saw the tropes and summary and was like ooohhh i love all of these! I ended up rly loving the story and enjoying my read!!!

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go.

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking.

Loved loved loved how this was written!!! I could really feel how reader was clinging onto the alcohol like a lifeline! The more it felt like Mingyu would be slipping through her fingers the harder she tried to be grounded by something else!

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

I GET U READER I WOULD BE TOO He's such a gentleman and he's sooo in tune with her feelings WHO WOULDNT FALL IN LOVE W KIM MINGYU

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.

GOD I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW MUCH THIS HURTS its like ur breaking ur own heart bc the feeling is like!! WHAT RIGHT DO I HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY???!! i get u reader i rly get uuuu BUT UR FEELINGS ARE REAL AND VALID 😭 the hoping and yearning wow wow wow

I loved the imagery of the writing so much!!! Especially the scene outside the restaurant!!! Felt so immersed in the story and in very few scenes was already familiar with how close reader and Mingyu are and their feelings for each other.

BUT THE MORNING AFTER SCENE OH MY GOD???!?! CHEEKY MINGYU AAAAHHHHHHHHH

ON GOD!!! I AM NOT OVER THE IMAGE OF JUST WOKEN UP MINGYU, RASPY VOICE, REACHING OUT FOR READER... SMIRKING!!!!!! who wouldnt want to wake up next to this man for the rest of their lives?!

"Oh, this is fun," - im sorry. I WANT HIM SO BAD. Mingyu being a tease and being cheeky... I LOVE THIS KIND OF MINGYU GENUINELY LIKE SOME OF MY FAVORITE MINGYU TO READ!!!!!

YES HE DID BECAUSE PERHAPS!!!! HE IS IN LOVE WITH U ALSO DEAR READER?! 💘

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone.

MY KNEES TURNED TO JELLY FR!!!! when he is chivalrous and a gentleman but also hot as fuck 🤩

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.

IMAGINING THIS MINGYU

AND I DONT BLAME READER FOR HAVING A HARD TIME W HER FEELINGS FOR HIM

THE WAY THIS WHOLE SCENE EXCITED ME BECAUSE IT CONFIRMS THAT MINGYU DOES ACTUALLY FEEL FEELINGS FOR READER TOO!!!! ITS NOT ONE-SIDED AAAAHHHHH ✨️

Yeah. He was so screwed.

#MAPLEGYU SCREAMS!!!!!!!!! this is everything. officially down bad. on his way to becoming a certified loverboy!!!!!!

The whole back and forth about stealing and wearing Mingyu's clothes...... THE OBVIOUS FLIRTING PLEASE I WAS RLY EATING IT UP!!!! dont u two realize ur so into each other aaahhhhhh! And then tbh at this point i thought the story (or part 1) would be over but there was more!!!!

Mingyu was still there and reader was wearing his clothes. Excuse me a whole day of domesticity with your favorite person????

The way user taesjpq painted the picture of how their night was going sent me to space actually because ITS THE LITTLE THINGS!!!! together ordinary things feel extraordinary 😭 and im sure thats what reader felt w gyu!!!! And please they never stopped flirting! Him telling her he looks good in his clothes!!?? MY BABY GIRL LET YOUR MIND GO THERE!!!! THINK ABT GYU BEING PART OF UR DAILY LIFE!!!! BELIEVE HE LIKES U BACK COS HE DOES!!!!!

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin.

THIS MADE ME INSANE I LEGIT WASNT BREATHING

SO IMAGINE MY EXCITEMENT WHEN HE TRIED TO GO IN FOR A KISS!!!!!!! The build-up??!?! The uncertaintainty but also wanting it so bad??!?! CROSS IT CROSS THE LINE!!!! God im rooting for them i am suchhhh a sucker for bff's to lovers!!!!!!!

Thank you for writing this i really reaaally enjoyed it!!! I cant wait for the next part!!!! 💖

Jealousy part. I

genre — suggestive fluff, best friends to lovers, smut (maybe in part II) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — You, Hoshi, Wonwoo, and Mingyu—inseparable. Their apartment feels like your second home. But one of them makes your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He treats you like you’re special—attentive, caring, almost like a boyfriend. But he’s not your boyfriend. He’s your best friend. He treats you this way—this is just how Mingyu is, right? word count — 4,3k (part l)

Warnings and notes under the line.

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, jealousy/insecurity, unrequited/complicated feelings, emotional distress, avoidance/coping mechanisms, mild possessiveness (towards him), possible hangover, waking up next to someone, suggestive elements/mild sexual tension, light kiss [let me know if I forgot something]

notes: san (ateez) cameo (you will better understand in part II) Hoshi, Wonwoo cameo. This is my first published ff ever, I hope you like it. I‘m actually very nervous about it, so feel free to give your opinion. I just wrote this, when I felt down bad for Mingyu again (he‘s so boyfriend istg). The question is, when i am not exactly down bad for Mingyu? He‘s the standard.

"Any plans for the weekend?"

San held the office door open for you, his gentle smile as familiar as ever.

You sighed quietly, relieved that the exhausting workweek was finally over. It had been chaos—half the staff out sick, leaving you drowning in double the workload.

San had been your lifesaver, stepping in every time you thought you might break under the pressure.

"Actually, I'm meeting my friends at a restaurant," you replied, noticing the faint flicker of something wistful in his eyes.

"Why am I not surprised?" he teased, his grin widening as you stepped through the door.

San had a way of always asking about your plans, like he was hoping, just once, your answer might include him. But it never did. Just: „My friends, my friends, my friends.“

It wasn’t a lie, though. You practically lived at their apartment. Gaming nights with Wonwoo, gym sessions with Mingyu, and endless meals with Hoshi—that was your rhythm, your second home.

"Thanks for the coffee, San. Next time, it’s on me," you said, flashing him a grateful smile.

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before you parted ways.

You arrived flustered, breathless from rushing. Of course, they were already here.

As you pushed open the door, the warm buzz of conversation and clinking plates enveloped you.

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, locking on them almost immediately: your boys—and a girl. A girl?

She was sitting beside Mingyu, close enough that their arms nearly brushed. Her laugh carried across the table, light and unrestrained, and something about it made your stomach twist. Who was she?

"Finally!" Hoshi greeted you as you approached, his voice brimming with playful exasperation. "We thought you’d ditched us."

You forced a smile, settling into the usual chaos of their teasing welcome.

"This is Hana," Wonwoo explained casually when he caught the question in your eyes.

"And? don’t you think she looks just like me?" Hoshi added, grinning as he gestured dramatically toward her.

You studied her more closely, and the resemblance hit you. It was uncanny—her smile, her energy. She could’ve been his twin.

"I’ve been crashing at their place for a few days," Hana said, extending her hand toward you. "Hoshi insisted."

Your polite smile barely reached your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone told you?

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking her hand and glancing around. There wasn’t an empty chair for you.

Mingyu noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stood, grabbing one from a nearby table and setting it beside him.

"Thanks, Gyu," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

He nodded and gave you a gentle smile.

Oh, how you’d missed him. His warmth, his silly jokes—the way his laughter could dissolve the stress of your week. You’d been looking forward to this, to catching up with him. But now, it seemed difficult.

As the group settled into conversation, you tried to focus, tried to join in. But your attention kept drifting—to Hana, to how close she sat to Mingyu, to the way she leaned into him when she laughed. Her fingers grazed his arm casually, like she belonged there.

"So, Hana, how do you like the city so far?" Wonwoo asked, drawing her attention.

"It’s great," she said brightly. "Hoshi’s been showing me around—it’s been so much fun."

Her hand lingered on Mingyu’s shoulder as she spoke, and your stomach knotted uncomfortably.

Just then, the waiter arrived, placing drinks on the table. Four sojus. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise—they’d ordered before you arrived. That wasn’t how things worked. You always waited. It was a small tradition, but it mattered. Or, at least, it used to.

"One soju for me too, please," you said quickly, catching the waiter before he walked away.

But the unease didn’t leave. Hana’s touchiness continued—her laugh too loud, her attention on Mingyu too focused. He didn’t seem to mind, even smiled at her a few times. Yet, every so often, his eyes flicked to you, as if checking for something.

You didn’t know why, but every time Hana’s hand brushed against his arm, you reached for your bottle. Every time she giggled a little too sweetly, your glass met your lips. The warm burn sliding down your throat was easier to deal with than the twist in your chest.

"You should see these two at the gym," Hoshi chimed in suddenly, pointing between you and Mingyu. "They’re like workout aliens or something."

The group laughed, and you managed a small smile, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Hana giggled, leaning closer to Mingyu. "Maybe you can show me some moves sometime," she said, her tone playful.

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you lie, the words tumbling out too quickly, barely convincing even to yourself.

You needed space—air that wasn’t thick with your confusion, your frustration. If you stayed another second, your face would betray you, exposing the childish jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

The cool evening air hit you like a lifeline as you stepped outside, goosebumps forming on your arms from the crisp breeze.

You closed your eyes briefly, letting it kiss your flushed cheeks, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. The dull, relentless throb of longing refused to fade.

“This isn’t the bathroom.”

The familiar voice sent a jolt through you, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

You glanced back anyway, already masking your shock with a strained smile. Of course, it’s him. It’s always him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “This looks like a bathroom to me.”

He chuckled, that low, warm laugh that always did things to your chest, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. And despite yourself, you smiled too, because how could you not?

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

Without a word, he steps closer, draping your jacket over your shoulders. “You’re probably freezing,” he says, his voice gentle, but with a tenderness that makes your stomach tighten.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he adjusts the jacket, and it sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but from the barely-there touch.

You look up, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet his. His gaze softens, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

The silence that followed stretched taut between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed willing to break it. The faint hum of traffic and the muffled buzz of laughter from the bar filled the empty space.

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Don’t say it. Don’t bring her up. Just let it go. But the question clawed its way out of you anyway.

“I didn’t know Hana was staying at your place,” you blurted, the words sharper than you intended, laced with something raw and exposed.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “Yeah, I didn’t know either. Trust me.”

You raise an eyebrow, still unsure. “Hoshi didn’t mention it?”

“He forgot,” Mingyu mutters, shaking his head. What a Hoshi thing to happen, you thought.

“I walked into my room, and she was already asleep in my bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I took the couch for the week.”

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his explanation sitting heavy. Of course, he wouldn’t complain. He’s Mingyu—always generous, always selfless. Always giving more of himself than he should.

“Oh,” you managed, your voice too light, too fake. “It’s just funny to think… if I showed up at your place, I’d find her instead of you.” You tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow, even to your ears.

He shrugged, casual and unaffected. “It wasn’t a big deal for me. I worked overtime all week, so I wasn’t home much anyway.”

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.

You felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly. Not here. Not now.

The night had been shallow and hollow, a void you couldn’t seem to escape. All you’d wanted was a quiet evening with your friends, especially Mingyu. Just sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder—feeling the solid warmth of him—would’ve been enough.

But instead, you’d spent the evening watching Hana, her laughter, her touches, her presence invading spaces you’d always considered yours. Even if you don't have the right to do so.

The ache in your chest sharpened, spreading through you like wildfire. You couldn’t stay here any longer.

“I’m gonna head home,” you said, your voice flat, eyes fixed on the ground. “I think I need some rest after this week.”

You felt his gaze land on you, heavy and searching, and for a moment, you wavered under its weight.

“I’ll take you home,” he said softly, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied quickly, trying to steady your tone. “I have my car.”

“I know,” he says, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes scan your face, tracing every inch of you, as if reading you in ways that make your heart race. “But you shouldn’t drive. You drank too much.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not drunk.”

And then, he speaks again, voice softer, more tender.

“Your cheeks,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your flushed skin. “They’re red. That happens when you drink too much.”

You freeze, his touch lingering. Your heart pounds in your chest, and his proximity feels like a punch to your gut. He looks even more handsome than usual—his messy hair falling over his forehead, the soft fabric of his shirt still loose and unbuttoned just enough to make your breath catch. The way he stands there, effortlessly composed, but so close that you can almost taste the air between you—his scent wrapping around you like a warm, familiar blanket.

God, you feel weak in front of him.

“I can’t let you drive like this,” he adds softly.

You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. He cares. He always does.

“Unless…” he tilts his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve got other plans?”

A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through your head as you reached for your phone, your limbs feeling heavy under the weight of sleep.

The sunlight filtering through the curtains was way too bright, making you wince as you blindly swiped to answer the call without checking the caller ID.

“Hello…?” Your voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

“Mingyu, where are you?! I’ve been trying to reach both of you for hours!”

Your brows furrowed, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. Mingyu?

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the name on the screen. Hoshi Hyung.

Your headache made it hard to process, but one thing was clear—you would never save him like that.

Why the hell was he even calling you about Mingyu?

Just as the pieces of the puzzle refused to click into place, you felt it—a presence beside you.

With a slow, sinking feeling, you turned your head to the right.

And there he was.

Mingyu.

All 187 centimeters of him, sleeping peacefully under your blanket like he belonged there. His hair was tousled, his breathing deep and even, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

Your eyes widened, your grip on the phone tightening. You hung up immedietly.

Fuck.

Before you could spiral too much, Mingyu let out a deep sigh, his arm stretching out lazily—almost like he was reaching for you. His eyes, still hazy with sleep, fluttered open but instantly softening the moment they land on you,— The way you were staring at him, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere —his lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with sleep.

“It’s 2 p.m., Mingyu.”

He blinked slowly before lazily glancing around the room. “Shit, really?” His voice was raspy, thick. He let out a slow breath before sinking deeper into the pillows. “I slept so fucking good.” A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he let his eyes fall shut again.

You watched him. His dark hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and yet, somehow, it only made him look softer. His skin looked warm and tan against the white sheets. His lips—full, slightly swollen from sleep—parted just the tiniest bit, and for a moment, you had to fight the urge to reach out, to trace them with your fingertips, just to see if they were as soft as they looked.

You swallowed hard. "I... uh—what happened last night?"

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, rolling onto his side to face you properly. “You really don’t remember?”

Your silence was answer enough.

“Oh, this is fun,” he mused, resting his cheek against his palm. “You were very affectionate. Like, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t expect you to cling to me like that.”

Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.”

He grinned wider. “You wouldn’t let go. Kept saying I couldn’t leave, that I should sleep next to you.” His voice dropped into something teasing. “Should I start staying over more often?”

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He laughed, catching it effortlessly before it could hit his face.

“Ohhh, so violent first thing in the morning,” he teased. “Where’s all that love from last night, huh?”

You wanted to escape the awkwardness, so you stepped away from the bed, but as you did, your gaze betrayed you—flicking toward Mingyu. His white shirt hung loosely on his frame, almost completely unbuttoned, exposing a hint of his chest and the silver chain resting just above it. The sight made your breath catch for a moment, your heart skipping.

Mingyu caught your glance. His eyes met yours for a heartbeat, but then they dropped—slowly, unwillingly, lingering on your legs just a moment too long.

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the fabric of your dress inching up, revealing more of your legs than you'd intended. The air between you both seemed to thicken, heavy with something unspoken.

In an awkward flurry, Mingyu began buttoning his shirt, his movements too quick, too self-conscious, like he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you.

You cleared your throat, trying to fill the silence, and nervously stammered, “I—I’m making breakfast.”

Mingyu immediately sat up, “I’ll do it.”

You turned to glare at him, a bit sharper than you intended. “I can make it on my own.”

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone.

His eyes flickered over you briefly—the exhaustion, the headache written all over your face, the way your clothes were still crumpled from last night.

“You should take a shower,” he added, voice gentle. “It’ll help with the headache.”

You blinked at him, and looked down on you after.

“Yeah..probably.”

You hesitated for a second before heading towards the bathroom, still feeling like you were stuck in some weird dream.

The moment you stepped in front of the mirror, you almost flinch.

Your makeup was smudged, your hair an absolute mess, strands sticking to your forehead. Your dress from last night was wrinkled and slightly loose on one side.

You looked horrible. Greasy. Disgusting.

Mingyu slept next to this?

You suddenly wanted to cry.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly peeled off your clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the weird feelings in your chest.

By the time you were done, you felt human again.

There was no way you were putting that dress back on, so you grabbed your bathrobe, tying it tightly around your waist before stepping out.

Your hair was still damp, strands clinging to your skin as you walked barefoot toward the kitchen, following the smell of food.

And then he turned around.

For a moment, it was like time froze.

Mingyu’s breath hitched the second his eyes landed on you.

The damp strands of hair framing your face, the way your robe sat snugly around you, revealing the delicate curve of your collarbone—he was so unprepared for this.

His fingers twitched around the wooden spoon, and for a split second, he forgot what he was even doing. His grip almost faltered.

He was staring.

Hard.

You raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Mingyu swallowed, snapping out of it. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m—uh, food’s almost done.”

He forced a smile, turning back to the stove way too quickly—like he needed a second to compose himself.

You didn’t question it, shrugging as you took a seat at the table.

Mingyu, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, gripping the spoon like it was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind.

Yeah. He was so screwed.

“So.” Mingyu cleared his throat, a little too forcefully. “How’s your headache?”

You barely looked up, scrolling through the endless messages from Hoshi and Wonwoo. “Hm? Oh-It still hurts. But I’m sure I’ll feel better after eating something."

A beat of silence.

Too long. Too heavy.

You, sitting there like that—bare-faced, hair still damp, wrapped up in your robe—he had seen you like this before. And yet, right now, it felt… different. His fingers flexed against the edge of the kitchen counter.

He didn’t want to think about why.

“How’s work been lately?” he asked, voice casual—too casual. “You looked exhausted yesterday. And, well… the number of drinks you had kind of spoke for itself.”

You let out a dry laugh, stretching your legs beneath the table. “Yeah, work… Work has been insane. Feels like half the office is out sick, and I’m the lucky one picking up the slack.”

Mingyu frowned as he turned off the stove, moving with practiced ease. “That’s bullshit.” A pause. “No wonder you were exhausted.”

That wasn’t the reason you drank last night, but he didn’t need to know that.

You shrugged, watching him. The way he knew where everything was. The way he moved through your kitchen like he belonged there. Because he did.

Mingyu set a plate in front of you before settling into the chair across from you. He picked up his fork but didn’t eat right away, just watching you for a beat.

“You really need a break,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, his eyes flickered to yours, and something shifted in his expression. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Or maybe just… new clothes.”

You blinked. “What?”

He gestured vaguely toward you. “I mean, I knew you had a couple of my things, but—” He gave you a pointed look. “At this point, half of your closet is mine. I could practically move in here.”

You almost choked on your food.

That little shit.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “You know, I always wondered where my stuff kept disappearing to.” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “For a while, I actually believed I had a hole in my closet.”

You swallowed your bite. “Weird. Sounds like a you problem.”

He scoffed. “Oh, really?”

You nodded, keeping your face blank. “Mhm. No clue what you’re talking about.”

His gaze flickered over you, his smirk deepening. “So, you’re telling me my hoodies just magically disappeared? Along with my t-shirts? And my beanie? And—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, groaning. “Maybe your clothes are just… way too comfortable. Not my fault they’re basically begging to be stolen.”

“Begging,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word.

“Yes.” You met his eyes, feigning innocence. “I don’t see the issue.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “And yet, you still let me steal your stuff.”

He exhaled through his nose, picking at his food. “I don’t let you. You just take it.”

“Semantics.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but there was something in his expression—something warm, something familiar.

For a moment, it almost felt normal again. Like the weird tension from before had settled into something softer. Something easier.

But then his eyes lingered on you a second too long.

And suddenly, it was back.

That unspoken thing between you.

Neither of you acknowledged it.

You just kept eating.

And Mingyu?

Mingyu was so, so screwed.

Your phone started ringing. Hoshi was calling.

We were screwed.

By the time evening settled in, you had changed into something comfortable—his clothes, to be exact. He was still here, lingering in your space, and for a few fleeting hours, everything felt right. As if this was how it was always meant to be. As if this was your everyday. But deep down, a small voice whispered, warning you not to get used to it.

After dinner, Mingyu is still here.

You’re in the kitchen, washing dishes side by side like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a plate, and it’s almost too quick to register. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

He leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching you as you load the dishes into the dishwasher. His voice breaks the silence, low and casual, but there’s an edge to it, something like hesitation.

“Do you still have a headache?”

Before you can speak, he’s close. His presence fills the space between you. His left hand gently presses against your forehead.. His right hand moves to your neck, fingers brushing lightly over your skin.

You barely notice it at first, but when you shift slightly, you feel it—your back pressing against the counter. Mingyu is so close, standing in front of you, subtly caging you in You can barely breathe. You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he’s so close, or the fact that you want him closer.

Your voice falters when you answer. "I’m fine now. It’s... better." You watch as Mingyu’s face softens in an instant at your words.

Neither of you moves, standing close, too close.

Mingyu’s lips quirk into a grin, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice. “My clothes look good on you. I should let you steal them more often.”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. You stretch up, reaching for his face, your fingers brushing his skin. You squint your eyes, making a playful face. “I’d do it anyway. Don’t need your permission.”

Mingyu chuckles, but his gaze shifts, sharpening just enough for you to notice. He steps closer. The warmth radiating off his body, the faint brush of his leg against yours, the way his chest is so close that if you just leaned in the smallest bit, you'd be pressed against him. It’s intoxicating. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing for a second until you force yourself to inhale, only to take in the faint scent of him—clean, familiar, utterly Mingyu.

And then, he inches closer, almost without thinking, and his lips brush against yours—just the lightest touch, so soft that it could almost be a breath. Your body tenses, and for a second, everything stills.

But fuck, it’s enough to send heat coursing through his veins.

His lips are soft, teasing, brushing lightly against yours. The kiss is slow, barely there, but enough to leave you gasping for more.

You inhale sharply, your breath mixing with his. You don’t move away. If anything, you shift closer, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

His lips linger, hovering, teasing. Testing.

His self-control is hanging by a thread.

He tells himself to stop. You were loosing yourself in it. You-

- Ding Dong

The sound of the doorbell rings, slicing through the tension. You both freeze. The world shifts back into focus. The heat, the closeness, everything evaporates in an instant.

You step back, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

#maplegyu reads #maplegyu faves #mingyu romcom leading man au

446 notes · View notes

soulidarity · 2 days ago

Text

focused on your senses

after the bond between the two gets stronger, rafayel senses the blurred line between them

hurt? maybe???? | mentions of rafayels condition | check my notes at the end!

rafayel felt an agonizing amount of pain on his left knee, waking him up from his slumber. it wasn't unusual for him to feel discomfort there when walking, but he never had experienced this, it felt foreign.

as if the pain wasn't his

his brain was spiraling with a million thoughts as he tried to make sense of this, fearing that the cause of this was her.

as quickly as he could, and in a very clumsy matter, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. 12:08, she should be at work. he didn't know if that relieved him or made him worry more.

a ring...

then another...

the pain became stronger, as if needles were constantly stabbing it. moving it didnt seem to make any difference to the amount of pain, not what he usually experienced when he had bad knee days.

another ring...

a grunt could be heard on the other line

"kinda busy yel!" the familiar sound of her gun shooting was heard in the background

"did you hurt your left knee?!" he said frantically

"thats totally not an oddly specific and not a creepy thing to say out of nowhere" another gunshot "yeah i did- how do you... nevermind, can i call you back?"

"yeah, yeah for sure. just, please, stay safe"

the call disconnected, a deafening silence. rafayel took of his shirt and went to the bathroom mirror, the pain once again didnt seem to react to his movement, just a constant. the image of his reflection confirmed his theory, his bond mark glowing.

"ugh... fuck."

hours later, the sound of his number pad lock being unlocked drew him away from his thoughts, as a very agitated mc entered his home, throwing her bag onto the kitchen counter halfhazardly. he would coo at the domesticity of the action if it wasn't for the situation they were in.

"okay, what kinda lemurian bullshit did you pull?"

taken aback, rafayels eyes widened as he guided mc to the couch, raising her left leg onto the foot rest nearby, "i didnt do anything!"

"then how did you know? the wanderer had literally just attacked me when you called. which by the way, new rule. no more calling during work hours unless you're dying. just text me"

"it sure felt like i was dying" rafayel muttered, pouting.

"...huh"

"okay so remember how I told you that when lemurians bond our senses are focused on our partners?"

"yeah... your point?"

"i now feel the pain youre in, it woke me up"

"you were sleeping?"

"i dont think thats the point cutie!"

"right, you're right. sorry just... deflecting, I guess? this is a lot. like, im in pain most of the time so this isn't good"

"that isnt good by itself" rafayel argued "we can focus on that later, first this. why did it show up now? havent we've been... 'bonded' for a while now?"

he thought for a while, trying to come up with a recent significant event of their relationship "could this be the first big injury you have since our trip to the dessert?"

"actually, yes. but ive been in pain before these days" rafayel looked at her sternly "we'll revesit that later, but i think i could've confused it with pain from my own stuff, like, my bad posture and other stuff"

"so what do we do? i can't just not get injured, it's part of the job, but i don't want to hurt you"

"clearly it only bothers me if its a very significant injury, which I really hope you don't get. I wont stop you from doing your job, we'll figure it out as we go, okay?" he geabbed her hands, a reassuring smile on his face. she looked back at him warmly "alright, get me some ice"

hiiii i have some word vomit to do about this so bear with me or stop reading

1- if you dont know what condition raf has, its been said to a lot of time in canon that he has a hard time running, walking, standing, his resting posture even shows that he puts more weight on his right leg. he is also going blind 🤓☝️. i want to explore him losing his senses and abilities due to this undiagnosed issue and starting to feel more from mc from the bond. it is said that his senses are now focused on her, this is probably not what infold meant.

2- lately ive been dealing with my own health issue, to get better i have to do stuff that cause me the same pain that my illness does so i dont take care of my self much which i know is bad in the long run. so yes i am projecting onto yel leave me alone 😔

3- i think this might be a series! i want to explore other senses, not necessarily angsty though!!!!! i love fluff. life is way too dreadful to not have a bit of wimsy writing about two fictional characters

#love & deepspace #love and deepspace #otome #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #lads rafayel

23 notes · View notes

talxe · 3 days ago

Text

Reading the Iliad, Book 16 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

Patroclus has his moment in the sun. Too bad the god of the sun doesn't like him all that much

Haven't finished the book but I'm pretty sure this is my favorite chapter

Patroclus makes it back to Achilles' tent in full-blown tears and instead of being helpful Achilles says "You're crying like a little girl clinging to her mother's skrits and that's really uncool of you."

LMAO like Achilles wasn't doing the fucking same in book one

Achilles then wonders if Patroclus has heard news back from Phthia, maybe one of their fathers dying.

Patroclus basically tells him that it's a shit show out in the camp and things are not looking good for them.

This man even gives Achilles the benefit of the doubt and asks him if there's some prophecy Achilles hasn't told him about that is barring him from fighting. Achilles is like "Agamemnon disrespected me and it's not deeper than that tbh"

Bro..

I feel like we have to give Achilles his flowers here bc if he isn't anything else he's committed to the bit THAT MAN IS NO QUITTER. In the worst way possible ofc

Achilles calls Patroclus "My Prince🥹" IM FINNA CRY

Then we get into the whole "Put me in your armor" thing and Homer writes Patroclus as "condemned to beg for his own death" so we love that ig

Achilles tells Patroclus to NOT fight Hector and to just push the Trojans away from the ships and to definitely NOT try to take Troy without him.

Achilles stresses that Apollo may kill Pat if he does any of those things.

Honey, you got a big storm coming..

"Sure" - Pat

Jump back to Ajax (greater) bc he's kinda on the ropes, he's tired, he's being swamped, he's struggling

Achilles sees this and he's like "Okay hurry up and get out there NOW"

Patroclus takes every piece of Achilles armor except for the shield and the spear because no man besides Achilles can even lift them

Achilles assembles the Mrymidons into 5 battalions, led by 5 men I don't feel like naming to all be led under Patroclus and Automedon

While they ride off into battle Achilles goes into a chest of his and pulls out a super nice cup, fills it with wine, and prays to Zeus while pouring it on the ground

He prays for two things: "That the Mrymidons push the enemy back AND for the safe return of Patroclus." Zeus only grants one of these wishes

Take a wild guess which one🥲

Okay so Patroclus literally kills 15 people consecutively... AS IN ONE RIGHT AFTER THE OTHER

Sarpedon sees Patroclus going wild and he decides that he really doesn't like that so he hops off his chariot and begins making his way toward Pat.

Patroclus hops off his chariot to meet him halfway

Zeus is stressed as hell bc he doesn't want his son to die so he wrestles with the urge to just sprit Sarpedon away from the battlefield and away from danger

Hera tells him that he absolutely cannot do that because all the gods will hate his ass if he pulls a move like that PLUS he changes fate which means that all the other gods would do it too

But does Ahprodite not pull that move like every other chapter? No one's up her ass about it so why can't Zeus

Zeus is literally crying tears of blood but he says ok

Sarpedon and Pat start going at each other, and both miss a couple spear of throws at each other until Patroclus picks up his spear, lunches it, and hits Sarpedon square in the chest.

Rip Sarpedon

Glaucus calls out for Apollo to heal his arm (bc Teucer shot him in it) Apollo heals him so he grabs a bunch of ppl to protect Sarpedon's body from being stripped

Patroclus goes to both Ajax's and tells them that Sarpedon is dead and that they have to get his armor/keep pushing the Trojans back.

More fighting, more dying

I noticed that Homer was actually talking to Patroclus during this book ("Patroclus O my rider, you did [insert action here]) I think this is the first time he does this so far (correct me if I'm wrong)

Anyway ppl are still fighting over Sarpedon. Zeus is watching from afar and he just can't decide when Patroclus should die but he says "Not yet"

😔please stop

The Greeks end up stripping Sarpedon's body anyway

The Trojan army is shaking in their boots bc holy shit Patroclus is kinda fucking insane rn. Even Hector wants to go home at this point

The Greeks end up pushing the Tojans ALL the way back to the walls of Troy

Patroclus tries (and fails) three times to mount one of the towers BUT Apollo is a cheater and keeps knocking him down

Homer says Troy would have been taken that day if Apollo had not intervened.

On his fourth attempt to scale this fucking tower Apollo knocks Pat away again and yells "BRO THIS ISN'T EVEN UR DESTINY GO TF AWAY." 😭😭 wtf

"Okay my bad" - Patroclus🧍🏾‍♂️

Hector is inside the gates of Troy and bro does NOT wanna go back out there rn

This whole poem is just Hector not wanting to even be there and I don't blame him

Apollo comes to Hector in the form of his uncle and encourages him to get back on the battlefield bc Glory of something idk

*Sigh* so Hector rides out and makes a B-line straight for Patroclus....

Pat throws a rock at Hector which ends up hitting the guy driving his chariot right in the head and pops his fucking eyeballs out of their sockets.

Patroclus laughs at and taunts his corpse.

So now it's just Hector and Patroclus and they end up having this game of tug o war with the guy's body which the Greeks also win

Patroclus kills 27 MORE people

Apollo steps in and shit hit the fan yet again. He knocks Pat's helmet off and then starts fucking up Achilles' armor basically leaving him exposed to attack.

THEY ARE FUCKING JUMPING MY GOAT PATROCLUS

A random man throws a spear which lands in Patroclus's back and he falls forward

Hector walks up as Patroclus is trying to claw his way back to safety and stabs him in to stomach

Hector starts shit talking. And I like Hector don't get me wrong but bro you were just pissing urself about having to fight this man like a paragraph ago???

But does Patroclus go out like a bitch? NO. He looks at Hector and says "You didn't earn this kill and we both know that. TEWNTY Hectors wouldn't be able to bring me down, Apollo is the one who killed me not you and Achilles is gonna rock ur shit soon enough♥️." And Hector is like "🤨?"

LIKE HELLO??? HE FUCKING ATE THAT

And then he dies

When the one character I read the book for in the first place barely had any screentime and the one time they do they end up fucking dying

Rip to the babygirl ig

#now he gets to haunt the narrative #the iliad #reading the iliad #patroclus #apollo #hector of troy #sarpedon

24 notes · View notes

sossolei · 3 days ago

Note

I'm actually crying rn please, how do I really shift? For a fact Ik that shifting and manifestation is real. But I've been unable to shift my awareness to my Dr.. I saw your hogwarts posts and im really happy and glad that you get to experience all of that but I can't even shift to a better version of my cr let alone some fictional world??I really wanna get out of this abusive household, it's messing up with my mental peace each day, everyday waking upto fights and getting blamed for being a disappointment. I'm sorry I'm not trauma dumping but I just really wanna get out of here.

I am 10000% going to make a more detailed post about this very soon, but to answer your question right now, the best advice I can give you is to genuinely stop listening to other people and try to make shifting/a ritual before shifting, as fun as possible.

Advice is great don’t get me wrong, but after a certain point everyone is just repeating the same talking points and yapping about things that don’t work for you and your journey. Find your own groove but for now here’s what I’ll say:

1. Practice meditation as often as you can. Do it for sleep. Do it while you’re awake. Do it before school or work. Do it whenever and genuinely get in tune with who you are without a body and without a mind. You are pure consciousness and meditation is one of the best ways to internalize this.

2. Since you mentioned manifesting, practice small manifestions in your current reality because that is also considered reality shifting. Every time you decide to walk left instead of right, you’ve just shifted realities because universe is now adapting to what you have chose. If you think manifesting is your thing, build up your confidence within that AND ( best part ) try to manifest things from your better c.r, into your current reality. Start off small like maybe a cute cup from your better reality to bring into your current one or even some curtain bangs to look more like your better reality self—not only will these things build your confidence but they will also make you feel so connected to that other reality. Genuinely apply this and you’ll wake up one day and realize something so small like a cup, or a cute notebook from your other reality that is in your c.r means that that reality is never as far as you think it is.

3. Be mindful of the language you use. Never come back from a shifting attempt and think, “omg I didn’t shift again”, instead switch that to “damn I gotta practice waking up in that other reality instead of just sleeping there all the time” does that make sense? You realistically could’ve shifted while you slept, but because you were sleeping, you wouldn’t have noticed. HELLO! It makes sense guys.

That’s all I can say right now but definitely ask me anything else, I’d love to help in any way I can and I can guarantee you will shift to that reality ( even if you haven’t already ) because you shift every single day and this reality is no different than choosing pizza instead of burgers for dinner LOL.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifters #shifting antis dni #shifting community #shifting diary #shifting motivation #solshifts🔅#onmysol🔆#desired reality #anti shifters dni #shiftingrealities

38 notes · View notes

pleaktale · 3 days ago

Text

(this reblog starts on the 4th lol)

IS HE SEARCHING FOR US FOR DAYS???? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

wait why am I crying why is this so beautiful in a way (and why did I relate Reader being a noxian to being a woman nowadays- like, we have to be this and be that and people think we don't have our moments of vulnerability but when we have is something to be ashamed of or made fun of- ok ill shut up)

I want to cry he's so sweet :(

NOOO HE WANTED TO TOUCH HER :(((((

THEY BROKE OUR HAND?????????? ARE YOU KIDDING ME ARTIST'S WORST NIGHTMARE RIGHT HERE

jesus christ this is a suicidal mission after all why didn't I see this coming katy when i catch you

I legit feel like crying of emotion from how well you write these dialogs like wdym this isn't real??? THIS IS OBVIOUSLY REAL LIKE ??? HELLO??? WDYM IT CAME FROM YOUR HEAD

do you see this world building??? katy I want to be you when I grow up

"this is why I liked you from the get go." DON'T MAKE ME CRYYYYYYY AHHHHHHH

jesus christ I've only read like 1/6 of it what the fuck

I CANT BREATH WITH FIGHTING SCENES HELP MEEEEE AHHHHH

"Looks like you didn't learn your lesson after Jinx, huh?" KATY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IMMA NEE DTO THROW HANDS WITH YOU

WE ARE SO BADASS LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

HELLO WHAT IS THIS IS THIS A THROWBACK IS THIS MEMORIES WHAT IS THIS KATY WHAT IS THIS

OH FUCKING HELL GET BACK YOU DEMON WHAT THE FUCK

oh my fucking christ I literally got chills

oh the way he softens seeing us awake :( i dont want to continue i know this will end i dont know if this will end good though katy im scared of you

(long time skip on my end, now it's feb 8 😭)

the way he gets curious but then R feels how it is like to be asked was a kick to the already beaten me

VI WAS VISITING!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 HI POOKIE DOOKIE

Vi is literally that "it's always me and you and you and me and your friend STEVE-" but because she sees this thing going with the both of you ☺️

HE ACCEPTED TO HELPRK29WAAAAA😭😭😭😭😭😭

katy what tbe fuck I literally cried when we were on Mrs. Talis interview I could hear her old and shaky voice but I don't even know how she sounds like????,

INVITING HIM OVER 👀👀👀

one answer to that particular scene: 🧎‍➡️ folded

SIR HELLO ARE YOU TRYING SOMETHING OR SHOULD I GET SCARED

he didn't go away 😭

oop, hiding Viktor are we? I see you Katy 🧍

THESE TWO DUMB MFS PLAYING LIKE HIGH SCHOOLERS ON THE LIBRARY 😭😭😭😭😭 UGH

WAIT SO THAT'S WHY YOU TALKED TO ME ABOUT PORO YOUUUUUUUU *shakes you*

I'll literally give you the world for this little jealousy scene with Steb I swear to god 🧎‍➡️🧎‍➡️🧎‍➡️🧎‍➡️ "So.. you and Steb?" AJBSIWRKOQ*+*#¥×#?¥+*#×¥$ BARKING CLAWING THE WALLS PINCHING MY ARM AHHAHHAHRJWJAA

KATY I OWN YOU THE FUCKING WORLD

still scared because there's a shit ton of words still and for you to make this into tension again takes two words 🧍

Bite Marks

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 18.6k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW food mentions, TW death mention, body horror, CW violence and injury, TW blood and gore, alcohol mention. Slowburn, Part 3 of ink and bedrock, noxian! Reader. Spoilers for s2.

Ekko Masterlist

Navigation

Buy me a ☕?

Part 2 <<< Part 3 >>> Part 4

Ekko has been all over Zaun and Piltover, his board leaving trails of green smoke as he looks for you and the familiar shade of red you always wear. As the hand on his pocket watch ticks, his concern grows larger.

His first stop at the Vyx was hours ago, earning a shocked look from the business’ madam. He even tasked a few of his firelights to look for you after he combed the entirety of the lanes. While the search goes on, his worries eat at further. The wind turns harsh, cold and nipping at his skin while he hovers around at quick speed. Then, a last minute decision comes to mind, he turns his board around, twisting expertly around buildings to get to the docks where Sevika's place is near. Maybe she saw you, or better yet, you're there for another extra interview.

As he flies overhead, his eyes are cast down on the ground in hopes that he'll see you walking by. His heart almost sinks down to his stomach when he sees your noxian red jacket floating in the waters of Zaun. He drops down immediately at breakneck speed.

The water feels cool under you, waves crashing against your clothed legs, skin raising into pinpricks of goosebumps. Ekko finds you half submerged in the waters of Zaun, baptized by its tides, mixing in with your blood.

His boots crunch under the pebbled sand, footsteps measured and quiet as if he's trying not to startle a doe trapped in the jaws of sharp metal. Eyes roaming over your sitting form, legs folded on itself, arms embracing your body close— your blank eyes stare at the fading sunset in the horizon. Its hues paint you in its orange and pink glow, illuminating your swollen cheek, shining a light on your injuries.

The docks are quiet this time of day, no workers running around and trying to finish their quota for the day. No ships passing by, or machinery beeping and whirring above the sound of the waves.

Seagulls squawk above, wings flapping as they fly off into the sunset. The air feels fresher near the water, the cool breeze feeling like needles upon your heated skin. Your breath is shallow as you intake air, fists shaking as it remains tightly closed.

Ekko remains standing next to you, his own mind reeling from the sight of you, you whom he thought was invulnerable, tough like raw metal; and incapable of being the small form balled next to his feet. You're a force to be reckoned with, a noxian who's not afraid to bite. And yet, you sit on the banks shared by Zaun and Piltover, looking like a lost child.

Ekko knows this feeling well, having lived through it a dozen times before. He remembers the day he lost everyone he ever knew in a single night— the blank stare he had, the tear stained cheeks, and the hidden anger swirling in his eyes. All he ever wanted that day was for someone to stay with him, not to speak of apologies or comfort. Just for someone he knew to be there for him. So he sits down wordlessly next to you, following your heavy gaze to where the sun fades down into the water. The sky slowly turns a dark blue, as if waving goodbye to you.

A minute passes, then five, then ten, and he's still sitting there with you, his own lower half drenched in the water together with your own, his presence warming you. Your plan was for him to get used to you so that he'll slowly warm up to you— But you hadn't realized that he has done the same to you. With him just being there alone could help calm the buzzing in your ears, wave away the rose scented wind wafting across your bloodied nose to be replaced with the smell of seared metal and mint.

You open your split lips, wheezing a sharp exhale before speaking. Your lungs aren't any better than the state of your face. Chin placed atop your knees, the previous sunlight is now replaced with the street lights, its harsh white light not doing you any favors.

“S–Sorry, you must've been waiting for me back at the hideout.”

“I thought you were going to see Sevika?” Ekko still sits right next to you, eyes roaming all over your swollen and broken face. He notices your rolled up sleeves, free of your usual crimson jacket that now reveals battle scars dotted along your arms. Pinpricks of raised skin, marks left by a blade, long elongated scars that still bear the pain it once had.

“That was last week, Ekko. We finished last week.” You gesture with your head towards the councilor's home further away by the docks. Its towering roofs are unmistakable. Your shoes are completely drenched under the lapping tides, the water ebbing upwards and wetting more of your clothes. “No one's home anyway, I think she's stuck in a meeting at Piltover. My other interview went well at least, despite, you know.” Your hand ghosts all over your swollen face.

“Why didn't you fight back?” His voice is soft, not laced with a condescending tone or a reprimand.

For once, you think he's concerned about you.

“How'd you know I didn't?” You glance at him as best as you can with your black eye, seeing his hand reach towards you. His trepidation wins over him before retracting his hand back to his side.

“Your knuckles, they're pristine, spark.”

You chuckle at the use of the nickname, eyes flitting across your fists before unfurling them despite the throbbing pain on one of your wrists— all the while hiding the fact that your assailants might've broken your dominant hand.

“Guess they are.” They're as unclean as the dirt under your nails. “They ambushed me is all.” A moment passes between you as you let the cool water kiss your skin, drenching you and Ekko further and further with the rise of the tides. “I–I didn't want to fight, how would that look if they found me with their bodies? It could cause another crisis. Have another war on our hands.”

“They wouldn't be dead. You wouldn't have killed them.” He cranes his neck towards you, brows knitted together, eyes glimmering under the light.

“You don't know that, Ekko.” Your eyebrows furrow, fists opening and closing to shut your anger down. “I could've— I could, I know I can.”

“So you didn't bother to fight back?” He inhales, reeling in his anger that was untoward. Remembering that you're not the enemy. “Did you see their faces?” He gently takes your shoulder, eyes shining in the light as he stares at your split lips, swollen eye and bleeding brow. “Did they—” he inhales shakily. “Did they do anything else to you?”

You shake your head, hand gingerly wrapping around his wrist. He thinks you're about to pull him off of you, but you don't. Instead you run your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “They didn't. They took my bag and my pen before running off. I guess they were still afraid of me so they whacked me on the head and kicked me a few times before bolting off.”

Ekko nods, guilt written on his face. You know it well. “Or they were afraid of me.” He lets go, hand falling back on his lap.

You laugh despite the ache on your face, grin subsiding when you see his serious face. “Oh, you were serious? Yeah, sure, probably, bossman.”

He huffs, head shaking with a subtle smile. Another silent moment passes, it's a comfortable silence that has your mind finally calming down. His palms gather pebbles next to his legs, balling them together and picking up bits of colourful sea glass.

“That's pretty.” You say as he holds a blue sea glass in the palm of his hand. “Did you used to gather them up when you were a kid?”

Ekko reminisces, lips curling into a small bittersweet smile. “Off the record, spark?”

Chuckling, you scooch closer to look at the sand, pebbles and sea glass all bunched together in his hand. “Off the record, firefly.” Smiling, your index rummages through the pile, finding a bright emerald glass that reminds you of the shape of your old home. It's smooth around the edges, sheer but opaque enough to let the colour show.

“A few times.” He pockets the blue glass before picking up the green one and raising it above the two of you to see the light reflect on its smooth surface. “Used to swim here too, before the water got too murky and smelled of shit.”

“Now it doesn't smell like shit, thanks to you and Sevika.”

Placing the glass back down, he flips it in between his fingers. “I did it for my people, so the kids could experience what I had.” With a glance at you, he pockets the green sea glass before handing the pile on your waiting palm. “Why do you do this?” Blurting out, he expects you to glare at him, instead, you continue to rummage through the pile, wordlessly letting him continue. “You're noxian, you're doing something against your own people.”

You hum, tired eyes finding a shard of red sea glass among the pile of rocks. “I could be from Demacia or from Ionia, being noxian doesn't change anything. I hate their warmongering, a lot of us share the same sentiment, but not all of us. Not enough.” Heart stuck in your throat, you take the crimson glass, dropping the rest of the pile next to your feet, watching it plop down in the water. “That's why I'm doing this, the more people who know the effects of what they've done to the other nations, the more people would be against it. Something has to change.”

“What if it doesn't work? That you running around Piltover and Zaun would be for nothing?” He ducks to meet with your downcast eyes. “That you getting hurt would be for nothing.”

“Well, someone has to do it.” You smile sadly, “after this gets published for the whole world to read, I–I may not be able to go home.” The shock is evident in Ekko's brown eyes as he settles in on the sadness of your tone. “The moment I step foot in Noxus I— they could kill me for what I've written.”

Ekko inhales sharply, brown eyes scanning your features for a lie. He finds none. “They can't do that just because of it.” A half lie. He truly doesn't know that they would, only that they could be capable of it.

“They have. And they will. There are forces in Noxus that the world will never see, or even hear of.” Your eyes fill with unshed tears, a sob threatening to escape from your throat. “My professor was supposed to be here with me, did you know that?” Looking at Ekko, you see yourself in his eyes, finding the same hurt you have in those pools of light. “She lived a hundred lives, wrote more than anyone in the world has, dedicated her life to the truth. And she— she should be here, not me.” You throw the red glass angrily into the depths.

You stare at the ripples it has left on the water until it reaches you. “Mel found me in the bottom of a bottle, blacked out drunk just after I found out.” You grimace at your previous pitiful self. Ekko listens intently with an open heart. “She trusted me enough to continue my professor's work. I promised them both, Ekko.” Moving your head towards him, the tears flow freely from your eyes, mixing in together with your determination. “So please, we need to trust each other for this to work. Right now as we're talking, people in Ionia are dying from the hands of my own people, and people barely blink an eye at it. The entire time I've been here I've only seen the war mentioned in the papers twice. Twice!”

Heaving, you feel his arm hover above your back unsurely. You blink the tears away, wiping it with the crook of your elbow. “I may not be able to stop what's happening there, but I can warn people about it. Tell them their strategies, their ways of conquering so people would know how to defend themselves when they come. Noxus is on a conquest, and the entire continent is on its path.”

You continue as his eyes morph into worry. “Piltover was a lesson to them. Something to learn from so they could be better the next time. Bolder, and more terrifying than the last.”

“They're planning something, aren't they?” Ekko's eyes narrow angrily, mind going back to the fight.

“Mel thinks they are. They hate Piltover and even Zaun just because you helped. They could be, knowing what they're doing in Ionia right now. There's also that shit back home,” you spit out, cursing their very being. “Let's hope that they're too busy fighting themselves to set their sights back here.” You switch to a more light hearted tone after wiping down the tears gathered in your eyes. He seethes next to you, feeling his warmth ebb closer to your own form. So you try to calm the storm within him. Nudging him, you gently smile. “They hate you over there.”

“Do you?” He raises a questioning brow, air feeling much lighter than before as he stares at your unwavering smile. But the dark feeling still looms over his head, simmering into his hundreds of worries.

“No, I don't. I get why you've closed yourself to others, built a wall around you. I know it too well.” You sigh, hands rubbing along your arms for warmth. “And I don't hate you, Ekko. I rarely like people and I guess you're one of them now.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” He uses your own words against you. His small smile fills your chest with comfort.

“Finally got the boy savior to smile.” Beaming at him, the lamp light illuminates your features.

He inhales, twisting around to face you fully, leg propped up with his elbow resting atop his knee. “If you want me to trust you, you need to tell me the truth.” His instincts still defy him from trusting you fully. “Who are you really? Before you took up a pen. And no more lies.”

“I…” you swallow down your trepidation, palms balling into fists before releasing the pressure. The scars on your skin feels like it's on fire. “...Was part of a guild back home, not the kind that weaves baskets or sells shit. The kind you didn't want to mess with. If you got the gold then we get the job done. Whether it's messy or clean, we do it. Then I was briefly in the noxian legion after my father pulled rank and dragged me into their shit show. I thought I would be doing good back then, until the real fighting started. Barely a fight when your enemies couldn't defend themselves.” You shake your head, regret spilling from your words.

Ekko listens with a stiff lip. “Then after a couple of years I went home and I found him—” you hesitate for a moment, choking in your own words. “My younger brother— passed and I was lost. So I went back to the guild, stained my hands for gold so that I could be worthy of a noxian death just like they have.” Shutting your eyes, you let a tear escape before exhaling and opening your eyes to see the open waters of Piltover. “Until I came across my professor. Or rather, I saw her on the end of my gun.” You chuckle at the memory, chest heavy with sorrow. “Can you believe that she managed to talk me out of killing her?”

“She must've been something.”

“She was.” You smile, nudging Ekko gently with your shoulder. “I had to lie to the council, Ekko. I told them I'm just a historian so they'd let me do what I need to do. If I told them I used to… they wouldn't have let me. My promise would've been broken before I could start.”

“You lied to the council?” He's impressed based on the tone of his voice. “What else have you lied about?” He challenges you with his sharp gaze.

“I actually did study under my professor. Straightened my life out, got my degree, masters. And got more degrees. I've got a talent for it, you see.” You proudly say. “I cut ties with the legion and the guild way before that so you don't have to worry about more noxians popping in the undercity looking for me.”

His brows knit together, trepidation on the tip of his tongue. “You must've been too young to do all that shit.”

You chuckle without humour. “They start you young back there.” Your tone wavers as you stare back into the dark depths, aching legs now stretched in front of you, watching the water lapping across your legs.

“Anything else?”

Humming, you feel the hard rocks underneath your palms, anchoring you back into the present. “I have no one else back home. Parents are long gone just a few years after my brother.” You shrug, shivering in the calming cold. “Everything else I've told the council and you were truthful.”

“And Mel? Did she know about you?”

“Yes. I thought she was going to recruit me like her mother did years before, and I almost fought her because of it.” You remember the day she trespassed in your own home only to find you almost passed out from drinking the day away. Good thing you blacked out before threatening the younger Medarda with your sword.

“I would pay good money to see that.”

“Is that a joke? Coming from the boy savior himself?” You smile, chuckling softly as you look at him.

“I—” his own smile fades, eyes darting behind you. “Right in the fucking open.”

Following his gaze, you see a familiar group a few ways away on the shore. They look weary and worried as they wait in front of what looks like a broken down building. The two of you watch as a large man opens the door and lets them in with a simple wave. It's a shimmer deal.

“Oh, now I remember what I'm doing here. Must be the concussion making me forget.” Standing up, you stretch your throbbing neck and dominant hand that's definitely broken from how you were shielding yourself from their onslaught of beatings.

“What? I know you want to help but you're injured.” Ekko clicks his tongue at you, arms crossed over his chest.

“They're the ones who took my pen, Ekko.” He gives you a pursed look. “Just like you, I don't do anything half assed. I heard them whisper about where they're trading it before they left me.”

“And here I thought you were here to brood.”

“Oh I was.” Shrugging, you unclasp your belt and pull it from the belt loops to wrap it around your fist in makeshift brass knuckles. The golden buckle shines under the moonlight, the carved rune on it taking Ekko's attention briefly. “I'm going to take back what's mine, Ekko, whether you let me or not. I'll hold back my punches, don't worry.”

“You can barely see straight and you're still bleeding. At least let me call for backup—”

“They'd be long gone by then.” You step in front of him, standing toe to toe with him in ankle deep water. “I've been hurt worse before.” Your walls crumble further down as you stare into his deep chestnut eyes. “The pen was my brother's. Please let me take it back.”

With apprehension, Ekko nods once. Before you could race towards the dilapidated building, he takes your hand gently to pull you away. “We need a plan.”

You smile, “this is why I liked you from the get go.”

—

Your banging fists against the metal door resonates throughout the whole building, shaking it at its core.

“Help!” Kicking and screaming, your throat pinches in your neck. What must've been a minute of yelling, the rusty door swings open, revealing the same man from before. His metal jaw tightens at the sight of your beaten up face. “Sir, please help me! I've been robbed and I just need—” just as planned, the same crew who ambushed you stands inside the room with a shimmer dealer. “Them!” Pushing past the metal jawed man, you manage to take him by surprise and even make it halfway inside the building before he captures you in his arms. “Where's my shit?!”

“It’s the noxian!” The one who held a gun to your temple says. Everyone seems to freeze up in place. Your pen and satchel is in his hands, ready to be traded, while the other is in the middle of exchanging it for a whole bundle of purple vials.

“You brought a fucking noxian here?!” A sharply dressed woman with face tattoos exclaims, worried eyes roaming over your form.

Now that the haze of pain from before has ebbed away by the rush of adrenaline, you now realize that the same crew who took your belongings and beat you were the same ones who tried to rob you on your first day in Zaun. Ekko's not going to like this.

With a swift back kick to the man's groin, you're free from his grasp as he kneels down on the dirty ground, groaning and tearing up. Running at quick speed, you raise your arm above your head as if you're shielding yourself from the sun. Your eyes hone in on them like a predator hunting its prey. Body moving on instinct, as if you never left the fighting behind. You barely make any noise from your rushed footfalls.

The sheer terror on each of their faces was worth almost getting captured. Luck seems to be on your side for now.

“Shit!” The group braces themselves, a few raise their weapons, guns and knives aimed at your form.

Just as you're near them, the glass roof above the building shatters. Glass shards fall like rain upon their shocked faces. With a streak of green light, Ekko drops down, hoverboard whirring as he strikes the dusty ground with his green clock arm weapon, twisting and turning around them on his board, collecting them in the middle and creating a whirlpool of dust and smoke to hide you from their eyes.

While they're too distracted by Ekko's tornado-like movements and the dust in their eyes, you tighten your hand around your belt that's still wrapped around your fist. The golden buckle glows, yellow light appearing around you like a halo as it creates a shield.

At a mad dash before your opening closes, you make it inside the curtain of smoke, quickly taking your things from the befuddled man in quick succession.

Jumping away and skidding across the ground, you meet up with Ekko just in time for him to stop right where you landed. He grabs you by the waist, guiding you up on his hoverboard.

“Got it?”

Looking down at your hands, you see your pen in your palm and satchel around your elbow. “Got them!” You hold on tight to his waist.

He pats your hand before kicking and flying up. As you fly higher and higher, you see the assailants cough and pick shards from their face and bodies. Serves them right.

“Let's go, Ekko. We'll get them next time—!” Before the hoverboard dashes away into safety, a loud thunk hits the metal fans inside, sparks flying, causing the board to malfunction and fall. “Shit!”

You feel his arms wrap around you as you both fall on the hard ground, puffs of green smoke enveloping around you.

Both of you clatter and split up on the dusty floors. A cloud of smoke trailing behind you as you skid on the rough ground harshly. You groan at the pain blooming on your head, hand feeling numb from how you landed wrong on it. If your hand wasn't broken before, it's definitely broken now.

Eyes wandering to your side, you see Ekko lying a few feet away from you, his eyes are bloodshot, capillaries broken from the fall. His nails dig into the dirt, trying to stand back up.

The hoverboard sparks from a couple steps ahead with a sharp dagger embedded in one of its metal fans. Your head throbs as fresh blood drips down your face, mixing in with the dried ones. Ekko yelps in pain, and you look at him immediately. His face is shoved on the dirt by a boot, and you immediately see red.

The next thing you know, you're up on your feet again, lunging and shocking the tattooed woman. She flinches and hurriedly throws daggers your way. dodging blades, you block it with your glowing rune that's still wrapped around your fist. But it may not be enough when a few nicks your arm and legs.

“Come on, noxian! Show me what you got!” The same one who had her foot on Ekko's head taunts. Her purple eyes from using shimmer glows, mixing in with the golden light the rune emits. Her feet dance with your own, auburn hair flowing as she dodges your frantic and angry attacks as you take her attention away from Ekko.

Meanwhile, Ekko shakily stands up, temple bleeding as his vision warbles for a second before clearing up. The four men look at him with frightened eyes, weapons clutched in their shaking hands. It seems that his reputation has gotten to them.

The firefly leader gets up, crimson flowing down on his lips, staining the ground in red. “Didn't I tell you to go home?” He kicks his hoverboard up, standing it straight into his waiting hands. His weapon is too far away from him to get a hold of, so he settles with the next best thing.

“Noxian gold pays better than being a bartender.” The one with the gun says, “are you running away, firelight?” He taunts, eyes narrowed at the hoverboard in Ekko's hand.

Ekko glances at you briefly, seeing that you're holding on your own despite your injuries, you've gotten hold of your sword again as blades crash against each other. Fixing his stance, he holds the board with two hands like a large bat ready to strike. His mind works on instinct, calculating all the ways they could attack him. And in turn, he plans his retaliation in his head. His breathing evens out, mind settling on a plan, and with a measured step, he bolts off towards them.

His head moves a few inches to the side, dodging a whizzing bullet, feeling the air run by him. Just like he thought it would. Then with a side step, he smacks the nearest man right on his head with his hoverboard, effectively dodging his rusty knife aimed at Ekko's side. Blood gushes out of the assailant's nose, eyes rolling back inside his head as Ekko knocks him out. Fountains of crimson splashing out whilst Ekko dodges again to avoid another bullet aimed at his leg.

Twisting around, his furious eyes hone in on the second man with a butcher's knife shaking in his lithe hand. The man slashes wildly at him, Ekko uses his board as a shield, but one passes through, the blade nicking his forearm. The man uses this opportunity to hack and slash at him frantically, and Ekko staggers backwards.

Then a sudden golden ring of light protects him, he glances at you, seeing that you're protecting him even though you're occupied with your own battle. With the protection, you give him time to immediately push the board towards his assailant and make the man stumble backwards and slam into the one with the gun. It accidentally goes off, shooting his own friend.

“Shit–!”

Ekko pushes and rams them both until they hit a stone pillar, smashing their bodies together on the solid wall. Their heads slam in tandem, a sickening crack bouncing off the walls just like how their heads bounced on the wall. They fall limp, knocked out and bleeding as they slide down the pillar together.

“Get fucked!” The unfamiliar voice says victoriously, spitting out blood as she staggers backwards.

Ekko hears you yelp in pain. Head turning towards you quickly. His eyes widen at your crouched form, your hands holding onto the broken rapier. He yells your name, feet already moving to shield you from the oncoming blow you're about to face. But he gets yanked backwards, hands flying towards his neck, he feels rough leather wrapped around him. Falling down harshly, his body skids across the ground as he's pulled and dragged towards the doorman whom you encumbered beforehand. Ekko didn't see him coming and standing back up from how hard you kicked the man in between the legs.

His choked breaths echo around the building, struggling against his binds whilst the man tightens his hold on him. A hulking arm wraps around his neck. The firelights leader struggles, legs kicking about and nails scratching at the man's arm. Ekko opens his mouth, biting down at flesh, drawing blood. But it barely fazes the assailant.

“I thought you would've fought better, boy savior.” The doorman chuckles against his ear. “Go watch your girl get her shit kicked in. Looks like you didn't learn your lesson after Jinx, huh?” He lifts Ekko up from the ground, making him watch as you receive blow after blow on your face and body.

You take it all in, shield building up but getting shattered almost immediately. The sound of Ekko's choking grabs your attention, mind remembering the same position your brother was in all those years ago. The thorns wrapping around his neck, roses blooming around him before he disappears into the rose scented void.

Ekko's vision fades away slowly, unconsciousness slithering and threatening to hold him down.

You see red, fire engulfing your body.

With a thudding heart, adrenaline fueling your broken body, you launch yourself towards your assailant, yelling a battle cry.

Pushing her down with a firm shoulder, making her fall backwards. You don't waste time in building the rune up with a silent whisper of words you learned years ago during your years in the legion. Clawing your way up to face her, you raise your fist as the golden light encases your whole hand. Quickly, yellow light engulfs the whole room, warmth seeping from your body and flooding everyone’s senses. Her eyes widen in horror as the light turns solid, like molten gold about to drip down on her face and scald her skin. The last thing she saw was the gilded punch meeting her nose, and the sickening crack of her cartilage filling your ears.

Warm blood stains your clothes, mixing well with the crimson tint of your noxian clothing. Spitting out ichor, you quickly grab a fallen dagger, sending it flying across the room and towards the hulking man holding onto Ekko.

He tries to use Ekko as a shield, but with a squeeze around the rune, you shield him with the warm light. The blade grazes the golden hue, harmlessly bouncing off of Ekko but hits the man directly on his shoulder.

The large man falls back, groaning in pain and letting Ekko go.

“F–Fucker.” You shakily heave out, stumbling towards Ekko as he gasps breathlessly whilst crouched on the ground. “Ekko.” He continues to cough out, hand placed on his bruised neck. “Ekko, move!” You now sprint, eyes wide as the doorman looms over him with the whip held menacingly.

With a guttural scream, you shield Ekko with your own body, grabbing the whip with your own arm as it wraps tightly around you. “Enough!” With a pulse of energy, you send it crawling up until it hits the handle and sending the man flying backwards into the wall with a hard thump. Your hands and clothes are smoking, letting out small puffs of auburn smoke. You give a hard yank at the leather, breaking the whip from its handle and tossing the weapon away, your eyes stares furiously at the man.

But he still doesn't give up or cower away, metal jaw grating as he clenches it tightly. You ram him further into the wall with your shoulder, barely making him stumble. So you quickly grab hold of the dagger embedded on his shoulder blade, wasting no time in twisting it until he's on his knees, yelling in pain.

“I said enough!” You scream, voice grating, eyes aflame. The rough handle of the knife fits perfectly in your grasp. “Stay down or I'll make you stay down.” The man nods, but you see a lie within his eyes. Yanking the blade out, you stab him again on the same spot, sending out ribbons of warm iron to splash across your face. He falls limp against the wall, unconscious from the pain and shock.

Ekko whispers your name, voice hoarse.

As you turn around to face him, you see the same woman you fought start to clamber up, crawling towards her fallen dagger.

You step around Ekko, eyeing her down, waiting for her to throw it towards you. Just as you predicted, she aims and throws it.

You raise your arm and shield in just the right time, slowing the blade's momentum until it's fully stopped in between the shield and mere inches away from your face. Grabbing the handle, you twist around, sending the dagger hurling towards her at great speeds. It hits her dead on the stomach. Her screams ring in your ears. You ignore it.

As you turn back around, you give Ekko a helping hand. He looks at your open palm that's stained with iron, then over to your face that's marred with running blood. Your heart clenches at the thought of him being afraid of you.

Instead of flinching and running away, he takes your hand in his. Staining his own hand with the same crimson. He holds onto your arm, and you hold him up with your hand grasping on his back.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tone whispered. Your vision warbles, legs shaking underneath your weight.

“I— that was you holding back?” He jokes, palm placed on the small of your back.

Chuckling, your smile fades as your eyes roll on the back of your head. Darkness encapsulates you, but warmth holds you in place.

“Spark!” Ekko catches you in his arms, hand placed right on your pulse. You feel like you're running a fever. He sighs when he feels your heart still beating, but it's slow. Dangerously slow.

He needs to get you out of here.

—

“Ekko?” Your voice is carried by the breeze as you set foot inside the familiar treehouse. You find him on his desk as usual, back hunched and turned away from you while the single red light of his lamp shines down on him. “I bought sweets as an apology.”

As you step closer, the door shuts close behind you, sucking in any light from the outside. “Are you still mad?” Once the words leave your lips, a searing heat hits your cheeks like a windblown flame carried by the breeze. “Jeez, can we open a window here? Your machine's going haywire again.” Chuckling, you cross the distance towards him, finding the familiar head of white hair. “Firefly?”

Your hands inch closer towards his still shoulder, the second your palm touches the soft cloth of his jacket, his head tilts back at inhuman speed— breaking his neck, bones cracking as thorny vines crawl from his neck up to his sunken cheeks. His brown eyes are now white as sheets, devoid of life.

“No! Ekko!” Flinching back, you hold your screams in your trembling hand, eyes wide as his limp body rises from the chair and floats above you with his arms raised to his sides. “Not him, you bitch!”

The fire in you settles in your chest, pushing you to lunge at the vines holding him up. As you click your pen and summon the gilded rapier, hacking and slashing at the vines— you try to cut him down. Desperately trying to free him.

“No, not him! Take me instead!” Your throat burns as you scream his name. Vines are cut but more replace them with every hit of your sword. “Please! You can't take another!”

Thorns fly from the severed vines, landing on you and piercing your skin in a gush of blood. But you don't stop cutting. Ekko's head tilts to the side, dangling loosely down to his clavicle as he opens his mouth and reveals a rose.

The room smells like funeral roses.

Suddenly, the vines holding him up bloom into bundles of red and black roses. The bulbs open up, revealing faces you've met, people you've cut down with your own bare hands.

The scent is overwhelming, acrid on the nose, a stench that cannot be washed out like the blood staining your hands.

As you look down at your hands, the sword clatters down on the floor as the void spreads around the room, shadows oozing from the torn off faces until darkness covers the whole place.

Your heart feels like bursting from your chest, hands trembling, feet frozen from under you as you look around the domain of chains and thorns. Tears flow down your cheeks freely as you watch Ekko hanging above you.

A silent scream escapes from your mouth when you see who's beside Ekko. There, trapped within the vines, skin pierced with thorns and eyes lifeless— is your brother.

“Hold—!” You reach towards him but you're yanked back by a vine and into the light.

Your head spins on its axis, vision blurry from the bright light shining from above you. Like the sun is in your eyes, warmth sweating through you akin to a fever. Heart beating like a war drum, you can still smell the roses in your nose.

Groaning, you place your hand above your eyes to shield yourself, only to find that your wrist is wrapped in a tight cast. The stark white plaster makes your head ache, a thrumming sensation bouncing around your skull. You feel like you're drowning in mud, sounds muffled and breath heavy in your throat. You can barely feel your fingers, wiggling each of the digits, your relief is palpable when they dance above the cast like rabbits peeking above the snow. You surmise that your wrist is broken.

“Shut the lights off, Scar.” Ekko's voice is the light in the tunnel you follow as the lights dim, and his face greets you from above. He sighs in relief, tensed brows easing up from the sight of your opened eyes. “You're awake.”

“Leaving you to her. I'll tell the others she's alright.” Scar's voice fades away as your eyes try to steady on Ekko's worried face.

Eyes narrowed at him, you purse your lips together, feeling the dry skin crack as you run your tongue over it. You exhale, breath shaky as you let it go. “Ekko?”

“Yeah,” sighing, you don't miss how his eyes wander towards your hand. “Water?” He asks, voice soft.

“Please.” The second the word escapes from your dry lips, you immediately hear water getting poured out into a cup for you. Roaming your eyes around the room, you recognize your surroundings— you're in Ekko's treehouse, all bundled up in his sheets, head placed atop his pillow that still has his minty scent wafting over your nose. “Why am I h–here?” Clearing your throat, he returns with a glass of water for you.

“You don't remember?” He asks permission to touch you, with a quick nod from you, he gently slides his hand on the back of your neck to sit you up. His thumb is placed right on your pulse, feeling your quick heartbeat under his finger.

You shut your eyes as the scene of the fight flits around in your vision. “I–I remember, why am I here?” You croak out the words.

“Drink first.” Ekko instructs, his hand is warm underneath your neck, while the other is cold as he holds the glass near your lips, condensation dripping from his fingertips.

You do as you're told, leaning closer to let him help you drink. The cold helps you feel at ease, senses slowly returning back with every gulp. To help yourself drink faster, you take the glass with your free hand, unknowingly holding Ekko's hand in turn. Water drips from your lips, and Ekko patiently waits for you to finish your drink.

With one last sip, you dip your head back and he helps you gently lay your head against the bed’s headboard. Clearing your throat, you see the bruises on his knuckles, purple hues marring his hands, and lesions along his clavicle and arms. The purple contusion on his neck has you frowning, and drowning in guilt. He places the cup on his work table right next to what looks like your pen sword all broken in half. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of it.

Your brother entrusted you with it and you manage to get it destroyed like everything you touch.

“I was asking why I'm here in your room instead of the infirmary.” Your voice floats above the silence, tone raspy as you take a breath.

“The fuckers are in the infirmary.” He curses and practically spits their names out. “Don't worry, our doctor treated you, not me.”

“I don't doubt your medical abilities, Ekko.” You manage to joke, cheek squished above the hard headboard. The bed is nothing special, the mattress is lumpy but comfortable enough to sleep in, sheets in patchwork cloth that he probably sewed himself. But the pillow under you is soft, perhaps even made with real goose feathers. You softly smile at the thought. “Did you at least get yourself checked out?” There's a sudden tightness against your forehead, reaching above, you now feel the bandage wrapped around it. The pads of your fingers gliding over the rough surface.

“I'm fine,” he says, jaws clamped shut at the way you tug at your bandages. “Here, let me. You're gonna rip your stitches.”

“Whoever the doctor is, tell them that they wrapped me too tightly. I'm still too alive to be mummified, you know?”

Ekko manages to scoff at your joke, a sound akin to a laugh. Crossing the small distance, he gestures for you to scooch over and make space for him to sit next to you. You of course oblige, moving a little as the bed dips underneath his added weight.

“‘I’m fine,’ is the code word for ‘no, I haven't seen the doctor.’ I know it well, I invented that shit, Ekko.” You let him unclasp the bandage briefly and adjust it to a more comfortable wrapping by making sure two of his fingers fit inside it. He smells of dried blood and smoke. It reminds you of home. “Can you let me at least look you over?”

“Are you a doctor now on top of being a historian?” His arm flexes above you as he secures the bandage.

There's a deeper gash on the back of his arm that you notice. You stare at him through your lashes, breath hitching in your throat as you can see every scar and mole on his skin and face. He's too occupied to notice it.

“Technically I am, but not a medical doctor. I know basic first aid from my time fighting.”

“A talented noxian then.” Ekko removes his hands from you, eyes giving you a once over for an injury he might've missed. “I'm fine, spark.”

“The cut on your arm is deep, Ekko.” You poke near the inflamed skin, making him wince and flinch away. “It'll get infected if we don't clean it. At least let me help you with that. I may be down with one hand but I can suture with my eyes closed.”

“I can do it myself.”

“It's on the back of your goddamn arm, unless you want a crick in your neck—”

“If I let you do it will you shut up?”

You smile victoriously. “Maybe.” Shrugging, you watch as he stands up, tongue clicking in annoyance.

While he grabs the necessary supplies, you look around on this side of the room that you never bothered to take a peek at for his privacy. There's a few portraits tacked on the wall, drawings of people he cared for, some you already know— especially the familiar head of blue staring down at you on his bed. You try to close a fist with your broken hand, finding that you can't do that anymore, not while it's still in a cast. Sighing, you keep roaming your eyes around the small space, there's trinkets on his bedside table, a small lamp made from an old pipe. A cracked seashell, a few screws and bolts right next to a recognizable set of colourful sea glass.

The sound of a chair scraping on wooden floorboards gets your attention away from his knick-knacks. Ekko pushes an armchair closer to the bed, the same one you've been sitting on for months. You notice his iconic jacket laying on the seat. Looking outside the window, you find that it's already dawn, bitter blue slowly ebbing away the dark of night— which means he's been sleeping in the armchair all this time, looking out for you. Your eyes brim with hot tears, which you immediately wipe away before he notices. No one has looked out for you since your professor died. Before that, it was your brother.

He notices your stare. “What? I wanted to be comfortable.” Your lips curl into a knowing smile without saying the exact words. “Can you get up?”

“I think so.” You lift both arms up like a child asking to be carried. “I need help though.” You smile wider, eyes sparkling with mischief. Ekko stares at you, brown eyes heavy with lack of sleep glaring straight into your soul. “Don't push it, got it.” You say, sitting up with few resistance from your aching body. And unbeknownst to you he was readying to help you up. Dangling your legs over the bed, you take the box of medical supplies from him and wash your hands with alcohol without another teasing jab as you concentrate on cleaning his wound.

He scooches closer to you, arm folded and lifted above his shoulder so that you get a better view of the gash. As you lean closer with the antiseptic, he sees himself in your eyes. Now seeing the burden that once gathered in the swirling pools. There's tiny scars dotted along your neck and chest that he just now notices. Like the scars on your arms and hands, it bears the ordeal of what you have done back in your homeland before you decided to take a pen rather than continue on whatever path you thought was best for you back then. Whatever it was, whatever you've done, he knows you're still trying to atone for it, carrying it over your shoulders in a lead covered box of grief.

Ekko knows that it took a lot to get where you are now. To be the kinder person than you were before, to cover the jagged lines with cloth, to make the sharpness of your teeth blunt and no longer pierce through skin like razor blades. It hurts to know that Jinx could've done that with time on her hands, if only she had time, she could've been good just like you.

“Ekko?” You call, and his eyes immediately hone in on you. “I was asking, what's gonna happen to them?”

“Sevika.” You nod as you gently tap the cotton of antiseptic on his wound. “One of her people saw what happened, and she called the enforcers to take them once they can breathe through their noses again and not through their mouth.” He intended to only glance at you, but his eyes stayed focused on the concentration on your face. “All I'm saying is they'll live.”

“There goes my reputation with Sevika.” You sigh, relieved that you didn't kill someone on the undercity soil. Your eyes glances towards Ekko's face, only to find him already staring back at you.

“Trust me, Sevika and the council already knew you could fight.”

You scoff, accidentally inhaling a whiff of the strong concoction. “That's a stereotype, Ekko. You know better than that.” Pausing to grab the suture kit, you make a face at Ekko. “They're right though.”

Ekko chuckles breathily, earning a smile at you. “Sorry about the sword.”

“Don't worry, I'll get it fixed once I'm back in Noxus. I'm more of a claymore girl myself anyway.” As you thread the needle, your tongue pokes out in between your lips. He can't help but chortle at the sight of your expression and how hard you're focused on putting the thread into the eye of the needle with one broken hand. “Damn.”

“Here, give it.” Flexing his open palm, you surrender the sutures to him. “It's that deep?” He gestures with his head towards the gash on his arm.

“Yeah, just a bandage over it won't help much.” You sniff, rolling your neck as you stretch the stiffness away.

“You hurting?”

“No, just stretching.” Your nape throbs, but you don't tell him. A comfortable silence settles in the room as he easily threads the needle.

“There,” Ekko hands it back to you and resumes his previous position as you ready the cold needle against his skin. “Where'd you learn this?”

“Short answer, you fight too much and you end up with a lot of stitches.” You chuckle, “deep breath, Ekko.”

“Don't have to—! Shit.” Wincing, he hisses at the piercing pain.

“Told you to breathe in.” Shaking your head with a smile, you continue to suture his gash carefully. “My brother was the one who was doing most of the stitching. He had a steady hand, and eyes that are so clear I swear he could see an ant from miles away.” Smiling at the memory, you remember him nagging you with every stitch he does. But he still does it for you. “After the ninth visit, he finally taught me so I stopped bothering him in his lab. He still does the suturing whenever I bleed on his floor though. He told me I'm shit at it even though I'm pretty much an expert.”

“Is he the one you were dreaming about?” Ekko didn't mean for the words to fall out of his lips, his curiosity got the best of him.

You freeze in place, needle half inside his skin. “I was dreaming? What was I saying?”

“A name.” He answers with a solemn tone. “And mine.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Hands going cold underneath his warm skin. He can feel it too, so with an apprehensive hand, he wraps your wrist with his fingers, anchoring you to him and in the moment. He knows the feeling, he's awfully familiar with it even though he refuses to acknowledge it whenever it rears its ugly head.

Smiling shakily, you take your eyes off him and continue to stitch him back together with gentleness. “I don't remember the dream. Must've been something though. We fought together and that must've made my brain make up things.” You ramble on. Your eyes dart towards his neck, tears pricking in your eyes from the sight. The pads of your fingers brush along the bruise, guilt felt through the subtle touch. “I'm sorry about this— about everything.”

He whispers your name, voice apologetic and brown eyes swimming with concern. You move away from his touch, quickly and effectively covering his injury with a bandage and some tape. “I'm—”

“My head suddenly hurts.” You try to play it off, finger jabbing at your temple, but the shaking of your hands betrays you. “The doctor said I need to rest, right?”

“Yeah, he said you need to stay here for a few days.” Ekko holds the fresh bandage, lips pursed together. “Look, I'm—”

“Sorry, I know.” Patting his knee, you give him a tight smile. “You just caught me off guard is all. It's okay, really. You're curious. Now I know how it feels to be questioned.”

He nods, but he can't help but feel the guilt gnaw at his chest. “Fine, go rest. If you need anything I'm just here.” Standing up, he takes his hoverboard that's perched on the wall. Dusk lights up his features, hair shining under the sun even with the grime of today's activities mar it.

“Yeah, I'll yell for you.” You joke as you slide back down on the bed and tuck yourself in.

Ekko places his board on his workbench to fix it. “Always a show with you.”

“Hey, it's effective, okay.” You can see him behind the armchair in the same position you always see him— hunched over his work table with his gloves on. “You should rest too, Ekko.”

His head turns to you as he slips on his goggles. “Where? You're on my bed.”

“It's big enough for two.” You tease, fighting a yawn. His pillow is so soft that it's cradling you to sleep.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” When you don't turn around after he clicks on his soldering machine, he sighs and twists back around towards you. “Turn around or I'll blind you.”

“I like watching.”

“Turn around.”

You make a mocking sound, blowing raspberries at him, “my nurse is rude. Absolutely no bedside manner.” You say as you reluctantly turn your back to him.

Ekko fixes his board for a few hours, finding that there's minimal damage at the least. He rubs his tired eyes before sneaking a peek at your sleeping form. Your chest rises up and down, lips slightly parted as your eyes dart underneath your eyelids. You're dreaming again.

When he moves his attention back to the table, he sees your broken sword and weighs the gilded handle in his hand. It wouldn't hurt to try a crack at noxian tech.

—

A familiar knock against the door to the tree house echoes out into the room— one short knock followed by three sharp knocks consecutively. The same signature knock you've been doing whenever you visit Ekko in his tree house.

“In a minute, Ekko!” You say as you pull down a clean shirt over your head. Trying to look presentable even with you being bedridden for three days, you smooth down your shirt and pants before sitting down on the edge of Ekko's bed.

“How'd she know it's you?” Vi's muffled voice sounds out from behind the door.

“Okay, entré!”

The door creaks open, the light outside flooding in as Vi pushes Ekko to get inside first. Making the said man grimace at his childhood friend.

“And they said you won't make it!” Her heavy footsteps follow her as she walks towards you with an arm stretched towards you. “How are you, spark?” She clasps your head, gently patting you and careful of your recent injuries.

“Better, the doctor said I only had a mild concussion and some bleeding.”

“Her hand's broken.” Ekko adds flatly, sitting down on the armchair with his arms crossed and leg over the other. “And it wasn't mild. Not even near mild.”

“C’mon, firefly, I was trying not to worry her.”

Vi watches the interaction with a curious brow.

“She's gonna find out anyway through Caitlyn. There's reports about what happened.”

You puff your cheeks at Ekko before ignoring him and turning your attention towards Violet. He rolls his eyes, yanking off his gloves to stretch his hands. “Where is Cait?”

“She sends her love. *Firefly here doesn't like it when she visits.” She teases, using your nickname for him as ammo. You'd pay big money just to see them during their younger years.

Ekko scoffs, head moving away from Vi but eyes staring daggers at her. “She's persona non grata, Vi.”

“C’mon, man, let bygones be bygones!” Vi claps his shoulder loudly, “that was years ago.”

“You're lucky I'm still letting you in here.” His nose scrunches, face paint folding as he glares at Vi. Thankfully, you already know what they're talking about. Kiramman's task force sending out the grey into the streets of Zaun three years ago still hasn't seen Ekko and Sevika’s forgiveness. “You have ten minutes left by the way.” He checks his stopwatch, its chain dangling from his belt.

Vi sighs, “whatever, firefly.” She turns towards you again, smiling when she meets with your eyes. “I've got your clothes from your place, I hope you don't mind me taking them.” You now notice the paper bag in her hand. You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously. “I didn't snoop!” You narrow it further, lips pursed together. “I swear, I didn't!”

Taking the bag from her with a disapproving shake of your head, you rummage through the pile of clothes, finding that it has everything you need. Hair brush, deodorant, a tooth brush and your perfume.

“You look good for someone who hasn't brushed their teeth in days.” Vi teases with a grin.

“I brushed my teeth, Vi.” You look at her, offended.

Ekko sits up from his seat. “Please don't tell me you used mine.” You smile, eyes shining with playfulness. “You—!”

“I didn't!” You laugh, hands raised in surrender. “Scar gave me a new one, jeez.”

He sighs, sitting back down but without leaving his pointed glare from you.

Vi smiles at the interaction. She sits down next to you, bed dipping down under her.

“Great, everyone's taking my bed now.” Ekko mumbles, jaw clenching in annoyance.

“You took the chair, man!” Vi exclaims, hand gesturing wildly at Ekko. They both settle down as you chuckle at them. “So, tell me what happened?”

You swallow thickly, the stitches in your head radiate phantom pain. “I—”

“She got robbed.” A half lie. Ekko answers for you after noticing your trepidation.

You can't exactly tell her that they ambushed you simply because they're holding a grudge on noxians. Vi will tell Caitlyn and Caitlyn will tell the council, and that might put your position in danger. And your work in danger of being disapproved.

“I did tell her not to flash her money.” He continues, eyes glancing at you briefly. You give him a subtle smile as a quick thank you.

“Well, good thing our boy saviour was there to help you beat them up, huh?” Vi gently nudges your shoulder and pushes Ekko's boot with the tip of her shoe.

“Yeah,” you look at Ekko softly. “Good thing.” With an inhale, you bring your attention towards Vi. “Thank you for bringing my things, Vi, but I won't need it since I'm coming back to the apartment.”

“No, you're not.” They simultaneously say in different cadence. Ekko's tone was more intensely concerned. While Vi said it with surprise.

“What? I'm fine now, trust me, this is nothing compared to—”

“We get it, you're noxian, you're tough and you've seen battles yadda yadda.” Vi mocks a talking mouth with her hand.

“Hey!” You knit your brows at her.

“The doctor said you're still not in a good shape to walk around.” Ekko explains in a much kinder tone this time. “You need a few more days of bedrest.”

“He's right. I'm no doctor, spark, but you're still swaying and you're just sitting in place.” Vi says apologetically, hand placed in between your shoulders to reassure you. Or to keep you from unknowingly swaying.

“I am?” They both nod. “I just don't want to intrude. I've been here for three days and Ekko hasn't slept in his own bed. I need to get back out there.”

“You said it yourself, there's no deadline.” Vi looks at Ekko for backup.

“I’m fine sleeping on the armchair for a few more days, red.” Ekko agrees with Vi. “‘Sides, you're not getting any writing down with your broken hand.” With the mention of your injury, the three of you look at your plastered hand with the many writings and drawings of firelight children that came to visit you.

“I'm ambidextrous.” You blatantly lie.

“I've seen you wield a sword, no you're not.” Ekko tilts his head back, looking at you like you're one of his firelights that needs a reprimand.

“I cannot not write!” You frustratingly say. “What am I supposed to do? Stay here until the doctor cuts this off?” You lift your broken hand for emphasis, waving the cast around. “That will take months!”

Vi hums next to you, eyes darting between you and Ekko. “I've got an idea.”

You pout, eyes trying to decipher her look. “Do you want Ekko to build me a writing robot that can write whatever I dictate?”

“No,” she backtracks. “Smart but no. Wait, can you do that? Like, record whatever she says?” She asks Ekko, awe in her tone.

“That'll take longer than for her hand to heal.” Ekko shrugs, but you can tell that the cogs in his head are turning trying to build your idea in his head.

“Well, in the meantime you can help her.” Vi holds the two of you by the shoulders. Connecting the two of you together.

“How?” You and Ekko speak at the same time.

“Thought you two were smart?” She chuckles, “you dictate.” Her head turns to you, “and you write.” Then she turns to Ekko.

“No.” He flatly says.

“Absolutely not.” You nervously say. “He's busy, and I've still got a lot of interviews to go through. Not to mention my own research at the mines— I'll be running around!” Rambling, Ekko nods with every word, except for when you mentioned the mines.

“That’s exactly why you need him.” Vi intercedes. “You can't write, and he has hands for it.” She takes Ekko's dominant hand and wiggles it about in front of him before he wretches it back with a glare. “And what if you suddenly collapse? Or a bunch of assholes try to rob you again? That cast is a fucking sign that says ‘I’m vulnerable, please rob me!’”

“But—!” You and Ekko share a look.

His watch clicks, a sign that your visitation hours are done.

“Looks like my time is up.” She stands up, clearly glad of the excuse as she smiles at her two flabbergasted friends. “You two can figure it out.” Before you and Ekko could protest again, she's already at the door. “Zaun’s brightest and Noxus' genius together working hand in hand!” Cackling, she leaves the room.

Silence permeates the room, and you slowly turn towards Ekko, who has his fingers pinching the space in between his eyebrows; Mumbling a curse upon Vi’s name.

“She does have a point, unless you already have that robot.” You intend to tease, but you're between a rock and a hard place right now. Maybe you can hire someone to follow you around?

“No.” He sighs, standing up, hands placed on his hips as he thinks.

“I can just ask Steb or—”

“I'll do it.” Ekko stares at you but his eyes avoids your own for a second before meeting your own. He figures that you've only got a few months left in the city before you finish your research so he agrees in hopes that the months will come by quickly. “But on my own terms and schedule.”

A grin blossoms on your cheeks. “You've got a deal, firefly.”

—

“So,” you start whilst munching on a piece of toast courtesy of the firelights mess hall. Ekko sits adjacent to you, eyes looking much better after a certain pink haired woman gave him his own mattress to sleep on after you've made a home for yourself in his room and former bed. You could've moved to a spare room somewhere in the hideout, but truth be told, you're still shaken up from what happened. Ekko's presence was a welcome peace to you. He never protested, and the two of you danced around the situation. “On the agenda today—”

“The doctor just cleared you. Too much spark, spark.” He looks at you over his mug.

“I know,” you shrug, eyes roaming around the open space with its string lights and people milling around during breakfast rush. “I don't want to waste time, genius.”

Ekko sighs, remembering the words genius and madness that suddenly popped up in his mind after years of not thinking about it. Chugging his coffee with a gulp before he stands up and gathering his things, he leaves you on the table.

“C’mon then.”

“Wait, hold on, you haven't eaten your bread yet!” Taking your satchel and jacket, you juggle between your toast between your teeth Ekko's uneaten slice for him to eat while walking. Feeling eyes on you, you see Jericho, the firelights chef give you a glare. “I'm giving it to him!” You reassure him that Ekko gets his daily dose of carbohydrates instead of eating it like he thought you would. As if you’ve stolen Ekko's food. Well, it happened once, and Jericho was the only one who gave you shit for it. You still have no idea how he even knew you did that.

As you run after Ekko, you fall back into pace with him, noticing that he slowed down for you and didn't take off on his hoverboard.

Shaking the piece of toast in front of him until he groans and takes it, you smile victoriously as he finishes it in three bites. The two of you exit the firelights commune, and the undercity greets you with the scent of coffee and steel lingering in the cool morning air.

“So schedule for today.” You wipe the crumbs off of your hands. Opening your bag, you grab your notebook and open it to where you bookmarked it last night. Your chicken scratch writing is evident on the page courtesy of your broken hand. “We have an interview with Mrs.Talis, but we have to make a quick pit stop to my place before we start talking to people.” Rubbing your temple where the ache persists, the action isn't missed by Ekko.

“Why?” He asks, keeping a close eye on the people that pass you by. “You forgot something?”

“Yeah, a pen.” You sigh, missing the weight of the gilded pen in your hand. “I've just been using yours, and sorry, but it's shit.”

Ekko casually brings his hand to his jacket pocket, rummaging through it whilst walking along the streets towards the bridge of progress. His hand feels around the cold cylinder, then without wasting time, he hands the golden pen to you.

You pause midstep, eyes widening at Ekko's hand. “You—” your breath is stuck in your throat. It looks much better than before, shinier as if nothing happened to it. It looks just like how you remember it when it was still your brother's. “—you fixed it?”

He makes a face, nose scrunching, giving you a casual smile as his eyes look behind you while you're distracted. He can't let his guard down, the people who hurt you might be behind bars now, but he still hasn't found the chem baron responsible for it. Apparently after some investigation from the enforcers and Ekko's own interrogation, he found that the said chem baron sees you as a threat. A noxian in Zaun brings less traffic for his business as some people still see you as someone to be feared— that you're in the undercity to put out any remaining flames from the past. He finds the guy, he ends the shimmer production once and for all and in turn would keep you safe. It's easier said than done, especially that you have him by your side every morning throughout the afternoon for three days a week. It's a miracle that he talked you down from making it to six days a week.

“I did.” He says, now staring at the awe on your face.

“How? I've seen people get blasted by ink just because they forced the fucking thing open!” Exclaiming excitedly, you catch a handful of attention towards you and Ekko.

With a casual hand on your forearm, he guides you back to walking further towards the bridge in the distance. “It's delicate,” he says, eyeing a particular man watching you. “You can't force it open.”

“Is that why you got a splotch of ink on you a few days ago?” You poke his side teasingly, feeling how tense he is under his jacket. Making a face you act like you're staring at something behind him. “What's that?”

“What's what?” Ekko quickly turns around trying to find what you were staring with concern at.

Reaching towards his chest, you place your warm palm atop where his heart is. He looks at you, glancing between your hand and your face with furrowed brows. “Quiet, it's beating.” His heart beats louder as you whisper to him closely. “It's beating faster.” You say, feigning shock and awe.

“Right, I get it, shut up.” He pushes your hand away gently, eyes rolling from your joke. Glancing at a shadow near an alleyway next to the two of you, he visibly stiffens.

“You okay, Ekko?”

Turning his attention towards you once the man walks away, Ekko nods and squeezes your arm before letting go. “Yeah, what's on our agenda today?”

Clearing your throat, your smile hasn't faded since you got the pen back in your hand. Clicking it open, you scratch out the first part on your schedule. “Well, we don't have to go to my place anymore so, Mrs. Talis first in upper Piltover, then if we still have time we need to swing by the academy.”

“We'll make time.” He says, eyes stopping by Vander's statue and the eternal blue flower that's always fresh near his bronze feet.

“We don't have to rush, you got hurt too you know.” Nudging his shoulder, you spot him stare at the flower for a brief second before he turns towards you. “Thank you by the way,” you say softly, “for fixing my pen sword.”

“Don't worry about it,” he places his hands back inside his pockets. “We're even now, spark.”

“Nope, I owe you.” You laugh when he glances at you with a raised brow and flat look. “How about…” glancing around, you see the last drop, it's probably almost done based on the fact that they're now putting up the lights. “I’ll buy you a drink once the tavern opens.”

“You won't even be here when it opens.”

“Says who? Stop trying to get rid of me, firefly.”

“You just noticed?”

“I'm hurt, Ekko.” You say as he abruptly stops near the bridge that's now bustling with life. Smiling, you nudge him gently on the shoulder. “Looks great, right?”

“There used to be barriers and spotlights here.” He utters, tone soft and small from the memory. He has flown above the bridge a handful of times before, but he never got too close to see it all.

“I think they scrapped those.” Grinning, you gently take him by his sleeve, urging him to walk through the bridge but not pushing him. You let him go at his own pace. “They have a shop here that gives out free shit if you're a new customer. They have a wheel you can try and it's full of free stuff you can win.”

Ekko closes his eyes for a moment, head turned towards the blue sky. The sunlight bathes him in its glow, illuminating his subtle smile. “Where?”

Grinning, you can't hide your excitement as you tug him along the shops. “Come on! I need to show you where I buy my ingredients and sweets!”

—

Ekko's boots thump quietly on the hallway leading towards a lone apartment at the end of the expansive hallway. The walls are in the signature Piltover colors, pristine white paint and golden accents decorate the space. When he was younger, he always wanted to stay at a place like this. Now that he's older and much wiser, the place feels stiff, something akin to feeling out of place. It doesn't feel like home to him.

“What am I supposed to do here?” He asks gruffly, pausing by the door as you ready your knuckle to knock. He senses your slight apprehension.

“Just write everything I ask and their answer. I'll clean it up once I can actually hold a pen.” Sighing, you stare at the number on the door. “And if you're feeling poetic, you can write what the atmosphere is like, or how they're feeling.”

“How would I know how they're feeling?” He leans against the side wall, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at you with a questioning brow.

“I thought you're perceptive, firefly.”

“Never said I am.” He raises his chin at you, “what are you waiting for?”

“Just…” you inhale, “If you ever decide to get in on the conversation, please remember to be tactful. These people lost someone, and us talking to them would take so much out of them. We're dredging through things they don't want to be reminded of.”

“You said that you don't ask questions if they don't let you.” You nod at his genuine question. “Then why do they let you?”

“Closure. Sometimes people just want to let it all out to someone rather than letting it fester. Even if that someone is a stranger.” Finally, you knock, the same rhythm you always do. You leave Ekko thinking in the corner as the door swings open.

“Can I help you?” A lithe older woman opens the door, peeking through the tiny crack as she looks at you and Ekko with uneasiness.

“Hello, Mrs.Talis, I'm the one you sent the letter to, the historian.” You smile politely, “and this is my assistant, Ekko.” He side eyes you, subtly rolling his shoulders. “I hope you don't mind that I brought someone with me. My dominant hand isn't in good shape.”

She opens the door a bit more, concern written on her face as she knits her brows at the fading bruises and the cast on your hand. “You're hurt?”

“Not anymore, thanks to him.” You gesture with your head towards Ekko, he glances between you and Mrs.Talis for a second. “I'm recovering well, don't worry. And I'm sorry for rescheduling our meeting three times.”

“It's alright, now I know you weren't joking about the reason.” She chuckles, stepping aside to let you in. “Come in, I was just putting the kettle on.”

“Thank you.” As you enter, you immediately notice the empty shelves and cabinets where there's still shapes made of dust, as if she took all the decorations out and left the place bare. You and Ekko share a look.

“Please sit down, I'll get the biscuits.”

“Oh, no need.” You show her the paper bag that has pastries you bought just for the occasion. It's missing a couple of pieces from when you and Ekko snacked on them on the way. “We got them from the bridge. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.” She smiles, but you can sense that she's nervous. It's probably the first time she has guests over in a long time. “I'll get the plates.” She scampers towards the kitchen, disappearing from view.

You sit down on the plush couch, placing down the paper bag on the coffee table. Ekko sits adjacent to you on a brown armchair. Rummaging through your bag, you hand him your notebook and pen. “Here, before I forget.”

He stretches over the table to get your things. “I've got my own pen.” He doesn't miss the fact that you've entrusted him with the precious pen.

“Didn't know you're prepared for this.” Chuckling, you smile sweetly at him. “Use whatever you want.”

With a shrug, he opens the notebook, careful not to give the pages a read as he flips through to get to an empty page. He swears he saw a drawing of him in a couple of them. Glancing at you as you look around the apartment, he clicks your pen, ready to take down the interaction.

Eyes roaming around, you see the walls that are covered in old photographs. Some are from what you surmise as Jayce's childhood, the others were pictures of his achievements. From a newspaper clipping, to his graduation picture that sits front and center, his smile is plastered all over the walls. As you look to your left, you see an ajar door, where boxes upon boxes of arcane memorabilia is hidden from view. There are stones that are as blue as the sky, runes carved in various shaped stones. You now know what used to sit on the empty shelves. Eyes narrowed to see closer, you spot a single picture frame where a dusty photo of Jayce and someone you don't recognize stands next to him. You decide to be extra careful with your words during the interview.

Feeling eyes on you, you crane your neck over to Ekko as he gestures towards the kitchen, where Mrs. Talis is currently exiting with a tray of plates, teacups and a teapot.

“Sorry for the wait.” She smiles as she gently places the tray next to the paper bag of sweets.

“No worries, it wasn't that long.” You say as you help her place the pastries on each plate, making sure you give the bigger one to Ekko.

An uncomfortable silence permeates around the room while she pours tea over each cup.

“Sugar?”

“Please.” You smile politely as she hands you your cup.

Mrs. Talis turns her attention towards Ekko, and he shakes his head at her. “None for me, thanks.”

“My partner here doesn't like tea.” You try to lighten the mood. “Says that it makes his nose itch.” Ekko scrunches up his nose at you, face paint folding as he tries not to huff.

“Oh, alright then.” She chuckles, and you smile victoriously from getting a genuine reaction from her. And in turn easing the tension. Taking a sip from her cup, the slight shake from her hand can't be missed as she places it quietly back down on the tray. “Sorry, I haven't done this before.”

“It's alright, just treat this like we're old friends chatting away at a cafe.”

“That's a nice thought.” She places her hand over her heart.

“It is. I'm sorry about your son.” She purses her lips, the words leaping over her head as if she has heard the exact words one too many times for it to matter anymore. You hear Ekko writing away, and you smile fondly at how he's slowly falling into deep concentration like how he usually is when he's trying to fix tech. “How are you, Mrs.Talis?”

She chuckles nervously, fingers picking at the dry skin around her nails. “After everything?” You nod, “I— I don't know really. Just…floating around, I guess. Have we started yet?”

“We have, but if you want we can strike that from the interview.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I—I…feel alright. Getting there.” Clearing her throat, you can see her shoulders stiffen. “I know you're here to talk about my boy, so I won't waste your time talking about myself when there's nothing to talk about.”

“That's not true, Mrs.Talis. I'm here to talk about you too.” You try to get her to ease up, but the way her lips wobble, you know she's still hurting. “We're conducting this research about citizens in Piltover and Zaun. To know the effects of war on regular people. Not just what happened that day.” Ekko, looks at you and then to the anxious woman.

Her sniffs shift through the quiet in the room. You let her take her time, inhaling through the emotions rolling in her. You know that she reached out to you for a reason, to finally get the pain out of her chest even if it hurts more to speak about it. Because saying it loudly makes it real, but not speaking about it would eat at her, chipping away the woman her son knew.

“My son was a good boy.” She says after a minute of silence. “I want the people to know that.”

“The people know that, Mrs. Talis. They're grateful for everything he has done for them.” You say, and the grieving woman takes your hand abruptly. Ekko watches the interaction with a close eye.

“I just— I can't help in thinking that it was my fault.” She squeezes your hand. “You said that we should talk like old friends, this is me speaking like we are.” You nod in understanding, letting her speak her piece. “I warned him years ago. I told him to let it go. But maybe I shouldn't have, I pushed him away further into it.”

“Further into what, Mrs. Talis?”

“Further into the arcane just because it saved me that day.” She continues as you search her tearful eyes. “If that didn't happen, he might be alive, I'd be dead but at least he'd be alive. He was so young, too young for… I don't even know what happened to him up there. They just told me that he was taken by an explosion caused by hextech.” Heaving, she wipes away her tears. “That damned hextech.”

Her sobs echo around the room, prompting you to grab a piece of tissue from your bag and hand it to her. She accepts it gratefully, then wiping away at the fallen tears.

“It wasn't your fault, what happened to him was set off by different circumstances that no one could've prevented or seen coming.” You try to ease her as more tears flow. Your heart weighs heavy at the sight of the grieving mother. Was yours like this when she heard of your brother's fate? You wouldn't know when you chose to run away from it all.

“I know what happened up there.” Ekko's voice has the woman looking up at him. “I was there.”

You trust Ekko enough to let him take the reins, but you can't help but worry that his next words wouldn't bring comfort to the sorrow in her heavy heart. With a nod and a wordless look at him, you let him continue.

“You saw him?” Mrs. Talis stares at him with shock, listening intently at the stranger before her.

“He fought until the very end. He brought me enough time to get the final hit in.” Ekko's eyes shine under the light, soft as he comforts her. “We wouldn't be here if he didn't. He didn't fail.”

“He did all that?” Her sobs turn into a hopeful smile. “Oh my boy.” She turns towards his picture on the mantle, palm placed above her heart. “Thank you.” She tells Ekko tearfully.

You gently smile at Ekko, and he gives you a curt nod. After a while, Mrs. Talis looks over to you with renewed energy. “Can we continue? This time I won't derail the interview.”

“You didn't do any derailing.” You whisper to her with a more playful smile that she gladly beams at. “Are you sure we can continue?”

“Yes, the people need to know about Jayce. I'm not letting my boy dissolve away.”

You pat her hand, nodding at Ekko to continue writing. “Alright then. Tell me if it gets too much and we'll stop.”

—

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Talis—” You say before you're interrupted by a hug from the woman. “Oh.” Patting her awkwardly, Ekko tamps down his chuckles with a hand.

She lets you go, holding you at arm's length. “Thank you, I feel…alright now. Lighter.” Turning towards Ekko, she gives him another grateful grin. “And thank you again, Ekko. What happened up there would've been a mystery to me if you didn't say anything. So thank you.”

“‘Course.” He says, smiling softly at her.

The two of you leave the building in silence. It's midday now and people are milling about the restaurants to grab a seat during the lunch rush.

“Do you want to have lunch at my place?” You blurt out, nudging his side.

“You buying?”

“No, but I'm cooking.”

“As long as it's not sweet.”

“I'm not hearing a no though.” You say with a lilt. He rolls his eyes, but the subtle smile he has on his lips betrays him.

—

The air smells savoury as Ekko opens a window to let out the smoke from the kitchen. You stir at a pot of stew, it was quickly thrown together with whatever ingredients you have in your fridge, but neither you nor Ekko are complaining about it. Your sleeves are rolled up, battle scars unabashedly on display. And Ekko is more casual now that he doesn't have to look over his shoulder and behind you with vigilance. He shrugged off his jacket a while ago, now in his regular tank top and bandana. Twists up in a bun after he helped you chop some vegetables.

“How do you do it?” He asks as he leans against the counter right next to you.

“I just threw whatever I thought would taste good together.”

“Not what I meant, spark.”

“I knew exactly what you meant, firefly.” You pause from stirring, lifting up the wooden spoon to scoop out a bit of the stew. After blowing on the steam, you hand it to Ekko. “Try it. I might've added too much salt.”

“You haven't answered my question.”

“Taste the stew and I'll answer it.” You push it towards him until he takes the spoon, hand brushing along your own briefly.

He gives you a narrowed look before sipping at the soup. “More pepper.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Ekko places the spoon on the counter as you shake the pepper shaker a few times before stirring the pot with a new spoon. “The question.”

“I’ve gotten used to it, this is my job you know.” You stretch your hand before mixing again. “And I'm not as heartless as you think I am.”

“I don't think that you're heartless. And that's not what I meant.” Ekko takes the spoon from your hand, and you let him. Side by side, he stirs the pot for you. “I meant how you could listen to all of that without wanting to fight against the very thing that hurt them.”

You lean on the counter, hip pressed against the cold marble. “I want to and wanted to. But violence answered by violence leads to more bloodshed. But that doesn't mean I haven't tried. Or have done it before.”

“You took revenge for someone else?” He levels with you, hearing the stew bubble up before shutting the stove off and blending it again.

“Too many times, Ekko. But I quickly learned that how many times I do it for someone, nothing will bring the dead back.” You leave the counter to take the plates from the cupboard. “And I got an earful from my professor, which helped.”

He chuckles as you briefly leave the kitchen to place the plates on the dinner table. Your apartment is small and cozy but you're grateful enough to even have your own place while you're here. Ekko feels right at home with your strewn about papers all over the bed in the corner, and various photographs that you temporarily taped beside your bed. He saw what looked like you and your brother in a small laboratory, and a polaroid of you with an old woman. You're all smiles in all of them, but your eyes hide pain underneath the printed ink.

You return to his side, leaning over him to grab the drinking glasses from the upper shelves. His back presses against your front, and he side steps to give you space, swallowing thickly from the brief contact.

“Your turn.” You hold the glasses, eyes staring at him suspiciously. He raises a brow. “Are any of the things you told Mrs. Talis truthful?”

Ekko stares at you head on. “Does it matter? It helped her.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Yes, because this is history, Ekko. If you decide to change it on a whim, how truthful would the rest be?”

“I assumed that he did—”

“So you lied?”

“You did.”

The argument has the air inside the apartment tense and smothering. The heat from the stove has you over the edge, but with Ekko beside you, he holds you away from the cliffs unknowingly.

“I did,” you move closer to him, standing toe to toe with him. “So I could do my job. Now tell me, Ekko, what really happened to Jayce Talis?”

He inhales, getting a whiff of his own soap on your skin, and the sweet smelling perfume you always wore. “He was already injured when I got there. So I assumed that he fought hard until he couldn't. Viktor was too powerful,” he knits his brows together, memories of that day flicking through his mind. “I can't explain it, but I saw them talking to each other in the void for a second when his puppets got to me. I think Jayce talked him down.”

A smile slowly spreads across your cheeks, clinking the glasses together like you're celebrating.

Realization hits him. “You knew I wasn't lying.”

“Yep, I can read you like an open book, my guy.” Walking away, Ekko follows behind you, hand reaching for your elbow. He twirls you around, gentle enough not to hurt but the shock of it is evident on your face. The small of your back hits the dinner table, he notices, sliding his hands in between you and the wood to prevent it from happening again. He then leans close to your face until your breath fans across his cheeks. He looks like he's about to swallow you whole. “Finally got something out of you, boy savior.”

“What is up with you?”

“Still can't get a read on me?” You tilt your head, palms placed atop his chest, his warmth radiating off him. You look like you're about to let him swallow you whole. “Let me spell it out for you. You're stubborn, and if I'm never going to get an answer out of you, then might as well get a partial one.”

He glares at you, the light shining right on his eyes. If anyone walked in on the two of you right now, they'd think something else was happening as you're placed so close to him that his face is mere inches away from you. If you just lean a bit closer you can smudge his face paint with the tip of your nose.

“Has anyone told you that you have pretty eyes?” You say with a longing sigh. It's not a lie, not even a half assed one. “It's so easy to get lost in them.” The simple words have him letting you go with a huff.

Ekko pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly irked by you and your mind games.

“If I didn't ask, I wouldn't know about Viktor if you didn't mention him. Until now he has been nameless. Vi called him the cult guy. It's like they erased him.”

He lifts his head up, “no one told you about him?”

“Nope. Now I really have a genuine reason to ask the council permission to go ask questions around the academy.” Your sly smile has Ekko conflicted.

Ekko groans, stomping away towards the coat rack to grab his jacket. “We were supposed to go there today and you're telling me that you don't have a permit to go and sniff around?”

You shrug, “yeah. Now you're into permits?” He puts on his jacket with a click of his tongue. “Before you storm out, can we eat? I made too much and I don't like wasting food.”

Ekko takes a beat, head downturned, shoulders sagging and admitting defeat. Then he yanks off his jacket and places it back on the rack before shuffling towards you and sitting down on the dinner table.

“Good choice.” You snap your fingers at him. “Get ready for your taste buds to be opened!” He groans in reply.

—

Ekko waits for you outside the academy, hoverboard strapped on his back, and a face that has students walking away from him before they could ask what his business he has in the place.

The morning sun is pleasant across his cheeks, warming him up from the cool breeze when he was flying towards Piltover. He takes out his watch for the umpteenth time, checking how late you are. With every minute that passes, Ekko's annoyance gets bigger. And with every second that passes where he doesn't see you in the designated meetup place, he worries that it's just like time. What if you got beat up again? The sight of your limp body in his arms still haunts him to this day. He'll never admit to anyone that he was in awe of you that day, or that you remind him of a certain someone. He'd rather talk to you about what happened to him during the war than speak about his thoughts while he was desperately getting you back to the hideout.

Your familiar footsteps have him looking up from his pocket watch. “You're late.”

“Holy shit, you're here.” You heave in place, stopping right in front of him.

“Why wouldn't I be?” He quickly checks you for injuries, thankfully finding none.

His eyes on you doesn't fly over your head. “I thought you'd be too mad at me to actually come.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ekko walks away with his hands in his pockets. “You're right.”

“Wait!” You reach for his wrist with your good hand. “Come on, you're already here anyway.” Smiling sweetly, you give him a squeeze. “Please, Ekko. I promise I'll be on my best behaviour this time. No mind games, no bullshitting you.” You haven't noticed that your hand has slid down his wrist, and that you're now holding his hand in the middle of the academy plaza. “Just honest to god work.”

Ekko looks at the intertwined hands, mind reeling back to the day before the war when he held her hand. You duck to meet with his eyes, following his line of sight, you take his silence as him being uncomfortable with your touch. So you slide your hands away, chuckling nervously as you wring your hands together

“Sorry, I sometimes forget that I'm touchy with friends. Haven't hung out with one in a few years.”

“We're friends?” He raises a brow, genuinely asking the question, he doesn't mean to hurt you with the words. But after everything, he doubts that you see him as one.

“I'm going to act like that didn't hurt me.” Turning around, you hide the pained look on your face with the excuse of getting inside the academy. “Anyway, we've got a full schedule for today. So let's get on with it before you burst a vein.”

Ekko opens his mouth to say…something. He doesn't even know if it'll be an apology or another sarcastic comment that usually matches your own. Before he could, the large double doors open automatically. The gears churn from the weight, and he marvels at the engineering. It's simple but given its age, it was advanced back then.

Stepping inside, the large expansive halls of the academy greets the two of you. Walls upon walls of portraits and sculptures line the hallway. Anyone who was important in Piltover and the academy was there, leaving their permanent marks on its ancient walls.

Marble columns hold up the place, decorated with laurel leaves and carved owls that look down from their perch. There, in the middle of the room sits a statue of no other than professor Heimerdinger. His marble form is perfectly carved in stone, Ekko can practically hear his voice from the sight alone.

“The man of the hour.” You say, looking up at the statue. “Does it look like him, Ekko?”

He takes his attention from the statue to you, “it's accurate enough, needs a bigger mustache though.”

Your rolling laughter echoes in the halls, a few students pause to check the commotion before returning to what they were doing. Ekko smiles softly then takes another look at Heimerdinger.

“He looks intelligent.” You whisper to him after you disturbed the peace. “Was he fun? I heard from the council members that he was actually quite funny. Eccentric was the word they actually used.”

Ekko gives the statue a fond smile. “He was.”

“Come on,” you nudge him gently. “We need to talk to a lot of people.”

“I thought we were here for Viktor?”

“Yeah, and Heimerdinger too. Apparently no one knows what his fate is. And as someone as important as him, that's fucking weird.” You walk away, and he falls right into step with you.

“And you think you'll get your answers here?” He asks, eyes glancing at you.

“Nope.” You pop the letter ‘p’, a bit too cheerful for the subject of the missing professor. Eyes flicking towards him, you smile. “It won't hurt to try though. What if he's just hiding within these halls, you know? I like a good mystery to solve.”

“He's not here.” He shakes his head at your playfulness. He's thinking that you already have a theory on who might know what happened to him. And the answer is staring right at you.

“And you'd know that because?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Sure, a hunch.” Your smile tells him the answer to his own question.

—

After five whole hours of speaking to a few of Heimerdinger's former students, fellow professors and even the lunch lady, you surmise that he's not anywhere near the academy. Or even in the same country. There's a few theories floating around in your mind, either he ran away to another country after what happened to hextech. Or the answer lies to the last person who saw him, who coincidentally is right next to you, shuffling through documents in the academy archive.

The place is as expansive as its history. Rows of bookshelves line each wall. Like a library but filled with boring information like student records and academy files rather than riveting stories. The harsh lights have you shielding your eyes, and the air is kept stale inside to preserve tha documents. So no windows to open to let in fresh air, not to mention that you can't bring in food or drinks, so munching on sweets while researching is out of the question. You're bored out of your mind after three hours of looking through documents. it's like you're back in your academy studying things you already have knowledge about. The place even smells like it, old books and withered paper floating around the windless space.

You roll up next to Ekko on an office chair, arms crossed over the back casually and chin pressed atop it. “Psst!” You let out a sound like a bird call. Ekko rolls his eyes, craning his head to look at you. “Do you have the answer to number twelve?”

Ekko furrows his brows with a confused smile. “What? Is that how you got your numerous degrees?” He jokes back, earning a grin from you.

“No, and I was just fucking around.” You chuckle, poking his bicep, unintentionally feeling the hard muscle underneath. You clear your throat with a timed cough. “Any luck on your end?”

“None, just the usual academy shit. Complaints, student records, nothing on Viktor.”

You furrow your brows, “not even a mention?”

Ekko shakes his head, frustration rolling off him like waves on the shore. “You're right, it's like they erased him.”

“That's fucked up.” Pushing your feet forward, you roll around him, stopping when your hip hits the other side of the table. “Is there a chance you know anything about him?”

“No, all I know is that he helped develop hextech and that he was from the undercity.” He sighs, pinching the corner of his tired eyes. “I remember that he preferred to be in the background, but his name was everywhere back then. Not as much as Jayce, still, he definitely existed.”

“Maybe I can find something in Zaun then. You're just as intrigued as me, huh?” Poking his cheek, he leans back, waving your finger away from him. “Are you sleeping well, Ekko?” Your tone is laced with worry.

His eyes narrow suspiciously at you. “Why are you late?”

“Asking my question with a question, classic deflection tactic.” You chuckle, feet swinging around as you stare at him teasingly. He stares at you, not backing down. “Fine, nosey. I had to convince the council to let me conduct an investigation here. It took some convincing. And me talking down at them and saying that if they've got nothing to hide, then they shouldn't worry.”

“And that worked?” His brown eyes widened for a second.

“God no. I only said that in my head.” You poke your temple, joking and earning a chuckle out of him. “I did manage to convince them though.”

“With bribes?”

“Of course.” You tilt your head, the tip of your shoe nudging his seat. “You know me so well.” Smiling, you pull yourself closer to him with your foot kicking you in place until you slam gently against his chair. “My turn, have you been sleeping well since I left?”

“What makes you think that you've got anything to do with it?” He pushes you away from him with his foot.

“Please, you were sleeping like a baby when I was there.” Not backing down, you pull yourself back into place, annoying him further. “Was it my calming presence—?!” The next thing you know, you're rolling away from him after he kicked your chair.

“It's the opposite, spark.” He says, now ways away from you as your chair hits a book cart.

“Your snoring says otherwise!” You yell, palms cupping up next to your mouth. You ignore the ache around your broken wrist.

You can hear his scoff from where you are. “I don't snore.”

“Yes, you do.” Chuckling, you see him rolling towards your way. “Shit.” He's getting closer, speeding up towards you. “Catch me if you can!” Waddling away, using your legs as paddles as you push and roll away from him, your laughter echoes throughout the space.

“Come back here!” He can't prevent the smile appearing on his lips. “I don't snore.”

“Yes, you do!” Giggling, you mimic the sound of snoring.

The sound of a ruler slamming down on the table has you and Ekko freezing up in place.

—

“Man, I can't believe that old lady can be so mean.” You frown, stretching your broken wrist as the two of you exit the double doors of the academy after getting kicked out. Your wrist has been throbbing ever since the archivist made the two of you clean up all the piles of books and documents you picked up from the shelves.

“You haven't met a lot of old ladies then.” Ekko glances at your wrist. “You hurting? How's your head?”

“I'm good, don't worry.” You chuckle, eyes staring fondly at the concern on his face. “Just aching a bit from all the lifting.”

“I told you to leave it to me.”

“What do you know, I'm stubborn, just like—”

“Me, I know.” He interrupts, and yet you grin at him.

The sun is setting, birds chirping and the people are on their way home just like you. It's way past Ekko's designated schedule with you, but he doesn't seem to mind when he hasn't mentioned it.

“I've got a question, Ekko.” He side glances at you, lips pursed together. “Off the record, I promise, just genuinely curious.”

“You're always curious.” He stops walking, letting you continue.

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Smiling, you stare at him through your lashes. “Why didn't you go to the academy?” He saw that question a mile away. “You're smart, I'm sure you would've gotten in. Hell, I'm betting good money that you're smarter than the students we interviewed today. Seriously, who describes being sad as sad? You're a PHD candidate, use sorrow or melancholy for fucks sake.”

Ekko's laughter has you grinning from ear to ear. The sunset shines on him, brown eyes sparkling, hair drenched in orange as the charms wrapped his twists glimmer just like his smile. Your heart skips a beat, hopefully unnoticeable by the man himself.

His laughter subsides, leaving the crinkle in the corner of his eyes in its wake. “I didn't have time, I had people to take care of. Studying in the academy wasn't worth it when you don't know how you'll be able to survive to see next week.”

Your heart squeezes in place. “That's— I'm sorry.”

He gives you a soft smile. “Don't worry, I know I'm smarter than them. I don't need a piece of paper to tell me that I am.”

“Very humble of you, firefly.” You playfully punch his forearm, “very true though. You're smarter than anyone that I currently know.”

“That was almost nice of you.”

Your shared laughter mixes together in harmony, filling the near empty academy plaza with warmth.

Suddenly, your name is called from behind, stopping the two of you mid laughter. Turning around, you see the source of the voice.

Your face brightens up even more from the sight of the familiar enforcer. “Steb! What are you doing here?” Waving him over, he speed walks towards you as he carries a bundle of fur in his arms. “You cold or something?”

His eyes smile at you, blue skin sparkling under the setting sun. “No, just arresting a little menace causing mayhem in the streets.”

Just as he says it, a pair of eyes pop open from the bundle, then a snout, and then the cutest yelp you've ever heard.

“Is that Heimer’s dog?” Ekko asks, whilst you coo at the ball of fur.

“He's so cute!” Your hands reach towards Steb, palms splayed atop his hands. Ekko sees the enforcer softly smile at the contact. “Oh,” you lift your head, staring at Steb. “Steb, meet Ekko. Ekko, meet Steb.”

Ekko lifts his chin up in greeting, shoulders straight, and hands nonchalantly in his pockets. Steb nods curtly, glancing between you and Ekko briefly.

“Nice to meet you.” The enforcer politely smiles then turns towards the cooing you with a much gentler smile. His voice is smooth, like a whisper in your ears. You always found it calming, just like Ekko's. “Found him running around with trash in his mouth, so don't let him lick you.” You giggle, petting the tiny ball of fur. “He's not usually this friendly to strangers. Do you want to hold him?”

You gasp, grinning. “Can I?” Steb nods, handing the dog to you carefully. “He's so soft!” Jumping in place, the small dog looks up at you with a tilt of his head. You introduce yourself to him like usual, making the two men next to you smile. “You're so cute! You remind me of the dogs back in Noxus, the only difference is that you won't maul me.” Giggling, you cradle him in your arms. “What's his name?”

“Porofessor. Poro for short.” Steb answers with a subtle smile as you squeal in place. “He's blind in one eye, probably just as old as his owner.”

“Who's his owner?”

“Heimerdinger.” Steb and Ekko answer at the same time. Ekko glances briefly at the enforcer, while Steb clears his throat, hands crossed over his back.

“I heard you were attacked.” Steb asks, concern laced in his tone. “I processed the criminals myself.” Your smile falters for a second, aching wrist throbbing against your cast. “But I want to know how you are.” His hand grazes along the white plaster. Ekko clenches his jaw briefly, eyes looking between you and the uniformed man in front of him.

“I'm doing okay now, Steb. You really don't have to worry. You know me, I can handle a punch, or two.” You reach for his elbow, giving him a squeeze before releasing. He smiles, Ekko can practically feel the fondness rolling out of Steb in waves. “Anyway, who's been taking care of poor Poro?” The dog barks when he heard his name.

“No one,” you and Ekko give the dog a worried look. “Well, everyone pitches in to take care of him, but he keeps running away and back to the academy. He doesn't stick too long in one place.”

Your hand brush along his soft fur. “He's probably waiting for him.” Your tone is mournful, arm giving the dog a squeeze. “What if I take him with me for now? I'm sure he'd like the company. And just like you said, he's gonna run back to the academy anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Steb asks, taking a closer step towards you. To Ekko's surprise, you don't move away. “If it's not too much trouble for you, I can inform the academy grounds keeper that Poro’s with you. He's usually the one feeding him.” With a hand upon your back, Steb casually gives you a half hug. Ekko feels like he should turn away, or fly away. “I'm really glad you're alright, red.”

Ekko realizes that he's not the only person who calls you that.

“Thank you, blue.” The two of you smile at each other. Ekko should really turn away now. His eyes look around, refraining from staring at the two of you for too long. Suddenly he finds the roof of the academy intriguing. “And yeah, I'm sure. And I promise to bring him back before I leave.”

Steb leans away, hands retreating back to his side, smile never leaving his lips. “You better, he's the academy mascot at this point.”

You lift up Poro in front of your face, his pink tongue rolls out of his mouth. “I'll be back. Don't worry, Steb.” You say in a high pitched tone, miming like the dog is the one who's talking.

The uniformed enforcer chuckles, “right, see you around, red.” He gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Ekko.” Nodding at Ekko, he returns to his straight edge enforcer self as Ekko replies with his own brief nod. With one last smile from him to you, he walks towards the academy.

You turn towards Ekko this time, Poro still lifted up in front of your face. “Wanna have dinner at my place?” you continue to mime using Poro, who looks like he's having the time of his life as he wags his tail happily. “I'm starving!”

Ekko shakes his head, laughing at your antics. He can't believe you're the same person he saw beat up a whole gang even when you're already injured. You must've been something during your time at the guild and the legion.

“Stew?” He asks, petting the dog as he smiles at you.

“Sure, if you want it again. I've stocked up on ingredients this time around.” Putting back Poro in your arm, you beam up at Ekko. “We have to invite another guy though.”

Ekko frowns for a half second before realizing that you're talking about Heimerdinger's dog. “I'm sure he likes the invitation.” You grin bigger at his reply.

The two of you start walking outside the academy gates. Ekko casually takes the satchel from your shoulder, and you let him carry it as you glance at him with a knowing smile.

“So you and Steb?” He asks, a bit muffled above the breeze and Poro’s breathing.

You tamp down your grin by biting down at your lower lip. “Simple answer, no.”

Ekko nods, hand reaching behind you with an open palm placed on the small of your back with the guise of guiding you around the busy city.

A/N: I had to cut this in half because it's gotten too long lol thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️

Photos are from Pinterest

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

82 notes · View notes