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felassan · 5 months ago

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Compilation of snippets from the DA:TV acting talent panel at SDCC (Dragon Age: Meet the Heroic Companions of Thedas) today (July 26th). DA:TV spoilers under cut.

Huge props and tysm to the users who live-tweeted and clipped this panel, you are heroes 🙏💜!!

The panel was moderated. In attendance were John Epler, creative performance director Ashley Barlow, and the actors of Lucanis, Neve, Emmrich, and Harding - Zach Mendez, Jessica Clark, Nick Boraine, and Ali Hillis respectively.

The panel ended with a Q&A session.

(BioWare have stated that a recording of the panel will be made available at a later date.)

Edit/update: I've now been through this post and tidied it up :)

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Here are some pictures from the panel [source]

Here are some more pictures from the panel [source]

In this Twitter thread there are also some video clips of parts of the panel [source]

BioWare tried to avoid spoilers in the panel [source]

Key points/summary of DA:TV: hunting Solas, found family companions, stop the elven gods [source]

When auditioning the companions, BW were specifically looking for character chemistry [source]

BW used motion capture for the game [source]. Mo-cap was mentioned a lot in the panel [source]

Lucanis sees assassination as a job. His mind is as dangerous as his knives and he is also "kinda hilarious" [source]

There was mention of other Crows [source]

Zach Mendez read Tevinter Nights like three times [source]

A clip of the actors doing mo-cap was shown [source]. Photos of Zach mo-capping for other characters was shown [source]

BioWare said that Zach brought a certain darkness to Lucanis [source]

Zach is excited for the romance and is looking forward to the stats [source]

Zach mentioned that he used his own relationship with his brother in his portrayal of Lucanis [source] (surely this means ILLARIO.. ?👀)

Zach played a lot of darkspawn originally while auditioning [source]

Ali Hillis really welcomed Zach into the DA family [source]

Neve is from Minrathous. She has fun banter and is a cynical detective with a heart of gold. They want to show a rebellious side of Tevinter [source]

Jessica Clark loves Neve's loyalty, dedication, and different vision of Tevinter

Neve is fighting for the people [source]. Jessica: "She is really really fighting for those people, and she loves those people. So, yes, she's cynical, and yes she's kind of tough and brusque and all these other things, but when they say there's a heart of gold, there really, like, to have that kind of a passion and dedicate your life to something like that, I think that's definitely my favorite part about her" [source]

Jessica loves how much Neve loves Docktown and its people [source]

Neve sees a different vision for Tevinter than what has previously been depicted in the series [source]

The actors were separate from one another while recording lines but still bonded really well and organically [source]

There are several Veilguard gc [source] (groupchats?)

Ali is an angel and very supportive of the new cast [source]

Emmrich is a "stone cold silver fox" (this is a quote from the panel moderator) [source]

BioWare knew the reaction they would get about Emmrich from the fandom [source]

Nick Boraine feels like he's been preparing for Emmrich all his life. He's obsessed with death (as a comfort and not scary) and enabling people to transition into death. He is attracted to this aspect of the character [source]

"You're gonna need a dictionary for Emmrich" for all the magic spells [source]

"Interesting how this character caught fire compared to the other sexy characters" [source] (I think this was said wrt Emmrich?)

BW had a great time recording with Nick, he is a very consistent actor [source]

Nick and Matt Mercer have never met [source]

Manfred plays off of Emmrich. "I set the tone" [source]

What has Harding been doing in-between DA:I and DA:TV? She's been working closely with Varric and the Inquisition remnants. She and Neve already met in the comics [source]

Ali vividly remembers the beginning of voicing Harding, she says it's brilliant writing. She really thought of Harding's personality and traits. She's so happy to be back [source]

wrt the Covid-19 pandemic and the year 2020, BW had to pivot with working remotely and were able to push through their projects. [source]

"[Harding] chasing Solas for a decade..." "that was a great relationship that [you] developed... and now I'll stop talking now". Ali was excited [source]

John Epler talked about how companions may but heads, and won't be predictable [source]

There are thousands and thousands of lines and so many characters to meet [source]

Zach "unfortunately has been around the DA Reddit before recording as Lucanis" [source]. He feels inspired by all the fans and cannot wait for us to play it [source]

[new textblock due to character limit!]

John Epler on Emmrich: "I mean honestly, I will say, like, we expected a great reaction to Emmrich. Went beyond what we expected for sure. But it’s been fascinating to see, because again, Emmrich is this character, he’s more of the professorial, more, he brings a wisdom and kind of a calmness to the group, so even when things are at their worst, there’s that one person in the group who is kinda like, ‘okay, y’know, we've got, let's figure it out, let’s take a deep breath’. And just his journey through his character arc, and his interactions with the others, it’s been fantastic to see. Even just finding opportunities for him to bounce off the other characters, you know, the way he talks to Bellara, the way he talks to Neve, it’s all so different, but it’s also just, again, based around this core of this warm, kind-hearted, professorial necromancer. Which, again, is not something you see a lot of in media. I mean, usually, necromancers are depicted in a very specific way. But it’s been, it's awesome to see how Emmrich has grown and just, really one of the most, one of my favorite experiences has been just working with Emmrich’s writer, working with Emmrich as a character." [source]

All the actors are excited about the dialogue and narrative, and for us to explore DA:TV [source]

Ali says that we will really find ourselves in this game [source]

During the recording process, the actors all hear the previous person's recording and react or respond to it [source]

Due to Covid-related lockdown, a lot of recording was done over Zoom, and the writers besides Ashley Barlow (creative performance director) would jump in on the call to talk about the previous person’s lines [source]

A question was asked about the background factions. "Characters not causes". [source]

You can work with the Grey Wardens in the game (for example) [source]

The actors all met this weekend. They are an "un-chosen" family [source]

Zach stood in for multiple characters for mo-cap, for example he was Assan [source]

Lucanis has a heart but is stubborn and stuck in his ways. Zach is excited for fans to help his character open up as the story progresses [source]

Jessica is incredibly honored to join the DA universe. She is new to voice acting for video games. “This is play pretend. Playing Neve allowed her to step into her power.” [source]

A question was asked on what their first exposure to fantasy was, and do they implement this into the acting? John talked about Lord of the Rings and how every media you experience will seep out into your work [source]

Ashley didn't want the dialogue to sound modern [source]

Zach loves Theseus and talked about the symbolism in DA [source]

Jessica loves Greek mythology and lore [source]

Nick talked about The Hobbit and how he would dress up in big boots and a cape when his mother would read to him [source]

Ali recently went to Greece and felt like she saw DA everywhere [source]

A question was asked - "From your companion's perspective, which previous companion would you romance?" Zach kind of has a thing for The Iron Bull, saying "oh that awakened something inside of me". He also likes Dorian. Jessica was too overwhelmed to answer. Nick was also overwhelmed by the question, but thinks Solas is sexy [source] [source]

Ali fangirled over Lucanis and Emmrich [source], prefers Emmrich [source]

A question was asked - "Is DA:TV and DA:I streamlined together?" [paraphrased]. Answer: DA games are not as streamlined as Mass Effect and act almost as standalones [source]

The cast were asked about which aspect of their character is their favorite. Ali loves the little quirks about Harding. "Lucanis is a good cook!?" ** Neve is very dry and pretty closed off about it. For Emmrich, it's the "exploration of the idea of death and necromancy" [source] (** FINALLY CITATION for this? :D)

A question was asked: "How do you decide to introduce the lore in each game?" BioWare answered that it depends as they build each game. They always know the base lore, and see opportunities through game mechanics and characters. They try not to infodump [source]

A question was asked: "Any favorite party banter?" Ashley Barlow said to listen for "hand to bone combat" [source]

The game takes place approximately 10 years after the end of DA:I. You start the game hunting for Solas. The game is built on some core principles: be who you want to be in a world worth saving and with characters that matter. The companions are always at the heart of DA and they are at the heart of this game too. [source]

The moderator asked John Epler about what is bringing this party of people ("this rogues' gallery") together. John: "I mean, it's the end of the world, and each character that you bring into your party understands that the world is ending, that they need to stop that, and you're really building, what I would say is, more of a found family. These are characters who may not start off liking each other, may not even start off liking you, but over time they grow to understand the importance of what they're doing and just, how critical it is to stop the elven gods" [source]

"He is kind and has some spectacular lines. He is a natural nerdy scientist. He loves learning." [source] (Emmrich? ^^)

Ali didn't realize that Harding was such a beloved character. She thanked fans for bringing this character back [source]

Ali is super excited that the game is releasing. She said that there has been an evolution to Harding's character and that she's been chasing Solas for like a decade at this point [source]

Jessica loves the writing in the game [source]

Nick loves its narrative [source]

Ali said that this game is going to take you into a world that will blow your minds [source]

On Manfred: Nick was asked what it was like having another character to bounce off of. He said "Oh man! I mean, that is such a hard question, because Matt and I have never met, and we worked completely separately, and, I, I mean I know that the rapport is really great, but it's in the ether, I mean it is just, the magic that these guys create, telling us how to respond, how to do that, but it's, I can't wait to meet Matt" [source]

BW still said that the game's release window is Fall 2024 [source]. Nothing more specific was given [source]

There are also more snippets here in this Tumblr post, go check it out!

[source, two]

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sweeterthanficstion · 4 days ago

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— twelve dates 'til christmas || l.s.k ⋆⁺₊❅.

christmas party / fake relationship / re2r leon! ❆ for @leonsecretsanta event! ❆ gift for @calbloodypigeon ! <3

tags: no outbreak au, rookie leon, journalist reader, gn reader but if i've accidentally missed something please let me know so i can fix it up! --- lots of stupid hallmark christmas cliches, heavily inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days.

summary: when the leads you're chasing for your feature article for the local paper have gone ice cold, and you've just about given up hope, the rpd's newest rookie shows up like a christmas miracle and proposes a deal that might just save you. or blow up in your face.

word count: 6.1k --- i know i went over the word count IM SO SORRY 😭

a/n: CAL! HI! i'm SO beyond sorry this is late, i fucked up the timings so bad and stupidly miscalculated how much time i had left to finalise this and then i got roped into my own christmas fiasco so i was RACING against the clock to try get this out asap. BUT i hope you like it regardless!! i saw re2r leon as your wild card and my eyes LIT UP!! this was such a pleasure to write, i absolutely love writing rookie leon! (also yes i know the twelve days of christmas technically come after christmas day but shhhh) anyway, hope you have a wonderful christmas!! lots of love, amber xx

masterlist⭑AO3

It starts with a faulty office printer and a burnt cup of coffee.

You stare pitifully at the cup of coffee in your hand—if you can even call it that anymore. Half empty and completely unsalvageable, the acrid smell lingers in the break room like some unwelcome ghost of Christmas caffeine. If only you hadn’t slept through your alarm this morning, you could’ve avoided the morning rush (since it seems that nobody in Raccoon City knows how to drive through snow), and made a good cup of coffee to accompany you for the day instead of having to fight the shitty office coffee machine instead.

With a half-hearted sigh you turn the mug over and dump its contents into the bin, watching forlornly as the liquid soaks through shredded paper and old protein bar wrappers instead.

“Bad morning?” One of your coworkers, Claire, quips from across the way. A perfectly fine cup of coffee sits on her desk in a mug that reads Journalists do It With Integrity!

You shoot her a withering glare, but before you can deliver any sort of witty remark, the printer across the room coughs out a single sheet of crumpled paper, and promptly dies.

“Bad week,” you mutter, running a hand down your face before stalking towards the offending machine.

The office, already buzzing with the chaos of holiday deadlines, feels like it’s working entirely against you. The case you’ve been chasing—a string of thefts tied to the Raccoon City holiday markets—has gone ice cold. Your editor is breathing down your neck for a feature piece that you can’t write without new leads. You’ve got twelve days left, twelve days until your editor wants that final copy on her desk.

And now the printer has decided to stage a mutiny. Just your luck.

You try to print out the documents again, but when the printer does nothing but splutter, and kicking it doesn’t seem to work, you decide maybe it just needs new ink.

You’re about halfway through jamming your hand into its guts when a voice, sweet yet awkward, startles you. You hit your head on the way up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of warm blue eyes beneath a mop of golden hair.

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a navy button-down, his badge clipped to his belt. He looks familiar, like someone you might’ve run into at the bullpen when you’re down at the RPD.

“Uh, need a hand?” he tilts his head, same awkward smile unfaltering.

“I’ve got it,” you say, though you clearly don’t. The printer lets out a final, pathetic whine before dying completely. Well, now you just look stupid.

He grins, the kind of lopsided, sheepish smile that makes him look younger than he probably is. “Guess that’s a no.”

You sigh, looking over your shoulder to catch Claire hiding a smile behind her mug. You fold your arms. “Sorry, can I help you?”

“Names Leon,” He introduces himself, and it all clicks into place for you. This is the RPD’s newest rookie. The guy Claire’s been yapping your ear off about Chris yapping her ear off about. “I’m just dropping off some paperwork. But, uh… I overheard you talking to your editor earlier. You’re working on the market thefts, right?”

Your eyes narrow. “And what’s it to you?”

Leon raises his hands in mock surrender at your scathing tone, the picture of good-natured defensiveness. “Nothing! Just thought you might want some… unofficial insight. Off the record, of course.”

Your skepticism doesn’t waver. “Why would a rookie like you have anything I can’t get from public records?”

Leon hesitates for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. “I’ve been helping out on the case. They’ve got me running reports, talking to market vendors, stuff like that. Not exactly glamorous work, but I’ve been hearing things that don’t make it into the official write-ups.”

Now you’re interested. RPD isn’t exactly known for transparency, you know that much. You also know better than most that a lot can slip through the cracks of “official” documentation.

“What’s the catch?” you ask, suspicious.

Leon shifts, “Well, uh… There’s this Christmas party at the precinct. And I might have mentioned to my coworkers that I was bringing a date.”

You blink. “You’re blackmailing me with case information to play your fake-datw at a cop Christmas party?”

“It’s not blackmail!” Leon protests, his ears turning red. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. You get your story, and I… avoid being the precinct punchline for another year.”

You’re still sceptical, but the desperation in his voice softens your resolve. Saying no to him right now would be like kicking a poor puppy.

You stare at him for a moment, weighing your options. It’s ridiculous, sure, but then again, so is everything else in your life right now.

“Fine,” you say finally, sticking out your hand. “Twelve days. You give me what I need, and I’ll be the best fake date you’ve ever had.”

Leon shakes your hand with a grin, relief written all over his face. “Deal.”

And just like that, the countdown begins.

On the second day of Christmas, Leon sends you flowers.

Big ones. Loud ones. The kind of bouquet you’d expect to see at a wedding reception or an apology press conference. They’re wrapped in glittering gold paper—Poinsettias, as Claire so graciously points out.

“Looks like someone’s got an admirer,” she singsongs, loud enough for half the floor to hear.

Your stomach drops. There, sitting right in the middle of your disaster zone of a desk, is the offending bouquet. It’s massive, covered in festive bells and ribbon, and the card sticking out of it reads:

“To my Christmas angel. – L.”

You mutter a silent prayer to whatever God might be listening, snatching the card up like it might explode before anyone else might see. Your coworkers are already murmuring around you, though, so that seems like a bit of a lost cause.

Claire leans back in her chair, still grinning. “So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating someone?”

“Firstly, that is none of your business,” you snap, grabbing the entire bouquet in a desperate attempt to get it out of sight. The glitter gets everywhere, including your coat, your desk, and, somehow, your coffee. “And secondly—” You start, but backtrack when you remember that the deal you struck with Leon may require some confidentiality. Damn you for not figuring out boundaries sooner. “—that is also none of your business.”

You turn on your heel and you don’t stop moving until you’re outside the building, your fingers already dialing a number you swore to yourself you wouldn’t use unless absolutely necessary.

Leon picks up on the third ring. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me,” you hiss, pacing in the cold December air. “What the hell were you thinking sending me flowers? To my office?”

Leon hesitates for a second, and you can almost hear him cringing through the phone. “Uh, I thought it’d make things more… believable?”

You stop in your tracks. “Believable?”

“Yeah! You know, if people saw that you’re, like, dating someone, it might help sell the whole… thing.” His voice trails off, and there’s a pause before he adds, quieter, “Was it too much?”

“Too much?” you echo, your own voice rising in disbelief. “It’s not even lunchtime and I’ve already been asked twice if I’m engaged. At least take me to dinner first!”

There’s a beat of silence on his end before he says, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

You stop in your tracks. “Do what?”

“Dinner,” Leon says, like it’s obvious. “Tomorrow. You said I should take you to dinner, so… I’ll take you to dinner.”

You blink, your annoyance faltering for a second, only to give way to mild confusion. “Are you asking me out, or are you making this part of the deal?”

“Can’t it be both?”

You’re not sure if it’s the cold or the sheer absurdity of the situation that makes you smile, but you sigh and say, “Fine. Dinner. But you’re picking the place, and it better not be one of those sad 24-hour diners cops hang out in.”

Leon laughs, the sound warm enough to cut through the winter chill. “Deal.”

On the third day of Christmas, Leon takes you to dinner.

And yes, it is a sad diner.

It’s the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t updated its decor since the 70s, with faded garlands drooping from the light fixtures and a suspiciously sticky Rudolph figurine parked on the counter. Which is fine, in honesty. It’s perfect for this not-date, because that’s what this is. Not a date. Absolutely nothing about this screams romance.

Well, except maybe the crooked twig of mistletoe hanging over the entrance, but even that you’d pointedly avoided much to Leon’s amusement.

“So, remind me what I’m doing here,” you hum, pushing around your leftover pancakes on your plate. Leave it to Leon to convince you pancakes for dinner is an entirely acceptable meal choice.

“Well, we’re on a date,” Leon states matter-of-factly.

Across from you, he looks all too comfortable. You, on the other hand, feel like you’ve just agreed to help pull Santa’s sleigh blindfolded.

“Yeah, well, a date’s pushing it, rookie,” You all but scoff, setting your fork down before meeting his gaze properly. “Look, if we’re gonna do this, we probably need to set some ground rules.”

Leon raises a brow, lips curving into a half-smile, “You’re serious? This isn’t Fight Club.”

“Can’t believe you just broke the first rule of Fight Club,” you shoot back, matching his half-smile with your own self-satisfied one. “Okay, first off, who gets to know?”

“That this is fake? No one,” Leon says all too firmly, “I don’t need this blowing up in my face.”

“Likewise,” you hum. “Okay, next, how often are we gonna see each other outside of office hours? Are we really trying to sell this?”

“Well a coffee or two wouldn’t hurt,” Leon suggest. “And, uh… Physical stuff?” He asks, a generous blush dusting his cheeks.

You can’t hide your smile. “Afraid to hold my hand or something?”

“No! No— just… Don’t want to make this any more awkward than it has to be.”

“Alright, so no kissing unless absolutely necessary. And I’m talking someone-shoves-us-under-mistletoe-and-starts-chanting levels of necessary.”

He lets out a laugh, soft and boyish, and you can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth tug upwards.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas Leon takes you ice-skating. Well… Sort of.

You’d come to pick up some paperwork about the Christmas Market case Leon had promised you—an errand you figured would be quick and painless. No mingling, no unnecessary chit-chat, and absolutely no run-ins with anyone who might make this fake-dating charade any harder than it has to be.

The first hiccup comes the second you step into the precinct. You immediately spot him, leaning against the reception desk with an easy grin, chatting with some colleagues. You only recognise one of them, from the photo sitting on Claire’s desk no-less. Chris Redfield. The woman beside him, who’s donning a festive antler headband, looks oddly familiar as well, though you can’t quite place it.

Fantastic. Just what you needed.

“Leon!” you call, keeping your tone as casual as possible. You walk briskly, plastering on a tight-lipped smile, trying your best not to look like a deer caught in the headlights and to very pointedly avoid any eye-contact with Chris.

Leon turns at the sound of your voice, his expression brightening instantly. “Oh, hey! What’re you doing here?”

“Paperwork,” you reply, holding up the empty manila folder in your hand like it’s your golden ticket out of this situation. “You said you’d have it ready for me?”

Before Leon can answer, the woman next to Chris perks up—it’s then you recognise her as none other than Jill Valentine. You chalk it up to the antlers making it hard to recognise her.

“Paperwork? Wait, is this who you were talking about?” She elbows Leon in the ribs, earning a flustered yelp from him.

“What?” you echo, narrowing your eyes. Great, so he's already started mentioning you to colleagues.

Chris leans forward, “Wait, you’re Leon’s partner?”

You feel your stomach drop, the word partner ricocheting around your brain like a pinball.

Leon is already mid-spiral, his cheeks flushed red as he stammers out a reply. “Well, I didn’t say that— I mean, I said some of that, but not like that!”

Jill crosses her arms, smirking. “Well, now we have to meet you! What are you two doing tonight?”

“Nothing!” you and Leon blurt at the same time, a little too loudly.

Chris raises an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Jill before grinning even wider. “Perfect. You guys should come ice skating with us tonight, most of the Precinct will be there.”

Your mouth opens, ready to reject the idea outright, but Leon beats you to it.

“That sounds great!” he says, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If you could hit him over the head with this manilla folder right now, you would.

“Great,” Jill says, clapping her hands together. “Meet us at the rink at around seven tonight.”

“What the hell was that?” you hiss once both Chris and Jill have had enough teasing and they’re out of earshot.

“I panicked!” Leon whispers back, looking genuinely apologetic.

“You just signed us up for the least romantic fake date activity imaginable.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You owe me so much for this, rookie.”

“I’ll buy you hot chocolate?” Leon tries, sweet boyish smile and all. You hate how you feel your resolve begin to soften already.

“You better make it with extra marshmallows.”

He nods, his expression softening as his smile melts into something tentative yet determined. “Deal.”

You’ve decided you don’t like ice skating. Chalk that up to the fact you haven’t been to the rink since you were eight and using a push-along penguin to keep you upright.

“This is fine,” you mutter under your breath, wobbling precariously as you step onto the ice. “Totally fine. Nothing humiliating about face-planting on ice.”

“You’ve got this!” Leon cheers from a few feet away, his enthusiasm wildly misplaced considering he’s not doing much better. He looks like a newborn deer, legs flailing every time he tries to take a step.

“Don’t patronize me,” you hiss back, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

Behind you, Jill glides past with all the effortless grace of an Olympic figure skater, followed closely by Chris—who despite a few wobbles—isn’t much worse. They’re laughing at something—probably you and Leon—but you’re too busy trying to avoid an embarrassing collision with the ice to care.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Leon says, inching toward you with the kind of determination usually reserved for hostage negotiations. “You let go of the rail, and I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He looks just about as stupid as he sounds, you decide. “That’s assuming you don’t fall first.”

He grins, cheeks ruddy from the cold. “Have a little faith, would you?”

Against your better judgment, you release your grip on the rail, immediately flailing as your skates slide out from under you.

Leon lunges to catch you—a valiant effort, truly—which would be heroic if it didn’t result in both of you landing in a tangled heap on the ice.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” Leon groans, pushing himself to his knees and wincing.

“You think?” you say, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh as you roll onto your side. Your knees are sore, your pride is bruised, but when you look over at Leon—cheeks flushed, smile sheepish— it all feels a little less mortifying.

“Here,” he says, extending a hand to help you up, and there’s something strangely endearing about the gesture. You hesitate for a moment before taking it, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t let go right away, steadying you as you find your balance.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” you reply, surprised to find that you actually mean it.

And somewhere between all of this chaos a group of kids barrels past, laughing as they race each other in a blur of neon jackets and mis-matched scarves. You and Leon instinctively jump out of their way, your skates sliding in all the wrong directions. You nearly crash into him again, grabbing his arm for balance as he steadies both of you.

And suddenly, you’re close. Closer than you’ve been all night.

His face is just inches from yours, his breath visible in soft clouds in the frigid air. His cheeks are bitten by the cold, his boyish grin tugging at his lips, and his eyes—God, his eyes—are the kind of blue that could rival a frosted winter’s lake.

You swallow hard, heart giving a little flutter you’d rather not think about. Brushing it off with a laugh, you take a step back, releasing his arm. “Okay, new rule: avoid the speed demons at all costs.”

“Agreed,” Leon says, but his voice a little softer now, his gaze a little firmer.

The rest of the night is chaos, as expected, and by the time you stumble off the ice, breathless and pink-cheeked, you’re smiling so wide and genuine that your cheeks hurt from it all.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Leon comes over for a very professional movie night.

The plan was simple enough: a low-key night to sort through leads and discuss the finer details of the article. Nothing more than that. Just two friends (are you even really friends?) mocking bad Hallmark movie tropes and terrible one-liners. But—as fate would have it—somewhere between the half-hearted scribbles in your notebook and the opening credits of the first movie, the evening takes a sharp left turn.

Popcorn crumbs litter the coffee table, and the air hums with laughter as you and Leon pick apart every ridiculous trope on the screen.

“New rule,” you declare, pointing at the screen with a handful of popcorn. “No more movies where the leads magically fall in love because of forced proximity. It's lazy writing.”

Leon raises a brow, smiling at you over his mug of cocoa. “Do you just... make up rules for everything?”

You shoot him a look, though your lips twitch in betrayal. “Rules are important. They keep things from going off the rails.”

“Sure they do,” he says, grinning. “But I think you might have a thing for them. Maybe it’s your love language”

You toss a kernel of popcorn at him, which he catches with an annoyingly quick reflex. The movie continues, but your attention drifts, his sweet smile lingering in your thoughts longer than you’d care to admit, and all at once you want to suffocate yourself with a pillow.

By the time the credits have rolled, the conversation has veered wildly away from work and movies. You find yourself talking about everything and nothing between here and there, the space separating you both narrowing in a way that feels very not-professional. Your leg brushes against his and his hand brushes against yours.

You didn’t make a new rule about that. Maybe you should have.

On the eighth day of Christmas, you finally chase down some of those leads for your article.

Or at least, you try to.

The holiday market is bustling with lights, laughter, and the scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts. It’s picturesque enough to be a postcard: striped tents draped in garlands, vendors bundled in scarves, and the faint hum of Christmas carols floating through the crisp evening air.

You’re here for work. This is professional business. Totally, totally.

“Professional” is exactly why you’re letting Leon lead you to a vendor handing out roasted chestnuts in steaming paper cones.

You raise a brow at him. “Seriously?”

“You’ve gotta try them. It’s tradition.” He says as if it’d be crazy to deny him.

And before you can even think about protesting, he’s already handing you a cone, the warmth seeping through your gloves as you eye the chestnuts—then him—warily. You pop a few in your mouth, only to find yourself pleasantly surprised.

“Good, right?” he asks, smug as anything. You scrunch your nose in response.

Next is funnel cake. Leon orders one to share, dusting himself in powdered sugar as he pulls off a piece and offers it to you.

“I could’ve got my own,” you reason, but take what he offers you anyway.

“Well that wouldn’t make me a very good date.”

“Fake-date,” you correct.

“Uhuh,” Leon hums, but he’s not even looking at you when you glance back up at him, already dragging you towards the next stall, and the next.

“I’m serious!” You call after him, trying to keep up as he weaves through the crowd like he’s trained to do this. Well, he probably is.

You don’t even realise how long it’s been until you're walking past empty market stalls, every other vendor packing up for the night. Leon leads you out into the street, strings of warm white lights swaying gently in the winter breeze.

Leon’s hands are stuffed into his coat pockets as the two of you walk side by side, your boots crunching softly against the thin dusting of snow on the pavement.

The streets are mostly empty now, save for a few stragglers heading home, but Leon leads you straight into the middle of the road without a second thought. You hesitate for half a second, glancing both ways like a habit.

“There’s no one out here,” he says over his shoulder, that lazy grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not scared of breaking the rules, are you?”

“Isn’t it your job to enforce rules?” You argue, but follow after him anyway.

When you tilt your head up, you feel the breath escape your lungs all at once. “You can actually see the stars tonight,” you murmur softly in awe, your breath clouding in the cold.

Leon doesn’t say anything right away, but when you glance over, you catch him watching you instead of the sky, his gaze softer than you’re used to. He quickly looks up, clearing his throat as if he hadn’t just been caught.

You don’t know what’s worse: the way his cheeks flush from something other than the cold or the fact that your stomach flutters in response.

And you don’t know what to do with the quiet that stretches between you, either, the sound of your steps filling it up like placeholders. You hadn’t meant for the day to linger this long—hadn’t meant to still be here, walking home with him.

Leon breaks the silence first. “You know, I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I am.”

He laughs then, genuine and bright. “Oh thank God, I’d hate for this to actually be enjoyable for either of us.” Sarcasm laces his words in a way that makes you laugh in kind.

He’s grinning like he’s got all the time in the world as he turns to walk backward in front of you, and suddenly all at once this feels like something out of one of those Hallmark Christmas movies you swore to yourself you’d never recreate.

“You still haven’t thanked me for helping you today.” He says.

“Helping me?” you snort. “All you did was get funnel cake powder on my coat and in my cocoa.”

“Hey, I got you a quote from the candy vendor, didn’t I?” he defends, arms spreading wide.

“You mean the guy who told us about his grandma’s cookie recipe?”

“Hard-hitting stuff,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, but you’re smiling, and you hate that he notices. He spins back around to face the road ahead, walking a little slower now, like he’s dragging his feet.

“So,” you say after a moment, picking up your pace to fall back into step with him. “Why do you care so much about this Christmas party, anyway?”

Leon doesn’t answer right away. You glance over, and the grin that’s usually on his face has faded into something smaller, quieter.

“Guess I just… don’t want to look like a total loser,” he says eventually, his voice low but even. “It’s been a long first year. People talk.”

You frown at that. “They don’t have anything better to do at the RPD?”

“Apparently not.” He shrugs like it doesn’t bother him, but you can tell it does, at least a little.

The two of you walk in silence for another block, and when you speak again, your tone is softer. “You know, you could’ve asked someone who actually likes you to be your date.”

Leon glances over, and for some reason, his answer catches you off guard. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “but then it wouldn’t have been you.”

You look away too quickly, your chest tightening in a way you can’t explain. He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t push him for more.

Instead, you both keep walking, the street stretching out ahead of you, the night colder and clearer than it’s been in weeks. The faint glow of your building comes into view up ahead, and for a moment, you wish it was just a little farther away.

On the tenth day of Christmas, Leon does something so absurd you briefly consider chucking him—and his ridiculous ideas—into a snowbank.

Leon shows up at your door, determined and annoyingly cheerful, with a Christmas tree strapped to the roof of his car and a twinkle in his eye that should’ve been your first warning. You don’t have the heart to turn him away or give him a lecture about how this is breaking at least three of your fake-dating rules.

Dragging the tree up the stairs is a disaster, his optimism only barely keeping the whole endeavor from collapsing. Decorating it? Worse. Leon’s enthusiasm for tinsel is unmatched, his ornament selection downright offensive. A plastic Rudolph here, a lopsided snowman there—it’s a full-scale disaster in red, green, and glitter.

By the end of the night, the tree looks more like a festive crime scene, fairy lights as police-tape and all, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The two of you collapse as you both watch the twinkling lights. A ribbon is tangled in your hair; Leon has tinsel stuck to his sleeve. The quiet settles in like freshly fallen snow, and for a moment, you forget this isn’t supposed to feel real.

You spent the eleventh night at Leon’s place. It was his idea to go over the finalities of this agreement, set your story straight in case anybody at the party asks too many questions. Make sure you're both on the same page.

But when you rocked up at his little studio apartment, it felt like he’d compensated for much more than a quick flashcard night.

Cinnamon scented candles burned and flicker, accompanied by a plate of cookies on the counter. Your half-crumpled notes quickly joined, as well as two cups of cocoa that have long-since gone cold.

“Alright, one more time, how’d we meet?”

Leon props his head up on his palm, looking like he’s had more than enough of your pointless flashcard game. “Coffee shop. You spilled hot chocolate on me, laughed, then walked away.”

“I offered to buy you a replacement!” You shoot back, hitting him atop the head with your stack of cards.

He winces dramatically, swatting our hand away. “Well I think it’s more believable if I pretend you didn’t and you bicker back. Y’know, like an old married couple or something.”

You reach for your cold cocoa to hide the way you splutter. “Woah, rookie, I only signed up for a fake-date, not a fake-wedding too.”

Leon grins, but something about him still looks oddly distant.

He kicks his feet off the barstool, takes your cup of cocoa and his to clean them away. “Have you finished your article at least?”

“Nearly,” You hum, but you’re more lying through your teeth. You’ve barely worked on it despite all the extra input Leon’s given you. Something, something, a very distracting Christmas fiasco got in your way. “I should be done by the end of the week.”

“And what happens once it’s done?” He asks, and you know in your right mind he means what happens to you. Promotion? New story? Next assignment? But instead your mind stupidly jumps to the idea that he’s asking about the both of you. What happens to us? written between the lines in invisible ink.

“Well, I suppose I find a new story to chase.” You clear your throat, “and you?”

“Go back to handing out speeding tickets,” Leon smiles through a sigh, “and I guess we drop this whole fake-dating thing, huh?” He asks, and you refuse to let yourself believe there’s any hope in his voice.

“Don’t see a reason to keep it going,” you shrug, to which Leon simply nods.

“Anyway, don’t try changing the subject on me,” you clear your throat, shuffling back through your pile of cards. “Next question: what’s my favourite holiday tradition?”

Leon shelves the now clean and dried mugs, “stealing Christmas cookies when no one’s looking.” He hums smugly over his shoulder.

You blink, “I never told you that.”

“Don’t need to, I pay attention.” He grins, pointedly flicking his gaze to the now empty plate of cookies. But you’re still hung on his words, the casual admission throws you entirely off kilter, and it seems by the twelfth day he still has you feeling that way.

You feel entirely out of place standing in the RPD. The precinct is sparkling with every Hallmark Christmas cliche imaginable—oversized tinsel, plastic mistletoe (that you’re still doing your best to avoid), and a garishly large tree that stands off to the side, completed by a shining white angel on top.

Leon, of course, has dressed the part. And damn him for looking so good in a navy suit and deep red tie to match your own attire. His presence is steady when you feel out of depth—it’s funny how he does that, despite usually being the one who requires an anchor.

“Are you alright?” He asks, leaning closer to be heard over the obnoxiously loud Christmas music. His voice is low, warm, entirely too distracting.

“Fine,” you lie with a sickly sweet smile, downing the last of your punch, “totally fine.”

Leon doesn’t buy it, and you’re starting to think he’s getting too good at reading you (which is your job, not his), but before he can press any further, your worst nightmare seems to come to fruition.

You're pulled then pushed, and before you can register what’s even happened you're colliding with Leon’s chest.

“Mistletoe,” he mutters, and when you finally lift your gaze you catch the offending sprig. Jesus Christ.

Honestly, this is your fault. You should’ve accounted for something like this. Nothing like a good bit of rookie hazing at a work party, right? Dammit. The rest of the precinct seems to cheer and chant, and you’d foolishly thought you’d left this behaviour behind in high school.

God, you wish the ground would part beneath your feet and swallow you whole right now—

“Well, this doesn’t break any of your rules, does it?” Leon asks then, and you can hear the smile in his voice, something about the way he says it makes it sound like he knows the answer.

And he does. Because if Leon’s good at one thing it’s remembering the finer details. No kissing unless absolutely necessary, you’d said. Like someone-shoves-us-under-mistletoe-and-starts-chanting levels of necessary, you’d said.

Okay, now you really want the ground to swallow you up.

Leon seems to pick up on your unease, and ever the gentleman drowns out the obnoxious chanting of his colleagues to focus on you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he offers.

You shake your head. “It’s part of the deal.” You say firmly. You’re not going to back down now, you’re a stickler for rules, deals, and contracts. Totally not because you’ve been wondering what Leon’s lips might taste like for the past five minutes. Totally.

He counts you down, which feels stupid, but does actually help quell your nerves. What doesn’t help, though, is the way his hand slides to your jaw and his lips slot against yours so effortlessly. You forget the world exists, heart beating out of your chest before you let yourself melt into it, your own arms looping around his neck just before he pulls away.

He’s got blush on his cheeks, his eyes bright, smiling widely like he’s just one the powerball. And suddenly, all at once, your brain catches up to your heart and you realise how none of this seems to feel fake anymore.

Three days later, and your article had gone live that morning. Your editor had been quick to praise it, Claire more than proud when she’d shown up with a mini Christmas gift basket for you. But still, as the day wore on, the victory felt hollow. The article might have just been your best work, but now that the dust—or snow, rather—has settled, all you can think about is Leon and the strange ache left in his absence.

You glance out the window of your tiny office, the skyline glittering with holiday lights. It’s quiet, save for the distant hum of the city and the rhythmic tapping of your pen against your desk.

“You know, I expected a little more Christmas cheer from the person who just saved Christmas,” a familiar voice says.

You jump, spinning around in your squeaky office chair to find Leon leaning casually in your doorway. He’s dressed down from the last time you saw him after the party, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder, but the sight of him is enough to send your heart racing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he shrugs, pushing himself off the cubicle wall and stepping inside.

You raise a brow. “The precinct is five blocks away.”

“Exactly,” he says with a grin. “Neighborhood.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. He steps closer still, and you feel the air shift.

“Look,” he starrs, running a hand through his hair like he’s still trying to work up the courage. “The other night, you said that after this was over, we wouldn’t have to see each other again.”

You swallow hard, your heart already knowing where this is going but your mind refusing to believe it. You remember how casually you’d thrown that out there, as if the thought hadn’t stung more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Well, I don’t want that,” he says simply.

Your breath hitches, but he keeps on going.

“I don’t want to go back to pretending this was all fake,” he continues, his voice steady but his eyes searching yours. “Because it might’ve started that way, but it didn’t end that way—not for me.”

The words hang in the air like softly drifting snowflakes, fragile and perfect, waiting for you to catch them.

“Leon…” you try, but your voice falters.

“I know,” he cuts in quickly. “I know this wasn’t the plan. But plans change, right? Rules get broken—and I know you hate that but hear me out—if there’s one thing I’ve learned these past twelve days, it’s that maybe breaking a rule or two isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

You laugh softly then despite yourself, a mix of nerves and something lighter. “You do realize you’re ruining my perfectly crafted narrative, right? Fake dating, falling in love…” you click your tongue, “this is all so cliché.”

He grins, stepping closer until there is almost no space left between you. “Then let’s give it a good ending.”

Before you can even give what he’s said a minute of thought, his hand is on your jaw again, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s unhurried and undeniably real.

When he finally pulls back, he stays close, his forehead resting against yours. “So,” he hums, his voice soft and teasing, “how’s that for a rewrite?”

You can’t help but laugh, your chest light for the first time in days. “It’s a start.”

The city sparkles outside as you stand there, snowflakes fall, the faint hum of Christmas carols from the office speakers bleed with the quiet rhythm of his breathing. Whatever comes next, you know one thing is for sure: this story isn’t over yet.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

#as always - catch the references for a gold star!#the banner was supposed to be a pretty gif too but i couldnt get it to optimize properly so :(#leonsecretsanta2024 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #spilled ink ₊˚⊹♡#sweeterthanficstion

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strnilolo · 1 year ago

Text

clumsy girl

summary: matt’s girlfriend is rather clumsy.

warnings: cursing, use of y/n, kisses kinda, jokes about death, idk what else. lowercase intentional

an: i kinda don’t like this one guys. BUT this won the vote so ask and you shall receive.

an2: i do have some requests guys and im very sorry that i haven’t gotten to them, its just hard for me to get motivated unless i have a really good idea for a fic and can play it out in my head. but i will be working on requests i promise.

|navigation|

you and matt are sat on the couch together, aimlessly scrolling through your phones. matt leans his head on your shoulder before giggling slightly, sitting upright next to you.

“look at this video, isn’t this funny?” matt moves his phone in front of you, scrolling to restart the video.

you watch as different clips cut across the screen, laughing lightly to yourself. the video had been a compilation of matt saving you from falling, hitting your head, hurting yourself, etc.

“you’re so clumsy, huh? always need me to save you” matt smirks at your annoyed expression.

“i am not that clumsy, matthew, you’ve probably tripped and fallen more times than me” you roll your eyes as you sit back against your teasing boyfriend.

“well.. what about that one time at dinner, or the time you almost tripped up the stairs?”

matt went on and on about the different times he was your ‘knight in shining armor.’

two months ago

“okay guys now we’re going to be decorating the cupcakes and our lovely mother is going to be trying them and rating them 1-10” you listened patiently as nick loudly addressed the camera, informing the viewers of our next step.

“oh shit” your tube of icing dropped onto the floor right as the clip began rolling. you quickly bend to the side to grab the tube as matt reached his hand to cover the corner of the table, protecting your head from bashing into it. sitting up, you thank matt for his help before continuing to decorate your cupcake.

currently

“oh my god, i actually do remember that. people were making edits for weeks” the two of you laughed at the fond memory, before matt began to speak again.

“do you remember the time you almost fell down the stairs during our house tour?”

“oh please don’t remind me” groaning at the embarrassing image in your head.

several months earlier

“okay so now y/n is going to lead us upstairs to the room we share” matt followed behind you, talking to the camera as the vlog went on.

“oh fuck!” you grip onto the railing, feeling yourself slip on the wooden staircase.

“jesus y/n-” you feel matt’s hand on your back, steadying you on the stairs before he releases his grip, allowing you to continue up.

“you have got to be more careful, you could’ve killed us all” nick laughs from behind matt, dramatically grasping onto the rail.

“whatever, thanks matt” you smile at the boy, playfully rolling your eyes.

“okay guys so we made it upstairs, barely, now to show you where i sleep” matt faces the camera towards you as the four of you continue to vlog a tour of your shared living space.

currently

“jesus, that was embarrassing” you cover your face with your hands in attempt to hide your blush.

“no it wasn’t, you just don’t want the world to see that you’d die without me” matt pulls your hands from your face, playfully placing kisses around your forehead and cheeks.

“i guess i would die without you, huh?”

“a very painfully and stupid death, yes” the two of you laugh at the memories, enjoying the little amount of quality time you’re able to get.

| likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated|

| 🏷️ @strniolosworld @bananabread-nana @abbie13sworld @mxqdii |

ps i do not consent to my work being stolen, translated, or posted on any other website without my permission

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russellsppttemplates · 11 months ago

Note

charles leclerc x famous!reader, they're rumored to be dating but nothing was confirmed, then reader was helping charles with filming his live (like today's!) and accidentally flips over the camera to herself 😭😭

"Did you see the article about your love life? A lot of people seem to be convinced you don't want anything to do with motorsport, let alone dating an actual driver", Joris teased you as you adjusted your hair so it wouldn't get messed up inside the helmet.

"They really don't have any faith that I would be able to pull her off!", Charles groaned, holding said helmet for you so he could safely strap it on your neck after pulling it on your head, "is this good, amour?", he checked, squeezing you hip softly in assurance.

"Bit don't you guys want to keep it private?", he wondered, "yes, we do! But, like, am I that bad for them to think that Y/N Y/L/N wouldn't date me? Because I'm not, see?", Charles dramatised, holding your hands together as you walked to the track.

"So you'll be okay filming?", he asked, "yes, I'll let you know when I start recording! Everyone, remember not to call for my name, okay?", you warned, getting a nod from everyone in the group, "I need your help to strap me in the kart", you asked Charles.

After you were safely able to drive the kart, you headed in the front, wanting to capture the moments for Charles' live, "in three, guys!", you yelled.

While initially everything seemed to be going well and the fans were having the time of their life as they watched Charles and his friends enjoy the sunny day, it all stopped when you accidentally flipped the camera to yourself, only noticing when you saw your name in the comments, "uh-oh", you said, turning the camera back around and filming the guys.

When you came to a stop, Charles helped you out before you handed him his phone back, "I think I accidentally showed my face", you cringed, resting your forehead on his clothed chest and shaking it. "You did?", Charles chuckled, "That's okay, they don't think you'd be into me anyway".

Joris walked up to you, phone in hand, "people have figured out it way you, Y/N", he showed you a thread, compiling clips and posts you had made about the necklace you were wearing. It was your favourite piece and it held sentimental value, so you wore it everyday and had mentioned its importance in various interviews, the little clips following eachother as you scrolled, "well, at least they have some proof now!", you giggled, accepting your fate as Charles held you against him.

"Oh, wait! There's still a comment saying that it's probably someone Charles wanted to make them look like you, "how much do you bet Charles got someone to make them same necklace so we would think it's Y/N? This man wants us to believe so bad that he could pull THE Y/N" and also "silly little man, like we would fall for this trick",", Joris, doubled over as he laughed.

"Why will no one believe that you love me?", Charles hid his face on your neck, "it's alright, handsome. I know I love you and that's enough", you kissed his neck softly.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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jihyoruri · 1 year ago

Text

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 NOBODY KNOWS kazuha nakamura x reader

warnings: yn is apart of kiss of life, yn is cheeky, kazuha is lowkey dying the whole time, swearing, fluff

kazuha watched as yunjin smiled at her friend that was across the room with her group who smiled back, both lesserafim and kiss of life were doing a knowing bros episode together and kazuha was finding it hard to not pay attention to a certain member of the other group.

yn just had a pulling aura to her that has had kazuha hypnotized ever since she’s met the older girl, she was lively,flirty and loud, a huge contrast to kazuha’s introverted personality.

“yn!” one of the guys yells grabbing the girls attention from her friend and she replies back with yes as loud as his completely matching the energy.

“you’re looking at yunjin a lot is she your bias.” he asks pointing to the lesserafim member who waits for her best friends response.

“nah,” yn says shaking her head causing yunjin’s mouth to drop in offence as everyone laughs, “my bias is kazuha, she’s a ballerina I’m an ice skater we go together really well.”

kazuha’s face heats up as her members ohhs at the girls comment teasing her which was a complete contrast to yn’s who hit the girl at her sly comment.

“ah, leave her alone!” yunjin yells pointing at her best friend across from her, yn only responding with a small smirk.

the interview went on for a little more with mostly yn and yunjin the loud members of their groups answering the questions and yell at each other from across the room but now it was time to play a game.

“yn! you are the victim of this game.”

“you will go against someone of the opposite group and you will standing across each other,” one of the guys start, “and we have a clip here that will monitor your heart beat, the person who gets the other person’s heart beat to speed up wins.” he finishes before giving a hat with the names of the lesserafim members to yn.

yn scans the girls while she shakes the hat, her eyes stop at the girl who was trying her best to avoid her eyes, “I hope I get sakura unnie.” she says teasingly, smiling when kazuha tenses when sakura lets out a flustered laugh.

there’s silence when yn pulls the name out of the hat a smile instantly making its way to her face, she brings the paper up to show everyone the names

kazuha.

before kazuha knows it she’s getting pushed to the middle by eunchae, while yunjin sends a pointed look to yn who ignores and smiles at her members before walking towards the younger girl.

while they get both yn and kazuha hooked up to the monitor, kazuha feels like her whole body is on fire as yn keeps her gaze on her and smiles at the fact that the girl is already flustered.

she does this on purpose, is all kazuha could think to herself.

once they’re finished getting hooked up both groups cheer for their members one more confident than the other.

kazuha instantly knows she’s gonna lose when all yn did was walk closer to her and she felt her heart rate speed up.

“oh!” one of the guys yell pointing at the monitor that showed kazuha’s heart rate.

she feels her face heart up when she hears yn’s laugh.

“she’s gonna kill the poor girl” she hears your member natty whisper.

and she was right every single thing yn did had the girl folding, kazuha knew it was over when yn leaned even more closer with a pretty smile on her face, she wasn’t even shock when she heard the dinging indicating that kazuha’s heart rate went completely up.

yn let a cheer and made her way to her members who shake her in victory, all girls being very competitive.

“she didn’t even have to do anything to get your heart rate up.” chaewon yells, “what happened?” she laughs patting kazuha’s shoulder who just looks down in embarrassment as the rest of her members join in on the teasing, she just couldn’t wait for the filming to be over.

kazuha leaned against the wall and drank out of her bottle of water while her members talked to some of the staff, she couldn’t wait to go home.

“can I have a sip?” she turns to head to see a certain kiss of life member, zipping up her white fluffy jacket and fixing her leg warmers after.

she immediately gives the bottle to the girl who takes a sip out of it before letting out an exaggerated “ahh”

kazuha just stares at the girl who lets out a light hearted laugh, “what? you’re mad I got your heart rate up?” she asks teasingly.

kazuha pouts slightly and looks down which makes yn let out another laugh before adjusting the expensive headband on her head before bringing kazuha’s arm over her shoulder, urging the girl to walk with her.

“don’t be embarrassed.” she says pressing a kiss to the girl’s cheek, “ it’s cute how fast you got flustered.”

“leave me alone.” kazuha mumbles, her face heating up, “I was so obvious.”

“no you weren’t.” yn says pressing a kiss to the other side of kazuha’s cheek, “I mean come on it’s me, anyone would be flustered.”

kazuha rolls her eyes at the girls ego, “you also said you wanted it to be sakura unnie.” she says accusingly.

“I mean, who wouldn’t?” yn asks causing kazuha’s face to drop.

“I’m joking!” she laughs, “no need to get jealous zuha.” she added before finally placing a kiss on the girls lips which causing kazuha to melt completely and kiss yn back.

yn brings her hand to kazuha’s cheek depending the kiss causing the girl to smile.

“hey! kazuha, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, we’re ready to g-”

kazuha hits her forehead on yn’s accidentally at the sound of yunjin’s voice, both girls jumping away from each other immediately.

“ow!”

yunjin looks at her member and best friend in shock at what she just witnessed.

“what the fuck?”

#lesserafim x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha nakamura x reader #lesserafim kazuha #kazuha #kazuha nakamura #lesserafim fluff #girl group imagines #girl group fluff

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leclucklerc · 1 year ago

Text

Hard Carry CL16 - 03. Brocedes Esque

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Summary: It's a one sided fight for the throne. And yet, y/n will still go all out.

Word Count: 5k

Previous Masterlist Next

Drive to Survive season 1 episode 1

All to Play For

The screen was black before it changed into a clip of 2017 driver championship. A narrator could be heard on the background, narrating an overview of Formula One. The most expensive sport, a brilliant combination of technology and man-made skills. It’s the pinnacle of motorsport, a true show of speed and adrenaline.

Will Buxton appeared, “This is a sport only for those who wants to win,” he said. “No one is more competitive than all of these drivers.”

“They trained like a jet pilot,” said Christian Horner as he appeared on the screen. “Formula one is a show of how mighty a collaboration between technology and what pure manmade skill can do.”

The sound of whirring engine as Formula One cars passed by the screen, leaving nothing but blurs and shocked gasps. The sound of screeching tires as cars after cars fight against each other. It is a spectacle. An exclusive sport only those who has enough privilege can enjoy. Cheers could be heard, and a crowd of spectators could be seen watching the race.

And then, someone back could be seen. The camera is shooting from behind and it looks like it was a normal race suit. At least, until long cascading hair appeared on the screen.

“Formula one changed,” said Will and a montage of the celebration of 2017’s championship could be seen. Of Lewis Hamilton, Sebastian Vettel, and y/n l/n fierce rivalry for the title championship.

In a sport that is not known for its diversity, a female managed to become one of the best drivers on the grid. In a sport that is not known for its diversity, y/n l/n proved that anyone could do anything if they want. A show full of determination and fighting spirit. A show full of desperation and fights for her voice to be heard.

Silver, red, and black. Three cars that dominated the season. Each desperately trying to gain a place in front of another.

Silver, red, and black.

The scene change, showing Daniel Ricciardo in the interview room. Daniel could be seen looking around, a bit awkward and yet, there’s still a huge grin plastered across his face. “Are we ready?” he asked, tone full of humor.

“Do you think you can win against y/n l/n if you have the same car?” asked the producer on the background.

Daniel eyes shook, as he looked as if he was thinking about the question for a bit. Though, when he answered, he sounds so sure and without the slightest hesitance. “Yes,” answered the man.

“Yes,” answered Fernando Alonso as the scene changed to him.

“Yes,” answered Max Verstappen as the scene too changed to him.

“Yeah,” answered Pierre Gasly and after that, a speed up montage of the entire grid appeared. All of them are saying yes, confirming their confidence about beating the current world champion.

It’s not a bad attitude to have. After all, Formula One drivers are confident. They’re confident of their skill, of their talent, and of their potential. To drive in Formula One, they have to believe that they’re the best driver on the grid. Having that kind of confidence on your ability, is the very essential to be a Formula One driver.

Shortly after that, the scene changed. This time showing a woman with perfectly styled hair and colored lips. The dark team polo that she’s wearing oddly look like a designer brand, despite it being a uniform that everyone on the team wears.

For this woman, the question was altered a bit.

“If all of you have the same car,” started the producer. “Do you think you can still become a world champion?”

That question made her let out a bark of laugh, as if it was the funniest thing that someone had ever said to her. And maybe it is because it’s been a while since she heard something so ridiculous. Her eyes crinkled and her painted lips are set in a wide grin, showing all of them how amused she is at the question.

“Babe,” she started, amusement clear on her face.” I can certainly beat them even if the rest of the grid is using Porsche and me in a Williams.”

It’s a statement that is full of arrogance.

It’s a statement, that fully show how confident she in in her abilities.

Y/n l/n, three-time world champion.

The opening of drive to survive starts playing.

2013

Y/n first notice something became a bit weird after she won her first world champion.

Back then, she had thought that everything was going great. Porsche is a great team with a great car. She’s getting many attentions, outside and inside of Formula One. She had performed incredibly, managing to snag a championship only on her second year.

The sensational driver. One of the biggest name in Formula One.

Yes, she had thought that everything had been going on great.

That is, until her teammate terminates his contract with Porsche.

It was a bit shocking, considering that he had another year in Porsche. Besides that, they’ve been getting along great. They may not be the best of friends, but she had thought that they’re teamwork had been amicable. They both shared dinners here and there, even went to the gym together. So, hearing that he was leaving the team so abruptly had been a bit of a shock to her.

“Hey,” she called out, catching the attention of the male. “You… do you not like Formula One anymore?”

They may have not been the best of friends, but they’ve been friends alright. The both of them had spent two years together as a teammate. It’s only normal for her to see what is going on and why did he decide to leave the team so suddenly.

She had asked Herman, questioning his decision to leave the team. Oddly, the man had closed his mouth. Refusing to say anything more than that it was his decision to leave Porsche.

Staring at her, the male let out a scoff. “Fuck,” he hissed out. “It’s not funny to hear that from you.”

The female raised an eyebrow, a bit shocked at the sudden show of hostility directed towards her. “What’s your problem?” she asked, moving away to stand in front of him. Blocking his path from the door. “I was just asking why you are leaving the team so suddenly.”

Something in that statement sounds funny to him because he lets out a bark of laugh. His shoulder shook as if what she just said was the funniest thing on earth. It annoyed her a bit. Though considering his bad mood, she doesn’t call him out.

“Really?” he finally said after his laughter lessened. “Really, y/n?”

“What?” y/n asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why are you acting as if I should know the reason, you’re leaving the team?”

“Shit, knowing that you don’t even realize only make all of these worse,” he said, slinging his bag on his back. “Assholes.”

She bristled at that. “It’s clear that you have a problem with me,” said the female. “You wanna tell it to my face?”

The male stared at her. Dark orbs meeting her own as a tense silence fell between them. The tension is thick, not wanting to back off.

“I’m tired,” he finally said. “I’m tired being the second fiddle.”

Y/n blinked, “What?” she asked. “What second fiddle?”

“Second fiddle in fucking Porsche,” replied the male, shoving past her.

She stumbled at that, though y/n quickly regained his footing as she quickly followed the male across the grid. It’s late at night but the place is still full of life. She could see a lot of eyes – drivers, engineers, mechanics – following both of their figure as they shared a heated whispering feat between each other.

“What second fiddle in Porsche!?” she hissed out. “You were fourth in the drivers ranking!”

“And you were number one!” he whispers shouted, glaring at her. “It’s obvious that Porsche will favor you more after this! I don’t want to be treated like that-“

“What favor!?” said y/n, a bit too heated. “I tried my best and-“

“I know you fucking tried your best!” said the male as the both of them stopped just near the exit gate. “I know, but with the way you’re performing right now- I don’t want to be stuck as a second driver in the team.”

Y/n grabbed her collar, dragging his face forward. “So, what if you’re the second driver!? Many drivers would kill for an opportunity to just drive for Porsche in Formula One!”

“There’s nothing wrong being a second driver,” scoffed the male as he yanked back his collar. “That is, if you’re in any other team. Being the second driver in Porsche is worst.”

“What are you even talking about- “

“Think,” cut off the male. “Think y/n, remember these past months and how Porsche is fucking treating you compared to me.”

“There’s nothing different! I- “

She stopped. Y/n stopped because there’s a rush of memories appearing inside of her head. Moments, that had happened even during her rookie season last year.

The way the team had prepared her favorite foods for their catering at the start of the season, despite its being a rare cuisine on the country they’re racing in. The way during the off season she had declined a practice session in the factory due to a photoshoot and Herman had allowed it while her teammate was forced to come despite living in a different country.

How the team had issued a team order to let her pass, raising her ranking while decreasing his. How Herman and the team had always celebrated every victory and podiums of hers, while her teammate watch from the side.

How, the mechanics – even his teammate’s mechanics – are the people that she has a close relationship with. People, that she’s comfortable with. How the race engineers are the people that she regularly have dinner with. Something, she had never seen her teammate’s do.

In Porsche, everyone is someone that y/n is close with.

A team, that was built for her.

Her very own personal Formula One team.

The moment she had her realization must’ve showed clearly on her face because her teammate let out a scoff as he yanked out of her grip. “Realize it yet, princess?” he sneered out before he marched out, leaving her standing there in silence.

That was the last time she ever saw him.

And it was the start of Porsche’s almost yearly change of their second driver.

2017

“You should be careful,” said Lewis in the middle of the 2017 season. It was just announced that her teammate of the year will not be extending his contract with Porsche. She’s not even surprised at this point. “I know teammates can be an ass, but it’s best to not antagonize them.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow at that.

It was really funny to hear that from Lewis, considering all the drama that happened back in 2016. After all, the feud between Lewis and Nico had been entertaining and yet painful to watch. Something worthy of a soap opera and certainly must be Toto’s worst nightmare. To see two men who used to be the best of friends tearing each other apart as teammates.

She knows that the tension in that team has been unbearable. At least in Porsche, they never let the tension to remain that long considering how they change their second driver every year. With Mercedes though?

When Mercedes paired the both of them, they probably didn’t expect the sheer rivalry that they both had with each other. How they despised the mere thought of losing against each other. How everything has to be a competition between them, no matter how small. Maybe that’s why they used to get along so well. Considering how much they loved racing and how competitive they are.

“You’re really saying that?” asked y/n, amusement clear on her tone. “You?”

Lewis rolled his eyes at that. “I know it’s hypocrite of me,” he started off. “But believe me, I know firsthand how awful it is to have your teammate as an enemy.”

The female laughed at that. Obviously, he would know. “I never antagonize my teammate,” unlike you, remain unsaid. “They just feel threatened.”

He hummed, leaning back on the sofa. “They just got embarrassed at the thought of losing from you. A female.”

Y/n snorted at that. “Well, Formula One it’s not a sport that is known for its diversity,” she said pointedly towards the male.

He let out a laugh. She doesn’t know if he found some kind of sick amusement in that statement or if he just thought what she said is the truth. Probably the second one.

“Indeed,” said Lewis, a faraway look on his face. “Yeah, indeed.”

2018

That certain conversation had always been at the back of her mind.

It rang inside of her head as she won her third championship and saw her teammate staring up at her not from the podium. It rang inside of her head as her teammate terminate their contract from Porsche. It rang inside of her head as Herman introduced Henry to her.

It certainly rang inside of her head as Henry crashed his car into her.

The loud screeching sound that appeared inside of her ear as she could feel her car spin towards the barrier is making her head ache. Truthfully, the impact is not that big, and she certainly had had a worst crash before. Though what made this one a bit special is the pitch-black car that also laid across the gravel in front of her.

Ah, she thought, trying to lessen her anger. Retire. The both of us.

Herman will be so fucking pissed.

Even when her race engineer asked her if she’s okay, y/n really doesn’t have the energy to reply. She merely answered with a short hum, not saying anything besides that. After all, she felt that if she answers more than that, her anger will leak through. Shattering the perfectly crafted image that she had crafted over the years.

Perfect y/n who always smiles.

Charming y/n who is a different driver from her rookie season.

Beautiful y/n who is always laughing-

It seems, all of her effort to lessen her anger became futile when she saw Henry climbing out of his car. She doesn’t know what sets her off. Maybe it’s because Henry doesn’t even look guilty or maybe it’s the fierce glare that he directed towards her from behind his helmet as if she’s the problem.

She really doesn’t know what set her off but almost immediately, her anger surged forward.

Fuck, thought the female as she climbed out of her car.

Fucking hell, thought the female as she took off her helmet.

Y/n turned around, staring at her car that had hit the wall. Y/n turned towards the track, hearing the sound of other cars making their laps.

DNF.

Fucking DNF.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck-

Y/n almost throw his helmet to the floor as she marched back towards Porsche garage. Her hair is a mess and the way her race suit is sticking to her body uncomfortably does not help her temper the slightest. Around her, she could faintly see the wary glances that people gave her. No doubt, a bit fearful at the angry woman.

She doesn’t really care, and she’s also sure that Herman doesn’t care. After all, he has a more pressing issue to tackle. Namely, the two DNF that Porsche suffered during the Spanish Grand Prix.

It’s a tight fight for the constructor championship with Mercedes after all. Having to retire both cars is not helpful at all. The way both cars retired is a bit embarrassing. No, scratch that. It’s so fucking embarrassing and the mere thought of that incident made her had headache.

During the race, Henry who was ahead of the woman after y/n’s pitstop, was asked to let her overtake. Which make sense because y/n got a new set of tires and faster. It was projected that she could pass Lewis and Bottas who was leading the race at 1-2. Porsche needed the team points anyway and y/n is gunning for her fourth driver title.

But of course not.

It’s the damn disease that every Formula One drivers seem to have. Aka, their far too big pride.

Henry – the little shit – decided that he doesn’t want to do that. She doesn’t know what’s his problem or what kind of mental ego that he’s battling with himself, during the race, he decided that he’s not going to let her pass.

Fucking asshole.

The guy is not even a contender for the driver’s title! He should’ve been satisfied to manage to be in the top 6 drivers during his rookie season! But of course not. He decided that he wants to be some kind of hero or some kind of historic driver.

Maybe he wants to be known as someone that finished ahead of y/n. Or maybe he just wants people to know that he’s here in Porsche to be the number one driver. Not the driver that have to stay behind y/n.

Fucking asshole. Rookie little shit.

It’s no brainer that she will try to overtake Henry. It’s no brainer that she’s aiming to win the championship. But no. The little shit decided that he wants to kill the both of them and made them crash against each other, officially retiring both Porsche from the race.

She could still hear the dramatic narration that the announcer made as they crashed against each other. Y/n could almost see her fourth championship slipping from her finger because this is the last thing that she needs. After all, Lewis and Sebastian are tough opponents. They’re not going to let her win the championship without a fight. And don’t get her started with Red Bull growing dominance and Max’s overwhelming talent.

DNF, is something that she doesn’t fucking need at this point.

“Deep breathes,” muttered Luca as he takes her helmet inside of her driver’s room. His tone calm, as he desperately tries to calm the raging inferno inside the female. “Y/n, remember it’s important to stay calm during this kind of situation.”

The female is known as a charming woman. One of the friendliest people on the paddock. She can make friends with anyone she set her eyes on. Always welcoming every person with a perfectly shaped smile and a friendly aura.

Though in the end, y/n is still a world champion. To be a world champion, you need to be some kind of an asshole. An asshole, on the track and on the garage.

“Fuck,” she lets out, taking a deep breath as she leaned back on the chair. “Fucking asshole, he was going to kill us.”

Luca winced a bit at that because yes, the crash was pretty bad. The mechanics needs to stay up all night to make sure that the car will be ready for Monaco. No thanks for Henry.

“Herman will want to have a team meeting after this,” said the man as he handed her a drink. “Obviously to talk about what just happened.”

“They can blame all of it to Henry,” she seethed out, gripping the drink with too much strength. “Asshole didn’t obey team orders! What right does he have to do that!?”

“I know, I know,” said Luca as he patted her back in order to placate her for a bit. “I understand that you’re frustrated, you can tell everyone all about it during the meeting, no?”

“Henry better listens well during that,” said y/n.

The meeting takes place when the race had long finished in the meeting room inside of their motorhome. Y/n had given Lewis a congratulation about his win and Max about his podium before she was ushered inside.

Herman’s face looks scary and the stillness inside of the meeting room too, was deafening. Y/n’s silent anger as well as brooding face also doesn’t help the growing coldness. It’s a bit jarring to see the usually friendly woman looks so emotionless.

On the other hand, Henry clearly looks nervous. It’s clear that the male is a bit scared at how tense the meeting room is. The atmosphere is clearly different from how the team is usually. Y/n really wants to shake his head, because this situation is clearly his fault.

Seriously fuck Henry and his fragile ego.

“What happened today,” started Herman, breaking the silence between all of them. “Is something that shouldn’t happen again.”

There’s a round of agreement across the room. She could feel the eyes that’s staring at her, no doubt searching for a flicker of emotion or a reaction from her. Y/n ignored all of them, pointedly starting at Henry who was sitting in front of her and at the same time, avoiding her gaze.

“Our goal for every championship is to win,” said the team principal, fixing his glasses as he stared around the room. “And Formula One, no matter how it looks, is a team sport. We need to work as a team to achieve that.”

A beat passed, before people voiced their agreement at that.

“Whoever was faster, will have to let the other one to pass,” continue Herman. “If the both of you are at 1-2, the one on the second place should defend from the third place. I don’t care about all of your ego and pride; I want all of you to work as a professional and not be a fucking child.”

Y/n let out a snort at that.

The way Herman said it, it was as if the team doesn’t have a favorite. As if, Porsche doesn’t care which one of them finished first or second as long as they’re using the Porsche car to win. Though, both y/n and everyone – including Henry – knows the hidden meaning behind the statement.

It means to let y/n pass every time. It means that Henry has to defend y/n from the car behind them. It means, that no matter how hard he tried, y/n will always come first.

First driver and second driver. An almost public secret to everyone on the grid.

Y/n is the first driver and Henry is the second driver.

She raised her eyebrows as she could see how Henry clenched his fist tightly. No doubt wanting to refute the order from Herman. Though alas, he also knows that it’s going to be useless. After all, he’s the rookie driver. He’s not the three-time world champion. He’s not the driver that had been in Porsche since the start.

He also doesn’t have a dad who is a major investor in Porsche.

“Everyone understand?” asked Herman after silence descend upon the room. “I don’t want to see this kind of mistake anymore.”

“Yes,” replied y/n, eyes still boring towards the younger driver in front of her.

Henry too, let out a strained smile at that. “Yes, I understand,” he said.

It was a shame, she thought. After all, just like the previous drivers, this is the final nail of the coffin. The realization that there is no hope for them in Porsche as long as y/n is still in the team. To know, that clearly your team have a favorite and it’s not you.

This is the point in time for them to be more or less, annoying.

Veiled insults, ignorance over team orders, blatant manipulation. It’s the same thing over and over again. If she’s someone with a better personality, she would try and discuss with the team on how to make a fairer working environment. She would try to mediate between Porsche and the second driver on how to improve their situation.

But no, y/n is not someone with a better personality.

Many like to praise how different she is compared to her rookie season. That the brash and highly competitive girl in 2012 is now replaced by a friendly and charming woman. A hotheaded rookie now known as the most beloved driver on the grid.

Many likes to say that she’s someone better now. That adulthood had ceased down all of her childishness.

What they didn’t know is, y/n never changed. She only learnt how to put up a persona that will be beloved by everyone. To wear a mask, to hide herself from the prying eyes from the media.

Y/n, is still the loud and abrasive rookie driver.

She’s still hotheaded and can throw a massive tantrum.

Y/n, is still an asshole and Porsche, is hers.

She’s not going to let a rookie to take it from her.

Despite all the drama that happened today, meeting Charles Leclerc is the last thing that she expected.

When Herman had ordered the team to go home for the day, she really didn’t expect to see the guy loitering around Porsche’s motorhome. If it’s anyone else, y/n would’ve thought that they’re doing some kind of company espionage towards them.

But it’s Charles. A rookie driver with big eyes and emotions clear on his face. Emotions, that clearly shows how worried he is right now.

“Y/n!” he called out the moment he spotted her exiting the building.

“Charles?” she asked, approaching the younger driver. “What are you doing here?”

He looks a bit nervous, “I- uh I saw the crash earlier,” he started. “I was just wondering if you’re, okay?”

Y/n blinked. A bit startled at the question, because isn’t that a bit sweet? After all, they hardly know each other. The only time that even had a real conversation was during their first meeting. Besides that, it was only short pleasantries with each other. He didn't even contacted her after she gave him her number, giving her the impression that he's not that interested in her.

Turns out Charles is a good guy after all.

It’s hard to see someone this nice. Especially in Formula One where everyone has a far too big egos and pride – y/n included.

She can’t suppress the grin that’s tugging her mouth. “Well, as you can see, I’m in one piece,” said the female, gesturing towards her body as the two of them began to walk. “Thank you for worrying though.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, almost too quick. “I just wanna make sure that you’re okay, sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” she shrugged off. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to after a shitty day like this.”

“I’m glad then,” replied the male as they walk through the paddock. There are a lot of people, but mostly people from the constructor work who is on their way to tear down each team motorhome.Most of team members already went home at this hour. From the backpack that he’s carrying, it seems that he’s also on his way back to the hotel. “I’m glad that I can help you, even if it’s only a little.”

How nice.

Y/n let out a laugh at that. “Don’t change, Charles,” she said. “It’s rare to see a driver this nice.”

Charles merely shrugged. “If you asked Max, I’m an asshole though.”

“Ah,” said the female. “Yeah, I saw the video, cute kids certainly. The both of you.”

He flushed at that. "It's a bit embarrassing that everyone knows about that now."

"Why?" asked y/n, amusement clear on her eyes. "It's a good story, no? Fated rival and stuff."

"If you put it like that it is a bit nice," said the male, scratching his cheek. "I just don't like being compared to him."

She laughed. "Deal with it, Leclerc," she said as she sling an arm around his shoulder, tugging him down a bit. "The media will always compare you with someone, I guess they want to make the headline a bit spicy considering how boring most of the drivers are."

What she said about the comparison is the truth. For y/n, she had been compared to Lewis and Sebastian ever since she won her first championship. When she first debuted, she was compared against Sebastian a lot. Claiming them as two young talents that had arrived to take over Formula One. Even back when Max first entered the sport, he was compared to her most of the times.

"I guess so," muttered Charles. "It's only my rookie season, after all."

"Precisely," she grinned. "Wait for another season and they will be talking all about your achievements. That is if you able to stay for another season," teased the female a bit.

"I will be," answered Charles lightheartedly. "It's my dream to drive for Ferrari after all."

Y/n nodded, "Good dream, Ferrari is a pretty good team." She knows that Charles is projected to be the red car future driver, but she doesn't know when will that happen considering their current driver lineup. Seb and Kimi is a good pair after all.

But knowing Ferrari?

Anything can really happen.

They continue talking as they made their walk towards the parking lot. It’s surprisingly easy talking to him, as if she’s talking with an old friend. Charles is an animated talker, slipping into French here and there - which she doesn't mind. I sounds cute and she did grew up in France. Somehow, it's easy for her to find a conversation topic. From things like racing to mundane topics like the catering on their team.

Maybe it’s how expressive he is, or maybe it’s because he’s someone that put his heart on his sleeve, making it easy for her to read on his emotions. It was a bit cute and endearing. Y/n thought that if she has a little brother, maybe it’s almost like this.

Their conversation was cut short when it’s time for them to go to their own cars.

"Guess this is it," she said, giving him a cheeky grin. "It was nice talking to you."

"Yeah," agreed the male. "I hope we can do this again."

She laughed at that. "I did gave you my number, Leclerc," said the female, giving him a friendly shove. "You can always text me for a chat. Or maybe a call."

His eyes widened, clearly not expecting that. "I-" he stopped. "I'll text you!"

"You better be," she said, giving him a sidehug, she said, “Text me later!” to him before she climbed into the car.

Her day became a bit lighter.

Charles thinks he's dreaming.

Text me later?

Text me later!?

Fuck, he hopes he didn’t fumble. Did he say yes? He didn’t remember saying yes. But he also didn’t remember saying no. Shit- what if she thought that he’s being rude!? Did he even confirmed that yes, obviously he’s going to text her after this-

If Pierre was here, he’s going to laugh so hard.

Really, Charles doesn’t know what possessed him that it made him thought visiting y/n was a good idea. He didn’t even got the courage to visit her during good days. What made him thought that visiting her after a bad race is a good idea!? After all, she had a DNF back in the race. A double DNF for Porsche to add salt into the wound. Everyone would have been in a bad mood if that happened to them.

He was half expecting to be ignored or to be met with short answers. But no, y/n was so nice that she had actually entertained his silly attempt of small conversation. He doesn’t even know what they’re talking about throughout their walk because he’s just way too nervous to make sure that the conversation kept going.

Charles had been way too distracted by the smiles and grins that she had directed towards him to even make sure that his brain is working.

Because fuckk.

Whoever said never meet your idols must be delusional because his idol – y/n – is just so fucking perfect.

She’s just like what he imagined her to be. An amazing driver. An amazing woman. An amazing human in general.

And she said to text her!?

Like- like text, text her!?

He’s not going to lie and say that the thought had never passed inside his mind. After all, ever since he first got her number all those weeks ago, he had opened up the messaging up countless of times, fingers hovering on top of the keyboards as he pondered about texting her. It’s a bit embarrassing how often he did that, but-

But it’s y/n! He can’t just randomly text her! She’s busy and-

And yet she told him to text her.

During the start of the season Pierre had told him that it was a dumb move to try to shoot his shot towards y/n - Formula One superstar, a fucking icon, the it girl - but isn't this clearly a sign!? She did told him to contact her!

Eat shit, Pierre.

“Charles?”

Snapping his head towards where his manager is, he mumbled. “Y-yeah?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Were you talking with l/n earlier?” he asked as they both climbed into the car.

He nodded. “I ran into her when I was leaving.”

“I see,” mumbled the man. There’s a certain look inside his eyes, as if he wants to say something to him but at the same time, he’s hesitant. It made Charles a bit confused.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No,” said his manager, a bit too quick. “No, it’s… okay.”

He didn’t probe further.

Taglist!

@mellowarcadefun @glai1023-blog @jjkclub @newlifeforus @jpg3 @sp1cycurry @eternalharry @be-your-coffee-pot @itsjustkhaos @chanshintien @fairiesdowntheroad @not-laracroft @ilovegreengrapes @nzygftoji @reblog-princess-blog @aaaooz @chasing-liberosis @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @reneny @hiraethrhapsody @stevesworld96 @miniboast @notleclerc @willowpains @lndonrris @laura-naruto-fan1998 @yaren23 @gills-lounge @asfaraslifegets @dl-yum @dessxoxsworld @goldenchemistry @vellicora @neoteez7 @lana-d3l-rey

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maukiki1 · 4 months ago

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Ok idk who wants to read a chunk of text before someones art but.

Theres this poorly made metal fusion turkish parody i used to watch religiously as a kid and i got reminded of its existance recently because someone showed it to me and it literally unlocked a core memory and i went to watch it again thinking i wont find it funny anymore because i found it funny when i was like 4 yrs old but. Maybe its the nostalgia but this video is a work of art its so.

The ginga and kyouya wigs being cheap neon colours not even styled to look like the characters hair, the guy playing ginga’s linkin park shirt, the awkward but hilarious acting, the guy playing Ryūga constantly hunching over so the jacket doesn’t fall off his shoulders (it does multiple times) giving him a funny ass posture, the nike logo on the ginga headband, Ryūsei being ginga with a different shirt, the fact that the guy playing daidouji being the shortest one out of the three (yes only 3 people made this i thought there was more somehow) , or literally anything daidouji does ever, the expression ryuga has the entire time, the phoenix costume having a visible star wars shirt making it obvious that its the same guy playing Ryūga, one of the scenes having a visible rope attached to pegasus so its easier to make it look like its flying.. its literally a master its peak youtube ok. I wanted to draw some scenes from it bcs theyre so fucking funny to me. Its peak i fear. I havent posted mfb in a month and this is what im coming back with fuck it we ball

I was gonna draw this one properly but halfway through realized i couldnt capture the expression of the actor perfectly if i did so. Feast ur eyes upon my best work yet

Heres a compilation of clips that give some context to the pictures drawn, except the last one, it doesnt need context hes just standing there funnily

Link to the full parody under cut

Okay so its a turkish parody so ofc its funnier to someone who understands the language but surprisingly there are english subtitles and from what i checked its not translated perfectly some sentences were onviously put through a translator but none of the jokes seem completely lost i mean i made my friend who doesnt know a lick of turkish watch it and we both laughed our asses off so . I think everyone should watch this peak atleast once

youtube

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slothcapsule · 2 months ago

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Kaeya's design pt.2 (updated until 5.1 because yes, more stuff gets added with updates, his design is that thought ahead)

or maybe im delusional and looking into things way too much! heyy, Me again!! this is gonna be a master post of all the things ive noticed about kaeya's design, ive made one like it before but since then there's been a bunch of new stuff so i decided to make a new post that has everything i have to note. this is complied of things i myself have noticed and things that others have. this post will not include anything about his skin other than noting a couple of significant differences since the outfit wasn't made specifically for him in the scope of the story, but i might cover it in a separate post

kaeya's design mostly consists of "two sides" in a way, his "mondstat" side and his "khaenri'ah" side.

his mondstadt side includes his vision, the full side of his cape in the back, the earring he wears and his rat tail, all this represents the freedom he has in mondstat and the person he grew to be there, a vision bearing knight of favonius.

the khaenri'ah side includes his eyepatch, the wisp of lighter hair in his bang, a clipped cape ("wing") and the majority of the fur coating. i believe this goes to represent that he's still tied to khaenri'ah despite all the time he's spent in mondstadt, and that he's quite aware of it. Also, the glove on that side has a kind of buckle that kind of reminds me of a shackle or a handcuff, as well as this thing with a bunch of eight pointed stars that are not apparent on the mondstadt

all across his design (the boots, corset belt, gloves, little things on the ends of the cape thing he has, his left sleeve) there are bunch of "eight pointed" stars we see associated with khaenri'ah, one being in his pupil which was a confirmed trait to khaenri'ahn people ever since we saw dainsleif.

id like to note that kaeya's eyepatch is stressed on a lot in game. its constantly referred back to most of the time when kaeya is brought up. he has a voiceline about it (that has been changed once in the english version to to a mistranslation i believe, ill include both versions) the first is the current version.

traveler has a voiceline about it where paimon makes fun of it but i think its notable there's a voiceline specifically about it at all.

its mentioned right when we start the world quest "Bough Keeper" where we meet dainsleif. he doesn't even have an eyepatch half of his face is just black it was a stretch in the first place.

kaeya himself dismisses it as nothing unusual.

in his story quest he says he inherited it from his grandfather, which is solid proof that they're related by blood. (his story quest has some crazy foreshadowing btw that predicted that him and the abyss twin are possibly related in some way or another by extensions but i wont get into it here)

there isnt really a solid idea attached to any of this, other than the fact that kaeya's eyepatch is stressed on as a point of intrigue, its pretty implied to be related to his origin of khaenri'ah, and we often see khaenri'hn people with their right eye covered in some way. and to those of you that think that he wears the eyepatch because diluc injured his eye during his fight, no he isnt. it might've been scarred by him yes but he isnt blind in that eye, and in the webcomic it shows kaeya wearing an eyepatch on the day crepus died, before the fight with diluc.

while we're on the subject of his eyes, he's somewhat of an abnormality amongst Khaenri'ahn people. every other khaenri'ahn person we know have teal eyes with their pupil being a bold black star outline, kaeya's on the other hand are a darker blue with a more faded filled in star. i wont include the eyes of every single character to prove my point but trust me i looked at them all. the only exception seems to be pierro but since he doesnt have an in-game model yet and he wasnt shown super clearly in the trailer im unsure what to make of it for now so i wont include it.

one of the first things generally noticed about kaeya's design once you look into it a little is that he somewhat resembles cryo abyss mages, most notably the fur coat he keeps thrown over his shoulder, the "bunny ears" in his hair (ahoge?) but most of the resemblance comes from playstyle.

in playstyle he's similar in the sense that he teleports on his fifth attack, his ult is similar to the icicles they produce after their shield is broken, he produces his own shield at c4 etc.

(EDIT: i somehow forgot including abyss heralds here, which is insane of me considering that i was always under the impression that if kaeya does turn out to be an abyss monster its definitely more likely to be a herald/lector. i dont necessarily think that he is but there are similarities!)

As for abyss heralds, he does also have a similar design element with the Frost Fall one! Despite being a minor similarity i think its worth pointing out , but they do have kind of similar lapel things, the herald has those wing like things both in the front and back , similar to kaeya's "clipped" wings, that appear under the full wing and in the front of his outfit as well

(fun fact, when i found out they're going to release a cryo abyss herald i was so excited and kept prolonging the fight with it in the quest so i can see if it has similar attack patterns to kaeya) (it does, he does a couple slash attacks that look like kaeya's normal attacks)

one crazy thing also is his cape looks a lot like the top part of the celestial nails and the bottom part of the statues of the seven, and weirdly enough parts of paimons outfits.

a lot of people theorize the log in screen is the enterance to celestia, and that the nails in dragonspine and the chasm are fallen pillars from there. for someone from a godless nation its sort of weird that he seems to have that connection to something celestial huh? this part of the design is also included in his special dish in the skewer itself. (he also marks the mushroom with an eight pointed star as opposed to the x on the regular one)

other than celestian, mondstadtian, khaenri'ahn themes in his outfit, he also has fatui ones! on the front side of the cape we can see that it attaches to a fur thing that covers kaeya's lapels. i have no idea how this attaches or if its just thrown on top, but this design choice is distinctly fatui, weirdly enough. specifically in the style of the attire of the fatui harbingers coats or official ware when they're gathered. i related it distinctly to pierro before but after getting a good look at capitano's model its more fatui, though there's some things that are similar distinctly between kaeya and pierro.

most distinctly, the fur and the lapels being in a very similar shape which is the part that's distinctly fatui, the mask/eyepatch over the right eye as well a strikingly differently colored strand of hair being distinct to pierro and kaeya.

there's a kind of gap in the middle of pierro's chest part of the outfit that somewhat resembles the one kaeya has as well. i saw someone point this out on reddit but i cant find the post because it was a while ago but regardless, they brought up the point of it being exactly in the place and shape of where abyss heralds/black serprent knights have an eight-pointed star, which could be a subtle nudge at khaenri'ah as well.

now, i have two ideas of what those similarities could be hinting at.

kaeya is actually a fatui member (which i believe has some sort of merit because of the recent appearances of capitano and some similarties between them in attire and playstyle weirdly enough, as well as a theory ive been getting behind that states that capitano could be/is related to anfortas alberich)

the fatui harbinger design choices are actually inspired by khaenri'ah, which isnt a stretch given that pierro is the founder and director of the fatui harbingers. thus making them look similar to kaeya rather than vice versa.

panning back up a little bit, regarding the silver hair in kaeya, it seems to be expanding to the rest of his hair, in his skin it goes down the length of his braid.

in the webcomic where we flash back to the past a bit, we see kaeya actually doesnt have the little strand of silver over his left ear, as well as when we return to the normal time setting of the comic, its also not included in his icy featherflight splash art (this 100% could be a stretch on my part they could've just forgot about it its a small strand) (while we're talking about stretches, my biggest one is that childe has a similar streak in his hair lol but that might be going toooo far)

last but not least, his vision, one of the most interesting things about his whole characters. a person from a nation that actively defied the gods recieving a sign of their recognition seems like kind of a threat doesnt it? and its all the more ominous that his vision casing is different from every other mondstadt casing!

this is the back of kaeya's vision next to the back of diluc's vision for comparison, the only notable things are the lack of a third wing probably signifying he's sort of out of place, and the swirl? wave? whatever you wanna call it is on the wrong side. every other character with a double sided vision has the swirl on the other side like jean, diluc, mona, eula, lisa (etc..? i havent seen anyone else with a double sided vision which is also interesting, at least from mond)

however!! weirdly enough, in the 3.8 summer event where kaeya gets his skin, his vision actually gets a different casing, as you can see he gets his full three wings, as well as an extra spike! but not really an extra spike because the vision is just on top of another thing that makes it look like it has a third spike, but the wing is actually there. the genshin fashion archive isnt updated with kaeya's skin so i cant check if there's a swirl, even though the vision isnt even double sided in the skin which is also really weird to me.

im pretty sure ive covered most things, if anyone has any additions please let me know! id love to look into them.

i think kaeya is a really interesting character who's incredibly centered around foreshadowing in the way he carries himself and his backstory, so to think that they managed to extend the foreshadowing bit into even his design is a little bit insane imo.

#kaeya alberich #kaeya theories #kind of #genshin impact #genshin impact lore #the fatui #the fatui harbingers #il capitano #pierro genshin impact #mondstat #paimon #celestia #the abyss #khaenriah #khaenriah lore #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya lore

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sohnric · 1 year ago

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sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes.

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree.

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way.

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot).

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes.

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief.

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy.

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin.

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored?

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.”

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?”

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again.

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze.

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?”

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball.

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second.

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more.

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts.

“Why?”

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?”

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind.

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake.

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back).

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference.

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step.

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.

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