#-if you're over-achieving and you know it clap your hands

[mr-cha-n]

Crossing the Finish Line

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, athletes AU

Warnings: Profanities, drinking, reader is a bit of an asshole, exercise

Word Count: 17.4k

Summary: Winning is the only thing that matters, except if you're raising money for a charity event with an infuriatingly good-looking swimmer.

The burn of your muscles and the sweat on your brow are a satisfying reminder of how far you've come.

Reaching for the water bottle at the base of the wall, you take a well-deserved gulp before turning to your coach, who’s approaching with a towel in hand, clapping proudly.

"If you can recreate that in Tokyo, you won’t have to worry about coming home empty-handed!" Sungjin grins, his pride almost matching your own as you bask in the achievement of a personal best—almost.

"I guess I'll just have to keep at it to make sure of that," You smile gingerly, leaning forward to grab the towel and dab the moisture from your face.

"Well, motivation’s never been your problem," he says, raising an eyebrow as if to protest, but instead, he simply gestures back to the climbing wall, hinting for you to continue.

You know Sungjin thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard, but as you square up to the lead course in front of you, feeling that familiar sense of belonging and purpose the wall brings, you’re certain even he has to admit the hard work is paying off.

With a steadying breath, your hands dip into the chalk bag at your waist. Just a little faster, a little stronger, and you’ll be up there competing with the greats of your sport. The clarity of your purpose washes over you; you know your place in the world, and you’re determined to reach it.

"Done already?" 

Iseul's voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you realize you've been staring at the chipped paint on your admittedly worse-for-wear front door.

The shiny black hands on the cockerel-shaped clock at the entrance to your apartment read 9:20 pm. Glancing between the clock, the half-filled pot of chilli simmering on the stove, and your roommate’s teasing look, you realize you’ve missed dinner.

"Honey, I'm home!" you sing-song, spreading your arms wide to envelop Iseul in an apologetic hug. She screeches and runs away, but her laughter lets you know that all is forgiven for your late arrival.

"Sorry for missing dinner, Sullie. I got caught up in that headspace again and completely forgot you were cooking tonight."

"Don’t be sorry, just be grateful I left you some—it should still be warm!" she hums, offering you a reassuring glance.

You feel her eyes on you as you hang your jacket up and begin ladling out the leftover chilli into your favourite bowl.

"What is it?" you ask, tentatively meeting her gaze.

"I just—" she pauses, her expression softening as she searches for the right words. "I’m worried about you. You spend all day at the training gym or the actual gym. I know you’ve got important milestones coming up, and I’ll be there cheering you on from the sidelines, but your whole life can’t revolve around competitions. You’re not going out, seeing friends, meeting new people—"

"I don’t need you setting me up on another blind date if that’s what you’re suggesting," you interject, raising an eyebrow as you take a bite of chilli. "And I have enough friends."

"When was the last time you saw anyone other than me or your coaching team?"

When was the last time you'd seen any of your other friends?

The corner of your mouth twitches in defensive annoyance, trying to come up with a reply that you both know won't be truthful.

"Okay, fine. You might have a point. How about I promise to see people after Tokyo? I’ll even make an appearance at one of your wretched salsa classes."

You’ve attended exactly one of Iseul’s salsa classes and vowed never to repeat the experience. Sixty minutes of humiliation in a class way above the beginner level you were promised, stumbling through the steps only to collide with your rather handsome dance partner and send both of you crashing to the floor. Needless to say, you’ve managed to avoid that class—and that man—ever since.

"You can’t just avoid people for a month, squid!" Iseul protests. "Maybe you could—"

"No," you warn, dread filling you as you anticipate her next suggestion.

"Come on, I think it would be fun! You could-"

"I don't want to!"

"And what if you didn't have a choice?"

That stops you in your tracks. Blinking slowly, you set down your fork and look blankly at your best friend.

"What ... does that mean?" You ask cautiously.

Iseul grimaces, swallowing hard before replying.

"Okay, don’t be mad." That’s never a good sign. "I might have sent the campaign info to Sungjin."

Your brain feels like it’s been doused in ice water as you process what she’s done.

"You mean to say, I decided three months ago that I definitely didn’t want to do the campaign, and you, despite this, still sent the info to my head coach, who will undoubtedly force me to do it for 'good publicity' and 'sponsorship opportunities'?" you scowl, shooting her your best attempt at a withering look.

"That may, perhaps, be correct." She confesses, giving you a look you’d only reserve for your mother after sneaking out without permission.

A long, loud sigh drags its way out of your body.

"Iseul ... really?"

"...yeah, really."

"God, I don't even remember what the campaign was about!" You complain, pushing the half-eaten bowl of chilli aside, your appetite gone with this new revelation.

"Oh! Here, I have the email up!" Iseul beams, clearly feeling far more helpful than you currently think she deserves to feel.

"Of course you do." You glare, moving to look at the computer screen beside her.

Dear Miss (Y/l/n),

As the excitement builds for the upcoming Olympic competition in Tokyo, we are organizing a special event that combines the spirit of athleticism with the power of giving back to the community.

We are thrilled to invite you to participate in our Road to the Rings relay event, scheduled to take place in the week commencing 5 July. This unique relay will bring together athletes like yourself to not only celebrate the Olympic spirit but also to raise awareness and funds for the KSPO.

As a respected athlete, your involvement would greatly enhance the impact of this event. Not only will this be an opportunity to showcase your support for a meaningful cause, but it will also allow you to connect with fellow athletes and fans in a memorable and inspiring way.

Your participation would include:

Joining a team of athletes in a two-day relay through Tokyo city

Promoting the event on your social media platforms

Engaging with fans during the event to share the importance of the cause we are supporting.

With your help, we can make this an unforgettable experience and a powerful force for good. We would be honoured to have you as part of this initiative.

Please let us know if you are available to join us by replying to this email or contacting Soma Kimiko at skimiko@roadtotherings.co.uk by 31 May.

Thank you for considering this opportunity to make a difference through sport.

Warm regards,

Hu Chunho

International Olympic Committee

"Thank god, the deadline for this passed ages ago." You sigh, relief washing over you.

The guilty look that remains stamped on Iseul's face does not inspire confidence in you.

"Well, about that—don’t quote me on this, but I think Sungjin might have contacted them, and they may have agreed to let you join anyway?"

"Shit." You swear, wracking your brain for a way out and coming up empty. "Let me call Sungjin; maybe I can convince him to change his mind."

Surrounded by athletes you’ve never met but who all clearly know each other, you scan the crowd for the one face that could save you from your awkward solitude. Soon enough, you manage to catch a glimpse of your teammate, Jeon Wonwoo, across the sea of people. As you begin to wade through the crowd toward him, you realize he’s not alone like you’d hoped but is at the centre of a large group of athletes, all laughing and taking photos outside the Olympic Village entrance.

You've all been allowed early access for the event, a privilege everyone else seems stoaked about, but has left you out of your depth and far from where you want to be.

Deciding that you can morph your embarrassment into a cool, solo mystique rather than face meeting all of Wonwoo’s friends, you pull out your headphones and start wandering around the entrance, feigning busyness.

Keeping one eye on the other athletes, and the other half-heartedly on the information board in front of you, you quickly realise that no one else cares about what you're doing and feel yourself relaxing into the music.

All this waiting has made you hungry, and you wonder if there will be food available in the village or if you’ll have to brave your rudimentary Japanese to find your own sustenance. Surely they'll give you access to the village resources - you'll need to use the gym and the climbing equipment at least -

A sharp tap on your shoulder interrupts your thoughts.

Swivelling around, you’re met face-to-face with a tall, muscular man whose lips are moving, but you can’t hear a word. Gaping at him in confusion, you’re about to tell him he’s not saying anything when he gestures to his ear, miming pulling something out of it—oh, right, your earphones.

You scramble to pull your left earbud from your ear.

"Sorry, I was just saying that they're letting us into the village now."

"Oh, uh thank you! And I thought the language barrier would be my biggest comprehension issue!" You exclaim with a smile too wide and a laugh too loud. The cringe instantly seems into your body as the man cocks one eyebrow at you, and it takes all of your will not to shrivel up under his gaze.

You force yourself to keep smiling, even as the heat of embarrassment creeps up your neck. Clearing your throat, you quickly try to recover. "I guess I'm just a little nervous," you admit with a small, sheepish grin, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness. "I've been waiting to be here for a long time, and now that I'm actually here, I'm not sure what to expect."

The man’s eyebrow slowly lowers, and you catch a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He nods slightly, the tension easing just a bit. "It's natural to feel that way," he says, his tone softening. "The games can be... overwhelming at first."

Relieved that the moment has passed, you take a deep breath and offer a more genuine smile. "Thanks for letting me know, we should probably head off before they leave us behind."

"I'm not too worried about that," He lets out a little laugh. As you both start to walk, you finally take in the small crowd that has gathered outside the gates. Though you can’t make out what they’re shouting, the team flags and posters bearing the man’s face clue you in on the nature of the turnout.

Pressing your lips together, you nod your head in mock understanding. "I see, can't keep the fanclub waiting?"

His head snaps away from the crowd to meet your eyes, and for a split second, you worry you’ve said the wrong thing. But then you catch the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"They're more persistent than I expected," he says, his tone light but tinged with weariness. "But I suppose it comes with the territory."

Relieved that he didn't take offence, you relax slightly, feeling a bit more at ease. "Must be exhausting, though," you offer, your voice softer now. "All that attention."

He gives a small shrug, glancing back at the crowd with a resigned expression. "You get used to it," he says, but there's a hint of something in his voice. "But we should really get moving. Don't want to keep anyone waiting—fans or otherwise."

You nod, falling into step beside him as you both head towards the entryway. The buzz of the crowd fades into the background as you walk, the earlier awkwardness slowly dissolving into a comfortable silence.

Once inside the village, the man turns to you again, a curious look on his face. "So, first Olympics?"

You nod, a bit of excitement creeping back into your voice. "Yeah, it’s been a dream for as long as I can remember."

"Well, you’ve got a lot to look forward to," he says, offering a small smile. "It’s an experience like no other."

You smile back, feeling a bit of your nervousness melt away. "I’m sure it will be."

Weary from the day but still buzzing with anticipation, you finally make it to your assigned room. The sight of the cardboard bed brings a huff of amusement. You flop down onto it, savouring the comfort even if it’s temporary. You have the room to yourself for now, but it’s clear that another athlete will be joining you once the games officially begin. For the moment, though, you relish the peace and quiet.

You managed to grab some sashimi from a nearby restaurant earlier on, and with your hunger sated, you start to settle in, considering whether to crack open a book or simply drift off into an early night’s sleep.

A pounding knock on your door quickly dashes those plans.

"Hey! (Y/n)?" A familiarly deep voice calls out, and you drag yourself up to let your teammate into your room.

"Wonwoo, what a nice surprise." you greet him with a forced grin, his chuckle telling you he’s not fooled.

"Don’t tell me you were planning to spend your first night in Tokyo cooped up in here?" he teases, and you respond by chucking a pillow at him.

"Do you not get exhausted from travelling like a normal person?"

"The plane journey was like three hours, tops." He retorts, falling onto your absentee roommate's bed.

"You have a point." You concede. "And yet, a nice warm bath and a book call to me."

"God, you're so dull!" 

"What are you on about? You read more than anyone I know!"

"Yes, but I'm not reading now, am I? That should tell you something..."

You hate that his logic is making sense to you. Giving him a long, squinty-eyed stare, you eventually give in.

"So, what’s the plan? Not that I’m going, I’m just curious."

Perking up, Wonwoo lifts himself off the bed with a speed you usually only see on the climbing wall. The sly grin that spreads across his face makes you instantly wary.

"A few friends are gathering in one of the common rooms for some drinks and mingling. People might split off later to go clubbing or karaoke or something, but you could just come to the party part if you’re interested. It’s just down the corridor—you wouldn’t be able to sleep with the noise anyway."

You mull it over, remembering the promise you made to Iseul before you left.

"Fine, maybe I’ll make an appearance." The satisfied grin on Wonwoo’s face forces you to hold back an eye roll. Your expression softens, hesitating to confide your apprehensions. "Just… don’t ditch me, okay? I don’t really know anyone else here."

Wonwoo’s playful demeanour shifts to one of gentle understanding as he nods in agreement.

"It’ll be a good chance to meet some new people—they’re really nice." He notices your screwed-up look of unease. "And I’ll introduce you. Don’t worry, the room is like 300 square feet; you’re not gonna lose track of me."

"Alright, fine. Now get out—I have to get changed!" You playfully whack his arm with your remaining pillow, and his laughter echoes in your room as he leaves, making the decision feel a little less daunting.

Rummaging through the unemptied suitcase on your bedroom floor, you thank Iseul for the scrunched-up red dress at the bottom of the case. Throwing it on with your probably unnecessary black leather jacket and some knee-high black boots, you feel like you at least look like you belong at a party.

Lining your lips with a rouge that matches the dress, and blasting some hyper pop to get you pumped up, you take a deep breath, realizing that, despite your nerves, this could be a chance to really settle in, to find your place not just in the competition, but among the people who, like you, have worked so hard to be here.

The bass of the music drums into the back of your skull as you fix yourself a drink in the small common room kitchen. You'd beelined straight to the drinks, grateful to give yourself something to do and to get some liquid courage before you face up to the other athletes.

Taking a sip from your cup, you scan the room for the face of your friend. As promised, you make eye contact with Wonwoo on the other side of the room, who flags you over to come talk to his friends. Revving yourself up for socialising, you make sure to keep an easy smile plastered to your face as you head over to join him.

"Hey, guys, this is my fellow climber, (Y/n). This is (Y/n)'s first Olympics, so ease her in gently!"

A flurry of names and greetings follow, and you take in none of them.

"Between the nerves and the secretive partying, I feel like it's the first day of high school again." You joke, trying to break the ice.

"Ha, if only I was cool enough to be invited to parties my first year of high school!" A lanky man with frosted tips replies, chuckling into his drink.

"I feel like that explains a lot about you, Chunghee." A pretty woman with a knowing smile laughs. Looking towards you, she leans forward, half-whispering, half-speaking. "He's been making up for it ever since," She teases, earning a playful shove from Chungee, who rolls his eyes but grins nonetheless.

You laugh along with them, feeling the tension in your shoulders start to ease as the group’s friendly energy begins to draw you in. The music still pounds in the background, but it seems less overwhelming now.

Wonwoo nudges you lightly, a reassuring smile on his face. "You settling in okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," you nod, glancing around at the group. "It's just a bit surreal, you know? One minute, I'm in my usual training routine, and now I’m here, surrounded by all these amazing athletes. It’s a lot to take in."

"Tell me about it," the woman who teased Chunghee chimes in. "I still remember my first Olympics—it felt like stepping into another world. But don’t worry, by the time the opening ceremony rolls around, you’ll feel right at home."

"Thanks," you say, genuinely touched by the support. "I’m excited—nervous, but excited."

"Excited is good," Wonwoo says, clinking his drink against yours. "And hey, you've always got tonight to get embarrassingly wasted and earn your spot in the Olympic Village Hall of Fame!"

"Speaking of, I got in late for my first Olympics, so my first night ended up being the night of the opening ceremony. I got nervous sick in my room beforehand and used the twenty minutes I had to get absolutely hammered. Next thing I know, I'm tripping over my own feet holding the Olympic torch and trying not to set everything on fire. To this day, the other athletes still call me 'Torch Tango' after I somehow managed to spin around and do a full pirouette, nearly taking out the torchbearer behind me," A jovial woman standing to the right of Wonwoo chimes to a chorus of laughter. 

You find yourself laughing along with them, the image of her drunkenly dancing with the Olympic torch so absurd that you can't help but be amused. "That sounds both terrifying and hilarious," you say, shaking your head. "I can’t imagine how you pulled that off."

"Trust me, it wasn’t on purpose!" she replies, still giggling. "But it broke the ice for me. I figured if I could survive that level of embarrassment in front of the entire world, I could handle anything the games threw at me."

"You know, that’s actually kind of inspiring," Wonwoo chimes in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Maybe (Y/n) here should start off with a bang like that, get all the nerves out of the way early."

You shoot him a mock glare, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Let’s not tempt fate, okay? I’d rather not be remembered as 'the one who set the Olympic Village on fire.'"

The group chuckles, and Chunghee raises his glass in a mock toast. "To avoiding accidental arson and to surviving our first Olympics without becoming memes!"

"Cheers to that," you agree, clinking your drink against his. The mood in the room is light and warm, and the camaraderie in the group is palpable. You feel yourself relaxing even more as the conversation flows naturally from one topic to the next. Stories of past competitions, travel mishaps, and favourite training rituals are shared, and before long, you find yourself laughing along, no longer worried about making a good impression.

You catch Wonwoo’s eye across the group, and he gives you a small nod, as if to say, "See? I told you it’d be fine." And as you take another sip of your drink, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

Moving back to grab a second round of drinks, you overhear the conversation loudly playing out on the other side of the room.

"-definitely Haneul, she's an Olympic medalist in shooting. I'm not gonna get mauled by a tiger if she's protecting me!" A passionate voice calls out to a chorus of laughter.

You peer around to see a group of about eight to ten people occupying the common room sofas and floor in one big circle. Amongst the group, you spot the man from earlier, leaning back in his position on the couch with an easy laugh and a cup in one hand.

"No offence, Haneul, but if I'm trying to survive a deserted island, I think I'd have bigger priorities than shooting wild animals with a non-existent gun." Another man replies. "I know who I'd want."

"Oh yeah, who?" The original voice calls back, belonging to a confident-looking woman dressed in all black.

"Kim Mingyu, obviously. A world-renowned swimmer, self-made handyman, and absolute gym lad. Not only could he cook me meals, but he'd cuddle me around the fire to keep me warm. And if that didn't work, then his hoards of lovers would track him down and rescue us!"

Kim Mingyu... you recognise that name. The group are now all laughing and nodding at the man on the floor, and you quickly put together the pieces. The fan club, the name, and the admittedly handsome face - the man you'd spoken to earlier was the infamous breaststroke swimmer. You'd seen countless articles in the newspaper about his latest fling, being caught at a rowdy party, and, of course, the record-breaking swims. You hadn't made the connection at first - he'd been so down-to-earth during your brief conversation that it was hard to reconcile that with the image of the notorious athlete plastered across the tabloids.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing there, hovering on the edge of the group with your fresh drink in hand, when suddenly Mingyu catches your eye. His laughter subsides as he notices you, and without missing a beat, he flashes you a toothy grin.

"What about you, Mingyu? Who would you bring? You can't pick yourself!"

"You guys have got it all wrong - I'm not the best pick." He starts, putting his cup down in mock seriousness. "I'd bring someone who could gather food, get resources, and save me if I fell off a cliff. The obvious choice is (Y/n)," You feel your heartbeat skyrocket as your name leaves his mouth and the group of debaters swivel round to look at you. "She's literally a world champion in climbing. She could climb a tree for food, wood, or leaves to craft things, and she's the only person here I'd trust to be able to pull me up if I was swinging from her grip off of the edge of a cliff."

You didn't know that he knew who you were. Your heart patters at the realisation, and you feel a blush begin to creep up the side of your neck.

"Oh, I'd be a bad choice," You respond shakily. Mingyu gives you an inquisitive look to carry on.

"I'm deathly allergic to nuts, if the island had any I'd have to choose between insta-death or starvation - not a very good ally if I'm dead."

His gaze lingers, a playful curiosity flickering in his eyes, and it takes all your willpower not to squirm under the attention. You force a laugh, trying to shake off the growing tension. "So, I guess we’ll have to make sure there’s a nut-free island for me to survive on," you quip, attempting to keep the mood light.

Mingyu grins, leaning back against the couch with a nonchalant shrug. "Don’t worry, I’d make sure of it. Can't have my survival expert checking out early."

The group laughs, and the conversation shifts back to the hypothetical island debate.

"I'm sure you've had your ear chatted off about the games, but have you got any interesting plans for afterwards?" The woman in the black outfit, who happens to be sitting closest to you, calls out. 

Double-checking that she is speaking to you first, you perch down next to her.

"Nothing too serious - an unavoidable salsa class and more training probably. There was one sponsorship deal my team got sent with Samsung, but I don't think I'm gonna do it,"

"You're seriously considering turning it down?" Mingyu asks, and you hadn't even realised that he'd been listening to your conversation. "That's a huge opportunity."

"Sure, but I didn't come here for sponsorships. I just want to compete, to push myself. The whole media circus that comes with it ... I don't want it." 

You can feel the weight of his disbelief on you. 

Mingu leans forward, his expression more serious than you've seen before.

"You do realise that sponsorships are part of the game, right? They're what keep you here, you can't just ignore that."

You feel a flicker of frustration at his words. "I get that, but it's not why I'm here. Not everyone's looking for the celebrity lifestyle; sometimes it's okay to not have your whole life plastered over the daily newspaper."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The icy look in his eyes is entirely different to the friendly aura you'd experienced earlier.

You hadn't meant for it to come out that way, but the words had slipped out before you could stop them. The tension in the room thickens instantly, and you feel a knot of regret tighten in your chest.

"It means - it doesn't mean anything. That's just not my priority," You reply, trying to appear calm despite the hard edge to your voice.

"Not everything in life is about winning a race, you know that right?" He retorts, and you feel yourself scoff.

How could he think that?

That's why you were all here, what brought you together - a mutual dedication to being the best. To deny it was naive.

"-hey, man, we're heading out now, you coming?" The deserted island man leans over Mingyu's shoulder, pulling his arm towards the crowd gathering at the exit of the common room. Mingyu gives you one last look, before nodding at his friend.

"Yeah, coming."

"Thank you everyone for being here! My name is Hu Chunho, and I am the coordinator of this event!"

You wince as the sound of the loudspeaker makes your head pang. You'd managed to get in a quick training session early this morning, and had not been surprised to see a host of other athletes in the gym already.

"As you all know, we're here to help raise money and awareness before the Olympic Games start. We've set up a fun two days for you guys - and hopefully a fun experience for all those following along at home. Throughout the city, we've set up checkpoints. Taking it in turns, you will be asked to travel to each consecutive checkpoint and complete a task with your teammate when you get there. The winning team will be crowned based on a mixture of factors, including points for each task, the most money raised, and the best viral moment! Remember, getting people engaged and donating is the aim of the game! Now, a list of the teams has been posted on the door over there - please get ready, fill up your bottles, and connect with your teammate and we will begin in 30."

You are faced with the true task of your trip, and the reason why you wanted to avoid it in the first place. Your brain skips in circles as you try to work out how to balance your dislike for social media with your need to win. The challenge ahead feels like it’s pulling you in two different directions—on one hand, the competitive spirit that has driven you this far pushes you to give your all, to win this event just like any other. On the other hand, the idea of chasing “viral moments” and being under the scrutiny of social media makes your stomach turn. You’re here to climb, to compete, not to entertain the masses with antics designed to go viral.

But there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed to this, and like it or not, it’s part of the game.

With a sigh, you weave through the crowd to where the team list is posted, each step a reminder of the tightrope you’re about to walk. As you scan the list for your name, your heart skips a beat when you find it—right next to Kim Mingyu’s.

Of course. You should’ve seen that coming. It’s like the universe has a sense of humour. Mingyu, the guy who’s practically a social media darling, always in the spotlight, the one who you'd argued with about embracing this side of sport last night. You can already imagine the smug grin on his face when he finds out.

You glance around, searching for him in the growing crowd of athletes, and spot him near the front, chatting animatedly with a group of other competitors. As if sensing your gaze, he turns, his eyes locking onto yours across the room. He flashes that familiar, easygoing smile and you wonder if that's meant for you or for the series of onlookers around. 

Your pulse quickens as Mingyu’s gaze lingers on you. For a moment, you consider slipping away, avoiding the inevitable confrontation. But that would be cowardly, and if there’s one thing you’ve prided yourself on throughout your career, it’s facing challenges head-on. So, you straighten your shoulders and start making your way toward him.

As you approach, the group he’s with gradually shifts their focus to you, and the hum of their conversation quiets. Mingyu’s smile broadens, clearly amused by your reluctant approach.

“Looks like we’re teammates,” he says casually, as if the tension from last night’s conversation had never happened.

You manage a nod, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up inside you. “Yeah, seems like it.”

One of the other athletes, a sprinter you vaguely recognize, perks up. “You guys make a good team—power and endurance. Should be interesting to see how you handle the challenges.”

“Thanks,” you reply, keeping your tone polite. You turn back to Mingyu, who’s watching you with that same inscrutable expression. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Mingyu echoes, tilting his head slightly. “I thought we were just winging it.”

His nonchalance grates on you. Of course, he’d suggest going with the flow. That’s probably how he handles everything—charming his way through life with a smile and a shrug. But you’re not wired that way. You need a strategy, a clear path to victory.

“I don’t know about you,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “but I’d like to win this thing. So, maybe we should come up with a plan.”

Mingyu studies you for a moment, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Alright,” he says finally. “What do you have in mind?”

You hadn’t expected him to concede so easily, and it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts. “Well, we know that completing the tasks is important, but so is raising money and creating those ‘viral moments.’ I think we should focus on playing to our strengths—use your popularity to get the attention and donations, and I’ll focus on the physical challenges.”

Mingyu nods slowly. “Makes sense. But we should also make sure we’re having fun with it. If we’re too focused on winning, people will notice, and it might turn them off from supporting us.”

You bite back the urge to argue, realizing that he has a point. This event isn’t just about competition; it’s about engaging with the audience, making them want to be part of your journey. And as much as you hate to admit it, Mingyu’s easygoing nature might actually help with that.

“Fine,” you agree, “but we still need to stay on top of the challenges. No slacking off.”

Mingyu grins again, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Deal. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”

The tension between you eases slightly as you both start discussing potential strategies, and by the time Hu Chunho’s voice crackles over the loudspeaker again, you feel a bit more prepared for what’s ahead.

“Alright, athletes, it’s time to head to your first checkpoint! Good luck, and remember—have fun!”

You'd agreed that Mingu would take on the first challenge so that he could introduce your tasks to the audience, and god you are glad that he did. As you'd hopped into the car to get a lift over to Meiji Jingu, the shrine that was to be the first checkpoint, you saw Mingyu being handed a traditional bow and quiver full of arrows. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as the realization dawned on you: the first challenge was archery, something you had no experience with and Mingyu, as far as you knew, wasn’t exactly an expert in either. But, you had to admit, he looked the part—focused and serious, with the bow in his hands, and that ever-present confidence on his face.

As you lean back in the car, you are relieved that Mingyu is the one in the spotlight. You know how to navigate the climbing wall, how to plan your routes and push your body to its limits, but this? This is something entirely different.

On your journey, you watch the live stream coming from Mingyu's phone as he runs through the park to get to the shrine. He's happily chatting away to the audience with a level of casualness you've never experienced in the rare times you've been forced into the public spotlight. Watching him jogging along, bow and quiver in hand, hair tousled in the morning breeze, you wonder if he might go viral just for this image alone.

When you arrive at Meiji Jingu, the historic shrine surrounded by ancient trees, the atmosphere is electric. The shrine grounds are bustling with people—locals and tourists alike, all eager to see the Olympic athletes tackle this unique challenge. Cameras are everywhere, capturing every moment for the live stream, and you can acutely feel the eyes of thousands, maybe millions, watching from around the world.

After a short wait for the running athletes to arrive, you spot Mingyu and the other contestants entering the competition zone. At this moment, you can't help but admire the serene beauty of the shrine. The towering Torii gate, the carefully manicured gardens, and the ancient architecture give the place a sense of calm—at odds with the tension brewing in your stomach.

You spot Mingyu a little way off, adjusting his grip on the bow, chatting casually with one of the event organizers. Even from a distance, you can see the ease in his posture, the way he seems to be soaking in the energy of the crowd rather than shying away from it. As much as you hate to admit it, Mingyu seems in his element here.

"Hey, ready to show off those archery skills?" you call out, approaching him to take over the live stream duties for the team whilst he shoots. 

He turns to you, flashing that trademark smile into the camera. "Ready as I'll ever be. How hard can it be, right?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I’m glad it’s you and not me up there. I don’t think I’d even hit the target."

"Well, let's hope I do, or we’re both going to be in trouble," Mingyu jokes, but there is a seriousness in his eyes that tells you he is more focused than he lets on.

An organizer approaches, signalling that it is time to begin. The challenge is simple: hit the target as close to the centre as possible. The closer the shot, the more money raised for charity, and the more points your team would earn.

Mingyu takes his position, and you can feel the collective anticipation of the crowd as they quiet down, all eyes on him. The camera drones hover above, ready to capture every moment.

The camera in your own hand is shaking slightly. You steady your hand and your nerves as you narrate what you are seeing to the phone. 

He draws the bowstring back, his movements surprisingly smooth for someone who, as far as you knew, has never held a bow before. You hold your breath, the tension in the air palpable as Mingyu focuses on the target.

Then, with a steady exhale, he releases the arrow. It soars through the air, and you watch, heart pounding, as it flies towards the target.

It isn’t a bullseye, but it is close—closer than you’d expected. The crowd erupt in cheers and applause, and you can’t help but join in, a grin spreading across your face. Mingyu turns to you, raising his arms in a mock victory pose, and you laugh, shaking your head at his theatrics and making sure to get the moment on camera.

“Not bad, Kim. Not bad at all,” you call out, genuinely impressed.

He jogs over to you, still holding the bow, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Told you we’d figure this out. Now it’s your turn to show me what you’ve got.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Let’s just hope the next challenge is something that doesn’t involve me embarrassing myself in front of the entire world.”

As the car pulls away from Meiji Jingu, you glance at Mingyu, who is scrolling through the latest updates on his phone, probably checking the social media response to his archery skills.

The city of Tokyo rushes by outside the window, vibrant and alive, and you feel a renewed sense of determination. This isn’t just a challenge—it is an opportunity. To prove yourself, not just as an athlete, but as someone who could rise to the occasion, no matter what it demanded.

“Looks like people are pretty impressed with your archery skills,” you remark, breaking the silence between you.

Mingyu glances up, his smile widening. “Yeah, not bad for a first try, huh? They’re calling it beginner’s luck, but I’ll take it.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Hey, whatever works. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he teases, flashing a playful grin. “So, any guesses on what the next challenge might be?”

You shrug, glancing out the window as the car slows down, weaving through a narrower street lined with small shops and eateries. “No idea. But I’m hoping it’s something more in my wheelhouse.”

The car eventually comes to a stop in front of a small, unassuming building. The sign above the entrance reads 'Nihonbashi Hamacho' in elegant calligraphy, and as you step out of the car, you notice the rich aroma of fresh food wafting through the air. A group of event organizers are already waiting, along with a few locals who have gathered, curious about what is happening.

Mingyu looks around, taking in the scene. “Smells good. Maybe the next challenge involves food?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the possibility. “Wouldn’t mind that at all. But how would that tie into a charity event?”

As if on cue, one of the organizers approaches, holding up a small card with instructions. “Welcome to the second checkpoint, Nihonbashi Hamacho,” she begins with a smile. “Your task here is to make traditional Japanese soba noodles. You will then serve them to local residents, who will donate based on how well they think you did. The team with the highest donations at this checkpoint will earn the most points.”

You exchange a glance with Mingyu, a mixture of surprise and amusement on both your faces. Cooking wasn’t exactly what you’d expected, but it is certainly a unique challenge.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Mingyu says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Think you can pull it off?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. “But I’m sure it’ll be entertaining to watch me try.”

The organizers lead you into the building, which turns out to be a small, cozy kitchen set up specifically for the challenge. Everything is neatly arranged—flour, water, rolling pins, and a large wooden cutting board. A local chef stands by, ready to give instructions and oversee your efforts.

Mingyu immediately steps up to the station, eyeing the ingredients with a curious expression. “Alright, let’s see if you can make some magic happen.”

You join him, rolling up your sleeves as the chef begins to explain the process. It sounds simple enough—mix the dough, roll it out, cut it into thin, even strips—but as you get started, it becomes clear that it is much harder than it looks. The dough is tricky to work with, and your first few attempts at rolling it out are uneven and lumpy.

To your side, Mingyu is playing up your cooking for the audience of local spectators and online viewers, and you find yourself slowly joining in with his antics.

His positive attitude is annoyingly infectious, and soon you find yourself relaxing into the task, focusing more on enjoying the experience rather than worrying about perfection. The chef occasionally offers tips, guiding you with a patient smile, and gradually, your noodles start to look more like actual soba.

After what feels like an eternity of rolling, cutting, and re-rolling, you finally have a decent batch of noodles ready. The chef gives a nod of approval, and the organizers quickly set up a small serving station outside, where the locals are already gathering, eager to try the soba made by Olympic athletes.

Mingyu and you take turns serving the noodles, chatting with the locals and trying to convince them that your cooking is worth a generous donation. The atmosphere is light and playful, with plenty of jokes and laughter, and to your surprise, people seem genuinely impressed with your efforts.

“Hey, not bad,” one of the locals says after taking a bite. “I’d donate just for the entertainment, but the noodles are actually pretty good!”

Mingyu grins, giving you a playful nudge. “See? We might have a future as soba chefs if this whole sports thing doesn’t work out.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but smile. The challenge has been a lot more enjoyable than you’d expected, and for the first time, you feel like you are really getting into the spirit of the event—engaging with people, raising money for a good cause, and, most importantly, having fun.

As the last bowl is served and the donations tallied, you and Mingyu stand back, watching the locals disperse with a sense of accomplishment. The organizers hand over the final donation amount, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride at the total.

The other teams slowly gather their own tallies, but this time you are less concerned with your place in the rankings, and more with chatting to the remnant locals left in the area.

The car hums quietly as it moves through the busy streets of Tokyo. After the high of the soba noodle challenge, you find yourself falling into a contemplative silence. Mingyu, sitting beside you, is flipping through the comments and reactions on his phone, his earlier enthusiasm noticeably dimmed.

You glance over at him, sensing the shift in his mood. “Everything okay?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

Mingyu doesn’t look up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah, just…reading over the comments. Some of them are pretty harsh."

"Honestly, if it were up to me I'd just turn off the phone and focus on the tasks at hand." You grumble off-handedly, looking out at the Toyko skyline from the car.

"It's not really that simple if the whole point of being here is about raising awareness." He replies.

"Yeah but there's no point trying to pander to every person's perceptions of us. You're overthinking it." 

As the car slows down at a red light, you spot a small street market tucked away in a side alley, illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns. The stalls are bustling with activity, vendors calling out to passersby, and the vibrant colours of fresh produce and handmade goods catch your eye.

"Hey, put the phone down and look at that!" You exclaim, nudging Mingyu and pointing out the window.

Mingyu looks up from his phone, following your gaze to the lively scene outside. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he takes in the sight. "That looks pretty cool," He admits, his tone lighter than it was just minutes ago.

"Let's take a pit stop and check it out - we can just say we got caught in traffic on the way," You suggest, excited by the atmosphere of the market. "It'll be a nice break."

Mingyu hesitates for a moment, but then nods, tucking his phone away into his pocket.

"Yeah, why not? Let's go."

You signal for the driver to pull over, promising to buy him a tasty snack to make up for the detour.

You step out into the cool evening air. The sound of the city is all around you, but the market feels like a little oasis of calm away from the noise of the competition and the city.

As you walk through the market, the sights, sounds, and smells envelop you. You can hear the sizzling of street food being cooked, the chatter of people bargaining with vendors, and the distant strumming of a guitar from a musician performing near the entrance. The aroma of grilled skewers and freshly baked bread makes your mouth water, and you realize how hungry you still are despite the soba noodles earlier.

Mingyu seems to relax as you both wander from stall to stall, occasionally stopping to admire the crafts or taste a sample offered by a vendor. You notice the tension ease from his shoulders, and the earlier clouds of doubt that hung over him seem to disappear.

At one stall, you find a small display of handcrafted jewellery. Delicate silver chains and intricately designed rings catch the light, and Mingyu picks up a simple bracelet, turning it over in his hands.

“This is nice,” he says, more to himself than to you. “My sister would love something like this.”

“You should get it for her,” you encourage, smiling softly up at him.

He nods, slipping the bracelet back into its place before handing over some cash to the vendor.

The sentimental thought behind the purchase, and Mingyu's affectionate and friendly atmosphere this whole trip seem entirely at odds with the image of the rakish, irresponsible party boy crafted of him in the headlines.

At the far end of the market, you come across a small food stall selling taiyaki. You order one each, Mingyu opting for custard while you go for red bean, and an extra one for your driver.

As you bite into the warm pastry, the sweetness spreads through your mouth, and you let out a contented sigh. Mingyu chuckles at your reaction, his earlier mood now completely gone.

“This was a good idea,” he admits, taking a bite of his own taiyaki. “I needed this.”

“Sometimes, it’s good to just disconnect and enjoy the moment,” you reply, leaning against a nearby railing as you savour the treat.

He looks at you with an expression you can't really distinguish but makes your stomach flip.

"I get why you and Wonwoo are friends - you're pretty similar." He finally says, and you find yourself looking up at him, intrigued to know what makes him say that.

"I mean, you might somehow be even more averse to human contact than him, but you both have a grounded connection to reality that I lack sometimes. I admire it." 

Such a simple statement - a judgement of you that anyone could have made - has you feeling a little light-headed. It's just a moment of tender insight, perhaps blown out of proportion due to your lack of going out over the last few months, but you can't help but feel bashfully shy at his admiration.

And yet, in the back of your mind, a small doubt nags at you, wondering if this was his move - to shower someone with attention and make them feel seen just to leave after it gets boring again.

"Ha, ah, thanks." You say, unable to keep the awkwardness from your voice. "That's ironic - because grounded, you know, climbing and all ..."

He lets out a puff of laughter, but it feels strained and you're choking on the dead air between you.

"Right, let's get back - they'll probably start worrying soon!" You declare, jaggedly cutting into the silence. Spinning on your heel, you don't wait to see if he's following you or not.

As the car approaches the next checkpoint, Odaiba Marine Park, you take a moment to gather your thoughts. The sun is starting to dip low in the sky, casting long shadows across the city, and the air has cooled considerably.

The organisers greet you at the entrance to the park, explaining the next challenge: a swimming relay. The task involved swimming out to a buoy, retrieving a flag, and racing back to shore. It sounds straightforward enough - although swimming isn't exactly your strong suit.

"Finally, something I can show off in!" Mingyu grins, thanking the organiser who helped you at the entrance. You bite back a remark about how the whole day has really been about who can show off the most.

"Guess I'll be relying on you to carry us through this one." You chuckle, trying to hide the nerves building in you at the thought of failing.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got us covered. But you’re swimming too, right? It’s a relay, so we both have to take a turn.” He shrugs casually, and you wish you had the confidence he has.

“Right,” you say, forcing a smile. “Guess I’ll just have to do my best.”

The idea of letting your team down, of being the weak link, gnaws at you.

You walk onto the beach, the water glittering in the light of the low, late afternoon sun. The crowd of spectators and media are even larger here. The atmosphere is electric, with the excitement of the event palpable in the air.

As you and Mingyu make your way to the starting point, you try to block out the noise, the cameras, the expectations. All you have to do is get through this challenge.

The event coordinator greets you both, handing Mingyu a sleek wetsuit and giving you a similar one. “You’ve got about ten minutes to suit up and get ready. We’ll start the relay as soon as everyone’s in position.”

Mingyu takes the wetsuit with a confident nod, but you hesitate. The tight suit is designed for efficiency, but you can’t help but feel self-conscious as you pull it on, the material clinging to your skin. When you are finally suited up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the reflective surfaces nearby and have to resist the urge to cringe.

Together, you walk down to the water's edge, where the other teams are already gathering.

"Okay, game plan-" Mingyu gives you a small smile, and you know that he's only really talking strategy to calm you down. "You should take the first lap, and then I can make up for any time you lose - if I even need to!"

You nod, steeling your nerves. Competition is what you are good at, even if swimming is not. You're not going to let yourself down now.

As the starting signal blares, you take a deep breath and plunge into the water. The coolness of the ocean envelops you, and for a brief moment, it's all you can focus on - the sensation of the water against your skin, the rhythmic pull of your arms as you begin to swim. 

You feel yourself slipping into that familiar headspace. Brutal efficiency and speed at the cost of the pain in your limbs only further motivates you as you manage to tune out the excited shouts of the spectators and other teams.

Reaching the buoy, you see two of the other teams had already grabbed their flags and turned around. Although the disappointment of not being first flares up in you, you know that all you need to do is keep up with the rest of the group and Mingyu will do the rest of the work for you.

Pushing your aching limbs to their limits, you splash your way back to the shoreline. Your bones sigh with relief as your fingertips graze the sand banks and you hear a splash behind you as Mingyu leaps into the water.

Pulling yourself up onto the beach, spluttering out some wayward water, you watch Mingyu's confident strides through the water. Although you've seen his races before on TV, watching it in real life is like nothing else. The powerful strokes, effortlessly pushing him forward, makes it clear that he was born to be in the water.

By the second quarter of his lap, he's already managed to take the lead. You feel yourself cheering out despite the burning sensation in your lungs. Reaching out for the second flag, he easily lifts it up, beginning to spin to turn back for the second lap.

Your excitement turns to confusion as you watch him just ... stop.

"What are you doing!? Keep going! We're going to win!" You yell, confusion bubbling over into frustration.

But he doesn't hear you, or isn't listening.

Mingyu has turned back around, having spotted another team struggling to untangle their flag from the buoy. Swimming over to them, he steadies the base of the buoy so that the swimmer is able to pull the flag free from its constraints.

Your stomach drops as the team previously in second place breaks out in excited screams, their second-leg swimmer touching the sand bank.

Looking back out at the water incredulously, disappointment searing through you, you watch Mingyu glide back towards the shore, pulling ahead of another team for a third-place position.

"What was that!?" You lash out, as Mingyu pulls himself up onto the bank, panting heavily with droplets of water dripping from his hair and eyelashes. He's looking up at you with a confused, puppy-dog expression, and it's only annoying you more.

"We could have won! Why did you stop?"

Mingyu takes a moment to catch his breath, water dripping from his face as he processes your words. His confusion slowly morphs into something more serious, his brows knitting together as he stands up to face you.

“They needed help,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your frustration only deepens, and you can feel the heat rising in your chest. “But we were winning, Mingyu! This is a competition—we’re here to win, not to play lifeguard!”

Mingyu’s expression hardens, the usual lightness in his eyes replaced by a quiet resolve. “I know it’s a competition, but it’s not just about winning. It’s about more than that—it’s about sportsmanship, about helping each other out. They were stuck, and I wasn’t going to just leave them there.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. Deep down, you know he’s right. You’ve always valued integrity in sports, the idea that the game is bigger than the outcome. But in the heat of the moment, all you could see was the finish line, and the thought of losing—especially when victory had been within reach—had blinded you to everything else.

You let out a long breath, trying to rein in your emotions. “But we were so close… You were in the lead, Mingyu. We could’ve taken first.”

He lets out an incredulous laugh. "You're unbelievable."

He shakes his head, walks up the beach, and leaves you to stew in your quiet shame.

"You got mad at him because he ... helped someone?" 

Iseul's obvious confusion is only making you feel worse.

"Yes, that's exactly what I did." You sigh into the phone. You'd called Iseul the moment you'd gotten back to your room, not even waiting to shower off the crusty salt water in your hair.

"Squid, that's a little bit insane." You can hear her grimacing on the other side of the line.

"I know," You admit, chewing on your bottom lip. "This whole day I've been so anal about winning, but the most enjoyable parts were all the times that I wasn't thinking about it! I liked making things for other people, getting to meet the fans, and exploring the Tokyo market. I don't know why I just blew up like that at the end, especially considering, as you said, he was just helping someone."

A long hum buzzes through the phone.

"I don't know squid," Iseul begins, carefully pacing her words. "I think you're so used to thinking about competitions and winning, and now you've been faced with a situation where that's not as important, and a person who has very different priorities to yourself, and you're struggling to deal with it."

"I know, you're right." You say, letting out a long breath. "It's just ... Mingyu's approach to all of this is so different from mine, and I guess a part of me is jealous that he's able to balance having fun and still doing well in competitions in a way that I've never been able to do."

Iseul's voice softens. "It's not a bad thing to want to win, but you have to remember that it's not the only thing that's important in life."

You nod, even though she can't see you. "I can't believe I let my frustration get the better of me. I didn't even give him credit for what he did. He was just being kind, and I ... I snapped at him."

"I don't think it's too late to make things right," Iseul says gently. "Talk to him. Apologise. It's okay to admit when you're wrong."

You fall silent for a moment, considering her words. The knot in your stomach tightens at the thought of facing Mingyu again, but you know that she's right. You can't just let this fester.

"Yeah," You finally say, your voice firmer. "I'll talk to him. I just hope he doesn't think I'm a complete asshole."

Iseul laughs softly. "Based on what you've said about him, Mingyu doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge. He's experienced all of these pressures too, I'm sure he'll understand."

"Thanks, Sullie," You say, grateful for the calming presence of your friend.

"Anytime squid. Now go shower - you can't face up to the sexy man you heavily insulted smelling like sea rot!"

You chuckle, wishing her the best as you hang up the phone. For a moment, you linger at the edge of your bed, letting Iseul's words sink in. Dragging yourself in the shower, the warm water washes away the salt and the stress bubbling up in your mind. As the steam fills the bathroom, you replay the events in your mind, trying to figure out what you’ll say to Mingyu. Apologizing has never been easy for you, especially when it comes to admitting that your single-minded focus on winning might not always be the best approach.

Changing into something more comfortable - sort, worn jeans and a loose sweater - you make your way out to the rooftop garden in the Olympic Village. You aren't sure where you will find Mingyu, but you figure that if you were trying to decompress after a hard day this is where you'd go.

The garden was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of string lights that crisscrossed above the paths. The sky was a deep shade of indigo, dotted with the first stars of the night, and the distant hum of the city below felt like a comforting lullaby. You walked slowly along the path, taking in the scent of blooming flowers and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

As you rounded a corner, you spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench, his face illuminated by the warm light. Mingyu was there, dressed in casual clothes, his hair still damp from his own shower. He was leaning back against the bench, staring up at the sky.

"Hey, mind if I sit?" You say, your voice tentative.

He looks up, emotions flashing across his eyes as he takes you in. The silence in the moment before he responds feels like it drags on for an eternity.

"Yeah, sure." He finally replies, a coldness to his tone that chills you more than the late evening air.

Carefully perching at the end of the bench, leaving enough room between you, you release a long breath, hoping for the courage to rectify the situation.

"I wanted to apologise for earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You were just trying to help, and I... I was so caught up in the idea of winning that I didn’t see what was really important."

Mingyu's gaze swings around to meet your own, and you can see that he's trying to beat down the anger he's feeling.

"Well, I appreciate that." He relies steelily. "But, you know, this whole obsession with winning isn't cool. You've had this problem with me all day about how I do things - that I'm more laid back, that I like to have fun, or be in the public spotlight. But, really, out of the two of us, it wasn't my actions that ruined the mood."

His words cut through the quiet of the rooftop garden, leaving you momentarily speechless. You knew this conversation wouldn't be easy, but hearing the hurt and frustration in Mingyu's voice brings the reality of the situation crashing down on you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I know," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're right. I let my obsession with winning cloud my judgment, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry."

Mingyu’s eyes narrow slightly as he studies you, his expression guarded. "It’s not just about what happened today," he says, his voice measured. "It’s like... you’ve been judging me from the start. Like I don’t take this seriously because I’m not as intense as you are. But that’s not who I am. I love competing, but I also believe in enjoying the experience, in being kind to the people around me. That doesn’t make me any less dedicated."

The knot in your chest tightens as you realize just how deeply you’ve misjudged him. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own perspective that you failed to see things from his side.

"I don't know how to express how sorry I am. I got caught up in the winning, but I also got caught up in all the headlines and tabloid articles. I acted like I knew you before I actually did - even though all of your actions today have shown me the complete opposite of how they portray you."

You take in a deep, steadying breath.

"The truth is, you've made me confront a part of myself I've been running from for a while now. Your effortless friendliness, your kindness to everyone, and the way you live your life outside of the competition - it was like watching the truth that I'd been avoiding. The truth that my way of doing things, the complete focus to the detriment of every other part of my life, wasn't actually necessary after all. And that revelation wasn't something I wanted to confront. You just happened to be the unlucky recipient of my turmoil - just by existing - and that was entirely unfair of me. I understand if you think I'm a major asshole or a loser, but if you can find it in you to forgive me I promise all of that baggage will no longer be put on you."

The air weighs heavy in the aftermath of your confession.

Mingyu looks at you for a long moment, before slowly nodding his head.

"I don't think your an asshole or a loser," He says sincerely, with a small chuckle in his voice that immediately reverberates through your body and eases out the tension. "I do think that you should stop reading tabloid newspapers though."

You let out a small huff of laughter, releasing a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding.

"Look, I know what I said was harsh," He begins, and you quickly shake your head in disagreement. "No, it was. The drive you have is something that reminds me a lot of myself. You might not believe it now, but I used to do the exact same thing as you - head completely filled with both my own and other people's expectations. I honestly don't think there's anyone here that's gonna be any different. And your drive, it makes you great at what you do - and you are really great at it - but there's so much more to you than being good at climbing."

"That's the lesson I learned for myself, and that I'm still having to learn. Being good at swimming is not my only personality trait, nor is it the only thing I like to do. I still struggle with what other people expect of me, and, like you showed me today, sometimes I do need to get out of that social media bubble. I really did appreciate that, by the way." He continues. 

You feel a wave of relief wash over you at both his forgiveness and his gratitude. Part of you feels even worse for judging this man who's been nothing but kind and introspective, but a larger part feels serene basking in the atmosphere of your late-night confessions.

"Can I ask you something?" You say softly, still apprehensive about disrupting the gentle calm that existed between you.

Mingyu nods, humming a 'yes' for you to continue. His posture is far more relaxed than when you first found him, and under the background lights of the cityscape you can't help but notice how beautiful he looks.

"All of the stuff about the partying and the girls - is any of it true? To be clear, it doesn't matter either way, I'd just like to get to know you better." You ask, feeling too shy to meet his eyes.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound warm and reassuring. "I mean, some of it's true I guess. I don't really think I've done enough to live up to the 'party boy' title though," he says, his tone light but honest. "Yeah, I've had my fun, gone to some parties, met some people, but it's not like I'm out every night getting into fights or causing trouble. The only reason it gets picked up on more than any other athlete is because I have a big following on social media so the stories sell more."

You nod, still too shy to meet his eyes, but you can sense the sincerity in his voice. It’s clear that he’s not trying to brush off the question or hide anything from you.

"I guess when you’re in the public eye, people tend to exaggerate things," he continues, his voice softening. "And, yeah, I’ve been with a few people, but it’s not like I’m out there chasing every girl I meet. Most of it is just rumours and assumptions. You know how it is—people like to talk."

You finally muster the courage to glance up at him, and the gentle look on his face tugs at your heartstrings. "I appreciate you being honest with me," you say quietly. "I didn’t mean to pry, I just… wanted to know the real you."

You watch his face contort from a peaceful smile to an excited expression, raised eyebrows and a large grin that makes you jittery.

"I have an idea - why don't we go out and do something fun? There's not gonna be many chances when the games actually begin, and you're gonna be too tired to want to. But Tokyo nightlife is unlike anything else, and that way we can get to know each other better outside of the pressures of the competition. What do you think?"

He's standing up, his hand outstretched for you to take and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest at the gesture.

This time, you don't need any time to decide. A broad smile taking over your face, you reach out to grab his hand and pull yourself up off of the bench with a small nod.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you say, feeling a rush of excitement that mirrors his own. There’s something thrilling about the spontaneity of the moment, the idea of exploring the city with him, away from the pressures of the competition and the watchful eyes of the media.

Mingyu’s grin widens as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Awesome! I know just the place,” he says, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “It’s this little rooftop bar with an amazing view of the city. I think you’ll love it.”

As you walk together through the vibrant streets of Tokyo, the city’s energy pulses around you. Neon signs flicker in a kaleidoscope of colours, and the sounds of laughter and music fill the air. 

When you arrive at the rooftop bar, the view takes your breath away. The city sprawls out below you, a sea of lights stretching as far as the eye can see. It’s magical, and for a moment, you both stand there in silence, taking it all in.

Mingyu leads you to a cozy corner, where you settle into comfortable chairs with a perfect view of the skyline. The atmosphere is relaxed, the kind of place where you can talk for hours without feeling rushed. And that’s exactly what you do.

As the night wears on, the conversation flows easily. You talk about everything and nothing—your favourite places to travel, the challenges of balancing personal life with the demands of being an athlete, your dreams for the future. There’s a vulnerability in the way Mingyu opens up to you, sharing stories and thoughts he doesn’t often reveal. And you find yourself doing the same, feeling a sense of trust and connection that surprises you.

"You know, my flatmate, Iseul, she calls me squid?" You laugh, embarrassed by the childhood nickname.

"Woah, okay - was not expecting that! There must be a story there?" Mingyu replies, a light breeziness to his laughter.

"Nope, no explanation." You quip, shaking your head in mock indignation.

"Oh, come on!"

"Okay, yeah that was a lie." You chuckle. "In elementary school, on the first day of class, Iseul and I sat next to each other in science class. I'd just moved to the area - I think we were about eight or nine? - and I was so nervous to be in a new school and meet new people. Anyways, I hype myself up to talk to the cool looking girl with one of those summer holiday braids. As I go to open my mouth and speak, my pen explodes in my hand, covering my hands, my shirt, my face - everywhere. Iseul has called me squid ever since. I guess I'm just grateful she still decided to take a chance on me after that."

You peak your head downwards, your ears burning up as you let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Oh, wow - that's a pretty good nickname originator." Mingyu hums. "I never really had any proper nicknames in school, the best I've got is my sister calling me squishy when we were really young."

You release a relieved giggle, glad for the levity Mingyu is able to bring to each moment.

You push your hair back for your face in embarrassment, only to feel Mingyu leaning forward and pushing your hair behind your ear for you. With his face so close to your own and the feeling of his hands next to your face, you feel your smile drop and lips part in shock.

The moment only lasts a second, before his face has moved back again, his hands away from your hair.

Mingyu leans back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watches the city lights flicker. “You know,” he says softly, “I’ve been to so many places, done so many things, but this… tonight… it feels different.”

You look at him, your heart swelling at his words. “I feel the same way,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad we did this.”

He turns to you, his eyes warm and full of something you can’t quite name. “Me too.”

As the night stretches and the bar begins to empty, neither of you are in a hurry to leave.

"I heard you guys didn't make it to karaoke yesterday, would you wanna go now?" You question, feeling a levity you haven't felt in a long time.

Mingyu's eyes light up at your suggestion. The look is honestly adorable, and you can't help but feel even more endeared towards this overly enthusiastic man.

"Karaoke? Now? Absolutely!" He exclaims, the smile across his face contagious. 

"You really like karaoke, huh?" You tease, enjoying how animated he's become.

"Who doesn't?" He replies, standing up and offering you his hand once again. "Come on, we have to go before the night is over."

Together, you leave the now-empty bar behind, stepping out into the cool night air. The city is still alive, even at this late hour, and you can hear the faint sounds of heels clicking against the pavement as club-goers making their way home, takeaway boxes in hand.

As you walk towards the nearest karaoke spot, Mingyu is practically bouncing with anticipation. “Okay, but just to warn you,” he says with a playful grin, “I take karaoke very seriously. I’ve got a playlist and everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “A playlist? You’re really prepared.”

“Always,” he says with a wink. “But don’t worry, I’m up for anything. What’s your go-to karaoke song?”

You think for a moment, considering the question. “Probably something upbeat and fun. Maybe a classic pop song that everyone knows - some Shinee or BIG BANG?"

Mingyu nods approvingly. “Good choices. I’m all about the crowd-pleasers too. Nothing better than getting everyone singing along.”

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, you’re both buzzing with anticipation. The place is lively, with groups of people gathered around tables, cheering on their friends as they sing their hearts out. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, and you feel any lingering nerves melt away.

Mingyu arranges for a private room, and as you step inside, you’re greeted by colourful lights and a large screen displaying an endless list of songs. You can’t help but feel a little thrill of excitement for spending this time with Mingyu.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” Mingyu says, handing you the remote to choose the first song.

You scroll through the options, finally settling on a catchy, upbeat tune that you know will get the energy flowing. As the music starts, you grab the microphone and throw yourself into the performance, letting go of any self-consciousness. Mingyu watches with a grin, clapping along and cheering you on.

When your song ends, Mingyu takes his turn, picking a song with a dramatic flair. His voice is surprisingly good, and he belts out the lyrics with a passion that’s both impressive and hilarious. You can’t stop laughing, but you’re also genuinely impressed—he’s not kidding when he says he takes karaoke seriously.

The night continues like this, with the two of you trading songs, singing duets, and laughing until your sides hurt. There’s a carefree joy in the air, a sense of freedom that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s as if, for these few hours, you’re both able to forget about the pressures of the competition and just enjoy the moment.

As the final song of the night plays, a slow, sentimental tune, you find yourselves standing side by side, sharing the microphone. The playful banter fades, replaced by a quiet connection as you sing together. It’s a sweet, unexpected moment of closeness, and when the song ends, you both linger in the silence that follows.

Mingyu turns to you, his expression softening. "Thanks for this, it was a great suggestion." He says quietly.

You smile up at him, feeling the warmth of his words. "It was perfect."

The tension between you floods the room in a manner that feels entirely different to the argument earlier. The way he's looking at you and the fluttering of your heart - you feel yourself being sucked into his aura and he's not doing anything to stop it from happening.

But then it's all too much and all too fast, and your brain processes the situation, and you're here, with the most handsome man you've ever seen, and you're just you. With the little experience of romance you've had, dampened by the very little time you've ever spent trying to pursue it, you feel yourself floundering, unsure of what to do or if you've entirely misread the situation.

What if this was just a friendly night out between teammates? Something to clear the air after a disagreement? What if you're feeling something that he's not?

Breaking the eye contact and pulling your head back around to the karaoke machine, you let out a little, awkward cough.

"We should probably be heading back now - don't want to oversleep and miss the second day of tasks, right?" You say, attempting to keep your voice light but utterly failing.

"Right, yeah, definitely." Mingyu replies, and you can't bear turning back to look at him to further gauge his reaction.

You wake up early on the second day of the campaign. You had tossed and turned all night, your mind racing with endless thoughts about last night. Deciding it is better to get up and do something productive to clear your head, you end up getting up and heading down to the training pool for a few laps of calming cardio.

Reaching the pool, you strip down to your swimsuit, wrapping a tool around your body and holding on to your bag which you intend to just dump next to the pool.

The sight you are greeted with when you reach the pool stops you in your tracks. Mingyu is already there, cutting through the water with powerful, graceful strokes. He's completely in his element, his focus entirely on the rhythm of his movements, oblivious to your presence. For a moment, you stand there, towel clutched around you, watching him. There's something almost mesmerising about the way he moves, each stroke smooth and deliberate, a perfect blend of strength and precision.

As you continue to watch, a swirl of emotions churns within you. The memories of the previous night, the almost-kiss, and the way you pulled away flood your mind. Part of you wants to rush forward, to apologise, to explain your hesitation, but another part holds you back, uncertain of how to approach him.

Caught frozen between your two instincts, it's Mingyu who first notices you standing there. He stops at the edge of the pool, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The tension lingers in the air, something unsettled and unspoken.

“Morning,” Mingyu says, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of something more—concern, maybe?

“Morning,” you reply, managing a small smile as you step closer, placing your bag down beside the pool. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

"Gotta keep a consistent routine going, even if I'm going to spend the day doing more exhausting physical activities." He nods, pulling himself out of the pool and reaching for a towel.

You can't help but marvel at his swimmer's physique. Broad shoulders, a muscular back, and water trickling down his toned stomach. You catch yourself staring, and feel embarrassingly predatory with the way you just ogled him.

"Of course!" Your voice comes out squeaky. "Same here; I just wanted to get in some cardio before the campaign starts again."

"The pool's all yours, I just finished." He makes eye contact with you, offering a small smile as he reaches down and grabs his own bag from the floor.

"Thanks!" It's all you can muster up, and you have to push the bubble of disappointment down as he leaps back up the steps towards the exit. 

Perching at the side of the pool, you drop your bag and towel down and submerge yourself into the clarifyingly cold water, brushing aside everything but the feeling of your body moving through the water.

The energy around the Olympic Village is electric, buzzing with the anticipation of the day ahead. You can feel it in the air, in the quick, purposeful strides of athletes and the hurried conversations between event organizers.

As you finish your quick meal in the communal dining area, Hu Chunho’s voice crackles over the loudspeakers, calling all the participants to gather at the main event area. You can feel your heart rate pick up, your body already thrumming with the adrenaline that had become so familiar over the past day.

Rather than travelling by car, all the pairs are given a map of the city and offered clues to find specific landmarks or hidden spots around Tokyo.

Peering over at the map of the team next to you, you note that their clues are different to your own.

"I think we might all have different tasks," You say, looking from the map to Mingyu. He hums a note of understanding.

You look back down at your first clue.

'Where the world converges under neon lights, countless footsteps create a symphony of chaos and order. Stand where five paths meet and become part of Tokyo's heartbeat.'

"Oh, I know what this is!" Mingyu exclaims, a grin gracing his features. "It's Shibuya Crossing - the converging paths and neon lights. It has to be!"

You feel yourself smiling back at him, a spike of pride at his quick wit.

"You're right, I'm sure of it. Let's get going now!" You reply with excited glee.

With the destination clear in your minds, you and Mingyu waste no time. You quickly gather your things and set off toward the nearest subway station. The map in your hands outlines the general route, but Mingyu’s familiarity with the city helps you navigate through the bustling streets more efficiently.

The journey is a blur of fast-paced steps and fleeting glimpses of Tokyo’s vibrant city life. As you near Shibuya, the energy in the air intensifies. The streets grow more crowded, the buildings taller, and the lights brighter. When you finally arrive at Shibuya Crossing, the sight before you is both exhilarating and overwhelming.

The crossing is as chaotic and mesmerising as you imagined. Hundreds of people are waiting at the edges, ready to surge forward the moment the lights change. Neon signs tower above, flashing advertisements in a dazzling array of colours. It’s the epitome of organized chaos—a perfect reflection of Tokyo’s heartbeat.

“Here we are,” Mingyu says, his voice filled with awe as he takes in the scene. “It’s even more intense than I remember.”

You nod, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Yeah, this is incredible. But what’s our next step? We’re here, but I’m sure we need to do something to complete the task.”

Mingyu pulls out the next clue, which had been tucked under the first. “‘Capture the moment where the world pauses and moves in perfect harmony. Your time in the spotlight will guide you to the next step.’”

You exchange a glance, both of you quickly understanding the challenge. “We need to take a photo or video of the crossing,” you suggest. “But it’s more than just capturing the chaos—we need to find that moment of perfect harmony.”

The two of you wait, watching the flow of people, searching for that precise moment when the crossing becomes a symphony of movement. After a few cycles of the lights changing, you finally see it—a brief pause when all the pedestrians are perfectly aligned in their crossings, creating a visual harmony that’s almost surreal.

“Now!” Mingyu says, raising his phone to capture the scene. You run into the centre of the crossing, spreading your arms up in the air and grinning as wide as you can before running back towards a chuckling Mingyu.

"Getting more into the spirit of things, huh?" He teases, and you feel your cheeks turning red.

"More points for a viral moment." You remind him playfully, feeling that familiar elevated pace as he smiles back at you.

You take a moment to appreciate the photo before Mingyu checks the time on his phone. “We should send this in to confirm we’ve completed the task. I think they’ll give us our next clue once we do.”

With a nod, you send off the photo, your heart still racing with the thrill of the moment.

Mingyu’s phone buzzes with a new notification. He checks it and grins, showing you the screen. “Looks like we’re moving on to the next location. Ready to keep going?”

You smile, the excitement in your chest bubbling over. “Absolutely. Let’s see where this adventure takes us next.”

'Where giants clash in a ring of honour, find the arena where tradition and strength reign supreme. Seek the sacred ground where wrestlers bow to ancient rituals and the thundering footsteps echo the spirit of Japan’s warriors.'

"Wait," you say, your eyes lighting up as you reread the clue. "Do we get to go to the sumo wrestling arena?"

Mingyu looks up from the clue, his own excitement building as he connects the dots. “Ryogoku Sumo Hall! That has to be it. The 'ring of honour' and 'giants clashing'—it’s definitely talking about sumo wrestling!”

With your destination clear, you both set off, navigating through the bustling streets of Tokyo. The journey takes you deeper into the heart of the city, where the modern skyscrapers slowly give way to more traditional structures. The closer you get to Ryogoku, the more the city's energy seems to shift.

The atmosphere around the hall is vibrant, with banners fluttering in the breeze and the faint sounds of drums echoing from within. It's as if the very air is charged with the spirit of the ancient sport.

As you and Mingyu step into the grand interior of Ryogoku Sumo Hall, you’re immediately struck by the rich history that permeates the space. The arena, with its towering roof and sacred dohyō at the centre, exudes a sense of reverence. You can almost hear the echoes of past matches and the cheers of crowds that have filled these seats over the years.

A guide approaches you with a warm smile, holding a scroll that seems fitting for the traditional setting. “Welcome to Ryogoku Sumo Hall,” she says. “Your task today is to immerse yourselves in the ancient traditions of sumo. You’ll be participating in a special challenge that combines both physical skill and cultural understanding.”

Mingyu and you exchange intrigued glances as the guide continues, “First, you’ll each don a mawashi, the traditional sumo belt. Then, you’ll enter the dohyō for a ceremonial shiko—this is the ritual leg-stomping exercise that all sumo wrestlers perform to purify the ring and demonstrate their strength.”

The guide gestures towards a small area where the costumes have been laid out for you. You both eagerly move to change, slipping into the mawashi with some assistance. It feels a bit awkward at first, but the sense of tradition and the significance of the garment quickly overtake any discomfort.

Once you’re ready, the guide leads you to the edge of the dohyō where a set of cameras and one of the event coordinators is waiting on the sidelines.

“The shiko involves raising your leg as high as you can and then stomping down forcefully,” the guide explains to you and the audience. “It symbolizes grounding yourself and dispelling any evil spirits. It’s as much about mental focus as it is physical strength.”

Mingyu steps into the ring first, his expression one of determined focus. He takes a deep breath, then lifts his leg high, bringing it down with a powerful stomp. The sound reverberates through the hall, and even from the sidelines, you can feel the intensity of the movement.

Encouraged by Mingyu’s performance, you follow suit. You step into the ring, feeling the cool clay beneath your feet. Taking a moment to centre yourself, you lift your leg, feeling the stretch in your muscles, and then bring it down with as much force as you can muster. The stomp resonates through the space, and for a moment, you feel totally connected to the earth of the theatre.

After completing the shiko, the guide smiles approvingly. “Well done,” she says. “For the final part of your task, you’ll need to demonstrate your understanding of the sumo rituals by performing a brief reenactment of the pre-match ceremonies. This includes the ritual clapping, salt-throwing, and bowing. It’s important to show respect and precision in each movement.”

You and Mingyu work together to recall the steps you’ve observed from past sumo matches. As you move through the rituals—clapping your hands sharply to summon the attention of the gods, throwing salt to purify the ring, and bowing to show respect to your opponent—you feel ever more connected to Mingyu. 

As you finish the task, the guide hands you a small, ceremonial fan, a symbol of your successful completion of the challenge. “You’ve shown great respect and enthusiasm for our traditions,” she says. “Your next clue will lead you to your following adventure in Tokyo. But for now, take a moment to appreciate the history you’ve become a part of.”

You and Mingyu exchange a look of mutual pride, before offering one last wave to the audience and going to take off the costume.

Exiting the sumo hall through the front entrance, you hear a ding on your phone and pull it out to reveal the third clue. 

'Where the flame of unity is rekindled, and the world’s eyes gather once more. Seek the grounds where champions are crowned, and the spirit of competition ignites the heart of Japan.'

"Back to the Olympic stadium?" Mingyu queries, looking over the clue.

"Sounds like it," You say, still uncertain. The clue's language is undeniably pointing back to the arena, but you're unsure of what could be waiting for you back at the beginning.

With the Tokyo National Stadium as your destination, the two of you pick up the pace, heading back through the city. The streets are familiar now, and the route to the stadium is etched into your memory from the many times you’ve travelled to and from the venue.

Stepping into the stadium, you spot two of the over teams already waiting in one corner of the track field, and make your way over to them.

"Guess we're all here for the final task?" Chunghee beams.

Taking a moment, you look around the stadium, completely soaking in the atmosphere. In a few weeks, you'll be back walking here with your whole team, representing your country. The sense of awe and pride has you feeling small under the arena lights.

Soon enough, the rest of the teams begin to filter into the stadium.

Feeling a presence behind you, you spin around expecting to see Mingyu. A smile breaks over your face as you see your other teammate walking up to you.

"Didn't catch you last night. Did you finally get that night in?" Wonwoo chuckles. His clothes are dirty, as if he's been rolling around in the mud somewhere.

"Not quite," You respond, a ghost of a smile flickering at your lips.

"Cryptic."

"Gotta keep you on your toes, haven't I?"

"Please, you're about as predictable as the sunrise." He teases, and you bat his arm in mock offence.

"You wouldn't be able to guess what I was doing if you tried." You retort.

"Oh, really? It wouldn't have something to do with the hunky swimmer that hasn't let you out of his sight since you got here?"

You feel your cheeks warm at Wonwoo's teasing, but quickly regain your composure, rolling your eyes in response. "Oh, please," you say, crossing your arms playfully. "You're just jealous of me and Mingyu's great teamwork."

Wonwoo smirks, clearly not buying your casual deflection. "Uh-huh, sure. But just so you know, you're not as subtle as you think." He winks, making you groan in mock frustration.

"Come on, Wonwoo, can we just focus on the tasks and not whatever wild theories you're cooking up in that head of yours?" You protest with a lightness to your tone.

He chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll back off. But if I were a betting man, I'd put money on you two spending last night together. He's practically glowing today."

You shake your head, unable to suppress a smile. "Maybe it's you who's got the crush."

"I have it on good authority that I'm not the one with the crush."

"What's that supposed to mean-"

"Hey, man, ready for the final challenge?" Before you can finish your sentence, Wonwoo turns around to greet Mingyu who's walked over to the pair of you, but not without shooting you a knowing look first.

Mingyu nods, glancing at you with a smile. "Absolutely. What have you two been talking about?"

"Just catching up," You reply quickly, giving Wonoo a look that says to keep his mouth shut.

Wonwoo laughs, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder. "Yeah, nothing important. Let’s just say I’m curious to see how this day pans out."

The event coordinators hand you over the final task - although the course at the middle of the arena has already given the game away.

The last challenge of the day was revealed to be an intense relay race. Each team member would have to compete a different leg of the course, each designed to play to different strengths. The course was a mix of speed, agility, and sheer endurance - sprints though tight obstacle courses, balance tests on narrow means, and a gruelling final leg that involve scaling a steep incline with a weighted sack of rice together.

"Hey, so, how do you wanna play this?" Mingyu calls out, huddling next to you as to conceal your planning from the other teams. The warmth from his body next to you makes your breath hitch in your throat.

"Uh, um, I'm amenable. Is there a particular part you'd rather do?" You cough, looking over the course with an analytical eye.

"Your balance is undoubtedly better than mine, so maybe you should do the beam and I'll do the sprints?" He replies and you nod in agreement.

"That makes sense to me!" You smile before taking your phone from your pocket to take a photo of the two of you. "Gotta keep up the socials, right?"

Mingyu shakes his head in surprise, a small laugh escaping him.

"You must have had a good teacher." 

You wink at him in response, and instantly feel the blush creeping back up your neck.

Looking around, you see the other teams still huddled together, getting ready and planning their strategies.

"So, uh, you and Wonwoo are close right?" Mingyu asks, the confident air to his tone noticeably lacking.

"Oh, yeah! We were in the same climbing club when we were younger - made it right to the top together." You smile, thinking back over the memories. "You know, one time, we both got stuck on this insanely tough route. Everyone else had given up, but not Wonwoo. He was determined to figure it out, and I obviously couldn't let him be the only one to finish, so we stayed there for hours. Eventually, we worked together to figure out the route, and we managed to do it. I swear, he more than anyone else taught me the value of perseverence, even if it was out of spite."

Mingyu listens intently, his expression softening as he watches the nostalgia play across your face. “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot together."

“Yeah, we have,” you reply, meeting his gaze. “He’s like a brother to me. We’ve always had each other’s backs, no matter what.”

Mingyu nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really cool. It’s good to have someone to bring you back to earth."

"-to the starting positions! The team that performs best across all challenges will be crowned the champions. But remember, this is also about raising awanress and funds, to keep the energy high and the spirits up!"

“Ready?” Mingyu’s voice breaks through the announcement, and you look up to see him watching you, a question in his eyes.

 “Yeah, I’m ready.”

The whistle blows, and the first leg of the relay begins. Mingyu takes off like a shot, his powerful strides eating up the ground as he navigates the winding course with ease. You watch him, your heart in your throat, feeling that familiar pressure being assauged by pride.

When it gets to your turn, you sprint up to the balance beam, forcing yourself to block out the noise of the crowd and focus solely on the task ahead. The beam is narrow, barely wider than your foot, and it wobbles slightly with every step you took. Every muscle in your body is tense, coiled like a spring, ready to react to the slightest imbalance, but you are in your element.

As you near the end of the beam, the crowd’s cheers grow louder, and you feel a surge of triumph as you leap off, landing smoothly on the other side. No time to celebrate, though—there is still the final climb ahead.

Running over to where Mingyu is waiting at the base of the incline, you begin to hoist the rice sacks over your shoulders, exchanging a determined nod before starting the final ascent. The incline is steep, and with the added weight of the sacks, every step becomes a test of endurance and strength. You focus on your breathing, matching your pace with Mingyu’s, both of you pushing each other to keep going despite the burning in your legs.

As you near the top, you catch sight of another team struggling halfway up the incline. One of their members has slipped, and their sack has tumbled down, spilling some of its contents. The other teammate is desperately trying to help, but it’s clear they’re exhausted and frustrated, their progress slow.

Mingyu notices too, glancing at you with a question in his eyes. “It's your call.” he says, his voice tight with effort.

You hesitate, the competitive part of you screaming to keep going, to push through and secure your victory. But another part of you, a bigger part, tugs at your conscience. You know what you have to do.

“Let’s help them,” you say, making the decision in a heartbeat.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and start making your way back down the incline. Mingyu follows without hesitation, both of you quickly reaching the struggling team. You offer a hand to the fallen teammate, helping them back to their feet, while Mingyu retrieves the spilled sack.

You can hear the live stream commentator yelling frenzily into the mic.

“Here, we’ve got this,” you say, as you and Mingyu steady their loads and start guiding them up the incline. The other team looks at you with a mix of surprise and gratitude, clearly touched by the gesture.

The climb is slower now, and you can feel the weight of the rice sacks digging into your shoulders, but there’s a different kind of satisfaction growing in your chest. When you finally reach the top, you help the other team place their sacks down before doing the same with yours. The other team thanks you breathlessly, clearly overwhelmed by your assistance.

As you all cross the finish line together, you know you’ve lost the race, but the sense of accomplishment in doing the right thing far outweighs the sting of defeat. The crowd’s cheers are louder than ever, and you can see that many of the spectators have noticed what you did.

Trying to regain your composure, you look over at Mingyu who is looking back at you with an affectionate smile.

"We didn't win." He pants, causing you to let out a sharp, breathless laugh.

Stepping closer, you place a steading hand on his arm. He looks up at you from his crouched over position, before moving to straighten up. Whether it is the adrenaline of the climb, or the confidence from your conversation with Wonwoo, you don't move away this time.

"I know," You smile, eyes sparkling. "I still feel like I've won something though."

"Oh, really?" He replies, moving closer still as that infamous grin breaks out across his face.

"Yeah." You nod, closing the gap between the two of you.

"You wanna make a real viral moment?" Mingyu asks, his tone light and jovial but his eyes conveying a sense of seriousness.

"You know what, I would actually quite like to." You respond, pushing onto your tiptoes to meet his lips with yours. Although you can hear the screams of the fans and other athletes alike behind you, the sound quickly fades into the background as the immense feeling of passion and joy overtakes you.

HIs hand cups your face, pulling you closer to him as his lips move against yours.

Finally breaking apart, he rests his head against yours, shallow breaths being exchanged between the two of you.

"You know that this is gonna make tabloid headlines tomorrow, right?"

[helenanell]

A Breath Of Life || Part Two

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 Part One 

Pairing(s) :  Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi - Reader x Art x Tashi

CW: MDNI - Smut. Infidelity (kind of?). So much love and lust. ANGST. Manipulative behaviour. 

Notes: Fem!Reader, No use of y/n. This is really just me exploring my own bisexual panic some more.  Spoilers for the film.

Wordcount: 4.2K

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The moment you won the match that sealed your victory at Wimbledon,  the applause was rapturous.

And yet, Tashi’s triumphant shout was louder to you than hundreds of clapping hands. 

The sound of her celebration became yours, and when you let out a yell of your own, your racket falling from your hands, you became one with her. 

After that, her eyes did not leave you. You didn’t look but you knew it to be true, just as you knew the sun was shining onto your shimmering skin; Tashi was an incomprehensible being bearing down on you. 

When you lifted the Venus Rosewater Dish above your head–the silver trophy given to the women’s single’s winner–your smile was beatific. Not because of the rush of adrenalin, or the way your spirit had been buoyed by finally achieving what you knew you could, but feared you wouldn’t, but because you knew that in your victory Tashi had found her own. 

It had taken over a decade, but together you’d realised your dream. 

You knew deep down that you could have made it without her, but it would have been tasteless; a honeyed feast turning to ash in your mouth.

Achieving the title with Tashi by your side had turned everything technicolour. All of your senses were heightened and your sense of self revitalised. 

You lived for tennis and Tashi had helped that life become something glorious. 

When you stepped off the court it felt like a kind of conquest: your domain now stretched beyond the white lines that had so far confined you. You had taken more than a trophy, you had stolen space in people’s consciousness.

 You would not fade into the annals of time because your name had been recorded- it was to be engraved in metal which would be buffed into an unmissable shine. 

Even as you stepped into the plush locker room, you knew the winning moment was already being replayed and analysed. It made you smile to think that as commentators noted your form, they were publicly voicing the effects of Tashi’s coaching on you, to the entire world. 

You felt burned by her, but not as if she had branded you, rather that she had subjected you to such heat, that the very makeup of your body had been altered. 

Now, you're sitting on the wooden bench in the locker room with your head hanging low, sweat still dripping from your face when the door opens. 

You shoot to your feet, your beleaguered body screaming at you to slow down.

When you turn, you find Art standing in front of the now closed door. 

The sight of him takes away your breath. 

He is here too. 

In your greatest moment of euphoria, when you’ve never felt more tangible–more real–you get to be near him. Suddenly, all of the time that had passed between you didn’t matter.

He's with you now. 

Art leans back against the door, hands going into the pockets of his immaculate navy pants. A matching blazer that has been left unbuttoned stretches across his muscled torso, his sunglasses hanging from the neck of his white shirt. 

His cropped blonde hair is messy enough that you know he's been running his hands through it; with anxiety and elation he’d been dragging fingers through the blonde locks as he watched you play.  

Art has become something beyond handsome to you. Retiring has returned his vitality and it has been a stunning metamorphosis to witness. 

But it's change you’ve made yourself witness from a distance. The two of you have not been in a room alone together since he’d hidden in your bathroom as Tashi had convinced you to let her become your coach. 

For the first few months, things had felt far too fragile to acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. You and Art had come to a silent understanding that you needed the time to build back up a foundation with Tashi. 

If you were to remain in each other's lives, you needed solid ground.

But you had just won Wimbledon. You had just given Tashi a victory. Did either of you have the fortitude to go on denying yourselves? 

It has been a solid minute since Art entered the room and neither of you have shifted so much as an inch.

You’re fixed on the spot, watching him as he drinks you in. His gaze is laying possessive claim to your body, noting all the places the white vest and skort are clinging to your sweat-slicked curves. 

But it is when his eyes settle on your face, that a sort of peace soothes his expression.

“You were amazing.”

You can’t help but smirk, allowing yourself to feel cocky for once. “Of course I was, I won.” 

Art’s cheeks dimple with the strength of his grin.

“It’s not about the win. It’s how you moved when you played- like you could bend the whole world to your will. It was so beautiful. And you…” He pushes off the door and walks right up to you, chests almost brushing as he nudges your chin up with his finger. “You are so, so stunning.”

As he leans in, even though you don’t try to stop him, words of weak protest pour out of you.

“Art we shouldn’t. Not here-“

He cuts you off with a taunting kiss, his tongue trying to prize your lips open as his arm wraps around you.

His hand shifts up the sweaty material of your vest and lays his palm flat against the heated flesh of your lower back, all while his other hand trails up your outer thigh and beneath your skort to grab your ass.

You lean into him, hands wrapping around his neck and only when he draws back to kiss his way along your jaw, do you have a chance to speak again.

“Art, Tashi will be here soon. If she sees-�� 

“She won’t care.” 

Your brow furrows, but the confusion isn’t enough for you to stop his lips moving over your neck. “What?” 

As Art answers, his hand leaves your rear to dip beneath the waistband of your skort. You shiver as the pads of his fingers tickle all the way down, toying with the top of your underwear.

“You are all Tashi sees now.” Art clarifies, proceeding to nip at your exposed shoulder with his teeth. “You’re her everything. She could walk in on us right now and it wouldn’t change a thing.”

That gives you pause, indignation spiking at his easy dismal of Tashi.

You pull away from Art and he groans quietly but lets you go, his expression remaining completely content. 

“How can you say that?” You ask, growing irritable even as you let him take your hand in his.

“Because you’re everything that I couldn’t be for her.” He says. 

You sigh exasperatedly. “What does that mean, Art?” 

You don’t know why you’re asking, as you’re certain you already know the truth of it.

Art smiles, his other hand lifting to smooth a few sweat slicked strands off of your forehead. When he’s finished, his fingers settle with running over your cheekbone.

“It means…that you are all of her dreams realised. She resented me because every time I played, no matter how well, she knew it was nowhere near as important to me as it would have been to her had she never been injured. She hated me for not wanting it more….but, you have enough passion for tennis to play for the both of you. I never had that much to draw from. So, as long as you keep winning like you just did, she’ll love you. She’ll love you because you’re doing her justice.” 

After giving that insight that rang so true it almost hurts your ears with its incessant clamouring, Art leans in to kiss you again. You place a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. 

“You felt like you were playing for her and it made you miserable.” You argue, hurt by the thought that his behaviour towards you is just rooted in gratitude that you have lifted the burden off of his shoulders. 

“It was different for me.” He answers simply. “I was miserable because I knew none of what I did was enough. I was still failing her. Tashi wants to watch great tennis and I didn’t give her that. You will. You are giving her that.” 

The way Art was speaking was producing within you a burgeoning unease; he was steady and assured, like he’d spent a long time thinking about this. And there was an undeniable undercurrent of pleasure to his speech.

A large part of Art was elated that the burden had been shifted onto you. 

But could you really hold that against him? You had seen how he was bending and breaking under the weight, it was why you’d told him to retire.

It was now your job to keep Tashi’s heart beating, you had known that the moment you’d agreed to let you coach her. That had been your choice and one freely made. 

So Art was right, you had to keep winning and you had to do so spectacularly. 

This was not a fresh revelation of course, but the possibility that Tashi wanting you close to her was entirely contingent on tennis, began to terrify you.

 You estimated you had a good five years left before you’d likely be forced to retire, but then what would become of you? Would Tashi even care to have you in her life after that? You were not bound to her like she was to Art by their daughter.

As if he can feel how your mind is whirring through the skin of your cheek, Art tips up your chin again and claims your mouth for another kiss. 

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing. 

“When I think about all that you are, tennis doesn’t even register.” He says sincerely, placing a sweet peck to your lips.

You cherish his touch and ach for more, but it isn’t quelling the panic ripping into your insides like wind whipping up in preparation to become a storm.

“Art, I can’t- I need to tell Tashi what happened with us.” 

No anger or irritation appears on his face at your blurted words, but his other hand falls onto your back so he can pull you closer and you can tell he’s definitely upset about something. 

“What happened?” He rasps. “You’re placing what we have in the past tense. Is it not still happening” His fingers press into your skin proprietorially. 

“I can’t lose her, Art. But I also can’t lose you.” 

“Then tell her.” He says,  bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. 

“You’re agreeing just like that? It’ll ruin your marriage.” 

His lip tugs up in the beginning of a bitter smile. “Tell her. It won’t change how she sees you.” he affirms “Then you should ask her about Patrick.”

You barely have time to process his implication when the door opens.

 The two of you pull apart as Tashi’s head pops in. She looks entirely unbothered as her eyes glance off her husband before settling squarely on you.

“Get in the shower, we’ve got to get moving.” 

And just like that she’s gone again.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

“Do you need him?” 

Tashi’s question catches you off guard.

You’ve both been sitting in silence- her nursing a glass of wine and you with herbal tea as you both look out across the London skyline. Lights of skyscrapers are strung out across the black like fairy lights. 

You know who she’s talking about, but you’re terrified to acknowledge it.

You stop yourself from giving into the instinct to peer back through the open sliding door and into the hotel room where Art is watching TV. 

“In what way?” You ask, fiddling with the handle of your mug, still looking forward. 

Tashi huffs, putting her glass down and then turning to you, kneeling beside you on the outdoor couch. She takes the mug out of your hand, setting it on the nearby table before curling her fingers around your chin and forcing you to meet her unflinching stare. 

“Will Art improve your game or will he wreck it?” She sees your eyes widen and shushes you, stymying the words that had been gathering on your tongue. “This isn’t about me. I’m your coach, so I need to know that you’re going to keep giving this your all.” 

“I will.” You nod furiously, still held in her grip.

Tashi’s eyes flicker down your lips before finding your eyes again. Her hair is loose and being blown into your face. 

“I need you to tell me that if he’s watching you in the stands, that you won’t choke.” She says. “What the two of you have needs to light a fire in you, or it fucking dies. Do you understand me?” 

“I won’t choke.” You insist, your tone hard.

Her full lips press into a pleased line. “So are you going to keep dominating?” 

Slightly breathless, your eyes fall to where your fingers have been absentmindedly brushing her knee. You let your digits outstretch and as your eyes return to Tashi’s, you tentatively run them over her scar. You feel her shiver. 

“I’m going to keep dominating.” 

You both go still, and just as the corner of her mouth tugs up, she’s leaning in. You inhale a sharp breath as her lips just skim yours. She holds there, not pressing any further. 

When Tashi speaks, you feel her lips form the words against your own. “Then you do whatever it takes.” 

You truly couldn’t say which of you closes the distance, it feels more like an external, undeniable force driving the two of you to converge.

 When Tashi begins to move her lips against yours, her hand cradles the back of your head, twisting into your hair and pulling. You can’t help but let out a soft moan into her mouth, a hand landing on her waist and digging into the thin fabric of her silk shift.

Tashi draws back first, her hot breaths on your face as she presses two fingers to your throbbing lips. 

The question that comes out of your mouth has no malice or jealousy behind it, just an aching curiosity: you want to know her completely, in the way that you used to, and Art’s words from the locker room told you there was something you don’t know. 

“Tashi, what happened between you and Patrick?” 

She doesn’t rear back, she doesn’t slap you like she might have, she just lets out a slow almost contented breath.  

“I slept with him.” She admits calmly. “A few years ago in Atlanta, and the night before the Challenger match against Art.” 

All at once the visceral passion of that match makes so much more sense and even though you’re aware how twisted it is, you laugh. 

“You forced them to have the best match of their lives.” You say, your tone warring between disbelief and awe. 

Tashi answers with another brief, but ardent kiss to your lips, before she’s rising to her feet, her demeanour steady. Her expression is already returning to the stern set of your coach. 

“You need to get to bed. It’s a busy day tomorrow. Your physiotherapist is here at eight am. Nutritionist at eight-thirty.” 

You nod in agreement, lips still tingling as you rise to your feet. 

The night breeze stirs your hair and the thin fabric of your robe. Only when you turn do you see Art leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest, the fabric of his grey shirt strained against his muscles. 

When you meet his gaze he smiles so fondly that, combined with the residual heat of Tashi’s contact, you’re set ablaze. 

Right now you have both of them.

“Stay here with us.” Tashi asserts, running a hand over Art’s arm as she passes him to head inside the room.

“No need for you to go wandering down the hall in your nightgown again.” Art continues, the corner of his lips lifting as he holds a hand out to you.

You take it, letting him draw you inside. 

When the two of you reach the massive Queen bed, Art pulls back the sheets and you crawl happily into the middle of the mattress. 

All at once your exhaustion hits you, the softness cradling your aching form both lulling you into drowsiness and making your limbs remember each strained movement of the day.  

Your eyes fall shut, so you’re not sure who it is who causes the bed to dip, but you lean into the warmth irregardless. 

Art’s toned arm wraps around your torso as he draws the back of your body to be flush with his front.  He’s already pulling hair away from your neck and laying lingering kisses there, when movement in front of you causes your eyes to flutter open. 

Tashi’s standing in the bathroom doorway opposite you, her form backlit by the warm light as she finishes rubbing lotion to her arms.

 She watches Art holding you and she notes how he’s kissing you, a frenetic vibrancy takes over her expression. 

You hold her gaze as she switches the bathroom light and walks over. When she crawls under the covers, one of Art’s hands is moving past the neckline of your robe, his thumb running over your nipple. 

You sigh, your head falling back against Art’s chest, but your hand is moving forward across the mattress, searching for Tashi. 

It’s such a terrible idea-  an act that will join you all in another irrevocable way, but you have to have it. You have to have them. 

If you’re going to play tennis with Tashi as your coach and Art still in her life…you can’t choose. You can’t separate yourself from either of them. 

Your hand makes contact with Tashi’s as she lays herself right in front of you. She intertwines your fingers and leans down to kiss your chest, her lips skimming your collarbones. 

Art draws his hand away from your breast and his touch travels down your body, between your legs. 

You moan as Tashi’s mouth explores your chest, her tongue brushing over the swell of your breasts all while Art is pressing his knees between yours from behind. Now more open to him, he bunches your robe in his hand and rucks it up until it’s gathered at your waist. He pulls down your underwear.

When Art’s fingers begin to tease your centre, your gasp is lost as Tashi covers her mouth with yours, her free hand threading into your hair. 

Between the two of them, you find security in the ecstasy they draw out of you. Your entire body is flushed and sweating, cheeks red and chest heaving.

You’re beyond overwhelmed, but you try to savour every small touch and shift of their bodies.

Mostly you’re trying to remember the sensation of Tashi, because you have a feeling this may never happen again with her: even in your addled mind as Art begins to roll his hips, a finger pressing inside you, you’re aware that for Tashi this could simply be a form of motivation. You know that if she thought you needed this now, in order to keep playing the way you had today, then she’d do it without question. She’s motivating you.

 But is that all this is for her? It certainly means a lot more to you.

Tashi was the first woman you had been attracted to, the first person to make you question the limited nature of your desires as a young woman. And then she’d been your best friend, you’d loved and wanted her…and then you’d lost her. 

You both knew this wasn’t a sustainable dynamic, it would likely never be repeated, but for now you would savour being desired by the woman who had awoken yours so long ago. 

Right as Art presses another finger into you, plunging them the two in almost lazily, as if he has all the time in the world, he whispers in your ear: 

“Are you okay?” 

Tashi is still kissing you, but draws back when she hears the question, her lips plump and glistening. She’s giving you the chance to answer, you realise. 

The glorious tightness inside you worsens, friction growing as they stop touching you. 

“Yes.” You whine impatiently.

Art chuckles into your neck as you grab his wrist and guide him back into you, his fingers curling inside your warmth. 

But Tashi’s lips don’t return to yours, instead she leans down and presses them to your forehead before she’s crawling out of the bed.

You’re not worried by her retreat because you’ve always been able to read her face. As she backs away, your orgasm drawing closer as Art fucks into you with his fingers, you see that she isn’t regretting anything. In fact, she’s pleased. Not necessarily with what’s happening in front of her, but because Art–someone she has loved and still loves in her own way–can give you the intimacy she can’t quite bring herself to. 

You play tennis for Tashi and Art loves you for both of them. You think you can live with that.

 Even though you know you could, you don’t begrudge Tashi for any of it. She’s given you this. She’s given you Art and in as much as she can, she’s given you herself. 

As she slips out of the room, no doubt to go to her Mother’s suite and to her daughter, you are entirely content. 

Once you’re alone, you buck up into Art’s hand, your ass grinding against his hardness. He groans deeply against your neck and you almost cry out in protest as he pulls his fingers from right when you’re so close to release. 

But you are not left bereft of him for long. His arm moves beneath you, bracketing your chest with his hand and settling with a soft grip against your throat. He pushes down his pyjama pants.

It’s all too much when he begins to tease his hardness against your core. 

“Art. Now.” You reach down and dig your nails into his now bare thigh with force. 

As his grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, Art complies and pushes himself into you from behind. He sounds drunk as he whispers into your hair:

“This will never be enough.” He thrusts into you with sweet slowness, letting you feel every tiny thing. “I’ll never have enough of you.” 

So lost in the pressure of him moving inside you that you’re alienated from your capacity for speech, you can’t find the language to tell him how this feels for you; you can’t tell him how much it means. 

Then he speaks again, his movements becoming more forceful: “I’ll never have all of you will I?”

You whimper as his hand that’s not on your neck dives between your legs, adding pressure with his fingers even as he fucks you.

“You do have all of me.” You answer raggedly, relinquishing free movement entirely as he cradles your body so restrictively.

He’s like a snake, tingling around your form before consuming your entire being.

“Tell me it wouldn’t change anything if it was just us.” Art begs, his breath catching in his throat and body shaking. “Tell me I’d be enough for you.” 

He thrusts again and you almost break with your shuddering release. You don’t try to remain quiet, crying out into the night. Art continues to move in you, desperate in more ways than one. 

“I can’t Art.” You admit, tears of pleasure and a sweet sort of pain gathering in your eyes. “I can’t tell you that. We need- we need them. B-both of them.” You stutter out, relinquishing yourself to your euphoria. 

Them. Them being Tashi and Patrick.

 You don’t understand Art without either of them. You don’t understand yourself without them. 

Everything was in relation to them, even the sex you and Art are having right now isn’t just about the two of you. And you both know it.

An indecipherable noise comes from Art as he pulls out of you, and in a blink, he’s rolled you onto your back and is pressing himself into you again.

His pace becomes rapid as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, hips snapping against yours.

You wrap your legs around him, driving him deeper as his body begins to tremble.

When Art comes apart, draping himself over you as he gathers himself, a tear of utter confusion rolls down your cheek and falls into his hair. 

Whatever comes next, at least you know you’ll never be alone. Art is a part of you. Tashi and Patrick are part of you. 

Without each other, there is no survival.

[the-kr8tor]

A Song Stuck in Your Head

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 17.8k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW violence mention, CW alcohol, TW death mention, CW food mention, CW blood and injury. Slowburn, Part 4 of ink and bedrock, noxian! Reader. Spoilers for s2.

A/N: Thank you for reading Ink and Bedrock!!

Ekko Masterlist

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Part 3 <<< Part 4

The chair under Ekko feels stiff as he skims through a pile of what are supposedly Viktor's documents. He had asked a favour to one of his firelights to look for any evidence of Viktor existing. And sure enough, after a month of turning up with nothing, the firelight pulled through. She said she found it in an undercity hospital, packed tightly together by worn down rubber bands atop of other hospital documents. The birth certificate isn't much, but it's evidence that he was real, you'll be ecstatic to know that your search is over. He can't wait to show it to you and for you to shove the evidence at the council's faces. You're right about one thing, you can't truly erase history.

While he's thinking about you, his ears pick up the sound of your laughter outside the treehouse. His brows knit together in confusion since you didn't schedule anything with him for today. It's one of those boring days when he doesn't get to meet up with you to talk to random people. Ekko has noticed that simply being outside has helped his head clear up. The companionship is a bonus, he thinks.

As he stands up from his seat, his knees creak, prompting him to stretch all his aching muscles from the prolonged position. Taking the papers, he gets on his board to meet up with you. It might not be his day with you, but you're already in the hideout so he might as well hand it to you.

Ekko's questioning look stays as he sees a crowd gather around you. “Please don't be an angry mob.” He mumbles under his breath as he lands right next to you.

“Hey, Ekko!” Your eyes brighten the second you see him, but you're already floating away when he landed. “Bye, Ekko!”

“Wha—” he stares wide eyed at the humming hoverboard carrying you. A chuckle sounds out behind him, when he looks at the source, he finds Scar grinning at him. “What's this? Is that your board?” He points at the squealing you, just floating above the crowd.

“Relax, Ekko.” Scar gives him a lopsided smile as he lifts up his open palms at Ekko in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “She wanted to learn how to ride so I showed her the basics. She's a quick learner.”

“Yeah, relax, Ekko!” Scar's carbon copied son smiles at him toothily. “I taught her.” He puffs out his chest proudly while his father mouths a ‘he didn't, I did.’

Ekko replies with a grunt, but he can't help but stare on with concern as you wobble atop the board while trying to balance yourself on it. He readies his own, just in case. The others find your lack of balance amusing.

“Take one step forward with one foot. Keep them separate.” Ekko instructs you, palms cupping around his mouth so you could hear it above the excited murmur.

“Okay,” you chuckle nervously, trying not to look down or else vertigo will make you plummet towards the crowd. You really don't want that to happen. “Got it, whoo!” Your shaky form subsides as the crowd hoots and claps at your achievement. “Thanks, Ekko! No thanks to you, Scar!”

Scar nudges Ekko, eyebrows wiggling at him. The firelights leader just gives him a hard stare, the same one he shows people he interrogates. Scar turns away immediately, but his teasing smile persists.

“You don't let anyone touch your board, why'd you even agree to this?” Now Ekko's giving him the same treatment like he's questioning Scar under a bright light.

Scar shrugs, “you're not the only one who's allowed to barter with her.” Ekko presses harder with a narrowed stare. Scar feels like he's about to get an hour more of patrol because of this. “I bet her that she can't stand on the board for a full five minutes without falling. If spark can do it, then she gets her interview with me.”

Ekko shakes his head, hands kept in his pockets but his feet stay on his hoverboard, ready to jump in. “How long has it been?”

Scar checks his pocket watch. “Two minutes, boss. Don't worry, she can do it.”

“Why didn't you just take her bribe?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Scar scoffs, “besides, it's worth it to see you all worried for our resident noxian.”

Ekko slowly cranes his head at Scar, eyes deadly and sharp.

“Shit!” Your yell and the crowd's shocked gasps immediately takes his attention away from his nervous right hand man. The hoverboard shakes, prompting you to fall on your knees and grip the sides. “Should it be making that noise?!” The way your wide eyes meet with Ekko's horrified ones has your worry cranked up to a hundred.

“I thought you fixed your engine?!” Ekko can't seem to take his eyes off you, like a trainwreck waiting to happen.

“I thought I did.” Scar says guiltily.

Then the engine sputters suddenly, green smoke billowing out from where it's not supposed to escape from, and with the board shaking and moving up and down uncontrollably, you suddenly fly off. Screams of terror fades in and out as the malfunctioning board takes you all over the hideout, leaving dark streaks of smoke in the air. With a thudding heart, Ekko leaps up in a split second, accidentally scattering the papers he gathered for you all over the crowd.

“Ekko!” You scream for him, knuckles gripping the sides desperately. There's a stabbing pain on your already broken wrist, the pain from it has your grip slipping.

“Hold on!” Ekko expertly flies, dodging buildings and the large protruding branches of his ginkgo tree. His hands reach for yours, but you're still too far for him to hold onto. Eyes widening, he sees a branch heading your way. It's dangerously close to clotheslining you. “Duck!”

Air stuck in your throat, you feel arms wrap around you instead of the pain of getting stabbed by a tree. He grips you tightly against him as you hide your face on the crook of his neck. His board spins around the tree from the momentum, leaves and sticks hit the two of you as he almost loses control until Ekko pushes down with all his might to stop it midair.

The hoverboard finally stops, meanwhile, Scar's hoverboard falls down rapidly, finally losing its fumes, it plunges down on sacks of flour placed next to the firelights bakery. White smoke puffs out like a volcano spewing out lava, filling the whole area with fragrant flour.

You blink, arms wrapped around his neck, and leaning away from the space you've hidden yourself on the crook of his neck as flour floats down on the two of you like snow. His arm holds you in place, while his other hand grips at your thigh while he holds you. He's kneeling on the board, half carrying you as the board floats above the wreckage.

Ekko stares at you, sun shining down on him, giving him a halo of light as the white powder floats in the air alongside the green glow of his board. His lips part slightly, as if he's about to say something, but he purses his lips together, adam's apple bobbing up and down while his thumb brushes away powder that landed on your cheek. His eyes shimmer, chest heaving against your own whilst you're completely frozen under him.

“Are you okay?” He finally speaks, eyes roaming around your form to check for injuries. If only you could see him through his eyes, you'd find the reason why his heart feels like it's about to burst out of him. He has noticed your attractiveness, it's hard not to, but now it's getting harder to ignore how beautiful you are under the glow of the dappled sunshine.

You swallow thickly, fingers kneading atop the back of his neck subtly. “I think so.”

“You're an idiot.” Ekko chuckles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“An incurable disease, unfortunately.” You smile, fingers gently plucking away a stray leaf stuck on his hair. He hums in appreciation. “Flour looks good on you, firefly.” Dusting off the powder off his shoulder, you can't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation.

His index rubs away more powder on your chin, near the corner of your lips. Your breath hitches in your throat from the contact. “You have more on you, spark.”

You're starting to love the nickname now.

“Now we match.” You point at the white flour that's surely on your head then to his hair. “Does it look good on me at least?” You whisper, eyes soft as you stare at him.

“I can fry you up and we'll see.” His knuckles brush along your jaw, leaving white powder to stick on his palm.

Beaming up at him, the hoverboard slowly comes down on the flour covered ground. But your eyes stay on him, while he mirrors the same look you have.

“My hoverboard!” Scar's booming voice pops the peaceful bubble you two have, prompting you and Ekko to move away from each other.

Ekko hops off his board, giving you a helping hand. Good thing he did, or you would've fallen off the hovering tech that's barely three inches off the ground. Your legs feel like jelly, and your hand atop his own lets out a searing heat akin to a furnace.

“Thanks.” You mumble, refusing to look at his flour covered face that mixes in with his face paint lest you completely fall down on your knees.

“My flour!” Ekko lets go of your hand when the baker worsens the commotion as he comes stumbling out of his bakery.

“We'll order a new batch—” Ekko tries to reassure the baker, but the way he's cradling the sack of flour with a large hole on it, he thinks it's better to let the poor man mourn than try to reason with him.

You groan, apologies spilling from your lips. Sorries were thrown towards everyone for making such a fuss, especially at the baker and Scar. “I'll pay for it.” You tell the baker, but it falls on deaf ears. “Great,” you say sarcastically, wincing at how you probably ruined your image with the firelights.

“Scar,” Ekko straightens up, brushing off the powder fluidly, a picture of a leader. “Please salvage all the undamaged flour, then take a couple of people and go out to trade a few of our tech for the rest. Take my board.” He pushes down the end of his board, flipping it upwards into his waiting hand and then giving it to Scar.

He says his pleases despite being the leader and says it all without a condescending tone even though he's technically mad at you and Scar. Well, maybe just you, you guess.

“Got it.” The guilty firelight looks at you apologetically. You know you have that interview with him now.

“And Scar.” Ekko calls him back, and the poor man seems to stiffen. “Two more hours of patrol tonight, yeah?” Scar didn't even protest as he slinks away from the crowd. The rest of the firelights disperse, afraid that Ekko would give them work too.

“And you,” the fierce leader turns to you, head tipping back with a subtle smug smile. “Pick up the papers before the kids use it as a coloring book.”

“Wait,” you chuckle nervously, “that's it?”

Ekko raises a brow at you, eyes unreadable whilst he crosses his arms over his chest. “You want more?”

You quickly shake your head. “Nope, no thank you, bossman.” You're already walking away towards the scattered papers. “Picking up those papers right now!”

Ekko can't help the soft smile from appearing on his lips as you fight with the wind to grab a piece of paper floating around. He hears a tiny scoff right next to him, looking down, he sees Scar's kid, mimicking his posture.

“Some people, huh?” The five year old says in a serious tone, chin held up high and arms crossed over his chest.

Ekko ruffles the kid's hair. “Yeah, some people.” He says, looking at you with fondness.

—

Knocking on Ekko's door the same way you always do, he doesn't groan at your sudden appearance. Instead, he lets you in with a tired voice.

Peeking inside, you see that the room has gotten much brighter than the last time you stayed. The windows are fully open, letting in the breeze and the sunlight, the room looks more organized than before too. The scraps that used to trip you are now in boxes that are placed in the corner. You guess he started picking them up one by one after you complained about almost slipping on a metal wheel. The armchair you always sat on is still there beside him, his familiar jacket is laid atop it, as if he's keeping it warm for you. The bed you spent a week on is still in the corner, a blanket perfectly folded right next to a cardigan you keep ‘forgetting’ to pick up.

But the man himself hasn't changed, he's still scrunched up on his work desk, always working on something that either sparks or creaks.

“Hi,” you start, walking closer to his form.

“No.”

“I haven't even said anything yet!” You laugh, settling down on the armchair, body splayed over it lazily, chin propped up on its arm, and eyes blinking at him.

“It's not our day, spark.” He says, not looking at you as he continues to work.

“I know that. Can't I visit my friend?”

“While you're here go get your jacket.” He ignores your previous comment, gloved hand gesturing towards the bed.

“I lied, I'm actually here for a reason.” Lifting up the heavy chair, you scooch it closer to him, wood scraping annoyingly against the floorboards.

Ekko sighs, finally placing down the tool on the table to address you; only to find out that you're already looking up at him, twinkling eyes while your head is perched atop your palms.

“What?” He can't help but notice the glint in your eyes and the wide grin you have.

Tilting your head, your elbows dig on your knees as you sway slightly. “A few of the firelights and their kids are going down to the river since it's getting hotter now.”

“And?” He says, seemingly uninterested.

Your smile is replaced by a hurt frown. “Are you still angry about what happened? I'm really sorry, Ekko.”

He stares anywhere else that isn't your face. “Not your fault.” You gently smile at him. “Unless you rigged the board to go haywire.”

“I'm an idiot but not that kind of idiot.” You chuckle.

“You're not an idiot.” Ekko reassures you sweetly, meeting with your eyes with a smile like your own. “Just annoying.”

“Some people call that tenacity.”

“And who are these people, hm?” He teases, twisting back around to work. You chortle, sitting back as you stretch your hand that's still encased in plaster. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Inviting you actually.” You trace the signatures and drawings on the cast. “They said that you can fish in the rivers now because of the project. Thanks to you, Ekko.”

“I barely helped.” He scoffs, carefully putting together colorful wires.

“You helped a lot, genius.” You nudge his leg with your foot, and he grumbles as his hands move. “Shit, sorry.”

You expect a reprimand, or even telling you to get out. But instead, he tries again, nudging you with his own foot in retaliation. His boot leaves dirt marks on the hem of your pants, but you don't care one bit as you smile at him.

“Come on, you're glued to that chair. There's an Ekko shape indented on it already. Even Poro's coming with us.” You bite your lip, still trying to get him to come with you. “Please? Go see your handiwork in person and not just on blueprints.”

Ekko finishes his work, laying down his tools and yanking off his gloves. “If I come with you, will you shut up?”

You shake your head with a grin. “Nope.”

With a roll of his eyes, he stands up, surrendering to your request. “...fine.”

“Can we ride on your hoverboard?” You ask excitedly.

“No.”

—

The warmth of the sun bears down upon the small river that lies in the deep canyons and valleys threading Piltover. The water shimmers under the light, now clean, free of any garbage and stifling air billowing out of the rocky crevices. Laughter echoes around, bouncing off the rocky walls around the river bed.

Thanks to the combined efforts of Sevika and Ekko, the clean up project was a success. The river is clean because of Ekko's own design that self filters the water using wind turbines and new pipes that won't erode for at least a hundred years. His own design would surpass him, he smiles at the thought that years from now, when he's long gone, the people of the undercity would still have clean water to use.

It took some convincing, but the council finally approved his design when Ekko appeared before them with a better blueprint than what their engineers designed. It was mediocre, you said after taking a peek at the blueprint. And that he would do much better than them. So he did, he created something bigger than him, turned it into something better. And he got to see the result of it. He had to stand in front of them while trying not to glare at the pompous looks they have on. But the headache was all worth it to see his people fish and swim in the river.

Ekko pauses from doodling on his notebook, eyes crinkling at the corners when he realizes that he's drawing you and not the river which he was supposed to do. He captured the way you smile perfectly, and the way he shaded your eyes matches your own. He suddenly feels heavy, chest tightening, but a comfortable one, not the same one that has him choking on nothing— It feels warm, like the sun shining on you as you stand in the river.

You try to catch fish with your bare hands, even with the cast around your wrist, you still went in. He warned you that it might be bad to go and submerge it in the water, but you got too impatient and went into the river to snatch a fish after waiting for thirty minutes with the borrowed fishing rod only to come up with nothing. So there you are, pants rolled up, blouse unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up and wet at the hem, looking like you belong right in the undercity. As if you were born here with the same fire in your eyes that you have.

Sweat dribbles down Ekko's brow, watching you laugh and smile with his people. Poro yips beside him, happily wagging his tail as he tries to get Ekko's attention. He smiles at the dog, palm brushing along his soft fur. You've been taking care of him really well, his fur is much softer and healthy, and Poro has been happier than usual.

It's been months since you came to Piltover, nine months to be precise, and four months since you were attacked. You still haven't properly interviewed Ekko, and you haven't forcefully pushed him for it, preferring to get a few bits here and there. You always seemed happy enough with those small pieces of information, like a puzzle you're trying to piece together. Yes, you're still annoying as ever, but you always mean well. Ekko now thinks that he has finally gotten to read you like you have with him. You give him a simple look, and he immediately knows what you're trying to convey. You grasp his sleeve, and he stays, waits for you to get a hold of the present. There's still a lot of things he doesn't know about you or your past, but he knows you as you are right now, and that's enough for him.

Ekko glances back at you, remembering all the times he saw you handle interviews with an open heart, patience and compassion towards the person. You don't just ask questions, you help them relieve themselves with the burden of carrying those buried emotions. Just like you have with him by simply being there.

You feel the familiar gaze on you, looking to the side, you see Ekko already staring at you. Waving at him, you grin happily at him as the water laps against your legs. Surprisingly, he waves back, although brief, you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

Scar's son stands next to you, watching at the waist deep water with concentration as he tugs at your blouse to get your attention. “Are you sure you'll get one?”

“Shh, you'll scare the fish.” You ready your hands, ignoring the slight ache inside the cast. The doctor said you can get rid of it in a few days. You're looking forward to freeing yourself, but you're not excited about losing your research partner.

An iridescent shine catches your gaze, prompting you to shoot your arms out into the water. Splashes hit your cheeks, but the slimy feel under your palms has you guffawing. “I got it!”

“You got it?” Scar's son asks, his eyes turning wide when you lift up the twitching fish. “She got it!” He exclaims excitedly.

“Fish!” You yell, lifting up the large fish above your head and showing it to Ekko. He laughs, clapping his hands together slowly. Then Scar's kid suddenly leaps up and snatches the fish out of your hands. “My fucking fish!” Your scream of anguish has Ekko laughing boisterously, a sound that has you turning your attention towards him and not at the kid running away from you.

He continues to laugh, belly starting to ache as you watch on with sparkling eyes. Poro runs away, probably terrified that Ekko's letting out a sound that he's not used to. Instead, the dog bolts after Scar's kid, yelping and barking at him.

You dredge the cool water, looking up on his perch, grasping the edge of the rock where he's sitting. Ekko calms down when he sees you peek at him closer as if you're in awe of him simply laughing. Water droplets slide down your temple, hair damp and clothes sticking to your skin. He looks away, finding the pebble next to him more fascinating than your wet blouse.

“What?” He asks, a smile staying on his lips, brown eyes sparkling under the sun. His hair is pulled into a full bun, twists away from his face because of the heat, and his pants are rolled up, tank top showing off his arms.

You place your chin above your palms, fully endeared by him. Flicking his knee, you chuckle as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Nothing.” There's a lilt in your tone. Your eyes glance down, spying the portrait of you on his notebook. Several portraits of you on both sides of the pages.

He follows your gaze, face heating up and immediately shutting the notebook closed. Looking up to meet with your eyes, you have the most shit eating grin on your lips.

“I have something for you.” You say, pulse quickening. You're glad that you're already in knee deep water that's cool enough to smother the searing heat on your skin.

To his surprise, you don't mention what you just saw.

“It better not be council secrets.”

You chortle. “That was one time, firefly.” You rummage through your wet pockets. “Besides, that was me showing you and Sevika how easy it is to steal council documents during your meetings.”

“Sevika almost pummeled you, spark—” the golden charm on your palm has him stopping mid sentence. He flicks his eyes towards you, and you bashfully smile.

“It's an old earring I have that I lost the partner for years ago.” You explain, voice soft above the sound of gurgling water, remembering who gave you the pair years ago. “I managed to convince a blacksmith in Piltover to melt it into a charm for you.” Pointing at the dainty thing, you briefly look over to him with a smile as he admires the handiwork. “I designed it,” he cranes his neck to gaze at you. “I know, I know, hold your applause.” You joke, and he rolls his eyes. “I got the hourglass shape engraved on it, and…” turning it over, you show him the small ruby embedded in it. “...look, pretty, right?” You ask, unsure of his reaction.

Ekko beams at you, smile brighter and warmer than the sun shining down on the two of you. “Yeah, pretty.”

You let out a shaky exhale, now noticing that he's mere inches away from you. “It's for your hair.”

“I know it's for my hair.” Chuckling, Ekko unties his hair, letting the platinum strands fall over his hair like curtains. He swears he heard you stop breathing. “What are you waiting for?”

Your hands tremble for a second, but he stabilizes you with a soft hand around your wrist. You've faced creatures straight from your nightmares, trolls, and a whole army, but your hands haven't trembled like this.

Ekko watches you as you lean further to clip the charm around your chosen twist. His eyes roam around your face, how the corner of your lips tilt up into a subtle yet unsure smile. How your eyebrows knit together in concentration as if you're trying to disable a bomb and not putting a simple accessory on him. The sunlight illuminates your very being, and he can't help but marvel at you.

“There.” You whisper, snapping the charm close, making sure that it's secure. “You look good.”

“Just good?”

Chuckling, you move his chin to face you fully with your index. He lets you. “Handsome.”

He gives you a lopsided grin, never thinking that you'd tease him back with more heat than he ever thought you could hit him back with.

His hand still rests upon your wrist, slowly lifting up towards your palms. “I need to show you something.” Tone serious, but still gentle enough for you.

“Okay, right now?” You blink at him as he gives you a helping hand up, voice an octave higher than usual. There's a warmth in your stomach as butterflies wake up from excitement.

“Yeah, if you're okay with that.” He helps you up on the ledge.

“I'm more than okay with it.” You quickly gather your things, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Come on then!”

“You're still wet.” He raises a brow at you as he grabs his hoverboard.

“Y’know what, it's less work for you.”

“What?” He snaps his head towards you so quick you swear you heard something crack.

“Nothing, I'm sure I'll dry off from the ride there.”

You get on the board with Ekko as he shakes his head with a slight warmth on his cheeks.

—

You peek over Ekko's shoulder as he flies above Piltover. Hundreds of roofs and balconies whizz by, the silhouette of you and Ekko on his hoverboard can be briefly seen near the rooftops and windows. A trail of green light flickers behind you, and the sound of the humming machine under you brings a familiar feeling of comfort. It almost feels like home.

His hair whips around the comforting breeze, sun shining down on the charm you gave him. Smiling, your arms wrap tighter around his waist with the excuse of being afraid of heights. He lets you hold onto him, your face pressed on his shoulder blade as he feels the subtle smile atop his skin. His jacket flutters behind you, warming you up from your recent swim.

He taps the back of your hand, a simple yet affectionate way of reassuring you.

Lifting your head up, you see the looming hextower. It's just a station for traveling blimps now, there's no trace of the arcane left in it anywhere. The familiar feeling of magic doesn't hum against your bones when Ekko lands the board on top of its expansive dome roof.

You roam your eyes with wonder at the structure and the view in front of you. Piltover shines under the light, its golden and stark white laden buildings are a sight to behold. Right in the middle of the two cities lies the bridge of progress that was once a witness to brutality now holds hope and unity for the ever changing cities. And Zaun, with its metallic structures, bold shapes and hidden natural beauties and resources has your heart soaring from the sight that was previously unobtainable for you.

You gaze at the whole place, and all you can feel is that you're home. You've found love in a place you didn't feel welcome nor needed, and yet here you are, finding that it has wiggled its way into your heart. It took a while, nine months of it, but you no longer feel the heavy gazes upon your back, the restrained hatred behind their eyes. The whole council respects your words now, they no longer cut your words off, or belittle or even be afraid of you. And you found that same respect for them while you have watched each of them work together or individually for the betterment of their home and its people.

Sevika and the people of the undercity sees you as an equal now. Vi and Caitlyn have become your close friends, Babette has become a friend and an informat of sorts, keeping an eye out in exchange for your sweets. Steb has become awfully close to you throughout the months, you have no idea how, but you guess you've managed to charm the enforcer. So far, the other enforcers don't look at you with disdain, probably after seeing your handiwork on the shimmer trade you and Ekko put a stop to. They might not know why you were there in the first place, but it doesn't matter to them as long as you're on their side.

It took a lot for them to accept you. Slowly, but surely, they've accepted you in their home. And you'll be forever grateful that they gave you a chance. Even if you're going to leave one day, like all the places you've been, it'll always leave a mark on you and a corner in your heart. But you feel that this place will be different than the rest. He made it different, and difficult to leave.

Then you look back at Ekko and you feel exactly the same, he feels like home.

He watches the sun in your eyes, the reflection of the blue sky dancing in your irises. Giving you a hand, you take it without a second thought as he guides you down the hoverboard.

His hand is warm, calloused palms in the shape of a weapon that fits right atop yours that bears the mark of war.

“You okay?” Clenching his hand, you watch as his eyes stare into your own, then over to the undercity. “Ekko?”

“This and the hexcore were the first things they cleaned up after the fight.” He looks back at you, still holding onto your hand, afraid that you'll slip out of his grasp and slide downwards into the hard ground.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. “You don't have to tell me, Ekko. It's okay, you ended it, and that's all that matters.” You can feel his fingers tremble against your own.

“I never wanted anyone to know, until you.”

You take a step forward, hand shaky with trepidation as you reach to cup his cheek. “Off the record then, firefly.” To your surprise, he leans against your touch, eyes closed as he rests upon your palm.

You give him time to gather his thoughts, thoughts that must've plagued him for three– almost four years now.

“You can write about what happened up here. So it won't happen again.” He says as his fingers bracelet around your wrist. His voice is soft, whispered only to you and the wind.

Leaning close, you look at him through your lashes, head tilting to the side to look at his downcast eyes. “Tell me, let me carry it with you.”

“After Vander, I raced up here.” His lips spills everything to you as he recounts everything that transpired on that very roof the two of you stand on. “Jayce was standing there, beaten up and about to give up while this…I don't even know what Viktor did to look like that.” You hold him close, and he pulls you closer against him with a hand on the small of your back. “But, he was about to finish it. They almost got me, his puppets,” he squeezes his eyes shut as the memory flickers in his head, how the darkness ate at him, how encompassing the void was, and yet how beautiful damnation was. “I saw the sky,” he opens his eyes to your gentle smile, and hands holding him in place. “And did it.”

“You were a goddamn meteor to him when everyone else were just stars to him.” You say proudly, remembering how everyone else described the void like space. “Take it slow, Ekko.” You whisper, thumb brushing along a small scar on his temple.

“The Z-drive.” Ekko abruptly leaves your warmth, turning around and looking at the same spot where the explosion shook the whole building almost four years ago. He stares at the dark mark it left, right next to the only remaining stain the arcane left before it departed Piltover. “I threw it at him as a last resort. Fought magic with magic.”

Your heart aches at the thought of him sacrificing himself for both cities all without other people knowing what he did. He can't fade into obscurity.

You make your way towards him. Slow footsteps, and heart thudding in place when you see the colourful veins sticking to the floor. “It looks like muscle, like flesh ripped out.” You say out loud. He side glances at you and you wince. “Sorry, that was morbid.”

“Always with the colorful descriptions with you.” A small smile ticks up on the corner of his lips.

“Can't help it, it's kind of my job.” you reach for his hand, pinky wrapping around his own. Heart beating rapidly as fear of rejection encapsulates you.

Ekko smiles, looking down briefly on your intertwined fingers. “I need to show you something else. Do you trust me?”

“Ekko, I'm on top of the highest building in Piltover where you can easily push me off, and yet I'm here.” Smiling, the sun illuminates you from behind, giving you a halo of light that has Ekko's breath staggering in his throat. “Of course I trust you, firefly.”

With a nod, he guides you back towards the hoverboard.

—

Ekko stops the hoverboard over a chasm, it's deep and dark with what seems like there's no end in sight. You swallow down the vertigo as you look down at the void. Slowly, he descends down. The only source of light is the green light his board emits.

“If you weren't going to kill me on the roof then you'll definitely kill me here.” You hold onto him, hands grasping onto the straps of his top. “My hands are getting clammy just looking at it.”

Ekko hums, hand holding your own in reassurance. “It's perfect, no witnesses.” He jokes, earning a smack on his shoulder from you.

“I'd like to see you try. You know I'll fight back right?” Whispering in his ear, goosebumps rise on his arms and you're ready to rub them down for him.

“I'll let you win.”

“And I won't hold back.” A sly smug spreads on your lips.

Ekko's gentle chuckle bounces around the cavernous walls. He grasps your hand atop his stomach, managing to wiggle his fingers around your own. It has you grinning from ear to ear as you hide your sudden bout of bashfulness on his shoulder.

“I'm guessing you already know what I've been doing in the mines?” You ask, tentatively looking over his shoulder to stare at him.

“You were in my backyard sniffing around, spark. ‘Course I would know.” He taps his thumb against the back of your hand. “What did you find?”

“Not much other than the appalling conditions the miners had to work in.” Sighing, you refrain from telling him the whole reason why you were out looking around the dangerous mines. You have a feeling he already knows.

“Are you okay?” He asks, noticing your sudden quietness as he glances down to look at the bottom of the chasm without fear. As if he has done it a dozen times before.

“Never better.” Smiling, your previous mood returns when you remember that he's still holding on to you. You don't want the ride to end. But alas, all good things must come to an end when the board hits something metallic.

Ekko pats your hand, signalling you to get off the board. You hop off, boots hitting the floating metal floors of what seems to be the remains of a structure. It creaks, making you hold onto the partial railing.

“Shit, Ekko, this doesn't look stable—!” Your eyes widen when he flies off and further into the chasm. “Ekko, you better not leave me here!” Hands sweaty and heart thrumming, you look around for stairs leading down below. The dark makes it harder to see, but with your hands in front of you, you try to get to sturdy ground. Before you know it, your feet brings you to a concrete ledge just behind the metal one he left you in. “I swear if he doesn't come back I'm going to—”

“Going to do what?”

“Fuck!” You jump in place, clutching at your heart. “You little shit!”

Ekko gives you a lopsided smile, snickering under his breath as he hops off the board. “What were you going to do if I didn't come back, hm, red?”

“I was going to…” you catch your breath, and step forward, the dark making it harder to look at what he's holding onto. “...to do absolutely nothing because you came back for me.” You smile sweetly, meeting him halfway.

“Huh,” he teases, free hand poking your side. “That's all?”

“Do you want me to tell you that I was planning on cutting off your balls or something?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I wasn't by the way. I'm not that mean.”

“I know, spark.” He sighs, “I—” he swallows down his anxiety. “I went down to get this.” Just as he says it, he brings the tech between the two of you, turning it on. The dim blue light flickers in and out, and the mechanical toy monkeys twitch and clap for a second before going dark. “This is the Z-drive.”

“The thing that caused the explosion?” You stare at it with curiosity, your fingertips brushing along the cracked glass.

“I activated it and threw it at Viktor. It doesn't work anymore, I picked up whatever’s left of it and built it again. But without the runes, it's just a paperweight now.”

“What exactly does it do?”

“Turn back time.”

You look at him so quickly that Ekko was afraid that you cracked something. “Shit, how'd you manage that?”

“You believe me? Just like that?” His brown eyes widen, in awe of what you just said.

“Yeah, it's you who said it. Of course I do.” You shrug casually, as if he just told you that the sky is blue. “Is that why you never told anyone about this? They wouldn't believe you?”

Ekko gazes at the tech in his hand, palm pressed on top of the cold glass. “That, and—” he sighs, rubbing at his face.

Your brows knit in concern. “Ekko,” holding his bicep, you try to comfort him. “Don't force yourself, take your time, please. We can do this another day if you want.”

He sniffs, walking around you to sit down on the dusty ground, head laying on the concrete wall of the chasm and legs dangling off the ledge. He places the Z-drive on his left as he pulls his leg closer to him so he could rest his arm.

You soon follow with the simple invitation from him as he gestures towards the space next to him with his head. Sitting down with the Z-drive in between you and Ekko, you lay your head on the wall, fingers playing with the sleeves of Ekko's jacket you still have on and legs dangling off the cliff edge.

The two of you listen to the silence, and watch as the shadows dance on the mouth of the chasm as sunlight tries to wiggle its way into the dark. You turn your head towards Ekko, cheek pressed on your shoulder as you listen to him breathe and stare at his chestnut eyes that you've grown awfully fond of.

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask, and he turns to you slowly. He nods, lips pursing together with a subtle smile. “Stop me when you're ready, okay?” He urges you with another curt nod. “I used to sneak my brother out to a sweet shop back in Noxus. Everytime he gets a high mark at school I take him there. Which was almost every night because he was the smartest out of the two of us. I call him my younger brother but he acted more like the oldest sometimes more than I did.” He smiles at the thought. “We only got caught once by our father, I took the beating and my brother never forgave him for it.” You clear your throat, letting the memory wash over you. “We grew up, I left first and he…he didn't forgive me for leaving him behind.”

Twisting in your seat, you hug your knees, chin placed atop it. Ekko listens in, eyes sorrowful as he gazes at you. “I reconnected with him, it turns out that he's a bigshot researcher now. Got all the ladies.” You chuckle at your own joke. “I had to convince him to talk to me. After a while, he started speaking to me again. Then I had to practically pull him out of his lab to bring him to the same sweet shop, only to find that they closed the place years ago.” You turn to Ekko again, head still placed on your knees. “He laughed at me for making a fuss out of it, then started bawling his eyes out. We both cried in the middle of the fucking street.”

“In Noxus?” You nod, biting your lip to stop the tears. “And no one fought the two of you for that?”

“The Noxus you have in your head sounds fun.” You giggle, inhaling shakily. “No, we–we reconciled after that. He didn't hold a grudge against me anymore. I'm happy that he forgave me before…” sniffing, you look at the device between the two of you, watching your own reflection on the glass. “He didn't let the past hold him down. I don't know what happened to you back then, but you don't have to be afraid of losing it all anymore.”

Ekko tries to reach for you, but the Z-drive between you causes him to retract his hand back to his side. He thinks he knows what you're trying to convey. You're right, he's an open book when he's facing you. “What happened to him?”

“I want to tell you, Ekko, but the less you know about them, the better.”

“What if they come for you?” Ekko clenches his jaw, brown eyes looking into the hidden fear behind your own.

You shake your head, eyes glassy as you stare off into the distance. “They won't.” Tapping the rune etched on your belt, you make it glow. The light flickers until it solidifies, illuminating around you and Ekko. “Mel gave me this when she hired me. Told me that it'll come in handy.”

“It did.”

“In more ways than one.”

Silence envelopes you and Ekko once again, it's a comfortable one as the warm light glows and creates shapes and shadows all over the walls. Now that there's light, you can see the colorful graffiti on the walls. Some are spray painted, and the fading ones are drawn by chalk and colored pencils. It's the same style that Sevika's arm has, doodles of cutesy things, pinks and blues dotted along the walls of the chasm and the metal floor, or what's left of whatever structure that used to stand here.

It's her place. You know it is.

“I know what happened to Heimerdinger. I was there.” He finally says, voice echoing around the chasm. You wait for him, brows furrowed together with worry. “He's gone, because of this.” Flicking the glass of the Z-drive, his brown eyes grow glossy.

“I'm sorry.”

Ekko closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again with determination. “Powder and I built it just a few days before it all went down.”

“Right here?” Powder, or Jinx, the same woman you've been trying to chase this whole time. Only for her to be a ghost of the past.

“Under the last drop.”

“But by that time,” you try to piece together the timeline based on all the interviews. “the last drop would've been already destroyed by Caitlyn's task force.”

“In a different last drop.” His eyes look into your own, trying to convey something that you're not privy to. He wishes that you already knew without him telling you so he doesn't have to recall it all.

“I'm confused, there's another–”

“in a different universe, with a different Jinx—Powder.”

Your eyes widen at what this could mean.

Ekko tells you everything, from start to finish. He tells you of his childhood with his friends and Benzo by his side. Then it all came crumbling down one day. He gives you all the details on how the firelights came to be, how he struggled for years before he became who he is right now. His tone is solemn, like he's telling a story that isn't his own.

With a trembling tone, Ekko recalls how he accidentally traveled to another place in another universe with Heimerdinger after Jayce showed him the titular hexcore. The place was shiny and perfect, it was everything he ever dreamed Zaun could be. What he has been working for his people this whole time. It was paradise.

You take the Z-drive and place it further away to move closer and hold his hand. Ekko surprisingly lets you, holding onto you as he continues to tell his story.

Then her name leaves his lips, the same blue haired girl you've been seeing every time you turn your head in the undercity. He said her name with trepidation, and yet, you can feel his emotions for her through the utterance. They made the device together, worked alongside the other just like he always dreamed of when he was just a boy. He missed her, unlike how the lanes missed her, but how a lover would. And not just her, another version of her too. You've deduced a long time ago that there was affection between them, but not like this, this… love was more than you ever thought they would have— had. That Ekko would have had for both versions of her.

He pauses, and you once again tell him that he can rest and take his time, but he continues with determination in his eyes. He needs someone else to know about it too, everyone who knew about the interdimensional travel is dead, he's all that's left. So when he couldn't hold onto the memory anymore, there would still be you to remember everything. With bated breath, and with every word he tells you, longing seeps out of him, a longing that can be felt through your bones. He wanted to stay, but he didn't— couldn't.

“Heimer just…” he swallows his grief, choking on all the words he hasn't said in years, all kept and locked in his mind. “He was just gone, turned into nothing. All it took was more than four seconds.” Your hand never left his own the whole time, not even when the sliver of sunlight above has faded away. “I was back in my own body, the Ekko in that world stayed with her.” His honeyed eyes look at the Z-drive sitting by his feet. “Then I was back here, talking her down from hurting herself. It took a few tries with it.” He gestures towards the machine, “but I did it, I showed her that there's still good left in her.”

“You did everything you could, Ekko. More than anyone could've done if they were in your place.” He nods, and grasps your hand in his own, squeezing it once.

“I know you have a question in that curious mind you have, spark.” He flicks his eyes over to you.

You chuckle softly, “you know me best.” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand as you continue. You've asked a million questions to thousands of people before, mostly laden questions. But nothing made you nervous like this. You're afraid that he'd get mad at you, leave you and in turn ruin what you have with him. Then you realize, you don't want to lose him. Maybe it's been in your head for a long time now, lingering and waiting to be noticed.

“Why didn't you stay in that perfect world?”

“I—” he inhales, “I have people here. I couldn't just… leave them.” His brows furrow, like a blade has stabbed him right in his heart. “I was trapped under the weight of everything I've ever wanted. But I don't belong there. Never will be.”

“You're better than anyone then, anyone would have taken the opportunity and stayed. You dug yourself out of that and left to save your own world.” Moving closer, you gently hold his bicep, making him look at you. You see the hurt swirling in those eyes. You feel it as you stare into them. “If it weren't for you coming back, Piltover, Zaun and even the whole of Runeterra would've ceased to exist. I wouldn't be here talking to you now if you caved in. You're incredibly brave, Ekko. Your act of selflessness saved us all. I may not represent the whole world, but— thank you. You're the best of all of us, Ekko.”

The corner of his lips curl into a smile. Heart filling with the same warmth you give him. “But this can't get out, right?”

You blink, he read you like an open book. “Yes, I know history has to be told, but this information cannot fall into the wrong hands.” He grasps your hand, squeezing it once, understanding your predicament to give out information without sparing a single detail. But this, this is beyond that. “If they know that there's another world out there to conquer…we can't let this get out.” You place his hand right on your heart, pleading with him. “I'm sorry, your story is important, but that's why it can't get out.”

“I know, spark. At least now this won't die with me.” Your heart drops down to your stomach from the hurt in his voice.

“It won't die with you, stop talking like you're fucking dying, Ekko, because you're not.” You reassure, moving closer, knee to knee with him as you place his hand back down to his lap. “You have me worried.”

Chuckling, Ekko's eyes flick over to your lips for a second, somehow, he wants the Z-drive to work again so that you'd hold his hand like this over and over again. “What can you write about then?”

You smile, showing how honoured and proud you are of him. “How you defeated hextech up in the tower together with the others and help clear Jinx's name and even help restore Viktor back into existence. He might've caused it all, but his contributions before that can't be erased.” Thankfully, he seems to be listening. “And how you used a device you invented with the help from Heimerdinger. Finally close his case. But I can't write anything about the other place. They could use this, they could go there and ruin that perfect place you told me.”

“Who would be able to do that? I barely got out.”

“There are forces out there that are more than capable. I'm sorry, Ekko. Please, don't let people know about the other universe. Think about the people there.” Think about her.

He looks at the walls where her mark still stays despite the ravages of time. “Okay, you have to keep it too.”

“I know, I'll take it to my grave.”

“Now who's the one sounding ominous?” He raises a brow, then stands up and dusts off his pants. You smile up at him, watching him reach out a helping hand to you. “I heard Jericho is making roast tonight.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?” He rolls his eyes at your playful jape. Taking his hand, he yanks you up. “As long as Jericho gives me your share this time.”

“I'm his favourite, spark, not you.” Ekko bends down to his knees, taking the Z-drive from the floor as he hops onto the board. “C’mon then.” He waits for you as you try to tamp down the warmth in your chest.

You stand behind him, hands instinctively placed on his waist. “Are you gonna show me where your secrets are buried?”

“If you don't stop I'll bury you with them.”

Your giggles ricochet around the walls as he takes you further below to hide the tech where it belongs together with what's left of Jinx's hideout.

—

You thought that the talk with Ekko would've brought the hatchet down between the two of you. Instead, it strengthened the bond you both already had. Ekko insists that what happened up in the hextower should be told, and you've been up all night with him inside his tree house trying to get everything right, to get every detail that happened that day. He doesn't balk at the nitty gritty side of what happened, he told you the story with truth and nothing but the truth.

The lights in his tree house were still brightly shining through his windows until the birds were chirping their morning song. And you once again found yourself waking up in his bed. Your eyes smiled at his scrunched up form on the armchair, the seat was moved closer on the bed, not sleeping on the same bed per se, but close enough to be affectionate. His cheek is squished against the armrest, face paint smudged from how he was running his hand over his face last night.

You still remembered how he spoke about everything with a soft voice, eyes downcast at his own hands as he wrote everything down for you even though you've told him that your wrist isn't hurting much anymore despite the plaster still on your hand. You sigh, still giddy at the memory from last night. And how he snuck in two cans of soup just for the two of you. He was avoiding your gaze when he explained that it was the only thing he was able to snatch from the kitchen while Jericho the chef was snoring away on the counter. He heated it up with his blowtorch and the two of you ate on the floor like a couple of students burning the midnight oil.

You move slightly to fix your posture, only to find that his stretched hand brushes along your own. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the thought of him holding your hand while he was falling asleep. Inching your hand closer, you gently wrap your index around his own. To your surprise, he closes his finger around yours. Glancing at his face, he's still in deep slumber, softly snoring away.

You want to stay there forever in his covers, and to sleep alongside him as he snores softly. But as you flick your eyes over to his pocket watch on the bedside table, the clock ticks close to midday. Gently unwrapping your finger around his warmth, you carefully flip the covers away from you. Your feet meet the cold hardwood floor, wood squeaking under your weight. Wincing, you take a look at Ekko, expecting him to wake up from the sound.

His sleeping face makes you smile fondly at him. “Like a baby.” You whisper into the room. Sneaking around, you gather your things, holding onto your boots and satchel around your shoulder. But before you leave, you quietly rip a page from your notebook to leave him a note.

Went to the doctor to get my cast off. Thank you for last night, make sure you eat something! Love, spark.

You tamp down a giggle by biting your lip as you scribble down a doodle of him sleeping and drooling all over the armchair. Satisfied, you place the note on his work table under a wrench. As you carefully make your way towards the door, you give him one last look. But you end up coming back to the bed, and flinging off the covers to gently lay it atop him instead of just his jacket keeping him warm. Patting it down silently, you smile and go back towards the door. All without making a squeak.

Victoriously, you leave the room with a soft smile.

Ekko opens his eyes once the doors click close, groggily looking at the empty bed that still bears your shape, and how the air still carries the lingering scent of your perfume. He notices the blanket around him, smiling and closing his eyes for another minute of sleep.

—

The way you abruptly opened the door to his treehouse was a stark contrast to how you closed it just this morning. “I knew I'd find you here!”

Ekko almost jumps in his skin, immediately hiding the project he was making under a sheet of metal. Your letter is tacked on the wall together with his important notes, he doesn't have enough time to hide that one. He looks over his shoulder, lips pursed into feigned annoyance.

“I told them to tell you that I was out on patrol.”

You shrug, beaming at him as you close the door with a well timed kick. “Your firelights don't like lying to me.”

“You bribed them, didn't you?” He narrows his eyes at you while you saunter confidently towards him.

“Nope, I just gave them the ol’ noxian glare.” You perch yourself on the table, hands bracing yourself.

“What does it look like?” He plays along, back leaning against the chair and yanking off his goggles to rest atop his head. He tilts his head as he stares at you with a raised brow. The warm light casts a shadow on him, which doesn't help your already clammy hands.

You lean close and make a face. “Like this.” Exaggerating your features, you make a ridiculous face, twitching eye and all.

Ekko laughs, shaking his head. He finally notices your hand free of the cast. “You got it off?”

“Mm-hmm!” You grin, leaning away as you show off your new and improved wrist as if you're showing off a diamond ring. “It's so much stronger now.” Opening and closing your hand, your heart almost stops when he takes your previously broken wrist in his hands gently, thumbs running along your skin like he's checking out new hardware. “That’s what the doctor told me.” Your voice wavers off as he kneads your palm.

“I highly doubt that.” He finds himself massaging your hand, so he gently lets you go as he clears his throat. “That's a myth.”

You inhale, steadying your quick heartbeat whilst you unconsciously run your finger over the warm skin he touched. “It's not, I broke my ribs once and now I can take a hundred punches to the chest.”

His brows knit together with concern. “Please don't tell me you tested it out.”

Raising your chin, you give him a smug smile. “I am a researcher, Ekko.” Chuckling, you nudge his shoulder gently. “I'm fucking with you.” He rolls his eyes, twisting in his seat to look at you better. Knee to knee, you try to make conversation. “What're you working on?”

“Just some parts,” you sense something's off. “What else did the doctor say?” He deflects and you wave your suspicions away.

“Just that it healed well. And he told me that you're due for a checkup. You didn't come back after you got your stitches out.” Poking his bicep, you tease him. “You're in trouble.”

Ekkk grabs your poking finger, and you clamp shut from the look in his eyes that spells either your demise or he's about to take a chunk out of your finger.

“I'm fine,” he says as he drops your hand to your own disappointment. “I don't need a doctor telling me I need more vitamin C.”

“You do need more vitamin C though.” Teasing, you try to take a peek at his work table, only for him to place both hands atop it to stop you from yanking the sheet metal away. “Fine, keep your secrets. But I'm not keeping mine.”

“Sevika and Vi are holding a party for you at the opening of the last drop.”

“Don't forget Caitlyn— hey! Who told you?”

“No one, I read it on your face.” Ekko puffs out his chest. Now he's the one smiling smugly. He'll never tell you that the firelights invited him first.

Scrunching up your face, you try to tamp down your grin. “You're no fun anymore.”

Beaming up at you, Ekko pokes your knee. “You haven't seen fun yet, spark.”

“Oh, so you're going to show me your dance moves then?”

He blinks, remembering the last time he danced. Remembering that last person he danced with. “I don't dance.”

You hop down from the table. “And here I thought I would get to dance with you before I leave Piltover.” Hoisting up your satchel, you turn to leave. “Anyway, please come to the party. I would love to see you there.”

Ekko's jaw tightens for a second before relaxing. In his bliss, he forgot that you have to go back home. To your real home. “Where are you going?” He follows you with his gaze, chair twisting around to look back at your retreating form.

“Lots of writing to do before I submit my first draft.” You sigh, already feeling the headache you'll have after hours and hours of work. “So I better get going— ah shit!” Eyes widening, you rummage through your bag and hand an envelope to Ekko. “Almost forgot, Babette's man gave this to me, which is weird because it's addressed to you.” Crossing the small distance, you give him the simple envelope. “Said something about apologising to me? I don't know what that meant when she was already cleared by the enforcers that she didn't have anything to do with what happened to us.”

Ekko takes the letter, brows furrowed together with worry. Knowing that the madam deals in secrets, he has a feeling of what's inside. “It's probably nothing, spark.”

“Do you think it's a coupon for the Vyx?” You swallow thickly, perishing the thought from your mind.

“If it is, I don't have use for it.” Ekko tosses the envelope haphazardly on the table, and can't hide the hopeful smile from appearing on your lips when he looks at you as he said those words. “Go and work, spark. Be careful, yeah?”

“I'll just be at my apartment, firefly. It's the safest place for me, apart from here.” You turn to leave, hand already on the doorknob when he calls your name softly. “Yeah?” Looking over your shoulder, he looks like he's about to stand up and make his way towards you— But is refraining from closing the distance.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he shakes his head. “Nothing, good luck.”

You nod, chest feeling heavy. “I'm going to need it, thank you. I'll see you in a few days, Ekko.”

As you shut the door, Ekko stares at the space you left. He listens in for your retreating footsteps before opening the envelope.

—

You're supposed to be writing today, but you can barely hold a pen after writing for three days straight. You went out of your apartment with an excuse of needing some fresh air, you don't intend to walk into Zaun with the sole purpose of seeing a certain white haired firelights leader. Well, maybe you are when your own feet move on instinct towards the firelights hideout.

As you cross the bridge of progress, your nose picks up something burning, like metal searing against melted iron. Heeding it no mind, thinking that it's just a smell from one of the factories in the undercity, you continue to walk through the busy bridge and into the city. A few people greet you as you walk by, their familiar faces politely smile at you. You wave back, smiling in return. Continuing to walk towards the lanes, the smell turns stronger, smoke wafting over your nose. Passing by the newly built last drop and Vander's statue, you decide to follow the smoke.

Your heart thuds in your chest, worry inching closer as you run towards a blaze nearby. An echoing commotion has you sprinting faster. Turning a corner, your eyes widen when you see an old building going up in flames. People rush by, trying to get their belongings incase the fire spreads to their buildings. Enforcers and civilians help by bringing in buckets of water and hosing the fire down. It's nowhere near the hideout, nor a place you know anyone lives in. You remember it being abandoned in the first place. But the way that the firelights gather around it in their ash covered hair and coughing up while they desperately try to get everyone out, your worries solidify when you don't see Ekko amongst the crowd.

Hands balling into fists, you try to unfurl it but it freezes in place, knuckles shaking, nails digging into your flesh. You bolt off towards the fire, heat kissing your cheeks and embers flying past you.

“Spark!” Sevika stops you, grabbing and stopping you before you get further in. “Stop!” She grasps onto you as you try to escape from her hold.

“Where—” your frantic eyes look at her. “What happened?”

“We got a tip that the last shimmer factory was here.” She exhales shakily, palm clammy on top of your shoulder. “It— shit hit the fan. We got most of them thanks to Ekko—”

“Where is he?” You almost scream. “Sevika, where is he now?” Taking her by the shoulder, your voice trembles, and her hold on you loosens. “Is he—”

“He's still inside—”

You sprint immediately, pushing Sevika off and running away before she could get a hold of you again. Familiar faces whizz past you, their calls falling on deaf ears as you ignore their cries. You inhale smoke and ash, heat blasting against your face. For a second, you're back home, standing on the ashes of your brother's laboratory with your palms still smoldering.

Enforcers help around the burning building, some tend to the wounded, a few help with crowd control. Steb finds you running, and he lifts his arm to try and stop you.

“Red, no!”

You dodge his hand, the pads of his fingers briefly brushing against your arm. Continuing on, no one can stop you as you jump over debris, and dodge concerned firelights and enforcers.

Before you brave the flames, Scar appears from within the fire, coughing and heaving out while Vi helps him carry out a platinum haired man in their arms with an owl mask still on his face.

Your heart drops to your stomach when you see his limp head lolling down to his chest. And the golden charm you gave him is covered in ashes as they drag him out of the fire.

“Ekko!” Quickly running towards him, you grasp at his face and he falls over you as Vi and Scar are trying to catch their breaths on the heated ground. You collapse on your knees, holding him and frantically slipping off his mask and then wiping away the ash on his face with your hand and sleeve. His eyes are closed, and breathing weakly. “Wake up for me, Ekko!” Shaking his shoulder, you roam your eyes for a medic. “Help!”

“We need some help here!” Vi yells, voice cracking, eyes wide as she stares at Ekko. Scar runs towards the nearest medic, trying to drag him towards you and Ekko.

“Hey.” You snap your head towards his weak voice.

“Holy shit!” Gasping, you give him a relieved smile. “What were you still doing in there?” You're already planning a way to fight back at the last chem baron who did this to him and the firelights.

“You're loud,” He wheezes, hand slowly reaching up to your face, thumb smearing the ash off of your cheek. His eyes flutter shut, hand limping and sliding off your face. “Stay with me, d–don’t do anything stupid.”

You cradle him in your arms, palm placed on his heart, “how'd you know I was already planning revenge, huh, firefly?” Your tone oozes affection.

“Because,” He heaves, “I know you, Powder.”

A tear flows down your cheek, clearing a path around the ash. The breath in your lungs is taken from your lips, “Medic!”

—

His dreams were a garbled mess of blue and red.

Ekko wakes up in the infirmary, chest panting, brown eyes frantically looking around. There's an oxygen mask on his face, helping him breathe through the panic. His breathing evens out when he sees you sleeping on the rickety chair next to him. Your head is on the mattress, laying beside his hip whilst you're clutching onto an ash covered rag as if it's your life line. Your face is tucked in your arms, but you don't seem to be sleeping from how tense your shoulders are.

The room smells of antiseptic and bleach that makes his nose itch. The humming lights and ceiling fans has him feeling right at home as the quiet snores of his fellow firelights fill the infirmary. He knows this place well from his numerous visits as the leader of the firelights and as a patient. Inhaling deeply at the clean oxygen, he weakly raises his hand up to yank it off and place it atop his chest.

Then, he simply places his palm on top of your head, and you immediately spring awake. Your eyes are red, heavy bags weighing you down. Shirt disheveled and crumpled, you look like you're the one who escaped death not him.

You try to speak but you don't find the words.

Ekko's hand slips from your head, falling down until you catch it mid fall. Placing his hand gently down to the bed, you give him a weak smile and take your hand back to his dismay.

“I'll call the doctor—” You try to get up, but his hand upon your wrist stops you. His grip is weak, but the determination is there.

Ekko calls your name, not spark, not red, your name, the last thing he heard in his dreams. “Can—” he coughs, and you immediately grab a glass of water from the bedside.

“Drink, it'll help.” Helping him sit up on the bed, your hand is propping him up by holding his back, while your other hand gently tilts the glass to his dry lips. “The doctor said you inhaled too much smoke, you should keep the mask on. Coupling that up with a few minor injuries from the fight—” you should've been there with him, knowing that he was there partly because of you. “he said that you'll be fine within a few days.”

He gulps down, and you help him sit against the headboard as he watches the melancholy look you have in your eyes. “What's wrong?” He asks you as if he's not the one abed.

“Nothing.” You place the glass back, and you unfurl your fists again only to curl it around itself once more. “Just— you got me— us worried for a second. I thought I would have to leave Piltover without a goodbye from you.”

“I’m fine, I've got great lungs.”

You chuckle weakly at his attempt at a joke. “Okay, I'll let you rest.” Patting his hand with the intention of saying goodbye, he unexpectedly intertwines his fingers around your own. “Ekko.” You sigh, not having the heart to yank yourself off.

“Were you here the entire time?”

“Yeah, you told me to. Or—” you swallow down thickly. “You told…Powder.” Ekko furrows his brows, the hurt is evident in your tone. “I did stay, even if that wasn't intended for me.”

“I called you Powder?” He's in disbelief at himself.

“Do I look like her, Ekko?” You blurt out, fingers trembling around his. He shakes his head, still holding onto your hand. “I thought—” you scoff at yourself. “Nevermind, just get some rest, okay?” You turn to leave, reluctantly pulling your hand away from him.

He calls your name, and the next thing he sees is the door closing shut behind you.

You inhale the fresh air as night slowly turns to dusk. You curl your fists, knuckles shaking as you still feel the heat against your skin. It would've hurt less if you don't feel anything for him, a knife to the chest would've hurt far less than this. Tears prick at your eyes, but you quickly wipe it away.

Crickets chirp from the bushes around the hideout as fireflies roam just above the gingko tree. Its leaves sways in the summer breeze, wind carrying your tethered sorrow within your stubborn heart.

“Do you even want to go home?” His voice suddenly appearing from behind has you immediately twisting around towards him.

Ekko clutches at his side, panting from the short walk while his lungs still haven't recovered just yet. His brown eyes shine under the moonlight as fireflies flutter close by.

“Shit, Ekko, you should be in bed!” You quickly close the distance, holding onto him before he collapses. He wheezes and lets out a dry cough whilst you whisk him away towards the nearby bench. “What are you doing out here?” You gently place him down, kneeling before him as his hand refuses to let you go. “I need to get you back inside.”

“No,” he coughs against the crook of his arm. “Stay.”

“Why are you being stubborn?” Your frustration is evident in your tone as you gently grasp his face. “Ekko, let's go back inside—”

“You haven't…” he exhales shakily, croaking out the words. “You haven't answered my question.”

“You interviewing me now?”

He meets with your eyes, his weak grip around your wrist. “Do you even want to go home?”

“I—” You purse your lips together, “Why did you want to go home when you were there with her? You've got no one here.”

He clenches his eyes shut at your deflection. Then he opens them again, looking at you fondly. *Always a dance with you. The words slither back into his mind. “I've got my people.”

“Yes, but they aren't her.” You push down everything you're feeling. Hurt, frustration, anger, and love. Standing up, for a second Ekko thinks you're about to run away, but that's not you, you don't run. As you sit beside him, he watches the moonlight frame the side of your face. “I—I remind you of her. Don't I? Is that why you've taken a liking to me?”

Ekko tries to reach for your hand but retracts it back to his lap. “Sometimes you do.” You close your eyes shut, unfurling and closing your fists. “I know you're not her.” His words are laced with grief.

“I'll never be her, Ekko.” You stare at his hand, wanting nothing else but to hold him. “I’m sorry I can't be her.”

“I know,” he finally faces you fully and holds your hand and slowly and gently unfurls each of your fists. “You're you, and that's enough for me.” More than enough. “Never be sorry for being you.” He says your name softly and full of love that you've forgotten how to breathe. “Do you want to stay?” With me? He utters the words with hope as his thumbs knead over the scars along the back of your hand.

“I–I’m not sure, all I know is that It's…easier here.” You look at him with melancholy. “Somehow, you made it easy, Ekko.”

He says your name as he fights his own instinct from placing his head on your shoulder. Your palm shakes as you hold him against you, cradling his head with such care that only a lover could provide. You've never seen him so vulnerable, not the leader, or the savior, just a man who has grown too tired to bare his teeth to the world. For once in almost four years, he lets his walls crumble further down, to bridge whatever gap is left between you, to be held and cared for.

“You make it impossible to hate you, Ekko.” You whisper to him, all truth and full of endearment for the man next to you.

Ekko's cheek is pressed against your skin, eyes closing as he listens to your faint breathing. His arm snakes around your back, fingers holding onto your waist as he lets your perfume wash over him until the scent of ash and smoke leaves his side only to be replaced by your presence.

“I—I understand how it feels. The grief…the longing.” You whisper so quietly that if he wasn't so close to you he wouldn't have heard you above the crickets. “Sometimes you assume you've moved on because you haven't thought of them for a while, but then you see a flower growing in the cracks of pavement—” you sniff, laying against him carefully. He holds onto you close. Just two people letting their grief lap at them like the tides. “The petals are in the same hue that reminds you of their eyes. Or a word said by someone else that they used to say all the damn time.” You chuckle bittersweetly. “Even splattered paint on a wall that's the same shade as their hair. It reminds you of them, it all reminds you who you lost.”

Reaching for his other hand, you enclose your fingers around him, letting his warmth soothe you. For the first time in a long time, you don't feel afraid whenever heat holds you close. You find it— him comforting you simply by being near his warmth. It no longer burns you or reminds you of the past, it lights up the path away from your shuttered past.

“I may not live a hundred lifetimes, but I've loved and lost too, Ekko.” You watch as his eyes gravitate towards your intertwined hands. “And I know we can't keep away from their song that's stuck in our heads but we can lower the music, not tune it out completely— let it keep us company like they have before. All I ask is for you to not quiet down my own song when I leave.”

With a simple broken look from him, you know that he doesn't want you to leave. And all you want from him is to ask you to stay, and you would. He hasn't.

“Out of all the universe out there, I just thought that you could love me in this one.” You smile at him, heart weighing heavy.

“Maybe I could…I could love you in this one.” Maybe he already has.

You chuckle, skin warm as you gently take his face and press a sweet lingering kiss on his cheek. You're at a loss for words. “I lied, I can't read you like an open book.”

“Then,” he wheezes but quickly composes himself. Sitting up, he holds onto your cheek, letting you lean against him. “Let me tell you. I want to wake up to your face every morning, for you to stitch me up together again. To tell me I'm not all that,” you chuckle, cheeks wet with tears that he wipes off with a careful thumb. “And to hold me just like this every night.” He swallows down his fear of rejection. “You told me that I don't have to be afraid of losing it all anymore, but I'm scared of losing you. You're not impossible to love, spark.” His hand trembles, chest aching for what he's about to say. “I can't ask you to stay. You've got places to be, a promise to keep. I can't be the one who'll hold you back.”

Nodding, you lean close, embracing him as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Then see me off,” he presses a featherlight kiss on your temple, an immediate yes. “Come to the last drop, dance with me like it won't be the last time.” Please ask me to stay.

Ekko holds you as if you're about to be taken away from him as he whispers a ‘yes’ against your warm skin. Incredibly warm. You feel like the sun against his flesh. But he doesn't let go or flinch away from the heat, he holds you tight, he'll be the one to fan away the flames, even if it's only for a brief time.

As your tears stain his shirt, your conflicted mind feels like there's a storm raging inside, pins and needles ebbing through your body, palms hot and sweating. But at the same time, you want to live, to have your cake and eat it too— and to love and be loved by simply being you. You'll find a way to stay, all without breaking your promise. It could be impossible, but you were raised to defy the impossible.

—

A week has passed, and Ekko kept his silent promise to you. He arrived at the last drop later than he intended, the party was already in full swing as he entered through the familiar establishment. The whole place was renovated, walls no longer seared with misshapen strange marks. Floors that aren't sticky are replaced with non-slip tiles that are perfect for the days when it gets too rowdy and the drinks start sloshing around. He still remembers the tables back then, how he used to spend some time there during the mornings when the place was still closed. As he takes a whiff of the air, it doesn't smell like the awfully familiar scent of amber and gunpowder anymore. It's like every bit of it was replaced but the foundation is still there, the history and the memories he had there still lingers in the walls.

As he moves through the crowd, colorful spotlights flicker in and out whilst music blasts from the speakers. Everyone who you've made friends with was there, he never realized that you even talked to this many people throughout your time in the two cities. He casually looks for you amidst the dancing bodies, but you're not there. Ekko sidles up to the bar, perching himself over to a stool, head on a swivel for your familiar crimson colors.

“You looking for someone in particular?” Sevika appears from behind the bar, polishing a glass and sliding it towards him expertly.

“What are you doing here?” His brows knit together in confusion.

“We answering questions with another question now?”

Ekko turns towards the bar, arms on the table as he rolls his eyes at the council member. “Spark, she said she'll meet me here.”

Sevika's lips curl into a knowing smile. “I volunteered to bartend, it's either this or stay through the ceremony. I swear every anniversary it keeps getting longer and longer.” She sniffs, shaking her head. “I like to remember the dead like this rather than cry about it with the others.”

Ekko's eyes widened for a second. “I forgot that it's today.”

“Mm-hmm, time flies by, huh? Four fucking years now.” She sighs, tapping on his empty glass. “What's your poison?”

“Whatever's faster for you to pour.”

Sevika scoffs, metal arm clinking against the clear bottle as she pours him a generous amount. “Gin then.”

His nose scrunches at the smell. “Sure.” Taking the drink, he twists back in his seat to face the dancefloor, hoping to finally get a glimpse of you.

Sevika leans over the bar with her own amber drink in hand. “You clean up well, Ekko.”

Ekko takes a sip of the alcohol, feeling the warmth line his esophagus. “You're not my type, Sevika.”

She lets out a guffaw, hand slamming down on his shoulder, making him almost spit out his drink. “Oh I know exactly what your type is. Someone who likes to play with fire, has an explosive personality, fucking smart.” As she talks, he sees you enter the tavern, shrugging off your red jacket and revealing an emerald dress underneath, shedding off all the red you used to wear. Sevika seems to notice it too as she follows Ekko's line of sight. From the way he quietly gasps as if air has been taken from his lungs, her suspicions from the beginning were right all along. “Can fight like hell, a good time to be around with, makes you smile. And most of all.” You wave towards Steb and saunter towards the bar to the beat of the music. “She's right in front of you, kid.”

“I have eyes, Sevika.”

“Oh I know, just wanted to remind you just in case you forgot or else I'll swoop in and replace you—” you make it to them with a bashful smile as your eyes sparkle under the lights. “Hey, spark!” Sevika clasps Ekko's shoulder again, hand heavy on top of him. “Fancy a drink?”

“Hi, councilor Sevika.” You say in a sing-song tone. “And no thank you.” She shrugs in reply, watching the interaction. Turning your attention to Ekko, your smile widens. “Hi, firefly, you look handsome as ever.”

Your eyes roam all over his outfit. From the turtle neck tank top that cinces his waist perfectly, to the dark green button up that's only buttoned at the last three silver buttons that makes you and Ekko look like you planned the whole outfit together. He has you weak in the knees. His lean arms are on display, sleeves rolled up neatly up to his elbows. You're glued on how his bicep catches the spotlight just right. As you obviously ogle him, your eyes bring you towards the warm yellow hue of his straight cut pants that's all held up by a simple silver belt. He kept his regular boots on, always on the go and ready to strike into action. But this time, his shoelaces are all tied together and not hanging loose. Ekko rolls his eyes, sighing deeply and bashfully as he rubs the back of his neck from how your eyes look him up and down like you're about to grade him on his look.

You smile, tamping down a giggle at the charm you gave him that's still on his hair. The light catches something on his chest, where the breast pocket is. And when you glance at it, you see a single red wildflower pinned to the fabric. A simple way of showing his affection but it makes your heart skip a beat nonetheless.

Sevika scoffs against the rim of her glass. Rolling her eyes and resisting the urge to push Ekko towards you to finally get some peace from the obvious pining.

“And you too— I mean, you look amazing— beautiful. Really really beautiful.” Fumbling, Ekko wants the ground to crack open and swallow him up. It's just you, and you help remind him of that fact with your smile and your hand reaching for him.

“Care to dance?”

Sevika whispers in his ear. “If you don't dance with her, I will.”

“Augh, this drink suddenly tastes like sewer water.” Ekko makes a face and you giggle at the two of them.

Sevika plucks the glass from his hand, “you'd know.” Pushing him off the stool, he almost stumbles towards you but you catch him with your hand on his elbows. But he accidentally steps on your foot from how he tried to balance himself without falling on top of you. “Shit, sorry.” He immediately takes his foot off of yours.

You wince, smile staying on your lips despite the mishap. “We haven't even started yet and you're already trying to break my toes.” Pulling him towards the dance floor, he lets you guide him with a lopsided smile on his lips. “Show me what you've got, firefly.”

“I've got nothing,” he awkwardly sways to the music as you start to dance to the dynamic and rich music. “You picked the wrong partner.”

Grabbing his hand, you lace your fingers with his whilst you help him move to the beat. “I didn't choose wrong,” you move closer, stepping in and out as you beam at him. “In fact, I chose right. I can't dance either!” Chuckling, you let him go as you twirl around the dance floor. “When other kids had dancing or piano lessons, I had shooting lessons!”

Ekko laughs at your plucky dancing. He takes your hand and holds it up to help you twirl around. As you move, the memory of Powder dancing in your place flickers in his eyes, blues and pinks flying across his vision. Then the kaleidoscope of lights shine on you once again and he's facing your smiling face and not her anymore.

Your laughter echoes in his mind, then it's replaced with hers until your hand is on his chest, and he's face to face with his spark again.

Tilting your head at him, your eyes narrow with concern. “Something wrong? You went somewhere else there for a second.”

Ekko brings his hands over to your own, holding you against him as he sways the two of you to the music. “Nothing wrong,” he smiles, tears pricking his eyes. You feel like sunshine on his skin, a reprieve from the cold. “I'm right where I'm meant to be.”

“Good!” You happily exclaim above the music as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than ever while he laughs and holds onto your waist. “Because I'm about to show you a noxian dance that's meant to strike fear into the hearts of men.”

“We're just swaying, spark.” He chuckles, chest warm as he keeps a hold on you lest you knock someone over on the dancefloor.

Your loud guffaw catches the attention of Vi and Caitlyn in their own little corner in the tavern. They give you a wave, and you greet them with a smile. All the while, Ekko's eyes never leave your face as he stares lovingly at you.

—

“Hey.” Ekko's voice appears from behind, and you smile at him from your place on the small balcony atop the last drop. “Thought I lost you to Sevika.”

You look over your shoulder as the lights of Piltover and Zaun provide a backdrop of you. The night is filled with glorious warm lights, a tradition to honour the people who were lost four years ago.

“Or Steb.”

He groans, making you laugh. “The fish guy, really?”

“The question is, why not?” You joke as he makes his way over to you.

Ekko has a sense of déjà vu. But this time, the world doesn't feel like it's on his shoulders. And yet, just like last time, he's on borrowed time.

“I got your jacket, figured you'd get cold up here.” He unfolds the fabric and holds it up to you.

Standing up, you smile through it as he helps you put it on. He even helps with fixing the collar. As he runs his warm hands over your shoulders, you can't help but feel like this is goodbye. It is, but you can't let it end like this, not when you've found your place.

You put your hand in your pocket, and find something metallic and cold inside. Your brows knit together as you lift it up. “What?”

“It's for you, to remind you of the lanes.”

Raising the silver chain, you see the familiar green sea glass surrounded by a simple frame that's engraved with a tiny firefly.

“It's beautiful.” You gasp at the sight of the light reflecting on the glass. Flicking your eyes at him, you find that he's already looking at you with affection. “Help me put it on?”

With a nod and a smile, he picks up the necklace and wraps it around your wrist. Locking the clasp, his thumb brushes along the scar left by the previous broken wrist.

“I love it, thank you, Ekko.”

He hums, brows slightly together, lips slightly parted as he brings your hand over to his heart. The two of you stare at each other for a while with a hundred words unsaid between you.

“Ekko,” you whisper his name as a breeze passes by. “I talked to Mel,” his eyes shine, hands still on your wrist. Shadows dance on his face as he waits for the news. “She approved the first draft, and would like for me to continue my research.”

“T–That’s good then.” His voice trembles with a silent protest.

“She also asked me to travel with her.” You play with a loose thread on his sleeve. Ekko's breath hitches in his throat. “I accepted the offer. But on one condition.” He calls your name, hands clammy atop your skin. “I get to stay here when she doesn't need me. And once I'm done with field research and interviews I get to write it all here. Not in some ship and not in Noxus.” You ramble, inhaling and exhaling as you wait for his reply. He stays quiet, staring at the moon behind you. “I–I want to stay, Ekko. I've got no one back home. With your permission I'll make this place my home too. And with Mel's help I can publish everything from here. A–And I can travel from time to time for research just like before and— for the love of everything that's good, please say something.” You give him a gentle nudge, anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

“You’re staying?” He asks, neck craning to look at you.

“Yes— mostly. But yes, I get to stay.” Grinning, you bite your lip, and your smile falters when he lets his hands drop to his sides. “I thought—”

“Can we start over?”

“What? Do you want me to explain it to you again?” You nervously laugh.

Ekko shakes his head, chestnut eyes staring into your sad ones. “I want to be better this time. Just like you said, we got off on the wrong foot.”

“If we didn't we wouldn't be here right now. Your stubborn ass got us here.” You reassure him, taking your hand and pressing a kiss on his knuckles.

“We take it slow, I won't be an asshole this time. Just– please stay. I want you to stay.”

You smile, nodding along, understanding that starting a relationship after everything he lost would be difficult for him. “Okay, we'll take it as slow as you want it to be. And I'm not trying to replace her, I just—” It's hard to find the right words for how you feel about him because love isn't enough, it transcends above it. How ironic that a writer cannot find the correct word. It seems love does that to a person. You forget the simplest thing to the most complicated emotion. And yet, he still hasn't let you go. So you decide to show it to him instead.

You want to be good for him.

You may not have been the first to his heart, but you'll be the one permanently etched in him. Hopefully forever if you let him.

Twisting his hand gently, you shake his hand in greeting, taking his request seriously. Telling him your name, he chuckles and shakes his head. “I'm from Noxus, and I'm here for research. I'm a historian you see, a really good one I've heard.” Winking, you grin as your eyes get foggy while tears gather in them. “If you're willing, can we be friends?”

Ekko takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes, he forgoes on his previous words. Pulling you by the hand abruptly, yanking you towards him until you collide into his chest. He takes your breath away as he presses his lips upon your own.

You gasp, eyes widened for a second before you reciprocate the kiss. Eyes closed, you hold him in your arms as your fingers run up the scruff of his hair and weave through the strands, pushing him impossibly closer against you. He tastes like mint, the warmth from the alcohol still lingering on his lips, ebbing to yours.

His nose bumps into your own, teeth clicking with his, but you two don't seem to mind as your lips kiss in tandem. Finding a rhythm, you smile as he pecks your lips lovingly. All the push and pulling has culminated into the kiss, needy and wanting to feel every inch of each other’s lips.

Ekko hums, the vibrations felt through the kiss and down to your chest. You feel like pliant clay in his hands as his palm is splayed over the small of your back, pads of his fingers pushing you closer until there's not a sliver of space between you. His thumb brushes along your cheek, feeling a tear slide down to his finger.

Ekko reluctantly pulls away for air, chasing oxygen at the sight of your kiss bitten lips.

“What happened to starting over?” You ask, half giggling, half in shock.

“I couldn't wait that long, sorry. I should've asked—”

You pull him back towards you, his knees touching your own, and his hands gripping onto your hips. “Thank you for not making me wait.” This time, you cup his face and lean in.

He kisses you softly, like it's the first time.

—

Your head rests upon Ekko's clavicle, hands tucked under the warm blanket as you sit on his lap whilst he makes himself comfortable on the same armchair you've grown fond of. Instead of reading with him, you watch his face as he audibly reads the final draft of your book, lips mouthing the words as he utters it. He glances at you from time to time, reacting to the words you poured blood and sweat into. It's not published yet since it's still pending approval from the council and Mel. But you'd rather have them take their sweet time since it means that you get to spend more time in the undercity with him until it's time to go out into the world once again.

He's getting an exclusive look at the book, its cover is stark white with golden trim that represents Piltover. And its brilliant lettering is in forest green, the same color your name is printed in. It represents Zaun, but for you and Ekko, it's a little secret for the two of you to share. It simply shows the love and care for the man before you.

“You said you'd read it with me.” He whispers, temple nudging your own as he reads with his eyes.

“I am.”

“No, you're just staring at me like I owe you money.” Ekko side glances at you, his fingers resting on your stomach pinches you playfully.

“Technically you do since you haven't paid me for the bet you lost.” Smirking, you poke his belly, finding nothing but lean muscle underneath.

He shoots you a look as you slowly lean up to kiss his jaw. “You promised, spark.” He says as if he's chastising a rowdy cat that's about to push a glass off the table. “We have to finish reading this or you'll ask me to read it all over again.”

You suck in your teeth, pouting at him and stopping from making your moves on him. He seems a bit disappointed that you actually conceded so easily. He was hoping for a bit of resistance at least.

“Well, how would I know if you like it?”

“I already love it.” Ekko places the bookmark you made for him in between the pages and closes the thick book. He turns to you fully, placing the book down on your lap and twisting to the side to hold you close. “The others will love it too, I'm sure.”

“I don't care what they think.” You place your palms on his chest, right above his heart as you gaze at him softly. “I only care what you think.”

He sighs longingly, ogling your face as if he currently doesn't have you on his lap and staring at him with so much love. “That would work if I'm the only person who's gonna read it.”

“Don't remind me that the whole of Runeterra will get to read my mess!”

Thumping your head on the crook of his neck, you groan like a petulant child not getting what they wanted for her birthday. He chuckles, hand petting your head as he presses a weighted kiss on your hairline.

“It's not a mess.” Whispering, Ekko reassures you. “I love it.” He shakes you lovingly but you don't budge.

He thinks that the looming date where you have to leave has finally gotten to you. Coupled that with the anxiety of your first solo work getting published— you haven't left his side in months. Ekko doesn't mind though, he got a bigger bed for the tree house just for the occasion. You didn't miss a beat at asking to stay with him for the time being the second you saw the new drawers and writing desk in a corner of the room.

“There's one thing though.” Ekko pauses, waiting for your reaction. Sure enough, you lift your head up, eyes narrowed to peek at him. “Just one criticism.”

You fully raise your head up, brows slightly furrowed together. “Okay.”

He acts out a wince. “Nah, it's nothing.”

Letting out an offended gasp, you take him by the collar, staring into his eyes, acting menacing. All he could do was give you a lopsided smile full of mischief.

“Ekko.”

“It's nothing.”

“Tell me!” You shake him until his laughter echoes throughout the tree house.

Ekko grasps at your face, puckering your lips and squishing your cheeks together. “Alright. Ask nicely.”

“No.” He raises a brow at your stubbornness. You're going to miss this once you leave. And you'll be looking forward to times like these when you get back home. “Fine, please.”

Ekko smiles victoriously. “The boy who shattered time.”

“What about it? It's the name I gave you in the book, you said you didn't like boy savior too much.” You shrug as he lets your cheeks go, arm wrapping over your hips as he listens in with a grin. “Besides, no one will truly know what it meant, and people will just think that you have that title because of the Z-drive.”

“Love, you're rambling.” He says with the utmost love in his tone.

“W–Well, I'm explaining myself.” The term of endearment that he has grown fond of using on you makes you stutter.

“I like it.” He chuckles, tracing your side with his knuckle. “It's better than boy savior, but couldn't you have made it the man who shattered time instead?”

“Hm no, it doesn't have the same ring to it. Don't worry though, you're my man.” Cuddling close to him, you take your sweet time at nuzzling his chest.

“You're a sap.” He says, hiding the sudden bout of flusteredness. Despite his words, he embraces you as he rests his chin atop your head.

“I love you too, Ekko.”

With a chuckle, he says the same three words to you, whispering your name gently against your skin. You can't help but cuddle closer, filling him with warmth as you smile atop his chest.

His heart feels full at the moment. He wants to stay like this forever, to hold you in his arms while you whisper kind and loving words to him. You want it too, but alas, there will be times when the two of you will be miles apart. But that makes the reunion much sweeter.

“I have something for you.”

Staring up at him, you look at him with curious eyes. “A present? For me?” You exclaim excitedly as he laughs and taps your thigh for you to lean away so he could grab it from under the armchair. “You hid it under my nose. Smart.”

Ekko hands you the present that's neatly tied together with a green ribbon. You take it carefully in your hands, unwrapping it as you clamp down your squeals with your teeth biting into your lower lip.

Your eyes scan the rectangle shaped device that has square buttons and a clear piece of plastic on the top. He encourages you to press the left most button by simply staring between you and the said button. As you press it, the plastic covering opens up and reveals another black rectangle with two circles on each side. You eye the curious thing.

“What is it?” You ask after wracking your brain for what it could be, giving up as you stare at it with a perplexed look.

“It's a recording device,” he points at the black rectangle that popped right out of it. “And that's a tape you can use to record sounds with.” You stare at him with wide eyes. “You're not the only one who has contacts from other countries. I got the blueprints for this one from Demacia.”

“You made this for me?” You feel like you're about to cry.

He senses it too, so he holds you closer, making you scooch as close as humanly possible to him. “Yeah, and a shit ton of tapes for you so you don't run out.” He sees your eyes water, and without missing a beat, he embraces you in his arms, pulling you towards his chest once again. “So you can come home to us faster.”

You lean back, hand pressing gently on the back of his neck as you stare longingly at his lips. He lets you lead as his soft lips brush along yours.

“You'll wait for me?” You whisper against his waiting lips.

“As long as it takes.”

A/N: please consider reblogging if you liked it!!

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[httpsleely]

ALCHEMY by Taylor Swift | “WHERE'S THE TROPHY? HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME”

warnings. not proofread, may contain wrong grammars and spelling.

notes. this song is stuck in my head and all the edits as well 🫠 (if ur my oomf hi I'm still alive bro 🙏)

[ masterlist ]

IMAGINE... (Your Fav) academic rival! x you where in over the years you've spent knowing each other and hating each other's guts you've come to realize that there's no one else like them.

You hate their guts but can't help but yearn for them when even in your darkest moments, where you don't feel like you're number one—or those moments where you feel like you've failed, they're the ones who lift you up even if their words have a few snarky remarks.

You hate their guts but you can't stop the beat of your heart as they say that you got to where you are now not because of simple luck but because of hard work, passion, and the dedication you put through everything.

You hate their guts but you can't help but smile widely whenever you win or achieve something and rub it in their face while they roll their eyes and scowl, turning away to hide their smirk because they know damn well you'll get that reward/achievements because they believe in you.

You hate their guts but couldn't contain your happiness as they confessed to you they like you with a soft voice as they scratch their nape in embarrassment.

You still hate their guts but you just couldn't stop yourself from falling in love.

So, you formed a secret relationship, claiming that the little “game” of “hating-each-other” is much too fun to simply stop. Nobody knows that behind every tease, every (soft hearted) insult, or every action to annoy one another, you truly love each other. Because behind the curtains you act too lovey-dovey as you hold hands, hug, and kiss.

But that all comes crashing down as they join a big contest/game held at your school. Everyone was at the edge of their seats waiting for the results of the match. They would look at you from time to time; just your gaze, your smile, and the fact that you were there to support them (although no one knows that) makes them feel as though they already won.

And when they finally won everyone was up on their seats, cheering, screaming, or whistling—glad that their ace had scored another trophy. Yet they, on the other hand could care less. They're happy they won, since their hard work finally paid off. But who cares about that when they see you clapping with a huge proud smile on your face when they have won?

So, they pushed past the crowd, excusing themselves to everyone who had greeted them and clapped their back. As they made their way towards you, they couldn't help but finally break into a sprint and engulf you in their arms, suffocating the air in your lungs while they kissed the side of your face, before pulling away and meeting your lips in a kiss—so soft and so full of love. All the times you spent together annoying each other becomes a distant memory as it gets replaced by the sweet moments you had shared. And everyone around the two of you is in shock. The academic rivals? Kissing?? Each other??? But those people don't matter, or anything at all for that matter, for they already received the greatest trophy of all... You.

KUROO !!, atsumu, osamu, KAGEYAMA, OIKAWA, RAFAYEL, GOJO, choso... (YOUR FAV)

© httpsleely  |  reposting, modificating, stealing, plagiarizing, and translating my works on any platform are strictly prohibited.

[chronicallyonline101]

hiiii!!! if u feel like writing it i would love to request some rohan x fem reader headcanons or scenario where rohan's gf is also an artist but she's way more inexperienced than him. ty <3333

hi!!! i would love to do this it sounds so sweet! I am SO sorry for the wait, i've been pretty busy, BUT it's here now and i hope you enjoy!

Kishibe Rohan x Fem!Reader || Scenario + HCs - mostly scenario.

As much as it pains him to see you desecrate art in the way you do, I think Rohan would enjoy being with someone who is inexperienced in art.

Thanks to his career, and his stand, Rohan is naturally one of the best people there is at this kind of thing - people compliment him for it all the time, but it's special when it comes from someone he loves.

He wants your approval, and thanks to your inexperience, you're full of it; every time he creates something you're clapping your hands and singing praise and he devours it every single time.

However, it may be a little frustrating for him when you do start dabbling in the world of craft because wow, you really are new to this. That painting of a dog looks like a deformed cow.

He would offer to teach you, and you'd accept; but that would quickly fall down the drain because he has a very specific way of drawing - using Heavens Door - that literally no one else on Earth could achieve.

He also believes his art style is the best, and would try to convince you to use that instead of learning your own style.

But anyways, I can't think of any more HCs so lets just get on with what I'm good at - THE SCENARIO:

There was something so calming about art - the craft, the technique, the aptitude; each fine brush of paint against canvas, a blotch of ink to paper. It was soothing, and you felt silly for having only just picked up the hobby.

It was nice knowing that even with your inexperience, you could still create. And that's what you had been doing, that very afternoon - though late into the day, the sun continued to hang high in the air. Gentle golden rays of shimmering light flittered through your open window, splaying itself across your splattered canvas.

A smile settled across your lips at the sight, pressing a thin brush to the fabric for the last, small details. The lighting was perfect, displaying a visage of your boyfriend in the elegance he deserved - while you dipped your brush into a cup of water to clean it, you found yourself hoping that the sun would remain once you had made it to his place.

Yesterday, you had bought a fresh set of utensils; it had taken some brief self-encouragement, but in the late hours of the night you had picked them up and started sketching. With no real motif in mind, it hadn't surprised you to find a portrait of your partner sat before you. He had the face of a model; the kind of looks that were easy to detail, and though you hadn't slept a single wink last night, your efforts had paid off now that the work was done.

This was probably your best piece yet. Eagerly, you plucked the portrait from it's frame, wrapped it in thin, grease-proof paper to stop it from smudging, and tucked it into a large portfolio bag.

It took you no time at all to throw a jacket over your shoulders and slip out of the door - though the sun was high and the air was warm, there was a small breeze that flittered through the air, dragging along with it small, dry leaves and puffy clouds of pollen, a sign that soon, Spring would find itself curling around Morioh.

On a usual day, you'd likely find yourself bumping into a few friends or acquaintances on your way through the small town, but today you weren't bothered much. You supposed most of your friends would still be in work - blessed as you were to have a job that didn't involve a commute. It took you only a few minutes to reach your boyfriends house, and with a giddy smile held the large portfolio behind your back as you knocked at the door.

Kishibe Rohan didn't like being bothered.

Unless he was expecting someone, the likelihood of him opening his door to a random knocker was low; there was simply no need to. If it was urgent, they could call his landline.

When it came to you, however, he didn't mind being bothered. Living only a few minutes down the street from him, the two of you would frequently visit each others houses - you, more so coming to him than he did to you. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy visiting you, he was just always so busy during the day with his work and he knew that you would definitely come to him if you needed company.

Such is why you had a special knock - you would rap your first against the door in a particular rhythm, a melody unique to you, and he would recognise immediately who it was at his door.

Stuck in a block of what to do for his manga; hearing you knock at his door brought forth relief in his soul. As frustrating as it was to take a break from his important work, he at least at the restraint to recognise that perhaps a break was needed.

He wasn't sure what to expect when opening the front door to his house, but, seeing you try - and fail - to hide a rather large portfolio bag behind your back was not it. He eyed you up and down, growing sceptical.

"And what is that?" He inquired, tilting his body forward - a weak attempt at trying to see inside the bag. You quickly caught onto his snooping, and shifted the bag out of his view.

"Just wait," Was your gleeful chirp, ushering him aside so that you could flitter inside his house. Kicking off your shoes by the front door so that you could at least retain some semblance of respect, you quickly made your way past his stairs and into the main living area.

Startled, it took him a moment to clip the door shut once you had entered. He eyed you through his peripherals, before moving toward the kitchen.

"I'll put on some tea then."

"Oh, yes please!" You called out. With him distracted, you made swift work of unwrapping the portrait you had made - setting it up so that the fabric canvas was leant against the top of his coffee table.

It took a few seconds of setting up, but eventually, you had everything perfect. The canvas was angled in such a way that it bathed in the suns radiant glow. You stood in front of the picture, facing the doorway to the room; a cocky grin splayed itself across your lips when Rohan re-entered the room, a tray of tea clutched tightly in his hands.

He paused in the doorway. There was still a lilt of suspicion to his glare - he was unsure of what you were doing, but knew that you were up to something.

Slowly edging his way further into the room, Rohan placed the tray of tea on a table near the couch - a different one from the one you had been using for your artwork.

He crossed his arms over his chest, and with his brows furrowed, cocked his head to the side. "Can I see now?"

Giggling, you uttered out a jovial: "Yes!" And took a step to the side, allowing Rohan a full view of your artwork. "Look, I made you;"

Upon hearing that you had taken the time to make a portrait of him, Rohan's eyes lit up - he was a vain man, and the thought that you had been thinking of him enough to craft a portrait in his image pleased him greatly.

However, his excitement was quick to fade when he lay his gaze across the artwork. "Oh-!"

He gasped, his expression turning sour - the kind of sour where he had to bite his cheeks to stop himself from saying anything unsavoury. "Uh, that's... me?"

"Mhm! Do you like it?" You nodded your head, eager to hear his praises - It would be obvious that Rohan was exceptional at art, and so, you sought his approval more than anyone else's. His silence proved to be discouraging.

"It's certainly," He wanted to praise you, he really did. But, it was just so unflattering! Did you even look at a reference when you were making it, or were you doing it from memory? Or worse, did you have a pixelated polaroid? He couldn't even call it abstract, it was worse than that!

He swallowed thickly. "Well... it's,"

Your expression dropped, turning narrow the longer it took him to muster up a compliment. You crossed your arms over your chest, and with a huff, spoke out dully:

"I spent all night on it."

"Did you sleep last night?" His gaze flickered from the portrait to you. There wasn't concern in his tone, what you did in your spare time didn't bother him - you were an adult, and knew better than to stay awake late at night. He wasn't going to police you around like a parent.

When you shook your head, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Ah... that explains it,"

His attitude was infuriating you. You had spent an entire night on that painting, and he couldn't even think of one nice thing to say? You were sure if you took it to anyone else, they would compliment it - but of course, you just had to try and impress the great and amazing Kishibe Rohan.

"Explains what?" You grumbled, rolling your eyes to the side sarcastically. He didn't take kindly to your sass, but spoke nothing on the matter.

Instead, he walked to the other side of the room. Prying open a set of drawers to pull out a small, A-4 notebook and a thin ink-pen. Your eyes followed his lithe figure as he walked back toward you, narrowing in suspicion when he then sat on the couch; moving a pillow out the way so you could sit next to him. You didn't give in to what he wanted.

"You mustn't spent all night on these things," He reprimanded, frowning when he realised you were being petty. He was only trying to teach you: "It wears you out. You need to take breaks to ensure your skill doesn't deplete."

You said nothing on the matter. Huffing in disapproval. You didn't need to be taught, you just wanted appraisal - when he realised you weren't coming, he rolled his eyes and repeated a small:

"Look, come here," But offered no chance for you to move of your own accord. An invisible force seemed to push you forward, guiding you rather forcefully toward the couch where you were then plonked down.

Before you could even register what was happening, you found yourself flushing. His hand had coiled its way around your back and he held your hand with his, slipping the ink-pen between your fingers. He used your hand as a sort of puppet; pressing the tip of the pen to the paper gently.

With his lips close to your ear, Rohan murmured a quiet: "I'll show you how." You were flustered, but made no move to stop him - maybe your inexperience was a good thing after all.

[footballfanficwriter]

Prise giving ceremony

Summary:Jude and the reader are invited for their children's prize giving Ceremony

"Jude c'mon we're gonna be late" I say

"Yeah, I'm coming" he says, he takes my hand and we make it out the front door

"I've already spoken to mum she says they'll meet us there, cause they need to get a few things before the Ceremony starts" He says

"Are your parents going to be there?"

"I don't know honestly, but it would be really Nice if they showed up, it would mean so much to the kids if they did"

"Hey don't worry, even if they don't show up, I'm sure it will still be fun"

"Yeah"

" how many awards do you think the kids will get?"

"I don't know, besides, I don't care I'll be proud of them either way"

"Yeah, me too, But you know how they are, they always want to be top achievers in everything they do"

"I think they get that from the both of us to be honest"

"I don't always strive to be a top achiever"

"Yes you do Jude"

"How?"

"What about that time after one of your matches and you didn't play the way you wanted to, were you not having a fit?"

"I did not"

"Babe you did"

"Well you're also like that"

"Oh I already know I strive to be a top achiever, I'm not going to deny who i am"

"Whatever" he says rolling his eyes

"But I'm sure the genes didn't spread to our kids, right?"

"Yeah, no that is a lie, our children are so competitive it worries me sometimes"

"You're overreacting"

"Oh, am I?"

"Yeah you are"

"Remember that time when Julian, lost his football game and he got so upset he wouldn't even eat his dinner?, or what about the time Julia didn't get first prize for her 1200m run, and she nearly fought the girl who did, need I go on?"

"Alright you've made your point"

"Thank you"

We arrive at the school and Jude parks the car, he walks out of the car and comes around my side to open my door

"Thank you"

"It's a pleasure babe"

"You actually look beautiful in that outfit you know"

"Really, you like it?"

"I love it"

Jude has a black turtleneck on, with a suit Jacket, black slacks and dress shoes and a silver Rolex watch, while I have on a black dress that reaches just past my knees, with a criss cross back and a slight low V cut in the front, matched with a pair of black heels a gold necklace, gold earrings and my wedding ring

As we enter the venue we see people taking pictures, no dought that these pictures will be on the internet by the time the ceremony is over

When we enter the venue we find Denise,Mark and Jobe sat in the second row behind all the teachers and principals, we make our way to where they are sitting and greet them

"Mom we're here" Jude says

They turn their heads towards us and stand up

"Hi Darling, you alright" Denise says greeting me and coming in for a hug

"Yeah mom, I'm alright"

"Aren't you proud"

"Very proud"

Mark taps my shoulder getting my attention

"Hey" he says coming in for a hug

"Hi dad, how've you been?"

"I'm alright"

I greet Jobe and give him a brotherly hug while he daps Jude up

We all take our seats with me sandwiched in between Jude and Denise and Mark sitting next to Denise and Jobe

The MC starts the program and the school choir sings the school song, after that the MC starts her opening speech

"Good evening everyone, we're so grateful for your presence here tonight, thank you for coming to celebrate the children who have undoubtably worked hard to achieve these achievements, without further ado let's get started, I would like to call on Mrs. Clinton to come and present the awards"

Mrs. Clinton walks onto the stage and greets everyone

"Good evening everyone, I am here in front of you all to present the special awards to the children, the first award is awarded to the most creative student, Jessica James"

Everyone claps for Jessica as she walks onto the stage to get her award

"Why does she walk like that" Jude asks

"Don't Judge other people's kids Jude"

"Next, this award is for the most kindest and caring student who always puts other's needs before their own, this award is awarded to Ronald Johnson"

People clap for Ronald and  he collects his award

"Those are some big glasses he's got on" he says as he fists his hands making a hole in between each hand and putting each fisted hand on each eye

"Jude, stop" I say tying to hold my laugh in

"Next this award is for the most improved student, who has improved either academically or Socially, having had a hard start when they first arrived in the school and to adapting the school's culture, this award is given to Melissa Hall"

Melissa collects her award and we all clap for her

"Now lastly this award is a prestigious one and is a shared by two students, this award is for the most ambitious and Hardworking students, Julia and Julian Bellingham"

Both Julia and Julian walk onto stage to get their shared award, I turn to my right to see Mark filming Every moment

Jude and I stand up so both of them can see us, they see us and wave and we return the gesture by smiling and waving

Next they announce that they'll be announcing the prizes for the year 1s ( first graders)

Which is Julian and Julia's year (grade)

"We will first start with the year 1s and their achievements" the MC Says

"I would like to call Mrs. Madden to the stage to present the Awards"

Mrs. Madden walks onto the stage, greets the audience, and continues Jude gives me a side eye as if to say "look at her outfit" Mrs. Madden has on an old looking cardigan and a pair of baggy trousers, bright red glasses and Pebbles/stones for Jewelry "Good evening, everyone. It's my pleasure to present the awards for the Year 1 students. These young minds have shown remarkable dedication and enthusiasm throughout the year. First, we'll start with the award for Excellence in Mathematics, which goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

The audience erupts in applause as Julian confidently strides to the stage to accept his award. His smile is radiant, and his eyes gleam with pride.

"That's my boy," Jude whispers to me, his face beaming with pride. I squeeze his hand, sharing in the moment of joy.

Julian accepts his award, posing for a quick photo before returning to his seat.

"Next, the award for Outstanding Performance in English goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia, not to be outdone by her brother, walks gracefully to the stage, her expression one of quiet confidence. The applause is even louder this time, with our family cheering her on.

"I'm so proud of them," I say to Jude, my eyes welling up with tears of happiness.

"I know, me too," Jude replies, his voice full of emotion.

Julia accepts her award and waves at us again before taking her seat beside Julian.

Mrs. Madden continues, "The next award is for Excellence in Sports. This student has shown exceptional talent and dedication in various sports activities. The award goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

Julian gets up again, looking slightly embarrassed but very pleased as he accepts his second award. The applause is thunderous.

"He's going to need a bigger shelf for all these awards," Jude jokes, making me laugh.

"And finally," Mrs. Madden announces, "the award for Leadership and Teamwork goes to a student who has demonstrated exceptional leadership skills and the ability to work well with others. This award goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia stands up for the second time, her face glowing with pride. She walks to the stage, collects her award, and waves once more, her smile brighter than ever.

As the ceremony concludes, the children are invited to take pictures with their families. Jude and I rush to the front to congratulate our kids, enveloping them in big, proud hugs.

"You both did amazing!" I say, kissing each of their foreheads.

"We're so proud of you," Jude adds, ruffling Julian's hair and hugging Julia tightly.

"Thanks, Mom and Dad!" they both say, their faces glowing with happiness.

Denise, Mark, and Jobe join us, offering their congratulations. Denise takes out her phone and suggests, "Let's get a family picture to remember this moment."

We gather together, with Julian and Julia holding their awards proudly. As the camera clicks, I can't help but think about how lucky we are to have such amazing children and a loving, supportive family.

"Alright, let's go celebrate!" Jude announces, lifting Julian onto his shoulders. And me taking Julia into my arms, planting a kiss onto her cheek then her forehead

"Yeah, ice cream for everyone!, Say goodbye to your grandparents and Uncle Jobe" I add, placing Julia back down then holding her hand

"Bye nana" Julia Says as she hugs her grandmother

"Goodbye my Darling, I'm so proud of you, and you as well Julian" Denise says as she hugs the both of them

We continue saying our goodbyes and walk them to their car and we start making way to our car as well

as we make our way out of the venue, hearts full and spirits high.

The evening is a perfect blend of pride, love, and celebration, and as we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, I know that this is a day we will cherish forever.

As we walk to the car, Jude spots another kid and nudges me. "Look at that kid's bowtie. It's bigger than his head."

I laugh, nudging him back. "Jude, be nice!"

"And that one," he whispers, nodding towards a girl with a massive hair bow. "Is she trying to take flight with that thing?"

"Stop it!" I giggle, trying to hold back my laughter.

"Alright, alright," he says, chuckling. "But you have to admit, this is entertaining."

"You're terrible," I say, still laughing. "But I love you anyway."

"I love you too," he replies, pulling me close and kissing my forehead. "Now, let's go get some ice cream."

We pile into the car, the kids chattering excitedly about their awards in the backseat. Jude starts the engine and we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, the mood in the car light and joyful.

As we arrive and park, Jude turns to me with a playful smile. "You know, I was just thinking..."

"Uh-oh, should I be worried?" I tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," he laughs. "But seriously, what if Julian and Julia go into comedy? They seem to have a knack for entertaining, just like their old man."

"Oh, really? So now you're a comedian?" I say, laughing.

"Well, I did make you laugh, didn't I?" he retorts, winking.

We all get out of the car and head into the parlor, the kids rushing ahead to choose their favorite flavors. Jude and I follow more slowly, holding hands and enjoying the moment.

As we enter the ice cream parlor, the sweet aroma of freshly baked waffles and scoops of ice cream fills the air. Julian and Julia rush towards the display of flavors, their eyes wide with anticipation.

"Mom, Dad, look at all the choices!" Julia exclaims, pointing excitedly.

"Yeah, Dad, they even have that weird green one you like," Julian adds with a grin.

Jude chuckles. "Hey, mint chocolate chip is a classic! Don't knock it till you've tried it."

I roll my eyes playfully. "You and your adventurous taste buds."

"Just trying to keep things interesting," he replies with a wink.

We join the kids at the counter, scanning the menu for our own favorites. Julian opts for a towering sundae while Julia goes for a colorful cone with sprinkles.

"I think I'll go for something simple today," I say, eyeing a scoop of strawberry cheesecake.

Jude nudges me. "Oh, come on, live a little! How about a triple scoop with all the works?"

I laugh. "I'll leave that to you, Mr. Mint Chocolate Chip."

As we wait for our treats, Jude leans closer to me, his voice low. "Did you see that kid's hair over there? It looks like a bird's nest."

I stifle a laugh. "Jude! Be nice."

"I'm just observing," he insists, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know I can't resist a good hairstyle critique."

"Well, keep your critiques to yourself," I tease, trying not to giggle too loudly.

Our ice cream arrives, and we settle into a cozy booth. Julian and Julia dive into their treats with gusto, their faces quickly turning into a sticky mess of smiles and satisfaction.

Jude leans back, savoring his mint chocolate chip. "You know, I have to hand it to them. These kids really know how to enjoy life's simple pleasures."

"Like ice cream," I add, licking a stray drip from my cone.

"Exactly," he says, nodding. "I mean, who needs fancy dinners when you've got a scoop of your favorite flavor?"

"Or a tower of sundaes," I reply, gesturing towards Julian's creation.

We watch our kids laugh and talk between messy bites, their joy infectious. It's moments like these that remind me why I fell in love with Jude—the way he finds humor in everyday moments and brings out the best in our family.

As we finish our ice cream, Jude leans over and whispers, "That kid over there looks like he's trying to break the world record for fastest ice cream eater." He says eyeing the poor child that just seems to be really enjoying his ice cream

I burst out laughing, unable to contain myself. "Jude, stop, what's wrong with you today and making fun of kids!" I manage to say between giggles.

He grins mischievously. "What? I'm just stating the obvious, and it's not like I'm saying it to their faces, how will they know I'm talking about them ?"

"You're terrible," I say, shaking my head, still laughing.

He chuckles softly. "But you love me anyway, right?"

"Of course," I reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "Even when you're making fun of kids' hairstyles."

He squeezes my hand back, his eyes warm with affection. "I love you too, always."

We sit together in comfortable silence, watching our children and soaking in the happiness of this simple, perfect moment. As we prepare to leave, Jude leans over once more.

"Ready to head home, or should we challenge the kids to a rematch in mini golf?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Let's save that for another day. Right now, I think we've had enough excitement for one evening."

"Fair enough," he says, rising from the booth. "But don't think I won't take you up on that challenge someday."

I smile, knowing that whatever adventures lie ahead, we'll face them together—as partners, parents, and best friends.

"I love that idea," I say, kissing him on the cheek. "It's perfect."

As we sit there, enjoying our ice cream and each other's company, I realize that moments like these are what life is all about—love, laughter, and the simple joy of being together.

Jude takes a spoon of his ice cream  and leans back, content. "This is the life," he says, smiling at me and the kids. "I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Me neither," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Me neither."

The evening winds down with more laughter, stories, and plans for the future. As we drive home, the kids eventually fall asleep in the backseat, clutching their awards.

Jude looks over at me and smiles. "We did good, didn't we?"

"We did great," I reply, feeling a warm glow of happiness. "Our little achievers."

We pull into the driveway, and Jude gently carries Julian inside while I take Julia. We tuck them into bed, kissing their foreheads and whispering words of love and pride.

Back in our bedroom, Jude wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. "Thank you for being my partner in this crazy, wonderful life," he says softly.

"Thank you for being mine," I reply, resting my head on his chest.

As we drift off to sleep, I can't help but feel incredibly grateful for this beautiful family we've built together—a family filled with love, humor, and endless possibilities.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters Imitate Hoid

As requested by anon :)

I recently fulfilled another anon's request about Hoid imitating various Cosmere characters. This, I suppose, is a sort of sequel: now other characters must imitate Hoid. But don't worry! Hoid himself (or sometimes Design) is here to help.

[It's Hoid. There's SPOILERS for like every book in here but I'll mark which book is involved in case that helps]

1. [From Mistborn Era 1] Vin imitates "informant Hoid"

Hoid: Okay! There are three important rules for being a beggar informant! Hoid: One: look kinda gross. That way, people won't pay too much attention to you. Hoid: Two: pretend to have bad eyesight, so that they won't worry that you're paying too much attention to them. But don't pretend TOO hard, so that if they catch on to the fact that you're just acting, they'll feel superior and lower their guard. Hoid: Three: have actually good information so that you can push the pieces exaaactly where they need to go. Hoid: Any questions? Vin: Do you realize that I literally lived on the street for years? Hoid: Yes, yes, so you actually know how to BE a beggar, but do you know how to pretend to be a beggar? That's a much different thing! Vin: I understand why Kelsier steered me away from you.

2. [From Mistborn Era 2] Wax imitates "beggar Hoid"

Wax: I'm sorry; I have to drink WHAT? Hoid: Oh, so you'll drink metal-infused-whiskey all the time but you draw the line at drinking a little perfume? Wax: ... Wax: Yes?????

3. [From Stormlight] Kaladin imitates "storyteller Hoid"

Kaladin (in his best "Wit" voice): Do not fret young man--you may be hopeless and depressed, but I will tell you a story and that will fix everything! Kaladin: And by "tell you a story" I mean that you'll tell ME a story because you'll have to fill in my blanks like every three seconds! Kaladin: Oh and also! Here's an instrument you don't play. Don't lose it or else I'll guilt you about it later! Hoid: Hmmm...not a bad start, but it lacks...subtlety. Hoid: ...Also that was a really nice flute, you know.

4. [From Warbreaker] Siri imitates "storyteller Hoid"

Siri (throwing an enormous amount of colored sand into the air]: Whooosh! COLOR SAND Siri: [grins] How'd I do? Hoid [very serious, with colored sand plinking down onto his head]: So...that was the main takeaway, Princess? Susebron [clapping delightedly]: You're an amazing storyteller!!

5. [From Yumi and the Nightmare Painter] Painter imitates "coatrack Hoid"

Painter: So I just...lurk in the darkness over here? Perfectly still and brooding? I can do that. Design: Weeellll....it's not really "lurking" so much as "standing still while people put coats on you" and it's not "darkness" so much as it's "well lit so that people can find their coats." Painter: Can I at least strike an intimidating pose? Design: No, that's not really in the spirit of things. Hoid looked more "vaguely surprised." Painter: So I just stand there while people treat me as an inanimate object? Design: Yes! Exactly! Now just imagine that you're TRAPPED like that and try exude a sort of "sad but philosophic resignation." While also holding these coats. Yes! You're doing GREAT! Hoid: ...I thought this would help me see the humor in things but honestly I'm getting even more depressed.

6. [From Tress of the Emerald Sea] Tress imitates "cursed Hoid"

Tress (wearing the most ridiculous outfit she could find): It's me! Cabin boy Hoid! Tress: I may be wearing shoes on my hands, but I am actually trying really hard in my own way to achieve my own goals and help you achieve yours! Tress: No curse can steal from me my ability to make it through with the help of my new friends! Tress (in her regular voice): How'd I do?? Hoid (slightly choked up): F-Fine...

7. [From Elantris] Sarene imitates "beggar Hoid"

Hoid: Okay! There are three important rules for being a beggar! Sarene: You don't need to continue. It's obvious. Sarene: One: look gross so that people don't dare look at you too carefully. Sarene: Two: affect a harmless air--perhaps seem slightly mad or slightly blind--so that people will not worry that you might turn them in or otherwise betray them. Sarene: Three: position yourself so that you can achieve whatever aims you have in pretending to be a beggar in the first place. Sarene: How did I do? Hoid: I KNEW I liked you!

8. [From Secret History] Kelsier imitates "corpse-rafting Hoid"

Kelsier (singing in a mockingly off-tune way): Oh I'm float-float-floating on a coooorpse! Kelsier: Off to bully a ghooooost! Kelsier (in a normal voice): Wow! That ghost guy over there looks like he's having the absolute worst day of his life! Kelsier: I think I'll make it worse! Hoid: I'm not sure corpse/ghost could even be called a slant rhyme. Hoid: And in point of fact, I wasn't coming TO bully you; that was just a little side bonus that occurred by chance. Hoid: So I think your song is slightly misleading, and also bad. Kelsier: ...I can't wait until I have a body again so that I can punch you.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Twisters AU - Kara starts to heal

Kara isn't sure what she'd expected, walking into the Harding household. Somehow, a sea of pictures featuring Lena at various ages surrounded a motley crew of men and women at various degrees of cleanliness is somehow not, but also exactly what she expects. It feeds into the rough and tumble nature that Kara has come to associate with Lena, and as she peruses walls on her way back from the bathroom, she hears Lena's full belly laugh rolling from the kitchen. The photos and the warmth and the mirth all fuel the full presence that is Lena. Lena Harding, it would seem.

Lena's eyes flash to her when Kara steps back into the kitchen. Her gaze lingers a half-second longer than Kara expects, but before she can study it further Lena returns her attention to the frypan on which she's cooking a pair of eggs with sure, practiced flicks of her wrist.

"I was just telling mom about our most recent escapade," Lena tells her.

Kara scoffs a laugh, folding her arms as she leans against the kitchen island. "Which one? The fireworks or the misfire?"

"A misfire?" Jo arches an eyebrow at her daughter. "From Lena? Doesn't sound like any daughter I raised."

"Hardy har," Lena returns, her accent deepening in a way that makes Kara grin. "I let you have that one."

"Sure. I'll just pretend I didn't snoop on your comms and hear your crew teasing the shit out of you."

"Hah!" Jo barks, clapping her hands. "Oh, Lena, I like her!"

Kara flushes, unable to keep her chest from swelling with the compliment.

"I assume the guys are helping with the EF4 that touched down over in Rowena." Jo's voice softened, but remained matter of fact.

Kara's stomach drops, and a finger of ice curls down her spine. The memory of the night before chills the warmth that's built around her, tightening her chest and hitching her breath. When Lena quiets, Kara lifts her gaze, and their eyes lock across the room. Jo notes the beat, and nods.

"Front row seat?"

Lena exhales. "You could say that."

Kara expects Jo to warn about danger, perhaps echo an old argument about the inherent risk of chasing tornadoes, especially the kind of "wrangling" that Lena does. But none of that comes.

"They were lucky you were there."

Jo's response is so unexpected that Kara blinks, stunned. She looks to Lena, who gives a grim, close lipped smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Jo reaches out to her, cupping her daughter's cheek.

"The work you do is so important." Jo looks at Kara. "The work you both do. Not a lot of people see that. But I do."

Kara stares. "You do?"

Lena chuckles. "Oh yeah. You know Dorothy? That was mom."

"Wait, you--" Kara chokes out. "You're Jo-- You're that Harding? Of the Harding model?!"

"Guilty," Jo returns, not bothering to hide her smug smile. "Wasn't always a farmer."

"I developed my middle school science fair project based on your research!"

Lena cackles, earning a smack on the arm from her mother.

"Don't say that!" Jo exclaimed. "Like I need any more proof I'm getting older..."

"Oh, you're still young," Lena chides, craning back to give her mom a peck on the cheek.

"Yeah, sorry, I mean-- all of my research is based on what you achieved with Dorothy."

Jo's eyebrow quirks. "Oh? What kind of research?"

"She's going to tame a tornado," Lena supplies. But this time, it's without teasing. In fact, Kara detects a note of pride.

Jo turns fully towards Kara. "Tell me more."

Kara does. She shares the entirety of her project, her hypotheses and experiments and predictive models. Jo asks insightful questions, forcing Kara to dig deep into her knowledge banks, recalling the particulars of research she hasn't touched in five years.

In doing so, she recalls the nights spent with her sister, her friends-- the laughter and adrenaline, the intellectual combativeness, the drive to push each other to new heights.

The image of her sister's broken body the morning after that final, fateful chase.

She doesn't realize she's crying until Jo's arms wrap around her. She sags into the hug, clutching Jo as sobs wrack her from head to toe. Jo lets her cry, until the tears run out and Kara catches her breath again.

"I'm sorry," she says shakily. She adjusts her glasses, before noticing they're fogged. She removes them, and busies herself with drying them.

"Don't ever apologize for missing the lost, sweetheart." Jo cups Kara's cheeks. "It hurts, but until that hurt passes-- until thoughts of them go back to bringing happiness-- the sadness is how we remember them."

[channieschocco]

The Cherry On Top (Bangchan)

The sun had finally set and the cool, crisp air was blowing through your hair. You had just left a meeting with your employees and were carrying two bags and a cup of coffee. It was truly a beautiful evening.

You worked for a very well-known cosmetic company which constantly produced brand new trendy products for the public. Your cosmetics were used by idols and average people alike and nobody ever complained about them. You only ever heard good reviews, which was probably a good thing since you were the founder and boss of this company.

Tonight you wore a black dress with long sleeves which went all the way down to your calves. The shiny black heels on your feet made a satisfying click against the pavement of the sidewalk you were walking home on.

You decided to take a shortcut home through the park since you were so eager to go home and began taking the path right down the middle. It was now practically dark out, and the moon had just been covered by the clouds. The small street lights helped your view, but not by much.

Your heels dug into your ankles and you tried to keep walking, but it was no use. You sat down on a small wooden bench in the middle of the park and examined your ankle. You groaned when you saw the blister.

Suddenly, the sky suddenly burst open and fat raindrops began to fall down, soaking everything. Great, you thought. This is just great.

You gathered your things and disgarded your coffee cup in the nearby trash can. You tried your best to hobble out of the park and make your way home, but your ankle hurt way too much to ignore.

Click.

The sound of an umbrella opening filled your ears and you looked up. Sure enough, there was an incredibly good looking man holding an umbrella over your head.

"Thank you so much." You gushed.

"Of course." The handsome stranger replied with a grin.

He walked you out of the park and back into the city. You tried your best not to fall over, but you ended up stumbling a few times. Of course, he noticed.

"Are you... okay?" He asked hesitantly. "You're walking kinda funny."

"I-I hurt my ankle while walking with these heels on." You replied.

"Sit." He motioned to the bench behind us and you sat down.

He opened up his own bag and dug around for a moment or two, leaving you with the umbrella. It wasn't long before he pulled out a small bandage from one of the inside pockets and unwrapped it before sticking it to the back of your heel.

"You're so kind, uhh-" You blanked, not knowing what to call him.

"Chris." He replied.

"Chris." You repeated, watching his hand freeze from where he was nursing your ankle. "I'm Y/N."

Of course, the rain wasn't the final terrible thing to happen that evening, and fate decided that some lightning would make the night even better.

"Quick!" Chris shouted over the clap of thunder. "Over here!" He pulled you up from the bench and quickly ran to the other side of the street, where a small bus stop was, all while holding your hand.

You both realized what he had done at the same time and he abruptly let go of your hand. "Sorry." He mumbled, averting his gaze.

Your hair stuck to your face and you tried to tuck it behind your ear. "Chris, what do you do for a living?" You asked, hoping to start a conversation.

"I-I uhh, well... I make music." He stammered and you raised an eyebrow, unsure why he seemed so hesitant. "What do you do?" He asked.

You smiled, eager to explain your job, just like every other time someone asked. "I'm the boss of a cosmetic company." You put your proud face on, enjoying bragging about your achievements.

"What kind of cosmetics do you make?" Chris asked curiously.

"We just released our new line of fruit lip tints!" You exclaimed. "Let me show you the product pictures." You pulled out your phone and opened up your email.

You clicked on the newest product pictures for the lip tints and began swiping through for Chris to see. "This one's my favorite." You said as you passed by the cherry flavoured one. "I have it in my bag." You pulled it out as proof. "I'm wearing it right now, actually."

"Wow, Y/N, this is crazy." Chris chuckled. "You really have to send some of these down to our stylists!" He exclaimed. "These lip tints sound perfect."

"Stylists?" You questioned.

"Ah, of course..." Chris took a deep breath and all of the words came rishing out with his exhale. "My job is an idol and I'm part of a K-Pop group called Stray Kids and I really hope you won't tell anyone you saw me!" He rambled nervously and you thought it was slightly adorable.

You laughed. "Chris, I won't tell anyone." You assured him. "I'll keep your secret."

"Thank you." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That means a lot, Y/N." His voice was filled with emotion now.

You tried to tuck your hair behind your ears again, with no success, your hair still being plastered to your face from the rain.

"Here," Chris motioned for you to turn around and you did. He began taking strands of your hair and winding them together.

"Are you... braiding?" You asked, voice filled with shock as you turned to face him.

"Yeah." Chris replied, biting his lip in concentration. "Now turn back around if you want this to turn out, Y/N!" He teased, making you giggle.

The two of you were acting like old friend, laughing and chatting together. It made no sense to you how you instantly took an incredible liking to this person. In fact, it might have been more than just a liking. His looks and kindness combined were the perfect combination and you loved the way he made you feel. Chris took away all of the stress that had come with working long hours to perfect your company.

Once Chris finished braiding your hair, he still wouldn't let go of the braid. "I can't explain it." He said quietly.

"Explain... what?" You asked, confused, "Did you mess up my hair?"

"No-no, it's not that." Chris shook his head. "I just feel... somehow drawn to you." He said, making his ears turn a bright shade of pink.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"I've never felt drawn to anyone before." He said.

And before you could react, he pulled your braid towards him and met your lips with his.

The kiss was soft, hesitant. Chris didn't move and neither did you. The rain still poured around the bus stop, but everything else quickly slipped your mind. There was only him.

Chris pulled back slowly. "I think cherry's my new favorite flavour." He smirked, before blushing furiously and hiding his face in his hands. "Oh, God, I shouldn't have said that."

It only made you laugh.

He peeked through his fingers at you and you slowly pulled his hands away from his face. His breath hitched as he realized what you were about to do and his eyes widened.

You held his hands as you kissed him harder than before. Thank you, Chris, you thought. Thank you for being so kind to me. Lighning flashed overhead and a clap of thunder rang through your ears not long after.

You pulled back from the kiss and said it out loud. "Thank you, Chris."

"For what?" He asked.

"For everything." You replied.

You and Chris exchanged phone numbers and smiles as the rain started to die down.

The bus driver honked impatiently at you as you tried to quickly gather up your bags and Chris helped. "I hope to see you backstage with your lip tints someday, Y/N." He said. "I can't wait to see you again."

"Goodbye, Chris." You said as you hugged.

You handed him back his umbrella and gave him one last lingering kiss on his cheek before stepping into the bus.

You found a seat by the window and waved at the curly, wet haired person who made your night so much better.

Maybe the rain wasn't such a bad thing to happen. Maybe it was just fate pushing you and this handsome stranger together. Maybe it was just the cherry on top of an amazing night.

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: Could you do a Jamal fic where the reader is a female footballer and maybe he goes to support her at her game and she wins the league so he celebrates with her on the pitch? (anonymous)

Word Count: 467 words

(author's note: another short one ☹️ my inspiration seems to have disappeared but i hope you all enjoy this !!)

One of Jamal’s favourite things to do was watch his girlfriend play football. He had always supported her throughout her career and now he was sat in the stands for one of the most important games of her life.

Y/N's team were playing their final game of the season, but this time there was so much riding on it. They were 3 points away from winning the league. 3 points that could be achieved if they won today.

Jamal was seated in the stands, cheering and clapping with the other supporters when the players emerged from the tunnel. Y/N was leading the line, her arm adorning the captain's armband.

Pride swelled in Jamal’s chest as he watched Y/N take her place on the pitch. The whistle was blown and the game was underway.

Throughout the game, Y/N demonstrated her skills spectacularly. She had the crowd chanting her name as she dribbled past her opponents effortlessly and passed the ball seamlessly.

It was getting to the final few minutes of the game and it was still 0-0. But, out of nowhere, Y/N took a last-minute chance and kicked the ball as hard as she could towards the goal. It sailed past the goalkeeper and rattled into the back of the net. She had done it.

Her teammates screamed with excitement, sprinting up to Y/N to celebrate the goal. Jamal joined in with the crowd that were shouting erratically and celebrating along with the players.

After a final few minutes, the whistle was blown and the match was over. Y/N had not only won the league, but scored the goal that won it.

Spectators filed onto the pitch, eager to congratulate their favourite players. Jamal ran straight to Y/N and swept her off of her feet. He spun her round in his arms and she laughed at her boyfriend’s enthusiasm.

“I'm so proud of you! That was incredible!” Jamal shouted, pressing a kiss to Y/N's lips.

“Thank you baby, couldn't have done it without your support!”

“Course you could, you're the most talented footballer I know.”

“I think you have some friends that would disagree with that.”

Jamal smiled at her response and pulled her into another hug before she had to rejoin her team. As they stood on the stage waiting to collect their trophy, Y/N smiled down at Jamal as he gave her a thumbs up.

The trophy was brought out and handed to Y/N. As soon as it was in her hands, she started the signature trophy lift and the fans erupted into cheers and shouts.

Y/N couldn’t be happier, and she knew that there would be many more league titles to come if she had Jamal supporting her every step of the way.

[hxzxrdous]

heyy, as I heard you’re taking request again, I have a quite gross one. You see, I have some issues where I neglect self-care, especially hygiene such as not washing my hair, not changing clothes, not brushing teeth etc.

I know it’s very disgusting, and I’m really trying to do better but I can’t seem to get myself to do it.

Do you think we could get a Lady Lesso comfort one-shot regarding that matter?

I would love to read it, even though I totally understand if you don’t accept this xx

The School for Good and Evil

Note: AAAA thank yew sooo muchh for the request, loveeee. And I know exactly what you mean omg, I used to be either too depressed to properly take care of myself or/and my mom didn't accustom me of self-care from when I was little. Like she'd literally bathe me and my brother once a week. And she wouldn't teach us to brush our teeth. It's very hard to get myself to do these things now because I'm saur not used to it. 🫣💀 I HOPEEE YOU LIKE THE WAY I WROTE IT

Platonic Lady Lesso x reader

TW: Mention of depression, comfort, fluffity fluffy fluff, Lady Lesso literally mothering

ISN'T IT AMAZING?

"And that is how you defeat your mortal enemy," Lady Lesso walked around the classroom, twirling with her cane as she taught until her eyes darted over the empty seat that stayed empty over two weeks now. At first she thought you might be sick but now she knows you were ditching class.

After she dismissed the class, she made her way to your dormitory but nothing could've prepared her for what came next. Lady Lesso entered the dimly lit room cautiously, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. The air was heavy, mixed with smell of sweat. The sight of your mattered and tangled hair was too much. She immediately knew the cause was depression.

"Ah, there you are," she whispered, observing you. A sigh escaped her lips as she noticed your disheveled state. She pulled a chair closer and sat down, resting her chin on her hand. The silence in the room was broken only by the faint sound of breathing. Lady Lesso tilted her head slightly, contemplating how best to approach this delicate situation.

Lady Lesso watched as you stirred, your face contorted into a mix of confusion and fear.

Your eyes met Lady Lesso's, widening further upon recognizing the unexpected visitor. In a hushed tone, you stammered, "I'm sorry, ma'am - I didn't..."

A gentle wave of Lady Lesso's hand silenced the apology before it could fully form. "Shhh," Lady Lesso soothed, leaning forward in her chair.

"I- I think I need help- I feel so- so disgusting-" the girl whispered. "I can't get myself to wash and brush my teeth-"

Lady Lesso let out a light chuckle, masking her growing concern. "Wash?" She repeated, feigning innocence. "Perhaps we can turn this chore into a game," she suggested, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"A game?" You tilted your head

"Ah, I'm glad you're intrigued!" Lesso clapped her hands together once, the sound echoing in the room. "Imagine this," she began, leaning forward with excitement. "Every time you wash a certain part of your body or brush your teeth, you earn points." Her eyes locked onto yours, challenging you to accept the proposition.

"What do I get when I earn points?" You asked.

"Well, my dear, besides the satisfaction of a clean body and mind, you shall receive small rewards along the way." She paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "For every milestone achieved, I shall gift you something special - perhaps a book from my collection or a treat from the kitchens."

"Can you help me, please? I dunno how to get rid of the knots" the you pointed to her tangled hair.

Lady Lesso arched an eyebrow, studying the knotted mess that was your hair. "Knots, eh?" She murmured thoughtfully, her silver-manicured fingers lightly tapping against her chin. With deft movements, Lady Lesso expertly untangled the knots, her nimble fingers working quickly and efficiently.

Lady Lesso leaned on her cane and stood up, leading you to her luscious bathroom. Lady Lesso drew you a bath, adding in the lavender oil, she conjured some bubbles that changed colors.

You watched in amazement as the water transformed into a bubbling, lavender-infused oasis. You couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over you, despite your initial reluctance.

As Lady Lesso stepped out, leaving you alone in the bathroom, you hesitated for a moment before slowly undressing and slipping into the warm, fragrant water. The soothing sensation enveloped you, and you could already feel the tension in you muscles beginning to dissipate.

After the bath, Lady Lesso was waiting for you with two cups of chamomile tea.

"Remember the feeling after," Lady Lesso remarked, her tone lighthearted. "Isn't it amazing?" She then leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Don't beat yourself if you don't succeed right away. You can come to me anytime."

You hesitantly accepted the cup of chamomile tea, your fingers wrapping around it for warmth. As you took a sip, Lady Lesso knelt down in front of you, applying a soothing aloe vera cream onto your face. The cool sensation brought comfort to your skin, and you closed your E/C eyes, enjoying the gentle touch. Lady Lesso let out a soft chuckle as she playfully pinched your left cheek, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I always wondered how it would feel to have a teenage daughter," she quipped, her smile never fading.

Lady Lesso accompanied you back to your dorm. Lady Lesso led the way, her cane clicking rhythmically against the stones. Upon entering the room, she helped you settle into your cozy bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

"Sleep tight," Lady Lesso whispered softly, her fingers brushing through your hair in a comforting gesture. The following morning, you woke up to find a music box on your bedside table playing the melody of Swan Lake. A small note attached read, "isn't it amazing?"

[pommetarte]

♡ Liebling ♡

michael kaiser x reader highschool au fluff a bit of romance, the start of a relationship Strangers to friends to lovers

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

"Hey, come back!" A voice called out, "You didn't give me your number yet!"

Queue to you running in the hallways away from a certain German who's been bothering you after his match just finished.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?"

You could hear him screaming out to you, but you just ignored the noises and continued running.

Prior to this predicament, it was just you and your friend who "invited" (she actually just dragged you to watch the match between your school and another local high school for a sports cup). The players of your school have been doing well so far, already making it to the finals, which was today. The crowd goes wild for every goal achieved; everyone was hyped.

Everyone had their gaze focused on a single player, though. Who else but Michael Kaiser, the German prodigy of your high school? The ace, the sole star, is God's chosen emperor. Anyone should be grateful to be in his presence; the cheers grew louder with each passing moment, much to your dismay.

You had a small scowl plastered on your face from how overwhelming the entire match was. Sports are just not your thing.

The hype did not die down; in fact, it grew tenfold. There was loud cheering and chanting as the break finished and it was time to resume.

Time flew by fast, as now the trophy is in the hands of your school. Clapping erupted in the field as people whistled and chattered. Your school won the cup yet again. It was no surprise after all.

When the match was over, you quickly took your chance to escape. Sadly, your escape didn't go unnoticed by a certain someone as a larger figure began sprinting towards you.

' What could this idiot want?' you thought to yourself.

A hand was placed on your shoulder, causing you to turn your head around and face whoever was reaching out to you. To your surprise, it was Michael Kaiser. With a wide grin on his face and a confident demeanor, he strode towards you, flaunting himself.

"Hey, what's your name, Liebling?" he says, trying to strike up a conversation with you amidst the crowd swarming him.

It was just not your day. Exhausted and drained, you only sighed and turned around, continuing your way back to the classrooms to pick up your belongings and leave, hopefully back home.

Kaiser did not appreciate that; he continued to follow you, determined to not give up, as he shooed the crowd away. Seeing your pace increase instantly made him pick up his, and soon enough, it became a chase amidst the hallway, with him occasionally yelling for you to stop.

That's basically what led to you being trapped in a corner with him pestering you about your number and other details. Why would he want to know your class, schedule, and even subjects? It was so out of character.

Exasperated, you responded, telling him your name with a deadpan look. You looked so gorgeous even when irritated, he thought to himself.

He then looks at you with a genuine smile adorning his handsome face.

"Wow. You look so cool in that outfit. I almost want to say you're wearing that with love, but I guess I'll just call it curiosity. Oh my, how I've been missing out. I've never been with someone who made me feel this much joy." He muses loudly, proud of what he just said.

Your face had the most shocked look, as you could not believe what you heard. You could feel a blush slowly creeping onto your face as you averted your gaze.

"We can't just suddenly become friends; we barely even know each other. I only know you as a football  player."You protested, trying to cover your face.

"so? Is that even a problem?" he asked nonchalantly.

'Yes, of course it is; you don't just suddenly befriend strangers!"

"Well, I do if it's you," he winks.

You don't know whether to hit him or feel flattered.

"Anyways, can I please have your number? I really think you're cute. I've seen you around for a while, and you're always so pleasant and caring. I'd like to be friends, or maybe even more," he smiles, holding out his phone to you.

'Fine, just don't bother me too much, ok?" you say. You won't lie to yourself, but in fact, being in his attention made you feel all flustered. You feel your face heating up and the temperature rising.

Kaiser took note of it and slipped in a comment, earning a small smack from you before you typed in your number.

After you just walked away, Kaiser didn't stop you, only smiling as he looked down on the name he saved on his phone.

"Liebling ♡"

He whispers as he saves the number, his eyes resting on your figure as you leave.

And this was the beginning of what you'd like to call a very close 'friendship', although it was nothing like that at all.

Well, it blossomed into something more than that. 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

[the-kr8tor]

ANOTHER TWINS REC

the twins put on a play for their parents! We know they go to gymnastics lessons, so just imagine their tiny little toddler feet clapping across the stage whilst they're wearing tiny pink Swan Lake tutus 🥺

Katy I think I have baby fever-

Help the baby fever is back for me too 😂 i hope you like it, lil sis! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, dad! Hobie, mum! Reader, billie and ramona au, twin au, parent au, fluff!

Navigation

You come home to a dim living room and to a makeshift stage and closed theatre curtains in place of your sofa. All the furniture are jumbled around to make space for the stage. Tugging off your shoes, and leaving your bag on the table, you eye the crafty stage. It's made out of the folding plastic table you and Hobie use during parties. Of course it's in its folded state but with pink and purple garlands taped on the sides. You remember those garlands came from your daughters’ birthday two years ago when they wanted a princess themed birthday party. It was the one time Hobie loved royalty while the girls twirl around in their handmade sparkly gowns and big shiny tiaras.

The blackout curtains are propped up by a drying rack you use to dry clothes in during the summer and to save from using the tumble dryer. And it's all clipped by the same clips you and Hobie use to keep clothes in. There's a paper garland draped over the curtains, all cut out in the shape of stars and swans— most definitely achieved with the help of their dad. The girls' bedroom string lights are on the floor, all arranged like in movie theatres with their little lights on the aisle to prevent you from falling down in the dark. Your flowery scented candles are all over the room, their flickering candle lights adding to the cozy atmosphere.

With a chuckle, you feel arms wrapped around you as hushed voices echo from behind the ‘stage.’ You're sure that you heard a muffled “mum’s ‘ere.”

“You've got your ticket, lovie?” Hobie nuzzles the side of your neck, scruff tickling your jaw.

Leaning against him, you sigh and gaze at him affectionately. “Darn, I forgot my ticket at home.” You play along, hands grasping the back of his warm hands.

“Good thing I've got an extra then.” He shows you a piece of paper that's coloured in with a sky blue crayon and the big bold letters that's written in Billie and Mona's hand that says ‘Brown production presents: Swan lake!’

You aww’d and coo at the ticket with your name on it. Which is just ‘mummy’ with a little heart beside it. “Did they do all of this?” Whispering to Hobie, you cup his cheek as he leans against your touch.

“I helped with the heavy liftin’ and cuttin’. It was all their idea though.”

“Why? Were they bored or something?” You chuckle, thumb running along his cheek.

His eyes flutter close for a second before gazing at you again. “Nah, they jus’ wanted to surprise their mum is all. Said you needed to see their dance before their actual recital.”

You thump your head on his shoulder, can't control your cuteness aggression anymore when you picture their little five year old selves asking their dad to help them build a stage for their mum.

“They're so sweet.” Your eyes start to water and Hobie has to hold your arms to steady you.

“Of course they are, love. They got it from you.” He says with fondness as he kisses the corner of your lips and you can't help but have wobbly legs from his words. “C’mon, our ballerinas are waitin’ for us.” Leading you towards the sofa, he weaves through the small chairs with the girls' stuffed toys sitting on it. Your heart swells at the sight of the homemade stuffed toys. Their favourites, a fluffy snowman with a top hat, and a pink piglet with a plastic tiara are of course sitting up front.

You sit down next to Hobie, ticket in hand while he tugs you closer to him with a hand around your waist. “Please tell me that they're in their little tutus.” Whispering to him, your hand never left his own.

“With glitter and all, lovie.” Hobie smiles and reveals the family camcorder, showing that it's already recording.

The sound of the music player starts, and the classical music echoes through the living room. The curtains part with a quick pull from a hidden rope beside Hobie. Your face is starting to hurt with all the smiling. He stomps on a button under him, and the garden lights or ‘spotlights’ turn on and shows your girls in their full swan lake getup as they pose and wait for their cue.

Their tutus are identical, both in light blue with pink glitter accents that whenever the light hits it, it turns pinkish. The tops are covered in feathers and more sparkles that adorn the cape-like top. Billie's hair is in a bun, the same with Ramona's. The only difference being that Mona's hair is adorned with butterflies with its wings fluttering with every move. While Billie has a tiny crown perched around the bun. Hobie was right about the glitters, from top to their ballet shoes, they're covered in the sparkles.

You clap enthusiastically together with Hobie. He hoots and whistles out while he records, and the girls look like they're trying not to grin on the stage as they keep their composure.

The music ramps up, and it's their cue to dance and twirl around. Their practiced steps and movement of their arms makes your heart leap with pride and happiness. That's your girls, and all the tiredness and frowns from all the practicing was all worth it when they love each minute of their ballet class. The long awaited recital is the fruit of their labour, and you're absolutely proud of them for finishing the whole summer course.

They leap into the air and strike a final pose just as when the music crescendos and ends. You hop off your seat and clap your heart out while Hobie does the same, giving your girls the standing ovation they both deserve.

“Bravo!” You yell with a grin, clapping louder and louder as they bow on stage. Billie sends a flying kiss to the crowd, while Mona gives a little twirl and a curtsy. “Encore! Encore!”

Hobie hands you a rose from the shared garden, and the two of you toss it towards them.

“Did you see the jump, mum?!” Billie barrels towards you, hugging your legs and infecting you with glitter on your slacks.

“I did! It was amazing!” You can't help but bend your knees and lift her up in your arms. She giggles and hugs you happily.

“You're both brilliant!” Hobie loudly says, excitement and pride rolling off of him like the proud dad that he is.

“We've been practicin’ a lot!” Mona follows closely behind, and Hobie immediately carries her in his arm while still recording. It earns a happy squeak from Mona. “Did you two like it?”

“Like it?” You move closer to them, hugging them both while Billie wraps herself around you like a koala bear. “I loved it!” Their eyes shine at your comment.

Mona wraps her arm around your own while still hugging her dad, and Billie nuzzles her face against Hobie's bicep while still clinging to you.

Hobie brings the camera around and films his little family together. “How ‘bout ice cream for dinner?” A round of excited squeals bounces off the walls of the Brown residence.

[south-of-heaven]

Poly! Judgement Day and their daughter's first steps.

She did it || The Judgement Day x Reader

Summary: You and your partners watch your daughters take her first ever steps.

Your heart swells with anticipation and excitement as you sit on the living room floor, surrounded by your partners Finn, Damian, Rhea, and Dominik. The atmosphere is filled with a blend of nervousness and exhilaration, all centered around a single tiny figure who's determinedly wobbling on unsteady legs a few feet away.

Your daughter, the center of your world, stands with a determined look on her face. Her chubby little hands grip the edge of the coffee table, her eyes locked on a plush toy that's just out of her reach. You can practically see the determination radiating from her as she contemplates her next move.

Finn's hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours as he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. The pride in his eyes mirrors your own emotions, and you share a wordless moment of anticipation.

Dominik's soft chuckle draws your attention, and you turn to see him watching your daughter with a mix of amusement and pride. His arm is draped over the back of the couch, and his smile is a reflection of the love he has for both you and the little one taking her first steps.

Damian's stoic expression softens as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His gaze is fixed on your daughter, his eyes warm with a mixture of fondness and support. He's always been a strong presence in her life, and his steady presence reassures you.

Rhea, always vibrant and full of energy, crouches down closer to the ground, her arms resting on her knees as she encourages your daughter with a wide grin. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and you can't help but smile at the way she's cheering your little one on.

And then, it happens.

Your daughter takes a shaky step forward, her little legs wobbling beneath her. Her face lights up with a mixture of surprise and triumph, and a soft cheer escapes from your lips. The room is filled with the collective gasps and cheers of your partners, their excitement matching yours.

The second step is a bit steadier, and your heart leaps with joy as she gains confidence. The plush toy seems to beckon her, and with each careful step, she inches closer to it. You hold your breath, your fingers gripping Finn's hand a little tighter as your daughter's determination guides her.

And then, with a burst of energy, she reaches the toy, her tiny fingers grasping it triumphantly. Cheers and applause fill the room as your partners celebrate her achievement. Your own eyes are brimming with tears of pride and happiness, and you can't help but wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Finn pulls you into a warm hug, his lips pressing against your temple as he murmurs, "She did it."

Dominik's proud smile mirrors your own as he reaches over to ruffle your daughter's hair, his touch gentle and full of affection.

Rhea's laughter fills the room, and she playfully claps her hands. "That's our girl!"

Damian's rare smile graces his lips as he meets your gaze, his eyes soft with emotion. "She's amazing."

As your daughter beams with accomplishment, supported by the love and joy of her five adoring parents, you're reminded that this journey of parenthood is a shared experience. Each step she takes is a testament to the unwavering support and love that surrounds her, and you know that you're all in this together, celebrating every milestone and victory as a united family.

[jjungkookislife]

Title game!! "That's my girl"

That's My Girl

pairing: dilf!jungkook x f. reader

warnings: none?

Jungkook normally didn't bring work home. He was an A-list baker in the city and he liked to keep his home life separate but things changed when his five-year-old daughter begged him to make you, her nanny, a birthday cake.

Despite your insistence that you didn't need it, Jungkook waved you off and invited you over to his home on your birthday. He had given you the day off, but you didn't have plans. Your family lived too far away and your friends had dropped off their gifts and assured you they'd see you at your birthday party on the weekend. So you were on your own until then.

Besides, you couldn't pass up a day spending time with Jungkook and his daughter, Sooyun.

It was no secret to anyone that Sooyun liked to play matchmaker. She had formed several plans with her Uncle Jimin to get you and her dad together. This was just one of those plans, and perhaps it was working.

Jungkook hums as he sets the cake on the island. Sooyun asks to be picked up and settled next to her father as you take his other side. You lean in close to see what he'll do next, and you smell his cologne which makes you nearly moan. You bite your lip and take a step back to give him some room and yourself a chance to collect yourself.

Jungkook smiles at you as he reaches for the icing he made. "Would you like me to make your cake for your party as well?"

You flounder. You had invited Jungkook to your party, not expecting him to accept, much less ask if you wanted him to bake your cake. His cakes and confections were heaven on earth. Outside of this moment, you knew you couldn't afford to even look at one of his cakes, much less have one for your party.

"Yes," you nod, clapping as Sooyun joins you.

"It'll be the best cake ever! Right, Daddy?" Sooyun asks as she watches Jungkook drizzle the chocolate over the cake. He helps Sooyun stand on the stool and hands her a piping bag once the chocolate sets.

"Of course, princess," Jungkook instructs his daughter on how to pipe little swirls on the cake, grinning proudly when she does it successfully. "That's my girl!"

Sooyun cheers as she hands the piping bag back to her father and asks you for help getting down from the stool.

His daughter takes off from the kitchen, no longer interested in the cake as she hears the theme song to her favorite show coming from the TV in the living room.

"Want to try?" Jungkook asks you as he holds up the piping bag. You nod as you approach him, gently taking the bag and smiling when your fingers brush his. He smiles as you try and make a swirl but fail.

"I'm horrible," you pout as you stare at the misshapen swirl next to his and Sooyun's.

Laughing softly, Jungkook shakes his head. His fluffy hair covers his eyes for a moment before he shakes it out of the way.

"Like this," Jungkook stands beside you, his arms going around you and his hands placed over yours as he leans forward to help you make the perfect swirl. "It's all in the wrist."

Slowly, Jungkook pulls his hands away to give you a chance to do it on your own. You're cautious as you make the attempt, breathing in slowly as you make the perfect swirl.

Jungkook smiles brightly at your achievement. His excitement gets the better of him as he kisses your cheek. You feel heat rush to your skin as you meet his gaze. Your eyes flit to his lips and back. Jungkook cups your face as he leans in, giving you enough time to move away but you don't.

His lips press to yours in a soft kiss that leaves you breathless. Your lips move in sync as he gets more confident when you kiss him back, softly moaning before he pulls away.

Jungkook's gaze is heated as he looks at you. His heart skips a beat as he takes in your beautiful expression. This time, you lean in for another kiss, knowing this is the best birthday you've ever had.

[iluvchick3nz]

i needdddd more teacher finn!!!! like him talking to his students about his hockey husbands 🫠🫠

Happy V-Day to all who celebrate! Have some Fish-reflections on young love while he falls in love more and more each day. :)

Love your prompts, keep them coming! I've got almost all of them written. :)

All credits to @lumosinlove <3

“Okay,” Finn said with a sigh. He fell back into his chair and looked at his students. “Time's up. Pencils down.”

There was a light clatter as they all dropped their writing implements, a few rubbing their foreheads against the inevitable headache. Finn smiled at them and clapped his hands once.

“Well done. I'll give you an MCQ packet for the break, and don't forget your Pride and Prejudice essays that are due the week we get back, on the Friday. I want your drafts by the Monday, please, for feedback.” He stood. “This AP test doesn't know what's coming.”

There was a light chatter as they all stood up to hand in their practice FRQ exams and took the packet Finn handed them. They looked tired and worn out, but they were ready. They always were- Finn made sure of it. 

“What did you think?” one of his students, Robbie, asked his classmate, Marianne.

She looked at him over her round glasses. They suited her. “We can't talk about it, you know that, Robert.”

Finn hid his smile behind a packet. She never called him by his nickname. He heard Robbie sigh and looked up to find him watching her longingly as she and her bouncy curls left the room with her friend, Claire, throwing a thank you! over their shoulders. Robbie sighed again and turned towards his backpack, catching Finn’s eye. He blushed. Finn raised his eyebrows at him.

“You okay there, Robbie?”

He nodded, but his smile was forced. “Yeah. Got a basketball tournament over break down in South Carolina. Pretty excited.”

“Well,” Finn said, standing to approach him at his desk. “You’re doing really well. You're still on track to be top of your class.”

Robbie shook his head. “I don't think so. Marianne has a higher GPA. Her entire life is academics, and the school newspaper, and the cello.” He counted each one off on his fingers. “I might get salutatorian, though.”

Finn bit the inside of his cheek in amusement. “Well, she's an honorable competitor to lose to.”

Robbie let out a wistful, airy chuckle. “Yeah. She is.” He paused and looked at Finn quizzically. “Mr. O’Hara, I have a question.”

Finn tried to hide his surprise. “Shoot.”

Robbie was chewing his lip nervously. “Did people ever,” he started. “I don't know, not take your academic achievements seriously, just because you were good at sports?”

Finn tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Robbie huffed. “It's just- sometimes people ask me why I even bother with school, you know? When I've got a scholarship to play basketball in college and everything. Especially stuff like English. They don't understand.”

“Well,” Finn said, resting his hands on the desk. “You can always just enjoy school. That's not their business. My teammates teased me all the time, but I found a purpose in retirement outside of hockey, you know?” He glanced at the shelf of books he kept at the back of the room. He let students check them out, and they were filled with his own annotations. Some of them even had Leo’s, from all the times he'd read and reread Finn’s books from college. Finn smiled. “And even if I hadn't made it to the NHL, academics gave me something else that I would've been happy doing.”

Robbie’s eyebrows shot up. “You would've still been an English teacher?”

Finn nodded, smiling widely. “Oh, I absolutely would've. But I'm grateful I played hockey. Met my husbands.”

Robbie considered this for a moment. “And do you think that you and your husbands would've still gotten together, even if you hadn't played hockey?” At Finn’s silence, Robbie’s eyes widened. He spoke nervously. “I'm really sorry, you're not supposed to ask a teacher that.”

Finn laughed. “No, it's okay.” He thought for a moment. In his head he could imagine him and Leo running into one another in a bookstore, both reaching for the same trashy romance novels they read when they were really tired. “They definitely would have. Leo loves to read as much as I do, we would've gotten along really well. And Logan…” He paused again. He could picture Logan’s green eyes and smile so vividly. “Well, he'd be hard to get rid of in any lifetime. He's pretty stubborn. And he likes to be read to.” 

Robbie chuckled, shouldering his backpack. “Well, he fights on the ice like he's stubborn, so I'm not surprised.”

Finn grinned, then blinked hard, eyes going to his watch. “Speaking off, I've got to get going soon. Gotta catch my husbands before warm-ups tonight.” He clapped Robbie on the shoulder. “Have a good break, bud.”

Robbie smiled. “You, too, Mr. O'Hara.”

Finn watched him walk out of the room. Just as he stepped through the doorway, Marianne approached him. She was rubbing her arm nervously and talking a mile a minute. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide, but Robbie’s smile was so big that it seemed to relax her shoulders slightly. She swung her backpack around onto one arm, reaching inside to pull out Pride and Prejudice, sticky notes sticking out of the top. Marianne pointed to something on the page and continued talking. It was obvious that she wanted Robbie to follow along, but all he could do was stare at her, a small smile on his face. When she realized this, she paused, blushing, and fidgeted with the corners of the pages nervously. Robbie said something gently and gestured towards the library, which was at the end of the hall and open until late in the afternoon. Marianne nodded and they walked off together. Finn smiled at their retreating forms.

“Mr. O'Hara?”

Finn jumped slightly. He turned to find another student, Daniel, standing by Finn’s desk nervously. Finn eased his shoulders and smiled. “Hey, man. What's up?”

Daniel blushed. “I was wondering if I could get an extension on the essay,” he said, his Austrian accent thick with nerves.

Finn tilted his head. “Daniel, I can only do that so much for you. You're taking an AP class.”

His face flushed even more. “I know, it's just- the English is harder than what I was expecting. I'm struggling to analyze it.”

Finn sighed. He crossed his arms and leaned his hip against his desk. “Tell you what. I have an idea, okay? And if it doesn't work, I'll give you an extension, but I want you to try. The exam is in three weeks.”

Daniel nodded eagerly. “Okay.”

Finn reached for a photo frame on his desk. It was of him and Logan and Leo on the Harvard campus at sunset. They'd gone for a visit to see a football game and to go to the library, where Finn had led them both to a dark corner and kissed them breathless. Finn smiled at the memory. He turned the frame for Daniel to see. 

“My husband, Logan. The shorter one,” he said. “He's from Quebec, so English is his second language.” He looked up to find Daniel staring hard at the photo. “I used to read to him in college to help him understand the hard texts. He found it easier, sometimes, to hear the words and talk about them with someone.”

Daniel nodded. “That's nice.” He looked at Finn. “But what do I do?”

Finn smiled at him. “What if you got Jesse to read to you? He's doing great in AP Lang, and he's an incredible writer. He took my class last year when he was a junior.”

Daniel blushed even harder, stark against his golden hair. Finn had suspected for a long time that he and Jesse liked each other, even if they didn't know it. When Daniel had moved their sophomore year from Austria, Jesse had taken right to him, inviting him to join the tennis team and always being an ear to listen, even when Daniel struggled to find the words. Finn felt his heart ache a little for them. He wanted to give them a push in the right direction, but he more than anyone knew that these things took time. So he settled for looking at Daniel's unsure face over his glasses. 

“I think you should try it, Daniel. He's a good friend, he'd be happy to help. He can read you passages, talk them out with you, read your essay back to you.”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he's a good friend.” He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, taking one last look at the photo in Finn's hands. “Thank you, Mr. O'Hara. I will try it, and let you know if I still need an extension.”

Finn grinned widely. “Sounds good.” He jerked his head towards the door. “Now get outta here. I gotta go watch my husbands play some stick and puck.”

Daniel nodded with a shy smile, saying a quiet goodbye before walking out of the room in that slightly nervous way he always did. Finn laughed softly. It seemed like years ago he watched Logan carry himself the same way, guarded against a language he wasn't totally confident in. Not anymore, though. Now he could take Finn and Leo apart in two languages, whispered in their ear in the early morning or gasped in their bedroom late at night. Or both. Even watching him yell on the ice got Finn all toasty. 

Finn sighed wistfully, taking another look at the picture in his hands. He turned, placing it in its rightful place on his desk alongside all the others. There were loads of pictures spread all around his desk area, even hung up on the wall behind him. Some were of him and his Lions or Harvard teammates, some with his family. Most, however, were of him and Finn and Leo, or some combination thereof, all wrapped up in one another and smiling in every frame. Finn hadn't known that delirious happiness could be so long lasting, but he was now falling more in love each and every day and living a more blissful life than he could have imagined. True happiness, he supposed, was one of those feelings that was almost unshakeable. 

Finn checked his watch one more time and hissed through his teeth. He grabbed the grading he'd need to do over the weekend and his bag, rushing to lock his classroom door and jog down the stairs. He waved to the secretary, Mx. Tulane, on the way out and searched frantically for his keys. Logan would've laughed at him, and Leo would've gently scolded him for never putting them in the same place, and all Finn could think about was blue eyes and dark brown hair and the greatest love he'd ever known. He was desperate for some good luck kisses.

An hour later saw him slightly out of breath and flashing his pass to the stadium security guards, jogging to where he knew his husbands would both be. He was correct, and found them on their pre-game loop around the back halls of the stadium. Logan had used to warm up on the bikes, but ever since returning to Gryffindor he joined Leo in his and Finn's old warm-up.

I don't want soleil to be warming up alone anymore, he'd said. And I've spent too much time away from you both to do it anymore than I have to now. Plus, then you always know where to find us to kiss us before the game.

Indeed, Finn had known where to find them. They were running ahead of him, both in their spandex and some shorts. They were talking happily, and Leo said something that made Logan shove him playfully. Leo just laughed. It sounded like sunshine.

Finn couldn't contain his excitement anymore and ran forward. At the last second, Logan heard his footsteps and turned, eyes widening in delight. He slowed down, expecting Finn to stop, but Finn just kept running. He bent down and wrapped his arms securely around Logan's waist, picking him up and jogging a few steps before halting and squeezing him tightly. Logan was laughing freely, more freely than he did with anyone else, as Leo slowed down, too, with a smile on his face.

“Hey, teach,” Leo said. He looked Finn up and down. “You look hot.”

“Hi, butter baby,” Finn said. “And my Lolo.”

Logan wriggled around in protest, but Finn just held him tighter and kissed his cheek a few times. Logan was still laughing and turned his head to cup Finn's jaw, bringing him into a proper kiss. Finn sighed against his mouth contentedly, setting him down on the ground so he could hold Logan's face firmly with both hands. Logan's fingers were all in his hair and tugging at the strands. Finn felt a bit dizzy.

A warm presence made its way to their sides. “Do I not get a treat, too?”

“Mm,” Finn hummed against Logan’s mouth. “One sec.” He pressed a last firm kiss to Logan's mouth before pulling back with a smile. “Hi, Lo, baby.”

Logan's mouth was red. “Salut.”

Finn kissed his cheek before turning to Leo, grabbing his hips and pulling him flush. “And how's my sunshine?”

“Good,” Leo said. He smiled into Finn's first kiss. “Better, now that I'm with both of you.”

Finn just kissed him deeper. He clutched one arm around Leo's waist and one at the back of his neck, using this leverage to dip him suddenly. Leo gasped against his mouth, grabbing at Finn's shoulders. Finn loved to do this to the both of them, to take them by surprise and romance them, no matter how cheesy they thought him to be. He loved the feeling of their bodies and skin beneath his hands. He didn't think he'd ever tire of it.

After a long moment, Finn broke their kiss, staring down at Leo's flushed face and hair that seemed like it was floating towards the floor. Leo was smiling exasperatedly and lovingly at him. “You sure know how to sweep boys off their feet, huh, O'Hara?”

Finn kissed his forehead. “I've had lots of practice.” He helped Leo stand and opened his arm for Logan to join them. “How are we feeling, lovers?”

Logan kissed his jaw. “Ready. Right, Le?”

Leo traced a finger down Logan’s jaw and leaned down to kiss him lightly. “So ready. Colorado doesn't know what's coming for them.”

Logan leaned into the touch. Finn watched them love each other and smiled. He drew them closer to his body. “I missed you today.” He rested his head on top of Logan's. “I thought of you.”

Leo kissed his forehead. “Oh yeah?”

Finn nodded. “Robbie was nervous about being an academic and an athlete. I think he has a crush on Marianne, who's the smartest girl in school. She's not an athlete.”

“What'd you tell him?” Logan asked. 

Finn closed his eyes and swayed into the warmth of their bodies. “That I have husbands who like to read or be read to, and even if I hadn't played hockey and had chosen to just go into teaching, they would've loved me regardless.” He paused, then snorted lightly. “Oh, and Jesse and Daniel are totally crushing on each other. Jesse is going to help him with the hard English.” Finn could feel Logan’s smile against his shoulder.

“Mm,” Leo said into Finn's hair. “You mean we could've had a sexy English teacher from the beginning?”

Finn squeezed his hip. “Hey, you loved when I played hockey. I was a very sexy seventeen.”

“Ouais, you were,” Logan laughed. “The sexiest seventeen.” He kissed Finn's shoulder and Leo's chest. “Allez, we need to finish our warm-up.”

“Go on,” Finn said. He kissed them both hard once more each and patted their butts firmly. “I love you, good luck, I love you, you'll be amazing, I love you. Have I mentioned that I love you?”

Leo kissed his forehead and ran away. When he was far enough down the hallway, he turned to jog backwards. “I love you!” he shouted, eyes twinkling. “C'mon, Lo, I'll race you back!”

Logan pressed a fleeting kiss to Finn's cheek. “Je t'aime,” he said, then he was off and chasing after Leo. Leo's smile was bright and toothy, Logan yelling at him in French and him responding in kind, both of them laughing hard. 

Finn couldn't help the fond feeling that arose in his chest as he watched them run away. He missed them with every step they took, but no matter- they'd be back in his arms in a couple of hours, ready to go home and read a book before bed. Finn bit his lip around a grin and turned to go to the family box.