#The History of Whoo

[thlayli-ra]

RISE OF KNIGHT (part seven)

Parts 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

@claymoresofinfamy23 (if you're still reading 😅)

[thearkavist]

Darcy Awakens:

[theirwolfbicanthrope]

I am doing what I should have done years ago and finally *reading* Carmilla and my stars

whenever ppl talk about queer subtext in old movies and books I've learned to temper my expectations because I (unfortunately) often need a few viewings/readings to pick up on it

this book is *saturated* with it

[piedoesnotequalpi]

Despite my best efforts, I have to name another character

[painless-innit-colourful]

third fic of the month complete!! I might actually post this one soon-ish, who knows. in other news, I started writing from c!dream's pov for the first time in ages again today, that man is SLIMY. AWFUL

“Okay. I- Yeah, okay.” Tubbo tipped his head back and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted and a little bit like he’d just been ripped open and all of his entrails were on show. Agh, feelings.

[creativename87]

maybe it’s cause i’m tired but like…. head in hands i literally adore you………… sending sm love to you for. existing <3

STOP YOURE GONNA MAKE ME START SOBBING :((( <333

I literary adore you as well like I’m always super duper excited to find messages in my inbox and I’m always like ‘it’s beloved! Beloved has graced me again!’

sending YOU so much love for existing and being amazing, my favorite tumblr mutual <3

[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

Navigation

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!!

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[etherealily]

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Alexei Vronsky + fem!reader.

My other Vronsky fics. If you have the time.

Warnings : None. Perhaps lack of accuracy. I'm not exactly a history buff.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : "...then what did you do?" (did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room?)

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Adolescence, to some, is a wonderful time, and to others, is a nightmare. Usually, it is the former for the elderly and the latter for the actual adolescents themselves. However, when one is in the moment, when one is the adolescent in question? It is a freeing sort of nightmare.

And that is what you were experiencing, sitting there with your best mates, the ones you'd grown up with, known nearly since birth, on the dusk of your eighteenth birthday.

"And to the newly society-introduced angel!"

You waved your friends off, burying your face in your hand as they all raised their glasses. "Alright, alright."

"Oi, c'mon, none of that shyness, you're a woman, a Lady now!"

"I hate each and every one of you."

"We love you more!"

"Oh, oh, you simply must give a speech!"

You could've killed your best friend had you not been so utterly blissed. And of course, the entirety of your roguish little friend group of the highest of high society seconded Tatyana's outburst, cheering and shoving you up in front of the fireplace, the spot where the muted sounds from the actual social season party upstairs were best heard, and you were facing the rest of them as though you were on a pulpit.

"I am…"

They all laughed, their hands under their chins in mock expectation.

"…Not makin' a speech. Good night to all of you."

"Aw, c'mon, you're not even going to toast your first ever drink?", asked Aleksander - son of your tutor - who handed you a bottle of champagne before bowing, taking his seat again, Tatyana's legs draped over his on the divan as she took a drag of her pipe, raising a brow at you.

"Who says it's my first?", you mused, chuckling along with the rest of them as you chugged the champagne. Whoos and whoops and 'you little fucking rebel' sounded through the room, and Lev - Tatyana's brother - grinned before settling onto the seat in front of the piano. "This one's for you, Miss-Seasoned-Alcoholic."

His hands began their magic on the piano.

"And so, the last of us descends into the madness of formal society."

Alexei. His voice smooth as the transition of Lev's new symphony (something he'd been working on, something all of you in this room were sworn to secrecy over. It's the principle). "You must learn from our mistakes, you know? You have been, your whole life, but now, it is a whole different matter to knowing what a certain object is called in French."

You tipped your glass in his direction, and he nodded subtly, clearing his throat and gesturing with a flick of his wrist at Lev to continue. That was it. That was his toast. Never one for words, that Vronsky. He'd been quiet so far, and he was most likely going to be quiet henceforth. For the rest of the night. Just standing there, arms crossed, shadows half-marring his face from the alcove he was leaning towards but never actually in.

"Alexei's off to the military. Lev's off to study music under Tchaikovsky, sweet Lord, and Tatyana's getting married and you are off getting engaged off to imbeciles we haven't even had the pleasure of conversing with.", grumbled Aleksander, glaring at you. "Am I the only one here who likes home?"

"There's a whole world out there, Aleks. You're just incessantly stubborn on staying here.", shrugged Tatyana, blowing smoke into his face, before leaning her head back so her hair dangled off the armchair of the divan.

"Like either of you will ever get to explore even a splinter of it.", scoffed Aleksander, shifting to wave off her smoke. "Well, maybe you, your future husband's a politician, you might get to travel a bit. Our poor darling newly-introduced-angel's most likely already prepared to grow roots in his abnormally large manor."

You didn't like the three sympathetic looks being thrown your way. You were supposed to be having fun, goddamnit, not being pitied by the people you loved most in the world, it was essentially your party!

Thankfully, there was one stoic voice of reason that didn't look at you as though you were a kicked puppy. "Lev, do you always have to play such depressing things? And Aleks, with his depressing words. And Tatya, with her depressing face-- hey!", he laughed as much as was possible of Alexei Vronsky, deftly dodging the pillow she flung at him.

Thank god Alexei wasn't one for ruining a party with realism.

"Come on, play something jovial. Something Sir Tchaikovsky would dance to, not hang himself to."

"Dance?", scoffed Lev, flexing his knuckles momentarily before shrugging. "I suppose I should have some sort of expertise in multitudes of genres. Branch out, I suppose."

"Precisely."

His fingers danced on the keyboard just as fast as the champagne shot through your blood, and Tatyana sauntered up, setting your champagne bottle down. "Dance with me, Miss-Eighteen-Year-Old. Probably the last time we can all be free together."

You smiled, rolling your eyes and taking her hand as the music grew faster and cheerier. "All of you are saps. I thought the plan was get extremely inebriated, not emotionally incapacitated."

"It'd have worked had you been an alcohol-virgin, y'know?", declared Aleks, grunting as he moved to occupy the space Tatyana had been in moments ago, his head on the armrest. "When'd you even have a sip?"

"I was sixteen, and I snuck some of my father's sherry." you said, grimacing when you slimly missed Tatyana's foot.

"Wow, you are a rebel.", stated Aleks, making room for you to flop onto the divan opposite him, laying your head back and huffing as you looked at the ceiling, hand on your stomach as Tatyana continued dancing in her drunk haze, movements attempting to synchronize with the flames in the fireplace.

"I know."

Alexei's arms spread on either end of the back of the divan, and his head tilted in what you could only describe as allure. It was like he was fixated on one thing - what, you're not sure yet - and was entirely tuned into it.

Your eyes trailed magnetically from the ceiling to the eyes above you, a striking, almost painful, shattering blue tinged with flickering oranges like wildfire sunsets, reflecting the flames of the fireplace.

"You know, this is your last time seeing us for more than a full half-hour."

Raising a brow, you shook your head, curiously. "Why?"

"Well, the next time we will all see each other is Tatya's wedding, and the bride will not have time to come down for a drink with her mates, will she?"

"Now whose face is depressing?", retorted Tatyana, from in front of the fireplace. She was promptly ignored - not that she was sober enough to have noticed.

"This means, my sweet, that you owe each of us a dance." His voice is ships on a benevolent ocean. His smile is the horizon when the sun dapples the waters just so.

"I second that!", called Lev from the piano.

A strand of your hair got flicked, bouncing to and fro before your focus shifted to the hand being offered to you. "Dance with me."

Sighing magnanimously, you rose, allowing him to tug you into a seamless waltz, with one palm on your waist and the other holding your hand as though you might well break.

"Lev, faster.", he called offhandedly over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on your face, his brows furrowed in concern, while yours furrowed in concentration. You could not survive narrowly missing stepping on Alexei's leg, as well.

The music's pace quickened, and the loudness climbed up steadily, Lev palpably taking artistic liberty over artistic liberty, experimenting.

The sound of the piano keys being subjected to Lev's creative strokes of brilliance effectively muffling his voice, he drew his forehead closer, to fall just short of resting against yours. "Do you like him?"

"Like who?"

"Your possible groom-to-be."

"You know, actually, I thought he'd be stuffy, or unkind or plain, but he's quite pleasant."

"Standards are high among noble women these days, I see.", he snorted sarcastically, tugging you even closer, so that his temple was pressed against yours, your mouths next to each others ear. Secrets could pass between you smooth as a bullet, but for some reason, neither of you seemed to have anything to say.

"They say this is how the English dance. What do you think?"

"Doesn't hold a candle to the mazurka. But it's easier."

"Yes. Good. Glad you said that, because I am a disappointment to the mazurka's name." That was a lie, but he'd always been prone to lying to make sure you never felt inferior.

You grinned, and he effortlessly sped up to a Viennese waltz. "Keep up."

His eyes never left yours, that's the thing that kept you from fumbling around. They stayed trained on yours even as he twirled you around, and even as he dipped you.

Quickly, he took you on a small waltz towards where he'd left his champagne glass, and tipped it toward you, the rim touching your nose and causing him to smile.

"Did you not want to go to Paris? Italy? Ride an actual steam engine? Did you not have dreams?", he murmured, his eyes half-closed as the knuckles on the back of the hand holding the glass ghosted over your arm, running up and down them. The arm on your waist didn't dare flinch.

"I still do. You speak as though I'm a lost cause."

"He will not take up a role in the military or in politics, you know this. He is filthy rich, you know? Days will pass in his manor, perhaps the occasional ball such as this. You will live comfortably. Since when have you liked that?", he inquired, downing the entire glass in one go.

You let out a breathy laugh and he twirled you once more in impatience, pulling you back much tighter in line with his chest. "Since when?", he repeated.

"He is a kind man, and he is not a bore, either. Pickings are slim of the sort here, you know that."

"This is what he has portrayed to you."

"We are equal in station. If he mistreats me, I could still ruin him."

"Why do you even consider the possibility of being mistreated? You should not even have to think about that."

It's not protectiveness, not anymore, it's bitterness and it irked you. Who was he to be making such great points when you were inebriated, and could not retort?

"Alexei. We've all known one day, we'd have to get engaged to people we don't particularly know. Tatyana and me before you three, of course, but we've known."

"Yes, but--"

"And I don't know if this is nostalgic melancholy or something because you're leaving for the military, but you're dampening our spirits."

"I'm worried he isn't what he says he is. You're too free of a soul for a fortune-inheriting-man who knows nothing of work or life or joy."

His thumbs rubbed gentle arcs on your cheeks, his eyes closed as his voice quietened down under the music that you had to strain to hear him.

"This choice has been made by my family with due diligence, Alexei."

"Diligence. Not intelligence."

"Alexei."

"I apologise. I worry, you know I do."

You nodded, and he nodded back, handing you his empty glass to place on the table behind you. And when you turned back, his forehead grazed yours again. A tiny smirk painted his horizon-lips, and you felt his head tilt. "Did you really have your first drink at sixteen?"

"Not my fault you went and became eighteen and kept regaling the rest of us with how blissful you felt when drinking. It was cruel to taunt us so."

"I apologise for turning eighteen without your permission. I did not mean to ruffle any feathers with my insubordination."

"I am training you for the military, you see? You have learnt manners. Your superiors will thank me."

He grinned, dimples pronounced in the firelight. "I'm sure you will receive letters in the hundreds, profusely thanking you.", he mused, eyes flitting up to the ceiling in mock resignation before landing back on yours. "You will respond to my letters, yes?"

"Yes."

"You will send me some, of your own volition, as well?"

"Yes."

"That's a relief. I know none of these imbeciles will spare so much as a thought of me when I'm out there fighting for the good of Russia. It is always said that the youngest have the most kindness in them. You certainly do.", he muttered, gesturing his head at the other three.

Your hair is gently brought forward, onto your shoulder. "It's like a river. It flows.", he mumbled under his breath.

"My hair?"

He seemed mildly surprised you'd even heard him.

"Time.", he replied, a hint of reluctant fascination in his gaze as he continued setting your hair on your shoulder, attempting to place it just right. "You tune out the sounds and the currents when you've been by the river for too long, and before you know it, you don't recognize the things floating by you, anymore, and the things you first saw drifting are long gone. Time is the river."

"How often do you sit by rivers?"

"Every day. How about you?"

"Not much."

"Then you'd better pray he has one next to his estate. Because it's all you will be spending your life doing."

"That is a cruel thing to say."

Here's the thing about friendship and warnings. Your best friend will give you warning signs if they are going to move away and leave you to fend for yourself, perhaps months in advance. Your best friend will warn you about someone you trust that they have a bad feeling about. Best friends like Vronsky, however, cannot afford to warn you about when they are going to kiss you. It is just not done.

He was trepidation personified, hesitation embodied, eagerness demonstrated. One tiny kiss placed down onto your lips, and he was drawn in with no hope. One more and he was yours. And from the third, he didn't stop to think any longer. Think about how improper this was. How misleading. Not wrong. No, this was no more right than the sky being blue.

So why did you pull away, albeit gently? He'd never know.

He observed your eyes, carefully, as they darted over his, and did not even come anywhere close to his lips. Almost as though you were practicing the art of self-control with utmost dedication.

Hence, naturally, the palm on your waist nearly yanked you closer, your chests together as he kissed you again, his thumb on your cheek once more. He did not stop even when he realised this could ruin so much. He did not stop even when he realised this would make it harder for him to send or receive letters from you, and most importantly, he did not stop even after the music stopped and your friends had all turned from their inebriated, irritated or inspired states to stare at you. And fucking laugh.

Well, laugh momentarily. This was before they silently whooed and whooped to the same extent they had done when you'd first chugged the malicious champagne that had brought the two of you to this predicament, shaking their heads as they smugly raised their glasses in toast.

His hand ran up your back, to the nape of your neck, gently gripping it as he pulled away, his forehead on yours, as his thumb continued, albeit higher than the apple of your cheek, now pushing hair away from your eyes -- god, your eyes -- as he breathed, subconsciously attempting to synchronize with your breathless state.

"Come on."

"Alexei."

"Please. You cannot discount this."

"We are drunk. Discounting it is all we can do."

He almost got on his knees, and he would have, had the circumstances been different, and he were capable of the hand-eye coordination required to kneel. "Please."

You bit your lip, the same one he should've bitten two seconds ago, and then looked down. He let go.

"Alright. As you wish."

Licking your lips, you sighed, unsure of what to do. You wanted to reach out, hug him -- that's what you've always done to comfort him, well, anyone in this room. However, it could go horribly wrong. He could take it as patronization. He could shove you away. He could kiss you again.

"They will be searching for all of us upstairs."

You said it, and the others shifted awkwardly, mumbling agreements as they stood to fix their hair and groom the drunkenness out of their clothes. His eyes narrowed. "They will be searching for you. It is your party."

"No, I think all of us will be missed."

"I won't. Evidently."

Fuck. "Alexei--"

"Happy birthday."

You knew a dismissal when you heard one. "Are all of you coming?"

The rest of them rubbed their elbows, the back of their neck, busied themselves with their shoes. Right.

"Thank you all for coming today. I'll see you for thirty minutes at Tatya's wedding next, I suppose.", you muttered, with a pointed scoff and glare at Vronsky before you slammed the door behind you, the rest of the hallway seeming like a whole other world, an entire universe, even. An extremely dull one, but at least it was different than what you had just made it out of.

You gave an excuse of having gone downstairs to the cellar to look for more wine for the guests.

It's funny, you'd be surprised if you ever drank again.

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Alexei had been wrong.

Tatya's wedding was not the next event you'd all interact in again.

No, it was Aleksander's cousin's first ever ball she was throwing as a married woman, and you had been cordially invited, didn't you know?

You actually hadn't, not until a day earlier, after you'd returned from your sudden new routine of daily sessions of sitting by streams and skipping pebbles over them. Not exactly a river, no, but it wasn't like you'd developed this novel interest due to Alexei's words. God, no. Sometimes, these things occur randomly, on their own, alright? Seasons change, people change.

You'd returned, and the invitation had been waiting at your desk. Your family had held onto it, as they had been doing with a lot of invitations to events since you'd been formally introduced. Proper ones, you see, were the kind you were to now attend. This had passed the test, evidently, as along with this on your desk, a new dress lay on your bed.

"I don't know… do I truly have that bridal glow to me? My fiancé says I do, but I can't be sure if it's just flattery."

"He's about to marry you in two months, Tatya, there's no reason for him to continue flattering you as though this is simply a courtship.", you assured, and she laughed, her head thrown back and her hand on your arm.

"Men will find a way. We could be married for decades, and I'm sure Ivan will understate our marriage and ask whether I find him agreeable or handsome."

"That will be due to memory loss and senility, not some masculine inclination to downplay the extent to which you love each other."

"Can't say the same about your situation, though, can we? He's still flattering you, I take it? As though your families are not in the closing stages of the deal to be engaged?"

"Yes, he is."

She offered you wine and you declined.

"Sobriety looks beautiful on you, but I like you drunk, you know. Like on the night of your birthday, I--"

"Tatya. I know what you're doing."

"Listen, it's not worth it, and you know it. It has been, what? A month, perhaps two? We're all about to be tugged into… god knows how many different directions. Even talking about your birthday has you defensive."

"Did you ask Aleksander to ask his cousin to-- god, Tatya, you--"

"You will thank me."

"If I see him, I am leaving."

"Well, if that's about me, that's disappointing to hear. If it's about Aleks, it's amusing."

Your eyes shot up, and Alexei stood there with his hands in his pockets, crisp white suit, even crisper grin, although his eyes did not reflect the charm his smile so effortlessly did.

You glared as Tatya rose, nodding at the two of you before disappearing into the crowd of socialites, much like you wanted to disappear into a huge gaping hole Alexei could not follow you into.

"I love your dress. Angelic."

Angelic. Did he have to do this? Was it some primal urge for him to meddle with your sanity?

"I like the hair. You've grown it out.", you remarked, offhandedly. Small talk wouldn't stop him, but it might throw him off.

"Oh, yes, yes, I have. Glad you like it. My mother grieved over it, and Tatya would obviously never give me her honest opinion, of course."

You nodded. Perhaps you'd been far too quick to refuse the wine.

"I would like to, uh, formally apologise. For the night of your birthday."

"Alexei--"

"Let me finish."

Fine. You could at least give him that. "Alright, but lower your voice."

He huffed softly, intensely battling an eye-roll before he looked back up to you. "I was rude, in the way I spoke to you before you left."

Spoke?

"Pardon?"

"The dismissal. It was… uncouth. Unkind. And I apologise for it."

The dismissal is what he thought you were annoyed about?

"The dismissal."

"I will apologise for nothing else."

"You are stubborn."

"And you are perfect. Do not engage in a battle of wits with me, my dear, you know I will win, you've known that since we were children."

The quiet that followed between the two of you weakly fought to stand its ground amidst the chattering and buzzing and music the rest of the party was engrossed in. "Have you given my offer any thought?"

Perhaps you were remembering it wrong. What offer?

"To not discount it.", he clarified, his tongue smoothly running over his teeth as one knee rested over another.

"You know I cannot do that. I am nearly - well, for all intents and purposes, I already am - engaged."

"Engagements fall through all the time."

"This one has no reason to. There is no power imbalance, no station inequity, no deep-seated mutual familial hatred, no--"

"No love.", he offered, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his intertwined fists.

"Love takes time."

"Yes. Eighteen years, to be exact."

"You have not known me eighteen years." He scoffed in response to that.

"I don't know how to explain it. It is…", he muttered, looking around as though answers would materialize from thin, tension-filled air, before his eyes landed on the two wine glasses before you. One full (the one you'd refused) and one empty (Tatya's).

He reached for them, holding them in his hands as though they were sacred. "One of us is each of these glasses, and when we're together, or at least since that night…", he mused, gently pouring from the full one into the empty one, his eyes on yours, until it filled halfway. "It's perfect. Equal. Right. Balanced. We balance each other out."

You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head, your mind frantically groping around its own depths for a response.

"Now, I don't know which one I am. If I am the giver, or the beneficiary, but what I do know is that at the end, it doesn't matter. Because it is us. You and me."

His gaze was so expectant, you could have cried.

"Station-wise, you know that it wouldn't work, even as an alliance deal, my family… power imbalances lead to marital issues."

"You are not going to sit there and reduce this to a logistical issue. You are not. I will not allow you to boil us down to such trivial nonsense as that."

"Alright, then how about the fact that my family would not let me marry an army officer, who is away from me for three quarters of the year, and who I could, at any time, get word is dead?"

"I am, also, a Count, and I could withdraw from the army and still offer you comfort. And besides, I would not even be on the front lines, and you know it. This argument is ridiculous.", he spat, jaw clenched.

"It is reality, Alexei, and it is quite embarrassing that I am two years your junior and I understand the world better than you."

"What is the real reason? It is not because you are worried you will be widowed in two days, or that you are worried we will get conflict in our married life because of our difference in our stations."

"Yes, it is."

"So, if not for those, you'd marry me?", he scoffed. "You would truly marry me then, if not for those reasons?"

"Yes!"

His jaw ticked, and he sucked on his teeth for a moment before leaning back, arm on the armrest as he absentmindedly picked at his lips. "You would?"

You hissed under your breath, leaning forward. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, Alexei, my refusal to acknowledge what happened on my birthday--"

"Your rejection, you mean."

"--Yes, my rejection - is not because of ill-will or because I hate you! I cannot hate you, it is physiologically, fundamentally impossible for me!"

"So is loving me, evidently. All you can feel, I suppose, is mild affection caused solely by nostalgia."

God, he was getting on your nerves. Running an exasperated hand through your hair, you leaned back, not before taking the half-filled glass - that apparently represented you - and bringing it to your lips.

He took his, eyes dancing around the room as he sipped. "Your indifference will be what kills me, not anything anyone fires at me from across enemy lines."

"What is it you want from me? I cannot acknowledge what happened as anything other than impropriety caused by inebriation. I cannot."

"Lies. You have your own reservations against marrying me, and I want to know them."

"No matter what I say, you will take it as a personal attack."

"Because you are personal to me!", he snapped, the glass pummeling to the floor, the grating and mortifyingly endless sound of shatters echoing through the room. Even the pianist stopped momentarily, before rolling his eyes and continuing once more.

The attendees, however, ogled.

Servants rushed to help clean it up, not allowing Alexei to get up and storm off and cause the tantrum he always did when he didn't get his way. "Sorry, my Lord, but shards in shoes are dangerous."

He ran his hand over his mouth to hold in his temper, before nodding offhandedly. "Finish quickly.", he mumbled, now gently biting at his knuckles, knee bouncing.

"Alexei."

Turning to you, he shook his head. "You are about to attempt at a placating platitude. Don't."

"When have I ever cared about placating you?"

He snorted, a hint of resentful acknowledgement in it. "Yes, I suppose you are painfully honest."

"Never mind. If you will only offer me retort after retort, then there is no need."

He huffed, rubbing the ridge of his brow. "Tell me."

"I will still write you."

"Oh, brilliant, that makes up for everything!", he exclaimed, sardonically. "You are a child. You don't listen, you argue, and you think gestures like that will magically solve this?"

"It's better than me not writing, isn't it? What would you rather have? Me not writing to you at all, or still writing?"

"Actually, you know what? Perhaps I don't want you writing to me. Ever think of that? Perhaps my devotion to you has waned with your stinging, stupidly-justified rejection. Perhaps I don't want anything to do with you anymore.", he gritted out through his pearly white stupid teeth.

"I don't do one thing you want, and I'm immediately an afterthought?", you scoffed, willing yourself not to yell and scream and plead as he stood up, smoothing down his suit.

"Wrong. You don't do the only thing I want - the only thing I've ever wanted from you, and yes, you do become an afterthought.", he replied, finger pointing at you as though you were under trial.

The sound of his heels sharply clicking away as he stormed out and got the dramatic tantrum he'd always loved throwing callously across a crowded room fading, you rubbed your forehead.

"Would you like a refill, my Lady?"

"No." You'd had quite enough of liquor for a while.

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Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Fuck!

You weren't particularly sure that you'd ever done anything to warrant avian malicious intent, but it was always a possibility. Perhaps a nocturnal pigeon or crow?

Stomping to the window, you threw it open. No wings. Nothing. Just a breeze on the night sky with a promise to meddle with your sanity.

You glared at the sky before shaking your head and moving to close the window, before a psst caught your attention.

Your eyes rolled right after they found Alexei standing down there, five pebbles in his left palm, one in between his fingers on the right, ready to strike. "Down. Now."

"No."

"You know I'm not above launching these all night. Your stream has a bank with these innumerable."

"No."

"You know I'm not above throwing these at your face."

"You wouldn't dare." But he would, and you knew it. Ask seven-year-old you, being terrorized by a nine-year-old-Alexei by a worm on a stick that he thrust upon your face.

"Down, now."

You glared at him, and he flinched, making as though he were about to propel one into your face, and you shut the window instinctively, running downstairs, before you slowed, creeping around sleeping maidservants' rooms, gently prying open the back doorway.

He was still laughing at your fright as he watched you gingerly shut the door behind you to maintain as much silence as possible. "Did you actually think I would do it?"

"After your little wine-stunt, I don't know what to think. Why are you even here?"

"You forgot what tonight is?"

"What is it?"

"My last night before I leave for the military. I told you -- all of you -- the morning of your birthday, when I got the information!"

"The night of my birthday overshadowed the morning, I'm afraid.", you scoffed. "Shouldn't you be getting patted on the back by your superiors? Brandy and cigars?", you mocked, crossing your arms as he leaned back against a tree.

"I should. Instead, I'm here."

"How unfortunate."

"Will you just…", he trailed off, before groaning, running his hands over his face as though he were the one being inconvenienced right now. "Just accept that it meant something."

"The kiss?"

"Yes, the kiss."

"Of course it meant something, imbecile, that was never up for debate. A kiss is no small thing."

"Good. There is something of substance in there, then.", he muttered, flicking at your forehead.

You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him, a gesture he mirrored. "You really are still a child."

"You are not grown up either, Alexei, you just act as though you are. You don't know what you're doing half the time, either."

"Listen, 'adult' is not an actual state of being that one can achieve, alright? Everyone makes it up as they go along.", he mumbled, rolling one of the pebbles in his palm over on its side.

"You still don't want me to write?", you asked, quietly.

"Of course I bloody want you to write, what's wrong with you? I don't want you engaged to someone who you don't know, but I suppose my opinion on it is irrelevant."

"We would not be good husband and wife, anyway."

He chuckled loudly at that, bitterly, before shaking his head and stalking his way towards the stream, wordlessly expecting you to follow. "Oh, you have to elaborate on that one. Oh, and without using the words 'bicker', 'fight', 'stubborn' or 'imbecile'."

"You're an idiot.", you retorted.

He snorted, shaking his head as he continued the short trek. "I love you.", he replied, laughing under his breath.

The crunches of leaves underfoot stilled, and you froze, like the stream would in a couple months' time. "What?", he questioned, grunting softly as he lowered himself on the bank, head swiveling over to you.

You shook your head, shrugging. "Nothing."

"You already know this. Why is it surprising to hear it?", he muttered, offering a hand to help you down next to him.

"It isn't."

"No? Then what's that face?", he asked, tapping gently on your nose. "You look stunned. Scandalized, one might say."

The stream carried your words away.

"Will I be invited to the engagement party?"

"Do you want to be? Because you only get one. Either engagement party or wedding."

"If I come to the engagement party, I could make sure there is no wedding. I am mildly evil like that, as you well know."

"What would you do?"

"Kill him or humiliate him. I don't know, haven't decided. Or, I'd convince you to run away with me. But then again, if you're not willing now, I'm sure you won't be willing then, with all the pressure.", he sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, an absentminded kiss placed on your temple.

"I thought pressure makes people do stupid, impulsive things."

"Precisely. You will actually go ahead with the 'stupid, impulsive' engagement."

"How would you humiliate him? Because even I don't know enough about him t--"

"Do you not love me? Is that it? Is that why you reject me so harshly and hastily? You do not love me as I love you? I am still your childhood friend? A brother, of sorts?"

"Alexei, I already explained--"

He scoffed, gripping your jaw before he pulled you so your lips met his once again - a most surprising reunion. He turned completely to you, now, his hands moving your hair back before they abruptly decided they'd rather hold it, instead. "Explain this then. Hm? You kiss back, like you cannot stop yourself, like this is what you were made for. And it is, you know?", he murmured against your lips momentarily before he continued once more.

He still had the ability to read you like the fairytales that the five of you had grown up reenacting. It irked you to no end.

"Alexei-"

"I swear, you say my name once more, I will… I will… marry you right now.", he grumbled, rambled, rather, pulling you closer. "The stream and the stars heard me say it, and they hear everything. If you say my name like that one more time, I will honest to God marry you, somehow."

You were silent for a while. Then. "Alexei."

His horizon-smile blossomed against your lips.

[arc-misadventures]

Advice For The Heartbroken

: Oh? Hello, Jaune.

Jaune: Hello, Mrs... Miss Schnee. I'd offer my condolences, but I don't think you'd truly care for that.

Willow: No, not at all.

Jaune: I will say you are looking better; you, and this house seems more lively. Like a new wave of fresh air has blown in.

Willow: Yes, the oppressive aura that, Jacques carried about him has been lifted, bringing new life to my family, and house. Speaking of looking better; I must say I like your new outfit; Is that a, Specialist uniform?

Jaune: Ahh... yes... Yes it is. I recently became a member of the, Specialist as of, Winter's recommendations.

Willow: Oh congratulations, Jaune! That uniform suit you perfectly.

Jaune: Thank you, Miss Schnee.

Willow: Please, Jaune I already told you, you can call me, Willow. No more of this, Miss Schnee business.

Jaune: Alright then... Willow...

Willow: See, that wasn't too hard. Now then, please take a seat, I assume you're here not because of your new position. Perhaps about the odd circumstances around, Jacques's suspicious death?

Jaune: Thank you... and, uhhh no. I'm not aware of anything in regards to, Jacques's death, and the investigation. I'm a, Huntsman, not a detective.

Willow: Thought I should ask; Winter is unable to tell me anything. Something about the: 'Confidentiality pertaining to the ongoing investigation pertaining to the suspicious death of, Jacques Schnee.'

Jaune: In essence: No.

Willow: Precisely~!

Willow: Now then, since you are not here to talk about, Jacques death, what can I help you with, Jaune?

Jaune: Well... Since you mentioned, Winter... I need some help with her...

Willow: Oh, what is wrong? Did my daughter do something to you?

Jaune: Uhhh... kinda...?

Willow: Kinda... what?

Jaune: Winter likes me...

Willow: So? You are a well mannered, polite, respectable young man. There is very little to hate about you, Jaune. So of course she likes you.

Jaune: Uhhh... no, not that... Winter likes me... As in, like-likes me...

Willow: ...

Willow: S-Seriously...?

Jaune: She's blushed in front of me. She's laughed with me, not at me. She's smiled at me. She gave me this sash on my waist. And, I swear on my mother's life; she winked, and said 'tee-hee' at me!

Willow: Holy shit... Winter does like-like you... I can't believe this...

Jaune: Neither can I.

Willow: I picked a wrong time to stop drinking...

Willow: Okay... you have my permission.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Wha...?

Willow: You have permission to date my daughter.

Jaune: Oh... thank you... B-But, that isn't why I'm here... kinda...?

Willow: Oh? Then what is it, Jaune?

Jaune: I have... absolutely no experience when it comes to romance. If you ask, Weiss about my attempts to, 'whoo' her, you'd whinge in shame at my antics...

Willow: Yes, I do believe I remember hearing, Weiss complaining about that.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I... I like, Winter... I'm not entirely sure how much I care for her, but I know I do care for, Winter... If there is a possibility of us having a relationship, I want to try... I don't want to miss this chance... not again... So, I came to you to... ask for advice.

Willow: Advice? Why me, couldn't you ask one of your friends for advice?

Jaune: Ha! Ruby has no experience when it comes to love. Weiss, has poor taste in men, and we have that whole history together, not to mention it's about her sister! I can't possibly talk about this with her.

Willow: That would be an ill-advised endeavor to take.

Jaune: Nora, and Ren are out of the question. Nora is pinning for, Ren so hard she might as well become a pine tree. And, people call me dense?! They should take a look at, Ren! A woman is literally fawning over him, and he doesn't see a damn thing!

Willow: Oh, she liked him, I never notice...

Jaune: Don't even get me started on, Blake, and Yang's thing.

Willow: Oh please do, I do love gossip~!

Jaune: Oh, that's right, woman love to gossip; My mother, and sisters love to gossip too.

Jaune: Okay... Blake, and Yang are stuck in this will they won't they situation upon which I don't think they should, because dating, Blake would end up being a part of a very toxic relationship. I mean... Blake is a coward, she has a habit of running away from her problems, and dumping them on others, and refusing to take the blame. Not to mention her past dating experience is horrible! Her first lover was Adam Taurus! A psychotic race supremist terrorist! And, a fanatical lesbian who like, Adam, tried to kill her! Twice!

Willow: Oh~? Now isn't this juicy~!

Jaune: Yang has abandonment issues! Her mother abandoned her when she was a child! It would destroy her if, Blake ran away, again! My sister is a lesbian who is married. and in a loving relationship. I told them about, Blake, and Yang, and they looked horrified at the thought of the two of them dating. Not, because its a human, and faunas relationship, because they know how toxic it could be!

Willow: Oh my~! Even the lesbians are looking down on them~! Now things are getting interesting~!

Jaune: Since I don't get involved in their conversations, I just observe. And, I don't like what I'm seeing... Is there a chance they get together, yes. Is there a chance it will be a healthy relationship, maybe... But, I wouldn't bet money on it.

Willow: Ohh~! It's so much fun hearing all the juicy gossip! I feel like I'm a teenager again~!

Jaune: So... I said, I have no experience with dating, so I've come to you for advice. I know you had a toxic relationship with your ex-husband...

Willow: That's an understatement...

Jaune: But, even before that there must have been moments that were happy? Or, the very least you can tell me the does, and don'ts of a relationship. Mostly the don'ts all thing considered...

Willow: ...

Jaune: I know you didn't have a good relationship... But, of everyone I know... You're the only one I can ask.

Willow: Couldn't you ask your sister? She's married after all.

Jaune: Yeah, I could ask my sister how she got together with her wife, but...

Willow: She has no idea how it happened?

Jaune: No clue whatsoever.

Willow: So you came to me for advice.

Jaune: Yeah, I did.

Willow: Listen, Jaune... I do not understand my daughter well enough to give you advice when it comes to having a relationship with her. I estranged myself from my children when I escaped, Jacque's abuse to the bottle. I am in the middle of trying to rebuild our relationship. I'm learning who my children are, and plan to become. So, I can't tell you what you could do to enter a relationship with her... But, if what you said is true, that if you're making my daughter laugh, and smile. Then you should be together, or at the very least, give it a chance. And, don't regret not taking the chance.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I don't want to lose that chance again...

Willow: Again?

Jaune: Okay... for now I'll just play it by ear, and see where it will take me... hopefully somewhere nice... Thank you, Willow.

Willow: My pleasure, Jaune. I hope the best for you two. I wouldn't mind you becoming my son in law.

Jaune: O-Oh... Thank you... Now, I best get going there is work to be done.

Willow: Do, Say hello to, Whitely before you leave. He's been wanting to talk to you again.

Jaune: Oh? I'll go do that. Goodbye, Willow.

Willow: Goodbye, Jaune.

Willow: ...

Willow: I wish you the best of luck, Jaune...

[spoiledblogif]

Where I live is frowned upon (and very hard, honestly) for a single man to adopt a child. Did Carter face any problems keeping MC?

WHOO LONG ANSWER INCOMING:

I don't really touch on it in the main story, but I imagine it was a somewhat inevitable problem. In a few of the shorts, I address some of this. While in the hospital after Carter found them, the social worker noticed that Carter was the only person MC willingly engaged with (Carter felt obligated to visit every day since they didn't have anyone). From the MC's POV, this was because Carter is "quiet". I have to imagine that being in a hospital would already be an incredibly uncomfortable experience for a psychic, so finally being around someone who was "quiet" would be a great comfort.

The social worker floated the idea of Carter being an emergency placement and Carter agreed. In the shorts, he himself says he has no idea what compels him to do it, except that there's this scared, lonely kid who doesn't have anyone and he finds out that he's the only one they'll talk to. He feels just kinda pulled to accept, but fully expects to be rejected BECAUSE he's a single man. In his head, he kinda comforts himself with the idea that he tried and he can't help it if they say no.

Except he's a cop, he'd have an exceptional service history (I think there's a throwaway line about MAB giving him some decorated backstory with the FBI or something), and he has, basically, two incomes (one from retirement and one from being a police officer). It was probably less that everyone agreed "this is a great idea" and more "He's willing, he's got a good background, he can afford it, and we don't have to ship the kid halfway across the state just to find someone willing to take in a teenager/put them in a juvenile care facility".

Is this realistic? Would this hold up 100% to real life? Hard to say. While it's difficult for single men to adopt kids in America, it's not impossible and it's becoming increasingly more accepted. The first single man to successfully adopt a child in America, was a man named Bill Jones in 1969. Carter might have a hard road and a lot of court dates and CPS visits, but he'd get there. And honestly the more anyone questioned his suitability, the more determined he'd be to prove them wrong.

Now for the "they live in a small town and what would other people think?" problem: while I'm sure there would be some people to talk bad about it, the locals are supposed to be a bunch of weirdos that are all pretty tight knit as a community. And while Carter can be gruff, I don't see him being the same way with the local nosy grandmas and church ladies who just want to make sure he's eating right and taking care of himself (and who call the police for every little thing and to change their light bulbs or whatever). So a lot of them would probably look at it and think it's perfect that the two people who don't have anyone else end up forming a family.

And I think as time went on and it became obvious that Carter loves MC and would throw down in a second to protect them, it'd stop being weird and it'd just be "yeah that's Carter and his kid."

[thrillered]

imagine reader and coworker/friend/crush Spencer and you guys are having lunch out of the office and run into your ex who is like a tall shayne basically and spencer gets a bit jealous/insecure and starts avoiding you a bit and you think you did something wrong

idk man I'm not a writer but you know what I mean?

The Ex | Spencer Agnew x Reader

I hope you like it!

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“I don’t know what to get.” You sighed, analyzing the menu. 

“Honestly I haven't had something I didn’t like.” Courtney, who was sitting across from you, said. 

“Well that's reassuring.” You replied, “What are you getting Spence?” You asked, turning your head to look at your friend beside you. 

Some of your friends and coworkers decided to go out for lunch today, taking advantage of the cool weather since it’s been so humid and hot the past week. The group had taken Courtneys suggestion and now you were sitting outside on a beautiful patio, surrounded by your friends. 

Spencer sat to your left, like always. Amanda and Angela were sitting on the other side of Spencer, Shayne and Courtney mirrored you and Spencer with Chanse next to them. 

“I’m not totally sure. Do we wanna both order something and split both?” Spencer asked. 

“That’s perfect.” You replied, “Everything sounds good. I don't think I’d be able to choose just one anyway.” 

Your waiter had brought out your drinks and a few appetizers that Courtney and Shayne insisted on everyone trying. You and Spencer were currently splitting the last piece of bread from the basket, arguing over which half was bigger. 

“Oh my god Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice ask. You turned, realizing you recognized the voice because stood a few yards away was your ex. You froze for a moment. You hadn’t seen him in at least three years. The last time being at a mutual friends going away party when they moved to Europe. 

“Shaun.. Hey..” You replied, still confused, standing to face him. 

“God it’s been a minute, huh?” Shaun asked, giving you a friendly hug that you reciprocated. 

“What, like two? Three? years?” You asked. 

“I think so! You look good, new hair? I like it.” He smiled.

“Well thank you. You look good too.” You responded, noticing how much muscle he had gained. He had always been kinda a gym rat but wasn’t into massive muscle growth when you were together. 

Your food came while you were talking, giving Shaun the notice to leave. “I don’t want to keep you from your lunch. Is that plate yours?” He asked, pointing to your order. You nodded. “Taste hasn’t changed then.” He remarked before giving you a half hug and walking away. 

You sat back down, joining your friends, only to be met with amused stares. “What?” You asked, placing your napkin back in your lap. 

“Who was that hunk?” Chanse asked. 

“That’s just Shaun.” You replied casually, beginning to half your meal for Spencer. 

“Well clearly there was something there.” Spencer huffed under his breath. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing, it’s just clearly you had history with this Shaun.” He replied, not looking at you as he portioned part of his food to you. 

“We used to date.” You admitted, earning a chorus of teases from the table, minus Spencer. “It was like three years ago!” 

“Why’d you break up? He’s… whoo!” Amanda asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“We just didn’t work out, the feeling just stopped being there. We only dated for like 10 months.” 

Most of the lunch ended up with the group interrogating you about your relationship with Shaun. Your relationship was fine and ended amicably so there wasn’t much to say. 

You noticed that Spencer didn’t contribute much to any conversation. You tried to pass it off as him just being tired since he has been working extra hard lately. 

You and Spencer had carpooled to lunch, like you do most days. Usually your drives are filled with laughter, discussion, or singing but this time it was almost silent, save for the music playing softly.

Spencer was one of your favorite people. You and him had instantly clicked and had become good friends ever since. So his silence was unnerving. You tried to talk to him about it but he shut the conversation down and beelined it to his desk when you made it back to the office, promptly putting on his headphones. 

—

God what a fucking idiot. Spencer thought, feeling insecure about himself. He was literally jacked. Why would she be interested in me?

Spencer has liked you for a long time. He was immediately attracted to you upon meeting, he thought you were stunning and had great style. The more he got to know you the more he fell for you. He thought you had such a beautiful mind. You were so kind and generous. Not to mention you were hilarious and had a very similar humor to him. He genuinely thought you were the perfect woman. 

Your friendship had developed even further a few months ago when you spent the night at his place after a long night. While Spencer was aware of his feelings for you it was solidified that night as you were peacefully sleeping in his bed. 

He thought that your friendship was moving into more romantic territory recently but seeing your ex made him feel like he was wrong. Shaun was 6 foot 2 and had muscles larger than Shaynes. He could never compare to him. 

Deciding he would never have a chance with you he wasn’t sure how to be around you right now. Every time you laughed Spencer swore it was the most beautiful thing ever, how was he supposed to just casually be around you?

He didn’t want to ignore you but he needed to come to terms with only ever being your friend. 

—

The work day was wrapping up, almost everyone was packing their things and saying their goodbyes. Spencer still hadn’t said a word to you. He managed to evade you every time you tried to talk to him. You had filmed a video for the pit channel but you could tell your energy was low and off. Spencer had never acted like this with you and it hurt. You didn’t think you said or did anything to offend him. You were running through the day, retracing your steps to figure out what happened. 

You had breakfast with Spencer at work, had two meetings, filmed a games video– and everything was normal. Then everyone broke for lunch and you went out with the group, then you saw Shaun, then you– Then you saw Shaun. 

Shit. 

You knew Spencer was still in the office, he always stays an extra 30-45 minutes everyday. You waited a little longer, allowing most of the office to leave before you made your way to Spencer.

“Hey,” You began, easing into things. 

“Uh, hey.” He replied, quickening his packing to leave before any real conversation could begin.

“You’re so much better.” You added, not wanting him to be able to walk away. 

“I’m sorry?” He replied, confused. 

“You’re so much better than him, than Shaun.” You breathed, ready to bear your heart. 

“I- I don’t understand?” 

“You make me laugh so much and you’re so caring and- and you’re my best friend. I haven’t even thought about Shaun in years until I saw him today. You know who I do think about? You. You Spencer. I think about you everyday.” You finished, breathless. Spencer didn’t say anything, he just stared at you. “Please say something.” 

“I’m such an idiot aren’t I?” He asked finally. You didn’t say you wanted him explicitly but Spencer could hear it, he knew you so well. 

“The biggest I know.” You laughed, “But I love you for it.” 

He pulled you into a hug. This was what you loved, Spencer hugged you like you were the most valuable thing on Earth, he held you like you would disappear, he always did and said everything right. 

“Please don’t avoid me like that again.” You mumbled into his shoulder. 

“Never again.” He promised, squeezing you a little tighter before pulling away, leaving his hands resting on your hips. “Come over tonight?” 

“I would love that.” You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek.

[physalian]

How to Subvert Expectations Without Compromising The Story

Whoo boy, is this a contentious topic with the last few blockbuster franchises. To “subvert expectations” is to do the opposite of whatever your audience expects to happen. Your audience expects the story to go a certain way based on the archetypes and tropes your characters follow, the tone you’ve set for your story, and the level of mature themes that tone allows.

It might mean your long-lost princess doesn’t actually reclaim the throne she’s been fighting for. Or the presumed hero (or any of their straight friends) of the story dies halfway through their arcs. The mentor pegged for death actually survives to the end credits. The villain’s plan actually succeeds, or the heroes fail to deactivate the bomb before it explodes. The “will they/won’t they” is never fulfilled.

Supporters of SE argue the following:

It’s refreshing, novel, new, a fun twist on a classic tale

They like that it’s unpredictable and bold

They’re tired of stories fitting within the same wheel ruts of every other story that came before and like to see creativity thrive

It gives audiences something they didn’t even know they wanted

Haters of SE argue this:

It’s only done for drama at the cost of fulfilling character arcs

It’s a cheap gag that only works once and has zero rewatchability with the same impact

Tropes and archetypes have stood the test of time for a reason - to entertain

Plot holes ensue

When expectations are subverted and the story changes in a more positive light (like a beloved character who doesn’t die when we all think they will), the reaction is not nearly as emotionally charged as when the story changes negatively. Thus, the haters have plenty of evidence of bad examples, but minimize the good ones. Good SE is novel, or a pleasant surprise, or a quaint relief. Bad SE trashes the story and spits on the fans and destroys the legacy of the fandom.

What makes a bad subversion?

Like killing any character for shock value, bad SE takes all of the potential of a good story and gambles it for a string of gasps in the movie theater. It exists only to keep the audience on their toes, or because the writer went out of their way to change the direction of their work when fans figured out the mystery too quickly and now *must* prove all the clever sleuths wrong.

So, say your subversion is making the hero lose a tournament arc when they made it all the way to the final round and the entire story is riding on this victory. They may have stumbled along the way and had some near-misses, but they must win. Not just so the audience cheers, but because this is the direction their arc must take to be at all entertaining and fulfilling.

Then they lose, because it’s *novel* and irreparable consequences are reaped in the aftermath. They lose when, by rights, they were either stronger or smarter or faster than their opponent. They lose when the hand of the author rigs the fight against them and everyone notices.

Sure, it’s not at all what audiences expect, but you, writer, your first responsibility to the people consuming your content is to entertain them. So what purpose does this loss serve this character? How does it impact their arc, the themes that surround them, the message of your story?

Even if mainstream audiences don’t care on the surface about themes and motifs, they still know when a story fumbles. It’s not entertaining anymore, it’s not satisfying. Yes, crap happens in reality, but this is fiction. If I wanted to read about some tragic hero’s bitter and unsatisfying demise, I’d read about any losing side in any war ever in a history book. I picked up a fiction book for catharsis.

On the topic of “gritty fantasy/sci-fi anyone can die and no one is safe” – no author has the guts to roll the dice and kill whoever it lands on. Some characters will always have plot armor. Why? Because you wouldn’t have a story otherwise, you’d just have a bloody, gory, depressing reality TV show with hidden cameras.

What makes a good subversion?

Now. What if this character loses the final round of their tournament, but it’s their own fault? Maybe they get too cocky. Maybe it’s perfectly, tragically in character for them to fall on their own sword. Maybe the audience is already primed with the knowledge that this fight will be close, that there might be foul play involved, but still deny that it will happen because that’s the hero, they won’t lose. Until they do.

Then, it’s not the hand of the author, it’s this character’s flaws finally biting them in the ass. It’s still disappointing, no doubt, but then the audience is less mad at the author and more mad at the dumbass character for letting their ego get to their head.

If you write a character who’s entire goal in life is to win that trophy, or reclaim their throne, or get the girl, and they *don’t* do those things, then the “trophy” had better be the friends they made along the way, that they learned it wasn’t the trophy, it was something *better* and even though they lost, they still won. Even when expectations are shredded, the story still has to say something, otherwise the audience just feels like they wasted their time.

A good subversion does not compromise the soul of the narrative. You might kill a fan favorite character or even the hero of the story, but their impact on the characters they leave behind is felt until the very end. The hero might lose her tournament, but she still walks away with wisdom, maturity, and new friends. Heck, sports movies leave the winner of the big game a toss-up more often than not. Audiences know the game is important, but they know the character they’re following is even more important. Doesn’t matter if the *team* loses the battle, so long as the protagonist wins the Character Development war.

Good SE that should be more popular:

The “Trial of threes” – your hero faces three obstacles and usually botches the first two and succeeds on the third attempt. Subvert it by having them win on the first or second, lose all three, or have a secret fourth

Not killing your gays. Just. Don’t do it. That’ll subvert expectations just fine, won’t it?

Let the villain win

Have your hero’s love interest not actually interested in them because they realize they deserve better / Have the hero realize they don’t want the romantic subplot they thought they did

Have the love triangle become a polycule / have the two warring love interests get with each other instead, or both find someone they don’t have to compete for

Mid-redemption villain backslides at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero doesn’t actually have all the MacGuffins necessary at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero is simply wrong, about anything, about important things, about themselves

The character who knows too much still can’t warn their friends in time, but lives instead with the guilt of their failure

The mentor lives and becomes a bitter rival out to maintain their spot at the top of the charts

Kill the hero, and make the villain Regret Everything

More deadbeat missing parents, not just dead parents

Let the hero live long enough to become the villain

—

Why write a crown prince that never becomes king? What’s the point of his story if all he does is remain exactly who he was on page 1 and learns nothing for his efforts? Why write a rookie racer if he spins out in the infield in the big race and ends his story broken and demoralized in a hospital bed? Why should we, the audience, spend time and emotional investment on a story that goes nowhere and says nothing?

Cinderella always gets a happy ending no matter how many iterations her story gets, because she wouldn’t be Cinerella if she remained an abused orphan with no friends. We like predictability, we like puzzling out where we think the story will go based on the crumbs of evidence we pick up along the way, we like interacting with our fiction and patting ourselves on the back when we’re proven right.

Tragedies exist. There’s seven types of stories and the fall from grace is one of them… but audiences can see a tragedy coming from a mile away. Audiences sign up for a tragedy when they pay for the movie ticket. We know, no matter how much we root for that character to make better choices, that their future is doomed. Tragedy is still cathartic.

What’s not cathartic is being bait-and-switched by a writer who laughs and snaps pictures of our horrified faces just so they can say they proved us wrong. Congratulations? Go ahead and write the rookie broken in the hospital bed. I can’t stop you. Just don’t be shocked when no one wants to watch your misery parade march on by.

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

ATTENTION FREAKS

Here are my Irene and Xavier designs <3

Aaaaaaand of course, headcanons and fun facts and stuff:

Irene:

Irene’s real name is Aphmau Shala’shaska. Irene is the name she uses in the public eye, to keep some sense of privacy.

She got her name from the Irena flower, a white and indigo flower that grows abundantly throughout the surrounding areas of Scaleswind. It’s best know for its medicinal properties, often used to heal cuts.

Kul’Zak was the one who suggested she come up with a knew name to use.

Aphmau’s grandmother, Sapphire, was cursed by a mage. The curse entails: Should your family ever bare twins, they shall be destined to bring upon death and destruction. They shall be destroy themselves, and neither good nor evil shall truly prevail in the end.

Sapphire’s daughter, Sylvanna, ending up having twins. They were named Aphmau and Raaph.

For fear of the curse, Aphmau was sent away to live with and be raised by a very powerful family friend, named Hyria. Hyria never told Aphmau about her real family, but she raised her as if she were her own, and she taught her everything she possessed could. Which was a lot given her hundreds of years of experience.

Aphmau was raised in the enchanted forest, trained to use her magicks from an early age. She was even taught about witchcraft by Hyria. When she was old enough, Hyria used enchanted ink to draw ruins on her so she could even learn how to actually use witchcraft.

Many people claim to be direct descendants of Irene, but the truth is, she never had any children.

Xavier:

Though he is remembered by history as Xavier the Admirer, his real name was Prince Xavier Laith of O’khasis.

Xavier was the nephew to the terrible king who ruled all of Ru’aun from O’khasis, Evren Laith.

He worked with the divine warriors both before and after they each became divine. He helped de-thrown his uncle, helped to end the wyvern-human war, and even helped seal Shad in the Nether.

He was offered the chance to become divine but declined. His reasoning; in order to obtain a relic, you must first sacrifice that which you love. Xavier only held love for one thing.. Irene.

Even after declining, he was still considered an honorary divine warrior, even if that much had been forgotten by history.

He loved Irene with his entire being, and she, him. But they never truly had the chance to allow that love to grow and flow. First, Xavier was taken prisoner by Shad, being transformed into some kind of beast. Xavier had to fight for control over his body and mind, and it was hard to be around Irene knowing she may not be safe with him. Then, as they were sealing Shad away, there was an explosion of magick, left in Shad’s wake. A shard of Shad’s soul pierced through Xavier’s body, and Irene could not save him. Xavier died and Irene could only watch, unable to heal the magickal wound.

Because of his manor of death, Shad and Xavier’s souls became somewhat intertwined. When Xavier was reincarnated into one Laurance Zvahl, he was born with a fragment of Shad’s soul attached to his own. When Laurance became a Shadow Knight, much like Xavier did, he continued his trend of being nearly impossible to control. And though he too never gained his immortality, he became one of the strongest Shadow Knights to exist. Both in spirit and body.

Xavier has central heterochromia. The outer ring of his eyes are green and the inner, blue.

Whoo that was a lot.. Thanks for reading all that if you did <3

[immortaledd]

⚠️ Tobacco TW!!

Heh…guess what I found out how to do…MAKE TEXT SMALLER! oh..and..new brush styles I guess LMAO

Mr. Puzzles Art AND Analysis!

The reactions to Mr. Puzzles I see over different pieces of media genuinely make me so upset.

People either glaze him, simp for him, or hate him. It breaks my heart SO much.

He has so much content potential, and the fact the community here is so small despite the views being so large makes my last star shatter in my chest.

The hate that Mr. Puzzles gets from SOME fans reminds me of 2022 TSAMS Eclipse hate. People argue over how he’s obsessive, a murderer, insane, etc. They treat him like people are glorifying a non-fiction character and it makes me pull strands of hair out…

For those of you unfamiliar with “2022 TSAMS Eclipse hate”, imagine a fictional villain incapable of feeling real emotion being stabbed a bajillion times in his lore, becoming evil, and then getting HATE for RIGHTFULLY CRASHING OUT!!! [It’s not as black and white as that but it’s the main premise.]

ANALYSIS

TW: Topics such as fictional (child) ab*se, fictional death, fictional t*rture, mental illness, body gore descriptions (dec*apit*tipn) and other adjacent issues.

SPOILERS FOR ALL PUZZLEVISION RELATED EPISODES! I advise WATCHING IT ALL FIRST!!!

THIS RANT IS NOT AT ALL DIRECTED AT THE WRITERS OF SMG4, THIS IS A RANT AS IF WE ARE INSIDE IN THE SHOW.

SMG4, LOVE YOUR WORK!!

[ SHOW ANALYSIS ]

We all have to agree Mr. Puzzles had a long history of child abuse. He flinches at any given moment, has issues expressing emotions properly, and has terrible lash outs which he probably learned and inherited from his father. Even if it wasn’t PHYSICAL, we have CLEAR evidence there was emotional abuse. His father kicks down his dreams, neglected him…and clearly didn’t care when he decapitated himself.

Not to mention his coping mechanism is TELEVISION. Excuse me breaking the fourth wall, but if you’re into this show, chances are you have had a lot of childhood issues and have turned to media as an outlet. I know I did! Let that alone speak for his character.

Only having television in place for social learning, mental development, physical development, and other things you canNOT be using television as a substitute for is going to lead to a LOT of problems. Like…enslaving the entire world for entertainment. I mean just LOOK AT HIS BODY!!! Although what his body is made out of is up for debate, I believe his torso at LEAST is still human. THAT MAN IS LANKY AND MALNOURISHED, GOOD GOD!!

None of his dreams were even INHERENTLY bad. Even his behaviors after lashing out are childish and full of tears. He shuts down easily, clearly doesn’t know how to balance emotions, and doesn’t know how to carry out plans in a healthy manner. Especially after SMG4 whooped his behind and suddenly his mindset hard-switched to “get revenge at all costs”. Just like the movies!! Whoo hoo!!!

In Mr. Puzzles’ mind, his senses of protagonist and antagonist are warped. He may subconsciously know he’s an antagonist (at least during the first arc) and is slowly accepting it as Arcs go on (last WOTFI and the WOTFI to come..), but consciously he believes the SMG4 crew is the antagonist, he is just “making them pay”. Which YEAH I KINDA DO TO?? I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU GUYS, BUT I’D CRASH OUT TOO.

There were SEVERAL times SMG4 could’ve turned around and said “nono it’s okay we’ll be awesome together!!” But for SOME reason they only do that ONCE (which, if you’re a redeemed villain enjoyer..you and I know you have to try WAY MORE THAN ONCE!?!) while he’s MID CRASH OUT!! YOU CAN’T END A STORY ON A CLIMAX!! UGH!!!!!

He is so full of resentment and anger that there are barely any more openings to fix what could’ve been fixed so long ago. I low-key blame Meggy so hard…LIKE HOW DO YOU SEE A ~10 YEAR OLD SHARING HIS HOPES AND DREAMS AND SAY “SHUT UP, CRIMINAL!!” ?!???? 😭😭 [Not that black and white but I’m being blunt. <3]

[ FANDOM ANALYSIS ]

FOR THOSE OF YOU SAYING MR. PUZZLES IS OBSESSIVE…OHHHHHH DON’T GET ME STARTED. It’s attachment issues. When you haven’t had piece of food in a week, the meal you receive from someone on the street, no matter how small, the quality, or stale, you’re going to eat it and you’re going to thank GOD. The same thing happens with social needs. Living without friends is unnatural for humans. Of course he got “obsessive” when someone actually cared about him and supported him. Seeing Leggy get taken away over and over again and then being TRAPPED inside this woman who HATES YOU is like watching your mom take away your childhood toy-friend as the age of 7 and putting them in the wash. To him, Leggy is being held HOSTAGE by a HORRIBLE WOMAN!!!!!!!

“He’s a murderer!!” “I don’t want to excuse his actions…” “He’s a terrible person!!” OKAY?? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT A FICTIONAL CHARACTER???? LOCK HIM AWAY?? Yeah let me call 911 gangsters, brb. You don’t have to treat FICTIONAL killer villains like real life serial killers. You’re allowed to enjoy a character. Especially one as well built as this one. This can vary for specific fictional characters…[valentino from hazbin hotel…you’re on the dni list.] but Mr. Puzzles is NOT one of them. You’re not going to get cancelled for kinning / liking a character you can relate to enduring child abuse and constant defeat.

When you like a “bad” character, it all depends on WHY you like the character. “I like valentino because of what he’s done to angel dust” is WAYYYYY different than “I like Mr. Puzzles because I relate to getting put down by others and being immaturely childish.” I needed this section written because it genuinely made me so uncomfortable to see people say “I don’t want to defend Mr. Puzzles…” and “You’re all blinded by his comedy to see he’s a horrible person!!!!” Y..yeah. That’s the point of a villain. I need to know you understand that. Villains aren’t supposed to be good people. Villains, at best, are supposed to be human.

[ SIMPABILITY (FANDOM) ANALYSIS ]

A word for the simps…I’m so sorry but I need my opinion out there.

You won’t be getting in that man’s bed. I see so many people romanticizing him and making him some big Top-Dominant-Alpha-Male…and it’s just…

“Can I play crossword puzzles on it?🥺🥺”

NO!!!!!!!!!!!

I believe he’s straight (as far as he knows…aka…bi-curious) and I do genuinely love all the oc x canon I see because there’s so much comfort that comes out of it - but the oversexualizing is too far in my view.

He would be an awkward mess, no clue what to do, and would probably get cold feet and back out. I’m so sorry. But that man doesn’t even have a BODY. HE’S PROBABLY A KEN DOLL HONESTLY!!!!!!!! LACK OF REPRODUCTION!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don’t genuinely care if you’re thirsting over this man as long as it isn’t self destructive. This is just my opinion and you have a right to your own! That includes you having a different opinion to everything else in this little rant of mine.

[chubbybunny25]

Hello, I hope you’re doing well :D

Recently I was thinking about the “X falls first, Y falls harder” trope with specific regard to Percy and Nico and idk in my head you’d be the best at playing around with and breathing life into it so here goes:

Nico’s confession and how he does it is still canon (in vibe, maybe not word choice), Percy ponders that confession, breaks up with Annabeth (for reasons separate to the confession), builds a friendship with Nico, falls SO hard, but Nico has been trying so hard to get over this man at this point and put so much into feeling Platonic Thingz™️ only that his response to Percy’s confessions and advances is denials and soft rejections—dodging what look like one on one dates, “I love you” R being met with “I love you” P, and, when Percy outright says “I wanna be with you” Nico is like “Ummm… no you don’t?”—but eventually Nico confronts himself and they wind up very happily together?

Yeah :)

Hello! The “X falls first, Y falls harder” trope is definitely perfect for Percy/Nico. However, as sweet as it sounds, there's also a lot of potential for drama and.. angst.

One of the things that us, percico shippers usually love to delve on is the interactions between Percy and Nico in canon (tbotl is such a percico book 😏), hence their chemistry. But also, that's the thing!—they had so much history it would definitely take time (years, maybe) to fully unpack everything and realistically get them together.

This might be longer than I'd intend it to, so I'm putting more details under the cut:

It is undeniable that Nico indeed fell first. But what makes Percy fall harder? It's time—the time that has passed since Percy knew Nico (but Percy has to reflect on that) and the time Percy would only ever have after everything is over (outside quests and saving the world). Inevitably, it's also the same time that wasn't allowed for perc*beth to have (which might be the reason why Percy and Annabeth haven't fallen hard enough for each other, but that's for another time).

Going back to what makes it angsty.. What if Nico can't wait that long? What if by the time Percy wanted to be with him, Nico had already accepted that they're not meant to like each other that way?

As for Nico's self-confrontation, ig we're taking the hoo!Nico route where Percy hasn't done enough to be his friend (which again, Percy didn't have the time). Some of the reasons why Nico would dodge Percy's advances are 1) Nico thinks Percy is just being too kind to him; 2) Nico thinks Percy is still guilty and would want to take responsibility for how Nico turned out to be; or 3) Nico enjoys their friendship too much and thinks that being "more" would destroy everything between them.

I took the "mild" route in one of my fics because I gave Nico time to go away and Percy stepped back. But with your ask, if Nico and Percy are always together, and Percy is more.. forward, I think no matter what Percy does, it wouldn't be enough to make Nico believe that Percy loves him.

Again, the waiting time here is crucial. Yet we know that patience is never Percy Jackson's strong suit. So Percy just.. snaps, either by outright kissing Nico or (adding drama here) yelling something along the lines of "I love you, Nico! Why wouldn't you believe me?" Going from here, there has to be an outside intervention (e.g. Hazel or Jason or Reyna or even Persephone if Nico runs to the Underworld)—anyone or anything that would make Nico realize that he and Percy actually can have the chance.

It ends maybe with Percy finding Nico, Percy saying "Fine, if you don't believe me, just never leave like that again. I'd take what you'll give me." And that's when Nico sees himself in Percy—that somehow cements his belief, that maybe, Percy Jackson has fallen for him, too.

Whoo.. I hope you're ready for such a ramble, because I can never stfu about them. Thanks for the wonderful ask 💀🌊

[bionicboxes]

whoo, some of the ArcadeQuest AU designs done! little story summary below:

Freddy and his Companion, a TALKI bot named Gregory, are sent on a mission to find five keys scattered across time and space to stop an ancient evil from destroying these universes. Along the way, they must help the residents of these parallel worlds defeat minions of this great evil in order to obtain the keys needed to fully defeat it.

or at least, that's what they believe. As the 'Glamrock' crew meets odd individuals that tell them of an older evil they once defeated, things start to become hazy, and reality as the believe it to be starts to fall apart. But the evil they face is all too real, and someone really does need their help. History loves to repeat, and its up to the Glamrocks, with guidance from those who experienced said history, to put a stop to it.

ArcadeQuest is based on an AU/Theory idea I had revolving the arcade machines in the game; Said theory being that like Princess Quest frees Vanny from control once completed; the Balloon World, Feeding Frenzy, and Monty Golf arcades were supposed to free their respective animatronics from the Mimic's control early in development for SB before being scrapped. To be clear, that's entirely speculation on my end, just trying to find a practical answer to their odd inclusion.

Each of the Glamrock's worlds are somewhat based on their arcade and/or location in the pizzaplex (especially with Roxy and Freddy whom don't have an arcade).

Its really just for me to have some good fun with all of the animatronics I've come to love over the years. Just about every animatronic will have some sort of appearance, albeit the ones with the most major roles are the SB characters, the FNaF 1 crew, Puppet, Springtrap, and Ennard. Potentially Baby as well, AQ isn't a fully finished AU by any means haha.