#Garen x reader

[noxturnalmoth]

What We Want

Pairing: Garen Crownguard x reader (modern! college! au) written for @oneoftheextras to satiate his need for Garen

Summary: Desiring your best friend is one thing. But when he seems to act a little more interested than he should be, it makes it much harder for you to know how to behave. What if a silly little inter university week gave you the opportunity to finally tread the waters of what could lay beyond your friendship?

Warnings: Suggestive themes, blood, smut, choking, mentions of breeding, jealousy

Word Count: 18, 949

Navigation: here

Garen.

Tall, strong, kind-hearted, reliable captain of the rugby team Garen Crownguard.

Your best friend.

And the man you fell for. Like Lucifer fell with his angels while cast down from the Heavens by God.

But how could you not? When on the first day of University he had rescued you from being walked on by a throng of students after you fell on the very badly sized and angled stairs of the administrative building. He had caught your hand and used his unbelievable size to navigate you to safety out of the crowd, and even helped you care for the scrapes now adorning your hands. His stature betraying the gentle way in which he behaved.

"Hey, you alright there? You took quite the stumble, I hope you didn't get hurt too badly." He had said, looking you over once he sat you down.

"Yeah, the people plus the shitty stairs didn't make me the most balanced individual in Demacia, I fear."

"It's alright, all that matters is that you're okay."

You smiled back at him, his own glowing with warmth and care. "I am."

"And I'm Garen." His hand clasped yours as you answered with your own name.

"Are you sure it isn't knight in shining armor?" You laughed and he shook his head.

"Perhaps, but only for you, then."

"I'll take it." Your eyes met and laughs escaped you once more before you exchanged phone numbers.

You learned, on your first day in class, that Garen, built like the petricite statues of the heroes of Demacia, just so happened to also study political sciences in Durand University. Coincidentally in the same class as you, with the same optional courses as you.

He used that to his advantage, seeking you out as the only friendly face he knew when he took a seat next to you in class or asked to pair up for projects. And with how kind, soft spoken, wise and reliable he was, it didn't take long for you to fully warm up to him. The two of you soon never seen apart on campus, stuck together not only because of similar courses and schedules, but also due to a blooming friendship.

Soon enough he'd invite you to his practice.

And it's almost pathetic how you began to feel a crush brewing at seeing Garen in the small shirt and tight shorts. Muscles bulging, shining with sweat under the early autumn sun, bathing his strong body in golden light as the sun started to set. He was always spearheading his way through the field, his team play strong as he entrusted the ball to his teammates with abandon. And most important of all, he led the group with ease, imposed himself with the gentle strength you knew he held. Everyone in the rugby team seemed to hold him in high regards as if he were the commander of an army, and that respect, that power, made Garen all the more attractive to you.

Yet you remained silent.

You couldn't bear the thought of losing your friend, and not only because of your growing feelings, but because of the comfort he brought you. Your schedules matching, whispering to one another in class, calling and texting any time you were apart, sharing meals, watching him practice and your out of class hangouts were now a safe space. A part of your daily life you would give away for nothing in the world.

Confessing could mean losing him. Losing the warm hugs he provided at any time of the day, the coffee and pastry he brought to you each morning so you could have breakfast together. It could mean losing the most understanding, reliable and intelligent man you know, losing his trust and presence in your life.

Without him, life felt as secure as a boat in a storm, about to either capsize or be struck down by lightning . And as such, you would not dare to fathom expressing your feelings to him.

And it was already hard enough to do so while he was simply friendly.

So you simply enjoyed all you could as much as you could, like a hamster keeping a stock of food in its cheeks. Hoarding seeds that for you were the good moments that Garen so kindly offered you by his side, his smile brightening each and every one of them while his strong yet gentle voice created a rhythm which you danced your days around.

But lately he's been getting closer to you, not only metaphorically but physically as well. And it made everything much worse.

He'd come behind you and hold your waist with one hand as he reached towards a book you were struggling to get in the library, always walk alongside you with his big warm hand on the small of your back, cradled your face when your mind steered away from reality. He'd even lick his thumb and wipe away at some food that got stuck on your face as you ate, or kiss your cheeks with a softly whispered "good job" each time you got a good grade.

Although his behavior was as gentle and natural as it has always been during those moments, something had definitely changed. His eyes were veiled with something unknown each time you melted in his warmth, every time you blushed, stuttered and lost your words at his closeness.

Something that you could almost mistake for the same desire that has been eating away at you for three years now. A silly crush becoming infatuation, and infatuation becoming something way too close to love for comfort, lust soon following in a dangerous mix that you'd rather not acknowledge for fear of losing control over yourself and doing something you'd regret.

"Hey you!" Greets the sweet voice that has become an irreplaceable part of your daily life, arms wrapping around you from behind.

"Hey big guy. Aren't you energetic today?"

"Well, this week we finally get to go against the Roseguard Uni team, remember?"

Right, the yearly inter scholar meetup.

Once a year, different universities from all over Runeterra would meet up at the previous year's winner's campus and organize games and tournaments, whether intellectual or physical, during a whole week.

And as a matter of facts today is the first day of this year's edition.

"That's true, I'm not really excited to go against Noxus though. Last year's theater performance nearly got canceled because one of them found it funny to bring a real knife instead of a prop one."

"Which is why security is assured by the military."

You nearly choke on the coffee and pastry Garen brought you like every morning.

"Is it your dad's men?"

He sighs. "Yeah."

"Damn, that sucks." You giggle and pat the man comfortingly on the back while he huffs out a soft laugh.

"Yeah, ha ha. Very funny."

"It is. Your dad definitely can't know that mister golden boy is actually a great boys band member and that Fiora beat you at the spelling bee."

"You're lucky I don't hit."

"Gngngn, you're lucky I don't hit, gngngn. Bite me, Garen, you're just a pussy." You joke, bumping your shoulder against his arm while you look into his eyes in mischief.

Now. What you expect is just a roll of the eyes and a soft laugh, as it's what always happens when you tease the gigantic man. Yet today, you stop in your tracks, eyes widened and mouth agape.

"No, you'd like that too much."

And this man has the audacity to smirk.

"What?" You ask dumbly, stuck to the ground like a prey in a trap.

"Mh? Nothing. Come on let's get to class, if we're late this week they're gonna tear us a new one."

And all you can do is nod, your body starting back up from its unintentional shutdown as you jog to catch up with Garen's relaxed yet long strides, his hand meeting the small of your back while you two walk through the campus.

You throw your garbage out before entering the building, then your classroom. The space now crowded with the extra students from the encounter sitting wherever they can, leaving Garen and you to search for available seats.

"Over here." You turn your head to the sound, a honeyed warmth in the tone pulling you to catch hazel eyes.

Sitting in the far back is a tall man all messy licorice hair, honey skin and bulging muscles, someone whom you've got to know very well through Garen's rugby tournaments. So with a smile you walk to him, long cocoa and vanilla hair in a bun soon coming into your field of view as Garen passes in front of you to pull your chair for you like the gentleman he is.

"Hello, Jayce!" Garen's voice greets with calm joy, like the sun's rays on a spring day not too hot yet warm enough to bring comfort, and clasps a hand over the other man's shoulder. "Viktor, how have you been?"

"Hey boys." You smile at the two, Viktor smiling as he holds out his hand for you to shake.

"Nice to see you two in person again, I hope you know that we'll take the winner title this year." He smirks, the mole above his lips lifting while his eyes twinkle.

"Big words coming from you Mr. Valášek."

"Is it because I'm disabled?" He jokes, his accented voice drawling in the usual slow way he speaks in.

"Wouldn't you like to know pretty boy?" You chuckle, the banter flowing between the long haired man and yourself as besides you Garen and Jayce talk animatedly about their rugby encounters, Piltover and Zaun against Demacia happening this very evening.

But one thing is surprising, just like earlier when Garen teased you back, he has a certain look in his eyes. His gaze not at all trained on Jayce but at you before he returns it to his conversation partner when his eyes meet yours.

Strange.

The day passes quickly, classes turned to a more fun and engaging games that each school could gain points from in order to pick a winner by Friday evening, and you separate from Garen and Jayce. The men going to practice for the match later on this evening, your friend's hand on the dip of your back caressing you as he walks away.

"Is it me or Garen is acting different? Googly eyes and touch starved is not what he was like last year." Viktor asks from besides you and you sigh, shrugging a shoulder to seem nonchalant.

"I don't know. He's been very clingy and all for a few months. Can never go without a hand on me since then."

"Oh, I see..." Viktor smirks.

"No, I will not listen to any of what you are going to say."

"Maybe you finally have a chance."

"Lalala I'm blocking my ears and I cant hear you." He chuckles as you plug your ears with your fingers, walking ahead of him childishly.

"We both know you-"

"LALALA."

You wince as he hits your head with his cane, your body slowing down to allow him to catch up with you as you pull your digits away from your eardrums.

"But really, if he's acting like that, you may have a chance. I mean it could end up really well for you."

"Or horribly."

He sucks on his teeth, releasing a small "chip" sound, his eyes rolling before landing on you, gaze soft.

"You'll never know if you don't try. Remember, we have the goodbye party on Friday night. I think you can manage something there, get a few drinks in, play a few games, confess."

"You have a lot of confidence Viktor, I don't. That's the difference." You sigh as you get to your split off point, thinking about getting a quick shower at home before going to the match.

"Then…Tease him. Nothing too big, just trying to test the waters, you know? There will be plenty of opportunities then, just kinda try his limits this week, see if there's anything that would make confessing worth it."

You nod at his words, although you have kept your feelings locked away for over three years by now, maybe it's time to finally see if you got to cut them off or accept them. No matter what comes out, at least you won't feel like an infatuated high school girl anymore.

"Okay. Yeah. I guess I'm gonna try to…Rile Garen Crownguard up. If that's even fucking possible."

"Say it with more gusto."

"Yes my liege." Viktor's eyes roll back when you bow. "I'll tease the shit out of Garen to know if he wants me or not."

"Which he should, if he doesn't he's an idiot. Don't worry, I'll help." He winks, a smirk slicing through his face and lighting up his amber eyes in such a way they look like molten gold.

"Damn, wing man Vik? What's your price?"

"Seeing that I'm right is enough." He turns around and begins to walk away, waving you off with a quick "see you later" while you start to make your way back home.

The water is turned on nearly as soon as you enter your dorm, water pushed to the hottest setting so you can clear away your mind.

You've had a few romantic and sexual endeavors, sure. But none of them were your best friend, and none of them were Garen Crownguard. Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard of Durand University, son of Captain Crownguard head of the civilian protection part of the Demacian military, and the kindest, sweetest, funniest, wisest and hottest man you've ever had the honor of laying your eyes on.

And that made everything so much more stressful to you.

Would his dad send people after you? No, that was stupid. Although from what you know it's not too far from what the man's actually like. Would he tackle you and crush you into fine powder if you say something out of turn or boundaries? No, that's not his style. He's like a huge teddy bear and hates the thought of hurting anyone besides in rugby.

No, what could happen is either a very embarrassing rejection which will make you want to bury yourself alive. Or perhaps a complete rejection of you from his life, and that is unfathomable as much as it's currently taking form in your mind.

That would be miserable.

No. Wash those thoughts away, nothing will ever get done with that train of thought.

Plus Viktor would help, that's…a good thing? Probably. You don't know what his angle on all of this is, but with how clever his little engineer brain is he'll probably find a great idea.

He did.

After your shower you had taken some time to find a few good clothes, rummaging through your wardrobe and leaving your room in a hellish mess. Then ate a quick meal, packing a sandwich and electrolyte drink for Garen along with a fruit for after the game. Nothing grand, just what you always do to congratulate him for a, usually, hard fought victory. The only defeats Durand University had being against Noxus' Roseguard school, and even then you'd welcome him back to the bleachers with the little brown bag.

As you were about to leave your dorm Viktor sent you a quick message that had you perplex.

Science Twink: Don't bring a jacket.

Me: do you want me to get sick or smth?

Science Twink: Just trust me. :)

Me: makes me NOT trust you even more dude

That's how you found yourself with Viktor's jacket wrapped around your shoulders, as he is thinner than you are, with Garen sneaking glances at you throughout the breaks he gets in the match. Jayce's eyes meeting yours in surprise from the field before he seems to beam at Viktor after the man next to you did a sequence of hand movements.

Something is fishy here.

Every time you would cheer, Garen's eyes over you would darken, almost as if he's upset. The veil deepening each time his gaze would trail to you, body seemingly more tense yet your friend is still on his A-game, game growing the slightest bit more aggressive.

Jayce would intercept him, somehow always directing his gaze your way. As if it's all part of an unknown plan. His steps fast, always keeping up with Garen no matter the distance, showcasing his own amazing athleticism and leader ship of the Innovators team.

"Vik, I don't know if it's doing anything good. He just looks mad right now, and I've never seen him look mad." You talk in the man's ear while he grins from ear to ear.

"That's a great thing actually." He drawls proudly, chin tilted up in the same way he does when he betters you at something. Not pedantic but teasing, and this time it's directed at Garen.

"What- Why?!"

"Because it shows that he cares, idiot. If he just saw you as a friend, why the hell would he be mad at someone, especially another man, lending you their jacket? Mh?"

Touché.

You sigh and nod in reluctant acceptance. Why in the hell did this man always have to be prepared for everything? Not that this time it was a problem, definitely not when you feel him wrap an arm around you comfortingly.

"Don't worry, we'll make sure you get your man."

We? Yeah, something's definitely fishy.

With a few seconds to spare, Garen spearheads through the grassy terrain and delivers a hard kick, your body standing up from apprehension although Demacia has won by a landslide. No, you get to your feet because of the sheer distance between the posts and Garen's shooting spot. It would be inhuman to score from there, nearly halfway through the field.

And even if Jayce did his best to get to Garen before his kick and intercept the ball, he arrived a millisecond too late.

But it happened, the ball soared all too quick and all that was left to do was observe.

Demacia - 17 | Piltover - 10

You grip Viktor tighter, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulls himself up while using you as his crutch. You two and the rest of the crowd see the ball cut through the air, trajectory and distance looking almost impossible, before it passes.

Right between the posts.

Demacia - 22

The spectators roar with cheers, no matter the side, at the amazing action just performed by your best friend on the field while he and the others shake hands to respect the good game shared between the two Universities. Garen's team then tackling him to the ground playfully as you make your way down the bleachers with Viktor, looking at the pile of gigantic men playing in the dirt like a litter of pups.

"Good game, Jayce."

"Thanks V! How'd you find the game mamita?" Says the tan man, panting and patting his face and neck dry with a towel.

"It was great Jayce, as always. But it seems Garen was on a…well directed roll." The boys huff, smirking at you.

"Nice jacket by the way." Jayce adds.

The two boys snicker and one of your hands land on your hip while the other slaps Jayce's arm playfully.

"Now will you two tell me what the hell is up?!"

They look at each other weirdly, mouths pursed until they burst into cackles.

"We wondered when either of you would come for help so we've kinda been cooking up some plans."

You gasp. "Jayce!"

"And we also made a bet on who would get their head out of their ass first. Which I've won because I bet on you, so that's fifty bucks for me. Pay up, handsome." Viktor makes a grabby motion towards Jayce who slaps his hand away, muttering about giving it later when they're both in their room.

"Vik!"

"What, it was funny to see you two dance around each other but after three years it's getting pathetic."

"Ouch?"

"Nah V's right, you two need a push, we don't want this to end badly for either of you guys. Solo queremo' lo mejor por vosotro', ya feel me?"

You don't even find it within yourself to deny Garen's attraction to you. His need to cling to you and be beyond helpful in the past months plus the dark eyes he's been making at the sight of Viktor and you together are enough for you to doubt him a bit.

Speaking of "him".

You see his shadow dwarfing over Viktor as he approaches. His eyes trained not on you in general, or your face but on your shoulders. Zeroed in on the jacket covering you. So you try to placate yourself, act innocent as you approach him.

"Hey Garen! Great job out there as always, that last action was absolutely insane!" You try to embrace him but he pushes you away.

"Here, Viktor must be cold, you should take mine."

He ignores what you've just said, face like a petricite statue while he takes the coat off of you, handing it back to Viktor wordlessly before placing his varsity jacket on you. The navy, white and gold replacing charcoal grey, large sleeves engulfing your arms and hands as he slides them on, closing the article of clothing that is so big on you that it currently looks like a dress on you.

Then his face changes, a smile overtaking his features as he admires you in his clothes. Trying to escape the scrutiny of not him but also Jayce and Viktor, you shove your face in the collar, your nose immediately overwhelmed by the smell of leather, old books, verbena, cardamom and cinnamon. Spicy, sweet, refined. Just like him. Your face nearly burns at the thought.

Yet what makes you warm up the most is the tight grip Garen has around your waist, hand replacing Viktor's and bringing you so close to him you can feel his searing warmth against your back.

"Your dinner."

"Thanks, doll."

Oh?

Oh.

That's new.

And by your two friends' interlocking gazes you know that they think the same.

Oh he's got it bad.

And as Jayce and Viktor walk away to their schoolmates you two leave the field, Garen's arm around you as he eats, your own hands holding the brown bag holding the rest of his meal.

"Didn't know you and Viktor were so close."

Wow. Were you that obvious too?

"No, I just got pretty cold. Forgot my jacket at home because I was so excited to see you!" His face softens with a gentle grin as he pulls you in closer.

"You have to take better care of yourself, doll." You can't help but shove your face in the large collar once more, the smells not helping with your burning visage.

"Yeah, yeah. I will."

Is what you tell him every day following this one.

Science Hunk has added Science Twink and Jarvannabe to the group

Science Hunk changed the chat name to Get crunk with the Hunk

Jarvannabe: horrible chat name

Science Hunk: don't lie, it's great.

Jarvannabe: hoe I bet it's you who's found it

Science Twink: Actually, it was me.

Jarvannabe: I'm disappointed Vik.

Science Twink: What a shame. Anyways, don't bring lunch OR your jacket any of the next days.

Jarvannabe: Garen literally just gave me his vest.

Science Hunk: just say you didn't wanna get it dirty, or that you woke up late and couldn't pack lunch or get his jacket. dw we got you mamita

Jarvannabe: so we're just gonna try to make him jealous

Science Twink: No, we will succeed. We already have. It's only a question of time before he breaks.

So that's what you did, again.

Walking in the cold morning while Garen's eyes darken at the sight of you early in class, the lids falling lower at Jayce's varsity jacket around your shoulders. Jaw clenching at the sight of Viktor's breakfast being shared with you. Lunch going the same way and making his body tense with something you've never seen in him.

Pure unbridled jealousy.

"You seem to get very forgetful lately, doll."

He asked on the third day, Tuesday passing in the blink of an eye as you watch Garen's jealousy silently and discreetly morph the friendly man you knew into a starved predator. His voice was less warm, his body more rigid as you two walked back from the rugby match. The Dauntless Vanguard had won 25 to 18 against The Omikayalan Academy from Ionia.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Garen." You said softly, encapsulating his big hand resting on your hip. "I guess between exams and the excitement of the week I've gotten clumsy, waking up too late to prepare food and forgetting to bring a coat with me. It's not like me."

You breathe, then smile at him, going in for the kill.

"But I know the boys got my back! You too, as always. And don't worry I still have your jacket I just need to wash it and bring it back to you."

You could almost feel the typical Freljord cold wash over you like a tsunami, Garen's hand taken from your side before he grips your shoulders, turning you towards him.

He looks imposing, his large frame dwarfing over yours as he bends to meet your gaze directly, his voice low, unlike the tone he usually has which is warm and open he nearly sounds…dangerous, at the moment.

"Tomorrow you better wear my jacket. It's warmer, larger, and more comfortable. Plus, we wouldn't want to bother Jayce and Viktor too much now would we, doll?"

The edge of his tone is enrapturing, one hand gripping at your chin to force your eyes back on him when his words got too much for you and your gaze avoided his. And with all of this, the only thing you can do is nod.

"Of course Garen."

"Good."

When you two separate, you rush home, your phone shaking frantically in your hands as you type to the boys.

Jarvannabe: Y'all, he kinda like….threatened me to put his jacket on from now on? But it wasn't a threat, idk how to describe it AAA like "wouldn't want to bother the boys too much now would we?" type shit

Science Hunk: Oh, he wants that cookie

Science Twink: He wants it so bad.

Jarvannabe: stfu you two nerds. What do we do now?

Science Twink: Depends, do you mind us getting touchy with you?

Jarvannabe: I mean not really, you get used to touchy when you're with Garen, then smitten Garen

Science Hunk: We'll just have to touch you just enough that he gets jealous, but not enough that he gets onto us. You good with that?

And you actually think about it, are you? You know you will never have the strength to confess, and this plan seems to work well enough. You can actually see and gauge Garen's affection towards you, which used to be impossible due to how kind he is to everyone in Runeterra, even the smallest of bugs.

The other good thing that comes out of this…teasing. Is the new side of Garen you're discovering. Possessive, protective and with a darker kind of patience than he usually has. Not the one of a man who wants to do his best for others, no, the patience of a predator stalking its prey. Fierce and wild, yet tamed, domesticated by something else, something stronger that you're chipping at. Now whether this is his usual sense of patience, his morals for you as a friend or something else, you don't know.

But it makes you hazy with lust.

Jarvannabe: yeah, I'm good with that

So much so that this night after Garen's words and after typing out your response to your friends, you tuck yourself into bed and your hand slides down your body. Your eyes close, the image of Garen's muscular body filling your vision, his form layered with a sheen of sweat from the match and his eyes half lidded. You can hear his voice, filled with dark promise and a warmth so different that the one he usually emanates.

No this is the confirmation you need to finally accept that he does, in fact, love you. The tone escaping his lips velvety, searing hot and sounding almost…restrained. As if the man is holding something back, something you wish to bring out of him more each day that passes. Your three year old "should I confess" conundrum completely overwritten by the need to have him at his reactions over your actions in the past few days, giving you the confidence to tease. To pick and prod until you feel sure enough that you can reveal your feelings to Garen.

Your digits feel frigid against your burning body, like an erupting volcano meeting the cold tides of the sea. The clash makes your jaw set, imagining Garen's much larger hands gripping your body, his gentle touch worshiping your skin as he utters words you could have never imagined coming out of his lips before today.

"Did you want me so bad that you had to test my patience, mh doll?"

Goosebumps raise on your skin as you choke up a breath, the silk of Garen's voice in your mind entrapping your body in a cocoon of desire. Spider legs manipulating your hands to touch and grab at yourself, softer and hotter than you have even been.

When your second hand reaches below your waistband you find the heat stifling, pricking at your hand like a thousand needles as your digits close in on your mound, eyes closing as a sigh escapes you.

"That's it pet, show me just how much you've desired me before I finally take you for myself."

Those words, so unlike the Garen you have an image of in your head, are very much reflecting the new side of him you're discovering. Fantasized yet you can almost taste the truth in them just as concretely as you can feel the sticky wetness between your legs, your fingers finally reaching where you need them most. Shyly, hesitantly, you slide them up and down, coating them in slick before circling your clit with light teasing touches as your other hand climbs up your ribs, passing over your breasts, slightly pinching each nipple before reaching your throat and lightly squeezing it.

"Make yourself feel good for me and say my name, make the others know just who you belong to."

Your lids pry themselves open as if pulled by a force and a gasp forces itself out of your lips alongside a whine. Would he truly be like this, or is this idealized version of him just that? A dream.

You hope not.

Electricity runs through you, your fingers flicking and circling with more strength than before, your hips swaying with the movement. Seeking out more pleasure for yourself, grinding against your own hand as you tremble.

You can see the evolution of Garen's presence in your life, from a simple passerby, to a friend, to the closest and most important person to you. Pushing every cloud away by shining down on you with his kindness, his patience, his gentleness, his smiles and voice always brightening up your days. He'd protect you from everything, even yourself, wrapped safely in his arms while he'd lean over you to shield you from anything that may come your way. Time shared with him being the part of your life you appreciate the most whether it's foggy early mornings, rainy lunches, warm sunny afternoons, windy evenings or starry nights.

But you also feel the way your own feelings have been growing. The seeds of friendship watered by affection growing into affection that blooms into a flowery bed of roses and carnations, desire and love.

Your eyelids close once more, like the curtains in a theater, your mind showing you fantasies of Garen like a lust driven cinema screening. The pools of clear blue, akin to the rivers in Demacia, darkening with untold desire. Voice growing deeper, nearly whispered as his patience shifts from gentle to hungry. His muscles bulging as he appears on top of you in your dream, your hands replaced by his, the heat and size feeling different, bigger and warmer than yours although you know they're not his.

The movements on your clit are torturous, slow and hard which the squeezing on your throat alternates between light and hard pressure. You feel like you're floating, the pleasure in your body too much yet not enough at once, coaxing something out of you. And you know just what.

"Garen-"

You choke out and your digits move faster, push harder, possessed by the visions of the man you crave. Behind closed lids, your eyes roll, shaky sighs and soft grunts uttered from your lips as your body tingles with need.

"Again. You can do better than that, can't you, pet?"

"Garen!"

A chuckle fills your ears as the hand on your neck climbs up once more, shoving two fingers in your mouth. You have no time to think before you instinctively lick and suck at them, treating them as if they were Garen's cock, the man's voice humming appreciatively in your mind as he rewards you with a slap of his other hand on your mound. The sting on your pussy echoes in the silent room and through your body before your fingers are guided to your entrance, hot and slick with essence. Two digits slowly breaching your inner walls, tight and pulsating as you move back and forth, going deeper with each movement.

Once they're fully in, the hand settles, softly curling up into that spongy spot that has your back arching from the bed, the heel of your hand grinding against your bundle of nerves punishingly slow.

"What do you want, pet?"

"I wanna-" Your mind is hazy and you struggle to speak around his fingers, drool flowing from your mouth and down your chin and neck, embers stoked into a fire at your core, molten hot with need as you tremble with your climbing ecstasy. "Please Garen, I wanna cum."

"So polite." He hums, seeming both surprised at your whining and like he has been waiting for you to utter those words. "If only you could have been this nice the past few days as well, mh? It's okay, pet. You'll make it up to me by cumming around my fingers, won't you?"

You nod, your hand moving in and out, softly curling as it gains in speed and strength. The other one trails back down, leaving a cooling trail of spit behind as it goes back to your neck, squeezing just enough that the oxygen in your body is slightly restricted.

"Say it again."

You groan, body writhing in need as the digits inside of you are slammed inside your cunt, your clit thrumming against your palm.

"Garen, please. Please, let me cum. I'm sorry, I won't do this ever again." Your voice answers, your room silent but Garen's voice in your mind very much present.

"Do what, pet?"

"I won't be a brat, I won't test your limits, just please let me cum."

"Your begging sounds so sweet, maybe I'll just torture you some more." Your body shakes in fear, eyes snapping open. "But not today, I've played with you enough. Go on pet, cum for me. Soak my fingers."

And as you feel the delicious stretch of your own fingers, their slamming against your sweet spot, the heel of your hand grinding against your nub, the air restrained from fully entering escaping your lungs; you come with a cry of Garen's name.

One that your desire hazed mind doesn't register as your body sets itself aflame from the inside out. Your mouth falling open as a string of moans and groans leave you from the force of your orgasm, body trembling intensely, gasping and panting as you ride out the waves of pleasure vibrating through you like the strings of a guitar. Wetness stains your sheets and sticks to your thighs but it doesn't matter as you take baited breaths, coming down from your lust fueled activities.

Your own hands have played you like a fiddle under the pretense of being Garen's like in your fantasy, and never have you come as hard as you have just now. But instead of shame or a sense of disappointed clarity, what you feel when the pleasure ebbs away is an impulse.

One that drives you to go on with your plan the next day. Garen's varsity jacket dwarfing over your form, keeping it warm, while you arrive at the usual time, your friend happy to be able to share breakfast with you again and to see you in his clothes.

You notice that his eyes are brighter, his smile softer and his gait less tense as his arm wraps around your waist as always.

Yet his eyes darken once more once Jayce and Viktor take you in their arms, the latter kissing your cheek softly and the former cupping your cheek to pinch it as a mischievous look traverses his gaze.

The hand around your waist tightens as he greets your two mutual friends, bringing you closer to him until you sit yourself between the two of them. For this day and the next, their hands are over you at any moment, taking Garen's place at all times. While you walk either or both of them would have their hand on your waist. Jayce would help you with reaching books in higher placer that you can't reach and bend over your shoulder to help with work. Viktor would always whisper in your ear and have a hand on yours.

If you could describe the look passing through him each time, building upon itself each time one of your friends' hands touches you, you'd say it's hunger.

A primal hunger growing from wanting a taste to a ravenous need to devour you whole.

Something that you don't mind seeing or imagining as time progresses. Thursday passing by so quickly you barely notice it, Garen's humongous form trailing besides you after the rugby match against the Freljord's Lissandra Technical College's Frostguard. His hot breath fogging up the cool Demacian air, nearly panted as he seems to restrain himself from doing something, his face setting at the innocent expression you arbor.

Today is finally Friday, you know that you need to confess, finally make a move. Garen's hands gently ripping away both Viktor's and Jayce's from you as he takes their places, so soft that you would have ignored it had you known Garen less than you do. Voice syrupy sweet when he talks to you, enticing, moving you like a puppeteer moves his creation.

While this happens you watch your friends' eyes light up, flashes of ideas bursting in their gazes while smirks stretch their faces, whispers shared away from you with the promise of being told as soon as Garen leaves your side.

"Eyes on the page, doll. We wouldn't want to make our school lose points on this last game, now would we?"

His voice snaps you back to the present time.

"Yeah, sorry Garen. I'm a bit tired."

"You have been quite clumsy lately, haven't you? Are you sure you're getting enough rest? Enough…" He gets closer, breath licking at your ear while he bends over you. "..Attention."

You tense. He's onto you, isn't he? Your eyes trail to Viktor and Jayce to plead for help while they stare back at Garen behind you.

"Doll?"

"Yes, yes, sorry. Let's focus on work."

His hand slides from the table to cradle your cheek, turning your head towards him and forcing your gaze to his.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." You breathe out softly and a smile grows on his face, his thumb rubbing against the corner of your lips.

"Let us begin then."

Oh how you wish these words were for anything but class work.

But still, you slave away. Exchanging ideas with your friend as he inches closer to him as the day passes. You soon find yourself nearly on his lap, chair so close to him you're almost sitting on him.

"Bring me any closer and I'll be straddling you, Garen." You joke, looking over the notes you copy onto a cleaner sheet.

"We both know you wouldn't mind that, doll."

"What?"

"Well, you do like being held, don't you?" You nod slowly, assessing his sugary tone. "Especially this week, it seems."

You try to keep your calm, willing the blush bubbling its way on your skin to go away.

"I do hope that my arms are the one you want wrapped around you the most, though."

Oh.

Oh-

It almost felt criminal, with how softly he said those words, that you touched yourself to the the thought of him only a night prior.

His eyes so gentle and smile so soft you could nearly feel yourself beaming back at him, his energy so loving your legs would have given up from under you had you been standing.

Yet his touch and voice igniting you as you think back to the pleasure you took from yourself while imagining him, his name flowing from your lips like the Demacian rivers to only to throw themselves in the neighboring sea. Your own sea being the mixture of affection and desire you feel for Garen, growing bigger as your currents bring you to them. To him.

You swallow.

"No one's arms could be as good as yours." You tell the truth, eyes sliding to his before you turn back to the table, pen scribbling on paper. "Now get back to work you overgrown pet rock."

He huffs out a chuckle and pinches your hip, smile growing larger when you swat away at him playfully.

Time ticks, Jayce and Viktor exchanging gazes with you, knowing looks permeating their expressions and yours. Tonight is the night. The thought alone makes you apprehensive, halfway through sick from stress and floating in elation. Garen's presence squeezing on your heart, his soft behavior too sweet for the past few days, deceivingly so. And you'd believe it, if you were anybody else but yourself.

He caresses your back as you make your way out of class, scores for the projects throughout the week showing Demacia's domination over the other schools for the second year in a row. You can't help but gasp and huff out a laugh when Garen happily scoops you up in his arms and walks you to the fork in the path soon to separate you both as he goes to practice and you get home.

"Now isn't that a show of Demacian pride, big boy?"

"Oh please, you're as happy as I am."

You are. Other nations offering you congratulations while the Noxians silently, or not, fumed at their defeat. Losing to anyone was impossible for them, but Durand Academy nearly always seems to one-up the Roseguard students, and their anger is felt as they stomp out from around you, pushing past Garen as he marches with his back straight and chest puffer.

"Can't say I'm not!" You laugh. "Seeing the sour look on Noxian faces when they lose is one of my favorite things in life."

"I'm number one, aren't I doll?"

Your eyes snap to him, his lips stretched into a teasing smile.

"Now, let's not get overconfident Garen."

"Oh, really? Overconfident?" He clicks his tongue, mirth and mischief swirling in the blue of his irises before he makes a show of nearly dropping you, your arms wrapping around his neck as he catches you immediately after letting you go.

"Yes! You're my favorite don't drop me please!" You rush the words, curling in Garen's arms.

"There we go." He kisses your cheek. "You're my favorite too." Is whispered conspiratorially in your ear.

"Wow, right, you love me so much you gotta whisper it."

"What? Do you want me to tell the whole world?" You don't expect his immediate answer after you nod, challenging him.

"Everybody!" Every eyes surrounding you snap to the loud display. "This person right here is my fa-"

"Shut it Garen, I got it!" You hiss as you cover his mouth, the same gleam from earlier still glazing his eyes.

He chuckles when you pull your hand away, your expression looking beyond distraught and embarrassed. "So will I see you tonight?" He asks, softly panting, as he sets you to your feet at the crossroads.

"Duh. Do you really think I would miss any match of yours? Especially against the Noxians? You've got to have hit your head man, 'cause that's impossible. If I ever refuse I'm either too sick to move or it ain't me and you can squeeze that person to death."

Laughs leave you as you embrace him one last time, letting go, leaving immediately to take a hot shower. Taking time to shave and tidy yourself up for the party after the game. Though after going through the steps you notice your phone buzzes so much that you can't help but open your notifications.

Science Hunk: Yo, it's time

Science Hunk: hello?

Science Hunk: helllooooooooo????

Science Hunk: bros, it's TIME, where you at???

Science Twink: Well, we're taking care to look presentable for the party. We know you've been pampering yourself too so get off our asses Jayce.

Jarvannabe: nah cuz frrrrr

Science Twink: Especially since THIS ONE is trying to get laid.

Jarvannabe: HEY!

Science Twink: What? It's the truth.

Jarvannabe: I don't want just THIS bro, c'mon. I ain't a hoe

Science Twink: You know what? Fair. My apologies.

Jarvannabe: no worries my liege

Science Twink: I hate you.

Jarvannabe: no ya don't.

Science Hunk: okay SHUT IT, y'all getting pretty, awesome sauce. But we need a P L A N. Like legit, tonight is the night, we just need one last push and it needs to COUNT

Science Twink: Just turn hot for Garen and bang.

Jarvannabe: wow. Turn??? HOT??? Asshole. I'll let you know I'm making myself irresistible.

Science Twink: Good. You'll need it.

Jarvannabe: slut.

Science Twink: Whore.

Science Hunk: GUYS

Science Hunk: STFU

Jarvannabe: eat shit

Science Twink: Eat shit.

Science Hunk: Wow.

Science Hunk: Anyways, we'll speak more about it on the field since y'all cabrones are yapping so hard I can barely get your attention.

You huff out a laugh as you get dressed, using the accessories you own to add more shine to the look. An eye catcher if you will, that directs Garen's eyes exactly where you need them to. The pendant falling right above your chest like a target, rings cutting the air at each hand movement, waist adorned with specks of light at the adornments on your belt.

And although you're not one to be too cocky, you know you look damn good. It's almost a shame when you hide all of this under Garen's varsity jacket, closed for good measure so you can reveal your outfit the moment you enter the party.

At the bleachers you approach Viktor who is keeping a seat for you, Jayce animatedly talking to him about something. Tonight's party probably.

"Sup nerds."

"As if you weren't as much of a loser as the both of us." Viktor smirks, taking his hand away from the seat to let you take the place.

"I ain't said you were losers, I called you nerds, you idiot. I wonder how you're Heimerdinger's assistant with those comprehension skills Vik."

"Ha. Ha. But tell me, what did you manage to achieve that gives you the right to criticize me?"

"A full ride scholarship at the most prestigious political sciences, forensics and criminology school. Just that. Nothing out of my pocket, pretty boy, ya hear that?" You shake your wallet, having taken it out of your bag with a smirk. "That's the sound of a very full wallet."

"Guys. We don't have much time, stop bantering please." Cut in Jayce's exasperated voice, you and Viktor laughing at the look on his face, halfway between concern and frustration.

"Sorry bro, our bad." You snort."Right, so I'm all dolled up under this, I'll take off the jacket at the party. What should I do once we're there though?"

"So, Jayce and I were talking about it but remember our method this week? You giving us all the attention and all." Utters the accented voice of the Zaunite and you hum, nodding in understanding.

"Well basically, do the opposite. Smother him in attention."

"So I just go all out?"

"Yup." Jayce pops the P, turning when the whistle rings through the field, signaling to the players that they need to take their places. "Okay, no te preocupes. Tonight's all you girlie. So just do whatever feels right and comfortable, if you need time away or advice once at the party Vik and I will help in any way we can."

You nod, taking the man in your arms as he lifts you, his sudden display of strength and affection nearly giving you a heart attack. And you show as much when you playfully slap his arm when he puts you down, his laugh racking through his broad body as he takes a seat on the other side of Viktor. The game soon beginning.

But when you look closely, you can see the brilliant blue of Garen's eyes shining with pride and contentment at seeing you dressed in his coat, with his colors, his number, his name. You know you look like you belong to him at this moment, and that's what you want everyone, especially Garen, to see. Your heart and body already belonging to him after years of dancing around your feelings.

The game against Roseguard Academy is violent, the Trifarix attacking and defending with all their might, your Dauntless Vanguard pushing back as steadfastly as their opponents.

You see it in how he leads today, Garen is full of energy. His body zipping past enemy players, passing expertly to his allies and taking back the ball with grace. He is at his prime. And as your eyes cross you know that your little stunt this week, sweetened by the sight of you at the moment, has had its desired effect.

Against the angry Noxians, the passionate Demacians clash, offense, defense, changing position, and once more. It's like an unspoken rhythm, a dance of adversity to prove to the other school and the rest of those sitting in the bleachers their strength, their righteousness, their worth. And it's the same each year when those two universities come together on the field. Both determined to win, the victor always determined by a hair.

As time ticks away, getting closer to the end of the match you see just how much energy the Trifarix has used in the first half, finally tiring out and letting the Dauntless Vanguard fain on them.

That's when you see it, Xin Zhao handing Garen the ball who rushes to the middle of the field.

He's going to do it again.

Within a moment that is both too slow and too fast for you to register, you see him place and kick the object, its shadow cutting through the air as everybody stands in apprehension. Is this shot going to score, barely seconds away from the end, or was it solely a one time thing?

The tension overtaking your body melts with your sudden cry of joy as you hear the whistle, the ball passing by the two parallel posts, over the one holding them apart.

Demacia - 25 | Noxus - 23

By a hair, your team has won by the smallest of hairs.

You can't register yourself rushing out of the bleachers, the wind carving your face or the band playing in honor of your school's victory as you rush to Garen. His arms immediately enveloping you as you jump, carrying you over the field while you begin to take in the music, the cheers, and the situation you're in. Only embarrassing from the point of view of someone who wished to confess the very same evening.

"Good job Garen. I'm proud of you." You whisper, face nearly touching his, noses gently caressing one another.

"You know we never hold back against Noxus. Especially when I have you in my jacket waiting for me on the bleachers."

"Now, now. Say anything else and I'll believe you're in love with me." You tease, testing the waters.

"And what if I was?"

"I'd say you're batshit insane, Crownguard." He chuckles, setting you down and putting a hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the benches, retrieving his bag.

You're greeted by cheers from his coach and teammates, Noxian adversaries reluctantly shaking hands although some of them look proud of their prowesses today.

"Alright you big, sweaty man-beast. Ready to go to the party?"

"Sure thing, doll. Let's go."

His hand remains on you as Viktor and Jayce join you on the way to the party, all of you piling up in Garen's car to drive to the location. One of the more well off students, Fiora, providing her home as the perfect breeding ground for a rager like the one taking place to close the inter-academics each year.

It's already stuffed full of people when you enter the immense front yard, the inside barely breathable as you pass the doors, the mansion not enough to contain so many students although way more decide to pass up on the festivities.

You immediately seek out some "courage juice" when you pass by the kitchen, fixing Garen a drink too as you return to him. He's already speaking to his teammates, excitedly moving his arms as he talks about tonight's game, earning you this year's winner's spot just like the previous year.

"Hey Garen, got you something. Also would you mind taking your jacket back? It's pretty heavy and I'm getting warm."

You try to ask as innocently as possible, his hand extended with a nod to relieve you of the second cup you are holding and his eyes widening as you unzip his jacket, revealing your outfit under it, and laying the coat on his outstretched arm.

"Well….Didn't you go all out tonight?" He nearly whispers, eyes moving all around your body with intensity, as if he's trying to carve the sight of you in his memory.

"Well, it's a once in a year occasion. Wanted to do an impression, y'know!"

"To whom?" His voice dips in the familiar tone you've discovered this week, the one you shiver in at the thought of your previous actions to the thought of it.

"Anyone willing to see, I suppose." You pretend to look pensive and shrug at your nonchalant answer, his eyes darken as he nods his head once more, quickly turning away to his team once more as you stay so close to him you nearly feel like you've fused.

His hand remains around your waist, his thumb tracing gentle, reassuring circles in your flesh, the other digits gripping you in softly yet with intent.

I'm not letting you out of my sight.

You know this is what this attention means. And you take it in stride, one hand slipping across his broad back to caress his hip in light up and down motions. Only slipping away from his welcoming arms when getting a new drink. You're executing your role to perfection, Garen's arm candy, something he seems to revel in from the glances you've noticed him giving you periodically.

The night is going well. Now you need it to go from well to good. And from good to great.

Your eyes trail around the room from the couch you are currently sitting in, stuck to Garen's side like glue. Drinking games? No, Garen doesn't partake. Getting high? Not his style either, although you wouldn't refuse if only to let your mind rest from the sheer speed and quantity of thoughts overtaking you at the moment.

You try to focus on your breathing, on the booming bass surrounding you and bouncing from every wall under the laughter and talking of your fellow students. What could possibly help you with your plan?

Your phone vibrates.

Science twink: Party games in the upstairs lounge. Stuff like truth or dare and whatever else.

Oh Viktor, that glorious bastard.

Jarvannabe: You're the best Vik!

Science Twink: I know. Now go get him.

Science Hunk: o7 good luck mamita

Laugh at your phone before getting up.

"Downstairs is a bit boring, wanna go up to see what's going on there?" Garen looks at you pensively before tilting his head, moving to stand and join you as you climb up the stairs, walking in front of you to keep you from being squashed by the crowd. Like a true gentleman.

The throng of students became smaller as you make your way through the first floor, the music slightly muffled and less of an attack on your ears when you get to the lounge.

"Hey y'all!" Ezreal, the life of the party yells from a circle of people currently sitting on the soft and plushy couches and armchairs or the ground. Reduced to taking that space from the sheer amount of people.

"Yo man, been a while." You clasp his hand in yours and he brings you in for a hug, short but warm and full of energy.

"Damn, look at you! You've gone hard today! Hey Garen, you were great tonight!" Your friend chuckles and shakes Ezreal's outstretched hand.

"Yeah I know. Gotta dress to impress, y'know?"

"Sit, sit. We were just about to begin!"

"Begin what, exactly?" Garen finally asks as he brings you down with him on the expensive couch, people trading places for the huge man. Respecting that he's probably quite exhausted from the match a couple of hours earlier.

"Nothing too bad. Just a little seven minutes in heaven. To…uh…tighten the inter-academy relations. You feel me?"

Oh yes, yes you do.

"Ain't a problem for me."

"Yeah I can see that, you're bringing someone home tonight, dude!" He whistles.

"Hey don't sound too excited, it might just be you." You tease, feeling Garen's relaxed arm tense and grip you tighter, his eyes darkening in your peripheral.

"You say this as if it was a bad thing." The blonde man snickers, throwing himself back in his armchair. A bottle is in the middle of the coffee table, serving as a pendulum to pick who will end up with who for seven whole uninterrupted minutes, alone.

"Hey just sayin'."

You laugh back at him, melting into Garen's arm as you lean onto the cushions behind your back, hands raised in a playful placating motion before you drop them on your lap.

"Alright, easy rules as always. We start clockwise at the person next to me, they spin, get with the person the bottle chose for them for seven minutes, come back, and so on so forth. Once you passed your turn, you're out for the rest of the game!" Claps the energetic man as he points to the the person on his left. "Rell, you start."

The Noxian cracks her fingers with a small smirk. "Let's get this party started!"

The bottle spins on the table, slowing to a halt when it reaches Ashe, a Freljordian. Everyone snickers as the two girls pull faces, moving towards a door on the left side of the room. Seven minutes beginning and ending quickly, animated by laughter and banter between students.

"Nah, what I'm saying is that nothing's happening because as similar as they are there ain't no way Ashe is kissing someone, period." Explained Sejuani, her hand moving to illustrate her words.

"Sounds like you're jealous."

"Don't try me, Kayn."

"She'd fuck you up, man. I think your little twink ass body wouldn't last a second in a fight with her." Cackles fill the room when Jhin talks, smirking deviously from behind his can of red bull while Kayn flips him off.

"You're the one who talks about twinks, Mister number Four?" You wheeze out.

"Hey, not my fault your man has been fed petricite for breakfast, lunch and dinner since birth, girlie. I'm a perfectly sculpted Adonis, thank you."

"Yeah. Exactly what I was saying. A twink." The room erupts in laughter again as the girls come out, looking as perplexed as they did when closing the door seven minutes ago. Garen's grip loosens and you smile at him innocently, not defending the fact that Jhin called him "your man" seems to have done wonders on him it seems. His stare piercing yours with furrowed brows and a confused smile.

"What?" You ask, playing the role of someone who has no idea what they're doing.

"Nothing, doll. Nothing at all."

The game continues. Kayn and Sejuani paired up to the pleasure of everyone in the room who relishes in the disgusted look on both of their faces, and the rest of the party goes on swimmingly. Couples after couples sent until eight of you are left.

"Alright, only four couples left! Let's give this bad boy to…." Ezreal's eyes land on yours and a grin splits his face, his hand playing with the tap on the bottle, pulling it on and off. "C'mon, pretty thing! Your turn!"

You nod, a smirk of your own growing on your lips while you look at the metal crowning the glass. The shade of red is different, and so are the ridges on the side. You sneak a glance in the clear material to see a black puck beneath the stopper.

You quickly pass your ring adorned digits above it, feeling a hard resistance.

A magnet.

You glance at Ezreal who's leaning back, legs crossed and arms spread across the backrest on his armchair, a knowing look in his eyes and his lips turned upwards in the familiar boyish smile.

That bastard's in on it.

You're gonna have to thank Viktor, Jayce and him later.

But for now you simply place the bottle on the table, slightly more on your side, and spin it. Making sure to put a hand on Garen's knee and lean forward with the other draped over your legs to make sure the magnet is attracted to the metal in your accessories. The man besides you softly shivering at the warmth of your hand contrasting with the cool metal decorating it.

Please work. Please work. Please fucking work.

Your heart nearly stops when the bottle lands on Vladimir, but you breathe out in relief when you realize that his turn has already passed.

And that the closest player to him is Garen.

The room grows loud with cheers as it always does when a new duo is picked, but in some faces you see relief, your eyebrows furrowing towards Ezreal as he shrugs and waves his hand towards the door.

"Remember lovebirds, seven minutes, noting more,nothing less."

"Aye, aye captain asswipe." You get up, doing a mock salute as you saunter to the side room, leaving the door open for Garen who makes it in there barely after you entered, closing and locking the door behind him.

That's the moment you hold him, arms wrapping tight around his hulking form, clawing at his back as you look up to him.

"Well, you know the rules."

"No rules say that we have to do anything."

"It's ineffable."

"Oh? Getting out the big words won't help you get what you want. You have to earn that."

"Wow. Earn it? I've been a great friend, Garen." You huff jokingly and he pulls away, holding you at arms' length by circling your biceps with his impossibly big hands.

"But have you been a good girl?" His voice dips and his eyes gloss over, the same way they have all week, the same way that has you needing him more and more each time it happens.

"I have."

He bends, getting closer to place his face in front on yours, his intense gaze forcing yours down before one of his hands find your chin to make you look back at him.

"Have you?"

You nod.

"So you keep on lying, then? Even when you've done that all week?"

"Now, Garen. I haven't lied once to you this week!" You chuckle, trying to keep your racing heart from bursting out of your chest at the feeling of his warmth so closely, so intimately, especially paired with these words.

He clicks his tongue and tilts his head, bringing it closer to your neck as he goes to murmur in your ears.

"The more you hide the truth, the less chances are that you'll get what you want. Now speak, before time runs out and you lose the opportunity to. Either way, you'll be the loser of this little game you began if I don't like what I hear or if you decide to keep on behaving like a gods damned brat."

He nearly spits out the last word, the velvety tone in his voice sounding forced at times, his grip on you tightening yet remaining somewhat gentle to keep your attention on him, tilting back to catch your gaze in his.

It's like a siren call, the dominance, the sheer predatory hunger dripping from his words, the sharp focus cutting you through his eyes. So, under his scrutiny you decide to let the mask drop, sighing as you look for the right words.

"I just wanted to see if you liked me…too."

"So you riled me up?"

"That wasn't my idea, it was Vik and Jayce's! Apparently both of them have been betting on who, and I quote 'would get their head out of their ass first' because we've both been pathetic." You sigh, eyes trying to remain on his, the blue irises pulling the truth from you.

"And? You accepted their terms because.. you do like me?"

"Of course I do you idiot! How could I not when you're the best man anyone could dream of in Runeterra!" You huff. "Like I just couldn't believe you'd like me, seemed insane. So the boys wanted to show me that you did, in fact, feel things for me too. I wouldn't have had to do this if you manned up though."

You add quickly at the end, the jab making Garen slide the hand gripping your chin to over your mouth, effectively shutting you up.

"If I manned up, huh? Funny coming from the girl who decided that letting herself be touched and paraded around by other men was a good idea to get my attention."

You did get it, though.

And as you try to speak your rebuttal he clicks his tongue thrice in a chastising way.

"Shut up, I'm speaking. You'll wait until I'm done to run your mouth again, doll."

You can only nod at his words, mind blank, emptied by his mannerisms.

"Atta girl. As I was saying, maybe me 'needing to man up' was me waiting, leaving you time and space to respect you while I began to show you just how deeply I feel. Now I get your impatience, I've grown restless too after three years. But you lacking respect over my proper way of showing my affection just shows how little manners you have."

You swallow heavily, his face getting closer and brushing yours gently with his hot breath. Shallow, as if breathing you in more than he should will break his resolve.

"Now there's two ways this can go. You show me how sorry you are and I'll fuck some manners into you so that this never happens again and all ends well and quickly, or you decide to remain undeserving of my attention and you'll get out of this room as soon as the seven minutes are over." His other hand leaves your arm, delicately caressing your skin as it slides up and behind your head, softly massaging your scalp.

"And you won't get what you want for as long as I deem it necessary. But don't be mistaken, I'll be here everyday, touching you the same way I've been doing for months, talking sweet poison in your ears just like I am right now. Torturing you as a punishment for doing the same to me, until I am satisfied. And I am a very, very, patient man."

Your hair is suddenly balled in a fist, your head pulled back as a groan escapes your throat.

"So what will it be, pet?" Your mouth is freed and you gasp, gulping in air you don't realize you've forgotten to breathe in.

A moment passes as you try to recollect yourself, picking up the pieces of you that shattered at the display of dominance Garen used to render you docile. You take the time to appreciate the shivers rolling up and down your body at his glare, at his tone and words, air finally feeding every cell in your body and making you all too aware of your position and what just happened.

The fantasized version that had you screaming out his name already nowhere close to the real thing. Pumping desire through your veins at every new breath, every word, every grip and every blink, his existence siphoning your own in a maelstrom of feelings so strong you can't do anything but surrender to them.

"I'll be good." Your voice comes out weakly, shaking pathetically as you glance at him with lust overtaking your mind.

"Will you, now? Or is that another lie?"

You shake your head fast, panic coursing through you at the thought of the torture that awaits you if Garen decides that your words aren't enough to believe. An idea comes to mind, something that seems much more comfortable and easy to do than stand on trembling legs.

You drop to your knees, hands settling obediently in your lap, calves tucked under your bottom as you look up, eyes glassy.

You want him so bad.

"Please, Garen. I'm sorry I lied, I'm sorry I did all of this. Please let me make it up to you, let me learn, let me be good. But please let me be yours." Tears roll down your cheek and you see him shift, body descending the same way yours has. "Just please Garen, don't leave me like this. I'm so sorry."

Your weak pleads seem to soften him, the tension setting his face quickly melting as he leans towards you, hands cradling your face. He shushes you, thumbs caressing your cheeks in gentle circles.

"It's okay sweet girl. I can't say no to that face, not when you cry so pretty for me." His voice is nearly whispered as he gets closer, his lips kissing your tears away.

"Just discipline me please, anything but leaving me. Please, I promise I'll be good Garen, please." You beg, chest growing and deflating with each panted, panicked breath.

"Good. That's all I needed to hear."

His eyes dip to your lips in a silent question, not wishing to overwhelm you, and the nod that shakes your head nearly gives you whiplash with its strength. The enthusiasm making Garen huff out a small chuckle before he finally closes the distance.

His lips are soft and warm, they taste like the lemonade he's been sipping on all night, sweet and acidic, addicting. When his arms wrap around you, one encasing your waist and the other your shoulders and the back of your head that he holds with a strong hand, you feel safe. Wrapped in a cocoon of comfort you have wished for, for so long.

And his smell.

It's salty, musky from the sweat, but you can perceive the notes of verbeina, cinnamon and cardamom of his usual smell.

He smells so good you want to devour him whole, make him yours and never let go. A desire so all encompassing you can nearly feel what the man holding yours feels, a hearth illuminating your soul and warming your body with tendrils of scorching heat.

Garen pushes away for a second, gulping air, looking so unlike himself, like he's about to break. His grip on you tightening to keep the last piece of composure he has somewhat intact.

"Please, can I touch you?"

His pupils, already blown out, nearly eat away at the whole of his irises as soon as he hears the question.

"Go ahead, doll."

Then he goes back in for the kill.

Lips moving in a tandem, your hands clawing at his large muscled back. You feel it then, his tongue licking away at your bottom lip, asking for you to grant it passage. Which, of course, you do. The appendage swirling around yours in a feverish dance as he tries to taste you whole, your own taste buds overtaken by the sweet and salty flavor coating Garen's mouth. A mix of the treats and drinks he has consumed since the beginning of the party, the twang of lemon, the iodine prickle of saltines, the syrupy sweetness of soda and the smoky umami of dried beef.

Something so mundane. Yet at the moment it doesn't matter, that taste is his and it's something you've craved for the past three years, so you're going to take advantage of the opportunity as much as you're allowed.

What you hear has you wondering if you are ripping Garen's shirt apart from how hard you are holding on to him, his groans and soft puffed breaths like fuel to the flame blazing at your core.

You suddenly feel light, your body carried to his lap as he brings you closer, the distance always too much between the two of you. Proving just how much he has craved you, how similar the two of you are in your need of one another.

But as his hands dip lower to your hips, gripping them so firmly you can feel bruises forming already, a knock is heard. The sound barely heard over the baited breaths and the blood rushing to the pumping of your own heart, but you hear it still.

"Come on you two, seven minutes are up!"

"Crap." You whisper, scrambling clumsily from Garen's lap, looking like a newborn fawn trying to walk. But in your misery you feel a strong arm wrapping around your waist, steadying you.

"There you go. Let's not make them wait too much."

He turns to you, using his free hand to fix your hair and wipe the drool on your chin as well as the last of the tears staining your cheeks. You pull this arm when he's finished, using it to make him lean down towards you so you can put his shirt back on properly and wipe the saliva coating his own jaw.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, doll."

When he opens the door, letting you walk out first like the gentle man he is, you notice mischief in everyone's gazes.

Those motherfuckers were all in on it.

They try to hide it, but as the game continues you catch glances at Garen's sudden display of dominance when he dresses you in his jacket once more and places you on his lap, one hand wrapping around your thigh possessively. Gaze proud and defiant as he looks at everyone in the room.

His eyes read. "She is mine now, and no one but me can have her."

And you can't say you're mad at it. No, actually quite the opposite. The flames burning hot in your guts do not die out during the last three rounds of seven minutes in heaven. They grow hotter at the thought of Garen proudly displaying you in such a way, at how he leans in to talk in your ear every time he has to say something, and at the prospect of both what has happened during your round and what will happen once you're out of the party.

You try really hard not to think about it but the idea stubbornly permeates your mind each time you push it back and your thighs clench.

"You're quite needy aren't you, doll?"

You find it crazy how your willpower hasn't failed you in the near half hour it took for the game to end. And now that the crowd is back to talking and you are drowned out of their thoughts you can allow yourself to at least shiver at the words Garen mutters behind your neck, his breath puffing against your ear.

"Garen, please." You softly call out, whispered enough for no one else but him to hear.

"You want to have what you're promised already, don't you? So greedy, so impatient." He tightens his grip on your leg. "But it's good. I like you like this. Polite and desperate. To be quite frank, I can't wait to have you wrapped around my cock anymore either. So go on, leave my lap, doll. I'll be right behind you."

You don't wait for his words to sink and you get up, the man quickly following behind.

"Sorry, I had a tad bit too much to drink and I feel pretty sick. It was great seeing you guys again. See y'all next year!"

You rush, barely hearing Garen's polite goodbyes as you storm down the stairs and out the house, stomping past the garden with your friend tailing you as if he were your shadow.

"Where to?"

"Mine is closer."

The Crownguard household, nobility here in Demacia due to their part in the country's military since long before your time. You gulp nervously and glance at Garen when he opens the door to his car, a white Toyota Camry he had paid with his own money from working part time along with his studies and extracurriculars, refusing to rest on his family's money.

"Are you sure I can…"

"Don't worry, I told my family you'd come for a sleepover tonight. They're expecting a guest." He reassures, a soft smile stretching his lips as he caresses your face.

You drop unceremoniously in your seat and Garen closes the door. Quickly taking his place on the driver's side.

What?

"Did you plan this?" Your face turns to him and you can see a wolfish grin overtaking his features.

"Maybe."

You groan and melt back into the seat, your hands covering your face in disbelief.

"Oh my gods Garen, what the fuck!"

"Told you I was gonna give you a taste of your own medicine."

"So I'd have come even if you decided to fuck me over?"

"If I decided to teach you a lesson, yes. But indeed, you would have gone back home with me either way, though the outcome of the night would be much different had you remained uncooperative."

As he begins the car you lose your words, mind racing and heart thumping while one of his hands holds the steering wheel, the other one switching from your thigh to the gear shift ever so often.

The outcome of the night.

All of a sudden it all crashes down on you.

Garen likes you back, as much as you like him. He's been desiring you as much as you do him.

And he's been courting you, taking his time to ease you in this new world before you sped it all up due to the right opportunity and impatience fueling your adoration for him.

You're going to fuck your best friend.

But with that realization comes a question you are terrified to ask, yet which you know is important. At least to make sure you're not going insane and seeing things that are not there.

"Garen?"

"Yes, doll?"

"Is this…just going to be casual? A one night stand or…some sort of friends with benefits thing?"

The blinkers echo loudly in the vehicle as he takes a turn, pulling up into a gravel pathway, his hands clicking a button on a remote held in his key chain so that the electronic gate opens.

"If you believe I am doing any of that then I fear you've sorely mistaken who I am."

You wring your hands in your lap, the gigantic estate making you feel out of place already and heightening your stress at the situation.

"No, it won't be casual." His voice says warmly, your eyes trailing to see him glancing at you when he's done parking his car.

"I love you, and I want to give you what you deserve." His eyes are so sincere that you feel pulled to him, a soft peck delivered to his lips.

"What do I deserve, Garen?"

"Everything, doll. Now let's get you out of the car, we can take it all slow. I know this is a bit much."

When you nod he cradles your face softly, indulging in your lips one last time before leaving the car and opening the passenger's side for you.

Your walk in the house itself is calm as you try to find peace in Garen's touch, dwarfing you and warming you from the outside in.

The entrance is grandiose, a large mahogany staircase greeting you while white petricite floors covered in navy blue carpets cushioning your steps. The decoration is rich yet not overwhelming, two arched doorways opening up your left and right to more of the house. The ceiling is vaulted an immense chandelier hanging from the wooden posts and illuminating the room with a soft glow.

"The rooms are upstairs."

You nod, following him up and to the left. Passing by delicately woven tapestries, trapped under glass for preservation, and masterfully made paintings. Your eyes trail to them, stress momentarily forgotten at the sight of the antiques.

"You will have the time to admire them tomorrow morning. Or this morning, rather. Come on." He rushes you, voice strained yet full of the familiar adoration you hear when he speaks to you.

How could you have doubted his love for you all this time, when this is how he has been touching you, speaking to you and looking at you?

It doesn't matter anymore as Garen opens the arched mahogany doors to what you realize is his room, allowing you to step in first as always and closing the door behind the both of you once you've crossed the threshold.

The room's ceiling is faulted too, a large arched bay window gives you a vision of the large backyard and the moon standing high in the sky, two navy curtains framing it. His bed is wooden, sculpted with beasts belonging to his family's crest, the mattress high and thick to support Garen's massive body, white and blue adorning it with flashes of gold embroidery to give a more regal look to the silk sheets.

"Let's get a shower first yes? I'm sweaty and sticky and although I do need you, I want this first time together to be as good and memorable as it can be. Just don't mind anything you'll see."

Let's?

Don't mind anything you'll see.

"You want me to shower with you?" You sputter, shy and beyond embarrassed at the flashes currently passing through your mind theater.

"Of course, I told you. We're going to take our time. And if you wish for me not to look, I won't. But I think the both of us could use a hot shower, if only just to calm down the nerves."

Your gaze finds his, warm and inviting while he opens the en suite bathroom door, his other arm guiding you inside.

"You're stressed too?"

"Well, I haven't exactly liked anyone as much as I like you, and I am about to…" He breathes, furrowing his brows pensively while he closes the bathroom door as you admire the room. White, navy and gold, just like every other room. Regal and elegant with both a big tub and a walk in shower, a large counter holding a sink above a petricite cupboard with mahogany doors and a mirror above it, large enough to show Garen's impressive reflection. To the side there is a carved stone wardrobe, full of more amenities.

"..Well, claim you, if I can put it like that. You don't have to be scared about anything, though. I'll make sure that today is unforgettable. Do you trust me? And…Can I help you undress?"

"Yes."

Is the whisper that escapes you as he goes to start the water, soon returning to you and dropping to his knees. He lifts one of your legs to pull away your shoe and sock, then the other, kissing your foot each time. He touches your belt, you nod and he gently undoes it and places it in the pile of your clothes, then his hands play at the hem of your top and you lift your arms, letting him pull it off of you. Your pants coming down after he kisses your stomach gently, proving himself to be patient, even when your eyes dip and you see him clearly straining against the tight athletic shorts.

Your whimper at the sight seems to push his patience nearly to its limit, his breaths deepening as he kisses down each leg while Piling your pants down. Hands softly coming up to unclasp your bra at your nod, they shake once he leans in to kiss each of them. His blue irises drowning you as pecks are delivered to your puffy, sensitive nipples, your own hands grasping at his shoulders while he kisses down your sternum, past your stomach, and his teeth peek from his mouth when he bites down on the hem of your panties, hands trembling at the sides of your hips.

Once more you nod, and he pulls them off with his mouth, his fingers hooking to the sides to help and his eyes rolling back as he inhales deeply, a twitch shaking his shorts in arousal.

It happens again when you kneel too, pulling Garen's clothes away from him with the same reverence he has given you. His shirt pulled away to reveal a sight you've been awarded in the summer already, a built body seeming more like carved stone than flesh and skin. What has your hands trembling is when your digits hook around the waistbands of both his bottoms and his boxers, the shaky sigh escaping his lips as you lock your eyes to his, bringing the fabric down and trying your damnest to not look at his cock. Even when it's right in front of you when Garen stands up and toes the last of his clothes away.

"It's okay, doll. You've begged so well earlier, you can look."

As if he had ordered you and not allowed you, you find yourself eyeing him. Long and thick, heavy and twitching in need, a small trimmed patch of hair surrounding it and stretching to his navel. He looks like he can break you, spear you open like he does in the field. And you don't mind it one bit.

Your body inching closer to it unknowingly, hands in your lap as you begin to feel its warmth closing in on your face. And, as if you suddenly got possessed, you open your mouth, tongue lolling out to lick from base to tip, groaning at the salty taste of the silky skin.

"Fuck, doll. I said that you could look, not use your mouth" One hand grips your hair and the other the back of your neck, but unlike what his words indicate, Garen brings you closer.

So you continue, circling your soft tongue around his tip before you lick your way back down, doing so until all of his cock is covered in spit. Only then does your head tilt, lips gliding up and down as your eyes meet Garen's again, looking seconds away from ruining you while your thighs clench, trying to unsuccessfully bring relief to your cunt, pulsating with need.

" 'M sorry. Need you. Can I taste you please? Please Garen, I'll be good." You beg, the taste, smell and heft of him flicking a switch in your mind.

"Gods, so much for taking it slow. Doll, please."

"Please Garen, need to taste you so bad." Your pleading seems to erase the last of his restraint, his eyes fully darkening and his pants shaking his body.

"Then open your mouth, and take it."

You kiss your way up his shaft and open wide, the man taking his base in hand to slap the tip of his cock on your tongue.

"What do we say, pet?"

"Thank you, sir." You mumble as coherently as possible with your mouth open and he bites his lip, the hand behind your neck bringing you closer until you feel the hot skin in your mouth.

Your eyes roll back, the salt of his precum quenching but also deepening a thirst you have kept hidden for too long. Your mouth welcoming in as he stops at around half way through.

"Go on, close your lips and show me how much you needed this."

And you do, sliding up and down you can't help but whine in relief at the weight and taste of him, finally having him in your jaws after three years. You suck your cheeks in, using your tongue to cushion and lick at his underside, focusing on suckling and licking the tip, then slowly inching your way further down his cock. Taking more and more of him in.

"Gods, look at you. So good for me aren't you? Just had to threaten the bratty out of you and now you're just a sweet, needy, obedient little pet."

He grunts, gasping each time you take him deeper, heat pooling at your core, burning hotter the more you take in.

"Careful or you're going to choke, pet." But your muffled moan around his cock is enough to tell him what he needs to know. "Oh but that's what you want, isn't it? To choke." You gag softly as he shallowly thrusts forward. "To be used." He does it once more with more gusto and you nod, drool slipping past your lips, down your chin and chest.

"Fuck, so messy. But it's okay, I'll give you what you want. That'll teach you just how good I can be to you when you shut your mouth and behave."

The hand in your hair softly begins pushing you forwards as he moves his hips, his cock inching its way into your throat as the hand on your shoulder slides to your neck, the added pressure making your eyes roll back. Your esophagus is stretched, filled with more and more vigor as you drip on yourself, thighs clenching and rubbing slick all over while you clasp Garen's thighs to hold on tight through his ministrations.

It nearly feels like he's fucking his way into your stomach as your lips meet his base, balls slapping at your wet chin while you slobber all over Garen's cock. Drips of saliva coating you and the ground as the most respectful and gentlemanly man you know fucks your face like a mere toy.

"Gods, that's what this mouth needed isn't it? A reminder of who it belongs to so it doesn't start spewing bullshit."

His grunts echo louder and louder through the room as he sees your disheveled state and feels his shaft in your throat with the hand he has placed there to squeeze.

"Maybe you should be rewarded, mh pet? Have me flood your throat with my cum. Is that what you want?"

You claw down his thighs, gaze returning to his as you try to nod. But he just pulls you away.

"Too bad that it's not a part of the plans I have for you tonight." He brings you to your feet from under your armpits and drags you to the shower, the water hot as you wash yourself again, rubbing away at the dried tears and drool.

You are washing your hair, lathering it in foam as soapy hands find your breasts, slowly massaging them and getting rewarded by soft sighs. Fingers pulling and pinching at your nipples before cupping the two mounds, then they run down your stomach, splitting to wash your thighs then down your calves and they make their way up through the back of your legs. Pulling and kneading at your ass before traveling up your back and down your arms.

"Garen." You pant out, looking behind you at the man gazing at you like a predator does with their prey.

"Patience. Make yourself useful like earlier and wash me, pet."

"Yes, sir."

You hear a huffed "fuck" escape him as you turn, pumping soap in your own hands and washing over his massive body, realizing now more than ever just how his size dwarfs yours.

"Atta girl."

You try your best to add strength to your rubs, feeling built muscle ripple beneath your hands on his chest and back and hoping to relieve Garen of some tension, which seems to be working when you kneel to wash his legs. Two hands working on the muscles of one leg's thigh and calf before switching to the other, rising back to your feet before helping with his arms as well.

"You're such a good pet, aren't you? Now that you're tamed you know exactly what to do. I suppose that means you deserve a treat."

You rinse each other, Garen carrying you with your legs on either side of his hips once you're clean, not minding the fact both of you aren't dry as he ravages your mouth. Tongues and lips clashing, a groan rumbling through his chest as he tastes himself on your lips. Your core is so close to his cock that you can feel it brushing, drawn out moans escaping your throat as you finally feel relief from the tension building up between your thighs.

"Sir, please." His grip tightens on you and he bites your lower lip as he pulls back, panting, laying your form on the bed as he slides himself on top of you, his body covering yours almost unnaturally by its size alone.

"I'll take whatever I want from you. I'll show you what happens when my lovely little pet knows her place, what happens when I give my girl what she deserves. I'll love you like a husband, doll."

He pecks your lips once more before kissing his way around your jaw and down your neck, settling on a spot that has you shivering.

"But I'll fuck you like a whore."

And he rushes in, biting so hard you feel your skin giving under his sharp teeth, his tongue licking away at the mark before shoving his tongue through your parted, panting lips. A metallic taste invading your senses and making you claw at Garen's back in a sort of primal need you never knew you could experience. Desire nipping away at your clarity of mind as the man's lips leave yours again, marking his way on each side of your neck, unable to be hidden no matter how hard you try.

"And I'm going to own you like one too."

His lips leave a trail in shades of reds and blues as he bites around your chest, crimson still pearling at the bite he delivered to your neck, his lips catching and wrapping around each each nipple. Licking and sucking at the sensitive peaks while you writhe beneath him, his hands playing with the one left unattended to, pinching and pulling, rolling the bud beneath his thumb. Any and all words erased from your mind as he begins to bruise his way down once more, his body sliding lower and lower until he is kneeling before the bed.

"But don't worry, pet. I'll worship you in a way that will make the fucking gods blush."

And with that he grabs your calves and pulls you to the edge of the bed, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he makes sure you can't hide yourself to him.

"So, what do we say pet? Do you want this?"

You nod, but it's not enough, his hands massage at your hips and pinch to get your attention back. Your pants suddenly evolving into a gasp as your eyes finally gaze at Garen.

"Do you want this, doll? I need words."

"Please, Garen. Please I need it, can't stand to wait anymore."

"Good girl. I'll take care of you, don't worry.

And with that he dips his head, moaning at the sticky mess between your thighs, his back rising with a big inhale as he fills his lungs with your scent, slowly inching closer to where you need him most.

Then all hell breaks loose.

His lips meet your cunt as he kisses it as fervently as he did your lips, grunts filling the air as he tastes you.

"You taste divine, pet. Like fucking ambrosia."

His tongue flattens on your clit and flashes of white hot pleasure bursts through your veins like lightning, your hands finding their way in his hair so you can hang onto something.

" 'M sorry!"

"It's okay." He hums. "Pull as much as you want sweet girl, hang on while I devour you the way I've wanted for three gods damned years."

And he plunges back, his mouth closing around your clit and suckling, alternating between this motion and the licks, his eyes rolling back as you coat his tongue with your juices and he inches it further towards your entrance.

"Oh and. Cry out for me."

His eyes meet yours and when you push down on his head he understands the signal, filling you up as he flicks the muscle up and down, in and out, teasing your tight and warm insides as his nose grinds on your clit. The two actions effectively stoking the fire already scalding your insides. The feeling new, unexplored pleasure carving its way through every nerve like cracks spreading over a sheet of glass. You feel like you're so very fragile and like you're getting ruined, destroyed. And it couldn't feel any better.

The heat is white hot as it travels through your body. Gasps escaping you while you feel the finality of your lust, the culmination of your desire, show its head.

"Fuck. Please, please, please." You beg as you move your hips to his rhythm and he hums appreciatively before pulling himself away, his look almost disappointed.

"Please what, doll?"

"I wanna cum, please sir. Please, can I cum?" Your voice cracks as you answer Garen, one of his hands climbing your body to softly caress your clavicle.

"No, darling. I know it's going to be a lot, but can you hold on for me until I say you're allowed to cum? If you say no, it's alright too. I'll just have to care for you before I stretch you open is all."

His voice is low yet breathy, trying to maintain some hold over himself while he comforts you.

You consider it, being greedy and taking your pleasure immediately or following through with what Garen has apparently planned. Yet when you confront yourself to it, you know immediately what you are going to pick.

"I'll hold on."

He smiles, pride and adoration shining on his features, eyes blown with pleasure even as he discusses such things with you. As if your pleasure is truly the only thing that matters to him, no matter what he may say. And your heart only beats faster at that thought.

"I love you, Garen."

"I love you too, sweet girl." His hand leaves your chest to bring one of yours to his lips, kissing it softly and lovingly. "I'll open you up for me now, are you alright with that? I wouldn't want to hurt you later."

"Yes, sir."

"Atta girl." Your hand is positioned once more on top of his head to clasp at his chocolate strands, one of his arms wrapping around your hips and pinning them down the bed before he dips down again.

He licks a long stripe up your cunt, from entrance to the top of the mound, pressing particularly hard on your clit before he begins to suck on it, one hot finger teasing your sopping wet hole. It moves up and down to coat itself before it dips slowly inside.

One knuckle. You whine, trying to wiggle your hips under his unrelenting grip. Two knuckles. Your moan leaves you loudly, ripped from you by pleasure. Three knuckles. You melt as he crooks his finger up and brushes against the spongy spot on the upper side of your walls. The motion of back and forth, the dragging of the digit within you, extracting soft whimpers for you as he relaxes you.

Then he gently pulls it away, tongue lapping at your bundle of nerves and circling it with different pressures as not one finger but two fingers breach you this time. Moving back and forth as each movement drag them deeper in your pussy, and once they're fully in he scissors them. Opening and closing to stretch you open. Soon doing the same with a third finger, using your abundance of slick as a way to safely and gently open you up for him while he enjoys your taste on his tongue.

You feel the pleasure reaching a peak, body shaking as you combat every instinct that tell you to accept the pleasure.

"Sir." He hums but remains focused, his eyes closed as his grip on your hips tightens.

"Garen." He groans, nodding and shoving his face further in your cunt.

Your hands pull at his hair. "Please, stop, I'm gonna cum!"

He pulls away suddenly, looking as if you have burned him before his face grows more gentle, more sweet.

"My perfect girl. Telling me to stop so she can save her orgasm for me." His voice is syrupy as he gets up and grabs your thighs to push you further up the bed, crawling after you.

What he does next leaves you squealing in surprise. He swings to his back, dragging you with him to hover over his face, a knee on either side of his head.

"Go on. Ride my face as a treat. But remember to tell me when you're about to cum, alright pet?"

You hesitate, slowly lowering yourself on his lips before his hands push you down all the way. Effectively fully sitting you down on his face.

A loud groan escapes you, the added pressure of the position sending electricity through your veins. His nose pushes against your clit, his lips and tongue kissing and licking at your entrance before the latter breaches you and you can't help but grind down at the feeling. Garen's throat producing a long, drown out moan at the movement while you gasp at the pleasure, slowly moving your hips up and down as you seek out your pleasure again.

"Fuck, sir. Y'feel so good. Gods, fuck. Thank you sir, thank you so much." Is the only thing that can escape your mouth, looping like a broken record as your thighs tighten around his face.

You feel his tongue moving up and down, in and out, as you circle your hips. His nose tracing your button to perfection. But it seems like your pleasure comes faster this time around, your hips trying to lift from Garen's face as he devours you once more, like a starved man being offered a meal.

You feel it, the prickling sensation precursor to your pleasure.

"Garen!" You claw at his hands as he sits you farther down on his face, eyes opening, hazy and glazed before he undoes his grip on you and you climb off of him clumsily.

"Fuck, I almost came." You pant, leaning against the pillows, laying back comfortably as you look at him.

"I'm sorry, sweet girl. I'm just…obsessed it seems. Thank you for being so good and respecting the rules, darling."

His lips touch yours as he sits up and leans over you, your taste permeating your lips with the metallic flavor of blood from earlier, your pants meeting his as he crawls over you.

"Are you ready, doll?"

"Yes, sir. Please, fuck me so good I forget everything else but you."

Garen's head drops in the crook of your neck where he bites at the crusted over bloody marks from earlier, opening them back up. You cry out in pleasure as he couples the pain with the way his cock begins to stretch you open.

Inch by inch, his member spears through you, bloody lips returned to yours as his hands hold your hips tightly. Leaving you to space to escape.

"That's it, pet. You swallow my dick so well don't you. And here I thought nothing could beat that sloppy little mouth. But your cunt can, can't it? So warm." He thrusts shallowly into you, ripping moans from you as you claw at his back. "So tight." He thrusts again, reaching deeper now. "You were made for me weren't you, sweet girl? Just for me. Now I just got to mold you to my shape and show the world who you belong to by making you scream my name so loud all of Runeterra will hear it."

Once he is finally sheathed within you feel fuller than you've ever been. Like a missing part of you has been completed. And that pleasure becomes nearly overwhelming as he begins to drag himself in and out of your warm heat. Sticky, fleshy sounds echoing through the room every time your hips meet his, the noises only adding to the filth and devotion of the moment.

"I'll go a bit harder now doll, alright?"

"Please, sir." Your eyes roll back as you feel his cock begin to drill into you, the feeling better than any fantasy you've had about Garen.

"God you look so perfect don't you, filled to the brim with my cock, taking me whole at once like a good fucking pet." He groans and thrusts harder, the blinding pleasure making you rush to clench the sheets beneath you, your back arching.

"Just for you, sir." You pant out. "Only for you. I'm yours, please just fucking use me. Claim me as your own. Fuck your cum into me until you're satisfied. But please just don't stop!"

"You beautiful fucking thing." His hips begin to snap up into yours, hands sliding your thighs around his hips. "Just trap me in." You cross your feet behind his back and he stutters in his motion before he goes faster, harder, reaches deeper. "That's it. Tell me if I'm going too hard, love."

You shake your head, pleasure overriding all of your senses and reason as you bring Garen closer and cross your legs tighter.

"Please just ruin me. I don't wanna think. Just do whatever you want to me. Please, sir, wanna feel you knocking at my cervix. Fuck!" You babble out words that do not even filter through your mind before they come out, just pure unbridled desire coming from your heart and out your lips.

His answer comes in the form of shivers racking through his body, one hand on your stomach to feel himself stretching you up as he plows into you with abandon.

"Yeah? Nearly sounds to me like you want to be bred." Snap.

"Would you like that huh? Being full of my seed, I'd push it in whenever it drips out of you. Hoping that it takes." His hips smack against yours, his tip knocking at your cervix like you begged for.

"And if it doesn't I'd just fill you up again." Thrust. "And again." Thrust. "And again." His cadence becomes erratic, his face distorting with pleasure. Brows furrowed, lips red and wet with spit, his chin covered in your drying juices and his eyes entirely black, none of the cool, soft shade of blue showing in them.

Your body responds to the feeling of his cock snapping a frantic rhythm within you, pulsating, clenching at the ministrations, your own orgasm growing closer once more. Your whole body burning from the two previous times, the pleasure growing more and more overwhelming as tears drip from your eyes.

"Please please, fuck me however you want but please let me cum!" Your voice cries out, choked with tears. "I don't think I can hold on anymore!"

His eyes open, and he leans forwards, folding you in half before uncrossing your legs, positioning each one on a shoulder before he leans further down on you, knees bent next to your hips.

"Good, because I don't think I can either, sweet girl." He nearly growls out as he pulls himself out, thrusting shallowly once or twice to tease you.

"Please sir!"

"Please, what."

"Please fill me up so good my body feels empty when you're not fucking me. Please carve my insides to your shape. Let me cum and drench your cock, please please please."

Your voice breaks while you beg as he thrusts once, then twice, before assuming the same rhythm as before. Unforgiving. Quick. Heavy. Sledgehammering his way into your cunt, each thrust bringing you closer to the brink.

You feel unbearably hot, like you're metal and he's the hearth, melting under him, molding and bending to his will as you take all he gives you in stride.

"Good girl." He whispers at each snap of his hips, big puffed breath following each of them with strings of curses and groans alongside the fleshy echoes of your bodies meeting.

"Perfect fucking girl." His other hand slides from your thigh to your neck, encapsulating it by its size and pushing ever so slightly, restricting your airflow.

"Fuck!" You spasm, body shaking uncontrollably from all the pleasure, the fingers on your stomach trailing from your navel, although they squeeze one last time so Garen feels his cock rearranging your insides, and to your clit. Pressing and moving around it in a way that has your vision bursting with colors, sobs escaping you instead of cries as more tears flow from you, akin to a downpour in the middle of April.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

"That's it, pet. Clench down on me like a vice." Garen falters yet thrusts deeper, steadfast in his endeavor. "Cum around me, I know you can do it. Be a good girl and cream around my cock."

Your back arches away from the mattress once more as the assault on your insides pairing with the one currently playing with your bundle of nerves like a fiddle brings you close to your release. The hand around your throat depriving you of enough oxygen to make you feel like you're riding the best high you'd ever get in your life.

You can taste the ash of the blaze tearing you apart, feel the sear, feel yourself being taken by the all encompassing flame. Devoured whole by Garen's passion, consumed by desire.

You grow so tight around him that each thrust feels nigh impossible, the man whimpering at the feeling of your pulsating, hot flesh squeezing him. Each movement of his sending more and more overwhelming pleasure into your overstimulated body. Drool escaping your lips and the feeling of utter ecstasy.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum too, yeah? That's what you want baby?"

"Fuck. Please, please, please Garen, just fill me up. Need your cum please, fuck, need it so much."

"Good." He thrusts.

"Fucking." He throws all his weight onto you and pins you further into the bed.

"Girl." His words shake you to your core as he cums deep within. Cock settled snugly against your cervix as it pumps out a load. Hot and thick, coating your insides.

He stays there for a bit, taking his breath back while you come in and out of consciousness, pull away by reality and pleasure as they fight over who gets to have you. Fully unaware of how Garen gets up to get to the bathroom to wash his face and inner thighs, returning with a basin full of hot water and a cloth.

You whine at the wet feeling between your legs, the man wiping away at the oozing cum and at the drying stickiness on your legs. Taking the time, he kisses the hand marks seared into your hips and thighs by his bruising grip, pecking each hickey on his way up and wiping at the bloody bite mark with the wet rag.

"Garen?" Your voice comes out rasped, meek.

"Yes, sweet girl?" His voice fills back with the affection you've always known him to have. The dark heaviness all but disappearing.

"Can I stay?"

He chuckles, his face softening as his hands cradle your cheeks to wipe away the salt left by your tears. His lips meeting yours with so much passion and adoration that the whole night feels like a dream, livid and impossible but more delicious than any indulgence you could wish to be granted.

"You can stay for as long as you want. That's actually what I'd want the most."

Your hands circle his shoulders and he softly places himself at your side, head on his pillows as his hand pulls the navy covers up before his arms wrap around you, digits massaging at your sore flesh.

"I love you, doll"

"Me too." You whisper, lids heavy, closing like heavy metal before your eyes.

And as he brings you closer to him and he kisses your forehead, you hear his heartbeat beneath your ear. Gently lulling you to sleep, deafening your ears to anything but the sweet silence of slumber, finally safe within Garen's embrace.

Viktor was indeed, right. As always. That glorious bastard.

League of Legends Masterlist: here

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[oneoftheextras]

do we have darius and / or garen lovers in this household or am i just going to be shouting into the void?

[castbracelet240]

wip of a dnd oc of mine Ravinia and Garen when they were teens to young adults (since the campaign is in the world of league of legends)

[oneoftheextras]

GO GO GO GUYS YOU GOTTA READ THIS RN!!

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 14 - Eight of Wands

summary : garen tries to help you out a bit after the events with fiora, and things start getting much better than you thought they would evolve to but also : what is this feeling you're starting to feel?

content warnings : hurt. (sorry), mention of blood and fighting + injuries, some sort of comfort? adults communicating (i know, that's so hot right), also omg um tension? hihi we're on the tension road now and it will escalate chapter after chapter

word count : 11,2k

author's note : okay this is a big boi of a chap here loves, and i hope you will like it! as always i'm in big doubts about it because i've been wondering about the pacing and whether i'm going too fast or not for it, let me know in the comments!!! speaking of which, i know i haven't been able to answer to all the loverly things you guys said, but i want you to know that i read everything i received and cherish it with my whole heart <33 thank you so much. imma try and work on some of my requests bc gadayum they've been in my inbox forever and i feel bad about it!!

proofread by baby @oneoftheextras

masterlist．．discord ．．playlist．．my ko-fi

vocab words for this : mais quelle anguille = what an eel.

Your fists struck against swollen, inert flesh, your red knuckles and dirt-caked fingernails mixing crusty blood and muck, curled tightly as you mechanically landed blow after blow.

The body beneath yours was still, an unrecognisable face below you, swollen and bloodied, red and blue blending unnaturally on youthful traits.

As your fist rose into the sky again, preparing to strike another blow, a huge hand engulfed your wrist like a handcuff and pulled you to your feet.

The bleachers roared out, their wood shaking and cracking as your fist was hoisted into the air.

Winner.

Your eyes stared at the ground for a moment before they reached the motionless figure you'd left behind. Vome came and crouched beside her, bringing his white sausage-like fingers to her neck for a pulse check, but you were carried out of the arena before he could deliver his verdict.

Fourteen found you, his tired features splitting his face and accompanying the few scars he had obtained. His eyes fell on your hands, gloved with blood that was drying unpleasantly on your skin.

He came over to you, his thin smile comforting, his voice low. He took your hand, not caring about getting dirty.

"Come," his voice was soft, contrasting with the shouts from the arena you could still hear a few seconds ago, "let's get you cleaned up."

He walked with you slowly, his hand keeping yours in a pleasant embrace like a comforter. 

You reached the dormitory, its name not particularly associated with its appearance. In a dim light made up of candlelit crevices carved into the walls of a damp cave, thin floor mats eaten away by rats and other critters stretched down a low corridor.

The rock was dark, hard and crumble-free, water from your breaths and compressed air dripping down the sides of the stone that made it one of the small sources of water available.

A few others were sleeping there, their bodies emaciated from lack of food, their skin dull from lack of external light, their greasy, stringy hair sticking unpleasantly to their skin.

Fourteen led you to your futon and sat you down. You remained silent, your jaw clenched as if opening your mouth was going to spill something inside you that you couldn't afford to let go.

He went away for a moment, but you weren't worried. You simply bent your knees, hunched your back as you came to rest your head against your knees. It was unpleasant - your cheek hurt, one of the blows had hit your cheekbone, but you didn't care. You were tired from the effort your body had had to make, and you would almost have fallen asleep if your eyes and your mind could have allowed you to.

Fourteen returned, a small bowl filled with water in one hand, a rag that held a strange, dirty tint in the other. 

"Let's see," he sighed as he sat cross-legged next to you and took one of your hands from the floor.

He dipped the cloth into the water, soaking it generously before your palm resided in his and he gently ran the cloth over the back of your hand.

The cloth was rough, coarse, scraping more than it softened. But it wasn't about comfort, it never had been. It was just a way of sleeping better at night, even if it was difficult.

Fourteen did the washing without ever pressing too hard, only trying to clean your fingers of blood and other dirt so that it didn't become uncomfortable, and probably because it was a human thing to do.

"You did well out there," he said as he dipped the cloth back into the bowl, the water tinting slightly in the little warm lights you could afford.

Well, you did well. Punching someone until they passed out while you were in the same situation as them was well. 

Your cheek still resting on your knee, staring off into space and letting that rough caress cover your skin, you felt tired.

"Did I kill her?"

Your voice was cracked, like the sound of a turntable with a diamond on it, but where the song never started.

Fourteen stopped in his tracks, his eyes shifting from the damaged knuckles of your hand to your eyes. He took a deep breath before sighing, and you could feel the warm air hitting the raw flesh of your hand - but you didn't care.

"She's under care," he replied simply.

Between life and death, you concluded, and you were responsible.

Every night, you wondered if you'd been violent enough to make a profit the next day. You wondered if, perhaps, you had fed their appetites enough for them to offer you sustenance.

You didn't dare look at the others, wondering if one day you'd have to face one of them. You were terrified from this very thought.

Terrified of finding yourself in the state you'd put a fellow kid in. Terrified of taking a life. Terrified that one day you'd have to face Fourteen.

"Do you think this will stop one day?"

Your questions were so heavy in your mouth, so light in the air, lost in the dark uncertainty of the room.

"It will," Fourteen confirmed as he brought the cloth to press it to your cheekbone, "I promise.

You woke with a jolt, your body drenched in sweat while the room was still bathed in the darkness of the night.

Water. 

You got up, the damp fabric of your bed sheet repulsing you as you made your way to the bathroom, gasping for air. Your body burned, your fingers swollen with heat as you turned the tap and vigorously scrubbed your hands under the coldest water you could get your hands on. 

You turned off the tap, letting the sink fill up as your bewildered eyes caught your reflection in the mirror. You breathed hard, your pupils small and your hair a mess. Anger bubbled up inside you, boiling up your gullet.

Your face contorted in the air one last time as you turned off the tap when the sink was almost full to the brim. You plunged your whole head in, hands gripping the pale sides firmly as you let the coolness of the water engulf you.

A deep roar rose from your gut, crossing your throat and bursting under the silence of the water, the boiling bubbles of your frustration making it shake.

The water would cleanse you, purify you, hold the heaviness of your pain in its path and carry it away with it in silence, without anyone seeing or hearing a thing.

After that cry buried under the surface, as you drew in a breath, you choked on the water, mixing the salt of your tears with the chalky petricite aftertaste it contained. You pulled your head back, coughing violently, your face aching with frowns as beads of water more unpleasant than your sweat dripped onto your skin.

Clean. I need to be clean.

You threw off your pyjamas in a panic, tossing them carelessly on the mosaic floor as you climbed into the bath. Your legs were too weak to stay up in the shower, so you repeated the same thing you'd done at the sink.

The bath began to run, the initially cool water reaching your toes, doing nothing to calm your incessant trembling but helping the heat in your fingers.

The hot water arrived shortly afterwards, lukewarm as it mixed with the previous chill. After the freshness that had bathed your face, you were looking for insatiable warmth, water so hot that it would pasteurise everything in you and wipe the slate clean until you were neat and pure and flawless.

But you didn't offer yourself that torment. You had already suffered enough physical pain the day before and you weren't going to punish yourself any more, even if you wanted to. 

It was just a mistake, an overreaction, you weren't going to do it again. Never, ever again.

You never wanted to commit this again anyway, it wasn't a desire, just a fiery response that you thought you'd buried deep in the cracks of your memory.

And all those eyes watching you, waiting in fear for your every move, a fear that had changed sides.

The water finally reached your chest, and you turned off the tap with your foot, sinking into the pleasant warmth that stopped the shaking.

Your hands gripped each of your shoulders firmly, holding you in place as if you were in danger of exploding into a multitude of shards of glass. You breathed in heavily, trying to calm yourself down.

You had to think of something else, find a way to anchor yourself, and you knew one that Selene had taught you. So you closed your eyes and recited in your head.

In a village, there is a house. It has yellow curtains, a red table and a blue sponge. What more can you tell me about it?

You breathed softly, trying to imagine its interior.

There are huge green enamel bowls, an orange sofa soaking up the afternoon sun with turquoise cushions. In the bathroom, there's a hot shower that's airing out the smell of shampoo and bubbles of foam on the walls.

The idea of being indoors again almost made you feel like suffocating though, so you changed your point of view.

This house has lots of windows and hardly any walls overlooking a garden. It has a small vegetable garden with tomato plants and basil, an arbour where wisteria grows in spring, and a deckchair where you can lie back and bask in the sun while reading a book. Butterflies flutter by during the day, fireflies light up the garden at night, and cicadas are always singing.

You felt your body relax, your heart less stressed as you sank into the bath until only your head emerged from the water and your ears were covered from reality.

When you come back into the house, pieces of crystal shimmer multicoloured lights on the walls as you pour lemonade into purple cups. Your lips pressed together, the memory of the coffee you shared the night before returning to your mind. Your heart began to beat again, your skin feeling warmer than the bath water.

You inevitably thought back to the look in his eyes, piercing yours with that dark glint that made your tummy feel so warm. Why did you feel that way? Why did his gaze on you mean so much to you? Why did you want more?

You sighed, your eyes opening on the bathroom ceiling. You turned slightly on your side, curling your legs up against you.

The warm bath water caressed your cheekbone, making you hiss. You'd taken very little care of your wounds yesterday. After your fight, you went straight to the hotel, never escaping the curious and worried glances of passers-by.

You changed quickly, cleaning your face and applying the compresses you always kept in your toiletry bag just in case before going out again. 

You needed to walk, you needed to not be solicited, you needed to get your adrenalin down and get as far away as possible from anyone you knew.

What you'd just done had the terrible potential to get you into a lot of trouble. This behaviour was unworthy of the greatness of Piltover Academy, you were supposed to represent the splendour of your excellence, not deposit a reputation for violence and rudeness outside the white gates of the great city of Demacia.

What if the Academy expelled you for this disruptive behaviour? What if, after this trip, you could never set foot in the Academy again?

Not only did this problem linger in the back of your mind, but there was another worry on the rise. Fiora was heiress to one of the most powerful families in Demacia, and you dreaded the reaction her parents would have when she returned and they saw the state you had put her in.

You had attacked their daughter on their own territory with blows that could have sent her to her death, and you didn't know what would happen.

You hadn't returned from your walk until night had fallen and you were beginning to feel hungry.

You had taken an empty table in the hotel, the eyes of the students and other customers on you, but you had yours on your meal, which you ate quickly before going to bed.

And there you were, in your bath, remorse biting you harder than rust on metal.

You took your hands off your shoulders, letting the warmth of the bath cover your palms before bringing them up to your face, grunting slightly as your swollen skin ached.

You didn't want to go out today, you didn't want to have to go to class, you didn't want to have to meet the same faces and stares that had seen a side of you the day before that you wished was dead and buried.

But you had to face this world out there, face it despite all this, and move on.

When the bath water was cooler than hot, you got out. You ran your hand over the steamy surface of the mirror, tracing a horizontal V to reveal your reflection, tired but less erratic than before. You sighed, needing to take care of your bruises, the fresh marks on your body before they got any worse.

You wrapped yourself in a towel, tidying up your hair and wringing it out before leaving the bathroom.

The second bed was of course still empty. You'd probably have had something to worry about if Fiora had decided to sleep in there with you, and you dreaded the thought of having to wake up with a blade to your throat, or never seeing the light of day again.

You dressed simply, there were still about four days to spend in Demacia, and you weren't as enthusiastic about it as you'd been at first.

The subdued light in your room wasn't going to help you with your patch-up job, so you decided instead to put on a jumper paired with jogging pants before getting out of your room to have breakfast, if the hotel was even open.

To your surprise, the staff were already busy in the kitchen, and the buffet table was filling up by the minute with pastries, breads and spreads, all different and appetising.

You took whatever appealed to you most, revelling in the knowledge that you didn't have to pay for anything during your stay. So you took a seat on a bench in a corner, near a window overlooking the city still bathed in the blue of the night.

You relished the silence, the blue glasses that calmed everything, the solitude. You regained a little of your peacefulness, fighting whatever was in you not to stuff your plate on the spot out of bad habit.

When you brought your cup to your lips, your mind inescapably went back to yesterday's scene. Could you get that memory out of your mind and off your lips? Or would you be doomed to replay it over and over again?

Did you really want to put it out of your mind, or did the novelty of it frighten you, despite your growing desire to hold on to it and ask for more?

Your lips kissed the rim of your cup in search of a trace he'd left in your mind, wishing you could find it again and again, to have his eyes burning like two suns letting your heart tan.

This thought evaporated, however, when Garen entered the hotel restaurant. He was wearing jogging bottoms, a hooded sweatshirt with the zip open over a white t-shirt.

He didn't fail to notice you, and with good reason - you were the only person in the room. He exchanged a glance with you before approaching, your gaze returning to the table.

A small knot formed in your throat, and you grabbed your cup to bring it to your lips and hope to drown the sensation.

He sat down opposite you, forearm on the table as he watched you. He sat in silence for a long moment, the two of you staying like that for a bit until he broke the silence.

"Wanna talk about it?"

You chuckled, regretting the way your mouth stretched into a smile as the wound on your lower lip reopened and you drowned it in coffee.

"About the way I almost punched your friend to death yesterday?" you questioned as your tired eyes met his. "That's a thorny conversation subject for such a calm morning."

He shrugged, crossing his arms on the white tablecloth. "I was going to ask more about the reason why you're up so early."

"Is waking up early illegal in Demacia?"

His eyes found the street, empty except for the few passers-by heading to work early. "I don't know many people who get up early without any particular activity for pure pleasure."

You looked at him for a moment. "Is that why you're up early?"

His eyes met yours again. "Among other things."

There was silence once more. But there was no pressure, no expectation that you'd say anything, just the silence of company.

Both your hands were around your cup, your thumb tracing where your lip had been.

"I..." you began tentatively. "I feel terrible." You admitted the words without looking away from your cup. "I didn't exactly have the most..." you inhaled heavily, "loving upbringing, and-" you shrugged, "I should never have fought with her. I feel like I regressed to an animal state in two seconds, like I couldn't control myself when I should have."

"You were angry," he said simply, "it's normal to lose your temper."

You sighed. "It was an overreaction."

"And she's the one who pushed you over the edge," Garen remarked, "and brought out a legitimate anger that seemed to have been buried inside you for a long, long time." He leaned slightly towards you, his eyes on you even though you didn't dare meet them yet. "She revealed personal information to everyone that you probably didn't want to divulge, and she did it in order to humiliate you. Not to mention the fact that she started spreading rumours to discredit you."

Just thinking about it made your muscles itch like nettles as you remembered your kneeling position in front of her, her pretentiousness. 

"I wish I didn't have to get rid of that anger like that."

"Better out than in," Garen said.

You were finally meeting his eyes. "I'm not sure that getting rid of this violence in this way is the solution."

"Well, that I concede," he confirmed. "But I don't think it's such an overreaction. You both had your reasons. The parameters of your upbringing came into play, as did hers. She had her honour to save."

"But I had nothing to save, I did it out of anger and because I could."

"And anyone in your place could very well have done the same."

"You literally had to pull me off her," you sighed, "who knows how far it might have gone."

"But that's as far as it went, thankfully," he smiled at you. "You can't get stuck in this eternal 'what if' mentality if it's holding you back."

There was truth in his words, and you couldn't deny it. The guilt of having let yourself get carried away gripped you, but you tried to lighten the balance by thinking back to what he was saying. 

Fiora had come looking for you herself after all, asking - no, ordering a fight with you and pushing you into it until you gave her what she had wanted. But what about the consequences?

Your eyes found your reflection in the coffee of your cup.

"My friends saw me," you began tentatively. "I'm scared that-" your throat knotted slightly and you cleared it, hoping to chase away the sorrow that was trying to spread through it, "that they'll see me differently, that in their eyes I'll be just that and nothing else."

"Viktor and Jayce, right?" he checked.

You nodded, your hand gripping the handle of your mug a little tighter as the terrible thought crossed your mind for a moment that Sky might have seen this.

"They came to see me after the incident," he revealed, "they seemed more concerned about your condition than Fiora's."

A warm stone dropped into your stomach. Worried? Jayce, you might have expected it, but the shock that flooded Viktor's face made you think it would be impossible for him to feel anything other than incomprehension.

"Don't lie to me to try and cheer me up," you chuckled nervously.

"Me? Lie?" he smiled. "Do you really think my Demacian soul spends all its time making up charades and lies just to flatter your ego?"

You relaxed your shoulders. "Got a point."

"I was with Viktor last night," he continued. "I gather he's not really the chatty type, we've barely spoken since we arrived, but last night he seemed more worried, a bit more talkative."

"Viktor? Worried and chatty? Are you sure we're talking about the same person?’

"He was asking me questions, wondering if I'd seen you later in the day, if I'd managed to find you."

"Found me?" you repeated.

"After you left, I looked for you a bit," he admitted. "But I soon realised that company probably wasn't what you were looking for, so I decided to wait. I was just going to go looking for you again if you didn't come back by nightfall."

"I didn't know you had tracking skills," your lips pressed into an inverted smile.

"I'm not fond of letting someone venture out at night into a city they barely know," he pointed out, a sneer stretching one of his lips to the side, "so yes, any means would be good to find you."

"Even a young woman who knows her way around a punch?" you questioned.

He tilted his head to one side. "If someone came across you with a staff or another sword, I've got enough memories of yesterday's little session to give me an idea of how you'd cope."

You chuckled, finishing the rest of your coffee and avoiding scratching your chin where the tip of his quarterstaff had resided. "I can never do anything right, can I?"

"I'm sure you're not too bad at jogging," he rose from his bench, taking your plate and cutlery in hand, "what do you say?"

"You want me to go jogging, with you?" you questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"Tell me if you see anybody else in this room apart from the two of us," he said before leaving to clear away your things.

You stood up, taking your cup in hand and following him. "Maybe you were asking a magical third individual in the streets."

“So that's a no?” he questioned, turning to you once the silverware had been put down.

"That's a 'I don't jog often, so please be kind as I'll try to keep up with you'," you replied, setting your mug down with the rest of your finished meal.

He chuckled. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."

And you did, partly. 

He took you outside and started jogging with you. You didn't really have the time or the inclination to go jogging in the mornings in Piltover, especially these days when you'd been working yourself to death.

But running in a setting you'd only recently discovered wasn't so bad. Like Piltover and many other towns, Demacia had a different atmosphere at night and during the day. 

Garen took you around his usual route, showing you places that were not shown to tourists but were well worth a visit. From florists who had just opened their shops and were perfuming the air, to restaurants serving the previous day's leftovers and soups for stray cats and dogs, to little fountains hidden in the middle of cobbled courtyards from whose springs you drank.

You found it hard to keep up sometimes, but Garen was patient, letting you take as many breaks as you needed. He found himself teasing you. "I thought you could keep up."

"I don't do this every morning like you," you breathed, recovering from one of your side stitches as you resumed your pace.

He laughed, and so did you, gradually waking up the city with your mutual runs. There was something liberating about it, because for once in your life you weren't running to get away but to move forward. You were letting go of your tensions, freeing yourself from the weight of worries for which you were only partly to blame.

The ivory streets were bathed in the warm orange sunlight as you made your way back to the hotel. You almost regretted having taken a bath already, feeling guilty for using the hotel water. But the bill wasn't on you, and knowing you'd have the chance to shower again when you got home made you feel better.

"Take your shower," he breathed as you both reached your respective doors, "I'm gonna take a look at your cheek afterwards."

You almost forgot about the bruises spreading across your face. Fiora hadn't hit you too hard - not as hard as you - but it was still enough to leave marks and nail cuts on your skin.

"I can take care of it," you confirmed.

"Judging by the way you treat them, I doubt it," Garen laughed before knocking on the door to enter.

Viktor was probably still asleep, it was early, but Garen still had the decency to knock just in case.

You went back to your room, not having to worry about that matter from lack of roommate. You took off your sweaty clothes, and hoped very much that a washing machine would be put in order during the week. You had brought enough spare clothes just in case, but you could never be sure.

After your shower was over, you opened the door to your bedroom so that Garen could come in as soon as he was finished without worrying about knocking. His hair still dripping with water, he stepped out of his room.

It didn't seem to be plunged into darkness, and you deduced that Viktor was probably already awake.

Garen came in with a first aid kit, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"You carry that around in your luggage all the time?"

He smiled before sitting down on your bed with you. ‘You never know the kind of trouble you might get into along the way. Besides, I train almost every morning. If you only knew the blows Fiora can land with those damned training swords of hers."

You smiled as you listened to him open his kit and look for compresses and disinfectant. "I will lend you some of this for you to properly take care of this, this way you can do this yourself if it ever happens again on the trip, which hopefully, won't."

He took out some objects and placed them on your bed while he went looking for what was needed, a small pot with a golden lid intriguing you.

"What's this?" you asked, pointing at it.

His eyes drifted over the object, taking it in his hand and bringing it up to his head like a medal.

"This is the miracle balm," he began before holding it out to you, "it has saved me many times."

You took it in your palm, turning it between your fingers to observe it before uncorking it. It was a dark ointment, and you brought it to your nose. The smell was strong, and you put it away immediately. You recognised the scent, certain fresh, strong notes taking you far back in time.

"For knots under the skin, tired muscles, and other aches and pains - it's my saviour," Garen explained as he prepared a cotton ball, soaking it in alcohol. "C'mere."

You moved a little closer to him, your cross-legged knees almost touching his thigh. He brought his index finger under your chin, gently guiding your head to the side to get a better view of the damage left on your face.

You could see his eyebrows furrow in your peripheral vision, the thumb of his free hand coming to rest on the swollen skin of your cheek and pressing lightly.

You hissed, the pain spreading down the side of your face.

"Sorry," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your swollen skin gently like a silent apology, "I was going to ask if it hurts but I guess I have my answer."

He pressed the cotton ball between his fingers, bringing it gently to your cheekbone. Your eye near the wounds crinkled under the tingle. It was unpleasant, but not painful. He barely pressed the cotton against your skin, taking care that, despite his imposing musculature, he didn't let it define him in every way and thus reduce his gentleness to nothing.

"Where did you get it, the balm?" you questioned, your eyes resting on a point in the void while his remained riveted on your cheek.

"We have enough shops stocked with balms and other herbal elixirs here that the majority of Demacia's athletes all have one pot of it. I'll take you there on a market visit, which shouldn't be long now."

"There's one scheduled for this very afternoon," you confirmed as he changed his focus to your face, moving up to your temple.

"Well then," he smiled, taking a second cotton ball to soak, "I'll take you there."

His index finger still under your chin pulled you back to face him, his eyes settling on your lips.

You had a nasty cut, probably from an accidental bite during the fight or a scratch from Fiora. Either way, it wasn't pleasant.

"That might sting a bit more," he warned as he pressed the cotton against your lip.

The previously forgettable tingle was now impossible to ignore and searing. You recoiled at the sensation, but Garen's index finger under your chin was joined by his thumb to hold you in place firmly, preventing you from any escape.

"It'll be over soon," he promised, repeatedly pressing the cotton against your skin.

You clenched your fists, your eyes drifting to the corridor you could see from your bed. A figure stood there, your heart dropping into your stomach as the pain of the alcohol was quickly forgotten.

Viktor.

There, standing impassively still, he watched the scene. Your eyes met his and you felt very small.

His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he hadn't had much sleep the night before, and his dark circles seemed to bring out the amber in his eyes. You couldn't make out his expression, but it was definitely one of frustration. 

You lowered your eyes slightly as Garen removed the cotton wool from your lip, not feeling up to meeting his gaze. The weight of it seemed heavy, but you couldn't work out why. He must have been angry, or perhaps disappointed? Or even disgusted, by you.

"Oh, Viktor," Garen greeted as he began to put his things away naturally, "have you taken your breakfast yet?"

You looked up at him, hoping your eyes wouldn't cloud over with tears as all your shame rose in your throat. He parted his lips, and you wondered what he was about to say or answer. The whole tone of his voice would show where your friendship lay, and your heart was pounding just at the terrible expectation he was imposing on you.

"Come on, come on! Let's all gather together please," you heard Heimerdinger say in the distance, “I'm going to announce today's programme.”

You held your breath as Garen stood up: "Let's get going before there's no breakfast to eat anymore, I'm starving."

And so Garen took Viktor with him, and your breath caught and released as you inhaled violently.

The idea of Viktor hating you before was not a problem. You could have gone for days without worrying about it. Now it was a waking nightmare that was haunting you terribly.

You reached over and closed the door for a moment, taking advantage of this small moment to take your Tarot deck from your suitcase and draw a card for the day, hoping that it would help you.

And so the Eight of Wands fell. 

Intentions are sent. Energy is in motion. Intentions are powerful and this card is an illustration of action in motion.

Although you were hoping for quick answers, you felt stressed, but continued your rapid reading of the booklet.

What's done can't be undone. The send button has been pressed and the letter has been sent. The spell is cast. The words and incantations have been spoken. Although you cannot undo what is done, you can pause, wait and see what the ramifications are. The energy is strong and effective. Let the universe work its magic. Do not try to control what has been sent. The situation is beyond your control for now. Be patient and you'll get results.

So you were asked... to wait? To be patient and see what would come your way? Of all the answers you could have hoped for, this was probably the last one on your list.

Heimerdinger had explained how the afternoon would unfold. First of all, you would visit one of Demacia's great museums, to learn about their art and history. Of course, you would have to fill in a form with all sorts of information and return it at the end of the day. After this little excursion, you could wander freely around Demacia.

Thus, you found yourself in one of the long corridors with its glass ceiling of the great Demacian museum. The students' shoes echoed against the black and white chequered floor as Heimerdinger gave a final reminder of the instructions.

You stood slightly back, watching a few statues and trying not to drift your gaze to the back of Viktor's head incessantly. What's he thinking?

You were at least hoping that the card would be right, that your answers would come quickly, that the wait would be short, and that the revelation wouldn't destroy you. And if Viktor decided to cut you off, what would you do?

How would you recover from the loss? You didn't have a very wide circle of friends, and this event could prove to be the end of all friendships with Viktor, Jayce and Sky.

Would Sky refuse to be your flatmate from now on? Would she move out because she couldn't spend another moment in the same room as you? Would Jayce stop coming to the café and shower you with his enthusiasm?

Your life would return to a profound emptiness, and you didn't know if you were capable of returning to it so abruptly. Of course, you still had Eris, but you saw her too little.

When had you started to feel comfortable with the idea of having friends like that? When did you allow yourself to trust them? to like them?

Heimerdinger finished his speech, and the students dispersed, as did you. You needed to get away from it all for a while, to try and take your mind off things by doing the only thing you knew how to do well: work.

You played nervously with your pencil, tapping its eraser against the few sheets you had to fill in, while your eyes absent-mindedly studied a white stone statue of yet another legendary fighter whose name meant little to you.

You were immersed in your thoughts, in the multiple possibilities that rushed into your mind to take the microphone and shout out their merits.

"I didn't see you yesterday during our afternoon lesson."

You lowered your eyes to your right, Heimerdinger standing up straight as he watched the statue by your side.

You sighed, turning in front of the latter's sign to jot it down in a corner of your paper. "Good morning to you too, Professor."

"I assume your absence was due to the incident that took place yesterday's morning?" he asked, and you sensed in your peripheral vision that he was looking towards you.

You turned to face him, his eyes widening slightly at the extent of the damage before you spoke. "I wonder what brought you to this conclusion."

You couldn't help using sarcasm, no doubt to play down the situation, and perhaps to try and put some distance between you and the freshness of these events. He seemed to watch you for a moment, his curious little eyes observing the tint the blows had left on your cheek.

"My my, quite an imposing mark. I didn't know you were so, um," he pouted thoughtfully, one of his hands rising into the air to make circular motions as if he were shuffling a keyring of words he was looking for the right key to, 'energetic'.”

You chuckled slightly, lowering your eyes to your paper. "I hope this excess of energy won't get me into any troubles regarding the Academy."

You suspected that this conversation was primarily about that, and although you tried not to let it go negative, you couldn't help the nagging anxiety in your stomach.

"To the Academy?" repeated Heimerdinger, as if surprised by the idea. "No, you have actually made more of a significantly positive impression."

Your shoulders settled between anxiety and relief, frowning as you looked back up at him. "Positive?"

"From what the students have been nattering about, and what has been brought back to me, it seems that you slightly altered the Piltover Academy popularity towards the Demacian through a performance that has tipped the scale on our side," he explained as his index finger and thumb pinched the air. "They were surprised anyone from our little group could keep up in any affray against such trained students." He chirped as he rocked for a moment on his heels, his arms linking behind his back. "I have to say that I myself am quite impressed."

You felt very light, as if a vulture that had hitherto pressed its talons on your shoulders had just flown away out of disinterest in the prey that you were. So you were being watched not as a monster but as... a champion?

You were having trouble digesting the information. Had you become so obsessed with the harm you had caused that you locked yourself into an mentality in which you were only at fault? 

Did your friends feel the same way? Did Jayce, Sky and Viktor think the same as Heimerdinger?

"Impressed?" you repeated, as if to check that it wasn't a joke. "By what I did?"

"Absolutely," the yorddle nodded. "Now, I wasn't present and I would probably not have been in the opportunity had risen as I am not much of an advocate for the sweat of physical conflict, but I have to confess that through this opposition, you have brought a certain honour to the Academy." He turned to you, giving you a proud smile. "Well done!"

Were you dreaming? It must have been, wasn't it? But you'd never had such a beautiful dream, and given what had happened you weren't expecting to for a long time.

You blinked a few times, trying to digest this information. You weren't going to be expelled, or punished for what you'd done, and you were learning that some students might even have some respect for you as a result?

"I..." you searched for your words, the keychain of words passing in turn without your nervous fingers being able to find the perfect key. So you settled on a passe-partout that sincerely reflected your thoughts. "Thank you."

"No need for any gratitude," informed Heimerdinger, shaking his head, "all I ask is that I hope to see you in class. The taste of glory is exquisite, but I do not wish it to replace your diligence."

You nodded quickly. "Of course, Professor."

"Well," he smiled, "I'll leave you to your work from now on. I haven't finished exploring the immensity of this place yet."

And with that, he left, and you blew all the air out of your lungs, placing your hand on your chest then. You couldn't believe it, all the worries you'd imagined were crumbling away from your skin like dirt being washed away.

A nervous chuckle went up your throat and you smothered it with your palm over your lips, wincing slightly as the cut on it opened slightly and stung.

You had to pull yourself together. Sure, you'd escaped one problem, but another still remained - your friends. Should you go and find them and talk to them? Or would they come on their own?

You'd only had to move to another showroom to meet Sky and Jayce's eyes, your flatmate's face lighting up with shock as she ran to you and hugged you tightly, and you returned the embrace. Your whole body relaxed, and if you weren't in public you'd probably have been crying.

"You scared the hell out of me," you managed to decipher as her head was buried in your shoulder before she suddenly straightened up and cupped your face, watching your wounds with a frown. "What a viper."

"You should see her," you grinned, the tingle on your lip no longer mattering to you.

"I have seen her," Sky assured you, raising her eyebrows and smiling, "Jayce and Viktor told me everything."

"Oh yeah?" you questioned as your gaze drifted to Jayce who was coming towards you. His face was a mixture of joy and concern, and it hurt to see him like that.

"Mhm!" confirmed Sky as Jayce finally came towards you. "That she kept testing you until you agreed to a fight and brought her back to her place," she turned to him, "they kept saying you looked really, really cool."

Jayce nodded beside her, seeming to restrain himself from saying or doing anything.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, was he scared of you? 

"No Jayce hug?" you tried, teasing him.

He huffed, pained like a puppy waiting for a treat. "I don't want to hurt you by squeezing too tight. You already got wounds, I don't want to make it worse.’

Despite his imposing stature, you had always noticed how Jayce seemed to deliberately try to appear small or less imposing. Whether it was putting his shoulders backwards when his hands were behind his back, or crossing them when he was thinking, he always tried not to spread himself and to appear less big than he actually was.

You smiled softly. "I don't care."

He sighed in relief, pulling you into a hug and it felt so soothing. His big arms encircled you in a way that promised you everything would be okay no matter what, and that he'd always be there whatever happened.

"Vik's been wanting to talk to you," he whispered, so that only you could hear him.

The news made your cheeks flush with warmth, your heart pounding in your chest as you patted his back gently and he straightened up away from you.

"I didn't know you were into boxing," Jayce remarked deeply intrigued and back to his usual curiosity, "why did you never tell us that?"

You shrugged. "I didn't see a reason to."

"Do you know how expensive boxing classes are in Piltover?" quipped Jayce. "I had tried it once but never came back to it just because of the price."

He nodded, and a small silence settled between the three of you. There were so many things left unsaid, so many desires to talk that you couldn't quite grasp and start.

"Why didn't you come to us?" questioned Sky at last, breaking the silence. "We were worried.’

You sighed softly, lowering your eyes. You'd left them in the dark, deliberately distancing yourself from them by assuming ideas that could have been avoided by discussing it with them and setting the record straight.

"I..." you clutched your pen in your hand, trying your hardest not to let your voice crack, "I thought you guys wouldn't want to associate with someone that did that. So... yeah. I'm sorry."

Sky and Jayce's eyes softened, and your shame and guilt at having walked away from them weighed in your stomach heavier than ever.

"You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of us," Sky smiled, putting her hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

You smiled back. Every misfortune that had haunted you over the last twenty-four hours was being resolved one by one, naturally, and now there was only one person left to balance it all.

"Have you done the part on the origin of the magical wars yet?" questioned Jayce as if nothing had happened, pointing to your index card. "You definitely have to check it out," he pulled out his map of the museum, pointing to the few rooms that contained the exhibition in question, "it's over there."

The message was simple: you'll find him there.

"Good,’ you nodded, "I'll catch up with you guys later."

The three of you then confirmed that you would meet up after the visit so that you could explore the Demacian markets together, and you set off in the direction of the indicated exhibition.

Your heart was pounding. Your anxiety was gradually diluted and replaced by immense relief. Did Viktor share their opinions too? What would his reaction be? You dreaded it as much as you longed for it.

When had he become such a central part of your life? And why did you feel so affected by every move and idea he might have had about you?

You reached the area in question, completely empty. Given the Demacians' disdain for the origin of magic and their bitterness towards it, you weren't much surprised.

It was a large room with an open side from which you had just come, each of its corners seeming to shelter small rooms with narrower entrances acting as mini corridors of separation. You tried to walk along the left-hand wall and into the corridor leading to the first room. When you reached the end of the small hallway, you froze as a voice you recognised approached.

"Vikkie?" Fiora was calling.

You turned, fearing that she might see you, and took a few steps back.

You stifled a small scream as what appeared to be a thin, curved bar pressed against your stomach and pulled you back and then to the side as a hand took hold of your arm. Your back met the wall and your breath caught as Viktor's eyes met yours and he pressed his index finger to his own lips to urge you to remain silent, the knob of his cane hovering near your waist as his hand gripped your hip.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as the sudden stress faded from your tense muscles and another feeling took over. The two of you were close, Viktor cocking his head and leaving you to watch the angle of his jaw as he waited for the area to be cleared of her presence.

The warmth of his hand on your hip cut through the fabric of your clothes, and you found yourself wanting to press yourself against it.

What was this sensation? Why did this position make you feel all warm and fuzzy in your stomach? Why was your heart pounding in your chest now that the stress was over?

In the distance, you could hear Fiora sigh. "Mais quelle anguille," she sighed in her native tongue as the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance and Viktor let out his held breath.

He pressed his forehead to the wall against which you were standing, his lips to the level of your ear. "Hit her in the jaw next time, Miss," the nickname mixed with his low voice made your cheeks flush. "This way maybe I can escape her constant need for useless conversation."

You couldn't help laughing. "I'll note that for next time, Vikkie."

You felt him squeeze his hand lightly on your hip as he gave you a sound that was a mixture of grumble, sigh and laugh before straightening up.

His amber eyes found yours, and your heart leapt. You hoped it would calm down, but it seemed to you at the time that this was profoundly impossible.

"For once I would rather you call me any witty nickname you could have than this," he smiled.

"Mm," you seemed to be falsely thinking about it without taking your eyes off him, "I'll consider thinking about it."

He smiled, his eyes drifting from yours to rest on your cheekbone and your cheek before finishing on your lips. 

You swallowed silently as his eyes rested on it in a strange way.

‘Does it hurt...?’ he asked, his eyes finally returning to yours, a dark light flashing through his gaze.

You shook your head. "No."

He nodded gently. "Good."

His eyes, which this morning had been stern, were now more tender. He seemed to become aware of your closeness, his glance settling on his hand still on your waist.

He took a step back, and his absence from you and his hand on your hip disheartened you more than you thought it would. 

"Sorry for this measure," he said, tapping two fingers on his cane, "I had to make sure she wouldn't see either of us nor hear anything."

A warmth spread across the back of your neck at the memory of how he'd grabbed you and pulled you towards him, and you tried to shake away the thought. "It's okay," you reassured, "I was actually looking for you, too."

"And you were first at it, once again," he smiled, nodding. "I'm glad it's you that found me before her."

"I agree," you confirmed with a thin smile.

A moment of hesitation passed, an additional silence of expectation that twisted your throat as you searched for your words. You didn't sense any judgement on his part, or that he wanted to press you for answers.

"I..." you began, inhaling, shifting your gaze from his to one of the few paintings on the walls of the small room, "I'm sorry, that you had to see me this way. ”Your eyes returned to his. "I don't know how I must have looked to you and," you breathed, "I regret it."

He gazed at you for a moment, frowning as his eyes returned to where Fiora knuckles had had the misfortune to meet your face.

"Why are you apologising?" he asked.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" he chuckled, one corner of his lips rising a little higher than the other and raising his mole. "No, I don't think mad would be the term. Surprise, more like it."

"That I almost sent this girl to the hospital?" 

"That despite all I seem to learn about you, I still want to know more."

A warmth spread through your chest.

He persisted, despite everything. He'd seen the vilest, most unbearable and stubborn parts of you, he'd seen you fight, and yet he stayed.

"Are you sure?" you asked. "I think I may have broken the second clause about helping each other and the sixth about honesty through this."

He looked surprised that you remembered so perfectly of the clauses' number, but he just shrugged. "If it is about telling me everything on your reasons for your reaction, I'm not hurried." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes on you. "I am patient, I can wait."

What had you done to deserve this? So much understanding, support and solidarity? You weren't used to it.

You considered telling him, about your past, about everything right here and there, but a thought occurred to you. If Fiora knew all the things she'd told you about your past, it was probably through him. You hesitated to ask him, parting your lips to inquire.

"And right here, in this very room, the birth of magical conflict," exclaimed the voice of a guide leading a group of tourists into the great hall.

You sighed, the little peace you had with Viktor vanishing into thin air.

"I guess we'll have to continue this conversation another time, Miss," he confirmed, "for the moment, we need to finish this damned file."

You returned to your little group like nothing had ever happened, filling in the answer boxes provided by Heimerdinger one by one. And when the visit was over, everyone returned to the hotel to get ready to visit the market.

Viktor left you all to take a nap, all that walking had made him tired. Garen, not wishing to intrude on this time of emotional reunion with your friends, provided you with a list of addresses and names of shops that might interest you.

And so Jayce, Sky and yourself wandered through the eccentric markets of Demacia. From wacky plant shops to armouries, you kept stopping and gawking. Colours and smells were all mingling together in this odd symphony that somehow wasn't too overwhelming

Each street was an exciting new discovery full of new things to uncover. You followed some of the names of the shops Garen had given you, taking the opportunity to get hold of his famous balm.

There was something strangely comforting about it, something familiar, and it made you feel good to have it close to you.

After a delicious snack of Demacian pastries and further visits to the length and breadth of the market, the three of you returned to the hotel with small bags of souvenirs and tired legs. 

The aches and pains from jogging and the physical effort of the previous day's battle were beginning to take their toll, and you couldn't wait to go home and get some rest.

When you inserted the key to your room to enter, however, you found it already open. You frowned, pushing the door open and freezing as Fiora stood in the room.

She turned towards you, and you could see the rest of the damage you had caused. She probably had a doctor attached to her family, and they'd really helped her out. She had a bandage on her nose, her cheeks and cheekbones had deflated, but despite the ice cubes she'd had to put on her skin to soften them, there were still some purplish marks.

My marks, you thought, I made them, but I'm not proud of them.

Her eyes rested on you, annoyed. She looked around the room for a moment.

"Not too bad for a bedroom," she nodded, "too bad it's for two."

You sighed. She didn't seem to want to budge from her attitude, and you weren't going to play her game. You walked over to your bed, putting your shopping bag on the side of it.

"Why are you here, Fiora?" you asked simply, crossing your arms.

You preferred to get to the heart of the matter, beating around the bush was pointless and this day had shown you that perfectly.

She sighed heavily, walking up to your level and stopping at a respectable distance.

She put her weight on one of her hips, crossing her arms in turn. "I came here to apologise."

You frowned, doubting the veracity of this gesture. "Did Garen pay you to do this?"

"Pfft," she chuckled, "I wish I had been paid to do this."

"Did Madame Diane ask you to come here then?" you continued.

"Nope," she replied, emphasising the end of the word.

Had she really come to apologise of her own free will? It was almost doubtful. 

"So why are you coming here to apologise?" 

She sighed, her eyes drifting over her nails resting on her biceps. "I guess I feel, well, guilty."

She said the words as if she had to get rid of them, and you could feel the frustration building.

"How old are you?" you suddenly asked.

She seemed confused by the question, arching an eyebrow. "... Twenty four?"

“You're twenty four, you know what a word means, so what the hell took you?”

"I know, okay?" she grunted before taking a breath to calm herself. "Let's not start arguing, I didn't come here to nudge you to fight, just to get a conversation."

You straightened up, chewing the inside of your cheek to steady yourself. She was at least taking the first step towards remaining diplomatic, and you couldn't take that away from her, it was a good way of going about things.

You pointed your chin at her for a moment. "Why did I become your target?" you questioned. ‘You've been trying to set me aside since day one."

"No I have not," she said, frowning as her accent sounded stupid to you.

"You literally called me a rag."

"That's just because your sense of fashion is terrible," she explained, shrugging.

"See? You're doing it again," you remarked, unclasping your arms.

She sighed. "Well I guess if you had better clothes I wouldn't have said it ."

You chuckled. "This is a weird apology."

"Are you taking it or not?" Her tongue clicked against her teeth like a tired whip.

"I'll take it once I know why you wanted to put me aside."

"Because your friend Viktor is cute," she replied, shaking her head as an obvious smile spread across her lips, though it faded as her eyes rolled back into their sockets, "but the more I speak to him the more boring he gets."

You recoiled. "So you spat on me... because of a guy?"

"Not just any guy," she giggled, "he has the attitude of a prince."

Yes, he does, you thought. You remembered how he looked at the masquerade, all dressed in rich velvet and dark fabrics lined with goldened jewelry. And his coat, which you had the opportunity to wear, you couldn't forget it, couldn't forget his smell that had covered you while you walked your way back home. He had the chivalrous attitude of the Knight of Pentacles, and you couldn't deny that the role suited him perfectly.

Your eyes drifted off into space just thinking about it. "I guess you could say that."

"What do you mean “I guess”?" questioned Fiora, almost outraged. 

Your cheeks heated as you tried to get back to normal, to pull yourself together and not think about it any more than that.

"Yeah I mean, I guess you're right?"

"Wait," she frowned, her head turning slightly to the side as her eyes squinted at you, "do you have something for him?"

The back of your neck caught fire, your eyes widening as your first instinct was to deny.

"What?" you laughed. "No."

She brought her hand up to her mouth to cover it for a moment as she looked at you with huge eyes, murmuring her words in disbelief. "You have a crush on him."

"This is nonsense," you cleared your throat as you remembered the pressure of his hand against your hip, bringing your own palm to the spot to regain your balance, "of course I don't."

"So that's why you were pissed about the fact I was so close to him," Fiora continued realising to herself.

"Absolutely not!" you countered.

She started walking towards the door though. "So if I go in the other room and tell him you don't have a crush on him you won't have any problem with it-"

But you hadn't given her time to reach the handle, standing in front of the door and blocking it with your hand and entire body. You reacted instinctively to this, but why? 

"Don't," you whispered, "I don't have feelings for him."

She smiled at you for a moment, looking at you like you were the most ridiculous little thing she had ever seen in her life. "Then why are you reacting this way?’

You were asking yourself the same question on this very moment. Why did you start looking for him in every room? Why did you want his attention? Why did your body and your thoughts react this way when you found yourself near him?

"He's my friend," you mumbled, "I... respect him."

She giggled. "And you think that you loving him would be a form of disrespect to him?"

The truth of that sentence terrified you: could you honour him? Would having feelings for him be ridiculous considering how you were not worthy of deserving him?

"No, I told you I-"

"Fine!" Fiora's arms flew up in the air. "Gosh, you're stubborn."

You straightened up, looking at her for a moment as she exchanged a glance with you.

"So," she continued, "we bury the hatchet?"

You considered her for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons. There were still four days to spend here, so you might as well spend them amicably. What's more, you weren't looking for a quarrel, so there was no reason to refuse this offer especially if it came from her.

"Alright," you nodded.

She followed your movement. "You fight pretty good by the way," she admitted, "I didn't think someone could hit that hard when looking like you."

You chuckled. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," she shrugged and nodded, "I thought you'd punch like a kid."

"And I thought you'd fight back better," you confirmed, "looks like we both got disappointed."

"If you hadn't taken such unrefined weaponry as your choice, maybe I would have been able to show you what an actual duel is like," she pointed out.

"I don't need weapons, and I didn't want to fight," you sighed.

"Why not?"

You shrugged as you moved forward to sit on your bed, fatigue gripping your limbs tightly. "Because I didn't need to."

"What is it with you Pilties," Fiora questioned, "you're boring."

"You're the bored girl trying to get everything because no one ever told you no," you remarked. 

A muscle tightened near her eye, as it had before the duel you'd had had yesterday and things turned sour, and you noticed that it was perhaps time for Fiora to give you a better excuse than an attraction to a man to justify her actions towards you.

“It destabilizes you, doesn't it?” You planted your hands on either side of you, leaning back slightly. “That a stranger, coming onto your ground, destroys that reality you’ve built up for yourself brick by brick without being able to do anything about it.”

She shifted her weight on her leg as she listened to you, and you knew you'd hit the nail on the head - because you'd been through this same exact situation only a few months ago.

“Well I'm going to tell you something. Simple, clear, which will hopefully be instantly integrated in that brain of yours,” you stared into her eyes. “People don't owe you anything.”

Fiora looked at you, her lips slightly parted.

“I don't owe you my politeness, I don't owe you my knee to be bowed at your coronation, and above all, I don't owe you my respect.”

A small silence settled in the air, until Fiora chuckled and smiled.

“I like you better than I thought I would.”

You straightened up, confused. You expected her to engage in another verbal joust, to send you back what you had just offered her, or to leave by slamming the door, but not to this. 

“You do?”

She approached the foot of your bed. “Do you know how many people ever told me what you just told me, Piltie girl?”

You shook your head, obviously not knowing the answer. She said nothing at the moment, simply raised her index finger in the air.

"One," she indicated as she lowered her perfectly manicured fingernail to point to you.

“Garen never told you that?” you questioned, finding it hard to believe that he didn't do the same.

She rolled her eyes. “He doesn't count. But anyway," she inhaled, "you're right. My honor was on the line of a blade I wanted to force to my will.” Her arms crossed over her chest again. “I don't want my reputation to hold on to the pillars of my family name, which has led me to...” her eyes passed over your bruises, “go low.”

“Exposing my personal information for everyone outside and trying to humiliate me is-”

“Yes I know!" Fiora cut off, annoyed. “I was scared, okay? You came here and the idea of having a stupid Piltie to show around all week wasn't the greatest for an ideal trip.” 

Her truth was beginning to come out, and you were listening to her as she had listened to you. She inhaled, trying not to let herself be overwhelmed by her emotions.

“But then you held up to me, and I thought I could feel everything crack and... I went too far. So," her eyes wore their sincerity, "I'm sorry, really.”

You understood her. You knew exactly how she could feel, and you weren't about to put her down about it.

“I went too far too,“ you admitted, "sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?"questioned Fiora. “I pushed you to do this.”

“I made your face redder than your hair streaks with my fists and you wonder why I'm apologizing?”

She shook her head, and you both sighed. And to say that all this could have been avoided if your egos had been put aside.

“At least” she resumed, pouting, "now I'm matching with my hair, that's twice more fashion style than you have.”

You couldn't help but smile, and let it evolve into a little laugh as Fiora followed you into the latter. She could be funny, after all.

“So” she resumed "we're cool?”

You nodded, smiling gently at her. “We're cool.”

“Cool," she sighed, walking over to the bedroom door to open it. "Oh also," she turned to you "did you make yourself some enemies in your classmates?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Sort of, I guess. Why?”

“That Tyler guy, if I were you I'd keep him under a close eye” she was pinching the door in her hand, ready to get out. “He's the one that came to tell me everything I learned about you. He came to me the first night to tell me about all of that.”

And with that, she left, closing the door and leaving behind a deafening anger.

You should have expected it. How could you have been so stupid?

You were thinking about what Jayce had said at the beginning of the trip, about how you were probably related to the bruises Tyler himself had received.

You were starting to realise how the plotting of this had gone. If he couldn't manage to get you the treatment he was getting from both you and his family, then he would find someone who would have done it for him. 

Did he insinuate to Fiora that she had to fight with you? Had he managed to push her to a duel against you in the euphoria of being able to see you lose to a renowned duelist like her?

You let yourself fall on your bed, too tired to get any more upset, but not allowing yourself to forget this under any pretext.

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[isabelawritesthings]

The last dance

Pairing: Katarina x F!reader

Synopsis: You are one of the guests at the Black Rose Ball, and your dance partner catches your eye.

Word count: 823

Warnings: Mentions of war and death, mentions of relationship breakups.

An: I know it's just a cinematic, but my heart can't stand seeing beautiful women in fiction and not writing about them 😭 I tried to make it longer but my creative block isn't helping. (In case you're confused and only know Arcane, Garen is her romantic interest in the lore of League of Legends and Jericho Swain is the one who rules Noxus, Demacia and Ionia are regions that are at war with Noxus.)

What happened in Piltover was surprising for all of Runeterra. A simple inventor becoming a kind of God? Even more so in the city of progress? Simply surprising.

Your parents were longtime members of the Black Rose, and with Mel Medarda's return, the organization needed a distraction. And just like in the times when Noxus was a monarchy ruled by an emperor, why not have a ball?

"You look beautiful.” Your mother said to you. “Do we really have to go to this ball? Are we really going to pretend that Ambessa's daughter isn't coming back to finish us all off?" Your mother looked surprised. "You better not say things like that at the ball.” Your father enters the room. "We're going to be late like this, ladies."

It was a masquerade ball, as the Black Rose always liked anonymity, but you didn't care, you wouldn't be wearing a mask that night, you thought the masks were too ugly to wear.

“Honey, do you mind if me and your father go say hi to some friends?" Your mother asked. "No, I think I'll just dance a little." You walk out onto the dance floor, and dance with the first person you see, not caring who it is under that mask. “You dance very well," said the masked person, it was a female voice. "Thank you... Are you part of the Black Rose, or are you just one of those nobles they invited?" The person behind the mask laughed. "You tell me, you're not wearing a mask after all.”

“Those are pretty ugly." You and your dance partner change positions. "I prefer you like this without the mask, you're very pretty.” You gave a small laugh. "You must be the one who's beautiful, redheads usually are." The woman looked you in the eyes. "Maybe we could talk in a more private place." You smiled. "I'd love to." The two of you walked to the garden.

In the garden, the mysterious woman takes off her mask, you weren't wrong, she was indeed beautiful. "Nice to meet you, Katarina." you smiled. "Y/N." Katarina sits on the garden bench. "Your parents are members of the Black Rose, aren't they?” You sit down next to her. "Yes, long before I was born." She gives a shy laugh. "They're all liars and murderers... You don't look like one of them.”

“And I'm not, it's just my parents who have these crazy ideologies of theirs, if I could, I'd be in Demacia or Ionia right now, but I would rule out going to Ionia, there's a very anti-Noxian sentiment there thanks to the war.” Katarina looks at the floor. "Demacia... That name brings back memories." You looked curious. "Are you from there?" Katarina looks at you. "No, I was born right here... It's just that it was there that I lived the best moment of my life, because I found love." You looked even more curious.

“Garen, his name is Garen, he was in the Demacian army, it could never work since we are also at war with Demacia, he would probably be executed for treason if anyone found out.” She looked sad. "Jericho Swain is still going to destroy this country with those stupid wars!" She looked at you again. "I still love him, but it could never work." You changed the subject. "So, what are you doing here? You don't look like a member of the Black Rose." Her eyes looked at you intently. "Let's just say I came to finish something." You thought it was strange that she was staring at you like that.

“You're taking too much of a risk by meeting me in a secluded location, if I were a spy you'd be dead by now." You looked even more surprised. "I... I... It's just that I found you quite peculiar…” She stopped staring at you. "Peculiar? I've heard better compliments... You look like you're also trying to forget a love." She figured it out pretty quickly. "I fell in love with a girl recently, she was in the army, she ended up dying in Ionia." Katarina's face remained still. "I'm sorry." You looked at her. "Don't be sorry, this fate was already predictable.”

You lost track of how much time you spent talking to Katarina on that bench, the more you found out about her, the more impressed you were, like how she had been trained by generals from all over the country.

“I think you need to go now, your parents must be worried." She stood up. "Thanks for the evening, I needed a little chat before I do what I came to do." You stood up too. "You keep mentioning this duty you have to do tonight but you never say what it is." She looks at you. "Let's just say it involves shocking some people at this ball."

She kisses you on the cheek before she leaves, you blush slightly.

[popawritter12]

Y͒a͒n͒d͒e͒r͒e͒! Sett x Neutral reader

Yandere character: Sett

Anime/manga/video game: League of Legends

Part: 1 of 2

Finished?: Yes

Clarification: Au of academy

('･ω･')('･ω･')('･ω･')('･ω･')('･ω･')

With each step I took, my grip on my books increased due to the fear of seeing it again. Every time the people around me looked at me with fear and pity, I knew something was wrong.

Everyone knew it, from the beginning they knew it. That boy, that person who was known for his use of violence and insults to him, someone who was the kind of people you detested from the bottom of your heart was… interested in someone.

When I saw him, I could feel the pride and hate he could emit just by looking at anyone, and whenever I talked to my best friend about it, we both came to the same conclusion; it wasn't good to run into him.

And now, God knows if it was on purpose or by accident, but the whole school found out that Sett, one of the most feared vastaya in the Academy, was madly in love ---Obsessed--- with me, more than once I found him following me and Talon around the Academy, which was so damn awkward for both of us that we decided to stop being apart of the group and go to social circles just so we wouldn't feel persecuted by that idiot.

---Did you forget your math work again? ---Talon asked me, as we both walked through the halls.

---No, I didn't sleep at all last night, so I decided to catch up on homework ---I answered, running one of my hands over my right eye.

He was silent for a few seconds, before we heard someone behind us let out a soft, discreet laugh.

---Apparently Sett has you bad ---Ezreal teased, patting my shoulder.

---Shut up, moron ---I answered jokingly, looking at the blonde.

---I'm sorry, I'm sorry (Name), but you know that normally everyone in this school knows how Sett is with you ---Ezreal continued joking, before giving you your personal space.

--- Aha, as if he doesn't want to hit me every time he sees me --- he teased softly.

It doesn't take a lot of intelligence to know that Ionians hate Noxians, or basically most of the world hates Noxus in general, and the fact that Sett lives on insulting his Noxian father just further reinforces the idea that this whole facade that he's in love with me falls apart.

Both Ezreal and other close friends helped me a lot to adapt to this place, I was surprised at the ease with which both Talon and I became close to him, but I wouldn't question the idea of why someone as social as him would talk to us either. .

But hey, I guess I'm just rambling…

--- And then Garen threatened to cut me in half if he did something bad to Lux, although I don't understand why he tells me that… --- Ezreal explained, before hearing how the doorbell sounds.

The noise marked the start of the first hour of school, in this case Ezreal would go to his Chemistry class and Talon and I to our philosophy class.

The blonde said goodbye to us, going straight to God knows where. While my best friend and I were leaving for class.

---I like to think that all this is a very bad joke, and you? ---I admitted, letting out a heavy sigh.

Talon hummed a "hm", not further speaking.

As talkative as a North Korean soldier.

---But well, I'd like to know why… ---That's when I found myself having to cut my sentence in half because Talon started talking.

---Don't trust Sett too much.

I looked at him confused, before letting out a soft laugh, as a joke.

---Don't tell me, Tal ---I joke, getting closer to him ---The man who has been following and harassing us for 1 month is someone to be wary of, who would have thought!

After joking, I could see Talon stop walking abruptly; apparently, we were already in front of our living room.

He grabbed my shoulder roughly, forcing me to look him in the eye.

--- The next time you find him alone, run --- He advises me, or maybe he orders me --- There's something about that guy that I don't fucking like.

I look at him, this time changing my tone to a serious one.

---Yes, I'll be careful, Talon ---Kindly accept ---Although I don't know, I don't think it's that bad…

Talon lets go of me, before cupping her face in one of his hands, letting out a heavy sigh, as if he's frustrated or disappointed.

--- I know Sett has something weird behind his whole façade… try to keep yourself safe, okay? --- He advises me again, and this time I do believe that he cared about me.

I smile at him, before gently taking his shoulder.

---I promise, Tal ---I told him, smiling ---This time I will keep my word.

He smiles slightly at me, so I guess he's calmer now.

--- Good thing you said "this time yes" --- he mentions as a mockery, before going to the living room.

I went after him, laughing and saying whatever, obviously before get scolded for being late to class.

('･ω･')

('･ω･')

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('･ω･')

('･ω･')

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Extra (If this first part was not short)

A young man with reddish hair was walking calmly through the school, he himself was accompanied by a pale-skinned boy, who was confused about why Sett had summoned him to talk alone.

The young Lunari looked at Sett, intrigued as to why someone lively and outgoing like him was so quiet now, almost angry at that moment.

The moment Sett stops his walk, without moving, he presses his fingers on the palm of his hand, to the point that it was seen that he was tempted to break the bricks of the wall.

Without the young Lunari expecting it, Sett barely turns around to see him out of the corner of his eye.

---Hey ---Sett calls him, with a hoarse voice and with a certain tone of anger in his intonation.

Before Aphelios can answer or say anything, Sett frowns, showing anger at the idea of asking someone like him for help.

---Do you know where I can meet Talon?

The opposite of him remains silent, surprised by the vastaya's request. Anyone who knows a little about Sett knows that if he wants to meet anyone as he gives rise to, or even worse, a Noxian, it doesn't mean anything good.

---Or with Ezreal? You get together a lot with the two of them, don't you?

Aphelios steps back, even more scared.

—Or both, I'm not interested separately or together, I need to know what time and place I can meet either of them.

The young Lunari, out of nervousness begins to speak in sign language.

---Why are you supposed to want to know? ---When he finished speaking, Aphelios remembered something important: Sett didn't know sign language.

---That shit is none of your business, kid, now tell me.

Aphelios opens his eyelids to the fullest part of him, since when did Sett know something like..?

The vastaya approaches him, taking him by the neck.

—I want you to have one thing clear, Aphelios; From now on, both you and those two idiots are going to be away from ME (Name), are you clear?

Aphelios has no choice but to nod, not because of the fear of what could happen to him now, but because of how Sett would be if he confronted or tried to fight.

Perhaps in another context, he would have challenged him, but now he didn't have much of a chance of winning, he had no weapons, and no one to see them in one of the hallways that almost no one knows about the school, and Sett seemed quite ready to kill them. the first thing on your way.

[fictionparadiso]

Welcome to my Eden's Garden

Hello, you may call me Paradiso, and I welcome you to my Tumblr blog where I will share with you my brainrot, character adoration and general ravings about fiction. (Note: This blog WILL contain NSFW stuff, which I will both tag and write in the title, so you can be almost 100% sure you will find it). Now, to the basics:

DNI Information

Please, if any of the following groups apply to you, do not interact with this blog:

Minors - I am sorry, but I do not feel comfortable interacting with minors with a blog like this. So I would kindly ask you to interact with me if you are under 18.

Haters - I know this term is VERY ambiguous, but basically - if you do not like the content this blog focuses on OR you are not comfortable with any of my identities or styles or whatever - feel free to block me. Both you and I will spare our sanity.

I'm sure there are other groups or traits that I do not feel comfortable with which I have not mentioned. In any case, I just want to clarify that I reserve the right to block you without indicating a reason. If I do not feel comfortable interacting with you or your content, I will either ignore or block you, it isn't necessarily personal and I will not give any warning, just wanting to put that out there.

What you can expect

Now, this blog will heavily focus on the characters that I like and my headcanons or short fics of them (usually in general, other characters or with a self-insert reader). If it is self-insert the reader will be either M or GN coded (sorry, not comfortable with F!Reader).

If you want to share your enthusiasm about any of the characters or franchises you see on my list (or even don't see, but just want to scream at someone about them), I may be your guy~

When I write NSFW you can expect a listing of the kinks and such somewhere at the beginning so you know if it is or is NOT for you. Some of my kinks are pretty out there, so don't feel bad for not sharing them.

My F/O list

While I would not label myself as Fictosexual, I do tend to develop feelings towards characters in media and think up a lot of different scenarios. I also do not get jealous about my F/Os, so if you like any of the one's I like, feel free to rave about them with me! (if you're comfortable, of course)

💖 Main Romantic F/Os 💖

Iwai Munehisa - Persona 5 - #I call Shotgun

Maruki Takuto - Persona 5 - #No more Tears

Harumi Takeda - My Senpai is Annoying - #My Senpai is Lovable

Diavolo - Obey Me! - #Deal with the Devil

Drayden - Pokemon Black/White - #Under your Scales

Unabara/Neptune - Heaven's Design Team - #In Heaven

Alistair - Dragon Age Origins - #Be my bastard king

🌹 Other Romantic F/Os 🌹

Gladiolus Amicitia - Final Fantasy XV - #Shield for a Shield

Rengoku Kyojuro - Demon Slayer - #My Heart is Ablaze

Bryce - Jock Studio (NSFW source) - #Party Teddy bear

Derek - Jock Studio (NSFW source) - #Gentleness personified

Uzui Tengen - Demon Slayer - #Flamboyant Party Animal

Dojima Ryotaro - Persona 4 - #Dad and Idyll

Leon - Pokemon Sword/Shield - #Champion of my Heart

Archie and Matt (poly) - Pokemon Alpha Sapphire/Omega Ruby - #Waterbound Trio

Lysandre - Pokemon X/Y - #Whatever Boss says is true

Lt. Surge - Pokemon (he's in too many games) - #Sparks are Flying

Lucifer - Obey Me! - #Prim and Proper

All Might - My Hero Academia - #You are my Hero

Gentle Criminal - My Hero Academia - #Gentlemen Bonding

Rider/Iskandar - Fate/Zero - #Conqueror of my Mind (purely aesthetic, I have NOT consumed any Fate media yet)

Clive - Final Fantasy XVI - #Raven-haired heartthrob

Hawke - Dragon Age II - #Hawke Fever (purely aesthetic, I have NOT consumed any Dragon Age II media yet)

Hjalmar an Craite - Witcher - #Rage of the Islands

Jacques de Aldersberg - Witcher 1 - #Burnt Rose (very morally incorrect)

Siegfried - Witcher 1 - #Ideal Knight

Graves - League of Legends - #Mutual Coin Fever

Sett - League of Legends - #Kneeling for the Boss

Garen - League of Legends - #For Demacia's Hero

Dion - Final Fantasy XVI - #My only true Emperor

Akira Konoe - Persona 5 Strikers - #Heroes don't wear capes

Fatgum - My Hero Academia - #Bubblegum dreams

Zayne - Jock Studio (NSFW source) - #Fanclub for the king

🍀 Main Platonic F/Os 🍀

Kanjori Mitsuri - Demon Slayer - #Mochi Breathing

Kocho Shinobu - Demon Slayer - #Butterfly in the Night

Bayonetta - Bayonetta - #Let's Dance on the Moon

Cynthia - Pokemon Diamond/Pearl - #Domineering Companion

Kirijo Mitsuru - Persona 3 - #Two in Harmony

Yennefer of Vengerberg - Witcher - #Obsidian Star

Geralt of Rivia - Witcher - #The White Wolf

🌊 Other Platonic F/Os 🌊

Triss Merigold - Witcher - #Magic Allergy

Ahri - League of Legends - #Nine-tailed Charms

Lux - League of Legends - #Prism in the Rough

[fandom-imagines]

Save Demacia (Part Four - Finale)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Fandom: League of Legends

Pairing: Garen X Reader

Warnings: Violence

Summary: Meeting Sylas is not something Y/N ever expected, but the world throws the most unexpected things at you. What will happen when she is taken by him to bargain with Demacia?

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Sylas taunted me, circling me with a smirk covering his lips, “Whatever are you doing here?” His finger raised to trace my jaw, “Demacia not good enough? Garen not good enough?”

How did he know...?

“Leave him out of this.” I spat, grabbing his hand and forcing it away from my face, only for him to chuckle.

“I’ll give you two choices, Y/N. You either join me, or-“

“No. Never, even if my life depended on it.” I interrupted him, not wanting to hear his other offer.

“Well, it just might.” He smirked again, binding my wrists together with some sort of magic, covering my mouth to prevent me from screaming as I thrashed around in his grip before eventually falling unconscious.

~

I awoke god knows how long later in the arms of Sylas.

All I could hear was marching, no talking at all. The wind blew through me, making me shiver. My eyes failed to open, being too drowsy to force them open.

My head hurts…

“Demacia!” Sylas yelled, finally halting. “I have a proposition for you.” His voice boomed, worsening the pain in my head.

I finally managed to force open my eyes.

The first thing I saw was Garen holding Lux back, surrounded by the entire of Demacia.

“You leave me and my army alone, in return for this mage.” He said, dropping me onto the ground which earned a grunt from me. However, my body felt too weak to actually move.

“Y/N!” Lux yelled, doing her best to push past Garen who firmly held her back, eyes not looking at me but instead glaring at Sylas.

“And if we don’t?” Prince Jarvan asked him.

“Then,” Sylas said, applying pressure onto my ribs as I quickly lost my breath, “she dies. Right here, in front of all of you: her best friend, and her boyfriend.” He finished, chuckling at Garen’s eyes widening.

“Garen,” I heard Lux’s voice throughout the entire commotion, “we have to do something!”

“I know.”

“So, what shall it be?” Sylas yelled, finally removing his foot from my ribs as he began to cough.

“We refuse your offer. One mages life is meaningless to us.” Jarvan spat.

My eyes never left Lux and Garen, watching their bodies go rigid and faces fall in panic.

“Very well.” Sylas grinned, grabbing me by the neck and lifting me off my feet. “See here ladies and gentlemen!” He yelled, each second it grew harder and harder to breathe. “Watch before your eyes as this young ladies life drains from her eyes.”

I can’t… breathe.

Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I felt my body fall to the ground, quickly followed by a groan from Sylas.

“Not on my watch.”

Trynd…?

I did my best to turn around, and there stood Tryndamere and the entire of the Freljord army, all of them looking ready to fight. Within seconds, they were running at Sylas, managing to pin him to the ground, Demacia’s army running forward to help them.

I felt myself being picked up into a pair of strong arms just as I finally lost consciousness.

~

“She’s a good girl, Garen.” Was the first thing I heard as I began to wake up.

I know that voice…

“I hope you look after her.” The same voice continued.

“I will, thank you for your assistance.”

It was then I was able to open my eyes, seeing Garen and Tryndamere talking to each other, Lux sat in the corner.

“Y/N!” Lux’s voice caught all our attention and she rushed towards me, pulling me into a tight hug.

I felt wetness fall onto my back, concluding that Lux was crying.

I gladly wrapped my arms around her, having been missing my best friend, “Don’t cry, Lux. I’m okay.” I managed to croak out, throat slightly hurting.

“I-I thought you wouldn’t make it.” She sniffed, pulling away to place her hand on my cheek as though she was checking I was here.

“I’m okay, Lux. Don’t worry.” I smiled, “Are you guys okay?” I asked the three of them, Lux now pulled back so I could see them all.

“You just woke up for the first time in a week and you’re asking us if we’re alright?” Trynd chuckled, patting me on the shoulder in amusement.

“We’re fine.” Garen said quietly, eyes gazing into my own.

We all sat in silence for a moment, only to be broken by Lux.

“Well, I think that’s our cue to leave.” Lux cleared her throat, signalling towards the door while facing Tryndamere who nodded, quickly leaving the room.

“Thank you.” Was the first thing to leave my mouth as the door slammed shut. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” I admitted, my gaze falling onto the ground as I nervously played with the sheets of the hospital bed.

Garen pulled his chair closer towards me, gently taking a hold of my hand as he ran his thumb across it.

“We don’t know what would have happened had it not been for the Freljord.” Garen smiled slightly, “They were the main reason we were able to detain Sylas.”

“You detained him?” I asked in shock, surprised they had managed to do such a thing.

Garen simply nodded, patting me on the hair.

“Yes, we were.”

I simply nodded, pulling him into a hug.

“So, what happens now?” I asked him as he began to explain what would happen to Sylas, only to be cut off by yours truly. “I mean to me. Surely they won’t accept me for being a mage. Everyone knows, Garen.”

Garen nodded, “That they do.” He sighed, thumb still running across the back of my hand, “But, you’re under our protection and you’re a Crownguard.”

“A Crownguard?” I asked him.

“If you want to be.”

In Garen’s hand was a velvet box, which he opened to reveal the most beautiful ring I had ever seen in my lifetime.

“Happily, Garen.” I smiled brightly which he returned, pulling me into a tight hug.

“I love you, Garen.”

“I love you too, Y/N. I always will.”

[leagueimagine]

if requests are open, may i request headcanons for garen and a s/o who's a mage? feel free to skip it if u find it challenging;;

You and Garen have been childhood sweethearts since you know each other, Lux would always tease you and him with that with little songs and kissing gestures. 

But when you reached teen years, your magic powers start to show up, you’re scared but excited about it, you had no idea that it could bring so much problem for you or your family. Still, you went to show Garen, he’d be admired, you thought, but that doesn’t happen. 

You haven’t seen him on years, every little gift he gave you on those good times have been kept, you still love him so much... Sylas know that. The other mage wants you to help him, and maybe taken by the anger you accept help him, Demacia took everything always from you for nothing but fear of your magic. 

Meeting Garen again was not... expected, sure always told you he’d be a general someday but you two just freeze, staring at each other miles apart unsure of what to do, but the battle doesn’t wait to explode in front of your eyes.

While casting spells around, you feel yourself begin pulled asides, Garen holds you against his body with an angry expression but eyes full of worry. “You’re alive.” He mumbled, you two stood there for a second before he tugs you on a tight hug, maybe it’s not just you that still loves him... 

[edgyspooks]

SFW

J for Draven (in regards with the apparently canon crush dude has on a serious and orderly warmason who also has a crush on him I mean wtf aren't they way past the awkward teens phase??), Darius, Swain and Garen (Garen in regards with Katerina I mean it is canon after all despite the disturbing implications)

SFW Alphabet: Jealousy (Draven, Darius, Swain and Garen)

Draven (towards Tamara I presume? dang let them get together already, those awkward simps) Draven and Tamara’s relationship isn’t anything official, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t get jealous. He will dismiss the possibility of her falling for someone else - after all HE is the greatest man she knows! But if he does actually witness anyone else actually hitting on her, he will instantly lose his cool and make sure the person never dares as much as look at Tamara again. He will hardly be stealthy about this, either, but when confronted, he will deny that he’s been jealous at all.

Darius It’s not easy to make Darius jealous. He trusts you enough to not worry when you hang out with people without him around. His trust in you has to be big, as otherwise he wouldn’t consider seriously dating you. However, if you break his trust, you can count on seven hells breaking loose, as he will certainly make sure you DO regret your decision. If it turns out to be a misunderstanding caused by his jealousy, deep down he will regret it for years to come, even if you do make up.

Swain Jericho Swain is never jealous. If you do intend to cheat, he will know it way ahead and simply not let it happen. He will then make sure that you know that he knows, and if you don’t improve your behavior he may not be so lenient with your antics in the future. Play pretend games with him all you want, but you won’t get a tiniest bit of jealousy from him, in fact he may humor you for a while - but better don’t try anything for real.

Garen (towards Katarina) It tortures him - the idea that the woman he loves is worlds apart from him, doing gods-know-what with gods-know-who. Garen is the type of person who loves having his close ones, well, close. He knew what he was signing up for when he decided to start his secret relationship with Katarina. The idea that she may one day find someone who would be more convenient to date scares him, but deep down he knows that it’s unlikely to happen. If she wasn’t serious about him, she wouldn’t risk everything to be with him.

[runeterrankhaleesi]

Garen, what will happen when you eventually tire of the front lines? When your bones ache and your armor becomes too heavy? Will you have found someone to take care of you? A heir to take up the obligation of the Crownguard?

I’m not sure yet but I will retire when the time comes. As for someone to take care of me, I feel doubtful.

[noxturnalmoth]

Under Duress

Pairing: Garen x reader (ft. Sylas) for my buddy @oneoftheextras , this is our frankenbaby, your degeneracy taking form, and we are very proud of it.

Summary: When you fight as Demacia's top two officers, you are bound to be seen as fearsome enemies or important hostages. When you are taken by one of your nation's number one targets, you expect the usual torture, one you can withstand no matter how violent. What you don't expect is the humiliation you will be put through, and how it will leave place to mindnumbing pleasure and shift the relationship you hold with your Commander, Garen Crownguard.

Warnings: Violence, dubious consent, sadism, come eating, throat fucking, mating press, binding (with chains), slight bleeding, cunnilingus, hard dom, soft dom, degradation, praise, impact play, threats, fem reader, penetration, creampie

Word Count: 17, 399

Navigation: here

When you integrated the Dauntless Vanguard, you were young, idealistic, devoted to your nation.

And you still are.

Yet years of battle against the mage menace and Noxians have hardened you into sharp warrior. No longer the sweet young girl you once were, you saw the world as it was. Rotten, needing to be cleansed and wiped clean like a petricite slate.

It was hard at first, the rhythm relentless, no respite, no favors. But you've learned to appreciate the cadence, the harsh training that would leave you bruised, scarred and exhausted beyond belief. The classes, teaching military strategy and the horrors of war to young, bright and impressionable minds quickly engraving their lessons in your mind.

Many stayed simple soldiers, content with helping their country yet wishing to remain free of the many responsibilities of higher ranks. Which was understandable, everyone had the role they felt fit them, and all of them without exception were important to the Demacian rule. To your codes and laws, to your ideals.

But that wasn't you.

From a young age you admired your father, an esteemed Lieutenant in the Mageseeker forces, who died in a mission to protect your land from the beasts in human clothing hiding amongst those in Runeterra. And as such, you strived to become like him. Yet as you got older, you grew to appreciate the Dauntless Vanguard's proactive ways more. Not only defending your nation from scum, but also from Noxians who felt entitled to the whole world after they ruined their own land after following a madman.

So, with years of relentless training, blood, sweat and tears given to the military academy in the capital, you integrated the force. This handful of years in your life building your faith into something stronger, melting your body and forging it into a weapon worthy of being wielded for the Demacian cause. And you quickly made your name known as the best trainee in your year, a reliable force of nature whose only loyalty was her land.

No matter who you were pitted against, you would come out victorious, eyes set ablaze as a war cry ripped through your throat. They may have all left scars, but your triumph over your enemies made you wear them as badges of honor. Traces left to show your devotion to the cause.

Your fervent belief and action were what caught the eye of the then Captain Garen Crownguard and you were quickly switched to his unit. The man representing all you have ever believed Demacia to be. Honorable, righteous, just.

And beautiful.

It's not hard to fall for the charm of someone as kind and gentle as the Crownguard heir. His mannerisms, his way of speaking, his bright mind, his unbelievable strength and stature, he was like if one of the heroes' statues awakened to stand his ground against Demacia's foes. Bringing down his sword as if guided by Lady Kayle herself.

He piqued your interest just as you had piqued his. And while yours stemmed from admiration at the very beginning, it didn't take much time for it to evolve into infatuation.

He would observe you, train you as if to test you and himself, finally finding a worthy opponent to his herculean self. His voice would call out to you during meetings, asking, no, demanding you to give your opinion about tactics. He believed in you and pushed you to become the best version of yourself, day by day, through the deserts of Shurima and the tundra of the Freljord. Through days and nights. At camp, in the capital or at war. He pushed you far beyond what he did to the others.

Yet when you bled, when you suffered losses at war, when you raged and tears of frustration carved their ugly marks in your youthful face, he held you close with a gentleness that betrayed his inhuman size. One arm around you as he cared for whatever ailed you. Whether he was the cause for it or not.

And soon enough what was an unspoken mentor and pupil camaraderie became a friendship. His form seeking yours after hours to speak about the world, about the future, to laugh and drink. To be human when war could rip this away from you.

He was your rock, your anchor in the tumultuous shipwreck of life. And you were his, a reminder of what he fought for. A visionary of Demacia who held hope in their heart, strength in their body and reason in their mind. One who did not falter and would pick him back up whenever his duties became too hard on him, shouldering the burden by his side. Silently, willingly, happily. Doing anything to help the man you both idolized and adored, as a figure and as a complete part of your life. Your devotion to Demacia reflected in your friendship and in your spot at his side in the Dauntless Vanguard.

Years passed and from private you turned Sargent, from Sargent you turned into a Lieutenant, from Lieutenant to Captain. Garen taking his place as Commander within the military. His steadfast belief in the core values of your nation and his sheer power giving him the monicker of The King's Sword or even The Might of Demacia. He made you his right hand, your growth by his side reflected in the pride swirling within his eyes each time he looked at you.

There was nowhere he was that you weren't. Stuck to him at first by his order, then by the knowledge that the two of you together were unbeatable, a perfect duo. Forces to be reckoned with lest you had a death wish. You were his second set of eyes and ears, his body double, his voice when he couldn't attend, his advisor; just as he was yours. The two of you completing each other seamlessly.

The perfect partnership.

Your friendship growing beyond simple casual interactions after hours. Discussions dipping into personal matters about motivations, about the soul, about the world. Your heart bared more often than not as was his. A rawness that had terrified you at first but that you welcomed as a part of your daily life. Friendly quips grew as time passed, sometimes making their way in tactical meetings whenever the time called for it, bemused looks shared between you and Garen that no one else but the two of you would understand.

You would share touches. What began as your bodies meeting in training, simple brushes and humorous slaps on the arm evolved to include intertwined hands, joking dances away from celebrations, embraces after battles, hands brushing the other's hair back or to wipe away at a stain. His immense body dwarfing yours a thousand times over in a way that was both exhilarating and comforting.

Just as your notoriety and friendship grew, so did your infatuation. The seed of attraction softly and slowly growing into something more, something dangerous in this line of work, watered by your proximity in body and in heart with the Commander. Not only was it hard because of the prospect of one's partner dying in battle, the thought of ruining your friendship through a misplaced confession that would be rejected, but there was also the question about the ethics of dating someone hierarchically lower or higher than you are.

Not to mention he was not just a superior but the Commander of the Dauntless Vanguard. The right hand to the King. This was not simply a question of ethics but also of your standing within the army and as a soldier of Demacia opening your faith to the silent worship of something else than the code.

The wish of his strong arms encasing you in their warmth, calloused hands gripping you tight, his muscles rippling beneath your touch, his hot breath and lips against you as the limpid pools of his eyes regarded you with pride and adoration. Fantasies that ate at you at night when you found yourself by your lonesome, spurring sinful purges of the thoughts through your own release, and that scorched you whenever in his presence. The heat of devotion biting, but the coolness of his trust and care for you making the pain ebb away like the waves on the shores of Ionia lick at its dark sand, the wave shifting the dark grains like the doubt in your mind that Garen could ever love you back.

But even through your complicated feelings, and with enough mastery over yourself to hide them, you two soon became the most revered soldiers in Demacia, your people nicknaming you Kayle's Will just as they had given Garen his own names. Your might and intelligence worthy of being bestowed the name of The Protector in the eyes of your nation, your men and your King but also your best friend. Battles never once lost under your guidance, the faith in Demacia stronger than any adversary, fueling your body to keep on going no matter what.

Which is how you found yourself in this situation.

Soldiers rush forward, their shields raised as they let the petricite absorb vile magic only to slide to the side to let their companions rush in with their blades to strike the mages down.

Both sides suffered great losses, and no matter how many battles you've fought, seeing more comrades fall fueled an angry blaze within you. Despite it being your duty, their deaths will always leave a mark on you, making you fight harder than before. Garen by your side reacting the same way. Yet your minds are clear, untainted by rage, calculating every possibility and barking orders to your men as needed.

That was when you saw him, the leader of this band of mages who came from the desolate and frigid mountains of the Freljord, the man who had killed the previous king.

Sylas.

He was proud, stepping forwards as the men fighting part like the red sea. His presence magnetic, pulling you in yet rejecting you. He walked slowly, the drag of the chains trapped within the stone encasing his wrist singing a deadly melody.

And that was when your gaze returned to your Commander, his already on you.

This man had nearly killed Luxanna, Garen's younger sister, and used her to escape his execution. This man had killed your King. This man had led a revolution that killed many of those you grew up with, many of your people, innocents who were just bystanders in his mindless attack.

Your stomach dropped in anger, red seeping in your vision before the Crownguard heir's voice resounded. Somehow still impossibly loud even over the sounds of blades clashing and the arcane being used to spill more Demacian blood.

"Sylas. Under authority of the king and to avenge all of those whom you've forsaken, we will bring you down. You and your men. To avenge our people, to honor our King and to rid the world of the plague of mages."

Your glaive is readied by your side, your body lowered into its stance as your hands grip it tightly, and you slide in front of Garen. Your offensive style being more aggressive than his, you have decided years ago of a combination that can destroy the enemy, topple it over like a house of cards. And it places you first in the line of attack to shock the opponent with your violence, distracting and opening the enemy to the flurry of attacks the King's Sword and yourself would unleash upon them.

"Ah. The Commander and his guard dog. How quaint. I was wondering when you two would make time for little old me instead of dallying around the battlefield. But then again, you're in high demand, such strong and important people are bound to be called everywhere."

The man saunters over, his words smug yet biting beneath their confidence, his smirk slicing at you like a blade would. Your face sets at the nickname he utters for you, nearly spat out mockingly as his eyes set on the both of you.

"I'm honored." He bows with a flourish of his hand, steps growing heavier, the chains at his wrists rattling and trailing besides him.

"You will not speak of my Captain in such a way, Sylas." Garen all but spits, his hold over Judgment, his broadsword, tighter as he straightens. His own body readying itself behind you, towering over your form like a terrifying shadow.

"Your rebellion ends now. Give up and we'll allow some mercy on you and your men. If not, there is nothing that will stop your demise. It is fated, so give yourself some respite, mage. Unless pain is what you seek." Your voice is strong, unwavering as your stance, your hands positioning the blade of your pole arm down, drawing a literal line in the sand. A boundary.

But Sylas scoffs, stopping in front of the line you traced before him.

"Mercy? Respite? Don't make me laugh, lady. As for pain?" He steps on the line, yet doesn't cross it. "Your people have made us suffer already for long enough. We aren't afraid anymore, and we won't back down. So do your worse little soldier, Commander Crownguard, you will not win."

As soon as the tips of his toes pass the carved threshold your blade is turned up, slicing towards the man before you jump away, letting Garen begin his onslaught. You strike down at the enemy's feet, your arms unnaturally using the momentum to pivot the blade and slash upwards in a milisecond before clashing against the ground. Your very own swallow's strike, the one attack attributed to you that none in the army could copy.

You continue with quick stabs, your body sliding on the ground and behind him to slash at this Achilles' heel. Meanwhile Garen strikes with simple attacks, his speed betraying his size. Yet while Sylas gets slashed and bleeds, he shows no sign of slowing down. Whipping you with his chains, their metal wrapping around the pole of your glaive.

"Garen, switch!"

The man nods at you and you abandon your weapon before jumping aside, Garen rushing at Sylas as you take Judgment and swirl with it, using momentum to be able to strike downwards at the enemy while your comrade uses the chain wrapped around your glaive to slam him down.

"Switch!"

"Yes, sir!"

His blade returns to him while your pole is held tightly between your hands and you two strike at once.

"You two really are pissing me off." Sylas smirks, his fists swinging and his body twisting to escape and attack despite your relentlessness.

"Too damn bad." You grunt, twirling your pole as you lean back, slicing a circle in the air that nicks your opponent to his face, a little too close to his eye. "That's part our gods damned job." And with a heavy step forward you bring the blade down heavily, like the strike of a hammer coming from the heavens and splitting the ground apart into a chasm.

"You bitch." He chuckled, rushing up your weapon before catching you by the throat and flipping up and behind you, slamming you on your back.

"Sylas!" The man is sent away with a swing of a blade, Garen's gentle hand pulling you up and behind him protectively as you wheeze, your armor feeling too tight all of a sudden. The airborne suplex knocking the air out of your lungs and rattling your bones uncomfortably in such a way that you know your spine will bruise while your friend glowers to the man before you.

"What is it, my esteemed Commander?" Sylas mocks, eyes wide and lips snarling.

"Don't you dare speak of her in such a way or I'll make sure that the years you've spent wasting away in your cell feel like the best ones of your life." Garen's voice is low, threatening and filled with an aggression you've never seen in him.

Your enemy chuckles, the chortles evolving into maniacal laughter.

"So you're the guard dog, then." He states, his stature suddenly straightening. "How fun."

Blades clash once more, the man somehow keeping with the both of you.

As if all of this was premeditated.

"Garen, something's wrong." Your friend nods, his back to yours before he holds your hand and swings you in his hold. His blade, broad and strong, protects you and deflects Sylas, before you unravel from the oldest Crownguard's hold, slashing in diagonal motions before rushing forwards with your glaive held towards the adversary. But before you can stab him, you plant your blade into the ground, vaulting over him as Garen strikes.

Your own slash delivered behind Sylas, cutting through his back before you slide between his legs and back in front of him to Garen, slashing his inner thigh in the process, his body crumbling to its knees.

"Sylas what in the realms are you planning?"

"One man can't simply hold his own against the two of you, can he?" He tuts, panting heavily and twitching in pain yet remaining on his two feet. Glowering up at the two of you.

"No, he can't. Now tell us what the catch is, mage." You circle around him, eyes observing every movement, every breath.

He chuckles darkly, his eyes following you. "But where would the fun be in that, mh?"

You scoff, getting closer and pointing the end of your blade to his neck, the weapon drawing a bloody line on the skin, your hands sliding on the pole as you walk to him.

"I wouldn't try my luck."

"Right, because I'm on the ground and you're on top. I'm so threatened, darling. Quaking in my boots." He mocks as you grip his hair, pulling it to tilt his head up while you point your glaive at his chest.

Garen is behind him, observing as he snarls down at the mage. His sword drawn and pointed to the man's back.

"Why attack now? And why the burst of confidence while you're under the blades of the two strongest soldiers in Demacia?"

Sylas tuts, his look haughty even in this position.

"Answer her!"

"Oh gods, calm down mutt. Your voice is gritting, I'd much rather listen to your lady friend's dulcet tones." Your blade pierces his chest lightly, lips pulling further down and your eyebrows furrowing at the lack of respect. Your grip tightens on the pole as he disregards you while actively mentioning you to Garen.

"The lady friend is here you scum." You grit out.

"Why so angry, mh? You'd look ravishing if you weren't bitter from Demacia's poison."

"Sylas, I will say it one last time. You disrespect her again and I will make your life a living hell."

"Oh bite me, Crownguard." The man chortles again. "Your people already have. What do I have to lose? My life? Oh no, how tragic." His voice falls flat and so does his face.

"Oh trust me, you've seen nothing." Your friend snarls.

"Oh I bet I haven't, but you have, haven't you?" Sylas' eyes rake over you mischievously, smirking when Garen grips him by the jaw to snap his head up, gazes meeting.

"You're on thin ice."

"And you still haven't done anything."

You see Garen's jaw clench, his face pulled in such an expression of hate that you don't recognize the man before you. Your heart squeezing as his eyes trail to you, softening yet swirling with a maelstrom of intensity.

"Step back, Captain."

"Commander?" You question, removing your blade from it's bleeding indent in Sylas' chest and walking backwards slowly, your eyebrows lowering in confusion.

"I think it's time I teach this man some manners. If he cannot respect you, then no mercy shall be given to him."

"How sweet of you. Who knew you were such a teddy bear for a simple woman who's below you?" The enemy pouts as Garen retreats, Judgment held tightly in his hand while he raises it.

"Sylas, do me a favor and just die already." He growls, a sword of light coming down onto the mage as Garen strikes down.

"Garen don't!"

The impact forces you to plant your glaive in the ground to keep yourself from flying away, your eyes closing at the brightness of it. But soon enough it all feels wrong, you sense it, something in the air shifted.

Garen has made a major error, and you don't know what it is.

A hand grips your neck tight and you suffocate, your back hitting something hard as your hands are chained together. The chuckle is unmistakable. Sylas is behind you and he's strong, and most importantly he is untouched.

His hands clean, his lungs expanding at an unhurried pace as his chin lands on your shoulder, his face clean from blood and wounds.

Shakily, your eyes trail to the dissipating Justice of Demacia, no body laying in its wake. The only trace of something being left behind is a puddle of blood.

"Surprise~" The voice of the man whom you believed to be dead murmurs teasingly in your ear, his lips grazing it. "Did you two truly forget who I am?"

Garen stands, wide eyed and heaving, unmoving in shock before his face twists once more, body suddenly rushing forwards.

"I simply had to copy one of my comrades' ability. How useful it is to be able to clone oneself, mh?"

The grip around your neck tightens and you whimper, your voice rough and eyes blurry from the lack of oxygen.

"Calm down, Commander. Or the lady gets it. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" The chains tug at your wrists, the pull making you croak at the pain.

"Garen. Kill him." You manage, eyes teary as you try to squirm. Kicking backwards while the man behind you grabs you tighter, the pain around your throat and on your arms multiplied at each step Garen takes, at each way you try to get away from him.

But your friend stops. Planting his greatsword in the ground as his eyes widen, eyebrows raising and furrowing in raw concern.

"So you'd rather put your mission in jeopardy than hurt your Captain?" Sylas hums, the thrum of his chest, shaking your body as your eyes begin to roll back. "To whom pertains your loyalty if you can't finish the mission you were sent out to do? The new King should be worried at who serves under him."

The musings of your enemy seem to make the flames of Garen's anger burn brighter, like a hearth growing into a forest fire. But he contains himself, taking steps back. And the further away he gets, the more the pressure on your neck lightens, some oxygen finally reaching your lungs.

"Leave her out of this."

"And why would I do that? You two are my enemy all the same as I am yours, you've never hesitated to hunt down my people, so why should I hesitate in killing yours?"

You're brought down to your knees by a swing of his legs, wheezing and coughing at the sudden rush of air and the burning pain in your legs and arms, tears falling from your eyes against your will.

"Garen, please, just end him!"

"He'll kill you."

"Then so be it. Gods damn it Garen I'm ready to die for my country, it's what I've been preparing for all my life! He is a menace to Demacia, to you. He will hurt you, all of them, he'll wreak havoc if we let him leave! Just let me die!" You desperately plead, voice breathless and broken at the heaviness of your own lies. Their weight crushing you with the guilt of losing sight of your code.

"I won't let you!" He yells, his voice cracking. "I can't.."

A chain wraps around your neck, pulling you up like a puppet before Sylas.

"Aw. How touching." Your feet hang inches above ground, Sylas serving as your personal gallows. His other hand gripping your jaw tight enough that you know it'll bruise. "How about a deal, then? Mh?"

"I will take no deal of yours, you vile creature. And neither will she."

"Oh. No no no, you will take it. Because you either do, or it'll end up really badly for your little friend."

Garen's offensive stance tenses further, anger morphing his features until his eyes trail to you, softening with concern and something far more gentle. Something intimate. Something vulnerable.

He stands there, pondering as he pants, panic overtaking his body while his eyes snap around him, trying to find an exit rout, a plan to get you out safe, something, anything. But when he doesn't and desperation settles heavy in his stomach, he looks back to you, hanging from the chain at your neck as you claw at it weakly. Your body exhausted from the fight and the lack of oxygen does you no good, your form pathetically squirming while sniffles escape you. Wishing nothing more than to be in Garen's arms.

Truth is, death seems like the most terrifying thing to you at the moment, your own previous words nothing but lies to encourage Garen to finish the mission so the dangerous man holding you hostage would finally be taken out of this world. Because you'd be left without him. And he'd be left without you. And the prospect of your loneliness in the vast emptiness of the afterlife while he remains in the land of the living makes your heart shrivel.

Not only would you be left alone, never to feel his presence alongside yours again, to be forgotten, but you have to swallow the bitterness of this loneliness with the fact that he would have to deal with your death for the rest of his days in Runeterra. That he would be hurt, alone, grieving without the possibility to be comforted ever again, without the want or need to let someone else in his heart as he has with you.

You know that it would leave a hole in his soul, he had told you so once.

"If you ever were to die, I don't think I could live with myself anymore. I can take the deaths of comrades, of my men. But never will I be able to take yours."

He had said, looking up at the starry sky after you asked him about his reaction to losing you in battle.

And now as you stand at the door to the afterlife, you're terrified at what will happen to him. Your own death mattering little against what he means to you, what you mean to him.

"What is your deal, mage. Speak."

Sylas tuts behind you, like a parent scolding his unruly child.

"You're in no place to make demands, Commander." His hand wraps further around the chain holding your neck, your body elevating a couple more inches above ground, your neck trapped in a vice as your vision darkens once more.

"Sylas, stop!" Garen yells. "..Please, tell me the conditions of your deal."

"Good boy." The man behind you muses, the chain around your neck loosening and your feet finding the ground once more. "If you two surrender yourselves to us, we'll stop attacking and leave the rest of your men alive. As simple as that."

Your friend shakes, baited breath rattling his heavy armor, his body crumpling to the ground as his eyes shake at the proposal and at the sight before him.

He looks wrecked. Desperate. Fearful.

And this is the first time you see him like that.

Gone is the valiant Commander. All that's left is the boy in the armor. A lonely boy who could lose is best friend, his only friend, if he doesn't make the right choice. But who would betray all he stands for by saving her.

"Time is ticking, Crownguard." Sylas begins to imitate the sounds of a clock as he swings you from side to side.

Garen calls out your name and tears begin to fall from your eyes once more, a monsoon of grief rolling over the valleys of your cheeks.

"Please Garen." You sniffle.

"What do I do? Please, guide me once more, I beg of you." Comes his own shaky answer.

"I'm scared."

Your sobs break him further and you see his resolve crumble.

"Take us, just please. I beg of you. Stop hurting her." His lips tremble as he bows, surrendering for the first time in his life.

For you.

"Good choice."

The rest is a blur. Your body thrown to Garen like a vulgar toy makes him nearly lash out but he remains calm, your form cradled in his arms gently through the length of the way to the Freljord. The cold biting you as you curl up in his arms, his voice comforting you softly while he looks ahead, eyes glossing over when he looks down to your broken form. Your neck and jaw blooming deep purple bruises that fade to greens when you reach an old, abandoned outpost. The both of you thrown and chained in a cell, huddling together for comfort and warmth, your armors ripped from you as are your weapons.

"Why?"

"To have leverage against your people. What can they do without the two of you? They're left defenseless, not the Commander nor his right hand can save them now. Demacia is weak and now, they will listen. And they will learn. Never will we be hunted like animals and treated like mere cattle ever again." Sylas' voice is dark as he slams the cell's door close.

You shake and shiver, clinging to Garen like a lifeline as the chains shackling your hands and feet remind you of the one that wrapped around your neck weeks before. Your eyes stinging each time you look at them.

"I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry." He whispers again and again, day by day. "We'll make it, we always do. I won't let them hurt you. I promise."

Your voice never answers with anything but sobs, your body clinging to him tighter, tears wetting Garen's shirt while he holds you and caresses you. Never does his patience falter, never does he let go, needing your presence by his side as much as you need his.

You hold one another tightly, muttering words of comfort while you're desperately scraping by for any reason to stay strong. Your nation. Your people. The need to keep them protected and safe as you fight tooth and nail for them.

In the end, two weeks pass before you're taken away, screaming for Garen as you're placed in a cell far from him. Your voice raw and your nails bloody as you're dragged away from your sole source of comfort, of familiarity. From the man who holds you so gently even when the world grows cruel and sharp, cutting away at you two you until there is nothing left but scraps that you both piece back together. Again and again, no matter how much it hurts.

"Hello little lady." Sylas muses, every time he comes around. His voice cocky and his gait confident, he looks down at you with condescension. He usually only says this as he delivers your meals, simply entertained by your pathetic, shackled, curled up self. Panting from being beaten mere minutes before, more bruises covering your skin each day that passes.

"It's funny, isn't it. The two highest ranking soldiers of the Dauntless Vanguard dropping their credo just because they can't let go of one another." He teases on the seventh day.

"What do you want, Sylas." You spit out, trying to keep your voice steady even though the days without Garen seem longer the more they pass, minutes feeling like hours, hours like days, days like weeks.

"Simply to break your spirits. I have no information that I need from either of you, we're just biding our time until your King begs and grovels for you to come back."

"And what do you need from him?" You grit your teeth, tired eyes trailing to the man who crouches before you, currently patting your head.

"To change his fucking policy about my people, darling. Because unless what you believe, we're not evil. But hunt people down, chain them for long enough by their lonesome and torture them and you'll have a storm coming. That's how it works."

His hand grips your hair and tilts your head upwards to meet his limpid gaze. Ice cold like the sky in the Freljord.

"Then ain't it dangerous to do the same to the head of the military and his right hand?" You glower. "Maybe you're just stupid then."

"Oh no, darling. I'm not. You wanna know why?" He brings you closer, his facial hair rubbing on your cheek as he whispers in your ear. "Because if either of you tries something, then the other will die. If one of you is alive we still have our leverage, the rest is simply revenge."

And with that he drops you, your head slamming onto the stone floors, and leaves you with the knowledge of your current uselessness. There is nothing you can do without risking Garen and nothing he can do without risking you. You're on your own until the King sends for you.

If he even does.

Would you two be replaced, simple cogs in the war machine that has existed long before you and will exist long after your demise? Or do you two hold enough importance for the King to bargain and change the code that was born alongside your nation simply to have you back at the head of his armies.

Days pass, leaving you to stew in your own hopelessness as you are fed moldy bread, hardened by the cold, stale and given with a slice of whatever else they decided to accompany it with. You're given water like a dog, poured in a bowl they lay on the ground, kicked until you comply by drinking for it on all fours.

In this loneliness you're forced to acknowledge just how much you need Garen. Just how a world without him is harsher, unlivable, impossible to survive in as you shrivel up in his absence. Your feelings for him just seem to grow bigger and stronger in his absence, in this situation you are currently in.

You were content with just being his advisor and his duo once, his friend and nothing more. Content with the scraps of the man you desired whole. But the distance made you realize how badly mistaken you were, fooling yourself to not realize that your feelings of adoration and devotion ran much deeper than a crush, than liking someone. No, you love him beyond even the credo that is engraved in your flesh and mind, you love him above your King and your nation.

And so did he.

He had given up a chance to leave the band of mages without a leader, the chance to kill one of the most wanted criminals in Demacia and an entire group of arcane wielders, simply to save you.

And within the loneliness of your cell you come to the realization that you could have had him all along. Wasting time with stupid ethical reasons from an antiquated code of conduct while each day could be the last you spend by his side. While you could be loving him and him loving you instead of dancing around the question. Instead of interpreting every word, every breath, every reaction, every touch. Suffering when near, unable to cut down the growing affection, but even more when away, unable to handle distance. Both emotional and physical.

And he had probably been feeling just the same.

How cruel. Being blind to the thing that could make you happy, simply because of your reluctance to ruin something that couldn't be corrupted or broken, simply because of fear of being undesired while all signs pointed to the opposite.

"How is Garen?" You choke out at the end of the second week.

"Oh he's…Alive." Sylas muses.

"What have you done to him?"

"Oh stop behaving like this woman, we're just giving him some time alone. Now that I think about it…when did we last see him?"

The realization dawns on you that they haven't been feeding Garen, Sylas' grin as he leaves tells you as much. So you ration, bits of bread, meat and cheese shoved in the pockets of your pants for the next two days, skipping your single meal so you can provide him with one filling enough for his size, careful to keep it safe when more men come to paint your body black and blue.

On the dawn of the third week, you're dragged back to your shared cell, and the sight there is enough to make you want to claw at everyone, a rage stronger than you've felt before taking a hold of you. But you abandon it, wishing for no harm to come to Garen.

He looks sickly, like a shadow of himself. His eyes red and empty, his hair mussed as he sits still with his back to the cold stone wall and his legs stretched in front of him.

Your body is pushed, and you fall forwards, crawling your way to your friend as someone locks your chains to the wall fixtures, the door slamming shut behind you afterwards.

"Garen, hey."

His eyes snap to you in disbelief, he looks dreary from up close, his skin paler than before, cheeks growing gaunt, purple eyebags decorating the skin below his clear blue eyes.

"What have they done to you?" He croaks, his arms wrapping around you as his eyes tiredly trail over your bruised body.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here now."

"It does matter." His voice shakes, anger flashing in his eyes, his voice breathless and drawled, dry from dehydration. "Because you do."

"And so do you." You reach in your pockets. "I know they've been starving you, so I've been saving up food for you. It isn't much, but it should do the trick."

"How many days of food is this?"

"Two. It's fine, I'm alright. You take it. Please, Garen you haven't eaten in two weeks."

He shakes his head stubbornly, softness overtaking his gaze.

"No. Go on, eat. I'll be alright, but you need to remain strong and healthy okay? if not for yourself do it for me. I can't do much if I don't have you by my side."

"Garen, you've been starved! Please, at the very least share with me. I can't lose you either, I simply can't. We have to stay strong, the both of us." Your empty hand shakily goes to his chin, your thumb caressing his lower lip and pulling it open.

As soon as you rip some of the bread and put it along with cured meat in a reasonable portion, you place it in his mouth, doing the same for yourself. The two of you chewing, before one of Garen's hands slides to your hair, pulling your head to his, your foreheads touching gently.

After he swallows this first bite, his stomach screams in hunger, the first taste of food in weeks awakening his body to the extent of his hunger.

Claps resound in the room, your head and Garen's gaze snapping to the closing door behind you, Sylas sauntering in the room with his sadistic smirk. His eyes trained on the both of you with satisfaction.

"How cute, the lady feeding a starving dog. Now, don't stop on my account, this is too sweet to miss." He muses.

You glower yet you reach in your pockets again, repeating your previous actions until your pockets go empty.

"I'm sorry I don't have more." You sigh softly.

"Never apologize, dove. You doing this is already much more than you should have done in the first place. Thank you. For caring for me in such a way." Garen whispers to you, his forehead on yours once more.

"I came here for entertainment. So how about we stop whispering and start having fun, mh?"

The mage rips you away from Garen's arms, too weak to fight back, a kick delivered to your friend as you slam against a wall. Your bruised back sending wave after wave of white hot pain. You crawl back to the both of them as another kick is delivered, your arms wrapping around Sylas' ankles to prevent a third one.

"Stop!" Your voice goes raw from the yell. "Please, just stop. Hurt me again, do whatever you want to me, I don't care. Just don't hurt him." You choke out shakily. "Please stop hurting him."

When Sylas turns to you, you see the smug, self-satisfied look over his face.

"Look at this Commander, your Captain is protecting you! That's just heartwarming." He places a hand over his chest, swooning. "Oh, young love."

Your hair is grabbed, your body half lifted from the floor as your scalp burns from the sudden harsh grip. You grit your teeth, eyes closed in pain and fist clenching to not fight back as you repeat a mantra in your mind.

If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen. If you hurt him, he'll hurt Garen.

"She's obedient too." He says with faked sweetness. "But I suppose that's to be expected from a good little soldier, mh darling?"

You open your eyes to glare at the man, his tongue clicking in his mouth at the sight of your sneer.

"Answer while I talk to you, darling." He grips your throat softly and you shake, visions of your fight against him coming back and forcing gasps to escape your lungs. Quick and harsh, like you are being choked and lack air.

But you're not, and don't. Even if your body reacts like it's the case.

"Let her go, Sylas. Can't you see she's had enough." Garen spits out, his eyes desperate as he looks at you and reaches up.

"She will have enough when I say she does. And that is when she answers me like a proper lady and answers when she's spoken to." He clips back, Garen widening his eyes as you are lifted up by your hair.

Your eyes grow wet with tears that soon break the dam of your lashes, dripping down your face, leaving trails of salt water on your cheeks that Sylas licks away.

"You disgusting prick." Garen glowers, trying to get up before the man holding you up chokes you further, your mind sent into a terrified frenzy, more tears running down your face along with cries for help.

"Shh, darling." He shushes. "Just answer, like you're supposed to and you won't get hurt." His voice is sickly sweet.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Yes, I'm a good little soldier." You shake, sobs escaping you as he hums in approval.

"Why?"

"Because I'm obedient."

"Good girl. See? That Wasn't hard. You should learn from her Garen, unless you want more harm done."

But as his hand travels from your purple neck to your cheek, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, you hear your Commander call out weakly and shakily from the ground.

“Fine, I'll do it." His eyes are glossy, chest heaving as he trembles, his hands twitching at his sides. "I'll do whatever you want just, please I beg of you, keep your hands off of her.”

Sylas drops you and Garen swoops you in his arms, cradling you to his chest.

"There you are. Good to see you've learned." The man caresses your friend's face softly, slapping his cheek haughtily. "Now. Why the hell didn't you take your chance, mh?"

Garen swallows, his eyes glaring upwards to Sylas. "What do you mean?" His voice is low, restrained to not let himself say something that could get you two punished, especially you.

"Don't play clueless, Commander. It doesn't suit you." The mage articulates slowly, his eye twitching. "You like your little lady friend. A lot more than you should. But that's why you haven't confessed, right? Because you're afraid of how you'll be seen, how she'll be seen. You wanted to do good by her, be a gentleman, treat her like a proper lady, but you've never found the courage to for gods know how long. But it doesn't keep you from wanting her, and you want her so gods damned bad, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be protecting her like this. So willing to take all that I give you like a good little bitch."

His face gets closer and you curl on yourself tighter, trying to will yourself into disappearing from the room, making yourself as small as possible. Untouchable by the man breaching your space.

"I…I don't know what you mean."

The small slaps stop and Garen's face snaps to the side, reddened by the sudden strike from Sylas.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, King's Sword. Now let's try this again, shall we?" The man breathes, caressing your friend's face with a fake pout. "You want her, don't you?"

Garen's arms tighten around you before he sighs, kissing your forehead.

"I do." Weakly comes out of his lips.

"What's that? I didn't hear you."

"If I didn't want her to be mine, then I wouldn't be here, holding her bruised body while you still breathe. You would be dead and so would she. But….I can't- I can't let harm come to her." He rests his chin above you, the rumble of his chest soothing your tears. "I love her too much to be without her. I don't think I could live with myself."

Your head lifts and your gazes meet, your eyebrows raising as a hand climbs to caress his face.

"Garen?"

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before. And I'm sorry this is how you learn. I just didn't want to-"

"-Lose me?" He nods and you huff out a weak laugh. "I don't think you could have. Not then, not now, not ever."

His eyes widen, his mind quickly linking the dots together before his eyes gloss over once more, a soft sniffle escaping him as he rubs your noses together.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The way he calls out your name is broken, to which you respond with a multitude of soft "It's okay".

"I love playing matchmaker. Look at you two, aren't you just the cutest." Sylas swoons. "Now, what do lovers do, Captain?"

You shake as his attention returns to you, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.

"They….kiss?"

"Good girl. What else?"

Images come to your mind, flashes of nude bodies tangling, soft moaning and touches fueling desires further as you grow fuller and fuller. Garen's eyes staring at you, half lidded and filled with adoration, his name slipping from your lips as you whimper, your nails sliding down his back while his arms hold you closer and closer as if to fuse you within his body. It's hot, slow, deliberate and purposeful, the love you hold for one another making the moment nothing short of holy.

But your fantasy is cut short when a hand grips your jaw.

"What. Else?" Sylas spits out, his eyes slicing through you viciously. "I know you've got an idea, pet. Come on, don't be shy."

You swallow, throat now too dry, the hand at your jaw tightening. "…They make love."

You're rewarded with your jaw being freed from the bruising grip, the calloused hand now resting on Garen's head. Petting away like one would a dog.

"And he hasn't done that, has he? But you've wanted to for so long. Haven't you?"

You nod and Garen's hair is suddenly pulled, his head tilted upwards.

"Look at that, Garen. All's well in the world, the hero can have the girl. How sweet." His voice lowers to a rumble. "And you want to fuck her too, don't you?"

"Yes." Garen grits out.

"How badly?"

The man beneath you shakes, shivers racking through him as he looks down at you apologetically. "So much I touch myself to the thought of her."

A maniacal chuckle escapes Sylas. "And you finally have a chance to do what you've craved for so long. How serendipitous."

The man leaves your side before you hear him drag something back to you, a thud resounding as you look at him, now sitting on a chair.

"Now that we've established you two love one another, what's stopping you? Go on, Commander, take what's rightfully yours."

"How dare you?" Garen shifts, his voice biting as he brings you even closer. "We won't be doing this. Not here, and even less in your presence, you psychotic scum."

"Let me reiterate in a way that you can understand you mindless meat shield." The chair creaks as Sylas leans forwards, elbows on his knees. "You will fuck her, right here, right now. You have no choice."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll make you wish you had. If you'd rather be a coward than take her, I guess I'll have my turn. Take her for myself. Fuck her like you would never be able to, make her feel better than you ever could."

Garen tenses, his breathing heavy and loud. His face twisted by anger as he swallows, pure disdain setting every inch in his body.

"You fucking-"

"Such a foul mouth, Commander. If you don't want your sweetheart to pay for your actions, I suggest you don't try me. I'm offering you all you've ever wanted and that's how you reward me? By insulting me?"

Sylas leans back on his chair, his legs spread wide open as he looks down upon the two of you, his face stone cold as his patience runs thin.

"If you decide to continue that way I'll have no choice but to make you watch as you lose her to me, I'll make you see and hear all you will never be able to achieve. Call your pathetic display 'manners' or whatever you wish, I'll call it how it is. You're pathetic, and now I'll indulge as you break. I'll take away from you the chance I'm giving you so generously, to use her pretty little cunt like you've dreamed to while you desperately fisted your cock like a bitch in heat."

Garen struggles as he lifts the both of you off of the ground, his hands never leaving you as he uses his back to push himself up, backing the two of you into the corner the farthest away from Sylas that you can reach with your chains binding you to the wall.

"Or maybe I'll just make it worse on you. make you break her, make her see just how truly despicable you are. How beastly you can be. How monstrous. I'll have you ruin her for me, enact my vision, lay my claim through you. But you'll feel her, oh yes that you will. You'll obey or I'll take her from you and make you watch as I mold her to my shape and take away all you ever desired from her for myself."

Your throat goes dry, eyes wide as the conversation continues, Garen's arms protecting you from none of the horrible words thrown your way. Long gone is the vision of you, a noble soldier serving a noble cause, and you are reduced to nothing but a way to hurt the man you love. His grip tight, warm yet doing nothing to comfort you anymore as you're confronted with the cruelty of your enemy's creative mind.

Mages are beasts. Mages are monsters. And this simply proves to you that you are right in thinking so.

Bile rising in your throat in disgust as Garen goes to defend you again.

"I won't defile her just so you can have your fun, Sylas. She deserves something delicate, not your beastly ways. You may hate me and torture me all you want but don't you dare suggest something that involves her."

"I suggest you tone down on the rebuttals, boy. She's as much of a murderer as you are and thus she deserves this as much as you do. I'll do as I please with the both of you until I am satisfied to make you pay for all you've done. All the lives you took. Now whether she's delicate or not, I don't give a fuck. And the less you entertain me, the more you fight back, the worse it'll be for you."

The response is nonchalant, devoid of any empathy or humanity as you are regarded as a pawn in this vile game.

"Would you let harm come to her because you refuse to give in to your base instincts? Or better yet." The tone grows condescending. "Will you let Garen be hurt because of his inaction, when something so simple can be done? When you can enjoy each other the way you've craved for a long time. I will just be a bystander enjoying the show."

The chair creaks as he stands, getting closer.

"Or do you wish me to be more than that?" Sylas' hands trail up your ribs.

"Get your filthy hands off of her, you monster."

"Ah-ah." Sings the older man. "Wrong answer." His lips trail up your neck. "Try again, Commander."

The realization comes like a twisted epiphany. Sylas will not relent, he will use this weakness of yours to break the two of you, burn you alive until nothing is left but ashes. And a failure to comply will surely lead one of you to their demise, untimely, gruesome and sadistic, in the name of revenge. A death that will leave the other a shell of themselves.

But then comes the question of what would be left of you if you did go on with his maniacal plans.

Garen, the sweet man he is, will never touch you in a way that degrades or demean you. Preferring to care for you like a gentleman, his eyes never wild, his words always thought out, his touches soft and gentle.

And that would leave Sylas.

A man who would take and take and take, until nothing is left of you. A man who would hollow out a space for himself in your heart in order to wring it dry for his own pleasure. A man who would care not for your pleasure nor your comfort and only use you until you are nothing but a broken toy he wants nothing to do with anymore.

And that would be much more horrible than death for you. You'd rather die with dignity than live with yourself after such an event.

"Garen." You call out softly, your hand cradling his cheek softly, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw. "It's okay, you don't have to do it, you don't have to let him win."

"He'll hurt you."

"But you wouldn't have anything to lose anymore." Your voice is soft as you tremble in his arms. You fear your fate, but trust in his judgment, in the goodness of his heart with the whole of yours.

"Exactly. I wouldn't have anything." His eyes shake in panic, looking to Sylas. "I can't allow that to happen. I'm sorry dove, but I simply can't. I've gone this far for you, and I'll go further if you allow me to. I just need you by my side. I can't live without you. Please." His voice breaks as his gaze maps out your face, as if carving it beneath his eyelids to never forget it.

Your eyes widen at his words. He would let himself be humiliated, led around like a disobedient pet, simply to protect you from harm in any way.

"Do you truly wish to-"

"I can't, on my honor and yours, allow a man like him to defile you in such a way, defile your memory in such a way. I do this with the utmost respect for you as my second in command-" His eyes meet yours, locking your gazes in something so utterly loving that you can't help but feel your heart clench painfully. "-and as the woman I love. So please, please allow me to have you. Allow me to love you even if it's under duress so I don't have to suffer you being harmed any further. I don't think I can handle seeing you hurt anymore."

You take a second to breathe, to get your ideas in place after his display of devotion.

You can't fault him for doing such a thing, for begging in such a way, because you know that you would do the same.

"Okay." You unravel yourself in his arms and he gently sets you on the ground, Sylas stepping back to observe.

Your second hand joins its sister, holding Garen's face with all the gentleness you can muster as you lean on your tip toes, the man before you leaning down to meet you half way. The kiss is tentative, soft, a brush of the lips that is so shy it feels like a simple breeze. And when you pull away, you lick at yours, tasting the remnants of his warmth before locking your eyes with Garen's once more and diving back in. This kiss tangling your lips together in a slow, deliberate dance, your partner's hands holding your hips and encasing you in their warmth, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your skin while you taste each other's sighs and breaths. Tongues meeting shyly with fearful touches, testing the waters before they embrace one another.

Your heartbeat grows faster, Garen's touch electrifying on your bare skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, your face pulling away from his and arms raising to let him throw the article of clothing away. Your own hands helping in doing the same for him, revealing a scarred, chiseled chest, abs carved onto his flesh as if it were petricite. And your fingers lose no time in splaying over the taut muscle, hot and shifting beneath your touch.

"Gods I love you." Your name is uttered with the reverence of a preacher in church, praising his deity.

"As do I. I love you Garen, beyond what any words could express."

And your lips meet once more, still soft, loving and gentle, yet displaying more urgency. Your hands exploring the newly revealed skin, Garen's hand undoing your brassiere. His hands don't hesitate to hold and knead at the soft flesh of your breasts as you drop the article to the ground, soft moans leaving you at his ministrations. His thumbs roll over your nipples gently as his face leaves yours, the man kissing his way down your neck, softly sucking, kissing and biting his brand into your skin.

"You're divine." He gets to his knees, kissing down your clavicles, down your sternum, his hands thumbing at the hem of your pants as his mouth finds one of your breasts, suckling on it with a low groan.

One of your hands finds his hair, soft sighs leaving you as it pulls and caresses, the other one finding the belt and button holding your bottoms together and undoing them slowly. Garen's eyes find yours as his lips lavish your other breast and a soft groan escaping his throat in both affirmation and question. Your nod is the only answer he needs as the hooks his thumbs over the hem and pushes it down to your feet, a small movement from you kicking them away.

Garen's lips make their way down again, passing your stomach, down to the last piece of garment you are wearing, his teeth biting the top of it as his eyes never leave yours. He tilts his head down, shifting his body alongside it to pull your underwear down to your ankles, kissing his way back up like a penitent wishing for absolution.

You kneel before him, copying his ministrations as you mark your way down his body, your breathing heavy with nerves and desire as you taste his skin beneath your tongue, your mouth soon feeling the trail of hair below his navel. Your fingers softly pull away at the ties of his trousers and hook around their hem as wall as his drawls', pulling both down as you placate your chest to his, your head tilting up to meet his lips in yet another slow, adoring kiss.

Shivers make their way through your body as you feel him, hot and heavy against your stomach, a moan escaping your mouth only for Garen to taste it, groaning back at the sudden friction on his member. Your hands gripping at his nape and pulling him in further as he gently lays you down on the cold stone, his skin hot as he cradles you close, his lips biting at yours and his tongue lavishing your own before he is forced up.

"As adorable as this is, I'm growing bored. And you don't want that now, do you Commander?" Sylas groans, his hand shoved in Garen's hair before he drops it, gently caressing your hair with false care, his smile soft but his eyes mocking.

You pant, thighs clenching as you look down at the blooming bruises left by Garen's lips on your body and at the thin strip of saliva connecting your mouth to his.

"I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry." You shudder, your back arching as he kisses his way back down your body.

"I love you." He palms at your breasts, pushing them together only to kiss and lick while his eyes find yours once more.

"I admire you. Your strength, your devotion, your heart." He kisses down your stomach.

"You are the thing that I desire most in this world. Anything else be damned, the King, the code." He dips and kisses up your inner thighs, his arms hooked below your knees. "You're all I need. Now and forever. And I'll love you with all my heart, do all I can to engrave this fact in your mind."

That is when Sylas' hand takes a hold of Garen's hair once more, his other hand forcing your hips down as lips clash with your molten core. The sudden stimulation enough to make you pant and arch from the floor.

"A whore like you doesn't deserve to talk. But that'll keep you fed and quiet, won't it mutt? You were so hungry weren't you? Then fucking eat." He brings Garen closer, moving his head up and down to make his lips and nose brush against your entrance, up towards your bundle of nerves and back down.

The hands at your thighs grip you tight, your shuddering whimpers growing as Garen inhales, his own groans leaving him. Then you feel it, a tentative brush of his tongue on your clit, then a slight suckle from his plush lips, a nudge of his nose and a long, flattened lick going from your hole to your bud. The movement shy, apologetic, yet beyond pleasurable as your thighs clench around Garen's head and your moans grow.

It takes time, Sylas guiding his head further in your pussy, manually forcing the man between your legs to taste you. But Garen soon needs no more guidance, his lips no longer shy in their sucking, his tongue no longer tentative in its licks, even softly prodding at your entrance. His cadence the same imposed by Sylas. It's fast, desperate, yet even when the man takes his hand out of your partner's head, he continues. Eating a euphemism for the way you are being devoured whole.

Garen's eyes roll back, his groans devolving into moans as he mumbles muffled apologies against your pussy, lavishing it with his mouth, worshiping you as he brings his face closer, his hand gripping your thighs tightly. So much so that you can feel them bruise already, more needy sounds escaping your throat at the prospect of being covered in marks, at the feeling of being eaten by a starving man, at the sounds escaping him. So wet and messy, so hungry and desperate.

"That's it, what a good bitch you make, Commander. Losing yourself like a drunk does with his wine." Sylas is smug as he sits himself back down, his legs crossing and his arms resting on the back rest of the chair while his eyes remain trained on the two of you.

You've never felt such humiliation before. Forced to be left panting and writhing like an animal on the floor as you are ravaged under the command of your mortal enemy. It's shameful, to look into his sadistic gaze while moans are ripped from you under his words. Yet you can't find it in yourself to fight them back, to fight him back, to fight this pleasure.

Especially since Garen is the one so diligently providing it to you, drinking from you like a wanderer lost in the vastness of Shurima, finally setting foot in an oasis.

The man you've wanted for so long is now between your legs, lapping at you in such a way he seems more beast than man. Starving, a dark hunger taking him over yet leaving some of his humanity in the poison haze of lust overtaking his mind.

"You taste divine." He pants.

"I love you." He chants.

"Gods I wish that I had done this earlier. Felt you on my lips, devoured your sweetness and feasted on your ambrosia sooner." His groans reverberate through the whole of your being, rushing your heart, shocking your nerves.

You writhe at his words, each of them heavy with need, dripping with desire just like your cunt is in Garen's mouth, the man letting no drop go to waste as he savors each of them. He worships you, his hands soon caressing your body, wandering as if lost in the haze, his fingers finding your breasts once more to pinch and pull at the stiff buds standing proud on the mounds of flesh.

The tighter your thighs wrap around Garen's head, your feet locking like a vice behind his shoulders, the more he seems to lose himself. His murmured words of love devolving into grunts, his eyes squeezing shut as he indulges in your molten need. With his fervent passion, it doesn't take long for magma to flow through your veins like a volcano, a force of nature so powerful, so raw, so hot, that you feel scorched alive.

It builds and builds, like the pressure of a geyser and you tremble, your tremors spurring Garen on.

"Please."

"Oh what is that?" Sylas smiles wide at the broken plea escaping you, leaning down to mock you, his hand to his ear as he pretends to listen.

"Please let me come. Please I beg of you." Your eyes roll back, nails painfully clawing at the stone beneath you.

"Isn't that sweet, Commander? Your Captain is begging for you." Sylas's boot finds Garen's head, pushing down with its dirty sole. "What do you think you should do? Should you reward her for being so good?"

You feel Garen's head nodding with difficulty between the pressure of the plushness of your legs and the boot shoving him further into your pussy. The answer enough for your enemy to caress his head with his foot, the hard shoe messing up the King's Sword's already mussed hair as his hands find yours.

Fingers intertwined he fully breaches you with his tongue, his nose nudging your clit as he curls up and inebriating himself from your juices, your walls fluttering around the wet muscle. Your hands clench around his, your back arching from the hard floor as your eyes open wide.

You erupt, molten and all consuming pleasure turning your body into a blaze.

But Garen is unrelenting, his hands leaving their spot within yours, squeezing one last time in reassurance, so that one can press on your stomach to set you back down on the floor, the other one dipping below your bottom and unhooking from your thigh.

Hot fingers prod at your entrance, your overstimulated cunt twitching as they circle the same as his tongue does on your clit. Rolling it around like the sweetest of candies, broken moans now escaping Garen's throat as he inches a digit into your warmth. Imagining just how tight you'll feel around him.

His hips involuntarily grind against the ground, the sudden jolt of pleasure coaxing his teeth to nip at your bud, knuckles quickly slamming into you. You try to arch once more, your body running away from the overwhelming yet delicious pain of your ebbing orgasm, its electricity remaining within you as pleasure builds once more. Too much yet too little. Delicious and terrifying.

And you can't help but want more.

Your hips move against Garen's face, the digit inside you curling up, hooking and caressing a spongy spot within that has you screaming as it goes back and forth, another one soon following it in. Their thickness providing a stretch so delicious that you can't help but sing his praise.

"Gods, please. Please never stop. Please Commander, do what you must, do what you wish, but don't stop. You feel so good for me, so perfect. I love you. I love you Commander." Tears well up in your eyes, now glossy and hazy like the fogged stained glass of a church on a cold winter morning.

To Garen, you're as holy as one. The sight of you as divine as the Winged Protector and the whimpers and moans escaping your lips more beautiful than the most sacred of chants. And he makes sure you know it as he lavishes you with abandon, kissing your core as if it were your mouth, scissoring his fingers to coax your walls open. Readying you for his devotion.

No longer does he feel anger, Sylas but an echo in the back of his mind, drunk with your essence and overtaken with the most glorious of hungers. He doesn't mind the shoe on his head, forcing him further into you, letting him ingrain your smell in his nose, your taste in his mouth, your warm wetness on his face. He takes it as a gift, one that locks him to you as he feasts.

No longer does he feel eyes on him, judging, commanding, the words escaping the enemy nothing but a reason to indulge further.

No longer does he feel shackled by responsibility, duty, ethics, morals, by codes and manners.

No, all he feels is you. Your warmth beneath his hands and around his neck, your essence on his tongue and its smell permeating his senses. He can't help but grind his cock on the ground to provide himself pleasure, he aches for you, now more than he ever has. A simple taste spurring his starved heart into throwing himself into this bottomless, spiraling pit of pleasure he never wants to get out of.

He twitches, panting like a feral animal, your hole accommodating a third finger, joining the rest in their relentless stretching. The thick digits reaching places you never could, brushing against every spot that has you screaming out. Sobs finally breaking you apart as tears run down your cheek. You are drowning in pleasure, your skin hot against the cold air of the room, sensitive to every touch, every sound and your hands find their way into Garen's hair as you roll your hips on his face.

The sound he releases as you do that is nothing short of beastly. A growl shaking your already trembling body as he lifts his head.

"Come. Come for me once more, dove, I beg of you. Fill my mouth with your sweet essence, let me consume you whole."

You simply pant, gripping his head tighter and bringing it to you once more, your voice cracking at the strength of your moans as Garen's fingers speed up.

"And I thought mages were supposed to be the beasts." Sylas croons mockingly, delivering a soft kick to your lover's head. "Look at yourself, Commander Crownguard, becoming so similar to those you hate just because of some pussy. How pathetic."

The mockery does nothing but spur Garen on, his cock weeping between his stomach and the floor. His second hand leaves your stomach as he places it on your pelvis, his thumb rubbing your clit with hurried circles as whines leave his throat, his head now resting on your thigh.

"Please, dove. Please I need it. Give it to me, give me your pleasure. Feed me, dove, I'll be good to you, I promise." He mouths and bites at the inside of your plush skin

"Oh, poor thing. So hungry." The foot once on Garen's head pressing down on your stomach. "Give him what he wants, go on darling, ruin him. He's been such a good little mutt for us, he deserves his reward."

You unhook your legs from around your partner's head and slam one of your soles onto his back, forcing him to collide with the ground, a breathless groan leaving his as the whole of his weight slams down, crushing his cock under him. Your other leg spreads away from him so you can look down.

He looks positively ruined. His face is flushed and sweaty, shiny with your slick. His eyes pleading and his lips plump and red, drool escaping the corners of his mouth as he looks up to you with reverence.

"Garen." Your voice is tight as the coil in your stomach, burn now turned into a storm. Electric, volatile, sending shocks through every single one of your nerves. "Take what you're owed. What you deserve. Take me and my pleasure, take all I have to offer you."

"Please, dove. Please, may I cum? Please, I beg of you, I can't hold on anymore. I need you to allow me to-" He whines, the sound cutting his sentence short, his body shifting as he grinds faster, his muscle pulled taut with each shiver racking through him.

The sight of him so undone, the broken sounds he releases along with his begging, the feeling of your cunt stretching around his fingers, his thumb rolling around your clit and the remnants of your past orgasm all come crashing down on you. Your vision flashes white as a guttural scream is ripped from your lungs with the strength of your pleasure, your hands pushing Garen's face towards your core to drink every last bit of your desire, soaking his face with its strength before he latches his mouth on your cunt.

His own lust pushes him to the brink, every sight, smell and feeling destroying the walls of the carefully crafted fortress he has built within himself as he cums, his body jolting as he seeks his own end. Both his stomach and the stone beneath him sticky with his spent while his hands paw at you, leaving your inner thighs to grip the rest on you, caressing and holding on as if you were his lifeline.

He doesn't stop, his mouth devouring all you have to offer until Sylas rips him away from you, your body lifting and trembling from the all consuming pleasure you experience for the second time in a row.

"Now, now." The man scolds, fake sweetness dripping from his words like yours is from Garen's mouth. Your partner panting and whining like a puppy. "Behave, Commander. We're getting to the best part, so be good and get to your knees. Lest you want me to take your privilege away from you, mh?"

Your lover shakily gets to his knees and sits back on his calves while he shakes his head, his eyes deathly terrified.

"Please, no. I promise, I'll be good. I swear. Don't touch her, leave her to me please sir." His cock is twitching, angry and red, sticky with cum yet still hard, painfully so as he leans back to look at you.

"Isn't that cute, a fat cock for a pathetic excuse of a man. At least there is one good thing about you. Maybe you'll be able to please your Captain like the good little obedient bitch you are. But you'll do it on my terms, remember?"

Garen nods.

"Use your words, mutt."

"Yes…" Garen shakily mutters, his eyes still trained on you. Your hole clenching around nothing, the emptiness leaving you whimpering for more while your body begs for respite.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's a good dog. You learn so quick don't you?" One of Sylas' hands caresses Garen's face while the other brushing your pelvis, making its way to your core, your hips shuddering upwards at the touch. "You're so good for your pretty little girlfriend. But your mouth can only bring you so far, don't you want to fuck her? Look at how open she is now, I'm sure she'd feel so nice wrapped around you."

His hand dips from Garen's cheek to his neck, softly choking the herculean man, now brought to his knees and made a mess.

"So warm." Sylas drops his hand to the ground, scooping up some of Garen's come.

"So tight." He brings his fingers up to Garen's mouth, his other hand leaving you to grip at his jaw, his thumb hooking over his bottom teeth to open his mouth.

"Entirely yours." Coos Sylas, shoving his fingers in your partner's open mouth, letting him taste himself. "Only if you behave. Will you behave? Will you be good for her?"

Garen's eyes roll back at his taste, his tongue rolling over Sylas' fingers as he nods, a needy whine escaping his throat.

"Such a good little slut. Let her taste you and herself on your tongue."

And he obeys, on all fours your Commander crawls over you, one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other wraps your thigh around his waist, greedily indulging in your lips. It's urgent, desperate, hungry. As if the both of you are starving animals. The combined taste of the both of you has your body arching towards his, broken whimpers mixing with shuddering groans as you grab him tightly by the shoulders, bringing him closer as if willing to mold yourself to him.

"Please let me fill you." He begs in your mouth. "Let me worship you. Tell me you want it, please, tell me you need it as badly as I do."

His cock is burning, heavy on your thigh as he rolls his hips down on you as if he were in heat. The great Commander of Demacia's Dauntless Vanguard, reduced to nothing but a pussy drunk pet, begging for more and never having enough but still the sweet man you fell in love with, full of adoration no matter how utterly gone he is.

"Answer him, darling." Your enemy crouches besides your head, caressing your burning face. "Or would you rather me being the one to ruin your sweet little cunt? Do you think he's had enough?"

No answer can leave you before Garen snaps his head to the man, his gaze holding primal rage while he rips off the unwelcome hand from your soft skin. A combination of hunger, desperation and anger swirling in the crystal clear pools of his eyes, dousing Sylas in their frigid waves.

"You will not defile her with your corrupt touch." He pants, chest heaving against yours, body curled above yours protectively. "You will not touch, taste or indulge in her. Or I swear-"

Garen's head turns, stinging with the force of Sylas' slap, glowering down at him, his gaze disgusted.

"Mind your next words boy. Because as entertaining as it is to see the both of you lose your mind in pleasure like cheap whores, I could indulge in your humiliation in a much different way." The hand returns to your face, sliding over your neck where previous bruises remain, both Sylas' and Garen's, love and hate leaving their traces on you.

Your lover's eyes widen, disarmed when you tense in fear beneath him, teary eyes now glossy for a whole other reason than his ministrations, the terror heightening each feeling.

"Don't. I'm sorry, please don't. Don't hurt her." Garen shakes above you, bringing you closer to him, his heat melting through your skin. "I'll do anything. Anything you want, just stop touching her."

His arms are ripped from you, your body laid back down on the cold stone as his shoulders are pulled back, chains tying his arms behind his back.

"That's your last strike, boy." Sylas' voice is dark, gravelly and hissed, eyes narrowed at Garen before his hand goes to choke him. "I expect you to put on one hell of a show if you don't want anything to happen to your sweetheart, Crownguard. You understand that, right?"

"Yes." Sylas snarls, Garen's eyes shaking as he looks at you, his fingers flexing as he suffers not being able to touch you, map you with his hands as he has until now, the chains digging painfully in his flesh. "Yes, sir."

The enemy hums, his hand leaving the younger man's throat. "I suppose it's commendable that you wish to protect your lover. Though it just shows how loyal you truly are to your country. Rendered useless and weak by a woman."

"She's not just a woman. She's.." Garen's eyes find yours. "..Everything. And I'd do what I have done again if I can have her by my side." His voice is soft as he utters those words, your arms bringing him down to your chest, cradling him close.

"How sweet." Garen's weight crushes you when Sylas stands up, stepping on his strong back and slamming his body down on yours, his cock brushing against your dripping core. "But dogs don't talk, now do they, pup? So I advise you not to bore or challenge me any further."

He pushes your lover further on you, Garen's hips unconsciously rolling against your weeping entrance as fear and arousal mix through your body in perfect amounts to keep you high, compliant, sensitive and desperate. Your own movements matching his.

"Do it Garen, it's okay." You whine against him, your hands pulling his head up to lick and bite at his lips, your own mind gone, coaxing your lover into giving in with you. "Fill me up, take me, claim me."

"Louder sweetheart, his useless little ears don't seem to hear you."

"Please Garen, I feel so empty." You shudder, clawing at his shoulders pathetically, your body rolling beneath his. "Need you so bad." Your voice echoes in the room, broken and meek, the taste of your lover's lips and the warm weight of his body leaving you craving more.

"Can't you hear her cries, Commander? Would you leave her wanting, trembling and begging for you? Would you leave her unsatisfied?" Garen shakes his head in response. "Words, mutt. Use. Your. Words."

"No, sir." Moans the immense man crushing you, panting in the crook of your neck as you drip on him, his twitches vibrating through your clit and letting tremors shake through your body.

"No, what?"

"Need to fill her, need to make her feel good. Need to feel her squeeze around me. Have to- please let me fill her. I can't wait, I can't stop. I don't want to anymore." Garen pants, his tongue licking at the salt of your skin, his muscles tensing.

A moment of silence passes before Sylas' gravelly chuckle cuts through the air.

"Then don't."

It's immediate. Garen's thighs wrap around yours, leaning back to line himself up. His eyes are hungry, yet restrained, his cock twitching against your fluttering hole until with a roll of his hips his tip catches on your entrance. You feel soft thrusts pushing it further.

The stretch is a burn, sharp and continuous, his length much thicker than you could have been prepared for.

You arch, your back elevating from the cold floor, your body suddenly feeling all too sensitive, the stone too cool, the air too electric, Garen's skin against you singeing its marks against yours. You feel like you are being slowly speared open with each movement of your lover's hips, just like the two of you spearhead the enemy forces on the battlefield.

He slides within you, the wait torturous as your muscle tense and your cunt clenches, the vice like grip making it much harder for Garen to slide within you yet helping at the same time, pulling him deeper.

And as soon as you feel his pelvis against yours he waits a moment, whimpering as his muscle shudder, his eyes wet with pleasure as he lets you adjust to his size.

"Didn't you say you couldn't wait anymore?" Sylas kneels behind Garen, holding his hips and pulling him away, your partner whining at the feeling of your hot wetness around his cock chipping away at the last of his consciousness. His head rolls back on the older man's shoulder, his eyes fluttering. "Then fucking ruin her already."

The mage pushes Garen back to the hilt. Buried within your core, you see something snap within your partner. His pelvis moving back and forth, dragging in and out of your cunt with hard snaps as your hands claw down his chest.

It feels good, too good, divine even. The drag of his cock stretching you open as his eyes grow wilder, Sylas stepping back to bring his chair closer and sit, his legs spread wide as he palms himself.

The shame left you long ago, the sight of the man taking pleasure in your fall from the heavens only amplifying the pleasure you feel. Every vein, every passage of Garen's crown, the curve of his length, his panted grunts, all provide more incentive to your desire. His hair is messy, he is sweaty and flushed, your nails leaving their marks besides your hickies as he looks wrecked, feral, unlike anything you've seen before. But he is no longer pathetic and begging, no, his gaze is trained on you like a predator's just about ready to pounce on its prey.

And now that Garen has had a taste of you, his hunger runs deeper than it ever has.

You feel it in the growing speed of his thrusts, shaking your body as he falls forwards, his form curling over yours as he shoves his face in your neck. Grunts changing to growls, long gone are the soft whimpers and the lovely words as he carves out a Garen shaped hole within your core, pulling at everything else within your mind, your body and your heart to only leave space for himself. Overtaking everything that you are.

And you feel nothing but sheer, untamed pleasure.

Losing yourself in it as you squirm beneath the large man, unable to wrap your legs around his hips as he holds them in his, you are unable to escape the stimulation. And unwilling. Your moans growing louder, breathier as you feel him bruising your cervix, knocking at it with his cock as he fucks you like a raging bull. Provoked until he loses all sense of self and simply rushes in, destroying all in his passage, your insides the fortunate victim of his assault.

"Go on mutt." Sylas squeezes himself through his pants, hard and twitching through the fabric as he watches you get ravaged. "Tell her how good it feels to stretch her open."

Garen's eyes are black as you look down, his pupils devouring the blue of his eyes just as he has devoured you mere moments ago. His body rolling with wild abandon above yours while he slams into you, somehow still feeling like he is pushing deeper and deeper each time.

"Fuck. Dove, I love feeling you open up for me, loosening up around my cock. "

"That isn't all you want to say, now is it?" Sylas opens his trousers, spitting in his palm only to trail his fingers down his chest, his hand dipping below the hems of both his bottoms and his undergarment to pull his member free. A relieved sigh escaping him.

"No..."

" Then say it. Say how much you love her clenching around you."

"I adore the feeling of your pussy quivering around me every time I thrust into you."

"You love ruining her don't you, slut?" Garen nods in your neck, heaving as he drives his hips harder and faster at the words.

"I can't get enough, I need to mold your cunt to my shape. Please, dove. Please let me ruin you." His lips find your pulse, mouthing hotly at it, his tongue tasting your skin.

Sylas groans at the sight, his palm passing over his angry red tip, wet from spit and his pearling precum, his other hand brushing through his hair and tugging as a smirk slices through his face.

"Tell her to moan louder. Tell her to let go." He pants, his eyes half lidded as he strokes himself to the relentless rhythm Garen imposes on your body.

"Go on Dove. Sing for me, chant in pleasure and show me just how good I make you feel when I ravage you. Say my name."

"Garen..." You whimper brokenly, hands sliding to Garen's biceps to hold on for dear life, your nerves lit on fire with each new roll of his hips.

"It isn't enough isn't it?"

"Louder, dove." Your partner is mindless, following Sylas' words like the code the two of you have followed for many years within the army, his devotion to your country's laws that has already waned for you fully crumbling under the all consuming desire to claim you.

"Garen!"

Your eyes roll back as he takes himself out of your molten hot cunt, dripping and clenching deliciously around him as he slams himself back in, setting a punishing pace. You squeal, your head slamming on the hard floor as you try to catch the breath he just knocked out of your screaming lungs.

"I said. Louder." You feel your stomach raise and bulge at the sheer size and violence of him, losing more of himself in his chase for ecstasy.

You aren't much better, your mind fully turned off, nothing else matters now but the feeling of the man above you molding you to his shape, using you for his pleasure as he rips yours from your quaking body.

"Please Garen, fuck! Need you, need you so bad. Please don't stop." Your voice grows louder, tears escaping you once more as you float in the haze of your own lust, mindless, greedy and needy, all that the rules you previously abided prohibited you to do.

"So obedient, Commander. She deserves praise." Sylas squeezes himself harder, licking his lips at the sounds you make, each hum, each moan, whimper and whine spurring both him and Garen on further into their endeavor. Ruining you for themselves, each in their own way.

"Good fucking girl. Let's keep it that way, mh dove?"

"Yes Garen. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Please, destroy me and piece me back together. Carve my insides so no one else can ever take me but you."

The man suddenly leaves you, his body no longer crushing yours and his legs unhooking from your thighs, the emptiness you feel within suddenly jarring, forcing you to squirm on the ground while you beg for more. But you don't have to, not for long as you see Garen lean back on his haunches.

"Legs up on my shoulders. Now."

Your eyes widen at the darkness within his, baited breaths escaping his lungs with urgency? His muscles shift and his cock twitches heavily, your slick leaving a sheen on it as it drips precum on your stomach.

"Now, dove."

You snap out of your stupor and lift your shaky legs to Garen's shoulders, his body immediately bending above yours as he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth teasing your flesh before his hips snap to yours. His length enters you once more, his jaws snapping and trapping some of your skin in their bite, breaking the skin and using it to hang on to you without his hands. This time he doesn't leave time to accommodate the burn and immediately begins thrusting into your warmth, the new position making you feel him much deeper.

Each vein, the drag of his skin as you clench on him, his tip pushing against your innermost parts. He fucks you like a feral animal, all caution thrown to the window as you sob for him, singing his praises and crying out his name, his answers given in the form of choked out grunts, moans low and huffed.

Meanwhile the mage' stomach shudders his own groans growing louder as he tastes the fingers he used to touch your weeping cunt before, his eyes rolling back and his hips rolling into his hand. His form suddenly getting up and kneeling besides your face, the sight of his cock dripping on you making you open your mouth. Unwilling to waste a single drop of what he has to give.

"That's it, sweetheart. Open wide."

Your tongue barely has the time to taste a drop of the bitter liquid before Garen pushes Sylas away with his shoulder, his mouth finding yours to kiss away the offense just done against you. The insult corrupting your velvet tongue washed from your taste buds, his face coming up as he lets his spit drip in your mouth, overtaking your taste buds with the metallic flavor of your blood.

"Close your mouth. Don't you dare let him in, you'll taste me and only me, dove. Do you understand?"

You nod at Garen, moaning as his thrust roll into that one spot within you, the same he caressed within you earlier while stretching you open on his fingers, your body tensing and trembling as he goes to bite your neck again.

"Good girl-" His sentence is cut short as Sylas grabs his hair, pulling his head back and presenting his cock to the larger man who immediately glares as his cheek is slapped with the twitching length.

"Go on. Since you won't let her have a taste, do it yourself. Open that disgusting little mouth and taste me, Crownguard. Either you do it, or she does, your choice Commander. right now i feel like she'd love to taste just about anyone's cum with how well you're fucking her. Good Commander, you've made your girl into a pretty, mindless little slut.”

Garen's eyes trail to you, his eyebrows furrowing as his lips turn down to a soft frown, his body dipping back to you despite the sharp tug on his hair your own face screwing as the words hit hard through your sensitive haze. Not only your body but also your heart feeling more than ever before.

"Dove, don't listen to him. You're far from being anything he says, you're beautiful, precious, intelligent. You matter more than anything you can give, yet all you ever do is beyond perfection. His words mean nothing, let them pass they're worthless-"

"Are you going to start crying next Crownguard? Ha! Don't bore me with your soliloquy, Garen. Ruin her or I'll do it for you, and I'll have her scream my name so loud you will never look at her without the sound of her voice whining for me ringing in your head, without the sight of my cock stretching her open engraved behind your eyelids."

Garen's face twists in anger as he straightens back up.

"You won't speak about her in such a way again."

"Seems like the mutt grows a spine for his bitch doesn't he? I'm going to teach you not to bite back at me, boy." Sylas presents himself to Garen once more, his hand tugging painfully at the brown locks as he rubs his precum over the younger man's lips, leaving them with a glossy sheen. "Now open up wide and take it or she'll pay the price for your insubordination."

Your lover stills within you, his eyes gazing at you longingly before he looks up, lips opening to accommodate Sylas' length as he bends down to take it in his mouth.

"And don't you dare fucking bite, because it'll be more than her sweet cunt that I'll take if you fuck up. One. Last. Time. I've already been too gracious to you." The mage's eyes roll back as he feels the warmth of Garen's throat, immediately shoving himself and using the mouth holding him as a toy. "Now go on, fill her up. Don't mind me."

The sight before you is as glorious as it is dirty. Sylas' hips snapping against the Commander's face as he ruts into you, your back rattling at the sheer strength behind each thrust. Garen chokes yet learns to relax his throat and swallow around the older man's length, the sounds of his mouth sloppily sucking mixing with the wet slaps of his hips against yours, his whines, Sylas' growing groans and your own pathetic, broken moans. Your mind unable to register anything but the pure eroticism of the scene and the unbridled pleasure you feel. Your body shaken down to its every atom, shaking as your veins pump lava in your body, your nerves frying from the sheer amount of electric ecstasy running through them.

"Garen." You claw down his chest, your body writhing as you come closer and closer to the brink. Your voice is breathless, whiny, and broken as you arch up, calling out to your lover like a believer does their god. "Garen please, please I need it. Please give me everything. Please."

His sounds are choked and muffled before Sylas slides his mouth off of his cock.

"Go on, answer." Comes his snappy answer, rough and gravelly with the need to meet his own pleasure. "Tell your dove to come around you and milk you dry. Cause that's what you want right, mutt? And she's been so good, hasn't she?"

"Yes, sir."

"So fucking say it."

Garen swallows, his throat rough from the treatment as his hips snap against yours with more fervor.

"You can do it, dove. That's it, you can let go for me. Come around my cock, let me bleed you dry of your pleasure, let me bring you to ruin. You can do that for me, can't you? Then be good and come for me, soak me in your juices and clench around me to milk me dry like I know you can."

And at his breathless answer your body goes slack, loud sobs ripped from your throat as you gush around him, your nails digging bloody crescents into his shoulders.

"Gods, let me fill you up, dove. You can take, it can't you? You can take being stretched full and filled to the brim by my come. I know you can. Because you're perfect for me. You're tightening around me so well already, it's like you're begging for it. But don't worry, I'll reward you, I'll reward you for being so utterly perfect for me, dove." Your needy whine is enough of an answer for him to double over, his thrusts growing sloppy before he buries himself deep within you, his tip molding to your cervix as he empties himself. The heavy, molten feeling of his cum filling you up pushing you past the delicious pleasure of your orgasm, the pleasure now past the threshold of mind numbing. Your mind fully gone as you float in an ocean of ecstasy.

"Swallow, mutt." The mage shoves himself down Garen's throat one last time, reaching past his own brink and flooding the warm mouth entrapping him with bitter spent. Sylas' cock pulled out as soon as he finishes while your lover chokes on air, face screwed at the taste and humiliation of what had just been done to him.

The three of you are left panting. Your body a puddle on the floor as Garen leaves the warmth of your cunt to bend over you, lavishing your body with kisses, nuzzling his face against your skin.

"I'm so sorry, dove." He mumbles exhausted against your skin, his blue eyes now back to their usual state as grief paints his face, shame and fear swirling in his eyes before you cradle his face. Bringing him back up, your lips meet his, wiping away at Sylas' taste the same way he had for you.

"I'm glad it was you." You breathe on his lips, your touch shaky before your lips reach his, your kiss filled with adoration. Slow and sweet, filled with as much emotion as you can muster at this very moment. "Even if it had to happen this way."

"Gods, you two make me sick." The sound has you and Garen snap your head to the side, Sylas tucked back into his trousers as he gets up with a sigh. "But you did keep me entertained, so I will not complain."

He reaches into his open vest, pulling out a letter, throwing it to the ground besides you.

"Your king accepted our terms." He hums. "I suppose you were as important as you seemed to be. How fortunate for you."

He scoffs while he undoes the chains holding Garen's hands together. The man immediately taking you in an embrace, shielding your body away from Sylas, his form dwarfing and hiding yours.

"What are they?" Your voice murmurs, tired and strained, your body trembling as you begin to grow colder. The heat from your passion fueled activities slowly ebbing away.

"To change your code." He grunts, getting back up and regarding your intertwined bodies with disdain. "Thou shall not kill mages anymore, no more witch hunts, no more senseless murder. We'll depart in a week's time to bring you back to the edge of Demacia. Behave until then."

He grips at the chair he had brought with him, dragging it along with you as he leaves.

"If it means anything." His voice calls out, his eyes narrowed and nearly glowing, visible even in the dim room. "You two may not be as rotten as the rest of them." And the door slams, loudly and heavily before you are left alone with Garen.

His arms hold you close as he whispers apologies and sweet nothing in your ears, and although you know you should be ashamed, disgusted and terrified, you can't find it in yourself to feel this way. And it may be because of the exhaustion, or because of the delight you feel in finally being held in Garen's arms as a lover, but that is a problem you wish to not confront for now, simply basking in his devotion.

So, as your lover's warm hands caress you with the same gentleness they always hold for you, you feel yourself being pulled to sleep. The cold ground and air nothing against the warmth of Garen's body.

"I love you." You weakly call out, your face nuzzled in his chest, voice muffled as you listen to his heart beating.

"I love you too." His chin is softly laid on the crown on your head after his lips find your forehead, his deep breaths rocking you against his chest. "More than any words can say. When we get back to Demacia, perhaps I could…properly court you? I don't think that I could go back to hiding myself after today. I already ran away for too long, and I can't let anything come between us anymore, not even myself."

You smile tiredly, kissing the spot above his gentle, golden heart. Your head turning back to lay on the soft muscle soon after.

"That'd be nice… Finally being yours."

His arms wrap tighter against you and you feel him nod as exhaustion finally overtakes you.

"Yes, dove. It'd be nice."

No matter how hard and cruel the world is. How painful or shameful it may make you feel. It'd be alright if Garen is by your side. You are Demacia's strongest soldiers after all, and your might remains strong, even through the harsh storms willing to capsize you. You’ll come home together, and you’ll rebuild yourself by his side, even if your nation changes around you. You’ll have his heart and hold it dear as he will yours, and the two of you will find a way to make it as you always do.

Yes. Despite it all, you'd be alright.

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[darkdevasofdestruction]

May I please have Yasuo and Darius relationship headcanons for a female s/o?

YASUO

Yasuo is a traditional man who’s rather shy and awkward about anything relationship-related, especially now that he’s deemed a fugitive and a criminal.

He’s incredibly grateful that you don’t believe him a criminal, but you believe his story and that he was framed - It helped him trust you.

When/If Yasuo trust someone, he trusts them for life, and now, you hold his heart in your hands entirely.

He would like to take things slow and steady, since he’s not very experienced and has to make things right and proper, and hope you won’t get bored and leave him.

He truly treasures you and wants to learn how to make you happy because you deserve it and he’s in complete bliss every time he sees you because he’s finally found that one person who actually loves him for who he is.

Yasuo would cherish every single day when he can spend time with you, walk through the forest, stay at ease, enjoy a nice picnic and play the flute for you.

Please, for the love of everything right in this world, take off his hair tie and play with his hair - He will fall asleep in peace for the first time in ages.

Please read to him books you love, he’d enjoy it so much you have no idea - So much that he’d read the book himself and then quote it to you every time he’s given the chance, just to see your reaction and/or if you catch on

---

DARIUS

He’s very hard on everyone, especially himself, but that’s because of everything that he had to go through.

Everyone knows he has a soft spot for his brother, despite his annoying and narcissistic self, but it’s always been them together, and there was nothing separating them.

If he opens up to you about his past, then you clearly mean the world to him, since nobody else except Draven knows everything.

His heart is very tender and fragile, deep down, protected by titanium walls, so please hold it carefully next to your own and show him that love isn’t a weakness or a disadvantage as he claims it to be, but it can be a very powerful fuel for strength.

Draven would be incredibly proud of Darius and would love to hang around both of you, or even only with you, seeing that he doesn’t really have proper friends, and this is his chance to brag about how cute Darius was when he was young, without fearing that it would embarrass his brother (too much) or anything of the sort.

He would pretend to be annoyed by his brother hanging around with you, knowing full well that he’s going to talk too much and whatever, but when he knew you both weren’t watching, he’d have a soft smile on his face, happy that his brother and his lover are getting along so well, and making him feel like he finally has a family again.

With everything that’s been going in his life, he’d be extremely protective of you (of course, Draven too, but he’d make more of a bravado, letting Darius handle everything) and would try to keep you safe and around him or a safe place as much as possible.

He won’t admit it ever, but he loves cuddling with you, holding you close to his chest and you holding him in your arms, kissing his face and smiling sweetly at him every night you go to sleep, or every day you wake up with each other.

[heckinhacker]

I'd like to say that after the lux comics, I'm in love with jarvan IV and garen... so can i have some headcanon with them (x S/O)? (Sfw/nsfw)! and wow, i'm also in love with your writing ❤️❤️❤️

Garen and JarvanIV x S/O - SFW and NSFW headcanons.

A/N: Thaaank youuuuu so much! And Sorry it took me that long :( Them headcanons can be ooc but they’re from my perspective!! 

Jarvan IV

SFW: 

It was really hard to get through his metal armor and golden crown to meet his real personality.

What I meant is - Jarvan is really distrustful with people wanting to get close to him.

“They mostly want money or fame. Or both.” he once said to Garen, who laughed slightly, patting his back.

He really hoped to find one true love. No matter where are you from or how rich you are, he just wants your heart to be rich with kindness and love. 

Every girl who got close to him was always pushed away, since he noticed his admirers were after throne. 

He almost started dating one of them, but he heard rumours that she used to date one of rich politics, but she ditched him to get into Jarvan’s heart. 

It hurt him, but he managed to do what he had to do. 

When you got to befriend him, he fell for you first. That was sudden. 

He waited for you to confess at first, but you never did.

So he nervously approached you, asking you what do you think of him. 

“Honestly, [Y/N].” 

“What do I think of you…You’re our king, great friend, amazing fighter, kind person and you reeeeaaaally stink when you overwork yourself.”

“ [Y-Y/N!]”

“You wanted me to be honest!!” 

You both laughed, but he sighed, skratching back of his neck.

“I asked because I…I hold great feelings for you. They’re deep and hot, almost stinging, I fell for you and I have no clue what to do with it because I feel like you don’t quite return them. Can you give me answer to that?”

You were shooketh.

But you told him you loved the hell out of him and more! You were just afraid to step into his sensitive spot!

Aaand you started dating. 

Many nobility disagreed with your relationship but they always disagree with Jarvan’s decisions, so he didn’t really cared. 

Shyvana keept close eye on you. You always felt being watched when she was in the room. She was checking if you were worthy Jarvan’s feelings, she’s his friend too, after all. 

He’d love to take you to casual dates, but he’s afraid of being recognised.

So YOU take him to casual dates. Some people recognised him, some didn’t, and even though they did, they didn’t bother you both too much! 

You showed him a lot of new perspectived, made him a better human being. 

He was really thankfull for that. 

NSFW: 

He’s a really passionate lover!

Can get his pace speed up, but is not rough. The change of pace is there to spice things up. 

He talks a lot, about how lucky he is to have you, how much he apreciates you, how soon you’ll become second crowned head, etc. 

He leaves hickeys on your thights and chest, but never on visible places. His reputation forces him to keep things clean and discreet. 

Aaand I’m quite out of ideas! Sorry! ^^” 

Garen

SFW: 

Garen is as resistant to flirt as his armor is to any damage.

Like, HOLY SHIT! It was so hard to acknowledge him about your feelings!

At first you tried to be gentle, telling him things indirectly. No progres.

Then you went full flirty, he just thought you were friendly. 

When you directly said, with defeat, “Garen, I think I love you.” with normal tone, he answered with happy tune in his voice “I love you too, [Y/N], you’re like a family to me!”

You groaned with defeat. 

You didn’t had a clue that he just WANTED it not to be true, since he felt great emotions for you too, but he was scared of commitment. 

He was scared that relationship would discract him from his duties, but Jarvan pushed him to just try, talk with you about it. 

And he finnaly did. He confessed to you, telling you his fears and doubts about everything.

“I’m a warrior, [Y/N], I am in army, anytime I can just- HMPF-!”

You kissed him to shut him up. When you both stopped kissing, you grinned at your big now-boyfriend. 

“I don’t mind. I won’t leave you before you leave me. Please love me as much as I love you.”

And sure damn he did. 

He was the softest!!

He’s so big in general, tall, muscular, strong, but he was so shy!!!

Garen is a traditional man, he pretty often was giving you bouquet of the prettiest flowers you could ever imagine. (does not matter what gender you have, trust me) 

He’s literally too embarrassed to hold your hand without him asking you. 

When he does that for the first time in full quietness filling room you almost shouted with excitement. 

He’s getting closer to you, trusting you!! 

NSFW: 

He’s very, very traditional. 

He’d ask a lot of questions like “are you alright?” “does it hurt?” “want me to stop??” “how do you feel?”

Sometimes it feels lovely, sometimes it’s annoying. 

Your first time was full of blushing Garen and you giggling about his shyness! 

You thought he was adorable, you sometimes had to tell him not to treat you like a porcelain doll, you’re not made of glass! 

Even though it had it’s own difficulties, it was pleasant time for you both. 

Next times were more normal, but still he tried to entertain you and show you how much he loves you. 

He treated sex not like “Something we must do in relationship”, he’s more of a “It’s okay that we have it if we both want it, but I don’t need it everyday”, it’s healthier for your relationship. 

He’s really kissy, he kisses your forehead, lips and neck a lot. 

A lot.

He’s not afraid to leave hickeys on your neck. He’s really overptorective and jellaous, so he’s glad to leave marks suggesting you were his and only his all over you. 

[riftimagines]

Garen relationship headcanons with male reader pls?

I live! I’m sorry I don’t write too much I’m just always busy. Then by the time I’m not I’m tired and have no energy to write :/ but I got this out! Actually quite a few people asked for this so I hope you all like this!

Garen x Male!Reader

-It doesn’t matter if your a man, woman or anything in between Garen will be the most gentlemanly man you’ll ever meet.

-It honestly takes him a while to realize his feelings. Like he’ll know there’re there but he won’t recognize what it is until later. He’ll then have a sudden and jarring realization and just be there shell shocked until someone asks if he’s ok.

-He’s a gentleman but not very smooth. He really doesn’t have a lot of experience in asking you out especially since you were male. He was raised to court women but his heart wants what it wants and he’ll awkwardly present you with flowers and ask if you’d like to court.

-When you say yes, he is over the moon with joy and politely kisses your hand with a bow.

-This man is always busy. What with Noxus knocking on the borders and the rising civil issues with the mages he is kept busy at all times so outings and dates are a rarity.

-When you two do get some alone time it’s always somewhere quiet and out of the way where neither of you can be bothered. He wants to focus solely on you and forget the troubles of the world for at least a little while.

-When the time comes for an actual kiss he will stutter and fiddle over his words to ask you for a kiss. You will probably have to kiss him to get him out of it. He’ll get stiff and slowly relax into it. When you part his face is as red as an apple but he bares the biggest smile you’ve seen on him.

-He doesn’t flaunt your relationship. In fact, it’s pretty much on the down low. Not because he’s ashamed of you or anything, heavens no, but because his afraid of the harsh judgment that would come from his family, mainly his aunt, who is very vocal about her disapprovals, and potentially making you a target from outside enemies like from Noxus.

-The only one who knows you and Garen are together is Lux. She’s the only one he trusts enough to know and she’s all too happy that he’s found someone to love. She will be the one to give you notes for where to meet Garen for dates when he can not tell you in person. She knows what’s up and always tells to two to be safe and have fun with a giggle.

-He is no where near as dumb as everyone makes him seem. He leads the dauntless vanguard for heavens sake. Often on the very rare times he has down time he likes to cuddle up with you and a book of whatever he’s in the mood to read. Usually about nature. He’ll tell you that you never know when this knowledge will come in handy on the field and will share interesting facts about it with you.

[annoyedfanfiction]

Black Sun

qui-gon jinn x reader (2)

You were vaguely aware of the white room around you, as a familiar character nudged at your mind, Force signature welling with concern. “(L/N),” Vokara’s voice insisted as you mentally pulled the covers over your eyes. “(L/N), you need to listen to me.” With a sigh, you looked over at the Twi’lek healer as she materialised in your mind. “Do you remember what happened?” You crossed your legs, throwing your mind back to the last time outside of this white-walled room. Red blades and unceasing blaster fire flashed through your eyes. Burning pain, scalding through your left leg then disappearing altogether. Your ribs aching. The ground, cold and hard and already covered in blood, yours mingling with others’. Qui-Gon kneeling over you, your opponents strewn around you. Dooku. Dooku raising his lightsaber behind Qui-Gon. A desperate final push, and the sudden pulse of the Force throwing Dooku back, cracking him against the wall of the nightclub, where he fell still. Telling Qui-Gon no, not to do…something. Not to hurt himself. “Fucking ow,” you winced, as the pain of your body came rushing back to you. “Thought so,” Vokara smiled, sadly. “(Y/N), you need to meditate. We’re trying to put you in a healing trance but you’ve got almost no Force presence for us to reach. I need you to help us.” “Dooku. Dooku’s alive. Is Qui-Gon alright?” you asked, grabbing onto her presence before she could disappear. “He will be,” the older master assured you, running a gentle hand through your hair. “But you need to be as well.” “Will you meditate with me?” you requested, after a beat of silence. Tilting her head, she nodded, sitting down in front of you and folding her legs beneath her. “Thank you.”

“We have to move them,” Obi-Wan pointed out, as soon as Vokara emerged from her meditation. The room around them was lit dimly – a storage room, somewhere in the back of the hospital, to give them time before they were found. “Doing so may kill them both,” she said, looking to Obi-Wan. “Are you prepared for that?” Obi-Wan straightened, expression sad but strong. “If we remain here, we risk more than just their lives,” he answered, looking over his former Master and the woman who had been, for all intents and purposes, his mother. “The needs of the many must outweigh my own feelings, Healer Che. We must move them.” Bant rested a hand gently on his shoulder, looking sadly at him. He shook his head, and offered her a smile, though his expression was filled with all the sorrow and fear of a child losing his parents. “Well said, Knight Kenobi.” Vokara inclined her head to him, turning back to her patients. “We must transport them without separating them. The easiest way to do that is on one bed.” Her eyes flickered between the two patients, doing the mental math. Her face was set into tight lines when she turned back to Obi-Wan. “This very well may hurt him, but there is less risk in moving Qui-Gon than (Y/N). We have been able to set his ribs away from his lungs, so the movement is unlikely to cause any damage except discomfort. Any incorrect movement of (Y/N)’s spine may dislocate it from its correct position, and she may never walk again.” She looked back at the two masters on the beds. “Up for a challenge, Kenobi?” “I don’t get a choice, do I?” he grimaced, earning a wicked smile from Che despite herself. “Not at all.” She moved to (Y/N), calling Leem over to help her stabilise the spine as she shifted (Y/N) to one side of the bed, making space for Qui-Gon beside her. She remained where she was, holding (Y/N) in position as Leem gestured Bant and Kenobi over to Qui-Gon’s side. “I need you to lift him from his shoulders,” the young healer instructed Obi-Wan, with none of her earlier fascination with the two masters. “You from his hips.” She directed Bant. “We want to avoid too much movement around his ribs.”

“We have a problem,” Garen announced, racing in, just as Leem lifted Qui-Gon’s legs onto the bed, and Vokara settled the two patients into a secure position. “Great,” Obi-Wan sighed, turning to the other knight. “Another one.” “We need to go, like, now, or we’re not going to have a ship to go to,” Garen told him, urgently. “The others are doing their best, but it’s just not enough.” “Garen, get back to the ship and help the others,” Obi-Wan instructed, sending the other knight racing back out. He hesitated, eyes flicking between Bant and the two unconscious Jedi. “Bant, help the Healers. We will expect you on the ship as soon as possible.” Bant nodded, offered him a nervous but reassuring smile, and he disappeared from the room. The journey across the hospital was tense, even as other medics weaved in and out among them, deliberately blending them in to the environment around them. But if the hospital was tense, the scene that greeted them at the exit was explosive. Literally. Blaster fire rained around the four Knights defending the ship, and Leem immediately lit her lightsaber. “Eerin, help the other Knights,” Che instructed, as Leem took Bant’s place defending the gurney. “We will get them on board.” Crossing the makeshift airfield turned battleground, Leem was knocking away stray fire from every direction, even before the Black Sun operatives noticed their patients. “Get them!” the leader commanded, gesturing immediately towards the Healers and their patients. All of the Knights moved towards them, backing towards the ship, as fire turned on the medics. You were struggling on the bed below, both your face and Qui-Gon’s fixed into deep frowns. Your eyelids flickered, determinedly, but did not open, even as Che tried to calm you both through the Force. Obi-Wan was furthest away, and urgently backing towards them. “Kenobi, look out!” Bant shouted, as one of the less-obedient criminals threw a loose grenade under his feet. In an instant, your arm flung out, knocking Garen aside, your body for all intents and purposes still unconscious. A bright flash of light welled from your fingertips, ensconcing Kenobi in a glowing bubble as the grenade exploded below him, and dragging him to you until you could clasp his hand. Your eyes opened for a moment, and you offered him a smile, before a single blast sent the last of the Black Sun operatives flying backwards as your group hurried onto the ship. “That’s impossible,” Che murmured, once she had stabilised the two Jedi in the makeshift med bay on Obi-Wan’s ship. “What was ‘that’?” Obi-Wan asked, staring in shock at his two mentors. Vokara turned and offered him an easy smile. “You’re a very lucky man, Knight Kenobi,” she told him, cryptically. “That kind of love… This kind of power hasn’t been seen in centuries.” “What kind of power?” he insisted. “The kind you just saw,” Che answered, disbelief still patterned across her face. “I’m pretty sure that was a manifestation of power from both Qui-Gon and (Y/N). I mean, we knew their connections to the Force were unparalleled, but this...” She trailed off as Garen guided the ship out of Ord Mantell’s atmosphere, then shook her head, standing up. “The two of them weren’t even bonded when they left on this mission. To form a bond powerful enough to not only support (Y/N)’s life, but also to then transfer energy into manipulating the Force so quickly is unheard of.” Her eyes fell to where Obi-Wan’s hand was still clasped in yours, and she smiled. “Two such powerful Jedi so deeply bonded, and with so much love for you…You’re a very lucky man, Knight Kenobi. Adding your skill in, and your new Padawan…well, the lot of you could be quite unstoppable.” She began setting up the monitors around them once again, clucking over any possible shift in (Y/N)’s position, leaving Obi-Wan to stare, mystified, at the two Masters.