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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 1 year ago

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Rated E for Elden Ring

So this was a funny little silly idea that somehow turned into a 6000+ word monster. Don’t ask me how. It is set in my Twitch AU or Gamer AU, where Ava is a Twitch streamer and Lilith is a lawyer. They live together and are in love. This originated from a small writing prompt about a month ago that you can read here, and I just got inspiration to expand on it. Hope you guys enjoy!

Rated: E for Elden Ring (officially made this the title hehe)

//////

It was supposed to be a surprise. That’s what you had planned for. And you really did. Plan, that is. You thought of everything. You picked out the day almost two weeks in advance, you changed your stream schedule accordingly so you would have most of the night free, you even covertly snuck peeks at Lilith’s work calendar to make sure the timing was right. You did your research while she was away at the courthouse. You hovered around the front door of your apartment building like a creep to intercept the package and hide it before she got home. You even sacrificed your practice time with the new COD game to watch literal hours of tutorial videos to make sure you wouldn’t mess it up. You did everything, all for her.

Lilith’s caseload had been driving her to exhaustion for the past month. Her schedule had been packed wall-to-wall with difficult court battle after difficult court battle, and it showed no sign of easing up any time soon. Being the most well-regarded civil attorney in the city had many advantages, but the price she paid to do it often seemed just as high.

You could tell that the stress was slowly wearing her down to the bone. She was accustomed to working long hours, but this was excessive. There were days where you barely saw her because she would leave for early meetings and not get back until you were getting into bed. She was bristly by nature, but as the weeks wore on, she was becoming downright moody, grumbling and growling at the smallest inconveniences. Three days ago, you caught her slapping the printer around when it had the audacity to jam.

It was all getting to be too much, and you wanted to try to help before it could get any worse. But it was a tall order to fill, and for a while you weren't sure that you could do it. You weren't a lawyer, and quite frankly you didn't know shit about laws and courts and whatever, so it's not like you could make her actual job easier. You had briefly entertained a fantasy of breaking into the courtroom MGS-style and rearranging all of their schedules, but that was as far as you went down that avenue. No, if you were going to pull this off, you'd have to utilize your own special set of skills.

You knew a large part of Lilith’s frustration was sexual. It had already been a week since the last time you both had the energy and time to do anything, and for two highly physical people, one week of blue balls was tantamount to torture. (You were feeling it too. Your vibrator had seen more use in the past four days than it had since you started dating.) So, you figured the best way to help her cool off was to, paradoxically, spend an entire evening having really, really hot sex. Thus, the seed of your eventual plan was born.

Lilith wasn’t one for big gifts or grand gestures. You suspected that any fondness she might have had for them was long ago drained out of her by her family. This wasn’t really big or grand, but you put time into it, and you made your decisions with her in mind, so you thought she would appreciate it more.

Your grand scheme was this: Lilith was supposed to get home around 5, the earliest she's been able to manage in weeks, and you were going to be ready. You had made the arduous trek to the nearest liquor store to find a bottle of her favorite wine and shelled out a tear-jerking amount of money to buy it. When she got home, you would present her with a glass and coax her into relaxing on your couch while you went to do your stream. Then, half-way through your stream, you would place an order out to the Lebanese place down the street to show up around when you finished. Finally, when the stream was done and you were able to lure her in with delicious takeout, you would reveal your surprise.

That last part proved to be the most difficult, which you probably should have expected. Even now, with thirty minutes to spare, you couldn’t resist peeking down your t-shirt to make sure the configurations you had painstakingly labored over were still holding up.

Who knew there were so many types of bondage ribbons? Okay sike, you did, because this idea didn’t spring fully-formed from your brain meat on a whim. What you didn’t know was just how many ways they could be used. There was legit, like, a whole-ass art form about it Your research had led you down a somewhat dizzying rabbit hole of bondage 101 and shibari tutorial sites, deep enough to have you sounding out terms like "loop chain", "gote", and "hishi karada". You knew you wanted something you could hide under your clothes, and within that parameter alone there were almost too many options to choose from. You settled on one that looked elaborate but that the tutorials promised would be easier than most: the diamond hishi karada. This tie would see lines of silk criss cross along the whole of your torso and back, framing your tits, looping low around your neck, and forming a lattice that would hold securely for as long as you needed it to.

Once you decided on the tie, you picked out the ribbon. Lilith was reticent by nature, and often kept her thoughts and feelings thoroughly closed off to others, but there were some things even she couldn’t hide from an observant eye. One was that she was kind of obsessed with fine fabrics, the nicer the better. When you first started dating seriously, she was quick to lavish you with gifts of expensive clothes, silks and cashmeres selected by hand and meticulously tested for quality before she brought them home. (The very first time she did this was one of your favorite memories of her. She showed up at your shitty studio apartment with a glare so focused and serious that you thought she was breaking up with you two weeks into your relationship. Imagine your surprise when instead she stiffly presented you with a box from one of the most bougie boutiques in the city. She was so serious about it that you couldn’t help but laugh at how severe her face was as she gave it to you. You teased her about terrifying some poor shop girl before kissing the responding scowl right off her face.)

The second thing she couldn’t hide was her favorite color. It showed up in little ways in her wardrobe, and around her space. It was always just a touch, an accent, nothing that could ever be called overwhelming or garish, but you were quick to cotton on to it. Lilith loved blue. All kinds, but especially darker shades like navy and midnight. It was evident if you knew what to look for, and therefore obvious to you since you made a hobby of watching everything your girlfriend said and did. A blue blouse tucked neatly inside a neutral gray blazer, sleek silver jewelry crusted in tiny sapphires, an indigo phone case and small pieces of furniture, never larger than a lamp or the cushion of a chair. Lilith was taught to restrain herself in every aspect of her life. That was apparent almost from the moment you met her. But she couldn’t suppress everything, and you had been working very carefully over the past year and a half to coax her into expressing more her tastes and interests.

So with that in mind, picking the ribbon was pretty easy. You took some haphazard measurements of your body in order to select the right length, and you researched what kind of fabric would be strong enough for the activities you wanted it for. The guides you read suggested silk (and boy, was it not cheap), so you found the brand with the right colors and the best reviews and paid to have it shipped as quickly as possible.

Now, you were here, finally triumphant after laboring intensely to tie the knots correctly and make the lattice fit comfortably on your body. With fifteen minutes left, you busied yourself by doing a very cursory clean of the apartment before getting out a glass and opening up the wine.

This was where you made a mistake, however. You had never been very good at patience or waiting around when you knew something was about to happen. You were restless and fidgety by nature, and you would inevitably look for anything to occupy yourself with. In this instance, that meant turning on some tunes with your mini speaker and dancing around the kitchen while you waited for Lilith to get home. As a result, you didn’t actually hear her when she came in, and you only realized she was there when she put a hand on your arm out of nowhere while you were pouring the wine into her glass.

“Shit!” You yelped, spinning around without thinking, the mostly full glass still clutched in your hand. You managed to avoid barreling right into her, but there was nothing you could do to stop the ruby-colored liquid from splashing out of its container and directly onto the front of her work suit. “Babe, I… shit, you startled me!”

Lilith was silent, looking down at the wet mess you’ve just made of her clothes. You saw her jaw tense, watched it tick to the side a bit as if she was grinding her teeth. And then, she sighed sharply. “Ava.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line, looking like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it. “No, it’s fine.” She straightened up and started shrugging off her coat with stiff shoulders.

“Babe?” You asked tentatively, setting the treacherous glass on the table and taking a careful step toward her. “I’m sorry… I didn’t hear you come in.”

She nodded shortly. “It’s fine, Ava. The fabric is dark, it’ll wash out.” The very obvious tension in her frame told you it was not, in fact, fine, but you were at a loss for what to do about it.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, watching her mouth twist angrily at the question. “I-I mean, how was work?”

“Shit, like always,” she growled, grabbing the buttons of her blouse to undo it with rough movements. You stayed where you were, not touching her just yet when she was so clearly upset and trying to contain it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she bit out, and then stopped. She finished unbuttoning her shirt and let her hands drop loosely to her side, all while shutting her eyes tight and taking several deep breaths. You waited, letting her regain herself the way she preferred to. When she opened her eyes again, she looked calmer, but her attention dropped down to you; or rather, your shirt. “There’s some on you,” she said, reaching out and ghosting her fingers over a spot on your abdomen.

You looked down and realized she was right. While it wasn’t the theme park splash zone you’d just made of her clothes, there was still a decently-sized stain there. “Crap,” you hissed and, without thinking, pulled up your shirt to get a better look at it, oblivious to Lilith’s eyes watching you like a hawk. “This stuff comes out with peroxide, right? Aren’t you supposed to mix it with the detergent—?”

“What’s that?” You looked back up at her, only to find her eyes locked on your belly. Oh.

“Oh, uh…” Blushing hard, you tried to shove your shirt back in place. “Uh, it’s nothing.” Your efforts were thwarted, however, by her hands shooting out and catching yours before you could re-hide what you had inadvertently revealed. Biting your lip, you let go, allowing her to lift your shirt back up again, baring the lower half of the ribbon tie to her inspection. She just stared at it. You could see her eyes following the many criss-crossing lines, seeing how they framed your stomach, stretched around to your back, and climbed further up your chest where the shirt still concealed them.

She was completely fixated. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking, only that the gears of her brain were spinning like crazy. You decided to just come clean, as clearly there would be no salvaging your initial plan of action. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” you explained lamely. “I was going to show you after my stream, but uh, well…” You smiled sheepishly at her, rubbing the back of your neck. “Surprise?”

Lilith looked back up at you but didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her fingers twitched against your waist, the pads pressing into your ribs. Her eyes slowly dropped again, tracing a path back down to your belly that you swore you could feel like a laser on your skin. With one hand holding you in place, she ran her middle and index fingers along the length of the deep blue silk, following the groove of it up your body and stopping just below where your shirt had ridden up. She looked up again, wordlessly asking for permission. When you nodded, licking your lips, she delicately lifted your t-shirt up over your breasts.

“This is for me?” She asked, voice quiet and accented with awe. She caressed the elaborate lattice with her fingertips, so lightly that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching her every move. She touched the knot at the center of your chest and pressed it against your sternum, provoking a shiver from you that had you leaning forward into her hand. Her eyes were on yours again, and they were full of dark fire, raging with an entirely different emotion from the one she started with. She covered the knot with her open palm while she used her other arm to pull you in close. “You said you have a stream tonight?”

Lilith’s voice was painfully sexy in normal circumstances, but the raw desire in her tone was enough to make your knees shake. “Y-yeah. It’s not long, just a couple hours. I… I could cancel. It’s not a big deal.” Please tell me to cancel, please tell me to cancel, please, please, please…

The corners of her mouth quirked into a crooked smile while you watched with captive fascination. “I have a better idea,” she said, pressing that crooked mouth right up against your ear. What she whispered to you then, hot and hungry and smug, made you flush pink from head to toe. “Yes, Aves?” She asked, smirking against your cheek, already knowing what answer you would give.

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl,” she purred, stroking the ribbons again, making you whine. She took a small amount of pity on you and pulled you in for a kiss. It was slow and wanton and sweet, paradoxically letting you regain your composure while making you dizzy all over again. When you broke apart, she said, “I need to get changed, and you need to get ready for your viewers.” She pulled your shirt back down and rearranged it so the ribbons were fully hidden once again. It was an oddly gentlemanly move, given the situation, but that’s just how Lilith was. She pecked you once on the forehead before retreating to the bedroom, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen with a half-spilled glass of wine, a stained shirt, and panties you would definitely be throwing out by night’s end.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

“Yo-yo-yo, what’s up, nerds? It’s ya girl Ava back again with Elden Ring!” Jesus Christ, why the fuck did you think this was a good idea? Stupid, horny brain. Stupid, beautiful girlfriend. “And guess what, peeps, we’ve got company tonight. Chat, say hi to Lilith! Lilith, say hi to Chat!” Lilith was a solid presence against your back. She was sitting in your gamer chair like she belonged there, lounging on it with you in her lap, held there securely by a single strong arm.

“Hello, chat persons,” she greeted coolly. Immediately you saw the chat explode with excited messages, a mix of greetings and exclamations. Your long-time fans greeted her with familiarity and spammed the feed with bat emojis, while your newer fans sent swarms of questions which were all some variation of “Whoa, is that your girlfriend???? She’s so hot!!!! 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀” or “You have a girlfriend??? Lmaoooooooo, no way, loser 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡”. You could practically feel her smirking at these comments while the game’s menu theme started to play. Her fingers skated evilly along the hem of your freshly chosen shirt, pausing occasionally to tug on the ribbons until they snapped lightly against your stomach. You tried to distract yourself from this by bantering with chat, but there was nothing in the world strong enough to divert your attention from what was going on between your legs.

Because what the chat couldn’t see, what you had carefully positioned the camera to conceal, was your lower half. More specifically, the apex of your thighs, where you were being stretched open by Lilith’s dick, practically staked on it while you soaked her boxers with your arousal. Evil girlfriend. Evil. It was one of your biggest ones too, indigo blue and thick as all hell. It didn’t see much use compared to some of your others, but when Lilith sauntered out of the bedroom holding it while looking at you like a mouse she wanted to devour, how were you supposed to say no?

The fullness was so much, too much. You were struggling just to form complex thoughts let alone competently play a video game. You had no idea how you were going to manage Elden Ring’s difficulty while also refraining from fucking yourself to completion in front of hundreds of people.

You did your best, practicing deep breathing exercises to keep your body relaxed while you loaded up your save and responded to messages. Your Tarnished stood up from the Site of Grace you paused at last time, deep in the Altus Plateau, and you milled about checking your inventory for a minute while Lilith rubbed idle circles beneath your belly button. Her muscular thighs were spread wide, keeping your legs open, and you had to make a conscious effort not to glance repeatedly at where your slickness was dribbling down between them. At your insistence, there was a towel there to contain the mess (because you paid good money for this chair and you were not about to ruin it) but you knew that if you looked, it would only make things worse.

In the interest of self-preservation, you tasked Lilith with keeping an eye on the chat while you played. It wasn’t much of a defense, as your girlfriend was unfortunately a very good multitasker, but it was better than letting her have total free reign to torment you as she pleased. If only your own body would behave itself too, you might just get through this stream without incident.

You summoned Torrent and set off in the direction of Volcano Manor, intent on starting the dungeon there and taking on the Godskin Noble and possibly Rykard if you got far enough. Along the way, you also figured you would try to take out the Ulcerated Tree Spirit on Mt. Gelmir to level up a bit. This was where the problems started to occur, because Ulcerated Tree Spirits were a shitfucking, goddamn, bitch and a half to fight when you didn’t have a massive sex toy sitting in your cunt, and now that you did, well… To say that your performance was lacking was a bit of an understatement. By your third death, Lilith didn’t feel like holding her tongue anymore, and chose instead to mercilessly tease you.

“I see now why you’ve been cursing so much recently,” she gently mocked, earning a flurry of agreement and 💯💯💯💯💯 from the chat. Then, when she snapped the ribbon against your skin and made you miss a very easy charged attack, she asked, “Why do you insist on using such a large weapon? Wouldn’t it be safer to fight from range?”

“Well, duh, it would be safer,” you snarked back. “But you’re not supposed to play these games safe. You’re supposed to get the biggest weapon you can find and swing it at them until they’re dead or you’re dead.”

“I see.” After two more failed attempts, you finally managed to kill the bastard, taking your runes immediately to the nearest Site of Grace to put them to use. While you argued with chat about the merits of Strength/Faith vs. Dex/Int builds (Strength/Faith was superior, obviously), Lilith must have decided that things were too peaceful, because she chose that very moment to start rubbing her middle finger along the side of your clit. You bit your cheek nearly hard enough to bleed to stop your treatise on greatshields from ending with a comically loud gasp. She didn’t let up, stroking slow, torturous circles against you and occasionally dipping down to playfully frame the space where your pussy and her cock met. She kept doing this, heedless of your fingers leaving nail marks on her knee, all while the towel beneath the both of you developed an increasingly large, dark stain.

Only when you were on the verge of insanity, bucking into her touch and riding Torrent into the stomp attack of a troll, did she show you mercy. She withdrew her hand and wrapped both arms around you to still your canting hips, all while she rested her chin on your shoulder.

The chat was bumping, but even with the high traffic, you still managed to catch messages now and then saying stuff like “You guys are so cute 😍😍😍” and sometimes more nerve-wracking things like “Why does Lilith look like a dragon hoarding treasure? 🤔🐉”. You did your best to ignore them and the warmth of your girlfriend’s body as you pushed on and finally made it to the start of the Volcano Manor dungeon. You didn’t think you would get to Rykard or the Godskin Noble today, but you wanted to at least make significant progress in the dungeon before calling it a night, so that’s what you set out to do for the rest of the stream.

After two hours of playing (two hours of torture) consisting mostly of you fucking up and getting lovingly owned in chat for it, you wound the stream down and said goodbye to your viewers. Lilith even offered them a stoic and detached good night, prompting a flood of “Good Night, Lilith!!!! 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌” messages in response. And she waited patiently for you to close everything up before speaking again.

“Is your camera completely off?” She asked, while her nails teased the skin of your ribcage over your shirt. You bit your lip hard and nodded, even going through the motions of double checking that all of your recording equipment was shut off while she watched. “Good.”

She moved without warning, shifting forward until both her feet were planted on the floor and then pushing you both up off the chair with nothing but her legs. You yelped in surprise as you unexpectedly fell forward, catching yourself on the desk while your pussy convulsed around her huge dick. She caught you by the hips to steady you, rubbing soothing circles into them and humming apologetically for the sudden change of position.

“Alright, Aves?” She asked, leaning forward to brace herself over your back. You nodded, but then whined pathetically when she tested your honesty with a push of her hips. “Use your words.”

“Mm, I-I’m good,” you managed to stammer. “You just surprised me.”

She hummed again. “One good surprise deserves another, don’t you think?” As she spoke, her hands slipped under your shirt and tangled themselves in lines of silk.

“I can take my shirt off,” you offered, trying not to shiver too much at the feeling.

In the dark reflection of your computer screen, you saw Lilith shake her head. “No, this is good.”

She clearly had you exactly where she wanted you, but you tried to regain a little bit of the upper hand with a joke. “You know, the point was for you to unwrap them.” All you get in response is a firm smack on the ass.

“You’re my present, aren’t you?” Her tone was imperious. “I’ll unwrap you when I like. Right now I want you like this.” One of her hands traced a searing path over your ribs and onto your back. She picked a spot between your shoulder blades where the lines of ribbon crossed and dug her fingers in there, taking such a firm hold that the silk was pulled taut against your tits. Her other hand landed on your ass again, possessively palming the pink spot where she smacked you.

“Do you think any of your fans guessed what we were doing?” She prompted, pressing her hips flush against you so the toy was buried up to the hilt. “Do you think they realized what a little slut their idol is?”

“Y… your slut,” you moaned, pushing your ass back on her. In the reflection, you could see the look of delight that took over her features.

“Mmhm, my slut,” she agreed, slowly pulling herself out of your cunt until only the tip lingered inside you. Just as slowly, she pushed back in, ending the thrust with a burst of extra force that made you whine. She did it again, using her grip on your back like a harness to pull you down onto her cock. “When did you come up with this idea?” You didn’t immediately respond, too caught in the maelstrom of sensations, and her free hand smacked you again. “Answer me, Ava.”

“Ten days ago,” you whimpered, unashamed by the way you arched into her commanding touch.

“Ten days?” She sounded genuinely surprised, even a little confused. “How did you know I would be free?”

“I looked at your work calendar while you were gone,” you admitted. “You didn’t have any extra meetings scheduled tonight, and I kept checking it to be sure.”

“Sneaky girl." She started moving at a slow, teasing pace, carefully coaxing your muscles to adjust to the girth of the strap. “Is that why you planned your stream this early?”

You nod. “So we could, mmf, so we could have the night together.” You ducked your head down so she wouldn’t see your face flush. “That’s why I got the wine.”

“I was curious about that,” she said. “You don’t like red.” Her free hand was back to petting your hip while she maintained her hold on you from above.

“It’s, fuck, it’s not that I don’t,” you protested. “It’s just not my favorite. I can barely drink as it is, so I have to be picky.” Because polyneuropathy is a fucking bitch.

She hummed again, thoughtfully. “And how long did it take to learn how to do this?” She asked, indicating the ribbons by yanking on them again.

“Four hours,” you admitted, the words trailing off into a whimper as your whole body was rocked against the desk by a powerful thrust. You probably should have moved the towel to the floor, because you were positive that you were starting to drip onto the hardwood.

“All that just for me?” The quiet awe from before was back.

You nodded fervently. “All for you.” Then, because the air felt a little bit too heavy, you added, “The knots were hard as shit to learn.”

She cooed sympathetically, but you could see her smirk turn devilish. “Then it’s good you’ll be getting plenty of practice now.”

You shivered, a flurry of images from the tutorial videos swirling around your head like cartoon stars. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” she purred. “You went to all this effort. It would be a shame to let your new skills go to waste.” Her hips started pushing harder, increasing their speed by mere degrees but burying her cock inside you with new intensity. “You’ll wear it under your clothes again,” she told you, commanding you more like. “You’ll be tied up all pretty while you entertain those enthusiastic little cretins on your livestream.” Her free hand traveled up your body to grab a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up until you were staring into the blank computer screen. “They’ll watch you for hours, and never suspect a thing. And the entire time, you’ll be thinking about me, and about this.”

You keened, shaking under her hands while she fucked you deep and hard. “I always am,” you panted. “Thinking about you.”

“Sweet girl,” she crooned. “My perfect little slut.” Her words ended on a rough grunt as she started grinding against your ass, revealing how affected she truly was by all this. “I love fucking you this way. Why didn’t we think of this before?” She let your hair go so her hand could drop onto the desk on top of yours. She twined your fingers together as she braced herself above your back. She started moving faster, her other hand moving from your back to one of your tits, long fingers tugging harshly at your nipple. The sounds of sex were becoming overpowering, echoing off the walls and making you extremely grateful that this apartment complex actually gave a shit about their wall insulation. “You’re so wet, Aves. Two hours I spent feeling you soak my lap, and somehow there’s still more?”

“Your fault,” you pointed out breathlessly. “You wouldn’t stop teasing me.”

“You liked it.”

“My Tarnished didn’t like it.”

“What’s that term you're so fond of? Sounds like a ‘skill issue’?” She mocked, grinning right against your ear. You huffed, craning your neck to the side so you could shut her up by shoving your tongue down her throat. She allowed this, but retaliated smoothly by sliding her fingers back down to your clit. You were unable to keep the kiss going after that, breaking off with another helpless gasp. If she wasn’t actively turning your brain to mush, you would feel aggrieved at how effortlessly she played with your body and how easily you bent to her whims. As it was, however, your brain was thoroughly mush-ified, and thus it had other priorities.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you begged, shutting your eyes tight while your face burned.

“Please? Please what?” Instead of doing the kind and reasonable thing of just giving you what you very obviously wanted, she did the opposite. She slowed everything down to a standstill, holding herself stationary in your cunt, and when you wiggled around frantically to get more friction, she pulled you upright and wrapped both arms around you to cage you in place.

“Lilith…” You whined petulantly, arching back against her and feeling the sweat on your skin soak into your shirt.

“Ava, be a good girl,” she chided firmly, pinching your nipple between her thumb and index finger over the damp fabric. "What are you begging me for?"

“I’m so close, baby, please let me cum,” you pleaded, leaning your head back on her shoulder, baring your throat to her.

“You want to cum?” You nodded wildly. “I suppose I’ll allow that. But you’ll do it the way I want you to.” Without another word, she let you go, carefully pulling out of your pussy and backing away. You were left standing alone, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps across your body in the absence of her warmth. When you turned around, you found her sitting in your chair again, lounging in it just as she had before.

“Up,” she said, patting her lap and grinning. “Facing me this time.” You obeyed, stumbling forward on jelly legs and profusely thanking your past self for getting a gaming chair that 1) didn’t have wheels and 2) was wide enough for you to do this comfortably. Lilith was kind enough to help you get into position, holding your waist steady while you carefully dropped back down on the strap.

While you were busy adjusting to the stretch again, her hands gripped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up over your head, tossing it into the same pile with your ruined panties. Finally, you were naked before her, fully open to her appraisal. And what an appraisal it was. “Beautiful,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over the knots again. She was still wearing her black undershirt, creating a sharp contrast between your two states. It honestly made you feel a little vulnerable, being held open and on display while she was still partially clothed. But the hunger in her eyes was gentle now, the hard edges of frustration and stress worn away. As if sensing that whisper of anxiety, however, she was quick to reassure you. “I’ve got you, love. It’s okay. Take what you need.”

You did exactly that. You started out slow again, wrapping your arms around her shoulders to anchor yourself. She buried her face into your neck, lavishing it with wet, heavy kisses. She licked and nipped her way down your collarbone before taking the same nipple she had mercilessly teased between her teeth, sucking and biting it until the noises coming out of you could test even this building’s level of soundproofing.

The intensity kept ramping up and up. You picked up speed until you were wildly riding her, and she grabbed the silk ties again to pull you down onto her with increasing force. You could feel the pressure in your gut building to its breaking point, and knew from the way her breathing stuttered that she was getting there too.

“Fuck, that’s good, Aves, you’re riding me so well,” she growled. “You can come when you’re ready. I’ll be right behind you.”

As if flipping a switch, it seemed like her permission was all you needed. You took the whole of the strap inside you and started to grind in her lap, all lucid thought fading away in your frantic search for completion. “Baby, baby, it’s happening! I’m—!” You came with a long, tremulous cry, collapsing against her limply while she took over with her hips, using her powerful core and legs to drive up into you with near bruising force. She grabbed your hips hard to hold them steady and buried her teeth in your shoulder, keeping you in place so expertly that no rope or ribbon ties could ever compare.

She came a minute later with a rough, deep groan that sent vibrations through your whole body. Gathering you close, she released your shoulder and started covering the bite mark with open-mouthed kisses. You were both breathing hard, your chests brushing together with the force of your pants.

“That was amazing,” she said, pressing her lips to every inch of your shoulder and neck that she could reach. “My love, you did so well.”

“I did?” You asked, cringing just a bit at how small your voice sounded.

“Mmhm,” she murmured, petting your sweaty hair. “You were so good for me. You’re so good to me. I didn’t…” She sighed. “I didn’t expect this at all. Thank you, for all of it.”

Her words made your chest feel curiously tight. You buried your face in her hair to stifle this. “I wanted to do something for you. You’ve been so unhappy.”

She stilled, completely caught off-guard. “I’m not unhappy,” she protested softly.

“I thought work—”

She shook her head. “My work is frustrating, annoying more than anything. The idiocy and rail-roading I’m expected to put up with every day is maddening. But I’m accustomed to it.”

“It stresses you out, and makes you angry.”

“Because of you.”

“Me?”

“Mmhm,” she confirmed. Her free hand began to trace circles in one of the gaps created by the ribbons. “Because it keeps me away from you. This past month has been so hard.” You knew that, of course, but you waited quietly for her to continue. “Before you, I never thought much of the hours I worked. It was the job, and I was used to it. I didn’t have anything at home for me to miss, apart from the occasional book. But now I have you, and I miss you terribly, all the time. Your clumsiness and your stupid jokes and your clutter. Your laugh. Your smile. I miss the warmth when you’re not with me. I was… very cold before you came to me, and I didn’t realize it. Does that make sense?”

You nodded. It did make sense. You felt the same way. Before her, your life was fine. You had your cramped apartment, your job at the bar, the occasional hookup, and your little streaming channel. It was barely anything, but you thought it was enough. Until you met her, that is, and you realized that you could do better, could ask more from life than just subsisting on scraps. You wouldn’t describe your life before as cold, but you would say it was small, too small to be what you really wanted. But now it was big, in so many ways. And most of it was because of her.

“I’m thinking about making some changes,” she continued. “It can’t happen right away, but I’m going to try. I’m pushing to become a partner in the firm.”

“Are you?” You knew that would be a serious deal if she managed it. Yes, she was one of the best and most sought after lawyers in the city, but it was another level to become a named partner in a firm. “Obviously, you’ll get it. They’d be idiots not to promote you.”

“I hope so,” she murmured. “Until then, things will continue to be difficult. I don’t want it to damage what we have.”

“It won’t.” You pressed your lips into her raven hair. “I know things are going to suck. They’ve been sucking. But I’m still here, Lil. Everyday you come home, I’ll be here. Promise.”

“I love you,” she whispered, pulling you back to look into your eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”

You beamed. “Of course I do. I love you too.” You kissed her then, curled up in her arms in your gaming chair.

So what if your surprise didn’t go according to plan? This was the best outcome you could’ve asked for and more.

#warrior nun #ava silva #sister lilith #ava x lilith #avalil #my writing #twitch au #gamer au

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priestessofspiders · 1 year ago

Text

Howl's well that ends well

(A very special thank you to @arsonsara for feedback and guidance with writing this story) While it may seem surprising in the age of internet storefronts and online auctions, sometimes you do, in fact, need to physically go somewhere in order to purchase things. There are several auction houses which only host their auctions in person, and sometimes millionaires are just too busy to take time out of their hectic schedules of plastic surgeries and cocaine fueled orgies in order to buy some overpriced trinket themselves. That's where I come in.

My name is Mae, I'm a buyer's agent, think of me as a professional bidder. Something will go up for auction, my client will give me a budget, and I'll go try my very best to acquire the item of their desire and keep it in a secure location for a while until it can be safely shipped off to their McMansion. It's not honest work, but it pays the bills, and I've had a lot of opportunities to see some genuinely weird crap in my line of work.

I received a call from a regular of mine, an A-list actress with a passion for old cartoons. She wanted me to get her an original cel from a short by the name of Howl's well that ends well. Evidently she was away on a cruise trip at the time the auction was being held, and thus needed me to purchase it by proxy. I accepted of course, and like I always do I sat down and did a little bit of research on the item I was to acquire.

The cartoon was made right at the end of the era of black and white cartoons, just before that slightly eerie rubberhose aesthetic fell out of style in favor of the technicolor wonderlands of the 40s and 50s. It was a simple story, as such animations usually are, depicting a wolf attempting to catch and eat a rabbit by any means necessary, with increasingly silly results. The cartoon was animated by the rather short lived Crescent Moon Studios, and was one of only two shorts known to have survived the company's collapse in 1939. The other was a mythological themed cartoon known by the title The Shepherd and the Satyr. Both had fallen into the public domain, but nobody had bothered putting up copies on the internet anywhere, after all, they were pretty obscure.

I was given a maximum budget of fifty grand to purchase the cel, which I honestly thought was a little excessive. Sure, it was a rare find, but in the context of an auction, rarity only matters when it is combined with desirability. Technically every toddler's doodle is a one-of-a-kind original work of art, but nobody is going to shell out a million bucks to put it in the Louvre. Unless there was some massive revival in public interest surrounding failed animation studios from the late 30s, I wasn't anticipating needing to spend the full amount my client had authorized.

The auction house was typical of its kind; an opulent temple to the idle rich who have nothing better to do than spend their hoarded wealth on useless garbage. I've never felt comfortable in those sorts of places. While the cut I get is fairly good, it's not enough for me to feel at home rubbing shoulders with CEOs and movie stars. I have this theory that there is a certain stench exuded by those who only own one house, and I can see the pompous plutocrats wrinkle their noses at me whenever I pass by in my cheaply tailored suit.

I settled into my seat alongside the other auction attendees, fiddling nervously with the ends of my sleeves. The rows of comfortable chairs sat before the stage reminded me of vague memories of attending church as a young girl, not comprehending a single word the man in the funny robe was saying when he read out his sermon. Eventually the auctioneer made her way out onto the stage and the song and dance of acquisition began.

It took a while to get to the cel. There seemed to be no end to the parade of antique junk that was available for purchase by my more financially fortunate companions. Jewelry that would never be worn, paintings that would be used to take up space in otherwise artfully minimalist living rooms, and antique weapons to be drooled over by those who view the statistics of mass murder as fun trivia all graced the auction block, happily snatched up by the horde of the idiot rich.

It was by the time I had almost dozed off following a bidding war over some decrepit old tea set that the auctioneer announced the starting bid for an animation cel from Howl's well that ends well at one thousand dollars. Surprisingly, someone immediately offered to pay the opening bid. I was startled to learn that one of these p-zombie nepo babies even knew what a cel was, much less willing to blow a thousand bucks on it. I raised a counter bid, doubling the offer just to see how badly this other bidder wanted it. In turn, they raised the bid to four thousand dollars.

Thus began one of the most baffling bidding experiences I've ever had. This wasn't supposed to be a difficult item to obtain, it should have been a cakewalk, but this other bidder was fighting tooth and nail to acquire it. It was just a bit of cellulose with eighty year old doodles on it for goodness sake! And it's not like we're talking about Steamboat Willy here, I'd never even heard of Howl's well that ends well before I'd gotten the call from my client. Nevertheless, I had been given quite the budget, and it wasn't like it was my money anyway, so I stuck at it until the bitter end. I didn't get a look at the competing bidder at the time, just heard his voice from somewhere behind me. It was a strange voice, there was something wrong about it, something I couldn't quite place.

Forty seven thousand dollars. That's how much of my client's money I wound up paying for the damned thing. That's more money than some folks make in a year, and here I was blowing it on some picture of a cartoon wolf. I was frankly baffled.

I arranged for the payment with one of the clerks and, after everything went through, picked up the cel and started walking to my car. I planned to drive immediately down the storage unit where I keep the items I am paid to acquire until their rightful owners come calling. Holding the cel in my hands gave me a weird feeling, even though it was protected in a rather fancy looking glass case. The older something is, the creepier it gets. You'll never read a haunted house story about some luxury penthouse suite, for example, they'll always be set somewhere ancient and dilapidated. I don't think we like when things get too old for their own good, it reminds us that there was a time before we existed.

The cel itself depicted just the wolf, walking on comically exaggerated tip-toe. There was no backdrop, obviously, the cel would be overlaid on top of the background in order to save time during the animation process, to keep the overworked artists from needing to render every tree and bush over and over ad nauseum. The wolf itself was a typical example of a cartoon character from that era; impossibly flexible limbs, a somewhat lanky appearance, and large eyes with slices taken out of the pupils. It wouldn't have looked out of place in a Fleischer or Disney short.

I found myself staring into those eyes. There was an odd quality to them that I didn't quite like, a kind of intelligence that felt out of place on the exaggerated features of a cartoon. Normally when one stares at something for long enough, you stop being able to properly process it as a coherent image, like when you say a word too many times and it sounds like gibberish. With the wolf though, it felt as though the longer I stared, the more clarity it possessed, the more defined the edges became, the more-

"Excuse me miss, may I have a word?"

The voice caught me off guard, and I nearly dropped the glass case to the floor. I looked up, finding myself in the indoor parking garage where I'd parked my car. In my distracted state, I had nearly gotten all the way to my car without noticing how far I'd walked. Standing before me was a man dressed all in black, with a long overcoat, a thick scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, large dark sunglasses, and a wide brimmed fedora. His hands were firmly tucked in his pockets.

"Um, sure, can I help you?" I responded, a tad nervous. Did he follow me here? I found myself wondering.

"My apologies, first allow me to introduce myself, my name is Arnold Harrison, how do you do?" His voice was faintly muffled from his scarf, but even then I could make out that there was something wrong. There was something artificial about it, fake, like the voice a clown puts on when performing for children. Despite all the cordiality he was expressing, I felt almost as though he were mocking me.

It took me a moment, but I did recognize the name Arnold Harrison. He was a collector, a cartoon enthusiast, I'd never been employed by him myself but I'd heard a bit about him. Unlike the horde of hedonistic cretins spending their time wasting daddy's money on expensive toys, I actually had a certain level of respect for Harrison. I was dimly aware that he'd written a book at some point on the history of the early animation industry, and in an instant I knew who I had been competing against in the auction house.

"I'm Mae, a pleasure to meet you Mr. Harrison," I said, extending my arm out for a handshake. Harrison looked down at it for a moment, his hand still pressed firmly in his pockets. He didn't move to accept my handshake, keeping some distance away from me, and so I lowered my arm awkwardly.

After an uncomfortable pause, Harrison broke the silence, stating, "I would like very much to offer you a deal, Mae. As you probably noticed during the auction, I am very interested in getting my hands on that cel of yours. It is of great personal importance to me, you understand. I've been led to believe that you are, in fact, working for a client, are you not?"

I nodded my assent, cocking an eyebrow slightly as I wondered where he was going with this.

"In that case, I would like to present you with a counter offer; if you give me that cel, I shall, within the week, be able to present you with a virtually identical cel, a near exact copy. For all intents and purposes, it would be a perfect duplicate, and your employer need never know the difference. In order to ensure your silence on the matter, I would be more than willing to pay you a sum of forty six thousand dollars, cash, up front."

I blinked. Forty six thousand dollars, and all I had to do was hand this stranger some antique squiggles on a highly flammable bit of transparent plastic. It felt too good to be true. There was a lot I could do with that kind of money. My gut was telling me to say yes.

But it was something about that voice. I didn't trust it, it didn't sound like the voice of someone sincerely telling the truth. It sounded like someone telling the setup to a joke. We put so much value into way words are spoken, rather than the actual words themselves. One would never be able to take a politician seriously if they went on stage having just inhaled a balloon full of helium for example. I felt like I was going to be made a victim of some ridiculous prank.

"'I'm terribly sorry," I said, "but I'm afraid I can't do that. Good day Mr. Harrison." I turned to leave, heading towards my car.

A hand gripped my shoulder abruptly.

I wheeled around, yelping slightly from shock, and the hand was off my shoulder in a flash. Harrison was still standing some distance away from me, much too far away to have grabbed me like that. His arm would have had to have stretched like a rubber band. I caught a glimpse of his hand being stuffed into his coat pocket abruptly as soon as he saw me staring. I could have sworn it only had four fingers.

"I'm sorry, I just-" I heard him start to say, but I was already running full sprint towards my car. I made it there in a flash, slamming the door behind me as I carelessly tossed the cel in the front seat. I fiddled with my keys and turned on the engine, reversing out of the parking space and moving to leave as soon as possible.

As I drove towards the exit, I faintly heard Harrison's voice over the echoing engine, shouting out "Please! You don't know what you're dealing with!"

- - -

I made it to the storage facility right at the end of sunset, the sky a bloody red as night came to silently murder the daylight. I'd spent the entire drive trying to rationalize away what I'd seen. Perhaps Harrison had some birth defect, or had suffered an accident. He was probably much closer than I thought, or maybe he jumped back a little when I turned around. Maybe it all really was some elaborate practical joke. There must be a logical explanation.

By the time I was typing in the combination to the storage unit, I'd mostly convinced myself that everything was fine. The door swung open, and I fully intended to set down the cel within the sealed room and lock it all up again so I could go about the rest of my evening in peace. Instead, I found myself staring at the image of that cartoon wolf again, looking into those drawn-on eyes, gazing steadily into those pupils with the slices taken out of them.

I felt an intense compulsion to take the cel out of its case and hold it. It's not quite so unreasonable a desire as one might think. While I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit it, I'd occasionally carefully taken some of the antiques I'd gotten for my clients "out of the box" so to speak, just so I could touch something someone would spend so much money on. There was no logical reason for me to believe this wasn't just me acting on my own desires.

I clicked open the case gently, sliding open the lid. The faint camphor smell of old film wafted out, and I reached my hand inside, gently running a single finger over the smooth, transparent celluloid. As soon as I did so, a faint chill seemed to trickle down my spine, and I quickly stopped what I was doing and hurriedly put the lid back in place. I set the glass case and the cel within onto the floor and closed the door to the storage unit in a hurry, briskly walking back to my car.

Urban parking being what it is, it was something of a walk to get back to where I had left my car. Night had fully fallen by now, and while the streetlamps still shone their uncomfortably bright glow in a pathetic attempt to keep the shadows at bay, the blackness outside their radiance seemed darker than usual. There was a disturbing feeling of anticipation in the air, and I felt a knot in my stomach like that of an actor who has abruptly realized they were never given a script.

The streets were unusually empty. It is common knowledge that when a city gets large enough, the notion that nighttime is meant for sleep is revealed as a woeful misconception. Drunkards, workers on the graveyard shift, and petty criminals abound as soon as the sun recedes, and yet I found the streets utterly devoid of human life aside from myself. Despite my seeming isolation, it wasn't long before the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and I knew that I was not alone.

It took me a while to notice it, a faint echo to my own footsteps that shouldn't be there. Something was keeping exact pace with me. I altered the rhythm of my stride, abruptly doing a slight skip to switch which leg was coming down, and there was a moment briefly where I heard the sound of someone's own footsteps faltering to try and keep up.

I turned around, shouting out "Alright, come on out Harrison. I know it's you."

I was wrong though. It wasn't Arnold Harrison who was following me.

It stepped into the light of the streetlamp almost sheepishly, hands up in a "you got me" gesture. It stood about six feet tall from head to toe. It was staring at me hungrily with those inky black pupils. Pupils with slices taken out of them.

There's no point in beating around the bush any further, no point in trying to play coy. It was the wolf from the cel. It was a black and white cartoon wolf, standing up on two legs, walking towards me with clearly malicious intent. It wasn't some uncanny abomination, the humorous proportions of the animated world translated with horrific effect upon being brought into this three dimensional existence. It just looked like a goddamn cartoon character had somehow magically stepped out of the screen, and somehow that was more existentially horrifying than if it were some bulging-eyed misbegotten atrocity.

Confronted with this violation of all natural law, this impossible, inherently contradictory being, do you know what I did? I pulled out my pepper spray from my pocket and aimed for its stupid, drooling face.

The damn thing just opened its mouth and stuck out its tongue, tasting the spurt of liquid capsaicin as though I had discharged a can of whipped cream at it. As soon as the spray died down to a dribble, the wolf licked its lips before belching out a burst of monochromatic flame, dabbing its lips with a handkerchief it pulled out from nowhere in particular.

I ran of course. I ran for my goddamn life. I felt myself laughing as I did, a fit of giggles bursting involuntarily from my throat because this whole situation was so stupid. The wolf followed close at my heels, snapping its jaws inches away from me with a sound like a mouse trap closing each time it tried to take a bite.

I took a wrong turn in my haste to escape from my animated pursuer, finding myself in an alleyway blocked off by a chain link fence at the end. I turned around to see the wolf smugly stalking its way towards me, legs like rubber hoses strutting confidently forward. I thought I was going to die an utterly pointless, totally absurd death. I backed up against the fence, looking around for anything that could save me. That's when I spotted it.

A banana peel stuck slightly out of a nearby trash can. It was a stupid idea, it shouldn't have worked, but I grabbed it and tossed it on the ground in front of the rapidly approaching wolf. The instant one of its ink-black feet stepped on the peel, the wolf's legs began spinning like blurry bicycle wheels, its arms stretched out to balance itself as a comical "ooOoOohoohoOOO!" emitted from its slavering jaws. I took my opportunity and ran past the demented cartoon, sprinting as fast as I could towards my car.

Fortunately the alley was quite close to where I had parked, and I managed to hop into the driver's seat and start the ignition fast enough to get out of there. Looking in my rear view mirror, I spotted the wolf hold out its thumb for a taxi cab, but the streets remained empty as ever, and I was luckily saved from the embarrassment of having to indulge in some kind of wacky car chase sequence with my nonsensical pursuer.

I wish that was the end of this story. That my client picked up the cel, I got a good shrink to prescribe me some happy pills, and I got out of this situation with nothing more unpleasant than a lifelong distaste for old cartoons. Unfortunately, the universe is not, despite what some desperate idiots may insist, a kind place. Three things ensured that my life would be far more complicated than I would have otherwise preferred.

Firstly, my client refused to answer my calls. Her voice mail message informed me she was "taking a break from the screens to focus on the important things in life". Good for her I suppose, though I imagine it's rather easy to turn off the screens when you're enjoying a multi-week cruise on a mega yacht the size of Alcatraz.

Secondly, the wolf didn't stop after just one night. No sirree, this was one persistent bastard, and it didn't take long for the canine caricature to figure out where I lived. As for how it discovered my address, I have no idea. Perhaps it checked the yellow pages, that seems to be an appropriately stupid method. Regardless, I rapidly found myself spending each sleepless night fending off the attacks of a cartoon wolf.

The wolf's nocturnal visits were equal parts ridiculous and terrifying. It didn't operate on the same fundamental logic as the universe the rest of us live in, it belonged to a world of falling anvils and comically oversized wooden hammers, a world where the rules of slapstick have more meaning than the laws of physics. The first time it got into the house it hopped down the chimney in a black and white Santa Claus outfit and gestured for me to jump into a similarly colorless leather sack that it held open for me oh-so politely. I fired a taser at it, and I saw its skeleton flash through its unconvincing disguise as the monochromatic menace jolted about spasmodically. Eventually it fell to the ground, inky lines of smoke drifting up from its contorted body, and I ran out the door, hopped into my car, and drove straight down to the police station. I didn't have time to grab my cell phone to dial 911, I didn't want to spend another instant in the house with that stupid wolf.

I didn't tell the police that my home invader was a cartoon character of course, because I'm not a moron and would prefer not to spend the rest of my days in a nice padded room wearing a comfortable straitjacket, thank you very much. Instead I just said there was someone in my house, I thought I had incapacitated them, and I wanted an officer to check it out.

They didn't find the wolf of course, and while they couldn't confirm if anyone had broken into the house, they were at least able to confirm the presence of an intruder by the marks they had left getting out; a cartoon wolf shaped hole in the wall.

I spent two weeks dealing with this wolf. Two. Weeks. Two weeks of desperately trying to contact my client about the cel. Two weeks of fitfully sleeping only during the day. Two weeks of spending my nights in paranoid vigilance against an impossible intruder. I began taking to renting various cheap motels for a single night at a time, out of a desperate hope that maybe it wouldn't be able to find me there. It was a pipe dream of course, it always found me, and I'd always have to find some new ridiculous way to stop it.

The only thing that would even temporarily stop the damn thing was playing by its own rules. Whacking it over the skull with a frying pan would cause it to collapse to the ground with an egg-sized lump on its forehead, chirping birds circling its head as spirals formed in its eyes. Stomping on its toe would make it yowl in exaggerated pain as it hopped up and down on one foot. I once managed to get away from it one night by ducking into a public restroom and pointing at the "Women's" sign on the door, at which the wolf got embarrassed and waited politely for me to finish my business. I stayed there until the sun rose. It never stuck around during the day.

I did say three things changed my life for the worse, and the third is easily the one that has been the most profoundly upsetting. I began to notice... changes. Subtle ones at first. I've always had a faint West Coast accent, but as my encounters with the wolf continued, I found my voice dipping into the tones of stereotypical valley girl more often than not. The pitch changed too, raising from the sightly gravelly vocal fry I was used to into a high pitched squeak.

I used to smoke on occasion, not anything major, maybe a single cigarette a day at the most, but now I was finding myself with one constantly stuck in my mouth. It wasn't a situation of my addiction increasing due to stress, no, I never bought any fresh packs. They would literally seem to appear, already lit, when I wasn't paying attention. My skin began to turn paler too, my hair darker, the dark brown transforming into an inky black.

It was when I looked in the mirror one day and saw my pupils had slices taken out of them that I knew I had to do something drastic. I didn't care if it cost me my damn career, I didn't care if I spent the whole rest of my life flipping burgers on minimum wage, living out of my car; I refused to let myself turn into a goddamn cartoon.

I drove myself down to the storage facility. By this point I had been hopping from hotel to hotel so much that it took me until nightfall to reach it, which meant that the wolf would have a chance to try and stop me. I didn't care, I had a job to do. I wasn't going to let my humanity get stolen just because I was scared of some atrociously abnormal animated asshole.

I parked right in front of the facility next to a red painted curb. They could tow my car away and melt it down for all I cared. All that mattered was getting to that cel. As soon as I began marching towards the front gates, I heard a sharp whistle blow through the nighttime silence, and I turned to see the wolf, dressed in an old fashioned police uniform, writing what looked to be a parking ticket in a notepad. I flipped it the finger and began to run for my storage unit, looking back just in time to see the wolf speeding towards me, the uniform left behind still floating in the air from how quickly it leapt out of it.

But I was faster now, I felt lighter. My every step was bouncier and more energetic, and I found a wild grin growing across my face, perhaps an inch or so wider than it may have been before, a cigarette clenched tight between my pearly white, perfectly straight teeth. I used to have quite the crooked set of chompers, and my dentist always got onto me about how little I flossed, but right now supernaturally enhanced dental hygiene was hardly my biggest concern.

I managed to skid to a stop (with the appropriate sound effect of course) right in front of the storage unit, and rapidly entered the combination. I knew that the wolf was close behind me, because the wolf would always be close behind me. It was in his very nature, as was mine to escape in the very nick of time. Hunter and fox, cat and mouse, wolf and rabbit.

I swung open the heavy steel door and stomped the glass case at my feet to fragments, grabbing the cel with a flourish as the wolf tripped over my extended leg and slid to a stop on the metal floor. Pulling the lit cigarette from my mouth, I touched it to the cellulose image and winked. "That's all folks" I muttered as the translucent image caught fire in an instant.

As soon as the cel began to burn, so too did the wolf, engulfed in white hot flames as it howled in apparent agony. It didn't take long before the howls faded away, and all that was left was a wolf-shaped outline of ash on the floor of the storage unit.

"I'll be honest with ya, I wasn't sure that was going to work!" I said to nobody in particular as I shut the door to the unit once again. I clapped my hands together, partially to clean off the ashes, but more to signify the conclusion of a job well done.

I drove home and collapsed on the couch, exhausted.

And if we lived in a kind and loving universe that is where the story would have ended. But, of course, we do not.

I turned on the TV, desperate to drink in some mindless garbage to distract my brain from the question of how I would explain away the destruction of the cel to my client. Flipping to a random channel, I was greeted with the image of a cartoon wolf sneaking along to a jaunty tune.

Obviously it wasn't the wolf from Howl's well that ends well, that would be ridiculous. No TV channel is broadcasting obscure cartoon shorts from the 30s, not even at that hour. The wolf was in color, the art style was different, it must have been an adaptation of Three Little Pigs or something. But it didn't matter. It reminded me of my wolf, and I felt rage bubble up in my chest. My eyes narrowed, and I felt as though steam was blowing out of my ears. Who knows, maybe it did.

I pulled out a baseball bat and began smashing it into the TV set over and over again, gibbering incoherently and laughing as I did so, sparks flying from the ruined mess of plastic and glass. By the time I finished swinging, the mass of steaming debris was barely recognizable as a television.

As I stood there, hunched over, catching my breath, I looked down at the baseball bat I had used to destroy the TV. I don't own a baseball bat. I never have. Even if I did have one, how could I have gotten it so quickly? It's not like there is room for it in my pockets, and I didn't run off to some closet to grab it, it wasn't leaning against the couch when I came in.

Walking into the bathroom, I confirmed what I already knew.

My skin was still deathly pale, nearly white now, my hair was still black. When I reached up to touch my face, I found that my hand had only four fingers.

As I gazed upon my caricatured reflection in the mirror, a thought clawed at the synapses of my brain, a shock to the system like a firm handshake with a hand-buzzer; I still didn't feel alone. Ever since that freakishly fiendish fleaball had turned my life upside down, I'd felt as though I was being watched, being followed everywhere I went. I just assumed it was the horror of pursuit, the terror of being prey. But I think it's more than that.

The thing about humor is that it's all relative isn't it? If you tell a joke and nobody is around to hear it, well, chances are you aren't going to get any laughs, are you? The whole purpose of a cartoon is to entertain an audience, to make us laugh at the zany antics of those larger than life characters as they go about their impossible, ridiculous existence. Without anyone watching them, they have no purpose, no reason to exist. All of their power comes from the laughs they give their audience.

So I'm asking you now, dear reader; who is watching me, and how do I get them to stop?

#horror #nosleep #horror fiction #writers on tumblr #writeblr #halloween

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merakiui · 2 years ago

Note

Overflowing thoughts about Scara... Please do share some!

I will happily share! Please forgive me if it's too scattered... orz

Yandere ideas

Secret Alliance plot but with Scaramouche.

Your new roommate is mysteriously intriguing. He doesn't talk much about himself, his hobbies and interests are very surface level, and he seems almost superficial at times. As if he has to uphold a façade for some reason. You'd like to get to know him better so that the two of you can become closer friends, but Scaramouche seems to hold you at a distance. Little do you know that he's actually the man who's been stalking you and now that he's finally moved in and has you and this space all to himself... He's waited a year for this and you're completely oblivious of the secrets he really hides. Your prying is starting to annoy him, though. After all, he can't have you learning more than you're meant to know.

Ex-boyfriend Scaramouche who can't get over you no matter how much he tries. This leads him down a spiraling path, where he begins to follow you home from work, look into who you call your friends, visit your family member's places to still keep up the farce that he's your loving boyfriend. You will always be his most precious darling and he was certain he'd always be yours. But when someone new comes into your life, practically sweeps you off your feet and makes you feel safe and secure, the sugary dream Scaramouche has been living in sours. You might have moved on, but he sure hasn't.

Scaramouche who, in his steps towards becoming a god, wants you to be his first follower. He connects with your consciousness by mistake, but after spending some time learning about you he comes back again and again. And now he's certain that you're worthy of being the first one to worship him as a god. You won't have much of a choice either way.

Non-yandere ideas

A silly plot where you and Scaramouche get married solely for the benefits and because he thought it'd be a good middle finger towards his mother and self-proclaimed aunt. Turns out the both of you don't know the first thing about what it means to live together as a couple and now you have to navigate the married life while upholding the image that adulting while in love is so easy (spoiler: it's not) just to get nosy neighbors and coworkers off of your backs.

Office au where you and Scaramouche are vying for employee of the month and as a result the both of you are willing to do whatever it takes to look good in front of your boss so she'll hopefully consider you as worthy candidates. Neither of you get employee of the month, but somehow the two of you became friends throughout the month-long competition.

Scaramouche's annoyances (read friends) truly believe he wouldn't last six months in a healthy relationship because of what they call 'excessive baggage and mommy issues,' things he apparently hasn't sorted through yet. So naturally Scaramouche intends to prove them wrong. And rather than trying to cope with his own problems and get proper therapy (it's cheaper to say 'it is what it is,' according to Scara) he employs his friend with benefits to be his fake lover for the next six months. He really doesn't think he can get any lower than this, but when you make him pay you for every month... It's all to make his friends eat their words! >:( But then he finds himself slowly falling for you and he's not so sure he wants to pretend anymore.

Childe sets you up on a blind date with, according to him, a good friend of his. You expect someone like Mr. Zhongli or the Traveler. What you don't expect is the Sixth Fatui Harbinger. And, for some reason, he seems weirdly interested in this arrangement, though he adamantly denies it.

spy au my beloved <3

#genshin chit chat #scaranya #as you can tell i currently have too many thoughts about mouchey

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littlefreya · 4 years ago

Note

Henry's reaction to finding out GF's house is haunted.

Summary: Henry’s friend invites him over to watch a horror film on Halloween, problem is he is madly in love with her.

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Unamed OFC (3rd person, no description)

Warnings: RPF, fluff, romantic goo, friends to lovers or rather idiots to lovers, brief mentions of alcohol and Henry’s green hoodie p0rn.

Words: 1.6K

A/N: So I had to take it to the “friends to lovers” lane, also I will need all the fluff after what I am about to post tomorrow :|! Divider by @firefly-graphics. Beta’d by my beautiful @agniavateira . Also FYI my house is totally haunted.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed.

Haunted Houses

All Hallow's Eve was Henry’s favourite time of the year. The spicy autumn air was thickly shrouded by magic. Spooky tales and plastic spiders inhabited drapes of thin cotton tendrils and fat pumpkins carved with scary faces would sit on his doorstep to welcome him home or bid him farewell on his way out.

Per tradition, he would rally close friends at midnight for a horror flick and pineapple-anchovy pizza; often a bottle of rum would be added to the party. However, this Halloween fell on a bittersweet period, as his friends grew too old for said spooky gatherings. Starting new families of their own, they had no time to indulge him.

All save for her, who just like him was still somehow single.

How bad would it be to spend the evening just the two of them... alone? Ignoring the fact that it was enough to see her name flicker on the screen of his phone for pure warmth to enkindle in his chest. He thought about her often before he fell asleep and when he woke up; and by often, he meant every single day since he met her.

Though she didn’t think much of him as anything other than a friend she loved to banter with - he presumed. And of course she loved Kal, possibly more than she cared for him. Yet, Henry did what he did best: bury his emotions into a little pit he dug in the graveyard of his mind.

"Heh!” Henry croaked as the door opened. His sapphires ensnared the veils of black that cloaked her, preserving the sight of silk laces tied tightly at her torso in what seemed like a gothic medieval gown.

“I see you took off your costume for the evening."

She narrowed her eyes but only to observe his attire carefully: that same green hoodie and a pair of worn jeans that complimented his… asset.

She wanted to etch her fingers around the thick fabric and have a whiff of this hoodie, or perhaps just steal it and wear it forever and a day.

"First of all, it is called The Witching Hour so I must dress properly. Secondly - where is your costume, Cavill?" she crossed her arms together, looking rather displeased.

“I’m dressed as a homicidal maniac, we look like everybody else does.”

Snorting, she tilted her head, unimpressed. “You totally just stole this joke from Wednesday Addams.”

Henry shrugged and pressed his lips to a thin line. One of his foolish expressive gestures. It made her feel less nervous to which she was thankful. When she suggested they’d hang out despite them being the only two, she didn’t think much of the consequences of being all alone with the man who inhabited her mind and never paid rent. Everything about Henry made her feverish, but it was always easy when others accompanied them. The awkward anxiety of having to entertain him wasn’t her job, not up till now…

Oh, god! What if they had nothing to talk about? What if their playful chemistry was always influenced by the presence of other people?

Beads of sweat began to form below her breasts when Henry shoved a bottle of rum into her hand and then leaned in to steal a casual kiss from her cheek. She smiled with a friendly huff in return, stifling the shiver that coursed through her muscles while he welcomed himself into her home.

Striding forward, he peered at the Halloween decorations she hung across the walls and inhaled deeply - the scent of maple and buttery chestnuts filled the cosy little house, a scent that he could easily get intoxicated with.

It was what she smelled like and here he was, drowning in its excess.

After a quick observation, he turned to look at her, holding his hands clasped behind his back. She smiled awkwardly in return and then averted her gaze, becoming fascinated by the bottle he brought.

‘There it is,’ Henry mused, ‘that embarrassing silence, there is so much to tell her, but she probably… no! She definitely finds me boring.’

This Halloween celebration would probably be the last and it was all sorts of disastrous.

Trying to overcome the silence, he cleared his throat and reached a hand to scratch his curly mane. “So what movie are we watching?”

“Movie?” she asked confused and then quickly corrected, “Oh yes, umm... The Exorcist.”

“Good, love me some green vomit.” his eyes followed carefully as she waltzed into the small open kitchen, placing the rum on the counter and then returning with a large bowl that made his nostrils flare.

“Green vomit goes extremely well with caramelised popcorn,” she suggested and popped a golden flake of popcorn into her mouth.

“Sweet-salty popcorn? I love you!” Henry groaned and snatched the bowl right away. It was only when his mouth was stuffed that he realised what words he just used.

But she didn’t seem to react, thankfully. Instead, she brushed a hand over her many skirts and pointed toward the living room.

Hugging the bowl, Henry strode behind her, entering the dimly lit living room. The traditional pizza was already laid on the wooden coffee table, along with a few bottles of Guinness.

Her couch was small, only fit for a couple. And Henry, being a hulking man, took most of the space. Their thighs immediately ground into one another’s, yet they both pretended as if they hadn't noticed the hot tingle running beneath the layers of clothing.

“I have to warn you about something,” she uttered, hoping that the tremor she suddenly felt in her body was not visible to him.

Henry crooked his eyebrow, looking at the ominous glare she offered.

“My house is totally haunted.”

Not waiting for his answer, she grabbed the remote and pressed play. Henry chuckled at her silly joke, waiting for her to break character but she only peered at the screen.

“Nice try, I am not scared of that stuff.” He shifted in his seat slightly, lifting his lengthy arm and spreading it on the headrest right behind her. Immediately, he regretted this semi-possessive masculine gesture, but it was too late to pull it away.

Her instincts screamed to snuggle into him yet she held back. “Don’t believe me, but I am not making this up,” she insisted, “Every night around 3 am, I hear scratching from within the walls and these thuds from the ceiling, and then one night… I woke up the door creaking.”

Henry glanced at her quietly for a long moment, watching the reflection from the screen gyrating over her glossy irises and then snorted. He leaned toward the coffee table and grabbed two beers, uncorking them with the help of his pinky ring and then offering her one of the bottles.

“I think you have rats.”

“Rats who make heavy thuds and open bedroom doors?”

“Yup, a big fat randy rat.” he teased. “We’ll take a look at your bedroom later, but I promise you, there are no such things as ghosts.”

‘We’ll take a look in your bedroom? Great…’ He berated himself. At this point, he just wanted to sigh and shake his head.

She peered at him oddly, her throat clenching a tad before she turned her head back to the movie with a mumble, “It’s not a ghost, it’s a demon.”

Within a few minutes they grew quiet, deciding to focus on the movie with the occasional dry jokes and bad puns from Henry as an attempt to overcome his anxiety. Outside the window, thunder rumbled in the distance and shy raindrops lightly kissed the glass, tinted with the many vague shades of lights coming from the street.

Now and then, Henry shifted in his seat, his meaty thigh further grinding into her leg which stirred her blood to the point of electric spasms. She lightly pushed against him, pretending it’s by accident when truthfully, she wanted to exploit every second of being in his proximity. Had she any guts, she would turn to kiss him, but the thought alone made her heart clench in fear.

She threw him a glance, and their eyes met. Henry offered a kind grin, avoiding staring at her lips. She smiled back coyly, her heartbeat accelerating with anticipation when the possessed girl in the movie made a horrifying groan that ruined the moment.

And then the room suddenly was swallowed in darkness, followed by a strong clap of thunder that tore open the sky.

In the scant moment of chaos, he heard a scream and then the light came back as if nothing happened, aside from the fact that she was now in his arms, with her legs straddling his waist, and her fingers clutching the collar of his hoodie.

Henry was unsure how and when his hand found itself latched to the small of her back, only that he didn’t want to let go. They exchanged bemused glances and swallowed the dryness parching their throats.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, “I got scared…”

Embarrassed to the point of tears, she attempted to climb off, wanting nothing more than to run to the bathroom and cry in hiding, when Henry sent a hand to stroke her temple and gently brushed his fingers behind her ear.

“Stay,” he insisted, squeezing into her lower back as if to prevent her from escaping.

Her lips parted slowly, the same golden hue that suffused the living room split into her eyes, beaming even brighter as he continued to caress her face before bringing her closer to graze her lips with his.

Halloween was, without a doubt, his favourite.

Tagging: @the-soot-sprite @henrythickcavill because they asked to be tagged in these. <3

#henry cavill #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x ofc

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albakore · 3 years ago

Text

Buying them flowers

Synopsis: They were overworking themself again, so reader thought it might be nice to do something thoughtful for them.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Jean (gn!reader)

Warnings: none, just fluff!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅ ⊰ ⋅•⋅

Diluc:

we all know Diluc is the CEO of overworking himself. this man never lets himself catch a break

if you are in an established relationship, he definitely buys you flowers on the regular.

flowers are just the perfect gift in his mind: they don’t take up useless space forever, they look pretty, they smell nice, there’s variety, the list goes on

he definitely doesn’t expect to come home to you handing him a bouquet though

Diluc let his shoulders sag as he stepped in the door to the winery. The abyss had been more active than usual, and while it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, it still left him sore and grumpy at the end of the day. His eyes scanned the dim area that was his living area. There were a few lit candles about but judging by the stillness of the space he assumed most of his staff had resigned to their homes for the night.

Just as Diluc let his guard down and began freeing himself from his excessive outerwear he hid himself in all day, you stepped out quietly from your shared bedroom and approached him. Diluc noticed your footsteps right away, he was a well-trained fighter after all, so of course he knew how to pick up even the slightest shift in his surroundings. There was an odd rustling sound that accompanied you before he felt your palm placed firmly against his back to get his attention.

“Surprise.” You spoke softly as he turned around to spot the bouquet in your hands. You had a soft, sympathetic smile on your face as you took in how tired the man before you appeared. The ever perseverant and reliable Master Diluc with bags under his eyes and tussled hair and his jaw perpetually clenched. You took his gloved hand in yours and raised it so you could place the flowers in his palm.

“What’s this for?” He asked softly, looking at all the different kinds of flowers you had incorporated.

“For you, silly!” You chuckled at his reaction. “What, I’m not allowed to get my lover flowers?” You feigned defensiveness as you settled your amused gazed on his bewildered expression. He brought the flowers up to his nose and breathed in the pleasant floral scent before he wrapped his arms around you, exhaling a small thank you before letting his head fall onto your shoulder almost defeatedly — almost because nothing in this world had bested the Ragnvindr yet. You knew he was strong enough to push through this, all he needed was a little support. He took a few deep breathes, appreciating the presence of his lover, allowing himself just one moment of vulnerability. It seems a bouquet was all it took to break down yet another part of the man’s emotional walls.

Kaeya:

when he spots the bouquet his first thought is how you are just the cutest

he’ll occasionally buy you bouquets if he happens to see something pretty while he’s out adventuring or if Flora has something interesting out for sale

he’s a fan of single flowers, something he can tuck behind your ear gently while he watches you grow flustered by his actions

definitely a single rose kinda guy, even if it’s super cliche

Oh, what’s this? He muses to himself, eyes glinted with mirth as he approaches his desk. He glances over the flowers and the note and wonders who the anonymous suitor could be. He hopes to himself as he reaches for the note that you were the one who left these flowers for him but he knows he has his fair share of people pining over him, so it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise if it were someone else. Even despite you two’s public relationship, that doesn’t always stop the odd bold soul from thinking they could steal him from you, wrongfully so of course. His eyes instantly flit to your named signed at the bottom and his smile grows from his normal cocky smirk to a genuine soft expression.

The letter reads:

How’s work, Captain? Home feels emptier without you here. I miss you telling me good morning and good night every day. I know Mondstadt’s needs are more important right now than one individuals, but that doesn’t stop me from awaiting the moment I can wrap my arms around you again. On the bright side, no one’s pinched my ass in days! That’s about the only positive part of this whole situation, though. Say, when your workload lessens again we should get dinner together! Sara from Good Hunter keeps asking me when you’ll stop by. Well, I’ll let you return to your work now. Thinking of you, always.

Kaeya sighed as he set down the note and picked up the flowers. He’d been covering for Jean for a few days while she attended to other business. He didn’t mind, really, it was the least he could do in return for all she did for Mondstadt, but he couldn’t deny he missed you too. He’d been staying in his old dorm at the Favonius HQ to make his life a little easier; he was up late into the night working on paperwork in her office and up early in the morning to go on patrol. It would only be a couple more days until she returned and he could yet again have you laid on his chest comfortably.

He’d have to remember to ask Albedo for a vase to keep these flowers in, and surely Sucrose would know of a way to up their longevity so he could keep them on his desk for as long as possible. He sat down in his chair and picked up a pen and loose piece of paper to begin writing you his response.

Jean:

jean is an absolutely sucker when her s/o buys her flowers.

everyone knows Jean’s secret favorite pass time is reading romance novels

so that kind of super corny but romantic shit is right up her alley. how to woo jean gunnhildr 101

she doesn’t get to buy her lover flowers as often as she would like. the thought that she should always crosses her mind at the least convenient of times.

she’ll be nowhere near flora/any sort of flower patch and she’ll think “i should get them some flowers to make up for not being home as often as i would like to be”

but then she’ll be whisked away by someone else in mondstadt who needs her help and well…

Jean was fresh out of the shower, hair down and damp, towel wrapped around her body as he made her way to your shared bedroom. You had gone out to fetch you two something to eat for dinner, so it was just her left in the apartment. She opened the door quietly and was taken aback by the scene in front of her. There were candles lit all along the desk and dresser, there were flower petals scattered about the floor from the door to surrounding the bed. In the middle of the bed sat a bouquet of flowers awaiting her.

She hadn’t moved an inch, her mouth was slightly ajar and her hand still firmly gripped the door handle — in a good way of course. She hadn’t registered the front door opening that signified you entering with dinner. You paused and watched her for a minute before setting the food down and making your way over to her. You brushed some of her hair away from her shoulder and pressed a kiss there causing her eyes to snap over to you. “(Y/N)! I-I don’t even know what to say-“ she stammered over her words, cheeks growing redder by the second. You giggled, bringing her knuckle to your lips.

“Go put on some comfy clothes and then we’ll eat. We’ll worry about everything else later. You’ve been working so hard lately, I just thought you might appreciate some.. relaxation.”

She sighed before leaning over and pecking your cheek. “Thank you, really.” She murmured before stepping into the bedroom. You watched as she continued to glance around the room in awe as she made her way to the closet. You turned and walked back to the boxes of food you had brought home. Of course you two had to enjoy dinner before dessert.

#diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc x y/n #kaeya x you #kaeya x reader #jean x reader #jean x you #jean gunnhildr #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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illfoandillfie · 3 years ago

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Kinktober Day 5: Panties & Lingerie

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,153

Warnings: nothing much, some degredation, teasing, set during quarantine/lockdown, DIY bondage, gag, implied sex, dom!gwil

A/N: The first Gwil day!

You listened to make sure Gwil was still in the kitchen before closing your bedroom door and setting your plan in motion. After a few months of being in lockdown things had begun to grow stale. The days bled into each other and there was little variation from one to the next. It wasn’t bad really – you and Gwil were both healthy and able to work from home easily enough – it was just becoming monotonous. But you were determined that the habits you’d slipped into and the routine of your lockdown lives wouldn’t get in the way of your relationship. So you came up with an idea to surprise Gwil, just to spice things up and keep him on his toes a little.

The first step was to dress in something you knew would turn him on, so you opted for a lingerie set he’d bought you and definitely enjoying seeing you wear- a deep purple chemise that fell around the top of your thigh, hugging you tightly, and barely concealed the matching thong. And then, because you didn’t want to make it too easy for him, you threw an oversized hoodie on top. It was one you’d stolen from Gwil the first winter you were together but he always claimed you looked better in it and never tried to take it back. Even after you moved in together it lived in your side of the wardrobe. It was baggy and cosy and almost drowned you in excess material, hanging closer to your knees than the lingerie did, which made it the perfect cover. Gwil didn’t think anything of it when he saw you. It was lockdown after all, no one to see or impress, nowhere to go, nothing to dress up for. Comfort was the name of the game. He himself had opted for tracksuit pants and a baggy shirt with a sweater over the top since it was getting to be quite chilly.

After you were dressed, the next part of the plan was to tease him. You saw it as sort of like animals in a zoo enclosure. This was Gwil’s enrichment for the day. He’d have to figure out how little you were wearing under the hoodie and then it’d be up to him what he did with that information. But you were sure it would be fun. Which you supposed meant that teasing him was your enrichment activity, something to keep you entertained and occupied. The thought made you laugh to yourself as you settled on the couch with your laptop to check your emails. Gwil had a zoom meeting first up, taking himself off to the dining room, so your scheme would have to wait until he was done. But that just gave you more time to think through how you’d tease him.

Roughly an hour and a half later Gwilym popped his head through the doorway. “Putting the kettle on, sweetheart, d’you want a cuppa?” “Yes please,” you said, making a show of setting aside your laptop and arching your back as if you needed to stretch. Gwil smiled but didn’t seem to pay any attention to how you were pushing your tits towards him. “Should I grab out some of that biscotti I made yesterday?” you asked, relaxing into a more normal posture. The hoodie was probably too thick to properly show off your chest, even if you were pushing hardened nipples against the fabric. No wonder Gwil hadn’t seemed to notice. “That would be lovely. It’s really good.” You chuckled and stood to follow him to the kitchen, “I wasn’t sure it was going to work but they turned out pretty alright. Think next time I might try and do one of those chocolatey variations. Where’d you put them?” “Pantry. Can you grab the sugar out while you’re there? The canister’s almost empty.” “Sure thing.” You located the Tupperware box of biscotti first and then the sugar. They were on the same shelf, one higher than you usually placed things. It wasn’t that you couldn’t reach the shelf – the biscotti would be easy enough to grab down – it was that you had to stretch a little further to get things towards the back of the shelf. And at some point since you’d last filled the sugar container, the bag had been shoved behind other things. You said a silent thank you to past Gwil for putting both items that high up. “Gwil, honey!” you called out as you raised yourself onto your tiptoes and stretched your arms up. Gwil came in just in time to see you flailing for the sugar, arms over your head, your hoodie pulled up so that more of your legs were exposed, clearly showing him that you weren’t wearing shorts. “Can’t reach the sugar,” you chuckled, grabbing the biscotti box and sinking back down onto the soles of your feet. You turned around in time to see Gwil blinking. His momentary stupefaction disappeared and he laughed as he reached up to retrieve the bag you’d been unable to get.

When the tea was made you carried it and a plate of biscotti out to the lounge so you could watch mid-morning TV. Gwil settled onto the loveseat but you’d already been set up in the armchair so sank back into it. You crossed one leg over the other, uncrossed them, leant forward to pick up your teacup, crossed your legs the other way and took a sip. You suspected Gwil had noticed your odd actions when he leaned forward in your peripheral vision and didn’t sit up again. “Oh, silly,” you said to yourself as you uncrossed your legs again, leaned forward to grab your snack, sat back and crossed your legs once more. Sensing Gwilym’s eyes on your thighs, you turned to smile at him, pleased to see his eyes dart towards the TV once he’d realised you were looking. And then, after enough time so it wouldn’t be too obvious that you wanted him to look, you uncrossed your legs again, instead drawing them both up under you. Gwil stood up suddenly and left the room but before you could wonder about it too long you heard the toilet flush and let your attention drift back to the TV as Gwil took his seat again. You finished your tea, noting that you felt quite warm after it.

Around midday Gwil went in search of some food. You heard him open the fridge and then close it again. His footsteps moved away after that, down the hall and then back to the kitchen and then back out to where you were still sitting, once again on your laptop. “Gonna have that leftover lasagne for lunch so I’ve stuck the oven on to heat up.” He said, pulling his sweater off and swinging his legs up to recline on the couch. The oven hadn’t been on long when you noticed the heat and wondered what temperature Gwil had set it to. It probably didn’t help that your laptop had seen quite a lot of use and was feeling very hot against your legs. You shifted it around, trying to find a way to make yourself more comfortable without interfering with the hoodie. “You right?” Gwil asked. “Yeah, fine,” “Must be getting a bit warm in the hoodie,” “Not really,” you shrugged, trying not to sound too suspicious of him. Gwil stood, “Oven’s probably warm enough now right?” “Yeah probably.” You listened carefully as Gwil walked into the kitchen but once more his footsteps faded off up the hall. Ten seconds later and you’d already noticed the rise in temperature, and it dawned on you that perhaps the oven wasn’t the only think Gwil had been tampering with.

You followed him quietly to the kitchen, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows as the heat got worse. He seemed surprised to see you there as he crept back into the room but you feigned ignorance, muttering something about needing a drink as you bent over the dishwasher, lowering yourself more than was strictly necessary as you pretended to search for a cup, offering him a peak at your scant underwear. When you righted yourself Gwil was right behind you, his hands reaching for the hem of the hoodie, “Game's up sweetheart. Take the damn thing off.” “Wondered when you’d get there,” you laughed, “Might want to turn that stove off for the moment.” You waited until he’d done so before lifting your most modest layer over your head to reveal what little you wore underneath it. Gwil’s eyes travelled over you as he breathed in deeply through his nose, “All dressed up. What’s the occasion?” “Just wanted to.” “You mean you wanted to tease me.” His voice was low and soft but that just made it all the more ominous, a hint of what was in store for you. You didn’t even have a chance to answer before his fingers wrapped around your wrist and he began to lead you to the bedroom. “In my defence, teasing you is fun.” You couldn’t help but want to taunt him further. “I think you just like it because you know I won’t be able to resist taking it out on your cunt.” “That’s definitely part of it.” You laughed but you were abruptly cut off as he pushed you towards the bed.

Gwilym growled as he backed you up to the mattress and you quickly scrambled into place. His hands felt hot against you as his pushed the soft material of your lingerie up to your chest and then straddled your exposed stomach. With a sudden yank he began to pull the chemise over your head but, to your dismay, it seemed to catch partway, your arms and head still stuck in the clinging material. “Umm, Gwil?” you asked, trying not to panic with your head still stuck inside the lingerie. “You’re alright, sweetheart. I’m going to pull it up further in a second but I think some sort of poetic justice is in order. So reach back and grab the headboard and then I’ll readjust.” Heart racing, you tried to blindly do what he said, grateful when he leaned over and helped position your hands so that each was wrapped around one of the slats in the headboard. You felt the material hug your arms tightly as he readjusted it so that your nose and mouth were freed. Your eyes remained blindfolded by the bottom of the dress but being able to breathe freely meant it wasn’t so panic induicing. “There, that ought to hold you.” He shuffled back down your body until he was straddling your thighs, “I think it’s fitting to keep you stuck here enduring my cock, bound by the very thing you used to taunt me.” The idea made you shiver but your enjoyment was helped by Gwil’s hand falling to your thong clad pussy. He dragged his fingers along your lips before finding you clit and beginning to circle it slowly. “It’s quite rude to tease really.” he said as he pressed his fingers against you, making you gasp, “Does it make you wet sweetheart? Does it turn you on to be a dirty little slut, begging to be fucked. Because that’s what you are right now. Dressing all slutty and bending over like you were hoping I’d just fill you with cock there and then.” You whined as his fingers became more insistent and his words got filthier, everything contributing to your growing wetness and your nearing orgasm. “If you’re not careful I’ll have to fuck you every day until this lockdown ends. You won’t get the chance to tease me with your thongs and your stretching and whatever other slutty ideas are in your slutty head. I’ll just fuck you first and save you the trouble. Oh you like that idea huh?” he laughed in response to your moan, “Spending every day cock drunk and begging for more? Prove it. Cum for me and I might actually do it.” His fingers were impossible to argue with and you couldn’t hold back any longer, moaning with your release. “Good girl,” he cooed softly, “Making such a mess of your panties though. What about we take them off now and I can see just how slutty your cunt is.” You nodded eagerly, giving him a few words of encouragement as he dragged the wet underwear down your legs. Gwilym held the panties up to the light, twisting it to better see the slick patch you’d created, “Very good.” he said as he balled the underwear up and, grabbing your jaw, stuffed it between your lips. You whined around the material, able to taste your own arousal which only turned you on more. “Now keep being good for me,” You watched as Gwil pushed his pants down and pulled his cock out, positioning it between your legs.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my blurbs #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee imagine

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yunkiwii · 4 years ago

Text

—i miss you even when you're here—

pairing: bf!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, established relationship

wc: ~2.7k

warnings: feeling of abandonment, loneliness, stress, insecurities

⇢ requested by @leihey ♡ i hope this lives up to your expectations!

summary: for seven days y/n has been feeling lonely as her boyfriend spends all his time either at work or thinking about work.

You turn your alarm off without even looking at it, huffing before reaching your arm to the left side of the bed, and the way it lands straight out into the wrinkled sheets with a muffled sound confirms what you expected but still hoped wouldn't happen today - waking up alone.

For the past week Seungmin would get home late to a long asleep girlfriend at their shared bed, and a plate of cold food on the kitchen table. On the other hand, you would wake to an already empty bed and a faint memory of a forehead kiss, one you wondered if it were real or just a lucid dream.

For seven days you have spent your time either at work or alone at home, carefully thinking what meal would cheer up your boyfriend the most after a long stressful day at JYPE, missing the way he would always cut the onions because he knew you were more sensitive than him to the burning feeling in your eyes and would cry easily, missing how the kitchen always felt so small for the two of you to cook together, his hands constantly on your waist as a way to tell you to "scootch over", not wanting to interrupt his singing to tell you verbally.

For seven days you have been cooking alone, cooking for someone you didn't know would show up in time or not. And whenever he did - he didn't - being his presence merely physical, greeting kisses placed on your cheeks, lips and forehead in a mechanical way, a force of habit. For seven days your kitchen felt too big, too quiet and the onions made you cry more than usual.

At the eighth day you couldn't take it anymore, and when you heard the doorknob of your front door creaking, just as you were setting the table - for two -, you had to take three deep breaths, the words you had organized and planned out started to get mixed up in your brain, creating a mess you couldn't control anymore and so, as soon as you see Seungmin entering the kitchen you can only say three words, "I love you."

"I love you too, silly." he chuckles as his lips peck yours quickly, "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about so desperatly?", he waves his phone, referring to the text you sent him earlier. He didn't look annoyed at you for making him come home earlier than it was usual lately, but he still seemed off, and the bags under his eyes screamed "exhaustion" the same way the marks your tears left on your cheeks did too.

You watch him as he eats, unable to do so too yourself, the lump in your throat growing as you hear Seungmin's muffled voice thanking you for the meal with his mouth full and a light squeeze on your thigh. And you wondered if you were being unfair, if you were being selfish, because he was allowed to be stressed about his work, he was allowed to not be at his best all the time, and it wasn't his fault he had to stay until late at night at work. But it was his fault that he couldn't leave work when he got home, that he couldn't put his phone down and ask how your day was, to just take ten minutes of his day to just be with you, and you only. And you were allowed to miss him, miss his touch, miss the way he held you tightly at the end of the day while you watched the most random tv show together, because it wasn't the show that matter but each other's company.

And, without realizing it, you had already spilled all of this to him before the kitchen dropped dead silent again, and everything went blurry. You couldn't even see his face, not until his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs cleaned your tears as you mumbled quietly, "I'm sorry, I- I just miss you."

"But I'm right here (y/n)...", he pulls your chair closer until your knees touch, taking your hand in his while the other lifts your chin so your eyes meet, "Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I'll get off earlier and pick you up. You'll wear that fancy outfit you've had in your wardrobe for ages, and I'll put on a nice suit and tie. What do you say?"

And in the eighth night you went to bed feeling a little warmer inside, his back turned to you didn't hurt as much now that your hand rested on his side and his shirt was worn by you. Knowing - hoping - that tomorrow will be better, you fall deep into dreamland as soon as you shut your eyes.

However, you couldn't help but to feel abandoned again when, hours later, a cold breeze hits your stomach and arms, making you mumble something in your sleep as you try to recover whatever was blocking that breeze before. One of your hands gets a grip of a soft fabric that seems too heavy to pull back down next to you, leaving your sleepy self whining for the owner of said fabric not to leave again.

"I will be back later, don't forget I'll pick you up for dinner. Go back to sleep now, (y/n)."

But how could you forget about dinner with him when, for the last eight days it was all you were longing for, and for the nineth day it was all you could think about?

Said day passed by slower than ever, an illusion caused by the clear anticipation you felt about the upcoming night. Anticipation addressed by your colleagues at work, who wondered what has sent your head into cloud 9 and your right leg into a fidgeting state, unable to stay still.

These same nervous actions continued at home, the funny feeling in your stomach resembling the very first date you had with Seungmin a few years ago, back when you were still a college student and he wasn't as busy as now. The same thoughts you had that day invading your restless mind again, "What if he doesn't like me (anymore)?", "What if he thinks I am (got) boring?", "What if my outfit doesn't fit?".

With that last thought you rush to your bedroom - but not without tripping on the first step of the staircase - to, in desperate clumsy movements, try out the said outfit you've been wanting to wear for so long, the one Seungmin got you for a "special date" months ago, one that never happened. But it did fit, it fitted better than ever and when you saw your reflection in the mirror even you fell in love with the person in front of you, the one doing little swirls with a stupid smile on her face, the person you doubted to be yourself. And, suddenly, you felt like everything would be alright, everything would go back to normal, maybe things would get even better than before, "there is no way he'll fall out of love for me when I look like this" was your first thought.

But he didn't even seem to notice your appearance, he didn't seem to notice you at all, he simply picked you up at the agreed time with a peck on your lips and one single rose in hand. All he did was drive you - in silence - to the fanciest restaurant in town, leave you alone at the table about three times to pick up the phone - "it's from work, I'm sorry" -, pay for both your meals and drive you back home.

And it took him to hear the quiet sobs you so hardly tried to keep in, while laying as far away as possible from him that you had to secure yourself from falling over the edge, to realize what he had been doing to you, to finally figure out how much he has been hurting you. And in that moment his sobs could be heard too. The realisation and guilt hit Seungmin like a truck and he couldn't move. He couldn't believe how he had let his stress and excessive work load affect you too. He couldn't believe he had reached a point to where he brought work home, one thing he had promised you he would never do. And his chest tights up a bit more when he realises you never got mad at him for breaking his promise, and breathing gets difficult when he faces you - your back.

"(Y/N)...", and your stomach drops five feet down at his cracked, low tone, and "I'm so sorry..." was all he could say before bursting into silent tears once more.

However, you were too hurt to face him, and the burn in your eyes increases when you feel the mattress sink behind you before a warm hand rests on your waist, but you don't push him away.

The nineth night was his the turning point, and Seungmin swore to your asleep self - and to himself - that the next morning would mark a new beginning.

And in the first morning you pretended to be asleep when his hand took a few strands of hair off your face, his lips barely touched your skin and his voice broke your heart, "see you later". And you held your breath until the bedroom door closed and stood still until the front door locked. But it took longer today, and in between these two moments you heard noise in the kitchen, and within a few minutes a nice smell made its way into your hiding place, as if it was trying to lure you to give in and face your boyfriend. But not even your grunting stomach stopped you from waiting to hear his car drive off to get up. And when you did, the curiosity took over you. He never cooks in the morning, and he never leaves this late. Something was changing after all.

Hence, in the first night, you shifted your body to face him when he quietly climbed in bed next to you, your left cheek pressed against your hands as a weak smile greeted the tired boy, "I appreciated the breakfast." Nevertheless, you didn't reach out to pinch his cheek the way you used to, though you had the urge to do so when his own lips drew a smile and his eyes got lost in his cheeks.

In the second morning you didn't pretend to be asleep and you didn't wait for the car to leave. In the second morning you sat at the kitchen table with Seungmin and, because he knew it would take you time to go back to him, he didn't force a conversation, he didn't force skinship, he merely held your hand and squeezed it lightly. And you knew he was trying, you knew he would try and wait until you were ready to trust him again, to give him your heart again.

Day by day you would slowly give him little pieces of you, by sharing the most small and insignificant stories of your day, by letting him hold your hand at night, by sharing earpods with him on the couch when you couldn't fall asleep, by letting him try and do all the things he shouldn't have stopped doing in the first place.

But it took you seven days and seven pieces to trust him with your heart again. Therefore, on the seventh day, as the the sunbeams peaked through the poorly closed shutters and reflected on Seungmin's bare shoulders, you couldn't help yourself from admiring him and, for the first time in seven days, you felt warm inside. The butterflies you used to feel the first times you woke up next to him were back, and were more annoying than ever.

You let yourself study all his features attentively, scanning all his perfect imperfections, letting yourself fall for him all over again - not that you think you ever fell out of love, but rather disconnected from it, and him.

He flinched and mumbled confused words, and you couldn't help but to smile and giggle softly at how silly your sleepy, drooling nonense-speaking boyfriend looked. This time, you gave in to the urge of pinching his cheek tenderly as to not wake him up, and you left your hand resting there as your thumb rubbed his soft skin.

As you were feeling your eyes becoming heavy again, your thumb stopped the movement and your hand slid down a bit. Your body relaxing more and more, until a ticklish feeling pulled you back to the "here and now", just to find Seungmin kissing the palm of your hand with his eyes still closed before pulling you closer to him, making you wince and giggle when his warm breath hit your ear and his raspy voice gave you his "good morning's".

He moved his body sloppily, hitting you with his elbow before comfortably positioning half of his body on top of yours, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he held you tightly by your waist, as if he were afraid you would run away.

"I missed you Seungmin, I missed you even when you were here." Your fingers got lost in his messy hair as you spoke, his grip on you grew tighter and you felt the tears peaking in the corner of your eyes. "You hurt me... and I thought about leaving you before you left me first."

For the first time you were letting him know how you truly felt, for the first time you were opening yourself up to him without any ounce of shame or fear. And this was your turning point. This was the moment you both knew you were back, ready to mend all the wrongs and the scattered pieces of your hearts that were left all around the house. "But everyone makes mistakes. And I know you have been trying, and-", Seungmin shifts his body once more, supporting himself with his hands as he is now hovering over you with his eyes locked in yours, a restless look in his face worried about what you would say next, and suddenly you feel shy, "What I mean to say is, I forgive you. I choose to stay and love you even if my mind won't let me believe that you love me back, I will trust you and your actions. So please don't let my mind trick me again, don't give it reasons to doubt your love for me unless you don't feel it anymore."

You pull his hair back waiting for a reaction, leaving your hand to rest behind his neck ready to pull him in for a kiss, the first real kiss in sixteen days. But you wait for what it feels to be an eternity, until he breaks the silence and mends the last piece of your heart when he reassures his love for you and vows to reassure you every single day until the rest of your lives.

And when you finally pull him in he loses balance and falls on top of you, his forehead hits your nose and just like that the house is filled up with laughter again, the onions don't make you cry anymore, the kitchen shrank and the fancy dates became late night movie marathons with you snuggled on Seungmin, or Seungmin snuggled on you, until you were far too tired to walk upstairs, leading to countless nights spent on the tiny couch and countless mornings with complaints about aching bodies but happy souls.

nets: @k-library @ficscafe @k-dinernet @districtninewriters

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ao3komorii · 4 years ago

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Lost Love’s Ruination (Viego/Reader)

Done at last! Was desperate to get this one out before Isolde was released for obvious reasons, so glad I got it done xD Once again, I tried to make it that you don't need any lore knowledge to get what's going on, though I would recommend maybe watching Ruination (the league short). Also no apologies for all the Senna because I love herrrrr

As a warning, there is smut at the end. Hope you enjoy it :) ----

A woman’s body, her beauty spoiled in apparent death, was lowered into beautiful crystalline waters. You couldn’t see who was lowering her into the water, or who stood around viewing the scene. You never could.

As it always did, the water grew poisoned with death as the woman revived from the dead, her features twisted with anger and confusion. Like a caged animal that had been freed, she lashed out, ripping a great blade out of someone’s grasp, and before you could react, the blade was plunged into your chest.

With a gasp, you woke up, your body broken out in a cold sweat, like it always did when you had that particular dream. You had had that dream many times before, but it never got any less terrifying. Long ago, you had considered visiting a dream reader to decipher what the horrifying nightmare meant, but you were scared that you would be told you were cursed and gave up on ever knowing.

It was a relief that most days you didn’t have much time to worry about your nightmares. You had been working on a farm in rural Demacia ever since you had been taken in at age four. You had been told that you were the only survivor of a fire, but you had been so young that you had no memories of the fire, or of your parents.

The owner of the farm had given you a home, but he was far from being family. You were given enough food to survive, but no more, and it was always contingent on you working on the farm seven days a week. You were grateful to have a bed to sleep in at night, even as hard as it was, but couldn’t help but feel some envy watching the other girls in your town go about their lives without the responsibilities that you had.

You might as well get up, even with how early you had woken up. Today was sheep shearing day, the longest day of the year for you. The sheep liked you more than they liked the owner, so that meant that you were stuck shearing all the sheep by yourself while he went to the town bar all day.

Putting on your old and worn boots with a sigh, you wished you could find a way out of this life. But you had no skills besides farming, and no money. The only way a girl like you could get out of this life was to marry a likely-older man, and that was something you wanted to avoid at all costs. The owner’s brother had previously expressed an interest in you, but luckily for you the owner hated his brother, or you would have likely had to live on the streets to avoid that marriage made in hell.

The owner was out in the field feeding the sheep when you exited the farmhouse. He glanced up at you, but you knew better than to expect a good morning, instead heading towards the small shed to fetch your shears.

Only when you returned to the field did he finally speak up. “Have some buyers comin’ for the wool tomorrow, so make sure it’s done today.”

“Right,” you answered. He was always the gruff, no-nonsense type, so you knew by now that talking back would get you nowhere. You had learned that lesson soon after you had come to this place twenty years ago. He was your employer, not your father, and he made sure you never forgot that.

“Alright, I’m off then,” he said, giving the field of sheep one more look over before heading inside to change out of his overalls.

You finished setting your things up as the owner left for the bar. You watched as he headed down the road, knowing that he wouldn’t be back until late. You didn’t really mind when he was gone, even if that meant you had a larger workload; he never seemed to have any interest in you other than what you could do on the farm, so he wasn’t one for long conversation. Without him around, you were at least able to relax and work without feeling like you had someone breathing down your neck to finish faster.

Luckily, the sheep were more than willing to listen to your worries, even if they didn’t understand what you were saying.

“I just want to stop having that dream,” you said as you began shearing one of your favorite sheep, Tulip. The owner had no interest in naming his livestock, so the job was left to you. Names didn’t make a difference to the owner, but it made a big difference to you, even as sad as it was to have your only friends be farm animals.

“I just wish I could make them go away,” you told the uninterested sheep. “Things would be much easier if I could dream about grass like you probably do, Tulip.”

Tulip turned her head to face you and you sighed, petting her freshly-sheared back. You always felt silly talking to the sheep, but it wasn’t like you had any better options around here.

Every time you had dreamed of a more exciting life, you had backed down and given up on your plans. Beyond your lack of money or skills, you knew very little about the world outside your small farming town. You had only been outside the town once, many years ago when you went with the owner to help pick out some new livestock from a larger town.

As your life stood right now, you had very little idea of what your future would be like. Would you eventually get tired of this life and set out on your own, get married off, or stay here until you were old and gray? None of those options seemed particularly appealing to you, but for now, all you could do was sit here and talk to sheep about your nightmares, wishing you could have a chance to see more of the world than your small town.

It was already a pretty warm day, and handling heavy sheep’s wool wasn’t helping. You had sheared about half the sheep by midday, but your work had been slowing down, likely due to your poor night of sleep. You would have to pick up the pace considerably if you wanted to finish in time to get any sleep tonight.

You had been pushing through your increasing thirst for at least an hour in the name of finishing on time, but had finally given in and headed inside for some water. Your dry throat ached, but the water was still nice, as you knew the owner would be upset if you passed out from dehydration before you finished your day’s work.

As much as you didn’t want to go back out there, you knew you had to work to earn your keep. It was a little harder to stay focused on work when you were dirty, sweaty and covered in balls of wool, but you had to push through and just look forward to a nice bath after the day was done.

You paused to stretch as you stood before the front door, knowing it would be back to work as soon as you were back outside. Stretching only served to emphasize how sore you were feeling after several hours of tedious work, with many more still to go. That was the same reason why you hadn’t bothered to pick the excess wool off of your clothes; why bother when you would look like a patchy sheep by the end of the day anyways?

Saying goodbye to your brief moment of rest, you opened the door at last, reluctantly ready to get back to work. Looking out over the area, you were surprised to see the field in more chaos than you had left it.

Your stool had been knocked over, but that was easy enough to fix; your real problem came from the sheep. You had expected them to wander around the field while not under your supervision, but the scene before you was something you had never experienced before.

The sheep were all crowded along the fence that faced the way into town. Walking closer, you could see nothing along the road that led past other farms and into town, at least nothing that would catch the attention of the entire flock of sheep. The dirt road was clear, the only noise around drifting over from the other nearby farms, but that wasn’t unusual.

You walked closer to the sheep, still unsure of what their problem was. You had never seen them act like this before, not even when large carts would pass by them travelling on the road. Could they see something that you couldn’t? You had never heard of sheep having supernatural senses, but were having a difficult time coming up with any other explanation for their sudden strange behavior.

Approaching the sheep, you tried to gently pry one away from the fence, but it wouldn’t budge, digging its hooves into the ground with an indignant bleat. You tried the same tactic with several other sheep, but were met with the same stubborn refusal to move. Even Tulip rebuffed you, regardless of any pleading on your part. What was wrong with these sheep?

You covered your eyes with your hands, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. You really didn’t need this right now. You had a job to do, and a limited amount of time to get the job done or the owner would surely be upset with you. You would have to do whatever it took to get the sheep to comply with you, even if the owner was unhappy with you using extra hay as a bribe.

Before you could return your focus to the sheep in front of you, you were interrupted by a loud bleating from all around you. Removing your hands from your eyes, you looked around you to the flock of loudly-bleating sheep, and then back to the still-empty area ahead of you, still utterly confused as to what was happening.

All of a sudden, the sheep were desperate to be anywhere but where they were as they all turned and fled away from the fence. Unfortunately, you were unable to move in time and were sent falling to the ground, which was not helping your already-sore back. Sitting up with a groan, you lamented how rough your day was going, at least until you looked out at the scene beyond the fence.

Where there had been nothing out of the ordinary before, now you could see something that was not there before. Far off in the horizon, so far that you had to squint to see it, was a patch of dark black-green in the sky.

Standing up, you leaned over the fence, trying to see what it was when suddenly the patch grew bigger, or as you realized with a gasp, it was getting closer. The horrible black-green sky got closer still, close enough for you to tell that it was not sky after all, but a thick, dark mist, and it seemed to be closing in on your small town.

And then your world was swallowed by black.

Senna sat in the small boat, watching as the black-green mist began to dissipate, knowing that its creator had vanished as well. She could feel nothing but guilt and dread; she had failed not only herself, but all of Runeterra. Now that the ruined king had the memories, he was one step closer to achieving his goal, and then his focus would turn to the world that he felt had let him down.

“We have to find the girl,” Senna said suddenly, watching as the last of the mist faded from the cliff they had just been on.

“The girl?” Lucian asked.

Senna turned to face her husband. How often she forgot that Lucian hadn’t seen what she had seen, didn’t know what she knew. But this was no time to get lost in the past, not when so much was at stake.

“His wife died a long time ago,” she began as Lucian took hold of the boat’s steering wheel. “I’ve held her memory within me since the mist came to my island when I was a child. Now that he has her memory, he will seek out her body to reunite the two.”

“He’s looking for a thousand-year-old corpse?” Lucian sounded dubious.

“No,” Senna sighed ruefully. “His wife was reborn, but she has no memories of her past life. He thinks that he can force her memory into her new body and return her to his side.”

Only when it got closer did you realize the true amount of trouble you were in. The dark mist began to swallow the land, the sky, covering everything in its path as it headed straight towards your farm.

As it got even closer, you began to see more detail in the ominous mist, taken aback when you noticed ethereal green streaks in the mist that crawled along the black mist as if they were alive. This was no ordinary storm, no, this mist looked downright sinister. You stared, frozen with terror, until the screams from one of the neighboring farms snapped you out of your petrified stupor.

You had to run. Now.

You backed up a few steps, knowing that you had to leave but afraid to take your eyes off of the rapidly-approaching deathly black mist. Turning around at last, you ran across the field and towards the woods beyond the back gate of the property, hoping to find some safety within the dense forest.

The sheep had already got there first and were trying to break down the back gate to escape. The field was large, as you also had many crops growing, sections of which had been trampled underfoot by the terrified animals as they fled.

You were halfway across the field when the sheep scattered, bleating loudly as they gave up on the back gate, running instead to cower in their pen. As they moved away from the gate, you noticed with horror that the black mist was now rolling out from the woods as well. Stopping in your tracks, you looked around you, only to see that the mist was coming at the farm from every direction. You were trapped, and the mist was only getting closer to engulfing you.

Desperately looking for any way out of your impending death, you caught sight of the farmhouse. If you couldn’t escape this mist, then maybe you could delay its effects by hiding in the cellar of the farmhouse long enough for help to arrive. It was the only option you could see other than waiting here to die, so you took it.

Your legs were burning from all the sprinting you had been doing in the last few minutes, but you couldn’t stop, not when it was the cellar or certain death. You were almost to the farmhouse, so close you could almost feel the temporary safety within your grasp, when the looming mist beat you there, swallowing the house into its depths just as you were about to reach the door.

Jerking back with a scream, you backed away from the writhing mist, not wanting it to touch your skin. By now, the mist had surrounded the farm, so close to you that you could no longer see the fences that surrounded the property.

You stood still, having nowhere to run as the mist surrounded you on all sides. Shaking with fear, you were surprised when the mist stopped advancing, leaving you in the middle of a circular patch of field.

You watched with wide eyes, waiting for the mist to swallow you, but it didn’t come any closer. You weren’t dead, but it wasn’t like this situation was much better. You couldn’t fight off a supernatural mist with sheep shears, and even if you could, they were on the ground somewhere in that mist.

The farmland was deathly silent; you could no longer hear the screams of your neighbors or the bleating of the sheep. Now that it was so close and with nowhere to go, you had nothing to do but stare at the mysterious fog that surrounded you.

It was dark, so dark that you couldn’t see through it, the sickly green streaks running around the edge of the mist like circling sharks. Following them with your eyes, you struggled to figure out what they were. You had a very limited worldview to draw on, the only comparison coming to mind being like a ghoul described to you in stories when you were a child.

You weren’t sure what was happening; the mist had swallowed everything else without mercy, so why were you a different case? You weren’t left waiting long, as the mist gave way to a tall figure who entered into the open section of field.

He was tall and ethereally pale, clothed all in black, which contrasted sharply with his short, wavy silver hair. Looking at his well-defined torso, you realized that he was too pale; his face and shirtless torso were gray-white, like all the life had been drained from him.

His outfit was simple, a black pair of pants and dark cropped jacket, obsidian armor covering his arms and legs. More than anything, your eyes were drawn to two unusual features; on his head was a sharp three-pointed crown the same color of the ghouls still circling you, and on his chest was a black triangle, so dark that it seemed like it was a bottomless hole.

His eyes glowed with a supernatural light, a shiver running down your spine as your eyes met his. Immediately, he began to stride towards you, sending you into a panic.

There was nowhere to go but into the mist, and that wasn’t an option, but that didn’t mean you wanted the ghostly man anywhere near you. You clutched your hands to your chest, backing up as far as you could without entering the mist, but the man would not be deterred.

His eyes never strayed from yours, his gaze so intense that you felt it hard to look away from. With nowhere to run, he was quickly upon you, but to your great surprise, he came to a stop before you.

He raised one gloved hand, and you flinched as he reached towards you, stunned when the hand came up to gently cup your cheek. Shaking with fear, you stared at him, scared to even breathe and attract his ire.

“My love,” came his voice, gravelly and in an accent that you did not recognize. “Finally you return to me.”

“Who are you?” you whispered, shivering from the cold of his armor-tipped fingers against your skin.

His head tilted slightly to the side, as if he was appraising you. You wanted to shrink away from his gaze, to remove his hand from your face, but you were terrified of upsetting him and risking yourself. As stagnant as your life was, it was your life, and you didn’t want to die here.

“You do not remember me,” he spoke softly, voice laced with disappointment. “A shame. But you will soon.”

You were scared to ask him what he meant, but felt relieved as he finally pulled his hand away from your cheek. Your relief was short-lived as his hand instead went to lay over the deep black triangle on his chest. Now that he was so close to you, the triangle truly did look like it was made of endless darkness. You could see no flesh in the black space; it looked like a keyhole to a dimension of utter black, the sight of it reminding you of the black mist that swirled around you.

There was also the fact that he had spoken to you like he knew you. You had never seen this man before, that you knew for sure. The only part of your life that was hazy was your life before the fire that had claimed your home and parents, but you couldn’t imagine meeting this ghoulish man back then and not remembering him.

You inhaled sharply when out of his chest materialized an orb of wiry light. The strands of light that made up the orb buzzed with energy, and seemed to act as a sort of cage for a small white light in the center that looked like a flickering flame. You knew that it was not natural; but no matter how long you stared at it, you would not be able to place its origins.

The orb was so bright, and felt very out of place in the void of darkness that you were currently trapped in as its light helped to illuminate the face of the stranger before you.

Even with how deathly pale he was, his face was still handsome, jawline sharp and free of even stubble. No matter how much you stared at his face, you couldn’t tell how old he was; he looked around your age, but also had the aura of someone or something much, much older. He looked down at the thrumming orb with a strange fondness in his eyes before he turned his attention back to you.

“I have missed you so dearly, Isolde,” he said as he began to bring the orb towards you.

“No, please!” you cried out in response.

You weren’t sure what that orb was; all you knew was that you didn’t want it touching you. He didn’t seem to hear your desperate pleas as the orb got closer and closer to your chest. You had nowhere to run, and nobody to save you from this ghostly lunatic.

The orb was almost at your chest, a tear dripping down your cheek as you stared down at it, and then everything was light.

You closed your eyes against the bright light, but were surprised to feel no pain. Hearing a male grunt, you opened your eyes as the light beyond your eyelids faded as quickly as it had come.

Looking around you, you saw the stranger across the field, the orb on the grass nearby. Immediately, you noticed that the area was better lit, looking over to see a large split in the dark mist that led across the field to a figure holding a large metallic device.

“Hurry!” Came the call from the figure, too far away for you to see them in much detail.

A snarl from behind you had you looking back to see the strange man getting up, the sight spurning you into action. You made a mad dash for the gap in the mist, ignoring the stranger’s angered calls for you to stop. You didn’t recognize the figure in the distance, but you would take any help you could get as you sprinted towards them.

As you got closer, you noticed that the figure you were running towards was a woman. She was dressed in black and white, gold-accented dreadlocks hanging out of one side of her white hood. You couldn’t place the large metal device that she held; you had never seen anything like it before.

“You will not interfere!”

You glanced behind you, seeing the stranger following behind you, now holding a sword that was longer than he was tall, aglow with supernatural energy. The sight of him, of the fury in his eyes tripped you up, sending you tumbling to the ground.

You scrambled to your feet, but the delay was enough that he was rapidly catching up to you. The look in his eyes froze you in your tracks, only able to manage small steps backward until your arm was suddenly grabbed from behind.

You yelped as you were picked up and then quickly deposited back on the ground a short distance away from where you had been. Looking over, you saw a man in white standing protectively in front of you, twin pistols raised and pointed at the silver-haired man with the sword.

He quickly turned his head back to face you. “Go.” When you hadn’t moved after a few seconds, he barked the order again, his deep voice loud and commanding.

You nodded rapidly before turning to run, hoping that the man would be okay. You knew that you wouldn’t feel confident facing that ghoulish man down, but the man that had come to your rescue seemed to exude a quiet confidence, so you had to trust that he would be okay as you desperately sprinted towards the woman and her strange weapon-like device.

As soon as you were in her reach, she pulled you behind her. You saw the man who had saved you facing off with the sword-wielding stranger, rapidly firing bolts of light at him while narrowly dodging blows from the giant sword.

“Is he okay?” you asked, consumed with worry.

The woman nodded. “He can handle himself. We need to get you out of here while Viego is distracted.”

“Viego?” you echoed, turning your gaze from the fight in front of you to meet her startlingly green eyes.

“I’ll explain everything when we’re away from this place,” she answered, resting her large weapon against her shoulder. “We need to go.”

You were reluctant to leave the man fighting alone, but you had no power to help him. You couldn’t insist on staying here when it would doom all three of you.

As you and the woman ran towards the road, your thoughts turned to the owner, your neighbors… your whole town. Hopping over the fence, you found yourself facing down a wasteland.

The nearby farms looked like they had been hit by a tornado, fences broken and chunks of wood gouged out of houses. You couldn’t see anyone around but you and the woman at your side. Just an hour ago, those farms had been full of life, and now, nothing.

You were led around a bend in the road, where a metal cart waited with two large creatures hitched to it. One of the creatures turned its head to look at you and you stared back, trying to figure out what exactly it was.

“Greathorns,” the woman answered your unspoken question. “They’re very reliable.”

You nodded your head slowly; you felt like you had heard the owner mention greathorns before, but you knew that you had never seen one in person. They were bigger than any horse you had seen, with beige beardlike tufts of hair under their chins and large jagged horns that almost looked like a dragon’s wing sprouting from their heads.

The woman looked like she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by a horrible guttural screech from the direction you had just fled from. You met eyes with the woman, feeling unnerved when you noticed the worry in her expression.

Your momentary panic was shattered as a figure zipped around the corner. You were relieved to see that it was the man in the white jacket, though his clothing looked considerably more scuffed up than it had a few minutes ago.

“Is he–” the woman started to say.

“He’s down for now, but we have to go,” the man answered, running over to join you at the cart.

They both sprang into action, the woman placing her weapon into the cart before jumping in herself and helping you in while the man took his place at the reins, spurning the greathorns into movement.

You turned back to try and see what had become of the farm you had called home for most of your life. The dark mist still lingered over the farm, but it was getting thinner by the second. You didn’t see the strange man, the owner, or even the sheep. It was almost unbelievable how quickly your entire way of life had been decimated; as you watched the ruined farm get farther and farther away, you wondered if you would ever return.

You hadn’t realized that you had dozed off until you were being gently nudged awake. You weren’t surprised you had fallen asleep after the day you had, combined with the long cart ride.

You opened your eyes to see the woman who had rescued you, who offered a kind smile your way when she noticed that you were awake. “We’re here.”

“Here…?” you replied sleepily, before your attention was drawn to the scene around you.

You felt like you were in a world straight out of a fairy tale. Tall buildings made of polished white stone surrounded you, much more extravagant than anything you had ever seen before. The roads were paved, people in fancy dress and armor milling about. You were in awe of the fashion, suddenly feeling like a country bumpkin in your wool-covered overalls.

“Welcome to Demacia City,” the man said, steering the cart to a waiting stable.

You got off of the cart with shaky feet, feeling overwhelmed by the reality of the big city you had always dreamed of visiting. Looking out at the beautiful architecture of the city, you only wished you could have come here under better circumstances. The beautiful city instantly dulled in your eyes when you thought back to the state of your hometown, desolated by the dark mist.

“I thought it would be better to let you sleep,” the woman’s voice broke through the fog in your brain and you turned to look at her. “Now that we have a moment to breathe, I thought we should introduce ourselves. My name is Senna, and this is my husband Lucian.”

Lucian nodded to you when he was introduced, and you shyly gave your name back. Once the introductions had been made, you followed Senna through the streets after she had insisted that it would be safer to explain everything once you had arrived at a more secure location.

The more secure location ended up being a large building at the edge of town, the inside of the building a large circular chamber. You could see a few doors on the other side of the chamber, but didn’t get to see where they led as Senna stood in the center of the room, the light from a glass panel far above her bathing her form in a gentle glow. Lucian stood close to his wife, and you came to a stop a few feet away, nervous for what you were about to hear.

“Alright, so the start of this all goes back over a thousand years ago,” Senna started, the sheer amount of time involved stunning you. “That man… Viego… he was a king back then.”

“He was the king of Demacia?” you blurted out. It was hard to imagine someone so ghoulish and cruel being the king of Demacia, even a thousand years ago.

“Not here,” Lucian denied with a shake of his head. “A long-dead empire on a continent east of here.”

Another continent? You had never even heard of another continent; the farthest your geographical knowledge went were the other kingdoms that bordered Demacia. But if he was from another continent…

“…then how did he get here?” you voiced your sudden thought, watching as Senna’s expression hardened, as if your words hurt her to think about.

After a pause, she answered. “Viego was a poor king who instead focussed all of his attention on a peasant girl he had made his wife, Isolde.”

An unsettling feeling made its way into your stomach as Senna spoke her name, but you kept your feelings in, not wanting to interrupt her story.

“With his attention on Isolde, Viego did not govern. Wanting to be rid of their useless king, assassins came to take Viego’s life, but their aim was misplaced. Their poison dagger sliced the arm of the queen, who fell deathly ill from the toxin.”

As her story went on, the bad feeling got worse and worse. It was not at all helped by the knowledge of your mystery scar, the one on your arm that you had no memory of ever getting in the first place. Still, you kept quiet and listened.

“To cure his wife, Viego brought her to the Blessed Isles, but she didn’t survive the journey and was brought as a corpse,” Senna explained. “The elders refused him entry, as the blessed waters could not bring back the dead, but Viego forced his way through.”

You were beginning to have a hard time breathing, terror seeping into your skin as you thought about that dream, the same dream you had been having most of your life. You felt compelled to listen to rest of Senna’s story, even if you suspected that you knew how it would end.

“Isolde was angry and confused after being ripped from death. She stabbed Viego with his own sword, the touch of the ancient sword to the blessed waters turning the whole island into unlife. Viego’s death is what created the Shadow Isles.”

The Shadow Isles? You had thought they were just a myth. Everyone in your town had heard of the terrifying land that was said to be cursed with unlife, its residents thralls to the terrible curse. It had been said that anyone who ventured to the Shadow Isles would lose themselves to death and madness, but you had only heard the place mentioned by parents trying to discourage their children from behaving badly, telling them that the monsters from the from the isles would come and get them if they didn’t behave themselves.

You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t bear to say it out loud, feeling like the words were too horrifying for you to speak. Thankfully, Senna decided at last to get to the heart of the matter.

“Viego took Isolde’s memory from me, and now he intends to reunite her memory with her body,” Senna said, her eyes tinged with regret. “And that is why he’s after you.”

“So then that orb…” your voice trailed off as you thought about the ball of light that had nearly been forced upon you.

“Isolde’s memory from when she was alive,” Lucian confirmed. “Senna has had it with her for a long time.”

“And you think that I’m…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“Yes,” Senna confirmed gently. “You are the reincarnation of Isolde. Viego would not have come after you if you weren’t.”

“But I’m not… I’m just a farmhand…”

You knew that she was right. There was no other explanation, but you still didn’t want to believe it. You were a farm worker, not a long-dead queen. Yesterday you had been pulling carrots out of the ground, and today you were on the run from a demented king who believed he could use your body to bring back his dead wife. You didn’t have an exciting life, but it was yours, and you didn’t want to lose it to fulfil Viego’s twisted obsession.

Senna and Lucian had stayed silent, giving you a moment to try and calm yourself down, which you appreciated. You would probably cry about it tonight, but for now you would stay as strong as you could. You were used to talking about your feelings with the animals on the farm, but felt uncomfortable with being overly emotional in front of other people, considering the main person you talked to was the owner, and he was not one for heartfelt conversations.

“We won’t let him have you,” Senna promised.

“And besides, after what I did to him, he’ll need a few days to recover his strength,” Lucian added.

“Thank you both,” you said, bowing your head low. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t even want to think about where I’d be.”

“Raise your head,” Senna said gently. You looked up to see her with a smile on her face, which made you feel a bit better. “Don’t go thanking us yet. Not until we send Viego back into the darkness for good.”

“Can we really stop him?” you asked.

“We’ll sure try,” she replied as you silently wished you had the confidence that she did. “But first, we have something else to do.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what she meant. What could be more important than dealing with the looming threat of Viego’s return?

“You’ve never left that town, have you?” Senna asked with a raised eyebrow, and you nodded. “How would you like to see the city?”

“But don’t we have to–”

“I’ll handle the work for now,” Lucian cut in. “We haven’t been back here in some time and Senna might aim her gun my way if she doesn’t get some downtime.”

“Me?” Senna replied with mock incredulity. “You were the one going on about missing Demacian sugar rolls.”

Lucian didn’t look bothered by his wife’s sass, staring at her with a pout until she relented with a smile and a shake of her head. “…we’ll get you some when we’re out.”

“Thank you kindly,” Lucian replied fondly.

After giving Lucian a quick kiss goodbye, Senna turned back to you, gesturing towards the door. “Ready to get a look at what the city is really like?”

You had thought the streets of Demacia City were big, but found yourself thoroughly blown away by the sheer size of the grand plaza in the center of the city. It was mostly empty now, but according to Senna, the entire space was packed with people when they held special events. It was hard to believe that you were standing in a place where wars had been declared and kings had been crowned.

The marketplace was less spacious, but no less overwhelming. Merchants of all types lined the streets, selling wares you could only dream of before today.

It was in the market that you got to try one of the sugar rolls that Lucian was so fond of, the crystalized sugar melting on your tongue. With so many new sights and smells, you were having a hard time deciding where to look, at least until you laid eyes on a colorful stand selling various types of clothing items.

Walking a bit closer while Senna perused some metalwork from a nearby shop, you found your attention drawn to a dress hanging on one of the racks in front of the seller. It was short, probably knee-length at best, and the same light blue as the sky. The dress was simple, with long sleeves and an a-line skirt, but it was the finer details that had caught your eye; sewn into the hem of the skirt and collar of the dress were little white birds in flight across the fabric.

You had never seen such intricate design work; in your town, people wore practical clothing for working; there was no need for a nice dress when you were just going to get mud all over it anyways. The more you saw of this place, the more you began to feel dissatisfied with how you had been living up until now. But then again, you may not live at all beyond the next few days, not if the ruined king got ahold of you. What a mess you had made of your own life, and Senna and Lucian’s as well.

“You know you’re not a burden, right?” Senna’s voice right behind you snapped you right out of your thoughts and you turned to look at her, her green eyes piercing right through you.

“I, uh…” You weren’t sure how to answer her as you processed her words. It was hard to think of yourself as anything but a burden; your existence itself had caused your town to be invaded by a long-dead king from the Shadow Isles, and now Senna and Lucian had to protect you or face the destruction of the entirety of Runeterra. You were an incredible burden.

“No, none of that,” Senna said, shaking her head with a smile, before her voice turned serious. “You’re a person with feelings and desires. You don’t deserve to be used in Viego’s plot to bring back his queen. You are worthy of being helped, so don’t you dare think otherwise.”

You were stunned speechless. You wanted to refute her words, but the look in her eyes was telling you that doing so would be a bad idea. Instead, you nodded reluctantly, and her stern face finally relaxed back into a smile.

“Good, then we’re going to practice being confident,” she said. “If we don’t work on your confidence, then you’ll never be able to stop fearing those who reside in the dark.”

She was right. You knew she was. “…okay.”

“See that dress over there?” Senna asked, jerking her chin towards the blue dress with the white bird trim. “You like it, right?”

You stiffened. You thought that she had been perusing the metal works being sold, but clearly she had been paying more attention to you than you had given her credit for.

“…it’s nice,” you admitted at last. “I’ve never owned a dress before. The owner of the farm said they would just get ripped and dirty.”

“I think we should get it then,” Senna replied, voice quieting so the seller couldn’t hear her next words. “Sometimes we all need a reminder that we’re not trapped in the dark. This dress can serve as your reminder that you’re brighter than the darkness that chases you.”

You were reluctant to accept the dress, but Senna paid the seller before you could properly object. Handing the dress to you, she looked pleased as she watched you marvel over the soft fabric and beautiful design. Looking back up at her, you were about to thank her, but stopped when she held up a hand.

“If you want to thank me, you can help me set the wards around the house. Besides, we’ll both get an earful if Lucian has to wait any longer for his sugar rolls.”

You thanked her anyways as you both turned to head out of the market, arms full of dress and sugar rolls.

The next morning found you outside with Senna, helping her set up complicated devices around the outside of the building while Lucian worked to set some of the same devices on the roof. You watched carefully as Senna demonstrated how each ward had to be placed in order to work properly, not wanting to mess up when you set up the next one yourself.

“Will these keep him out?” you asked as you bent down to place a ward against the wall.

“A little to the left,” Senna corrected, and you moved the heavy metal device to the left until she nodded with satisfaction. “Nothing can keep Viego out, but these should weaken his strength enough to give us a chance.”

You winced; you had anticipated her answer, knowing how powerful Viego had seemed from your short interaction with him. Hoping to defeat him seemed like a futile effort, but you wanted to believe it was possible. You knew so little about the world outside of your farming town, so at this point, anything seemed like it could be possible. You had no choice but to hope anyways because if you failed, you would be lost forever, at least if Viego had his way.

Your life had become infinitely more precious now that it had come under threat; you wanted to help Senna and Lucian, the people who valued you for being you, not a dead king who looked at you and only saw his departed wife.

“The roof’s all set!” Lucian called out from above you.

“Good!” Senna called back as she heaved another ward into her arms. “Then you can test the wards when I finish setting this one up.”

“On my way, dear,” came Lucian’s lighthearted reply.

The rest of the afternoon was spent finalizing the ward setup. You had never seen them before, and were surprised to see them light up as Lucian ran by them, leaving him looking exhausted by the contact. You had been even more shocked when Senna had told you that the wards had been set to their lowest setting for the test. If Lucian had been that tired on the lowest setting, then maybe you could have hope that the highest setting would have a significant effect on Viego.

“But are we sure he’ll set them off?” you asked Senna as she turned the wards back off.

“I’m sure,” she replied confidently. “Anywhere you are, he’ll go, except now we can use that to our advantage.”

The only problem being that you didn’t know exactly when he would come. Lucian’s guess of a few days was just that; a guess. He had explained that the day they had saved you was only their second time fighting Viego, the first time being when Viego had stolen Isolde’s memories from Senna. But it had been a few days without any sign of the dead king or his black mist, so you figured that Lucian’s estimate had been accurate.

By the fifth day with no sign of Viego, you began to prepare for the worst. He could come for you any day, at any time, so you were confined to the home with either Lucian or Senna with you at all times. You were disappointed that you could no longer explore the city, but you couldn’t make yourself an easy target for Viego to snatch from the streets.

There were some back rooms with beds to sleep in, but you spent most of your time in the circular chamber that made up most of the building, talking with Senna and Lucian or helping them with tasks. The time going by was wearing on you all as you wondered when Viego would come. By the seventh day, you were unable to relax, constantly worried that every noise you heard denoted the return of the ruined king.

It was late into night of the seventh day, but none of you could sleep, all finding yourselves in the chamber room. You were sitting against the wall, watching Senna as she cleaned one of Lucian’s guns, her own large gun resting on the floor next to her. Lucian had been pacing for a while, and you could tell it was beginning to wear on Senna’s nerves.

“Lucian, if you need to–”

Senna’s quip was cut off by a loud chime sounding from outside. The wards.

Immediately, Senna was on her feet, tossing the gun she had been working on to Lucian before picking her own gun up as they both turned to face the hallway, which was the only way in and out of the building.

“Hide yourself!” Senna called hurriedly to you before turning back to face the hall, Lucian at her side with his guns trained on the hallway.

You quickly heeded her words; you couldn’t see any sign of the dark mist yet, but you knew it would only be a matter of time. You dashed over to an ordinary-looking panel on the wall that you would have found otherwise unnoteworthy, if it hadn’t been for Senna showing you how it worked a few days ago.

Pulling the panel to the side, the secret door slid open to reveal a small nook, just big enough for a person to stand inside. You looked back to Senna to see her staring at you, giving you a quick nod when you looked worriedly back at her. Not wanting to trouble them by ruining the plans, you got into the nook, closing the door carefully behind you.

You were largely in darkness, the only source of light being the small eye-level slit that gave you a one-way view into the chamber. You were glad there was a wall directly at your back, because the lack of space was the only thing keeping you standing right now in the face of the onset of terror you were feeling.

Viego didn’t leave you waiting long; Senna and Lucian jumped back as mist flooded the chamber, retreating to the center of the room.

“There!” Lucian called as a figure suddenly appeared through the mist.

Viego moved quickly to the side, dodging a bolt of light from Senna’s gun. He emerged fully from the mist, eyes scanning the area, assumedly looking for you. You knew that he couldn’t possibly see you, but it didn’t stop you from shrinking back.

“Where is she?!” Viego demanded, the anger in his voice sending a cold shiver down your back.

“Nowhere you need to worry about,” Lucian answered.

“I can feel her,” Viego snarled back, his mystical sword appearing in his grasp. “Where is she?!”

“I think you have bigger concerns right now,” Senna replied smoothly, and then she and Lucian jumped into action.

Lucian quickly moved to one side of the ruined king, firing bolts of light at him before backing out of Viego’s range. Meanwhile, Senna sent several strong blasts of light from her own gun Viego’s way, the two working together to try and take the king down.

Viego let out a frustrated growl as the bolts hit him, but didn’t appear to be injured like you certainly would be if you had been on the receiving end of the might of Senna and Lucian’s weapons.

Now that you thought about it, he didn’t seem any less powerful for someone who had triggered a series of wards that had winded Lucian on their lowest setting. Your theory was confirmed when he didn’t seem affected by anything Lucian or Senna threw his way. You would be frustrated, but neither one of them wavered, sending shot after shot at the ruined king.

“Enough!” Viego shouted, waves of mist pushing Senna and Lucian back. “You will surrender her to me or you will drown in my mist!”

As Senna and Lucian recovered their footing, the mist grew denser as it swirled around the room. You gasped as demonic green figures made of mist rose from the haze of black, and at the same time that Viego vanished into mist, they charged.

Lucian was firing bolts of light at the mist creatures left and right, but they were endless; as one was struck down, another one rose from the mist to take its place. As Lucian tried to fend off the creatures, Senna was forced to fight off Viego himself as he appeared before her, attempting to strike at her with his sword. It was a strange image, the two and their oversized weapons locked in combat, each trying to overpower the other.

The fight was quickly going bad for your friends; Viego was holding back nothing, his creatures aiding him by swiping at Senna, backing her into a corner as Lucian tried desperately to fight his way closer to her as she continued to shoot the creatures that tried to grab at her.

“You shouldn’t have the strength–” Senna growled as she fired at Viego.

“Your feeble wards cannot harm me,” Viego jeered as he swung his sword towards her. “Nothing will keep me from my queen.”

Viego stabbed his sword forward, but Senna was able to swerve out of the way, causing his sword to imbed into the wall opposite from where you were hiding. Viego then was forced to pull the tip of his sword from the wall, and Senna used that time to send a wide blast of light Lucian’s way, destroying the creatures that had surrounded him. Shooting Senna a grateful smile, Lucian began to fire at more creatures around the room, but his efforts still didn’t seem to be making a dent in the influx of creatures that filled the room.

Senna and Lucian’s luck ran out as Viego’s impatience reached a boiling point. With an angered grunt, he swung his sword at Senna, missing her body but striking her gun. The impact set Senna’s balance off, sending her falling to the ground, her gun spinning out of her grasp and onto the ground a few feet away from her. She made a desperate grab for her weapon, but was again stopped by a warning strike from Viego’s sword narrowly missing her arm.

Senna’s moment of weakness was quickly capitalized on by the mist wraiths as she was immediately swarmed, her body held down by many ghoulish creatures while Viego stood over her.

“Senna!”

Lucian’s desperate shout pierced the air as he charged forward, but was unable to get to Senna, his way blocked by the mist creatures. He shot bolt after bolt, but the demons pressed onwards, only growing in number. Soon he too was overwhelmed, pushed against the wall by the wraiths, his twin guns knocked to the floor. You watched with horror as they both struggled under the grasp of the wraiths, but were unable to break themselves free. The hope in your heart that this fight would be the end of Viego was snuffed out entirely as you watched Viego stand over Senna.

“Your life matters little to me, but I will offer one final choice. Give her to me or die,” Viego threatened, his voice cold with fury.

Senna glared up at him, struggling against the wraiths’ hold even as Viego loomed over her. “You will destroy this world.”

“I will destroy you,” Viego corrected. “And all of those who stand in the way of my love. I hope your impudence was worth your life.”

Viego raised his sword to strike Senna down, and you knew that you would only have seconds to act.

Senna and Lucian were willing to give their lives to protect you, but you couldn’t let that happen. You were not worth the lives of two strong, kind people; people who had rescued you and treated you with more care than the owner ever had, despite only knowing you for a week. One thought rang out loud and clear in your head as you watched Viego prepare to take Senna’s life; I can’t let her die.

You would only have a moment to save her life, so you didn’t waste a second, noisily shoving the secret door open.

“Stop!”

The attention of the three people in the room was drawn to you as you stepped forward, dark mist swirling around up to your knees. Viego’s eyes widened upon seeing you, but behind him, Senna was shaking her head, her eyes begging you to run. But you couldn’t run, not if you wanted to save her and Lucian.

“Please stop,” you implored the ruined king, forcing your legs forward even if the thought of moving closer to him terrified you. You had to do this for Senna and Lucian. You couldn’t allow your fear of what would happen to you to still your steps.

Viego’s sword dissolved into mist as he turned to face you, but the wraiths did not loosen their grip on your friends.

“My love,” Viego called as he began to approach you. “I knew I felt your soul call to mine.”

Ignoring his flowery words, you stopped a few feet from him, scared you would lose your nerve if you got any closer. “I’ll go with you, just please… please let them live.”

You stared into his otherworldly green eyes, trying to stay firm despite a desperate cry of your name from Senna. This was the only way, you reassured yourself. This was the only way to save their lives, even if it meant losing your own. You thought of the time in the marketplace with Senna, of listening to Lucian’s bad jokes, allowing the memories to keep your soul warm against the onslaught of dread you were facing down.

“You’ll come back to me?” Viego’s voice was kinder, softer than you had ever heard it sound as he continued to approach you.

“If you let them live,” you repeated. You could not see your friends beyond Viego’s broad form, but your voice still cracked with a sob as you addressed them. “Senna, Lucian… I’m sorry. And thank you for helping me.”

Viego raised a hand to wipe your tears away, ignoring the protests of Senna and Lucian behind him. “I knew I would find you again, my love.”

You knew it was coming, but you still let out a whimper as he once again materialized the buzzing orb of memories from the dark triangle on his chest, but unlike last time, there was no escape for you now.

“Together at last…” Viego whispered as he pressed the orb to your chest.

The orb felt cold, and then warm, too warm, as it pressed into your skin, absorbing into your body. You collapsed into Viego’s arms with a silent gasp of pain, the last thing you heard before passing out being Senna screaming your name.

There was a beautiful girl, her fingers delicately working a threaded needle through soft fabric that lay in her lap. You had never met her, but you knew who she was; after all, you had seen her corpse in your dreams. It was undoubtedly Isolde… you, from your past life.

You were surprised to find that you were watching the scene as yourself, not through her eyes. The realization brought you some measure of relief; maybe you were not lost entirely to her memory, at least not yet.

The scene around Isolde was blurry, but her figure was clear as day as you watched her gently sew along the fabric, and then it all blurred again. When the scene reformed itself, you watched a man approach her, young and handsome, his brown hair falling in waves to his chin. He was easily recognizable, but a far cry from the figure of unlife that he had become. Viego.

You couldn’t hear their voices, or the scene around them, but you watched as Viego bent down on one knee before Isolde and felt the shock and happiness that Isolde felt, and then the world around you warped once more.

Now you were in a magnificent castle, Viego and Isolde dressed in beautiful wedding clothes, figures leaning towards each other as they kissed. You could not see the faces of the crowd that watched, nor hear the vows exchanged; all you could feel was Isolde’s joy, which left you feeling warm, as if it was you there on your wedding day. It made sense; since it was you, the past you.

You felt the next scene before you saw it; a slow sadness appearing in your chest that left you feeling confused. Then the figures appeared; it was Viego and Isolde in a huge room together, his arms around her. Viego looked happier than you had ever seen him in unlife, but your eyes were drawn to Isolde. On her face was a small smile, but you knew she was sad, you could feel the quiet sadness radiating from her. But what did she have to be sad about? You followed her gaze, looking out a window to see a garden outside, birds flying around and flowers swaying gently with the breeze, but before you could get a closer look, you were gone again.

Now you saw Isolde standing behind Viego, her smile dimmer than before. Viego was wordlessly shouting at a faceless girl in servant’s clothes, a messy assortment of wildflowers crushed under Viego’s feet. Isolde was clutching at her skirt, and you felt a sense of powerlessness from her, along with that same sadness that held tight to her chest.

And then the scenes began to go by faster. Viego, blocking the way to the garden, sending Isolde back to their shared room. Viego, refusing entrance to the castle to an older woman who had the same eyes as Isolde while she watched the scene from a window high above in the castle. Viego pulling Isolde back to him when she tried to leave the room.

As the scenes flashed by, you could feel Isolde’s sadness grow. Time went on, and Isolde stopped smiling; you were watching her soul wither away a little more each time Viego cut another person out of her life. She was not allowed to see anybody but him, not allowed to leave his side even for a second… she was not a person anymore, but a doll to be moved at Viego’s whim.

She felt powerless, trapped by the man she had once loved. Your chest hurt, feeling like you were slowly being suffocated by the loneliness she felt; she was caged, shackled by his love, knowing there would be no escape.

But Viego still looked the same, no matter how many scenes passed by you. It was like he didn’t notice her pain, or maybe he didn’t care; didn’t care for anything but himself. You wanted to make it all stop; Isolde’s deep pain had nearly brought you to your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately wished Viego would see her pain, but he never did. He always smiled that contented smile, never noticing that Isolde’s own didn’t reach her eyes.

The days finally slowed down and you were left standing in a large chamber room. The scene was tense; men in black swarmed the chamber, purple-tipped daggers poised to take the life of the king. Viego’s soldiers fought back valiantly, but one enemy broke through their ranks, dagger aimed at Viego’s heart, but their aim was put off course by a clever swipe from a spear. The poisoned dagger missed its target, but sliced Isolde instead, cutting through the sleeve of her dress and into the flesh of her arm.

Isolde knew as soon as the poison pierced her flesh that she would die. But while you expected to feel fear, worry, panic… all you felt was calm. The poison would slowly take her life, but that was what Viego had been doing over years with his possessive grip. At least at the end of this, she would be free in death, free of the iron grip Viego had on her in life. But alas, even death would not free her from his grasp.

The scene shifted one final time, and you knew what was coming. Viego held Isolde’s body, cold and dead, in his arms. The scene should have been upsetting, but the feelings that rushed through you were anything but. Isolde was dead, but her spirit was free at last, no longer a prisoner to Viego’s will.

But Viego would not allow her to be apart from him, even in death. So she rose, her anger finally unable to be contained, and stabbed him with his own sword. You watched the scene with no pity for the mortally-wounded Viego; Isolde had killed him, but she had been dead for many years before she had been poisoned. His love for her was more poisonous than any toxic dagger; he had been killing her slowly from the moment they had met, and only in death did she find the courage to return the favor.

Isolde had wanted a loving husband, but had ended up with a loving monster. This was nothing like the tale of true love Viego had spun, but he was the only one delusional enough to not see his marriage as what it was.

The scene faded to black at last, leaving you hurting body and soul, Isolde’s pain and sadness making your body feel numb from the inside out. You felt her emotions as if they were your own, and you supposed that they had been yours, a very long time ago.

The memories faded, and were quickly replaced by a soreness all over, like you had fallen from a decent height. Opening your eyes with a pained moan, you realized that you had beaten the odds; you had confronted Isolde’s memories, but you had not lost yourself to them. You were still you.

But with that good news came a lot of bad. You woke up in a bed, in a room that you had never seen before. The room was ornate, but looked dilapidated due to time. The gold posts of the canopy bed you laid in were speckled with dust, the blanket you laid under severely wrinkled.

Sitting up, you were relieved to see that you were still in the blue dress you had been wearing back in that chamber when you had given yourself up to Viego to save Senna and Lucian. You had passed out before you could ensure Viego kept his word, the memories too much for you to handle. For now, you chose to believe that they were alive, because knowing that you had done everything you could and they had still perished would crush what was left of your spirit.

You doubted you were still in Demacia, and one look outside the half-scratched window was enough to confirm that fact. The outside of the castle was even more depressing than the inside; the outside walls were cracked, the stones covered in black vegetation that you would have thought was ivy if it weren’t the color of tar. Angel statues on raised platforms stood tall in the outside courtyard, looking extremely out of place amidst the sinister green mist that seemed to hover over the whole area.

The supernatural layer of mist confirmed it; you had been taken to the Shadow Isles. The realization made your chances of escape nearly nonexistent. The Shadow Isles were filled with undead creatures hungry for the souls of the living, if the stories you had heard about this place were to be believed. And looking over the land that seemed to radiate unlife, you were certainly inclined to believe them.

Footsteps from outside the room broke your focus away from the view outside. Looking quickly around the room, you did not see anywhere to hide. With no other option, you began to back up to the far wall, staring at the large ornamental door as terror burned in your chest.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing the figure of the man you least wanted to see right now. While your mood dimmed upon seeing him, a smile lit up his face when he caught sight of you.

Viego wasted no time striding over to you while you stayed still, back against the wall both physically and metaphorically. Strangely, as he approached you, your fear began to morph into disgust. This man would not let you go, no matter how many lives you lived or places you went. As he took you into his arms, one word repeated in your head like the beat of a drum. Selfish.

He had stolen Isolde’s happiness, locked her away like a bird in a cage, and now he was doing the same to you. Letting out an internal sigh, you wished that you could go back to your boring farm days, which felt like they had been years ago, not weeks. But Viego did not give up his possessions easily, and that’s what you were now. A doll for a selfish king to keep by his side forever.

You hadn’t realized you were crying again until Viego had pulled back, his fingers sweeping across your cheeks to catch the tears.

“You’re safe, my queen,” he whispered, his words doing nothing to comfort you. And besides, you were clearly not safe if the biggest threat to your safety was standing before you, oblivious to all he had done.

You didn’t know what to do now; he wasn’t going to let you go, but you would rather die than live the rest of your life trapped in this place, pretending you were still the dead king’s dead wife.

“I have waited so long for you to return to me again,” he said, his jade green eyes staring into yours, ignoring your plight, just as he always did with Isolde.

You were tired, you were sad, and you were angry. But Viego only saw his own reflection in your eyes. He only saw what he wanted to see; you wondered if he even saw your features when he looked at you, or just superimposed Isolde’s features over yours in his mind’s eye.

It was a strange feeling; you wanted to be anywhere but here, but at the same time, you wanted the man before you to at least see you as you were now, to know your name even if he addressed you by another. Your mind was a mess, your heart even more so, but you would find no comfort in Viego’s arms, nor in his words.

“Isolde–”

“Don’t call me that!” you shouted, ripping yourself from his arms as you could no longer calm your rising anger. “And don’t call me your wife either! You have never cared about me, not back then and not now. You have never cared about anyone but yourself, Viego! You should have let Isolde stay dead!”

Viego looked shocked and hurt by your words, his silver eyebrows raised high on his forehead. You were expecting him to yell back, to tell you to know your place, but he just stood there, and then like the mist, he vanished.

His form turned to mist, and as you watched him flee, you couldn’t help a desire to have the final word.

“My name is–”

He was gone before you could say your name, but you shouted it anyways. Even if he didn’t use your name, it felt good to say it, even just to remind yourself that you were not the person you had been in your past life. Whatever happened, you would not allow this place to steal your identity from you.

You waited in silence, but Viego did not return. After some time, you reluctantly sat back down on the bed, your feet tired of standing, but Viego still did not come back to the room.

You were unsure what to make of what had happened. The Viego you had seen flee the room contradicted everything you knew about him. Could your words really have reached him? It was the only conclusion you could come to, but it sounded so unbelievable; an all-powerful dead king fleeing a room after being called selfish by a small town farm girl.

The encounter had been short, but you found yourself already tired. With no sign of Viego returning, and not much else to do, you slipped back under the ruffled covers, laying your head on the same pillow you had woken up on.

Maybe it was owing to your trip through Isolde’s memories that you were so tired now. Closing your eyes, you were relieved that you were still you, though you were still having a hard time reconciling how to see yourself with your time as Isolde. You had been her a long time ago, but she still felt like a different person, like a character in a story. You looked different, and lived different lives, but you were still weighed down by the possessiveness of the same man.

You had been surprised to see Viego look so hurt, but you refused to feel bad about what you had said. It seemed like everyone around him, including Isolde, had been too afraid to confront the king on his faults, at least that was what you assumed. You didn’t know where you got the courage yourself; maybe it was Isolde’s sorrow and frustration finally boiling over from a lifetime of being controlled that emboldened your tongue.

Either way, what you had said could not be taken back, so there was no point in ruminating over the situation, not when you were already having a hard time focussing on anything with how exhausted you were. There would be time to lament your situation when you woke up, you decided, consciousness drifting off at last.

You were surprised to feel so well-rested, but your mood was brought back down when you opened your eyes to the same dusty room you had fallen asleep in. It was just as empty as it was before, save for your body under the covers.

With how dedicated he had been to capturing you, Viego’s sudden absence was surprising. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but everything in the room looked the same as it had before you had gone to sleep, so you had to assume that he had not returned while you were sleeping. It was probably for the best; you wouldn’t know what to say to him even if he was here.

Upon waking up, you were confronted with a new problem; your empty stomach. Come to think of it, when was the last time that you had ate something? You still had no idea how long you had been unconscious after Viego forced Isolde’s memories into you, but you had a vague recollection of eating some steamed buns Lucian had brought back from the market a few hours before Viego had attacked. But clearly that had been a while ago, if the gnawing emptiness in your stomach was any indication.

You were reluctant to leave the room and risk running into Viego, fearful of his anger after what you had said to him, but your stomach was so empty it hurt. Maybe you would get lucky and find a fruit laying around and scramble back to your room before you were caught. With that hope in mind, you walked quietly over to the door, prepared to do what you had to in order to survive for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately for you, the rest of the castle was just as dusty and dilapidated as your room had been. It was clear that this place was very old; anyone who had lived here in life was long dead by now. Eventually, you located the closest thing to a kitchen you thought you would find in this place, but instead of food, you found dust, cobwebs and the occasional brittle rat skeleton, which crumbled to dust under your touch.

There was no food here, that much was obvious, which led you to a new dilemma. You couldn’t ask Viego for food; for one, he terrified you, and there was also the fact that you had no idea where he even was. The castle was too large for you to check every room for him with any great speed, and so far you had not heard or seen any evidence of anyone else in this place but yourself.

So what were you supposed to do now? The thought of walking out into the Shadow Isles terrified you to your core, but what alternative did you have? Stay here and starve to death, a prisoner to a man who seemed like he had no further use for you if you weren’t the same person you were when you were Isolde?

It seemed that Viego avoiding you was a blessing in more ways than one, because now he wasn’t here to stop you from leaving the castle. It was easy enough for you to find the front door, following the patchy red carpet until it led down a long staircase that took you to another ornate door. Whoever’s castle this had been must have either been royalty or obscenely wealthy to live in a place this grand. The entryway alone was almost the size of the entire farmhouse back in your hometown. As grand as it was, you hoped that you would never see this awful, lonely place again once you exited the door.

The door was a lot heavier than it looked, but you managed to pry it open, the chill of the outside air telling you immediately that you were about to do something very dangerous. But it was this or starve, you reminded yourself as you took the first step outside, and it was better that you tried to find your way off of this island before you were too weak from lack of food and water.

Sinister green mist clung to the land, thick enough to obscure the far away, but just thin enough for you to see twenty or so feet around yourself. You remembered hearing as a child that the mist of the Shadow Isles was made up of the souls of the damned that had once lived here, but seeing it now, you hoped that it wasn’t true.

The stone angel statues were even more unsettling up close, standing on either side of the pathway like guards, their stone eyes seemingly staring down at you as you passed. Every step you took, you were scared the cracked ground would give out under you, but it held fast. It was a miracle that this awful place didn’t just crumble and sink into the cursed waters that surrounded it.

You quickened your steps, eager to be rid of this place as soon as possible. That, and the faster you were out of here the better a chance you had of getting off this island before Viego noticed you were gone.

The angel-statue-lined pathway opened up to a network of crumbled stone walls of all different heights that looked way more worse for wear than the castle behind you. It looked like this might have been a city over a thousand years ago, before the isles had fallen into this eternal darkness. But now you were the only person here, likely the only living person on this whole cursed island, at least until you got yourself back to civilization.

You picked up your pace even more as you entered a forested area, though the forest itself consisted solely of long-dead trees, their branches black and thin. What you hoped was wind howled, shaking the spindly branches, leaving you to duck and weave through them, their thorns scraping against your clothes and skin. You kept moving onward, pressing on despite the pain from the new cuts on your body, unwilling to turn back now that you had come this far.

You pushed through a difficult thicket of branches, panting from the effort as you looked down at your dress. The once-beautiful blue fabric now bore many tears, stained by your blood where the branches had cut you. You couldn’t imagine your face and hair looked any better, but you could worry about that later.

Taking in your own sorry state, you failed to take in the threat that was quickly closing in on you. You looked up from your dress, expecting to see more branches in your way, but jolted back with a gasp when you noticed the large figure standing fifteen feet or so in front of you.

The figure before you was giant, easily the width of several men, its gray flesh packed with bulk and muscle. It was bald, and wore no shirt, wearing only spiked shoulder armor on its upper half, while its lower half was covered by a large loincloth and equally-spiky leg armor.

It must have been human at some point, but it was far from that now. Its eyes were the same spectral green as the mist that hung over the island, that same green dripping out of his mouth in a drool-like fog. Its skin was tough-looking, like it was halfway between skin and rock, two large chipped horns made from craggy stone jutting out from the sides of its head. It had a manacle on each wrist; broken chains hanging from both of them. That gave you one more terrifying insight; while it was alive, it had clearly been some kind of criminal. And now it was here in front of you, unchained, its focus solely on you.

You turned to run, but the creature was faster. Its gaping maw opened wide with a horrible roar, and you were forced to grab onto a branch to try and resist the sudden pressure you felt pulling you back towards it. Looking back, you saw even the spectral mist being sucked into its sharp-toothed mouth, but you knew that you were its target, not breaking its focus as it stared you down with empty, dead eyes.

You couldn’t escape, you couldn’t even move an inch farther away from the monster’s supernatural pull. You tried to reach for a farther away branch to pull yourself to, but were forced to bring your hand back to the branch you held onto as holding on with only one hand made it much harder to keep yourself from being dragged further back.

Your fingers were hurting, the pressure pulling on you becoming more and more intense, and evidently the creature was done waiting. Not letting up on its pull, it began to move closer, and the pull got even stronger. Shaking from the effort of keeping your hold on the branch, you had no way of escaping it.

Was starving to death really a worse option than this? You had been so stupid, thinking that you had any chance of escaping this island; now this creature would ensure that you would never leave.

With a pained cry, your grip gave out at last, the branch slipping from your fingers as you fell to the ground. You tried desperately to grab at the cracked earth, but your hands could not find purchase in the ground no matter what you did as you were pulled closer and closer to the creature’s open jaw.

The closer you got to it, the weaker you felt, as if the monster was draining your very soul from your body. As the thought came to you, you realized that it was very likely to be the truth; the Shadow Isles were a place of eternal torment, it would not be out of place for this island to be filed with soul-sucking monstrosities.

You were almost within the creature’s grasp now, no more than five feet away from its razor-sharp teeth and black clawed nails. You were feeling more and more drained as it pulled you closer, your vision getting fuzzy as you tried to focus on anything other than your impending death, but it just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t like you had been expecting to see your life flash by your eyes like you had heard happened to people when they were about to die, but right now you would welcome any sight other than the one you had right now of the creature pulling you in, his eyes aglow with sinister satisfaction.

Just as a clawed hand reached down to take hold of your leg, it was sliced clean off at the elbow, stone skin clattering to the ground next to you. The creature let out a pained howl, which turned out to be the last sound it would ever make as it was then cleaved in half by a sword longer than you were tall, one you had thought you had left behind in that castle along with its wielder.

Freed from the monster’s pull, you scrambled away from its dismembered parts, wanting to be as far away from the horrible creature as possible. Shaking from your ordeal, you stared at Viego’s back, then at his face as he turned your way, letting his sword turn into mist as he caught sight of your quivering form.

You went still, afraid of the king’s wrath at your escape from his castle, but were surprised when he rushed over to you, pulling you to your feet and wrapping his arms around you.

“I thought… I thought I would lose you again,” he spoke into your hair, his words full of sorrow and pain as he held you to him.

You weren’t sure what to make of his behavior; it almost sounded to you like he was crying as he spoke, but you were reluctant to pull back and check. Instead, you reached up with sore arms and wrapped them around his waist, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his chest. A day ago you could never have imagined embracing this man, but he had saved your life, and right now you just wanted to feel safe, even if that safety came in Viego’s arms.

“Why did you save me?” you sniffled, voice muffled by his jacket, but loud enough for him to hear in the now deathly quiet forest.

Viego pulled back from the embrace with a sad exhale, his red-rimmed eyes telling you that he had indeed been crying as you had thought. Resting his forehead against your own, he stared into your eyes, brushing some stray hairs away from your face.

“I saved you because I love you,” he answered, voice quiet and hoarse. “Now tell me… why did you leave?”

“I…” You pondered how to answer his question, but decided there would be no point in lying to him, not when he hadn’t made any moves to harm you despite having good reason to be upset with you. “I was scared… and hungry.”

“…hungry?” he echoed, looking perplexed for a short moment before his green eyes went wide.

“Please forgive me, my love,” he spoke, sounding genuinely panicked. “It has been so long, I had forgotten–”

You couldn’t help yourself. “…you forgot that people need to eat food?”

“I haven’t… not since I became…” He was lost in his own world for a moment, before something seemed to come to him. “You’re…”

Without another word, he raised an arm, summoning one of his mist ghouls, who took off ahead of you, passing harmlessly through the mess of thorned branches along the forest path. You weren’t sure where it was going, but if it wasn’t after you, you found yourself lacking the strength to care about the ghoul’s mission.

Feeling drained, you leaned more of your weight into Viego, having a hard time keeping yourself upright. Viego’s eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looked down at you, but your eyelids were already drooping. You felt strong arms lift your body up as your eyes closed, head resting against cold skin. You could only hope that the creature hadn’t drained the life entirely out of you, but for now you had no consciousness left to worry about anything as you drifted off again for the third time since Viego had taken you.

“I pushed her to this…”

Waking up, your stomach was no less empty, but your head felt clearer. You had never considered yourself a lucky person, but you weren’t sure how else you could still be alive after all you had been through recently.

Your eyes didn’t want to open, not yet, but you were immediately aware of a feeling on your head. It took you a few groggy seconds to realize that it was a hand, slowly petting your hair. You had never had anyone stroke your hair before, but found it comforting; maybe your parents had done this before the fire, but the owner had never coddled you like this, even as a child. Absently, you mused that it had been a long time since you had anyone in your life that cared for you, when you were used to an existence of being merely tolerated.

Opening your eyes, you finally remembered where you were as you looked up at the man whose lap your head rested in. Viego’s hand stilled when he noticed that you were awake, but resumed petting your hair when you leaned your head into his now-gloveless hand, seeking out his comforting touch. Neither of you spoke, and you closed your eyes again, deciding to accept the comfort this moment offered you.

“…I was scared,” Viego said at last, and you opened your eyes again to look at him. “I felt that you had gone, and then I felt your terror… I thought that I had lost you again.”

You weren’t sure what to say, but it worked in your favor as Viego was not finished. “I have done awful things, committed atrocities, all to return you to my side. But I never realized that I was only thinking of myself. Your pain… it is all my fault.”

You felt overcome with the need to deny his assertion as you stared at his sad eyes, but you couldn’t. It was true. He had done terrible things and caused you pain not only in this life, but in your life as Isolde.

“I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he said, sounding like the words were hard for him to say. “But I will do anything to earn it. I…”

His voice trailed off as he removed his hand from your hair. You looked away from him and towards the same door you had exited when you had thought you had been leaving this room behind for good, as you considered his words. With those words, the power dynamic was shifting between you for the first time; he was willing to do whatever you asked of him in order for you to forgive him. And while you weren’t sure what it would mean for you to forgive him, you couldn’t allow this chance to pass you by.

“I want you to call me by my name now, not Isolde,” you said, sitting up and staring into his eyes, trying to silently communicate to him how serious you were with your stare. “And I would like some food and water.”

“Your… name,” he spoke softly, looking down at the bed sheets.

You repeated your name, and he still didn’t look up, but you weren’t quite done. If he was offering anything, you were going to see how far you could push your luck.

“…and I want to go back to Demacia.” You saw the alarm in his face and quickly made to soften the blow. “I want to tell Senna and Lucian that I’m okay. You can come with me if you want.”

“…if that is what you want,” he said eventually.

You could tell that he likely felt rejected by the stiffness of his shoulders and his refusal to look at you, but you would not back down, not when you had gotten him to agree to take you back to Demacia. You weren’t sure how Senna and Lucian would react to seeing you show up with Viego at your heels, but you knew that it was likely the only reason you had gotten him to agree to your request.

Your eyes had been wandering the room again when a soft call of your name had you turning back to face Viego, surprised that he had actually called you by your name. He was looking at you at last, but looked uncomfortable, like a fish thrown onto land.

Reaching down beside the bed, he picked up a simple stone bowl, handing it over to you. Inside, you found some circular objects that looked like oranges that were well past their prime, the orange of their rind mixed with patches of gray.

“Are those… tangor?” you asked. Demacian tangor were a mix of orange and tangerine grown all over Demacia. They were a little sour for your liking, so you hadn’t had one since you were a child.

“I had my servants fetch them. They are the only thing that grows here that will not poison you,” Viego replied.

His voice had hitched at the word poison, but you didn’t mention it, not wanting to draw attention to it. That was how Isolde had died, from a poisoned dagger. Even though you were with him now, it wasn’t like your presence erased the wounds of his past. You were just grateful that he had stopped being so domineering, at least for the moment. You weren’t sure what this was, or what you wanted this to be, but you knew that you were stuck with him at least for the foreseeable future.

Viego left the room to prepare for your journey back to Demacia, leaving you to eat in peace. The tangor were even more sour than you remembered them being, but you happily ate them, relieved to have some food at last.

With Viego gone, you allowed yourself to relax, free of his stare and his unstated expectations. He didn’t have to say it for you to know that he still wanted you to be his wife, or lover, or however it was he saw you in his mind. You hated yourself for even considering being with him in any capacity after the things he had done, but at the same time, you found yourself reluctant to fully close the door on the idea.

He had shown to you that he could do good things, even if they had only been for your benefit. You didn’t have to agree to anything right now, you reminded yourself, at least not while he wasn’t pressing the topic. But as of right now, you wanted to see if you could help Viego, even if you weren’t sure exactly how.

You stared at the bowl of tangor rinds, wishing an answer to your problems would come to you, but you knew that it wouldn’t be that easy. At least you would get to see Senna and Lucian soon; you wanted to make sure they were both okay, and you knew they were probably worried about you.

Placing the bowl back on the floor, you decided to take a look into the large closet in the corner of the room. Your own outfit was a mess; barely hanging together in places after running through the thorned branches. As much as you loved this dress, it was not in any shape to be worn. Hopefully the closet would have something passable to wear in it.

There were quite a few old-fashioned dresses, but they were too gaudy and frilly for your tastes. Sifting through the clearly upper-class clothing, you eventually came upon a dark green hooded cloak that looked out of place with all of the fancy dresses. Pulling it out, you realized that it would probably make a good disguise for Viego; Senna would likely shoot him on sight before you could explain, and you didn’t want Viego to have any reason to try and harm your friends.

Setting the cloak on the bed, you leafed through the rest of the closet, finally settling on the simplest dress you could find, a non-corseted, non-frilly purple dress with long sleeves and a scoop neckline with a hem that went to your ankles. The dress was a bit long for your liking, but it wasn’t covered in frills up to your neck, so it would have to do.

You changed into the purple dress, laying your old one on the bed, and had been running your fingers over a tear in the skirt when Viego re-entered the room. Sighing, you turned away from the dress, mentally apologizing to Senna for ruining the beautiful dress.

You waved Viego over, and he approached immediately, face stony and uncertain. Picking up the cape, you just hoped he would agree to put it on.

“So you won’t stand out in Demacia,” you said, holding the cloak out to him.

“If this is what you desire,” he answered. Though he didn’t seem to understand your concerns, he dutifully wrapped the cloak around his shoulders.

Reaching up, you fastened the clasps at the front of the cloak, trying not to feel shy being so close to his intense stare that you was pointed right at your face. You couldn’t avoid his eyes as you pulled the hood over his silver hair, careful not to let the fabric get caught on the metal bands that tied off sections of his hair into low ponytails. With the cloak fully closed, the black triangle on his chest was also no longer visible, which would definitely invite suspicion if left uncovered.

“Promise me you won’t hurt my friends,” you said, needing to hear him say it.

His glare was deadly. “If they harm you…”

“They won’t,” you replied quickly. “Haven’t you had friends before?”

That was evidently the wrong question to ask, because Viego looked like you had hit him in another sore spot, like back when you had yelled at him. Come to think of it, you didn’t remember really seeing him with anybody else when you had watched Isolde’s memories. No wonder his world had collapsed when Isolde… when your past self had died; she was his world, as sad and lonely as that was.

“How are we getting to Demacia?” you asked, figuring you should be merciful and change the subject, feeling bad as you looked up at Viego’s awkward stare.

“The mist,” he answered, and you turned your eyes to his chest where you knew the triangle of black lay hidden under the cloak you had forced him into. “It will carry us over the waters.”

You weren’t thrilled with the prospect of being surrounded by the black mist again, but the unknown waters that surrounded the Shadow Isles were even more daunting; at least you were confident that the mist would not harm you now.

You followed Viego to the cracked window, standing behind him as he opened it, revealing a clearer view of the dark, desolate isle. You were too far inland to be able to see the ocean, your view out of the window largely consisting of millennium-old rubble and patches of dark forest that must have been where you had run into that creature. You stared outside the window, wondering why he had led you here, at least until you noticed the mist that had begun to seep through Viego’s cloak.

“We’re not going to… jump?” The thought horrified you. There was no way you would survive a fall from this high up, mist or no mist.

“I will carry you in my arms,” Viego corrected you. “And then we will travel in the mist.”

You shivered as you considered his plan. “…you won’t drop me?”

You were half-joking, but Viego didn’t seem to pick up on that, one hand cupping your cheek as he stared down at you, voice deathly serious. “I will not allow any harm to come to you. Not again.”

You were once again taken aback by the intensity in his green eyes, even under the shadow of his cloak’s hood. You were still getting used to his devotion to you; it was a weird feeling having someone care about you after so many years of being without anyone who even cared enough to ask you about how your day had gone.

You weren’t sure what the owner’s fate had been, but you were confident that if he had seen you with Viego that day at the farm, he would’ve turned tail and ran, unlike Senna and Lucian, who came to your aid even when you had been a stranger to them. Maybe you should stop thinking of the farm as your home; because if you really thought about it, the only thing that tied you to the farm in the first place was your own fear of not being able to make it if you left.

You allowed Viego to take you into his arms as the mist surrounded you, pressing your face into his shoulder in order to avoid seeing just how far below you the ground was. You felt Viego move, likely exiting the window, and braced yourself for the drop that didn’t end up coming.

You could feel that you were moving, like you were in the arms of someone who was walking on solid earth, even if you knew you were walking through the sky and not the ground. You weren’t sure if the mist blocked your view of the ground entirely or not, but you were too scared to look.

“You were never this afraid of heights back then,” came Viego’s teasing voice from above you.

You doubted that Isolde had ever seen heights like this from the sky, but you welcomed his attempt at conversation, desperately needing a distraction from your growing curiosity to look away from Viego’s shoulder.

“How are you not scared?” you mumbled into his shoulder.

Viego let out a soft, sad laugh. “After what I have seen, what I have lost… there are more horrifying things in this world than heights.”

That was true; he had over a thousand years of life experience on you. Even if you had lived back then, your only memories from that time were ones you had seen flash by you when you had been exposed to Isolde’s memories. You couldn’t pretend you had experienced the hardships that he had; you had died, and he had been left behind, stuck as an undying mist wraith.

“…I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you said quietly as you listened to the sound of the wind whipping by.

“They were words I should have heard long ago,” he replied. He was silent for a long time, so long that you thought he was done talking, but then he spoke up again. “I led your life to ruin back then, and I was about to do it again.”

You let out a soft exhale against the soft material of the cloak. You couldn’t deny his words, you knew you couldn’t, but you also didn’t want to give up on him entirely. Right now, here in his arms, it really felt like all you had in this world was each other. You knew that you also had Senna and Lucian, but you didn’t have the history with them that you had with Viego. That, and while you considered them your friends, they would always be each other’s most important person; you didn’t want to admit it out loud, but you really wanted what they had, to be the most important person in the world to someone.

You both seemed content to let the conversation drop as you adjusted your face against Viego’s shoulder, the ends of his silver hair brushing against your forehead. Opening your eyes at last, you stared at his hair as it swayed with the wind. If you hadn’t seen it yourself, you would have found it hard to believe that his hair used to be a rich brown, a far cry from the silver it was now. But he wasn’t the same person he was then, both physically and mentally.

You couldn’t deny that you found him attractive; his eyes were deep-set, his jawline sharp and lips soft-looking. You immediately regretted observing his face when he looked down at you just as you were staring at his lips. You hurriedly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. Viego did not say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, even after you closed your own eyes again, leaning your face fully back into his cloak.

The trip to Demacia felt very long, and you had been drifting in and out of sleep, with little else to do, when you felt Viego’s feet touch down onto the ground. Opening your eyes at long last, you watched as the mist that surrounded you faded away, returning to Viego’s chest and revealing the area around you.

You were standing on a cliff, the beautiful blue waters of Demacia at your back. Demacia City stood before you in all its pearly glory, looking exactly the same as it had the last time you had been here.

It looked to be mid-afternoon, the sun shining high in the sky. It was nice to see light again instead of the dreary permanent dark of the isles.

While this was not your first time here now, you still had a difficult time figuring out the way to Lucian and Senna’s place from your current location. You looked over the paths that led into town, trying to figure out if any of them seemed familiar, finally settling on a small stone path that led along the coast. You remembered that their house had been close to the coast, so you hoped that you would eventually find it if you kept on the path.

You turned back to Viego, making sure his hood was down over his head before you two set off on the path. The last thing you needed was for anyone to notice Viego before you got to your destination; you were just lucky he had let you put the cloak on him or else you’d be much more worried about your chances of going unnoticed.

Viego walked at your side, sticking fairly close to you, eyes casually but tactically scanning the area as if searching for threats. There were some people milling about the area, but not many, and none that looked like a threat to you, not unless Viego threatened them first.

“Your… friends,” Viego spoke up, sounding as if the word itself was foreign to him. “Are you certain they will not welcome me with weapons drawn?”

You frowned. “I hope not.”

“They would not be the first,” he sneered bitterly.

“Viego.” You grabbed onto his arm and he looked down at you, staring first at your hand on his arm and then up to your face. “I will make sure they won’t attack you, but you have to be nice as well. No mist, and no giant sword.”

You felt like you were lecturing a child, but hoped Viego wouldn’t feel like you were treating him like one. You swallowed nervously as you stared at him, pleading with your eyes for him to agree to play nice with Lucian and Senna.

His eyes seemed to soften as he stared at you. “I can deny you nothing.”

“Thank you,” you replied happily, letting out a small noise of recognition as you spotted the building that you were looking for in the distance.

Leading Viego over, you signalled for him to wait behind you. He half-obeyed, but stood much closer than you had meant. You let it go, knowing you weren’t likely going to be able to convince him to leave your side, instead knocking on the door.

The wards that you and Senna had set up still lay scattered around the outside of the building, the lack of glow about them telling you that they weren’t activated. You knocked again after no response, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited. Just as you were about to knock a third time, you heard movement from inside at last, stepping back slightly as you waited for the door to open. You felt Viego tense up behind you, but had to focus on the door in front of you as it opened to reveal a frantic Lucian.

He called your name with relief in his voice until he noticed the figure behind you, his features turning grave instantly.

You raised your hands up in front of you, desperate to stop the incoming fight. “Lucian, wait! He’s not here to hurt anyone!”

Lucian looked very skeptical, but paused his hands reaching down to his guns. “Y’know, I can probably activate those wards from here.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, relieved by the joking tone in his voice. “Can we come in?”

Lucian sighed, stepping away from the door to allow you both to enter. “Senna’s not gonna be happy when she gets back.”

“She’s not here?” you clarified.

“Nah,” he answered. “She went out earlier to get some supplies for, uh, findin’ you…”

“…oh,” you replied guiltily.

Lucian led you down the hall and into the large chamber that you had been in when Viego had ultimately captured you. But now there was no mist filling the room, and no weapons drawn, at least not for now.

Lucian stood awkwardly in front of you, picking at invisible lint on his jacket while you looked between him and Viego, who had taken off his hood when you had entered the room.

Nobody was saying anything until Lucian finally broke the oppressive silence. “So how have you been?”

“Good,” you said, desperate to latch onto Lucian’s attempt at conversation.

“Dead,” Viego answered at the same time.

You and Lucian stared at each other for a short moment before you were interrupted by the sound of the door opening down the hallway. Lucian sprang into action immediately, quickly dashing into the hall, likely to warn Senna about what she was walking into.

Once Lucian’s figure was out of sight, you turned to Viego, knowing you had to keep him calm.

“Please don’t hurt her, Viego,” you pleased. “She doesn’t–”

You were cut off by a loud exclamation from the hallway.

“He’s where?! Lucian, get out of my way!” came Senna’s enraged voice from the hall.

You heard rapid footfalls coming your way, Viego stepping in front of you before you could think to stop him as Senna entered the room.

“You–”

You began to panic when you saw dark mist trickling from the front of Viego’s cloak as Senna stormed towards the two of you.

“I won’t let her harm you,” Viego hissed quietly.

“She won’t hurt me,” you insisted quickly, grabbing onto his arm.

You stepped in front of Viego as Senna came over to you and quickly had your wrist snatched by Senna, who pulled you behind her.

Viego stepped forward, but Senna wasn’t having it, pinning him with a fierce glare. “You can stay there, ruined king. You’re lucky you’re still breathing in my home after what you’ve done.”

Viego didn’t look happy at her words, but kept his eyes on yours as you desperately shook your head at him, pleading silently for him to back down. You stared into his green eyes, hoping he would listen to you, and slowly, he backed down, fists unclenching but face still tense. You let out a quiet exhale, relieved that he had listened to you, although a glance at Senna told you that she was no less angry.

Lucian slowly stepped forward with an overly friendly smile on his face. “How about we have a conversation while the ladies talk?”

Viego stared at Lucian, face blank, but Senna didn’t hesitate, pulling you with her to the other side of the chamber and out of earshot of the boys. Once she had felt you were far enough away from them, she stopped, letting go of your wrist and pulling you into a short hug.

“You had us so worried,” she scolded, pulling back from the hug.

“I’m sorry,” you said, guilt pooling in your stomach.

Senna sent you a hard look. “Why would you do something so dangerous?”

You bit your lip as you thought back to that moment. “It was the only thing I could think to do. I couldn’t let you and Lucian get hurt.”

Senna let out an amused breath, shaking her head. “I can’t say I didn’t appreciate what you did, but it was stupid.”

“I know,” you agreed. “I thought I was going to die.”

“But you didn’t,” Senna countered. “Though I can’t say I understand why. What did you do to tame him like this?”

“I, uh…” It felt weird to say out loud, but you had no other explanation that made any sense. “I called him selfish.”

Senna stared at you for a second, and just as you were starting to think that she didn’t believe you, she surprised you by bursting out in laughter. She took at least a minute to calm down, and you just stared at her in confusion, not sure what you had said that was funny.

“Well that’s been a long time coming,” she said at last, before noticing you staring at her in shock and shrugging. “Never thought I would see the day.”

“I may have been a bit mean,” you admitted, voice dropping to a whisper. “I told him he should have let Isolde stay dead.”

Senna’s eyebrows raised in surprise before she let out another small huff of laughter, glancing briefly over at Viego. “Can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Probably deserved worse.”

“It was just… after seeing how he treated Isolde for so long… I couldn’t stop myself,” you said.

Senna nodded. “I’ve thought the same things myself, but the difference is Viego actually seems to listen to you.”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” you replied, sneaking a quick glance at Viego, only to find him already looking your way. You looked back to Senna, feeling awkward locking eyes with Viego like this in front of Senna. “I was so mad at him, but now I’m just confused about what I want.”

Senna didn’t reply, merely raising an eyebrow as a prompt for you to explain. You swallowed nervously, resisting the urge to look back at Viego as you explained your thoughts. You told Senna about Viego fleeing the room, about escaping the castle and running into the soul-sucking monster, and then Viego coming to your rescue.

“At first, I just thought he was scary, but after that… I don’t know. After going most of my life without anybody who cared about me, I…”

“…you want to give him a chance?” Senna finished for you, her voice frustratingly neutral, not giving you any insights on how she was feeling, but it wasn’t as if she was off the mark. You didn’t want to lie to her, so you nodded, unable to help but feel like you were letting her down.

Senna sighed a slow sigh, but didn’t look angry. “So have you told him?”

“Told him?” you echoed.

Senna rolled her eyes at you. “Told him that you want to be with him?”

You averted your eyes, staring at the stone floor. “…no.”

“He won’t know unless you tell him. Men aren’t always great with that kind of stuff,” Senna joked. “I had to spell it out for Lucian, and he’s one of the smart ones.”

“Right,” you agreed. She was right; you couldn’t just hope that Viego would somehow understand what you were thinking, though the thought of opening yourself up to him like that made you nervous.

“We have a smaller place just outside the city for when we need to lay low,” Senna said, fishing a key out of her pocket and handing it to you. “It should have enough supplies to sustain you while you figure things out with him.”

“Thank you,” you replied, stunned by her generosity.

“Come back and see us when you’ve got things sorted,” she replied with a smile. “And make him earn your forgiveness. If he does anything, just let me know and I’ll make him regret it.”

“I will,” you promised with a smile. You really didn’t deserve a friend as good as Senna.

Senna seemed happy with your response. “Then let’s go and save Lucian. He never was great at making small talk.”

You both turned your attention back to the two men across the room and their conversation.

“…so the mist, does it come from inside you or something?”

“The mist flows from my black heart,” Viego answered in a monotone.

“Oh, uh–”

Lucian was saved by Senna’s approach. “Alright boys, we’re done.”

You stifled a laugh at Lucian’s obvious relief at being rescued from his attempted conversation with Viego. Viego, on the other hand, seemed to forget Lucian existed the moment you came close, which was both flattering and embarrassing.

“How about you come with me to return the armor I bought and we pick up some sugar rolls on the way back?” Senna proposed to Lucian.

“Huh? But–” Lucian looked tempted by the offer, but looked back at you with a concerned frown.

“They’re fine,” Senna insisted. “They have somewhere to be anyways. I’ll explain it to you on the way.”

Lucian finally relented, allowing Senna to drag him towards the front door. But before they got too far, Senna turned her head back to you.

“Keep down the road for about an hour. It’s the one with a sun on the front door.”

You nodded and Senna wished you luck before pulling a still-confused Lucian with her out the front door. You really owed her; you would have to try and make it up to her and Lucian after you sorted things out with Viego.

Once they had left, you turned your attention back to Viego, knowing you had to have this conversation with him whether you wanted to or not.

“I was talking to Senna about what I want… with you,” you said, cursing yourself internally for how shaky your voice sounded.

Viego looked like he had been forced to swallow a Shadow Isles tangor, his posture rigid. “Now that I see how happy you are here with those two… I know that you were never truly happy being at my side.”

You were shocked speechless, the words you wanted to say fleeing your mind, your lack of a reply prompting Viego to continue.

“The Shadow Isles is a place for monsters like me. I won’t make you return there with me,” he said, sending you a sad smile before his body began to turn to mist, starting with his legs.

“No!” you cried out, grabbing his arm. You hadn’t expected him to let you go, but you found yourself not wanting him to leave you, even though that was all you had wanted only a week ago.

The moment you touched him, he turned fully solid again, looking down at you with furrowed silver eyebrows, uncertainty plain on his face.

“Don’t leave,” your voice came out quiet and weak, but you kept your hold on his sleeve. “Please don’t leave.”

You were trying not to cry, and it must have been obvious, as Viego quickly brought you into an embrace. Being alone with him again, you finally felt like you could say what you wanted to say, even if you were partially fueled by desperation to make him stay.

“I want you to stay in Demacia with me,” you said, pulling back to look at him, placing a hand on his cheek like he had done to you so many times. Viego seemed mesmerized by the contact, leaning into your palm as he stared at you with hopeful eyes.

“I will go wherever you are,” he replied softly.

“But,” you said, steeling your nerve. “I want you to see me as me, not the me I was when I was Isolde.”

You felt relieved that you had finally gotten out what you wanted to say, but were nervous at how he would take it.

“You are much stronger now than you ever were a thousand years ago,” he replied. “No matter what form you take, you are still my only love.”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Even if I was reborn as a sheep?”

“I would become a sheep myself if I had to,” he responded, and you giggled at both the seriousness in his voice and the mental image of Viego as a sheep.

Staring up at Viego, who seemed puzzled by your laughter, you were struck by just how much your opinion of him had changed since you had watched Isolde’s thousand-year-old memories. It was hard to believe that you could feel like this about someone who had brought you such sadness in the past, but as you stared at Viego’s handsome face, all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.

But Senna had given you the key for a reason, and you didn’t want to trouble them by still being here when they returned, so you decided to be brave like Senna, taking one of Viego’s hands in yours and pulling him towards the front door. Viego’s hand was cold in yours, but his fingers held tight to yours. You found yourself wondering what kind of look Viego had on his face, but you were too nervous to look back at him until you got outside, taking the walk down the hallway to gather up all of your courage before turning back to him.

“Senna gave me–”

You were cut off by a gentle tug on your hand by Viego, pulling you back to him. Faster than you could comprehend, his other arm wrapped around your back, pulling you against him as he leaned down to kiss you.

You were shocked, Viego’s arm behind you being the only thing keeping you upright as his lips pressed against your own. You closed your eyes, hoping your inexperience wasn’t too obvious as you tentatively tried to kiss back, wishing your face would stop burning so hot; there was no way he wouldn’t notice the heat in your face, not with how cold he always was. Just as you were getting worried that you were too stiff, Viego pulled away, touching his forehead to yours.

He looked too pleased with himself, his jade eyes glowing with the same mischievous aura as the smirk he now wore on his lips. “You were saying something, my love?”

You sputtered, face red, trying to catch your thoughts. You hadn’t been expecting the kiss, and had also never kissed anyone before, so your brain was struggling to work again as you stared at Viego’s sly grin.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus. Right, the key.

“Senna gave me the key to a place of theirs we can stay in,” you explained. “It’s about an hour’s walk out of the city.”

Viego raised an eyebrow. “It would take much less time to travel there with the mist.”

“No!” you exclaimed hurriedly, noting the few people who were still out since it was only early evening. Your face only flushed more as you realized he had kissed you in front of other people, even if it was only a few. Noticing two women staring at you and Viego, you quickly pulled his hood back down over his head from where it had fallen askew, taking his hand again and pulling him with you in the direction Senna had indicated.

“People are already staring… if you use the mist, they might call the Demacian guard!” you explained as you pulled him with you down the road.

“They can try,” Viego scoffed. “No power in this world will take you from me again.”

You sped up your pace, desperately hoping the two women hadn’t heard Viego’s not-so-veiled threats against the Demacian guard as you pulled him along with you. While you didn’t doubt that Viego was likely strong enough to take on the whole of the Demacian military, it was a confrontation that you desperately wanted to avoid.

For his part, Viego didn’t seem bothered by your increased pace down the path; rather, he seemed to be in too much of a good mood for someone who had just threatened to take on a kingdom’s entire military force. Part of you wondered if he was just talking like that to keep you holding his hand to pull him along, but the notion was too embarrassing to possibly be true, so you dismissed it from your mind, choosing instead to focus on the scenery around you as you walked.

The path out of town was not too different from the roads you had walked back in your hometown. Once you were out of Demacia City, the path of finely-cobbled stone became a simple dirt path lined occasionally with simple houses on either side. The people who lived just outside the city didn’t seem to conform to the fanciful beauty standards of the city, instead dressing more like the people you had known back in the Demacian farmlands. Seeing the more ordinary people go about their lives brought you comfort; as nice as Demacia City was, you had a hard time feeling like you really belonged among its finery.

“I have never seen how the peasants live,” Viego commented from your side, the lightness in his voice making you feel like he didn’t quite get that most people took the word peasant as an insult. “They look happy.”

“I’m a peasant too,” you mused. “I lived on that farm most of my life.”

Rather than looking displeased, as you secretly feared he might, Viego let out a quiet hum. “I cannot help but wonder, if we were both peasants back in Camavor… could we have lived happier lives?”

“Viego…” You looked over at him to see him gazing sadly your way, and for a second you could have sworn you saw the Viego of his youth when you looked at him, tan skin and rich brown hair instead of the pale, silver-haired man you had come to know in this lifetime.

“I led us to ruin, and I almost lost your beautiful smile for good,” he added with downcast eyes. “I will not allow myself to be so foolish again.”

While you were trying to think of a response to his words, your eyes caught sight of a small house in the distance, a golden yellow sun painted on its front door. The house itself was fairly isolated; the last house you had passed had been a while back, and you couldn’t see any other houses in the distance ahead.

It was a relief; while you were still feeling awkward around Viego after that kiss, you knew it was better for everyone for Viego to not be around anyone but you for now. You pulled out the key Senna had given you, overly conscious of Viego at your back, fumbling a few times before getting the key slotted in correctly and unlocking the door.

Stepping inside, you were surprised to see how well-furnished the place was, despite it just being an out of town hideout for Senna and Lucian. The home consisted of a combined kitchen and entryway area with a simple bathroom down the short hallway. Opening the last door, you found a small bedroom containing no more than a bed and a small chest of drawers.

As you were looking over the room, you were surprised by Viego’s arms circling your waist, his chin resting against the side of your head.

“I have missed this dearly,” Viego’s low voice in your ear sent a noticeable shiver down your spine, which he definitely noticed. “It has been over a thousand years since I have felt your body against mine.”

His tone was sultry, and accompanied by a gentle nip at your ear, your cheeks were feeling incredibly warm. You had to assume that you had been with Viego like this, back a thousand years ago. But you hadn’t seen any of Isolde’s more suggestive memories, so you had no idea of what to expect from Viego. That, and you were as inexperienced as they came; it wasn’t like there were many boys around your age in your small town for you to do anything with. You were nervous, but glad it was Viego, and not someone like the owner’s brother who always hit on you whenever he visited the farm.

Viego withdrew from you, a metallic clang sounding out in the small room as he released the clasp on his cloak, allowing it to slide off his shoulders and hit the floor. Chancing a look back over your shoulder, you made eye contact with a once-again shirtless Viego, the black triangle on his chest bared once again.

Approaching you again, he took hold of your wrist, bringing your palm to lay against the spectral-green lined dark triangle in the center of his chest. You inhaled sharply, surprised when your hand was not swallowed by mist or sucked into the black void, but instead pressed against the triangle of black as if it were normal skin.

“The mark you gave me,” Viego said, voice surprisingly soft for someone talking about the wound that had ended their mortal life. “The mist is a part of me, so it will never harm you.”

“It feels warm,” you murmured. How could it feel so warm when the rest of his body was so cold?

“Only ever to you,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you again.

It was a short kiss, Viego giving you several short pecks as he slowly backed you up to the bed. He pulled away as the back of your knees hit the bed, and you opened your eyes as you caught your breath, only to see Viego with a wicked smirk on his face. Before you could question him, you were sent backwards onto the bed with a yelp as a rush of mist from Viego’s chest blew over you.

You found yourself on your back, the sheets a lot softer under you than you had expected. Realizing that the mist had left you feeling a lot colder than you had expected as well, you let out an embarrassed squeak when you discovered that the mist had somehow done away with your clothing, leaving you completely naked against the sheets.

The mist faded as quickly as it had appeared, revealing Viego at the foot of the bed in nothing but his tight black pants, which were noticeably tighter at the front. His gaze was smouldering as he took in your now-fully-revealed form, and while you were overtaken with the desire to shy away, but you were not given a chance as Viego quickly joined you on the bed.

He gently cupped your breasts in his hands, thumbs rubbing against your nipples, the cold of his fingers only heightening the jolt of pleasure that heated your face. Viego stared down at you, looking awestruck, strands of his silver hair falling over one of his eyes. He was so handsome that it was hard for you to believe this was real as you looked up at him, fighting the urge to run your hands through his hair as you let out a soft moan.

“You make it hard to focus when you sound like that,” Viego admitted as he leaned down. “It has been too long since I have heard your sweet voice moan.”

Crawling over you, Viego tilted your chin up with a hand on your cheek, allowing him to lock your lips together again. Unlike the previous kisses, this kiss was heated and intense, your tongue meeting his as his other hand laid next to your head, supporting his body closely above yours.

His body caging yours in should have felt cold with how frigid his skin was in unlife, but all you could feel was warmth as Viego kissed you like his life depended on it. Deciding to act on your earlier thoughts, you slid your hands into Viego’s soft hair, your nails running along his scalp. Viego groaned into your mouth, hips rutting into yours, letting you feel just how hard he was under his leather pants.

Viego’s hand strayed lower, your back bowing slightly off the bed when he began to move his thumb over your clit. He continued the passionate kiss as he kept up with the movements on your clit, the sensations making it hard for you to concentrate on the kiss. Finally, the pleasure got so intense that you jerked back against the pillow with a breathy moan, your face flushed with heat.

Viego pulled back from you entirely, spreading your legs and grasping your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders. Startled, you realized what he intended to do, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to…” you trailed off, fingers grasping the sheets at your side as you stared at him.

Viego’s mouth turned up in a sly grin, looking up at you with his mouth inches away from your naked pussy. “There is nothing I want more in this world right now than to hear you cry out for me, my love.”

Before you could reply, Viego surged forward, tongue licking against your clit while his fingers pressed inside you. He seemed energized by the noises you made, fingers moving faster against you as you closed your eyes, moaning his name as his tongue brushed against you at a spot that had you seeing stars beyond your eyelids.

He was relentless, determined to get you to reach your peak, not slowing down until you cried out his name, nails raking against the sheets as you came.

Viego withdrew, looking very proud of himself as he stared down at your wrecked form. You laid flat against the bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath. As you took in Viego’s disheveled hair and satisfied smile, you let out a soft exhale, still not fully understanding how he was able to make you feel so comfortable with him after all that you had been through. Or maybe it had been because of everything you had been through together, the thousand years you had been apart and the short time you had been together again.

He didn’t make any moves to remove his pants, despite the fact that they looked painfully tight by this point. You stared at him from under your lashes, not knowing what to say as you slowly came down form the high of pleasure he had given you.

“Your form has never been more beautiful,” Viego said, leaning down to kiss you. “Now if only your lips were as honest as your eyes.”

“What?”

“Your eyes are telling me what you want me to do to you,” he murmured into your ear, voice low and sultry. “And I cannot find it in me to deny my queen what she desires.”

Viego sat up as mist flew from his chest, sweeping over his lower half and turning his pants to mist before dissipating entirely, leaving him just as naked as you. His cock was just as pale as the rest of his body, but clearly was still functioning just fine; in fact, you were slightly worried about the sheer size of him.

Viego took his place between your legs, his cock so close to where you wanted it. He took himself in hand, slowly lining himself up with you, looking down at you appraisingly before his cock was sinking into you.

You let out a soft sigh as you felt the stretch of his cock, surprised that it was nowhere near as painful as you had imagined. Once he was fully inside you, he leaned down, caging you in with his arms as he began to roll his hips into yours.

Sliding a hand into his hair, Viego happily allowed you to pull his lips back to yours, groaning into your mouth when you clenched around him after his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. While you had struggled to focus amidst the pleasure you were feeling, Viego had no such problem, easily able to kiss you breathless while maintaining a slow and gentle pace with his hips.

But as you continued to move against each other, slow and gentle began to be too little for you. You pulled back from Viego’s lips with a whine, looking at him with pleasure-hazed vision as he continued to move against you.

“Viego… faster, please,” you whined, watching him swallow as you spoke.

With a deep groan, Viego picked up his pace, each thrust of his cock hitting exactly where you needed it. Viego seemed to be as lost in the feeling as you were, eventually trading speed for increased intensity as you clung to his biceps.

Viego came first, slowing with a groan, but kissed you hard, rubbing at your clit until you joined him over the edge, feeling your energy drain from you as Viego pulled out of you before pulling your body to his, wrapping his arm around you.

“My heart, my body… they have only ever belonged to you,” Viego spoke, his words sending fondness blossoming in your chest.

Closing your eyes, you leaned against his chest, feeling happy but drained, at least until the reality of where you were came rushing back to you. You were in Senna’s house… in Senna’s bed. What had you been thinking?!

Noticing your panic, Viego lifted your chin, tilting your face up towards him with an eyebrow raised, quizzically speaking your name.

“Senna’s going to kill me,” you groaned in embarrassment.

“What?” Viego hissed, voice flat and dangerous, some mist tricking from his chest.

“No!” you exclaimed, placing your hands over his chest in a futile effort to keep the dark mist in. In your embarrassment, you had forgotten about Viego’s tendency to react against any threats directed towards you. “I just meant she would be upset with me for…. getting intimate… in her bed.”

Your words didn’t particularly seem to ease the severity of Viego’s misinterpretation of your words, but that would have to something to work on over time. With how harsh his life had been for so long, you shouldn’t have been surprised that hyperbole was largely lost on him. For now, all you could think of to do was distract him, quickly pulling his lips down to yours to hope you could make him forget about his current dangerous intentions, at least for the moment.

#x reader #reader insert #league of legends #league of legends viego #viego #lol x reader #league of legends x reader

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my-emotional-self · 4 years ago

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Toxic Love Chapter 3

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing. But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy)

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story! I apologize in advance!

Two days later you found yourself back in the same elevator at the Avengers Tower, only this time with Bucky. It was a surprise when you opened up your apartment door to see Bucky standing there, ready to escort you to the tower as you planned on walking there yourself. But you didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you found Bucky Barnes to be rather charming and quite adorable with half of his hair in a little bun in the back of his head.

The elevator doors opened on the same floor as last time. Bucky walked in front of you as you followed closely behind him and that was when you spotted Steve. He was dressed much more casually this time in a pair of black sweats and a gray t-shirt that looked about two sizes too small. His arm muscles practically ripping the seams of his shirt. It was definitely a sight to see.

Steve was leaned over the island counter looking at some paperwork and turned when he heard the two of you enter. This time, a small smile graced his lips. He walked right up to you and quickly apologized. “I’m sorry for the way I acted the other day. I’ve been under a lot of stress and while I couldn’t be more happy to have finally met you, the timing is just not that great. I truly am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

Looking up into those baby blue eyes of his, your body melts. You hadn’t noticed the first time you saw him just how bright his eyes were. Could you forgive him? Sure, you could only imaging how stressful of a job this must be for him and the rest of the Avengers.

“Yeah, I forgive you Steve,” you replied with a close lipped smile.

“Great, why don’t we head into the living room and we can talk,” he said as he held his arm out towards the living room.

You sat on the large couch, right in the middle while both Steve and Bucky sat on the chairs on either side of the couch. Both men had their hands clasped together with their elbows on their knees, leaning forward. They were watching you intently, waiting for your decision.

“Umm, alright I can start,” you began to say, giving your lips a lick as your mouth felt parched. “After two days of thinking it over, I have decided to move in here…if that’s ok with you both.” Why were you so nervous this time around? Was it because Steve was actually being nicer and taking his time to talk to you rather than talk down to you? Was it because both men were intently staring at you? Whatever it was, you hadn’t felt quite this nervous in some time.

“Of course it would be alright with us if you moved in. Isn’t that right Buck?”

“Absolutely,” Bucky replied, a bright smile on his face.

Giving both men a shaky nod, you chewed on your lower lip nervously, knowing what was coming next and you just hoped they weren’t going to be too terrible. And if they were, hopefully they would be willing to compromise on a few.

Steve cleared his throat as he stood up from his chair; Bucky following his lead as they both stood in front of you. “Should we go over the rules then?” Steve asked with authority in his tone, but you knew that was just part of him being the ‘alpha’ of this relationship. Giving him a subtle nod, Steve began with the rules.

“Rule number one. You are not to leave the tower by yourself. You either have one of us go with you or at least get someone else living in the tower to go with you. We would prefer one of us, but if we are on a mission, then that’s understandable. We don’t want you getting hurt and we only want to protect you,” he stated.

Ok, this wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. While you were more of a hermit anyways, not really going out much even during the day, this rule seemed pretty easy to follow. “I can agree to that rule,” came your reply.

“Good, rule number two. No lying. We want an open and honest relationship and if you lie to us, we can’t help you and it will certainly not help with trusting you. Same goes for us. We won’t lie to you either. Deal?”

“Deal.” Wow, this was much easier than you thought.

“Rule number three. No touching yourself without one of us.” And there it goes, all out the window. You could feel the embarrassment creep up on your neck and cheeks. “I know this rule can be a little out there. But Bucky and I want to be the ones that give you pleasure.”

You weren’t innocent, of course you got yourself off. Hell, you had a whole drawer full of toys. But this seemed a little excessive. You didn’t plan on jumping into the sack with either of them for a while, not until you got to know them and bringing pleasure to yourself was one of your biggest stress relievers.

“Ok, but what if you two are on a mission for weeks, if not months?”

Bucky and Steve gave each other a look. It seemed as if they were speaking to each other telepathically, knowing what the other was thinking just by that one look.

“How about this,” Bucky began to say, his shoulders relaxing. “If we are gone on a mission that is more than two weeks, we can try phone sex perhaps. That way one of us is still technically bringing you pleasure with at least our voice.”

Letting out a breath, you thought about it for a minute. It’s not like you were a sex crazed maniac; you didn’t need to get off five times a day. It would be difficult though, especially in the beginning of the relationship, but it was possible. “Ok. I’ll agree to that.”

“Good,” Steve stated, giving you little smile. “Rule four. You don’t need any money or income. Bucky and I have more than enough for us to live very comfortably and we can provide for you. We would like you to not work if you do have a job right now.”

“Nope. Hard no,” you exclaimed. You loved your job, it was your passion, your hobby. When you were dating John, he made you give it up. When you told him no, well, that was the first time he hit you. He had backhanded you across your face, leaving you bruised for weeks. When you finally got out of that relationship and he was thrown in jail, your job was the only thing to keep you from falling over the edge. “Look, I don’t need my job either. It pays well and I’m good at saving. I have plenty of money in the bank for a rainy day. But I can’t not do my job. It is my passion and my one true hobby. I am begging you, please don’t make me quit,” you spoke with a trembling lip and damp eyes.

In the blink of an eye, Steve was sitting down to your right, Bucky to your left. They each placed a hand on your knee in comfort. “Maybe we can compromise on this then. What is it that you do for a living?” Bucky questioned.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed the tears away. “I’m a gamer.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know what that means,” Steve said.

“A gamer. I go online and play games on a site called Twitch. I live stream as I play games and people watch me.”

“People watch you to play games online and you get paid to do that?” Bucky asked with confusion.

A chuckle left your lips. “I know. It sounds silly. But I love it. I really do. I work from home. I make my own hours. I can work ten days in a row if I want and I can take a month off if I want.”

“So how often do you work?” came Steve’s question.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It depends. Lately I’ve been working about four to five nights a week on average. But if we compromise, I can easily go down to two nights a week and I’d still be ok with that.”

There it was again, Steve and Bucky looking at each other. You swore they were talking with their minds, but then again, they have known each other for what, over 100 years now?

“Alright. Two nights a week we will start out with.” You squealed in excitement as your arms wrapped around Steve’s neck in a tight hug before doing the same to Bucky.

“Thank you for compromising with me,” you sputtered in excitement. “Are there any other rules?”

“Just one more for the time being. If we need to come up with more rules along the way we will. But for the last rule, we want you to be healthy. That means eating three meals a day and getting a good night’s rest. We don’t want you up at all hours of the night and sleeping during the day. We try to eat as many meals as possible together. Mainly breakfast and lunch during the weekends and dinner every night if possible.”

Well, that one will be really difficult for you to deal with. You never ate breakfast. Hell, you barely ate lunch. You really only ate on average one meal a day and then snacks here and there. “I can definitely try with the eating three meals a day. I normally only eat one meal a day and then have snacks but I promise to try. But when I do my job, it is done at night and sometimes I am up a little later than normal.”

Steve nodded and you watched as his jaw clenched. “Just try to get to bed at a reasonable hour on those few nights a week that you work alright?”

There was this deep feeling inside of you that made you not want to upset your soulmate so you quickly nodded your head in agreement.

“I do have one question,” you asked quietly.

“Go ahead,” Steve responded, eyes on you.

“What if I do break a rule? What happens then?”

Steve cocked his head to the side, thinking about it. “Well, I guess it depends on what rule you break and how severely you break it. It could be something as simple as not being able to go to your hobby room on the communal floor, or having you spend time in your room alone. This is new territory for us to so we might have to make the punishments up as we go.”

“Ok, that sounds doable,” you agreed.

Bucky touched the small of your back and you turned to face him. “Is there anything in particular on your end you wanted to say? Any kind of rules for us you wanted to discuss?”

You thought about it for a minute, but only one came to mind. “Yeah,” you began to speak quietly as you looked down at your hands in your lap. “You can call me doll and sweetheart and any other terms of endearment like that. But please don’t call me ‘babe’.” Memories of John growling out that word to you as he punched and kicked you until your ribs broke came flooding back to you. You never wanted to be called that word again.

“I think we can manage that,” Bucky agreed.

“That won’t be a problem on our end at all,” Steve quipped. “Now how about we order some pizza and we can get to know you a little better?”

Just then, your stomach grumbled at the thought of pizza. You were starving. “Pizza sounds amazing right now.”

#steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #dark!steve rogers #dark! steve rogers

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captainsimagines · 4 years ago

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“I Could Fall in Love”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I hope you enjoy this little drabble as much as I enjoyed writing it. Cutting it close to midnight on Valentine’s Day but hey, it still counts. xx Moni

BUCKY BARNES X READER DRABBLE

Warnings: none, simply fluff!

Word Count: 3000+

Song Fanfic: Listen and enjoy!

It wasn’t that you hated Valentine’s Day, you just didn’t see it as purely romantic. In your opinion, it was supposed to represent so much more than just romantic love. Friendships, beginnings and endings, the actual historical event, elementary school card giving, baked goods, and a nice dinner for either yourself or in the presence of others. So, no - you didn’t hate it. In fact, you actually quite enjoyed the giddy feeling of seeing other couples go all out for a single day, the sweets that were always available, and the awesome discounts.

“Come with us!” Natasha whined, filling up her glass with some oat milk and passing Steve some utensils at the same time. She wasn’t whining excessively, as that wasn’t in her nature, but she did raise her voice as her tone shifted from playful to annoyance. You rolled your eyes and chewed on your bagel, shaking your head dramatically. You plastered on your best grin, but it was overpowered by the massive chunk of bagel in your mouth. So you sat there, stupid bagel-filled grin covering your face, and tiny giggles threatening to escape as Natasha’s face also dropped into a silly one.

The rest of the crew was planning on attending a private Valentine’s Day party hosted by a close business partner of Tony’s. It sounded like a lot of fun and a perfect excuse to dress-up, but you had a tiny mission to go on before it. It was not a ‘mission-mission’ so to say- more like a ‘get in, get out, this will literally take two seconds and I could do this any other day’ type of mission. Natasha had given you such a disapproving look when you told her what your actual plans were for tonight, but she expected nothing less. You always had something else up your sleeve.

And that you did.

Since your mission was a quickie, you would be able to return to the compound before everyone else and bake your special pink cupcakes they all knew and loved. A sweet mixture of vanilla and strawberry, no flavor overpowering the other. You had recently perfected the recipe, only having Natasha and Bucky taste the final product, and because of their genuine surprise and praise, you were ready to bake dozens for everyone proudly.

She finished her glass and went to wash it. “Still, I think you’re missing out! I hear the food is gonna be great!”

You shrugged, “Eh, we have food here.”

You heard Natasha release a tiny scoff, “Please tell me your actual reason before I laugh too loudly and wake everyone up.”

“I swear, I’ve been putting off this mission for so long that tonight just seemed like the perfect time. Everyone’s occupied- I don’t know. I mean, criminals gotta get laid too, right?”

Natasha snorted, “That’s very true.” She eyed you suspiciously while drying her glass.

“You know, you and Barnes are the only one’s not attending. Obviously, his excuse is that he’s literally on a mission right now but you see my point.”

“No, I don’t see your point.”

Natasha smiled, as if secretly knowing your other very valid reason for not attending the party. “We all have dates. You know that if he were here you would be going with him, even as friends. But since you would literally be the only one of us without a date, it seems reasonable you wouldn’t want to attend.”

Okay, she hit that spot-on.

You groaned and lay your arms across the counter dramatically, “Stop, it’s scary how right you are all the time.”

Natasha laughed and rounded the counter, going over to pat your shoulders. “I’m not making you go. Don’t worry. Just give yourself some self-care and I’ll see you tonight to let you know I got home safe.”

You nodded and waved goodbye to her, ready to finish the everything bagel you had abandoned.

Bucky wasn’t one to dress-up for a night out anymore. He just didn’t have the motivation to do anything unless it involved stake-outs, knitting, painting, and binge-watching some stupid series you were watching. It always happened the same way, too. You would be casually chilling in the main common room of the compound, barely starting the first episode of a new series with stacks of junk food ready for your eager taste buds, when Bucky would randomly come in and ask what you were watching. And the next thing Bucky knew, you two were discussing the hidden elements of The Crown and debating whether a scene actually happened the way it was portrayed. By God, how much Bucky absolutely detested Prince Charles.

And you were so determined to knit that sweater for Natasha by her birthday that you came to Bucky’s room five times a day now rather than your usual three. But Bucky was extremely patient, helping you hook the remaining yarn that kept falling off your needles. Each time you pouted over the ‘horrible knot you made’ or when the yarn would tangle, Bucky would grin and tease you about, his stomach twisting pleasurably.

And each time he would reach over to help you fix it, your heart fluttered ever so slightly.

Bucky had actually planned on taking you to that Valentine’s Day party but his mission carried on longer than it was supposed to. Rather than returning a day before the party, he would now be returning towards the middle of it. He wondered if you were still going to go, but he highly doubted it. Not because you had told him explicitly, but because you had joked that if he wasn’t able to go, then ‘why would you bother?’.

To see you in that red dress you had jokingly placed over your already clothed body and modeled for him - Yeah, he absolutely hated he was missing this party tonight.

His mission had just ended and he was currently on the flight home, resting in his tactical gear but with the headphones you let him borrow in each ear. He chuckled lowly, realizing that most things he had in his possession, whether that be the headphones, hair bands, lotion, and Spotify account, all belonged to you. It brought him some comfort as he fixed himself in his seat, settling on your ‘Love me please?’ playlist to match the special holiday.

Lovebug by the Jonas Brothers. Tonight by FM Static. Oh, dozens by Taylor Swift. You’ll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins. And a whole lot of Selena songs.

There was one song that caught his attention, as if the title spoke to him. It just made sense. He clicked it, surprised by the upbeat beginning and rhythm of the drums, finally closing his eyes as he heard the melody from the acoustic guitar.

He lost count of how many times he replayed that one song as his plane touched land. He quickly woke himself up and gathered his things, ready to jump into a warm shower and watch an episode of The Crown behind your back. The drive to the compound was short and he entered the living quarters somewhat alert. There were no sounds his super soldier ears could hear besides the clicks of keyboards by overtime workers and computers humming. Kind of sad and joyful at once, Bucky realized he was alone for the first time in a long time. Maybe he would try that face mask you had urged him to buy tonight. And those very comfortable pajamas.

Ever the procrastinator, you never did go on that mission.

You were humming along to your Valentine’s playlist as you cracked the eggs into your bowl. You stirred quickly, bowl in your arms and a strike of flour along your unknowing cheek. You had your earphones in, enjoying the solace of such a peaceful night. The mix was coming together nicely and as you waited for the oven to preheat, you took out all of your cupcake supplies to set on the kitchen counter.

You could have sworn you heard some noises a few doors down so you took one earphone out to listen closely. At first you heard nothing, but you could have sworn you heard the likes of a toothbrush tapping against a bathroom counter. But as you stood there comically, bowl in your arms and whisk held up like a weapon, you settled on no disturbance.

You set the bowl down quietly and ran over to the door, looking down the hallway. Once you saw it was completely empty, you couldn’t contain the grin that spread across your face. You raced back to the kitchen and called for Friday.

“Friday? Could you please connect my phone to the living room speakers, please?”

“Done.”

You scrolled through your playlist and settled on a song that would for sure damage your vocal cords but delight you nonetheless.

“I could lose my heart tonight

If you don’t turn and walk away

You swayed around the kitchen as you traveled to grab each new ingredient, singing at the appropriate level the song called for.

Because the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

Bucky had just finished brushing his teeth and putting a warm pair of socks on when he heard Friday play the exact song he had been listening to for the past two hours. At first he wondered if Friday had mistakenly connected his phone to the speakers but realized his phone didn’t even have the Spotify app open. He quickly walked down the cold floors of the hallway, his warm socks somewhat doing their job. He stopped at the living room entrance and leaned his shoulder on the doorway, beaming with a huge grin.

Because I could, take you in my arms

And never let go

You twirled around and used the whisk as a microphone, and to both your and Bucky’s surprise, hit every note perfectly. Bucky knew you were a great singer and although he would never admit it, he had heard you singing in the shower quite a few times. It was impossible not to at the level of volume you sang, but each time he would come into your room to grab something random or to ask you a question, he would sit outside the shower door and listen to your angelic voice as it sailed through the steamy air and into Bucky’s ears. But here you were, belting out the exact song Bucky had just learned all the lyrics for on his way home.

I could fall, in love, with you

It was in that moment that Bucky realized he was in his ‘comfortable pajamas’, which consisted of a loose long sleeve and bottoms set, with a nice dark blue color and white stitching along the pockets and buttons. But the sleeves, incredibly so, were far too long for his arms so he would crunch them up in his palms. And his socks had stripes on them. But he remained still on the door frame, watching you sway to the music and enjoying the scent of your first batch of cupcakes already in the oven.

I could only wonder how touching you

Would make me feel

You halted immediately when you saw his tall form resting on the door frame, a giant grin plastered on his newly shaven face. You yelped in surprise, putting down the whisk and patting your hands on your little green apron.

“Bucky, oh my god! Say something if you’re going to enter a room!”

Bucky just shrugged, walking over to the kitchen counter, eyes never leaving yours. He leaned over and placed his chin in both his palms, smiling as the music continued playing in the background. “I like this song.”

You squinted at him, “You know this song?”

Bucky nodded, holding his hand out now for you to take. “Like I said, I like this song.”

But if I take that chance right now

Tomorrow will you want me still?

You reached over hesitantly and let Bucky lead you over to the carpet. He wrapped one arm around your waist and rested the other higher up on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing for his large frame to sway you both to the rhythm of the song.

“Nice pajamas.”

“Shut up.”

The room was dimly lit, cupcake aroma circling you two, and his snuggly pajamas seemed to also provide you the warmth you were previously getting from the oven. You smiled up at him, low giggles emitting from your lips. He did the same, enjoying the feel of your body pressed up against his.

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

“When did you get back?” you asked, reaching up to touch his shaven cheek. You were undoubtedly curious about the feeling.

Bucky let you roam your hand all over, “About an hour ago. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

You chuckled, “I am! I told you I wasn’t going to bother going to that party if my plus one wasn’t coming!”

Bucky lifted his arm and twirled you slowly, happy that you followed his lead. “So, I’m your plus one now?”

You rolled your eyes, “Always.”

I could fall, in love, with you

“How did you even hear about this song?” you asked, hands now resting comfortably on Bucky’s chest. He had his arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his chest as you two swayed.

“We share a Spotify account, doll.”

“Yeah, but it’s a love playlist. Were you just in the mood for some ballads and stumbled across this one?”

“Exactly. It’s quite the tearjerker.”

And I know it’s not right

And I guess I should try

To do what I should do

He looked so relaxed at this moment, fresh and calm, enjoying the dance he pulled you into. He was resting his chin on the top of your head so you felt his little puffs of air escape his nostrils. And as he breathed in, you could feel his chest rise and lower below your palms. You were tempted to reach up and grab his face, pull him into yourself and share a sweet kiss, but you decided against it. For some reason you knew that this was different. You had snuggled before during naps or binge watching, but they never had a romantic undertone. And if you acted upon your desires, you were frightened it just might ruin your friendship. It took you two years to build up such a rapport with this man, and dare you say you were extremely proud to harbor some of his deepest secrets, and him yours. But his breathing calmed you immensely, as if the gentle rhythm was enough to put you to sleep, and you wondered if he was thinking about the same thing.

But I fall in love, with you

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

Bucky seemed to hug you tighter as the lyrics encircled the room. Over the last few weeks he had felt a shift in your relationship, where sharing food was no longer as innocent as it seemed, barging into each other’s room was not seen as drastic, and partaking in each other’s hobbies was never a bore. Steve had commented on it before, asking Bucky if there was something between you two. And Bucky confided in both Steve and Sam, hands pulling at his hair as he paced in a safe room and his friends sitting patiently on the lone couch. They let him act out his worries in peace, and once Bucky tired himself out they both explained how he should ask you out or how to bring up the topic with you. Bucky listened intently and pushed down the tiny voice in his head that joked about Steve being the one to give him romantic advice. But if he ended up with you on his arm after this little pep talk, it would all be worth it.

But now the song was coming closer to its end, and he knew that if he didn’t act now then he probably wouldn’t have the courage to bring it up ever again. He leaned down to your left ear, and whispered the lyrics to you. In Spanish.

Siempre estoy soñando en ti

Besando mis labios, acariciando mi piel

Abrazándome con ansias locas

Imaginando que me amas

Como yo podía amar a ti

[I am always dreaming of you

Kissing my lips and touching my skin

Anxiously hugging me

Imagining that you love me

Like how I love you]

You knew Bucky knew several languages. You knew. But it made you incredibly excited and hot that he specifically knew Spanish. He spoke in such a gentle manner, breath hitting your skin and voice practically drowning your mind. It was all foggy for a moment, but you quickly refocused your attention on his face.

“Oh, wow.”

Bucky smiled, “What?”

You scoffed and swatted his chest lightly, “Don’t ‘what’ me! You just confessed you like me!”

Bucky pushed you away for another twirl under his arm, but kept you at arms length once you turned around. “No, I confessed I love you.”

You stumbled slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. You thought about how absurd that confession was, but as quickly as that thought entered your mind, it left - because let’s face it, you did know each other for over two years and were best friends. This was right. This felt right.

“You love me?”

Bucky breathed in deeply but your reaction didn’t change his mind. It was now or never. “Yeah, I do. Seemed like the moment to tell you.”

You grinned, pushing your body forward to be engulfed by his strong arms once more. “And to think you could have just told me at this damn party when I was looking all hot without freaking flour on my face.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh that originated from the pit of his stomach and reached his hands up to your face. He pulled you in and kissed you sweetly, the taste of your lip gloss driving him wild. He tasted like toothpaste and chapstick, a perfect combination for your superhero.

“I love you, too.” Bucky let his eyes close in complete bliss.

You could have stayed like that forever, but as you left his lips and looked up at him, you suddenly remembered you never set a timer.

You pushed Bucky away, your sudden strength sending him backwards onto the couch. “My cupcakes!”

And as you rushed to pull the burnt tops from the oven, you could hear Bucky slide off the couch and hit the floor, his laugh louder than the speakers.

I could fall, in love

With you.”

Happy Valentine’s Day. All the love. xxMoni

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deceasedanddesist · 4 years ago

Text

eyes off you ( hermione granger )

this is for kelly’s 3k writing challenge!! @anchoeritic ily kells<3

pairing: hermione granger x slytherin!reader ( half blood prince )

gender neutral! reader ( if there is a mistake or i accidentally used she/her pronouns let me know and ill fix it! )

warnings: small mentions of abuse at home, other than that just fluff and awkwardness.

notes: inspired by the song ‘eyes off you’ by prettymuch, the lyrics are bolded and italicized. y/n is the biggest simp. please ignore my grammar mistakes and my horrendous sentence structure. this also gives off major jily vibes, so do what you will with that information. I kinda went off with this I'm so sorry if it starts to get boring. images are from pinterest.

word count - 1.9k

hermione granger was a stubborn girl, that was one thing you knew for sure. when the two of you first met she had been adamant on hating your guts, excessive flirting and all. it was your persistence is what really got through to her; like starting to hang out in the library because you knew she would be there, and helping her pick up her books when some asshole seventh year—adorning the same infamous emerald green you did—tripped her up in the hall ( although not before threatening the bugger in her honour first ).

at the end of the day, the little acts of service were the things that made hermione swallow her pride and finally go on a damn date with you. at first, harry and ron were in utter shock that the girl was even considering going on a date with “the enemy” as they oh-so-subtly put it. but she just told them they were being overly dramatic, and that their input into who she decides to date was simply inadequate. so was it ever the surprise that one day when you finally worked up the courage to ask her, she actually said yes.

“are you serious?” you had expressed your complete disbelief of the words you just heard come out of the curly haired girls mouth.

“yes y/n, i am dead serious.” she had echoed back to you, looking thoroughly amused.

you were astonished, the girl that you quite frankly couldn’t take your eyes off of since fifth year actually agreed to go out with you. the gryffindor girl specifically that you had set your sights on, ignoring the warnings from your friends and backlash from your family, it had all paid off. becoming more defiant with your family last summer was no easy deed, but you knew the yelling and even the hitting was better than whatever they were scheming up for you this summer. lord voldemort was getting even closer to making sure he had a solid, fucked up, but loyal fanbase and you knew you would soon be a part of it if you didn’t get your shit together. you pretty much had a foolproof plan to get the hell out of your psycho household, you just needed to wait for the right moment to act on it.

amidst all of this, you knew it was dangerous to get involved with a muggle born, and you knew you were being selfish by risking yours and hermione’s lives. but there was something about her. the way she would make you feel when your insistent nagging got her lips to turn up just a little bit, or when you did something particularly embarrassing and finally got a boisterous laugh to erupt from her mouth in the middle of potions ( snape was not happy with the two of you ).

so you knew it was dangerous, you really did. but as soon as you saw hermione in the corridor right outside of the slytherin common rooms, waiting for you like you had anxiously asked her to after dinner yesterday, you knew you were down bad. you knew you were down bad because as soon as you saw her face drop when draco malfoy approached her, your heart lurched and you basically sprinted to where she was standing. she was in the middle of telling malfoy to shut up when you slid up beside her and threw an arm around her shoulder ( because protective instincts.... duh! ), somehow managing to simultaneously tell him to “sod off” and flip him the bird while hermione sunk into your side like there's no place she’d rather be.

as the two of you ran off, you couldn't help but mutter into her ear “mione, i'm not sure.....but i think his father will be hearing about this.”

you had a feeling that the laugh she let out was one you’d be hearing in your dreams for a while.

“so, where would you like to take me y/n.” she spoke, the air of the previous laughter still heard in her voice.

“tell me anything you wanna do.”

she hummed “i don't know. how about the three broomsticks?”

while you were mulling it over, she slipped her hand in yours. your head immediately turned to meet her eyes.

there's no touch or feeling

pleasure or pain

anything like the way you're runnin' through my veins

the sudden affection had you choked up, and you had to clear your throat before continuing “um, that sounds great.”

as soon as the consent left your lips she was dragging you up the road and into the warmth of the pub, where madame rosmerta greeted the two of you at the front door. hands still intertwined, you ordered two butterbeer before wandering off into a booth. it was cozy, and you found yourself ravishing in the feeling of it all; going on hogsmeade dates, holding hands, and curling up in a booth with your drinks. it wasn’t long before you and hermione were mindlessly chatting about anything and everything, falling so deeply into conversation. only breaking out when you make her laugh, or when you go speechless at the broad smile that completely lights up her face, something that you noticed was specifically reserved for silly stories about harry and ron or her parents. you hoped that someday she would be able to talk about you with that marvellous smile on her face.

“you’re staring.” she looked adorably embarrassed at the sentiment, heat rising to her cheeks.

“I just can't take my eyes off of you.” it was a bold ( albeit true ) statement, and hermione swore to merlin you looked like you never meant any other utterance more.

“that's very generous of you, but i'm afraid i'm not that attractive.”

you looked at her in complete disbelief, “okay, okay, i’m going to wholeheartedly disregard what you just said,” taking a pause for dramatic effect “because you are the single most beautiful girl i've ever laid my eyes on, hermione granger.”

if the girl wasn’t blushing before, she was now. the way she was scrunching up her nose was the cutest, and you found her obvious inability to take a compliment quite charming. it actually boosted your own confidence, and you found yourself wanting to shower her with praises for the rest of your life just to see her reaction over and over again.

“what?” you teased, a sly smile making its way onto your face, “don't tell me potter and co deprive you of the flattery you deserve.”

the way she tilted her head and had her eyes narrowed ever so slightly told you everything you needed to know, she watched as your eyes widened in shock but shook it off because of the awkward air that was suddenly formed over the topic.

you were quite literally panicking, what if you just ruined everything? curse your slytherin ambition, you must’ve gone too far with your allusive comments. hermione hadn’t talked for about five minutes now, opting to finish her butterbeer, and the energy full of endless conversation dissipated long ago. your mug was still half full, sitting in front of you. you were just sitting there, staring at it, frantically searching your brain for something to talk about but you were fucking blanking. you were failing at pretty much the only thing you pride yourself on, and it happened to be the thing that got hermione to even go out with you in the first place.

once hermione was finished nursing her drink, you decided to speak now before she decided to make up an excuse to leave. “I'm sorry if I went too far, I do that sometimes and I made you uncomfortable, and i'm so sorry.”

then, she did the one thing you would have never even fathomed. she laughed. the girl was chortling, her head thrown back and when she finally came down from her fit she had tears running down her face.

“I'm sorry,” she said, noticing your eyebrows furrowed in concern “i've just never had someone apologize for complimenting me.”

you let out an anxious chuckle, “well you did kind of stop talking there, i figured i hit a nerve.”

“oh no! i just used to, um, fancy ron and he hasn't complimented me nearly as much in 6 years then you’ve had in an hour.” she stumbled over her words a bit as she spoke, evidently uncomfortable discussing her previous crush on weasley.

“well,” you dragged on, “i think you deserve all the flattery in the world.”

you swore to salazar slytherin himself her smile lit up the whole room, and your heart swelled when she reached over the table to grab both of your hands and link them with hers.

“how about we go for a walk, the black lake maybe?” the suggestion brought your attention to how dark it had gotten outside, you estimated that you had about an hour till the sun set. you smirked.

“I see you’re trying to snag a sunset kiss by the black lake, granger.”

your smirk turned into a full on smile as she got flustered once again, biting her lower lip.

“it's absolutely barbaric that you would allude to that, l/n.” the sarcasm was clear in her tone as you both erupted in a fit of giggles.

leaving the three broomsticks hand in hand once again, the two of you made your way down to the lake. you take off the sweater you were wearing to spread it across the grass for you and hermione to settle yourselves on. it wasn't very big, but neither of you seemed to mind as you snuggled into each other against the nights breeze. your arm making its way around her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your waist and rested her head on your shoulder.

you two watched the sunset in silence. it wasn’t awkward like a few minutes ago, there wasn’t a need to fill it with dialogue, it was completely comfortable. hermione adjusted under your arm and turned her head to look at you, the sudden change in direction making a few curls get caught in her glossed lips. before she could even lift her arm, you were already there, brushing her hair behind her ear. your hand found its home behind her neck as you angled your head to brush your nose against hers, her lip unconsciously making its way in between her teeth again.

you took a sharp breath and spoke, “every little thing you do drives me wild.”

“are you gonna give me that kiss, or keep talk-”

you could feel her words melt away against your lips as you took action and pushed her head towards yours. her hands tightening around your waist and her soft sighs as your lips connect act as reminders that she wants this as much as you, and you are so damn thankful that she leans back in after you separate to take a breath.

and the sun sets with the two of you, hanging onto each other like you were each others lifelines, previous thoughts about your family or the stupid slytherin/gryffindor feud are long gone by now.

you decide that you can deal with all of your problems in the near future, because now you have hermione safe in your arms, and that's more than enough motivation for you to stay right where you are.

#kelly's 3k wc !#harry potter #hermione granger x reader #gender neutral reader #hogwarts #hogsmeade #this is my first like writing post so please be nice to me #I'm sorry if this is shit #i tried #plz give me constructive criticism #i need it

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kuroos-moon · 4 years ago

Text

「vi. Deal pt. 2」

warning/s: angst (just a lil bit)

a/note: for this smau, like my previous one, there will be numerous chapters wherein they aren’t text chains or necessarily smaus just like this chapter and the prologue. If that’s not to ur liking, or for any reason at all, pls feel free to tell me u wanna be removed from the taglist 🖤

He skeptically looks out through his window, and just like you had texted him a minute ago, there were no more reporters outside. Finally, he thought, not really expecting you to be telling the truth. Honestly, why do you mess with him so much?

Also, he’s been wondering ever since your reunion if you deliberately went to the gym for him or if that was pure coincidence and you’re spontaneously messing up his life right now. The moment he opens his door, he’s adamant on avoiding you because he just knew the person you were now is adamant on driving him insane by doing things like popping out of nowhere to pester him.

Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing in front of his doorstep? “Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You brightly smile, eyes lighting up at the very sight of him. “Nope.” He pulls the door close but you put a hand to stop him. He tugs on it, making you chuckle, but you stubbornly refuse to let him shut you out.

“Get out.” He snaps. “I’m not even inside, Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Seriously? Saying his full name like that only ticks him off. “Don’t call me that.” He tugs harsher on his doorknob but you successfully grip the door with both hands now.

“Shall I call you love then?” You tease despite finding it extremely hard to keep the door open. It may now have dawned on to him that this was pointless as he lets go, though he’ll never admit that he’s actually afraid of accidentally shutting the door on your fingers—he knows he easily could.

“What do you want?” He sighs. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” How you left me? How you had the audacity to walk back in my life like you didn’t trample all over me before?

“Our relationship,” you grin. He chokes. “Our what now?” Laughter erupts from your throat, and it was bittersweet. You’re so carefree and mesmerizing—your eyes angelic and genuinely alight. But more than that, you’re ruthless and despicable, he knows that all too well.

“Won’t you invite me in? It’s cold y’know,” you place your hands inside your pockets. “Then freeze,” he narrows his eyes. He absolutely hates you, here he was slightly worrying he’ll go soft and easy on you because one could never control the heart yet you so easily reminded him of why you were the bane to his existence.

“Yup, figured walking in your home wasn’t gonna happen,” you mutter to yourself with a small smile. He hates it. Don’t act like you know him, because at some point you did, but you don’t deserve to have him etched in your memory.

“Tell me what you want so we could get this over with.”

“Right. Yes sir. Yes love,” you chuckle, not even minding that he remains unamused. “My manager has already arranged a live interview this afternoon.”

“You should’ve started with that. So, you’re here to ask me what you should say?” He asks, unintentionally looking down on your hands you’ve rubbed together for friction. It was indeed cold, you brought this upon yourself though.

“No, I’m here to make a deal with you. My statement for my interview later on depends on your response.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe because talking to you definitely tired him out; sucked his soul out of him. “And by this lovely deal, what exactly are you proposing? Not that you have a leverage over me now or anything.”

You smile, stepping closer to him but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Instead, his feet remained planted to the ground, self-aware of how much his heart was racing right now and the only thing—albeit pathetic—he could do was glare at you.

“Befriend me for a month, that’s it.” That didn’t sound half as bad compared to how devilish you’ve been these past few days. “Go on,” he mutters, stepping back and away from you. “You can’t block my number and you have to reply to my texts.”

“Aren’t you ashamed of how pathetic and selfish you are right now?” He lowly says. You look up at him in surprise, there was faint hurt and vulnerability in his voice that wasn’t there before and you can’t help but feel guilty for it.

“I like you, I don’t know why, I just do.” Pain visits him like an old friend. Casual, embracing, and mind-numbingly heartbreaking. You look up at his eyes and could tell right away the discomfort in them, but it wasn’t just discomfort, there was agony too—perhaps. You could never be too sure, you think, looking down on both your shoes.

“I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on avoiding me, it felt like you hated me the first day we met, and I didn’t like the way you hated me for no apparent reason, much so because I happen to like you.” You’re rarely ever serious or this openly truthful with anyone other than your friends, it was only normal that it embarrassed you. But this didn’t feel exactly foreign either. It felt like he understood you somehow—your words and the thoughts you haven’t exactly expressed.

“I hated you the first time we met?” He repeats and you look at him, surprised at the surreal softness in his voice. “When… was the first time we met, y/n?”

That’s the first time he’s said your name. It made your cheeks flush warm and your eyes widen a fraction. This moment was temporary and fleeting, it was easy to see, because he certainly doesn’t call your name like that so naturally and so right—he certainly doesn’t look at you with the absence of resentment as he normally would.

“Three days ago, outside your gym,” you respond unsurely. As if you’ve reminded him of something utterly annoying, he had closed off himself once more, his eyes unreadable and brooding as they stared back at you.

“And this is why I hate you,” he chuckles humorlessly. You’re still pretending you didn’t know him, as if those years together were something you could so easily erase. “I don’t care what you say in that damned interview. Saying yes to that excessively self-centered deal of yours would lose me my self-respect, you know that.”

He finally steps out the door, closing it behind him as he walks past you and all the way to his car. He hopes this would be the last time he sees you; he desperately hopes so. The last thing he needs is a repeat of the emotional wreck he’s been when he was at the lowest point of his life after you so selfishly left him behind.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You call off, and he stops in his tracks, clenching his teeth. You’re clearly overestimating his patience. “I don’t know how befriending me would lose you your self-respect. Hell, I am so irritated at you right now, hard-to-understand-breathtaking-stupid volleyball player!” You grit your teeth, he scoffs, finding your impudence unbelievably out of this world.

He wanted to bring up your past, to shove it right in your face that you had no right to be angry with his hostility considering everything you’ve done. But he can’t, it’s foolish to bring up history you insist you’ve forgotten. “You better watch my interview later on.”

“Oh?” He mockingly says, turning to look at you, “just what are you going to say?” He admits it is out of character for him to banter off with you like this, if you were someone else, he’s long gone inside his car. Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye to you for good, allowing himself to talk to you like this before moving forward with his life that’s anti-you.

“I’m telling them we’re the bestest of friends but we might marry!” You stick your tongue out at him before running off, you don’t even notice him freeze up. His heart fell to his stomach, he unconsciously held in a breath. No, he didn’t just hold in a breath, it’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe.

There it is again, his old, life-long friend. Crippling pain, anxiety, and resentment bundling up and turning into one heavy-ass anchor, pulling him deeper down than he’s been before. The stability he’s built and worked on by religiously avoiding you for years all went down the drain with those silly words of yours.

Just what kind of ridicule or twisted teasing are you pulling off?

“Wow, I’m surprised you guys put up with Oomi.” He hears your voice, lips tugging upward a little before he realizes what you had just said. Finally entering the gym, he sees you sitting in a circle along with his teammates.

He narrows his eyes at the back of your head. You should be in your winter uniform by now, he bets you forgot. One thing he hated about being a year older than you is that he goes to a different school now that he’s in highschool while you’re still on your last year of middle school, you just can’t seem to take care of yourself enough.

“Yup, Oomi’s really great, he’s the best, I guess that’s why you accept how cold he is sometimes huh,” you snicker, your enjoyment short-lived when you’re engulfed in a jacket and Sakusa’s scent. “Stop giving me backhanded compliments just because you think I’m not around,” he bitterly tells you though there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Oomi!” You rise up to your feet immediately and flung yourself at him. He catches you with no hesitation of course, guessing that you’re here again because you missed him. The rest of his teammates except Komori are surprised.

“Sakusa-kun, didn’t know you had a middle school girlfriend.”

“Ew, she’s not my girlfriend.” He bites back a smile though when you punch his shoulder. “What’s with the ew? Not that I like Oomi that much—he’s an ass,” you send him a pointed look, “but we’re the bestest of friends,” you grin.

“And we might marry someday, right Oomi?”

His face falls. “Can you not make me cringe like for a week or two, thanks.”

You scowl, “oh, so what, you don’t wanna marry me?” At this point, he blushes, you’re always so blunt and shameless, you could at least tweak it down a bit. He only scoffs, walking past you to pick up a ball from the ground, “didn’t say anything like that.”

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cno-inbminor · 4 years ago

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domus (pt. 2)

a/n: i found some motivation to write part 2, so here we are! it’s unedited for now, but i’ll make edits in the morning. you will need to read part 1 for context!

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else.

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi

wc: ~5.5k, will probably have one more part

genre/warnings: angst with teaspoons of fluff; two mentions of alcohol and sex

pt. 1 | pt. 3

The sliver of sunlight peeking through the blackout curtains gently draws you from your sleep, peeling away the exhaustion that sits atop your eyelids. They creak open as your body shifts and stretches, and you bring a curled hand to rub your eyes awake. You don’t remember the last time you slept so deeply, and part of you wants nothing more than to burrow back into the gray sheets.

Gray sheets?

The world teeters on its axis as you abruptly sit up in an unrecognizable bed – colors dance in splotches across your vision as panic seeps into your lungs – and then you remember last night’s events. That’s right. You’re at Keiji’s nice apartment where he so kindly offered you his bed, taking the couch for himself, and you’re going to be here for the week.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter to yourself before burying your face into the palms of your hands, trying to calm down. Your phone rests neatly on his nightstand and seems to taunt you as you lift your head back up. You wonder if Tetsuro texted last night, but if you had to be honest with yourself, you genuinely hope he didn’t. He might be anxiously waiting for your promised correspondence, as you imagine him checking his phone with hopeful eyes every time it vibrates in the pocket of his white coat. But you still needed some time and space.

Your body slides off the bed, stretching once you’re on your feet. With phone in hand, you check your emails and notifications while making your way to the window and then pulling back the curtains. Sunlight softly pours in as the rays just begin to peak above the horizon, painting the sky in gradient shades of marigold and fuschia pink. Tokyo seemed to be just as beautiful in the morning as it is at night, only that the pollution and smog in the air was more visible.

The digital clock hanging on Keiji’s bedroom wall indicates it’s barely past 7AM – in the past, Keiji could be a bit of a late riser on the weekends. Judging by the silence on the other side of the door, you figure he’s still asleep. If you are lucky and quiet enough, you could whip up some breakfast as a thanks for last night. In fact, you decided you’d do your best to make most of the meals. Surely Keiji wouldn’t mind a week without having to worry about meal prepping.

The bedroom door silently opens as you gently pad to the restroom – you freshen up a bit and swig around some mouth wash, staring into the mirror. Given Keiji’s comfortable state of dressing down last night, you figured it was fine to change into a large t-shirt and gym shorts for now. If he ever looks uncomfortable by your attire, then you could easily change into something else that’s a little more formal. Once you’re ready, you take a deep breath, slightly psyching yourself up for the possibility that Keiji is awake and kicking.

As you approach the living room, catching sight of your host’s sleeping complexion facing you, your heart skips a beat. One thing that you are unprepared for is just how beautiful Keiji is. It would be silly to deny this fact – you didn’t have to be in love with the man to say so. In addition to that mysterious aura he carried around, the ethereal and angelic beauty that Keiji possessed only enticed his admirers further. A smile cracks on your face as you muse the idea that it should be a crime for someone to look so delicately celestial, especially in sleep.

Keiji lies on his back with one arm bent over his head, the other atop his stomach. It seems that his blanket slipped to the ground at some point, and you could see a faint layer of goosebumps dancing across his skin. Slowly, you pick it up and gather the gray cotton blend into your arms, laying one end of it on his feet and moving up to cover the rest of his body. You leave the excess scrunched up right under his chin, taking a closer look at his face.

Keiji’s skin is smooth and dewy, eyelashes dark against his cheekbones. They flutter in dreams as his lips are slightly parted with even, soft breaths leaving them. You feel some concern when you spot the dark eye circles, hoping that he wasn’t overworking himself too much. But being an editor at a major shonen manga company must have its long list of demands, and Keiji was never short of doing his best.

Suddenly, he shifts and seems to burrow himself in the comfort of his blanket, effectively ripping you from the trance that you were in. You quickly tip toe away towards the kitchen, doing your best to stop your heart from beating so hard that you could feel it pulse in your ears. Your purse sits open on the counter and you pull your earbuds from it, slipping them in and connecting it to your phone. Putting on a soft indie playlist, you begin to become familiar with Keiji’s kitchen.

Much to your amusement, the placement of his pots, pans, cooking equipment, and more, resemble that of how things were arranged in his parents’ house. This makes your task much easier, and you grin to yourself even more when you open his refrigerator. Just like back then, the milk and cream are on the top shelf, egg carton in the middle pressed against the left wall, vegetables stored in the drawers, sauce jars on the door side, leftovers just beneath the eggs, and fruits by the eggs. It seems that some old habits really do die hard.

With the smile still lingering on your face, you begin cooking.

Keiji’s heart might just beat out of his chest any second now, and he thinks it’s a miracle that you didn’t realize he’s been awake all this time.

He first woke when he heard the water running from the sink in the bathroom, wincing slightly at the slight ache in his back. Keiji wasn’t lying when he said the couch was truly comfortable, but his mattress had undoubtedly spoiled him. It also would have been a bonus to wake up next to someone for once, but that was a thought he quickly squashed. Just as he was about to reach down for his blanket, the bathroom doorknob turned and he panicked. Keiji was quick to assume his previous sleeping position and shut his eyes, breathing as evenly as possible. He’s not quite sure why he’s feigning sleep, but part of him didn’t want you to feel bad for waking him up. It wasn’t terribly late in the morning yet, and he was usually still asleep at this time. Knowing you, you would feel awful and probably spend the rest of the week trying to make up for it, or worse, leave to spend the nights at a cheap hotel. He refuses to let such a thing happen under his watch, not if he could help it.

So caught up in his thoughts, he commends himself for not flinching when the blanket begins to cover his legs, and quite nearly bursts at your gentle movements and the way you tuck the edge under his chin. He remembers doing the same thing to you last night and wills away the blood from flooding his face at the memory of kissing you on the cheek. How could he be so reckless?

Unable to keep his position, he moves just slightly, and based on the tiny, distant creaks of his floorboards, you’ve probably walked away. As his ears catch the opening of cupboards and the fridge, only then does he dare to peek his eyes open again. He wonders what you’re thinking about with the small grin on your face, if it has anything do with the fact that you’re cooking for someone or whatever you might be listening to. Keiji’s gaze softens, watching you bob and sway to the music in your ears, remembering the times he drove the both of you home from university. Even though you could easily commute, Keiji’s mother demanded that he use his car and offer you a ride home for the holidays, and he’d give you full control of the music playing. You’d always try to play something he was okay with, bless your soul, and sometimes he would even sing along. He pretended to ignore your incredulous side glances when you realized he was singing as well, and would always look out his window to hide the smile that matched yours.

While he’s been in the city his whole life, living alone really does hit sometimes. It’s one thing to have his parents visit from time to time, but coming back to an empty and dark apartment can really take its toll. Perhaps that’s why he feels so fond right now, observing the way you move around his kitchen with so much familiarity. Adorned in your casual clothes, Keiji realizes that this is what it’d look like if you actually lived with him – except he’d probably still be asleep in his own mattress, a little nonplussed at waking up to an empty bed with the sheets fighting to retain some of your body heat. And he would get up and watch from the doorframe as you whipped something up for the both of you, perhaps walking towards you to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and—

No, you were still Kuroo’s.

And that fact hurt him more than he ever expected.

You let out a shrill yelp and nearly drop the silicone spatula when you turn away from the stove, only to spot Keiji resting his elbows on the countertop and placing his chin on top of folded hands. An amused smirk crosses his face as you rip your earbuds out and fling them over one shoulder, one hand reaching over to your heart. “Fucking hell, Keiji,” you pant. “Warn a girl, will you?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he reasons, moving to grab a couple of plates from the drying rack by the sink and handing them to you. “Here.”

You thank him and bring them by the stove, lifting the frying pan to distribute the scrambled eggs. They’re just how he likes them, he notices, and also doesn’t fail to spot that his portion is larger than yours. As you begin to spread butter on a couple of pieces of toast, Keiji sees the that his coffee brewer is still open, believing that you haven’t caught the chance to start it. He makes sure there’s enough water and grounds for two cups, starting the machine and grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. One of them was brought from his parents’ home, and had been the mug you frequently used whenever you were there. Keiji knew you were a creature of habit, and once that porcelain had been lent to you at the age of thirteen, you would forever be its second owner. Why he brought it when he moved in was a bit of a mystery, yet deep down inside, he knew exactly why.

It was the same reason why he would buy that specific bottle of dessert wine, why he kept tabs on the ramen shop you liked, why he kept some of your song recommendations saved on his Spotify account, why your Instagram and Snapchat stories were always one of the first few to view on his respective home pages. But he’d keep that reason to himself for now.

“A splash of cream and a small teaspoon of sugar?” Keiji calls out curiously, silently praying that he remembers your coffee preferences correctly. He’s rewarded with the beam on your face as you nod, watching you bring the toast to the plates as he stirs your coffee. You spot the unaltered coffee and take it in your hands.

“Two splashes of cream and half a small spoonful of sugar?” You ask and Keiji nods. Inside, you pump your fist in delight. Keiji brings the two cups to the dining table while you bring the food and utensils – he could get used to this, really. The two of you say your thanks and dig in. When Keiji takes a sip of his coffee, he has to hide the upturned corners of his lips behind his cup because it’s exactly how he likes it, exactly how it tastes like every other morning he drinks coffee. And it baffles him to no end.

Unbeknownst to him, you feel the same way, eyes almost widening in surprise when you taste your own. Another detail that Keiji seemed to keep over the years was being added to this list you didn’t realize you would ever make, but you weren’t complaining. After all, he did assure you last night that you two were friends. It wasn’t all in your head and the time spent together hadn’t been for naught.

“Do you have any plans while you’re here?” He inquires behind a bite of toast.

“Not really,” you reply quietly, chopsticks now picking at the scrambled eggs. “The most I thought was to visit some museums that I missed going to, check out some of the food stalls maybe. I didn’t really think things through.”

“That’s okay,” Keiji comforts. “If you’d like, I can work from home for a few days and we can go do something. I don’t want to leave you all alone here for the whole day.”

“You don’t need to!” You wave your hands frantically, feeling like the worst imposer now. Not only have you showed up at his apartment unexpectedly and staying for the time being, he was offering to work from home to spend time with you?

“I haven’t used any of my vacation days this year anyways. I have a good reason now, and they don’t mind when I work from home either. I don’t ask very often, but I still get work done so it doesn’t bother them.”

“Are you sure that’s okay? Really, I can go find another place to stay and—”

“No.” Keiji’s tone is firm and final, leaving any words of protest to die on the tip of your tongue. “Seriously, it’s okay,” he reassures you softly. “Plus, I have a few ideas in mind.”

“I’ll cook most of the meals then,” you attempt to compromise. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Only because you won’t stop asking until I say yes,” he jokes with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll split the cost of the groceries.”

“Then I’ll just send the money right back to you.”

“Remember when you tried to give me gas money for driving us from and to uni for the holidays?”

“You always refused it,” you smile fondly at the memory. “Eventually I just started slipping it into the middle console when you weren’t paying attention.”

“That would explain the stray bills and coins in there,” he mutters. “My mother would throw a fit if she knew you gave me gas money.”

“Which is exactly why I told you not to tell her.”

“Should I tell her now then?”

“And have her call me up to scold me for doing so? Please, you’d be in just as much trouble for taking it.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t aware of the last few times, so I’d be safe.”

“…you’re ridiculous.”

“Oh?” Keiji chuckles, arching an eyebrow playfully as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“Shut up,” you grumble over a mouthful of eggs.

“So,” he leans back in his chair. “How do you feel about going to Osaka on Monday?”

While Keiji had a mental list of things that have cheered you up over the years, he figured you needed to see some friends from home. And to him, there was no better reminder of that than seeing Bokuto in the flesh.

Koutaro was aware of the friendship between the two of you and had always been kind to you, engaging in light conversation whenever you visited the volleyball courts to drop something off for Keiji. Kuroo had taken notice of you then as well, but nothing came of it until uni. Koutaro was also privy to some of Keiji’s affection, knowing how much the latter had kept an eye out on you during their last year of high school. So when he got a call and a short explanation of what happened, he was more than happy to hear that the two of you would be visiting.

You and Keiji hop on one of the earliest bullet trains to Osaka, where the grey-haired friend would meet you two at the station. Not long after the train gradually lurches forward, traveling at almost inhuman speeds, the food cart starts to roll down the aisle. You let Keiji take the window seat for this portion of the ride, quickly paying for two flavored onigiris before he can protest. After thanking the kind worker, you place his preferred filling in his lap, watching in delight as he thanks you and unwraps the item with care. Two and a half hours later, you find yourself wrapped up in Koutaro’s strong arms, struggling to catch your breath as he nearly squeezes the life out of you.

Much of the morning until lunch is spent observing their practice – you feel like you’re back in high school again with Koutaro’s excitement practically radiating off of him and into the stands. Keiji’s just glad that your mind is focused on something else, recalling the pensive yet troubled look on your face during most of the train ride as you stared down at your phone. Koutaro has kept his mouth shut for now, but Keiji could tell that he was dying to ask you some questions. After all, both of them had been good friends with Testuro, and there was no doubt that the former Fukurodani ace still kept in touch with him from time to time.

After being introduced to the team, shaking hands with the other players and bowing politely at a reasonable distance away specifically for Kiyoomi, you and Keiji leave with a wave, promising to join them for dinner. Koutaro had given you a list of possible places to sightsee, as well as a few recommendations for lunch near the gym. Eventually, you two settle on a nearby curry restaurant, and needless to say, your waiter had to witness some bickering over who would pay the check.

“Please help me out with this,” you pleaded, pulling a pout with the unsuspecting waiter who certainly feels like he’s caught in a lover’s quarrel now. “He paid for our train tickets, it’s only right that I pay for the meal.”

“Erm—”

“She’s been cooking all of the meals for the last few days, as well as for the food on the train, so I should be the one to pay.”

“You’re letting me stay at your apartment, of course I’m going to help cook, and I like cooking!”

“But still—”

In Keiji’s moment of argument, you snatch the ticket and slam it into the waiter’s hand with your credit card. “Take it. Take it and run.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I’m just going to listen to the lady this time, I’ll be right back,” the waiter says nervously before scurrying off, and you shoot Keiji a victorious look. He only shakes his head in response, but more amused than anything at your antics.

“You can’t win all the time,” he warns.

“I will most certainly try.”

Keiji certainly does try and wins when it comes to dinner, Koutaro watching with a grin on his face as you protest and whine when their waitress walks away with Keiji’s card in hand. Next to him, Atsumu murmurs, “Are they dating?”

“Nah, she’s dating another guy.”

“So what’s happenin’ here? Why’s she stayin’ with him again?”

“We don’t know the details – sounds like there was a falling out with her boyfriend and she showed up in Tokyo, called Akaashi unexpectedly. They’re old family friends, grew up living down the street from each other.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Who knows?” Koutaro shrugs, denying the itch to text Testuro this second and ask for answers. You seem happier, however, genuinely listening to Shoyo’s animated storytelling of when he first practiced with the Fukurodani duo. Keiji chimes in from time to time, but otherwise staying silent and basking in the nostalgia. The team members sitting across from you find it difficult to not notice how often Keiji steals glances at you, who is none the wiser. There are a few times when Shoyo mentions a name you don’t quite remember, turning towards Keiji for answers. You don’t even have to say anything – one pair of furrowed eyebrows and he knows exactly what you’re asking about. Koutaro gathers that perhaps the last few days spent together have caused you two to fall in sync.

He wonders what Testuro would think about that.

“Come visit anytime you’re nearby!” Koutaro offers you with another tight squeeze, later releasing you to pull in Keiji for a more manly hug. The two of them knock fists together before Keiji guides you through the station with a hand on the small of your back, giving one last wave to the ace of the Black Jackals.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him once you’re seated in the train. Keiji has the window seat again. “It was nice seeing Bokuto-san again.”

“I’m glad this could cheer you up a bit, really.”

“It helped me a lot, more than you know.”

“That’s good to know.”

This time, you buy a couple of juice boxes from the cart and hand one over to Keiji, who gives you a teasing admonishing look. A glint in his eyes says that he’ll pay you back for this some day when you least expect it, and you won’t be able to do anything about it. As you quietly suck on the straw, you loosen the seatbelt around your waist and turn your whole body to face him, all while searching for the right words.

Keiji waits patiently, mirroring your movements to face most of his body towards you, only half his back resting on the back of his seat.

“Testuro told me he doesn’t love me anymore,” you quietly confess, peeking a look at your companion’s face to gauge his reaction. Keiji remains stoic, but you find it in yourself to continue.

“He sat me down after dinner about a week and a half ago, told me he couldn’t keep it in anymore. At first, he said a bunch of things about how I didn’t deserve to be strung along or left doubting myself – that it was all him and had nothing to do with me. And then he said he wasn’t in love with me anymore, but that I was still a really important person to him.”

Deep breaths.

“I didn’t know what to do, you know?” You ramble, meeting his gaze with wide, tired, frantic eyes. “What do you even do in that situation? And how am I not supposed to feel like it has something to do with me – like, am, am I not pretty enough now? Was the sex not good anymore? Did—did I change into someone that he couldn’t love? I just, I just couldn’t help but think it’s all my fault, that perhaps I changed into someone he couldn’t see the future with anymore. In some unknown time span, I went from being his everything to just…nothing.”

“You’re not ‘nothing’”, Keiji interjects. His eyes are hardened and dark again, much like when he asked you if Testuro had cheated on you the first night you arrived. You crack your best smile of gratitude, feeling the tears beginning to form.

“Perhaps you’re right – but you know what’s the worst part though? I shouldn’t even be mad at him,” you chuckle bitterly. “Immediately after that was dumped on me, he told me he would try to love me again, that he’d do his best because that’s how much I still mattered to him. I just needed to give him time, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s wrong to force him. Whatever his reasons may be, I don’t want to force him to feel something for me again just for my happiness. Even then, I wouldn’t be 100% happy either, always worried that maybe he’d be faking his love for me, wondering when he’s gonna snap and call it all off. I might as well let him go now and revamp on my own, you know?”

Keiji keeps to himself and you can tell he’s trying to process your words. You didn’t mean to spill everything out on a bullet train of all places, but it just seemed like the right time after everything he’s done for you these last few days. Seeing Bokuto was another breath of fresh air that you didn’t realize you needed, and you would have to be completely oblivious to your environment to not notice the many questioning glances the ace had sent you throughout the day.

“I think you’re right in wanting to let him go – he shouldn’t feel like he has to try because of some obligation due to the bond you two have,” Keiji says carefully. “I’m sorry it happened though.”

“It’s nothing you could control, silly,” you let out a watery laugh, wiping tears away with the sleeve of your jacket. Keiji fishes out his handkerchief, gently swiping beneath your eyes. You can do nothing but sit there and wait for him to finish, feeling the care in each stroke against your skin. Never in a million years would you have predicted the two of you would be in this position, and part of it leaves you lightheaded. When he’s done, you open your eyes to meet his, though they flicker down to the silk cloth in his hands. That design…

“Is that the handkerchief I bought you as a souvenir from Kyoto?” You blurt out. Keiji looks at down at his hand and nearly curses at himself. For the first time in your life, you see him look somewhat sheepish and at loss for words.

“It came in handy,” he says fondly. “It’s really good quality, and I figured I’d keep it with me just in case. Thank you for this, again.”

“Well, you bought me that keychain from your senior class trip – it only seemed right that I give something in return.”

Keiji lets out a small, teasing scoff, deciding to remain silent for the time-being. It’s after a couple of minutes does he choose to speak up.

“You’re justified in how you felt, (y/n). I don’t know what it’s like to be in that situation, but I can only imagine how heartbroken you must have been. You’ve always given 120% to the important people in your life – I’ve seen it. So if you wanted to run away for a little bit for some space and time to think, that’s completely understandable. You’re allowed to be angry and bitter, but there is one thing I’d rather you not feel.”

“What would that be?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Keiji leans the side of his head against the headrest, staring at you with a gentile fondness that you also hadn’t seen directed towards you before. “I don’t want you feeling insecure about yourself. You’re a wonderful person, (y/n), and just because Kuroo-san doesn’t love you anymore, it doesn’t mean you’ve become any less than that. He just might’ve not been the right person. I can guarantee there’s at least one person out there who will love you until the day you die.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I most definitely can,” Keiji challenges firmly, leaving very little room for argument.

“For a man who hasn’t dated, you’re definitely a bit of a hopeless romantic,” you laugh, ignoring Keiji’s eyeroll.

Honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You doze off in the Uber back to his apartment building, and even when he gently shakes you, you’re still incredibly groggy. Keiji has to practically catch you when you lose your footing, apologies spilling in slurred words from your lips. At this rate, one of you is going to get hurt on the way to his unit, and he’d rather have it not be you. Luckily, he’s not carrying much and makes the executive decision to crouch in front of you.

“Keiji…?” You murmur, trying to put together the pieces in your exhausted brain.

He holds his arms out behind him. “Come on, I’ll give you a piggyback ride to the unit.”

“But…”

“The sooner you get on, the sooner we can get home and sleep.”

With no energy left in you to deny him, you climb onto his back as carefully as you can, wrapping your limbs around his neck and waist as his arms latch around the backs of your knees. Keiji hoists you up, shifting your body slightly to center your weight, and begins the trek. He nods at the security guards before angling his head to face yours. You’ve pretty much passed out again, but he needs you to do three more things.

“Can you punch in the passcode for me?” He tells you the numbers slowly, making sure you’re inputting them correctly. Keiji asks a similar question when they get into the elevator, and one last task when they reach his door.

“You did such a good job,” he praises you, the warmth in his tone washing over you like freshly dried sheets. Keiji sits on the edge of his bed and lets you fall back into his comforter, laughing to himself when you curl up on your side without a care left in the world.

“Hey,” he calls for you attention and holds onto your hands before pulling you up. Your hair is mussed and he attempts to fix it while coaxing you to properly get ready for bed. “You’re gonna need to take off your jacket before you go to bed – I don’t mind if you sleep here in your jeans, but it won’t be comfortable if you keep your jacket on.”

You grumble something unintelligible but start removing your arms from the sleeves. Keiji nearly coos, folding your jacket over the seat in front of his desk before returning to you. Somehow, you’re still sitting upright, and he kneels in front of you so he can maintain eye contact to keep you awake. “You’re doing great. Now do you want to brush your teeth?”

At first you shake your head, but then pause, and nod instead. “Okay, stay awake for me, all right? I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, Keiji comes back promptly with your toothbrush already damp and holding a dollop of toothpaste, placing it correctly in your hand. You have enough muscle memory left to aim for your mouth, languidly stroking the bristles against your teeth. Keiji joins in, accompanying you until you’re ready to spit out the toothpaste. He lets you lean into him as he half-carries you into the bathroom, holding your hair back as you rinse your mouth and wash away any excess toothpaste. You sit on the toilet lid still half-asleep as you wait for him, somewhat expecting him to help you back into bed at this point.

“Good job, now you can go to sleep,” Keiji murmurs, once again supporting your weight on the journey back to his room. He first flips the comforter and sheets away so they can cover you once you’re in bed, again tucking you in properly. “Goodnight,” he whispers before moving to grab a change of clothes, but a pull on his sleeve stops him. He turns back to look at you, noticing how much you’re struggling to stay awake.

Your arms pull out from underneath the covers and shakily reach for his face. Completely unsure of what to do, Keiji stays still and waits with bated breath. Your fingers grasp the arms of his glasses, sliding them off the bridge of his nose and folding them at the hinges. They gently place it by your phone on his nightstand, a smile creeping onto your face as you snuggle back into the sheets. “You can’t sleep with your glasses on, silly,” you slur.

That’s the last thing you say before you’re out like a light.

Keiji doesn’t know how long he stands there, trying to make sense of everything that just happened. All he knows is that the moonlight spilling from his window makes you seem surreal. He wonders if you’re truly, actually here in his bed, and just did something as trivial as taking off his glasses for him. But that gesture alone sends his heart into overdrive, remembering the care you put in to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break them with your sleep-addled clumsiness.

He ponders on it for the next few minutes until he’s once again laid down on the futon, throw blanket strewn across his body, and eager to follow you into the dreamworld.

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