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madschiavelique · 17 days ago

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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 13 - Five of Swords

summary : your first day spent in Demacia doesn't bring out the best of you.

content warnings : angst. like pull out the tissues angst. no comfort. also some flirting shit? oh and tension. a good meal overall i hope

word count : 8,2k

author's note : okay so i'm trying to survive classes and i tried writing this baby during the week while on the metro. it's quite a pain in the heart but hey dw it'll get better i promise.

proofread the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

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

The short journey to your place of residence prepared for the students had been deeply unbearable.

Demacians seemed to have a majority of water-related transport. You weren't really surprised, given that Demacia was known for its beaches and its inextricable links with the water that surrounded it for trade and tourism.

However, after that rather short night in a bed that wasn't very pleasant, you would have liked to have had a moment to settle down and enjoy a brief trip in a transport to observe the landscapes.

But walking was unavoidable. A horde of suitcase rollers were catching up on the white flagstones of the streets of the great city of Demacia.

It was almost impossible to imagine the city as anything other than sunny. Its great white walls seemed incorruptibly pure, the sun bathing the sides of the citadel in resplendent light, while its blue slate domes gleamed in the sunlight like fish scales.

You expected the city to have a cold atmosphere, an overly wise and tense staticity brought about by the strictness for which it was famous. But the markets were full of colour, crates full of exotic goods with colour combinations you only thought possible on paintings, rich fabrics and tourist attractions of all kinds bundling up in certain streets.

It was a city that combined the marine fluidity of its airs and waters with the formidable stability of its rocks and swords. It was almost impossible not to find a guard at every turn, to the point where it was almost more oppressive than reassuring. The sight of so many passers-by crossing the streets and their safety, however, softened the sensation.

And although you couldn't wait to take a shower and relax, the desire to wander the streets of this new place grew with every step you took. What a thrill it is to explore.

All this could have been superb, of course, if it hadn't been for a single factor that splashed mud all over this first immersion: Fiora.

Clinging to Viktor like a mussel to its rock, she had never stopped monopolising him and imposing her continuity. She pulled Viktor's suitcase like she was pulling a bin bag, pressing herself against him and laughing much more than necessary at every little interjection he made, often punctuating it with "What an interesting thing to say" or "Vikkie you're so funny!"

Vikkie, the nickname made your skin crawl with embarrassment. But what probably bothered you most was the fact that Viktor didn't do anything in particular to stop it. Was he just being polite? Or did he genuinely enjoy her company?

"Yes, she's always like that," Garen finally added with a sigh, his eyes visibly attentive to where yours were resting.

You sighed. "How long have you been handling her?"

He chuckled. "I think we're about to hit the second year in a row of a dreadfully thorny situation."

"Two years," you huffed, imagining what it would have been like if you and Viktor had carried on with that litter of stupid nemeses for so long.

"Yes ma'am," Garen nodded, himself seeming slightly surprised by this realisation.

"And has it always been like this?"

"It gets worse when new things arrive and she wants said new things," he informed. "She needs to have her hands on the new, shiny toy."

"Is she a princess?" you questioned.

"Akin," Garen's gaze rested tiredly on Fiora's figure, raising his eyebrows, "she is the heir to one of the biggest families of Demacia."

"Damn," you whispered. "And she bites, I take it?"

"She is a fierce duellist, best one around here," grimaced Garen. "I wouldn't advise making any waves or tormenting her, she has a tendency to start useless gossip behind your back."

You nodded, taking in the information Garen had so graciously given you. "Crowns have strange effects on the heads they adorn."

He nodded, obviously finding your words accurate.

It didn't take you long to arrive at a building of at least six storeys, seemingly the same length as the point separating Zaun from Piltover and as wide as the length of The Young Prince.

What had struck you so far was the geometry of the city. All the architecture of its streets was millimetre-perfect, everything mirroring each other almost impossibly perfectly like a surface on clear water. Arches of white stone criss-crossed in the air, no pillar was odd, and even the clothes of the residents were surgically symmetrical. It was almost disconcerting.

"The Hôtel Félixérie has graciously approved your accommodation as part of your stay," informed Madame Diane, turning to the group of students. "We'll leave you to drop off your belongings and take a moment to relax and get to know your room-mates a little better."

You'd imagined that the dormitories would be paired up again, and you'd probably expected the Piltover students to be with each other once more. However, Diane interrupted this train of thought.

"For fairly obvious reasons, the rooms will not be mixed. If your duos involve sex and gender differences, we will assign you to different rooms."

Their restrictions were totally acceptable, however, if the little gears in your brain weren't wrong, a terrible revelation took over.

You would have to share your room with Fiora.

You turned towards her, the latter already looking at you like a vermin to be eradicated, or the most useless thing this earth could have borne.

"Come forward, so we can allocate your rooms and take it into consideration."

So the group of students moved towards the teachers, your quartet staying back, Garen following to collect your room numbers. You reached Fiora, who was about your height, if perhaps a little shorter - which didn't stop her looking down on you for anything in the world.

So you watched her stature, her arm still firmly wrapped around Viktor.

You chuckled, observing the situation. "Are you going to sleep with him like he's your teddy bear? Or are you big enough to sleep without one."

Viktor turned to you, half surprised and half grateful. She arched an eyebrow at you, blowing out a laugh from her nose. "Scared of a child?"

"I'm not as spoiled of a kid as you," you replied.

"What is the ugly little thing saying?" she questioned.

"She's saying that you've got looks, and money," you remarked, "one of them is bound to run out."

She gave you a petty little smile. "Guess I'm rich in all cases. I still have twice more than you own."

"And twice more to lose," you pointed out, frowning, "and I don't lose."

She giggled, her upper lip rising in frustration. "So confident."

Your eyes looked her up and down, two thin slits under your eyebrows. "So ignorant."

"Viktor?" inquired Garen to cut short this obviously mindless discussion once he'd come back. "We're sharing the same room, do you need help with your belongings?"

The Zaunite's suitcase was still in Fiora's hand. She said nothing, ignoring you as she straightened her chin and let go of Viktor's arm as well as his luggage, exchanging a glance with Garen who seemed impassive to her attitude.

Viktor exchanged glances with you and then Garen. "No need," he confirmed politely.

"Alright," smiled Garen, turning to your little group, "we're all on the ground floor. Room 020 for Viktor and me, room 021 for you two,’ he explained as he handed you your keys, Fiora not even unlocking her arms from her chest to take the ones Garen was handing her.

"As if I was to share my room with someone like you," Fiora almost choked out.

"At least something we agree on," you breathed before pulling your suitcase towards the building.

You had only one thing on your mind: taking a shower and putting on clean clothes. Demacia had a warmer climate than Piltover, and although the sun wasn't high in the sky, the air was already hot, and your walk to the hotel didn't help the feeling.

The interior of the hotel was charming, managing to bring warmth to its ambience despite its cold bluish tones. It didn't take you long to find your room, shoving the key into the lock more hastily than you would have liked.

You pulled your suitcase onto a tiled floor with hexagonal stones alternating royal blue and creamy white, two thick beds next to each other already making you regret coming here just from the perspective of who would take the second one. You placed your suitcase on the side of the bed you'd settled on taking, removing your coat, which was already far too warm for your back and shoulders.

There was a knock at the door, and you turned to see Garen, his stature taking up almost all the light in the corridor in the silhouette of the door.

"Got the word from Madame Lolanthe," he began, "the Piltover students get a one hour break in their rooms before we come back to get you ready for the Academy visit."

"Okay," you nodded, getting rid of your scarf, "thank you for telling me."

"No problem," he smiled, leaning against the doorway, "You hold up to her well."

"Hold up to her?" you repeated, almost confused.

"That talk about the looks, and the money," he noted, "I know who's words I'll repeat whenever she gets on my nerves again."

You smiled. "One will buy you sympathy, the other will buy you the rest. Unfortunate that with her great wealth she can't buy me," you sighed, folding your scarf to lay it on the corner of your bed. "She doesn't seem to like it very much."

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's because she's never had someone come on her territory and impose themselves so easily."

You arched an eyebrow, a small sneer tugging at the corner of your lips. "I'm imposing?"

He chuckled. "To her? She won't ever admit it, but you're terrifying."

"And to you?" you questioned, "Am I any threat to the sublime of a Demacian student like you?"

He considered you for a moment. "That remains to be seen."

You smiled at him one more time, placing your suitcase on your bed to open it.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to engage in verbal fencing with you. So far at least you've given me no reason to do so," you explained as you took out your toiletries.

"I shall do everything in my power for it to remain as such," he confirmed, placing his hand on his chest solemnly and bowing his head slightly. "I'll leave you to your rest, see you in an hour."

"See you in an hour," you repeated simply as he disappeared from the doorway.

He reminded you of Jayce, but wiser, more chivalrous than naive, more observant than questioning.

So you finally grabbed some new clothes and headed for the second room in your bedroom, which was undoubtedly the bathroom. Were you all so stinky that the Demacians urged you to shower at all costs? It would have been funny, an unnecessary rivalry in a programme that encouraged the exact opposite.

The bathroom was an elegant composition of blue, white and pearly grey mosaics. Two wash basins carved from rough white stone stood next to each other in front of a large oval horizontal mirror. In the corner to your left was the toilet, and in the corner to your right was the ivory-white bathtub.

You were almost tempted to pick up your suitcase and put it in the bathroom with you while you showered, just to make sure that the bratty Fiora didn't come poking around in it or doing anything stupid.

After all, in your belongings was an object that could potentially get you into a lot of trouble here if it were found: your tarot deck.

Demacia's little worry in this instance was a deep-seated aversion to magic and all that surrounds it. Who wouldn't be when the history of its people was rooted in magical wars and the terror that ensued? Petricite, the material from which their protection came from the trees of their forests, was undoubtedly in abundance in the walls surrounding you. It was almost oppressive, as if the air were less breathable, more contained than ever in a box.

You stripped off your clothes and slipped under the water, which must also have been filtered specifically for petricite. It seemed almost dry, leaving an unpleasantly light sensation on your skin as you soaped yourself up almost furiously.

Your thoughts returned to your Tarot deck. You just hoped that the energies wouldn't affect it, and that you wouldn't be caught red-handed. You would have to be discreet about this activity, however naive, to avoid any lightning strikes.

You took your time to prepare yourself. You put on some simple clothes for the rest of the day, something comfortable enough to move around in and not suffer from the heat, and rearranged your suitcase, making sure you looked perfectly presentable.

You left your room after slipping your suitcase under your bed, knocking on the door of your comrade to whom you hadn't been able to speak since you set foot on Demacian soil.

"Come in," answered the familiar accent behind the door.

You turned the handle, opening the door to find Viktor sitting on one of the two beds. He seemed to be busy placing a particular mechanism on his bad leg, a strap running from his lower thigh to the sole of his shoe. He was bent over, arranging a sort of screw-on part on the side of his knee.

The system seemed to be complex, an orthopaedic support made of metal and leather for better stability, no doubt, in the same way that corsets were worn for scoliosis.

You'd never seen him wear it before.

"Is it in preparation for the walk we're about to go on?" you questioned.

He sighed heavily, rearranging a belt against his thigh and trying to smooth the creases in his trousers under the pressure. "Mademoiselle Laurent's brisk walk doesn't seem to have been very kind," he raised his amber gaze to yours, "I fear the upcoming days might be more difficult than what I expected."

You sighed, taking a step forward into the bedroom. "Yeah," you nodded, "not sure how I will handle the whole Fiora thing... At least Garen's nice so far."

His eyes moved from yours to his thigh again, tightening another bolt. "Mhm."

"You guys got cool rooms!" Jayce's voice made you turn towards him, coming from the other end of the corridor, poking his head through the doorways. "Ours is all..." he grimaced, his eyes crinkling as his upper lip lifted to the side, "green."

"Got something against the green of nature, Talis?" you remarked, arching an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not!" he snapped, raising his hands in the air to clear his throat. "It's just that ours is... ugly."

"Do you miss the gold of Piltover already?"

"A bit."

"Have the Kirammans changed you so much? Unless... has Mel got you used to luxury?"

"I-" he almost choked, but before he could pull himself together and resume his sentence, he frowned, mouth open. His eyes flicked to a point in the void before turning to Viktor, with whom he exchanged a glance. "Do you think what she thinks?"

Viktor breathed in, holding his breath for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and sighing in agreement. Jayce looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Am I... a high-class hooker?"

You grinned, putting your hand on his shoulder and patting it. "I think there are worse realisations in life than this."

"True, but... how do you know for sure."

"It's not a wildly complex diagnosis," Viktor remarked as he grabbed his cane and straightened up. "First the bottles of champagne with more than one zero."

"Then the petits fours," you pointed out.

"And the new shirts piling up in the dressing room..." Viktor continued.

"Fine!" stopped Jayce. ‘Fine, I see your point,’ he straightened up, trying to puff out his chest as he pretended to deconstruct the image you'd given him, sighing in vain as he watched you with plaintive eyes, "this is so bad isn't it?"

"It's the end of the world," you grinned.

Viktor shook his head, playing disappointment. "What happened to my work partner?"

"Hey!" squeaked Jayce.

Viktor turned to you. "Did you know he leaves the apartments three nights out of four to go see Mel?"

"What?" Your mouth opened in a terrible mock shock as you put your hand to your chest comically, "that's heartbreaking."

"I know," sighed Viktor dramatically, "I end up starring at the pile of his new shirts in the corner while I kill myself on work."

"Jayce," you huffed, "how could you?"

"Stop this! You two!" begged Jayce.

You finally smiled and gave up the act. "Relax, gold suits you anyway."

"You guys are the worst," grumbled Jayce as you and Viktor exchanged playful glances.

You headed out of the hotel, meeting up with Sky who instantly came over to you.

"That Fiora's already got you in her sights," she muttered.

You sighed, looking around as if to see if she was spying on you, but if she was, she wasn't within earshot. "I know, it's like I'm attracting them all like a magnet. Let's hope it doesn't last any longer than that, otherwise this trip may quickly be robbed of its holiday quality."

When the rest hour came to an end, Madame Diane finally showed up again an exact hour as the time she had left you. Their organisation was finely measured, timed and unforgivable.

Fiora couldn't help but regain her position as the cling-on next to Viktor.

"Pulled out your fanciest shoes for me?" she giggled as her eyes roamed Viktor's aid.

He sighed, "If I have to keep up with you, this is more than needed."

She gave you a dark look, though it was different from the one she'd previously thrown at you so far. There was a sort of flash of malice, an unpleasant aspect of that of a chess player with a sick and evil strategy.

You took no further notice as the walk to the Demacian Academy began.

You passed various buildings, Diane telling you a few little facts about the history of the streets and specific places. Jayce made comments here and there.

"How do they build such edifices?" he asked, amazed by the city's architecture and its intricacies.

"By piling stones on top of each other," you replied, Garen smiling beside you, your eyes witnessing Viktor's cheekbones rising at your remark from your view of his back.

You finally reached the Demacia Academy. Its campus formed a pile of wings of buildings of varying sizes and architecture.

"Each study environment," as Madame Diane pointed out as you walked through the Academy's gardens, "is separated into its own buildings. We are privileged and proud to be able to welcome all kinds of cultures and knowledge within our walls. Humanities, Engineering, Art, all forms of wisdom are welcomed without any hierarchy."

Your eyes roamed over the bluish domed roofs, wondering if from the inside these same tiles covered all the light or if their material was transparent like sunglasses.

"A single point joins the students who wish it," she raised her long index finger in the air, pointing to the sky as if the almighty sky bequeathed to her every truth about the globe.

Garen pressed his palm against your shoulder, your eyes resting on it as he whispered into your ear.

"See over there?" the index finger of his hand on your shoulder, seemingly engulfing you by its size, pointed in a direction you followed.

"Mhm?" you hummed, observing a flat area that wasn't concreted over and seemed to be covered in a long, black, loose carpet.

"That's the training area," his warm breath brushed against your ear, "me and Fiora meet there every morning."

"We want our students to stay healthy and to help each other," Diane recited aloud.

Garen huffed, continuing to murmur. "If you'd like to see her lose eventually, this is where the show's at."

"Lose?" you repeated in a whisper, your eyes drifting to Fiora next to Viktor, who just seemed to have turned his head away.

"Mhm," said Garen before straightening up and letting go of your shoulder, "I've heard that it's something you don't do."

You smiled, a little laughy breath escaping from your lungs.

"Thus, we have a training area dedicated to this," Diane continued, "our students can go there whenever they like, it's a free field. Now, if you don't mind, we're going to continue..."

But you could barely register another sentence at the moment, your eyebrows furrowing as you began to move forward with the rest of the group.

One thought remained in your mind, however. Something that had struck you suddenly, something that surprised you more than you would have thought: not a shiver had been born under Garen's breath on your skin.

It was strange, not a single hair standing on end, no heat rising to your cheeks. Nothing.

It was only when the memory of Viktor's breath hit the back of your neck that it began to heat up.

You tried to pull yourself together, to ignore this information, and to ignore the warm sensation in your stomach as your eyes found Viktor's combed brown locks.

It's probably nothing,’ you tried to convince yourself.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly, exploring the library and some of the historic sites on campus. You had eaten in a charming restaurant near the hotel, while the Demacian students returned to their cafeterias and afternoon classes and Heimerdinger gave you a lesson on Demacia. He had preferred to postpone his lessons on Demacia to save them for the trip, for a better immersion and to truly submerge you in his lessons.

Fiora was glued to Viktor like a leech, as if when he let go of her arm he was going to fall face first onto the pavement. She kept sending you these petty little smiles, and you kept giving her a deeply neutral expression.

The night came earlier than expected, and you dreaded the idea of having to share this room, which was supposed to be so pure and perfect, with an oddball like her.

You were already strangely regretting the night you'd spent with Viktor. Admittedly, you hadn't always had the best of times when you were forced into close proximity, but that didn't detract from the fact that you had common ground and mutual respect.

Up until now, Fiora hadn't earned your respect.

And to your surprise, as the hours passed and you read in bed, she never came.

Many thoughts raced through your mind, tirelessly changing subjects and possibilities.

Was she with Viktor? you wondered.

No, Garen and Viktor went to bed together.

So where is the viper? Perhaps it's in its burrow, at home in who knows which grand Demacian mansion, in a bed with silk sheets and canopied curtains. Madame's sleep must not be damaged or altered in any way.

And that breath on your skin, that hadn't done anything to you? Why did it?

Sleep overtook you quickly though, overpowering your fiery spirit, Demacia's jet lag catching up with you faster than you thought possible.

When you awoke, it was early enough in the morning that the horizon was still a gradation of night leading towards the bright pearl of the sun. Your eyes found Fiora's bed empty and perfectly tucked in just as you had found it.

You took advantage of the fact that the city was still a little asleep to get out your tarot deck. You knocked on both sides, hoping to release whatever energy the petricite could have brought.

You performed your usual little ritual, and the card of the day turned out to be the five of swords. The little booklet provided you with the following information:

Cruelty. Think about your actions and words. False accusations. Cowardice. Inflated ego at the expense of others. Taking advantage of others.

This is a warning card that reminds you of the power of your words and actions. An argument has ended and there is a winner, a loser, and a mediator. Who do you identify with on this card? Which character represents you at this precise moment? If you don't recognise yourself in this card, who or what does it remind you of? What lessons can you learn from this image?

You were sighing, an argument? It was probably because of yesterday with Fiora, because of what you had to learn from it.

So you got ready for the day, looking forward to meeting Garen on that famous training area. You had discussed the time at which him and the pretentious one would meet, deciding to join them a little later to let them do their training but above all to go there with a small group of students who intended to visit more of the university with their Demacian duos.

The days were to be split in two. In the morning, the Demacian students would be in class, while the Piltovian students would have their history lessons with Heimerdinger. The afternoons would be devoted to visiting Demacia, its monuments, museums and so on.

So you went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. There you met Viktor and Jayce, sharing their table. You helped yourself to the buffet in this luxury self-service restaurant before coming over to them.

"Good morning," greeted Viktor, sipping his coffee as his eyes were riveted on what appeared to be the local newspaper.

"Morning," you replied as you sat down at their table.

"You know," Jayce began with his mouth full, "I'm not usually a fan of switching foods but," he twitched his nose as he chewed energetically, "I gotta hand it to them, it's really good."

"You would eat flowers if they were edible," you remarked before bringing your own breakfast to your lips, nodding at the taste, though.

"Ah ha! See?" Jayce remarked at your expression.

You shrugged. "Not bad."

Actually, what you were chewing was delicious, but it wasn't hard to reach that level given your diet of mostly simple pasta and stir-fry in your flat.

"Come on," Jayce tried, turning to Viktor, "their coffee's good too."

The questioned man abandoned his reading of the newspaper, taking in hand a pastry covered in icing sugar. "I'll admit that it's not bad."

"Not bad?" you remarked, arching an eyebrow. "Better than mine?"

He chuckled. "Not possible."

You nodded. "Huh, I guess I'll just have to check for myself," you remarked, pressing your palm against the table as you prepared to get up and help yourself to the drink area.

"You can just drink from mine," suggested Viktor.

The pressure of your weight on your palm eased, turning your head towards him. "From yours?"

He watched you for a moment, then picked up his cup and placed it in front of you. "I don't know if I'll be able to finish it in one go," his back found the back of the seat, "so, we can share."

You considered the mug for a moment, observing the ring of foam that had dried and marked the inside of the cup, waiting to be drunk. It seemed sweet, like what Viktor used to drink.

You curled your fingers around its handle, the round, slightly flattened cup feeling pleasantly heavy in your hand. You brought it to your lips, blowing gently on its contents and noticing the previous mark of the sip Viktor had taken.

Your glance met his, moving from your mouth to your eyes, your lips resting where his had been moments before, before you took a sip without your gaze ever leaving each other's.

His jaw seemed to tense for a moment as your tongue passed over your lower lip to catch the last few drops of coffee before placing the cup back on the table.

You nodded, raising your eyebrows. "Not bad."

Viktor's amber eyes had a strange blackness in them, pierced by a dark glint you couldn't make out that brought more warmth to your cheeks and neck than the coffee.

"I told you!" Jayce exclaimed, bringing you back to reality almost brutally.

What was going on? Why was the air suddenly so thick and tense?

Your eyes lowered to your breakfast, taking a small bite as you returned to Viktor gently through your eyelashes. His gaze was still on you, his long, slender fingers wrapping around the waist of the cup and bringing it to his mouth.

His eyes lit up with a strange satisfaction as your lips parted and his came to rest where yours had been only seconds ago.

Your heart leapt in your chest as you engulfed your entire meal in one mouthful, preferring to find an excuse like this to the suffocation you were beginning to feel from the pounding of your heart against your ribs, which were suddenly too narrow to contain it.

Viktor looked at you, as surprised as he was amused by the suddenness of this behaviour.

"You look nervous," Jayce pointed out, "are you alright?"

You met his gaze, your eyes drifting over Viktor's for a moment as you swallowed your mouthful with difficulty. Quick, an excuse, or something.

"I'm going to try and train with the Demacian students," you explained.

Jayce's eyebrows rose, Viktor's frowned.

"You're about to try and train with them?" the taller one repeated, wiping the crumbs from his sweet tooth with the back of his hand, "the same students that have a training area and some of the best fighters in all Runeterra?"

You stuffed your mouth with another part of your breakfast, trying to take some strength for what would await. "Yes."

Breakfast continued simply until you finally decided to go to the Academy campus. The sun was higher in the sky, already warm as you made your way to the training ground.

A group of students were occupying various parts of the large area, a variety of wooden weapons clashing against each other in a waltz of energetic movements and grunts.

The small group of Piltovian students approached this area, some coming to meet up with their duet mates, others standing back to observe the scene.

You finally caught sight of Garen, busy at the moment against a mannequin, his stature seeming even more imposing that way. Dressed in a navy blue t-shirt with sweat stains on the collar and back, baggy black trousers and combat boots, he looked perfectly military.

When he met your eyes, he smiled at you, indicating with his fingers that you should come closer. You pointed your index finger at yourself, exchanging glances with Jayce and then Viktor.

"Don't look at me," the latter pointed out, "if I've got any place on this field it's as a training dummy."

You shrugged. "I'm sure you'd make an amazing fencer with your cane," you said before stepping forward when Garen came your way.

You reached him on the pitch, the feel of the ground softer and smoother than you would have thought. No doubt to reduce the damage of falls, which were bound to be numerous around here.

"Good morning," Garen greeted you when you reached him.

"Good morning," you pressed your lips into a thin line. "I think by coming here I've voluntarily signed my death warrant."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine," he confirmed in a soft laugh, starting to move forward.

"Fiora isn't here?" you questioned, anxiously.

"She went ahead to get herself some water, she'll be back soon," he explained.

"Hope she takes her time," you sighed, "I'd like to... try training."

He turned to you in surprise. "Try training?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, "gotta get the full experience of this trip, I guess?"

He chuckled, nodding finally. "Alright, what would you like to try?"

"What's on the menu for bruises and sore muscles today?"

"Hmm," he glanced at the few remaining wooden weapons, "let us try with a staff."

Your eyes followed his gaze, settling on one of the weapon bearers. A row of quarterstaffs was there, waiting to be retrieved.

Fighting with wands, the joke was almost ridiculously simple if you thought back to the five of wands.

He picked one up, throwing it at you as you caught it in the air.

"Good reflexes," he remarked as he took one in turn, "it's going to be needed." He twirled the staff in his hand with ease, positioning himself in front of you. "Show me what you know."

You had distant memories of using a staff, of parrying, of attacking, even if you weren't an expert and wasn’t sure about your capacity on bringing them back to life.

You had to get it into your head that you weren't there to win, but to learn, to take in new information and rediscover what it meant to learn through interest rather than obligation.

You described a swing in the air, the wood hissing as Garen easily parried the blow, coming into your game. All he had to do was push a little harder against you so that the pressure made you tilt your balance and he took advantage of it to try a blow that you still managed to parry before stepping back and almost losing your balance.

"You're smaller than me, and probably faster," commented Garen, "use it to your advantage."

"How am I supposed to do that?" you questioned, tightening your grip around your staff in the hope that your muscle memory would do the job.

Garen repositioned himself, smiling slightly. "Surprise me."

You chuckled, tapping the tip of your stick on the ground twice before repositioning yourself, bending your knees and tensing your shoulders.

You trotted towards him a little, raising your staff in the air before deviating and giving a kick with your foot on his at the last moment to shift the balance. His grip was firmer on it than you thought, but the blow was enough to divert his attention to the gesture and you drove your stick into his foot, causing him to grunt as you tried to go around him to hit the back of his knees.

Realising your trick though, he changed his stance, pivoting towards you and swinging an arc through the air that you stepped back from in time, dodging his next blow by placing your palm on his staff to squeeze it and pull it towards you to bring him down.

But his weight of muscle won out over yours, so he used your initial idea to his advantage by pulling you towards him until your back was against his chest and he was holding his staff under your chin.

You felt his warm chest under the fabric of his T-shirt, his chest expanding and sinking against you as you felt the wood of his staff push your chin up until your eyes met his. He huffed, cracking a smile.

"You did good," he breathed, cracking a smile before the grip on your chin eased and he released you.

You took a step forward, turning to face him. "Just good?"

"Not satisfied with good?" he pointed out.

"No," you chuckled as you grabbed your staff with both hands, ready to attack again.

He smiled, changing position again. "Then do better, Piltie girl."

"Would you look at that?"

Your eyes rolled heavenward as you recognised this insufferable voice and turned to Fiora.

She was wearing a uniform similar to that of Garen. A dark plum turtleneck t-shirt with short sleeves, trousers less wide than Garen's, and perfectly polished boots.

She was equipped with her most mocking smile. "How did you end up here?"

You shrugged, letting one hand fall away from the staff before your arm dropped to your side. "I thought I'd come here for a holiday camp, but too bad the activities and organisers aren't great."

She giggled, her eyebrows arching as she turned to the remaining staff to pick one up. Some students stopped practising, observing the scene. Fiora undoubtedly had her own little reputation which she maintained proudly, and to see someone standing up to her must have been a novelty for many.

"Let's see what you're made of," she said, putting herself on guard against you.

You sighed. "I don't want to fight you," you remarked as you moved towards the receptacle to lay down your weapon.

But she prevented you from doing so by sending it flying further away from a single hit. You glared at her.

Her smile was evil, her eyebrows low over vicious eyes. "You're gonna have to pick it up if you want to put it back there."

"Fiora," Garen warned, "stop."

"It's fine," you assured him, watching Fiora's face change between satisfaction and impatience.

You knew she was trying to push you, to build up your frustration to get a reaction out of you. You didn't want to give her the pleasure.

You breathed a sigh, walking over to the staff on the ground before picking it up. But as you turned, you barely had time to reflexively place the staff in front of your face as a parry.

Fiora had just tried to attack you, and violently at that.

"Fight," she insisted as you took a step backwards. "Don't they teach you how to fight in Piltover?"

You huffed, trying to get round her as she circled after you like a predator around its prey. "Guess we swapped war for intellect," you pointed out, feeling more in the mood for a verbal joust than a physical one, "I can see how the lack of it is visibly affecting you."

Fiora frowned, pointing the end of her staff at you. "What did you just say?"

You smiled, getting caught up in the game. "Do I have to repeat it for you? Or break it down into digestible pieces for your little brain?"

She grunted before drawing rapid attacks in the air that you managed to parry and avoid until you crossed the wood and found yourselves close.

"You are so lacking in intelligence that neither education nor experience has helped you to fill this gap in your nature," you taught her.

She punched you in the stomach before hitting you in the thigh with her staff, forcing you to your knees. You felt the tip of her staff under your chin, firm and raw as she looked down at you.

"Look at who's kneeling before me," she sneered as she exchanged smiles with the surrounding students.

You didn't let her get to you though. "Simply tying my shoes, your majesty."

The nickname seemed to irritate her in a less visible way than the others, but you could still make out the little muscle near her eye tense up.

She offered a simple blow of her nose in laughter, leaving you on the ground as her stick dislodged itself from your chin.

She then turned to her audience, rounding on you. ‘What a fierce little thing she is, isn't she?’ she quizzed.

You turned towards her, straightening up as you frowned.

"By your words I believe you called me ignorant, so I did a bit of digging." She wore a smile that was about to cause some serious errors. "You will be surprised to learn that," she turned to you with a wicked smile, "she's an orphan."

Your lips parted as your chest began to tighten in anger, the other students around you all glaring at you like a freak show.

"No one ever wanted her," Fiora went on as if she were presenting a tragic two-bit story, "until she got taken in by pity."

You wanted to rip her tongue out. How could she know? How dare she put it out there for everyone to see?

She hovered around you, addressing her audience to paint a pitiful picture.

"Got a failure? Get another for half the price!" She sneered as she described dramatic gestures of demonstration, calming down on the theatrical though as she turned back to you, eyes half-closed with pretense and pointing at you with her staff. "So now," she resumed, tone condescending, "she tries to remove that tag off herself by being first everywhere!" She turned to the other pupils as if they were little children learning a lesson.

Your knuckles had turned white from squeezing your fists so tight, your breathing quickening as your anger built.

She turned to face you. "As if that was going to change her nature."

"That's enough!" Garen growled as he approached her.

"What's wrong? I am simply stating facts," Fiora pointed out falsely, innocently.

Their conversation faded from your mind, however, as your frustration rose inside you.

Who was it? Who was it that could have given her this information?

There were only three people who knew about this matter. Only three. Jayce, Sky...

And Viktor.

Viktor, who had spent his time in Fiora's company, who was always glued to his arm, who had had to give in to the fatigue and frustration of her questions by answering her about you while she was scheming against you.

There was only him.

Your body seemed to you like a suit of armour in a garden of white statues of purity, where the ruby-red roses of anger were allowed to overtake the metal covering your rage.

Clad in armour.

Ready.

"You said you wanted to fight?"

Your voice echoed through the air louder than you could have imagined, but loud enough that all heads turned towards you. Fiora smiled, having finally achieved her goal.

"You've changed your mind?"

"Yes." Your tone was firm, rigid.

"That is most delightful to hear," Fiora smiled, turning to her audience and raising her arms before regaining your gaze, "I'll even do you the honour of choosing your weapon."

"No weapons."

Your whole body tensed, your fingers twitching as your muscles seemed to prepare themselves for what was about to happen.

Fiora raised her eyebrows. "Fists? How barbaric.’

"Scared your fancy manicure can't handle it?"

It was asking everything in your power not to let your voice explode in the air, to remain calm and articulate.

All the same, Fiora seemed fascinated by your determination to continue to stand up to her, to refuse to give up, to abandon in the face of her.

"Careful Fiora," shouted one of the students, "I've heard she's a witch."

Had she finally infiltrated your room? Looked through your things while you were asleep? Or had she managed to hear about Selene and had already started to do her viper's work of spreading rumours? Either way, she was already on to you.

"Glad to know we're on the right territory to get rid of this kind of waste," smiled Fiora.

"You can't beat me," you put the staff back in its receptacle, moving away again to get ready, "only one person gets to have that honour."

Your eyes landed on Viktor, who was watching the scene with furrowed brows.

You readied your breath, stopping your heart from getting too big in your chest as your legs prepared to hold your balance.

"So eager," Fiora sighed with a stupid grin, stepping forward to place her staff, "I didn't know you would-"

But as soon as the staff was placed, your knuckles made hard contact with her cheek, sending her to the ground.

A wave of shocked murmurs took over the crowd as you stood, eyes lowered on Fiora as she leaned back to straighten herself on the floor, her perfectly smooth fringes slightly dishevelled revealing her wide eyes as she brought her palm to her cheek still warm from the blow.

"Get up," your voice was cold, trying to remain unwavering while your fist trembled. "You said you wanted a fight, so," your lips were full of rage, "fight."

Fiora snarled, springing to her feet and running at you with the breath of a bull seeing red. She tried to land a blow on your face to return the favour, but you dodged it and punched her in the stomach, her curling up as you grabbed her hair and she started screaming.

"You fucking bitch!" she cried.

She slapped you on the shoulder and you let go, throat rocky with wrath. "Yell at me again and I'll give you a proper reason to scream."

There was a dangerous growl in your voice, a grinding of a gear powering an old machine that was starting up again.

She came back at you, landing a blow on your leg in the hope of making you kneel again, but she was only marginally successful. She hit you in the jaw, causing you to back away slightly, before delivering a second blow to the cheekbone.

You didn't give her the honour of adding a third strike, offering her a violent punch in the throat that took her backwards as you took a slight leap and slammed your hand hard into her face, her grabbing your clothes and dragging you backwards as she fell.

Sitting on her abdomen, your two knees blocked her arms as you gained free reign over her guard.

You hit her once, twice, thrice, her cheek beginning to swell. Your blows increased in intensity, the tension in your fist not stopping you even if the bones in your hand broke.

"Stop this!"

Two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you out with difficulty as you struggled in vain.

Garen pulled you away from the body of Fiora, who had turned to spit a cloud of bloody spray onto the floor. Your eyes never let go of her, as if you were obsessed with your real aim of seeing her admit defeat.

"You," you snapped at her, regaining some calmness though, "you're the one that started spreading gossip about me behind my back aren't you?"

Fiora turned to you, breathless. "What?" Her voice was hoarse from your blow.

"Don't make me repeat myself," you threatened, fully aware that you hadn't hit any of her eardrums and that she could understand you perfectly well.

She breathed heavily. "Why does it matter?"

You approached slightly, fists still clenched as you watched her on the floor, pathetic.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew your place."

Fiora shook off the hands of the students who had just tried to help her off ofto the floor, her furious eyes finding you as she struggled to get to her feet.

You realised the extent of the damage your fury, your uncontrollable anger, had done. Fiora's face was red, one of her eyelids bulging as blood poured from her nose, joining the red on her lips and gums.

You could have gone on, made things worse. Who knows how far you could have gone? What irreversible damage you could have caused? What life you could have taken in your own anger?

The realisation hit you like an anvil.

Your eyes roamed the crowd, the faces of the frightened students.

I... I did this? you thought.

I made them look at me with... fear?

Your eyes found Fiora still on the ground, grunting in pain and coughing.

Monster.

That's all you were. A being incapable of overcoming the violence that had nourished her, of abandoning the bosom of this bitter mother who had cuddled her so much and made her grow.

Your gaze wandered over the rest of the pupils, until it met his.

Viktor's face was shocked.

No, please...

His lips were parted and his eyes wide as you felt your hands impossibly sticky with the hot blood they had spilled.

Please, don't look at me like that... Your heart was trembling.

Not you.

You had to get out of here.

Hands clasped to your sides, you strode across the pitch, the few students even two metres away from you moving away as you passed.

I made them like this. Although this thought might have given some people a feeling of pride and power, you couldn't help but feel covered in a terrible shame.

You couldn't meet anyone's eyes as you made your way to the nearest water source, away from any eyes.

You turned the crank on a fountain to turn it on, your breath quickening with anxiety.

I have to get this off me.

You ran your hands frantically under the water, rubbing the reddened skin of your knuckles and trying to get rid of the blood that was already starting to dry.

You returned to the handle as the water subsided, your hand coming into contact with the blood you'd left behind when you turned it the first time.

You make everything dirty. Everywhere you go there will be blood if you go on.

You swallowed a sob as you tried to clean the crank and your hands again.

But nothing would wash the feeling away. Nothing could extinguish the fire still burning in your fingertips. Nothing could make you forget the warm, slimy sensation of the pain you'd committed, of the violence at the edge of your skin.

It's what you're made of.

You sat against the wall, banging both wet fists against your skull as if that would stop those thoughts from ruling your mind.

And he'd seen you. He saw you like this. Your violence coming to life before his eyes, reflected in an indecipherable Iris.

You put your head between your knees, tried to take a deep breath before you got up, your legs weak and trembling as you made your way back to the hotel.

Stupid, stupid crown.

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ellieslittlewh0re · 1 year ago

Text

ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly.

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

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nonsensenook · 4 months ago

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Chapter 3.5 | Moment of Respite

Synopsis: In which Bajie kindly gives you some time alone with the Destined One. An optional and indulgent chapter in this unapologetic take on you, the reader, accompanying the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 3,129

Warnings: 18+/Explicit Content/Smut/N.S.F.W, Female Reader

Author’s Note: Though I say unapologetic, I am very much nervously sweating. I will soon find a nice rock to hide under. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3: Link

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4

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The snow covered landscape turned to dense forest once again. With Bajie now completing the trio of a group, any sort of affection you showed came sparingly. Whatever you could show comfortably in Bajie’s presence was quick and subtle. It didn’t take long for you to begin struggling with the confines of this restriction. As time went on you would do what you could to distract yourself, but more than once Bajie had caught you staring at the Young Sage. This made the Pig Guai pelt you with seeds while counting how many it took until you were broken from the spell. He had also begun to stack things on you, laughing when his pile would tumble once you were out of your daze. On his less patient days he’d purposely scare you back to reality by shouting loudly near your ear. Even while you were standing he’d find something to hop onto to do this.

The Destined One wasn’t doing any better. He didn’t seem to fully understand why you were quicker to separate from him in the mornings before Bajie woke up. Sometimes he’d pull you close or try resting his head in your lap, however these moments were quick to end when you moved away after seeing Bajie approach. You saw how this annoyed the Destined One by the way his tail lashed back and forth behind him. Your little explanations didn’t stop that tail of his either. He had recently started to walk away from Bajie mid-conversation to see whatever unimportant task you were up to. This earned him plenty of choice words from Bajie. More often now you would see Bajie knock the Destined One on the head with the back of his rake when he caught his gaze wandering off. Needless to say, Bajie’s temper seemed to be getting shorter these days.

Tonight, the Destined One had found a suitable cave to set up camp. The half-moon in the sky shined brightly as your group settled down for the night. It was an evening full of unfinished chores. You were doing what you could, having picked up sewing to mend various articles of clothing while the Destined One worked on crafting a new staff. You sat near the fire and worked by its light. Across from you, Bajie stood up and dusted himself off.

“A lovely night like this is meant to be enjoyed with alcohol,” he announced, brushing past you to pick up the spare bottles of brew. “I’m going to finish these off by the waterfall we passed earlier. Do not expect me until morning and do not expect I’ll be sober,” he said with a chuckle. You weren’t really paying attention. The thread wasn’t going through the needle and the dancing firelight wasn’t helping.

“I said,” Bajie emphasized loudly right next to your ear, making you jump and drop the needle, “I am going and to not expect me till morning.”

You moved garments aside trying to find the needle with eyes squinting in the firelight. “Yes, yes, we heard you the first time, Bajie. Did you want company?”

“Not from either of you! I’ve had enough of the two of you to last me several lifetimes.” Bajie began walking down the path through the trees. “If a lovely lady passes by here, send her my way!” he called back. You heard him singing loudly as he walked away, his voice slowly receding until it disappeared in the regular hum of nature around you.

Thankfully, you found your needle again and managed to successfully thread it. You worked quietly on patching up your clothes. The night was cool, the air was filled with the soft croaking of frogs and crickets in their tunes. The fire next to you crackled softly as you worked. A breeze rustled the trees surrounding your little camp. You paused for a moment to listen to the leaves flutter on their branches. Bajie was right, it was a lovely night. You glanced up and saw the Destined One taking apart an old staff to make anew. His gaze was concentrated, you watched for a moment as he extracted the needed materials. You returned to your own work feeling content.

Being alone with the Destined One had you reminisce on the beginning of the journey. Unlike this comfortable silence, the silences then were awkward and prolonged. Small accidental touches had you apologizing or him stepping back. Though you pride yourself in reading what he means to convey at a glance now, you remembered those perplexing games of charades you used to play with him. Then there was the bathing spring incident. You inwardly cringed. Even with everything you’ve done with him till now, that moment still pulls you back to those same feelings of panic and embarrassment. You shook your head, forcing the memory back to the corners of your mind. Then you felt your body stiffen as you finally realized: You were alone with the Destined One.

You felt a sudden sharp pain on your finger making you inhale through your teeth. You had accidentally poked yourself with the needle. The air around you moved, a pair of strong hands gently held yours open. The Destined One examined your finger closely. It was only a small dot on your index where the skin was barely broken. You looked at his face, his expression was full of focused concern.

“I’m okay,” you said quietly, not even looking at your hands. He brushed his finger onto yours. Satisfied that you weren’t bleeding, he made to move away. You held onto his sleeve.

“I-” You began to speak, then felt your mouth dry up. Embarrassment shot through you, quickening your heart and tying your tongue. How depraved were you that you’d jump at this opportunity the moment Bajie stepped away? Pretty depraved, you thought.

“Could-” you stuttered, trying and failing once again to fully transfer incomplete thoughts from your mind to your mouth. You couldn’t find a way to say you wanted to touch him without sounding perverse. The Destined One looked closely at you. He reached his hand up to brush strands of your hair aside, fishing out a stray leaf. His hand traced along your face, lingering on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his. You then turned your face to brush your lips against his palm. Usually, this action alone was enough to have him lead the rest of the way, but he made no motion. He simply looked at you with a shadow of amusement on his features. He slowly moved his hand to your chin where he tilted your head upwards to look him in the eyes. This damn monkey.

As if reading your thoughts, you saw the corner of his lips twitch. You glared at him. He gave an innocent tilt of his head. You could so easily read what he was saying as if he’d whispered it into your ear. All you needed to do was ask.

“Could you please-” you started again, your breath hitching as he brushed his knuckles against the heat of your cheeks. You stared into his eyes. That same look of kindness, that same boundless patience, and something else. Something ravenous, waiting just beneath the surface. You just barely managed to whisper out the next words, “Touch me…”

The Destined One looked more than pleased as he leaned forward. His lips touched yours in a gentle kiss. His warmth always seemed to envelope you. How long has it been since he’d touched you like this? How long have you wanted this? How long have you needed this? Long enough to know that this wasn’t even nearly enough. Your hands came up to his robe, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. You sealed your fate in this one bold move. This you knew: The Destined One wasn’t one to abandon something once started. Soon enough, he showed you just how famished he’d been.

You felt his tongue greedily taste you as his hands traced your frame. You welcomed him to consume you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he sucked on your tongue. You moaned against his mouth as his hands trailed down to grope you in all the right places. He proceeded to lift you up as he trailed kisses and bites from your neck to your chest. He carried you easily into the cave where he held you against its walls. You stood there, your head thrown slightly back as he slowly descended down. His sharp nails snagged and tore at your clothes, still being careful not to push too hard into your soft flesh.

You felt his hot breath on your chest. His tongue traced the area around your nipples, tasting you. You heard your cries echo in the cave when he began sucking on one while groping and flicking the other. The hand you held against your mouth did little to mask the sounds he pulled from you. He played with you until you were quivering in his hands. Satisfied, he continued trailing his tongue downward. He continued tearing at your clothes to make way for himself. By the time he was kneeling, your clothes were but scraps barely hanging onto your body.

He slowed down, listening to your small whimpers as he slowly moved his hands up your legs. His nails softly scraped at your skin sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, painfully slowly, he made his way up to your thighs. He stopped just before he reached your entrance. Closing his eyes, he began planting slow, gentle kisses on your inner thighs. Then he opened his mouth and took a bite, making you cry out in surprise. You saw his tail flick behind him. He loved that sound you just made. He cruelly continued to do this, getting so close but never touching you where you wanted most. He took another bite which he licked once he let go. While holding your legs apart, he looked up at you. This Gods damn monkey. Mischievous doesn’t even begin to describe him anymore.

This was his revenge for all the times you’d pulled away from him before. Knowing he was depriving you on purpose made you stubbornly bite your lip. Yet simply seeing him stare up at you while he traced your inner thigh with his teeth already cracked something in you. Just as you knew what he was doing, he knew what you were thinking. Frustration coursed through your veins as the Destined One watched you in playful amusement. It was unfortunate, you were up against someone who’d never lost a battle. You saw him use his knuckles to hover ever so close to your folds. You watched as he pulled away, then spread out his fingers to show your fluids sticking and dripping down them. You outwardly cursed at him this time. The Destined One wasn't listening, he’d started licking his fingers. You felt your pride and shame crumbling down as you watched him. The last embers of your stubbornness were snuffed out by his tongue.

Your lips quivered as you breathed out your next words. “Please,” you begged, “Please…” Again, you saw that same pleased look on his face. He'd gotten just what he wanted. You threw your head back as his tongue tasted your entrance. You felt his breath pant against you as his hot tongue slid into your pussy. From everything he’d done, there was so much of you for him to hungrily lap up. Your hands went to the fur on his head, gripping them to steady and ground yourself from the stimulation. He pushed his tongue in further, making your grip tighten on him. You felt him slowly traced back to your clit, flicking his tongue against it. You flinched and buckled each time he did this. His tight grip on your thighs held you still as he greedily devoured you. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your shaking legs began to give out from under you. In response, the Destined One placed one leg over his shoulder.

“Wait-” you cried out more in shock than command. He placed the other leg over too until your whole weight was fully supported by him. This new angle had him reaching deeper into you. With his hands on your waist and forearms resting on your thighs, he began sucking on your clit. You gasped then moaned uncontrollably loudly, pulling hard at his fur. Your twitching legs tried to come together but were held firmly in place by his immeasurable strength as he thoroughly ate you out. Your cries echoed back at you in the cave. You felt something build up, tightening inside of you. You cried out a string of curses as you came hard, your body twitching and convulsing against the cave wall.

The Destined One slid his tongue against your pussy, lapping you up slowly as he helped you ride out your orgasm. When you settled down, he gently moved your legs from his shoulders. You leaned against the cave wall for support. Out of breath, you watched him wipe his mouth as he took off his robe to lay on the ground. In the dim light of the cave, you drank in the sight of his body. Your eyes stared at his muscles, his lean figure covered in fur, and the veins trailing from his arms to his hands. The Destined One helped you over to his robe where you laid down on your back.

He hovered over you, admiring the absolute mess he’d made of you. He then went to your neck and started sucking on your skin, one hand reaching to pull down his pants. He tossed them aside. As you twitched below him you felt the tip of his cock brush against your folds, spreading your wetness all over himself. You felt yourself pulsing in anticipation. Your hands went to his chest. You felt hard muscle beneath soft fur as you slid your hands down. You hear his breath catch when you brush along his lower abdomen. Your hands then went to his back where you slowly scraped and pulled at him. He shivered at your touch. As he continued to mark your skin, you felt him start to enter you slowly. You felt his tail wrap around your leg. One of his hands held yours, pinning you down to the ground. His other hand shot up to grip the cave wall. As eased into your soaked pussy, you heard the sound of something cracking above you.

You let out a low moan as he went deeper, stretching you out, until you had taken him fully. You felt yourself tighten around him as he let out a sigh. Again, you heard that same cracking noise above you, like stones scraping together. He began moving slowly, cautious of you adapting to his size. Your breath was coming up short again. When he quickened his pace, you could not stop the sounds that erupted from you. The Destined One’s breathing was heavy and labored in your ear. You heard more cracking from above as he let out a low, husky moan. You clawed at his back, making him snarl. He let go of the cave wall, scraping his nails down your back as he gripped your hips, digging deeply into your skin. You cried out, arching into him, your chest meeting his as his thrusts came harder. You could only whimper and moan as he pulled you in by your hips to meet each of his thrusts. Growling in your ear, he pulled back, then slammed into you hard. You choked out another cry which became mewling whimpers as he fucked you harder. You were begging for him, but the sounds were indiscernible to your ears. The cave walls had you deafened by your own voice drenched in ecstasy and the sounds of his body slamming into yours.

You felt yourself tighten up, that same peaking feeling getting closer. Moaning fully into his ear you came again, twitching hard as your pussy tightened around his cock. His thrusts quickened, becoming frantic, desperate. You felt him bite down hard into your shoulder as he came in you. Both his teeth and nails dug deep enough to draw blood, but the pain felt delicious as he twitched and filled you.

For a moment he stayed still, breathing heavily, then he let go of your shoulder and pulled out of you. His hand unlatched itself from your hip, he moved his arm up to support his weight. The other hand was still firmly holding your own. Both of you were still out of breath as he closed his eyes to rest his head against yours. You reached up to hold his face, giving him a tender kiss. He returned the kiss as you wrapped your arm around his neck. He pulled you up slowly, delicately. You closed your eyes as he carried you out of the cave.

In the morning, Bajie returned the way he’d left: singing. True to his word he held many empty jars of drink and walked like a sailor towards where you and the Destined One were having breakfast. Before he’d made it to you two, however, Bajie face-planted into the ground. You heard the distinct sound of him snoring as a jar rolled towards you. The Destined One stood up to carry Bajie over to the light bedding you’d prepared for him.

The Young Sage then returned to you and pulled you into his lap. The Destined One wrapped his arms around you, tail pleasantly thumping the ground. You leaned into him, feeling your sore body ache. Your clothes just barely hid the bruises and bites he’d left all over your neck and chest. The bite on your shoulder along with the scratches down your back and hips still stung. He’d done well to help tend and clean you up last night. He was initially a bit worried at the wounds you sustained, but you reassured him that he hadn’t hurt you in any way you didn’t want him to. He seemed quite happy to trace over the various marks he’d left on your body afterwards.

You were glad to take a day off from traveling today. The Destined One still had a staff to remake and you had more clothing to repair. Yes, both were quite reasonable explanations to validate this moment of respite. That and how your legs were fully out of commission. You kept your eyes away from the mound of rock and stone behind the two of you. You hoped that by the time you were on the road again Bajie would be too hungover to ask what happened to the cave.

#This was a personal struggle for me #Very nervous #The next chapter may take some time to come out #black myth wukong #the destined one #bmw #destined one #destined one x reader #the destined one x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #journey to the west #sun wukong x reader #black myth wukong fanfic #sun wukong #zhu bajie #black myth wukong x reader

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cycat4077 · 4 months ago

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"Ghosts" openings + Easter eggs

Season 1:

Painting/photo = Elias/Hetty Viking helmet = Thor (his death) Alcohol bottle = Alberta (poisoned) Feather = Sass (story telling) Daisy = Flower (coffee company) Handbook = Pete Spyglass = Isaac Money clip = Trevor (given to Pinkus) Bonus: Tea cup (Hetty), Trevor is moving it.

Season 2:

Tree painting = Sass (crush on Shiki) Teddy bear = Flower (dumb death) Microphone = Alberta (podcast) Laundry detergent = Hetty x Washing machine Donut holes = Pete (fight with his wife) Dagger = Thor (meets his son) Carriage = Isaac (backstory) Fishing rod = Trevor (body found in lake)

Season 3:

Painting = Hetty (backstory, comely ankles) Basketball = Pete + Flower (bonding) Owl = Thor (Flower reincarnated) Woodstone Rewards plaque = Trevor (his brother) Butterscotch candy = Pete (Carol) Poltergeist book = Alberta (+ Saul) Butterfly = Flower (followed into well) Dino plush = Isaac (dinosaur fascination)

Season 4: Updated

Landscape (fjord?) painting = Pete travels to Norway for Thor (4x11) Playbill = Musical, Alberta (4x05) Clover pillow = Irish heritage, Hetty (4x10) Snow globe = Pete's gift to daughter (4x09) French fries = Zombie!Jay (4x09) Cherry pie = ? Space rock (?)/gold = ? Snail = Escarghost, Trevor (4x06) Plastic vampire teeth = Higgentooth (4x06)? (Bonus: there are now 9 items instead of the previous 3 seasons' 8 items...likely due to the addition of Patience!)

Edit!

I'm going out on a limb to say that the vampire teeth may relate to Patience. It's already been mentioned that she died from bloodletting. Both end in getting blood sucked out of you 🧛

#ghosts cbs #I love how they leave these clues #cbs ghosts #you all probably have already seen these but hey I'll keep it for my own reference too :)

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tytarax · 6 months ago

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The early morning sun cast a golden glow over the rugged landscape, bathing the mountains and forests in a warm light. You stretched lazily, feeling the soft rustle of the leaves under you. Life on Vampa had been harsh at first, but with Broly by your side, it had become a place of unexpected peace and beauty.

You glanced to your left and saw Broly already awake, his towering figure silhouetted against the rising sun. He was tending to Ba, the giant creature who had become more of a friend than a pet. Broly’s gentle hand patted Ba’s head, and you couldn’t help but smile at the tender sight.

“Good morning,” you called out, your voice breaking the serene silence.

Broly turned to you, his stern face softening into a warm smile. “Good morning,” he replied, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. He made his way over to you, his steps surprisingly light for someone of his size.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, sitting down beside you. Despite his imposing size, Broly always made sure to be careful around you, his movements deliberate and gentle.

“Like a rock,” you replied with a chuckle. “This place is starting to feel like home.”

Broly’s eyes sparkled with happiness at your words. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I want you to be happy here.”

You reached out, taking his large hand in yours. “I am happy, Broly. Because I’m with you.”

He blushed slightly, a rare but endearing sight. Broly wasn’t used to affection, having spent most of his life in isolation or conflict. But with you, he was learning to embrace the softer emotions.

The two of you spent the morning exploring the surrounding area. Broly showed you a hidden waterfall he had discovered, the crystal-clear water cascading down into a serene pool. The sound of the water was soothing, and you sat together on a rock, simply enjoying each other’s company.

As the day grew warmer, you decided to take a break and have lunch. You had packed some simple food, and Broly had caught some fresh fish from a nearby stream. Cooking over an open fire, you shared stories and laughter.

In the afternoon, you ventured further into the forest. Broly’s protective nature was evident as he guided you through the dense foliage, ensuring you didn’t stumble or get hurt. His keen senses picked up on any potential dangers long before you did, and you felt safe knowing he was always looking out for you.

At one point, you came across a clearing filled with wildflowers. The vibrant colors and sweet scents were enchanting, and you couldn’t resist picking a few to make a small bouquet. Broly watched you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with love.

“You like flowers?” he asked, his curiosity genuine.

“I do,” you replied, holding out the bouquet to him. “Here, for you.”

Broly’s eyes widened in surprise, and he took the flowers with a gentle touch. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his face. “There’s a first time for everything.”

As the sun began to set, you returned to your makeshift home. Broly had built a sturdy shelter for the two of you, using his immense strength to create a safe haven. Inside, it was cozy and warm, filled with little touches that made it uniquely yours.

That evening, as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you sat outside with Broly, wrapped in a blanket. He held you close, his arm around your shoulders, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I never thought I could be this happy,” Broly murmured, his voice a gentle rumble.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Broly. You have such a kind heart.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips warm and soft. “And I’m happiest when I’m with you.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, watching the stars and simply enjoying the moment. No words were needed to express the depth of your love for each other.

Masterpost

DBS Masterlist

#broly x reader #broly #dragon ball super #dbs one shot #oneshot #one shots #broly one shot #dragon ball #dragon ball super broly

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 9 months ago

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"desolate landscape" there's a MOUNTAIN! there's a rock!!! you could sit next to that rock. befriend that rock. become romantically entangled with that rock.... marry the rock. Rock steady relationship, until you die of dehydration. Then your bones will keep the rock company- maybe even long enough for them to get replaced by minerals and ALSO become a rock!

a river might have been more healthy choice for a partner as far as your flesh vessel goes, but such is the natural of doomed yuri. the whole point is that it's hopeless, and beautiful

or maybe i just really like rocks

#rocks #i do really like them

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emjiroki · 2 years ago

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Pool Boy Yuuta Okkotsu x Lonely Housewife Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Infidelity, exhibitionism (outside), Yuuta is the lonely housewife slayer fight me

A/N: I'm back babies with Pool boy Yuuta for the lovely Wet Hot Slimeball summer block party collab event! My prompt was 'Humid' so I hope I captured the theme and everyone enjoys! @bastardblvd (look at Yuuta holding the pool skimmer! Im pretty proud of my editing skills)

Collab Masterlist

likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated

‘God they need to do something about this global warming shit’ You thought as the sun beat down. It had been storming over the last week in Grimetown so the humidity was intense; thick like you were being compressed and forced to breathe the water evaporating from the ground. And with the storms came strong winds, knocking small branches and a whole heap of leaves into the once pristine blue water of your pool. You had made plans to clean it out…soon, maybe ask that big man that stole your package and stuffed that block party flier in your mailbox to fix it, had really planned to ask your husband to do it before he left for two weeks on a “business trip”. It would be comical to believe that these trips were for business at this point, your husband coming home one too many times smelling of perfume that wasn’t the scent you wore. Something cheap and cloying that set a stone in your stomach. But you liked your life, all your bills were paid and your husband still treated you like you were his world, why bother rocking the boat over some whore? He’ll get bored with her eventually and come crawling back, take you on some big vacation as a secret sorry and it’ll be done with.

So here you were lounging on one of your pool chaises trying and failing to read your book with your brain a frenzy of thoughts when you vaguely heard a knock on the gate. You pulled on the slipcover for your bikini and went to open the hefty latch to the privacy fence. The sudden heat to your skin wasn’t from the sun beating down or the suffocating humidity, but most certainly from the man in front of you with a pool skimmer propped up on his shoulder.

“I’m Yuuta Okkotsu from Grimetown Pool and Landscaping, sorry for the intrusion but I tried the front door and no one answered”. He seemed about your age, maybe a year or two younger, with sweet dark eyes and a handsomely cut jaw. Obviously fit under the company t-shirt that hugged his body. You bit your cheek slightly to try and keep your thoughts in check and not written across your face as you extended your hand to his to shake and introduced yourself.

“I’m guessing you’re the poor soul that they sent to come clean my disaster of pool?” You asked opening the gate a bit wider for him.

“That’s what was on my schedule for today ma’am,” He said with a sheepish smile as he fumbled to close the gate latch behind him and followed you over to the poolside.

“And in this humidity too? Yikes,” You empathized, taking a discarded magazine from the table and fanning yourself as he surveyed the mess.

“This will probably take a day or two to clean out and get balanced again,” Yuuta said with a determined look set on his face.

“Please, take all the time you need” You requested, pulling the slip from your bikini off, “I’m assuming the husband will just write a check for whatever”.

“R-Right, of course” He stammered, a rosy hue to his cheeks as he not so subtly looked you up and down. But he didn’t look away from your gaze when you made eye contact, going so far as to take a small step forward. You gave him a soft alluring smile before slipping your sunglasses on and lounging back in your chair.

“This humidity is a killer, let me know if you need anything” You commented as he pulled his phone from his pocket, assumedly to call his boss and tell them the plan.

“Oh I will, don’t worry,” He said with a lowkey promise in his tone that had you clenching.

♡

An hour or two passed as he pulled out branches and skimmed the pool, the humidity absolutely baring down and making the air thick. You were glad for the sunglasses because you couldn’t help but stare when he stripped off his shirt. Sweat ran down his neck to the dip in his collarbones before rolling down his chest and chiseled abdomen, your eyes tracing the wet path down as you unconsciously clenched your legs together. You reached for your drink and realized the glass was empty, the ice slowly melting at the bottom.

“Yuuta, would you like a drink? Take a break in the a/c for a minute?” You called over as you gather your stuff to head back inside away from this killer heat.

“Sure that would be great” He replied, pulling the skimmer from the water and setting it aside before quickly following you as you lead him in through the back door to the kitchen. The cool was a relief from the stagnant heat hovering around outside, Yuuta gratefully taking the towel you handed him and wiped his face and neck.

“Water? Lemonade?” You asked as you opened the refrigerator, pulling the pitcher out and refilling your own glass.

“Lemonade is great, thanks” He huffed as he sat back in one of the bar chairs, pushing his damp black hair back away from his face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t ogle for a moment, quickly turning away when looked up at you and filled the glass you pulled down for him. He said thank you again as you handed it to him, watching as he took a few big gulps of the cold liquid, his Adam's apple bobbing as he drank greedily.

“You know Yuuta, I really wish my husband had a job like yours,” You commented, taking the seat next to him.

“Oh? And why’s that?” He asked, surprise in his tone but something curious and almost heated sparkling in his dark eyes. Damn, how could he be this pretty?

“Well, he’s always gone and I think the finance industry is making him dishonest” You admitted, casually messing with your discarded sunglasses on the island. The worst has already happened, at this point, you didn’t care about throwing yourself out there as you gently touched his fingers resting next to yours.

“I’d be dishonest too if I got a house like this and a wife like you” He commented, a rosy hue to his cheeks though he didn't pull his hand away when you expected him to.

“But the house is always so empty, it's lonely here… all by myself,” You said tracing one of your manicured nails up his hand to his forearm, goosebumps breaking across his skin, “He gives me everything I want but nothing that I need”. Yuuta turned slightly, leaning in close enough that a gasp escaped you, his dark eyes swimming with something you wanted to be devoured by.

“And what is it that you need?” He murmured, his lips close enough that you would only have to lean in an inch or two to feel them against yours, “Love? Good dick?”. It felt as if someone had lit a fire in your cheeks and it was rapidly traveling to the spot between your legs, your breath not filling your lungs anymore as his hand moved to your bare thigh. Your hands were shaking as you tried to take a drink from your glass, a small splash of lemonade running down your mouth to your chest. You squeaked out a soft moan when you felt his warm tongue against your skin, his mouth following the sour liquid down to the curve of your breast and sucking lightly in a soft kiss. Gripping his arms to keep yourself steady, he smiled up at you, that seemingly innocent shy boy smile from earlier. “Is that a yes?”.

♡

“Yuuta! Fuck!” You cried as he bottomed out inside of you for what seemed like the hundredth time today, you both barely able to get out of your bed this morning.

“You really never get tired do you?” He said with a chuckle, hissing as your walls squeezed around him, “Can’t even get my job done”. He’s right, hadn’t even gotten the chemicals ready for the pool before he was spread on the chaise lounge for you again, your thong bikini shredded by his eager hands and thrown somewhere in the yard. You were both slick with sweat from the heat, humidity ever present as you devoured each other for your neighbors on both sides to hear. His hands were rough against your ass as he squeezed and help you along to take his length, your hands on his sweaty chest as you bounced, spearing yourself on him again and again like you were possessed.

“You’re just… so good” You moaned as he pulled you down to press against him, nipping his teeth across your throat and thrusting up into you.

“Oh, you’re so good too beautiful, so fucking hot” He groaned, feeling your slick leaking out and running down to coat his balls in creamy white. He was so deep inside, carving out a place only his cock could satisfy, rutting into your soft walls like an animal. You couldn’t get enough as you moved your hips against his, his hand going up to wipe the drool from your lips as you fell apart.

“With a pussy like this I might just get obsessed,” He said his voice turning to a growl as you raised up again, his dark eyes seeming to grow darker as he watched your breasts bounce and the sweat rolling down your skin. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”. You nodded, groaning out a soft yes as the flames of your climax licked up your spine, your brain foggy with the heat and the pleasure buzzing through your bloodstream. If only your “husband” could see you right now, being ravaged into a puddle in this primal humidity.As if he heard your thoughts, your phone began to ring. You didn’t think to pick up, only looked when you saw Yuuta’s hand move. His hand wrapped around it, squeezing the volume button until it buzzed on silent, flipping it over. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you down to lay against his chest again, practically growling as he pressed your face to his throat and fucked so deep into you you could feel him battering your cervix. The sound that broke from your lips as you creamed around his cock was something you hadn’t heard before, breathy and wild.

“That’s right baby, cum on my cock as much as you want” He panted, his hands running soothingly up your back despite him still hammering into your sensitive pussy, “I’m your husband now, I’ll make him disappear and you'll be all mine won't you?”.

#yuuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu #jjk smut #slimeball collab 💚#em writes ✍#em talks 👄

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juniper-sunny · 2 months ago

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The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 8

Vander gets your hopes up, and Silco shares some unnerving news with you...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | WC: 3.6k

beta reader (and OC cameo!): @silcoitus <333

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

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You wake gradually, sleep still lingering in your bones as you lift your head off the armrest. The crick in your neck and the stiffness in your knees are uncomfortable. Sluggishly, you unfold yourself from the cramped sitting position you slept in, unsticking yourself from the furniture. A thick, patched blanket slides off your shoulders as you stand, and you see that Silco is covered with another, similar blanket.

It’s hard not to stare at him while you stretch. He looks so calm and peaceful, still deeply asleep. You caught a glimpse of him with his guard down last night, but right now he looks completely defenseless. His chest rises and falls with the slow rhythm of ocean waves on a calm night. Light from behind the door leaks into the room, illuminating a dust mote in the air uncurling lazily against his cheek.

For a second, you wish that the couch was wide enough for you to join him, his chest slotted against your back and your fingers entwined… Sharing the warmth of your bodies... Savoring his breath against your neck… Feeling his heartbeat against your spine… Waking him with a soft kiss—

You blush and tiptoe quickly over to your boots, grabbing them before you make your way out of the room as quietly as you can. When you exit, you concentrate on closing the door silently, gripping the handle tight as you shut the door. Then you put on and lace up your shoes.

Slow, heavy footfalls approach you, and you look down the hallway to see Vander rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Good morning,” you say politely to him.

“Morning,” he says warmly, voice still gravelly from sleep. “Silco still asleep?”

“Yeah,” you say. Curiosity gets the better of you as you ask, “Does he always drink that much?”

Vander shakes his head. “Only when he’s having a good time. Do you want to stay for breakfast?”

“No, I have to get going,” you say regretfully.

“You sure about that? We won’t mind the company.”

“Yeah, thanks though. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll walk you out then,” Vander says. He sweeps his hand up towards the doorway that leads into the pub, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him. You curtsey jokingly and he chuckles.

The Last Drop feels like an alien landscape with all the lights off, the dim outlines of the stacked furniture sitting stoically like rocks in a desert. At least it’s much easier to navigate when all the chairs are put up on the tables. You pat the jukebox affectionately when you pass by it.

When you arrive at the door, you turn to Vander with a smile. “Thanks for last night. I had fun!”

“We were glad to have you,” he says sincerely.

Before you can reach out for the handle, Vander pulls a ring of keys out of his pocket.

“Feel free to come back anytime,” Vander says as he examines the keys. He thumbs through them one by one, squinting at them. “The Children are meeting here tonight. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

“Oh…” you say hesitantly.

“I’m sure Silco would love to see you.”

“I’ll… think about it,” you say slowly.

“You know that spark in his eye? The one he gets whenever he talks about the Undercity?” he asks. “He looks at you the same way.”

“Really…?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

You know that look Vander is talking about: the fire of Silco’s passion blazes bright whenever he speaks of Zaun’s independence. His determination to seize that future is almost ruthless. Just the mere anticipation of fulfilling that dream gives him so much hope and joy.

It seems unbelievable that he would want you just as badly. But the bartender has been Silco’s best friend for over a decade. If anyone knows what Silco wants, it would be Vander.

“Ah, here we are,” Vander says as he picks out a key. He unlocks the door and pushes it open for you.

You don’t move, still lost in thought. Vander calls out your name questioningly.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. You ponder briefly before you ask, “Are you guys—the Children—doing anything before the meeting?”

The bartender shakes his head, then he grins knowingly at you. “Silco should be free for the day.”

You blush and quickly step out into the Lanes, still avoiding Vander’s eyes as you ask, “Could you tell him to meet me at my place if he wants to hang out today?”

“Sure,” he promises.

“Thanks,” you tell him gratefully. You wave goodbye at him as you hurry away, still unable to outrun the unpleasant thoughts that creep up on you.

So, it’s official… Silco wants you to join the Children. You didn’t tell him last night, but you already know what answer you’re going to give him.

And it’s not the one he wants to hear.

Knowing Silco, he’ll ask you why. You could tell him that you already have a full-time job, but that’s not the only reason.

For the sake of your friendship, you’ll have to be honest with him.

He deserves to know the whole story. To learn about secrets that you’ve kept from him.

Even if they paint you in a bad light.

It’s ironic that you have to tell him these things soon, just as you’ve finally acknowledged your feelings for him. You want to tell him the truth so he might better understand you, but that truth might drive him away altogether.

The anxiety caused by your stalker was already bad enough, but this new worry is imminent, dragging you into rising waters of uncertainty. When exactly should you tell him? Is there a chance he already knows? What if he doesn’t care?

Will he still want you to join the Children?

What if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?

What if he’ll hate you?

All these questions and more buzz unpleasantly in your stomach, a cramping pain that has you clutching your side as you run home. Somehow, your body acts on autopilot as you reach your apartment, shower, make breakfast, and get ready for the day. Your throat strains every time you swallow your food, a stone lodged in your throat.

You realize belatedly that you hadn’t set a time for Silco to meet you. Just as you’re about to succumb to unhappy thoughts and climb into your bed, someone knocks at your door. The sound makes you jump, and you almost trip over yourself in your haste to look through the peephole. You step back and take a few deep breaths to compose yourself. Then, as casually as possible, you open the door.

Silco stands there, tall and handsome, shielding his face from the morning sun. It’s a cloudy day and forecasted to rain later tonight, but his cheerful grin would outshine all the stars in the sky even on a cloudless summer day.

Your bad mood dissipates instantly at seeing him on your threshold, and you almost laugh aloud with relief.

“Good morning,” you say happily. You notice your jacket slung over his arm. Something about seeing him hold it for you makes your heart glow warm. “How are you holding up?”

“Good morning,” he says affectionately. “I’m well, thank you for asking. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. I thought you’d be hungover,” you chuckle, stepping back to let him in.

“Only for a little while. I wanted to see you,” he says. His casual remark sends a thrill rocketing through your heart, and you turn away from him to hide your blushing face. He sighs with frustration; you don’t need to look at him to know that he’s pinching between his eyebrows. “I must apologize for my behavior last night. It wasn’t my intention to burden you once again—”

“Silco, it’s okay,” you say automatically. But then you look at him with a smirk. “I won’t say no if you want to make it up to me, though.”

“There is nothing I could do that would adequately demonstrate the depths of my gratitude,” he says, holding your jacket out to you. “But I would do anything you ask of me.”

“I’m not going to lie, I was hoping you’d say that,” you say eagerly, taking your jacket from him and putting it on. “How do you feel about doing some community service?”

________________________________________

You hadn’t found an opportunity until today to tell Silco that you still regularly volunteer at Janna’s Embrace, the orphanage where you used to live. You could have told him the first time he slept over at your place, but you kept it to yourself. Bringing attention to your charity work felt too much like showing off that you were helping the Undercity, too; you’re not a mercenary, but you’re just as involved in community outreach as he is. Now that he’s agreed to help you, it seems more acceptable to share that part of you with him.

Your flexible schedule as a freelancer allows you to drop in whenever you want. You’ve offered to work as a part-time employee there, but the staff include people who have supported and nurtured your love for painting ever since you were a child. They insist that you should focus on your one true calling as an artist. They still appreciate your help, though, and never turn you or your donations away.

Today’s errands involve a food run for the Embrace. The two of you set off for Topside with an old, well-used grocery wagon in tow, its wheels clattering on the cobblestone streets. Silco insists on taking it from you, but you refuse him for now, telling him he can pull it later. Your shopping list is long enough that you’ll want his help carrying everything.

It’s early afternoon by the time you arrive at the farmer’s market. The wide, open courtyard in Midtown Piltover is filled with neat rows of vendors and stalls. You’re both drawn in by the sheer bustle and life of the area, already filled with a milling crowd of shoppers. Lively merchants call out their wares, showing off imported goods from far-off lands. Artisans and hobbyists proudly display handmade crafts, haggling spiritedly with customers. A street performer with tiny pyrotechnics dazzles a small herd of children who shriek with awe and delight. Upbeat, joyful guitar music fills the air, played by a beautiful, pink-haired woman who smiles as brilliantly as a firework when you drop several coins into her open instrument case.

This area is one of the only places worth visiting in Topside, and it’s one of your favorites. You stop yourself from speedwalking directly to your regular booths. Instead, you take your time to explore each row with Silco, pointing out any stands that might pique his interest.

A seller of hunting knives catches his eye. Silco examines the weapons keenly, picking them up one at a time and testing their sharpness against his fingertip. You tell him that he should take as much time as he wants to browse. It feels like a victory when he finds a knife of polished Noxian steel and buys it after a round of enthusiastic haggling, tucking it into his belt.

The grocery wagon gradually fills with eggs, meats, fruits, vegetables, rice, breads, snacks, spices, sauces, and cooking oils. All too soon, your shopping list is completely crossed out, the wagon overflowing with your bounty.

You wish you could spend more time hanging with Silco, but duty calls.

“Was there anything else you wanted to look at?” you ask. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

“Do you have a moment?” he asks. His face is solemn, an intense shine in his eyes. “I’d like to speak more about last night.”

“…sure,” you say, feeling uneasy. You swallow nervously and tighten your grip on the wagon’s handle. Bracing yourself for Silco’s disappointment isn’t easy, but it’s better to get it over with sooner rather than later.

The two of you make your way to an empty bench near a fountain, sitting down in sync. Silco leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and slowly wringing his hands.

“I must apologize again for last night,” he says, agitated. “I would like for you to join the Children, but I didn’t mean for you to find out in such a disagreeable manner.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I don’t know why you want me to join, though.”

He frowns at that, then sits up. He looks straight at you with a steady gaze. Even though his eyes are gentle, you can’t help but feel self-conscious. Somehow, his soft stare makes you feel even more vulnerable than his piercing scrutiny. It takes a monumental effort to not look away.

“You are kind, resourceful, generous, and brave,” he says seriously. His lip twitches upward in a hint of a smile when you blush. “The Children of Zaun would benefit greatly if you joined our ranks, and I believe you would as well.”

“Do all your sales pitches start with a compliment?” you ask with a nervous chuckle. You look away from him to rearrange a bag of onions in the wagon. When you imagine Silco trying to persuade Sevika to join the Children by complimenting her, you almost giggle out loud at the thought of her giving him an indifferent stare.

Silco’s lips settle into a thin line, all humor fading away. You cringe at yourself inwardly, wondering if you said something wrong.

“I don’t wish to alarm you,” he starts grimly. “But I have reason to believe that someone has been trying to follow you.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised at the change of topic.

He nods. “Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. I’ve noticed them approaching the mural on multiple occasions, only when you’re there as well. I’m afraid my attempts to track them down have been unsuccessful.”

“You did that for me?” you ask, touched by his concern.

His eyes dart to the ground, hands balling into fists on his knees. A muscle in his cheek twitches as he admits, “They have proven themselves elusive.”

“Silco, it’s okay,” you reassure him. “If you can’t catch them, there’s no way in hell I could. Besides, it’s probably nothing.”

He turns to look at you with furrowed eyebrows, a suspicious glare in his eyes. “Were you aware of them already?”

“Yeah,” you admit. Despite the stress that the stalker has caused you recently, you feel a sudden embarrassment that they’ve caught Silco’s attention, and that your inaction could be perceived as laziness. You’re hopeful that the problem will go away on its own.

Before you can tell him that, he jumps to his feet, swerving around to face you.

“How long have you known?!” he asks angrily. His fury turns the rasp in his voice harsh and grating.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, leaning away from him in alarm. “It’s not like anything happened—”

“They know where you work! What if they know where you live?”

“They don’t—”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know how to lose a stalker, Silco,” you say defensively. “I can take care of myself.”

“Is this why you came to The Last Drop?” he demands.

“I—I was just in the neighborhood—”

He calls out your name, cutting you off. His hard glare dares you to lie to him again, as sharp as the brand new knife in his belt.

“…yeah, okay, I wasn’t sure if they were following me last night,” you mutter.

He raises his hackles, asking you through gritted teeth, “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I… I didn’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, biting your lip. Reluctant to involve Silco in your problems, you feel a hot, twisting shame at not handling this on your own. Compounded by a sudden, horrifying realization that you might have made a mistake, you gasp. “I—I might have fucked up—I hope I didn’t lead them to The Last Drop.”

“Never mind that,” he says impatiently.

“Silco—”

“We just need to scare them,” he says firmly. “They won’t dare set foot in the underground again.”

The thought of the stalker targeting your friend scares you more than them targeting you. You clench your trembling hands into fists, holding them up to your chest as your heart hammers. “But—but what if they go after you?”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling them on my own,” he says confidently. “From my observations, this is a single individual we’re dealing with.”

You grind a fist into your knee, frustrated at your own carelessness. “I’m sorry, I should have told you—”

He says your name again, more gently this time. His irritation at you melts away, replaced by remorse as he says, “I’m the one who must apologize. I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to confirm my suspicions first. I hadn’t realized that my negligence was endangering you.”

“No way!” you say, shocked. “It’s not your fault, Silco. I don’t want you to ever think that.”

Silco carefully pushes the wagon away with his foot, making room for him to kneel in front of you. He gently takes one of your hands in both of his. His eyes are earnest and bright as he looks up at you.

“You once told me to value my own well-being more highly. I am asking you to do the same,” he says softly. “There’s no need for you to suffer in silence. Let me help you.”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” you ask jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

“If I can’t save my friends, then who am I to save the whole of the underground?” he says, squeezing your hand tightly.

Your hand is warm in the cocoon of Silco’s light grip, your fingertips grazing a callus on his palm. The largest one is at the base of his thumb, developed over years of hard living as a miner and fighter. You press against it lightly, and his hand twitches in response.

Your own hands must feel squishy and weak compared to his. As glad as you are to have dodged a career of intense physical labor, you would feel less pathetic right now if you were stronger.

It was never your intention to ask Silco for his help. A small part of you whispers that you don’t deserve it. That he already has his hands full with saving the Undercity, so he has more important things to worry about. If he wants to see a free and independent Nation of Zaun in his lifetime, then he doesn’t have time to spare on your stupid little problems.

“You don’t have to do this—” you say quietly.

“There is nothing else I’d rather do,” Silco insists. “Let me stand guard while you work. I can accompany you whenever you visit the Undercity as well.”

“I don’t want you to waste your time—”

“No time spent with you is wasted. Ever,” he says sternly. “Please. If not for you, then for my own peace of mind.”

You can’t resist him when he puts it that way. The discomfort in your heart is briefly overtaken by a flutter of hope, a baby bird tentatively learning to take flight.

“…Alright,” you finally concede.

Silco smiles, jumping to his feet excitedly. “If you join the Children, they will rally to your side as well.”

You frown. “If it’s just one person, wouldn’t that be overkill?”

“I cannot allow this stranger to approach you if they mean you harm,” Silco says, turning serious. “We will stop at nothing to find them.”

“Maybe we can take care of this ourselves,” you say hastily. “If we can’t, then I’ll ask the Children myself.”

Silco arches an eyebrow at you. “Are you sure? We have many resources at our disposal—”

“Yeah, you’re already doing too much for me, Silco. Which I appreciate!” you say gratefully. “If it’s nothing, then we don’t have to get anyone else involved.”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully, then nods. “Have you given any more thought to joining our ranks?”

“I’m still thinking about it,” you lie. “I’ll let you know after I finish the mural.”

“I must admit, it would be better if you joined the Children sooner rather than later. But I understand that you can’t abandon your work,” he says. “Regardless, our doors will always be open to you. All you have to do is say the word.”

You stop yourself from sighing out loud with relief. Maybe it’s wrong to postpone the conversation you need to have with him, but you want to start putting away the perishables of your haul. When you mention this out loud, Silco grabs the wagon’s handle and asks you to lead the way.

As you cross the bridge, you describe the list of chores you intend to complete at the orphanage. You remind him that he’s free to leave whenever he likes. When he insists on working alongside you for as long as you need him, the baby bird in your heart flutters again, this time with affection.

You marvel inwardly, wondering what on earth you’ve done to deserve such a good friend like Silco. You both chat and laugh openly during your walk, and you never get tired of his smiles: the triumphant ones when he talks about the future, the mischievous ones when he cracks a joke, and even the sarcastic ones when he talks about Piltover’s undeserved status.

These are memories you’ll savor later. When Silco still counts you among his friends and enjoys your company. He’s walking by your side freely, instead of turning away from you in disgust.

You can’t help but wonder if this is the last time you’ll see him. If he’ll withdraw his offer to help.

Because you’ve resolved to tell him everything tonight.

Even if that means losing him.

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! My inbox is also open to requests for both sketches and drabbles, or just to chat. Feel free to say hi :3c

Chapter 9

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco Arcane #Arcane Silco #Silco x Reader #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH

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hoernypie · 5 months ago

Text

⋆｡˚ moonlight magic ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

tags: public, p+v, creamp!e

wc: 1972

Suguru and I had been planning this vacation for months, eager to escape the stressful missions and life of jujutsu sorcerers, allowing ourselves to immerse in the peacefulness of the countryside. The cottage, nestled by the tranquil lake, was a charming retreat that promised peace and relaxation after all our stress. We arrived just as the golden sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the calm waters. After unpacking our bags and preparing a simple dinner, we stepped out onto the porch to breathe in the crisp night air, the gentle hum of cicadas our only company. The full moon, a luminous orb in the velvet sky, reflected on the lake's surface, turning it into a shimmering mirror of silver light. The thought of a night walk to explore the area was too tempting to resist, so we laced up our shoes and set off into the quiet embrace of the surrounding woods.

"I hate when they cry", I huffed as we walked slowly. "Who's cry?" Suguru asked confused, his eyes searching the darkened woods with a hint of concern. I chuckled, squeezing his upper arm. "The cicadas." He listened intently for a moment, before snorting. We continued our stroll, the moonlight guiding our path.

As we walked deeper into the woods, the sound of the cicadas grew faint, replaced by the rhythmic rustling of leaves beneath our feet. The air grew cooler, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. Suguru, kept a watchful eye on our surroundings, while I drowned in the beauty of the moonlit landscape. Our laughter echoed through the trees as we pointed out peculiar shapes in the shadows cast by the silvery beams. Suddenly, the serenity was pierced by an unmistakable splash from the lake. We froze, our hearts pounding in sync with the night's rhythm. Curiosity piqued, we cautiously approached the water's edge, our eyes scanning the now-disturbed surface for any sign of what had caused the disturbance.

"Suguru... Do you think it's a good idea to stay here?" I asked with a worry in my voice, looking at the ripples that distorted the moon's reflection. Suguru looked at me, his gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Let's just check it out," he whispered, taking a step closer to the lake. The water remained still, but the silence felt heavier as if the night itself was holding its breath. "No, no! Please don't check, it's how people die in horror movies!" I whined looking up to see his face.

Ignoring my pleas for caution, Suguru pulled out his phone, switching on the flashlight to scan the lake. The beam of light danced across the water, revealing the silhouettes of trees and rocks on the other side. Then, it caught something moving, something large and unmistakable. "It's just a loon," he said with a chuckle, the tension vanishing from his shoulders. The bird, having realized it was no longer hidden, let out a call before diving back into the water. "See?" He turned to me, flashing a reassuring smile. "It's just nature doing its thing." "Stupid bird", I huffed when we sat on the fallen tree trunk, "I almost saw the pearly gates."

With our hearts still racing from the unexpected encounter with the loon, we shared a nervous laugh. The adrenaline rush brought us closer together, and we found ourselves leaning into each other, our eyes locking in the soft moonlight. The air grew thicker, charged with a new kind of energy. Before I could protest, Suguru leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, his hand gently cradling the back of my neck. The kiss was slow and tender, starkly contrasting to the chaotic world we had left behind. We made out, our breaths mingling in the cool night air, the moon casting a gentle glow on our faces. For a moment, we forgot about the monsters and curses of our daily lives, lost in the tranquility of the countryside and the warmth of each other's embrace. The lake's surface stilled once more, reflecting our silhouettes as we deepened our kiss, the only sound the distant whisper of the breeze playing with the leaves above us.

Our kiss grew more passionate as we let go of our carefulness, the stress of our lives melting away with each tender brush of our lips. Suguru's hand slid down to hold my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm as we breathed in unison. The moon, our silent witness, cast a soft, ethereal light over us, painting our skin in a silver glow. Time stood still as we savored this moment of intimacy, the serenity of the lake a contrast to the intense passion we shared. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves while we kept whispering sweet nothings to ourselves, getting lost in the pure feeling.

As our kiss intensified, the desire to be even closer consumed us. Suguru's hands found the hem of my shirt, gently lifting it over my head, revealing the moon's glow on my bare skin. Our lips never parted, as he worked his way down, his kisses leaving a trail of heat along my neck and collarbone. His touch was tender and exploratory as if discovering me for the first time. In return, my fingers traced the firm lines of his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. With a soft murmur, I helped him remove it, our bodies pressing together in the warm night air. The moon, still high in the sky, bathed us in its soft light as we slowly undressed each other, our clothes discarded like leaves on the forest floor. Our kisses grew deeper, more insistent, as our bodies melded together. Without a word, Suguru swept me up into his arms, the sudden movement sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes, gleaming with playful mischief, met mine as he stepped into the lake, the water cool against my skin. "What are you doing?" I gasped, but the laughter in his voice was contagious, and soon I found myself giggling as he walked further in. "I've always wanted to do this," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine as the water reached our waists. The moon's reflection shimmered around us, casting a glow on our faces as we kissed once more, the cold water contrasting the heat between us. Our bodies moved in sync as he held me, the gentle current of the lake swaying us back and forth around our bodies. It felt like a moment of pure bliss, making our kisses grow more passionate with each passing second. The world outside the cottage, the missions and curses, all felt a lifetime away as we shared this moment.

Suguru's strong arms tightened around me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to maintain balance. His hands explored my bare skin, sending waves of pleasure through me, and I gasped as he found my hardened nipples, teasing them with his thumbs. Suguru's hands continued to explore my body, his palms cupping my breasts with a gentle yet firm touch. He rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the sensation sending electric jolts of pleasure through my core. I moaned into his mouth, my hips rocking against his growing arousal.

Suguru broke the kiss, his gaze dropping to my chest. He kissed a path down my neck, his hands moving now to fully embrace my breasts. His mouth found my nipple which he sucked gently at first, then with increasing pressure before flicking his tongue against the sensitive peak. I gasped when his tongue sent waves of pleasure through my body. I gripped his hair before he switched to the other one, giving it equal attention as his teeth grazed it. The water around us grew choppy as our movements grew more urgent. Suguru's mouth left my breasts to kiss back my neck, leaving hickeys while his hands guided me to straddle him more firmly. I could feel the tip of his dick pressing against my entrance, and the anticipation was killing me. He bit my neck as he pushed just the tip of his dick inside me, the cold water of the lake rippling around us. My walls clenched around him as he stopped, savoring the feeling.

Biting his bottom lip, Suguru pushed his dick in one swift move, his tip hitting my cervix and sending a wave of pleasure mixed with pain that filled my body. My moan echoed through the quiet night, mingling with the distant sounds of the forest and the occasional splash of water. His movements grew more desperate, the water around us splashing with his rhythm. Each thrust sent a jolt of glee through me, my nails digging into his shoulders as I held on tightly. Our kisses grew more desperate with our lips crashing into each other while we chased the pleasure. Suguru's hands gripped my hips as he buried himself deeper with each powerful stroke. With each passing moment, his strokes grew more powerful and desperate, his grip on my hips tightening, almost bruising my skin. My body was on fire, the pain from Suguru's fingers digging into my soft skin was sending me closer to the edge. I could hear his muffled breaths growing ragged against my neck which was now covered with hickeys and bite marks.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted against my neck, his hips moving quicker and more forcefully beneath me. "I can feel every inch of you," he groaned, his teeth grazing my earlobe before biting down gently. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice ragged. My breaths grew shallow, my body trembling as I approached climax, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke when he hit my sweet spot. The overwhelming pleasure filled my body, my pussy clenching tightly around his dick as I mewled out his name, looking at him with glossy eyes, before he pushed his dick inside me, making me squirt all over him. The warm liquid spurted between us, mixing with the cool lake water as my pussy clenched tightly around his cock. "Fuck, yes," he murmured, his grip on my hips bruising as he held me in place, his cock pulsing deep inside me. His thrusts grew erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he chased his own release. "You're going to milk me dry," he rasped, his voice thick with need. "Look at me," he demanded, squishing my cheeks and pulling my face closer to his. "Look at me as I fill your pussy." I looked up, my eyes locking with his as his strokes grew more intense, his words of how good it felt only heightened my sensitivity. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he moaned before his warm cum filled me, my pussy greedily gripping his cock as he emptied himself inside me.

Suguru didn't stop moving his hips as he came, his cock pushing deeper with each spurt of cum that filled me up. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his eyes hooded with pleasure. "Your pussy is so tight, it's like it's made for me." We stayed like that for a moment, his lips leaving soft kisses on bite marks and hickeys that he left on me. The only sound was the quiet lapping of the lake water against our skin. I held him tightly, our hearts racing, as our shallow breaths filled the silence. The moon's light reflected off the water around us, a silent witness to our passion. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he spoke softly, his voice thick with satisfaction. "And it was worth every second of waiting." I smiled, my cheeks flushed, knowing that this was just the beginning of a week filled with us going wild.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk geto #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #geto suguru #smut #jujutsu geto #public smut

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