#how did a four year old know so much about the different types of silly little guys I have no idea but again. I was right
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Happy Birthday
Dax x Lucy [m!Lizardman x f!Human]
Note: Lucy and Dax are characters from a longer story and art series we are working on but we wanted to share some of the fun they have. If you want to see artwork of them, You can check Lucy here and Dax here.
Warnings/Tags: NSFW, monster x human story, dom/sub undertones, alien anatomy, size difference, domination, non-human genitalia, double penetration
Word Count: 1673
Dax walked into his room, it was already late, and the coldness of the night was wearing him out more than the long day he had. It was rare for him to feel that way, but right now, he only wanted to lie in bed and sleep until the sun was up. His kin didn’t take light to low temperatures, which was frustrating given their superior physical strength.
As he stepped into the space lit only by a handful of candles, he noticed Lucy standing by the bed, holding a huge platter. He could smell the raw meat and fruit from where he was standing. Her small frame looked even more petite in front of the frame of the huge bed, her red hair running down her back and the flames from the candle making it look like a reflection of sire.
“What is that?” He approached the small woman and tilted his head, observing the image before him. He wasn’t sure what was more appetizing, the dinner she was holding or her fragile body dressed in nothing but golden chains and jewelry.
“A birthday cake.” She responded with a smile, but a blush crept down her suntanned cheeks.
“A birthday cake?” Dax understood the concept of a birthday. It was when humans celebrated the day they were born. Xant’lians didn’t celebrate that. First, none of them knew when they were hatched, and no one kept track of that. Second, having a day that was somewhat supposed to be unique due to becoming a year old was a bit silly. Now there was a birthday cake?
“It’s a…when someone has a birthday…and we bake them this thing with flour and sweets to celebrate.” He could see she was feeling even more embarrassed. It all amused Dax a lot. Lucy worshiped their kind as if they were some gods. The woman would wear nothing but jewelry decoration, which would not bother her even one bit, but when she had to talk to him, she was suddenly closing up in that shell. “You don’t eat flour…or sweets…so I made a pile of meat and fruits.”
“I don’t have a birthday.” Dax laughed now. It was too much. His surprise and amusement were turning that into a comedy in his head.
“I know…but I thought it might be nice.” Her eyes pinned further down, and she pushed the platter toward him.
Dax considered all of it for a second. While he wasn’t hungry for food, there was another type of craving in him she could satisfy, and that probably made more sense to both of them.
“How about you give me that,” he took the massive plate off her hands. “And take everything you are wearing off.
Lucy did as she was asked without a second of hesitation. She gave him the platter and slowly took the golden chains, wrapping her body off and exposing her even more.
“Lie down,” Dax commanded, and she obeyed, pushing her petite body onto the bed. The pale sheets and the dim light from the candles in the room reflected nicely on her darker skin, but her green eyes sparkled.
Dax threw the meat on the floor and pulled a grape, placing it on her belly. He then grabbed a strawberry, putting it right under it. Dax did this with different fruits, balancing them on different parts of her torso. He could see Lucy’s breathing picking up with every step he made.
“If one of them falls because of you….” He didn’t need to finish that sentence as she tried to steady her breathing.
Once done, he climbed on the bed, careful not to move it too much. Dax showed her his long thick tongue, the four piercings on its tip reflecting the dim lights. He directed it first to that grape he had placed but then suddenly moved it between her legs, the metal studs rubbing against her clit.
Lucy did her best to stay calm and not to move, but it was so hard. Dax’s tongue was running against her, and all she wanted to do was moan and arch her body. She curled her toes and gripped the sheets with her hands doing her best to stay stable.
Eventually, Dax pulled away. She was frustrated but grateful because that was almost as much as she could take. His mouth moved to her belly, and he ate the fruit there, his sharp teeth rubbing against her tender skin. A moment later, he continued his pleasant torture, making it so hard for her to stay still. He repeated that same move several times, driving her so close to release, making it so hard for her to stay still, but she was also aware she was at his mercy, and if she moved in a way he didn’t like the game was over, or at least for her.
Dax climbed on top of her when all the fruit was gone from her body. His yellow eyes fixed on her face as his tongue reached down and started caressing her breasts and nipples. She could feel the warmth, the saliva, the slightly sticky substance that covered it, and the metal piercing rubbing against her pleasantly. His large body completely covered her, making her almost disappear between him and the bed.
“You might deserve a reward.” He positioned himself better, and Lucy looked between his legs.
Xant’lians were different and larger than humans in every aspect. Their scale-covered bodies were always cold, and their torsos and limbs were thicker and more powerful. But one of the most significant differences came between their legs. Xant’lians had two phalluses showing between their legs when aroused, and the shapes and sizes differed. Dax was probably one of the thickest she had ever seen, but his length was also covered with bumps, and parts of it were significantly enlarged than the rest.
Lucy had been with him for years, and she still couldn’t get over the feeling she experienced when with him. He pressed the sharper tip, one of his cocks against her entrance and the other against her ass. She could feel the natural lubrication coming from the two of them as he pushed, her body, this time arching against his big shape. Dax went slowly on her today, the first bump on his cocks entering both her holes simultaneously, making her feel even tighter. She felt a couple of inches of relief when she felt the next ridge, making her scream in pleasure, some more relief and then another.
Dax leaned on top of her, his heavy body pressing her hard against the sheets, his scales scratching her skin as his hips started moving, pulling his lengths out of her and then shoving them back again, this time faster, making the sensations even more intense. Lucy wrapped her arms around him, wanting to feel more of him but also unable to do anything else but moan and enjoy the sensation of having both of her holes filled.
His pace was fast, but he was also going almost all the out with every move, his skin rubbing against her clit, driving her to her first orgasm quickly. As he felt her shiver in his arms, he suddenly stopped, his length still in her, stretching her to her limit, but he didn’t move for a long moment. To her surprise, he slowly pulled out again, making her feel every bump and shape of his cocks, until he was completely free, and she felt empty.
“Come on top of me,” Dax commanded as he rolled on his back. Lucy obeyed, pushing herself up, already missing his massive body on top of her. “Not like that, with your back toward me.”
She obeyed again. Her legs straddled him, her back turned toward his face, and her long red hair ran down her spine.
“Do I need to tell you what to do?” Lucy felt the annoyance in his voice and realized he was expecting her to do it.
She moved up, positioning her petite body over his length. It wasn’t the first time she would slide her tiny frame on top of him, but it was always much more manageable when he did it. Lucy found the right angle, so both of his tips pointed at her holes and pushed herself down. Although he was in her a moment ago, she still felt her body's stretch and resistance to accommodate his unusual shape. Inchy by inch, she slid down, moaning and twisting her body to make the angle work. She started moving, but he was too big under her, and it was hard for her small frame to sustain any reasonable pace.
Dax must have been enjoying that, seeing her struggle as she was trying to please him, but then she felt his big cold hands on her body, pulling her, so her back pressed against his scaly chest. His tongue licked her neck as he started thrusting in her, slightly changing the angle for her and making her moan louder as he drove her into orgasm.
Dax didn’t care she had come. He continued the savage moves. Now that her body was even more sensitive and overstimulated, she was like a doll in his grip, every part of her body exposed for his hands to grab, and her tongue was mercilessly licking her neck and reaching for her mouth. She knew he could go for a long time, and so he did. Not changing the position, just the pace, but making sure she could feel every bump and ridge on him as she came twice on top of him before he finally found his release filling both of her holes with a sticky hot liquid.
Dax helped her move from him once he was finally pleased. She felt so weak but in a pleasant way, her powerful arms placing her on the bed next to him as if she was light as a father.
“Do that instead of cake next time.” He laughed as he said that.
#monster x fem#monster lover#monster love#monster march#monster romance#monster x human#lizardman x human#monsterfucking#monster smut#terato#oc#original story
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do you know what’s been stuck in my mind… the gingko being mama’s boy/girl. do you have anything like headcanons/drabbles to feed my mind🙏 ofc only if you have time for it!!!
I'm technically on a "no posting until new years break" BUT I did say that I was gonna be answering my asks like normal. Plus it's ginkgo! I can't not talk about ginkgo! I'm just gonna do short headcanons per kid because I'm writing for five of them rip-
Yánjiāng
Mama's boy through and through
However, Yánjiāng likes to show his affection for people he loves by teasing and lightly bullying them and unfortunately his mom gets it the worst (affectionate)
It's mostly because they're short compared to all their children and husband, and Yánjiāng is the tallest of the ginkgo kids.
A lot of putting things out of reach and pretending to use his mom's head as an armrest, and he gets the dumbest shit eating grin whenever they scold him.
He also does it so he can be the one to help his mom when they need something.
Wifey knows it's all in good fun so they don't actually scold him when he does it, but man when they do scold him for real, the shame is so palpable. He looks like a kicked puppy.
If anyone hurts his mom, he might not be the first to attack but he's definitely leading the other ginkgo kids and he's hitting the hardest. He gets that from his father.
Lihua
I'd say she's a daddy's girl
I think she's equally close with both parents and in different ways, but it's her father's validation she wants more
It's not that she doesn't want to impress her mom, but more that she doesn't worry about disappointing Wifey the same way she worries about disappointing Morax
When she was still a little boy I imagine the two of them would have done a lot of typically masculine activities, namely a lot of play fighting and training, but as she grew up and was figuring things out, she hung out with her mom more and enjoyed "feminine" activities
She was pretty confident he would support her transition, but was worried they weren't going to have the same bond as before she came out
Was SUPER relieved when he was not only super supportive of her coming out, but actively took interest in her new hobbies/interests
She lets him braid her hair or do her makeup
She's also a little cocky like Yánjiāng so she likes to say she's the favourite child/daughter, and she still calls him "baba"
Zhusha
She's actually closer to her mother than father
I not only imagine her looking the most like Wifey, but also acting the most like them too
She's not as rowdy as her siblings, so it's more natural that while they're roughhousing and what not, Zhusha sticks with the other family introvert
She happens to control sedimentary rocks, and you know what's in sedimentary rocks? Sand and clay
You get glass from sand and pottery from clay, so as such I think she would have naturally drifted more towards art and specifically sculpting, so that's how her and Wifey bond
I just really like the mental image I have in my head of Zhusha making the bowls and vases while Wifey paints them
In my head Wifey's always preferred drawing and painting over sculpting, but that's my own bias towards drawing
I don't get to talk about her as much as the others and I should do that more
Yaling
Absolute daddy's girl
All the ginkgo kids have pointier canines but only her and Feng have big ol fangs like baba (Feng's are bigger though, he's got CHOMPERS)
Unlike her siblings though she did NOT get his height and she WILL stay mad about that
She's still taller than mom but STILL
Loves listening to her baba's rambling, especially about geology
Literally them
Also she's the type that presents herself as very Mature and Serious, but is actually not just very silly but also an absolute menace
Whenever her older siblings would go to tell on her she'd put on the waterworks and run to Morax like "baba they're bullying me!!!"
Nothing is more infuriating than seeing the evil smirk of a four year old girl while your father scolds you for something you didn't even do
That only worked a few times when she was very little, it stops working once you're older than like six and your parents have figured it out, or when you reach the age that your siblings can dish back to you without mercy
Feng
He's a big ole mama's boy
He's a golden retriever himbo with a great big heart of gold, and because Wifey is still a "mortal" he wants to make sure they're safe and happy and all that good stuff
He and his sister also share the most resemblance with Wifey
When Feng lost his leg, Wifey was the only member of the family he could be comforted by, he didn't want to be around his siblings and couldn't handle being around Morax
Tldr: Feng had a forge and the rule was that he could only go in if Morax was there, Feng went in and ended up pouring metal on his leg which ended in him getting it amputted
He already felt awful because he felt like those were the consequences of his actions, but felt worse when Morax suggested he lose forge privileges for a while because he broke the rules
That sparked a whole argument between him and Wifey because Feng lost his leg, that's punishment enough, which also made him feel bad because he'd never seen his parents argue before and it was about him
He was too ashamed and upset to be around Morax until Wifey put them in the same room and made them talk it out
This story does have a happy ending, I promise. Feng loves his dad, they get along really well, but who knows what would have become of them if not for Wifey.
Anything my beta reader adds onto this in regards to the twins is also canon fyi, she basically yoinked them and we have joint custody
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My June/July Reading Review
Not as excited to share this time, because I don't have as many books - or as much variety - despite being a double month. Life has been extremely busy, and I had to put my reading mostly on hold for a bit. This led to a reading slump even when things got more manageable, so I have been concentrating on getting out of the slump. I permitted myself to read lots of short, fun things in order to get back into the reading habit, as that has worked in the past and I know I'll be intentional about reading slightly more difficult works once the habit is re-established. But it does make me feel silly typing this up. On, then.
"Nicholas Nickleby" adapted by Tim Kelly (Play, literary adaptation) - FOUR STARS - As some may know, Dickens' novel is extremely close to my heart and figured into several important passages of my life. I was extremely keen to propose a Dickens adaptation for next years' school play, and was very impressed with this one. (Of course no adaptation will ever compare to the Royal Shakespeare Company's eight hour stage adaptation, which is possibly one of the best adaptations of anything ever, but if we're doing Nickleby in two hours, with students, Tim Kelly has done a pretty great job.) Alas, for financial reasons we need to go with a free script rather than one that requires licensing, so we're falling back on good old Shakespeare, but I am glad I got the chance to order this one in and read it.
Beren and Luthien by JRR Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien (epic poetry, fantasy, mythology, Tolkien legendarium,) - FOUR AND A HALF STARS - My appreciation of the tale truly benefited from reading this anthology. It's remarkable to see how Tolkien's imagination reinvented itself over time. The first version of Beren and Luthien feels like an Edwardian children's short story, with Luthien the fairy hiding behind a flower from the gnome Beren, and singing a song of long things like ladders and vines and the lives of cats to magically give herself Rapunzel hair! And of course the absolute delight of the Sauron character instead being "Tevildo, Prince of Cats" who loves napping in the sun! The later versions have cool variation too - the poetry really emphasizes different aspects than the prose tellings. I also love the dignity and equality of both Beren and Luthien, and how they are equally heroic. Luthien especially is wonderful to me.
The Whispering Skull; The Hollow Boy; The Creeping Shadow (Books 2-4 in the Lockwood & Co series) by Jonathan Stroud (MG, mystery, adventure, thriller, supernatural) For sheer enjoyment, I'd give the second book 2 1/2 stars, and the third and fourth books 5 stars. They are for the most part intelligently written, and just such a blast. (The fun is enhanced by the fact that my brother frequently asks me to narrate the story to him (as opposed to reading it,) and so I get to unleash my love of storytelling. Book 2 is okay, but has middle book syndrome in a way the others don't. Books three and four have better plots and characterization on the whole. I read the scene at the Rotwell Institute at 2 AM during a terrific storm, and though it did not creep me out, I did get a nice suspenseful shiver! (These books don't spook me at all - suspense is really the operative word here.)
"The Mousetrap" by Agatha Christie (play, mystery) - THREE STARS (and that might be rounding up) - My sister had read the entire Agatha Christie canon save this one, as they were kind of her thing in her teens. I have not read as many, but I've definitely read at least twenty-five of her books, plus a large number of short stories and plays. But for many years we had a pact that we would neither of us read this play, because we had an ambition to travel to London and see it on its original run (now more than seventy years running!) at St. Martin's Theatre. Now we're both adults and very much have our own lives, and I am about to embark to England without her, so we decided it was time to mutually break the pact. We had meant to see a community theatre production February, but that fell through, so we made tea and had a spot of reader's theatre. We had tremendous fun, even though the play itself was only so-so - certainly by Agatha Christie's standards. Maybe we just know her too well as an author. That being said, the reader's theatre session was a hoot. We watched this trailer first:
youtube
and predicted what all the characters' personalities and backstories were just from the trailer, as well as the murderer's identity. We were correct on almost everything. It also added to the fun because we based all our character voices on the appearances of this cast. My sister stole the show, as far as I was concerned, with her comedic performance as Christopher Wren (the guy in the sleeveless pullover.) I think we actually had more fun doing reader's theatre than we would've seeing it in person.
The Frugal Wizard's Guide to Surviving Medieval England by Brandon Sanderson (science fiction, historical fantasy, dimension-hopping) 3 STARS. Fun, but really not Sanderson's best. As always with Sanderson, read it aloud to my brother, and the connection with him is always a good thing.
Ongoing:
Five Children on the Western Front (I can't wait to do my writeup of this one - it's really good!)
An enormous collection of Medieval and Renaissance Italian short stories. For some months I've been reading through the first volume of a multivolume anthology series of the world's great stories, organized by time and country. The first half of this volume was all ancient tales (and, with the exception of Cupid and Psyche, all stories not included in your standard mythologies and such.) Now I am in the second half, and reading all the stories Shakespeare used as inspiration for his stories. The original ending to Romeo and Juliet is... something.
Epistle to the Romans - I continue my slow deep dive, working my way through it with copious notes, two commentaries, sundry articles, etc.
Iphigeneia in Tauris by Euripides - I do mean to keep liveblogging this.
The Empty Grave by Stroud (last Lockwood of them all)
Beowulf (reread)
Fellowship (reread)
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A non-obligatory 2022 year-end wrap-up
I am old enough to remember when it was really easy to lose contact with folks when you or they moved to different states. Without social media or instant messaging, there wasn't the easy type of access to knowing what is going on with a person as there is today. Long-distance phone calls were expensive - for emergencies, chats on birthdays, the weekly call to your mother timed so as to not cost so much. There were no digital Christmas cards. We mailed old fashion, snail mail cards with chatty family newsletters to tell everyone what the family had been up to that year. One letter summarizing the year for everyone - your friends from high school, co-workers, extended family, old boyfriend's parents- everyone got one really chatty and carefully worded letter.
It wasn't that different than today's social media, in its way. We generally put on the best face. If we bought a new home, did renovations, or purchased a new car, then generally the family pic was taken in front of that big purchase - or there would be a family pic of this summer's great beach trip. We would tell about our pets. If we started a new job. If someone graduated from school. If we were planning a move. I loved receiving and writing those letters until the year I got a divorce. Then, I didn't know how to put that in a charming, fun letter. It didn't seem Christmas spirit-like to tell people who didn't already know what was, for me, the absolute most devastating news. So I sent signature cards - no time to write more - love you and miss you. I was surprised by the number of friends I hadn't seen in a few years calling to say - "What the heck is going on? What's the matter?"
It's been a long time since those once-a-year newsy letters were needed. We post our most commonplace days and even our commonplace meals - on social media. I started,a few years ago, doing a New Year's blog which is not so much "here is the news" and instead "here is where my mind is at right now". One year I wrote about my journey as a super fan. Another of my favorite books of the year. The third year of my New Year's resolution. In the last couple of years pandemic New Year's Blogs. This year, I seriously decided not to write one. No one will miss it. Not sure who reads it. No one cares, but, then, I was reminded of not wanting to tell people I was divorced. 2022 deserves a blog.
For me, this will always be the year my best friend died. I don't mean my BFF. I mean someone I met in 1975. Someone I lived with on four different occasions. Someone I had argued and fought with and laughed and been silly with and the one person in the entire world I knew would be there for me no matter what. There are a couple of paragraphs in Bob Dylan's new book The Philosophy of Modern Song describing "Come Rain or Come Shine" which perfectly describes Tyoka's and mine friendship. "Whether you're in good humor or dissatisfied it's all the same, and your affection for each other is lodged in the brain, the nervous system. Whether you have peace of mind or you're down in the mouth, this friendship is longstanding and formidable. Upbeat or downbeat, fidelity is beyond question. Your involvement unchanging with wholehearted respect, this love is conclusive and deep in your subconscious."
Last Thursday afternoon as my work week was ending and I was happy to have a four-day Holiday to enjoy, I thought to myself - "Oh, I should call Tyoka" and, then, I burst into tears. Throughout the weekend, I missed her - not because I spent every holiday with her - but because, if we were not going to spend Holidays together there would be phone calls, texts, gifs, connection, and communication.
Those, then, are my thoughts this New Years. I am grateful for the fact that I live in a day when we don't even know the meaning of a long-distance call. We can zoom, and we can text. Those days of the nice, long Christmas letter are, in fact, behind us for the good -mostly.
This brings us to 2022 as a whole. I attended a Dylan concert. I traveled to Seattle to see my friend Cathy and my favorite writer, David Duchovny, I went to see Tyoka twice this summer and, also, met my friend Charmion and her daughter IRL for the first time. It's good face-to-face and back in person. It's, also, terrifying as so many people I know have been really ill this year. I did less of the virtual entertainment activities I did in the previous two years - they were not as available. I find that sad. I feel changed forever over the last two years. Some of the changes are good. Some are not. I don't think we know yet what the last two years will bring in terms of permanent changes to the way we approach the world.
I am fine. If you knew me when I was twenty, forty, or today, I am as quirky and odd as always. Still don't seem to fit anywhere in this life. I am quick to make a joke, but sadness, fear, and uncertainty are close enough to the surface that I still make a lot of stupid personal decisions and wrong choices. I'm still most excited when I have good work to do. I still am writing. I still dance when alone throughout my day. I can still be extremely passionate about the lyrics of certain songs. My primary resolution for the next year is to learn to cook a variety of foods so that I don't waste food by throwing it in the garbage - so, yes, apples can become apple sauce or an apple/ carrot soup. It's not so much about eating healthier or cheaply as it is about feeling guilty for buying and then throwing out food. That is guilt I can get rid of. It is a thing over which I have control.
Perhaps, I would have more to say about the state of the world and be able to express wise words if I wasn't so preoccupied with my own grief and day-by-day adjusting to a changing world. That is 2022 for me and yet, there isn't a day when I don't find some joy.
Here is something I've been thinking about which I will use to end this blog. As I age, I find the bounce in resiliency to be very different. I don't bounce back from a fall, a fail or a hardship well as I once did, but, maybe, the true bounce should come from standing strong and letting things bounce off of you - not to fall, not to see things as failures but as opportunities for growth, That's a second resolution, I guess, to practice a different type of resiliency.
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@valiantarcher asked for something happy with small Rinnyx and Dommil. It was fun having a different perspective on Rinnyx in the Cypren bit, so I tried it again here with Dommil!
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I’m a big enough man to admit that my littlest brother is smarter than I am.
Alright, I suppose I won’t be a man for another year yet - I’m seventeen - but with the last four years I’ve had, I’ll claim it ahead of schedule. Rinnyx is only seven, which probably ought to make it all the more embarrassing that he’s smarter than me, but I’m just… proud of him, I suppose. Not as though I had anything to do with it, but still.
We all speak Pelasian and Idan in our family, of course - you need that, if you want to be able to handle any travelers who come through. But there was a group of Westish merchants staying at our in, sitting together and speaking Westish at their table - and Rinnyx just goes up and starts talking to them. No one ever taught him Westish. They were all delighted with him. I thought he must be talking gibberish to them, but when I asked what kind of nonsense he’d been spouting, I was told he’d actually formed a few sentences. “Not all what you’d call proper speech, mind, but he knew what he was saying.” Just by listening to people talk, travelers who have come through our place over the years, he figured out enough to do that, all on his own. You see what I mean? In ten years more on the earth, maybe I’ve had the chance to come to know more things than he has - though I’m not confident even of that - but he’s smarter than I’ll ever be.
Now he gets proper teaching in language from the chapel school. Mama says the next time we have Westish customers he can order their drinks, though I’m not sure his teacher has been focusing on words for different types of alcohol. I try to help him study, but I’m not much use for that.
I look over the book they gave him for studying, to try to help test him on the words, and it all looks like nonsense to me. I read one off haltingly and he just stared at me in confusion. I try again.
“Oh,” Rinnyx says, and repeats a word that sounds a little bit like what I had been saying, and also sounds as though someone else is speaking out of my brother’s mouth. “That means city.”
“And…” I try very hard to test the next one out in my mind before I say it aloud, but he winces before I get past the first syllable. I want to toss the book in frustration, but instead I look up at the ceiling and take a deep breath.
“I don’t think I’m helping you any, Rinrin.”
“No, you are!” he insists. “Ask me another!”
I just shake my head. “I’m not cut out for this sort of thing like you are.”
“Well,” he says encouragingly, “You’ve learned Pelasian already. Hope Evemar says it’s one of the hardest languages to learn, and you’ve been speaking it nearly your whole life. He’s traveled to lots of different places, so he knows things like that.”
The study of Pelasian is avoided for more than one reason, of course, but it’ true that that’s one of them. To Rinnyx, though, I act as though this is totally new information. “So I did as a baby what plenty of grown men can’t pull off?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
He laughs, and nods excitedly. “That’s right! Do you ever think about how that works? I’m sure it was never so hard for me to learn Pelasian or even Idan as this is, but shouldn’t it be easier to learn things when I get older? I’m a lot smarter than a baby now.”
“It doesn’t seem like it’s hard for you.”
He groans. “But there’s so much I don’t know yet! Come on, come on, ask me another.”
I think for a moment first, about his earlier question. “Maybe you only think it’s harder now because you’re old enough to notice your mistakes,” I suggest. “You said some pretty silly things when you were learning how to talk.”
“Like what?” he says, leaning forward, already forgetting he’d asked me for another word, and I know he’ll drag me off into reminiscing if we don’t get back on track. “Like -” I glance down at the book, and don’t worry at all about pronouncing the next word right. Rinnyx laughs loudly, repeats it, and tells me what it means.
I suppose I could worry a bit less about making mistakes, too. I can’t be doing that badly by him.
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—chapter four: white lies
this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.
pairing: jeon jungkook/reader
genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut
word count: 1.5k
summary: it came easy to you to lie. but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.
previous || next
one year and 6 months ago
April was exceptionally moody that year.
Every day you woke up to either heavy rainfall or a beautiful, cloudless sky. Alternatively, it could also snow for a couple of hours just to have it all vanish once the sun reappeared. As much as you loved Spring, you hated the capricious weather with passion.
It was a normal, peaceful, Saturday afternoon. Saturday meant no classes to attend, no work to do on the side. It was just you in your small, cozy apartment, tucked underneath the blanket and binge-watching Attack On Titan.
You were never an anime enthusiast per se, but you happened to befriend a doe-eyed weeb all those years ago. Your current occupation was just a part of the aftermath. It wasn’t like Jungkook was obsessed, not at all. He was actually far from it. Now, at the tender age of twenty-three, his old hobby was like a relapse. His love for anime was coming in waves every once in a while, gradually transforming into a two-months-long hyperfixation and then, it was nothing. And the cicle continued.
He was currently in the stage of re-watching Attack On Titan, hence why you had been forced to finally give the damned anime a try as well. Hell, he was even coming over tonight to have a marathon with you.
(He’d said that season three, his favourite, you had to watch alongside him.)
You: eren's annoying little shit
Jungkook: told you so
You: but levi? damn I’d sell my soul for him
Jungkook: for a 5’2 emotionally unavailable man?
You: yep. that’s my type
It was far from truth. As much as you liked Captain Levi, he wasn’t Jungkook. You are my type, you wanted to write instead. There hadn’t been a man in my life who managed to even come close to you. But, as always, you kept those confessions to yourself.
Right when you were about to play another episode, your phone buzzed again.
Jungkook: I have a weird question
You: I’m used to that
You: shoot your shot.
Jungkook: what’s your finger size?
Confused, you read his last message once again. That was indeed a weird fucking question to ask, you thought. You had never really been a fan of rings. You only owed one - a gift from your grandmother she gave you for your sixteenth birthday. Rummaging thorough your drawer, you found it in a separate, black case.
It still fit just right, so you took a ruler, measured the size and googled the results.
You: it’s 7.5 I guess
You: why do you ask tho?
Jungkook: I need you to go somewhere with me before our marathon if that’s okay
You: you didn’t answer my question
You: but okay. what time?
Jungkook: ill pick you up at 5pm
Jungkook: you’ll see
Maybe it was for the better he hadn’t told you where he was taking you. If you had know, you would have backed away last minute. Come up with so lame excuse, blame it all on a headache or period cramps.
If you had known Jungkook was taking you to pick up an engagement ring for Soojin, you would have never come with him.
When you parked in front of one of the most high-ranking jewellery stores dowtown, the solemnity of the situation hit you like a whiplash. You took a deep, shuddering breath. Jungkook was thinking about marrying Soojin. Jungkook was going to propose to her, soon. He was ready to spent the rest of his life with her.
Jeon Jungkook, the love of your life, was about to slip out of your reach for good.
You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. You clenched your fists so tight the knuckles turned white.
“I figured out you could help me,” Jungkook said, breaking the silence and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I checked Soojin's finger size once when she was showering and then I found out that your’s the same and well, you’re a girl so you obviously know more about jewellery than me and–”
“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a dry chuckle. You didn’t want him to speak. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to jumped off his car and ran away from that place as far as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”
You smiled at him with reassurance. It was actually hilarious, how you mastered the art of feigning your real feelings when you were with him. It came easy to you to lie but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.
“I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about chosing something horrible.”
He grinned and you noticed a dust of pink covering the apples his cheeks. It was hard, so fucking hard seeing him happy because that was all you ever wanted and yet it pained you not to be the main source of it. Jungkook was twenty-three and already so in love he wanted to get married. You were going to see him in a black tux, a prince charming waiting in front of the altar for his princess.
It ached. Why did it ache to see him happy?
The lady who worked at the jewellery store greeted you politely with a bow. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“We are looking for engagement rings.” Jungkook answered.
You could tell she was a bit astounded but her professional smile never faltered when she responded with, “Oh, that’s still quite unusual to see the couple chosing an engagement ring together.”
You were about to protest but then, Jungkook did something you would never expect him to do.
He grasped your hand.
(It was warm. His touch was soothing. Comforting. Then why did it hurt so bad?)
“My girlfriend wants to chose the ring herself but she doesn’t know when she will get it.”
To make matters worse, he sent you a wink. The store’s clerk cooed at the scene and clasped a hand over her chest. For her it was yet another day at work, yet another pair of adults who had decided to get marry.
“You make a really beautiful couple.” she said.
Even Jungkook’s hand squeezing yours couldn’t ease the sting you felt hearing her speak those words to you. You smiled lightly for good measure. She then pointed at the display and gave you some time and space too look at the options.
Your whole face felt hot. Jungkook was still holding your hand, still playing the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn’t seem to notice what kind of effect it had on you. He didn’t know how fast your heart was beating, how warm his touch felt on your skin. It was all just a silly joke to him.
He leaned closer to you, so the store's clerk couldn’t hear him. His breath tickled your skin. “You’re blushing.” he whispered.
“Shut up.”
He chuckled and let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
(No matter how much it hurt you on the inside, you already missed his touch.)
“It’s okay. Let’s chose my damned ring, shall we?” you proposed, mustering a nonchalant tone.
Dodging uneasiness with humor always worked out, it seemed.
You felt odd and out of place standing next to him and staring at all those glimmering jewels. In the corner of the eye you saw the lady who worked there glancing at you from time to time and that was when you remembered you were supposed to act like a soon-to-be fiancée.
“They’re all pretty.” you said to Jungkook.
“Which one you like the most then?”
You didn’t have to think long about the answer. The ring with an emerald stone caught your eye from the beginning. It was different than the others, definitely not a standard choice for engagement but something about its peculiarity made you want it to have it shinning on your finger one day.
Except, you weren’t here for yourself. Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were helping him chose a ring for Soojin. And you knew exactly what she would like.
So you pointed at the number thirty-two. A sparkling, white-gold ring with an oval-shaped diamond.
Jungkook let out a hum. “It’s really pretty, yeah. Excuse me,” he called. “My girlfriend would like to try out this one.”
You ignored the phantom pain you felt as you put the ring on. You flexed your fingers and just for a moment, you pretended it wasn’t a farce your best friend came up with. The diamond shone brightly just like the glimmers of happiness in Jungkook's eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Soojin's answer. He knew it would be thousand times yes.
You were good at pretending. After all, you had been practicing the art of it almost your entire life.
So you drove with Jungkook to your apartment and listened to him babbling about his newest project at work. You made snacks, sat in front of your TV and spent the next couple of hours watching Attack On Titan. You cursed him for spoiling you a few bits of the show and Jungkook, like the petty Virgo he was, reminded you how you accidentally revealed him Little Women's ending because you had read the book years before.
As you laughed and bickered with him, you still remembered about the crimson box tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, but you didn’t allow yourself to break. Not yet.
It was only when Jungkook fell asleep around 1am that you stepped into the shower and let the tears flow.
And a week later, when the dreaded became real–
Jungkook: she said yes!!!
A white lie was told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.
You: I’m so happy for you, Jungkook!
After all, the best you could do was give up your happiness for the sake of his own.
#jungkook smut#btswritingcafe#ksmutclub#bangtanarmynet#bangtanhq#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#bts smut#my writing#an ode to a broken heart
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Lost Love’s Ruination (Viego/Reader)
Done at last! Was desperate to get this one out before Isolde was released for obvious reasons, so glad I got it done xD
Once again, I tried to make it that you don't need any lore knowledge to get what's going on, though I would recommend maybe watching Ruination (the league short). Also no apologies for all the Senna because I love herrrrr
As a warning, there is smut at the end. Hope you enjoy it :)
----
A woman’s body, her beauty spoiled in apparent death, was lowered into beautiful crystalline waters. You couldn’t see who was lowering her into the water, or who stood around viewing the scene. You never could.
As it always did, the water grew poisoned with death as the woman revived from the dead, her features twisted with anger and confusion. Like a caged animal that had been freed, she lashed out, ripping a great blade out of someone’s grasp, and before you could react, the blade was plunged into your chest.
With a gasp, you woke up, your body broken out in a cold sweat, like it always did when you had that particular dream. You had had that dream many times before, but it never got any less terrifying. Long ago, you had considered visiting a dream reader to decipher what the horrifying nightmare meant, but you were scared that you would be told you were cursed and gave up on ever knowing.
It was a relief that most days you didn’t have much time to worry about your nightmares. You had been working on a farm in rural Demacia ever since you had been taken in at age four. You had been told that you were the only survivor of a fire, but you had been so young that you had no memories of the fire, or of your parents.
The owner of the farm had given you a home, but he was far from being family. You were given enough food to survive, but no more, and it was always contingent on you working on the farm seven days a week. You were grateful to have a bed to sleep in at night, even as hard as it was, but couldn’t help but feel some envy watching the other girls in your town go about their lives without the responsibilities that you had.
You might as well get up, even with how early you had woken up. Today was sheep shearing day, the longest day of the year for you. The sheep liked you more than they liked the owner, so that meant that you were stuck shearing all the sheep by yourself while he went to the town bar all day.
Putting on your old and worn boots with a sigh, you wished you could find a way out of this life. But you had no skills besides farming, and no money. The only way a girl like you could get out of this life was to marry a likely-older man, and that was something you wanted to avoid at all costs. The owner’s brother had previously expressed an interest in you, but luckily for you the owner hated his brother, or you would have likely had to live on the streets to avoid that marriage made in hell.
The owner was out in the field feeding the sheep when you exited the farmhouse. He glanced up at you, but you knew better than to expect a good morning, instead heading towards the small shed to fetch your shears.
Only when you returned to the field did he finally speak up. “Have some buyers comin’ for the wool tomorrow, so make sure it’s done today.”
“Right,” you answered. He was always the gruff, no-nonsense type, so you knew by now that talking back would get you nowhere. You had learned that lesson soon after you had come to this place twenty years ago. He was your employer, not your father, and he made sure you never forgot that.
“Alright, I’m off then,” he said, giving the field of sheep one more look over before heading inside to change out of his overalls.
You finished setting your things up as the owner left for the bar. You watched as he headed down the road, knowing that he wouldn’t be back until late. You didn’t really mind when he was gone, even if that meant you had a larger workload; he never seemed to have any interest in you other than what you could do on the farm, so he wasn’t one for long conversation. Without him around, you were at least able to relax and work without feeling like you had someone breathing down your neck to finish faster.
Luckily, the sheep were more than willing to listen to your worries, even if they didn’t understand what you were saying.
“I just want to stop having that dream,” you said as you began shearing one of your favorite sheep, Tulip. The owner had no interest in naming his livestock, so the job was left to you. Names didn’t make a difference to the owner, but it made a big difference to you, even as sad as it was to have your only friends be farm animals.
“I just wish I could make them go away,” you told the uninterested sheep. “Things would be much easier if I could dream about grass like you probably do, Tulip.”
Tulip turned her head to face you and you sighed, petting her freshly-sheared back. You always felt silly talking to the sheep, but it wasn’t like you had any better options around here.
Every time you had dreamed of a more exciting life, you had backed down and given up on your plans. Beyond your lack of money or skills, you knew very little about the world outside your small farming town. You had only been outside the town once, many years ago when you went with the owner to help pick out some new livestock from a larger town.
As your life stood right now, you had very little idea of what your future would be like. Would you eventually get tired of this life and set out on your own, get married off, or stay here until you were old and gray? None of those options seemed particularly appealing to you, but for now, all you could do was sit here and talk to sheep about your nightmares, wishing you could have a chance to see more of the world than your small town.
It was already a pretty warm day, and handling heavy sheep’s wool wasn’t helping. You had sheared about half the sheep by midday, but your work had been slowing down, likely due to your poor night of sleep. You would have to pick up the pace considerably if you wanted to finish in time to get any sleep tonight.
You had been pushing through your increasing thirst for at least an hour in the name of finishing on time, but had finally given in and headed inside for some water. Your dry throat ached, but the water was still nice, as you knew the owner would be upset if you passed out from dehydration before you finished your day’s work.
As much as you didn’t want to go back out there, you knew you had to work to earn your keep. It was a little harder to stay focused on work when you were dirty, sweaty and covered in balls of wool, but you had to push through and just look forward to a nice bath after the day was done.
You paused to stretch as you stood before the front door, knowing it would be back to work as soon as you were back outside. Stretching only served to emphasize how sore you were feeling after several hours of tedious work, with many more still to go. That was the same reason why you hadn’t bothered to pick the excess wool off of your clothes; why bother when you would look like a patchy sheep by the end of the day anyways?
Saying goodbye to your brief moment of rest, you opened the door at last, reluctantly ready to get back to work. Looking out over the area, you were surprised to see the field in more chaos than you had left it.
Your stool had been knocked over, but that was easy enough to fix; your real problem came from the sheep. You had expected them to wander around the field while not under your supervision, but the scene before you was something you had never experienced before.
The sheep were all crowded along the fence that faced the way into town. Walking closer, you could see nothing along the road that led past other farms and into town, at least nothing that would catch the attention of the entire flock of sheep. The dirt road was clear, the only noise around drifting over from the other nearby farms, but that wasn’t unusual.
You walked closer to the sheep, still unsure of what their problem was. You had never seen them act like this before, not even when large carts would pass by them travelling on the road. Could they see something that you couldn’t? You had never heard of sheep having supernatural senses, but were having a difficult time coming up with any other explanation for their sudden strange behavior.
Approaching the sheep, you tried to gently pry one away from the fence, but it wouldn’t budge, digging its hooves into the ground with an indignant bleat. You tried the same tactic with several other sheep, but were met with the same stubborn refusal to move. Even Tulip rebuffed you, regardless of any pleading on your part. What was wrong with these sheep?
You covered your eyes with your hands, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. You really didn’t need this right now. You had a job to do, and a limited amount of time to get the job done or the owner would surely be upset with you. You would have to do whatever it took to get the sheep to comply with you, even if the owner was unhappy with you using extra hay as a bribe.
Before you could return your focus to the sheep in front of you, you were interrupted by a loud bleating from all around you. Removing your hands from your eyes, you looked around you to the flock of loudly-bleating sheep, and then back to the still-empty area ahead of you, still utterly confused as to what was happening.
All of a sudden, the sheep were desperate to be anywhere but where they were as they all turned and fled away from the fence. Unfortunately, you were unable to move in time and were sent falling to the ground, which was not helping your already-sore back. Sitting up with a groan, you lamented how rough your day was going, at least until you looked out at the scene beyond the fence.
Where there had been nothing out of the ordinary before, now you could see something that was not there before. Far off in the horizon, so far that you had to squint to see it, was a patch of dark black-green in the sky.
Standing up, you leaned over the fence, trying to see what it was when suddenly the patch grew bigger, or as you realized with a gasp, it was getting closer. The horrible black-green sky got closer still, close enough for you to tell that it was not sky after all, but a thick, dark mist, and it seemed to be closing in on your small town.
And then your world was swallowed by black.
Senna sat in the small boat, watching as the black-green mist began to dissipate, knowing that its creator had vanished as well. She could feel nothing but guilt and dread; she had failed not only herself, but all of Runeterra. Now that the ruined king had the memories, he was one step closer to achieving his goal, and then his focus would turn to the world that he felt had let him down.
“We have to find the girl,” Senna said suddenly, watching as the last of the mist faded from the cliff they had just been on.
“The girl?” Lucian asked.
Senna turned to face her husband. How often she forgot that Lucian hadn’t seen what she had seen, didn’t know what she knew. But this was no time to get lost in the past, not when so much was at stake.
“His wife died a long time ago,” she began as Lucian took hold of the boat’s steering wheel. “I’ve held her memory within me since the mist came to my island when I was a child. Now that he has her memory, he will seek out her body to reunite the two.”
“He’s looking for a thousand-year-old corpse?” Lucian sounded dubious.
“No,” Senna sighed ruefully. “His wife was reborn, but she has no memories of her past life. He thinks that he can force her memory into her new body and return her to his side.”
Only when it got closer did you realize the true amount of trouble you were in. The dark mist began to swallow the land, the sky, covering everything in its path as it headed straight towards your farm.
As it got even closer, you began to see more detail in the ominous mist, taken aback when you noticed ethereal green streaks in the mist that crawled along the black mist as if they were alive. This was no ordinary storm, no, this mist looked downright sinister. You stared, frozen with terror, until the screams from one of the neighboring farms snapped you out of your petrified stupor.
You had to run. Now.
You backed up a few steps, knowing that you had to leave but afraid to take your eyes off of the rapidly-approaching deathly black mist. Turning around at last, you ran across the field and towards the woods beyond the back gate of the property, hoping to find some safety within the dense forest.
The sheep had already got there first and were trying to break down the back gate to escape. The field was large, as you also had many crops growing, sections of which had been trampled underfoot by the terrified animals as they fled.
You were halfway across the field when the sheep scattered, bleating loudly as they gave up on the back gate, running instead to cower in their pen. As they moved away from the gate, you noticed with horror that the black mist was now rolling out from the woods as well. Stopping in your tracks, you looked around you, only to see that the mist was coming at the farm from every direction. You were trapped, and the mist was only getting closer to engulfing you.
Desperately looking for any way out of your impending death, you caught sight of the farmhouse. If you couldn’t escape this mist, then maybe you could delay its effects by hiding in the cellar of the farmhouse long enough for help to arrive. It was the only option you could see other than waiting here to die, so you took it.
Your legs were burning from all the sprinting you had been doing in the last few minutes, but you couldn’t stop, not when it was the cellar or certain death. You were almost to the farmhouse, so close you could almost feel the temporary safety within your grasp, when the looming mist beat you there, swallowing the house into its depths just as you were about to reach the door.
Jerking back with a scream, you backed away from the writhing mist, not wanting it to touch your skin. By now, the mist had surrounded the farm, so close to you that you could no longer see the fences that surrounded the property.
You stood still, having nowhere to run as the mist surrounded you on all sides. Shaking with fear, you were surprised when the mist stopped advancing, leaving you in the middle of a circular patch of field.
You watched with wide eyes, waiting for the mist to swallow you, but it didn’t come any closer. You weren’t dead, but it wasn’t like this situation was much better. You couldn’t fight off a supernatural mist with sheep shears, and even if you could, they were on the ground somewhere in that mist.
The farmland was deathly silent; you could no longer hear the screams of your neighbors or the bleating of the sheep. Now that it was so close and with nowhere to go, you had nothing to do but stare at the mysterious fog that surrounded you.
It was dark, so dark that you couldn’t see through it, the sickly green streaks running around the edge of the mist like circling sharks. Following them with your eyes, you struggled to figure out what they were. You had a very limited worldview to draw on, the only comparison coming to mind being like a ghoul described to you in stories when you were a child.
You weren’t sure what was happening; the mist had swallowed everything else without mercy, so why were you a different case? You weren’t left waiting long, as the mist gave way to a tall figure who entered into the open section of field.
He was tall and ethereally pale, clothed all in black, which contrasted sharply with his short, wavy silver hair. Looking at his well-defined torso, you realized that he was too pale; his face and shirtless torso were gray-white, like all the life had been drained from him.
His outfit was simple, a black pair of pants and dark cropped jacket, obsidian armor covering his arms and legs. More than anything, your eyes were drawn to two unusual features; on his head was a sharp three-pointed crown the same color of the ghouls still circling you, and on his chest was a black triangle, so dark that it seemed like it was a bottomless hole.
His eyes glowed with a supernatural light, a shiver running down your spine as your eyes met his. Immediately, he began to stride towards you, sending you into a panic.
There was nowhere to go but into the mist, and that wasn’t an option, but that didn’t mean you wanted the ghostly man anywhere near you. You clutched your hands to your chest, backing up as far as you could without entering the mist, but the man would not be deterred.
His eyes never strayed from yours, his gaze so intense that you felt it hard to look away from. With nowhere to run, he was quickly upon you, but to your great surprise, he came to a stop before you.
He raised one gloved hand, and you flinched as he reached towards you, stunned when the hand came up to gently cup your cheek. Shaking with fear, you stared at him, scared to even breathe and attract his ire.
“My love,” came his voice, gravelly and in an accent that you did not recognize. “Finally you return to me.”
“Who are you?” you whispered, shivering from the cold of his armor-tipped fingers against your skin.
His head tilted slightly to the side, as if he was appraising you. You wanted to shrink away from his gaze, to remove his hand from your face, but you were terrified of upsetting him and risking yourself. As stagnant as your life was, it was your life, and you didn’t want to die here.
“You do not remember me,” he spoke softly, voice laced with disappointment. “A shame. But you will soon.”
You were scared to ask him what he meant, but felt relieved as he finally pulled his hand away from your cheek. Your relief was short-lived as his hand instead went to lay over the deep black triangle on his chest. Now that he was so close to you, the triangle truly did look like it was made of endless darkness. You could see no flesh in the black space; it looked like a keyhole to a dimension of utter black, the sight of it reminding you of the black mist that swirled around you.
There was also the fact that he had spoken to you like he knew you. You had never seen this man before, that you knew for sure. The only part of your life that was hazy was your life before the fire that had claimed your home and parents, but you couldn’t imagine meeting this ghoulish man back then and not remembering him.
You inhaled sharply when out of his chest materialized an orb of wiry light. The strands of light that made up the orb buzzed with energy, and seemed to act as a sort of cage for a small white light in the center that looked like a flickering flame. You knew that it was not natural; but no matter how long you stared at it, you would not be able to place its origins.
The orb was so bright, and felt very out of place in the void of darkness that you were currently trapped in as its light helped to illuminate the face of the stranger before you.
Even with how deathly pale he was, his face was still handsome, jawline sharp and free of even stubble. No matter how much you stared at his face, you couldn’t tell how old he was; he looked around your age, but also had the aura of someone or something much, much older. He looked down at the thrumming orb with a strange fondness in his eyes before he turned his attention back to you.
“I have missed you so dearly, Isolde,” he said as he began to bring the orb towards you.
“No, please!” you cried out in response.
You weren’t sure what that orb was; all you knew was that you didn’t want it touching you. He didn’t seem to hear your desperate pleas as the orb got closer and closer to your chest. You had nowhere to run, and nobody to save you from this ghostly lunatic.
The orb was almost at your chest, a tear dripping down your cheek as you stared down at it, and then everything was light.
You closed your eyes against the bright light, but were surprised to feel no pain. Hearing a male grunt, you opened your eyes as the light beyond your eyelids faded as quickly as it had come.
Looking around you, you saw the stranger across the field, the orb on the grass nearby. Immediately, you noticed that the area was better lit, looking over to see a large split in the dark mist that led across the field to a figure holding a large metallic device.
“Hurry!” Came the call from the figure, too far away for you to see them in much detail.
A snarl from behind you had you looking back to see the strange man getting up, the sight spurning you into action. You made a mad dash for the gap in the mist, ignoring the stranger’s angered calls for you to stop. You didn’t recognize the figure in the distance, but you would take any help you could get as you sprinted towards them.
As you got closer, you noticed that the figure you were running towards was a woman. She was dressed in black and white, gold-accented dreadlocks hanging out of one side of her white hood. You couldn’t place the large metal device that she held; you had never seen anything like it before.
“You will not interfere!”
You glanced behind you, seeing the stranger following behind you, now holding a sword that was longer than he was tall, aglow with supernatural energy. The sight of him, of the fury in his eyes tripped you up, sending you tumbling to the ground.
You scrambled to your feet, but the delay was enough that he was rapidly catching up to you. The look in his eyes froze you in your tracks, only able to manage small steps backward until your arm was suddenly grabbed from behind.
You yelped as you were picked up and then quickly deposited back on the ground a short distance away from where you had been. Looking over, you saw a man in white standing protectively in front of you, twin pistols raised and pointed at the silver-haired man with the sword.
He quickly turned his head back to face you. “Go.” When you hadn’t moved after a few seconds, he barked the order again, his deep voice loud and commanding.
You nodded rapidly before turning to run, hoping that the man would be okay. You knew that you wouldn’t feel confident facing that ghoulish man down, but the man that had come to your rescue seemed to exude a quiet confidence, so you had to trust that he would be okay as you desperately sprinted towards the woman and her strange weapon-like device.
As soon as you were in her reach, she pulled you behind her. You saw the man who had saved you facing off with the sword-wielding stranger, rapidly firing bolts of light at him while narrowly dodging blows from the giant sword.
“Is he okay?” you asked, consumed with worry.
The woman nodded. “He can handle himself. We need to get you out of here while Viego is distracted.”
“Viego?” you echoed, turning your gaze from the fight in front of you to meet her startlingly green eyes.
“I’ll explain everything when we’re away from this place,” she answered, resting her large weapon against her shoulder. “We need to go.”
You were reluctant to leave the man fighting alone, but you had no power to help him. You couldn’t insist on staying here when it would doom all three of you.
As you and the woman ran towards the road, your thoughts turned to the owner, your neighbors… your whole town. Hopping over the fence, you found yourself facing down a wasteland.
The nearby farms looked like they had been hit by a tornado, fences broken and chunks of wood gouged out of houses. You couldn’t see anyone around but you and the woman at your side. Just an hour ago, those farms had been full of life, and now, nothing.
You were led around a bend in the road, where a metal cart waited with two large creatures hitched to it. One of the creatures turned its head to look at you and you stared back, trying to figure out what exactly it was.
“Greathorns,” the woman answered your unspoken question. “They’re very reliable.”
You nodded your head slowly; you felt like you had heard the owner mention greathorns before, but you knew that you had never seen one in person. They were bigger than any horse you had seen, with beige beardlike tufts of hair under their chins and large jagged horns that almost looked like a dragon’s wing sprouting from their heads.
The woman looked like she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by a horrible guttural screech from the direction you had just fled from. You met eyes with the woman, feeling unnerved when you noticed the worry in her expression.
Your momentary panic was shattered as a figure zipped around the corner. You were relieved to see that it was the man in the white jacket, though his clothing looked considerably more scuffed up than it had a few minutes ago.
“Is he–” the woman started to say.
“He’s down for now, but we have to go,” the man answered, running over to join you at the cart.
They both sprang into action, the woman placing her weapon into the cart before jumping in herself and helping you in while the man took his place at the reins, spurning the greathorns into movement.
You turned back to try and see what had become of the farm you had called home for most of your life. The dark mist still lingered over the farm, but it was getting thinner by the second. You didn’t see the strange man, the owner, or even the sheep. It was almost unbelievable how quickly your entire way of life had been decimated; as you watched the ruined farm get farther and farther away, you wondered if you would ever return.
You hadn’t realized that you had dozed off until you were being gently nudged awake. You weren’t surprised you had fallen asleep after the day you had, combined with the long cart ride.
You opened your eyes to see the woman who had rescued you, who offered a kind smile your way when she noticed that you were awake. “We’re here.”
“Here…?” you replied sleepily, before your attention was drawn to the scene around you.
You felt like you were in a world straight out of a fairy tale. Tall buildings made of polished white stone surrounded you, much more extravagant than anything you had ever seen before. The roads were paved, people in fancy dress and armor milling about. You were in awe of the fashion, suddenly feeling like a country bumpkin in your wool-covered overalls.
“Welcome to Demacia City,” the man said, steering the cart to a waiting stable.
You got off of the cart with shaky feet, feeling overwhelmed by the reality of the big city you had always dreamed of visiting. Looking out at the beautiful architecture of the city, you only wished you could have come here under better circumstances. The beautiful city instantly dulled in your eyes when you thought back to the state of your hometown, desolated by the dark mist.
“I thought it would be better to let you sleep,” the woman’s voice broke through the fog in your brain and you turned to look at her. “Now that we have a moment to breathe, I thought we should introduce ourselves. My name is Senna, and this is my husband Lucian.”
Lucian nodded to you when he was introduced, and you shyly gave your name back. Once the introductions had been made, you followed Senna through the streets after she had insisted that it would be safer to explain everything once you had arrived at a more secure location.
The more secure location ended up being a large building at the edge of town, the inside of the building a large circular chamber. You could see a few doors on the other side of the chamber, but didn’t get to see where they led as Senna stood in the center of the room, the light from a glass panel far above her bathing her form in a gentle glow. Lucian stood close to his wife, and you came to a stop a few feet away, nervous for what you were about to hear.
“Alright, so the start of this all goes back over a thousand years ago,” Senna started, the sheer amount of time involved stunning you. “That man… Viego… he was a king back then.”
“He was the king of Demacia?” you blurted out. It was hard to imagine someone so ghoulish and cruel being the king of Demacia, even a thousand years ago.
“Not here,” Lucian denied with a shake of his head. “A long-dead empire on a continent east of here.”
Another continent? You had never even heard of another continent; the farthest your geographical knowledge went were the other kingdoms that bordered Demacia. But if he was from another continent…
“…then how did he get here?” you voiced your sudden thought, watching as Senna’s expression hardened, as if your words hurt her to think about.
After a pause, she answered. “Viego was a poor king who instead focussed all of his attention on a peasant girl he had made his wife, Isolde.”
An unsettling feeling made its way into your stomach as Senna spoke her name, but you kept your feelings in, not wanting to interrupt her story.
“With his attention on Isolde, Viego did not govern. Wanting to be rid of their useless king, assassins came to take Viego’s life, but their aim was misplaced. Their poison dagger sliced the arm of the queen, who fell deathly ill from the toxin.”
As her story went on, the bad feeling got worse and worse. It was not at all helped by the knowledge of your mystery scar, the one on your arm that you had no memory of ever getting in the first place. Still, you kept quiet and listened.
“To cure his wife, Viego brought her to the Blessed Isles, but she didn’t survive the journey and was brought as a corpse,” Senna explained. “The elders refused him entry, as the blessed waters could not bring back the dead, but Viego forced his way through.”
You were beginning to have a hard time breathing, terror seeping into your skin as you thought about that dream, the same dream you had been having most of your life. You felt compelled to listen to rest of Senna’s story, even if you suspected that you knew how it would end.
“Isolde was angry and confused after being ripped from death. She stabbed Viego with his own sword, the touch of the ancient sword to the blessed waters turning the whole island into unlife. Viego’s death is what created the Shadow Isles.”
The Shadow Isles? You had thought they were just a myth. Everyone in your town had heard of the terrifying land that was said to be cursed with unlife, its residents thralls to the terrible curse. It had been said that anyone who ventured to the Shadow Isles would lose themselves to death and madness, but you had only heard the place mentioned by parents trying to discourage their children from behaving badly, telling them that the monsters from the from the isles would come and get them if they didn’t behave themselves.
You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t bear to say it out loud, feeling like the words were too horrifying for you to speak. Thankfully, Senna decided at last to get to the heart of the matter.
“Viego took Isolde’s memory from me, and now he intends to reunite her memory with her body,” Senna said, her eyes tinged with regret. “And that is why he’s after you.”
“So then that orb…” your voice trailed off as you thought about the ball of light that had nearly been forced upon you.
“Isolde’s memory from when she was alive,” Lucian confirmed. “Senna has had it with her for a long time.”
“And you think that I’m…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it.
“Yes,” Senna confirmed gently. “You are the reincarnation of Isolde. Viego would not have come after you if you weren’t.”
“But I’m not… I’m just a farmhand…”
You knew that she was right. There was no other explanation, but you still didn’t want to believe it. You were a farm worker, not a long-dead queen. Yesterday you had been pulling carrots out of the ground, and today you were on the run from a demented king who believed he could use your body to bring back his dead wife. You didn’t have an exciting life, but it was yours, and you didn’t want to lose it to fulfil Viego’s twisted obsession.
Senna and Lucian had stayed silent, giving you a moment to try and calm yourself down, which you appreciated. You would probably cry about it tonight, but for now you would stay as strong as you could. You were used to talking about your feelings with the animals on the farm, but felt uncomfortable with being overly emotional in front of other people, considering the main person you talked to was the owner, and he was not one for heartfelt conversations.
“We won’t let him have you,” Senna promised.
“And besides, after what I did to him, he’ll need a few days to recover his strength,” Lucian added.
“Thank you both,” you said, bowing your head low. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t even want to think about where I’d be.”
“Raise your head,” Senna said gently. You looked up to see her with a smile on her face, which made you feel a bit better. “Don’t go thanking us yet. Not until we send Viego back into the darkness for good.”
“Can we really stop him?” you asked.
“We’ll sure try,” she replied as you silently wished you had the confidence that she did. “But first, we have something else to do.”
You bit your lip, unsure of what she meant. What could be more important than dealing with the looming threat of Viego’s return?
“You’ve never left that town, have you?” Senna asked with a raised eyebrow, and you nodded. “How would you like to see the city?”
“But don’t we have to–”
“I’ll handle the work for now,” Lucian cut in. “We haven’t been back here in some time and Senna might aim her gun my way if she doesn’t get some downtime.”
“Me?” Senna replied with mock incredulity. “You were the one going on about missing Demacian sugar rolls.”
Lucian didn’t look bothered by his wife’s sass, staring at her with a pout until she relented with a smile and a shake of her head. “…we’ll get you some when we’re out.”
“Thank you kindly,” Lucian replied fondly.
After giving Lucian a quick kiss goodbye, Senna turned back to you, gesturing towards the door. “Ready to get a look at what the city is really like?”
You had thought the streets of Demacia City were big, but found yourself thoroughly blown away by the sheer size of the grand plaza in the center of the city. It was mostly empty now, but according to Senna, the entire space was packed with people when they held special events. It was hard to believe that you were standing in a place where wars had been declared and kings had been crowned.
The marketplace was less spacious, but no less overwhelming. Merchants of all types lined the streets, selling wares you could only dream of before today.
It was in the market that you got to try one of the sugar rolls that Lucian was so fond of, the crystalized sugar melting on your tongue. With so many new sights and smells, you were having a hard time deciding where to look, at least until you laid eyes on a colorful stand selling various types of clothing items.
Walking a bit closer while Senna perused some metalwork from a nearby shop, you found your attention drawn to a dress hanging on one of the racks in front of the seller. It was short, probably knee-length at best, and the same light blue as the sky. The dress was simple, with long sleeves and an a-line skirt, but it was the finer details that had caught your eye; sewn into the hem of the skirt and collar of the dress were little white birds in flight across the fabric.
You had never seen such intricate design work; in your town, people wore practical clothing for working; there was no need for a nice dress when you were just going to get mud all over it anyways. The more you saw of this place, the more you began to feel dissatisfied with how you had been living up until now. But then again, you may not live at all beyond the next few days, not if the ruined king got ahold of you. What a mess you had made of your own life, and Senna and Lucian’s as well.
“You know you’re not a burden, right?” Senna’s voice right behind you snapped you right out of your thoughts and you turned to look at her, her green eyes piercing right through you.
“I, uh…” You weren’t sure how to answer her as you processed her words. It was hard to think of yourself as anything but a burden; your existence itself had caused your town to be invaded by a long-dead king from the Shadow Isles, and now Senna and Lucian had to protect you or face the destruction of the entirety of Runeterra. You were an incredible burden.
“No, none of that,” Senna said, shaking her head with a smile, before her voice turned serious. “You’re a person with feelings and desires. You don’t deserve to be used in Viego’s plot to bring back his queen. You are worthy of being helped, so don’t you dare think otherwise.”
You were stunned speechless. You wanted to refute her words, but the look in her eyes was telling you that doing so would be a bad idea. Instead, you nodded reluctantly, and her stern face finally relaxed back into a smile.
“Good, then we’re going to practice being confident,” she said. “If we don’t work on your confidence, then you’ll never be able to stop fearing those who reside in the dark.”
She was right. You knew she was. “…okay.”
“See that dress over there?” Senna asked, jerking her chin towards the blue dress with the white bird trim. “You like it, right?”
You stiffened. You thought that she had been perusing the metal works being sold, but clearly she had been paying more attention to you than you had given her credit for.
“…it’s nice,” you admitted at last. “I’ve never owned a dress before. The owner of the farm said they would just get ripped and dirty.”
“I think we should get it then,” Senna replied, voice quieting so the seller couldn’t hear her next words. “Sometimes we all need a reminder that we’re not trapped in the dark. This dress can serve as your reminder that you’re brighter than the darkness that chases you.”
You were reluctant to accept the dress, but Senna paid the seller before you could properly object. Handing the dress to you, she looked pleased as she watched you marvel over the soft fabric and beautiful design. Looking back up at her, you were about to thank her, but stopped when she held up a hand.
“If you want to thank me, you can help me set the wards around the house. Besides, we’ll both get an earful if Lucian has to wait any longer for his sugar rolls.”
You thanked her anyways as you both turned to head out of the market, arms full of dress and sugar rolls.
The next morning found you outside with Senna, helping her set up complicated devices around the outside of the building while Lucian worked to set some of the same devices on the roof. You watched carefully as Senna demonstrated how each ward had to be placed in order to work properly, not wanting to mess up when you set up the next one yourself.
“Will these keep him out?” you asked as you bent down to place a ward against the wall.
“A little to the left,” Senna corrected, and you moved the heavy metal device to the left until she nodded with satisfaction. “Nothing can keep Viego out, but these should weaken his strength enough to give us a chance.”
You winced; you had anticipated her answer, knowing how powerful Viego had seemed from your short interaction with him. Hoping to defeat him seemed like a futile effort, but you wanted to believe it was possible. You knew so little about the world outside of your farming town, so at this point, anything seemed like it could be possible. You had no choice but to hope anyways because if you failed, you would be lost forever, at least if Viego had his way.
Your life had become infinitely more precious now that it had come under threat; you wanted to help Senna and Lucian, the people who valued you for being you, not a dead king who looked at you and only saw his departed wife.
“The roof’s all set!” Lucian called out from above you.
“Good!” Senna called back as she heaved another ward into her arms. “Then you can test the wards when I finish setting this one up.”
“On my way, dear,” came Lucian’s lighthearted reply.
The rest of the afternoon was spent finalizing the ward setup. You had never seen them before, and were surprised to see them light up as Lucian ran by them, leaving him looking exhausted by the contact. You had been even more shocked when Senna had told you that the wards had been set to their lowest setting for the test. If Lucian had been that tired on the lowest setting, then maybe you could have hope that the highest setting would have a significant effect on Viego.
“But are we sure he’ll set them off?” you asked Senna as she turned the wards back off.
“I’m sure,” she replied confidently. “Anywhere you are, he’ll go, except now we can use that to our advantage.”
The only problem being that you didn’t know exactly when he would come. Lucian’s guess of a few days was just that; a guess. He had explained that the day they had saved you was only their second time fighting Viego, the first time being when Viego had stolen Isolde’s memories from Senna. But it had been a few days without any sign of the dead king or his black mist, so you figured that Lucian’s estimate had been accurate.
By the fifth day with no sign of Viego, you began to prepare for the worst. He could come for you any day, at any time, so you were confined to the home with either Lucian or Senna with you at all times. You were disappointed that you could no longer explore the city, but you couldn’t make yourself an easy target for Viego to snatch from the streets.
There were some back rooms with beds to sleep in, but you spent most of your time in the circular chamber that made up most of the building, talking with Senna and Lucian or helping them with tasks. The time going by was wearing on you all as you wondered when Viego would come. By the seventh day, you were unable to relax, constantly worried that every noise you heard denoted the return of the ruined king.
It was late into night of the seventh day, but none of you could sleep, all finding yourselves in the chamber room. You were sitting against the wall, watching Senna as she cleaned one of Lucian’s guns, her own large gun resting on the floor next to her. Lucian had been pacing for a while, and you could tell it was beginning to wear on Senna’s nerves.
“Lucian, if you need to–”
Senna’s quip was cut off by a loud chime sounding from outside. The wards.
Immediately, Senna was on her feet, tossing the gun she had been working on to Lucian before picking her own gun up as they both turned to face the hallway, which was the only way in and out of the building.
“Hide yourself!” Senna called hurriedly to you before turning back to face the hall, Lucian at her side with his guns trained on the hallway.
You quickly heeded her words; you couldn’t see any sign of the dark mist yet, but you knew it would only be a matter of time. You dashed over to an ordinary-looking panel on the wall that you would have found otherwise unnoteworthy, if it hadn’t been for Senna showing you how it worked a few days ago.
Pulling the panel to the side, the secret door slid open to reveal a small nook, just big enough for a person to stand inside. You looked back to Senna to see her staring at you, giving you a quick nod when you looked worriedly back at her. Not wanting to trouble them by ruining the plans, you got into the nook, closing the door carefully behind you.
You were largely in darkness, the only source of light being the small eye-level slit that gave you a one-way view into the chamber. You were glad there was a wall directly at your back, because the lack of space was the only thing keeping you standing right now in the face of the onset of terror you were feeling.
Viego didn’t leave you waiting long; Senna and Lucian jumped back as mist flooded the chamber, retreating to the center of the room.
“There!” Lucian called as a figure suddenly appeared through the mist.
Viego moved quickly to the side, dodging a bolt of light from Senna’s gun. He emerged fully from the mist, eyes scanning the area, assumedly looking for you. You knew that he couldn’t possibly see you, but it didn’t stop you from shrinking back.
“Where is she?!” Viego demanded, the anger in his voice sending a cold shiver down your back.
“Nowhere you need to worry about,” Lucian answered.
“I can feel her,” Viego snarled back, his mystical sword appearing in his grasp. “Where is she?!”
“I think you have bigger concerns right now,” Senna replied smoothly, and then she and Lucian jumped into action.
Lucian quickly moved to one side of the ruined king, firing bolts of light at him before backing out of Viego’s range. Meanwhile, Senna sent several strong blasts of light from her own gun Viego’s way, the two working together to try and take the king down.
Viego let out a frustrated growl as the bolts hit him, but didn’t appear to be injured like you certainly would be if you had been on the receiving end of the might of Senna and Lucian’s weapons.
Now that you thought about it, he didn’t seem any less powerful for someone who had triggered a series of wards that had winded Lucian on their lowest setting. Your theory was confirmed when he didn’t seem affected by anything Lucian or Senna threw his way. You would be frustrated, but neither one of them wavered, sending shot after shot at the ruined king.
“Enough!” Viego shouted, waves of mist pushing Senna and Lucian back. “You will surrender her to me or you will drown in my mist!”
As Senna and Lucian recovered their footing, the mist grew denser as it swirled around the room. You gasped as demonic green figures made of mist rose from the haze of black, and at the same time that Viego vanished into mist, they charged.
Lucian was firing bolts of light at the mist creatures left and right, but they were endless; as one was struck down, another one rose from the mist to take its place. As Lucian tried to fend off the creatures, Senna was forced to fight off Viego himself as he appeared before her, attempting to strike at her with his sword. It was a strange image, the two and their oversized weapons locked in combat, each trying to overpower the other.
The fight was quickly going bad for your friends; Viego was holding back nothing, his creatures aiding him by swiping at Senna, backing her into a corner as Lucian tried desperately to fight his way closer to her as she continued to shoot the creatures that tried to grab at her.
“You shouldn’t have the strength–” Senna growled as she fired at Viego.
“Your feeble wards cannot harm me,” Viego jeered as he swung his sword towards her. “Nothing will keep me from my queen.”
Viego stabbed his sword forward, but Senna was able to swerve out of the way, causing his sword to imbed into the wall opposite from where you were hiding. Viego then was forced to pull the tip of his sword from the wall, and Senna used that time to send a wide blast of light Lucian’s way, destroying the creatures that had surrounded him. Shooting Senna a grateful smile, Lucian began to fire at more creatures around the room, but his efforts still didn’t seem to be making a dent in the influx of creatures that filled the room.
Senna and Lucian’s luck ran out as Viego’s impatience reached a boiling point. With an angered grunt, he swung his sword at Senna, missing her body but striking her gun. The impact set Senna’s balance off, sending her falling to the ground, her gun spinning out of her grasp and onto the ground a few feet away from her. She made a desperate grab for her weapon, but was again stopped by a warning strike from Viego’s sword narrowly missing her arm.
Senna’s moment of weakness was quickly capitalized on by the mist wraiths as she was immediately swarmed, her body held down by many ghoulish creatures while Viego stood over her.
“Senna!”
Lucian’s desperate shout pierced the air as he charged forward, but was unable to get to Senna, his way blocked by the mist creatures. He shot bolt after bolt, but the demons pressed onwards, only growing in number. Soon he too was overwhelmed, pushed against the wall by the wraiths, his twin guns knocked to the floor. You watched with horror as they both struggled under the grasp of the wraiths, but were unable to break themselves free. The hope in your heart that this fight would be the end of Viego was snuffed out entirely as you watched Viego stand over Senna.
“Your life matters little to me, but I will offer one final choice. Give her to me or die,” Viego threatened, his voice cold with fury.
Senna glared up at him, struggling against the wraiths’ hold even as Viego loomed over her. “You will destroy this world.”
“I will destroy you,” Viego corrected. “And all of those who stand in the way of my love. I hope your impudence was worth your life.”
Viego raised his sword to strike Senna down, and you knew that you would only have seconds to act.
Senna and Lucian were willing to give their lives to protect you, but you couldn’t let that happen. You were not worth the lives of two strong, kind people; people who had rescued you and treated you with more care than the owner ever had, despite only knowing you for a week. One thought rang out loud and clear in your head as you watched Viego prepare to take Senna’s life; I can’t let her die.
You would only have a moment to save her life, so you didn’t waste a second, noisily shoving the secret door open.
“Stop!”
The attention of the three people in the room was drawn to you as you stepped forward, dark mist swirling around up to your knees. Viego’s eyes widened upon seeing you, but behind him, Senna was shaking her head, her eyes begging you to run. But you couldn’t run, not if you wanted to save her and Lucian.
“Please stop,” you implored the ruined king, forcing your legs forward even if the thought of moving closer to him terrified you. You had to do this for Senna and Lucian. You couldn’t allow your fear of what would happen to you to still your steps.
Viego’s sword dissolved into mist as he turned to face you, but the wraiths did not loosen their grip on your friends.
“My love,” Viego called as he began to approach you. “I knew I felt your soul call to mine.”
Ignoring his flowery words, you stopped a few feet from him, scared you would lose your nerve if you got any closer. “I’ll go with you, just please… please let them live.”
You stared into his otherworldly green eyes, trying to stay firm despite a desperate cry of your name from Senna. This was the only way, you reassured yourself. This was the only way to save their lives, even if it meant losing your own. You thought of the time in the marketplace with Senna, of listening to Lucian’s bad jokes, allowing the memories to keep your soul warm against the onslaught of dread you were facing down.
“You’ll come back to me?” Viego’s voice was kinder, softer than you had ever heard it sound as he continued to approach you.
“If you let them live,” you repeated. You could not see your friends beyond Viego’s broad form, but your voice still cracked with a sob as you addressed them. “Senna, Lucian… I’m sorry. And thank you for helping me.”
Viego raised a hand to wipe your tears away, ignoring the protests of Senna and Lucian behind him. “I knew I would find you again, my love.”
You knew it was coming, but you still let out a whimper as he once again materialized the buzzing orb of memories from the dark triangle on his chest, but unlike last time, there was no escape for you now.
“Together at last…” Viego whispered as he pressed the orb to your chest.
The orb felt cold, and then warm, too warm, as it pressed into your skin, absorbing into your body. You collapsed into Viego’s arms with a silent gasp of pain, the last thing you heard before passing out being Senna screaming your name.
There was a beautiful girl, her fingers delicately working a threaded needle through soft fabric that lay in her lap. You had never met her, but you knew who she was; after all, you had seen her corpse in your dreams. It was undoubtedly Isolde… you, from your past life.
You were surprised to find that you were watching the scene as yourself, not through her eyes. The realization brought you some measure of relief; maybe you were not lost entirely to her memory, at least not yet.
The scene around Isolde was blurry, but her figure was clear as day as you watched her gently sew along the fabric, and then it all blurred again. When the scene reformed itself, you watched a man approach her, young and handsome, his brown hair falling in waves to his chin. He was easily recognizable, but a far cry from the figure of unlife that he had become. Viego.
You couldn’t hear their voices, or the scene around them, but you watched as Viego bent down on one knee before Isolde and felt the shock and happiness that Isolde felt, and then the world around you warped once more.
Now you were in a magnificent castle, Viego and Isolde dressed in beautiful wedding clothes, figures leaning towards each other as they kissed. You could not see the faces of the crowd that watched, nor hear the vows exchanged; all you could feel was Isolde’s joy, which left you feeling warm, as if it was you there on your wedding day. It made sense; since it was you, the past you.
You felt the next scene before you saw it; a slow sadness appearing in your chest that left you feeling confused. Then the figures appeared; it was Viego and Isolde in a huge room together, his arms around her. Viego looked happier than you had ever seen him in unlife, but your eyes were drawn to Isolde. On her face was a small smile, but you knew she was sad, you could feel the quiet sadness radiating from her. But what did she have to be sad about? You followed her gaze, looking out a window to see a garden outside, birds flying around and flowers swaying gently with the breeze, but before you could get a closer look, you were gone again.
Now you saw Isolde standing behind Viego, her smile dimmer than before. Viego was wordlessly shouting at a faceless girl in servant’s clothes, a messy assortment of wildflowers crushed under Viego’s feet. Isolde was clutching at her skirt, and you felt a sense of powerlessness from her, along with that same sadness that held tight to her chest.
And then the scenes began to go by faster. Viego, blocking the way to the garden, sending Isolde back to their shared room. Viego, refusing entrance to the castle to an older woman who had the same eyes as Isolde while she watched the scene from a window high above in the castle. Viego pulling Isolde back to him when she tried to leave the room.
As the scenes flashed by, you could feel Isolde’s sadness grow. Time went on, and Isolde stopped smiling; you were watching her soul wither away a little more each time Viego cut another person out of her life. She was not allowed to see anybody but him, not allowed to leave his side even for a second… she was not a person anymore, but a doll to be moved at Viego’s whim.
She felt powerless, trapped by the man she had once loved. Your chest hurt, feeling like you were slowly being suffocated by the loneliness she felt; she was caged, shackled by his love, knowing there would be no escape.
But Viego still looked the same, no matter how many scenes passed by you. It was like he didn’t notice her pain, or maybe he didn’t care; didn’t care for anything but himself. You wanted to make it all stop; Isolde’s deep pain had nearly brought you to your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately wished Viego would see her pain, but he never did. He always smiled that contented smile, never noticing that Isolde’s own didn’t reach her eyes.
The days finally slowed down and you were left standing in a large chamber room. The scene was tense; men in black swarmed the chamber, purple-tipped daggers poised to take the life of the king. Viego’s soldiers fought back valiantly, but one enemy broke through their ranks, dagger aimed at Viego’s heart, but their aim was put off course by a clever swipe from a spear. The poisoned dagger missed its target, but sliced Isolde instead, cutting through the sleeve of her dress and into the flesh of her arm.
Isolde knew as soon as the poison pierced her flesh that she would die. But while you expected to feel fear, worry, panic… all you felt was calm. The poison would slowly take her life, but that was what Viego had been doing over years with his possessive grip. At least at the end of this, she would be free in death, free of the iron grip Viego had on her in life. But alas, even death would not free her from his grasp.
The scene shifted one final time, and you knew what was coming. Viego held Isolde’s body, cold and dead, in his arms. The scene should have been upsetting, but the feelings that rushed through you were anything but. Isolde was dead, but her spirit was free at last, no longer a prisoner to Viego’s will.
But Viego would not allow her to be apart from him, even in death. So she rose, her anger finally unable to be contained, and stabbed him with his own sword. You watched the scene with no pity for the mortally-wounded Viego; Isolde had killed him, but she had been dead for many years before she had been poisoned. His love for her was more poisonous than any toxic dagger; he had been killing her slowly from the moment they had met, and only in death did she find the courage to return the favor.
Isolde had wanted a loving husband, but had ended up with a loving monster. This was nothing like the tale of true love Viego had spun, but he was the only one delusional enough to not see his marriage as what it was.
The scene faded to black at last, leaving you hurting body and soul, Isolde’s pain and sadness making your body feel numb from the inside out. You felt her emotions as if they were your own, and you supposed that they had been yours, a very long time ago.
The memories faded, and were quickly replaced by a soreness all over, like you had fallen from a decent height. Opening your eyes with a pained moan, you realized that you had beaten the odds; you had confronted Isolde’s memories, but you had not lost yourself to them. You were still you.
But with that good news came a lot of bad. You woke up in a bed, in a room that you had never seen before. The room was ornate, but looked dilapidated due to time. The gold posts of the canopy bed you laid in were speckled with dust, the blanket you laid under severely wrinkled.
Sitting up, you were relieved to see that you were still in the blue dress you had been wearing back in that chamber when you had given yourself up to Viego to save Senna and Lucian. You had passed out before you could ensure Viego kept his word, the memories too much for you to handle. For now, you chose to believe that they were alive, because knowing that you had done everything you could and they had still perished would crush what was left of your spirit.
You doubted you were still in Demacia, and one look outside the half-scratched window was enough to confirm that fact. The outside of the castle was even more depressing than the inside; the outside walls were cracked, the stones covered in black vegetation that you would have thought was ivy if it weren’t the color of tar. Angel statues on raised platforms stood tall in the outside courtyard, looking extremely out of place amidst the sinister green mist that seemed to hover over the whole area.
The supernatural layer of mist confirmed it; you had been taken to the Shadow Isles. The realization made your chances of escape nearly nonexistent. The Shadow Isles were filled with undead creatures hungry for the souls of the living, if the stories you had heard about this place were to be believed. And looking over the land that seemed to radiate unlife, you were certainly inclined to believe them.
Footsteps from outside the room broke your focus away from the view outside. Looking quickly around the room, you did not see anywhere to hide. With no other option, you began to back up to the far wall, staring at the large ornamental door as terror burned in your chest.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing the figure of the man you least wanted to see right now. While your mood dimmed upon seeing him, a smile lit up his face when he caught sight of you.
Viego wasted no time striding over to you while you stayed still, back against the wall both physically and metaphorically. Strangely, as he approached you, your fear began to morph into disgust. This man would not let you go, no matter how many lives you lived or places you went. As he took you into his arms, one word repeated in your head like the beat of a drum. Selfish.
He had stolen Isolde’s happiness, locked her away like a bird in a cage, and now he was doing the same to you. Letting out an internal sigh, you wished that you could go back to your boring farm days, which felt like they had been years ago, not weeks. But Viego did not give up his possessions easily, and that’s what you were now. A doll for a selfish king to keep by his side forever.
You hadn’t realized you were crying again until Viego had pulled back, his fingers sweeping across your cheeks to catch the tears.
“You’re safe, my queen,” he whispered, his words doing nothing to comfort you. And besides, you were clearly not safe if the biggest threat to your safety was standing before you, oblivious to all he had done.
You didn’t know what to do now; he wasn’t going to let you go, but you would rather die than live the rest of your life trapped in this place, pretending you were still the dead king’s dead wife.
“I have waited so long for you to return to me again,” he said, his jade green eyes staring into yours, ignoring your plight, just as he always did with Isolde.
You were tired, you were sad, and you were angry. But Viego only saw his own reflection in your eyes. He only saw what he wanted to see; you wondered if he even saw your features when he looked at you, or just superimposed Isolde’s features over yours in his mind’s eye.
It was a strange feeling; you wanted to be anywhere but here, but at the same time, you wanted the man before you to at least see you as you were now, to know your name even if he addressed you by another. Your mind was a mess, your heart even more so, but you would find no comfort in Viego’s arms, nor in his words.
“Isolde–”
“Don’t call me that!” you shouted, ripping yourself from his arms as you could no longer calm your rising anger. “And don’t call me your wife either! You have never cared about me, not back then and not now. You have never cared about anyone but yourself, Viego! You should have let Isolde stay dead!”
Viego looked shocked and hurt by your words, his silver eyebrows raised high on his forehead. You were expecting him to yell back, to tell you to know your place, but he just stood there, and then like the mist, he vanished.
His form turned to mist, and as you watched him flee, you couldn’t help a desire to have the final word.
“My name is–”
He was gone before you could say your name, but you shouted it anyways. Even if he didn’t use your name, it felt good to say it, even just to remind yourself that you were not the person you had been in your past life. Whatever happened, you would not allow this place to steal your identity from you.
You waited in silence, but Viego did not return. After some time, you reluctantly sat back down on the bed, your feet tired of standing, but Viego still did not come back to the room.
You were unsure what to make of what had happened. The Viego you had seen flee the room contradicted everything you knew about him. Could your words really have reached him? It was the only conclusion you could come to, but it sounded so unbelievable; an all-powerful dead king fleeing a room after being called selfish by a small town farm girl.
The encounter had been short, but you found yourself already tired. With no sign of Viego returning, and not much else to do, you slipped back under the ruffled covers, laying your head on the same pillow you had woken up on.
Maybe it was owing to your trip through Isolde’s memories that you were so tired now. Closing your eyes, you were relieved that you were still you, though you were still having a hard time reconciling how to see yourself with your time as Isolde. You had been her a long time ago, but she still felt like a different person, like a character in a story. You looked different, and lived different lives, but you were still weighed down by the possessiveness of the same man.
You had been surprised to see Viego look so hurt, but you refused to feel bad about what you had said. It seemed like everyone around him, including Isolde, had been too afraid to confront the king on his faults, at least that was what you assumed. You didn’t know where you got the courage yourself; maybe it was Isolde’s sorrow and frustration finally boiling over from a lifetime of being controlled that emboldened your tongue.
Either way, what you had said could not be taken back, so there was no point in ruminating over the situation, not when you were already having a hard time focussing on anything with how exhausted you were. There would be time to lament your situation when you woke up, you decided, consciousness drifting off at last.
You were surprised to feel so well-rested, but your mood was brought back down when you opened your eyes to the same dusty room you had fallen asleep in. It was just as empty as it was before, save for your body under the covers.
With how dedicated he had been to capturing you, Viego’s sudden absence was surprising. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but everything in the room looked the same as it had before you had gone to sleep, so you had to assume that he had not returned while you were sleeping. It was probably for the best; you wouldn’t know what to say to him even if he was here.
Upon waking up, you were confronted with a new problem; your empty stomach. Come to think of it, when was the last time that you had ate something? You still had no idea how long you had been unconscious after Viego forced Isolde’s memories into you, but you had a vague recollection of eating some steamed buns Lucian had brought back from the market a few hours before Viego had attacked. But clearly that had been a while ago, if the gnawing emptiness in your stomach was any indication.
You were reluctant to leave the room and risk running into Viego, fearful of his anger after what you had said to him, but your stomach was so empty it hurt. Maybe you would get lucky and find a fruit laying around and scramble back to your room before you were caught. With that hope in mind, you walked quietly over to the door, prepared to do what you had to in order to survive for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately for you, the rest of the castle was just as dusty and dilapidated as your room had been. It was clear that this place was very old; anyone who had lived here in life was long dead by now. Eventually, you located the closest thing to a kitchen you thought you would find in this place, but instead of food, you found dust, cobwebs and the occasional brittle rat skeleton, which crumbled to dust under your touch.
There was no food here, that much was obvious, which led you to a new dilemma. You couldn’t ask Viego for food; for one, he terrified you, and there was also the fact that you had no idea where he even was. The castle was too large for you to check every room for him with any great speed, and so far you had not heard or seen any evidence of anyone else in this place but yourself.
So what were you supposed to do now? The thought of walking out into the Shadow Isles terrified you to your core, but what alternative did you have? Stay here and starve to death, a prisoner to a man who seemed like he had no further use for you if you weren’t the same person you were when you were Isolde?
It seemed that Viego avoiding you was a blessing in more ways than one, because now he wasn’t here to stop you from leaving the castle. It was easy enough for you to find the front door, following the patchy red carpet until it led down a long staircase that took you to another ornate door. Whoever’s castle this had been must have either been royalty or obscenely wealthy to live in a place this grand. The entryway alone was almost the size of the entire farmhouse back in your hometown. As grand as it was, you hoped that you would never see this awful, lonely place again once you exited the door.
The door was a lot heavier than it looked, but you managed to pry it open, the chill of the outside air telling you immediately that you were about to do something very dangerous. But it was this or starve, you reminded yourself as you took the first step outside, and it was better that you tried to find your way off of this island before you were too weak from lack of food and water.
Sinister green mist clung to the land, thick enough to obscure the far away, but just thin enough for you to see twenty or so feet around yourself. You remembered hearing as a child that the mist of the Shadow Isles was made up of the souls of the damned that had once lived here, but seeing it now, you hoped that it wasn’t true.
The stone angel statues were even more unsettling up close, standing on either side of the pathway like guards, their stone eyes seemingly staring down at you as you passed. Every step you took, you were scared the cracked ground would give out under you, but it held fast. It was a miracle that this awful place didn’t just crumble and sink into the cursed waters that surrounded it.
You quickened your steps, eager to be rid of this place as soon as possible. That, and the faster you were out of here the better a chance you had of getting off this island before Viego noticed you were gone.
The angel-statue-lined pathway opened up to a network of crumbled stone walls of all different heights that looked way more worse for wear than the castle behind you. It looked like this might have been a city over a thousand years ago, before the isles had fallen into this eternal darkness. But now you were the only person here, likely the only living person on this whole cursed island, at least until you got yourself back to civilization.
You picked up your pace even more as you entered a forested area, though the forest itself consisted solely of long-dead trees, their branches black and thin. What you hoped was wind howled, shaking the spindly branches, leaving you to duck and weave through them, their thorns scraping against your clothes and skin. You kept moving onward, pressing on despite the pain from the new cuts on your body, unwilling to turn back now that you had come this far.
You pushed through a difficult thicket of branches, panting from the effort as you looked down at your dress. The once-beautiful blue fabric now bore many tears, stained by your blood where the branches had cut you. You couldn’t imagine your face and hair looked any better, but you could worry about that later.
Taking in your own sorry state, you failed to take in the threat that was quickly closing in on you. You looked up from your dress, expecting to see more branches in your way, but jolted back with a gasp when you noticed the large figure standing fifteen feet or so in front of you.
The figure before you was giant, easily the width of several men, its gray flesh packed with bulk and muscle. It was bald, and wore no shirt, wearing only spiked shoulder armor on its upper half, while its lower half was covered by a large loincloth and equally-spiky leg armor.
It must have been human at some point, but it was far from that now. Its eyes were the same spectral green as the mist that hung over the island, that same green dripping out of his mouth in a drool-like fog. Its skin was tough-looking, like it was halfway between skin and rock, two large chipped horns made from craggy stone jutting out from the sides of its head. It had a manacle on each wrist; broken chains hanging from both of them. That gave you one more terrifying insight; while it was alive, it had clearly been some kind of criminal. And now it was here in front of you, unchained, its focus solely on you.
You turned to run, but the creature was faster. Its gaping maw opened wide with a horrible roar, and you were forced to grab onto a branch to try and resist the sudden pressure you felt pulling you back towards it. Looking back, you saw even the spectral mist being sucked into its sharp-toothed mouth, but you knew that you were its target, not breaking its focus as it stared you down with empty, dead eyes.
You couldn’t escape, you couldn’t even move an inch farther away from the monster’s supernatural pull. You tried to reach for a farther away branch to pull yourself to, but were forced to bring your hand back to the branch you held onto as holding on with only one hand made it much harder to keep yourself from being dragged further back.
Your fingers were hurting, the pressure pulling on you becoming more and more intense, and evidently the creature was done waiting. Not letting up on its pull, it began to move closer, and the pull got even stronger. Shaking from the effort of keeping your hold on the branch, you had no way of escaping it.
Was starving to death really a worse option than this? You had been so stupid, thinking that you had any chance of escaping this island; now this creature would ensure that you would never leave.
With a pained cry, your grip gave out at last, the branch slipping from your fingers as you fell to the ground. You tried desperately to grab at the cracked earth, but your hands could not find purchase in the ground no matter what you did as you were pulled closer and closer to the creature’s open jaw.
The closer you got to it, the weaker you felt, as if the monster was draining your very soul from your body. As the thought came to you, you realized that it was very likely to be the truth; the Shadow Isles were a place of eternal torment, it would not be out of place for this island to be filed with soul-sucking monstrosities.
You were almost within the creature’s grasp now, no more than five feet away from its razor-sharp teeth and black clawed nails. You were feeling more and more drained as it pulled you closer, your vision getting fuzzy as you tried to focus on anything other than your impending death, but it just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t like you had been expecting to see your life flash by your eyes like you had heard happened to people when they were about to die, but right now you would welcome any sight other than the one you had right now of the creature pulling you in, his eyes aglow with sinister satisfaction.
Just as a clawed hand reached down to take hold of your leg, it was sliced clean off at the elbow, stone skin clattering to the ground next to you. The creature let out a pained howl, which turned out to be the last sound it would ever make as it was then cleaved in half by a sword longer than you were tall, one you had thought you had left behind in that castle along with its wielder.
Freed from the monster’s pull, you scrambled away from its dismembered parts, wanting to be as far away from the horrible creature as possible. Shaking from your ordeal, you stared at Viego’s back, then at his face as he turned your way, letting his sword turn into mist as he caught sight of your quivering form.
You went still, afraid of the king’s wrath at your escape from his castle, but were surprised when he rushed over to you, pulling you to your feet and wrapping his arms around you.
“I thought… I thought I would lose you again,” he spoke into your hair, his words full of sorrow and pain as he held you to him.
You weren’t sure what to make of his behavior; it almost sounded to you like he was crying as he spoke, but you were reluctant to pull back and check. Instead, you reached up with sore arms and wrapped them around his waist, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his chest. A day ago you could never have imagined embracing this man, but he had saved your life, and right now you just wanted to feel safe, even if that safety came in Viego’s arms.
“Why did you save me?” you sniffled, voice muffled by his jacket, but loud enough for him to hear in the now deathly quiet forest.
Viego pulled back from the embrace with a sad exhale, his red-rimmed eyes telling you that he had indeed been crying as you had thought. Resting his forehead against your own, he stared into your eyes, brushing some stray hairs away from your face.
“I saved you because I love you,” he answered, voice quiet and hoarse. “Now tell me… why did you leave?”
“I…” You pondered how to answer his question, but decided there would be no point in lying to him, not when he hadn’t made any moves to harm you despite having good reason to be upset with you. “I was scared… and hungry.”
“…hungry?” he echoed, looking perplexed for a short moment before his green eyes went wide.
“Please forgive me, my love,” he spoke, sounding genuinely panicked. “It has been so long, I had forgotten–”
You couldn’t help yourself. “…you forgot that people need to eat food?”
“I haven’t… not since I became…” He was lost in his own world for a moment, before something seemed to come to him. “You’re…”
Without another word, he raised an arm, summoning one of his mist ghouls, who took off ahead of you, passing harmlessly through the mess of thorned branches along the forest path. You weren’t sure where it was going, but if it wasn’t after you, you found yourself lacking the strength to care about the ghoul’s mission.
Feeling drained, you leaned more of your weight into Viego, having a hard time keeping yourself upright. Viego’s eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looked down at you, but your eyelids were already drooping. You felt strong arms lift your body up as your eyes closed, head resting against cold skin. You could only hope that the creature hadn’t drained the life entirely out of you, but for now you had no consciousness left to worry about anything as you drifted off again for the third time since Viego had taken you.
“I pushed her to this…”
Waking up, your stomach was no less empty, but your head felt clearer. You had never considered yourself a lucky person, but you weren’t sure how else you could still be alive after all you had been through recently.
Your eyes didn’t want to open, not yet, but you were immediately aware of a feeling on your head. It took you a few groggy seconds to realize that it was a hand, slowly petting your hair. You had never had anyone stroke your hair before, but found it comforting; maybe your parents had done this before the fire, but the owner had never coddled you like this, even as a child. Absently, you mused that it had been a long time since you had anyone in your life that cared for you, when you were used to an existence of being merely tolerated.
Opening your eyes, you finally remembered where you were as you looked up at the man whose lap your head rested in. Viego’s hand stilled when he noticed that you were awake, but resumed petting your hair when you leaned your head into his now-gloveless hand, seeking out his comforting touch. Neither of you spoke, and you closed your eyes again, deciding to accept the comfort this moment offered you.
“…I was scared,” Viego said at last, and you opened your eyes again to look at him. “I felt that you had gone, and then I felt your terror… I thought that I had lost you again.”
You weren’t sure what to say, but it worked in your favor as Viego was not finished. “I have done awful things, committed atrocities, all to return you to my side. But I never realized that I was only thinking of myself. Your pain… it is all my fault.”
You felt overcome with the need to deny his assertion as you stared at his sad eyes, but you couldn’t. It was true. He had done terrible things and caused you pain not only in this life, but in your life as Isolde.
“I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he said, sounding like the words were hard for him to say. “But I will do anything to earn it. I…”
His voice trailed off as he removed his hand from your hair. You looked away from him and towards the same door you had exited when you had thought you had been leaving this room behind for good, as you considered his words. With those words, the power dynamic was shifting between you for the first time; he was willing to do whatever you asked of him in order for you to forgive him. And while you weren’t sure what it would mean for you to forgive him, you couldn’t allow this chance to pass you by.
“I want you to call me by my name now, not Isolde,” you said, sitting up and staring into his eyes, trying to silently communicate to him how serious you were with your stare. “And I would like some food and water.”
“Your… name,” he spoke softly, looking down at the bed sheets.
You repeated your name, and he still didn’t look up, but you weren’t quite done. If he was offering anything, you were going to see how far you could push your luck.
“…and I want to go back to Demacia.” You saw the alarm in his face and quickly made to soften the blow. “I want to tell Senna and Lucian that I’m okay. You can come with me if you want.”
“…if that is what you want,” he said eventually.
You could tell that he likely felt rejected by the stiffness of his shoulders and his refusal to look at you, but you would not back down, not when you had gotten him to agree to take you back to Demacia. You weren’t sure how Senna and Lucian would react to seeing you show up with Viego at your heels, but you knew that it was likely the only reason you had gotten him to agree to your request.
Your eyes had been wandering the room again when a soft call of your name had you turning back to face Viego, surprised that he had actually called you by your name. He was looking at you at last, but looked uncomfortable, like a fish thrown onto land.
Reaching down beside the bed, he picked up a simple stone bowl, handing it over to you. Inside, you found some circular objects that looked like oranges that were well past their prime, the orange of their rind mixed with patches of gray.
“Are those… tangor?” you asked. Demacian tangor were a mix of orange and tangerine grown all over Demacia. They were a little sour for your liking, so you hadn’t had one since you were a child.
“I had my servants fetch them. They are the only thing that grows here that will not poison you,” Viego replied.
His voice had hitched at the word poison, but you didn’t mention it, not wanting to draw attention to it. That was how Isolde had died, from a poisoned dagger. Even though you were with him now, it wasn’t like your presence erased the wounds of his past. You were just grateful that he had stopped being so domineering, at least for the moment. You weren’t sure what this was, or what you wanted this to be, but you knew that you were stuck with him at least for the foreseeable future.
Viego left the room to prepare for your journey back to Demacia, leaving you to eat in peace. The tangor were even more sour than you remembered them being, but you happily ate them, relieved to have some food at last.
With Viego gone, you allowed yourself to relax, free of his stare and his unstated expectations. He didn’t have to say it for you to know that he still wanted you to be his wife, or lover, or however it was he saw you in his mind. You hated yourself for even considering being with him in any capacity after the things he had done, but at the same time, you found yourself reluctant to fully close the door on the idea.
He had shown to you that he could do good things, even if they had only been for your benefit. You didn’t have to agree to anything right now, you reminded yourself, at least not while he wasn’t pressing the topic. But as of right now, you wanted to see if you could help Viego, even if you weren’t sure exactly how.
You stared at the bowl of tangor rinds, wishing an answer to your problems would come to you, but you knew that it wouldn’t be that easy. At least you would get to see Senna and Lucian soon; you wanted to make sure they were both okay, and you knew they were probably worried about you.
Placing the bowl back on the floor, you decided to take a look into the large closet in the corner of the room. Your own outfit was a mess; barely hanging together in places after running through the thorned branches. As much as you loved this dress, it was not in any shape to be worn. Hopefully the closet would have something passable to wear in it.
There were quite a few old-fashioned dresses, but they were too gaudy and frilly for your tastes. Sifting through the clearly upper-class clothing, you eventually came upon a dark green hooded cloak that looked out of place with all of the fancy dresses. Pulling it out, you realized that it would probably make a good disguise for Viego; Senna would likely shoot him on sight before you could explain, and you didn’t want Viego to have any reason to try and harm your friends.
Setting the cloak on the bed, you leafed through the rest of the closet, finally settling on the simplest dress you could find, a non-corseted, non-frilly purple dress with long sleeves and a scoop neckline with a hem that went to your ankles. The dress was a bit long for your liking, but it wasn’t covered in frills up to your neck, so it would have to do.
You changed into the purple dress, laying your old one on the bed, and had been running your fingers over a tear in the skirt when Viego re-entered the room. Sighing, you turned away from the dress, mentally apologizing to Senna for ruining the beautiful dress.
You waved Viego over, and he approached immediately, face stony and uncertain. Picking up the cape, you just hoped he would agree to put it on.
“So you won’t stand out in Demacia,” you said, holding the cloak out to him.
“If this is what you desire,” he answered. Though he didn’t seem to understand your concerns, he dutifully wrapped the cloak around his shoulders.
Reaching up, you fastened the clasps at the front of the cloak, trying not to feel shy being so close to his intense stare that you was pointed right at your face. You couldn’t avoid his eyes as you pulled the hood over his silver hair, careful not to let the fabric get caught on the metal bands that tied off sections of his hair into low ponytails. With the cloak fully closed, the black triangle on his chest was also no longer visible, which would definitely invite suspicion if left uncovered.
“Promise me you won’t hurt my friends,” you said, needing to hear him say it.
His glare was deadly. “If they harm you…”
“They won’t,” you replied quickly. “Haven’t you had friends before?”
That was evidently the wrong question to ask, because Viego looked like you had hit him in another sore spot, like back when you had yelled at him. Come to think of it, you didn’t remember really seeing him with anybody else when you had watched Isolde’s memories. No wonder his world had collapsed when Isolde… when your past self had died; she was his world, as sad and lonely as that was.
“How are we getting to Demacia?” you asked, figuring you should be merciful and change the subject, feeling bad as you looked up at Viego’s awkward stare.
“The mist,” he answered, and you turned your eyes to his chest where you knew the triangle of black lay hidden under the cloak you had forced him into. “It will carry us over the waters.”
You weren’t thrilled with the prospect of being surrounded by the black mist again, but the unknown waters that surrounded the Shadow Isles were even more daunting; at least you were confident that the mist would not harm you now.
You followed Viego to the cracked window, standing behind him as he opened it, revealing a clearer view of the dark, desolate isle. You were too far inland to be able to see the ocean, your view out of the window largely consisting of millennium-old rubble and patches of dark forest that must have been where you had run into that creature. You stared outside the window, wondering why he had led you here, at least until you noticed the mist that had begun to seep through Viego’s cloak.
“We’re not going to… jump?” The thought horrified you. There was no way you would survive a fall from this high up, mist or no mist.
“I will carry you in my arms,” Viego corrected you. “And then we will travel in the mist.”
You shivered as you considered his plan. “…you won’t drop me?”
You were half-joking, but Viego didn’t seem to pick up on that, one hand cupping your cheek as he stared down at you, voice deathly serious. “I will not allow any harm to come to you. Not again.”
You were once again taken aback by the intensity in his green eyes, even under the shadow of his cloak’s hood. You were still getting used to his devotion to you; it was a weird feeling having someone care about you after so many years of being without anyone who even cared enough to ask you about how your day had gone.
You weren’t sure what the owner’s fate had been, but you were confident that if he had seen you with Viego that day at the farm, he would’ve turned tail and ran, unlike Senna and Lucian, who came to your aid even when you had been a stranger to them. Maybe you should stop thinking of the farm as your home; because if you really thought about it, the only thing that tied you to the farm in the first place was your own fear of not being able to make it if you left.
You allowed Viego to take you into his arms as the mist surrounded you, pressing your face into his shoulder in order to avoid seeing just how far below you the ground was. You felt Viego move, likely exiting the window, and braced yourself for the drop that didn’t end up coming.
You could feel that you were moving, like you were in the arms of someone who was walking on solid earth, even if you knew you were walking through the sky and not the ground. You weren’t sure if the mist blocked your view of the ground entirely or not, but you were too scared to look.
“You were never this afraid of heights back then,” came Viego’s teasing voice from above you.
You doubted that Isolde had ever seen heights like this from the sky, but you welcomed his attempt at conversation, desperately needing a distraction from your growing curiosity to look away from Viego’s shoulder.
“How are you not scared?” you mumbled into his shoulder.
Viego let out a soft, sad laugh. “After what I have seen, what I have lost… there are more horrifying things in this world than heights.”
That was true; he had over a thousand years of life experience on you. Even if you had lived back then, your only memories from that time were ones you had seen flash by you when you had been exposed to Isolde’s memories. You couldn’t pretend you had experienced the hardships that he had; you had died, and he had been left behind, stuck as an undying mist wraith.
“…I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you said quietly as you listened to the sound of the wind whipping by.
“They were words I should have heard long ago,” he replied. He was silent for a long time, so long that you thought he was done talking, but then he spoke up again. “I led your life to ruin back then, and I was about to do it again.”
You let out a soft exhale against the soft material of the cloak. You couldn’t deny his words, you knew you couldn’t, but you also didn’t want to give up on him entirely. Right now, here in his arms, it really felt like all you had in this world was each other. You knew that you also had Senna and Lucian, but you didn’t have the history with them that you had with Viego. That, and while you considered them your friends, they would always be each other’s most important person; you didn’t want to admit it out loud, but you really wanted what they had, to be the most important person in the world to someone.
You both seemed content to let the conversation drop as you adjusted your face against Viego’s shoulder, the ends of his silver hair brushing against your forehead. Opening your eyes at last, you stared at his hair as it swayed with the wind. If you hadn’t seen it yourself, you would have found it hard to believe that his hair used to be a rich brown, a far cry from the silver it was now. But he wasn’t the same person he was then, both physically and mentally.
You couldn’t deny that you found him attractive; his eyes were deep-set, his jawline sharp and lips soft-looking. You immediately regretted observing his face when he looked down at you just as you were staring at his lips. You hurriedly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. Viego did not say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, even after you closed your own eyes again, leaning your face fully back into his cloak.
The trip to Demacia felt very long, and you had been drifting in and out of sleep, with little else to do, when you felt Viego’s feet touch down onto the ground. Opening your eyes at long last, you watched as the mist that surrounded you faded away, returning to Viego’s chest and revealing the area around you.
You were standing on a cliff, the beautiful blue waters of Demacia at your back. Demacia City stood before you in all its pearly glory, looking exactly the same as it had the last time you had been here.
It looked to be mid-afternoon, the sun shining high in the sky. It was nice to see light again instead of the dreary permanent dark of the isles.
While this was not your first time here now, you still had a difficult time figuring out the way to Lucian and Senna’s place from your current location. You looked over the paths that led into town, trying to figure out if any of them seemed familiar, finally settling on a small stone path that led along the coast. You remembered that their house had been close to the coast, so you hoped that you would eventually find it if you kept on the path.
You turned back to Viego, making sure his hood was down over his head before you two set off on the path. The last thing you needed was for anyone to notice Viego before you got to your destination; you were just lucky he had let you put the cloak on him or else you’d be much more worried about your chances of going unnoticed.
Viego walked at your side, sticking fairly close to you, eyes casually but tactically scanning the area as if searching for threats. There were some people milling about the area, but not many, and none that looked like a threat to you, not unless Viego threatened them first.
“Your… friends,” Viego spoke up, sounding as if the word itself was foreign to him. “Are you certain they will not welcome me with weapons drawn?”
You frowned. “I hope not.”
“They would not be the first,” he sneered bitterly.
“Viego.” You grabbed onto his arm and he looked down at you, staring first at your hand on his arm and then up to your face. “I will make sure they won’t attack you, but you have to be nice as well. No mist, and no giant sword.”
You felt like you were lecturing a child, but hoped Viego wouldn’t feel like you were treating him like one. You swallowed nervously as you stared at him, pleading with your eyes for him to agree to play nice with Lucian and Senna.
His eyes seemed to soften as he stared at you. “I can deny you nothing.”
“Thank you,” you replied happily, letting out a small noise of recognition as you spotted the building that you were looking for in the distance.
Leading Viego over, you signalled for him to wait behind you. He half-obeyed, but stood much closer than you had meant. You let it go, knowing you weren’t likely going to be able to convince him to leave your side, instead knocking on the door.
The wards that you and Senna had set up still lay scattered around the outside of the building, the lack of glow about them telling you that they weren’t activated. You knocked again after no response, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited. Just as you were about to knock a third time, you heard movement from inside at last, stepping back slightly as you waited for the door to open. You felt Viego tense up behind you, but had to focus on the door in front of you as it opened to reveal a frantic Lucian.
He called your name with relief in his voice until he noticed the figure behind you, his features turning grave instantly.
You raised your hands up in front of you, desperate to stop the incoming fight. “Lucian, wait! He’s not here to hurt anyone!”
Lucian looked very skeptical, but paused his hands reaching down to his guns. “Y’know, I can probably activate those wards from here.”
“It’s fine,” you replied, relieved by the joking tone in his voice. “Can we come in?”
Lucian sighed, stepping away from the door to allow you both to enter. “Senna’s not gonna be happy when she gets back.”
“She’s not here?” you clarified.
“Nah,” he answered. “She went out earlier to get some supplies for, uh, findin’ you…”
“…oh,” you replied guiltily.
Lucian led you down the hall and into the large chamber that you had been in when Viego had ultimately captured you. But now there was no mist filling the room, and no weapons drawn, at least not for now.
Lucian stood awkwardly in front of you, picking at invisible lint on his jacket while you looked between him and Viego, who had taken off his hood when you had entered the room.
Nobody was saying anything until Lucian finally broke the oppressive silence. “So how have you been?”
“Good,” you said, desperate to latch onto Lucian’s attempt at conversation.
“Dead,” Viego answered at the same time.
You and Lucian stared at each other for a short moment before you were interrupted by the sound of the door opening down the hallway. Lucian sprang into action immediately, quickly dashing into the hall, likely to warn Senna about what she was walking into.
Once Lucian’s figure was out of sight, you turned to Viego, knowing you had to keep him calm.
“Please don’t hurt her, Viego,” you pleased. “She doesn’t–”
You were cut off by a loud exclamation from the hallway.
“He’s where?! Lucian, get out of my way!” came Senna’s enraged voice from the hall.
You heard rapid footfalls coming your way, Viego stepping in front of you before you could think to stop him as Senna entered the room.
“You–”
You began to panic when you saw dark mist trickling from the front of Viego’s cloak as Senna stormed towards the two of you.
“I won’t let her harm you,” Viego hissed quietly.
“She won’t hurt me,” you insisted quickly, grabbing onto his arm.
You stepped in front of Viego as Senna came over to you and quickly had your wrist snatched by Senna, who pulled you behind her.
Viego stepped forward, but Senna wasn’t having it, pinning him with a fierce glare. “You can stay there, ruined king. You’re lucky you’re still breathing in my home after what you’ve done.”
Viego didn’t look happy at her words, but kept his eyes on yours as you desperately shook your head at him, pleading silently for him to back down. You stared into his green eyes, hoping he would listen to you, and slowly, he backed down, fists unclenching but face still tense. You let out a quiet exhale, relieved that he had listened to you, although a glance at Senna told you that she was no less angry.
Lucian slowly stepped forward with an overly friendly smile on his face. “How about we have a conversation while the ladies talk?”
Viego stared at Lucian, face blank, but Senna didn’t hesitate, pulling you with her to the other side of the chamber and out of earshot of the boys. Once she had felt you were far enough away from them, she stopped, letting go of your wrist and pulling you into a short hug.
“You had us so worried,” she scolded, pulling back from the hug.
“I’m sorry,” you said, guilt pooling in your stomach.
Senna sent you a hard look. “Why would you do something so dangerous?”
You bit your lip as you thought back to that moment. “It was the only thing I could think to do. I couldn’t let you and Lucian get hurt.”
Senna let out an amused breath, shaking her head. “I can’t say I didn’t appreciate what you did, but it was stupid.”
“I know,” you agreed. “I thought I was going to die.”
“But you didn’t,” Senna countered. “Though I can’t say I understand why. What did you do to tame him like this?”
“I, uh…” It felt weird to say out loud, but you had no other explanation that made any sense. “I called him selfish.”
Senna stared at you for a second, and just as you were starting to think that she didn’t believe you, she surprised you by bursting out in laughter. She took at least a minute to calm down, and you just stared at her in confusion, not sure what you had said that was funny.
“Well that’s been a long time coming,” she said at last, before noticing you staring at her in shock and shrugging. “Never thought I would see the day.”
“I may have been a bit mean,” you admitted, voice dropping to a whisper. “I told him he should have let Isolde stay dead.”
Senna’s eyebrows raised in surprise before she let out another small huff of laughter, glancing briefly over at Viego. “Can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Probably deserved worse.”
“It was just… after seeing how he treated Isolde for so long… I couldn’t stop myself,” you said.
Senna nodded. “I’ve thought the same things myself, but the difference is Viego actually seems to listen to you.”
“Yeah, it’s weird,” you replied, sneaking a quick glance at Viego, only to find him already looking your way. You looked back to Senna, feeling awkward locking eyes with Viego like this in front of Senna. “I was so mad at him, but now I’m just confused about what I want.”
Senna didn’t reply, merely raising an eyebrow as a prompt for you to explain. You swallowed nervously, resisting the urge to look back at Viego as you explained your thoughts. You told Senna about Viego fleeing the room, about escaping the castle and running into the soul-sucking monster, and then Viego coming to your rescue.
“At first, I just thought he was scary, but after that… I don’t know. After going most of my life without anybody who cared about me, I…”
“…you want to give him a chance?” Senna finished for you, her voice frustratingly neutral, not giving you any insights on how she was feeling, but it wasn’t as if she was off the mark. You didn’t want to lie to her, so you nodded, unable to help but feel like you were letting her down.
Senna sighed a slow sigh, but didn’t look angry. “So have you told him?”
“Told him?” you echoed.
Senna rolled her eyes at you. “Told him that you want to be with him?”
You averted your eyes, staring at the stone floor. “…no.”
“He won’t know unless you tell him. Men aren’t always great with that kind of stuff,” Senna joked. “I had to spell it out for Lucian, and he’s one of the smart ones.”
“Right,” you agreed. She was right; you couldn’t just hope that Viego would somehow understand what you were thinking, though the thought of opening yourself up to him like that made you nervous.
“We have a smaller place just outside the city for when we need to lay low,” Senna said, fishing a key out of her pocket and handing it to you. “It should have enough supplies to sustain you while you figure things out with him.”
“Thank you,” you replied, stunned by her generosity.
“Come back and see us when you’ve got things sorted,” she replied with a smile. “And make him earn your forgiveness. If he does anything, just let me know and I’ll make him regret it.”
“I will,” you promised with a smile. You really didn’t deserve a friend as good as Senna.
Senna seemed happy with your response. “Then let’s go and save Lucian. He never was great at making small talk.”
You both turned your attention back to the two men across the room and their conversation.
“…so the mist, does it come from inside you or something?”
“The mist flows from my black heart,” Viego answered in a monotone.
“Oh, uh–”
Lucian was saved by Senna’s approach. “Alright boys, we’re done.”
You stifled a laugh at Lucian’s obvious relief at being rescued from his attempted conversation with Viego. Viego, on the other hand, seemed to forget Lucian existed the moment you came close, which was both flattering and embarrassing.
“How about you come with me to return the armor I bought and we pick up some sugar rolls on the way back?” Senna proposed to Lucian.
“Huh? But–” Lucian looked tempted by the offer, but looked back at you with a concerned frown.
“They’re fine,” Senna insisted. “They have somewhere to be anyways. I’ll explain it to you on the way.”
Lucian finally relented, allowing Senna to drag him towards the front door. But before they got too far, Senna turned her head back to you.
“Keep down the road for about an hour. It’s the one with a sun on the front door.”
You nodded and Senna wished you luck before pulling a still-confused Lucian with her out the front door. You really owed her; you would have to try and make it up to her and Lucian after you sorted things out with Viego.
Once they had left, you turned your attention back to Viego, knowing you had to have this conversation with him whether you wanted to or not.
“I was talking to Senna about what I want… with you,” you said, cursing yourself internally for how shaky your voice sounded.
Viego looked like he had been forced to swallow a Shadow Isles tangor, his posture rigid. “Now that I see how happy you are here with those two… I know that you were never truly happy being at my side.”
You were shocked speechless, the words you wanted to say fleeing your mind, your lack of a reply prompting Viego to continue.
“The Shadow Isles is a place for monsters like me. I won’t make you return there with me,” he said, sending you a sad smile before his body began to turn to mist, starting with his legs.
“No!” you cried out, grabbing his arm. You hadn’t expected him to let you go, but you found yourself not wanting him to leave you, even though that was all you had wanted only a week ago.
The moment you touched him, he turned fully solid again, looking down at you with furrowed silver eyebrows, uncertainty plain on his face.
“Don’t leave,” your voice came out quiet and weak, but you kept your hold on his sleeve. “Please don’t leave.”
You were trying not to cry, and it must have been obvious, as Viego quickly brought you into an embrace. Being alone with him again, you finally felt like you could say what you wanted to say, even if you were partially fueled by desperation to make him stay.
“I want you to stay in Demacia with me,” you said, pulling back to look at him, placing a hand on his cheek like he had done to you so many times. Viego seemed mesmerized by the contact, leaning into your palm as he stared at you with hopeful eyes.
“I will go wherever you are,” he replied softly.
“But,” you said, steeling your nerve. “I want you to see me as me, not the me I was when I was Isolde.”
You felt relieved that you had finally gotten out what you wanted to say, but were nervous at how he would take it.
“You are much stronger now than you ever were a thousand years ago,” he replied. “No matter what form you take, you are still my only love.”
You couldn’t help yourself. “Even if I was reborn as a sheep?”
“I would become a sheep myself if I had to,” he responded, and you giggled at both the seriousness in his voice and the mental image of Viego as a sheep.
Staring up at Viego, who seemed puzzled by your laughter, you were struck by just how much your opinion of him had changed since you had watched Isolde’s thousand-year-old memories. It was hard to believe that you could feel like this about someone who had brought you such sadness in the past, but as you stared at Viego’s handsome face, all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.
But Senna had given you the key for a reason, and you didn’t want to trouble them by still being here when they returned, so you decided to be brave like Senna, taking one of Viego’s hands in yours and pulling him towards the front door. Viego’s hand was cold in yours, but his fingers held tight to yours. You found yourself wondering what kind of look Viego had on his face, but you were too nervous to look back at him until you got outside, taking the walk down the hallway to gather up all of your courage before turning back to him.
“Senna gave me–”
You were cut off by a gentle tug on your hand by Viego, pulling you back to him. Faster than you could comprehend, his other arm wrapped around your back, pulling you against him as he leaned down to kiss you.
You were shocked, Viego’s arm behind you being the only thing keeping you upright as his lips pressed against your own. You closed your eyes, hoping your inexperience wasn’t too obvious as you tentatively tried to kiss back, wishing your face would stop burning so hot; there was no way he wouldn’t notice the heat in your face, not with how cold he always was. Just as you were getting worried that you were too stiff, Viego pulled away, touching his forehead to yours.
He looked too pleased with himself, his jade eyes glowing with the same mischievous aura as the smirk he now wore on his lips. “You were saying something, my love?”
You sputtered, face red, trying to catch your thoughts. You hadn’t been expecting the kiss, and had also never kissed anyone before, so your brain was struggling to work again as you stared at Viego’s sly grin.
Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus. Right, the key.
“Senna gave me the key to a place of theirs we can stay in,” you explained. “It’s about an hour’s walk out of the city.”
Viego raised an eyebrow. “It would take much less time to travel there with the mist.”
“No!” you exclaimed hurriedly, noting the few people who were still out since it was only early evening. Your face only flushed more as you realized he had kissed you in front of other people, even if it was only a few. Noticing two women staring at you and Viego, you quickly pulled his hood back down over his head from where it had fallen askew, taking his hand again and pulling him with you in the direction Senna had indicated.
“People are already staring… if you use the mist, they might call the Demacian guard!” you explained as you pulled him with you down the road.
“They can try,” Viego scoffed. “No power in this world will take you from me again.”
You sped up your pace, desperately hoping the two women hadn’t heard Viego’s not-so-veiled threats against the Demacian guard as you pulled him along with you. While you didn’t doubt that Viego was likely strong enough to take on the whole of the Demacian military, it was a confrontation that you desperately wanted to avoid.
For his part, Viego didn’t seem bothered by your increased pace down the path; rather, he seemed to be in too much of a good mood for someone who had just threatened to take on a kingdom’s entire military force. Part of you wondered if he was just talking like that to keep you holding his hand to pull him along, but the notion was too embarrassing to possibly be true, so you dismissed it from your mind, choosing instead to focus on the scenery around you as you walked.
The path out of town was not too different from the roads you had walked back in your hometown. Once you were out of Demacia City, the path of finely-cobbled stone became a simple dirt path lined occasionally with simple houses on either side. The people who lived just outside the city didn’t seem to conform to the fanciful beauty standards of the city, instead dressing more like the people you had known back in the Demacian farmlands. Seeing the more ordinary people go about their lives brought you comfort; as nice as Demacia City was, you had a hard time feeling like you really belonged among its finery.
“I have never seen how the peasants live,” Viego commented from your side, the lightness in his voice making you feel like he didn’t quite get that most people took the word peasant as an insult. “They look happy.”
“I’m a peasant too,” you mused. “I lived on that farm most of my life.”
Rather than looking displeased, as you secretly feared he might, Viego let out a quiet hum. “I cannot help but wonder, if we were both peasants back in Camavor… could we have lived happier lives?”
“Viego…” You looked over at him to see him gazing sadly your way, and for a second you could have sworn you saw the Viego of his youth when you looked at him, tan skin and rich brown hair instead of the pale, silver-haired man you had come to know in this lifetime.
“I led us to ruin, and I almost lost your beautiful smile for good,” he added with downcast eyes. “I will not allow myself to be so foolish again.”
While you were trying to think of a response to his words, your eyes caught sight of a small house in the distance, a golden yellow sun painted on its front door. The house itself was fairly isolated; the last house you had passed had been a while back, and you couldn’t see any other houses in the distance ahead.
It was a relief; while you were still feeling awkward around Viego after that kiss, you knew it was better for everyone for Viego to not be around anyone but you for now. You pulled out the key Senna had given you, overly conscious of Viego at your back, fumbling a few times before getting the key slotted in correctly and unlocking the door.
Stepping inside, you were surprised to see how well-furnished the place was, despite it just being an out of town hideout for Senna and Lucian. The home consisted of a combined kitchen and entryway area with a simple bathroom down the short hallway. Opening the last door, you found a small bedroom containing no more than a bed and a small chest of drawers.
As you were looking over the room, you were surprised by Viego’s arms circling your waist, his chin resting against the side of your head.
“I have missed this dearly,” Viego’s low voice in your ear sent a noticeable shiver down your spine, which he definitely noticed. “It has been over a thousand years since I have felt your body against mine.”
His tone was sultry, and accompanied by a gentle nip at your ear, your cheeks were feeling incredibly warm. You had to assume that you had been with Viego like this, back a thousand years ago. But you hadn’t seen any of Isolde’s more suggestive memories, so you had no idea of what to expect from Viego. That, and you were as inexperienced as they came; it wasn’t like there were many boys around your age in your small town for you to do anything with. You were nervous, but glad it was Viego, and not someone like the owner’s brother who always hit on you whenever he visited the farm.
Viego withdrew from you, a metallic clang sounding out in the small room as he released the clasp on his cloak, allowing it to slide off his shoulders and hit the floor. Chancing a look back over your shoulder, you made eye contact with a once-again shirtless Viego, the black triangle on his chest bared once again.
Approaching you again, he took hold of your wrist, bringing your palm to lay against the spectral-green lined dark triangle in the center of his chest. You inhaled sharply, surprised when your hand was not swallowed by mist or sucked into the black void, but instead pressed against the triangle of black as if it were normal skin.
“The mark you gave me,” Viego said, voice surprisingly soft for someone talking about the wound that had ended their mortal life. “The mist is a part of me, so it will never harm you.”
“It feels warm,” you murmured. How could it feel so warm when the rest of his body was so cold?
“Only ever to you,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you again.
It was a short kiss, Viego giving you several short pecks as he slowly backed you up to the bed. He pulled away as the back of your knees hit the bed, and you opened your eyes as you caught your breath, only to see Viego with a wicked smirk on his face. Before you could question him, you were sent backwards onto the bed with a yelp as a rush of mist from Viego’s chest blew over you.
You found yourself on your back, the sheets a lot softer under you than you had expected. Realizing that the mist had left you feeling a lot colder than you had expected as well, you let out an embarrassed squeak when you discovered that the mist had somehow done away with your clothing, leaving you completely naked against the sheets.
The mist faded as quickly as it had appeared, revealing Viego at the foot of the bed in nothing but his tight black pants, which were noticeably tighter at the front. His gaze was smouldering as he took in your now-fully-revealed form, and while you were overtaken with the desire to shy away, but you were not given a chance as Viego quickly joined you on the bed.
He gently cupped your breasts in his hands, thumbs rubbing against your nipples, the cold of his fingers only heightening the jolt of pleasure that heated your face. Viego stared down at you, looking awestruck, strands of his silver hair falling over one of his eyes. He was so handsome that it was hard for you to believe this was real as you looked up at him, fighting the urge to run your hands through his hair as you let out a soft moan.
“You make it hard to focus when you sound like that,” Viego admitted as he leaned down. “It has been too long since I have heard your sweet voice moan.”
Crawling over you, Viego tilted your chin up with a hand on your cheek, allowing him to lock your lips together again. Unlike the previous kisses, this kiss was heated and intense, your tongue meeting his as his other hand laid next to your head, supporting his body closely above yours.
His body caging yours in should have felt cold with how frigid his skin was in unlife, but all you could feel was warmth as Viego kissed you like his life depended on it. Deciding to act on your earlier thoughts, you slid your hands into Viego’s soft hair, your nails running along his scalp. Viego groaned into your mouth, hips rutting into yours, letting you feel just how hard he was under his leather pants.
Viego’s hand strayed lower, your back bowing slightly off the bed when he began to move his thumb over your clit. He continued the passionate kiss as he kept up with the movements on your clit, the sensations making it hard for you to concentrate on the kiss. Finally, the pleasure got so intense that you jerked back against the pillow with a breathy moan, your face flushed with heat.
Viego pulled back from you entirely, spreading your legs and grasping your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders. Startled, you realized what he intended to do, staring at him with wide eyes.
“You don’t have to…” you trailed off, fingers grasping the sheets at your side as you stared at him.
Viego’s mouth turned up in a sly grin, looking up at you with his mouth inches away from your naked pussy. “There is nothing I want more in this world right now than to hear you cry out for me, my love.”
Before you could reply, Viego surged forward, tongue licking against your clit while his fingers pressed inside you. He seemed energized by the noises you made, fingers moving faster against you as you closed your eyes, moaning his name as his tongue brushed against you at a spot that had you seeing stars beyond your eyelids.
He was relentless, determined to get you to reach your peak, not slowing down until you cried out his name, nails raking against the sheets as you came.
Viego withdrew, looking very proud of himself as he stared down at your wrecked form. You laid flat against the bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath. As you took in Viego’s disheveled hair and satisfied smile, you let out a soft exhale, still not fully understanding how he was able to make you feel so comfortable with him after all that you had been through. Or maybe it had been because of everything you had been through together, the thousand years you had been apart and the short time you had been together again.
He didn’t make any moves to remove his pants, despite the fact that they looked painfully tight by this point. You stared at him from under your lashes, not knowing what to say as you slowly came down form the high of pleasure he had given you.
“Your form has never been more beautiful,” Viego said, leaning down to kiss you. “Now if only your lips were as honest as your eyes.”
“What?”
“Your eyes are telling me what you want me to do to you,” he murmured into your ear, voice low and sultry. “And I cannot find it in me to deny my queen what she desires.”
Viego sat up as mist flew from his chest, sweeping over his lower half and turning his pants to mist before dissipating entirely, leaving him just as naked as you. His cock was just as pale as the rest of his body, but clearly was still functioning just fine; in fact, you were slightly worried about the sheer size of him.
Viego took his place between your legs, his cock so close to where you wanted it. He took himself in hand, slowly lining himself up with you, looking down at you appraisingly before his cock was sinking into you.
You let out a soft sigh as you felt the stretch of his cock, surprised that it was nowhere near as painful as you had imagined. Once he was fully inside you, he leaned down, caging you in with his arms as he began to roll his hips into yours.
Sliding a hand into his hair, Viego happily allowed you to pull his lips back to yours, groaning into your mouth when you clenched around him after his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. While you had struggled to focus amidst the pleasure you were feeling, Viego had no such problem, easily able to kiss you breathless while maintaining a slow and gentle pace with his hips.
But as you continued to move against each other, slow and gentle began to be too little for you. You pulled back from Viego’s lips with a whine, looking at him with pleasure-hazed vision as he continued to move against you.
“Viego… faster, please,” you whined, watching him swallow as you spoke.
With a deep groan, Viego picked up his pace, each thrust of his cock hitting exactly where you needed it. Viego seemed to be as lost in the feeling as you were, eventually trading speed for increased intensity as you clung to his biceps.
Viego came first, slowing with a groan, but kissed you hard, rubbing at your clit until you joined him over the edge, feeling your energy drain from you as Viego pulled out of you before pulling your body to his, wrapping his arm around you.
“My heart, my body… they have only ever belonged to you,” Viego spoke, his words sending fondness blossoming in your chest.
Closing your eyes, you leaned against his chest, feeling happy but drained, at least until the reality of where you were came rushing back to you. You were in Senna’s house… in Senna’s bed. What had you been thinking?!
Noticing your panic, Viego lifted your chin, tilting your face up towards him with an eyebrow raised, quizzically speaking your name.
“Senna’s going to kill me,” you groaned in embarrassment.
“What?” Viego hissed, voice flat and dangerous, some mist tricking from his chest.
“No!” you exclaimed, placing your hands over his chest in a futile effort to keep the dark mist in. In your embarrassment, you had forgotten about Viego’s tendency to react against any threats directed towards you. “I just meant she would be upset with me for…. getting intimate… in her bed.”
Your words didn’t particularly seem to ease the severity of Viego’s misinterpretation of your words, but that would have to something to work on over time. With how harsh his life had been for so long, you shouldn’t have been surprised that hyperbole was largely lost on him. For now, all you could think of to do was distract him, quickly pulling his lips down to yours to hope you could make him forget about his current dangerous intentions, at least for the moment.
#x reader#reader insert#league of legends#league of legends viego#viego#lol x reader#league of legends x reader
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WAKING UP- CHAPTER 5
Rating M A03 ff.net [ Previous Chapter] [start at the beginning]
For thanks yous, chapter warnings and ‘what happened last chapter’ scroll to the end of this chapter :)
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CHAPTER 5 - QUEEN OF CLUBS
Ginny didn’t have a very large room, and it felt even smaller as Hermione tried to ready herself to go to a club, of all places. She wasn’t the club ‘type.’ She couldn’t say for sure, as she’d never been to one, but what little familiarity she had made it sound awful. Loud noises, skimpily dressed, dancing as if she hadn’t a care in the world seemed… exhausting. And pointless. And dangerous! Fleur, Angelina and Ginny were trying on a myriad of dresses and asking for the group's approval. While the wireless played raucous tunes and the other girls giggled, Hermione spent her time packing and repacking her beaded bag.
The extension charm was still firmly in place. She hadn’t figured out a way to keep things more organized within it, though, so the canned goods she’d placed there kept falling over. She wasn’t going to forget food again, that she knew. She hadn’t located a new tent yet, but she needed to prioritize that soon. She had just finished repacking some of her clothes when she heard Ginny ask, “What are you doing?”
Hermione snapped the bag shut, not knowing how to explain her preparations in any way that made her seem of sound mind.
“Just wasn’t sure what to wear…” It wasn’t a complete lie. She wasn’t sure what fit her anymore.
“Well, you can never go wrong with a little black dress,” said Ginny pointing to a thin-strapped sundress Hermione hadn’t had reason to wear in well over a year.
She nodded and went to a corner, turning her front away from them as she changed into the dress. As she wiggled her jeans out from under the dress she noticed the other girls showed no similar discretion, happily throwing dresses off in the middle of the room.
Hermione gave a speculative look in the mirror, tugging a bit at the neckline of her sundress. It fit differently than before, bagging around her waist and chest in an unflattering way, and the straps would not stay in place.
“I can do alterations to dresses if anyone needs them,” said Fleur, grabbing a book from within her bag, discreetly catching Hermione’s eye. Arachne Salavarrieta’s Little Book of Sewing had a few good spells for altering clothing on the fly. All four of them looked over the text for just the right spells to take in, let out, and shorten dresses.
Ginny, still underage and unable to do magic, begged them “you’ve got to shorten my skirt once we’re there!”
“Why not have us do it now?” Angelina asked, propping up a magically enlarged hand mirror on the roll top desk.
“I have four older brothers downstairs,” Ginny said with a sour look.
“Why should that matter?”
“One of those gits will take the piss in front of Mum if I look remotely sexy. That is, if Mum doesn’t already notice all on her own. I don’t know! Either way, just help me with the hem at the club, please? I don’t want to be the only one there looking frumpy!”
“From-py?” Fleur asked.
“Unfashionable, old-fashioned, overly modest and drab,” Hermione provided, fairly certain the term had been liberally applied to herself over the years.
“You look far from from-py, but we will help with the skirt,” Fleur assured Ginny.
“And if any brother gives you shit at the club, we’ll hex them for good measure too,” Angelina added, bringing out a pair of curling tongs and prompting Ginny to sit in front of her.
Hermione pulled at her dress some more, not sure how much to alter it, and not sure if she wanted to bother. A pernicious guilt gnawed at her as she pulled the dress taut to her body. She should be doing something that mattered, not fretting over a dress. She should be in Australia. She hadn’t earned a rest, let alone a ‘fun time out.’ She’d taken no steps forward. She’d not found her parents’ location, she’d not earned money, she’d not even checked to see if her old childhood home was still standing.
“Hermione, is everything alright?” Fleur quietly asked, coming to stand beside her at the long mirror.
Hermione forced a smile onto her face.
“Oh you know me… I’m never sure what to do with fashion and all that. I’m more at ease in a library.”
Fleur gave her a searching look she’d seen before at Shell Cottage. It was a look that sought truth behind idle chit chat. It brought a sisterly sort of comfort that Hermione had not thought Fleur capable of a year ago. She had found the French woman to be condescending and too effortlessly beautiful to warrant any attempt at friendship. The war had given her an appreciation for Fleur, though. They were something akin to friends now.
“I just…” Hermione said in a low voice only Fleur could hear as the wireless yowled another rock anthem. “This feels so silly when there’s so much to do.”
“We’ve earned a bit of silly, do you not think so?”
“You all might have…”
“Hermione,” she said, putting a tentative hand around her shoulder. “You ‘ave done more than most anyone.”
“Since The Battle I’ve done nothing! Everyone is helping rebuild and all I’ve done is sleep! And my parents are still in Australia, and I’ve…I’ve done nothing to get them back.”
“Ron told us of your parents and the memories… Will you be needing any help?”
“No,” Hermione quickly insisted. “No. I just need to make a plan and get them back here. Once I have a plan then it will all be alright.”
“You are meaning to bring them back here in England… To the home you lived in before?”
Hermione nodded, and saw a look of concern wrinkle Fleur’s otherwise flawless brow.
“Hermione… Have you been to your home since the war ended?”
Hermione shook her head. “I’m planning on checking on it soon.”
“This is why I asked. You can not do that alone. Many Muggleborn homes were cursed after the war. Some are no longer standing,” said Fleur, her voice ringing with intensity despite the lyric tone.
Hermione was aware that many a Muggleborn home had been razed to the ground, but refused to believe the same could have happened to her childhood home.
“Even the Burrow needed much curse breaking,” she continued. “We do not know each other well, but I am happy to help you with this.”
“Oh you don’t have to!” Hermione said with a shake of her head.
“Oh poppyrot!” Fleur said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Hermione let out a long breath, her gratitude forcing her to not correct Fleur to the word ‘poppycock.’ “It is my pleasure!”
“You two alright?” asked Ginny giving the two a sidelong look as Angelina continued to curl her hair.
“We are,” Fleur said, looking to Hermione who confirmed this with a head nod. “Just helping out with fashion. It is a ritual we women do. The girls gather and dress and help one another to look more beautiful, while the men do nothing.”
“Maybe they shower,” Angelina added with a laugh, “but probably not. They never put in half the effort we do!”
“You see? It is the way of it,” Fleur said, giving Hermione a small squeeze and a meaningful look. “I can help whenever you like.”
“Thank you, Fleur…” she said with equal import. When the other girls looked at her with curiosity she continued, “I don’t have any of my usual things like makeup or hair products.”
“I have a ton of stuff in my bag,” Angelina offered.
“As do I. We girls help one another,” Fleur said, grabbing a comb and some bottles of French products Hermione didn’t recognize. She continued with the faintest whisper, “You can send a message or Patronus to me when you are ready to enter your old home.”
Words failing her, Hermione put a hand on Fleur’s and gave it a small squeeze. Fleur said nothing, but the warm smile she sent in the mirror reassured her that the French woman completely understood.
After an hour of sewing alterations, primping, squealing, and many changes of clothes by each of the ladies, they decided they were almost ready enough to leave.
“Oh! Jewelry! I forgot about that,” Ginny moaned, looking through her small box of earrings.
Angelina and Fleur were eager to help her, but Hermione wasn’t sure she could take another debate about fashion. She was grateful for the silly hour she’d gotten to spend with them, though. Despite her hair still being a bit wild and curly, Hermione had to admit she liked how she looked in the mirror. The black sundress fit her perfectly now. She almost looked like she had a figure again. Between the dress and the makeup, and a bit of product from Angelina to keep her hair from frizzing, she looked almost pretty. She felt a touch of excitement flurry in her stomach at the thought of looking nice in front of Ron. It almost made her forget how nervous she was to be out of the safety of the Burrow. She gripped her beaded bag close to her side.
“I’m going to wait with the boys, if that’s alright.”
The girls waved her off as they held different earrings beside Ginny’s face.
As Hermione stepped into the hallways she immediately ran into a thin, though sturdy, body and let out a small exclamation of alarm. She quickly muffled her sound when she saw it was only Harry.
“Are you all ready to go then?” he asked, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Ginny behind the closing door.
“We’re almost all ready,” she said with a fond smile. “You know girls, it takes them forever.”
“You’re a girl too, according to Ron at least,” said Harry, giving her a wry grin. Harry was looking rather sharp in Muggle clothes that actually fit, and his hair was looking mysteriously untidy.
“Did you do something to your hair?”
“What?” he asked, putting a hand to the back of his hair and patting at it. “It doesn’t look bad, does it?”
“No,” she laughed, seeing the panic in his eyes. “Just not as wild as usual.”
“Yeah, well it took like four spells and I think they’re already wearing off.”
She studied his hair and could see one by one little hairs slowly moving into disarray, almost like someone had rubbed an invisible balloon against it.
“You’re trying to look extra nice for Ginny,” she teased.
He frowned, but a blush began to form around his jaw. “Yeah, well, we’ve never gotten to properly go someplace together, have we? You did the same for Ron, right?”
He had her there.
“Speaking of, where is he?”
“Downstairs, I think,” he said, hand going to his hair again. “Is it looking bad again?”
“It’s looking more like it usually does, if that’s what you mean.” His face scrunched in disapproval. “Really, it looks fine. Your hair fits you best when you do nothing to it. You look perfectly nice.”
“You too,” he said with a glance at her, before heading towards the bathroom. “Ok, I’m going to try to spell this one more time.”
She knew it was a lost cause, but didn’t have the heart to tell him as he eagerly tried to preen.
As she reached the bottom steps of the stairs, she could hear the low rumble of men’s voices.
“They’re taking ages,” Charlie sighed. “I don’t see why it takes them so long.”
“Women wear more?” said George.
“Harry’s hair has taken almost as long,” Lee said with a snort.
Hermione looked around the corner and saw the men all sprawled around the room, shoes up on tables and couch arms in a way they’d never dare if Mrs Weasley were in the room.
While everyone lightheartedly bantered with one another, in the corner sat Ron. His brow was creased as he silently played chess with Lee. He looked haggard, and for the eleventh time that evening, Hermione wished they weren’t going out. She’d much rather spend the evening wrapped in Ron’s arms, as she had that afternoon.
Her nerves had frayed at the thought of sleeping beside him, worried he would catch her in a nightmare. Silencing spell in place, she had feigned grumpy tiredness when he asked her questions. There had been no need to worry, though. Cuddled up to him she fell asleep as surely as one did on sleeping draughts, and somehow her nightmares were kept entirely at bay. It was the best sleep she’d had in months. The only thing that could have improved it was waking up beside Ron. He’d been gone when she’d woken, with no one knowing where he was. He’d come back from the village looking worn out giving excuses of ‘getting supplies’ which didn’t hold up to real scrutiny, when she thought of the timeline he gave. Ron Weasley was up to something, she just didn’t know what.
As if her thoughts drew him to her, Ron’s eyes rose and met hers.
The furrow in his brow smoothed, his scowling expression softened, and a boyish smile of his tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Who’s winning?” she asked, approaching the chess board.
“Ron was, but I think my luck’s about to change,” said Lee, a few of the men joining him in laughter and elbowing Ron, seeing his rather besotted look. Usually he’d turn beet red and curse at them, but his face remained mostly impassive as he met her eyes and smiled. The only sign of his discomfort was his ears going a tiny bit flush.
“Check mate,” said Ron, moving his bishop across the board, and rising from his seat.
“No it’s not, is it?” Lee asked, looking at the board. “Damn!”
Ron gave the lot a two fingered salute and led her from the living room to the kitchen, where his mother was doing some tidying and listening to the radio.
“I wasn’t sure about the dress,” she mumbled. Ron’s eyes traveled down her and she suppressed the urge to readjust her neckline, though she wasn’t sure in what direction.
“Well you look amazing in it,” he said, looking her in the eye and making her stomach do a tsukahara flip.
“Thank you,” she managed. A pleasurable rush of nerves ran up her spine. Despite looking very tired, he looked handsome. He was wearing an untucked dress shirt she’d not seen before, with the sleeves rolled up his arms in a way that made the nerves in her spine turn to jolts. Given the darker color scheme of it, she assumed it was a hand-me-down from Bill. She quickly realized all of him was looking rather polished, with the exception of his beat up boots. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. He was so sensitive about clothes, and the last thing she wanted was to cause additional stress on him, but she also knew he was a bit insecure and it might be nice to compliment his appearance.
“So how long until the rest of the girls are ready?” he asked.
Well there went that opportunity.
“Soon, I think. They just had to pick out earrings for Ginny,” she said looking up into face. His eyes looked so weary. “Are you doing well?”
“Course,” he grunted, immediately turning from her. “Mum, do you need help with that?”
Mrs Weasley turned from the dishes and assured him she didn’t. Despite the assurance, he started putting dishes in the cabinets. He didn’t spare her another look, not when the rest of the girls came down the stairs some ten minutes later, and not when they gathered on the edge of the property.
“Before we go,” George announced, beginning to hand each of them a playing card, “here is a Muggle I.D. for each of you.”
“Why do we need an I.D?” Ginny asked, inspecting the playing card in the waning light of the sunset.
“Because they check to see if you’re old enough to drink at clubs and such and can’t just put up an age line,” answered Bill.
“Why didn’t you transfigure these already?” asked Hermione, looking at her playing card, the Queen of Clubs.
“I’d have to know what Muggle I.D.s look like to do that. This just has a spell to register as an I.D. to Muggles. Pretty clever, if I do say so,” George said, smiling to them all as he finished handing out the cards. “Getting the dates right was tricky. Just make sure you say your birthday was in 79 or earlier. The card will match up with whatever date you say.”
“Where are we apparating to, George?” asked Angelina.
“My hotel room’ll do,” he answered.
Hermione felt Ron unexpectedly stiffen beside her.
“Everyone but Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Fleur knows where to go. So you all can pair up and side-along there. Here, Gin, come with me,” said George, waving Ginny over.
Ron made as if to grab Ginny back, but George had quickly disappeared with her. One by one they all disapparated, leaving her and a distracted Ron staring at the space George had just occupied.
Ron licked his dry lips and scrunched his brow in determination. “Right… Okay then, I guess we better go.”
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she said, gently putting her hand in his. “We could just stay in, you and me.”
His shoulders slumped. “Merlin, I wish I could take you up on that.”
“Why don’t you?” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve been dreading going out.”
“You too?”
“I packed and repacked my bag, just in case,” she said, giving the beaded bag a small shake that made its contents give a crash. “Damn. That’s probably the books again. I really need to find a way to make things stay in place!”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said with a fond look on his face. “But we should go. It’ll be good to get out, plus with G— nevermind.”
“Plus what?”
“Look, I really want to tell you, but I’m just not up for it all right now.” Her face must have given away how frustrating she found that. “I will, I swear I will! Just not tonight. Let’s just— let’s just pretend we’re okay and go out and try to enjoy ourselves.”
It went against every instinct in her body to agree to wait to know something, but she nodded her acquiescence.
His large hand moved to her back and the tight feeling of being compressed overtook her as he Apparated them to George’s hotel room.
In moments they reached their destination and the feeling of her breath being stolen didn’t stop, for Ron’s fingers grazed her side as he took a pace back from her.
When they arrived they received a good amount of teasing for taking their time to arrive, heavily implying the two had been snogging. Neither teen corrected them. As everyone made small talk, Ron was completely silent and looked about the room with seeming purpose. He had shown immense concern about George right before they left, had that intense conversation with him earlier, and she had to admit George smelt like a bar when he arrived and looked like he might have been sleeping on the floor of one. She had no idea what Ron was looking for, except perhaps empty bottles. The room was sparse, and only a tray of food, and a small bag in the corner showing any signs someone had been living there.
No one seemed to notice his actions except George who fixed him with a glare when no one was looking. Ron looked far from sheepish, and instead stood tall and locked eyes with his brother.
“Let’s get going. It’s just a few streets over,” George announced to the room, looking away from Ron.
Nerves shook Hermione as they travelled down the grimy London street. It did not look much different from Tottenham Court Road. The last time she had been near this part of London they’d ducked into a grotty cafe and been cornered by a pair of Death Eaters.
At least then it had been a less obtrusive group, with only her, Ron and Harry. Now they were a large boisterous group with so many redheads they stood out like a flock of goldfinches. Most of them were loudly talking or laughing, and many a passerby smirked at the boisterous group. If someone wanted to target them, they’d be all too easy to spot. She gripped her beaded bag so harshly one of her nails chipped.
Thankfully George was quite correct about the distance being short. In minutes they arrived at a large dark building with music dimly pulsing through its walls and a line to get in.
A large barrel-chested man with the thickest neck Hermione had ever seen stood at the door. The eldest Weasleys along with Lee and Angelina were let through with barely a glance at their playing cards, but as soon as he spotted the younger members of the group the bouncer began to look like an agitated bulldog.
He eyed Ron and Hermione’s cards closely, but gave a much more scrutinizing look towards Ginny and Harry as they handed their playing cards to him. He held a small flashlight to the Jack of Spades and Queen of Spades, and even ran a fingernail along the edge.
“What’s your birthday?”
“1979!” Harry offered, before wincing at his volume. Ron let out a chuckle, while Ginny rolled her eyes. The man’s glare intensified. “Er… July 31st 1979, that is.”
“Hmm… And you?” growled the Bouncer, sourly looking to Ginny.
“Tonight’s my birthday, actually!” she said with a winning smile. Hermione nearly protested, but Ron gave a small shake of his head.
“Ah, happy birthday!” said the man nodding at the card before handing it back to her, looking much less ornery. “Let Teresa know about it, and they’ll do ya something special.”
“Your birthday, huh?” Harry asked Ginny as soon as they were through the door.
“Much easier to have a good time and get some free drinks that way, isn’t it?” she said, giving a conspiratorial grin he shared.
“But it’s not your birthday!” Hermione protested, irritation prickling down her neck.
“I’m not eighteen either,” Ginny breezily pointed out.
“Well you’re lucky the card was able to adapt to that when you hadn’t said an actual date,” Hermione persisted. She clutched her beaded bag closer to her chest. “We don’t want to stand out.”
“Why not? It’s a Muggle club. It should be fun.”
“Well, it might be a Muggle club, but that doesn’t mean it’s completely safe.”
“You worry too much,” she said in an infuriatingly calm and understanding voice.
“No! We have to make sure we stay low profile and don’t say anything wrong, because all it takes is one wrong word and then everything falls apart!”
Harry looked to the ground, his eyebrows knitting together. He had to be thinking of the Taboo and the Snatchers as well.
“It’s just a bit of fun, Hermione. We’ll be okay,” said Ginny with a smile, looking around to spot the rest of their group, taking Harry by the hand towards a corner table. “Ah there they are!”
Hermione had never felt more like shaking her friend. Didn’t she understand how dire things were? They’d met Death Eaters at a Muggle cafe in London last August, and Fenrir and those Snatchers in the woods. All it took was one small mistake and then hell would rain down on them; they could end up beaten or cursed or stabbed in the chest.
“Hermione…” she heard Ron’s voice quiet and low in her ear. “There isn’t a Taboo anymore…”
“You don’t know that!” she almost shouted at him, painfully gripping her beaded bag.
One of his large hands gently started unwinding her fingers from the bag, before taking it from her and putting it in his jacket pocket. He started massaging her fingers. Under the pink and orange lights she could just make out the imprint the bag had left on her hands.
“I can feel the Taboo’s broken, and I bet you can too if you concentrate on it,” he said, continuing to work her hands until they became limp in his. “But if you want to leave and go back to the Burrow, we can right now.”
His quiet earnest words brought her eyes up to his. He saw right through her. He didn’t give her empty platitudes. He gave her a common sense answer to why things would be different, and an out if she was uncomfortable. She felt the overwhelming need to kiss him, and despite the crowd she decided to indulge herself. She stood on her tiptoes, and he took her lead leaning down to brush his lips against hers, hands still holding hers. How had they had so many years together without kissing?
For years she’d had to sit near him, with careful scrutinization over every action and inch between them. Was sitting too close to her friend? Would her leg pressing to his be too much? Would he notice how her eyes were fixated on his mouth a good three minutes as he grinned and told her about the mad thing he’d seen earlier that day? Did his hand around her shoulder linger longer than a friend’s hand would? When he’d tiredly leaned his head into her, had it meant something to him?
Now she could kiss him whenever she liked, and melt into his strong form, and let her hands be caressed, and get the anticipation of more ring through her body, and know it might be fulfilled later. The only thing she struggled to hold back was blurting out how very much she loved everything about him.
“Alright?” he asked as their lips parted.
She nodded, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from saying ‘I love you and actually yes I’d like to go home, but only because I want to snog you until both of us can barely breathe.’
“Ready to have ‘a bit of fun?’”
“I think I can manage,” she said with a smile. As long as he was by her side something akin to enjoyment of the evening could happen.
They went to a back table that didn’t nearly have enough seating for them all. This didn’t seem to matter as half of them strategically placed their jackets and purses so strangers would know it was occupied, while the others went to the bar to get drinks for everyone. Their table butted nearly up to the bar, and Ron perched on one of its stools.
“Do you want something to drink?” Hermione asked, looking at a menu.
He shook his head. “Someone needs to stay sober. Might as well be me.” He took the menu from her and eagerly pointed to it. “But I could do with these fried cheese things!”
She got in line, ready to order and pay when George stepped in. “Put your cash away. You’re not buying a thing, tonight! We’re here to celebrate you three, after all!”
Grateful not to have to spend the meager amount of cash she had, she put in her order for Ron’s food, and her wine. She’d never drunk much in her life, but she experienced the occasional wine with her parents.
She had worried the evening would be tedious, but seeing everyone looking giddy, toasting one another, and even dancing made her rethink the evening.
Ron had kept a close eye on George, but his brother was looking at ease and jubilant surrounded by family and friends. Hermione enjoyed the warming tang of red wine as they chatted away and seemed more relaxed than they’d been in years. The wine soothed her nerves as well.
“Was your skirt that short when we left?” George asked Ginny after she did a twirl to the music that accidentally flashed a cheek of her knickers.
“Yes it was,” she coolly answered. “And even if it wasn’t, there’s nothing you’re going to do about it, is there?”
Harry, already looking sloshed, looked down at Ginny’s legs, his mouth slightly open.
Ron gave a chuckle before flicking his friend’s ear.
“Righ’, sorry,” Harry said with a nod. Despite all the spells he’d done on his hair, it had reverted to its normal disheveled state.
“Let’s dance!” Ginny said, grabbing Harry’s hand. If it weren’t for the few rounds of shots, Hermione didn’t think they’d be able to get him on to the dance floor, but in his current state he happily followed his girlfriend to the bright lights and thumping music. This seemed an adorable prospect until they actually saw him dance.
“Oh shit… Someone needs to hit him with a stunner or something,” Ron laughed, as Hermione leaned back into him.
Harry had no sense of rhythm at all, and his stiff-armed movements made many people wince. Ginny didn’t seem to care, and was happily dancing beside him. Her effervescence seemed to drown out Harry’s sad attempts at movement.
Ron guffawed, and shook his head in amusement. Seated on a bar stool, he was only a half a foot taller than Hermione, which made for much more convenient kisses with no tiptoes needed. She had finished her second glass of wine and had a hot pleasant sensation buzzing through her. She put her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the vibration of his deep laugh and the music thrumming.
“Hmm… Y’should dance with me,” she murmured, though she made no move towards the dance floor. Instead she rubbed her hands down his legs that were on either side of her. The lights on the dancefloor shifted to green for a moment, and the cozy peace felt strangled. She glanced up to Ron, and thought of the one thing that really made her feel nothing but warmth. “You should snog me.”
He chuckled a bit, and she felt the back of his fingers graze her cheek.
“Dance or snog— Whichever you want,” he replied in her ear. “Though it seems you’re going a bit legless for dancing.”
“I am not!” she protested, pushing herself off of him and nearly stumbling. She stood very tall and made firm eye contact. “I am far from inebriated and do not like the implication that I am inebredated!”
“You mean inebriated?”
“That’s what I just said!” she said, grabbing his hand. “C’mon, let’s dance!”
He gave a shake of his head, but followed her onto the dance floor, where most of their group were dancing. Despite the yellow and orange lights, they were a vibrant group that stood out. Hermione couldn’t think why she’d been worried about it, though! And Ron was actually a very good dancer. She’d discovered this at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and was happy nothing had changed. He had a grand sense of rhythm and the way he held her close and moved about with her made her feel like one of those ladies from an old musical. Roger Gingers? No, that wasn’t it…
“You make me feel like a lady!” she shouted over the music. “I mean, a lady from a musical that dances and such! Y’know? Like with Astaire and all those old ones in the movies?”
Ron gave a nod, and she nodded along happy he knew the reference. Yes! He and she were meant for one another. He knew what she meant when she said things. Oh no, that couldn’t be right. Fred Astaire was a Muggle! There was no way he knew that reference!
“Wait! You don’t know who Astaire is!”
“Nope,” he replied, an amused grin making his dimple appear.
“Then why did you nod along?”
“You’re supposed to smile and nod at drunk people and irate girlfriends— and you’re the best of both!”
She laughed as he spun her around. She could do this forever! Just spin and spin, his hands on her, the bright lights bringing out odd colors in his hair, his warm smile, the invigorating feeling of just being alive...
“You dance as well as you snog!” she yelled, right as the song stopped, making many on the dance floor snigger, but she didn’t care. It was true. And he was hers, not anyone else's, and she got to snog him whenever she wanted. “Let’s get another drink!”
She bounded to the bar, and added another wine to the tab George had started.
“I think you might’ve had enough,” said Ron, sidling up beside her.
“Then you drink it!” she said, holding up the wine before taking a sip. He gently took the wine glass from her, and put it on the bar.
“Ever since I drank that poisoned mead, I’m not much for drinks from people I don’t know.”
“I just drank from it, though, so you know it’s safe,” she said, holding her hair up and away from her too hot neck.
“And I need to be sober so someone can get us all home at the end of the evening.”
That was a very good point. “You should snog me in the club’s bathroom,” she countered.
“That is very very tempting,” he said leaning in and giving her a peck on the nose. “When you aren’t sloshing about I might take you up on that.”
“M’not!” she said, grabbing her wine glass.
“Another round?” George asked, holding out a tray of shots. “For the trio! And the birthday girl!”
“Oh yes, let’s drink to my birthday!” Ginny crowed, grabbing what was at least her shot glass. There was a quick clearing of a throat from behind her from Bill. “Oh come oooon! Can’t I have some fun?”
“You can have plenty of fun. Just might want to be able to remember it tomorrow.”
“Don’t be mummish!” she replied, downing her drink.
Harry tittered at this, and she put a hand over his shot glass before he could get it to his lips. “You might want to hold back.”
“Mummish,” Harry laughed, with a shake of his shaggy head.
“How much has he had?” Charlie asked.
“A couple of shots and a beer,” said Lee with a shake of his head. “Complete and utter lightweight.”
“I want another shot,” Harry protested.
“Sorry, sloppy, leave this to the professionals,” George said, downing it before Harry could stop him. Hermione caught a grim look pass between Ron and Bill, but dismissed it as a good song came on and the other girls dragged them all onto the dance floor.
The party continued until Ron insisted they take a water break. Hermione slide into the booth next to him, wobbling only slightly, yet she gladly snuggled into him.
There was a gauzy blur to everything, with only the center of her vision having much clarity. It was nice. Her blurred cameo-vision settled on Ron. He was very handsome. And tall!
She told him so.
“Thanks,” he said, not seeming to take her seriously.
“I mean it, though! You’re almost pretty,” she said with a firm nod. “I’ve always thought so. You have the bluest eyes… They’re so… Blue! And I love your hands. They feel nice too.”
“Uh huh…” he said with a smile. “I think we best get you home soon… Here, have some water.”
“I don’t want water, I want more wine,” she said, taking the water and drinking it. “But I do mean it. You’re very good looking. And you have a cute bum! I haven’t told you that, but I should. I should tell you these things! I mean to, but I wait too long, and then I can’t tell you. Like with your clothes tonight! You look extra dishy and I can’t tell you because I don’t want you to think I’m not nice about clothes to you, ya know?”
“Well in that case, thank you?” he said, pouring her some more water that she angrily sipped at.
He’d taken off his jacket and rolled his sleeves up again at one point. She trailed a finger along a brain-scar on his forearm. She liked that. There was something about it that made her squirm in a good way.
“I like your arms… But to my point!!” she said, sitting up straight and poking him in the chest. “There’so much I can’t tell you! I’m the best secret keeper in the world. It’s like… It’s like my words are Fidelius charmed! And I don’t know how to tell you the secret! I want to, of course, but if I did and you didn’t say you love me back then I’d be so upset, and so I don’t say anything!”
She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest.
“You make it hard to not say things when you’re so pretty and good. You’re so good, Ron Weasley. I want to… I want to bottle you up and marry you and be the only one to touch your bum.”
His chuckle pleasantly hummed through her. He braced her against him a bit then kissed her forehead.
“I want that too,” he said, almost so quietly it couldn’t be heard over the music. She felt him stir beneath her head and let out a huff. “What?”
She cracked open an eye to see Harry gormlessly staring at them.
“I’m so glad you didn’t die. You’re like… the most important people in my life and I love you both so much,” said Harry, pointing to somewhere a foot or so to the left of them.
“No more alcohol for you, Harry,” said Ron, making Hermione sit up.
“I mean it!” Harry belligerently stated.
“We love you too, Harry,” said Hermione, putting a hand on him. “You’re like a brother to me! If I had brothers. I don’t. But if I did, you’d be my little brother.”
“You’re like an older sister that I love like a sister. And we’re both not dead,” Harry said with a nod.
“Merlin’s balls. We’ve got to get out of here,” Ron muttered, grabbing a glass of water and thrusting it into Harry’s hand. “Chug that and try not to be such a melancholy arsewipe, yeah?”
“I can’t help it. I had a bad childhood until I met you and Hagrid…” Harry said, looking so sad Hermione wanted to cry.
“You did! Ron, he DID have a bad childhood!”
“Yep, I’m aware,” said Ron with a sigh getting up. “Harry, where’d you put your glasses and jacket?”
He gave a sad shrug. “I don’t have a family. I don’t even have glasses now.”
Hermione nodded. “He can’t SEE, Ron.”
“I’m legally blind.”
“He’s blind, Ron!”
“Oh my GOD! I’m going to find the glasses!” Ron exploded, a hand going to his hair. “I’m getting bloody tired of dealing with drunks, you know that?”
“But he’s blind, Ron.”
With a wild gesture of frustration he started looking around the various points in the bar Harry had been to. Harry murmured about a lot of sad things, and Hermione told him about Ron’s bum which made him snigger. She leaned her head against the back of the booth, closing her eyes for just a moment.
She heard Charlie, Bill and Fleur bowed out for the evening, citing business they had to do the next day. Bill pulled Ron aside for a moment. She could just make out the low voiced words of ‘George,’ ‘rest’ and ‘bail’ beside her. She cracked open an eye and saw them both glancing at George, who was still bouncing on the dance floor with Lee and Angelina. Hermione listened to hear more, but the thrum of music drowned them out.
Hermione woke up an indeterminate amount of time later lying in their booth, head curled up on a conjured pillow and Ron’s large jacket draped over her.
She blearily rose and blinked to see Harry finish a shot beside her.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking anymore,” she managed to rasp even though her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She smacked her lips and looked for some water. The nearest pitcher seemed miles away even though it was a mere few feet.
“Y’were sleeping in the booth and there’s was noone to stop me,” said Harry with a triumphant smile that morphed into an unpleasant low belch.
“How long have I been asleep?” Her head was aching. She should have drunk more water.
“Mmm… An hour or so?”
“Where’s Ron?”
“He tucked you in,” Harry answered. She warmed at the thought of giant Ron hunching over to tenderly make her comfortable.
Harry put his chin on his hand and stared at her. “He fancies you.”
“Well I quite fancy him as well.”
“You fancy him,” he said with a sloppy dismissive hand, “but not like he does you. He’s all…” A series of soft pats rained down on her head. “And you’re all…” He pointed a finger at her face, nearly poking her in the eye. “Ya know?”
“Oh well that makes sense,” she humored him. “Where are your glasses? Didn’t Ron go to fetch them ages ago?”
“Search me…” he said, putting his head on the table before slurring. “I need a nap…”
Ginny, Lee and Angelina came panting off the dancefloor.
“Where’s George?” asked Angelina, gulping down some water and making a loud noise of satisfaction when she’d finished.
“Wasn’t he with you?”
No one knew where George or Ron were. They were about to start searching when there was the sound of a mic turning on, and the DJ announced, “and now one of our guests wants to make an announcement.”
There was a horrid feedback noise and a scuffle, but then a familiar voice began to ring through the crowd.
“Hello everyone!” said George into the mic.
“Oh God, who let him have a microphone?” said Angelina, shaking her head.
“I’m George and I’m here to celebrate my little sister’s birthday! So everyone, say cheers to her!”
Many of the crowd raised their glasses and Ginny was happy to wave to them and give a small bow. Hermione spotted that she was wearing Harry’s glasses on top of her head. She turned to point this out to Harry but he was letting out a series of small snores.
“Also we’re here to celebrate my brother Ronnie, and his two best friends. I can’t tell you what they did, but they are being honored for their services and it’s pretty impressive shit, so cheers to them!”
The crowd cheered again. “That’s right. He’s very impressive. Didn’t think he would be, but here we are! Didn’t think he’d make it out of a war alive, but he did. Not a fucking scratch on him, ‘cept some missing fingernails.”
Hermione looked for Ron, and found him standing to the side of the DJ booth. He looked like he was saying something, and George’s face went dark and surly. “No, I don’t feel like going home.”
“Get off the mic!” someone from the crowd hollered, and few people let out a resounding ‘woo’ in agreement.
“Yes, thank you for your support!” George said with a wave. “What was I talking about? Oh yes! The war! My other brothers all made it ok, but I lost an ear, and then my twin brother got fucking killed by a bloody wall. How stupid a way is that to go?”
The DJ tried to get George to hand over the mic, but he was belligerently holding it low and crowding the DJ out. Ron looked like he was saying something. He put a hand on George’s shoulder that was violently shrugged off, prompting Angelina and Lee to run over to intervene.
Hermione didn’t want to crowd them and was fairly certain she couldn’t get there fast enough to help anyways. Ginny had a hand to her mouth.
“None of you know how much we sacrificed to keep you all safe, you know that? On the run all the time, nearly dying every day, and you lot just went about your lives having no fucking clue. People died. My brother is DEAD! And you’re all having a bloody good time, but he’s dead and everything is fucking ruined and—”
The thick-necked bouncer moved in and started pointing a beefy hand in George’s face.
“George, don’t!” came Ron’s holler, just barely picked up by the mic.
Hermione heard a chorus of yells beside her as, in front of the entire Muggle club, George whipped out his wand and brandished it at the bouncer.
“Take another step and I’ll drop you,” he snarled.
Hermione gave a yell of her own as Ron put up his hands and stood in front of George’s sparking wand.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 5 Author’s Note-
Chapter 6 is already written and in the editing process.
I actually split Chapter 5 into two parts as it was epically long. So next chapter will be from Hermione's POV
oh, and it will have some smut
and angst
====================================================
Giant thank you to:
@abradystrix and @divagonzo for betaing and being so supportive and wonderful.
CHAPTER WARNINGS:
cursing, depresssed/anxious thinking, talk about eating & weight gain/loss, evidence of PTSD, drinking and drunkeness, threats
Previously, in 'Waking Up'
Hermione is on edge about her parents and is having trouble with anxiety in general- also worried about Ron not saying 'I love you' yet
Ron was exhausted from tending to George the night before- he's running on fumes- and is devastated that Hermione doesn't seem to care for Harry joining the Aurors- He fills out paperwork and gets sick with anxiety
Needs a quill and sees Hermione needs money for Australia
Goes to the village to get a job- gets lost in dark memories
Comes home to everyone giving cheers to him and the trio for Order of Merlins and Auror offers
They're all gonna go out to celebrate
#fanfiction#hermione granger#ron weasley#romione#harry potter#waking up#My writing#post hogwarts#hp fanfic
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Sunrise - Yeosang
Summary: In which the valedictorian falls from the school’s honor roll as his mind is occupied by something else
Warning/s: Tackles themes about the catholic life, how catholic school runs and works and I’m not even sure if this a warning but I’ll give this as a heads up, exhibitionism (if you squint closely), public sex, fingering, nipple play, catholicschoolgirl!YN x catholicschoolboy!Yeosang ft admirer!San
You’ve known Yeosang ever since you were in middle school. When he was a new student, every girl in your year practically had a crush on him. And you weren’t even immune to it, but you were a +1 from the rest of the girls as you were more confident enough to go up to him and befriend him. Being fairly close to the opposite sex isn’t wrong in your eyes, especially when you only had a sole purpose of friendship in your mind - but the school administrator’s sees this as a threat of a potential relationship. And one day, they walked up to you and threatened you that if you do not back away, they’d be caling your parents. You were young and scared, there wasn’t really anything more happening between you and Yeosang, but you did back away.
And so for the next four years, you lost the friendship contact with Yeosang. But even though you weren’t talking, you’ve heard stories how he was the top in his class, practically hogging all the medals during his middle school graduation and how his friends tease him about it. Once he entered high school, he was now in a new building different from yours. And for a year you completely saw him less. That is until, you graduated middle school and followed him to the high school department.
And then, that’s when everything kinda went off, at least for you. You’ve heard from your upper class friends how Yeosang was no longer the top of his class, how he prefers to sleep during class discussions and now he was observed to be less enthusiastic when it comes to group works. Some say it was because his parents gave him less attention when his younger sibling was born, but others said that it was because him and all of his batch mates were all growing teens experiencing high sexual needs. You didn’t know which reason to believe, but you still managed to steer clear away from him.
But has Yeosang ever looked this handsome? When you two were in middle school, he was the baby faced new student who was so studious and oblivious to every girl who has a crush on him. But now, he completely made a 360 - he grew taller, grew his hair longer, the muscles in his arms outlined and became more obvious through the sleeves of his uniform and he looked more etheral than before. Being around him made you feel uneasy, small and vulnerable, as if the middle school in you is falling for him again.
One afternoon while you were hanging out with your friends at the mini garden, him and his friends group joined your company. It was...unexpected? surprising? shocking? You didn’t know why he would join on all of you, but you tried your best to break the ice and make him feel involved in the group. Through that encounter, you became close to his best friend, San. Everyday, after school you and San would talk at a chatting app for hours until one of you would fall asleep. You didn’t suspected anything at all. What was there to suspect?
But in reality, San and Yeosang had a crush on you. San was more confident in talking to you first, virtually and non virtually. Whereas Yeosang was more of the glancing and staring at you type. When you learned Yeosang had a crush on you, you ratted out San for details, completely unaware how you were also crushing his feelings by falling for his best friend instead. And slowly, you and Yeosang were back in speaking terms until you found yourself eyes closed in a heated lip locking making out session at the old library that used to serve as a sleeping quarters for the nuns.
“Be a good girl and don’t make a sound” He whispers in your ear as he attaches his lips on your neck, sucking and licking a patch of your skin while a hand tugs on your blouse, slipping inside and cupping your breast. A soft gasp escapes your lips, suddenly you grew conscious of your clit rubbing against the tight fabric of your skirt. A hand squeezes your ass while the other hand, brushes his fingers on your clothed clit in a teasing manner. Another soft gasp elicits your lips and Yeosang’s hand rubs your clit harder, sensing your clit throbbing.
And all of a sudden, the doors to the old library swung open, and the small sounds of feet thumping on the floor and joyous sounds of laughter and cheers from the preschool students breaks in. Yeosang turns his head slightly to take a peak behind the wooden blinds that separates you two, seeing a class of preschool children, a nun and a teacher entered the old library to do some fun light reading. Yeosang turns his head back to look at you, his eyes mixed with seriousness and lust. “Don’t, or I’ll have to stop.” he grips on your chin as you slowly nodded your head.
“I want to taste you” Yeosang says huskily, and you get so turned on you have to clench your thighs. The one hand that’s not inside you reaches for you your panties, slipping under your skirt. You were about to object, but you couldn’t as you felt his fingers pressing into your clit, his lips slowly spiraling down to your chest as his free hand unbuttons your blouse and unclips your bra. Lifting your bra up, he attaches his lips on your soft, delicate pink buds that hardened inside his warm mouth. It was getting hard to stay quiet, but you bit your lower lip, already tasting the rusty taste of blood inside your mouth.
“I’ll be taking this off now” he said, pulling your panties down a little when you placed a hand on top of his. “No!” you squeeked out, shaking your head. Yeosang chuckles darkly, lifting your skirt up as he takes a look at your pink panties. “Don’t be silly, Y/N. They look cute. But it’d look cuter if they were on the floor instead” and with that, he harshly tugs on your underwear down before pocketing it. Yeosang crouches down, face level with your throbbing pussy, lifting your leg up and placing it on top of his shoulder.
“Don’t be scared, Y/N. I’ll take good care of you.” He says, looking up at you smiling before slipping two fingers inside of you, slowly and gently they pump in and out of you until his lips presses against your folds, sticking his tongue out to take a long lick on your clit. Your body buckles as he presses his tongue even further inside of you, his fingers thrusting inside of you at the same time, letting out an inaudible gasp and moan with the burst of pleasure. He sinks his tongue even further down your slit to tease your tight walls. The sensation coursed through too much on your legs and you hear a high pitched squeal as a preschool student played dangerously near to where and Yeosang are hiding at the same time your first orgasm slams into you.
He stops licking your clit, removing his fingers from inside of you and stands back up, a smile painted on his glistening lips. Staring at him in amazement until he leans in and kisses your lips with a devilish smile, getting a taste of yourself on his lips. He unbuckles his black pants, letting it drop down his ankles along with his boxers, your eyes gleamed at the sight of his peach colored cock that stood proudly before you. Unbuttoning his shirt off and got a glimpse of his toned body. You let out a soft moan in wonderment, stroking his smooth skin. Slowly, he circles the tip of his cock around your entrance before pushing it inside your tight entance. He slowly pumps himself in and out of you, but stops for a couple of times as his cock moves back out and then forwards again and before his entire long shaft is inside of you. Yeosang buried his face on the crook of your neck, his free hand placed on top of your mouth while the other grips tightly under your thighs. He pulls out completely and then slams his cock back into you like a jackhammer, over and over. You wince softly at the pain but moan at the pleasure. Your heart pounding inside your chest, trying to breathe between your moans, body covered in sweat and Yeosang’s saliva.
You whimper as he slaps your ass, slightly glaring at him in case he ever forgets the fact that there are children inside the old library. “Harder, Sangie” you moan the words out in his ear. And Yeosang remains still for a second before slamming himself into you hard. Your body explodes in waves of sensation as Yeosang’s hand squeezes your throat. Moaning in misery while clinging onto his body as you shudder in relief. Yeosang pounds into you, seeking pleasure at the old middle school crush you’ve had once on him.
He lifts his head up and stares into your teary eyes, his cheeks staining pink tint. You and Yeosang groan and grunt under your breaths with pleasure as your bodies explode in the climax. The waves of pleasure finally dying down as the two of you snuggle up to each other. Inhaling his scent, you felt a scent of security and warmth.
While still snuggling onto each other, the preschool children began to mention a prayer in their little voices before happily going out of the room. Leaving you and Yeosang back to your own little world.
“Did you hear those kids? We’d be having them soon too.” Yeosang laughs, bringing your body closer to his. And that’s when you realize, you both didn’t use protection.
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Hi friend! You seem vast in your knowledge of Stephen and willing to share so please enlighten me as I don’t read the comics but I do watch the mcu movies, and do love Stephen.
I know he’s erratic and impulsive and reckless sometimes but didnt we already complete this arc in his first movie? Especially since we’ve watched him deal with the consequences of his actions for the entirety of the film and end of the movie Stephen was a different Stephen from the beginning of the movie.
IW Stephen seemed like a more mature version of the man we’ve met at the end of his first movie, a linear progression of the character, more responsible.
The spider man trailer is just a few minutes so I’ll further reserve judgment till I see the film, but he seems.. silly almost? I’m aware he has his funny moments but I’m just nervous they’re gonna make him the joke instead of having him make the jokes.
Do you notice anything weird about how the adults act in these newer marvel projects.? (I’m thinking of loki specifically) they all have a silly undertone to them? I cant put my finger on it but it’s definitely new and ..off
Is this a constant characterization for Stephen in the comics? Is this what he’s like all the time?
Regardless, thank you for your time if you see this xx
Oh yeah, Stephen's my favorite subject at the moment so I'm happy to give my thoughts!
Note that my answers apply to MCU!Stephen and what we've seen in the four films he's been in.
I know he’s erratic and impulsive and reckless sometimes but didnt we already complete this arc in his first movie? Especially since we’ve watched him deal with the consequences of his actions for the entirety of the film and end of the movie Stephen was a different Stephen from the beginning of the movie.
In my experience of just living, there are personality quirks that can be tempered out and made better, but not entirely eliminated, even if it's undesirable. In my opinion, Stephen's need to push himself and prove that he can Do A Thing is a trait that won't ever go away--especially as that trait has helped him more than hindered him. Examples would include the more mundane such as getting through a combined MD/PhD program and inventing surgical procedures at what is still a really young age for a neurosurgeon. We don't have a canonical age for Stephen, but Benedict was 40 when Doctor Strange was filmed and released; even if he's canonically in his mid-40s, that's still very young for him to be at his caliber after the necessary years of med school and residency in the United States. He's young and nowhere near the end of his career when he gets in the car crash. So with that information in mind, we know that he's very ambitious and throws himself into doing difficult work with gusto. That doesn't even go into everything he did as a sorcerer.
Why get into all of this? Because while we, the viewer who has seen the multiverse open at... some point (possibly, in a rewritten timeline, it's always been open now with what happened in Loki!), we have seen just how nuts it gets. We have seen the consequences. Stephen's smart, but I don't think it's a matter of strictly recklessness and more a combination of ignorance on this specific subject (erasing memories across the world or slightly rewriting time-- we don't know how he's doing it, but a memory spell makes more sense to me), hubris (of course), and the real desire to help Peter out. The latter two traits combined in intelligent people have proven bad in both fiction and reality.
The reason I don't think it's pure impulsiveness is because in the trailer, we see Stephen doing some meditation type thing in the underground area before the spell. He's also always doing research and as he tells Peter he'll help him, he clearly knows of a spell already and has some working knowledge of how it works. The conversation with Wong wouldn't have happened otherwise. But I personally get the vibe off him that he'd not do it without being very confident that he can do it -- and his history in the films has shown 0 failures in any of his spells once he's past novice-level, so in that aspect, his confidence makes sense. If he *should* do the spell due to the risks of failure, and lack of practicing precaution in the face of his confidence, is where his flaws lie, IMO. And in that sense people could say he was reckless for deciding to perform a complicated, dangerous spell, but that follows his M.O. completely -- he performed a very complicated, dangerous spell consistently with the Time Stone again and again, from how the sorcerers spoke about the Infinity Stone (and he casually just... throws himself into a time loop, then to look through time. He takes calculated risks, but they are very much risks).
One last thought on this statement - the biggest, biggest lesson that Stephen learned in his first film was that it was not about him. There was more to the world than his glory and his brilliance and even his happiness. He started doing things for the greater good rather than himself. And he started doing things for others -- fighting for the Sanctum in his own film, and protecting the Earth. Serving something greater than himself. But that doesn't make him suddenly humble, and it doesn't suddenly take away his strange (hah) sense of humor.
IW Stephen seemed like a more mature version of the man we’ve met at the end of his first movie, a linear progression of the character, more responsible.
He was more serious in that film. So was Tony. They still had some quips and arguments, but they were very serious. And it makes sense as to why -- it was the end of the world. So the mood of the setting would change anyone's demeanour. But he had very little chance to unwind in that film, considering that he was trying to protect one of six items that would destroy the universe, and also got freaking tortured in the middle of the film with little time to recover. But nearly every Avenger was super serious in that film, and for good reason.
It's a completely different setting from what is now Stephen's life which, from what little we've seen in the trailer, is weird enough that he got a magical snowstorm in the Sanctum. It's safe enough that Wong's off on vacation. It's been nearly a year since he returned from the dead. He's either figured out how to move on in the last year or, as some prefer, has gotten good enough to put on a facade and bury the trauma so far down that he's putting on a normal act - but that's up to debate until MoM. And we have no idea if old traumas are going to be brought up there or if it's just the new things.
I think the point is that it's possible to be both a responsible person and also to make colossal mistakes due to either emotional connections or hubris (or both - we don't know which way the film will go, if they'll explain it at all). They're not mutually exclusive. He can be protecting reality fantastically, while also believing that he's skilled enough to pull off the ability to pull off a dangerous spell which he did in his own film and in IW. He's guided the timeline down a specific path in IW/Endgame, after all - what's a little identity item compared to the fate of the universe, after all? Removing the Spider-Man/Peter association is, in comparison, child's play I imagine to a man like Stephen.
The spider man trailer is just a few minutes so I’ll further reserve judgment till I see the film, but he seems.. silly almost? I’m aware he has his funny moments but I’m just nervous they’re gonna make him the joke instead of having him make the jokes.
Do you notice anything weird about how the adults act in these newer marvel projects.? (I’m thinking of loki specifically) they all have a silly undertone to them? I cant put my finger on it but it’s definitely new and ..off
He was definitely silly in his own film. He was constantly trying to get Wong to laugh and there was a banter between Stephen and Christine after he gets stabbed. He's always been a bit awkward and a bit jokey--I think Thor showed that combination of humorous snark and good research rather well, though he was flippant in a way that didn't get to show his kinder side that is better established in his film. And now we get to see that sympathy in his agreement to help Peter (at least, in my opinion).
Because he was doing an amazing awesome spell not once, not twice, but *three* times in the trailer alone, I am not worried about Stephen just being a joke. He seems just as powerful as he was in IW and Endgame. The rest of the world is just getting reminded that he's definitely a bit of a socially awkward duck at times (or, if you prefer, Putting On a "I'm Fine" Front And It's Coming Across As Weird). So him being a big joke is not something I am personally worried about.
Situational humor has been a staple of Marvel films since Iron Man. I watched the films casually before 2016 when I fell head deep into Stephen Strange (or well, 2018/9 is more accurate as that's when I *really* went nuts), and my viewings before that time and after that time was a lot more analytical. And it's very easy to see where the silliness started, all the way back when Tony crashed into his own car and Dum-E sprayed him with a fire extinguisher. Thor was the butt of the joke in the "fish out of water" scene in a good, good chunk of the film. Even Captain America had some situational humor. And remember that Guardians of the Galaxy was back in 2014, which was halfway through the MCU's time thus far. The stars of these films are almost always the butt of some joke a couple times and do things that could be viewed as childish.
I don't know your age at all, but if you were born after 1990, what might be happening, rather, is that they are not getting sillier, but that you may be getting older. I was an adult (legally, at least) in 2008, but the way I view the adults of the films throughout the early 2010s as compared to now is night and day. It's just come with my own life experience, and wider understanding to media tropes. The jump is even more significant if you were younger in Iron Man/Avengers days and are an adult now. If you're an older adult than me, then I'd argue it's the matter of life experience adding to your overall knowledge of media plus, potentially, rose-tinted glasses giving you a better vision of the older movies while forgetting that the older movies had plenty of their own flaws (and silliness). Could be a lot of things- it's too individual to really say why your perspective has changed. But I don't think the MCU's largely changed their comedy formula since 2012/2013.
Is this a constant characterization for Stephen in the comics? Is this what he’s like all the time?
Oh the comics are a mess of characterizations. It's very difficult to find full consistency across writers, and some writers did him much better than others. At the moment, Jason Aaron's 2015 run is viewed as very good by a large amount of fans, while Waid's 2018 run is viewed with mixed reviews. It's largely a matter of preference as you'll see traits that are just so uncharacteristic in an arc and then it never happens again. He takes on secret identities, he kills billions to save trillions (along with the other Avengers!), he sells his soul, he's in a steady relationship for 30 years, then he's sleeping with a new woman every arc he co-stars in-- it's just so dependent on the writer over the decades. What Marvel thinks will sell. Right now Marvel thinks his death is gonna sell issues, so yeah :P You pick and choose with the comics and build a personality from there.
Thank you for the thoughtful ask. I hope this wasn't too much of a drag to read through; I get rambly on my favorite subjects. Or anything, really.
#stephen strange#doctor strange#spiderman no way home#spoilers#meta#mcu#i did a long ramble#i love stephen#i hope this was somewhat enlightening nonny#anonymous#ask#answered#long post
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Break Up (Request)
Holland Brothers x gn!teen!sibling!reader
Genre: angst, fluff
Request Description: Hi!! I’m a new follower of yours and I would like to say that I love your writing and that you are amazing!!! Would you be able to do a Holland brothers (Tom, Sam, Harry, Paddy) x teen!sister reader where Y/N experiences her first breakup and she’s extremely upset and distraught about it. The boys comfort her and try and make her feel better and are overall just good brothers to her. Thank you in advance and I hope you are doing well!!
Warnings: breakup, emotions, language, fair warning the readers ex is described as a boy (sorry to anyone whos more into girls)
(A/N): i dont actually know the holland brothers so this might suck big time but anyway.. paddy might suck in this i dont make the rules
You missed him. You missed him terribly.
That was all you could think, as you stared emptily at the ceiling above you. The bed felt so hard and cold, reeking with the knowledge that you would never lie there again with him. Your heart was crushed.
A petty feeling resided in your stomach. Why did it have to end like this? You knew your paths were leading you to different places in your lives, but still, a tiny pill of resentment stayed with you, because he didn’t have to leave you. And another pill stayed beside it, directed at yourself, for turning your anger towards him. It was no ones fault. You knew that.
You brought your hands to your face, and breathed shakily. You’d been crying for a while now. It had stopped, but the feeling was still there. You hated yourself for being such a stereotype. A teenager worked up about such a silly thing. A breakup. Could you be anymore stupid?
A knock came from your door.
“Y/n?”
It was Harry’s voice, right behind your door. You heard shuffling down the hall, then abruptly stopping.
“You okay in there? Mom told us what happened..”
You didn’t move, but still called, “I’m fine, Harry. Thanks.”
There was silence then. No footsteps came outside your door.
“Is it okay if I come in?” Harry asked carefully. Of course, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not with his little sibling. He loved you, and cared for you so much.
“I’d prefer it if you don-” before you could finish your sentence, the door opened and Harry walked inside. You saw Paddy watching the scene with big eyes, a laundry basket in his grasp, stopped in the middle of the hallway. He didn’t seem to know what to do.
Harry sighed as walked into your room. He sat down at the edge of your bed and looked at you. Your eyes were puffy and your wet lashes were clumped together.
“So, you’re not fine,” Harry said lowly, studying you. You rolled your eyes and sat up beside him.
“No, Harry, I’m not. I know it’s stupid,” you sniffled bitterly. You knew your brothers would only make fun of you. To them, you were just a hysterical teen. Harry’s eyes softened at your words.
“Why would it be stupid?” he asked quietly, eyes searching yours. You shook your head, feeling your eyes burn again. Paddy still stood, not moving. He looked like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. It was weird, you thought, to you he always looked like a kid to you, despite only being about a year old than him.
“Because, Harry! You and.. You and Sam and Tom and Paddy are always making fun of me. You know, for being a stupid teenager or whatever. I know it’s stupid, okay? You don’t need to come in here to tell me, that this is some stupid-” you stopped yourself when another tear trickled down your face. You took a shaky breath, and wiped the tear away. You were too embarrassed to look at Harry once more.
There was a moment of silence. You could only hear his breathing and your beating heart. Then:
“Paddy, can you go get Tom and Sam for me please?” Harry asked, eyes not leaving you. You glanced at Paddy, seeing him gulp and nod, and then race down the hallway, the clothes in the laundry basket hopping at his force.
Harry took your hand. “Y/n.. We don’t think you’re a ‘stupid teenager’ for having feelings. These are- are natural. Every one goes through it! And that doesn’t make it any less real!”
Your lip quivered. It was so hard to hold back your tears. You never liked to cry in front of your brothers. The only other time you did, was when your dog died.
“Hey.. What’s going on?” Tom’s careful voice came from the doorway. Him, Sam, and Paddy peered around the corner of the bedroom door. You stifled a laugh at the sight. It felt a little less bad then.
“It turns out we’ve been a flock of assholes to Y/n. They think we think they’re stupid for their breakup,” Harry explained. You saw Tom and Sam furrow their brows, and then look at you. Paddy just stared with those big eyes.
“Woah, is that true, N/n?”
You struggled for words. Yes, you should’ve said, but your reluctant silence was more than enough answer. Before you could think anymore, you felt a pair of arms around you. Then another adding to the weight, and then another pair, and once more another came. Your brothers surrounded you in a large, confusing hug, but a hug nonetheless.
“We don’t think you’re stupid for this, Y/n. We never could. You’re the smartest Holland there is!”
“Yeah! And Liam was a good kid. We understand that it’s hard.”
“It’s totally fine to feel sad. If there’s anything you need at all, just come to us!”
Your heart felt so full, shining with happiness, yet twinging when you thought of him once more. You cried again.
“Th-Thank you. It’s just.. God, I wish we could stay together or something. I mean, we loved each other as much as we were capable of. And I just thought we’d be together for much longer. But then..” you hiccuped, and your brothers all rubbed your back or your head.
“It’s okay, N/n.. It’s okay..”
They stayed with you until you stopped crying, and when you did, Sam stroked your cheek gently.
“Hey, how about we all watch some movies?” he suggested, pulling away. Tom, Harry and Paddy all cheered enthusiastically. You smiled and nodded. You knew Tom also had a busy schedule, but he still agreed without a second thought. Your brothers and you had a much stronger bond than you realized.
“Let’s also get ice cream! Please?” Paddy pleaded, and you nodded seriously, because that was not an offer you were about to bypass.
And so you all watched movies and ate ice cream. You lost a boy, a boy you sincerely loved, and that hurt. But the bond you had with four other boys in your life strengthened. And if that doesn’t count for anything, you got some ice cream out of it!
It would pass, you thought as you all watched horrible horror movies long into the night, and stuffed your faces with junk food. It was real and it hurt, but alas, it would pass.
___________________________
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Seven to twelve
♥️ Inseong x female reader (female anatomy); mentions of other SF9 members.
♥️ This is set in the As the clock strikes midnight universe, right after the epilogue! Read it before this one to get the context.
♥️ Smut (2.7k words); y/n is a professional Domme. Inseong is a bisexual sub. Mommy kink, degradation, spanking. Mentions of other BDSM practices.
♥️ Quality Department leader Kim Inseong has two secrets: first is his love for kink, second is a massive crush on a hot guy from HR department. Every Thursday, a trusted Domme helps him deal with frustration keeping those secrets causes.
♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.
As you stepped back into the dungeon, you admired the transformation the room had undergone while you were taking a shower. Your previous customer made a huge mess (still, not even comparable to the mess you've made of him). You weren't the best at cleaning - you've had other talents that got you through life, after all - so you couldn't help but be amazed at the work the cleaning staff did in such a short time.
Gone were the wet stains on the floor, and a soiled rug had been replaced for a fresh, fluffy one. All the scary torture equipment was hidden behind partition that would automatically slide out of the nearest wall by a press of a button. Antique leather chair was switched to a cozy looking armchair with blankets laid out on the floor next to it. The mood of the otherwise pretty sterile space was warmed up thanks to pink tinted lighting.
All of those were a tell-tale sign who your next customer would be.
You opened the wardrobe and took a black satin-and-lace bodysuit out of it. Your usual tight corset and leather boots wouldn't be needed this time. After you put the garment on, you opted for classic shiny stilettos, and topped the outfit with a short flowy dressing gown.
Just to be sure everything was in place, you checked yourself out in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door: the look was a blend of a retro housewife and a pin-up girl, complete with vintage style lingerie, aggressive eyeliner and red lipstick. Just as he liked it.
There were only minutes left to the appointment, so you stroke a couple more poses to see the outfit in different angles. Perfect. You crossed the floor in a few elegant strides, to finally take a seat on the armchair in the middle of the spacious room.
You had a pretty chill end of the workday ahead of you.
A soft, somewhat cautious knock on the door broke the silence.
"Come in."
There he was, entering hesitantly, and closing the door behind him in an awkward manner. Inseong - you had no interest in your customers' last names, it was something only the administration ladies kept for business purposes - was a tall, very tall man with broad shoulders, lanky limbs and a bit of a tummy; his face, though, was that of a teenage boy, with barely any wrinkles and nervous expression. From what he told you, he was some kind of a supervisor or a boss or something in the field of corporate banking. At that moment, however, with his black bangs covering his forehead, he was stripped out of all titles he might have held as a higher up.
Honestly, he looked pretty cute in a set of pink fleece pajamas with a print consisting of little yellow chicks.
He stood there, big eyes looking at you anxiously. You knew he was waiting for your sign - his wish was to experience your different moods, so you always kept him uncertain for a bit. It was more fun this way.
That night you decided to play nice, at least for a while. You put on your warmest smile, spreading your arms.
"Come on, baby, come to Mommy!"
Inseong didn't need to be told twice. He rushed from his place. In seconds, he sank onto his knees inbetween your spread legs. You sneaked your arms around his neck and harshly pulled him forward, only to let him plant his face right into your breasts.
Right, he had a thing for boobs. And muscular body types. That's why he chose to pay for your services in the first place.
He stayed like this for a good minute or two, occasionally rubbing his face against your soft flesh. You kept gently patting his head this entire time, until you decided that was enough and yanked him away by a handful of hair.
"Why don't you tell Mommy about your day, baby?" You cooed, still gripping his hair tightly. His eyes, looking even bigger, were all fired up already.
He was so easy to figure out.
"Y-yes… Yes, Mommy, I will," he stuttered. You let go of him, so he could sink back to the floor and lie his head on your lap.
You got back to combing your fingers through his black strands, just to keep the variety.
"There is this guy in the company…" Inseong started, his voice a bit hushed. "In another department. He's dreamy. But I don't think he's interested in me. I don't think he's interested in guys at all. Or at least in pathetic guys like me."
You uttered a soft mhmm to encourage him. Oh, so he came in to release the frustration. You already had a plan on how to help him with that, but that required waiting for a good moment to start the actual scene.
"I can't believe anybody would be able to resist my pretty baby," you sighed, staying in character.
"Thank you, Mommy…" Inseong replied shyly; he knew how to behave, or rather, how to reply to your compliments. "Actually, he spends so much time with that… I can never remember her name… She's a monster. Five and barely a half feet of a goddamn monster. I've heard they want to promote her to a leadership position soon. And she's so old! I can't believe Jaeyoonie is into older women."
Your eyes went wide at the name. No way. Glad Inseong couldn't see your face right now, you quickly calmed yourself down.
"Some guys are into milfs, you know that, right, baby?" You snorted. The things you had to do just to pace the appointment right…
"She's not a milf! She's only a year or two older than me," Inseong explained.
Come to think of it, you had no idea how old he was, and it was hard to tell by his looks only.
"Anyway, I'm sure he's fucking her. Or that awkward skinny boy always hanging out with them." Inseong started to sound pissed off at this point. "Now that I think of it, he could easily take them both! And that would mean he's into older women and younger guys. I don't fit into any of those demographics. What a nightmare."
"You never know," you concluded, although internally you were getting more and more suspicious of Jaeyoonie's identity.
"But there's more…" Inseong's voice broke at the last word. "There was a company party earlier that week… I drank too much and he saw me throwing up in the bathroom… I can't believe I embarrassed myself like that…"
That was the moment you were waiting for. You stopped your caresses immediately.
"Wait a minute. When was that party, exactly?"
You could feel Inseong tense up under your hand.
"Wednesday night…" He mumbled.
"Is that why you rescheduled from Thursday to Friday?"
You gripped his shirt at the back of his neck.
"Yes, Mommy… I was so hungover… I wouldn't be able to play with you…" Inseong started stumbling over his words. You slid your hand up, grasped a fistful of hair and pulled it back so he could face you in a very uncomfortable position.
The panic that flashed through Inseong's eyes gave you a solid rush of adrenaline.
"Good boys don't drink more than they could handle," you stated in a dead serious tone.
"B-but…" Inseong stuttered, "I have low tolerance. And everyone else was drinking…"
You tightened the grip on his hair, eliciting a strangled whine out of him.
"Then you shouldn't have drunk at all, you silly baby." You slowly stood up from your seat, dragging Inseong up on his knees, followed by a litany of pained whimpers. "You made Mommy sad. I've been waiting for you the entire day."
"Oh, no… I'm so sorry, Mommy…" Inseong babbled, on the verge of crying.
Not wanting to overdo it with his emotions just yet, you let go of his hair. He barely managed to feel relief, when you forcibly grabbed his chin.
"You're Mommy's favorite boy, but you need to learn your lesson" you concluded, staring straight into his panicked eyes. "What should I do with you now?"
Inseong went silent, nothing but anticipation pictured on his face.
"Oh, you look way too eager," you said, loosening the grip on Inseong's chin, "Go to the corner, hands on the wall."
"No, please!" Inseong cried out, although you knew very well he was just playing along. "Not the corner!"
"Should I make you go there on your fours?"
The guy mumbled a barely audible I'm sorry and obediently walked to the nearest wall. He took the usual position: propped on his hands, head hanging low, his broad back facing you - obviously, with the round butt presented to you in a shameful way.
To keep him waiting, you first took in the sight, unable to hold back a smirk. You knew soon he would be absolutely wrecked, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment and shining with tears.
Saying you loved your job would be an understatement.
Satisfied, you approached him, clicking of your heels the only sound in the room.
"I guess I have to spank you."
Inseong's head jerked up a little.
"I'm going to do this through your pants, though, and I'm going to use my bare hand only."
Inseong whined, head leaning down to previous position.
"One more complaint and I'm going to shove a plug into your hole and make you stand here for the rest of the night."
"I'm sorry!" He apologized frantically.
It's not like you haven't done that punishment before - you smiled at the memory of him coming untouched - but he really seemed desperate for some action this time.
You came closer and hovered your hand over the perfect curve of Inseong's butt. He trembled under your touch. So, so desperate.
"It's gonna be thirty, because that's how many hours I had to wait between the time you rescheduled to this meeting," you announced, causing Inseong to whimper quietly.
"Can I count?" He asked shyly.
"You're dumb enough to not know your limits, I think counting to thirty would be too much to ask."
With that, you landed the first slap.
You observed Inseong for a couple seconds before continuing. He didn't make a sound, but his arms shook, long fingers folding into fists against the wall. You wondered if he would even last the whole session.
Your predictions would soon turn out to be true: he started whimpering after each hit as soon as you landed the third one. When you approached the tenth, the whimpers turned into screams. Once you passed the first half, all he could do was to moan uncontrollably, his legs shaking so much you were wondering how could he even stand up at that point.
He didn't use the safe word, not even a single word of protest escaped his mouth either, so you knew it was fine to continue. He was so close to breaking. You absolutely adored the feeling of this moment approaching.
Finally, as you were raising your hand to slap Inseong's ass for the twenty seventh time, his knees gave up. The guy sunk down to the floor, still leaning against the wall. That turned out to be too much for him, though - ultimately, he slid his hands down, too.
You looked at him intently: Inseong, resting on all fours, kept trembling, his breathing so loud you could hear it from above. What an absolute mess. You were so amused you decided to end the session on a sweet note; however, your understanding of sweet was very... specific.
"What's that, baby? You can't take it anymore?" You cooed, approaching closer. Your shin brushed against his buttcheek.
"Mommy… I…" Inseong panted, visibly struggling to form a complete sentence. "Can I touch myself? I can't take it anymore…"
You almost laughed at how pained his tone was. Led by curiosity, you kneeled right behind him and leaned to take a close look: indeed, he was tenting in his cute pajama pants. Pathetic.
"Mmm, I'm not sure," you mused. "I don't think you've earned the permission to touch yourself."
"Mommy, please, it hurts," Inseong pleaded. He regained the ability to speak, but his voice started breaking.
"I want you to come, but I also want you to embarrass yourself even more, since you couldn't take your spanking like a good boy," you wondered aloud in an amused tone, "What should I do?"
You knew exactly, but hearing Inseong hold in his breath was worth every second of suspense.
"Anything… I'll do anything…"
Hearing that, you came to conclusion you've had enough of toying with him. You reached to ruffle his hair. He leaned into your touch like a cat.
"Dumb kittens like you don't deserve to be touched directly."
You lodged your thigh inbetween his legs, making him moan loudly at the sudden contact. He felt hard and heavy against your skin through the fabric separating you two.
"Work for it, baby," you commanded.
Inseong didn't need to be told twice. Disregarding all dignity, he started grinding against your thigh, his thrusts becoming more and more furious with time, until he couldn't hold back grunts escaping his mouth. You could feel his cock getting heavier; years of having to keep your urges to yourself during sessions gave you incredible self control, but Inseong's eagerness was turning you on so much you had to think of something quick. To ground yourself, you grabbed onto his hips, helping him grind even harder.
He looked so broken, though - with his head low on the floor, resting on his arms, and his ass high up, relying on you completely in his need for pleasure. The sounds coming out of him weren't making it any easier for you either.
It didn't take him long to finish at this pace. He stilled, arching his back, and came with a delicious, drawn-out moan. You quickly retracted your thigh, as you felt the wetness on his pants coming in contact with your skin.
You let him come down from his high. Once he was fine enough to sit up, you pulled him into a back hug. He sighed happily, leaning against your cleavage.
For good measure, you planted a couple kisses on his cheek and the side of his neck, leaving bright lipstick marks all over; he giggled uncontrollably at your affectionate gesture.
"Thank you, Mommy," Inseong purred, a smile adorning his pretty lips, "My head is so clear now. I feel so much better."
You wondered how he could sound so innocent with a huge wet spot in the front of his pants, not to mention he probably could barely sit with his butt burning from the spanking.
"I hope my baby has a good weekend." You kissed his cheek once again, this time letting your lips linger on his skin for a little longer.
Inseong's legs turned out to be still too wobbly to support him, so you helped him stand up and walked him to the door.
"You're gonna be fine in the shower?" you asked, a bit worried considering his weak state.
"I wish Mommy would join me, but I'm a big boy. I'll manage," he assured you.
To be honest, you wished for the same thing, but business was business, and Inseong was just your customer - no matter how much fun you had ruining him each time.
"Thank you, really. I needed that so much," he said, dropping the character. "See you next week."
You stared at the door for a while after he left, pretty sure there was something that slipped your mind during the meeting.
At last, it hit you: Jaeyoon, probably matching Inseong's ideal buff type, working a 9-to-5 job in some corporation. Could he be your old acquaintance from the BDSM community you met at a self defense course? You wondered for a while at the possibility.
Opening the wardrobe, you briefly rested your eyes on the clock. Seven to twelve. No time to muse over the past; you hoped those two would get together eventually, because if Inseong was the supervisor Jaeyoon couldn't shut up about all those years ago, then… well, they had some catching up to do.
#sf9 scenarios#sf9 imagine#sf9 smut#inseong smut#inseong thirst#inseong scenario#inseong imagine#inseong x reader#i was away for a while#contemplating shutting down this blog#tell me if you liked this one :(
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imagine dating and marrying Snape (without Dark Lord, without Voldermort)
The first time I write on tumblr
It was just some that I had in my head that I had to relieve and I'm sorry if I wrote a lot
when she saved him from a joke in the transfiguration class after they went in pairs for homework (you don't like it either), making James, Sirius and Peter detained.
You were dressed that you were in love when he defended you from Lily, after you cast a spell on James and the two were already dating
He dreamed he was in love, when in the midst of all he defended him against Sirius and James
The first kiss happened when you were in the astronomy tower, followed by the first sentence:
- Sev, do you still like Lily?
- I don't know, I'm not sure, but I still feel a little strength for her!
- You should start trying to like someone else!
- I wanted it to be easy, but it's just me!
- I interested in you, you are my type!
- Such that? You are beautiful, intelligent, more sociable than me, even Sirius has already given up on you!
- I don't know, I don't know if I fell in love with my best antisocial friend, emo, big nose, and according to him he was ugly!
- What?
- Hey?
- Do You like me!
- Specifically, I love you Severus!
- I love you too, S / N.
The first time they had a relationship was in the Slytherin dorm, it was Christmas and you knew that Snape was sleeping alone in the dorm and you ask if he could and he says that taking you to your room, he was clinging and getting hands silly
You met his mother last year at King Cross station, you two got along really well
- Y / N, this is my mother, Eillen Snape!
- Nice to meet you, Snape talks a lot about you!
- Nice to meet you, Snape also talked a lot about you, but did not say that you were so beautiful!
- Thank you too!
- It seems that the two of you are doing very well together!
He only made an official dating request when you graduated from Hogwarts:
- Y / N, you know very well that when we get off the train, we may never see each other again.
- No! I will never let you demand 10 owls for you!
- Yes, I know, but diverting done this before. Wants to date me? Officially?
- Yes right! Just the end of the world to end what I feel for you!
- You are the best thing that happened in my life!
you were insecure about Snape with feelings for Lily
But her insecurity when you realized that Snape wasn’t looking at her anymore
And also the way he loved you, seemed to be stronger than anything
Snape understood that Lilian was now his past and what he felt for her was nothing compared to what he felt for you
His life was changing with you around, he was no longer a teenager, he was sure he wanted you on his side
You got a job in one of the stores in Beco Diagonal, while Snape worked as a potion preparer
you can if you can, after the father's death you stay longer at home, he still preferred to live with his mother
Choose a proposal to teach at Hogwarts, but do not accept it because you did not have patience with children
he asked you to marry the two of you on a walk:
- honey, I was thinking about taking a new step in our relationship.
- Hmm, what are you thinking?
- Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me, so that we can be together?
- Sev, this is what I want, I love you!
- I love you, sweetie!
you marry a small officer with your close relatives and friends
a honeymoon was in Paris
you moved to an apartment in London completely different from edging street, it was a dark airy style more airy
you had never talked about children, you thought it was too early to think about having a baby, but that doesn't mean you didn't walk around the house it seemed like the desire had increased after the wedding
you were established, he was at the top level of a porter and you opened your own magic store for the students, they earned very well
you or maybe you just passed Eillen's new house that she had moved to see how she was doing.
you were beginning to have the idea of being a mother, of having a baby in your arms, but that was a sign.
with nausea in the morning, nauseated by Snape's perfume, slightly dizzy and you don't remember your last period, you can only be pregnant, you are going to have a test. It was just positive, you were very nervous, you had never spoken to Snape about children, and you knew he was afraid to pull his father. After dinner, you decided to tell:
- Love, your food is wonderful!
- Thank you dear! I need to tell you something, this is going to change a lot!
- What there was?
- Snape, I'm expecting a baby!
- Is he sure?
- Am I right! I took a test when I went to work!
- So I'm going to be a father, now I'm the happiest man in the world!
- This baby is the fruit of our love!
- Yes, but if I stop like Tobias?
- Sev, you never were and will look like him, you are different from him!
- But how ? I thought you took all the contraceptive portions after our relationship.
- If I'm wrong, it was when we went out to celebrate the store's new business, we drank and had sex on the living room rug!
- It's not my fault that that whiskey made me believe that you were better than usual!
Snape has taken extra care of you now that he is expecting your child, he managed to stay with you in the store and in the details of the layette and the bedroom
A girl, you were pregnant with a Snape girl, Snape was completely happy, he was like that whenever you felt or laid him down and spoke to the baby:- Hi my little girl, how are you? Dad is so eager to see your face !It would be Eileen S / N Snape, the name of his little girl, with the passing of the months in Severo's care only came up, did almost nothing, he proposed to do everything to do.On delivery it was quiet, except for the perfect options. It was planned for the beginning of spring, with husband that you have everything happened smoothly Regarding baby care, you share your duties, you planned to stay up all night. he loved the baby very much, he simply played and dedicated the little girl, he was definitely different from his father. Eileen had just turned one year old, when she woke up sick with Eileen and Snape by her side, when Severus saw you heard you were pregnant you two expected to have two babies at the same time, but still the happiness had come to your home and stayed.
- I do not believe, we will have another child!
- We are faster than we think, we are breeding like rabbits!
The second pregnancy was calm, a little more agitated by having another baby to take care of, but nothing to worry about. her house hers was full of toys and more colorful, Eileen was three years old, she was already manipulating magic needed care and Sebastian with two the routine was during the week taking care of the children, tidying up the mess, working and taking a few minutes to date, at the end of the week it was about walking or visiting grandma Eillen or her family after a trip in left the children with their parents, the result was no different, you were pregnant again. and for the third time I was experiencing nausea and dizziness, but Snape always had a portion near by You considered that Rowena would be the last of three siblings, your family had grown fast considering for people who never thought about having children Only five years later, Wade was born, now it was definitely the last with four children all witches, Eillen was eight years old and only had a few years to go to Hogwarts, Sebastian was seven, he was a badass, Rowena was five too and Wade only needed to worry about a few
- Dad, how is Hogwarts?
- It's a wonderful place, that's where I met your mother.
- Swear?
- Yes, I remember how it was today, our first kiss was in the astronomy tower.
- Go on, please, Daddy!
It was Eileen's year to go to Hogwarts, everyone was anxious, the six of them went to take the girl to the station
- Bye mom! Bye dad! Bye, Sebastian, Rowena and Wade!
- Take care, we will send you letters and sweets you like!
- Thank you, I love you!
- I'll be happy if you enter Slytherin ...
- Severus Snape!
- Or any other house.
- I want to go now.
- Sebastian, you know your year is going to be next year.
- Me either!
- Rowena in a few years.
Eileen joining Slytherin, Snape was so happy, he was not so happy because he knew that the sounds of Potter and Black would study together with his daughter.Eileen proved to be good in equal portions of her father.In the following, it was Sebastian's year to everyone's surprise or not, he went to Gryffindor. Snape had a small heart attack when he heard.In the third year, Snape almost died when he learned that Eileen was seeing James' son Harry.
- So Eileen, does anyone call you on your first trip to Hogmeads?
- Yes, Mom, it was cool.
- Who?
- Harry Potter
- WHAT?
Sebastian joins the Quidditch team as the top scorer in the second.
Rowena went to Ravenclaw, she was simply one of the smartest of her year.
Wade went to Hufflepuff, he became a monitor
Your children less at home, making you proud. You could be older but you still felt tension and desire for each other.
You two were with your family formed, you were happy.
#teacher severus snape#Teacher sev#severus x reader#young severus#snapedom#pro snape#snape x you#snape x reader#harry potter fandom#harry potter fan#snape community
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