Enjoy your reading! And if you enjoy this, consider liking, reblogging, or leaving a comment — it helps more than you know. ❤️
≫ Masterlist
≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪
────≫ Aphelios
🌖 This boy often has many night missions, so Aphelios’ sleep schedule is somewhat inverted. His rest usually comes when the sun rises.
Even though this costs you most nights spent at his side, you gain the advantage of being able to enjoy naps with him at any time during the day.
🌖 Aphelios is a delight to sleep with. Quiet, barely moves, no snoring—just deep yet silent breathing, light and steady. It’s irresistible not to wake up before him and spend a few minutes simply watching him: so beautiful with a serene, relaxed expression, without the usual tension from training and missions, without the lines of pain caused by the poison he uses to communicate with Alune during missions.
🌖 In contrast to the heavier clothes and coat he usually wears, weighed down by lunar accessories, Aphelios sleeps wearing only loose pants and a sleeveless shirt, usually white.
🌖 He doesn’t mind sleeping while cuddling, although at first he gets a little awkward. Where should he put his arms? One arm has gone numb—now what? He doesn’t want to move and wake you.
And even after getting used to suddenly waking up with you napping at his side, Aphelios will rarely be the one to pull you into an embrace; usually, it’s you who moves first and hugs him.
🌖I know—it may seem natural to imagine Aphelios as the smaller spoon, but think about it. He grew up with only Alune as family, seen by everyone as a weapon. Aphelios isn’t used to the naturalness of physical touch, and he feels uncomfortable when you hug him from behind, where he can’t see your face, your expression—as if you were the shield protecting him from the world.
No.
This man thinks differently: he believes he should be the one holding you, guarding your back. So even if you’re the one who initiates the cuddling when you go to sleep, nestling against his chest, it’s Aphelios who immediately wraps himself around you—not with force—firmly, yes, but enough for you to breathe comfortably. And only when he notices your deep, steady breathing does Aphelios allow himself to rest his lips against the top of your head, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo—not quite to kiss, but simply to rest his face there, one arm supporting you, the other gently holding your hand beneath the sheets wrapped around you both.
🖌️ Here, love will be put to the test, because Hwei’s sleep is restless; he wakes several times during the night, moves around a lot, and every now and then sleepwalking makes an appearance.
It’s no wonder this man lives with dark circles under his eyes.
🖌️ Every so often, when he wakes like that and you don’t, Hwei quietly slips out of the bedroom, carefully adjusting the blankets over you and pressing the softest kiss he can to your forehead — and I say softest because his lips are trembling and cold from turbulent dreams. He knows it isn’t easy for you, so Hwei goes to another room of the house, waiting there until the colors in his mind fall silent and the memories stop scratching at him; that’s why, on those mornings, you find him sleeping awkwardly on the couch or somewhere else in the atelier.
🖌️ But don’t worry; just as roses aren’t made of thorns alone, nights with Hwei aren’t all painted with torment and memories of flames. He likes to tell you some of his life stories, of his time at the Koyehn temple, with you lying against his chest while Hwei, leaning back against the headboard, lets his magic bring shapes to life, coloring the air like paint as his eyes take on serene, delicate hues — his emotions following the tones of the living painting in the air like water flowing along the gentle current of a river.
Hwei knows he’s influencing your smile and your state of mind, so all of his focus stays right there, on you and on the imagination coming to life before your eyes, slowly stroking your arm while keeping you entertained with the shapes and his voice.
🖌️ You’re usually the bigger spoon, holding him from behind when you lie down together, burying your face there, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt over his chest; Hwei doesn’t say anything, but it’s his nighttime therapy — the moment when he feels safe knowing he won’t get lost inside himself. You’re there, your arms wrapped around him with trust and tenderness, and then he needs nothing else.
🐦⬛ Swain seems to have a deep sleep, but don’t be fooled. It is as if the ravens stand watch while he rests, which is why, in the middle of the night, when you shift away in order to get up and fetch a glass of water, you almost immediately feel the gentle pressure of Swain holding your wrist, already sitting up.
— Allow me to get it, my dear.
And he does not wait for your answer. Swain personally goes to fetch the glass of water for you.
Oh, no. Do not let the poison of Noxian high society contaminate these nighttime moments: Swain does not wish to limit your movements, nor control your steps; he simply takes pleasure in being gentlemanly enough that his woman may remain where she is, comfortable beneath the sheets still warmed by the heat of both of you.
🐦⬛ He enjoys sleeping with the windows open, allowing the moonlight to illuminate the room as though it were wrapped in heavy, silver metal. Perhaps you might feel worried at first — after all, shouldn’t someone like Swain fear invasions?
But Swain carries one of the primordial demons, so, well, no. He is not even slightly concerned about unforeseen events like that; he has everything under control — literally.
🐦⬛ He almost always wears long-sleeved sleepwear and long pants, made of a dark, soft fabric, though heavier than usual (something like that). However, he would frequently gift you sleepwear with thinner straps and silk fabric, as Swain takes a quiet delight in the contrast of your vulnerability before him, in the trust of allowing yourself to be so exposed in your sleep. Furthermore, it makes you remain closer against him, comfortably curled beneath the covers, the warmth keeping you heated coming mainly from Swain’s body.
🐦⬛ He usually reads something before going to sleep. Nothing exactly light — generally something about politics, military strategies, historical facts, that sort of thing. Swain laughs and pulls you onto his lap whenever you complain about him “bringing work into the bedroom” or “working late into the night.”
🐦⬛ Swain has absolutely nothing against personal space, sleeping alone, each of you staying on your own side of the bed, that sort of thing. However, he certainly prefers having you held against him, and Swain is not bound to the idea of waiting for you to give any sign or move closer for it: he lies down beside you and pulls you to himself without hesitation, as if it were a natural order of the universe that you sleep wrapped in his arms.
👑 I honestly can’t imagine Viego sleeping. I mean—why would his current body even need that kind of rest cycle?
Maybe the first time you ask him will feel strange, having to say it out loud. Viego, when he notices you approaching awkwardly, searching for more direct words since the “indirect hints” weren’t quite getting through to him, simply smiles once he finally understands.
-It would be my pleasure, my queen.
👑 However, Viego’s body temperature is below normal. It is cold to sleep beside him, because what emanates from his body is not warmth, but the chill of the Black Mist—which, though more contained when you’re near, still makes its presence known through the low temperature.
👑 This worries Viego, because he can no longer imagine being without you, while at the same time he’s distressed by the shivers he causes you—even when you’re under the blankets on your own and he’s holding you from over them.
Oh, dear. Here, I don’t quite know how you’ll overcome this obstacle. A fireplace in your bedroom? Viego getting up from time to time so that his human warmth can stabilize again beneath the covers? Some ancient magic he’ll hunt down so that you won’t suffer because of this?
The point is: no, Viego will not give up any intimacy with you because of this inconvenience. You will find a way. Viego is very persistent when he wants something—and you already know that.
👑 Viego likes to watch you sleep. No matter how much you complain about this habit of his, Viego won’t stop contemplating you when sleep cradles you and leaves behind a relaxed, serene expression—lips slightly parted, you pressed against him as you seek warmth to fight the cold that, ironically, comes from him. Viego can spend hours like this, barely noticing time pass, slowly caressing your cheek, lost in memories and thoughts, letting the distorted, obsessive love that makes him so devoted to you flow freely within him.
👑 He most definitely made sure there was a vanity in the bedroom you share, and he often watches you from a corner or leaning against the doorway while you get ready for bed.
👑 Well, since he doesn’t sleep, there’s no such thing as “space” between the two of you. Viego stays wrapped around you, always at your back, for the entire duration of the night.
And he prefers it that way—always behind you, always the bigger spoon, always making sure you’re there in his arms, that you won’t leave him.
👑 Viego also tends to whisper words of love while you’re asleep. He knows you’re sleeping, and somehow his sixth sense always tells him when you’re only pretending, just to hear him. In that case, Viego doesn’t hold back. He keeps declaring his love to you, low and intimate in your ear, occasionally punctuating it with soft kisses to your neck and nape.
🤎 He doesn’t need to sleep — he’s a Darkin; honestly, I don’t believe they need sleep the way we do, not after the whole process of ascension followed by the fall / corruption of the Void — but after the usual hesitation, he always gives in to your request to lie down with you.
🤎 It’s not that he doesn’t want moments like this — quite the opposite — but Zaahen is still a Darkin, still carries corruption within himself, and the fight against it is constant. And a human so close, so fragile, so available, so vulnerable… everything inside him screams for your blood, while at the same time you are the most important living being in his life.
🤎 Zaahen knows it isn’t right to be there, comfortable on a soft bed with you sleeping deeply in his arms, lulled by the instinctive, automatic affection he gives you — yet Zaahen always ends up drawn back into this situation again, even after vowing to fight to keep his distance.
-Please, Zaahen…
-My little one… I am an evil, not a… source of comfort.
As he speaks, his hand rests against your cheek, his gaze fixed on your tilted face there, knowing that your adorable expression had already convinced him.
🤎 He is warm. Zaahen’s body temperature is higher than a human’s, so you’ll have to give up any blankets whenever he is lying with you.
🤎 Often, after you have already fallen into a deep sleep, Zaahen stands in front of the window, lost in thought and wandering reflections; yes, he’s staring at the horizon, but every fiber of his attention and instincts is focused on you lying peacefully behind him, trusting him — and that is what gnaws at him from within.
So easy to simply give in to that inner voice that made all his brothers fall… But no — not when the target was you. Just the memory of your voice, of your touch genuinely filled with love for him, was enough for Zaahen to clench his fists. He would never let even a single drop of your blood be spilled, even if it meant violently suppressing himself from the inside every single day.
That dark force was once capable of bringing down fallen gods, hundreds of his brothers succumbed to it — yet somehow, it knelt before the love of a human.
Yes. He was lost.
🤎 He barely moves the entire time he lies with you; you’ll settle against his chest at the beginning of the night, and in the morning, when you wake up, you’ll still be in the same position — only more slanted and fitted against him — while Zaahen remains exactly the same.
🤎 He likes to speak softly with you about deep matters: the human soul, good and evil, things like that. His fingers idly comb through your hair, the conversation flowing slowly and intimately, him truly attentive to what you think — even though you are clearly very sleepy, already practically asleep, nestled against him.
≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪
Bigger than I intended? Yeah.
But some themes, once they start flowing, just won’t stay contained within 200 words.
❤️🌖Hope you enjoyed!🌖❤️
If you’d like, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated — reblogging helps support this blog.
just some various works that will prob never get finished chars included (in order) aka you can see all of my phases
mark grayson (invincible) [1.3k]
heartseel kayn and phel w streamer (league) [1.8k]
sett (league) [1.7k]
zagreus (acc might finish lowk) (hades) [856]
genji shimada (overwatch) [1.5k]
iso (valorant) [1.1k]
yasuo (league) [1.5k]
Mark Grayson [1.3K]
If there was one benefit to the cowl, it would be being able to hide the look of confusion on your face when a familiar sonic boom thunders through the sky before crashing into buildings with little regard to the people within. The ground tremors from the sudden force, splintering at the apex of the collision into loose and jagged debris.
Your breath hitches when the first building falls, your legs moving faster than your mind as you leap from your post atop a building. Just barely, you manage to save a family from death’s waiting maw, screaming at the top of your lungs for everyone in the area to keep moving. Though your voice is altered significantly by the modulator, the evident urgency in your tone sends many running; clawing and crying for a chance at survival—one you’re not sure many will have.
You do your best to help, grappling between buildings to save who you could, and pushing down waves of regret whenever you were a few seconds too late.
It had been a normal patrol at the start, and you’d even considered turning in early due to the lack of activity. You rarely took patrols during the day as your powers were dampened significantly by the presence of the sun, but a few days ago Rex had requested you take his place while he helped Rae move into her new apartment.
(“Please,” he whines, gripping your shoulders, batting his lashes in a way that has you reeling back, shoving his face away with your hand. “I’ll get your favorite takeout whenever you want! Just do me this one solid, I swear.”
You turn to Mark, your boyfriend caught up in a conversation with Eve, unable to catch your pleading gaze. As if sensing your unease, he looks at you, eyes alight with curiosity as they flicker between you and Rex before he shrugs unhelpfully with a small smile.
Your eyes narrow as your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek while you weigh your options. Against your better judgment, you spare one last glance to his pathetic, pleading face before ultimately giving in. “Fine,” you groan out reluctantly, pushing him fully off you only for him to crush you in a hug to which you return stiffly.
He deserved his moment of happiness, you suppose. You all do after everything that’s happened.
Rex pulls away from you, playfully slapping Mark on his shoulder before running off to tell Rae the good news. “Dude, you’re girlfriend is the best!”
“I know,” Mark says proudly as he comes up behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, his lips pressing a feather-light kiss on the crown of your head. “C’mon, mom made your favorite.”
“Mark…” Your quiet murmur is picked up easily by his enhanced senses, your voice tinged with the slightest hint of hesitation.
He raises a hand before you can protest, pinching your cheek lightly. “Surely the Moon Knight can take just one night off, right?”
You really could never say no to this man, could you?
You flick his nose playfully, your scowl bearing no real heat as Khonshu’s voice echoes in your brain, likely arguing against going with Mark. But, for the first time in a while, you ignore the god, opting instead for a rare occasion of putting yourself first.
That was the first time in weeks you’d spent the night together, sharing your feelings and fears beneath his protective comforter while your insomnia took its hold, keeping your mind awake late into the hours of the night.
Luckily Mark had a few other ways to tire you out.)
Your muscles throb dully beneath your plated super suit in exertion, the white plates now stained a deep scarlet hue. You push forward, hands catching onto a flying car before it can crash into yet another building. The force drags you forward, but you manage to plant your feet and stop it just before it collides into the building which you now recognize as your favorite café.
A win amidst a sea of losses.
At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself, eyes flickering between the dilapidated buildings and the multitude of corpses left behind by the unknown threat. That’s when you see it. The figure that floats above it all, his familiar red cape flowing with ominous grandeur.
You know that suit.
But his face isn’t the same as you remember.
“Mark…?” His name leaves your lips a breathless question, confusion and doubt growing in the pit of your stomach with each cautious step you take toward your boyfriend.
Something’s wrong.
You feel it in the way his eyes snap to you without an ounce of recognition, cold behind his trademark goggles. And you most certainly feel it when his hand tightens around your throat before throwing you face-first into the asphalt. You make a choked noise at the feeling of your shoulder dislocating, the ground fracturing beneath you as a result of his strength.
It’s only then that you realize that the man above you isn’t your Mark, but an echo of what could’ve been. His hold on you is tight as he holds you up by the cape, scrutinizing every concerningly steady beat of your heart.
He leans closer, taking in the small details of your mask and suit, confusion settling on his face for the briefest of seconds before it returns to clinical stoicism, and he drops you unceremoniously onto the jagged ground. He clicks his tongue as you gasp for breath, glaring down at you with his lips pressed into a tight line.
You take the opportunity to muster the ability to kick him away from you, momentarily stunning him with your strength as he crashes into the café you’d just saved. The strangely dressed Mark reappears from the rubble with furrowed brows, brushing off stray dust from his suit.
You don’t give him a chance to recover, pinning him to a wall by the cape with an ahnk before popping your shoulder into place. You stalk closer, truncheons in hand as the sun disappears behind the horizon line. The Mark before you follows your movements closely like a predator waiting to pounce.
His jaw ticks as his hand closes around the ahnk, no doubt feeling the sting of Khonshu’s wrath as it burns through his glove and skin. Regardless, he pulls it free from the wall, throwing it at you with newly renewed conviction. “Who are you?” Though his tone is detached, you pick up on the smallest inklings of curiosity.
You hate the similarity he bears to your Invincible down to the very intonation of his question. But you can’t falter—you will not falter; not as a defender of Earth, nor as Khonshu’s sole avatar. Rubble crumbles above as the false Invincible before you holds your gaze both of you silent as a moment passes with rising tension.
He’s in front of you before you can blink, his fist pulled back before he punches you hard enough to level a whole city block.
You brace for impact, just barely finding time to raise your arms before you’re sent flying back. Had the sun still been up, you would’ve been nothing more than another stain on the concrete, even if only for a few moments, but all you feel is the blinding pain in your arms and back as you’re sent flying through a multitude of crumbled buildings.
It doesn’t take long for your bones to mend, but it takes even less time for the caped imposter to find you, appearing in a heartstopping gust of wind a few meters away from you.
“It’s rude to not answer when someone asks you something.” His arms remain crossed across his chest as he stares down at you from his place in the air. Next thing you know, glass shards dig into your back as he throws you by the ankle into another building.
So much for answering his question.
HEARTSTEEL with Streamer!Reader [1.8K]
kayn:
always comes in at the most random times. which can lead to a mixed bag or reactions ranging from a victory kiss to a scream of terror from the depths of your soul
most likely does it on purpose too because he’s a bitch like that.
could not give any less of a fuck if people knew you were together or not
sure pr is always on his ass but blah balah ablaha
you’re his partner and he’d be damned if he didn’t show you off to both your fans and his.
(he does reign himself in when yone steps in, though. holy shit that man is scary when he wants to be.)
Your headset sits heavy on your head, a sponsored brand you find yourself mentally critiquing as you focus on the game before you. A bead of sweat drips from your brow, a fruit of your concentration while your hands remain shaking and clammy on your controller.
The sound a heartbeat echoes distantly, though whether it’s your own or a game mechanic, you don’t quite know.You don’t notice a shadow shifting behind you or your chat trying to warn you, having muted it in order to focus solely on the game.
Arms curl around your chair as you turn down an infamous hallway, each creaking step of the rotting planks below your character sending a jolt of fear down your spine. Kayn watches behind your oblivious figure, trying to find the perfect moment to execute.
Unlike you, who wanted to go in completely blind, he’d watched numerous gameplays in order to pinpoint each jumpscare. Sure, he’d caught some flack from Yone during practices, but the thought of your reactions was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
It doesn’t take long for a familiar door to come into view, followed shortly by a series of quick-time events.
The ghost of his touch trails up your arm, yet you remain wholly unaware due to the stress of every new event. His hand removes one of your headphones, breath warming the cusp of your ear just as the final event appears on screen.
“Boo.”
Your sudden jolt causes you to hit the wrong button, successfully triggering a rather brutal jumpscare. As you jump back in pure fear, your controller flies from your hand, connecting squarely with your boyfriend’s nose.
The next few moments are pure chaos, with you screaming about an intruder in your house and Kayn keeled over in an attempt to stop the blood.
When you finally come to your senses, you’re shocked to find that your so-called intruder is actually your boyfriend, finally home from an extensive tour around Valoran following the success of Heartsteel’s latest album: STORMSURGE.
“Shieda?!” You’re quick to make your way to his side, panic rising in place of your previous fear. Blood pools in his cupped palms as he rushes out of the room with you trailing close behind whilst you apologize profusely.
Your poor, poor viewers are left with a view of an empty chair and an open door on your facecam while the death screen lingers on your monitor. Though muffled, they can hear snippets of the interaction transpiring between you and the rockstar from down the hall.
“Tip your head—forward not back, dumbass!”
“Fuck! Why’d you throw the controller so hard.”
“I was scared! And you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow…”
“Was s’posed to be a surprise.” There’s clear fondness in his tone despite the nasally sound of him pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I didn’t even hear you open the door.” You’re rubbing his back in soothing, trying your best not to wince at the copious amount of blood staining your sink.
“Well you also didn’t hear me leaning on your chair.” There’s a pause as Kayn sighs before mumbling a low, “I shadow traveled anyway,” uncaught by your otherwise sensitive mic.
It gets really hard to stay annoyed by his little prank when he looks like a kicked puppy. Even from this angle, you can see the small jut in his lip as he pouts, scowling slightly from the pain of his injured nose.
“M’sorry,” he apologizes after you bandage his thankfully unbroken nose. You can only chuckle as you clean his face and hands free of any blood, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
“It’s okay, I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”
“Nah,” he shakes his head, leading the two of you back to your studio, “never apologize for feeling scared.”
Your chat rejoices at your return, half consoling Kayn and half making fun of him for being taken out in such a hilariously stupid way. He discreetly flips them a middle finger while you settle back in your seat, quickly closing the horror game in favor of a more lighthearted multiplayer. You miss the way he smiles when you respond to chat, though your perceptive viewers see the way his heterochromatic eyes shine in your dim lighting.
They see a downbad loverboy instead of the coldhearted rockstar face he offers the rest of the world.
yeah… sometimes he games with you, but he insisted to have his own controller and setup
if you look closely in the very right corner of your face cam, you can see the edge of his monitor peeking through; a candid shot of you the lockscreen
to tell the difference, he says
bullshit
sometimes he barges in without even knowing your streaming, already ranting about something that pissed him off
you always mute, ready to listen and offer advice on whatever he needs
he’s a mod when he’s not physically with you, banning any freaks who think they have a chance with you
he loves you and loves that you’re so confident in yourself, but your safety will always be your top priority
aphelios:
he’s with you every step of the way
he was your first supporter, after all
usually, he sits just out of frame and if you listen closely, you can hear a few of his mixes in the background when you speak
or he’s your camera man whenever you’re filming something outside the comfort of your home
there are also times he appears as a figure in your door—an ominous shadow, standing there menacingly for moments at a time before disappearing down the hall
this has led to a multitude of conspiracies about your apartment being haunted by a tall, lanky ghost
he finds it funny
you do not—okay it’s a little funny trying to suppress your smile as you dismiss your viewer’s concerns
your chat has grown a bit suspicious of your odd behavior, but you always brush it off as them being paranoid
you both finally decide to introduce him properly after you reached a particularly big follower goal
The camera blinks a bright red as your stream comes to life, a slew of comments come flooding in your chat, congratulating you for finally reaching the goal you’d been striving for for quite a while.
“Hey, guys! Welcome to my 500k follower special.” You wave at the camera, clapping your hands together while your eyes quickly scan the comments. “Thank you, ๑pinpinipi for the ten dollar dono! Yeah, as you guys can see, we’re gonna be baking today.”
๑getdiffed: we?? hmmmmm very very suspicious…
๑colon3: not rlly…but they’re doing the staring thing again
๑fardeded: IM SO EXCITED JBGJBONLNMK IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS STREABM FOREVERRRR
“Haha, I’m happy to see the enthusiasm, fard! Glad to know you’re still with us after all these years. Today, as many of you have guessed, I have a special little helper in the kitchen today—well, not exactly little, but you get the point.” You nod to the empty space beside you, encouraging the blue-haired male to join you in front of the camera.
He steps closer hesitantly, but stands tall with a soft nudge of your shoulder. Anything to see you smile.
๑willMYseed: NO FUCKING WAY IS THAT APHELIOS
๑colon3: WHAT THE HELLL
๑getdiffed: I KNEW THEY WERE SEEING SOMEONE BUT HOLY SHIT I DIDNT THINKNIT WAS HIM
๑fardeded: its all making sense now. i KNEW the music in the bg of someof their streams was familiar I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS THE COMPOSITION FOR STORMSURGE
๑averagegodling: who in the world is aphelios
๑averagegodling: WAIT HE’S THAT GUY FROM HEARTSTEEL???? :[user]_wtf:
๑ily[user]: gn. ive lost.
๑averagegodling: bros acting like they had a chance w [user] :skull:
You let out a boisterous laugh, leaning on your lover for support as your legs buckle beneath you. He holds you, smiling down at you gently as helps you back up.
“Sorry,” you wave a dismissive hand, “sorry, you guys are just too funny—fuck, what were we making again, Phel?”
He smirks as he whispers the dish in your ear, making sure to cover the mic clipped to your shirt to ensure that only you could hear his voice. His eyes stare dead into the camera, his hand lovingly stroking down your arm with the full intention to stake his claim.
“Right! Thanks, love,” you kiss his cheek absentmindedly before turning back to the camera, “we’re making yakgwa! It’s one of Phel’s favorites.”
๑willMYseed: WRITE THAT DOWN GUYS YAKGWA IS ONE OF APHELIOS’ FAVORITE FOODS
๑colon3: good googly moogly dID YOU SEE THAT SMIRK
๑fardeded: we get it king, they’re yours:[user]_sob]
Aphelios bends down, allowing you to pin his hair up with the gaudiest clip you could borrow from Alune without much protest, even allowing you to leave a lingering kiss on his freshly exposed forehead. With a roll of his eyes and a ruffle of your hair as payback, the two of you set to work in order to make the fried dessert.
It doesn’t take long to discern which of the two twins holds the culinary expertise.
(Hint, it isn’t Aphelios.)
He’s squinting at the iPad placed between the two of you. There’s a cute furrow in his brows you’ve only seen when he was making music. It’s rare to see him so concentrated on something other than his craft.
What you didn’t know is that he’s only like this because it was you who asked. Had it been Sett, Ezreal, or, god forbid, Kayn asking him to do this, he would’ve rolled his eyes and pushed Alune their way and called it a day. But it isn’t. It’s you; the person he’d tear down the moon itself for if it meant seeing you smile one last time.
“…Phel?”
He turns to you, slit brow raised in silent question.
“Does this flour look off to you?” You tilt the bowl toward him and he leans closer only to blanch at the odd concoction stirred within the bowl.
Oh. Haha. He was wondering where he misplaced K’sante’s protein powder. Silly him. Without much thought, he takes the bowl, chucking it in the sink with a quick text to Alune to pick up some wheat flour.
Oops?
๑PrideOfNazumah has donated $15: hey :)) could you check if aphelios has some birthday cake flavored protein powder left :)) both sett and i seem to have run out :)) no pressure :))
Sett [1.7K]
The world was cruel, often uncaring of those it brought punishment upon. Mothers, children, fathers, and lovers; nobody was safe from the ever-winding threads that wove history together, creating an ugly amalgamation of wars, famine, and ruination.
Regardless, you do your best to create a safe place in the world for your son, even if it’s difficult for the two of you to see eye to eye on most occasions. He has his father’s stubbornness, bearing the same crinkle in his nose whenever he bears the fangs he had inherited from you right back at you. Though, perhaps the worst thing he’d gotten from his father was his venom-laced tongue which spewed poison that hurt your heart more than any blade.
You never once blamed him, though.
You were the reason papa wasn’t around anymore. You were the reason he had to move to the outskirts of Navori away from everything he grew up with. You were the reason he had nothing. You reason your child—your own flesh and blood—despised your very existence.
Your fault.
Your fault!
It was all your fault!
Yet you took it all in stride. Still smiling and greeting him every morning with a gentle kiss to the forehead that he reels away from. Still tidying his uniform despite his protests, and still walking him to school even if he refuses to walk anywhere near you. It’s all worth seeing the smile that lights up his face when he catches sight of his friends in the schoolyard, completely disregarding the bidding of good luck you offer him.
Every day you smile to yourself as you turn your heel, breathing deeply in hopes of finding a job as funds are beginning to dwindle and the thought of selling your body sends a shiver down your spine.
You’d done it before, though, and ironically it was actually how you met your son’s father. The you of the past would have been quick to hop on the idea as it paid well and was relatively simple, but you could never make the mistake of falling in love with a client ever again.
Friends had warned you, truly they tried to help, but you didn’t heed their words. Their pleas for your well-being fell deaf in comparison to how your heart initially beat upon first forming a connection with the man. He was kind, gentle, and handsome to boot, but the flags—both green and red—were tinted by rose lenses as you found yourself falling a bit too hard too fast.
Maybe if you’d been a bit more preceptive you would have seen the glaring signs, like how his previously warm touches became cold, or how he smiled less when the two of you met up, or how his once soothing words began to make you doubt yourself and your worth little by little. Maybe then, you wouldn’t have been so shocked by his venomous words when you’d told him about the pregnancy.
You’ll never forget the look of raw anger and disgust that crossed his face as he clicked his tongue and stormed off with the excuse of cooling off. Your parents offered little support in the ordeal, ashamed of you for earning your keep in such an unkempt manner and getting pregnant so early on in life as a result of it. At least you had your friends to pour your burdens out to, or at least you used to, until you turned tail and fled the province, unable to look your parents in the eyes, or bear the scorn imposed upon you by your supposed lover.
Before you can delve too deep into the painful memories, you bring yourself back to reality, nodding kindly at your interviewer who gives you an unimpressed look in return.
She’s human, you note; her nails are trimmed short in comparison to your razor-sharp claws that fiddle restlessly in your lap, her ears are at the side of her head and bear skin unlike the fuzzy ones at the top of your head, and also unlike your own, hers don’t betray your emotions with a downward tilt. Her eyes travel between you and your resume, and you can’t help but feel scrutinized under her predatory stare.
Ironic, isn’t it?
Vastaya are typically known to be far stronger than the average human, bearing magic that most could only dream to hold that’s usually bolstered by their animal-like attributes. Yet here you were, cowering before a human who bears not a flicker of magic trickling through her veins. You do your best to shrink into yourself, eyes flickering anywhere but on her as a result.
The gaze of your interviewer softens a near-unnoticeable amount as she gnaws the inside of her cheek and once more, she glances at your resume. “Look,” she starts, quiet and slow as if to not startle an already frightened animal, “I don’t believe our business is the best place for you.” She can’t help but wince when you deflate, forcing yourself to pull through despite the harsh sting of being rejected by yet another job.
“It’s just…” She struggles to find the words, “Our business deals primarily with business transport, and it says here that you’re a single parent, right?” You can only muster a weak nod in response, desperately attempting to hear her out through the torrent of thoughts in your mind. She grabs your hand from across the table, rubbing soothing circles into your palm with her thumb.
It’s far beyond the boundaries of a normal interview, but she can’t help but empathize with you and your clear anguish. “You wouldn’t want to leave your son alone, would you? Most in our line of work don’t return from the first job, and I don’t think you want to imagine your son without you. So please, if not for you, then for your son, find another place of work.”
Her words do little to comfort you, but you nod along anyway, simply wanting to leave the vicinity as quickly as possible. However, just as you think she’s finally finished with her long-winded rejection, she fishes into her loose-fitting hanfu, pulling out a small slip of paper resembling a talisman.
“Here,” she states, pushing the paper into your hand. You come to realize that it’s a coupon for a free meal. As if feeling your confusion, your interviewer laughs lightly, a stark contrast to her cold persona mere moments prior. “For your troubles and a testament to your good luck in the future.”
You can’t help but stare at the coupon when you exit the building. It’s got a cute little design in the corner reminiscent of the badgers back in your home province and the black characters seemed to be hand-inked with love and care. You smile down at it, running your hand across the dried ink before pocketing the slip.
The sky is darkened slightly by the time you reach the entrance of the school. Towering whipwillow trees arch into a beautiful gate connected to an even larger tree that serves as the base of the school. It’s difficult not to admire such a work of art, cultivated through years of dedication to the act of magic.
However, every beauty comes with its own mars.
Holes and burn marks litter the tree from the Noxian invasion a few years back. Though most had been repurposed into open classrooms, they still serve as a reminder of the past and a sign to all that all that was once broken can be crafted into something beautiful.
In your moment of admiration towards the school, you nearly miss your son scurry past you, eager to go home and hole himself away in his room away from you. Luckily, you’re quick to catch him, much to his disdain. He shakes your hand off his arm, and you smile lovingly at him despite the added weight to your already heavy heart.
“I heard you were doing well in your classes. Why don’t we celebrate with a meal? I know a place you may like.” That was wrong, you didn’t even know if the teahouse was safe to bring a child. Regardless, your proposition was met with nothing but cold silence, causing your smile to falter slightly. Swallowing your pain, you guide your son through the active streets of Navori, sticking to well-lit streets and occasionally asking stall owners for directions while simultaneously purchasing ingredients for later with the little money you have on you.
Eventually, you and your son find yourself in front of a quaint teahouse, the same little badger etched into the sign above the entrance. When you push open the flaps, you’re immediately welcomed by a warm aura and the scent of fresh food.
A Vastayan woman is quick to greet you. Her ears seem naturally downcast, her lilac hair mostly held back by a band on her lower back, though a small portion is held together by twine next to her face.
“Welcome,” she greets, showing off her fanged smile that exudes the same homely aura as the rest of the establishment. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, are you new to Navori?” She guides both you and your son to the front, and it’s then you realize that the teahouse is practically empty. Guilt begins to seep in at the thought of catching this woman right before closing.
“Huh? Oh, yes, we just moved recently.” Your answer elicits a soft hum from the woman as she pours you and your son cups of tea.
“Allow me to formally introduce myself then.” After she places the cups down, she brings one of her clawed hands to her chest, “I am Ginora, owner of this little teahouse.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ginora. Ah, where are my manners? I’m [Name], and this is my son, Kuon.” You place your hand proudly on your son’s shoulder, only to have him shrug it off with a grumble. You’re quick to hide your wince with a strained smile as the two of you take the menus from the kind restaurant owner.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” she smiles before perking up when she sees you struggling to choose something. “Would you like some recommendations?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.”
Ginora is kind; the type of woman you wish was your mother as well as the type of mother you hope you are to your son. She’s patient in the way she guides your son through the menu, who’s reluctantly polite to seemingly everyone but you.
“This is my son’s favorite.” She points to steamed pork buns on your son’s menu. Something in your brain clicks; it make sense that she’s a mother with her infinite patience and calming presence
Zagreus [856]
“What was he like?” Melinoë’s soft voice draws your attention away from the cauldron. It simmers quietly as you turn to look at her, the light of the eternal flame illuminating her already ethereal face.
You blink dumbly for a moment, trying to process her question ever so slowly. Hecate’s laugh rumbles a few meters away, and you cast your questioning glance to the elder witch. She merely raises her hands in defense, returning to the new scroll she’d scouted out along her many travels. Right.
“My brother,” she finally clarifies after a beat of silence and one-sided communication between you and the headmistress. “What was Zagreus like?”
This wasn’t the first she’s asked about your husband, but it’s the first time you actually feel ready to share his memory.
“He’s…” you pause for a moment, “he’s exactly how the tales regale.” A fondness glitters in your eyes as you step away from the cauldron, beckoning the younger spawn of Hades towards a table at the lounge. The shades are happy to serve you, offering only the nicest nectar provided by none other than Charon himself.
You take a sip, savoring the soothing taste of the golden liquid. Melinoë does the same, her eyes never once straying from your content expression.
“Zagreus was—is the oddest man to ever grace the Underworld.” Your chuckle is melancholic as you meet your sister-in-law’s two-toned gaze. Her eyes are the same shade of forest green and vermillion, though switched on opposing eyes. Unlike her brother’s carefree ones, they’re heavy, weighed down by a burden that should never be held by one person alone. God or otherwise.
Yet, even then, she holds the same stubborn determination the rest of her family seems to have, and you’d be damned not to help her in her goal.
“Have I ever told you how we met?” A swig of nectar forces down the bitter loneliness built over the century without the presence of your husband.
The younger goddess shakes her head and you chuckle, downing the rest of your drink with a small smile.
“Well…”
—
Filling in for Hermes as a messenger was not often a responsibility placed on your shoulders, but when the speedy god pled to you to make this one, itty-bitty delivery, you couldn’t say no.
He leaves you in one of Elysium’s vast fields with a pouch of…something and instructions to do nothing but “wait until he appears”.
“Who?” You quirk a brow, unamused by your friend’s vagueness.
Hermes only grins with an equally ominous: “You’ll know when you see him.” He readies himself to part, only to turn back to you one final time. “Oh! And if he asks, tell ‘em I was busy running an errand for the big boss, he’ll understand. Now, I know this is sudden and I swear on my life I’ll pay you back later, but looks like I’ve got to run! Take care of him, yeah?” All you feel is a gust of wind and the grass billowing at your legs before no trace of the messenger god is left behind.
Blast these gods and their stupid mind games.
Would it have killed him to at least give you a name?
You grumble obscenities that would have the most profane god fainting, kicking at the soft grass as you continue to wait idly. A few spirits of notable figures cross your path. They bow respectfully as they pass by you, unable to withhold their awe at the sight of your ethereal form.
“Thank the gods. Finally, some peace! Now, where is it…” A sudden voice cuts through your conversation with one of the shades. The owner ambles closer, huffing out a breath of relief as he sheathes his sword. The scent of ash reaches you before he does, and your nose twitches. There was a reason why you rarely ever ventured to the lower depths.
The man—the godling—stares. And stares. And stares…His pretty, heterochromatic gaze blinking slowly in confusion while his hand finds its way back to the hilt of his sword once again.
“You’re not Hermes.”
That much is obvious.
Burning grass follows every step he takes, and it doesn’t take long for the blade to be pressed against the column of your neck. “You’re another blasted witch,” he seethes, contempt clear in the way the blade pierces through your skin, drawing only the smallest inkling of divine blood. Again, another obvious point. Where in Olympus was he going with this line of thought?
Suddenly, all the pieces come together and you want to smite Hermes all the more.
Before you was the Zagreus, the notorious spawn of Hades whose presence has rippled throughout Olympus’ upper echelon due to his persistent climb to the surface. You’d heard of him in passing, though never found much of an interest in Olympus’ latest gossip hub.
There’s an awkward beat of silence before you recall Hermes’ request. It’s difficult trying to locate the pouch in your bag with the prince’s sword still pressed into your neck, but you do eventually manage, holding out the brown pouch as a peace offering in place of your neck
Genji Shimada [1.5K]
One of the first things he felt when he opened his eyes was anger. A red-hot inferno that scorched his core from the inside out. Next came the numbness in his limbs that once seared with an incomprehensible pain as they were cut down by his brother’s blade.
His brother.
The thought alone was enough to send him into another fit of anger, though unable to move due to his current predicament. He settles for glaring at the blindingly stark white wall of the unfamiliar room. It hurts to breathe—hurts to think. He tries to close his eyes in an attempt to find a semblance of peace in the darkness behind his eyelids.
However, just as he does so, the door leading to the hallway slides open.
“I see that you’re awake, how are you feeling?”
He opens his eyes slowly, glare landing on a blonde woman who merely tilts her head questioningly. He can barely process her words, his mind slowly translating it to his mother tongue. He never was the best at English.
The slow blinks he sends her are enough to have the doctor clicking her tongue as she taps away at the holographic computer. A file pops up between the two. It’s his. It lists his name, age, birthplace, and even what schools he went to. Yet, what perturbed him was the picture associated with his file.
In essence, yes, it was him, there was no doubt.
But, something felt off. Like it wasn’t really him anymore.
As if feeling his stare, the blonde woman tears her gaze away from the screen. Pushing up her glasses, she minimizes the holographic screen before making her way over to his side, a bottle of water in hand.
“You seem thirsty, please, drink up.” She slowly tilts the water bottle past his parted lips. He accepts greedily, allowing the soothing liquid to quench his thirst.
“Angela Ziegler,” she starts, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips while she caps the water bottle. His look of confusion causes her to let out a small chuckle. “My name,” she clarifies.
The woman, Angela, returns to her swivel chair across the room, tapping through the seemingly unending files before landing on one in particular. “You’ve caused quite some trouble, Mr. Shimada.” Her hand cups her chin gently, glasses reflecting the bright blue light from the monitor.
“You’re quite fortunate that one of our agents found you when she did. Had she not…well you can guess what would have happened.”
Of course he does. He wasn’t exactly expecting to wake up.
The door slides open once again, revealing an injured soldier clutching at her arm with a grimace tugging harshly on her lips.
“Speak of the devil,” Angela murmurs with an amused huff. The soldier—you—raises a questioning brow at your trusted friend. She merely shrugs her shoulders, tilting her head slightly to the injured man on the hospital bed.
“Shit…I didn’t know you moved him in here.” You sound embarrassed, unwanting to meet the ninja’s harsh glare. Angela makes her way over to you with an odd-looking staff and a medkit, her lips are pulled into a smile, but you can see the concern swimming in her deep gaze. Genji watches from his place on the bed.
The blonde takes your arm, uncaring of the blood that cakes her hand after. She tells you to raise it and you wince.
“What happened,” her once veiled concern is now bleeding through her tone. Your expression pinches further at her prodding.
“Operation went south and Reyes sent me to you.”
She hums in understanding, already inspecting the wound, “But you have Dr. O'Deorain on standby, no?”
You click your tongue, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head whilst she tightens the bandage. You hiss harshly, glare boring holes into Angela’s head, yet she remains unaffected. “I don’t trust her,” you snip curtly as if any mention of the redhead burns your tongue.
In a way, it did, that much Angela knew, which is why she never sends you away when you came to her.
“Oh, I have another reason for stopping by, too.”
This gets the doctor’s attention, causing her to look up from your arm with a raised brow.
“It’s a deal from Morrison and Reyes themselves regarding our little friend over there,” your chin jerks over to the bed-ridden Shimada. Your gaze is pitying as it drifts between his missing calves and arm. He does not take kindly to your blatant patronization, instead, his glare increases tenfold.
“Well, out with it.” Angela snaps your focus back onto her. Her foot taps rhythmically whilst she scrubs her hands clean at a nearby sink.
“They want him in Blackwatch. Says he’d be a good help for taking down the Shimada clan—”
“Have they seen him? Do they know he’s missing limbs? That he’s barely alive?” Her sudden outburst was to be expected, yet you remain unflinching under the scrutiny of her narrowed eyes. Her jaw is clenched, seemingly out of character in comparison to her usual persona.
With a clenched jaw, you attempt to move your arm, leaving her questions to hang tensely in the air. It hurts a lot, but you still continue to move it nonetheless. Angela grips your forearm harshly, stilling it, “Stop that, you’ll only hurt it more.”
The warning has you sighing, finally relieving your arm of its strain by allowing it to fall limply at your side.
“Cybernization.” Your voice was quiet and would have most likely been drowned out had the heart monitor been any louder. You knew Angela would disagree with this. Turning a man into a weapon wasn’t exactly humane, after all.
“What?”
“They want to turn him into a cyborg. Uh, with his consent, of course.” Your reassurance does little to placate her.
As you await her response, she lets out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one you need permission from.” Both of your gazes fall onto the silent man, who had yet to say a word since his awakening. Even while weakened and bed-bound, he still retains the ferocity and rage of a scorned man.
A stark contrast to the bleeding man you had found during the raid on the Shimada estate. You recall how his one remaining hand gripped tightly onto your uniform, his delirious gaze swirled with betrayal and rage as he faded in and out of consciousness.
Slowly, you shuffle over to him under Angela’s scrutiny. His eyes—the only part of his body he seems to be able to move freely—remain trained on you, judging each movement you make, from your careful steps to the nearly unnoticeable twitch of your fingers.
“Hello.” It felt like it had been years since you had last spoken Japanese when in reality it had only been a week.
He seems shocked to have his mother tongue fall from your lips, but that fleeting look leaves as quickly as it arrived. While he doesn’t ward you away, he isn’t accepting of your presence beside him.
You smile slightly as you introduce yourself, unbothered by his intense stare. “Do you know where you are, Mr. Shimada?”
He remains silent.
At this rate, your break would end before you’d be able to get any sort of reaction other than a glare. With thinning patience, you huff. First, the successful escape of Hanzo Shimada, and now the lack of response from his brother.
This entire family truly was troublesome.
Always keep a calm head, your mentor’s words echo within your mind.
Breathe in.
“Mr. Shimada,” you start, the previous politeness you once held now replaced by the stern tone you used on duty. Angela clicks her tongue, rubbing her temple as she places her glasses on the desk.
“We,” you motion to yourself and the room around you, “are Overwatch. We want to help you, alright?”
With his anticipated lack of a response, you continue.
Breathe out.
“I’m sure you know of a man by the name of Shimada Hanzo, yes? The assumed head of the Shimada clan?”
This gets a rouse out of him. The withheld rage surfaces. Though unable to move much, his nostrils flare, his lips pulling into an animalistic snarl and nearly tears the delicate stitching done to his face.
“Where is he?” His voice is low, hoarse from lack of use and damaged vocal cords. Your hand clenches at your side under the heat of his feral glare. He sits impatiently, awaiting your response, akin to that of a ticking time bomb. Angela watches you from the corner of her eye, ready to step in should things go south.
“We don’t know,” you shake your head solemnly, “which is why we need your help locating him. Of course, your contributions won’t go unrequited. We will do everything in our power to accommodate to your… situation.”
At long last, his glare falters.
A dry, mirthless laugh falls from his cracked lips. “You speak as though I’ve already accepted your offer.” His head lolls back onto the crumpled sheets and flattened pillow of his hospital bed, defeat and fatigue etched into the creases of his frown. “But, I suppose I have no other choice.”
ISO [1.1K]
2XXX, FLORENCE, ITALY
“Grazie,” you smile kindly at the waiter who brings you your food, taking in the beautiful architecture of the city. It’s a shame that you can’t stay to enjoy the sights, so you do your best to enjoy what little downtime you have.
After your light lunch, you find yourself wandering through the streets, occasionally stopping to window shop, partially to not rouse suspicion, and partially to gaze at the luxuries of the life you had lost long ago. With a shake of your head, you cast those thoughts away, focusing instead on the task at hand.
A small, holographic map emerges from your bracer, marking your location with a white arrow, and the rendezvous point with a blinking red dot. Pushing through the throngs of people would have been a lot easier had you not been barred from using your abilities out in the open. Instead, you find yourself uncomfortably tucked into the corner of a bus with the smell of cigarettes emanating strongly from your seatmate.
Yeah, you’re definitely telling Brim that he can leave going undercover to someone else when you get back to HQ.
It doesn’t take long for your bus to reach your stop, or maybe you simply zoned out. Nevertheless, you quickly exit the bus, excusing yourself as you squeeze past the other passengers. The streets are long, winding, and confusing, but you manage to find yourself before where you need to be.
The Kingdom Corporation building stands out against its surroundings, its walls a sleek white in comparison to the dated and faded hues of the older buildings.
You stare at it a moment, gaze furrowing into a sneer before you turn down a desolate alleyway. You loiter there for a while, swapping between the few selective apps you were allowed to have on your phone and messaging other agents with far more interesting assignments. Only when the sun completely sets and the streetlights flicker to life do you make your move.
Under the cover of darkness, you scale up the wall’s shadow, perching on its tiled roof with practiced ease. The Kingdom building is, as expectedly, far brighter than its neighbors, proudly bolstering its prestige with the illuminated K on the front.
Scouring the building, your eyes land on its unguarded roof. With little effort, you find yourself on it in a blink, the only evidence of your presence being the persistent remnants of shadow that linger at your previous position.
“Get in, and get out. Simple enough,” you murmur to yourself, pulling your hands through the Kingdom labcoat you’d brought along and adjusting the collar.
“Che ci fai qui da solo?” Someone grips your shoulder tightly, spinning you around to face them. You’re met with a masked Kingdom guard who, despite the mask adorned on his face, is clearly irked by your presence. “Sai che non ti è permesso stare qui.”
A moment passes in silence as he studies you. He reaches his hand up to alert his unit but is stopped by a hand gripping his wrist. The guard jolts at the sensation, turning to face the perpetrator only to find…you?
There isn’t much time to think as a fist collides squarely in the center of his abdomen, no doubt at least bruising a few internal organs, and with a strangled cough, he falls limp in your arms. You prop him against a nearby ledge, feeling yourself scowl at the sight before disappearing beneath the crack of the roof’s door in a shadowy wisp. You briskly jump between shadows, painstakingly combing through the building’s floors in order to find the opening you need. Impatience simmers beneath your skin as you traverse yet another long hallway with no leads.
The building’s interior is similar to its exterior, just as bright and empty, if not more so, each hallway seemingly more monotonous than the last. Well, at least the upper levels were. The lower levels, on the other hand, were dark, hidden easily by the corporation’s blinding front.
You reach into your labcoat’s pocket, pulling out a candid shot of your prime suspect–Isabella Romano, one of Kingdom’s up-and-coming scientists as well as one of the lead researchers for the ever-elusive Project Landfall. With a groan of frustration, you find yourself running a hand down your face. However, just as you were about to call it quits and report to Brimstone that the mission was a bust, a soft voice chimes down the hall.
“Bene, bene. Spero di risentirla di nuovo presto.”
Bingo.
Your gaze finds her easily in the group of grunts she’s chosen to surround herself with, blinking behind her and allowing yourself to fall into the group’s collective shadow before anyone could take note of your presence. The ride is silent as the elevator slowly descends, though it is soon broken by the scientist’s phone ringing. She takes a deep breath before picking up, but from your position behind her, it’s difficult to tell who she’s answering to.
“Hello? Yes, this is Isabella,” she replies in English. “Yes, Project Landfall has been progressing smoothly on our end, but our location is less than ideal, unfortunately. Yes, I am aware of the, ah, incident in Norway, but I promise that this will not end up the same. No, we’re still working on preparations, but I will update you as soon as we’re ready to commence opening the portal. Thank you for your time, ma’am, we’ll be sure not to disappoint.” The elevator doors slide open just as Isabella hangs up, revealing a linear metal corridor with almost nowhere for you to hide.
You cling to the shadow of every crevice, tailing the unsuspecting group silently. The corridor isn’t very long, luckily, stopping at another set of metal doors that slide open with a metallic whirr. The room itself is very spacious, with at least fifteen monitors lined neatly against the furthest wall, where a group of at least four people hover around, speaking in hushed whispers while observing something you couldn’t see.
You slip between them, becoming tangible for only a moment and grabbing the first manila folder you could find as you duck behind a supply crate. Your fingers are quick to comb through the files, thumbing through the multitude of useless reports before stopping at a sealed-away section with nothing but the Kingdom logo printed on the front. Footsteps near your hiding place, each step echoing louder than the ringing in your ears.
Then they’re gone.
Fuck it, you decide after a moment’s hesitation.
Tearing off the seal, you’re greeted by manuscripts of all languages pertaining to Project Landfall, just as you’d anticipated. Even the recent radivore encounter at the abandoned Norweigan facility had been documented.
You had to give it to them, these people were nothing if not punctual.
Yasuo [1.5K]
It’s quiet; way too quiet.
Something’s off, you can feel it, but your hand quivers around the handle of your blade, unable to unsheath it. You hear your own heartbeat pound in your ears–a daunting reminder that you’re alone, at least, you hope you are.
The bush nearby rustles–the wind, you reason. A twig snaps in the distance–wildlife, you bargain with your crumbling resolve. Footsteps echo through the underbrush of the forest, growing closer before stopping before you.
By now, your eyes are shut tight, blade long abandoned at your side in favor of protecting your head with your arms.
“A Vastaya?” You hear the person mumble to themself before sighing in what seems to be relief. The sheathing of a blade reaches your ears. Slowly, you gingerly open your tear-rimmed eyes to take a look at the stranger.
He’s looking away, mumbling to himself while he combs a hand through his long, tousled hair. You take the chance to examine his figure. He bares a shoulder pad that seems like it would be more of a hindrance than a help, and his cloak is ripped, exposing his scarred, yet admittedly toned midriff.
You force your gaze to his face, watching as he strokes his five-o’clock shadow between his thumb and forefinger with a pinched brow. There’s a scar across his nose, though it doesn’t make him any less attractive. You ponder on how he got it. A fight? An accident, maybe?
He meets your stare, offering a small grin while raising his hands in the air. “I won’t hurt you,” he starts quietly as if you’d run if he spoke any louder, “promise.” When you don’t flee, he slowly lowers one of his hands to point to himself, taking note of the way you tense, your eyes falling to his sheathed blade.
“I am Yasuo. I mean you no harm, truly.” Though his words seem genuine, you can’t seem to shake the wariness gnawing at your gut.
“Why are you here?” Your voice quivers, hand reaching down to the hilt of your blade. Only the clinking of steel clashing with steel is heard before you land pathetically on your back–vulnerable and unarmed. Your sword lands near Yasuo’s feet with a dramatic thud.
Silence stretches over the two of you. It’s a tense silence; one that leaves your mouth dry despite your constant swallowing. It’s only when Yasuo sheathes his sword do you allow yourself to breathe again.
“I take it you aren’t one for visitors?” His half-joke is met with no answer, even as he begins to awkwardly chuckle to himself. He sighs for what seems to be the nth time in the span of twenty minutes.
He parts his lips to speak, running his tongue along the chapped skin as he tries to find the right words. “Look,” he starts, “I just need a place to rest for a week at most. Then I’ll be out of your hair, I swear.”
“A week?”
“A week.”
Now it’s your turn to sigh, weighing to pros and cons of bringing a stranger–a human, no less–to your home. Your mind begins to spin tales of all the horrid things that could happen if you were to take him in, followed by even more outlandish solutions.
All the while, Yasuo patiently waits, watching how your inhuman ears twitch and fold with every new thought that pops into your mind. When it appears that you’ve finally come to a consensus, he stands a little straighter, forcing down that small bout of anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach.
“A week,” you say with a resolution that shocks even you, “but no more.”
He offers a grateful smile, handing you your fallen sword before mindlessly following behind you as you begin the trek home.
“I never did catch it. Your name, I mean.” He brushes away a touchy branch with a small scowl, eyes glancing up to meet your hesitant pout. You opt to give him your name–to make it easier for the both of you, you reason.
He says your name, the syllables falling from his silver tongue like a beautiful melody. It sounds nice–hearing your name from the lips of someone after all these years of solitude.
“Yasuo.” His name slips from your tongue before you even have the chance of thinking to stop it. The said man turns to look at you, tilting his head slightly in a silent question.
“Forgive me,” you look away bashfully, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”
Yasuo hums, leaving the rest of the trek to bask in a silence far more comfortable to the one prior.
—
By no means would you describe your home as grand or lavish. It was a quaint cottage with all the essentials and a flourishing garden around the back. Your companion lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed with what you had to offer.
“...Only a week, right?”
He nods, not once looking in your direction in favor of taking in the view of your house, “Only a week.”
You usher him inside, that last thread of tethered hesitance dissipating when he places his blade by the door.
You breathe a sigh of relief, placing your own blade by his to ward off any of his suspicions. By the time you enter the foyer, he’s sitting stiffly on your couch, eyes unfocused whilst he tries to take up as little room as possible.
“You can relax.” You don’t wait to see his reaction, moving to busy yourself in the kitchen, though your ears do pick up on the small breath he lets out and the creaking of his muscles when he lets his shoulders sag. You wince at the sound. Just how tense was he?
You mindlessly drone through making dinner, taking extra care to make portions big enough for your impromptu guest. You call him into the dining room after setting the table, taking your usual seat while allowing Yasuo to choose his own seat.
He picks a seat across from your own. With one final glance at him, you begin eating your own food, filling the otherwise awkward silence with the scraping of utensils.
Hesitation flickers briefly across the wanderer’s face, and it isn’t until you shoot him a questioning glance does he gingerly place the now-cold food on his tongue. He chews in bites so slow and meticulous that you’re left to wonder if he actually enjoys it or if he’s fighting the urge to spit it out.
“It’s good,” he finally concludes. Your heart feels lighter from the statement, for some odd reason or another.
—
After showering the day’s stress away, it’s safe to say you’re shocked when you find Yasuo laying against the hardwood floor with nothing but a pillow beneath his head and an old blanket draped over his form. His shoulder pad sits forgotten in the corner next to your swords, glinting menacingly beneath the moonlight that peaks through the blinds.
He looks at peace with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling with each steady breath.
“Why are you here?” Tucked into the corner of the couch, you peer over the edge to look at him, voice barely above an inaudible whisper. He hears you, though, because of course, he does.
“I thought we’ve established this already. I just need a place to rest for a bit.”
You sigh, “That’s not what I meant. Why are you here–in this forest? It isn’t exactly hospitable to, uh, humans.” You stumble over your own words, fumbling with the hem of your sleeping gown.
“I’m here because I’m looking for something,” his tone matches your own; hushed and hesitant as if he’s spilling a deep secret to a close friend.
“Looking for something?” You parrot with a curious tilt of your head. He sits up, allowing the blanket to fall and reveal his nude upper half. For the sake of modesty, you focus your gaze on a loose thread on your couch, your ears downturned unconsciously from the embarrassment.
Yasuo watches your movements questioningly, chalking it up to the same fear you had earlier as he stretches his arm behind his head.
“I was…” he trails off, jaw tightening whilst his arms fall limply to his side, landing on the hardwood floors with a dull thud, “I was looking for a way to restore my honor.” His voice cracks at the end of his whispered statement, revealing a sliver of the man beneath his cool and composed bravado.
You hear the self-resentment that seeps deep into his tone–one that you yourself have grown accustomed to. After seeing him in such as disheveled state, you choose not to pry, offering only a soft hum. The silence that befalls the two of you is different than the previous ones.
No awkwardness. No fear. Only serenity.
You fall asleep on the couch that night, feeling far safer than you have in a long time.
–
The first two days pass by without notice. You go about your normal routine, taking care not to take in yet another hopeless wanderer. Yasuo, on the other hand, remains stationed at your humble abode, offering to care for your fauna while you’re out and about. Reluctantly, you agree, handing him a list of dos and don’ts before leaving for the market.
🔮 summary: aphelios, alune, ezreal, and kayn all have their favorite parts about getting down and dirty with you.
⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, Minors DNI!, explicit descriptions of sexual acts, GN!Reader
aphelios: noisy. he wants to hear you whimper. he wants to hear your moans. whatever broken sentences you manage to get out. the slap of his balls on your ass, the wet slurp of the slick between you two as he thrusts his cock into you. you having him fucking into you harder if you yell his name like his bandmates aren’t just down the hall. hearing your voice is what drives him. his senses may be dulled to due to side affects of the surgeries he’s had, but his hearing is sharp and practiced, it has to be, as an instrumentalist for a band hitting the charts every other week. any sort of noises you make during sex is overwhelmingly euphoric to him and can bring him to the edge in 5 seconds flat.
alune: the warmth of your sex on her hand. the way you press kisses into her arm as you fuck. your bruising grip on her thigh as you eat her out, paired with those sharp nips heightens her senses. it makes everything so wonderfully blissful, almost bathing her vision in white hot pleasure. alune is all about touch. there’s a lot she’s neglected and gave up in looking out for her twin brother, pleasurable touches being one of these. she’s always placing your hand somewhere on her body. her tits, her stomach, her thighs. she loves being touched by you. loves feeling every single nerve alight by your hand. loves exploring what feels good, what pleasurable pain you can bring to her.
ezreal: another one who loves noises, but rather than making it into a sort of artistic expression, ezreal likes it sloppy. he likes fucking you until you’re so dumb that you can’t even properly say his name. he presses into you so deep it’s like the circuits in your brain shut off and you’re basically just yammering incomplete words as he leans into your chest, fully sheathed inside of you. he doesn’t really care about being heard or even if someone walked in to tell the two of you to shut up, but definitely videotapes your cute little reaction. he’s definitely somewhat shameless in his sexual expression and definitely acts up in public.
kayn: oh, there’s so much i could say about this man. just like any scorpio, the man embodies the word sex. there’s not a thing about it that turns him off and if there’s one word i would use to describe kayn, it would be kinky. there’s nothing he won’t try, very little that he would say no too. in fact, he says he finds normal sex somewhat boring, and is always looking for something to peek his interest. but that’s not entirely true. for kayn, finding someone he loves having just plain sex with is interesting in itself, as he’s seen and experience so much. if he is willing to just have sex without any games or bells and whistles with you, he’s madly in love. he’s keeping you forever.
Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel
Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader
Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)
Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language
Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”
Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.
[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]
“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”
“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers.
“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”
You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors.
“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”
“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”
You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.
“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”
“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:
‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’
The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:
‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’
“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.”
“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”
“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.”
You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.
“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”
Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place.
“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”
You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”
“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”
“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.”
“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”
Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"
Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.
“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.”
The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.
The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.
Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest.
But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.
Penis (en)counter: 1
While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute.
“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.”
“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.
With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.
“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”
“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.
The image would be forever burned in your mind.
You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.
Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.
But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn.
“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”
There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.
‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’
“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”
Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps.
‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’
“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”
Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.
When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness.
At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”
“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”
“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”
As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.
These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.
“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.”
With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”
Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.
Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool.
“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too.
Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.
He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.”
Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.
W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.
A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.
Penis (en)counter: 2
“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”
Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.
Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.
What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.
Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”
Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”
Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.
You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:
‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’
With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.
He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”
The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite.
“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.
Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”
As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.
“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.”
Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.
an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. <3
I'm so curious how Christmas would go with each one of the heartsteel and what they would give us!
✖ Heartsteel Gifts + Christmas Date ✖
✖ Word Count: 1.5k
✖ Tags: Established R/S
✖ A/N: This year there's a party at the Riot Music HQ and all the boys are invited to join with their partners heheheh its 8am did I spend the last 12h brainstorming and writing this? Yes. Not proofread. I am closing my eyes and enjoying my x'mas date and party wwwww
----
Shieda Kayn
The only time he wakes up bright and early. The second the sun rises he is up and waking You up as well.
Excited man child. Kayn would be the kind of guy that might dye his hair red and green instead just to enjoy the festivities. Paired with a full black Santa outfit that matches yours (he bought it for you).
Bringing you out to have a nice lunch with his dad before going on a shopping spree with you in town. Kayn’s Christmas plans for you both are non-stop activities from snowball fights to ice skating, before ending with a nice gathering at the main studio with the Heartsteel members, other Riot Music stars and some staff.
Kayn wouldn’t really have Christmas gifts planned for you, an impulsive lover he would just buy and give you whatever the moment he sees it. So when it came to Christmas itself, it was more on a gift that he spotted a little over a week ago that he thought would be perfect for you.
Wrapped surprisingly well in fancy paper and a cute bow he’d hand you a small box. It was matching rings with him. Not like fancy marriage or anything. Just fashion jewelry that had gems in your favourite color. Not to mention it might…have been something…he stole from his stylists last photoshoot… Let’s not make eye contact with them over by the snack table yeah?
Ezreal
Ez wakes up at a reasonable time around breakfast. But spends at least an hour just snuggling with you in his arms as he uses his phone to check up on social media. Humming Christmas tunes as he presses his cheek into you.
When he finally gets up, he drags you up along with him, getting ready by finding fashionable matching outfits for a date out in town. He was Ezreal after all. It was a day full of influencer brand deal Christmas parties that he was fully intending to milk for their freebies.
Branded bags, perfume, fancy lunch at a restaurant, caroling and then even more free facial products and clothes. Both your hands were full of PR goodie bags by the time you two had to leave for the Riot Music party.
Ezreal would have entirely forgotten about your present. Not that he forgot to buy it. But he forgot to bring it. Awkward laughing as he gives you shitty excuse after shitty excuse to try and slip away from you before the party. He finally manages to sprint/blink back home to pick up the fancy paper bag he had hidden under the bed for over a month.
Handing it to you with a smile as sweat drips down his brow. Ezreal sheepishly laughs as he watches you open it. A pair of sunglasses that not only match his but have both your names engraved on each arm. A unique and expensive gift that will no doubt remind you of him and tell others just who your boyfriend is.
Sett
Sett would be up early. Wanting to cook some of Ma’s signature family recipes. Making things to bring to Christmas dinner for the party with the Riot Music idols and staff later at night. He’d tries his best not to wake you though, so it is the warm smell of delicious food that pulls you out of bed after him shortly after.
He wouldn’t have planned a super eventful day, going to gym early before you woke, cooking things and packing them, getting dressed before going out with you. Hanging out at the studio with you in his arms as the two of you chat and catch up with friends. Its warm and homey the kind of feeling where old friends are just catching up with each other after a hectic year.
Helping to set up the party, Sett would pick you up to reach the top of the tree. Putting the star up. Decorating the walls and doors. Sneaking you off into the break room to snack on a homemade meal he made just for the two of you for lunch.
When it comes to gifts, Sett has this planned for months. Asking mom for help as he worked on it himself slowly in his free time between shows. Smiling proud as he hands it to you over lunch. He spent countless hours making a hand-bound scrapbook of all your dates for the year, receipts, memories, polaroids, ticket stubs, handwritten reviews on what he loved about each date as well as cute memos on your outfits too. Messy drawings and loving hearts drawn around you two. It was a sweet summary of the year to keep as memories for you both.
Aphelios
Staying up late the previous night, Aphelios would sleep in on Christmas morning, a soft mumble as he hugs you close in the cool weather. Pulling the sheets up high, making sure the two of you stayed warm in bed.
Only as hunger starts to catch up does he finally languidly get up from bed. The hustle and bustle outside from Sett cooking something paired with screams of kids in the streets finally forces him to wake. Pouting the whole time as he holds you tight
Disgruntled murmurs, all Aphelios wants to do on the holiday is to rest. Always up late working he just wanted to hold you in his arms as he lazes around until obligations catch up to him and that’s what he does. Offering to have a movie marathon with you. Raspy laughter as he wraps the both of you up in blankets. Inviting you to get comfy as he goes out to make the both of you hot chocolate.
Aphelios’ gift was something he spent a long time stressing over. It had to be perfect. It had to be something that you wouldn’t get for yourself. And so this is what he ended up with. A pair of headphones the exact same as his with the nifty little ability to share the same audio source he was listening to. Placing them gently on your head as he turns on the movie for the day.
When the two of you left for the party. It was his arm around your side his head resting gently against yours in the cab as Aphelios’ music gently plays in your ears. His fingers tapping on your side in beat as the two of you listen in together.
Yone
It was one of the few times that Yone actually gets to spend time at home with his brother, so when Christmas rolls around you were invited to come live with him at his old place in the suburbs. Chilling with him in the comfort of his old room as he shows you things around his place.
His Christmas plans included more mundane things, spending breakfast with you and Yasuo. Going out for a walk in the nearby park to see the Christmas decorations, bringing you out for lunch at places he used to frequent in his youth. As the sun begins to set the two of you set off for the party.
Showing up with drinks and gifts for everyone in Heartsteel. Yone ushers you in and settles his commitments before returning to your side shortly after. Holding up a small fancy gift bag, Yone awkwardly hands you the gift.
Pulling it out you see a wooden beaded bracelet made of a few different colored woods. Alternating into a beautiful pattern. As Yone helps put it around your wrist he brings up how he spent the time away from you hand carving each beat himself. Wanting to give you something to show how he is always thinking of you and how dedicated he was to his one and only lover.
K'Sante
K’Sante wakes up bright and early, excitedly waking you too. Telling you he has a day full of surprises planned and wants to make sure you’re ready for it. Breakfast in bed, fancy new outfit picked out for you already in your favorite colors. A secret schedule and cheeky smile as he leads you out to town.
Bringing you to the Christmas market, everything is on him. He tells you to buy what you want, eat what you want, he’d pay for it all. Pampering you with snacks and trinkets. Also assuring you that this isn’t his Christmas gift for you. It was simply something he felt like you deserved this holiday.
So when it came time to leave for the dinner party, the two of your were parked outside the studio for a little while. Finally, he uncovers the huge, well wrapped, present that had been sitting in the back the whole time.
A Christmas gift? More like Christmas gifts. K’Sante went all out giving you a whole hamper of things he thought of buying for you over the months. Fluffy bath robes, a silk mask, new skincare, a spa voucher, lotions, a new wallet and bag, tickets to a concert the two of you wanted to go as well as a matching reservation for dinner during the new years. He was your man, and no partner of his was going to not get a full self care package.
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BONUS
Alune
A manager through and through. Alune would have a fun day of activities planned out for the two of you. Laughing happily as she helps tie a scarf around your neck that suspiciously looks not only hand knitted but also exactly like the one she has around her neck right now that you may or may not have mentioned finding it cute a while back when winter first rolled around.
The day is filled with cute things, ornament making, ice skating, a snowball fight with her brother and the kids in the neighborhood that ends in her laughing and hiding behind you as you get pelted with snow. All sweet winter memories that you two look back on.
As it nears lunch, you and Alune go on a double date lunch with Aphelios and his partner at a small cafe a few streets down. Reserving a specially ordered mini log cake that she takes photos of excitedly before sharing it with you.
Leaving for party later the two of you dress up in matching winter coats. Alune bashfully admitting to you finally that she spent the past month learning how to knit to make you a scarf. Hiding her face in hers slowly as she speaks, telling you how she wasn’t always the best at crafts and stuff but wanted to get you something that would smell like her and remind you of her so she ended up with this.
Reaching out to hold the back edge of the scarf up to your face, ignoring the slightly misaligned stitches, you see a heart with your initials next to hers. Giggling softly yet again as she looks at you, Alune tells you how she knows its kinda cheesy, but stuff like that were back in trend now anyways right?
Kayn’s idea of a date would DEFINITELY be something out of the house. I don’t think he can ever find sitting in one place for too long entertaining. Unless it’s pranking or teasing one of his bandmates which he would get scolded for by Yone soon after. The rush of adrenaline he gets while doing something spontaneous was unmatched to anything else. Besides being with you. He’d probably be laying on the couch with you proposing ideas of what you two could be doing which you’d quickly reject. You can’t let him tempt you. He sighs out of frustration. “Come on! Don't act like you don’t love messing around with me.” He’s right, and you give in.
You two end up getting out of the house and walking around the city together. Not to do any window shopping or normal. Instead he’s taking you to some spots he’s been meaning to check out, most of them being places where you shouldn’t be. He understands it might not be your idea of fun. He reassures you that he would never abandon you if things got bad. He’s keeping an eye out in case you get seen by someone who knows you two shouldn’t be there. Before you two could even start trying to explore the off limits area you feel a tug on your arm.
Kayn pulling you into one of the dark alleyways, Your bodies closely pressed together as he hushes any protest. He explains to you that he heard the footsteps of someone. You stay there for a moment hiding from what he thought was a security guard coming around the corner. Or at least that's what you still believe. He should be looking more worried, shouldn't he. He’s not worried though. He just has a dumb smug look on his face like always. Even if this was just a ploy to get you close, could you really complain.
Ezreal:
Ezreal would love to take you somewhere that he can use some of his skills from being an idol. He loves being able to do something almost flawlessly and receiving praise. Your praise means significantly more to him than that of a stranger. He excitedly pulls you along to the entrance of an arcade. So many different machines all with different colors on the screens and catchy songs playing from them, trying to tempt people to spend money.
Ezreal begins directing your attention to the huge line of people waiting to play the DDR machine. If you don't exactly love rhythm games he’s pleading, practically begging you for one game with him. He picks the song (probably kpop) and reassures you that you can choose the easy setting if you aren't confident in playing. He would even play on easy if you asked. You can see that Ezreal gets super happy once the song starts, humming along and occasionally sings the lyrics of the song while his eyes are fixed on the screen pressing the correct arrows. If he notices that you aren’t having the best time he would use his flash to change his position. Backwards. Handstand. Hitting all kinds of silly poses just to make you laugh and distract you from the pressure.
Ezreal also desperately tries to win you something from the crane machines. Watching all the other couples walk around with huge plushies in their arms just fuels him more. He spends too much. Like way too much money. But it’s you so it's worth it. At home later when you are both in bed he shows you the picture again this time with stickers that put cat ears on your head and emoticons surrounding you that he edited in.
Sett
It really is a coin flip with Sett. He cares more on how you are feeling. If you want to go out you two go out. If you want to stay home you stay home. If you leave the house for the date it’s probably for a really cute picnic that he planned. A basket full of different food and drinks you both like. Sett lays down all the food he brought out in front of the both of you and you two dig in. Having a conversation in between bites. He would point towards certain dishes or snacks and say “When I saw it I had to get/make it for you.”
When it started to get dark he made sure to take care of putting everything away. Throwing away empty containers and rerolling the blankets as you two made your way out of the park. He really appreciates you and just wants to take care of you that day. Not that he doesn’t think you can help clean up or carry things but he does work out a lot. What is it all for if it's not to treat you like royalty.
If it's a date at home then it would be you too on the couch crocheting things for each other. Which he is surprisingly good at. Most would think a guy like things was purely a gym bro. Sett was in fact capable of many things. Drinks and snacks on the table as you both focus on trying to make your pieces come out as good as possible. Occasional grunts of frustration if things go awry. He'll give you pointers or guide your hands if you ask for assistance. His hands are warm against yours as your quiet evening continues. Eventually you finish your creation and he praises you for a job well done.
Yone
It’s often hard for Yone to have any free time. Even his days off are interrupted by calls or texts from the boys. His day of relaxation is now interrupted as he tries to clean up the mess they got themselves into. Normally he’s cooped up in his office or the recording studio. Any dates previously would be a quick trip to the local coffee shop since the man can’t live without caffeine. Occasionally there were work dates but he felt bad thinking it made you feel like less important than his job.
But after pulling a few strings he made sure they wouldn’t bother him, allowing him to take a well deserved day with you. You were a bit surprised when he formally asked you on a date. Taking you to one of the places he found relaxing. A tranquil botanical garden near the outskirts of the city.
The trail of the garden was pretty uneven. He doesn’t want you to have difficulty walking with him so he lets you hold onto his arm and holds his hand out to you. Making sure every uneven step wouldn’t result in an accident. The stress washes away. “I’m grateful we can spend time like this..” Gentle words and praises were all you heard as you both took in the sighs of the foliage and trees. He’s almost sad as he notices the sky starting to darken. He promises to you that he’ll work hard to earn another day off to spend more time with you. You reassure him that you know he loves what he does. He needn’t feel shame for that. He may not be a big fan of PDA but being with you makes him feel like he has to do everything in his power to express his love. He gives you a deep kiss. He takes his time but doesn't let himself get carried away before you two make your way back home.
Aphelios
After getting with Aphelios you know better than anyone how he feels being out in public. So it shouldn’t be a surprise to you when he wants to spend time with you it’ll be at home 110% of the time. He finds it more intimate and enjoys the simple times with you. Where you two are just sitting, enjoying each other's company. Most if not all your dates involve both of you rummaging the kitchen for any snacks that haven’t been eaten by the other members. A soft blanket on the couch for both of you to be enveloped in later in the night.
Remote in your hand since he wants your dates to be enjoyable. He lets you decide what to watch. Aphelios never disagrees with your choices since you seem to magically always choose something good. Or something he had been planning to watch. Even without him telling you. If you are the kind of person who rambles on about a subject related to the movie/video he will divert his attention to you. Yeah the film may be covering the things you're saying in a more professional way but the passionate tone you use is hypnotic to him. There's no way he would prefer some person reading from a script than you speaking from the heart.
He is happy when you wait at him expectantly for his reaction to some vital pieces of the story and he usually is caught off guard. He will hand you snacks or a drink in intervals throughout the date, wanting to make sure your needs are met. You also do the same which he appreciates because it's common for Aphelios to ignore his own needs. Take care of him please
K’Sante
K’Sante would also take you out on the down. Your date starts with the two of you sitting in a cute cafe together having a coffee together. Deciding together what you would be interested in seeing in the shopping district that day. Walking around the blocks of what felt like never ending stores. Everytime you two stop K’Sante asks if you’d to go inside. Declining the first few times since they seemed too fancy to even step foot into.
You two stop outside of a boutique with mannequins wearing elaborate clothing in the windows. A clothing store a bit more on the fancier end. K’Sante ends up explaining how he frequents the place and that he definitely recommends it. You give in because a date wouldn’t be a date if it was only window shopping. Going into some stores at least felt necessary to make sure the time was spent effectively.
Being familiar with the place means that he knows exactly where to go. Already knowing your style and measurements, already having made and bought custom clothing for you. You pick out a bunch of different clothes still a bit hesitant about his offer. You didn't want to be rude and decline but also didn't want to spend too much. What even was the budget? Who knows. With K’Sante he saw no limit on what it took to get you happy. Even if there is a part inside him wanted to say that you’d never need to go out and spend money. That first statement couldn't be more true once he watched you step out of the changing rooms. Dressed in clothes that complemented not only your body but you entirely. Even if some items were overpriced he didn’t hesitate to buy you some pieces you felt like you couldn’t leave the store without.
Alune
Alune would love a calm day to wind down with you. She will take you on a little date in the city with a lot of places she wants to visit. Even if she doesn’t end up buying anything she just loves having you by her side. Getting snacks from a convenient store. Grabbing all kinds of cute promotional items for whatever show is out and anything you two have already tried and loved. Alune happily places the basket of goodies on the checkout counter as she then pays for both of you. Next stop is the park. Specifically, the one that has a big lake with a path around it. It's a nice break from her busy work days, managing the boys leaves little to no free time. You two end up taking small breaks on your walk. Sitting down on a bench under the shade of a tree simply just enjoying each other’s presence.
A staple of going out with Alune is a trip to a local thrift shop. Walking down the aisles of clothes, calling each other over when you find a certain piece of clothing that would look cute on the other. If you two have similar styles it would be a playful game of “Who Can Find Cute Clothes First.” Even then you two would give each other some of your finds just to make the other happy. Walking past other shops Alune would make comments on how she thinks one of the members would “totally be into something.” But more importantly you noted the things she says she's been eyeing.
You come home with a bag of snacks, clothes, and self care products. You two have a mini fashion show before you both indulge in the pile of snacks you both picked out together. Ending the day with facemasks as you two decide what to watch that night.
Hwei hugs like he's afraid of letting go, arms snug around your waist as he holds onto you. Breathing you in, committing you to his memory like he won't see you again ever.
His kisses are the complete opposite, soft, gentle, like he thinks you'll break if he's any rougher. Like you're the most precious thing and have to be handled with the utmost care.
Aphelios hugs you like he doesn't know what he's doing, arms awkwardly hanging around your waist, too unsure of where to place his hands. He eases into it after a while, resting his head against your shoulder, carefully holding onto you as you play with his hair.
His kisses are soft, lips careful against your own, but always with a certain feeling hiding underneath. Like he wants to do more but isn't sure how to, like he needs you in a way that isn't purely sexual.
