send 💋 for a kiss on the lips // *not accepting. ( @offsct )
it was raining. the beautiful sort of rain, one that entailed spring and the new - life that came with it, a cleansing sort of drizzle that meant fresh starts and NEW BEGINNINGS. and as that large, golden wing guards the two of them from the downing precipitation of this warm season day he closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of this presence next to him, of that hand entwined with his own, of that wonderful feeling of being LOVED.
the golden - being opens those eyes to a shift beside him, and he glances to his heart - light as he lifts her fingers with his own, putting them upon his lips as he begins to speak, a caressing sort of inflection that echoes his comfort, his care. perhaps it is the rain that makes him speak out of impulse, of instinctual want as he looks back to the hushed forest that sang with the weather.
“ how about you run away with me, Xayah ? we could run far far away and never look back, and i’d kiss you awake every morning as you complain about how i cling too much during my sleep, and our children will clamor around us for their own morning kiss from their mother and we could be happy. ”
she opens those lips to speak, but he hushes her as he places a soft, warm kiss upon her cheek before putting them upon her lips, a soft smile upon his face as he shakes his head, a look of understanding brimming his bittersweet gaze, his wishes for her safety, for the lifting of her responsibilities and burden going unsaid in the pit of his stomach.
“ but i’m already happy being here with you, miela, i am already happy. i just want you to be safe. ”
if ur bored in class anyways — give us a full description of crux’s appearance
Crux is a pale skinned man, standing 6′2″ ( 1.97m ) tall. Neck length hair has been tied into a short wolf tail with one bang drooping over one eye; both scarlet red. A tattoo pans the entire left side of his face, inked in black: the Noxian Brand of Exile. Usually, Noxus gives said brand to those lower than the weak; those not even deemed worthy for the execution– disgraces upon the country. He had it etched after becoming one of Zed’s first disciples.
On terms of physicality, years of rigorous martial arts training has honed the man’s body to near peak capability with multiple scars. Upon his deltoids, and spanning across his shoulder blades are shadowy tattoos etched into his skin; a practice all of the students in the Order of Shadow take part in.
His armor? Similar to his master’s, save he does not wear the full mask. Instead he dons an iron look-alike only covering his nose and mouth. A dark red scarf wraps around his shoulders and serves as a cowl.
He dons thin armor, arming himself with kunai knives (one he has attached to a chain for special purposes) along his belt, as well as his signature curved short-sword and one large serrated shuriken mantled upon his upper back. He leaves his left shoulder exposed, save a black sleeve covering up part of his tattoo.
@tnkts the rogue assassin, for once, shamelessly leans closer to the vastayan, pressing her lips against the other's left cheek in a brief kiss. ❛ put your attention here, stupid fox. ❜
@offsct ❛ hey. give me attention. ❜ the rapper approached the kumiho , tip - toeing slightly to give the half - fox a shy peck on her rosy cheek.
EARS PERK UP, twitching curiously as she’s approached by not one but two differing akalis -- they look similar enough yet confusion sweeps over the vastayan’s face as she all but stops functioning for a moment, kisses placed on either side of her face.
❝ one of you did not call me stupid, so i can assume that this is not my akali. i would question this -- though i am aware the magic of runeterra works in vastly strange ways... ❞
the fox places a finger to her lips in thought for a moment before her hands come up to rest on either of the other women’s cheeks with a smirk.
❝ now, i suppose the question is: who shall i give my attention to. ❞
@offsct has an audience with the Exile ( closed starter / plotted. )
The First Lands.
Riven has been in Ionia for years, now, and even though she could never forget the jagged & jutting terrain that was her Motherland, it was dulling memories compared to the sweeping canvas of forests & ocean she’s grown used to. In a way — she calls this home.
Yet.
Despite how her heart has learned to love Ionia, she never dared herself to be this close to the Placidium. Her reasoning was rooted in weariness; if she tread on the very grounds Noxus so coveted, was she defiling something sacred? And if she had went and soldiers recognized her, what would she do?
The answer is elusive. Even now, with Karma’s blessing, even with the cover of nightfall and a private route...Riven hesitates on the doorstep, her hand hovering over the wood as if a single knock would break the whole door in.
‘ your idea, Karma — it is risky. ‘
‘ yes. ‘
‘ very risky. ‘
‘ yes. ‘
‘ then why do you bid me to go? she may not respond favorably to me. ‘
‘ perhaps, but you may also deny yourself an ally for the rest of your life if you let your past keep holding you back. ‘
Riven’s brow furrows. She knocks on the door, ignoring her wild, thumping heart.
five times kissed - akali ( or whoever you want !! )
i.
Irelia reaches for one of her blades, wiping it along the dew-stained grass. “You fought well today.”
Beside her, sitting with legs crossed, Akali turns. “That’s all you got today? No moral commentary? No lecture of justice?”
“To do so would take away the value of your efforts.” Irelia shakes her head, letting a smile glide across her lips. “Teachers can learn, too. And I’ve learned to be a little more grateful.”
Akali looks like she’s trying her best to resist rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
Tilting her head, Irelia inches a little closer, her smile growing wider. “You want to repeat that?”
She lowers her face mask. “Impossible. I don’t know what to do with you.”
For a moment Irelia finds herself drawn to the curve of Akali’s lips, a lovely shape that she sees far less than she would like. “Maybe work together with me, again.” She pauses, waiting for Akali’s reaction. She doesn’t seem to reject it. “That way, you’ll have more time to figure out.”
“For all the times you scold me, you don’t want to let me go.”
Irelia hesitates, her playfulness vanishing from her face. “I...”
Jumping backwards to dodge an enemy’s strike, Irelia meets their blade with her own, launching her other blades forward to send them flying. She continues to pace back until she feels a familiar presence - Akali. Their attackers, a strange masked group all dressed in white, begin to close in on them at every angle, but it’s an empty victory. Irelia feels like she could hold these floundering fighters off for hours.
“We’ll have to break through eventually,” Akali notes, whirling her kamas.
Irelia nods. “Meet at the front portico in ten?”
“Make it five if you don’t want to be left behind.”
She should not be so captivating in the middle of a battlefield. Irelia leans back, tugging at Akali’s arm. “A kiss then, for good luck?”
Maybe it’s that Kinkou training, Irelia thinks, as she feels Akali next to her one second, and across the room the next, that lets her do that.
iii.
So that’s what the full tattoo looks like.
Akali stretches her arms out, letting her shirt fall to the floor. From Irelia’s place on the bed she can see how the ink flows across the curvature of her back, how the muscles of her shoulders run down her body like mountain ridges.
When Akali turns around, Irelia figures the front is an equally impressive view.
Her breath catches in her throat when Akali pounces onto the bed, sidling up to her like a lioness corners her prey. Akali’s hands graze over her stomach, along her chest, grasping at her neck, and then...
Oh, she thinks, as Akali’s lips mark her jaw. That’s good.
iv.
It’s not the first time Akali has said goodbye to her on the balcony outside her bedroom.
“You know you can’t keep me leashed here forever, right?”
Irelia sighs, hands clasped behind her back. She isn’t appealing to one of the councilors, but she can’t help but hold on to that formality when she doesn’t know what to do. She joins Akali in looking over the Placidium, the road out of the capital lit by dozen of lanterns. One winter day, a couple of years ago, she’d let Akali in along that road.
Now, she’ll leave on that same path.
“I’d never try to restrain you.” It’s exactly that free spirit that draws Irelia to her. Hoping to pin it down would be like trying to give a shape to the wind. But Irelia can’t help but feel that she would like that spirit closer to her. Closer to her heart.
“My travels brought me here,” Akali explains, throwing her legs to hang over the balcony’s ledge. “And they’ll bring me all over Ionia. If things work out, they’ll bring me here again.”
Instead of a response, Irelia comes up from behind Akali, throwing her arms around her waist. She still stiffens at her touch - even after all this time - but quickly learns to relax, leaning her head against Irelia’s.
“I’ll be waiting.”
“The last thing I need is sentimentality from you, Captain.” Akali swivels around, and Irelia knows what she’s looking for. So she leans forward, standing on her toes to reach her, and takes Akali’s face in her hands. Their kiss is fervent against the night air, fire and ice, a crossing of loyalties. It’s a peculiar balance, but Irelia embraces it all the same.
“Goodbye, my silverfang.”
v.
Even the trailblazers of rap need time to cool down.
Irelia may go days without seeing Akali, but it only makes their meetings more memorable. Tonight, when she hears a knock on the door of her hotel room, it’s an exhausted Akali, every ounce of effort spent energizing K/DA’s fans. She almost collapses into Irelia’s arms before she can even close the door, and Irelia makes a prompt relocation to the sofa in front of the TV.
“You were wonderful, Akali.”
Akali tugs at her jacket, and Irelia helps pulls it off. She finds Akali’s arms thrown around her, taking in her warmth, and she opens herself to her, hands stroking Akali’s hair.
“Every concert, I always think about how lucky we are.” Akali lets out a contented sigh as she rests her head against Irelia’s shoulder. “Our backgrounds, so different... and yet we still can come together and inspire people like that.”
“You put in all the hard work,” Irelia points out. “I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you girls.”
Akali raises her head up high enough to place a kiss on Irelia’s cheek. “Oh, I can think of one person.”
offsct replied to your post: i’ve had a lot of sad musings today – so here’s...
quinn && lux !!! having a picnic at like a really good spot quinn knows !!!!! demacian pureness aaaaaaa
!!!!! i’m so soft for this mental image omg 😭 it’s so pure my heart -- lux brings a bunch of sandwhiches and just follows along. she even makes sure to pack something for valor to eat because they’re just as important a picnic guest
+ !! ( while im working on that ezlux draft hahah )
free kisses!
✧— It’s always a struggle, being around her. Whether they’re in battle together or just crossing path somewhere in the universe, it’s always been difficult to hold himself back from reaching out to touch her hair or the soft curve of her cheek. So that’s why, after sitting together after all this time, listening to her talk and admitting to things he’d never tell his sisters (why is he here? he’s no good as a star guardian), it’s hard to think of consequence, or tomorrow, or anything but her.
“……!” A sharp intake of breath as he realises she’s looking at him, asking what’s on his mind, why he went quiet all of a sudden. “I … it’s nothing. Just…” His gaze shifts to hers, searching her face with questions all over his. After a moment, they all smooth over and Ezreal’s lips tug upwards in a lopsided grin. In the light of the moon, apart from (almost) all of his connections to his team, his voice drops an octave. He sounds sombre now. Mature. “Your eyes really do shine like starlight.”
A pause, a blink, and a parting of his lips before Ezreal leans in a little closer, as if in a dream. He can’t be the only one who feels this way, right? Who feels this connection? Everyone else feels like they belong, like they’re enough, but him and Lux…
“I knew it. The moment I saw you. That’s why I…” A trembling breath. They’re so close now, and as his palm covers hers, Ezreal searches for signs of resistance. Finding none, he continues. “That’s why I gave you that nickname.” His lips brush hers as he says it; “Starlight.”
And his mouth is on hers, so soft and hopeful, and his free hand cups her cheek, and his breath hitches like he’s about to cry, but even when he breaks the kiss he keeps them close, nose next to hers and foreheads together, eyes gazing into hers. He doesn’t speak, but his expression is full of everything he can’t bring himself to say.
»send me “five times kissed” to have me write a drabble about five times our muses kissed. (all separate asks are au of each other, of course.)
The first time she kisses you, it is chaste. It is hard to say if it even is affectionate. It is her expression of gratitude, as she has also knelt before you and touched the dirt before your feet. With an excited fervor, the Duchess thanks you for the immense courage and love for your country that you have shown. She kisses both of your cheeks, and seals it with a light peck to your lips. She smiles to you, and asks if you would consider keeping in touch.
The second time she kisses you, she’s learned of your dancing, before the war happened. You shared your style with her, as she shared hers with you. So different are you in your steps, but the flow of your form - it is nearly the same. You are both marveled and entranced at each other’s movements. When you find yourself dancing alongside her, she spins gracefully into you, and pecks your lips again, stopping your dance short. Backwards, she walks away, a coy smile spreading on her lips. She thinks she’s charmed you.
The third time she kisses you, it is after a long talk about the future. You find that your stance on unifying the powers and turning Ionia’s strength into a force to be reckoned with falls in line with her own stances. Though the Grand Duchess keeps her ambitions shrouded in smoke, she has suggested to you a directive. At the slightest sign of you finding her suggestions valuable, she grabs your face and pulls you in to an excited kiss. You know not why, but you do know that you’ve pleased her beyond measure.
The fourth time she kisses you, you’ve been invited for an evening’s drink. While the wine she serves is far different from the kind you are used to, you find it to be strong and well flavoured. She thanks you for your time, with eyes lidded in admiration for you. Leaning forward, her fingers curl and run down a lock of your hair, which she finds rather pretty. Your eyes meet, and your lips follow.
The fifth time she kisses you, she means it. There is no mistake in the way she pulls you inward to an embrace, no forgetting the way her hand directs you to her by the chin. With this one, she has laid claim on you, as your conqueror.
