Ripples(Female Reader x Human!Aatrox)
Fandom: League of Legends
Lace png from: @byuvly
Relationship: Human!Aatrox/Female Reader
Rating: 14+
Warnings: None Apply
Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, shy reader, human aatrox, marriage, soft aatrox, established Relationship, gentle aatrox
Word Count: 3291
Author 's Notes: Hi everyone! It’s been a while since I last posted. This oneshot actually started as a small writing exercise while I practiced writing Aatrox (I’m currently drafting a longer story with him). For his personality and pre-Ascension appearance, I drew inspiration from one of the champion’s original influences: Devilman, specifically Akira Fudo. Since there are no official artworks or descriptions of Aatrox before his Ascension, I combined elements from several of his skins and other Shuriman champions for his facial structure.
Extra note: I’ll still be posting one more Postal III fic and taking a request for Postal IV!
Summary: You were never very quick, not at running, and especially not at catching Aatrox’s endless teasing.
People always seemed to understand things faster than you did. Conversations carried two layers: the spoken words… and the hidden meanings everyone else caught without effort.
You rarely caught the second one.
That “blindness” left you adrift even at home. Your hands found joy in handicrafts and cooking — small, patient arts — but they counted for little in a household that prized swords and scrolls.
Your brothers trained in the courtyard or bent over books with tutors. Warriors and scholars in the making.
You were simply… something else.
Your brothers said you were slow. Your parents preferred to say you simply needed more help. Yet you never felt that the labels ‘slow’ or ‘needy’ truly fit you.
After many tutors and a few accidents in the training yard, your family eventually accepted your nature.
One child who wouldn’t bring glory to the family name wasn’t such a big loss — your siblings would more than make up for it.
Your husband’s family, however, seemed far less willing to accept it. Your mother-in-law and sisters-in-law insisted you attempt the imperial court exams whenever Aatrox was away. But that would soon come to an end.
Inside the chest were all your belongings, carefully stored: dresses, jewelry, bottles of cosmetics, and a few books.
Your husband had recently been promoted, which required his presence in the capital. Soon the two of you would leave his family’s household, a thought that brought both relief and uncertainty.
A home with only the two of you? You had never imagined yourself so alone… with only your husband, after growing up in a house full of siblings.
Butterflies stirred in your stomach again. A whole year of marriage still hadn’t eased that nervous flutter. One year married, one year betrothed
He still seemed to enjoy it, of course. Aatrox often whispered how much he liked seeing your face flushed during intimate moments, or how he liked standing far too close in the shared rooms of the house.
‘Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out…’
You repeated the mantra silently in your mind, hoping your foolish heart would finally calm.
One year of marriage. One year of betrothal. And still, your heart raced whenever he teased you.
𓅈
A strong wind swept through the gardens that late afternoon. Your family was holding a banquet to celebrate your father’s recent business success, but you had slipped away to the quiet edge of the mansion’s lake.
Your feet dangled in the cool water, toes stirring gentle ripples with every small movement. There was something deeply soothing about it.
“I see the water interests you more than the celebration.”
A deep voice suddenly cut through the quiet of the garden. You looked up and nodded once, shyly. The water really was relaxing.
He chuckled softly and stepped closer, stopping just beside you. “A little thing like you choosing the garden over a feast…”
“Little?” The word caught you off guard. Had he mistaken you for a child? “I’m just… relaxing.”
“Yes, little.” His tone was light, teasing, but not unkind. “You’re rather small.”
He towered over you, broad-shouldered, built like the young soldiers in training. It was difficult not to appear small beside him.
You knew him, of course. His father had been a close friend of your family for years.
Aatrox was everything a Shuriman household could dream of in a son: sharp-minded, strong, strikingly handsome, and effortlessly charismatic.
He laughed softly, the sound low and warm.
“What’s wrong? Just now figuring out who I am?”
You shook your head quickly.
“I already knew. We were introduced before.”
“Hm. So you remember me.” He smiled faintly, tilting his head as he studied you. “Curious… you’re sitting here alone while everyone else celebrates. Or are you hiding so your brothers won’t outshine you?”
The words stung.
Your lips pressed into a small, involuntary frown. It had always been easier to watch the festivities from the edges than to step into the light — your brothers drawing every eye and every word of praise, while you stayed quietly in the shadows. But tonight, you hadn’t come here to hide. You simply wanted the garden’s calm.
“I was… simply enjoying the garden.”
“Is that so…?” he murmured. He crouched slowly until his face was level with yours, bringing the late-afternoon light directly into his eyes.
From that distance you could see his face more clearly.
Up close, his eyes were impossible to ignore: perfectly almond-shaped, a deep amber that caught the sun like molten gold, almost feline in their intensity. He was young, like you, but the sharp line of his high cheekbones gave his features a sculpted, almost regal firmness. Two or three years older, perhaps.
He reached out and gently pinched your cheek, his huge hand almost swallowing half your face.
“Little one,” he said softly.
He was… too close. Heat rushed to your face.
“Hmm?”
Aatrox leaned a little closer, his voice low again, teasing once more.
“What’s this? Are you embarrassed?” He laughed quietly as he watched you squirm beneath his gaze before finally releasing your cheek. “How cute.”
He stood again, his tall figure casting a shadow over you, and extended his hand to help you up.
“Come. You’ve been sitting in the water for far too long, your lips are turning blue”
You nodded, feeling terribly shy at the closeness. Your stomach tightened as warmth flooded your face, a stark contrast to the cool water still around your feet.
“I must admit,” Aatrox said, watching you for a moment, “it’s rather entertaining.” he squeezed your hand lightly before letting go and stepping back, giving you space to breathe.
“But don’t worry. I’ll stop for now.” He smiled, playful but seemed sincere. “Unless you would prefer that I continue.”
You shook your head quickly. The butterflies in your stomach only grew worse.
He laughed again — deep and amused — before reaching out to gently pat your head, as though you were a timid little animal.
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”
He withdrew his hand, though the mischievous smile remained, his amber eyes bright with amusement.
“But don’t think this will be the last time.”
He turned toward the direction of the feast, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Come. Before it grows dark.”
𓅈
As the years slipped by, Aatrox became the kind of man people spoke of with quiet certainty. Even as a young soldier in Shurima’s army, his discipline and unyielding resolve set him apart. Promotions came easily—not because he sought them, but because no one could deny he deserved them.
The rumors were true. He was honorable, capable—the ideal son, the ideal soldier.
Yet with you… he was something else.
Playful. Teasing. A natural provocateur who seemed to take quiet delight in watching you unravel. A single smirk, a well-timed word, and your cheeks would burn while your heart raced to catch up.
Somewhere along the way, without noticing when it began, you fell in love with him. Maybe it was that mischievous smile that never quite reached full innocence. Maybe it was the sharp edge of his wit.
Every encounter followed the same pattern: amusement tangled with embarrassment, laughter and always — always — that restless flutter in your stomach that refused to settle.
It was during one of those familiar meetings that the invitation arrived: your family was invited to his home for a banquet in honor of his father’s birthday.
Knowing he would be there, you dressed in your finest gown and jewelry, recalling every piece of advice your married sister had given you. The small bronze mirror you shared with the other girls reflected a young woman who looked unmistakably nervous.
All the way to his family’s mansion, your palms stayed clammy, your heart pounding in your ears as you neared the grand entrance.
You saw him almost immediately.
He looked even more handsome. The years seemed to have sharpened his features, and the new scars only strengthened his rugged appearance.
Aatrox stood among a small cluster of nobles, wine glass in hand, his posture relaxed but alert. His eyes swept the room with that familiar military precision, and when they found you, a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.
From that moment, the evening became a quiet game of cat and mouse.
Every time he started toward you, you slipped away — ducking behind guests, weaving through the crowd, heart racing faster with each near miss. The mansion’s halls turned into your playground, the distant music and laughter fading as you both played at distance.
You finally thought you’d lost him. Slipping behind a wide pillar in a quieter corridor, you leaned against the cool stone beside the tapestries, catching your breath.
Then strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.
A startled yelp escaped your lips. Aatrox laughed at your reaction as he loosened his hold, the faint scent of sandalwood and metal, likely from training, lingering around him.
“Stop laughing!”
In answer, he leaned in, lips brushing close to your ear. He said something, but you didn't understand it. The heat of his breath sent a shiver racing down your spine. Your whole body trembled before instinct took over, you twisted free and bolted toward the next room, pulse thundering in your ears.
“Hey!” Aatrox called after you.
You darted back into the main hall, weaving toward the thick of the crowd, hoping the press of bodies would shield you. Aatrox was still coming, his lips had shaped the words clearly across the distance: I’ll get you.
Heat flooded your face. You spun quickly and pressed closer to your father’s broad frame, half-hiding behind him like a child caught in mischief. Your father remained oblivious, deep in conversation.
Aatrox was still following close behind, his expression a mixture of surprise and something else as you hid behind the imposing figure of your father.
Your thoughts spun wildly. ‘Please don’t come closer’
Then Aatrox’s father entered the hall, his wife at his side. The resemblance was unmistakable: the feline slant of her eyes, the strong lines of his face, all echoed perfectly in the son who still watched you from across the room.
“It is a pleasure to be here, my friend,” your father said with a broad smile.
Aatrox’s father — a man with features much like his son’s, though streaks of silver ran through his dark hair — returned the gesture with an even wider smile.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
His deep, authoritative voice carried warmth as he clasped your father’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. Several nearby guests lowered their voices when they noticed the two men speaking.
Meanwhile, Aatrox remained at a distance, his gaze lingering on you.
Your father and Aatrox’s father continued their conversation, and you began to feel increasingly foolish standing there, hiding behind him like a shy child.
You knew you were being silly, yet you could not help it. The thought of facing Aatrox, after years of harboring feelings for him, and after having felt him so close moments ago, made your heart race and your hands sweat.
The whole situation felt painfully embarrassing: playing chase through the mansion and now becoming so shy over a simple embrace from a childhood friend.
“Father.”
Lost in your thoughts, you had not noticed when he approached. Your heart tightened at the sound of his voice.
It was deep and calm. You lifted your head just in time to see him stop beside his father, his amber eyes briefly passing over you before turning to the older man.
“Yes, my son?”
His father answered with evident pride. Aatrox inclined his head slightly in respect before speaking.
“It would be discourteous not to properly greet the guests of our home.”
Your father let out a small laugh.
“He is right. Some young men still remember their manners.”
Aatrox’s father nodded with satisfaction.
“He has always had that sense of propriety.”
Then he turned back to your father.
“I will allow the young ones to speak for a moment… if there is no objection.”
Your father let out a small breath, shaking his head as he turned back to Aatrox’s father.
“I’m afraid I must object, my friend,” he said, his tone still warm, but firm beneath it. “My daughter is no longer of an age to be seen wandering the house in the company of young men.” His gaze shifted briefly, just for a moment, to Aatrox, softening slightly. “No offense is meant, young Aatrox”
He cast a meaningful glance toward his friend before continuing.
“I have full confidence in your son, my old friend… but I must still arrange a proper marriage for my daughter. All her older sisters have already found good husbands.”
Aatrox’s father chuckled knowingly.
“Ah, I know that duty well. Daughters are blessings and also responsibilities.”
Aatrox remained silent, his hands clasped behind his back. A brief flicker crossed his eyes — irritation, perhaps — but it vanished almost immediately when his smile returned.
“I am honored by your trust, sir.” His amber eyes turned toward you again, still half-hidden behind your father’s broad frame. “A young lady like her deserves to be protected.”
Aatrox’s father added: “Especially in times like these. One never knows who might be watching, waiting for the right opportunity.”
Aatrox’s smile slowly curved.
“Precisely,” he replied calmly. “Which is why I have been considering something.”
“Considering?” your father repeated, his tone sharpening slightly.
Aatrox nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He stepped forward slightly, his posture firm as though he stood before a commanding officer.
“I have known your family since childhood, sir. I grew up hearing of your honor and your loyalty to the Empire.” His eyes turned briefly toward you before he continued. “And I have known your daughter for many years. I have watched her grow into the woman she is today at every gathering between our families.”
Your heart began to beat faster.
“I thought,” he continued, his voice calm and steady, “that perhaps there is a simple way to resolve your concerns… and mine as well.”
Your father slowly crossed his arms, studying the young man before him.
“Your concerns?”
Aatrox’s smile sharpened slightly.
“Yes. This possibility is not new to me.” He took a breath. “If you permit it, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Before anyone could respond, Aatrox placed his hand over his chest, touching the armor plate above his heart.
Silence fell over the small group. Even the conversations around them seemed to quiet.
Your father remained silent for several seconds, observing Aatrox as though evaluating a soldier before him.
“…You are direct.”
Aatrox did not look away. Your father studied him for a moment longer.
“You are still young, boy.”
“I am,” Aatrox agreed. “But I am also a soldier of the Empire. I hold position, honor, and a name I intend to keep worthy. And I intend to protect her better than any suitor who might present himself.”
Aatrox’s father gave a low laugh. Your father, however, still seemed thoughtful.
“And what makes you believe you are in a position to make such a request?”
At last Aatrox turned toward you. His amber eyes shone with something between challenge and amusement. Then he looked back at your father.
“Because our houses have walked side by side for many years,” he said calmly. “Uniting our families would turn that closeness into blood.”
He paused briefly.
It would be my honor to protect her… and to turn that friendship into blood.
Your father remained silent for a few seconds, evaluating the young man before him.
The two fathers exchanged a brief look—an understanding passing quietly between them.
“Very well. If my daughter consents… I will not oppose it.” Your father stepped aside, revealing your embarrassed and startled face.
Aatrox did not wait for him to finish. His lips curved into a triumphant smile as he extended his hand toward you.
Still stunned, you nodded, afraid you might stammer if you tried to speak. Aatrox’s smile deepened when he saw you agree.
His fingers closed around your hand — rough from training, yet surprisingly gentle — and he lifted your knuckles to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon them. Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks as he drew you from the shadow of your father, pulling you slightly closer.
“Oh heavens, I should have guessed,” Aatrox’s mother said. “I have seen the two of you so close at every gathering.”
“Now, now,” said Aatrox’s father, casting a stern look at his son. “It is good to have our families close, but traditions must be respected.”
Aatrox’s smile faltered slightly under his father’s expression. “Of course, father,” he replied, a faint hint of irritation in his voice.
The patriarchs wasted no time in turning to arrangements, their voices blending into the low hum of the hall as they spoke of dates, gifts, and formalities. The union of two long-standing families was more than welcome—it was expected.
You barely paid attention while the elders spoke animatedly, already discussing gifts and preparations for the betrothal.
Aatrox leaned slightly closer to you.
“I told you that you would not escape me.”
He pulled back just enough to smile again. It was then that the realization finally reached you.
“Ah…”
Aatrox let out a quiet laugh when he saw the understanding on your face.
“Now you see?”
You lowered your gaze, embarrassed.
“You know I don’t always understand right away…”
Aatrox laughed.
“Ah, that much I have always known.”
𓅈
You opened the chest once more, pushing aside the folds of fabric as though something might still have been forgotten there, though you soon lost yourself in the process. Every corner of the room seemed different now.
The bed where you had slept wrapped in his arms, the thick carpets brought from southern caravans, the pale stone walls that held the day’s warmth.
Outside, the heavy flap of wings broke the quiet of the garden. Approaching the parapet, you admired the estate gardens. Long-legged birds wandered slowly among the reeds of the artificial lake, dipping their slender beaks into the calm water.
Farther away, the sun sank slowly over the desert sands, bathing the garden in warm gold. You wished you could use your drawing materials — already packed away in the chest — to capture the scene one last time.
The creak of the door announced Aatrox’s arrival. Your husband wore a conflicted expression, his skin shining with sweat as he entered, muttering something under his breath.
In the distance, servants still moved through the courtyard and corridors, the dragging of crates and the clinking of metal echoing through the house.
When Aatrox saw you by the window, his face softened into a tired smile. He wiped the sweat from his face before approaching.
His arms wrapped around you.
Your back soaked up the warmth of his chest through the thin fabric. You stiffened for a second, then melted into him. The scent of sweat, metal, and sandalwood filled your senses.
“Is everything alright?” you asked, a little softer than you intended.
Aatrox took a moment before answering.
“Just a few complications, but they’ve already been handled.”
You simply nodded, hesitating for a moment before timidly placing your hand over his.
You remained there together in silence, watching the birds by the lake as the wind drifted through the open window, stirring the curtain slowly.