K/DA: The Reluctant Writer (Male Reader x Akali)

Silence

Silence. Silence was quite possibly the greatest thing ever invented. The sound of silence was a soothing one to your ears, but it wasn't the only sound you were fond of. You had your taste in music, usually alternative stuff that only a few radio stations would agree to play in a millennium, but that didn't mean it was any less spectacular. But today, you neither listened to the sound of silence nor your favorite playlist; no, today you listened to the rain.

You sat in your study, a room filled to the brim with books and collectibles, and you gulped your hot chocolate while the rain pattered against the large window that took up most of the wall space behind you. Coffee was good. Tea was better. But something about a warm cup of cocoa late at night just felt right.

The room itself was painted gray, with oak bookshelves taking up most of the area on either side of the room. The wall with the door leading to the rest of your house was barren, intentionally, so it didn't distract you when you were working. Your desk sat in the middle of the room, and you faced the window.

The house overlooked a large lake and was surrounded by forest on all sides, the only breaks in the foliage being the road back to the city and the path you used to walk down to the lake. The distant setting sun reflected off the lake's water and the falling droplets and burst into a fountain of color; it looked like a painting.

You took another sip of cocoa and set the mug down, turning back to your monitor. You still had two more rounds of drafting to do with this transcript before you sent it off to your editor. Tristana was a sweetheart, but she could be ruthless if you sent her badly edited or late transcripts.

You adjusted your chair and settled in for another long night of rewrites. Chapter two was somewhere between outright trash and mediocre. But, in your defense, that was written during seventy-two hours of uninterrupted consciousness - no one was allowed to judge you for it.

Just as you were getting into the groove of things in the second hour, your phone began to buzz with an unknown number. You should have turned the blasted thing off before starting in, but apparently, you forgot. It rang until going to voicemail, but the caller didn't leave one. odd. It was probably some solicitor or bot.

whatever.

You turned off your phone and got back to the grind.

A couple of hours later, you stretched out your back and stood up, hearing a satisfying crackle as your back realigned itself. All those years being hunched over a keyboard did unspeakable things to your body.

I Look more like a goblin every passing day.

You stood and looked outside to see the rain had intensified with no signs of stopping. The only downside of living miles away from civilizations was the paranoia it brought at times, with the rain and wind being so loud anyone could have approached or entered the house without you knowing.

You quickly shrugged off the thought and looked back at the screen, still twenty-thousand words to get through. . . screw it; you'd do it in the morning. It had to be midnight or something by now. You grabbed your phone and opened the door, entering the main room. Your house was a mesh between modern and rustic. Everything was either painted a version of gray, white, or was simply varnished oak.

The light in the living room came from an ornate chandelier, something you paid way too much for.

Y/N: Now, games or sleep?

You adopted the thinking man pose for a moment before making your decision. Video games it was. You took a seat on the couch and booted up the old console, and your phone at the same time. You jumped when your phone buzzed harshly at you, showing ten missed calls and twenty-eight messages from the mysterious number. Yeah, this person was probably important.