#jayce x fem!reader

[thehistoriangirl]

Testing One’s Love Luck to Win You Over

I... uh, this was supposed to be shorter 😅, but I didn’t know how much I missed to write for the one and only Golden Boy sooo yeah [I promise to write more about you, Jayce, *mwah* <333]

Jayce x fem!Reader-----3.1K-------SFW

Synopsis: With adulthood came different responsibilities. For Jayce, it was enrolling at the Academy and becoming a revolutionary inventor; for you, it was securing your family’s position inside the high-end of Piltover’s more influential and powerful clans. However, Jayce isn’t willing to lose you without playing all his cards.

Tags: Childhood Sweethearts| Arranged Marriage (derogatory)| Light Angst (at the beginning), mostly Fluff (the rest)| Love Confession| Eloping| Happy Ending|

Jayce had always lived two houses away from you ever since you had a memory, so when he moved to the Academic District to one of the Kiramman's ateliers, you felt a strange hole being carved in your chest as you stood on your porch, watching the carriage marked with the keys from the Kiramman family crest riding up the hill.

He promised to visit, and he did. Jayce even invited you to his new atelier, showing you his current projects, and the magnificent view he had of the whole city from his balcony.

You tried to enter the Academy—following the example of the most intelligent person you'd ever met—but of course, you couldn't get in. Your whole life had been drafted for you before you could have a rebuttal in the matter.

Just like your older sister, you've been raised to conquer the spotlight in the soirées held by clans more powerful than your own, charming any potential suitor that could raise your family influence after a marriage deal.

While Jayce spent hours researching engineering and physics in the Academy’s library, you learned different techniques of dance, how to play the piano and to walk while keeping your chin up, without looking at the ground.

Even if you thought you were drifting apart, every time Jayce knocked at your door to invite you to a walk around the fanciest district in Piltover, conversation flew naturally, as if the time had retreated, and you were still the kids that played with marbles on the soft grass in the front yard of his home. You still laughed at Jayce's silly jokes, and he still found your laugh contagious enough to end up both cackling until your bellies hurt.

In those moments, you tried to deny it, but the reality was that no matter how hard you wished, your heart wouldn't stop beating as if it wanted to escape your ribcage.

Good thing that Jayce would only see you once in a while because otherwise, he would pick your lie about how your forehead always felt like it was on fire when he patted your head because you were sick.

You felt guilty when he showed up with ointment his mom recommended to you when having a cold.

But soon enough time run thin, and he graduated and started to spend more time enclosed in the atelier. Jayce wouldn't let you come in when you showed up unannounced, preferring to eat the food you had prepared outside.

Some weeks after it, your parent broke the long-expectedly, but no less frightening, of your engagement.

By that time, you had already identified the pressing sensation residing on your chest—the same you felt when you said goodbye to Jayce every time, but not quite as overwhelming as this time. The pressure, the hollow, was just as when he left for the Academy years ago.

You nodded at your mother, smiling softly as you asked when you were about to meet your future husband. Even if the most visceral part of you wanted to scream until your jaw hurt from opening your mouth too widely, to run away up the hill and slam your fists in Jayce’s atelier.

But what he could do? Not even you were allowed to command the ways your life should develop. Jayce couldn’t help you. Nobody could.

It was funny how time seemed to pass by quicker when your family gave you a date for the wedding; contrary to when Jayce could only come back for the holidays. You were looking at his house, lonely and sad now that his mother spent her time with friends, without her son around.

Each night occurred, and the wedding got closer and closer. Insomnia lets you wander through all your thoughts—even those that you shouldn't suppose to have. If only you were born into another family, would you be happier? Would you don't mind being surrounded by luxuries in exchange for freedom? For love?

You smiled, a sour expression that curled your top lip in disgust. There was pointless to wish for things you couldn’t have.

And yet, Jayce’s image conjured in your mind as you tried to push it away, tucked in the pressure-based door at the back of your mind.

You wished you at least could have him.

*~*~*~*

The smell of the variety of flowers filling the bride's room made you want to throw up. Sunlight flooded the white room, and you felt as if you were blurring with it, becoming a piece of decoration for your almost new husband.

If you weren't on the third floor, you'd probably jump out the window.

Someone knocked at the door, and when you said, tired: “Come in.” You saw another gigantic bouquet, this one decorated with both white jasmines and red carnations. Upon seeing them, you frowned, gesturing with one hand toward the back of the room. “Let them when you can.”

The person closed the door behind him.

“Were you going to tell me you’re getting married?” His voice made you jump, and you saw his serious face from your mirror, accompanied by your widened eyes, mouth agape.

Turning so quickly you almost fell off the stool, you said, in a voice full of so many feelings you got surprised by how all of them bleed out with just one word. "Jayce?” From longing to terror, shame, and confusion. But above all, a sadness so deep your eyes started to itch with trapped tears. “What are you doing here?”

That made him pace angrily around the little space of the room that wasn’t covered with your puffy dress, gifts still unopen, and flower bouquets. His right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I… I don’t know.” He sighed, collapsing over one corner of the bed. “I don’t know what to do.” He hid his face between his palms as you pinched your eyebrows with both confusion and worry.

“Jayce?” You stood up, your hand hovering over his slumped shoulders, afraid that if you touched him, you would crumble. So you only curled your fingers away, nails scrapping the palm of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You had wished for him to look at you all dressed in a wedding gown for him, so he could get all happy and excited while seeing you walking inside the courtroom.

He shook his head. “It’s my fault. I left and in the end, I couldn’t—" he sighed, and he sounded just as tired as your feet. "I wasn't quick enough… I couldn’t become…” Jayce looked at you, between his messy dark hair and deeply saddened eyes. For all those times you thought you’d be capable of drowning in them was just an exaggeration, today he proved you wrong. “Please don’t get married.”

You blinked, a quick sequence of blurring images of Jayce’s gaze locked in yours as your eyes got blurry with tears. “Jayce—”

His hands held your arms at each side of your body, and you saw his Academy uniform wrinkled and covered with oil stains. Even his fingers were covered in a fine black powder that stained the white arm gloves that covered his skin. As you leaned in closer, you took in the smell of paper, coffee, and burned coal. The same essence lingered inside his atelier.

“Please,” he said, voice cracking. You felt your lip quiver.

You hugged him, feeling a tug in your chest as you passed one of your hands through his hair. He leaned into your gentle touch, eyelids fluttering when he closed his eyes. The words got stuck in your throat, and so they got out in an almost inaudible whisper. "I need to get married, Jayce."

He opened his eyes, and his gaze burned into your chest, where your heart was beating madly, so loud it must be the reason why you didn’t pick up his words correctly.

“Then marry me.”

The gasp that got out of your lips felt as if someone had punched you in the chest. "What?”

His cheeks were deep red, and they felt hot when you cradled his cheek so Jayce could see you as he tried to divert his eyes away.

"You heard me," Jayce muttered, looking toward the window. Sky was already filled with orange hues that made the bedroom look as if it were almost caught on fire. "You can marry me if you want."

You blinked, but no matter how much you tried to clear your view, confusion still impregnated it. “Do you want to marry me?”

He pulled you away, so he could take in the puffy, lavishing dress you were supposed to use in the ceremony. Your hair was pulled away from your face, making your head pulse in a settled, hurtful rhythm.

“I thought once I created Hextech, I would’ve been able to ask your family if I could court you without them family denying it, but…”

Your heart throbbed painfully. Of course, they'd said no. Jayce being behind Hextech's creation was marvelous, a dream come true to any aspiring inventor. But not so for aristocratic families, for them, he was still the heir of a lower house. "Oh, Jayce…"

“I mean—I was planning on telling you; to ask if you, uh… if you reciprocate my feelings. But then your family said no and I… I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.” He was fidgeting his fingers over his lap, too afraid of looking at you that now he was scanning every corner of the room. “Do you… do you feel the same?”

Your mind ran toward the myriad of memories you two had shared over the years, the permanent feeling of wanting. "Do you remember when we were kids? When we played house and I told you that I was your wife? I still abide by those words."

The littlest of smiles appear in the corners of Jayce's lips. "I think we should kiss now.”

You chuckled, leaning toward him, you were pulling your skirts off the way so you could fit between his legs- Your hands trembled as you cupped his cheeks, eyes fluttering closer when you brushed your lips against his. You heard him sigh, finally relieved. However, it was only a peck. “Not yet. I’m afraid we need to leave before people start to suspect why the door’s closed,” you said while biting your bottom lip.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jayce looked at the room. It was all white, adorned with silk and lace around the bed filled with boxes of clothes and shoes. "Do you think you can get out of the window?"

“It’s three stores high, Jayce.” You looked at the bed he was sitting at. “But maybe we can improvise a rope.” Your finger pointed at the mattress.

Jayce jumped out of it and started to throw the gifts on the ground, taking the bedsheets off the mattress. "Just as when we were younger, huh?"

You smiled, dexterous hands already making knots with the fabric to use as holders. You used to escape to Jayce’s house when your parents grounded you. You had to escape from your room, which was easier once you memorize the patrols and the paths of the service toward the rooms. Then, you had to run across the street and climb up the Talis’ house front gate, to where Jayce already expected you with a rope made with his bedsheets and curtains.

Now instead of climbing, you were descending.

He knotted the rope in one of the bed’s legs. “Now, take off your dress and come down.”

You looked at him, cheeks hot, eyebrows raised in perplexion. "Wouldn't you like that?"

Jayce’s hazel eyes widened, with one of his hands covering his mouth. “Not like that! I meant—it’s for… it’s so you can move comfortably!”

Despite the stress building like a tight knot in your belly, you found yourself laughing, trying to conceal the noise between your hands. “I know, I know. Sorry.”

“You don’t sorry in the slightest.”

“You know too well. Turn around and close your eyes, I’ll change into something comfy.”

Jayce snickered. “Afraid I’ll peek?" You hit him in the shoulder and quickly knelt to find the clothes your maid pushed down the mattress while helping you dress up. "Let me know if you need any help.”

You stopped him from turning, your body came too close to him so the back of your knees brushed his pants as you turned around, showing him the back of your dress, a succession of little buttons lost between a sea of lace and silk. “Jayce, unbutton the back of my dress, please.”

You thought he’d said no, but you were running thin on time. When night fall your ceremony would arrive, and the sky was already getting dimmer.

He brushed his fingers through your spine, pulling you closer so he could see the little buttons better, causing you to feel his breath sending warm huffs in the back of your neck and around your shoulders as the fabric of the dress opened more with each turn of his wrist.

When he was done, you kept the dress in place with a firm hand pressed against your chest. You felt his hand hovering in the small of your back, irradiating warmth as you held your breath.

“I should’ve said you look beautiful before you take off the dress,” he said, and your breath got caught in a shaky huff as you let it out. “I love you, so, so much. Ever since I left for the Academy—no, even long before it.”

You chortled, only to hide how flustered you really felt. “I feel like an overly saturated chandelier.” You turned, and his smile made your heart melt. “Thank you, Jayce.”

You quickly changed into your pajamas, still white, but at least they were decorated with baby blue knitting motifs. Jayce held part of the rope as you threw the rest down the window, scanning the lateral courtyard to thankfully find it empty from both guests and the workers.

“Come down and wait for me at the entrance, in the tree near the ugly fountain. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

You looked at Jayce. “The one that looks like an egg with a hole in the middle?” He nodded as you squatted on the window sill, feet pressed under the protuberance in the rock. “Are you going to stay behind?”

“I’ll untie the rope so people can’t know how you escaped, okay?”

Your heartbeat rushed through your ears, drowning any logical thought, any fear you could start to feel as gravity pulled you down and the only thing keeping you safe was a thin silk rope.

Jayce was peeking through the window, a reassuring smile on his face all the time. You focused on it, in the feeling of his soft lips against yours and the way he leaned to your touch. In the future ahead, one when you became a Talis, leaving behind your own—or better say, the one your parents choose you to have after the wedding.

The grass felt soft, cold, and humid against your naked feet. You shivered, eyes darting toward each corner as you dashed toward the fountain, kneeling to tuck your body under it in case someone walked in this lonely path to arrive at the back courtyard, where the ceremony would take place.

From your crouched position, you couldn't see his silhouette moving in the window. The shadows became sharper, the air colder as the sun hide.

Your heart was so loud you were afraid people would hear it. You couldn’t bring yourself to think what your parents—and your ex-fiancé—would do to you, or much worse, to Jayce, if you two got caught.

Time extended too long, and dread made me feel dizzy. You were imagining all the ways Jayce was found; someone saw him get out of your room, your mother caught him descending the stairs…

“I'm here…" Jayce's voice startled you, and you hit your head on the edge of the fountain. He knelt and held you in his arms, one of his hands quickly massaging your scalp. "Are you alright, my sunshine? I'm sorry I startled you."

You tried to ignore the way his nickname made your stomach flutter. “Let’s go! The ceremony should start at any minute.”

It had always been hard to keep up with Jayce's long strides. Today was no different, you felt your legs cramped, but you ran as if you were chased after—and you had to admit, it was half-true. As you were crossing the entrance gate, you heard commotion growing from inside the house. They must have noticed you weren't there already.

Jayce squeezed your hand, fingers interlaced as you ran down the wide avenues, around the boulevards, until the streets narrowed, descending in hills. You thought he was guiding you toward the Talis family house, but no. This part of Piltover was new to you.

“Where… where are… we going?” you said between pants. Your feet hurt from running so much.

“To my new apartment. We’ll spend the night there, and tomorrow—” You had stopped, walking much calmer now that you were a couple of kilometers away from where your wedding was supposed to be held.  “Tomorrow… If you want, tomorrow we’ll get married.”

You smiled, looking at his insecure pose, with shoulders dropped and hands tucked against his belly. He was gigantic, even if he tried to shrink. You stepped over his boots, on your tiptoes to tangle your arms around his wide shoulders.

“Do you promise?” you whispered, the movement making your lips brush against his. He embraced you by the waist.

“I promise, my little sunshine,” he replied, nodding and dipping his head toward you so he could capture your lips fully, wanting to melt in your touch as much as you wanted to get lost in it.

“I love you, Jayce. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He quickly shifted his hold, with one hand on the small of your back, and the other embracing your thighs as he carried you, bride style, toward his apartment. Your feet wiggled in the air, your voice wavering with laughter. "What are you doing?!"

"Practicing," Jayce simply stated, walking steadily up the street. He looked at you, brushing your noses together as he paused to accommodate you, with your hands still embracing his shoulders. “Because I feel like I’m going to this quite a lot from this day onwards.”

#jayce x reader #arcane jayce x reader #jayce talis x reader #jayce arcane x reader #jayce talis #jayce arcane #arcane jayce #jayce x you #arcane jayce talis #arcane jayce x you #jayce talis x you #jayce arcane x you #jayce x fem!reader #jayce/you #jayce/reader #jayce fanfic #jayce fic #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane fanfic #arcane fanfiction #arcane jayce fanfic #jayce arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane imagines #my thingies :) #st valentine special

[aikoiya]

Arcane Prompt - JayVik x Female Who Struggles With Emotional Blunting

JayVik x Fem!Reader who struggles with dysthymia, her symptoms being anhedonia (lack of enjoyment), apathy, & lack of motivation. Generally very stoic due to past trauma, she's working through it slowly.

This tends to make her a very level-headed, down-to-earth, rational, logical, & reasonable person, who tries to see both sides of an argument before making decisions. She operates on logic & is a very introspective person. Is often the mediator in fights due to these things. Often, she will sit down with one side of the argument to listen to their perspective before approaching the other side to relay their feelings in a way that the other can understand. Then, she'll listen to the other argumentor to get their perspective & feelings before relaying that to the first in a way that they can hopefully understand as well. All the while giving comfort when needed.

This tends to make her come across as a bit of a busy body & nosy, but honestly, she just wants people to understand each other.

In this way, she becomes a middlewoman or fight translator.

Very much enjoys debate, especially civilized debate where both sides are open to each others' arguments & willing to admit when the other has a point, thus adjusting their perspectives accordingly. Is quite skilled in diplomacy, but does not dance around issues. Instead being very forthright & honest, at times even being very blunt.

Will give a little chuckle of appreciation if she thinks a joke is clever or witty enough even if it didn't quite strike her funny bone.

Has high emotional intelligence or intuition due to the years of her trying to overcome her own lack of emotions despite having very low empathy. Legitimately wants to be a good person if for no other reason than because she wants to.

Despite having blunted emotions, she tries to be an empathetic & compassionate person despite typically not feeling much for those around her. Going out of her way to try & understand the perspectives of those around her.

She can feel, just not very much unless a chord has been struck inside her just right.

Like, you know you're funny if you have her breathless & in tears from laughing. I can see Jayce & Viktor both becoming enamored with her genuine laugh & becoming determined to make her make that sound as much as possible.

Though, on the flipside, when she cries, she's very quiet & tries to refrain from making sound. A silent sufferer.

Or when, like say, a new installment of her absolute favorite book series comes out & she becomes a giggly, wiggling mess to express her excitement.

Other than in these specific situations, her emotions are little more than twinges.

Sassy & kind, enjoys making dry jokes because even if she has trouble feeling, she likes to see others smile & laugh.

If either of her boys are going through things, pays expressed attention to them & makes sure that they know that she's there for them. Making herself emotionally available for them. Is well versed in the art of comforting & easily steps into the spot of someone's rock. Even if all they let her do is sit there with them quietly, holding their hand as they process their emotions.

Her motivation is very, very low due to her condition, so it takes a herculean effort on her part to move forward. Despite that, her determination is insane, so that helps. However, because of this, her forward progression feels empty at times.

She resents her emotional bunting, wishing that she could feel more as she finds that it hampers her enjoyment of life. Yet, despite this, she still tries to live her life as full as possible.

Studies psychology & neurology in an attempt to better understand herself & others.

Because of this, Reader is very, very against Viktor getting rid of his emotions. It's one of the few times that she actually feels the heat of real anger in her chest because it's like he thought her struggles were inconsequential.

So, she laid it out like he was a 3 year old. No emotions means no motivation or desires. No motivation or desires means no moving unless you have to. Then, if he actually manages to get rid of all his physical needs (which is impossible with the current level of technology; as it stands, organic brains are still FAR superior to anything technology could make for information storage, data processing, logic, & problem solving, at least in terms of space; which would mean that he'd still need blood, oxygen, food, & sleep to keep his brain alive & healthy due to the brain being made of cells & cells require oxygen to work correctly, while the brain requires fuel from food, which is broken down into usable nutrients by the stomach & then brought to the brain via the blood; meaning he requires, at the very least, his brain, heart, lungs, & stomach), he won't move at all unless he has an internalized program forcing him to do things. At which point, he'll have stripped away his own free will, turning himself into a big, metal puppet.

Reader: "If you won't listen to the woman who personally experiences a lack of emotion & struggles with it daily, wishing with what little want that she can muster that she could really, truly enjoy life again. Then, maybe you'll listen to the woman who's been studying the human mind for years & can back up what she says with scientific facts. Oh, wait! They're both me! Maybe emotions do color one's logic, but only if you let them control you rather than the other way around. It's better than living a drab, colorless life where nothing really, truly matters to you! I live in quiet dread that I might one day wake up & feel absolutely nothing for anyone or anything especially you & Jayce. I can live with your other augmentations. I'll miss your skin & your warmth & your heartbeat, but I'll move on eventually if you get rid of them, but please, Viktor, don't get rid of your emotions!"

All as quiet tears slowly begin to trickle down her cheeks.

Viktor will have never seen her so distressed before in all the time they've known each other.

#arcane #league of legends #viktor #jayce talis #jayvik #viktor x fem!reader #jayce x fem!reader #jayvik x fem!reader #female reader #mental disorders #emotional blunting #dysthymia #anhedonia #apathy #lack of motivation #writing prompt

[aerynwrites]

So do we want a lil’ snippet of this NSFW Jayce oneshot??

I’ll happily share Bc ya girl is getting anxious about this one 😂 I haven’t written smut in months lol.

#jayce x reader #Jayce x Fem!reader #arcane x reader

[sivyera]

Arcane characters as love stereotypes.

ft. vi, jinx, caitlyn, viktor, jayce, vander, silco, sevika, cassandra, ekko

WARNINGS: bad grammar, mentions of nsfw

CONTAINS: fluff

SONG: -

A/N: I put different song to each character.

Jinx - teenage love

She wants to be with you all the time. She is blindly in love. And she loves spending time with you. She likes to show you new weapons she made or what she draw. One day she asked you if she can draw you. Now the picture is over your bed.

She likes movie nights. She build pillow bunkers and she made popcorn. Which is little burnt. She often made little handmade gifts for you. Little surprises like picnic or favourite food/drinks. Being biggest cheerleader for each other.

You Stupid Bitch - girl in red

Sevika - rough love

Overprotective. Hickeys all over you. Teasing each other. When she's at bar and she sees you she always give you a small smile or smirk. After that she pull you into her lap. Passionate and dominant kisses. Seldom happens that you two can lay in bed and cuddle all day.

But when that day comes, you both are happier than ever. Most of you cuddle sessions becomes make out sessions. She likes when you lay on her chest or when you lay your head on her lap, so she can watch your cute face. She thinks you're a cutie, even though she seems tough she have her soft side. But that side is just for you.

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE - Måneskin

Silco - enemies to lovers

God how much he hated you at the first time. You were a shimmer dealer which makes you very important. Silco though that he's gonna send Sevika to kill you but than he realized that would be wrong. He had two reasons why he didn't kill you. First - he don't know how to make that good shimmer as you ( Singed's shimmer was nothing compared to yours). Second he start catching feelings.

After a while he decided to get to know more about you. That was the best thing he did in his life. When you two started dating you become the most powerful couple in Zaun. No one dare to even look the same way as you. Because they know, Silco would kill them if they did.

R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys

Vi - soulmates

Protective as well. Know everything about each other. Workouts together. You two just meant to be. Hugs from behind while kissing your neck. Cuddles are very important in this relationship because Vi is touch starved. Having sex on public toilets.

She will tattoo your name on her arm. She will let you paint her nails. Also what she appreciates is that you care about her. You bandage her wounds, make her food, give her bed where she can sleep with you ofc, make her feel love. Her favourite part of the day is morning. She wakes up before you and just hold you close in her arms, kissing your face and admiring you.

All I Wanted - Paramore

Ekko - any universe love

Helping each other with everything. He would never let anything happened to you in any way. Jealous af. He hates when he sees older mens/womans who is trying to flirt with you. And he always gonna remind them that you are taken. Lots of PDA.

Watching horror or action movies together. Cooking together. His favourite activity with you is dancing around the kitchen. He loves when you braid his hair. Race on hoverboards. It's always 50/50. Both of you are very fast so it's always exciting who will win.

You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

Caitlyn - best friend to lovers

You and Cait were childhood friends. And Caitlyn always had a big fat crush on you. You were pure perfection in her eyes. But she was shy and nervous if you feel the same way. She was always scared if you're into womans. But her feelings were that strong that she couldn't hold them anymore.

When you two started dating she couldn't believe it. She knows how lucky she is to have you, so she want to make you feel special. She spoils you a lot. Solving problems together. Always have each others back. Shower together. Supporting each other all the time. Doing skin care routine together. You make her smile every.single.day.

girls - girl in red

Viktor - ancient love

Taking care of him. Listening him mumbling about hextech. Help him with hextech. Even if you don't know much about it, your presence is enough for him. Common baths, which he loves the most. Rescue him that he is enough for you and that you don't want anyone else.

When you play with his hair he immediately relax. He believe you're a witch or something because you have magic touch. Bringing him lunch in his laboratory. Holding your hand 24/7. He loves when you kiss his forehead. He loves you so so much.

Like Real People Do - Hozier

Jayce - rich love

He makes you feel like a princess. Buys you everything that catches your eyes. Kissing your cheeks. Having sex at Grand Council Chamber (i'm sorry i forgot how they call it). He loves laying on your chest and he doesn't care if you have small or big tits. For him they're perfect. You are perfect for him.

Cinderella and prince Charming couple. Trying cook together. Give him massages to relax after tough day. Helping him with hextech as well. Reading him your favourite books.

Electric Love - BØRNS

Cassandra Kiramman - secret love

She knows that she is a married woman but she can't help herself. You are perfect and she wants to remind that to you every single day. When she's in public and she can't speak to you she inconspicuously give you little note. - I love you Y/N ♡ - Meet me at the toilets in 10♡ - You look beautiful today ♡ These kind of notes.

She always make sure that she have some time for you. She never cuddle in her time so when you come with that idea of cuddling she was little nervous. But when you snuggled into her neck and start giving her soft kisses on her neck. She melt under you. She is a dominant woman so she is a big spoon. But when she's angry on someone, kiss her forehead and play with her hair. It always calm her down.

Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

Vander - old love

He writes you love letters. And he brings you flowers everyday. Helping him cleaning at bar and take care of his kids. He likes reading you books while he's playing with your hair. Loves to hold you on his chest. Dancing on old songs together with Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor. Cooking together.

He will protect you no matter what. Teaching you how to protect yourself if you don't know how. Kissing you forehead, hand and head. Bone breaking hugs. Lots of jokes and warm smiles. You are his trophy so he shows you off a lot. Silco is jealous that Vander have such a beautiful woman as you.

Young And Beautiful - Lana Del Rey

I hope you like it guys! ♡

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane imagines #silco x reader #vander x reader #cassandra kiramman x fem!reader #jinx x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #ekko x reader #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #sevika x reader #love #x fem!reader #lesbian #bi #arcane jinx x reader #arcane vi x reader #arcane cassandra kiramman x reader #arcane caitlyn x reader #arcane silco x reader #arcane vander x reader #arcane jayce x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane ekko x reader #arcane sevika x reader

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty

The Haven gets a new donor, Silco wants a side deal.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: Ongoing references to sex as a form of payment, veiled references to organized crime, arguments, oral sex (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, and blackmail

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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You did your best not to squint at the men on the other side of the table. Doing so would only make it look like you were suspicious of them. 

You were suspicious of them, of course, but there was no need to be obvious. 

“My apologies, gentlemen,” you said slowly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but with all of the opportunities available to you, I don’t understand why you are so interested in helping to fund the Haven.”

“It’s complicated.” Jayce Talis, the most famous Piltover inventor in recent history, rubbed at the space between his heavy brows. 

“I do own and operate a relief organization and facilitate certain healthcare treatments, including minimizing the effects of Shimmer withdrawal,” you pointed out mildly. “Maybe, if you explain it slowly, I can follow along.”

One corner of his mouth curved upward, emphasizing the fullness of his lips. He was famously handsome and infamously unavailable, but that was fine. Your tastes ran in other directions. 

His business partner - a man who was known around the Undercity only as Viktor - crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat. You tried not to judge it as a show of poor manners, especially when he straightened his leg with a wince. It was very likely Viktor just needed to adjust positions. Of course, it was equally likely that he didn’t find you very amusing. 

“Make your point, Jayce,” Viktor muttered. “We have important business to take care of at the lab.”

“Yes, the lab,” Jayce said, adding a nod in your direction. “As you may already know, HexTech is doing well. We have made several important advancements and are set to debut more over the next few years. We own the patents to everything outright, so all profits come to us. Piltover has given us a few dozen grants and investments have flooded in. We have plenty of money to pursue the further development of HexTech.” 

You nodded. It all seemed simple to understand so far.

“There is one particular area where HexTech does not excel: outreach.” Viktor interrupted with an impatient look at his now-pouting business partner. “That is why we reached out to you.” 

“Yes, but is there a particular reason you want to support the Haven rather than any other Undercity outreach?” you pressed. Maybe you were a little paranoid, but your recent experiences with Silco had convinced you that being more discerning was probably a smart move. 

Jayce sat forward slightly. “The Haven’s track record is impressive. Your expense justification reports have all shown remarkably low operating costs, your residents have started to find work with other Undercity businesses, and there’s plenty of buzz about the dent you’ve made in the Shimmer trade in your neighborhood.” 

The blood roared in your ears at that. “That’s an overstatement, of course. Drug use waxes and wanes in neighborhoods over time. It’s just coincidence that Shimmer use decreased when the Haven opened.” 

Jayce furrowed his brows, but Viktor looked like you had finally said something interesting. “I assume that is the line one must repeat vehemently if one wants to avoid the attention of the chem barons.” 

“Chem barons?” Jayce repeated, now frowning harder. “They’re a local legend, a convenient shadow government that the people can blame their problems on.”

“Of course,” you agreed. 

Viktor looked darkly amused. “Nothing more than a legend, certainly.” 

“Yeah…” Jayce said slowly, glancing between you and Viktor. “Anyway, we’ve heard about the decreased drug use and we want to support that as much as possible. You and the Haven seem like the best choice to make that happen.”

“How is your security?” Viktor asked abruptly. 

“We have a small team of guards for the exterior of the building,” you said honestly. It probably wouldn’t help anything if you told them exactly who was paying for that small team of guards. “There is almost no Enforcer presence in the Lanes, so we can’t count on a patrol happening at a crucial time.” 

“I can pull a few strings,” Jayce assured you, totally confident. “I have some connections with the Enforcers. Piltover wants to support new development, especially when it isn’t tied to the drug trade. And they’re not going to find anything better than an anti-Shimmer organization with a proven track record.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but looked to Viktor. “And you? Do you also think the Haven is a good match for HexTech’s goals?”

Viktor lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I fail to see what impact your outreach could possibly have on the Undercity. The politics are snarled, the people are desperate, and there is too much money to be made from exploitation.” 

That was a harsh assessment, but it was true. Jayce cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Viktor spoke again before the better-mannered of the pair could offer any reassurances. “That being said, I am… reluctantly impressed by what I have heard of your meetings with Silco. There are few willing to argue with him.” 

You stiffened slightly at Viktor’s mention of Silco. Up to that point, you had both pointedly avoided using his name, as evidenced by the way Jayce was glancing between the two of you. 

“I don’t understand,” Jayce admitted. “Who is Silco?” 

“You will find out,” Viktor said, the statement sounding both threatening and utterly inevitable as he stood. “I must return to the lab. Jayce, I agree with whatever choice you make.” 

You watched as Viktor leaned heavily on the cane and left the building. It was situated at the edge of Piltover, just across the bridge from the Undercity. Jayce had assured you multiple times that, if they were not working on time-sensitive experiments at HexTech, they would have been more than willing to meet you in the Undercity. He may have even been telling the truth. 

Jayce was still half-smiling when he looked back at you. “Who is Silco?” 

You got the impression that he would keep pushing until he got an answer, so you chose your words carefully. “He is a… major player in the Undercity. He wants- well, he says he’s working for the good of the people. That’s up for debate.” 

“But what does he do?” Jayce pressed. 

“He’s an industrialist.” You sat very straight on the edge of your chair - not quite standing, but giving the impression that you were ready to leave. “Speaking of helping the Undercity, I need to get back to the Haven. When you’ve made a decision about your outreach, please let me know.” 

“Easy enough,” Jayce said, standing to offer a hand over the table. “HexTech would like to provide funding for the Haven, to be used in whatever way you think is appropriate.” 

You were giddy with excitement, and it rushed through your veins like adrenaline. Somehow, you managed to keep a straight face long enough to thank Jayce and accept the check he filled out for the Haven. It was generous, which made your heart soar. You would be able to help so many people!

The good news put a spring in your step and you were still bouncing as you climbed the stairs to Silco’s office. Thankfully, no one was around so early in the day - you had serious doubts about your ability to look cranky and irritated right then, but you would have been obliged to put on a performance if there were onlookers. 

“You seem cheerful,” Silco noted as you closed the door behind yourself. 

“So far, so good,” you told him, walking over to his desk. “What’s the plan for today?” 

He ignored your question. “Productive morning, I take it?” 

“Very.” 

You peered out through the window. The Last Drop was just barely tall enough for you to catch glimpses of the building projects happening over near the Haven. The mechanic’s shop was well on its way to being completed, the construction crews had broken ground on the second apartment building, and the grocers were taking over an existing building, so they were already in the process of hiring staff. 

As you leaned back, you caught sight of a familiar handprint on the glass and your lower belly tightened with the reminder of how it had gotten there. 

“And how much will HexTech be allotting you?” 

With the casually conversational way Silco asked his question, you didn’t immediately notice that anything was wrong. Your attention was split between the handprint on the window and the ever-increasing needs of your body. At last, awareness filtered through and you froze. 

‘I-” You cleared your throat, giving your best innocent expression as you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

Silco gave an impatient gesture. “Come, pet, we have already discussed that I know all that happens in Zaun.” 

“Nothing happened in Zaun,” you said blandly. 

His answering look was dry. “But a potential alliance between the Haven and HexTech undeniably concerns Zaun and her future. Do me the courtesy of assuming I know of your meeting with the two inventors behind HexTech.”

“Fine,” you agreed, largely because he gave no indication of moving on. “I met with the owners of HexTech.” 

“Thank you,” Silco said, gaze drifting to the window. “And how much has young Talis decided to give the Haven?” 

You paused, uncomfortable with the idea that you needed to place a boundary. You and Silco shouldn’t be close enough to need things like boundaries - the clear divisions between you should have been so obvious as to be implied. “I’m not sharing that information with you.” 

“Why not?” he asked. “If I know the size of their donation, I can exceed it.” 

“I don’t need any more donations at the moment,” you told him. 

Silco’s brows unfurrowed. “Ah, that much? Congratulations. You may rest secure in the knowledge that the sale of your morals has fetched so high a price.” 

You recoiled at the slight before you could stop yourself. A drug lord was going to lecture you about morals? That bothered you. Surely that was the cause of your discomfort. Any other reason would imply that Silco was important enough to you that his opinion mattered. 

“I didn’t have to sacrifice my morals to accept their donation, unlike others the Haven has received in the past,” you told him icily. 

Silco stood abruptly, his chair lurching back with the movement. You held your ground, though it took more effort than you were comfortable with. “My donations served your residents just as well as the ones from HexTech will, and at far more dire a time. Do not act as though I were not there to support you every time you have needed me.” 

You gaped at that. “Because we’re in a deal! Every donation served you just as well as it did me - it increased your leverage over me and the Haven. Convenient, since you need me around for an easy source of sex.” 

He scoffed, looming over you. “Do you truly believe that there are not others who throw themselves at my feet? I receive more offers of easy sex than you would believe possible.” 

“Then why keep me around?” you pressed. 

“Because you are the only one who offers the slightest hint of a challenge!” he snapped, breathing heavily. You had stepped into him rather than away, and he was already so close that your chest and his were nearly touching. You glared at each other from inches away before one or both of you closed the gap separating you.

His mouth was hard and unyielding against yours, disinterested in any hint of refusal. Fortunately, refusing his kiss was the last thing on your mind. The energy of securing the HexTech donation was still crackling through you, and sex was a wonderful outlet. The slight tinge of irritation accompanying it only served to increase the appeal. 

You met him with lips that were already slightly parted, and your tongues were dueling in a moment. Kissing Silco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, but it was still rare enough that you considered it a novel experience. 

Your toes were curling at the slow luxury of his mouth on yours. Silco was rarely in a hurry, even now, when you were apparently taking a break in the middle of a fight. Your interest was only piqued further when he started removing your clothing with rough movements. When he had finished, he pushed you backward as you gasped with shock.

Fortunately, Silco had thought far enough ahead to position you close to his desk. The sensation of your bare ass on the cold surface of the desk was jarring, but you watched Silco eagerly. You were more than willing to brave the temperature difference in order to watch him undress for you. 

To your surprise, Silco lowered himself, fully-dressed, into his throne-like chair. You eyed him, frowning as he took your ankles in his hands. They were placed to either side of his chair, leaving them supported by the arm rests at his sides. It went without saying that your knees were forced open by the position, leaving your core exposed to the air… and to Silco’s gaze.

That mismatched stare was fixed between your legs, studying the most private parts of you as you tried not to squirm. When he reached out to touch your cunt, you felt his fingertips like electric shocks… but he only parted your folds and continued his silent observation. 

Irritation, embarrassment, and need swirled together in you until the pressure pushed words from your mouth. “Silco. What are you doing?” 

“Studying my favorite acquisition,” he replied distantly. Even lost in your own distraction, you could feel the echo of your first time together, in this very situation in this very office, when Silco had said something similar. “And wondering how my pet can be so very unyielding, yet yield so delightfully in other areas.” 

You frowned at him - not that Silco was looking at your face. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find them down there.” 

That made him glance upward, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be best if you lay back.” 

You complied, though not without rolling your eyes. “If we’re having a repeat of our first session, I hope the sex is more satisfactor- Oh!” 

Without any sort of warning, Silco’s mouth had closed around your clit. You half-lifted back off the surface of his desk, staring down at his face between your legs. You could only hope that your expression was less desperate than you felt, but wicked pleasure filled Silco’s gray-green eye, so you didn’t think that was accurate.

And then he set about making you forget all about expressions and irritations. Silco buried himself between your thighs, teasing you with fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. He nibbled, he stroked, he thrust… He used every hint of weakness he had gathered from you over your time together, recalling every sensation that drove you wild and subjecting you to all of them at once.  

You arched up off the desk so sharply that the muscles in your back and abdomen protested. Your knees tried to close around Silco - either to keep him close or to force him away from you, you weren’t sure which - but his shoulders kept you spread open and subjected to his torment. 

By the time he had pressed three fingers deep inside of you, your body was glistening with sweat. You were panting, your hips trying to both ride him and grind closer to the lips that were wrapped around your clit.

Silco always ate you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else, but this was more intense than anything you had experienced with him before. You didn’t remember when you had sank your hands into his hair, but it didn’t matter. You were using him only as an anchor; he never moved far enough away for you to need to pull him back. 

At last, he removed himself from you, pulling away almost entirely. The only parts of his body that was touching you were his shoulders, still holding you spread open for him. 

“Silco?” you asked, an edge of desperation clear in your voice. 

“Shh, pet,” he soothed. “I am trying to decide whether you deserve the reward of coming on my tongue.” 

You whined, lifting your hips as if you could convince him to come back. 

“I am less than thrilled by your association with the Piltover business,” Silco admitted slowly. Torturously slowly. “Yet I suppose you may have earned a treat for coming to meet with me anyway. Is that correct?”

You nodded. 

Silco leaned slightly closer. “You would not break our deal over a single donation from another business, would you?” 

You shook your head. 

Silco came even closer then - still not touching you, but near enough that you could feel every exhale on your damp folds. “Does our deal still stand, pet?” 

You nodded, but Silco shook his head. “I need to hear it in that lovely voice. Tell me, darling: does our deal still stand?”  

“Y-yes,” you stammered, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Yes!”

“Ahh…” he mused. “How long will it stand?” 

He watched you with a gaze so sharp you understood instinctively that he would only accept a spoken answer. This one was more challenging; he hadn’t told you what he wanted you to say and thinking was difficult when your brain was soaked in hormones and arousal. 

“Until- ah!” Silco had darted a long lick up your folds - not touching anything firmly enough to throw you over the edge, but still startling. And distracting. “As long as I’m in the Undercity.” 

“Our deal will stand as long as you are in the Undercity,” Silco repeated. You nodded and he looked thoughtful. “I suppose I must offer sufficient incentive for you to stay, then.” 

As if the shock of it removed you from the situation, you noted it dispassionately as he parted you a little more, nestled his nose against your clit, and thrust his stiffened tongue up inside of your heat. 

And then the moment of observation passed. You were thrown back into your body just in time for it to go through an earth-shattering orgasm. Your body arced up off the desk again, muscles spasming so hard that you had the vague sense of Silco holding your hips against the surface so you didn’t throw yourself onto the floor. 

But that was a dim knowledge, far in the background of your thoughts - the vast majority of your brain was caught in a stranglehold of pleasure. How could you be expected to lay still when every bit of you was crackling with such intense energy? You had to move. It was not possible to do anything else. 

At last, Silco removed the live current that was his mouth against your core. He had to struggle against the grip you had on his hair. You weren’t really trying to keep him in place, but your muscles had locked down in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

“How do you feel?” he asked conversationally, when he had freed himself from your grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process. 

“Nnn umm…” Nope, those weren’t words. You tried again. “Needum mint.” 

“Take your time,” Silco invited, relaxing back into his chair. He licked his lips, cleaning the shine of you from them with his tongue. Watching the process made your uncomfortably sensitive body tighten, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. When he had licked everything he could reach, Silco retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, chin, and cheeks. 

If you were capable of higher thought at the moment, you might have been embarrassed by how much of a mess you had made on Silco’s face. Fortunately, the brain fog was still too dense, and you just watched him vacantly. 

Rather than rush you into another round, Silco snagged a piece of paper from beside your hip. He lifted it and started to read. From the light that filtered through it from the window behind him, you could see that there were schematics of some kind drawn on the page. They were highly detailed, but something about the writing looked young, like it had been done by someone without fully developed fine motor function. 

And then Silco’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped thinking about anything else. Especially when those fingers began to play idly against your skin, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on your anklebone. 

“How much more reading do you need to do?” you gritted out at last. 

Silco glanced up at you instantly, eyebrows raised. “I can stop at any time, pet. I was under the impression that you needed a moment to recover.”

“I have recovered.”

“Why did you not tell me immediately?” Silco asked. 

Despite the censurious words, he lazily tucked the schematics into a desk drawer before he stood. In a moment, he had opened the front of his trousers, pushed aside the layers of fabric, and lined himself up with you. 

There was something almost sweet about the fact that Silco was so hard. He had brought you pleasure without being touched in return, and yet his erection hadn’t flagged while he sat quietly reading for minutes. For all that he was a selfish, manipulative bastard, Silco was surprisingly impacted by the way he affected you. 

Any hints of altruism were shoved aside as Silco plunged inside of you. Rather than hesitating or asking if you were ready, he surged powerfully forward until he was seated as deep inside you as he could be. Your hips shifted to accommodate him and your legs trembled against the arms of his chair as you struggled to surface against the pressure of him stretching your walls. 

Silco’s hands were tight on you. One was wrapped around your hips, providing an anchor point as he began to thrust in and out of you. His other hand was firmly on your ass, half-lifting and half-squeezing as he rolled his hips against you. 

That rolling motion made your lips part for air as you stared up at the ceiling. Silco was big enough to fill you, but something about that motion put pressure against your walls in a way that felt almost cyclical. It was like he was fucking a little circle inside of you every time he pushed in, which meant that you got intermittent pressure against your g-spot. It was magical. 

You tried to lift against him, to counter-thrust and speed things up, but Silco wasn’t having it. His grip was firm enough to hold you utterly still, making sure that all you could do was experience the way he was taking you apart for a second time. 

“Silco, please,” you gasped out. “Faster. Harder. Please.” 

“No,” he denied simply. Silco’s hand momentarily released your hip to grab your wrist instead. He tugged it downward until your fingers were brushing the throbbing place between your legs. “If you want your pleasure, you’ll have to take it.” 

You were tempted to deny him and yourself, if only to prove that he wasn’t in charge of you, but the slight graze of your fingertip over your own clit made you squirm. But if you were going to be responsible for your own orgasm, you were damn well going to make sure that Silco helped.

With some effort, you lifted your legs from where they were still resting on the armrests of Silco’s chair. It took only a moment to wrap them around his waist, and when you tightened them, the pull was strong enough to force Silco forward against you. 

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Silco’s grip shifted upward, pressing against the surface of the desk on either side of your hips to support the shift in his center of balance. His eyes widened, startled as you kept him close. You used your newfound freedom to thrust your hips, moving him and out of your core as you strummed at your clit. 

The resulting sensations were enough to take you sailing over the edge again. This orgasm was less abrupt than the last one, but almost more satisfying because your inner muscles had something to lock down around. 

Dimly, you registered that Silco was trying to withdraw from you, but couldn’t escape the grip of your leg muscles. You only understood his reasoning when his body stiffened, face tightening and growing slack as he reached his own peak. 

Silco’s orgasms tended to be subtler than yours, but even his legendary poker face failed him. His expression tightened, then went slack as his body spasmed in a series of explosive surges. He hissed out a curse that sounded like half a prayer, his lips continuing to move long after he had stopped speaking loud enough for you to hear it. 

Slowly, you let the tension seep from your leg muscles. When your feet were dangling toward the floor once more, Silco eased himself out of you. The first spill of your combined mess seeped directly onto the surface of Silco’s desk, but he cleaned it up and caught the next with the same cloth he had used to wipe his face earlier. 

When Silco was seated in his chair once more, you took the cloth and held it in place as you slid down from the desk. Silco smiled wryly. “I never intend to make such a mess, but you are irresistible. Especially when you’ve wrapped me in those lovely legs. If I must be trapped, I will say that I prefer to be trapped in your embrace.” 

“Flatterer,” you accused gently. 

“It is a lovely benefit when the truth is flattering,” he replied, giving you a look you didn’t quite understand… until he added, “Now, pet, tell me how much I should write for the amount of my next donation check.”

You turned toward him with an irritated huff. “Are you still talking about this? I don’t need an extra donation from you, especially not when your motivation is simply to outdo someone you consider a threat.” 

Silco’s lip curled. “I hardly consider those two boys to be a threat.” 

“Then what is your problem with them supporting the Haven?” 

“I dislike the idea of Piltover gaining a foothold here in Zaun,” Silco explained after a moment of thought. “Even if their influence is only over a small outreach. It could hinder the growth of Zaun’s independence.” 

You bit back the irritation that rose at the Haven being referred to as a small outreach. It was a small outreach, of course, but it was so important in your life. It hurt to be reminded that your work was considered minor to other people. 

“Fine,” you said instead of telling him any of that. “What are our options? I’m not telling you how much they donated.”

“Very well,” Silco said tightly. By all appearances, he was displeased with your insistence, but something about the look in his mismatched gaze gave you the distinct impression that he was getting something he had been angling for all day. “If you will not allow me to match HexTech’s donation amount, I would be willing to overlook their involvement in the Haven…” 

“And what will it cost me?”

“I want to be part of the Undercity Innovation Committee.”

It took a beat for you to remember what that was. “Jazper’s group? No. Absolutely not.” 

Silco watched you in silence. His brow creased and it was like watching a far-away storm building into something catastrophic. 

“I have no control over that,” you expanded. “I can’t risk everything I’ve built - I can’t risk the Haven - to argue for you being part of the meetings.” 

“And I would never ask you to,” Silco assured you smoothly. “I have other resources at play. All I need from you is not to argue against me being on the committee.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So you don’t need me to fight for you? Just don’t tell them not to let you join?” 

“Yes.” 

It seemed simple. Almost too simple. And yet… it had been a long day. You could use some simplicity. “Fine, I agree to those terms. If someone else brings up the possibility of letting you join the committee, I won’t argue against it.” 

“Perfect.” Silco took the end of your conversation as an opportunity to refasten his clothing, so you started to get dressed as well. 

By the time you had finished, Silco was holding out a slip of paper toward you. You looked from it to his face, unwilling to accept an unknown item from him. He continued to offer it anyway.

“If I understand, your objections were not to me making a donation, but to me trying to make a larger donation than HexTech,” Silco explained. “I do not know how much they donated, but here is my offer.” 

“Silco…” you lamented, arms still folded across your chest. 

He lifted a brow. “If you prefer, I could resume trying to discover the HexTech donation amount…” 

You sighed loudly so there could be no mistaking your irritation as you snatched the check from his hand. You didn’t look at the amount, but the way Silco grinned as you shoved it into your pocket didn’t seem promising.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'll see you next month with another update!

Quick reminder: this story does take a lot of time and effort to write, edit, and format every month. At this point, we're up to roughly a 200-page book. I appreciate the likes that you guys give me, but reblogging my work is the only way new people can find it. I would really appreciate it if you would reblog not only my fics, but any fics you enjoy!

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[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Intercity Relations (An Arcane one-shot)

Description: Spending years studying Interstate relations at Piltover's academy, you made both allies and rivals during your studies. Unlucky for you, Cassandra Kiramman hated your guts ever since you first met. The woman ensured you'd never see Ixtal or Shumira but rather serve as an intercity negotiator between Zaun and Piltover.

Pairing: Vander x afab!reader, NSFW, the reader being born and raised in Piltover™ (so expect some cultural differences, mostly Vander teasing the reader very lovingly). Warnings: I did my best to go over all the typos, but some certainly made it through. The entire 'plot' just for the sake of convenience, age difference (reader being around 25, Vander should be pushing 40 - the math doesn't add up, fuck it), should be set one year after Vander became a dad™, so we aren't in any rush, vile language, mentions of violence and substance abuse. Also, unprotected sex - don't be silly, wrap your willy! The smut is very gentle tho, very loving and fluffy. Jayce and Ezreal being supportive golden retriever besties™. Subtle Jayce and Viktor shenanigans (will miss if you squint your eyes). A/N: I wanted to write something for Vander for so so so long, but never got the inspiration. Three years after the release of Arcane, I finally made my long-lasting dream come true. It's also my first smut after a long time, so I hope you won't find it clunky and lame. Enjoy reading! Music inspo: Mainly by Seven (Jung Kook), Love Again (stolen from Ezreal's playlist, performed by Baekhyun), Moonlight by Kali Uchis & The Weekend by BIBI & 88rising. Word count: 21K (and I fucking ooop-) Music playlist: ezreal's bedroom bangers

The politics and schemes of Piltover's creme of society never ceased to surprise you. That position should've been yours. Heimerdinger more or less confirmed it a week ago - you should've been the negotiator between Shurima and Piltover regarding business and foreseeable Noxian invasion. The Yordle quite literally said you were the 'best suited' for such negotiations, that he'd realized it soon after you started your studies. From the get-go, it was supposed to be you who'd end up with this position. Truth be told, however, the council members despised you for all they got. You weren't some high-class Nancy who'd flatter them with expensive gifts and false compliments - but you were fucking good at negotiating. You were the best of your class. It wasn't Kacey who could barely tie her own shoelaces or God forbid Damien, who had trouble remembering even the most basic negotiation principles. It was you.

Studying at the Academy was an honor, you were aware of that. Your family poured everything into securing your spot there, which you were endlessly grateful for. The Academy gave you a better chance at life than you'd otherwise get. Being a middle-class Piltoverian wasn't as bad, per se, but it wasn't a win either. Anyone in your family knew what poverty or starvation was, had money for medicine and nice clothes, quality food, and your flat just outside downtown wasn't bad either, but you didn't plan on taking after your mother's hat shop. Making hats wasn't a bad hobby, both you and your brother enjoyed creating new designs and spending time with momma, but it didn't fulfill you.

It could be around your 10th birthday when you announced you'd like to be a diplomat one day. Your mom and older brother scoffed at it - no way a small child would aim to be a diplomat, right? Most kids wanted to be princesses or singers, they didn't want to deal with interstate relations. But... The phase never went away. It was clear as day that you weren't aiming for anything else as your fifteenth birthday rolled around - you kept up good grades, went to debate classes, and traveled to Holdrum and Kumangra to take part in various debate competitions; you didn't win all of them, but your arguments always left the jurors in awe. When you were leaving high school, it was recommended for you to apply for the Academy's scholarship.

At that moment your mom finally cracked and said 'Fine, let's give it a shot'. The tender was as enjoyable as could be, there were other excellent kids after your spot at the Academy, after all. It took numerous tryouts and evaluations - the Academy first accounted for your past academic achievements, then came assessment interviews, then various intelligence tests, ending it all with a few rounds of debates. Some of those were nearly nerve-crushing. When you were informed of getting the scholarship, you were also informed about all the strict rules you'd have to obey - starting with a strict dress code, frequent one-on-one evaluations with the dean of your faculty, and ending with oddly specific dorm and library rules.

During the matriculation, you'd meet your best friend for the few following years - he came fashionably late (presumably sleeping in), barging into the dead-silent hall with his clothes hastily put on, his hair a fucking mess. As the boy stood on the stairway (looking like a deer in the headlights), the rector stuttered, watching the latecomer with matching intensity. Leaning over to the boy, you'd grab his sleeve and force him to sit next to you. Honestly, you liked Jayce ever since you first laid your eyes on him. If there was a definition of conventionally attractive, Jayce was it - hazel colored eyes, a bright smile full of straight teeth, clean-shaven face, a perfect haircut that was taken care of (gell and everything), and built like a fucking mountain with his 6'7 in height, as you'd learn later. His facial features were very pleasurable to look at. As you said - Jayce was the 'it'.

"I really thought this ceremony starts at 10 a.m... Two weeks from now." - The man mumbled to you, putting his bag down next to his seat. As he leaned closer to you over, the smell of some nice and surely very expensive cologne tingled in your nose. "They changed it last week on a whim, probably to avoid the matriculation overlapping with Progress Day. Wouldn't know about it if I wasn't moved into dorm already." "Makes enough sense. Did I miss something important?" "Something something, the great future, Piltover, something something, you are our new hope. Something along these lines." - You repeated, chuckling at yourself. Your brother always told you you were fucking horrendous at making friends, but the latecomer seemed to appreciate your sense of humor. Smirking at you, he licked his lips and offered you his palm under the table.

"Name's Jayce Talis." - The guy whispered, feeling as your palm slipped into his. His skin was nicely warm and so soft. A rich Piltie, you assumed. - "What's yours?" "Y/N Y/L/N." - Whispering back, you shook hands, still grinning at one another. - "Hi." "Oh, doesn't your family run a hat shop or something? Mrs. Kiramman loves that place to death, had to endure a fashion show of her and her daughter's hats tailored according to the latest fashion trends in Ixtal." - Jayce wondered, clearly memorizing the lane by heart.

"Yeah, I helped make these. My mom runs it. I was supposed to take over the shop when she'd feel like she couldn't do it anymore." - You explained swiftly, completely forgetting why you two were sitting in the hall. - "You know councilor Kiramman? The Cassandra Kiramman?" "Mhm." - The Jayce guy nodded, showing you dimples in his cheeks. He was getting hotter by the second. - "Also know the dean." "The dean?" - You squirmed, shooting him an amazed look. - "Are you like a child of some super-important politician?" "No. I just know how to make good childhood friends." "Geez. I had to fight for a way in." "My mom had been dead set on my future since day one. Surely, if Cait was a few years older, they'd even arrange our marriage." - Jayce scoffed, turning his eyes to the dean, a Yordle named Heimerdinger. - "How did you fight your way in? Gladiator style, cage match, blood, sand, and everything?" - He muttered, making you snicker as you pretended to listen to the speech. The matriculation had almost two hours of runtime, so you still had an hour and a half ahead of you.

"More of a streetfight style - who'd beat up the most kids to pulp won the scholarship." "Sounds way more exciting than just getting in because you have a rich friend." "I don't think that's the case." - With a smile, you bumped his rib with your elbow. - "Councilor Heimerdinger doesn't seem to be the type to just let anyone study here. We're Piltover's future, aren't you listening to his words? There's gotta something in that noggin' of yours." "I don't think you'd be the type to beat kids into pulps either. Actually, you look like someone I'd love to be friends with. Truthfully, I don't know anyone else inside the Academy, which terrifies me. I'm not a rich kid and I'm not good at talking to these rich assholes." "Didn't you say you're tight with the Kirammans?" "Caitlyn is anything but a rich asshole. She runs her mouth faster than her brain, bless her soul. Sometimes, she blows Mrs. Kiramman out of the water, leaving me speechless. If I were to talk to her mother like this, my mom would lock me up in a cellar until I'd apologize." "Your mom isn't like..." "No." - Jayce ended the discussion categorically. Since he didn't seem to like the topic, you hummed and nodded. "For your information, I think I'd be able to beat up that kid." - Pointing at a veiny, super-skinny ginger with glasses sitting two rows in front of you. - "... But I'm keener on logic and words, you got me there. Nonetheless, I'll take your words as a compliment, Talis. I'd like to... Be friends, I mean." "Lunch after?" - Jayce asked simply, pulling out a paper and a pen on his desk. First, you were concerned; was he about to take notes? Surely not, right? Then, he looked over at you with one of the most devilish grins you'd seen until that day. - "And tick-tack-toe now?" "God, you're already my best friend, Talis." - Without hesitation, you started to draw the playing board, sticking your tongue out of your mouth due to sheer concentration.

As promised, the two of you would set out to have lunch after the assembly, talking about everything and nothing. Talis was a great company - charming, funny, witty, and handsome. What he saw in you? No idea, but the two of you clicked right away. Even after years, you couldn't decipher what Jayce saw in you. The field of your research and studies were as different as could be, so you usually didn't dwell too much on such topics. Of course, you asked 'How are the studies going?' but it was never the centerpiece of your conversation. While you dealt with human relations, Jayce was a scientist, working with some miraculous blue stone (no idea what that was about). It only took a week to realize you'd found the best friend for the few following years. On the very second day, Talis showed you around his workshop, designating it as your hangout spot outside the faculty - it was a small maisonette with an enormous balcony and a very tiny bathroom. The upper floor was holding a bed and a couch. Since it also had a small fridge, you could just buy some beers and snacks for late-night study sessions and screw the dorm.

This friendship seemed fishy. People like Jayce Talis (attractive, genius, and charming) usually didn't seek company with the likes of you. Piltover was just a rat race, people climbing on the social ladders, striving for a better life. Jayce, on the other hand, didn't seem to be that guy. It seemed like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck. Also, Caitlyn Kiramman liked you, ensuring she'd like you even if you'd crawl out of the deepest part of the Undercity. Just as Jayce informed you, Cait's mouth ran much faster than her brain. You found this part of Kiramman endearing. Even though Talis sent you nothing but good vibes to you, it was hard to just accept this pure form of friendship. It took him around a week and a half to truly convince you he isn't hanging out with you for some insane, out-of-this-world reason. The guy simply liked being around you. That was also the first time Jayce sang and danced around you while studying in his condo - he was an awful singer.

Keeping the promise, you'd gather early the following Monday, ready to celebrate Progress Day. The festival was kicked off with yet another of Heimer's speeches (of which you and Talis appropriately made fun; nothing mean, just stupid jokes here and there). The rest of the day was in your hands - and dear God, you had a lot to wander through. Various attractions from all around the world, newest inventions, doubtful souvenirs, and snack stands... You simply loved the Progress Day. As you absentmindedly licked on your ice-creams, a boy stopped you. Neither of you could know that this particular man will soon be the last member of your party.

While also being very good-looking, the boy couldn't be more different from Jayce. He was around your age and based on his uniform, he was too a student at the Academy. His blonde hair was stylized perfectly, his blue eyes were piercing, you'd swear you hadn't seen clearer skin before and his facial features resembled those of a sculpture or a painting. He'd been considerably shorter than Jayce, but equally as handsome... Also, he was visibly distressed.

"Uh, hi you two. Hi. How you doin'?." - The boy greeted you, shaking your hand loosely as he fidgeted around, looking over his shoulders. You were pretty positive the stranger didn't even look you in the face before gripping your hand. "Hi?" - You asked, furrowing at him. He'd been shaking your hand for over a minute, still searching for something in the crowd... Or someone. - "Do you need something?" "I'm in a bit of trouble. Hi." - The boy jumped over to shake Jayce's hand frantically. - "Could you help me? It won't take long." "What can we do for you?" - Jayce asked. You've been both grinning by that point. The boy's behavior was funny. "I'm trying to run away from my blind date. She's been going on a tangent about how we 'belong together even in the heavens' and that I must be the guy her 'oracle saw in the tarot cards'."

"That sounds scary." - Jayce admitted, carefully twisting his palm from the stranger's grasp. The blonde boy, however, didn't seem to notice as he still looked around for his blind date. - "What do you say, Y/N? I'd be pretty scared if you pulled out a stunt like that." "I was just about to get to what my oracle said about you, Talis, but I mean... It sounds like the start of a horror story. I'm down to whatever." "Geez, you guys are the best and I mean that. My name's Ezreal, by the way."

When Ez piped down a bit and wasn't searching for the mysterious oracle girl, he was good company. As you walked through the main square and adjacent streets, he explained that he was studying history at the Academy and that you were in the same year. His parents were archeologists who traveled all over Runeterra so he was often left in Piltover under the care of his uncle, famous professor Lymere. That's how Ezreal got into the Academy anyway - quoting Ezreal, 'it definitely wasn't his intellectual prowess'. The guy was in awe when Jayce also invited Ezreal to his convo to share some beers while waiting for the fireworks to go off. Even though he seemed to be a social butterfly, Ezreal admitted people didn't stick around for long, often calling him 'annoying' or 'difficult to be around'; Jayce's invitation genuinely moved him. That's how you met your two best friends in the whole wide world.

The three of you were so different that you completed each other. You've been the most grounded in reality - studying political situations and people gave you a good insight into the world around you. If the two boys felt like arguing with someone, you were their person - you could go on for hours, debating like your life depended on it, beating them with facts grounded in reality.

Ezreal, on the other hand, was the dreamer and romantic. Boy, oh boy, his romantic endeavors were something - each week, you'd have to commiserate and listen to him obsessing over a different girl. You and Jayce would be the first to know all the details about his latest miserable breakup and future plans. He'd been prone to dramatize and exaggerate. Also, while being street-smart and intelligent (to a degree), Ezreal could come across as very naive and innocent. It was fun watching him not having a clue about his romantic interest's innuendos or hints, ignoring it all like the sweet summer child he was. You'd seen a lot of his romantic failures, if you had to be honest - the boy often invited you and Jayce for hangouts with his newest discovery (secretly hoping to set you up), and at times, you had to do your best not to start hysterically laughing right into his face. You loved Ezreal.

Jayce was the scientist of your group - he'd constantly lived in the world of wonder, progress, and inventions, constantly building towards a better future. His grind never stopped for anything. You and Ezreal would listen to his drunken rambles about how he'll change the world one day - you liked to believe Jayce. His dreams sounded nice. Despite Ezreal's best hopes, the two of you never hit it off - there was never a spark of romantic interest between you. Jayce often joked he didn't have time for romance, but if he would, he'd definitely ask you out - at that, you'd laugh and say 'Stop keeping your damn hopes up, this ain't happening, Talis'. Anytime you'd bump into something you didn't understand or felt emotionally vulnerable and wanted to share with someone, Jayce became your go-to person. His condo became the party's designed hangout spot, so you'd spend most of your Academy days there, watching over Piltover with dumb smiles.

All and all, you couldn't ask for better friends.

It was also this duo that expected your acceptance letter with batted breath alongside you. As usual, you'd barge into his condo. The two were talking before Ezreal raised his eyes to you frantically waving the letter around. Before you barged in, Ezreal was leaning over Jayce's shoulder (talking about Rachel... Again) and watched as the scientist connected wires in his latest contraption.

You and Jayce graduated earlier this summer, actually. Jayce, as you expected, finished his studies with a red diploma. You'd expect him to move out of Piltover, and work on his tech in collaboration with scientists from the other states - to your surprise, the man chose to work under the science faculty of the Academy. Ezreal, on the other hand, had to retake two classes - maths and geography of Runeterra... Despite all odds, this was a major success in your books. He'd been expecting to retake at least four. "It's here, bozos." - You announced, demanding their full attention. Ezreal straightened up, walking closer to you - Jayce just turned around in his chair and waited for you to start reading. "I'm sure it's Shurima. Like, 100% positive. Heimer talked about you enthusiastically last week, Y/N. I've heard it all." - Coach Ezreal mumbled supportively while walking behind you to massage your shoulders. As he patted your shoulder, you nodded at his words and let out a huge sigh before tearing the envelope outside. You had to be the next Piltoverian diplomat. It had to be you. It was always supposed to be you.

"Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N." - The letter started. - "It is a pleasure to welcome you on board our organization as the newest foreign service specialist. That's a good sign, no?" - You took a breath in, looking at both the boys; your fingers were trembling, breath shallow. "Jesus, don't stop in the middle of the letter!" - Ez exclaimed with a furrow. "Just go on." - Jayce mumbled, hanging on your lips. "Due to exceeding the number of current foreign specialists in the field, we are pleased to announce your new position as the official negotiator between the two states of Piltover and Zaun... Your accommodation in the state of Zaun will be... In case of unclarities, please contact..." - The blood in your veins froze as you read more and more. - "... Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Oh no..." - Ezreal sighed softly, his expression sagging as he watched tears forming in your eyes. You could barely breathe, your fingers shaking, your heart beating rapidly. You've never felt more betrayed in your life - this should've been your fucking moment to spread your wings and leave Piltover. You were supposed to explore the world just like you and Ezreal dreamed. You've been supposed to take part in negotiations between nations and... - "It's okay." "It's not okay!" - Both the boys' hearts broke upon seeing you break down, squealing at the top of your lungs. - "I've worked so fucking hard and everything..." - Jayce offered you an empty bottle so you could break it by throwing it on the ground, letting the anger out. It was better to clean up some mess than see you in ruins. - "... And that bitch, that old foul hag, that fucking snake!" - (Another bottle) - "I've always known she wouldn't fucking let me go. The moment I met her during my evaluations, I knew she hated me." - (Another bottle) - "To her bad fucking luck, Heimerdinger liked me, so she couldn't just get rid of me." - Your hand stretched out for another bottle, but Jayce stopped you. "I don't think she dislikes you..." - Talis approached you from behind, carefully massaging your shoulder. - "I just think something's going on in Zaun. The council would have someone who lived here their whole life and can trust as their diplomat, rather than someone who's not oriented in the problems and dynamics."

"Hey, I gotta repeat that geography class just because I looked at the professor funny. No one even wants to employ me." - Ezreal spoke slowly and softly, smiling at you. Grinning at his statement, you started to dry out your tears. "You gotta repeat it because the professor found out you're fooling around with his daughter." "Ehh... Maybe, but that's not the point." - Ezreal giggled, smoothing your shoulder. - "Listen, Y/N, you're the smartest and prettiest girl I know. You're able to inspire people, talk them through everything, and argue for hours when it comes down to it. And... The Undercity's not that bad, really. I know a few dudes selling fun stuff. I can introduce you to some of them to get you started?" "Ezreal..." - It was a high-pitched whine as you hugged him, letting out a long breath. His words made you emotional, moving you until you felt a fuzzy warmth spreading inside your chest.

"But... If I'm the prettiest girl you know, why didn't you ask me out yet?" - You joked, giggling. Being transferred to the Undercity wasn't all bad. It had its advantages - you'd stay close to your family and best friends. You didn't have to hope you'd bump into each other once a year, you could see them anytime you wanted. You'd be on hand in case your ma or bro needed help with the hat shop. You didn't have to leave your old life behind. "Because I respect you too much to let you fool around with someone like me." - The blonde sighed, hugging you back. Jayce was already on cleaning duty, brewing you all a cup of hot cocoa. It was exactly what you needed, in his expert opinion. As usual, Jayce was right. "... It's because you know I'd see right through your bullshit, right?" "... Yeah, you got me there, girl."

Two weeks later:

The Undercity was definitely not what you'd expect. First things first, it smelled horrible - when you talked to the lady who was introducing you to the issues at hand, she warned you about the possibility of wearing a mask. The Grey (fumes from factories located in the Underbelly) was making the air heavy. So far, so good; while the place reeked, it never got too bad. Secondly, the people didn't cut your head off when meeting you. The Trenchers were indifferent when it came to you; it was clear as day you weren't native to Zaun, but they didn't care much. The number of Enforcers traveling to Zaun was actually quite impressive. You've been worried you'd have to fight for your life, but just like Ezreal promised, Zaun wasn't that bad. Thirdly, your newly assigned condo and monthly payment were good. It gave you enough financial freedom to be fully self-sufficient, which felt simply wonderful. People from the agency acted respectfully towards you, putting weight on Jayce's words; maybe it was a last-minute decision to assign you to Zaun. Maybe, something was brewing on the horizon.

Your assigned informant from the agency told you to ask for Sheriff Grayson of the Piltover's Enforcers. If she knows who's the authority in Lanes, she could introduce you to them and get you accustomed. The problem with Zaun was simple - the city wanted independence from Piltover. If you wanted proof, all you had to do was to take the last riot into account. Your job was to secure a fool-proof plan that would benefit both parties while not degrading either. Well, with Piltover's attitude towards Zaun, that ask turned into a whole another pain in the ass, you realized fairly soon-ish.

Sheriff Grayson turned out to be a reasonable, charming woman with a lot of wisdom regarding both sides of the conflict; she referred to someone named 'Vander', the man who had a reputation and respect among the Zaunites. Ezreal wasn't aware of anyone named Vander, but he knew a black-market trader named Benzo. The blonde swore that if anyone knew Vander, it would be his dealer. "You look like you're acclimatizing fairly well." - The boy brought up as you locked the door to your condo, leaving to see Benzo. - "How is Zaun treating you?" "Hm... It's not as bad as I'd assume, no one tried stabbing me so far." - It was a bad joke, but Ez chuckled nonetheless. Walking down the stairs, your elbow mindlessly entwined with his as usual. You were happy Ezreal came to visit you in the Lanes. Throughout the last week, you've only talked to Sheriff Grayson and your sweet land lady who also had dementia.- "I'm just... Lonely. The two of you are living on the other side of Sun Canal. Getting over that damn bridge is hard, even for a diplomat. That said, the folk are more or less nice around here. They don't welcome me with arms wide open, but they're polite so far."

"Sounds like you'll get used to living here before you know it. You'd get along even with someone as demonic as old prof Lymere, on my honor." "Your uncle sounds like a tough nut. I appreciate the trust, though, young Mr. Lymere. Big preach." "After you, m'lady Y/L/N." - Ezreal exclaimed dramatically, holding the front door open for you; he even bowed, having you giggle under your breath.

Seeing Zaun through Ezreal's eyes was fascinating. The blonde definitely spent a lot of time here, knowing most of the small shops and dark alleys you wouldn't dare to go to alone. As you walked through the Lanes, he told you the history of it all; how Zaun came to be, what were its most historically significant locations, and a bit about their culture (Ezreal described it as 'pretty grim' and moved on). Benzo's pawn shop was located just off the main street - it wasn't in any grim alley where you wouldn't go in a million years or anything like that - it was a pretty nice place if you'd have to be honest. Sure, most of the goods were giving 'not acquired legally' vibes, but that wasn't your jurisdiction, so you didn't bother commenting on it. Benzo himself wasn't a bad person either, you liked him. After Ezreal introduced you, the atmosphere even shifted to a lighthearted meeting of two acquaintances. A small boy was slacking around the pawn shop, goggling his enormous brown eyes at you, but Benzo soon sent him away.

"At least, he'll have something to tell the other nuisances about." - Benzo sighed, clearly referring to other children growing up in the Lanes. - "Young Mr. Lymere. What do I owe the pleasure?" "I'm not here for business today, Benzo. My friend needs a bit of help." "Ah, really? And what can I do for the young lady? Anything particular she's looking for?" "Not something, but someone. She's not... Interested in buying, if you will." - Ezreal explained as he played with various trinkets lying around the shop. You didn't want to talk until you'd be introduced, so you simply stood around and watched the exchange. - "Y/N was sent here by the council." - In that instant, Benzo's demeanor switched to hostile for a bit. "Ah, wonderful." - The man gritted with a forced smile. - "What do these jerks need?" "I'm here to handle diplomatic communications between Piltover and Zaun. Seems like the council finally considered Zaun's declaration of independence, the one that happened a year ago. I'm here to ensure things go as smoothly as they can. I mean no harm."

Benzo watched you with a furrow, thinking about his answer. Ezreal leaned into the counter with a mischievous smile on his lips. - "Y/N is one of the best people I've met, Benzo, I can vouch for her if my word means anything to you." "Sorry if I came across as an old bastard, the folk often call me one." - The pawnshop laughed, offering you his palm. - "Name's Benzo, young lady. I'm the owner of this pawnshop, as Mr. Lymere surely informed you. Nice to know someone cares."

Yeah, only if you cared voluntarily, huh? You accepted the handshake nonetheless, offering him the sweetest smile you mustered. - "Y/N Y/L/N, call me Y/N. Nice to meet you, Benzo." "See, I told you, you'll be fine anywhere." - Ezreal smiled, nudging your side. "Who's the poor soul you're looking for?" "Sheriff Grayson referred me to someone going by 'Vander'. Said he's a geezer with one hell of a reputation around here. If there would be anyone these folk listen to, she said, it's Vander. Ever heard of him? I'd like to go over what the people could want so I could relay it to the council and start with the negotiations."

"If I know that old rascal? Ha!" - Benzo started laughing again. You liked him more and more by the minute. - "Everyone around here does. He runs a pub, you had to cross it on your way here. The Last Drop, does that ring any bells?" "Oh, yeah!" - Both you and Ezreal nodded in unison. The main pub in the largest square of the Lanes, a local district filled to the brim with former black market operations as Ezreal informed you just half an hour prior. - "Looked welcoming." "You bet, two lovebirds like you won't find a better place to make out anywhere around here." "Oh! That's not... You got it wrong!" - You exclaimed, falling into a fit of wholehearted laughter. This was the first time you laughed during your stay in Zaun - you laughed so hard your belly hurt, tears streaming down your face. "I know we've been over this, but this genuinely hurts my feelings, Y/N." - Ezreal muttered, fighting laughter himself. - "Anyway, thanks for the help, Benzo."

"You ever go there to have a cold one by any chance?" - You wondered, wiping the tears, calming down. Each time people assumed you and Ezreal were a thing, this was your reaction - breaking down, laughing so hard you cried. - "I've got the feeling I'll be spending a lot of time there." "I'll see you around, Y/N." "Can't wait!" - As the door closed behind you, Ezreal nudged your side again before letting you entwine your elbow with his. It helped you feel safe, especially in places such as this.

The Last Drop. Entering the pub, you got a feeling this is precisely the place where everything goes down. This was your first time being in a place such as this, so you looked around with batted breath while Ezreal led you to a table, nodding at a few people here and there. It genuinely felt like the lair of all the sin and alcohol. People played pool, some sulked around drinking, dancing in front of a small jukebox, playing cards or arm wrestling, laughing, and joking around. Each game was played for a bid, this pub was gamble-core galore. While you never even tried playing poker for money, Ezreal genuinely seemed to be acquainted with some of the Last Drop's patrons, nodding their way. These people felt different than those who you met until that moment... More alive, more fun, nicer. Well, until a skirmish broke out in front of the bar; a 6'8 man with chemtech augmentations punched another dude square in the face, resulting in both of them being dragged out by other patrons.

And that was when you first saw him.

He'd been talking with a woman sitting at the bar, snickering at her remark while absentmindedly polishing pints. The man, whoever he fucking was, looked like a sculpture. First, there was the smile - the mischievous spark in it, something vaguely boyish in his eyes as he looked at the woman, his watery-colored eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Secondly, you admired his facial structure. There was something so... Good-looking about his jaw and small, nicely shaped lips. You liked it when he smiled and immediately started imagining if you could make him laugh. Your heart skipped a beat upon that imagination. Thirdly, his hair and beard were visibly kept in good shape, but overgrown; it looked good on him, though, which was a look not a lot of men could pull off. And fucking lord, he was so well built. Broad shoulders, strong forearms, nicely shaped waist that begged to be hugged by your arms. Piltover didn't have men like similar to this kind, you were sure of that - he appeared to be gruff, but the mischievous smile told you otherwise. His posture and body screamed dominance, but his eyes whispered safety.

There was no doubt in your mind that the mysterious bartender was probably twice your age and that you definitely shouldn't be thirsting over him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't look away from him - the longer you watched him, the more deranged scenarios devoured your mind. Witch each piece of clothing disappearing, your mouth felt drier, the boiling hot blood traveling right between your thighs. It was impossible to look away from him. His presence ensured you wouldn't pay attention to anything else as you sat there, gravitating towards him like a moth to a lamp.

Each move he made was like cinema to you and each time his lips moved as he talked to the lady, butterflies started tingling in your belly. You wanted him to talk to you this way, was it a far cry to imagine you'd catch his attention? What were you thinking? He was a Trencher, you were a Piltie; two utterly different worlds. This guy probably wouldn't be interested in you, would he? Well, a girl can dream...

"Ezreal to Y/N. Are you okay?" - Ezreal bumped into your shoulder, making you finally look away from the bartender. Clearing your throat, trying not to appear as a flustered deer in the headlights, you looked at the spunky kid standing next to your table, seemingly getting your order. Her expression was unreadable and judging by her age and the bruise under her eye, she wasn't working here voluntarily. Who was she? "Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What's the best drink you have?" - You tried sounding at least a bit excited, but the kid just pointed to the menu and walked away. - "She seems friendly." "Probably got herself into some sort of trouble and got punished by helping that Vander guy, don't take it too personally." - Ezreal muttered, watching as you got up. - "Where are you going?" "I'll the bartender about the best drink… And about Vander." "And will you at least get a beer for me?" - Ez cried out as you disappeared into the crowd showing him thumbs, too busy staring at the mysterious man to look back at Ez.

If you weren’t mesmerized by the bartender, your shoulder wouldn’t bump into a very imposing woman who, at the time, played pool with her buddies. If you hadn’t bumped into her, she wouldn’t spill and break her pint on the ground. If her beer hadn’t been spilled, she wouldn’t turn around to take a good look at you. Upon the sound of shattering glass, the pub fell silent for a second, everyone turning their attention to the two of you. Before Ezreal got the time to get off his ass to get you outta there, the woman shoved you to the ground; so harshly that your head hit the wooden flooring. The bartender was forgotten as you grunted in pain, picking yourself off the ground; you didn’t have to bother, though. The woman gripped the hem of your jacket, making you tiptoe as she forcibly invaded your space - even though you didn’t consider yourself to be the smallest bean in the room, her physical build definitely overshone yours. She watched you like fucking prey, ready to kick or punch your teeth in.

“The fuck do you think you doin’, huh?” - The woman gritted through her teeth, biting down on a toothpick. - “You're not local, are you? Fucking Pilties, thinking you own everything 'round here, actin' like nothin' can happen to you. Guess what, princess.” “It was an accident. Put her down so we can talk this through. Sevika, c'mon.” - The friend she played against was trying to get you outta there. Even though it was a nice sentiment from the stranger, Sevika scoffed as her palms pulled you even closer.

Holy shit. Were you about to get your soul kicked out of you just two weeks after moving into Zaun? Had to be some sort of speed run record, you were positive.

“As if. Pilties gotta learn their lesson, just like we learned ours back on the bridge. Better if this pretty little thing learns it soon on.” “I’ll buy you another round, how 'bout that?” - You choked out with trouble, catching her palms in yours as you did your best to defuse the situation. Ezreal was standing just next to you now, ready to get into a fight if it would get to it. The boy, bless him, being a sweet summer child was still willing to fight for your dignity and honor. - “I’m sure we can talk about it.” “That’s all you, fucking Pilties - all talk and no walk. Zaun isn’t for people like you. You don’t belong here, sweetcheeks, you ruined our lives and now,…” - With each word, Sevika brought you closer, tightening the grip on your t-shirt. Just as you started to feel her breath on your cheeks, someone else stepped into the spectacle - someone's palm circled around her forearm, forcing her to put you back down.

It was him, the man you were mesmerized with. The bartender. The tender expression and feelings in his eyes were replaced with an unpleasant furrow directed towards Sevika. Now that he was closer, you realized he was even more handsome than you assumed. His head was cocked towards his shoulder, his brows knitted together, veins on his palm and forearm prominent due to the force he applied on Sevika's grip.

“'t’s enough.” - The man said quietly and slowly, the tension immediately defusing into thin air as your feet touched the ground. - “‘t was an accident, nothin’ more. Lass said she’ll buy you a new round, so I don’t see any problem 'ere. This is not how we welcome people 'round here.” "Old man, did you already forget..." - Sevika gasped for air, the muscles on her arm tensing as she got ready to pack a hefty punch to the man. The bartender, however, remained cool as a cucumber - simply stared at her, not flinching out of the way. "Of all the folk 'round, I'm the one who remembers everythin'. Also, you should remember it's unwise to threaten the guy who pours the drinks 'round here." "Let's get you some air, you." - Sevika's companion mutters, tugging her towards the door. - "Let's go for a walk, c'mon."

"Hey." - When Sevika was out of the door, the life in the pub started moving again - people got back to their gambling, arm wrestling, and talking, seemingly forgetting about anything even happening. The bartender was now turned to you, patting your shoulder gently while leading you towards the bar. - "You alrite?" "I'm whole, which is better than I anticipated. Sorry for causing trouble during your shift, though. Must be a lot as it is." "Huh?" - That smirk... His damned smirk made you forget about who you've been and what you were supposed to be doing in the Last Drop. - "Trouble? Sevika? Don't take it personally. I know that can be hard to do, but still. Local folk are usually much nicer."

"I've noticed." - You nodded, flushing simply because he was talking to you. Christ, you were down bad, almost starting to feel like Ezreal. - "Been living here for the past two weeks. You people are... Indifferent. But better than you being hostile." "Indifferent?" - The guy repeated after you, sending you a small, warm smile. - "That's a first. Never been called indifferent before. That a compliment?" "Depends on if you'd like to take it as such, I suppose." - His expression made you smile back at him, heart pounding in your chest. "Y'know what? I'll take it as one." - His chuckle almost sent you spiraling, making you smile at him dumbfoundedly. - "So, what can I do you for?"

"I would want a beer for that gentleman over there." - Pointing over at Ezreal, the boy just waved in your direction. - "And a drink for me." "Ordering 'a drink' doesn't narrow it enough I'm afraid, sweetheart." "What's your best drink, then?" - You wondered, enjoying the atmosphere and banter you had going on. "Do you like surprises?" "I can do without them." - You sighed in defeat. - "I can make an exception, though. One-time ocassoon, tho, don't take your chances." "Wouldn't dream of it."

While he mixed the drinks, you were keeping him company. Letting the banter flow, he started asking you why you moved to Zaun, whether you're suffering or enjoying yourself, and how you like the pub... Small talk every bartender makes to appease their customers, more or less. Even though it was this basic, you couldn't look away from him - where he moved, your eyes followed. When he smiled, you mimicked. Whenever he was closer than a foot, your heart skipped a beat. He smelled so nice, so earthy, like wood, jasmine and oranges.

"Oh, by the way." - You reminded yourself as he finished the drink, facing away from you to keep it as 'a surprise'. Uh-hm was all you got in response. - "I'm here to meet someone named Vander? Rings a bell?" "I'd assume so. What do ya need of that old bastard, sweetheart?" "I'm here to talk about possible future negotiations between Piltover and Zaun. The council wants to grant this region greater rights in exchange for peace." "You're a diplomat?" - The man stopped, bright pink cocktail umbrella hanging between his fingers. The atmosphere seemed to fade away while he processed the information, his smile disappearing.

"Listen, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here to make sure everything goes smoothly and help as much as I can. Vander isn't in any sort of danger. Sheriff Grayson referred to him as someone who'd be in a position to make demands for the Zaunites." "You're pretty young for a diplomat's what I meant to say, sweetheart. Don't take it the wrong way. One'd assume such a young thing would have other things on her mind." "You know him or not?" - You asked, amused by his explanation. "'s me. Vander, pleasure's on my side."

Oh shit. Oh fuck. So this was Vander. The former 'Hound of the Underground', as Grayson informed you. This beautiful man, this absolute spectacle... Was the guy you'd spend hours and hours with talking about political nonsense? This both excited and worried you. It was a curse in disguise. How were you supposed to even start talking to him? The moment you'd be alone, your mind would fill with very inappropriate fucking thoughts. "Oh, snap." "Haven't heard anything more Piltoverian in a long time. Well... How 'bout you?" "What about me?" "What's your name, sweetheart? Wouldn't mind calling you names, but when we get to business, I wouldn't wanna come across as immature... God forbid rude." - The way his tongue deliberately stretched 'business' between his lips made you swoon, gasping for air in hopes Vander wouldn't notice (he definitely noticed).

"Y/N, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. Pleasure's on my side." "Hey now, that's my line." - With a chuckle, Vander put down a cocktail in front of you. It was dark blue, frothy with crushed ice, decorated by a piece of orange and that pink cocktail umbrella you'd seen earlier. - "Look at the beauty." - Vander smiled, pushing it a bit closer. No idea what he was talking about (whether you or the cocktail), but your heart skipped a beat. Again. - "The best drink I can make. Hope it'll taste good. "How much?" "Hm?" - Vander asked, watching as you pulled out your wallet. "For the drinks. How much?" "Leave it, 's on the house." "No way, cowboy. How - much?" "Take it as compensation for Sevika's tantrum earlier, doll." - Fucking hell, this nickname almost gave you a heart attack. - "If you keep on flatterin' me, ya not payin' a single dime." "Unprofessional. Immature. Rude." - You gritted and passed a few Valors on the bar. - "Take the tip, at least." "'Aight. Can say no to that. If you'd want another drink or anythin' else, just wave at me. I'll be there in no time. Deal, sweetheart?" "What a smooth criminal you are, Vander. Thank you kindly." - As you took both drinks and walked back to your table, you couldn't see the smile freeze on Vander's face as you called him a 'smooth criminal'. Did you know? Had Greyson mentioned his impressive portfolio that still haunted him to that day? The Hound of the Underground. That's how people knew him, why they respected him.

"So, did we find the guy, or..." "Right there. The bartender. That's our guy." "Oh... Wow." - Ezreal leaned his elbow into the chair, eyeing Vander properly. - "Seems decent enough of a man. Expected someone older, though." "He's very nice and very polite." "Heh. Sure. Nice and polite." - Ezreal snickered, looking at you. You really had no fucking clue, did you? About how assertive you were, about how lovely the features of your face were. On the occasions, he and Jayce got you into a tight corner and you got flustered (which happened rarely) and you became a stuttering, annoyed mess, you were one of the most beautiful girls Ezreal had laid eyes on. And no, he wasn't saying it out of chivalry or because you two were best friends - it was because you were best that he pulled his head out of his ass for once and behaved the best he could. Back when you got the letter? Ezreal meant each word.

Collaborating with Vander actually wasn't as bad as you worried it'd be. With each meeting, you'd swoon harder and harder but managed to pull your head out of your ass to focus on the responsibilities at hand. In the beginning, Vander did his best to inform you about how things are and go in Zaun so you'd be accommodated better. Usually, he'd either invite you before he'd open the pub or reserve you a spot at the bar, where you'd talk about points that started coming up over time - like Enforcer oppression, increasing drug usage, and inadequate means for children to reach at least basic education. His points and observations were reasonable and understandable.

When he wouldn't be talking about business with you, as he settled on calling it, your mind would be consumed with him as he rambled about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you wouldn't even listen to him, you'd simply sip on your drink and let his deep voice intoxicate your brain. His smell, God almighty, his fucking smell. Over time, you've become mesmerized with the details. Vander throwing the tea towel over his broad shoulder, polishing the bar, the muscles on his back dancing in unison. How his fingers ruffled his hair. His smile when he greeted patrons and regulars. How he bit on his lower lip when he thought of a response. How he smoothed his beard when you said something out of pocket... So many details. You loved watching him like a stage play, especially when he served other guests. Did he know? He must've known - he'd send you a knowing grin each time your fingers brushed over the document you've been working on. Vander even went as far as figuring out which nickname you liked the most. Seeing as you shrugged and stuttered each time he'd call you a doll, it became his most used word.

Was he this attentive to all the other female guests? You couldn't tell. You liked watching him work, yes, but you weren't listening in on their conversation. Was it a formality, due to occupation, a game or did he mean it when he occasionally flirted with you? Some compliments Vander came up with left you speechless. He was the man to notice subtle wardrobe changes and make-up experimentations, mainly because you dressed differently than 90% of the local population. He'd be the first to comment on phrases 'so Piltoverian it hurt'. When it got late enough at the Last Drop and you'd be tipsy enough, Vander got daring enough to compliment your smile, saying it always 'lit up his entire day'. This man knew how to run his fucking mouth, sending you into spirals each time he'd whip out a compliment.

What he was hesitant about, however, was touching you - in moments when he stopped paying attention, his hand would slip on your shoulder blades as he watched you writing into the document. You never commented on it, you loved it when he touched you - it sent a heat wave through your entire body, making your breath hitch in your throat and push your thighs close together. As soon as he saw you looking at his palm, it would be gone from your back, leaving you craving more.

Benzo became one of your best friends in the Undercity, you had to admit. He had his oddities, but he'd welcome you inside his shop whenever you dropped for a visit. Ekko, the young boy you've met earlier, was introduced to you as his ward. The boy grew to adore you - you'd bring him sweets when you visited Piltover and tell him about how it looks and works up there. Benzo explained that his ward is very good with inventions, a scientist by heart - you'd promised Ekko you'd show him Jayce's workshop sometime in the future. Each time he'd be in Last Drop, whenever you came to have something to eat, a drink, or work with Vander, Benzo'd wave at you over the entire pub and save you a spot on the bar. Even though his business surely had little to nothing to do with legality, you grew fond of him.

That night, you've waited until Vander would close the pub. The place slowly depopulated while Vander flickered most of the lighting, drowning it in darkness. The only remaining light was above your head, shining right into the Blue Lagoon you'd ordered earlier. "And who'd busted your bubble?" - Vander asked quietly, watching as you played around with the cocktail umbrella. No matter what drink you ordered, he ensured you'd always have a cocktail umbrella stuck in. - "Even put some oranges in it, you've seemed to enjoy it the last time." "Just tired, I think, been finishing the document so I can turn it in. Grammar and formatting are a pain in the ass." "Sorry to hear that, doll." - The big guy huffed, sitting on the neighboring stool while patting your shoulder. Joining in, he poured himself a beer. Again, your breath hitched as you enjoyed every second of his body touching yours. - "What was wrong with the last draft? Thought it looked decent 'nough?" "Overlooked some paragraphs and spacing. Council would return it to me the moment they'd notice." "Well, 't least you tried." "Hm." - You sighed, putting your head on the bar.

"Hey, you." - Vander chuckled, his head cocked to the side as he tried keeping eye contact with you. - "Can you smile?" "Why would I do that? I'm suffering." "C'mon, pretty girl. Smile." - He'd whisper, gently caressing your back. The caress made you breathe in shakily, smiling as he asked. - "See? The nite is suddenly much better." "You're such a comedian. Why do I take the bait each time?" "Maybe you like smilin' at someone handsome as me?" - Vander opposed, making you giggle. He was the handsome man you'd met, that much was true.

It wasn't just about being attracted to him at this point, though. There was more than level-surface attraction and crackling chemistry - you liked him. Seriously liked him. As you lay away in your flat, you'd play with your blanket and think about how things could be in a perfect world - Vander would close the inn and come home shortly after midnight, kissing you on the forehead after he'd take off his jacket. That would most certainly wake you up, so you'd join him in the kitchen for a bit before leading him to bed. You usually had to stop yourself, forcefully, from letting the daydream carry on - you'd only imagine stripping him of his clothes when you got desperate enough, jerking off before sleep. It needed to be let out. Vander had to know how you felt about him. To either decline your offer or agree to try pushing the boundaries a bit. You've been tipsy enough to conclude that confrontation was a great fucking idea - you've had enough of watching other women goggling their eyes at him, pushing their breasts together as they'd order. It was bothering to look at his well-trained smile (the smile you've learned to love) as he answered them, winking their way. You liked the guy, you loved spending time with him... And he seemed to be interested as well. To what degree, you had no idea about it, but he surely liked having you around.

"Or maybe..." - It took all of your courage to turn at him, putting your palm on his upper thigh. Vander's fingers stopped caressing the glass, squinted his eyes, and tried deciphering what you've been up to. Your touch felt wonderful and, for the love of God, you smelled so good. "What has gotten into you, doll, hm?" - The man whispered, gently moving strands of your hair out of your face, smiling warmly. Your eyes were open wide, filled with little sparkles as you stared at his face. "I want to kiss you, Vander." - With those words, his motions stopped altogether.

Of course, he thought about kissing you. Multiple times - each time you were sitting at the bar and sent him a smile, to be precise. It would be easy to simply lean over, smooth your cheek, and steal all your thunder. In fact, you couldn't have an idea what you were doing to him, intoxicating his brain with the sweetest scenarios and possibilities. It would be the easiest way of shutting you up whenever Vander got you flustered; he enjoyed when you turned into a stuttering, annoyed cute little mess, though. It was endearing watching you try to get yourself off the sinking boat while digging yourself a deep grave. Vander also thought about much more than just kissing you - he'd seen you naked so many times (inside his head), he'd swear he'd recognize your body amongst other women, even with the lights off. Your strange turns of phrases often made his tummy tingle with butterflies as he laughed, explaining to you that you sounded too Piltoverian. Your expression and widened eyes goggling at him made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside... You've managed to make the Hound of the Underground soften. Fucking God almighty, your outfits made Vander's heart flutter - it was a mix of everything; sometimes you'd be wearing a fluffy white blouse paired with a brown tar-tar vest and derby trousers, other times you'd appear in a bright-colored dress and paired with, again, a tight vest. Even though you always looked out of place, Vander loved that about you. His eyes never searched for you too long, not to mention you looked like an absolute goddess. The derby trousers did nothing for your buttcheeks. When serving, he'd have to keep himself away from you so he wouldn't slap them. How would you sound if he'd made you squeak? Or if you'd be a whining, meowling mess as he'd hover over you, losing his senses to you? How would his name sound when screamed at the top of your lungs?

No matter how hard Vander had it for you (literally and figuratively), there wasn't a world when it would work for both of you. He'd been a Zaunite gangster back in the day, recently reformed into a full-time father and pub owner. Ah, when talking about fatherhood - you didn't even know he's looking after four fucking kids. You didn't have a clue about Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor. How could you? Such a pretty young thing didn't deserve a life like this - bound to one place without the alternative to leave. Vander couldn't leave Zaun. But you could. Each time Vander realized how intelligent you truly were, it would knock the air outta his lungs - if there was anyone with a bright future, it got to be you. You had the entire Runeterra laying at your feed, ready for you to explore every nook and cranny. You had places to be, people to meet, work to do... No way he'd let you throw that away for someone like himself. Compared to you, he'd been significantly older, slower and already set in his tracks - you had a whole life ahead of you.

One kiss couldn't ruin anything, could it? You've been tipsy, ogling each other for the entire night, saying shit you shouldn't really say. He wasn't afraid of rejection - Vander was perceptive enough to recognize bedroom eyes on a woman from a mile away. He was afraid of rejecting you. Now that he knew you, it was impossible to imagine Last Drop without having you around. Benzo was fond of you, Ekko loved you (Benzo admitted that the little boy might be crushing on you a teeny-tiny bit) and most of the locals started treating you as an equal. You... You couldn't disappear out of his life.

He'd hesitated for too long. The grip on his thigh started to weaken as you pulled away, flustered beyond any reason - you were turning away, awkwardly coughing into your sleeve. Everything inside his body froze before he could stop it, pushing your palm back where it was - on his thigh, squeezing it gently. As you turned to face him, he leaped forward, kissing you. It made your head spin, that's how good of a kiss it was. Things you hadn't enough courage to admit out loud, all the desire and tension resulted in teeth clattering, tongues dancing, and lips crashing again... And again... And again. You've kissed like nothing else mattered, slipping off the stools - his knee parted your legs while his palms roamed his sides and lower back, spreading them further apart as he pressed you onto the bar, palms sliding along your curved back. If Vander hadn't the willpower to snap out, you'd likely end up bent over the pool table or the tappers. Thankfully, when he felt your fingers tugging his shirt out of his pants, he stepped away, catching your palm in his.

"I... 'm sorry, doll, I shouldn't have done that, I dunno what's gotten into me." - Vander whispered apologetically, awkwardly picking up the stool you'd knocked to the ground during the kiss. "There's nothing to be sorry about, I asked for it." "Doll, there's everythin' to be sorry 'bout." "What do you mean?" - As he registered the vulnerability in your voice, his eyes snapped to you, still leaning your back into the bar. God, you looked amazing with your lips swollen from the kiss. There wasn't time to admire, you, however -this was a fine line Vander found himself on. One wrong word and you could slip past his fingers, never to be seen again.

"You... You shouldn't even be here this late, sweetheart." "Are you trying to say you don't want me here? That none of this is... Real? Was it a game for you?" - The moment you started doubting this, Vander's finger snapped at you as he shook his head. "That's not what I'm sayin'. You should be in your bed, fallin' asleep next to someone your age, maybe that blonde boy'f yours. Seems to have the hots for you, poor kid. Instead, you're here, spendin' your time with someone like me." "Someone like you?" "I could be your father, Y/N." - Vander hissed. Wow. You couldn't recall the last time he'd use your first name - he had to be worked up real bad. "You'd have to start really early, then." - You chuckled, continuing before he caught another wind. - "You're getting yourself too worked up over nothing. It's... Just a kiss, nothing more - I'll still be your regular. I loved it." - Even though the last sentence was a mere whisper, it made Vander straighten up. The explosion of a guttural warmth inside his chest was insane, almost setting him on fire. Even though it wasn't any concrete confession, one step would lead to another...

"'t felt good tonite, will feel like shit tomorrow morning, doll, you'll see." - Sighing, Vander stepped closer to you, leaning into the bar while taking one of your palms to his, playing with your fingers. - "Whatcha thinkin', doll? A Piltie like you with a Tencher like me? C'mon now, what good would that bring?" - Taking a breath, Vander pushed a stand of your hand behind your ear. "How about you let me decide what I'd like to do and how I feel about kissing you? That okay?" - Sighing, you leaned your forehead into his shoulder and gently hugged his waist with your palms. - "I'll let you know the next time I drop by."

"Okay, lemme say it differently - what would such a pretty little pet like you even do with an old geezer like me? You're not just someone, you've even studied at the Academy - the Undercity ain't somethin' you should be aimin' for, Y/N. When I look at you, I see the future. And a damn bright one at that." - His fingers were ghosting along your jaw, his heart thumping steadily. You knew the tone and look in his eyes - like a kid staring at a toy they wouldn't be able to get in a million years. - "And when you change the world, me and Benzo'll tell everyone about ya - 'Y/N? That's our girl, one of the Zaunites; the one who'd been kind enough to kiss an old fool like me'." "To which I'd say I wished you'd kiss me ever since I've met. You're just... Like a fire and I'm a moth, constantly gravitating towards you. When you're not around, it's like my breathing gets heavier, I'm worrying about where you are, what you're doing, and if you're okay... And when I see you, this warmth spreads through my chest. There's not a day when I wouldn't wanna see you and let you poke at my accent or turns of phrases. Vander, I... I... I should go." - With that, you pushed Vander off and picked up your belongings, putting a few Valors on the bars as you usually did. If you continue running your mouth, you'll start unveiling things you did your best to keep hidden away from Vander. For example, that you loved him.

If you weren't so nervous, you wouldn't miss the mesmerized look Vander gave you, breathlessly staring at you. He knew what you've been trying to say - he was on the same boat. He was just a man in his best years trying to get by, helping his community and people. It was so fucking hard to believe a girl like you liked him for what he was. If you'd say it out loud, he'd believe you. He'd even say it back. Three words - such a short phrase would become his favorite. If you had enough courage to say it, he'd repeat it over and over. Instead, he watched as you packed your things, holding everything together with a last-ditch effort. - "If I keep on going, Vander, I'd probably say things neither of us want to hear. If a kiss made the situation this messy, we wouldn't withstand what's on my mind. I... I'll see you around, I promise."

God. You were wrong. So fucking wrong. You're almost out of the door when you hear Vander calling out your name, making you turn around. He'd been mustering up the strength to say it, but before he could... The courage dissipated as you smiled at him. - "Hm?" The way he stared at you dried your mouth and your knees weakened. If you've ever seen bedroom eyes on anyone, this was it. His eyes darkened, his breath short as he tried to come up with something... Anything. Lust was a double-edged sword, that much you realized. Vander would get on his knees to hear whatever stupid shit you had on your mind if there was a slight possibility you felt the same - if that'd be the case, you'd end up bent over the bar. Drunk fucking, that would be the worst thing you could do. If you'd get down to it, you wanted Vander to be sober. You wanted to be sure it was just him touching you, whispering sweet nothings, moaning at appropriate times; not alcohol. You didn't want it to be remorse either. The moment would be right if Vander hadn't started overthinking and overcomplicating shit. "I'll go now, Vander. Remember... I won't even regret kissing you."

You didn't have the balls to go for a beer for the two following weeks. You avoided The Last Drop as if it were a plague epicenter, not even looking its way when you walked through the Lanes. Benzo caught up on the shift, asking if everything was alright. Since Vander seemingly didn't bother with informing Benzo about what happened, you hadn't either; when you popped by his pawn ship to drop off some sweets for Ekko, Benzo even got the audacity to tell you that: 'Vander misses you, asks for you every nite, girl. Whatever the old bastard had done can't be that bad, can it?' Did Vander even do anything wrong? He hadn't outright rejected you, had he? It almost seemed he'd admit there's more to it than just a kiss. Emotions, perhaps? Well, you've been on a streak of childish behavior and you planned to continue.

No matter how long you worked during the night, Vander plagued your mind. You've missed him, the way he smiled at you, gently caressed you with his looks, and how delicate his tone was when he spoke with you. It was strange to work in silence since you've gotten used to the vivacity of the Last Drop. Your flat suddenly felt like a prison - too small, too dark, and too quiet. Even when Ezreal came over to visit you and sleepover, it didn't brighten up the mood. The boy wasn't stupid when it came to crushes and lovesickness - as soon as he heard you sigh, he'd been onto your ass, trying to lure details outta you. It wasn't a bad idea, actually - you needed your friends to help you solve the conundrum of 'Vander'.

"And... You left after that?" - Ezreal asked, genuinely shocked. You've called for an emergency meeting at Jayce's - all three of you were splattered all over Jayce's sofa, sipping on a beer, eating take-out. "What else was I supposed to do?" "So, you've fallen in love with this amazing Trencher..." - Jayce mumbled through the noodles in his mouth, sitting up. - "And he kissed you like anyone before?" "Yeah, it was... Wow. We've knocked over a few stools, even, but we were both drunk." - You reminded, sighing. "Have you seen how he looks at you?" - Ezreal asked you, having you cock your head towards him dumbfoundedly. - "Every time we're there for a drink, the guy doesn't look at anyone but you. Like there's no other person in the pub, just you."

"Have you heard a word from what I've told you?" "You ran away after he pointed out a few excellent points instead of telling him what's on your mind... And then left him conscience-stricken for two weeks. Without dropping by to tell him you're just confused." - Jayce reiterated. It wasn't like that, was it? You didn't run away without telling - Vander surely knew. Why didn't he comment or answer it in any way? It wasn't just your fault - there were two to blame. "I'm... I wasn't confused." "Don't take this personally, but we've never seen you fall in love with anyone. You fooled around at the Academy - who didn't? But it looks like when it comes to real feelings... You're not too good at conveying them. Lemme guess - you started talking, said something incredibly cheesy, and then rambled, didn't you?" - Ezreal asked, smoothing your shoulder. How did he know? God, these guys knew you better than you could ever know yourself. - "In response, Vander started rambling about the future - about how it couldn't be good for you and stuff. Even though it might've come across as dismissive, Y/N, that man thought about a future by your side. Also, we can't see every thought that goes inside that brain of yours, so it can be confusing to navigate at times. You love him, then? And want to fu..." - Ezreal nibbled on, making you unnerved and flustered. Was he just about to ask you if you wanted to fuck Vander? That casually, like it's nothing? "Yes, Ezreal, yes! I can't think of anything but him, I can't eat, can't sleep..." - You exclaimed, standing up to take a long breath. The duo gave you a run for your money, you had to admit. - "All I want is him. But I don't know how to do it or what to say. That's why we're here."

"Then I don't see a problem here. Do you, Ezreal?" "None, Jayce." "We're on the same page, then." - Jayce smiled, clinking his bottle to Ezreal's before taking a good swing. - "God, these noodles are so good." "If you two don't talk, I swear on Heimerdinger's inventions..." "Vander, from what I've gathered, is an upfront, honest guy..." - Jayce started, having Ezreal nod in confirmation. "... Then it's obvious what you have to do. Just tell him. Which part? I don't know. Just go for it." "That's the best piece of advice you got for me - 'just tell him'? Isn't that what I attempted last time?" "Oh, Y/N, girl." - Ezreal howled, pushing you back to the sofa between Jayce and him, and handing you back your beer. - "This time, you're gonna go straight to the point. No cheesiness, no romance - it'll be a love confession, but you see what I mean, right? Let me phrase it delicately... You'll tell him all about those dirty scenarios inside your head. We guys love hearing stuff like that, it boosts our confidence." "For once, I second everything Ezreal said. You got this, Y/N, look at yourself. Ezreal is mostly right when sensing crushes - if he says Vander's got it bad for you, I'd trust him."

Ezreal didn't leave you on your own, God bless this sweet summer child - he'd made sure you'd really go talking to Vander, even helped you with picking out the outfit. He'd put together something insanely simple, yet elegant - a white lacey dress, a suiting black vest with golden detailing to match your Wellington boots. When enriched with adequate, very subtle golden accessories, and the right hairstyle... "God, Ezreal. When did you plan on letting me know you're a fashionista?" - You wondered, turning around to see every inch of you. You had these pieces for years and never thought enough to piece them together. Your fashion sense wasn't bad, per se, but faded in comparison to Ezreal's. "I've been making fashion statements for some time now, one'd assume you noticed since we hang out all the time." - The boy muttered, sitting on your bed. "I look so good." - Still checking yourself out, you leaned towards the mirror to look at how the golden necklace sits on your neck. "You always did. I just pushed it a step further, that's all." - Making you stand up, Ezreal caught your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. - "What's the plan? Run it by me one last time."

"I'll walk in the Last Drop, looking like a million Valors." "Duh." "Tell Vander I'd like to talk to him... Alone." "Yeah?" "And when we're alone, I'll tell him what I wanna do to him... Which will be so incredibly disgraceful and awkward..." "It'll be disgraceful and awkward if you don't pull yourself together. Be confident, smirk, touch him, smooth his shoulder, bite your lip, wiggle your eyebrows - just don't turn into a flustered mess. Imagine you're in a debating competition if that helps. Show him how serious you are, don't leave a single question unanswered." - Coach Ezreal instructed you, having you nod with fiery passion. While not known for his intelligence prowess, Ezreal was a great leader and an amazing empath. He'd known you much better than you knew yourself, helping you cross bridges you'd deemed impossible. Now, he was doing it again.

"Alright, seems to me you're in the right zone and everything. My job here is done." - The boy grinned, fixing a few strands of hair behind your ear. - "I gotta catch a date for myself." "Who's the poor soul? Do I know 'em?" - You wondered, the Undercity accent rubbing its way in. No wonder, you've been living in Zaun for at least three months by that point. Ezreal didn't point it out, just grinned while picking up his stuff lying around. "Linda from the study department." "Wow!" - You exclaimed, locking your flat. You'd walk Ez out on your way to the Last Drop. - "Why do you sound so down, then? Weren't you pinning against Linda for months?" "Eh... I mean, yeah... The problem is I asked her out at a party, super-drunk, and everything. Don't even remember what I fooled her into believing. Remember that faculty party you didn't come with me because you were too busy ogling at Vander?" "Hey, I'm not taking accountability for that. Jayce was your babysitter for the night." "He, for one, was busy ogling some guy from Heimer's office and didn't make it in time to inform Linda it's not a great idea." - Ezreal grinned, watching as you gasped for air. Ogling a guy from Heimer's office? Damn.

"How come I hadn't heard about this 'till now?" "You were too busy putting that draft together. Even sobbed about it when I slept over last week. Didn't think telling you about Jayce's romantic endeavors would help much." "And... Who's the guy? Do we know him? What's Jayce's type?" - Eyebrows wiggling, you pressed on, making Ezreal chuckle. "No, don't know him, I saw him at the party for the first time. How'd I describe him... Frail and foreign for sure. Don't take it wrong, he's... Strangely handsome, that one. Think it's the accent doing it for our poor old Jayce." "Fuck me." - You snorted, opening the front door. - "Our science bro has it down bad for other scientists. Twist of the century." "I liked Viktor." - Ez mumbled while leading you towards the main parade. - "He's snarky and most likely a genius. Zaunite by heart, strangely perceptive, weirdly confident in the best way... You'd love him." "You think Jayce would ask him on his own?" "Eh, no, not really. I'll start working on setting them up soon." "What would we do without our romance and fashion guru, Mr. Lymere?" - Looking him in the eyes, you smiled while Ezreal caught your hands in his, nodding at you.

"Now, forget all about Talis and his non-existent game... I mean, the guy can flirt, that's for sure, but..." "Not the point, Ez." "Right." - Ezreal nodded some more, clearing his throat. - "When you come tomorrow evening for the play, all I'm going to hear about is how this hunky, handsome guy blew your back out, 'kay?" "Ez!" - It was a squeal as you started to laugh, stepping aside, breaking the moment. - "You gotta stop saying that. I'm not good with... Saying this stuff out loud, you know that." "Good luck, lovely." - The boy leaned in, kissed your cheek, and sent you one of his typical smiles before turning on his heels and leaving. God, you loved Ezreal.

As Coach Ezreal coaxed you into doing, you did your best to walk into the Last Drop like a million Valors (not to mention the intense break you took leaned into the pub's wall, trying to get your shit together). As per usual, the place was lively - people haggling around, playing cards, jukebox playing a nice tune while they drank. Since it was the weekend, Vander wasn't behind the bar alone; Vera and Jakob were his backup for the night. You'd admired how Vander and his part-timers work in unison. Their responsibilities were strictly given, so each of them had their own little universe to keep in check - Vander dealt with the orders, Vera mixed cocktails and prepared snacks and Jakob ensured there were always enough dishes. "Look who we got here! Hey, Y/N!" - Benzo's voice exclaimed so loudly it was heard all over the pub - some locals acknowledged you with a nod or wave, not staring for too long. Benzo, however, was seemingly happy to have his drinking buddy back in business. As you made your way towards the bar, you'd let the guy hug you clumsily before stepping aside.

The bartender hadn't said a word to acknowledge your presence. Hadn't even looked your way, it seemed. Was he hurt, just like Ezreal expected? Was he pissed to see you walk in so casually? Why didn't he reach out, then? You'd bet your money that he knew where you lived - one could never keep a secret while living in the Lanes. It took all your willpower to snap your eyes into Vander's face, waiting for him to do anything, say something so you'd know what you're on. Funnily enough, Vander didn't plan on making it easier for you. At first, you were worried that he'd truly become indifferent. Devil's always in the detail, you reminded yourself, searching for signs of what's going on inside his head. When you started noticing, your heart fluttered in your chest, hot blood rushed into your cheeks. His eyes lingered on your lips, the gulp he'd desperately tried to suppress, the grip tightening around the glasses he polished. He'd held onto them to forcefully his knuckles turned white.

"It's so good to see you, both of you." - With a smile, you turned towards the bar. Vander automatically pulled out your favorite coater (he'd hide it away from other guests, this one was yours specifically), leaning his hands into the desk like a let-down parent. "What can I get you?" - His mumble was quiet, devoid of any emotion. No nicknames, no jokes, no flirting, huh? He'd really have to be pissed off, then. "I'm here on business, actually." - Sending him a sweet smile didn't help either? Damn. - "Could I steal you for a minute or two? Won't be keeping you long and then I'm out of your hair, promise." "Somethin' goin' down up there?" - Benzo asked with worries in his tone. "Nothing I can't take off, Benzo. Just need Vander's expert opinion, that's all. He'll be back before you know it. Shall we?" - With a clap of hands, you sent Vander yet another warm smile. The bartender raised his eyebrows, sighed, and put his tea towel on the bar. Picking up his sandwich, he'd informed Vera about being gone for fifteen minutes (for his break) at tops before vaguely gesturing for you to follow him. Fifteen minutes was all you got, huh? Fuck.

You'd expect him to lead you to his office on the upper floor - Vander didn't deem you worthy enough to sit on his plushy chairs, because he'd open the back pantry for you, opting you to sit on one of the barrels. "Well, start talkin'. We ain't have the whole evenin' - is it about the readin' or somethin'?" - Without an ounce of care, he'd peeled the napkin off his sandwich, chewing on it. "How... Have you been?" "How have I... Thought you wanna talk business, young lady." - Vander reiterated mockingly, looking away from you; his eyes had been stuck on your lacy dress, drowning in the sight of your breasts pushed together to form a delightful cleavage - it wasn't showing too much, but it definitely showed more than usual. Your breasts looked so... He'd been this close to reaching towards you, undoing the vest so he could squeeze them and nuzzle his head to your chest. Fuck, you looked so absurdly alluring and tantalizing Vander couldn't stand to look at you. He was mad at you just an hour ago - he couldn't give in that easily. He'd spent the last two weeks being absolutely miserable - your seat remained empty night after night, your coater hidden behind the tappers. Even though he'd known you weren't coming, he'd always ushered customers from sitting on your stool - his mind often going back to your carefree smile, your elbow supporting your head as you watched every move Vander made, reminding him of the cute expression on your face. Even the kids caught onto his mood swings - Vi laid into him regarding what, to quote her, 'Fucking busted his bubble?'

It took you a lot of courage to pick yourself off the barrel, stepping closer to him. Did you look seductive? You didn't feel like it at fucking all. Vander freezing like a deer in the headlights hinted that you were on the right track.

"I'm here to finish the conversation we started last week." "Not this again..." - Vander countered and started picking himself up to leave - it was a surprise when you pushed him back on his ass, keeping one hand on his shoulder, soothing his jaw with your other one. "I don't think I made myself clear enough." "Oh, trust me, darlin', you've said plenty..." "Yeah? Then you're gonna listen to it all again, I guess. Poor you." - The sandwich was long forgotten, lying on one of the shelves as you cocked your head to the side, sending Vander the calmest, sweetest smile you could muster. Holy shit, you realized, Ezreal's advice worked. Vander couldn't look away from you as you leaned your knee between his, planting your thumb on his lower lip to enthuse you'd love to kiss him again. Feeling the softness of his mouth made you lick your lips.

"I hoped you'd be smarter than this, sweetheart." - Vander whispered, finally giving in to your touch - you could feel his fingers creeping up your calves, gently lifting your skirt up, traveling up to your thighs. - "I ain't good news for a young thing like you. You'll get bored soon 'nough, leavin' me behind. Won't even remember me a few years from now... Thought you not showin' up was a good sign." "Good sign?" "That you'd understood what I tried to say and decided it would be best not to fool around with someone like me." "I thought about this a lot over the last week - about you, me, and what I tried to do. I was drunk, we both were, and words didn't come across as I'd like 'em to." - Lifting his chin up, you started playing with his hair. - "No matter how much you hate hearing this, I'm really into you. I think I'm in love with you."

Everything stopped for a second - his grip on your thighs tightened as he brought you closer, staring at you with pure adoration. His expression didn't reflect all the love and happiness behind his eyes, but the fireworks going off told you more than you needed to know. He'd felt the same, to one degree or another. There wasn't any rush to say it back - when he opened his mouth to talk, your finger stopped him as you pressed it there. Cheekily, Vander planted a kiss on it, waiting for what you wanted to say. Rest assured, your words almost gave him a heart attack.

"Now - stop fucking telling me how I'll feel or what I'll do in a few years. I want to be in the now with you and you're making it pretty fucking difficult. How about you just forget about everything for one night and show me how you feel about me? I don't care if this isn't a good long-term decision or whatever you're about to say - you're what I want most now. And even if I'd become a real diplomat one day... Vander, we're smart. We can figure it out. Stay in the moment, here with me." - Stepping in, you could feel your thighs bump into his abdomen - still holding his head in your palm, you were standing directly above him. Fucking hell, he was even more handsome up close. You loved every small wrinkle and crevice of his skin, an almost invisible scar on his lower lip, prominent cheekbones, and hair so soft you wanted to simply tug on it. His fingers on your thighs started to move up and down, caressing your smooth skin - even that alone was enough to make you meowl softly.

"So, therefore, I propose we drop the act and focus on letting whatever this is blossom. Fuck, you have no idea about how many times I'd imagined kissing you, Vander, how I melt each time you smile or give me a cheesy compliment. No other man in my life makes my hands shake just by standing beside me. You have no idea how many times I've dreamt you'd be in my bed, taking my clothes off and eating me out... And all the things I'd like to do to you, shit." - You continued mumbling erratically, not really paying attention to what was leaving your mouth - Vander seemed mesmerized either way as he bent your knees carefully, lifting you up to sit his lap (given he was sitting on a barrel, that shit must've been uncomfortable as fuck). Hearing you curse for the first time was an out-of-world experience for him, especially when accompanied by quiet hisses and subtle moans. Every word leaving your lips was dipped in honey, making him gasp for air helplessly - if he'd like to, he was sure you'd be willing to undress right there and then. Your knees fit around his waist as if he was made for you, his hardening dick pressing onto your thigh the moment you wiggled a bit. Feeling him made you gulp and lick your lips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, playing with his hair.

"I don't know what you're so scared of? I'm here, you're here... Let's just... See what happens." "Ain't this an abuse of power, miss diplomat?" - He whispered, making you giggle. "Would be if you didn't want to fuck me as desperately as I wanna fuck you." - You whispered, stealing a quick peck off his lips. This broke the dam, causing all the feelings and emotions to flood out. "You - have - no - idea - what - ya - doin' - to - me - doll." - After each word, Vander stole a kiss from your lips, his palms lifting your ass, making you rock on his waist, grinding on his dick with a raisin intensity. Each movement made you moan breathily, sending chills down your spine. and started grinding your groin against his, earning a breathy moan from you. - "Seein' you talk to men makes my blood boil 'cause I want to be the only one you give that pretty smile to. I wanna be the one wakin' up next to you, caressin' your skin, help you with showerin' your back, and see all the newest clothes and underwear you bring home... Mainly the latter, 'f course. I just... I just wanna be your man." "Then show me, baby." - You whispered quietly, pulling him for a proper kiss, grinding against his lap in a steady rhythm. Warmth was spreading through your tummy, making it tighten each time your clit grazed the fabric of his trousers.

"I'd love nothin' else, doll..." - The man hummed, holding your chin between his fingers. Dear lord almighty, you looked more sensual than any woman he'd met before you - you seemed to be intoxicated from his kisses and words, your face burning up as he dragged his finger along your cheek. Each time you rocked your hips over his cock, your entire body shivered, eyelids fluttering. Realizing it was him making you meowl, that he kissed you so passionately that your lips were swollen was the hottest turn-on he'd ever felt. - "But my break is almost over. No way I'd undress you in this damn pantry for our first time, you deserve somethin' much better. You free tonight?" "Hmhm? What do you have on mind?" "Come pick me up after I close down. I'll make us dinner. We'll see where the things go from there, yeah?" "Can't wait, handsome."

After Vander watched you leave the Last Drop with a shy smile, his eyes glued to your ass, he couldn't stop grinning. Five hours remaining until your randez-vouz... A whole fucking eternity. The tent in his pants was unquenchable, no matter how many hairy men Vander attempted to imagine. This tween behavior made Benzo grin - he didn't need to ask what you've been up to, he already knew. Watching Vander's blush and his constant throat clearing was enough of a show in itself. Business his ass; Benzo and Vera actually bet if you'd have sex right then and there or if you'd wait for a better moment. Vera was now 20 Valors richer.

"Could you take over the tappers for a minute?" - Vander asked, looking at the drink she was just finishing - you'd like it. Filled with pieces of chopped fruit, a very refreshing mix of spirits and lemonade. - "Gotta arrange somethin' real quick." "You got it, V." - Vera called over her shoulder, showing Vander a thumbs-up. Leaving his tea towel on the bar, Vander turned on his heels to walk into the basement - this was his kids' designed hangout spot when they didn't feel like exploring Lanes. And since Vi was under house arrest, they've been lounging around it all weekend.

"Oh, hey." - Claggor was first to acknowledge him - he and small Powder were playing tick-tack-toe while Mylo read in the corner, only sending him a nod. Vi was sitting on the couch with her palms under her head, staring at the ceiling. "What's up, old man?" - Vi muttered, sitting up. She had the most authority over the group, so she needed to be pressured the most - getting along with her meant getting along with the rest of the kids. At this point, Vi wasn't even mad, unlike a month back - now, she spent most of the time thinking about how to avoid Vander's attention next time, ticking off the few remaining days on her hands.

"I wanna make a deal with ya, kids." - Vander started, leaning his ass into the counter below him. Everyone was paying attention now, their head turned directly at him. The truth was - he needed the flat empty if he wanted to host a dinner for you and fuck senseless after... Which would be difficult with four fucking kids around. - "I'll let Vi off the hook sooner if you'd sleep here, need ya outta my hair. Just for tonight." "Why?" - Powder wondered, her enormous blue eyes ogling at Vander. It was time to blush, sweat, and truly clear his throat. All the kids stared at him before Mylo exclaimed 'Aaaaah', laughing at Vander's busted ass. "... Our old man got himself a date." - The boy explained - before he managed to utter another word, Vi gripped her palm around his shoulder. "That's all she needs to know." - The girl ended topically, grinning at Vander. - "That's it? No buts or ifs if we stay the night here? That's all you askin'? You'll just... Let me off the hook?" "Depends, have you learned your lesson?" "Of course I did." - The girl answered, emphasis on the word 'did'. Yeah, right, and Vander was the newest fucking councilor. The kids started nodding frantically, making the old man chuckle. - "We all did. Last month had been very educational for all four of us." "Then you're off the hook. Of course, in case of an emergency, just come ask for help - I'll be here for you..." - Vander informed swiftly, watching as Vi sat next to him with an angelic smile - from his experience, she was about to ask the stupidest fucking question he'd heard all day. "Is it the pretty one? That one sitting on the bar all the time and staring at you as if she'd never seen a man? She has it bad for you." "You're begging for another month of house arrest." "Hadn't even said anything!" - The girl laughed, taking Vander's answer as a yes.

Striking a deal with the kids was a double-edged sword - they might be grateful for now, but jokes and innuendos were coming Vander's way, for sure. He needed to embrace all parts of fatherhood - the good parts, like Powder's drawings on the fridge or Vi's occasional hugs as well as the bad parts, consisting, for example, of the kids consistently finding sex and relationships cringe and disgusting. "Can I ask a favor from ya?" - Vander stopped in the doorframe, looking at the kids. - "Would you clean up the mess you've made yesterday?" "Oh, yeah... The pancakes..." - Powder sighed, remembering all the dirty dishes and ingredients plastered all over the kitchen sink. That might've been her job. Vander (while being very grateful for the breakfast) asked the kids if a bomb had gone off in the kitchen. "No problem, big guy, you got it!" - Vi exclaimed, her eyes shining as she just found another angle for a stupid statement. - "Everything will be good as new for your big night, on my honor." "You're on some mighty thin ice here." - The old man mumbled, but couldn't hide the grin appearing on his face.

Waiting for the Last Drop to close was endless, you'd swear - you'd change into outfit after outfit, trying out different underwear sets and even switching your hairstyle three times. You'd decided on something more decadent and less showy - while the afternoon visit was to seduce Vander, now you wanted to be more you - while being less fashionista, your outfits were still cute. Even walking into the establishment was nerve-wracking - just as you slipped through the door, Vera was leaving for the night after cleaning the whole place up. Jakob was long gone after that point - his mom was sick, so he'd leave around ten, leaving the two to deal with the locals and patrons.

"Hey." - You waved, smiling at the guy shyly. Vander was just polishing the tappers - you loved how his hand moved steadily, showing all the veins on his forearm. "Hey, you. Lookin' cute." - The man didn't waste any time making you fluster as you put your bag on your stool - you'd packed a few spare things to change into. "How was the night?" - Without hesitation, you'd walk behind the bar and roll up your sleeves to sort the different glass types Vander had lying around. "C'mhere. Forgotten somethin', silly." - Without notifying you, the man hugged your hips and pulled you in for a kiss - no matter your wet hands. Giggling, you didn't hesitate to kiss him back, gently smoothing his chin.

"Missed ya here, sweetheart." "I'm here now... And I'm starving." "Let me finish up so I can cook you somethin' delicious, doll." - Gently slapping your ass (melting at your surprised squeal), the man started finishing the very last chores feverishly. "I'm here to help - after I finish the glasses, what's on the agenda?" "Nothin' for you. I'd like some help in the kitchen, though." "Got it. Well..." - Smiling at him, you'd slap his ass back. It was a homely gesture you enjoyed, honestly. Something about slapping ass and watching his eyes shine as he glared at you made your heart flutter - getting another kiss helped too.

Vander's flat was on the top floor of the Last Drop - it was spacious, but felt crowded at the same time, for an inexplicable reason. There was a lot of stuff. Even though it was tidy, you got a chaotic vibe from the place... That meant you wouldn't like it, however. The design was incongruous, as you'd expected from a bachelor's fault - the pieces of furniture didn't match at all (in case they did, it was only vague), and the decoration was lacking, but he'd everything he needed. The flat smelled nice, unlike the rest of Zaun - like wood, oranges, jasmine, and his musk... It smelled like him.

"Welcome to my little kingdom." "Mhm, I like it here... A lot. Feels quite like home." - Your words made him smile even more widely than before - walking to you, he gently held your head in his palms before lowering his, kissing you with a happy hum. It was a sweet, delicate romantic kiss; his lips gently brushed yours, his palms slowly traveling onto your shoulders, copying the curve of your back and settling on your ass, bringing you impossibly close. "Let's get cookin' before you make me lose my damn mind, doll." - With a last caress of your jaw, he'd walk into a spacious kitchen/dining room. The table was impressively large - enough to host at least seven people. That was where you noticed it for sure - a lonely crayon forgotten under the table and children's drawings on the pantry door. Observing them, you nodded to yourself, putting your bag onto one of the chairs.

"There are... Nice." - You muttered, pointing at them. His expression froze for a second before he joined you in observing the masterpieces. "Mhm. I like 'em a lot. Always make my day." "Who gave them to you?" - With the most innocent expression you could muster, you pressed on with the interrogation. Vander... Wasn't taken, was he? He'd tell you if he was, right? Where would be his wife and presumed children - would he just tell them to leave the flat until he deals with his booty call? Surely not.

"Well, yannow, I help around the community. A lot of kids out here, a lot of excited painters." "Uh-huh." - The confusion and suspicion in your voice was almost tangible. There was one theory you could test out. - "Could I use the bathroom real quick?" "Suit yourself, doll. The first door on the left. Call out if you need anythin'." "I'll be right back." - Kissing his shoulder to divert his attention a bit, you walked inside the small bathroom - it wasn't anything regal, but it fulfilled its purpose. Turning on the basin to cause distraction, you started searching for proof of feminine presence - make-up, perfume, comb... Anything. The only thing you found, however, was a pink hairband forgotten next to the shower. A girl's hairband, you realized - could he be a widower? That would be fine too, you'd even understand why he hadn't mentioned it until then. Well, in that case, it would be better not to pressure him - he'll tell you on his own.

"Everythin' alright?" - He'd ask as soon as he noticed you lurking around the kitchen. Letting your eyes drown in the sight of a homey, domestic Vander was a heavenly sight. He'd taken off his jacket and worked on cutting some vegetables. "Everything alright. What can I help with?" "The meat." Cooking together was fun. You'd open a bottle of wine, chatting as you prepared the meal - Vander asked about details he hadn't learned yet, and you asked about his past, favorite pastime, and hobbies. As per usual, he'd been an open book, answering everything right away and with honesty - this guy could be married, no way in a million years. When a comfortable silence settled between you, you just wait for the meal to be ready - you've decided to settle on a small, very old kitchen island while waiting for Vander to finish peeling and roasting the potatoes.

"Whatcha grinnin' at, you pretty little thing?" "Just watching the most beautiful man I've met, 's all." "Look at her." - Approaching you, the man was purring with happiness. As he approached the edge of the island, your legs opened themselves to hook around his waist, bringing him closer. - "The accent's catchin' 'n everythin'." "Did to impress the guy I like." "Hope he's handsome and treats you right." "You have no idea." - Holding him in place with your palm, you put the glass down and closed off the distance, kissing him slowly. Passion built up with each little movement - he'd hold you impossibly close, his hands roaming your body freely, even taking the vest you've been wearing. Hip lips traveled from your lips to your neck, kissing a small trail below the collar of your blouse as he worked on the buttons. If you weren't starving, you'd let him undress you right there, on the fucking kitchen island... Ruining the atmosphere, your stomach started growling. The moment was gone in an instant, having you both laugh quietly.

"I'm sorry." - You laughed as he hugged you. This time, you let your hands roam around his broad back and shoulders, scratching it with your fingers. "Nothin' to be sorry 'bout. I promised you dinner and I intend to keep the promise." "You bet. Couldn't wait for what you have in store." "... If you provide the desert, that is." - The tone of his voice mesmerized you, having you ogling at him. Fucking hell, he looked so hot - looking at you with his eyes darkened with lust, his thumb playing with your lower lip. Wiggling your hips around, you could feel what was the reason for this sudden change of mood. His dick was deliciously outlined, almost begging to be pulled out and sucked, hitting the back of your throat. "I can give you a little taste." - With an innocent smile, your palm slowly caressed his lower abdomen, slipping down between his legs. Even the thought of having his dick on your palm made you hot and bothered, let alone imagine him finally fucking you after all this time. Sure, you've had sex before, but you've been this down bad and horny for anyone. Imagining him naked made you shuttered, his warmth made goosebumps rise on your skin - as if he knew what pressure to apply, how to apply it, and for how long... Vander was perfect. Fucking perfect. Just when you brushed the tip, Vander's palm tugged on yours.

"Dinner first, doll." - Pushing himself between your legs, he couldn't resist pulling you for one last kiss. - "You'll have all night for showin' me what a good fuckin' girl you are." "Okay, baby." "Good. I ain't plannin' on lettin' you leave until the mornin'." - With a last kiss on your temple, Vander walked back to the stove to check on the food. It smelled delicious. So much so that your stomach grumbled again.

The dinner was delicious, you had to admit. The man knew his cooking and he wasn't shying away from showing you heaven by overstimulating the everliving shit out of your taste buds. Vander even brought a bottle of wine from Last Drop's exclusive displays to amp it up. Having a man working in gastronomy spoiling you rotten had its benefits, you must admit. The conversation was... Mundane. You'd suspect the rising tension would've made it harder to make small talk. Still, it didn't change much except the hunger behind Vander's eyes - he hadn't seen you or talked to you properly in the last two weeks, of course, he wanted to hear what you've been up to, how locals treated you and if there's anything he can do to help.

You've been the one to do the dishes, despite Vander's protests - he was ordered to sit down and relax for a bit; he'd been on a long shift and cooked for you, no way you wouldn't return the hospitality. Other than fucking him senseless, that was. "Lord almighty." - It was a mere whisper, almost too quiet for you to notice. While drying your hands, you'd turned your head to Vander to send him a smile - his expression made you freeze in one place. His voice was husky as he stared at you, looking you up and down as if he hadn't seen a prettier woman before. His elbow leaned to the back of his chair, his tongue slowly traveling on his lips as he enjoyed the view - your hair let down, blouse half unbuttoned, tar trousers perfectly hugging your curves. Domestic behavior was one of his weaknesses.

The stare sucked the air out of your lungs, the smile disappearing. He'd been staring at you as if he was preparing to devour you alive, like a wolf preparing for the last blow. You've never felt like prey... Not in a good way. Daring to take it a step further, you unbuttoned the vest, letting it slip off your shoulders. The man didn't tear his eyes off you - it was hard to even blink, let alone move. Carefully, your fingers push under the blouse, showing off more and more of your skin. As you teased to show him your breasts, his response was a playful scoff. Turning away from him, you slipped the piece of clothing over your head; the see-through fabric left little to the imagination anyway, but finally looking at the laces of your bra left Vander biting his lip.

"Enjoying the show, big guy?" "You have no idea, doll." "How about you show me, then?" "Seems you're havin' fun on your own, don't lemme slow you down." "Could use a spare pair of hands." "Keep goin' and I'll think 'bout it."

Stripping for someone's enjoyment was new for you, but it was... Fun. You'd suspect you'd feel dumb, maybe silly; seeing how he palmed his hardening dick over his pants while watching each move you made gave you confidence. So much of it, in fact, that you slowly slipped the pants off your hips, your boots following soon after. Vander's eyes were glued to how you palmed your breast, playing with the hems of your panties. "Still want to only watch?" "Do you realize how mesmerizing you look, darlin'?" - With that, your fingers finally slipped under the fabric - your other palm grabbed on the kitchen unit so you could ache your back, letting out a lewd moan. - "Keep goin', doll, show me how you like it."

Fulfilling the wish, your fingers drew delicate circles around you, gathering all the wetness leaking out of you. You hadn't been this wet for anyone before Vander. Soon, you stopped caring if he was even watching you - you started to slip your fingers in and out, playing with yourself just as you enjoyed it. It was when your breathing got heavier and your knees started giving out when he finally walked over to you. Immediately, your forehead found its way to his shoulder, your fingers grabbing his forearm forcefully enough to leave dents. Helping you with getting off, he carefully pushed the tiny lacy panties aside (Vander wanted to keep them intact mainly because he suspected this piece of clothing would bring him on his knees anytime you'd show it to him). His fingers were much thicker than yours, making you moan in sensation as he carefully pushed them inside you, curling them up ever so slightly.

"Keep goin' for me, pretty girl, I wanna hear you moan." "F-fuck, Vander." - As he requested, so you provided, panting heavily between meowls and lewd moans leaving your mouth. - "You can add one more and go faster, please." While doing as you asked, he also slipped one of the straps off your shoulder, letting your breast bounce out of the bra. Carefully nibbling on your nipple, he'd pushed his knee between your legs to support you. With each second, your moves started becoming erratic as you ground against his hand, trying to match his palm's thrusts. "Shit, I think... I'm about to..." - Throwing your head backward, his lips found yours in a rough, passionate kiss. "Let go for me, c'mon, good girl." - His husky voice in your ears defused the bomb building inside your abdomen, letting you sink into his fingers in one last stretch. The orgasm felt surreal - his smell intoxicated your brain, your ears started ringing from the blood rushing inside your veins and your mouth produced the most erotic sounds it ever has.

"Holy shit, that was nice." - You admitted, gripping his shirt to lower him down for a proper kiss. "I want to hear this more often, sweetheart." - Vander chuckled, licking his fingers clean while staring you in the eyes. This view had you biting on your lip, kissing him once more just to feel his and your tastes mixed. This alone made you smirk. - "Can't believe how lucky I am to have you here. I imagined this so many times..." "Let me take care of you, big guy." - Leaving all the clothes in a discarded mess on the kitchen floor, your palm tugged on his palm to lead him inside the bedroom.

It was a bit messy, surely seen better days, but it felt very homey - his bed was unmade, clothes that he discarded in a rush were thrown over the chair and a collection of various books and papers gathered on the table. You could notice various framed pictures hanging on the wall but didn't go as far as to check them out. The bed seemed sturdy, excessive wooden frame resting at the mint green wall. You liked it. Even before you asked the first question, his lips crushed to yours, forcing you to back until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. While his hands started pulling his t-shirt off his body, you didn't waste any time unbuckling his belt, your lips kissing a wet trail on the skin he uncovered for you.

He'd been in better shape than you imagined - Vander wasn't the type to have his muscles flexing or rocking a six-pack, but he was slender with just the right amount of chubbiness sprinkled on top of it. Dad bod in its finest form, that's how Ezreal described it to you. You loved the curly hair on his chest; it wasn't too dense, just enough to look ridiculously hot. His happy trail below the belly button was very tasteful, making you moan breathily. Your fingers started to shake as you finally pushed his trousers down, putting your palms on his hips and taking a moment to simply adore him.

Vander was the most beautiful man you came across, there was doubt in your mind - you loved his fucking body. His palms were much larger in comparison to yours, also filled with small calluses due to his occupation, but the rest of his skin was smooth and warm. His stature was a sight to behold - broad shoulders, wide chest, and waist that simply begged to be puzzled between your thighs. Just by looking at the outline of his dick, you knew it was going to be a nice ride - its length was perfect for you, the only thing you were worrying about was how thick it appeared to be. "What's the frown for, doll?" - His voice broke you out of your thoughts, his thumb playing with your lower lip. "Never had someone so wide." - Your words made your pussy contract delightfully, already aching to feel him filling you to the brim. "I'm a handy guy, doll, I'm sure you can take it if I help you. But you gave me a promise, remember?" "Desert?" "Lay down for me, sweetheart, c'mon." - With a quick, skillful move, the bra slid off your shoulders, leaving you fully naked. And yet, you've never felt sexier as you laid down, letting him prop your back up with a pillow while getting on his knees. - "Look at the view, doll." -Vander murmured, pecking both your inner thighs. His smirk was screaming danger, but so fucking good-looking. You've been so aroused that the surrounding air felt cold on your core. - "Must be nicest I had in years. You're even wetter than before doll, God." - With a murmur, he'd kiss the sweet spot right above your clit, sliding his nose through your folds tantalizingly slow. - "You smell and taste so fucking good."

Then, he dived right in, taking you in his mouth with careful, slow, and precise movements - his tongue copied lazy circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves, and his palms and shoulders kept your legs spread wide open, no matter how many times you tried pushing them together. It could be felt he's skilled in eating out - even though he couldn't know what you liked, he started slow and looked at how you reacted, being perceptive enough to repeat the movements you seemed to enjoy and avoid those that made you frown. It didn't take him long to make you a whimpering, whiney mess - especially after his mouth dipped down to catch every bit of your arousal, licking you clean - his watery eyes were piercing through yours, watching as your breasts moved with each breath you took. When he pushed two fingers in once more, a long and needy moan filled his bedroom. That was when you broke off the eye contact and draped the sheets, concentrating on the heat slowly building in your abdomen, your toes curling against your will. His tempo was slow, playful... Vander was definitely taking his time with you.

"'s this what you imagined, doll? Havin' me on my knees, goin' insane over how you taste and sound?" - The man murmured into the skin on your thigh, sending light vibrations through your pussy as he chuckled upon listening to how you desperately tried putting a sensical sentence together. You failed miserably. As you stumbled on your words, his fingers sped up until you squirmed with pleasure, tightening the grip around his shoulders. - "With I could stay here forever, eatin' this pretty little cunt 'til my name's the only thing you remember. Such a pretty fuckin' little girl." "Vander, please, I need you." - With all the will remaining inside you, you managed to pick yourself up on your elbows, tugging on his hair. - "Please, baby, I need you so fucking much. Your tongue on me, your dick balls deep inside me, whatever you'd like... Just don't fucking stop." "Never, doll." - His mouth assaulted your sex with precision, devouring you like there was no tomorrow, even pushing his face further into you while his fingers worked wonders inside you. Your fingers tangled inside his hair, ensuring he wouldn't move an inch. The movements of his tongue became brutal the more your pelvis rode his face as you started chasing your release. He mumbled something, but you never got to know what it was - the vibrations were enough to send you over the edge, making your body tense up and thighs squeeze his head impossibly close to your clit as he continued sucking on it, riding you out of your high.

When your legs spread again, he gasped for air with a large smile, his beard glistening with your arousal. Fuck. Having him marked like that was turning you on. His fingers inside you didn't stop moving yet, enjoying the way your walls squeezed them. He enjoyed how you squirmed each time his thumb gently caressed your oversensitive bundle of nerves. "All good, doll?" "No one had... Jesus, hmpf... How... How are you so good at this?" "Just wanna see my girl happy, 's all. Love seein' your face like this." - Still working wonders between your legs, Vander picked himself off the floor to kiss you. Gently, he pressed in another finger, stretching you even more. But by Gods, it felt so good. - "We're there, baby girl."

Not breaking the kiss, his fingers slipped out of your slit, helping you to climb higher on the bed. Once again, you propped your pelvis up with a pillow, sinking your head into another. Vander caressed your cheek and kissed you before teasingly running his dick through your folds - you were still slippery enough thanks to the mix of his saliva and your arousal, so there wasn't a need for lubricating. His precum leaking out of the tip of his cock made it simpler. Still kissing you, he started teasing you cradling his pelvis back and forth with his dick aligned with your entrance, as if it was to slip any moment now; his other arm propped on the bedframe. "Ready, doll?" "Whenever you are." "Attagirl."

As soon as the tip of his cock slipped inside you, a hurtful hiss crossed your lips - his mouth was instantaneously back on yours, kissing you gently, the palm which was guiding his cock minutes later entangled with yours. Even though Vander did his best to loosen you up, he was still wide. The width made you gasp for air between kisses, each inch filling you like anything before. It didn't hurt, it was just a bit uncomfortable until you got used to the sensation. Your eyes sliding across his face and mouth wide open, you started enjoying the feeling of fullness, especially seeing the ecstatic, awed expression on his face. "Almost there, doll, almost there. You're takin' it so good." "It feels so good, baby. I love feelin' your dick inside me." - As you traced your fingers on his face, you could feel him throbbing upon your words. The sensation made you move against his body, letting the rest of the dick slip inside in one swift motion. - "Holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck." "You look so fuckin' mesmerizing, takin' my dick like that." - His pelvis started moving carefully, sloppily slipping in and out of you. The sounds were so erotic, so perfect, turning you on even more.

When you felt like you could take it, you started to meet his thrusts halfway, making you both groan in pleasure. Your knees circle around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you - as he did his best to make love to you, his thrusts were playful, slow, and careful, making sure you're getting the most out of it. Vander was also making sure you'll be ready for when he'll start mercilessly fucking you like there's no tomorrow. "Mhmh, you feel so fucking good, Vander." "Love it when you say my name like this." "Vander..." - You moaned, feeling as his pace started picking up, his thrusts becoming more precise. - "God, Vander, Vander, Vander." "You'll be the death of me, fuck."

Before you grasped it, the headboard started banging into the wall as the bed creaked under the brutal tempo Vander had set - you didn't attempt to shush your screams and moans as you dragged your nails down his back, aching your back until your breasts met his chest. Both of you were sweaty and aching in the best way possible, sloppily kissing anytime you could. "I won't last for much longer, doll." - His voice was hoarse as he stared at your tits bouncing around, every semblance of sense erased from his mind. All Vander knew was how perfect you felt tightening around him, that this pussy must've been hand-made for him and him only, and that your moans were the most musical sounds he'd heard until that day. "Cum for me, big guy." "Where... Shit." - Vander sat up, putting his forearm under your back to keep you in position. This new sensation made you squirm, digging your nails deep into his forearm. He'd been even wider from this angle, filling you up better than before. - "Where do you want me, doll?" "Anywhere you want, Vander."

This was Vander's last stretch. His name falling off your lips in such a lewd manner fried his circuits, having him bury his dick deep inside you with one last thrust. Out of breath, Vander collapsed on your chest, listening to your fast heartbeat. Your fingers started playing with his hair and caressing his sweaty back, feeling the warmth spreading deep within you. Everything felt perfect. "You know how you said... You loved me?" "... Also said you don't have to say it back, Vander." "What if I'd like to, doll?" "... Then I'd be the happiest girl in the Lanes." "I love you." - The man murmured, picking his head up to look you in your eyes. The words made you smile widely as you held his pace in your arms, giggling. His softening member was still inside you, but neither of you seemed to be in the rush to pull it out.

"That's the fucking talking, big guy." "It ain't, on my honor. You're the best girl I've ever met. If you won't mind, I'd love to make you mine." "Then repeat it..." "I love you, doll." "Again." "I love you." "... One more time." "I love you, Y/N." "I love you too, Vander." - Cracking a smile, you let the man kiss you, losing yourself in his warm bear hug and embrace. Moments after, he finally picked himself up, walking to the bathroom to bring you a warm towel. Letting you clean yourself up, he disappeared into the kitchen to make you tea and pick up all your clothes scattered over the floor.

The night, just as he promised, was endless - he'd taken you from more positions, caressing your body with the utmost care, as if you were a goddess he wished to worship. You did your best to project his behavior, but you've been too lost in it all - his lips, warm skin, arms wrapped around each time part of your body, his groans in your ear, his beard scratching your lips anytime you kissed... It was around seven in the morning when you finally picked yourself up, pushing his shirt over your head. "Want something from the kitchen, big guy?" "All I want is you back as soon as you can." "Bet your ass..." - Before you could finish the joke, someone barged into the room, making you scream in surprise. You were moaning Vander's name just a few minutes back - who the fuck was this?

Looking at the incoming person, you've known the girl. You've already seen her serving in Vander's - the same violet hair, deadpan on her face as she looked at Vander covering himself with his sheets. "What the..." - You asked, looking at her. The girl, seemingly, ignored you. "... She did it again. I need your help, old man." "What? Who did what? Who are you? Vander?" - You asked with confusion, looking from Vander to the girl and back. "Oh, hi." - Suddenly, the trouble was forgotten as she leaned her shoulder into the doorframe, smiling at you cockily. - "Fancy seeing you here. Looking good." "Hi?" "What did Powder do this time?" - Vander sighed, bringing Vi's attention back to him. To hide the embarrassment, Vander massaged his face with a long sigh.

"We wanted to prepare some breakfast for you guys, so naturally, the stove's on fire." - The girl explained, but didn't seem to be in a rush to stop the ongoing apocalypse in the kitchen - now that you concentrated on it, you could hear distressed squeals and multiple people arguing, pans clinking on the metal - you could also see the smoke rolling out of the kitchen. The flat smelled hellish, making your eyes swell in tears from the subtle itching. "Cover the pan with a pot lid - it'll put out the flames. I'll be right over." "Hope you'll swing by too. Powder can't wait to meet you." - The girl picked herself off the doorframe, winking at you before closing the door.

"What the fuck was that?" - You asked, looking at Vander with disbelief. Who was she? Was she his daughter? Who are the other kids? You had your suspicions, yes, but this freaked you out more than you expected. You expected one, two kids at best - according to the ruckus, there were more people than that, though. "Listen, if you want to leave now, doll, I understand... I..." "Are these your kids?" "Sorta?" "Sort of? How can you 'sort of' have kids? "Adopted 'em little nuisances after the riots last year. None of 'em had a home to go back to - felt responsible for 'em. Listen, as I said, no one's holdin' you here. You must be furious..." "Fucking confused is what I am. Why didn't you tell me earlier?" "Wasn't confident 'nough if I'll even be what ya want without knowing I have four kids on my back." The vulnerable expression on his face made you soften up. Four kids was a lot, yes - his actions, however, were honorable. Where would they end up if Vander didn't step up, giving them a home and a loving fatherly embrace? The longer you stared at Vander, the more motivated you were to step out of the door confidently, sharing this awkward morning with all five of them, and taking everything it could give you. You... Wanted to meet them. You wished to know every possible side of Vander and share all the good and the bad with him. You wanted everything he was offering - whether it was holding your hand, kissing you during his shifts in the pub, all the mindblowing sex, warmth in his eyes as he whispered 'I love you', his fingers tracing your skin as you laid opposite each other and talked between fucking, his warmth, his love... You wanted it all. And if he had kids, that was a part of this little everything you wanted so bad, no matter how worried it made you.

"Was this the reason why you freaked out so bad?" "Ain't it obvious, Y/N? I'm almost forty, with a pub and four kids on my neck. Someone as young shouldn't worry about whether they have 'nough to eat, clothes to wear, 'bout what trouble they got themselves into this time... This ain't a life for such a young little thing." "But it's your life. And I want you..." "That's precisely why you shouldn't be wantin' me, doll. C'mon." "Stop making my decisions for me, Vander. Did you plan on telling me about the kids?" "Not for a bit... I was worried it would drive you away. I'm a selfish bastard, haven't you noticed?" "Fucking far from it. The least you could do was to tell me about them. It would make things less embarrassing." "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you told me ahead of time, we could have our little rendezvous at my place - do you realize how awkward this is for me? For them also, I'm sure." "I'm sorry, Y/N... I didn't know how to bring it up..." "We better get going before Powder blows the kitchen up." "... You ain't gonna leave?" "Of course not. These kids are a part of your life, so I want to get to know them. Step by step. If let me stick around, I can be a good step-mum to them one day, maybe." "Are you serious?" - Vander asked, staring at you with his lips parted. "Dead serious." "I... Fucking love you, Y/N." "Right back at you, handsome. Move your ass before someone barges in to drag us into the kitchen."

___ Author's note: So, regarding Ezreal... I didn't want him to come across as a sappy romantic who's in love with the reader - he's more of a naïve playboy in my mind, constantly falling in love with whoever's in front of him, seeing different people every week. Ez definitely got the charm and rizz to pull something like that off. On the other hand, I think it could be a platonic love situation - they're both into each other (to one degree or another) - the reader doesn't date him, however, because she has standards, and Ezreal, as he admitted, would rather die than seeing someone like himself fooling around with her.

#ezreal league of legends #jayce league of legends #jayle talis #jayce arcane #vander arcane #vander is such a dilf istg #he's next to joel on my list #this guy could break me in half and I'd thank him #vander x fem!reader #vander x afab!reader #the kids are on it #i live for the last drop's kids squad #vi arcane #powder arcane #mylo arcane #claggor arcane

[satan-plundered-our-oceans]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ arcane masterlist ꒱ ˎˊ˗

~ a masterlist for my arcane fanfics ~

vi

bark like you want it (vi x f!reader, sevika x f!reader)

jinx

get jinxed (jinx x f!reader)

sevika

bark like you want it (vi x f!reader, sevika x f!reader)

mel

n/a

jayce

n/a

viktor

n/a

silco

n/a

vander

n/a

caitlyn

n/a

ekko

n/a

#masterlist #arcane #arcane smut #arcane headcanon #arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #jayce arcane #jayce talis #vi x reader #jinx x reader #sevika #mel medarda #caitlyn kiramman #lesbian #fem reader #male reader #gn reader

[websterss]

𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒: ‣ Coming soon

𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐑

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒: ‣ Coming soon

‣ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎: 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒

#arcane imagines #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis imagine #jayce talis oneshot #jayce talis x fem!reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x fem!reader #viktor x reader #viktor fem!reader #viktor imagines #viktor imagine #viktor oneshot

[cinewhore]

Envy

Pairing: Mel Medarda x fem!reader x Jayce

Rating: Explicit 

warnings: heavy smut. penetration, fingering, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, cumshot, 

Summary: you enjoy a morning in bed with your lover and her paramour. 

A/N: a repost. forgot how much I loved this one. credit to the gif makers. 

The sounds of Piltover hum at low frequency as you slumber. The city of progress, they call it. It was the bane of your existence and the source of all of your headaches. The only thing that kept you here was laying right beside you, providing you with enough warmth and comfort you were afraid that you would burst.

Except it wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.

Mel.

You were reluctant to accept the position of an advisor to a member of the council but as soon as Mel stepped into view, you accepted the job and whatever else came with it. As time drew on, you learned that being an advisor was not as important to Mel, she needed a friend. You became her confidant, shoulder to cry on, her shadow. And you loved it.

The spot where she lay was ruffled, small indents of her footprints still molded into the sheets. Jayce was still sleeping on the far edge of the bed, body radiating heat like an inferno. You weren’t particularly fond of the man but he grew on you. Mel still likes to tease you about it.

“You taste like him again.” you sigh, straightening Mel’s dress after you popped your head out from underneath.

“Jealousy doesn't suit you.” Mel smirks, closing her eyes briefly as you peck her lips.

“Really? I think the color green looks rather dashing on me.”

Mel rolls her eyes, the role of the politician coming into play. “He’s a great asset and… I really like him.”

You shrug, not wanting to be bothered with the feelings Mel had with someone who nearly leveled an entire street. “Are you sure this is the type of project you want to be focusing on? He could be dangerous.”

“He’s not dangerous, he’s passionate.”

And passionate he was.

You creep out of the bed and tiptoe towards Mel’s studio, finding her observing the large canvas in front of her. It was slowly starting to take shape, remnants of her home life seeping out.

“Mel?”

She doesn’t turn as you call out her name and instead tilts her head at an angle to further inspect her work.

“You should come back to bed darling.” you mutter, rubbing at your eyes. The day was filled with meetings and appointments. She couldn’t afford to miss them and you didn't have enough energy to cover for her at the moment.

Enveloping your arms around her waist, tensions roll off of your shoulders as Mel relaxes in your hold. You lean your head in the junction of her neck, taking the time to breath her in. She always smelled of lavender and citrus, a scent that would grace your senses and create a home there. Her own hands find yours, intertwining them.

“You’re not like her, you know.” you whisper, gazing back up at the canvas.

You knew these moments all too well, the late hours in the night where Mel refused to sleep. She was thinking of home, the anxious feeling of not belonging creating a turmoil inside of her. Mel knows war and she knows what people will sacrifice to make sure they are on the righteous side. She just didn’t know she would be the one being sacrificed.

You had never met Mel’s mother but if she was anything like how Mel describes her, you knew you’d have her heart in your hands the second she stepped foot in Piltover. While she galvanted around the world and proclaimed glories of being a warrior, you were left to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t fair.

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.” Mel responds, a slight waver in her voice. You turn her so that she is facing you, eyes cast downward. Tipping her chin with your fingers, you brush your nose against hers.

“You are the wisest and most caring person I have ever met. You are the heart of the council. Without you, I can’t imagine what this city would look like. Wherever you forget that, I am always here to remind you.”

You pull back to leave little kisses along her jaw, eyelids, nose. “Do you need help going back to sleep, hm?”

Mel chases after your lips, a miniscule frown clouding her features when you deny her. “Please.”

Nodding, you lead Mel back to the bed, making sure she is comfortable before you climb in behind her. All of your motions are purposeful, drawn out and calculated to provide maximum pleasure. Mel did her job during the day, making sure the citizens of Piltover were taken care of and now it was your job to make sure she had adequate care.

“You’re already wet.” you purr, licking tiny stripes along her clit. Mel whimpers, doing her best to follow your tongue. You rub a hand up and down her inner thigh to settle her. “Don’t worry, I will take care of you.” She was never the kind to be patient.

You resume your teasing, sucking gently on her pearl before taking your tongue and entering her warm cunt. Mel throws her head back and gasps loudly, hands clutching whatever was in reach. Her moans and pants vibrated through you, causing you to slip a finger inside of your own pussy to fulfill your desires.

Jayce first believes that the sounds he was currently hearing was coming from his own mind and was rather astonished to find you devouring Mel. The three of you having sex together wasn’t something that occurred frequently but when it does, Jayce has to remind himself constantly that he wasn’t dreaming.

Being an only child, Jayce had a slight difficulty with sharing what was his. He knew, though, the first time he met you and Mel that she would never be completely his. Mel belonged to no one and you had solidified your spot in her life.

“I was here before you came and I’ll be here after you’re long gone.”

That was the first thing you had ever said to Jayce and the one thing that stayed with him all these years later. He didn’t mind sharing Mel with you though, there was enough love and flesh to go around.

“You weren’t going to wake me?” Jayce grumbles, adjusting himself in his briefs.

“You snooze, you lose.” your muffled voice sounds out.

“Is that so? I like to think of it as the early bird getting the worm.”

Jayce crouches over Mel’s squirming figure, digesting her cries as you work your fingers into her attentively. He slides a hand over your ass, pinching at the tender skin. Jayce doesn’t warn you as he stuffs his face into your cheeks, fawning over you and your puckered hole. You break away from Mel for a second, too distracted to continue.

Jayce shifts your legs so that you are on display for him, tugging down his briefs to spring himself free. He grabs his cock tightly, working his shift up and down as he spits onto your pussy. You hated how much you craved his touch, arching back against the tip of his cock and whining when he inserted himself momentarily before withdrawing.

“If you want it, you know what to do.” he coos, guiding your hand to cup his low hanging members. You steer his cock back inside of you, sighing contently at the feeling of Jayce’s thickness stretching you out. You spur yourself until he’s fully entrenched, the wisps of his pubic hair gracing your ass. Jayce’s thrusts are steady, he had all morning to drive into you if he so pleases. This time he just wanted to be in the moment, never in a rush to leave the warmness of your center.

“Fuckin’ sweetest pussy in Piltover.” he hum croons, settling both hands on your hips.

He continues to fuck into you sweetly, drawing out orgasm after orgasm until your legs quivered beneath him. Mel opens her mouth wide, tongue sticking out as Jayce slips his cock around it, gagging her a few times.

You lay on your side, stroking Mel’s hair and toy with her breasts as Jayce comes on both of your faces, leaving a trail down Mel’s stomach. She swipes a finger along a path and tastes it, gathering up more to feed to you.

“You taste like her.” she observes. You smile, enclosing a hand around her throat so that you could bite at her lips.

“Envious, much?”

#mel medarda #jayce arcane #mel medarda x reader #jayce x reader #Jayce x you #mel medarda x you #mel x fem reader x jayce #arcane fic #fic: envy

[t4ct1c4l]

Black fem reader x Arcane characters

How I think arcane characters react to pet names pt.2

Character’s: Caitlyn, Viktor, Jayce, Ekko

Caitlyn

• At first it was just playful teasing towards her since she got flustered easily by your words and your body

• This specific time you had been in your sleep wear, Leggings and a Tanktop, it hugged your body perfectly

• Caitlyn was also getting ready for bed, she had taken off her hat wand was meditating before bed

• You bent down to meet her face smiling kissing her on the forehead “Goodnight sweetie.” Before you climbed into the bed and went to sleep

• She looked like she was holding it together on the outside but when she felt your body go limp knowing you were asleep

• She was a red mess all she could do was turn over and try to fall asleep but your voice kept repeating the same thing

• Boy was this going to be a long long night for her

Viktor

• Viktor was taking a break sitting down looking out of the window, he was at peace he rarely got time to himself but he made it work

• He heard the door open he turned around to face you to see you holding a glass of water waking towards him with a smile on your face

• He couldn’t help but ask how your day was, he continues to talk but then after a while he catches you staring at him

• He begins to apologize “I’m sorry [Name] I didn’t mean to ramble so much-” but you cut him off

• “No no honey, you’re just so pretty.” His eyes widened at the compliment nonetheless he was happy “Th-Thank you…”

• He didn’t know what to say. After you had left the room he had turned back to the window and couldn’t keep himself from smiling

Jayce

• While he was busy writing down a paper you had walked in and noticed he looked stressed, what did you do to help?

• You massaged his head of course whispering sweet nothings into his ears “You’ve got this baby…”

• You managed to help slightly, but this also caused him to be tired and loving so he continued to push through his work so he could lay with you

• Only until he finished his work that he noticed the pet names you had called him, he smiled to himself thinking about them

Ekko

• You both were stargazing together, your head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around you

• It was peaceful, you almost thought you would fall asleep out there. “Darling…?” A low hm escaped his lips

• He was tired “Nothing, just checking if you were awake.” To you it seems like he didn’t care but deep down he was smiling to himself

#ekko x y/n #jayce arcane #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #caitlyn x y/n #caitlynarcane #x black fem reader #x black male reader #black reader

[pumpkin--carver]

Holiday Hearts - Chapter 4 Snippet

"Are you just going to stand there drooling over the kitchen?" She's deflecting me. With full determination and without thinking, I blurt out the most stupid, idioctic thing I think I possibly could.

"Jokes on you, Vi. The kitchen isn't the only thing I'm drooling over."

Notes You can read the whole chapter over on my wattpad! User name - Pumpkin-Carver Link to my wattpad account - https://www.wattpad.com/user/Pumpkin-Carver

Have fun reading everyone! And make sure you drink plenty!

#arcane #female reader #vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #caitlyn kiramman #arcane violet #arcane jayce #jayce talis #jayce arcane #viktor #arcane viktor #modern au #slow burn #wlw #fem reader #arcane caitlyn

[thehistoriangirl]

To Chase a Silhouette [1/3?]

Someone hurt her hand doing basic housekeeping chores, but I’m not going to tell you who I am 🤡 🤡  It isn’t extreme, but I will laid back from writing from around two weeks or so.

But what’s this, then? A fic I didn’t get to finish for the Halloweek event ^^, once again clowning myself too much because it isn’t a oneshot.

Jayce x Viktor x Grim Reaper!Fem!Reader [Noir AU (?)]------8.7K----SFW** (check tags)

Synopsis: Monsters roam free in this city, both in the shadows and in plein daylight. As private detectives, Viktor and Jayce know better than anyone that people are scarier than any monster from the stories. That is, until one day due to a unfinished case, people began to fear a mysterious entity that seems to be a cold-blooded murderer—or perhaps the urban legends are right, and the feared suspect isn’t even human... [Or rather, Reader plays cat-and-mouse with Viktor and Jayce, until there's a new threat they must overcome together if they want to win.]

Tags: I rewatched Hannibal(TM) and it shows| Graphic Descriptions of Violence| Mentions of Blood, Murders, and Firearms | Haunted Buildings| Slight Mention of Religious Themes| Mentions of kidnapping| Jayce and Viktor are private detectives| Established Relationship toward the end (JayVik)| Kind Enemies to Lovers (with Reader)| Slow Burn| Eventual Happy Ending| Missing Person--> they got a lil obsessed about finding them| Summoning Demons & Demons Deals| Murder Mystery| Demon/Human Relationship(s)

  They said you can summon a demon by doing a simple ritual. It was a superstition that expanded wide and long over the city, kids whispering at each other, pocking at their ribs, and challenging to bet who was the bravest; people on the streets buying the required materials with only a slightly arched brow from the cashier on duty.

People said you can make a deal with them and lose your soul in exchange for your wildest dream.  Others, more experienced and greedier, said that it was possible to bound them, assuring eternal suffering after your death, but while alive, the demon would be at your disposal, dangerous and loyal servants, they could make real every wish at the mere movement of your hands.

Jayce didn’t want a servant, but a guide.

The room was dark, with a candle that couldn't illuminate enough space, and it looked as if the shadows were purposefully dimming it. Jayce felt the frenetic rhythm of his breathing as he waited, eyes trying to focus on his figure reflected in the mirror collocated in front of him, rather than the burning candle placed next to his body, its flame static even if his breathing sounded agitated.

Hands seemed all covered in the dark ashes of the paper he had to lit on fire to call you, even if the ashes barely brushed his fingertips.

The window by the left creaked, a ghost wind moved his hair and rising goosebumps over his covered arms, but his eyes remained looking at the mirror, his figure painted alone.

He heard you clicking your tongue behind him.

“Too desperate to try the impossible,” you said, heels clicking on the wooden floor, but stopping at seeing the circle of salt around his seated body. “I’m touched, Detective.”

Do you know me? Jayce wanted to ask, but he stood by the words of the summoning ritual.

He wanted to see you, curiosity drawn into the plain, almost bored tone of your voice that seemed to echo from all the directions in the room except behind, the place you were standing, your stare burning between his shoulder blades. But he remembered the warning: whatever you do, do not look them in the eye unless requested, or they will steal your soul.

You tilted your head, smelling the fear pouring from his body when you leaned against his back, mouth whispering in an airy tone: “Let’s make a deal, shall we?”

“Name your price,” he recited from memory.

Only a flame flicked in the mirror's reflection, twin to the candle, up in the air, where your hand lighted it when you took the burned paper and read his petition out loud.

“I’ll name yours first: To assist you in catching the delinquents hiding in the city. Hmm…” Your silence disturbed him, wriggling his body nervously.

Whatever you do, not turn. Do not look them in the eye. Name your price, and let them name theirs. Bargain. Seal the deal with blood and blow out the candle.

“You’re aware your petition is too much, don’t you?”

“What—what do you mean?”

“You can’t bind me to your job, Detective. You’re not that greedy.” You stepped further, eyes scanning the simple furniture of the room, a board filled with paper scraps and red thread catching your attention. Question marks in them already filled in your mind, for you knew most of the dirty secrets of this avid city. “It may not seem like it, but I have a life, too.”

Jayce scoffed. “What life? Tricking and forcing people to sign contracts in a disadvantaged position?”

You stomped the floor, lightly, tap, tap. The candle followed, the light dying out slowly as much as Jayce tried to protect it with his hands. Part of you didn't know why you were getting angry about his assumptions.

“I don’t make deals, and you know it. You called me specifically.” Your words were sharp and strangely even, no emotions could pour off of them despite the haughty words spilling from your lips:  “You know what I do, that’s why you need my help and not any other cheap, low-status entity, doesn’t it? Do not dare to lie to me, Jayce Talis.”

His hazel eyes widened when his name came out of your mouth as if it were a terrifying curse. “You should have told me you want to know the whereabouts of the Conray family and the real identity of the better known as The Death’s Jailor. It’s a much more concise deal—still bold, but I could have let it slide.”

Back flinching, you saw him fleetingly looking from the corner of his eye, catching the edges of your white suit, dark heeled shoes. The opaque scythe you used as a staff. Smiling slightly, you waited.

“Can it be done?”

You shrugged. “For a fair price.”

He sighed, lowering his head. “Like what?” Play my game, but you can never win.

“Your soul will do, Detective.”

He blinked, his face devoid of color in his reflection. Bargain. Jayce never knew how to do it, much less he would dare to do it with a demon. He could lose the opportunity he had to save those innocent people, to let the murderer roam free in search of a new victim.

"Alright," he breathed. And you chuckled, a sound so human-like that, for a moment, Jayce asked himself how demonic you would look if he'd turned around.

 “Hmm, face me and I don’t take your soul.” It’s lying, do not fall for it. And as if you were reading his mind, you added: “Looking at other entities right in the eyes would madden you, but not me.”

 He stood in his place, fingers shivering. You copied his sigh. 

"The cat went hunting, and he found two little mice, both with gray eyes. Oh, but, I think he's more of a squirrel. Don't you agree, Detective?" Jayce removed uncomfortably; the floor felt suddenly too cold to sit on. "He buries the mice and forgets about them. Your ridiculous human laws would charge him with kidnapping, but not murder, doesn't it? You know it, your rightful, grumpy supervisor does, too. Even I, a simple demon, do." You knelt, fingers brushing the grains of salt of the protective circle. "You don't want to imprison him, do you?"

Your presence was cold as if the air was drained from the room. He began to shake, lips tightened in a wrenched line.

The silence disappointed you.

“The mice are under your nose, Detective. Right under the ground you stand. You’re just too deaf to hear them cry.”

"Stop playing your riddles!" he growled, hands stomping at his sides, disturbing the salt circle when it got imprinted on its fingers, now broken. His face tilted backward, towards you. "Those people are going to die and you're going to let that criminal run free because it's amusing to you? What kind of monster are you?"

Your claws dug into the skin of his shoulders when you grasped them, head dipping next to his. Your cheek was cold, and he shivered. Jayce saw, with utter horror, how his reflection in the mirror disappeared as you claimed his soul in that simple gesture, hearing the low tune of a weeping shadow now snaking around your arms.

Your eyes were completely black, no sclera or iris, only darkness as you loomed over, cold pouring from your skin. A murderous smile greeted him, the black print of a hand could be seen cradling the base of your head, down the back of your neck. "You know what kind of monster I am, a sly one if the city's opinion is any trustworthy."

Jayce, despite the fear clenching his heart, stood his ground. “Tell me where they are.”

“You, police people, revised all the outskirts of the town, finding all the cabins that used to be his recreational villages. Space has run out, so he experimented with the opposite he’d done before. Foolish of him, but luckily for you.”

“Are you saying he put them in the middle of the city?”

You shrugged. “At the heart, yes.”

“But that can’t be, the historical block is always filled with people—”

“Not there where ghosts roam.”

Jayce’s eyes swept the room and your features, his furrow deepening. “The construction site in the city’s old district?”

A vulturine smile adorned the eerie features of your empty gaze that nevertheless was piercing him over your tight grasp. “You better hurry, or your mice would get trapped under meters of rubble when the building over their heads gets demolished.”

He squinted his eyes. “And who is the culprit?”

You chuckled. "You want it all, don't you? Ask yourself who is the owner. The man is both worshiped and loathed for renewing the city. A very powerful one, I might say. The ground you walk over belongs to him."

His eyes widened. “The entrepren—” Your fingers were cold when you stopped his lips to say the name out loud. A tingling sensation he couldn’t pinpoint, warm flooding him inside out there where your fingers touched his lips.

“Don’t get too excited. There’s a catch, Detective.” You pushed him to sit straight again, face away from his vision, reflection welcomed back in the mirror. “The mice, or the cat. You can’t have both.”

“But—” he retorted, eyes flaring with anger, body turning to glare at you. “You took my soul! It’s a fair price.”

You ignored him. “He’s not yours to chase, Detective. Besides,” you stood out, scythe reappearing on your hand; “I just gave it back.” Chuckling, your skin was dimming, suit becoming more gray than white as you disappeared. “I think it’s more interesting now that you owe a favor.”

Jayce scowled. “I would never do you a favor.” But both knew he was lying.

"We'll see. You should hurry and pick one," your eyes were the only thing in the room that was still visible from your body, and your chuckle made him grasp his hands in fists. "Time's always running short for you."

But even before he could blow the candle—because he wouldn’t, Jayce would freeze the time of your encounter until he was able to get them both, to save them and his justice. Though you already knew what he was about to pick.

“Wait—”

"Goodbye, for now, Jayce Talis."

The room got dark when you blew his candle, ending the summoning. The window cracked when you slid away, moonlight finally flooding inside the bedroom.

Jayce stood up, rubbing his hands against his face, groaning. But time did seem to pass faster, so he took his coat and went sprinting out the entrance door, ready to knock into his supervisor’s house.

*~*~*~*

The construction site was around thirty minutes by car, and Viktor grumbled all the way. Jayce could have supposed it was because he woke him up, but his boss seemed to cut very short his sleep schedule anyway.

“You better hope this isn’t another one of your misleading hunches,” Viktor warned as both entered his car, walkie-talkie filled with interrupted static as he communicated with the nearest police station. “I think you’ll have to go back to the Federal Police.”

Jayce didn't respond, fingers tightly interlaced as the car moved swiftly over the newly paved streets of the suburbs, down into the city's heart. Little houses with porches were replaced with tightly constructed apartment complexes, carbon copies of each other.

It was around 3 AM, but many apartments still got the lights on, yellow beacons over the defective streetlamps.

The old historic block was divided in two, the renewed one, filled with high-end restaurants, luxury stores, and five-star hotels. And then, over the south, was the unfinished section, an old hospital with black gates crowned in the middle among other smaller buildings, many of them abandoned. Thankfully, the thing scheduled to be demolished wasn't the clinic, but rather an old radio station, one of its towers already collapsed, and the metallic corpse of the antenna looked like a monster when the headlights illuminated it.

Both men stepped outside, a night of October chiller than usual, clouds blocking the moonlight. Jayce could hear sirens in the distance, but his instinct told him they needed to hurry. The other radio antenna—smaller but more robust, was crooked at a suspicious angle, looming over the already weakened walls of the construction.

“Alright, here we are. Where your sixth sense tells you they are, Detective Talis?” Viktor didn’t sound convinced.

He buried the little mice. Why did your voice sound so close? As if you were whispering in his ear.

“In the basement.”

His supervisor arched a brow, golden eyes twinkling slightly. "May I ask how you know the station has a basement, hmm?" Jayce shrugged. He wasn't going to tell the truth. "It sounds like an illegal exploration trip to me."

Perhaps, but not made for Jayce.

“Come on,” Jayce urged, grasping the gun over his thigh. He ignored his shivery voice as, with the other hand, he lit on a flashlight. Viktor sighed, cane clicking rhythmically as he followed him.

Inside there were only ruins, but over the creaked paved floor there were visible footprints, a dragging pattern over the dust and spiderwebs. Over the main hall, they ignored the stairs dipped in shadows, and instead went left, taking the stairs down the basement.

Jayce was careful not to let Viktor trip over anything, and Viktor was way too confused to notice the fleeting shadow sliding from the basement into the stairs landing, up to the speaker's cabin.

Wood creaked when you passed into your ghostly form next to them, Jayce shivering as Viktor looked around with a deep furrow.

"Is there an airflow near us?" he asked because it was highly improbable. Jayce swallowed, slowly shaking his head.

The basement was unnaturally filled with old furniture in one corner, mostly smashed and broken. Darkness deep and silence so thin, as if someone were holding their breath. The doors aligned to the right were all closed, but those footprints continued toward the last one.

“Hello?” Jayce said, and Viktor nudged him. But he knew the culprit wasn’t here, you told him so. “It’s the police, you’re safe now.”

Only their superficial breaths could be heard, until they began to walk towards each door, metallic knobs filled with ash, and strange patterns on the wood.

Then, the calm was broken with a sob.

Jayce and Viktor shared a look before they split, Viktor over the piled-up furniture, and Jayce towards the doors. Between broken wooden planks and metallic seats, Viktor’s flashlight found two pairs of terrorized eyes looking back at him.

He recognized the faces of those missing reports.

“You’re safe now, please come out,” he said, only half-ordered, voice low and as soft as he could say it, awe and curiosity both pouring over his tone.

Talis was right? After all those false alarms regarding the same case weeks ago, Viktor had to accept he grew a little skeptical of the Junior Detective, hiring him only because his social skills were slightly higher than his deduction capability. He needed a partner to run the interviews, anyway.

Until now, that was. His intuition was right, and they both solved the case and saved lives.

When Viktor walked toward the rubble, the younger woman—Gloria Conray, he remembered—looked at him with gray eyes filled with tears.

"Did the woman send you?"

Viktor furrowed. “Who?”

Gloria withdrew over the corner, in a complicated spot Viktor couldn't fit in. Jayce was already next to him, extending one hand toward the woman that was hugging her mother tightly.

“Yeah, she sent us.” Jayce was smiling, but his hazel eyes were hard to read. “Spooky lady, isn’t it?”

Viktor turned to him, but Jayce paid no attention, leaning inside the little cave the women were using as a refuge. Why were they hiding here, and not trying to escape? he thought.

The Conrays were shivering, scratches with dry blood staining both skin and clothes, a clearer path of tears like rivers over their dirty faces.

The way up was slower to keep up with their wobbly legs and panting breath. Both detectives almost didn’t hear the stomps some stories above. The Conrays stopped, eyes widened in terror, and Jayce advanced, taking out his gun.

“He’s here?” One whispered, body curled against the wall. “Please don’t let him imprison us again!” Viktor felt her tugging his coat, and he sent a silent look to Jayce. Go and check, I’ll take care of them.

Jayce nodded, quickly escalating the stairs into the main hall, running towards the right to climb over toward the higher stories. The police cars were just arriving, sirens off to avoid complications, but their lights flooded with a dizzying hue of blues and reds inside the gray building.

He sprinted outside, quickly telling them to search the left of the building and the basement, where his supervisor was with the victims. Jayce pointed to another two cops, signaling to follow him.

The stairs creaked with each step they gave, the building getting colder and darker. The first floor was deserted, all doors closed. One of the cops, barely a couple of years younger than Jayce, shivered when they began to climb again.

“Do you hear that?” he said hurriedly, shaky hands as he held his weapon.

Hear what? He wanted to respond, rather angrily, but the young man was right. It was a slight rattling sound, cut short when a concise, metallic clank interrupted it.

Jayce heard the scream of a woman, followed by a growl that wasn't human.

They stopped in the middle of the second-floor stairs, not recollecting such action. Jayce could hear his heart rushing blood over his ears, hands stiff and cold.

Time seemed to stop and at the same time, it ran so quickly that Jayce felt it sliding between his fingers.

Upside, on the third floor, it could be heard the song of metal unsheathing, followed by a wet scream, rain falling sloppily over the wooden floor.

Only it couldn’t be raining inside.

A fleeting shadow slid down the stairs, raising goosebumps over his covered skin. The cops whimpered, sensation foreign to them.

You can’t have both, Detective, the airflow whispered mockingly.

Jayce blinked, running upstairs. 

The speaker's cabin was lit by an old oil lamp, its flame flickering with each step he gave over the ominous ajar door. He once again encountered the same strange scribbling of geometric signs drawn with a strange ink that looked brown over his flashlight.

Inside, a metallic stench made him gag, wooden panels splattered with deep crimson, dragging marks of mud across the floor.

Jayce stood, frozen at the entrance of such nightmarish sight. Viktor’s voice broke his trance.

"Detective Talis! Why are those police frozen at the stairs?" There was anger in his voice. "What are you doing there just standing?" The inspector nudged him out of the way, taking the landscape with widened eyes. "What happened here?"

Jayce wanted to throw up. “I… I don’t know.” Only that he did, barely.

You happened to this place, but why or how? He didn’t have a clue.

But there was the culprit, wearing the same boots as the footprints. Lying in the middle of the scene, motionless and cold. Near his body was a metallic bowl, the origin of the clanking sound from earlier. Viktor entered the scene, squeezing between Jayce's body and the wooden frame. White chalk covered the entirety of the cabin with scribbles and cryptic forms, salt was surrounding the room, and burned black over the entrance door. The room smelled like burned incense, but there wasn't smoke or ashes in there, though the fingers of the culprit were black.

A paraphernalia of religious items was aligned around a mattress thrown into the dusty floor. Candles half-molten, but all blown. Kneeling, Viktor moved the single pillow over the mattress, finding a couple of crumpled pages filled with prayers and rituals to ward off evil spirits.

“Inspector Talis, look at this.” He was already reading them, but the other man wasn’t moving. “Jayce Talis! Focus.”

Viktor looked at him, the man was gazing at the end of the room, where the oil lamp didn’t seem able to light, shadows cramped in one corner.

“What is that?” His cane clicked against the floor, tap, tap, tap. A single piece of paper glued to the wall, surrounded by what looked like a circle filled with more cryptic letters, Viktor thought, at first sight, it was a pentagram, but he was wrong. In the center, there was a drawing.

The paper was crumpled and burned at the corners, filled with holes from the pair of knives stabbed into the wood and in the paper.

“Who is she?” Viktor asked, but Jayce didn’t respond. Carefully, putting his cane against his left elbow, Viktor took the portrait in his hands, but he couldn’t recognize the face. Sure, she looked a little bit like Gloria Conray, but she wasn’t her, that was clear. “Another victim?”

She wasn’t reported as missing, and the face got a strange sensation, the air hung around it heavily.

Squinting, Viktor looked at the harsh charcoal lines, eyes almost breaking the surface of the paper for the times the culprit remarked them in circular motions. They were so dark, without irises or sclera. The young woman’s lips were slightly curved in a smile, the place where the man stabbed the drawing more times, leaving the unsettling eyes untouched.

Looking at the corpse, Viktor folded the paper and put it inside his coat.

“Let’s call the Forensics Team,” he said to Jayce, who nodded, disappearing from the scene faster than Viktor could blink.

Sweeping the scene one was last time, Viktor peeked over the deceased’s body, seeing a strange bruise over his neck, too big for being a bite, too dark to be a bruise recently made.

This makes no sense, he repeated. The sharp screaming, who was it? Was the woman from the drawing? And if not, who was? And what about all the scribbles? Even for a religious fanatic, it was too much.

But while descending, he stooped, remembering what Gloria said to him minutes ago.

Did the woman send you? And most importantly, Jayce replied yes.

He will ask him, Viktor promised, exiting the building. The air was still and warm, the moon peeking shyly over some clouds. He went over to Jayce, the Constable Inspector, who was talking with the victims in a low voice, his mannerism strangely tied up.

The sound of the gravel over his shoes covered most of the chat, but he still could overhear Jayce asking them about "the woman."

“She came to us and told us you were coming,” Iride Conray, the mother, said. “Very creepy lady, indeed. If you ask us, that is.”

Gloria nodded. “Yes! She broke the lock of the door, too. With a sword, I think? She told us, ‘hide, little mice’. So we did.”

"Did you look at her?" Viktor interrupted, dipping his head to look at them inside one of the police cars. But both shook their heads.

“No. When we opened the door, she was gone.”

Gloria shivered, taking her mother's hand with apprehension. "But she disappeared so quickly! We opened the door and peeked outside just seconds later but… nobody was there." She curled into herself. "We got spooked and hid then. We didn't know what was scarier, if she or that crazy man."

Jayce furrowed. “Why did you say he was crazy? Did he say something to you?”

Gloria curled her lip at him as if kidnapping them and letting them die inside an abandoned basement wouldn't be enough. But Viktor knew why he was asking. It was a rather strange modus operandi, and the sole reason he accepted the case after the Federal Police couldn’t handle it.

“He was looking for someone, someone that looks like me.” Gloria’s grey eyes pierced both men in place. “He told me, ‘You better be that crazy bitch or else—’, before locking us in the basement.”

Viktor tilted his head. “Or else what?”

Gloria shrugged. “I don’t know, he never talked to us after that. Why don’t you go and ask him? I just want to forget this happened.”

Viktor and Jayce shared a look. That wouldn't be possible, the silence of his unfinished threat weighed them both as the blood dripped out of your clothes.

Not that they could know. At least, not yet.

*~*~*~*

It didn't sit well for Jayce to lie, so that same night he tried to tell his boss the truth. But Viktor was too busy talking with the Forensics Team and the Federal Police. His dry and short answers made him aware that his supervisor's social skills were running low, but when he went after him, the Conrays being already driven to a hospital, Viktor only told him:

“Go to rest, Detective Talis. Good job today.” Not mine, but hers.

“You’re going home, too?”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, curving his top lip in a disappointed grimace. “I’m afraid not. I’ll wait until the Forensics Team finishes.”

"I can wait with you if you want." And then I can show you the kind of cheater I am.

Viktor chuckled. “No, no. Someone will have to take over the paperwork in the morning.” He pointed at Jayce’s chest with the handle of his cane. Despite the cold, cloudy night like this, he was finally happy.

Jayce smiled, dipping his shoulders. “Maybe we can celebrate that this case is over tomorrow night?”

“Perhaps, if you’re done with your workload, that is.”

He nodded. “I will. Can you come over to my house?” Viktor’s gaze shot back to Jayce, and he felt himself blushing. “I mean, I have something to… tell you.”

His boss squinted his eyes slightly. “And I suppose you can’t tell me now?”

“I don’t think I can, yeah.” You wouldn’t believe me.

Viktor hummed, considering it. Looking intently at the man next to him, he nodded after some minutes.

“Alright. I’ll be there around 9 PM, does that suit you well?”

“Yes, thank you, Viktor.”

One police car drove Jayce to his house. The first thing he noticed was the light in his bedroom on, even when he was sure to let it off when he went out running to Viktor’s house.

Jayce thanked the cop, cold air hitting his open coat covered in spiderwebs and dust as his heels clicked in the empty road. His sight went back to his apartment, now with the bedroom light off.

Frowning, he made his way up to his home. The door was locked, as he left it. And everything seemed normal, his bedroom door closed.

He took a deep breath, the metal handle burning cold against his bare skin. With a swift movement, Jayce flung it open.

You were laying over his bed, playing with the threads of the pieces of his investigation board between your fingers.

“Wha—”

“It’s good if you want to have a cute date with your handsome boss in your house, but do not try to summon me to bond with him over some supernatural being.”

He felt his cheeks hot, your tone sounded almost offended.

“A private clause wasn’t part of the deal.” You glared at him between his pillows.

“You have the right to tell him about what you did, but it’s on him if he believes you or not. Get me out of this." You sit at the edge, mattress creaking over the sudden movement. Jayce blinked, goosebumps traveling his skin at the unnatural way you seem to shift between positions in a too-fluid manner as if you were made of shadows instead of flesh, blood, and bones like him.

Maybe you weren’t.

“I helped you and I didn’t even take your soul. You owe me this.”

“Then… then are you going to give me all the credit for all that you did?”

Your shoes clicked softly on the wooden floor as you went near him. “Listen, Jayce Talis. You paid a fair price for your deal. It’s your credit now. Did I make myself clear?”

“I didn’t even end up paying the price.” Jayce’s tone dropped, eyes heavy with guilt.

“Maybe not yet, but you will, eventually. Besides, let’s just say it’s a treat for being so selfless. When you’re in this job, those kinds of deals are rather scarce.” You shrugged, cold hand brushing his cheek. “You got lucky I got interested in you.”

Standing back, you looked at his hazel eyes, and nodded. “I’ll see you around, Jayce Talis.”

*~*~*~*

Of course, the dinner was doomed now that Jayce didn't have any good reason to make Viktor drive toward his house, so he canceled it. Instead, with your words still rotating inside his mind, he went towards Viktor’s private office inside the apartment they both fix up to make adequate quarters for their business as private detectives.

Jayce knocked, and after some seconds Viktor replied with a muffled: “Come in.”

It was around afternoon, when the sun began to be orange instead of yellow or white, shutters half-closed so it wouldn't blind Viktor to read into the pile of papers in front of him. His eyes squinted suspiciously when he saw Jayce entering.

“Do you need something, hmm?” He didn’t sound annoyed for having canceled the plans so hurriedly Jayce made last night, first thing after Viktor entered the office.

He was fidgeting with a loose thread over his vest. “I have to tell you something.”

Viktor wasn’t even looking at him. “Alright, tell me.”

"I… I… I didn't know the Jailor's Death whereabouts…" His voice was wavy and thin, Viktor had to lean over his desk to hear him. "I… I got help."

Viktor blinked. “Someone told you, then.” Jayce nodded. “Who was it? Is this person linked to your sudden proposal from yesterday? ”

“Yes?” It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question. “Yes, it is.”

“Then, who was it?”

“I… I can’t tell you that.”

Viktor frowned. “You know you’re sounding extremely suspicious, yes?”

“Viktor—”

“Tell me who they are, Jayce.” His hands patted the pile of documents related to the case. “They can be a valuable testimonial, filled in the blanks.”

“I… I promise her not to—”

"Her?" Viktor interrupted. "A woman? Is she by chance the woman from the drawing?" Jayce felt his stomach drop, and of course, his supervisor noted the new stiff posture of his back. "So she is."

Jayce looked at him, pleading silently for him to stop questioning.

“What’s her name, Jayce?”

“Viktor I can’t…”

“I’m just asking for her name.” Viktor tapped his chin. “Perhaps we could become acquaintances, hmm?”

“I don’t know,” Jayce confessed, embarrassed. You only met twice, and in both Jayce was too stunned and confused to want to ask for your name—would you even have a human name? “I don’t know her name.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jayce.”

“I’m not! I promise I don’t know her name, she never told me.”

Viktor was playing with a pen, rolling between his fingers as he carefully considered the new information. “Where do you meet her, then? No, wait. I think you can’t also tell me that, do you?”

Jayce groaned.

“Did she kill that man, Jayce?” he asked, tone low and eyes piercing him. “That’s why you’re protecting her?”

Jayce didn’t answer, but the silence said enough for him.

“Alright. Thanks for letting me know, Jayce. You may leave now.”

“Viktor, I’m sorry—”

“I’m sure you do. Please fill out the paperwork by the end of the day, yes? Now that we don’t have any event scheduled for tonight, we have plenty of time, don’t you think?”

*~*~*~*

The horrible and mysterious murder of the so-called Death's Jailor plagued the newspapers and the radio stations for months. Illegal explorations went to the old site days before its demolition, taking morbid photographs of the ruins of the splattered cabin, filled with nonsensical scribbles that still filled Jayce and Viktor's desks, under some recent cases, of course.

Though the culprit was influential, his strange demise didn’t bring his family to want to discover the questions surrounding his death. Because the reputation of his last name was damaged, his distant relatives didn’t want to dig under all his crimes, fearing it would be more than they could handle.

In a way, it was.

For Viktor, in more ways than the obvious one.

It wasn’t just the crime, but also the strange link you have with Jayce, or at least, the one you used to have.

Days after the conversation with him, Viktor asked as lightheartedly as possible if Jayce knew something about his mysterious friend, to which he responded with a confused "no". The next day, Jayce looked tired and restless, a sleepless night, he told Viktor.

He didn’t want to push further, so he didn’t ask again.

It wasn’t the only time Jayce couldn’t sleep properly.

The case of the Jailor's Death was closed with hurried conclusions of the Forensics Team, explanations that couldn't hold in court. The culprit committed suicide when he heard the police arriving, using one of the knives he had to stab the drawing glued to the wall as the weapon. An urban legend began to spread then, when reporters slid inside the crumbled walls of the collapsing building and took illegal photographs of the site.

People began to say he was trying to invoke a demon, but the ritual went wrong. Now, the infernal creature was roaming free around the city, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

Viktor knew better, of course. No such thing as demons could exist—but the death, the murder of that man still haunted him. He was a murderer and a kidnapper, around his height, in his mid-thirties at the time, and with around the same build as Jayce. How could someone subdue him so easily? There weren't signs of a fight over his body, only a clean cutting line on his throat.

Perhaps a much more dangerous murderer was walking in the city just as the urban legends said, a human dressed with the flesh of a demon. Or a ghost.

You were nowhere to be found, and Viktor did try all his cards to at least see you walking down the street. All are fruitless, only dead ends could be found.

The woman in the drawing was young, so he asked everywhere in schools, hospitals, bars, and restaurants. Nobody had ever seen you.

If you were new to town, then it would be more complicated, but you never went to the supermarket or around the old city district to buy clothes or any articles, for that matter. Viktor began to enter the abandoned part of the main district, looking at someone sleeping between the ruins of the buildings that after the Jailor's Death demise would be still standing.

He didn’t believe in ghosts, and thus he didn’t find anything in any of the places—except the old hospital, because the gate was too high for him to climb.

Perhaps Jayce lied, perhaps he imagined it.

It didn’t make any sense.

What more are you hiding from me, Jayce?

It was a grim night to think about it, paperwork about a robbery already filled out and properly tucked inside a folder over his desk. Viktor reclined into his seat, looking at the night outside, rain pouring against the opaque glass, illuminated from time to time with bolt of lightning and a deafening thunder that sometimes made the windows’ sill shake.

Jayce was napping over his desk, falling asleep revising the folder over the Death’s Jailor case again. Both tasted glory with the case, the beginning of their ascending career, and now it would chase them with its unfinished seal, perhaps forever.

Silence was ruling over the place when Viktor walked over to the coffee maker, he didn't want to fall asleep just yet, the photograph of the already lost drawing engraved with fire over his closed eyelids every time he blinked.

Who was that woman? Nobody knew. But everyone loved to comment on the possibilities: a lover or the first victim, even the demon or the murderer could be some guesses. People wanted to discover her identity, and a reward was signed by the police to anybody who could bring information about her, only resulting in false alarms and catfishes.

And it wasn’t that the drawing was too abstract to pinpoint somebody, it was quite the contrary. Many leads meet with people resembling her, but then again, eerily so, they didn’t have her eyes—the piercing gaze of the charcoal. The same gaze that Viktor knew couldn’t be real, though their intensity should be so.

He hated those eyes as much as he found himself longing for them. The missing piece of the puzzle, the woman that haunted his dreams. The same face, but flaring with anger as you looked back at him from a transparent surface, like a window. Fists stomping so loudly Viktor was surprised the glass never broke.

Viktor had the original drawing after he asked very politely for it to the Police Lieutenant. But some weeks from now, around six years after the occurrence of the case, the drawing disappeared. It wasn’t in his office, nor in his house when he swore he put it away, even hung on the wall and protected with a wooden frame and a glass.

One day, the darkest night up to now, his window creaked open, and he got a sore throat the next morning because of the chilly air that made him curl inside the covers, next to Jayce. Viktor woke up at the crack of dawn, gray light flooding inside his room, but the first thing that caught his attention was the frame hung on his right wall, empty.

Turning, he saw Jayce sleeping. Moving him slightly, Viktor said: “Jayce, did you open the window last night?”

But his confused eyes blinking towards him was enough of an answer. Why would someone want to steal that drawing?

Anxiety entangled over his stomach since that day, feeling a connection between the action and something. Expectation.

On his way back to his office, the phone rang, startling Jayce, who ran towards it as a second nature. Viktor walked faster towards him, wanting to hear what happened. There weren’t many police units available tonight because they were safeguarding the city’s mayor's birthday party. Maybe that was the reason they got a call.

Jayce went pale over the phone.

"Jayce? Jayce, tell me what's going on. Jayce!" Viktor snatched the phone over his stiff grasp, hearing screaming on the other side.

He recognized the voice.

“Lieutenant? Lieutenant, what happened?”

The man was trying to say something, his voice filled with panic. “Help, help, she’s here— I can hear her. Please come quickly! She knows where I am…” It seemed he was cradling the phone against his clothes. “Call for backup, please someone help me… she came to take me away. Call for backup I told you! This is an order! She… oh God, oh my God, she’s here—”

Thuck. The phone fell, filled with static, and Viktor was screaming the Lieutenant's name, but nothing came from it. Until then, the static was filled with nonsensical pleads.

“Please let me go, I-I didn’t, I didn’t want to do it, please…” Then, nothing. Someone unplugged the line.

Viktor frowned. Nudging Jayce aside to snap him out of the frantic scream of his supervisor.

“Let’s go, Jayce!” Viktor called him, already grabbing Jayce’s walkie-talkie from his belt and calling from units to gather over the Lieutenant’s house.

Over twenty slow, torturing minutes, five police cars parked outside the Lieutenant's house, localized in one of the best zones in the city, a house so big anybody could mistake it for an apartment complex.

All the lights were on, and there, in the last story, a seated figure could be seen next to the window, a figure too still to be human. Or alive, for that matter.

Viktor took Jayce’s hand as he dragged him upstairs, after commanding the rest of the policemen to search the house. Jayce had to smash the entrance door open, and inside there was a stench of burned incense and other plants, smoke disturbing the sight.

“What’s all this…?” Viktor said between coughs, intuition heavy over his stomach. Something was very off, terribly bad.

The hall's floor was flooded with drawings, protective circles, and religious items scattered over the walls, and up the stairs. Smashed mirrors around them, the house quiet.

Viktor put one finger over his lip to indicate Jayce to be as silent as he could be as they climbed the stairs. All hallways were empty and clean, the same scribbles covering every centimeter of the house, except for the last one. Where a fine line cut over the wooden planks, ruining the motifs.

Smoke was thicker here, coming from the third door to the left. Both tried to open it, feeling the knob burning cold, mahogany wood imprinted with a black hand. It wouldn’t surrender.

“Step back, Vik,” Jayce said as he began to kick it, the sound echoing too loudly. After a couple of hits, the wood opened with a wounded creak.

The inside was too foggy to see anything properly, but they stepped inside, stopping when the seated figure made itself clear. It was the Lieutenant, his body kept straight with the phone line tangled around his back and over the chair.

Not even the smoke could disguise the inhuman pallor of his skin, between blue and gray, and his eyes forever frozen in horror.

There wasn't any trace of blood except from five little perforations over his jaw, localized as if something or someone were holding his face. Same scribbled floor and walls as in the cabin, similar prayers, but no new drawing. Only photographs of the one made for the Death's Jailor.

Jayce was kneeling next to the Lieutenant, searching for anything that could help them to solve this case. Anger and the certainty of another open case drove them over the fear creeping into their skin, covered in goosebumps.

Viktor went to inspect the bathroom, stopping when he smelled stagnant water just at opening the door, bathtub and sink filled with something that smelled like sour tea. The liquid was still warm, steam covering the unbroken mirror, a pentagram drawn in it.

The room got no windows, but a cold wind blew over his neck, making him jump and trip over some thrown rug. His hand stained the painted mirror and Viktor cursed.

He heard a sigh coming from in front of him, and his amber eyes reflected over the surface, empty of anything else.

One blink, blank. Another blink, another void.

Viktor blinked a third time, the steam already disappearing at the corners, the pentagram fading away. Next to him at the left, he saw a pair of black eyes.

Jumping, and quickly turning towards his left, he encountered a ghostly figure, completely dressed in white, black eyes flaring with fury. The room's temperature dropped, and his hands quickly went to grab his gun. And the eyes followed the motion, black claws materializing. The air was stolen from his lungs as the claws pushed him out of the bathroom, the grip similar to a rock's hit.

Viktor collapsed against a nightstand, splinters flying. Jayce ran to his side as the figure dressed in white slid out of the bathroom and towards the window. He pushed Jayce, screaming: "Go after her!"

“Vikt—” Jayce’s eyes shone with worry, and then, pure fear, darting between the figure and him. He knew Jayce wouldn’t catch you on time, nobody could. You moved very fast.

Dexterous fingers found his gun, and quickly pushed Jayce aside as Viktor aimed towards the figure, right leg wounded.

The shot made his body shake with the impact, and the characteristic powder smell filled the room. The figure collapsed next to the deceased Lieutenant with a muffled groan. Panting could be heard from you, and Jayce looked horrified at Viktor.

Horrified, why?

“What are you doing?” he retorted, pushing Jayce's chest aggressively as he was trying to help him up. “Stop her!”

Her, as if called—and you did were called. Turned your face towards them, and both stopped dead in their tracks. It was as if the charcoal made itself flesh and bone, the eeriness of something it shouldn’t be real. Only the eyes remained as dark as the drawing, just as piercing.

This can’t be real…

You chuckled, black blood spilling from your ankle, and you knew your teeth looked inhumanely sharp.

“You—” Viktor wanted to say, while Jayce looked at you with terror.

Did you miss me? You looked at Jayce, but instead of saying it, you recollected air as you opened your lips to scream.

Lights flickered in and out, the detectives covered their ears as the windows, glasses, and mirrors broke in unison.

The scream dissipated, the sound growing distant. Seconds later, the light stabilized, but you were already gone. Only leaving a river of black blood over the floor and death behind.

*~*~*~*

You were trapped underwater, in a crystal, cold cage. Dormant unless commanded otherwise.

You'd granted too many wishes, and stained your hands with blood so many times. You were tired, and not just so, but furious.

They tricked you, forcing you into becoming their loyal servant. Your hands were sore from banging over the glass surface of your cage.

And nobody could hear you, not the Detective with hazel eyes a selfless soul, much less the Other One, with sharp golden eyes and gentle heart underneath. No matter how many times they’d dreamt of you.

Ravishing private party, the fountain inside the Mayor's house was tinted with a special shade of navy blue that didn't reflect the vaulted roof decorated with gold, balloons, and thin, shiny fabric. It was a particularly chaotic night, with no moon and many candles burning like fireworks for the Mayor's birthday countdown, almost midnight.

Your powers wouldn't be this strong again in a year. So you called a random drunk guest that went to throw up behind some plant pot, fountain gurgling with whispered words of encouragement. A cold wind blew, and mourning voices lulled out the water. The woman tripped when she was about to sit over the marble fountain, rock scratching her hand, now stained with blood.

You held your breath, ambiance still when she dipped her hands in the fountain to clean her wound.

A slight, mortally thin crimson thread came out of her skin and you felt the bounding spell breaking. Not reinforced on time, that was on them, but this escape was thanks to this clueless woman.

The room temperature dropped and the guest ran away screaming when the fountain’s surface became murky, her reflection replaced by a pair of bottomless black eyes and a predatory smile adorned with pointy teeth.

Good thing nobody minded her, blaming the alcohol for poisoning her senses.

You slid away from the manor, up to town, to the first person on your list to hunt down. The only one that wasn’t invited to the private reunion, because just like you, he was also tricked.

You arrived, knowing the Lieutenant was aware of the eerily still night, expectation over the place as the silence screamed something was wrong. He should have had premonitory dreams for around a week, for him to prepare. He was peeking outside from his bedroom, the house filled with protective runes and trapping pentagrams, religious items that wouldn't be useful for him for he wasn't a believer. Not of a merciful God, anyway.

You stepped over the basement window that wasn’t covered with salt, a beginner’s mistake, but he was in a rush, and you were too worn out to burn out the salt from the entrance door. Making your way up to his bedroom, you could smell his fear mixed with the nauseous stench of burned incense.

The scythe felt strange and heavier in your hand, so many years of unuse taking its toll. Swinging, you cut the hallway's protection symbols as you stepped in, metal singing as it cut swiftly over the wood. You heard the man screaming over the phone.

You wrinkled your nose, annoyed. You didn’t want to deal with more people tonight.

Your hand over the door burned both your skin and the wood. But the sudden pain made you aware of your surroundings, making you remember that your days as a slave were over. The door opened, and you went towards his hunched figure down his bed.

He could see your usual outfit of spotless and unwrinkled white, dark heels that clicked warningly. The Lieutenant was screaming frantically over the phone as you dragged him out of his hideout, hand human, you being totally human, in fact. The only reason you would stay in this room in this form after all the energy used to escape your prison.

His green eyes widened, tears falling on his cheeks as he pleaded, and knelt in front of you.

“Please let me go, I-I didn’t, I didn’t want to do it, please…”

You looked at the black phone behind him, using your scythe to cut down the line before speaking.

“It’s nothing personal, Henry. The deal is over, and I came here to collect your part of the bargain.”

“Th-they trick-tricked m-me… please… please, I-I don’t want to die… I’m-I’m sorry…”

You knelt, eyes glued on him to your level. He could see the past, when he drew blood to make a deal to bind you to the fountain, and among his blood, many others.

“Look, Henry. I’m going to be generous tonight.” You dragged him towards the desk next to the window, putting him over the chair. There was a blank note there, open with a pen over it. “Where’s your list? I know you have one. We were both tricked and they’re going to pay, but the first name claimed in the bounding ritual was yours, I’m afraid.”

You put the pen over his shaky hand, closing his cold fingers around it, digits that were beginning to tint black from your touch. But he shook his head and instead pointed towards the closed door of the bathroom.

“I-I don’t want to d-die…”

"Not worry," you said, stroking his hair backward as he slouched down to scribble with an irregular, strong letter over the paper. "I'll be quick."

You couldn't say it wouldn't hurt, because you didn't know what it felt like to die. You didn't want to lie to him.

Your left hand became a claw, and Henry cried when your nails pierced his skin, drawing five equal little threads of red down his jaw and over his pajamas.

"Look into my eyes and tell me what you see," you muttered, his soul slowly slipping out of his ownership. Black eyes, normal people shouldn't see anything, but damned ones? They saw the future that awaited them over your Father's realm. “Was it worth?”

Henry wanted to scream, but his jaw hung open in silence when his life slipped out of his body. You had to tie him against the chair with the telephone line and put it near the window, only for shock value, you supposed. What did he see in your eyes? Who knows, you didn't want to. Your Father should be furious with them to keep you trapped for so long.

Inside the bathroom, the list was tucked between the mirror and the wall, and the bathtub and sink were filled with purification waters. The man always trying to use all the opportunities he had to escape. You committed the foolish, human mistake of wanting to see yourself over the surface, catching a capturing pentagram over the steamed surface.

Hissing, you felt trapped again. Time ran differently inside the mirror, just like on the other side of the fountain, so you waited for the pentagram to disappear, the water growing cold.

Only it didn't, a hand printed on the surface breaking the sigils. Next to you was a man with golden eyes, two moles on his sharp face, and a metallic cane.

You knew him.

You weren’t about to move, only stare, so he could run away and leave the free way for you to escape. But he didn’t, his right hand quickly grabbed the gun’s glue instead. Your hands twitched when you pushed him outside before he could grasp it completely, his body smashing one nightstand.

The other man, an old acquaintance, went quickly to his aid. It was your cue to go, but then that stupid, reckless man still drew his gun and shoot you.

Pain conquered as you suppressed a scream, jaw tightened so much that your teeth gnashed. Black blood spilled on your ankle, and the man was screaming, ordering Detective Jayce Talis to get you.

His hazel eyes met yours briefly, as your lips cracked open to scream out loud, pouring every ounce of frustration and pain and anger piled up inside your body. The lights went out, all the glass broke, and you slid out the window, becoming your ghostly figure before hitting the garden.

Down the street, in your human form, the list felt heavy on your hands. You remembered, and you were ready to make them remember, too.

#jayvik x reader #jayce x viktor x reader #arcane fanfiction #arcane fic #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #jayce talis x reader #arcane jayce x reader #arcane viktor x reader #jayvik x you #arcane viktor x fem! reader #arcane viktor x you #jayce talis x you #viktor arcane x reader #arcanehalloweek22 #yeah i have no shame so i'll still tag it #happy super belated halloween :3 #to chase a silhouette #my thingies :)

[wincestisasincest]

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 13: He Who Fights Monsters

Viktor x Fem!Reader slow burn enemies to lovers

x posted on ao3 // WOTS masterlist

Summary: Jayce and Viktor questioning you about your weapon (made with farm-fresh Hextech) is the only thing keeping you from going to jail for science crimes. You and Viktor are literally at each others throats lmao. Also you’re from Bilgewater because pirates are fucking rad

Notes: Broskis I'm sorry this one took like over a month ektjherkjth and also this one is not very proofread so sorry if it's kind of bad. Also this fic is officially over 100k words lol. Oh also we still have a discord, lemme know if u wanna join hekrthrek jt

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: @edenstarkk @chosomybelovedcurse @dedicated2viktor @doctorho @yeehawbvby @arcaneparx @the-lake-is-calling @beeblybub

Mentions of: Nothing I think?

Triggers: Everything from the last chapter is discussed and recalled here, so… that. Also, cops, cop questioning, painkillers, drinks being drugged, booze, vomit, vertigo, guns, and language

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark. And you’re a monster.”

It’s funny. You’ve heard that word a lot - “monster.” You were familiar with every usage of the word before you could load a canon by yourself; from the scariest beasts of the deep to the ruthless criminals lording over your island. You thought that you were immune to its impact. 

You were wrong. 

Adrenaline fanned from your heart to your fingertips, telling you to move, fight, run, or for gods’ sake do something because you couldn’t take this straight on. It didn’t matter if you were the monster or the innocent, you could not stay trapped in this stupid, shitty loop. 

And suddenly, you understood why you’d come back. 

There he was, narrowing his eyes at you like a viper. But you clenched your teeth and inhaled through your nose, willing away the hollowing feeling in your chest that tried to tell you this was just a bad dream. 

You would show him what monsters could do. 

*****

When Viktor woke, his pulse was eating him alive. 

He tilted his head, and a seedy whine pounded behind his eyes as his dress shirt pinched his arms. The blinding, sterile light kept trying to infiltrate the cool oasis of his closed eyelids. 

Hangover? No, it shouldn’t be this bad. What had he even-

Oh. Right. Enforcers. He remembered those. He could recognize the outlines of their helmets even through the blurry snowfall. But there was someone else... a warm arm around his waist that didn’t let go until medical personnel had whisked him away. That must have been you. 

You- where were you?

He sat up and opened his eyes. 

Through the ringing in his ears he could hear heels clacking in the hallway and sweat sloshing inside his clothes. Tender bruises and stinging cuts made themselves known as his body woke up. The headache only thickened. 

He was in Piltover Medical Center, laid out like roadkill on a clean, stiff mattress in their emergency clinic. It was brighter than it had any right to be, with crisp white walls, shiny medical equipment, and humming fluorescent lights. 

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe the wave of nausea. 

“Don’t fight it,” Jayce said from his left, “happened to me too. If you’re gonna vomit, better to get it over with.” 

“Good morning as well,” Viktor’s throat was dry. 

He dragged his legs over the side as a fuzzy column of brown skin nudged the trashcan towards him. He clamped its sides and nearly fell in as he threw up. 

Acid seared his tongue and pungency burned through the congestion in his sinuses; welcome back to reality, they said. 

Something glass clinked. Viktor hung his head over the trashcan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and permitting himself a minute to regret waking up. 

“Caitlyn came by, but we were both still out,” Jayce set a glass of water on Viktor’s side of their shared nightstand, “If she heard, then everyone else probably did too.” 

Finally, Viktor willed his head up and got a look at him. He was on the other bed in the room, shirtless, with his legs stretched out and his journal open on his lap. Bandages capped his shoulder and a dark purple cloud festered around his eye. His hair was, oddly, the most surprising; spiked, sweaty, and overall messier than Viktor had ever seen it. 

Viktor couldn’t imagine that he looked much better. 

“How long have you been up?” Viktor gulped the water, noticing one of his own notebooks and a note from Caitlyn perched on the nightstand. 

“Just a half hour. Enforcers came by and asked me some stuff. Said they’ll come back for you.” 

Viktor propped his elbows on his knees. 

“Did they say anything else?” 

“About what?” 

As if there was anything Viktor would be wondering about besides the third human life that was terribly injured. 

He clicked his tongue, too tired to figure out if Jayce was playing dumb or if he’d actually forgotten about you. But Jayce wasn’t the forgetful type, and he didn’t play dumb unless the situation was dire. Something was wrong here, but Viktor wouldn’t press him. Not yet. 

“About anything. I’m still not sure what exactly, eh... happened.” 

“Yeah. Neither are they.” 

Viktor hated how unclear his picture of last night was. The drugs and the booze already wiped half of it from hi smind, and the remaining flashes of consciousness were focused on the most irrelevant things. 

Your hands loading that gun. Your eyes screwing shut as you bit your tongue. Your hot breath against his cheek as you checked his head for any damage. 

“Well, at least give me something to work with,” Viktor grumbled, falling back onto the mattress. 

Jayce fidgeted with his fingers, squeezing them anxiously. 

“All they’ve got so far is a timeline. We were drinking, those guys came, at some point we were drugged, the bar cleared out, I went into the alleyway and got the shit beat out of me while they were getting ready to haul you away in the bar.” 

Jayce looked down. 

“And then?” 

“Well, y’know,” Jayce swallowed, “then my... assailants got, uh, taken out. Then yours did. Then one of mine did... again. Apparently the autopsy of that last guy was, uh... well, anyway, then the Enforcers showed up.” 

“Yeah. Some help they were,” Viktor paused, deciding that now would be the time to press, since Jayce was clearly intent on pretending you had never existed, “and then we came here?” 

“Yup.” 

“Just us?” 

“In here? Yeah.” 

“In here as in this room, or in here as in PMC?” 

“...this room.” 

“Jayce.” 

“Yeah?” Jayce gave him a strained smile. 

“Where is Penny?” 

Jayce’s entire chest deflated when he sighed. 

“Yeah, I figured you’d ask about that sooner or later. But, listen, I wanna talk to you about something first.” 

“Why are you being so evasive? What... what happened?” Viktor raised a stern eyebrow, “Is she-” 

“No, she’s not dead, Vik. She’s fine - in one of the other rooms. But please- humor me, will you?” Jayce’s puppy dog eyes were indomitable, “And then you can go see her.” 

Viktor leaned back on his hands, studying his partner. The fog cleared from his head and he realized that Jayce was shaking. Every part of his body twitched or trembled or tightened, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and starting to crumble under the weight. 

“What’s on your mind?” Viktor asked softly.

“I...” Jayce wrung his fingers around his bracelet, “I think we should put Hextech on hold for a bit.” 

The dryness in the corners of Viktor’s eyes cracked when he widened them.

“We’ve had this conversation before.” 

“Yes, I know,” Jayce’s fidgeting was persistent, “but things have changed.” 

“How so?” 

Jayce frowned. 

“How s- Vik, you were nearly kidnapped last night, and I was beaten within an inch of my life. That’s how so,” he exhaled, “and don’t give me that ‘the lives of people are endangered every day’ story.” 

“But they are,” Viktor’s blood pressure rose, “and we have just made a major breakthrough. You really wish to stop now?” 

“What if... we’re not so lucky next time?” Jayce winced as he briefly lose control of his volume, shying away from his point. 

“It was not luck that we survived,” Viktor said, “it was Penny’s intervention.” 

“Yeah, about that...” Jayce gave up on looking Viktor in the eye, “the Enforcers aren’t as, uh, convinced as we are.” 

Viktor scoffed, pushing his hand through his hair. Of course they weren’t, gods forbid someone different did anything in this damn city. 

“She’s not in jail again, is she?” 

“No. Mel got her bail...” 

“But she was going to be?!” Viktor barked, furrowing his brow, “How could they possibly justify that?”

“They think it’s weird that Penny was the only one who wasn’t drugged, and... I mean, I can’t really say that they’re wr-” 

“Stop,” Viktor put his hand up, “you cannot believe that Penny is responsible for the attack?” 

“No! Obviously not,” Jayce splayed his fingers out, “I don’t... look, I like Penny too, okay? I don’t think she did anything malicious on purpose. I’m just trying to tell you that we’re involved in something really dangerous here and this goes to show how little we know about it. Five people are dead.” 

“You care more about your own security than all of the Undercity or Ionia.” 

“Do not put words into my mouth. It’s one thing to be dedicated, but we can’t just go putting ourselves in danger. If we die, then Hextech is gone forever,” Jayce said darkly. 

“But we didn’t die-” 

“Because we have a fucking murderer on our staff! That’s not a good thing,” Jayce gestured violently at him. 

Viktor parted his lips cautiously. The crack of Jayce’s voice, the unsteadiness in his usually confident forearms, the peakiness baked into his expression as he looked through Viktor - Viktor hadn’t seen Jayce like this before, but there was no doubting it. 

“You’re... you’re afraid of her,” Viktor said. 

“I- not of her,” Jayce sniffled, “just... of what she did. And I know she had to, I know,” he scolded himself, “but...” 

Jayce rubbed his nose. The only other time Viktor had seen Jayce’s eyes get this watery was when he’d laughed too hard. The contrast between then and now was sobering. 

“I keep seeing them,, Vik,” Jayce confessed, head in his hands, “the bodies, I keep- they’re in my head and they won’t leave and I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

VIktor only had scraps of what they looked like - their body fluids weaving through the cobblestones in the street and melted flesh peeling from metal bones. 

“I refuse to let us end up like that,” Jayce’s throat trembled. 

The mental image was there before Viktor could stop it. His partner, his friend, his best friend, with his throat slit; the only moving part of him left was the blood oozing from the thin red line. 

Viktor knew that wouldn’t happen. He knew that he had nothing to worry about, and even if he did, worrying rarely helped anything. He knew that.

He also knew that no logic could stop the sinking feeling in his chest when he saw Jayce break down. 

Against his better judgment and moral impulse, he grabbed his cane from against the night stand, nudged Jayce’s knee, and quietly said that “we can slow down Hextech if you’d like,” all the while fighting the frustration simmering at his core. 

Neither he or Jayce were particularly up for conversation after that, so he left to find you. 

He didn’t even want to see you anymore, but in this awful mood he was in, he was bound to snap at someone, and he’d rather it be the person who already thought he was a waste of space than Jayce or an Enforcer. 

In fact, Viktor found that he wouldn’t mind snapping at you right now, though by the gods he could not fathom why. 

Perhaps it was that he knew you’d only be mildly inconvenienced by Hextech’s hiatus. You weren’t trying to hide it - you’d made it very clear that you thought their goals were nothing more than a foolish boon to their egos. Viktor had long since decided that he didn’t care about what you thought as long as you did your work, now, it made his blood boil. 

Of course you did what you had to. Of course you planned those attacks. Of course you never meant for things to end up this way. 

And, of course, it had to end with Jayce being traumatized and Hextech being needlessly stalled. 

He was being unfair. You didn’t deserve this. Not after everything you’d done. 

But he couldn’t help the feeling. 

A similarly confusing feeling bubbled in his chest when he floated in the doorway to your hospital room. You were still, fast asleep, though you wouldn’t be moving even if you were awake with your wrist cuffed to the bed like that. 

And you looked so small. 

Not physically - if anything, the swelling in your nose made you look bigger. They’d straightened it and kept it in place with a loose bandaged, but the darkened, irritated skin and indigo bruises pooling beneath your eyes betrayed the nastiness of the initial impact. Your left ear was swaddled in bandages, still very much half of its original size. No essential parts of the ear seemed to be damaged but it looked... well, it looked awful. The rest of the damage was covered by a standard issue PMC blanket. 

He’d never seen you sleep before. Your overflowing personality, the one that made you the godsdamned force of nature that could bring anything to its knees, was kept at bay by the thoughtless rise and fall of your chest. The greasy hair and injuries and bloody clothes were a part of your image, but without you being awake to act the part, you just looked like a person who had been through a lot. 

You and no one else against the world. That could make anyone feel small. 

Viktor’s face soured at the thought of your self image. You chose to wear your violence and selfishness and apathy as badges of honor, along with your hatred of Viktor. And he was so ready to look past all of that, just for last night, because... of something. 

And then, somewhere in the cocktail of anger and confusion and fondness, it clicked. 

You weren’t thinking about him when you saved his life, you were just being yourself. 

You didn’t care about Viktor. And why the hell would you, if the rest of Piltover couldn’t be bothered? You were becoming like them - helping Viktor because he helped you and suited your needs, not because you believed in him, his ideals, or Hextech. Viktor should’ve been used to this. 

It was only human. And that’s all you were. A Bilgewater spitfire with a deep longing for the world that she came from, jumping at the first excuse to indulge in it. 

Viktor could only blame himself. And it ached as he considered just how desperate he must’ve been to look for deeper meaning in what you did. 

“‘Scuse me, sir.” 

Viktor jumped. An Enforcer, with a cinderblock jaw and wispy sideburns, materialized next to him, his palms out. 

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” he smiled apologetically, “I was just wonderin’ if you were the, uh, other victim of the attack last night? I ain’t on the case, I’m just here to take her cuffs off” he chuckled, jingling his keys. 

“Yes,” Viktor smoothed out his wrinkled pants, “yes, that’s me.” 

“Ah. Well, good to see you on your feet then,” he slapped Viktor in the back with his sweaty hand and turned to observe you, “I heard she was quite the killer.” 

You gave no false pretense about what you were. Building you up into something you weren’t was his mistake. 

But now he had to see you for what you were. 

“She was,” Viktor said, “brutal. Without remorse. Didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.” 

He didn’t give you a final glance as he parted from the Enforcer, determined to not make that mistake again. 

*****

Unlike rain, which evaporated quickly in the sun, snow stuck around. After you were discharged from the hospital, you were in a completely different Piltover. The air hovering above the smooth white blanket was clean, numb, and slow, entirely jarring after everything else had happened so fast. 

Nothing felt real, outside in the world or inside your head. 

But you didn’t really mind the effect. Apparently, you weren’t supposed to use the good painkillers into tomorrow morning, after all the alcohol was out of your system, unless you wanted to throw up your guts onto the street. If the hurt subsided, then you could stay in the unreality until then. 

Or maybe not. 

“C’mon, you paid my bail,” you reluctantly plopped into the spindly chair, “and it’s not because we’re great friends. So what’s the catch?” 

Coming into the warmth of Mel’s office just as you grew accustomed to the outside made the red in her paintings eerie. Though you normally liked her office, one of the few places truly rich in color in her marble palace, the contrast with the blank slate of Piltovian winter reminded you that it was just as manufactured as everything else. 

“There’s no ‘catch,’” Mel folded her hands, “as an investor in Hextech, it’s my job to look out for the best interests of the company. I think we’ve all learned by now that having you in jail waiting for a sham trial is not productive.” 

“So there’s nothing that you want from me, then?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Mel picked at her nail, “I understand that the Enforcer’s narrative of last night’s events is inaccurate. I’m not surprised - Enforcers are only interested in maintaining the image of Piltover for the people of Piltover.” 

“Sounds like you.” 

“Maybe,” she eyed you curiously, “but I’m also interested in the truth. Which is something we share, isn’t it?” 

It was rare that your goals aligned with powerful people, and though you were becoming more practiced in it the longer you stayed in Piltover, trepidation stalked every offer that someone like Mel gave you. If enemies can be temporary, then so are allies, and sooner or later, the good will of someone who does anything to be above others will run out. 

But she could help you. She could help Jayce and Viktor. Regardless of the motive, you needed that. 

As sure as that knowing smirk dug further into her cheek, you knew that there was no good will here; just business. Good, you thought, at least you understand each other. 

“Fine,” you rolled your neck, “so, what, you want me to start from the beginning?” 

And you did. 

You rolled your head back and stared at the ceiling lights like you were in a therapist’s office, and told her the entire story as it actually happened, making especially biting remarks at the Enforcer’s faulty logic along the way. 

They were claiming that, not only were you the one who had drugged Viktor and Jayce, but that you had pre-planned the entire incident in order to murder five sailors on shore leave. Their “evidence” was that, not only were you the sole undrugged person, but that once you were aware of the drug’s chemical makeup via Jayce and Viktor’s blood test, it was a substance you recognized - Whalefall, something that literally every Rat recognized. 

Yet, you still had no explanation for why everything happened the way that it did; why you weren’t drugged, why they were after Viktor, why they beat the shit out of Jayce, why anything. The Enforcers didn’t really have one either, but their blanket appeal to Piltover’s xenophobia combined with their “trustworthiness” was enough to negate that. 

Even if they hadn’t actually seen anything happen. 

“Honestly, if that’s their response time, I’m surprised any crime in Piltover gets dealt with,” you grumbled. 

“That’s not their response time,” Mel said, “they’re usually much faster. But there’s a silver lining - inadequate Enforcer response is probably going to be the main argument for your innocence in the trial.” 

“Really?” you crossed your arms, “What about Jayce and Viktor’s testimony? I... well, I haven’t actually talked to them yet, but shouldn’t that be exonerating?” 

“They’re not using their testimony.” 

“What?!” you sat forward, “Why the hell not?! That was like... the one thing I had going for me.” 

“Well, the real answer is that it destroys any chance of making you the scapegoat, but what the Enforcers are saying is that the drugs found in their system make their memories unreliable.” 

“But- but that’s bullshit,” you snapped, “Everyone knows that Whalefall makes it hard to remember stuff, but it doesn’t make up false memories. Anything they can recall is still true.” 

You’d already spent too much time wondering if Viktor recalled how close you were when you gave him a once over. You weren’t sure if it was embarrassing or exciting or what, all you knew was that the image of him, half dazed, but eyes full of reverence that no one had ever given you before, made your stomach flip.

“I’m sure, but that’s not how this game is played,” Mel said grimly, moving her hands below the desk, “I have some things of yours.” 

Your face perked as she rattled inside the drawer, returning to the surface with your knife, ruefully caked in dry blood, and a silver pistol. Oh shit - the pistol. 

“Gods, do they just let anyone in the evidence locker?” you grumbled. 

“This pistol doesn’t belong to you,” Mel observed, picking it up loosely, as though it were a museum artifact and not an item designed to take a life, “why did you have it?” 

“Heh, you’re already doing better than the Enforcers,” you said, “what gave it away?” 

“You’re too poor to afford  this.” 

“Thanks.” 

She was right, of course. The model was, at the very least, unique; you’d never quite seen a gun that looked or behaved like it before. It was pure silver, with svelte engravings curling from the handle to the barrel, and while it looked like a revolver, with a rotating cylinder in the center, there were no slots to load bullets, leading you to believe it functioned like a pistol. 

“I guess it was just too interesting to leave,” you shrugged, “Damn thing didn’t fire when I tried to shoot it, so I wanted to take it apart and see what was going on.” 

“I see,” she brushed her thumb on the barrel, “and this knife was already yours?” 

“Yeah.” 

You reached out, but, your fingers inches away from the cold metal, Mel’s hand smoothly came down on top of it. 

“Actually... there is a catch for this one.” 

You looked at her from under your brow, exhausted from the theatrics. She noticed, but she continued coyly without a care. 

“The Enforcers get in the way of Hextech’s work and have done a fairly poor job thus far at resolving this pirate issue. Yet, now more than ever, Hextech needs a guardian,” she delicately set the pistol on the table, “One that is equipped to handle both problems.” 

“Oh, I see,” your eyelids went slack, “listen, I appreciate the offer, but, like, I was barely qualified to deal with what just happened. Hell, I almost left Jayce and Viktor, I only decided to come back at the last minute, and even then, I got...” you gestured to your face, “all of this. So, thank you, but no thank you. It was a one time thing.” 

“Well, if you’d consider making it not a one time thing, I’d be willing to help,” she was toying with the hilt of your knife, yet somehow kept her digits clean of any blood.

There was nothing to consider, but you were hungry for more information anyway. 

“What do you have in mind?” 

“I want to get those portals on Ionian shores as soon as possible,” she said frankly, “Figure out what’s going on, stop it, and ensure the safety of Jayce and Viktor in the meantime. You’ll have my full legal and financial support for any issues that arise, and, depending on how successful you are, there will be additional compensation.” 

“I don’t need more money,” you lied, because everyone could always use more money, “the stipend is enough.” 

“Compensation need not be money. I understand you’re having trouble finding a permanent residence due to your... reputation. With my connections, that would be an easy fix,” she offered the handle of your knife to you with a crafty smile, “but it’s your decision, of course.” 

Damn her. 

You were smart enough to know that no one really escaped the rat race. People would always, on some level, do dubious shit to survive, because there would always be people willing to put them in that position for exploitation. 

But you thought that you were done with violence. Sure, it happened once in a while, because that’s just life, but you were supposed to be free of the cycle; your hands, attached to strings that were puppeteered by someone else, dripping with blood. 

Hell, even last night, delirious with lack of sleep as the Enforcers kept you awake long into the night to try and “force” a confession, you’d been caught in an unfamiliar emotional deluge. You weren’t one to regret things, but as the sting of alcohol cleared other people’s viscera from your wounds, you caught the stray, remorseful wish that things had gone better. That you didn’t have to kill five people, that the Enforcers believed you, that this was something everyone could reasonably move on from. 

But you were expendable. Those pirates would’ve killed you first if you let them, those Enforcers would toss you into jail if you let them, and this godsdamned pit of brutality would drag you asunder forever if you kept letting it. 

The blade of your knife gleamed through all of the damage. 

Money wasn’t the only currency you’d need to stay here in Piltover. If you didn’t take Mel’s offer, you’d end up taking someone else’s sooner or later, lest you face the long, slow death of the life you were trying to set up here. 

Even with allies, you were still alone. You were the only one that could make things work, and sometimes, that required discomfort. 

Reluctantly, you accepted the handle of your knife. 

“Okay. It’s a deal.” 

“Excellent,” Mel’s grin widened, impassively watching as you scraped the pistol off of her desk and shoved both weapons away. 

“We’ll be in touch,” you stood brusquely, pushing the chair out and stretching your legs as you approached the doorway. 

“One more question,” Mel crooned, waiting for you to turn back around and face her before continuing, “why did you come back for Jayce and Viktor?” 

The warmth in her office became sickening; you were trapped inside of a hotbox slowly increasing in temperature. The only breath of fresh air was the blinding white light that stretched from the large window behind her. She and her gold sat in it like a throne. 

Each painting stared at you, all painfully aware that you had no answer. 

“Let me ask you something instead,” your boldness was unconvincing, “why is the Noxian so concerned with getting these portals to Ionia?” 

Mel looked away from you, pursing her lips and considering one of the larger paintings on her wall. It depicted a Noxian ship from behind, heading towards the sun and away from the desolate land they’d ravaged. The shadowed backs of the sails were the only ones in her entire room that reflected authentic blood red. 

After a minute, she cocked her head to the side in defeat. 

“Touche,” she said, “perhaps we both have something to answer for.” 

You prayed that was the end of the conversation and scuttled out the door.

You weren’t even trying to be standoffish, just struck with the overwhelming need to use the bathroom. You’d been holding in this piss since you’d left the hospital. 

Shambling through the corridors, without the time or mental capacity to admire them, you spun the question around in your head - why did you come back? You remembered crouching on the parapet, greeting the moon fondly and preparing to make your daring escape, until the gut-wrenching sound of Jayce getting ripped to shreds sucked you into the fray. 

There were obvious reasons. 

Jayce and Viktor were your crew, and you need them to sail the ship. You’d had allies before, and occasionally, you’d even saved them at great personal risk to yourself. But you weren’t one to jump in and take a non-lethal hit for someone else - that is to say, you weren’t stupid. 

Because they weren’t going to die. Viktor’s captors had told you that explicitly, and if they wanted Jayce dead, then it would’ve happened within the first five minutes of their ambush. Both of them would’ve lived had you not stepped in. 

You always had a reason for defending people, but you didn’t have a reason for that night. 

You’d had an impulse bouncing around in your head, telling you that if you didn’t act, you’d regret it. It wasn’t the raw, cold-blooded instinct that helped you survive, nor the ferocious sixth sense that guided you through battle. It was a small, gentle urgency, older than any of the beasts living under your skin. 

What the hell was it really, though?

At last, you spotted the cool, tiled floor and white hand towels of the fanciest bathroom you’d ever seen. 

After you were relieved, you washed your hands, and unwittingly saw yourself for the first time since last night in the mirror. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting. You looked as bad as you felt; the bags under your eyes were replaced with crescent shaped bruises, your nose ached every time you breathed, and- and your ear. The bottom half of your left ear was gone. 

You clicked your tongue. 

You could still hear out of it fine. That was why you’d nearly forgotten about it in the first place. And it was just cosmetic. You shyly caressed the bandage stump. Your earlobe had disappeared into thin air and was never coming back. 

Sailors lose limbs all the time. You knew this. In fact, you hated that it was the first thing on your mind as you inspected the damage. You hated that you could fucking smell the saltwater being lobbed on the fresh cut as the ship’s surgeon told you not to touch it. You hated how you would go out on deck and commiserate with everyone else who had lost something far worse than you. 

You hated how you already missed the cheap earrings you wore. 

Here you were, in the center of progress and luxury and culture, but you’d never looked more like a dirty fucking Rat. 

Thankfully, you had no time to dwell on it. 

*****

Viktor was always amazed at how easily Jayce could fake ease. 

“We have plans to shut down the test circuits in the city. Anything else will remain locked in the lab until further notice,” he told the Council, unwavering. 

Viktor dreaded returning to the lab. He liked to think that he was levelheaded, but he knew that, at his core, he was a slave to his reckless, passionate impulses, and nothing ignited that like his work. To have to look it all in the eye and tell it to wait was torture. 

“It appears we’re all on the same page, then,” Heimerdinger said. 

“They would know better how to regulate themselves than any of us would,” Shoola added, “I am satisfied with this course of action for the company. However, its personnel - and potentially, the rest of Piltover - remain at risk.” 

“One of them is the risk,” Salo gave a pointed stare. 

It took Viktor a second to remember that he didn’t need to swallow his pride and hold his ground. He followed Salo’s beady eyes back down to your unamused deadpan, bathed in fresh sunlight. You were the risk in the moment. 

Even though you bothered to clean up and generally look like you hadn’t just been thrown off a mountain, one could only look so good two days after near death. Jayce had opted to use makeup so his bruises wouldn’t show, exactly because he feared having any imperfections in front of the Council. It was one of the thousands of ways they could brand you as the other. 

In spite of that, you wore the battle-hardened mask of injuries with complete sincerity. 

Viktor wasn’t sure what to make of that, and he had no interest in ever finding out. Perhaps for the same reason he dreaded returning to the lab; this situation required detachment.

He hadn’t spoken a word to you yet. 

When he entered the Council room, you were sitting at the table, discussing something with Jayce. Viktor wanted to interrupt so Jayce wouldn’t have the burden of pretending to be calm for the entire conversation, but when he sat down next to his partner and you peered at him expectantly, he mumbled a “good morning” to his feet and feigned interest in the handle of his cane. 

“She’s awaiting trial,” Mel said, “we cannot make any determination until she’s been given a chance in court.” 

“While I’m in favor of a fair judicial process, we can’t afford to wait,” Kiramann said, “something must be done sooner rather than later. And when it comes down to the safety of Piltover or the legal rights of a foreign criminal, the choice is clear.” 

Viktor looked at you. You looked at Jayce. Jayce looked back at you. 

You stood up. 

“You don’t have to choose between those,” you began in a languid voice, “and you shouldn’t. Focusing on my alleged crimes is exactly what these pirates would want you to do - waste time on a false lead instead of addressing the greater threat.”  

You waited for objections, but to yours and Viktor’s surprise, none came. 

“You have a proposition?” Heimerdinger raised a bushy eyebrow. 

“I do,” you placed your hands on the table, next to the stack of papers,” I looked over the logs from the night of the attack-” 

“And how did ye get access to those?!” Hoskel, who was very pleased with himself, pounded his fists on the table.

“You guys have an open records policy,” you said, almost impressed with how unaware of his own city, “anyway...” 

Viktor tuned you out. 

“Did you know about this?” he muttered to Jayce. 

“She caught me up like 10 minutes before we started.” 

“It doesn’t bother you?” 

“Why would it bother me?” 

“She did it behind our backs.” 

“I wouldn’t call it that.” 

“What would you call it?” 

“Can we talk about this later? I wanna listen.” 

But Viktor wanted to talk about it now. All of a sudden, you were the most proactive person in this mystery, after weeks of not doing anything unless absolutely necessary. It was... not suspicious, but Viktor liked to know things. 

Jayce was good at faking, though. Perhaps he was pretending to not be bothered to save face. 

“...the delay in Enforcer arrival was caused by an issue with the radio system,” you were still talking, “The Public Emergency Radio on the docks were down, so none of the calls that bystanders on the docks made went through to the station. The Enforcers only heard about a crime from the PER by the bridge. I looked at the maintenance reports, and,” you put a new piece of paper on top of the pile, “it said that the resistor inline of the PER on the docks was soldered somewhere it clearly didn’t belong. This is an error that can only be done by human hands and by someone who would have the key to the fusebox.” 

You inhaled through your nose. 

“The obvious conclusion is sabotage from within the Enforcers, which is something that many people in the station have suspected for a while. If you want to focus your efforts on something, you should conduct a thorough internal investigation of the Enforcers, because there’s at least one spy in there.” 

Self-assured doubt began to cloud the Council’s expressions. You glowered.  

“Look, pirates expand, okay? If you let this slide, then one day, they won’t just be after Hextech. They’ll go for your jewelry, your booze, your spices...” that got a few of them to straighten their spines, “The longer you leave a spy in there, the harder they are to find. I’ve seen entire enterprises destroyed this way, and it will happen again, unless you nip this in the ass by finding that spy now,” you strained slightly. 

Viktor realized that you’d been paying more attention than you let on, with the way that you targeted the specific business interests of the Councilors. For someone who never made an effort to please them, you could be quite convincing when you wanted to be. All that haggling expertise didn’t come from nowhere, he supposed. 

It was silent. You didn’t sit down yet, practically challenging one of them to say something. 

Finally, someone did. 

“Councilors, all due respect, that would be an utter waste of time” the voice was irritated with pride. 

Its speaker left the shadowed corner; he had a precise black mustache, geometric brows, and an Enforcer helmet tucked under his arm. 

“So is bringing a Helmet to a Council meeting, Mister...” your fingers tightened against the tabe.

“I’m the Sheriff of Piltover,” he stated, directly to you, before turning to the Councilors, “and in all the years I’ve been working for this city, we’ve only increased our internal defenses against spies due to the threat of Undercity subterfuge. Our hiring process is thorough, and we screen for them regularly, which is why I can safely say that there are no agents of the Undercity, or anywhere else, in the Enforcers.”

Somehow, even when the subject was entirely unrelated, the Undercity always came up in Council meetings. Viktor scoffed, but said nothing. 

“But how can-” 

“Further,” he interrupted, focusing on you again, “I urge the Council to question the integrity of her argument. For all we know, she could be the insurgent, trying to distract us while the real problems go unnoticed,” he folded his hands, “Her character would suggest so.” 

“This isn’t about me,” you growled. 

“Our testimony would suggest that it is about you, actually,” he pulled a piece of paper from his brest pocket, “One witness reports that you were, and these were their exact words, ‘brutal. without remorse, didn’t even bother with talking, just went straight for the vitals.’” 

Viktor’s heart fell into his stomach. 

“Now, Councilors, that doesn’t sound like someone who has anyone’s best interest in mind, let alone Piltover’s,” the sheriff concluded, and Viktor felt a new level of guilt. 

“You’re taking that out of context,” you said.

“Is that so?” the sheriff put the paper away, “But you still were engaging in such behavior, weren’t you?” 

Viktor cringed, sinking down deeper into his seat. His internal logic sounded a lot less valid coming from this pompous asshole’s mouth. 

“It was self defense,” you said.

“Right,” the sheriff returned his focus to the Council, as though you were a speck of dust on his shoe, “now, I recommend that we...” 

Your palms relaxed. You plopped back back into the chair, defeated, and Viktor never thought that he’d see you give up an argument that easily.

A vote and a disappointment later, you three regrouped in the lobby.

“They’re screwing themselves over,” you tutted, “all the work we’re doing to shut this down is gonna mean nothing.” 

“This isn’t our last chance,” Jayce nudged your elbow, “we can always ask again. That sheriff can only damage control so many times.” 

Jayce was very convincing. If Viktor hadn’t actually seen him break down yesterday, he would’ve believed that you two were pals and nothing ever happened. 

“Right,” you said into your hands, “godsdamnit, of course they had some random asshat’s testimony on file like that,” you surveyed Jayce and Viktor, “I didn’t even know anyone else was watching.” 

You locked eyes with Viktor, and before he could anticipate how it would come off, he found himself quickly looking down at the floor with the confidence of a frightened rabbit. If he had to under the spell of the discerning, yet unsuspecting, crinkle in the corners of your eyes for any longer, he might just confess. 

Which wasn’t even warranted, he told himself. How was he supposed to know that they would use his words like that? 

When he poked his head back up and caught your face, your expression wasn’t unsuspecting anymore. 

“I gotta go,” you said suddenly, getting up from your chair, “Alex and I have a dinner date. But I’ll be there early tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good. We’ll get started on lockdown. See ya, Pen.” 

Viktor only felt that he could breathe again when you closed the door behind you. 

“Are you alright, Vik?” Jayce patted his friend’s back without warning. 

“Yes-” Viktor regained his composure, “yes, I am fine. I do wonder,” he narrowed his eyes, “how she read those Enforcer logs by herself, though.” 

“Oh, Caitlyn helped her,” Jayce said, “they met up at the station.” 

“And that doesn’t bother you at all?!” 

“Why would it bother me?” Jayce frowned, “Does it bother you?” 

“Well-” Viktor swallowed, “I thought that you were interested in keeping tighter security. Penny doing things without us knowing does not align with that.” 

“Look, I was a little freaked out earlier, but once I processed all that shit,” Jayce sighed, “I remembered that it’s just Penny. She’s still the same person. And I trust her.” 

Ah. Jayce wasn’t faking earlier - he was actually comfortable with you. And so was Caitlyn. Even after everything you’d done. After everything you’d shown yourself to be. 

If there was one thing he learned after moving here from Zaun, it was that, despite all the glitz of Piltover, people will eventually show their true selves to you. Especially if they don’t see you as an equal.

And you should always believe them. 

“Now, we better get started on clearing out the lab,” Jayce grunted. 

“We should divide the labor,” Viktor said lifelessly, “I will remove the test circuits.” 

“You sure you wanna do that alone?” 

“Yes.” 

Viktor refused to be near the Academy any longer. He needed time, away from the vestigial defensive reflexes of his Zaunite heritage, away from reminders of his work, and away from the notion that you ever existed. 

*****

You squinted, as though it were any trouble to recognize that silhouette. 

You could recognize a lot of things about him now. He stood out from the crowd. Those weren’t just keys on the table, those were Viktor’s keys. That wasn’t just sloppy handwriting, that was Viktor’s sloppy handwriting. And, earlier today, that wasn’t just anyone’s evasive maneuver, that was Viktor’s evasive maneuver. 

And he was never evasive. The bastard was hiding something, and you hoped that you were wrong about what it was. 

“She had a knife like yours,” Alex said. 

Right. You were supposed to be bringing him home. You were sure that he could make it by himself, but given everything that had happened in the last few days and the fact that it was approaching midnight, you weren’t taking any chances. 

“Hm?” you tilted your head to the side, refocusing your attention on the winding street. 

“That lady. Pearl. She had a knife like yours. I saw it when I went to the bathroom.” 

“You sure about that? Mine’s as custom as they come.” 

“I didn’t look that close,” he paused, half his face shadowed by the street lamp, “but it did look like yours.” 

“Maybe I’ll ask her to see it next time,” you looked at him from the side, “You liked her though, right?” 

Though you very much enjoyed dining in the servant’s quarters of the mansion she worked in, you had other reasons to consider the visit a success; she basically confirmed that you could house sit for the winter, starting next week and lasting for a month. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said, “I just wish that there were more Rats in Piltover. Monty says I’m not allowed to go to the Undercity.” 

You clicked your tongue. You didn’t know much about the family that he lived in, but that sounded like standard fare for Piltover. 

“I’m not allowed to go there either,” you said, “but hey, it’s not gonna be like this forever. I’m sure we’ll get to meet them eventually.” 

Even if the entire godsdamned city, including Viktor, was working against you. 

In the meantime, you could make do with Pearl’s company. 

She was happy to find a kindred spirit and you were desperate for one. You got the sense that both of you were not considered worthwhile company by most of Piltover, so it was nice to be wanted for a change. And, despite your initial caution, she was fun to be around; she’d retained her Bilgewater slickness. 

You hardly got through your request for a housesitting recommendation before she was on board, saying that she did something similar in her youth and that it was “only right that the people who would actually use a property like this should get to live in it.” Apparently, she’d thrown some wild parties in the ballroom, with her employers none the wiser. 

She’d even taken her employer’s best booze from the cellar for that night, though you had to decline since you were on proper painkillers now.

“I don’t get tired of the luxury, because it was never really mine to start with,” she had said, “though, if you ask me, I think being bored out of my skull but filthy rich is a pretty good deal.” 

“Maybe so,” you had answered, “though something tells me we’ll never get to find out.” 

After you dropped Alex off at his house, you closed the door and leaned against it, resting in the porchlight oasis. Finally, one damn thing had gone right in your life, and you worried that the minute you walked down the stairs of the deck and surrendered yourself back to the quotidian night, you’d lose the feeling. 

But Viktor was still there, by himself, looking like a mugger’s dream. You should probably make sure that he didn’t get himself killed.

“You shouldn’t be here by yourself,” you said when you approached him from behind, holding back a smirk when he flinched, “did you learn nothing from that bar ambush?” 

His screwdriver stilled, then gently floated away from the open test-circuit reactor. The light around Viktor’s shadow on the cobblestone melted from brassy street lamps to hex crystal blue, which glimmered in his exhausted eyes when he faced you.

“I know that you don’t get out much, but you really ought to find a better hobby than following me,” he leaned against his cane with that smug, self-assured lack of fear that he always had when he realized it was just you.

“Alex’s house is that way,” you jerked your chin towards the street, “in case you forgot. And I think following you is a more worthwhile hobby than giving vindictive, inaccurate testimony to Enforcers.” 

He wasn’t surprised at your retort. He just winced, like he’d seen it coming, which had the frightening implication that he recognized the signs of your mood just as easily as you recognized his. 

“I did not know they would use it like that,” he said, all too defensive for your liking, “but it was not inaccurate. I was merely telling the truth.” 

Something rustled in your coat pocket. 

“Oh, bullshit. Jayce saw a lot of the same crap you did, was even more disgusted by it, and they weren’t quoting him in front of the Councilors, so obviously there was a right thing to say, and you didn’t say it.” 

“I’m not arguing with you,” he said, though he didn’t turn around.

“Right, because you were so busy working on that circuit,” you gestured to it, “c’mon, I saw you there like five minutes ago. It doesn’t take that long to deactivate,” you curled your lips cruelly, “What? Too worried that you’ll feel some remorse?” 

The mass in your pocket was... warm against your upper thigh.

“I’ve been standing here,” Viktor’s words came from the back of his throat, “for four hours, because you could not stop yourself from going fucking berserk and how Hextech is suffering for it. You couldn’t think for a moment about how this would affect anyone other than yourself,” he swallowed, “I am losing everything.” 

“I’m sorry?!” you crossed your arms, “Am I hearing that you’d rather lose your life?” 

“Oh, don’t start with that,” Viktor rolled his eyes, “no one’s-” 

Blue light cracked from your coat pocket. Viktor stopped as a similar surge of magical energy stretched out behind him in bolts. The pen reactor. 

You went dead still, wondering if this was really how it ended.

But a few moments passed, and you were both still alive, goggling each other with empty, frightened eyes. You bit your lip and reached down into your pocket with a trembling hand.

The long, smooth grip of the pistol was raging with internal magic, like there were storm clouds lashing out inside of it. You followed the energy back to its cylinder, wrapping your fingers around the center and rattling your bottle of painkillers on the way out of your pocket. 

Viktor stepped aside to examine the reactor. 

Blue embers radiated from the pistol’s cylinder, as though hot coals burned inside. It didn’t feel like a solid object anymore, but an extension of your body, united with your hand. 

Viktor pushed the shutter away. The reactor’s hex crystal emanated the same muted embers. THey were less flashy than normal, but still fluttered with life. 

The pistol and the reactor chittered back and forth rhythmically. 

You unsheathed your knife from your belt and pressed the tip into the blue edge at the bottom of the cylinder, applying the slightest amount of pressure to open it. 

Pop.

You saw the hex crystal inside for only a second before everything went white. 

*****

Falling, falling, falling, but with no air careening against you. 

It was so godsdamned bright. The inverse of outer space, where, instead of the absence of light, every single molecule reflected it at you all at once, bursting and flashing with lurid vertigo. It felt like you stared into the sun too long and now the rays were extending past your scope, consuming you whole. 

It lasted for only a second. 

Your feet were on solid ground again, and traces of salt water tickled your nose. Spots clumped in your vision, mitigated by the steely cobalt color of the sky. 

The sky... wasn’t like that before. Storm clouds herded above, still an opaque mass as the last strands of light dipped below the horizon. It was not the clear, inky night that you’d come from. 

“Hhhng.” 

Viktor. 

You blinked harshly, forcing the disorientation from your system. You were outside, it was nearing night time, and... and the familiar sound of clinking glass and drunken whoops spun from your right. A strip of dull lantern light came from an open door. 

Viktor materialized into focus, standing up, in the same physical condition as he was before, but just as lost as you were. And past him... that couldn’t be.

It was the alleyway that Jayce was attacked in. You’d recognize it anywhere. Scuffed, aging buildings formed a lane to the docks, but as your eye followed them down, the street was lacking something that should’ve been there, and it made you sick. 

It should’ve been coated with thick, white snow, shoveled into small piles on the side so the crunchy salt could break apart the thin sheet of ice on the road. 

But there was nothing. The streets were clear, like it had never snowed at all. And the ocean was angry. 

Anxiety twanged in your chest. 

You looked at Viktor, distracted by the street, and apparently coming to the same conclusion as you. Something was very, very wrong. 

And then your own voice, scratchy and free and spent, and curled around your ears. But you hadn’t said anything. 

You cleared your throat, confirming that, yes, your vocal chords were still under your control, but the onslaught of your own words, entirely divorced from your being, continued. 

Jayce’s brazen voice replied. 

“Do...” your voice cracked, and Viktor turned around, “do you hear that?” 

He paused, listening intently to the inside of the bar. And his eyes were wider than you’d ever seen when he heard his own voice blurt something out, the unmistakable accent even thicker with booze. 

You crept into the doorway, barely touching the edge with your fingers. Another sensation would send you overboard. The asymmetrical beat of Viktor’s footsteps followed behind you. 

Moving just one eye out, you took a peek at the bar. 

Every poet from every country from every lifetime could not describe the uncanniness of seeing yourself from the outside. It wasn’t real, it didn’t feel real, because there was no way that was you, because things like this did not happen. You were not supposed to be an object on a plane, you were the damn plane. 

It was like those trick paintings, where everything looks okay on the surface, but as you notice more macabre details the only picture you get is just how little you know about the world being presented to you. Every small thing about yourself sent a rolling wave of dissociated, horrified deja vu. And yet you couldn’t pull yourself away.

You felt faint. 

And it only got worse when you saw the back of the original man with the pistol, the motherfucker that drugged your friends and tried to shoot you, sitting at the bar. The same young man hiding behind a still-developing beard. His pistol, a creamy silver, was sturdily attached at the hip. 

He didn’t see you spying on him, as he was intensely focused on other you getting up from the table with a half empty mug of rum and beckoning to the bartender. 

You took a seat right next to him and faced away, leaving your drink on the table. 

Gods, you were an idiot. 

You were watching everything go wrong in slow motion. The bartender went around back to get you some fresh mint, and you passively engaged in conversation with someone sitting farther down the bar. 

The pirate fingered a bottle of clear liquid, passed it over your drink like a ghost, and left the bar counter without you noticing. He faded into some far off corner, waiting for you to take the bait. 

He must’ve already gotten Jayce and Viktor, then. So what stopped this drug from getting to you? And better yet, what would stop you from beat his ass this very moment instead of letting past you take the lead an hour from now.

You couldn’t just attack him, you knew better than to run head first into... whatever was going on.  But, for comfort, your hand raced down to your belt and closed around the hilt of your knife. Your bottle of painkillers rattled in your pocket.

Painkillers. The ones that made you vomit when combined with alcohol. 

You’d asked the bartender for mint. You were making a mojito, which you’d thrown up that night. 

And then you understood that all of this had already happened to you, and your intervention was an important part of saving this night. But you had to do it now. 

You edged further into the bar, pressing your palm down on the cap of the painkillers. 

This was a bad idea. 

You crammed a chalky white pill between your fingers. Your drink was open. The bartender was gone. No one would notice. 

This was a bad idea. 

Jayce and Viktor were enraptured by a debate with each other about... something stupid probably. Your heartbeat was fast. 

This was a bad idea. 

“Wait here,” you said to your Viktor, the one looming over your shoulder, who was too stunned with anything to reply. 

This was a bad idea. You can’t change the past. 

But clearly, you already had. 

You blacked out for a bit. You forgot to breathe the entire time as  you snaked out from your hallway and hugged the edge of the bar, trying and failing to act casual. 

You were less than a foot away from yourself when you stalled, because that was you, right there. Your back was facing you, and you could’ve reached out and touched it. 

But this timeline was meant to be changed, even if you had to be the one to do it. 

So, when the pill slipped from your hands, into the shallow pool of Whalefall and rum at the bottom of your mug, with past you none the wiser, you felt a rush of raw determination. Everything would be okay. 

You retreated into the hallway, a stop on your way back into the alleyway. Viktor just watched you, shaking. 

“Did... did you-” he whispered as you gave yourself a final glance before you left the premises. 

Your attention returned to your drink after the bartender gave you the mint you asked for. You scooted off the chair and joined Jayce and Viktor again, about the mix the mojito that would’ve been your doom. 

“C’mon, let’s-” 

A fading conversation bounced down the alleyway. You saw them from the corner of your eye.

Jayce’s attackers, lying in wait. You were fucked if you went back down the alleyway. 

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit,” you muttered. 

You couldn’t just walk through the bar either, not when you looked like you had just seen a ghost. You needed time to think. To come up with a plan.

But you were trapped. 

You hastily backed into the bathroom, brushing against Viktor’s chest as you pushed his immobile body with you. 

You shut the door and twisted the lock with numb hands. 

“This can’t- I can’t- what the fuck-” Viktor panted. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

You turned and leaned against the door, realizing for the first time since you’d arrived here that the gun was gone. 

Well, shit. 

The bathroom was tiny; the bare necessities of a rusty sink, soap, a hand towel, and a toilet were surrounded by aged wooden walls reminiscent of a ship’s head. 

Not the time to reminisce.

“What- what did you do?” Viktor collapsed onto the toilet, rubbing his face with the heels of his hand. 

“I, uh- I think I just drugged my own drink,” you said blankly, “so that I would throw up that shit they put in it. And then I could...” you trailed off. 

“No! I mean-” Viktor caught a breath, “what... what happened? Why are we here? Is this... this is real, right?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “this... is real.” 

“The reactor, and the... it must have been affected, and transported us...” 

“Into the past,” you finished slowly, “when it connected with...”

“What was in that gun?!” his voice cracked, “Why did...” 

“It came from the guy,” you said, “the first one I killed when I... when I came for you. The one we just saw. It was his...” 

“And it connected with the gun from the past, meaning that we-” he groaned, anger gradually replacing the confusion, “And you- why did you have it?!” he snapped. 

“Hey! This isn’t all me, okay, it did some shit with that reactor too!” 

“Of all the godsdamned places we could go!” he threw his arms in the air, “And now we’re stuck here.” 

“We’re not stuck,” you said, “We’ve got time before... everything happens. We’ll just wait for our opening and then-” 

“And then what?! Get involved with all of this crap again?” he chuckled mirthlessly, “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“I was making sure that we don’t die just now, dickweed!” you howled, “I don’t wanna see any of this shit again!” 

“If you don’t want to see it again, then maybe you shouldn’t have done it to begin with.”

And finally, the cord inside of you that was wound so tight around your emotions broke in hafl. 

“Alright, that’s it!” you slammed your hand down on the sink counter, “Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand how saving your bitch ass could possibly be a fuck up on my end, but I assure you I will not repeat that mistake.” 

“Again with this rescue drivel! You can give it a rest, no one else is here.” 

“You think I did all that shit, to them, to me, for fun?!” 

“I don’t know why you did it, but it’s not because you wanted to help me,” he hissed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” 

“You may have everyone else on your side,” he pointed a bony finger at your chest, “but you made a mistake. And I’ll tell you where you made a mistake.”

HIs spit shined in the artificial light, disturbing the dust mites suspended in the air. 

“You came back for me,” he barked, “and if you think for a godsdamned second that I believe you came back, risked yourself, not even for my life but just for my wellbeing, with no ulterior motive, then you are dumber than you look,” he said, “You did not do anything for me. You did it for yourself because you wanted an excuse to do all that. I know it.” 

He was sweating. He was hurting. And you were so, so close to channeling your turbulence and bewilderment straight into your fists, because you didn’t even have a good answer. 

But then he said those words, and everything fell into place. 

*****

“I’ve seen who you are in the dark, and you’re a monster.” 

None of the catharsis that was supposed to be there came. You blinked once, twice, overflowing with nothing, like a dormant volcano. 

The patter of footsteps outside was deafening. 

And then your hands moved, and Viktor thought you were going to kill him. 

BUt instead your fingers, steadier than he’d ever seen, met at the collar of your shirt and undid the first button. The fabric shifted as you inhaled. 

“See, the thing about a lot of what happens on ships,” your cadence was stony, “is that it’s designed to not be debilitating, but to still hurt like hell.” 

Viktor didn’t answer, watching as you weaved down to the second button.

“Injuries that you can still do your job with. You get this little jolt of pain every time that you move.” 

You crept down to the third button.

“And you can see it for a while after if you look. Because they don’t want you to forget.” 

The fourth. The placid mauve color of your bra poked through, and though Viktor was very briefly tempted to follow the luscious line of your chest, the rapid descent of your hands and the severity in your voice killed the thought. 

“And if you’ve been sailing for a while, and it happens over and over again...” 

The fifth.

“Then you get something to show for it.” 

The sixth. You turned around and peeled the shirt off your back. 

Starting at your shoulder blades and extending to beyond your pants was an explosion of scars. They were raised, long, and straight, overlapping with each other but occasionally grouping together in parallel rows as though they’d come from some vicious, clawed animal. There were so many.

The craggy lines reminded Viktor of a map, perhaps a conglomerate of rivers or mountains, but only on the surface. These were far too angry, tangled with each other like they were trying to suffocate themselves, yet aged into your skin like hieroglyphics. 

Whip scars. Viktor did not need to ask where they came from. 

After a small eternity, in which Viktor fought off the urge to reach out and trace them with this finger, you pulled your shirt over your back and turned around, leaving your clavicle exposed as you addressed him. 

“Because everywhere has monsters,” your voice was almost a whisper as you snared his eyes with your own, narrowed ones, “and I’ve seen Bilgewater’s. I’m reminded of what they’re capable of every single day.”

You straightened your posture, and the sharp corners of your eyelids softened in a way only Viktor could notice. 

“Is it so wrong of me to want to protect you from that?” 

The silence sighed. 

Peals of laughter - laughter from you and Viktor and Jayce - bled through the bathroom door. Yet Viktor said nothing. 

And he wanted to say everything.

He had a million answers to your question, and a million questions for you to answer, and a million grievances to take up with the gods themselves, and as they were all tearing his mind apart in every direction and giving him a searing headache, he couldn’t stop plunging himself into your frustrated, yet painfully earnest gaze as you waited for a single answer that he would never have. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, pressing yourself against the door and buttoning your shirt. All the ire had evaporated, and left disappointment in its place. 

You expected him to be better - not just expected, even, but worked for it. Put yourself out there, in the cold, cruel world to keep him on track, because you thought he had something worth protecting.

And the worst part was that he could be better than this, but the thought of letting you down was suddenly so terrifying, that he didn’t know where to begin,

He had to try, though. He couldn’t miss his chance. 

“I... I thought it was too good to be true,” he said softly. 

You laughed.

“Oh, really? That was what was too good to be true, Mr. Heimerdinger’s assistant who does break-ins on the side?” your fake smile dropped, “Don’t fucking patronize me.” 

Viktor raised a melancholy eyebrow. 

“Being Heimerdinger’s assistant was too good to be true,” he said, embarrassed for some reason. 

And... he’d lost you. You rolled your eyes and prepared to sit down on the floor, but, before Viktor even thought about it, he gently grabbed your knuckles. 

“No, please, you don’t understand,” he stammered, looking past your pupils. 

Your face was still, and Viktor could really focus on your ear and nose while you were awake, with everything he knew about you to evaluate it against. 

And despite his best efforts, all he saw was someone who had been through a lot, and was putting even more on hold so they could listen to him speak. The least he could do was give them a worthwhile explanation. 

“I- those years, when I had to work the hardest job on campus just to say there, to even have a chance at making something of myself... those were some of the worst years of my life. I hate the story of how I became Herimerdinger’s assistant.” 

He exhaled, keeping himself together for your sake.

“But everyone knows it, because people in Piltover love to tell it. Without my permission, too. It makes them feel comfortable in their system; that somehow, the people who ‘deserve’ to be here will always find their way to Piltover, even if they have to deal with a lot of... eh, bullshit.” 

Your hand was smaller in his own. He had your attention, but he kept holding it. 

“Every success that I’ve had here is like that. You have seen it with how people, the Council, treat Hextech. Piltover talks about my- our wellbeing in times like these, yet in reality, they could not care less about what happens to us as long as they get what they want,” he said, “And what- what I’m trying to say is that, when things started to go bad, when we were losing Hextech, and when I was very angry, and I wasn’t thinking straight, I thought that you were one of those people. And that was upsetting because-” 

Everything he thought to say here made him sound like an office manager or the world’s biggest sap. Because I value your company? Because you remind me of the person I want to be, even when I feel like crap? Because I finally understand you, and I keep wanting to know more? 

He heard himself guffawing in the bar. He remembered this laugh - you had just recounted the time that you had to pretend to be Freljordian, but only knew the swear words in the language. 

In a few minutes, Viktor would feel comfortable enough to recall the time that he accidentally brought Heimerdinger a smut novel instead of the biology text he requested, because of the similar covers. 

“Because I really thought we were starting to be friends,” he said sheepishly, “even though I have not acted like one in the past few days,” he placed his other hand on top of your knuckles, “and I am truly sorry.” 

You sharply exhaled and looked at your shoes before returning the eye contact with curious resolve. 

“Piltover doesn’t deserve you, y’know,” you said bluntly. 

Viktor understood Jayce’s apprehension with the company now. He would shut the entire thing down to prevent anything like this from falling on you. 

“Perhaps not, but... you risked your life and I still get to be here. I cannot thank you enough,” he squeezed his hand, “And Penny, I promise you that as long as I have something to say about it, you will not be in that position again.” 

However impossible that was, he meant every word. Precious few people ever considered him something to be deserved, and even fewer defended it with their bare chest and back. 

And there was only one you. 

“Psh, alright,” you pulled your hand away, leaving Viktor to grasp at the cold, “apology accepted, don’t overcomplicate it. Now you know... cause we’re both kinda fucked, so we gotta watch out for each other, right?

You smiled, slightly apologetic for killing the atmosphere, and a bit... nervous? Your hands were fidgeting. 

More laughter came from inside the bar. 

“Indeed,” Viktor sat back down on the lid of the toilet, “we do.” 

“And, uh, don’t worry about trying to make it up or anything. You’ve helped me before. We’re equal.” 

“That was different,” Viktor didn’t know exactly what you were referring to, but he assumed that none of it had the same weight. 

“It still meant a lot,” you insisted, “and besides, things wouldn’t have gotten this far if I hadn’t avoided talking about the whole, uh, murder party, so...” 

From the onset of tact in your voice and the way that your body froze as you tried to process a single emotion, Viktor could tell that you meant it. Yes, you were a tad emotionally constipated, but liked you as you were. 

He stayed silently committed to his promise. 

“We should... leave here,” he changed the subject

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be too hard, now that we’re not acting too suspicious or anything, so I think we’ll just wait for our opening and go out the front without attracting any attention,” you cracked open the bathroom door, surveying the minefield of potential sightings, “only trouble is that we don’t really have anywhere to go after that.”

“There is one place we could go,” Viktor said. 

After a nerve-wracking fifteen minutes of watching bar customers slowly clear out as the night got darker, you two left with a large wave of them, making it into the outside’s chilled embrace without a hitch. 

You broke apart the awkwardness with commentary about the snow that just started to fall, saying that you were “a fan of this frozen precipitation,” to which Viktor chuckled at through his exhaustion. 

The last stop on your journey was a call made at the PER by the bridge to the Enforcers, to report your own incident. Viktor got to hear your terrible Freljordian accent again as you faked being a Helga Olafersson. 

And you left Piltover, the memories of the bar, and any other bullshit behind as you crossed the bridge, side by side, to the Undercity.

~ End Notes ~

Your daily reminder to not tell shit to cops

End Credits Song: "The Night" by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #viktor x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #jayce talis #mel medarda #mel #caitlyn #jayce #waves on the shore #caitlyn kiramann #viktor x fem!reader #bruh i'm so tired #ekjrthkerjth i'm normally more enthusiastic but i'm just kinda tired rn #so glad to get this out tho #ejhrtkjrht hope it's not too bad sorrysorrysorry #Spotify

[bbxnny-bbxtch]

Masterlist

Letitia Wright -

Pretty Little Birds

Shuri Udaku -

N/A

Vivienne Scott (Scotty) -

First Date <3

You are my Sunshine...

Jamie Harrison -

N/A

Info !

I currently only write for Letitia Wright and her characters but I am open to requests from the following :

Any Black Panther/Wakanda Forever Characters

MCU

Arcane

DC

Kpop Idols/Actors

Celebrities (must specify and allow me to research)

Special Requests accepted!

Rules -

I am open to writing about other characters and fandoms, but if I am not familiar with them I'd have to do research first which may take longer.

Male POVs and Gender Neutral POVs are perfectly okay, for other races I don't mind but race doesnt matter that much.

No SMUT. Just to clarify I am of age, I'm just not comfortable writing these types of things </3

I just cant do smut 🥲

Please allow me some time between your request and the actual publishing of the fic. Im busy usually but I always make time to write 🫶🏽

#letitia wright x fem #mcu #wednesday #dc comics #black wlw #letitia wright shuri #letitia wright x black reader #letitia wright #wakanda forever #black panther #wlw #lgbt #scotty x fem reader #jamie harrison #arcane #viktor arcane #jinx arcane #jayce talis #violet arcane #caitlyn kiramman #shuri fanfiction #fanfiction

[licaliquor]

Viktor (Arcane) x Fem Reader

characters x reader (serie)

the first meeting

strangers to more

Era una giornata come le altre al palazzo reale,la giovane bibliotecaria era di nuovo presa nel finire di leggere uno dei tanti libri sdraiata sulla sua scrivania,ormai sapeva meglio di chiunque altro che lì dentro non metteva e non avrebbe mai messo piede nessuno,inizialmente si chiedeva se per caso qualcuno avesse scritto sulla porta qualcosa come “guasto” o “riservato al personale” ma dopo svariati controlli constatò semplicemente che era rimasta solo lei a leggere ancora quelle antiche pagine ricche di morali e saggezza. Di fatto quel luogo dove passava le sue giornate era pian piano diventato il suo “enorme studio” trascorreva le ore a leggere nei punti più scomodi e improbabili o a disegnare e dipingere su fogli e tele sue che ormai custodiva lì da un po’. Spesso per via dei suoi mille progetti artistici diventava improvvisamente un luogo disordinato e confusionario,ma ella non perse mai nemmeno una matita,in quel caos simile ai suoi pensieri in realtà forse vi era persino un ordine ben preciso. Alla fine però, ordine o disordine sapeva ormai che comunque nessuno sarebbe venuto a controllare o fare reclami perciò la trattava proprio come se fosse camera sua. Talvolta si domandava ancora perché l’avessero assegnata in un posto del genere quando sanno che nessuno entra nemmeno per sbaglio o a chiedere informazioni. Non che nella sua vita in realtà qualcosa avesse mai avuto un senso logico,era nata in una famiglia di artigiani di un livello medio-basso benestante,e in realtà si stupiva persino di come non fosse nata nei vicoli dato che si salvavano dalla miseria veramente per poco e dopo aver portato a termine le scuole basilari per le conoscenze, i suoi genitori vedendo che leggeva tutto il giorno e vendeva le sue “opere” per strada a qualche metro dopo la loro bottega, decisero che per loro aveva “troppo tempo libero” e “se si vuole guadagnare veramente non va bene” anche se il guadagno era praticamente costante e generoso,ma non vollero sentire scuse,quindi cercandogli un lavoro,non ha capito precisamente come,è finita a fare la bibliotecaria,o meglio a rendere un’intera biblioteca nobiliare la sua stanza. Non che le dispiacesse, quante altre volte ti capiterà di lavorare a palazzo? (si spera mai se così sono tutti i giorni) però camera sua la trovava più accogliente,tutto qui. “E anche questo l’ho finito,se mi stanno sfidando a leggere tutti i libri di questa biblioteca temo che vincerò.” Parlò fra sé e sé la ragazza trasparendo una sensazione di arrendevolezza nelle sue parole, mentre metteva via l’ennesimo libro per poi recarsi a sceglierne subito un altro. La cosa che più la terrorizzava e tormentava psicologicamente in un quel posto era il tempo,sapeva bene ormai che più libri lèggeva lì dentro più il tempo avanzava e la sua vita perdeva di significato. Man mano quell’enorme ala assumeva sempre più le sembianze d’un incantevole prigione. Se avesse finito tutti i libri là dentro significava che aveva trascorso davvero tanto tempo lì,troppo tempo senza vivere la realtà ma vivendo solo nella fantasia di quella serie di parole che formavano un concetto,e di fatto era a conoscenza che ogni libro in più la allontanava solo dal presente ma la verità le faceva troppo male per non rifugiarsi in luoghi sicuri dove gli eventi erano già stati scritti. Ogni tanto si chiedeva quanto tempo fosse passato da quel giorno dove mise piede lì dentro e accettò questa realtà,e le capitava anche di chiedersi se stesse solo bruciando gli anni della sua vita in fantasie,ma di certo lì dentro nessuno di quei libri le avrebbe cominciato a parlare consigliandola.

“Astri e pianeti….sembra interessante” Lèsse il titolo come se stesse pensando ad alta voce mentre sfiorava la copertina con la curiosità ingenua d’un bambino,infine lasciò le scarpe accanto ad una sedia e si distese su uno dei tavoli tra le enormi librerie,iniziando a leggere davanti la luce di una delle maestose finestre che illuminava d’un lume tenue e gradevole la stanza tutti i dì. Spesso cambiava persino posizione proprio come se stesse distesa su un comodo letto, anche se di comodo forse c’erano solo i tappeti lì.

“la prossima volta mi porto qualche cuscino però”. Esordi con un tono di protesta mentre si sistemava. Parlava spesso da sola in realtà da sempre anche se per via delle sue condizioni ciò era chiaramente peggiorato, la verità è che infondo non le dispiaceva trascorrere la sua vita da eremita,amava quella solitudine ma si scontrava spesso con l’obbligo che aveva di stare sempre rinchiusa lì,almeno quando vendeva opere in strada era libera,non aveva nessun perimetro da rispettare o cose simili. Inoltre ella conosceva davvero poco la città e ora che era costantemente rinchiusa lì ne avrebbe saputo sempre meno. Fortunatamente per lei dove il corpo non può andare i libri fanno arrivare la mente e infatti passava le sue giornate a leggere non solo per distrarsi da quella noia e solitudine costante ma anche perché esso era il suo unico mezzo per viaggiare al di fuori di ogni confine reale o meno. Un giorno era ad indagare a omicidi e furti e il giorno dopo abitava in una reggia d’una famiglia reale dell’800,per poi solcare i sette mari alla ricerca d’una balena bianca e dove i libri descrivevano paesaggi e personaggi lei riportava pezzi d’una realtà lontana su tela. Spesse volte ispirata da quei luoghi che moriva dalla voglia di vedere anche se non reali, iniziava a disegnare senza fermarsi mai per ore. Le sue immagini la aiutavano a focalizzarsi in luoghi dove poteva essere felice poiché il suo presente non si poteva affatto definire tale. “Ma è incredibile,esiste davvero un pianeta completamente rosso e disabitato” Constatò con stupore approfondendo il capitolo su Marte, anche se c’era poco da sorprendersi di una cosa simile,eppure vi erano molte cose che non conosceva e che quei libri le avevano insegnato meglio di qualsiasi maestro. “Io ho sempre disegnato l’enorme mappa stellare senza conoscere nemmeno un astro di quei corpi celesti che ne fanno parte praticamente..” Rifletté riferendosi all’enorme e ingombrante disegno che teneva vicino la scrivania.

“Si può?” d’improvviso una voce maschile si fece spazio in quel silenzio frastornante. “Uh?” la ragazza si alzò di scatto quasi spaventata nel sentire dopo così tanti mesi che la sua voce non fosse l’unica ad echeggiare in quel luogo.

“Emh, sì certo” Rispose di fretta mettendosi gli occhiali,mentre due chiazze colorate che probabilmente corrispondevano ad un giovane ed un suo amico varcavano l’entrata. Era confusa,le ci volle un po’ per capire che non erano allucinazioni date dal fatto che passava troppo tempo da sola. Raccolse in modo sbrigativo i capelli con un mollettone tentando di infilare i mocassini che aveva lasciato vicino al tavolo ed infine si avvicinò ai due estranei. “Posso esservi d’aiuto?” Chiese tentando di sembrare cortese ma y/n non era mai stata adatta al pubblico,e forse è sempre stata fortunata a non averne mai avuto a che fare con quest’ultimo,spesso risultava solo impassibile più che gentile.

“Cercavamo dei testi antichi sulla magia,sull’arcane”. Rispose uno di loro due mentre entrambi erano già presi a cercare e scrutare una per una le varie copertine. Ora che li vedeva bene passò dei buoni secondi ad analizzarli,erano entrambi vestiti in modo elegante,ma uno aveva le vesti bianche e avorio dagli stivali alti scuri come se ricoprisse una carica importante,inoltre la sua postura era dritta,regale come il suo tono fermo e pacato d’altronde. Mentre l’altro aveva indosso delle vesti sui toni d’un marrone mediamente scuro e dal sottotono caldo in tinta con i capelli del medesimo colore,con solo la camicia bianca sotto il gillette che spezzava un po’ quell’abbinamento ma che nel complesso rendeva comunque il tutto armonioso,egli però sembrava più chiuso del suo compagno e dal portamento modesto e umile,infondo con la stampella che portava sempre con sé era anche difficile restare stabili e sembrare sicuri.

“Oh,io li ho letti tutti,molto interessanti seppur davvero complicati da comprendere,comunque sono lassù.” Gli disse indicandogli la libreria di fianco. Provò persino a sembrare simpatica o per lo meno interessata a ciò che cercavano,dato che le sue normali conversazioni era abituata ad iniziarle e finirle da sola,ma le sue emozioni non sembravano trasparire più di tanto e di fatto continuava ad apparire solo come la classica bibliotecaria introversa,monotona e silenziosa.

“Grazie” Rispose con semplicità il ragazzo dai modi eleganti.

“Ah ehm,Jayce in realtà penso che il libro più adatto ai vostri progetti sia quello lì” Continuò la conversazione indicandogli un volume ben preciso. Erano ormai vari mesi che non parlava mai così tanto o perlomeno con qualcuno di reale ed iniziava a sentire l’ansia scenderle nelle vene.

“Oh graz- aspetta tu come sai che sono Jayce? da quando siamo entrati ci hai visti solo di spalle.” Dubitò legittimamente il ragazzo.

“Beh dai tuoi abiti sembri un consigliere,e l’unico consigliere giovane che corrisponde alle tue caratteristiche fisiche sei tu,ma nonostante ciò inizialmente per non sbagliarmi ho preferito continuare a ragionarci ma non appena hai menzionato la magia non c’erano più dubbi sulla tua identità,sei l’uomo del progresso,e i tuoi manifesti sono arrivati persino in questo angolo sperduto del palazzo…e tu devi essere il suo socio,quello che è sotto inteso nei discorsi sul progresso dove parla al plurale suppongo.” Spiegò brevemente la giovane sfogliando qualche pagina di quel libro che aveva consigliato al ragazzo poco prima.

“Sì,lui è Viktor,il mio socio. Non ti abbiamo mai vista prima d’ora ma tu sembri conoscerci come se lavorassi con noi ai nostri progetti.” Replicò con tono diffidente e sorpreso il consigliere.

“Non posso uscire dalla biblioteca perché è stata affidata a me quindi non penso mi vedrete mai in giro per i corridoi e per il resto vi ho solo osservati.” Concluse per poi chiudere il libro che stava sfogliando. “Sì,questo può fare al caso vostro.” Disse porgendo il libro nelle mani del ragazzo.

“Cosa…cosa sono questi?” Chiese il socio con fare confuso e curioso riferendosi a tutti i fogli sparsi per i tavoli e le tele di fianco le librerie mentre camminava guardandosi intorno.

“Sono dei miei quadri e disegni,ci sono anche dei progetti di mezzo credo,scusate il disordine ma qui non viene mai nessuno tantomeno l’uomo del progresso e il suo socio quindi non aspettavo visite,non che ci sia bisogno prenotarsi o avvisare però ormai è da mesi che qui sono sola quindi..” Confessò rimettendosi alla scrivania. “Cioè non viene mai nessuno qui? e tu non esci mai di qui?”Chiese Viktor.

“Già,ma tutto quello che mi perdo fuori è scritto in queste pagine quindi impiego bene il mio tempo a leggere di continuo… Per il resto detesto stare in compagnia quindi qui è perfetto.” Rispose la ragazza riprendendo a leggere quel libro sui pianeti,ma di fatto le sembrava di starsi solo auto convincendo.

“E nessuno ti fa visita? nemmeno qualcuno che conosci?”Continuò il ragazzo. “No,e poi non conosco molta gente fuori di qui oltre i miei genitori.” Spiegò ancora la bibliotecaria. “Capisco..” Replicò egli immerso nella selezione dei libri.

“Anche se in verità oltre ad avere solo pochi ricordi d'infanzia della città non so nemmeno cosa c’è oltre la biblioteca qui dentro. Mi hanno parlato del consiglio ma non hanno lasciato alcuna didascalia descrittiva o immagine a riguardo e per il resto mi è stata data una stanza sempre qui dentro quindi..eccomi..”Spiegò la ragazza. “Mi..dispiace…” Non poté che confortarla il giovane.

“Nono tranquilli io ho girato il mondo pagina dopo pagina..” Concluse ella rifiutando quella compassione istintiva lasciando comunque un velo di tristezza nell’aria.

“Senti ci servono molti di questi testi ma sono sicuro che io e Viktor non riusciremo a prenderli tutti insieme,ti va di accompagnarci in laboratorio?”le propose Jayce.

#arcane #league of legends #arcane x reader #x fem reader #x reader #wattpad italia #viktor arcane #jayce arcane #jayce and viktor #viktor x y/n #jinx #character x reader #strangers to lovers #we're not really strangers

[purplegrapevines]

Arcane Preferences/Kinks Headcannons

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Grayson, Ambessa, Jayce x fem!reader

Vi

Vi would be a switch. She doesn't seem very kinky, but I feel like she would be into praise and choking. She loves to tell you that you're doing a good job, and she loves hearing the same back. If she's choking you, she'd make sure not to press too hard that you actually couldn't breathe. But she just loves the sight of you underneath her, getting fucked out of your mind with her bandaged hand around your neck.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this. Getting fucked with my hand around your little neck. You're such a good girl for me."

Caitlyn

She's definitely a dom. I feel like Caitlyn's pretty experienced with sex and various kinks. She's definitely into some bondage and overstimulation. She just wants to make you feel good, even if it gets too much for you. She'd tie you up however she likes and make you take whatever she gives you. She'd press a vibrator to your clit and watch you as you fall apart, no matter how many times you cum.

"Aw, is it too much for my girl? You're too sensitive, baby? C'mon, just one more, just give me one more..."

Sevika

Do I even gotta say she's a hard and mean dom? This woman is definitely kinky as FUCK, too. Heavy bondage, dacryphilia, pet play, denial, spanking, just to name a few. She'd love to put some cat ears on you, and a pretty little tail in you, as you sit in front of her on your knees. She'd ignore you and continue with some paperwork until you're clawing at her knee and begging her to help you. Even after tears stream down your face in frustration, she'd just laugh and mock you.

"Aw, my pet, are you crying? Crying because you want me to touch you, hm? That bad? Fuck, you're so pathetic. You just have to shut up and look pretty for me."

Grayson

Grayson's definitely a gentle dom. She also has a mommy kink, for sure. She'd fuck you slowly on her fingers and praise you for doing so good. She loves hearing your moans and pleas for her to go faster, to touch you more.

"Does my pretty girl want me to go faster? Well, since you've been so good for me, I suppose I can... is this good?"

Ambessa

Hard dom. She would definitely be into size kink, manhandling, mommy kink, spanking kink, and body worship. She loves how big and strong she is compared to you, and how much power she has to be able to contort your body into any position she wants. She loves relaxing on the sofa while you go down and eat her out or kiss all over her body. She'd also love doing the same to you. And if you're a bad girl, she'd have no hesitation to spank you or slap you until you're her good girl again.

"Didn't I tell you to stay still? Aw, you couldn't? The stimulation was too much? I don't care. Over my lap, now. Hey, where do you think you're going? Don't make mommy put you over her lap herself..."

Jayce

Lil subby boy with a praise kink who definitely tries to mask it at first. It would take a while to get him to feel comfortable enough with you to share his preferences/desires. But once he does, he'd love being your good boy and getting praised by you. He'd be nervous and hesitant at first if you asked to peg him, but he trusts you and he'd let you do it eventually. Also mommy kink (sorry, I love this one).

"Mommy, it hurts. Ow, ow... please slower... thank you, mommy. Am I being good for you? Please tell me I'm your good boy. Ah, fuck, it feels so nice... you're so nice to me, mommy..."

#arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #vi x reader #vi fanfic #vi league of legends #vi x fem reader #vi x you #vi smut #sub!reader #dom!reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn x reader #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika tag #arcane headcanon #dom!vi #sevika smut #grayson x reader #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #jayce x reader