blustalker

[blustalker]

steven meeks...... haven't heard that name in a long time 🚬

I just made this random chart for all my pookies to understand my type in men

For the memo I find them all fuckable and even datable even the ones in looks more than personality it's just my personal chart to organize things and see with ho I correspond more.

Can yall help me what is my type?

[blustalker]

Steb & Scar Edit! <3

Music: Artemas - i like the way you kiss me

[blustalker]

Ink and Bedrock

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.9k

Synopsis: You're tasked to record what happened to Piltover over three years ago. A determined scholar who's willing to get the story of war and warn people about its horrors no matter how much it takes. And Ekko's side is what you need to accomplish the behemoth task. What happens when free flowing ink meets an unmovable bedrock?

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Noxian! Reader, Historian! Reader, Reader has nicknames, spoilers for s2, set 3 years after s2, CW blood and death mention, CW food mentions, CW injury, arcane characters apperance, part 1 of 2 (or 3), slowburn.

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A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale ���️

Part 1 >>> Part 2

Your suitcase weighs heavy in your hand as you step off the blimp for the first time. The breeze kisses your cheeks as if it's greeting you in glee. Your eyes slowly scan up the building, breath stuck in your throat at how the hex tower shines in the sun, its gold inlays melds perfectly with its white columns, making it look like you've stepped into a heavenly place. It could truly be a heavenly place in a few years. After the war ravaged Piltover and its people, it took them some time to recover from the pain it caused. Pain that your own people had a hand in causing. You could only hope that the people here accept you just as well as the wind does.

Shoes clicking against the steel floor, you can still see glimpses of the fight that occurred through the marks it left. Shattered concrete still waits in every corner to be patched up. Burn marks in different odd shapes are left etched on the pavement and metal floors like a grim reminder of the past.

As you head further outside, it gets brighter, the breeze seems to carry laughter. The sun bathes the trees in its light, still breathing through it all.

You can see hope in every person's face as you walk past, but you can sense their grief through those eyes, sadness dotted along their worry lines as they go about their day. Hope is driving them to rebuild, to concur that grief embedded in their bones. You hope that they reach their goals so they could live again, not just surviving from day to day while seeing those seared ashen walls in the shape of war.

You don't notice your knuckles shaking while gripping your suitcase. Eyes downcast, you fix your hold on the leather strap, nails leaving indents on your trembling palms. Walking through Piltover's streets has your mind making up visions of unnecessary bloodshed hidden in-between its concrete crevices. All the weapons drawn and pointed at each other, souls lost in what could've been something preventable. Yet, as you walk on the same blood soaked streets, you see all the residents rebuilding what was lost. It's only been three years since the conflict, but you can see that they've made progress in the land of progress.

The buildings are looking much better than what you saw in the reports. The hex tower is being rebuilt with a different purpose this time. The place no longer hums with remnants of the arcane.

People smile and walk to coffee shops with their loved ones, chatting and living in the moment despite what happened in the very place they sit upon. You admire them from afar, guilt trying to snake its way inside your chest, threatening to close around your heart.

You'll atone for the sins, one step at a time. Even if they drive you away, even if they curse and spit at you, you'll endure because they have endured so much more.

You promised Mel and your professor that you'll bring the truth to your fellow noxians and perhaps to the rest of Runeterra. And you intend to keep that promise.

Heart thudding in your chest, you finally make it to the Kiramman estate. The large gates open for you automatically, footsteps growing heavy with every step you take.

A guard watches you with his narrowed gaze, eyes scanning your crimson clothes and the fire in your determined eyes. With apprehension, he opens the door with a creak. As you enter and leave the cold Piltover streets, the air gets heavy as you go deeper into the mansion with a uniformed woman guiding you towards what you surmise as the office. The large double doors loom over you, shadow casting over your form.

She knocks, and you hear a commanding voice from the inside.

—

Caitlyn Kiramman, you've heard stories about her from the younger Medarda, stories of bravery and anguish laced within her decisions. You don't blame her for siding with Ambessa, she was cunning and ambitious, everything that the young and unwilling Kiramman head needed to shutter her grief close to her chest and use it as a fuel to keep herself warm in her time of grief. You suppose that's what the woman next to her is doing as she reads the letter you've given Caitlyn over her shoulder. You can see in her dark eyes that she's still atoning for her past sins.

You sit still on the plush seat, hands placed on your lap to show that you're not feeling nervous about you being here. Meanwhile in your head you're practically running laps around the room to stave off your anxiety. You find the two of them intimidating, Caitlyn sits on the same chair her ancestors have used. A seat built on years of leadership and hardwork, it's daunting to say the least, you suppose you admire her bearing that. The pink haired woman next to her has perched herself on the armchair, eyes reading the letter of recommendation written by Mel Medarda herself. A letter explaining why you're here, and what exactly your purpose of being in the same place her mother declared war and tried to conquer just over three years ago.

Your eyes roam the expansive room, its walls are in deep chestnut, all lined with her house colours, and dozens of oil paintings with her ancestors’ portraits looking down on you with their authoritative gaze. Scanning the bookshelves, your eyes pause at the pink haired woman who's already watching you with her apprehensive stare, your own eyes meeting with hers.

“Vi, right?” You ask, trying incredibly hard to stabilize your words. “Mel told me about you.”

She raises a brow, “I'm surprised she even remembers me.”

You shrug, “she seems to always know about everyone.”

“What's your relationship with her?” Caitlyn finally speaks, lithe hands folding the letter neatly.

“A friend, I guess?” You smile nervously. “Well, barely, an acquaintance more like.” They look at you, eyes swimming with even more questions. So you give them the answer. “My professor knows her. I don't know exactly how, but they seem to be close. She recommended me to Mel when she was looking for someone like me.”

“A historian? A journalist?” Vi glances briefly at Caitlyn, arm leaning over the back of her chair casually.

“Exactly, a bit of both actually.” you nod, “I—”

“You just finished your studies, what's your business being Mel Medarda’s ambassador?” Caitlyn asks suspiciously, eyes narrowed towards you. Well, she gets the job done being that blunt.

“I'm not her ambassador, technically.” You squeeze your hands together briefly before letting go, a nervous tick of yours. “I'm just here to record and write everything that happened that day.”

“Why?” She pokes and prods.

“The letter—”

“I know what the letter says, I want to know what you think.”

“I understand your apprehension. I really do.” Your eyes swim with silent empathy. “My job is to tell people, my people, exactly what happened here. The situation over there is… isn't good. I'm here so that they know what the arcane is capable of, what Ambessa did, and the cost of that war.” You lean forward, elbows perched on your knees, “I'm here so that they don't make the same mistake again, so that history doesn't repeat itself.”

Caitlyn tips her head at you, lips pursed into a thin line. While Vi stares heavily at the letter on the table with the Medarda wax seal stamped on it.

“I've seen the effects of it, war. I've never experienced it or lived through it but I've seen what it leaves in its wake, and it's all disaster, death and—” you squeeze your hands into tight fists before letting the pressure go. “Noxus has been entrenched in war for thousands of years. If my work here could prevent just a few years of war then it'll be worth it. Noxians— Runeterra needs to see what war is capable of, what it leaves on the people they've ravaged.” You exhale, “it's not much, but someone has to try. Even if it's just a small step toward peace.”

“This isn't the first time you've done something like this?” Vi asks in a solemn tone.

“Unfortunately,” you utter, voice trembling. “but this is the first time I'm doing this alone. My professor has gotten too old to travel.”

“Mel has said in her letter that you have a spark. Talented, have a way with words. And determined, never settling for a no nonsense answer.” Caitlyn taps the piece of paper in front of her.

You smile, “I'd like to think so too.”

“I don't think that was a compliment, Spark.” Vi’s lips curl into a smirk. “She just called you annoying.” Caitlyn furrows her brows, side eyeing her partner.

You mirror her smile. “Well, I'll take it as a compliment.”

Caitlyn clears her throat, index rubbing along where her eye patch sits over eye. She seems…tired, like she has been working longer than she has lived. “I'll get you settled at an apartment here, then I'll tell the council about you. If they approve, then you can start your research.”

“Thank you.” You sigh, relieved that your journey wasn't in vain. “Can I interview you two then?”

Vi blinks, “us?”

“Preferably alone, if you're comfortable with that. Just like you said, Ms. Kiramman, I don't take no nonsense answers.” You smile genuinely at them. “You two are just as important in the story. It wouldn't be complete without your personal accounts.”

Caitlyn stands up, and you immediately think you've fucked up. You're already counting down your days. “If the council votes yes, then you can interview us, and everyone you want to talk to.” She reaches for you, and you quickly stand up to meet her halfway with a shake of her stretched hand.

“I won't disappoint you or Piltover. I'll write your history as truthfully as I can.”

She nods, releasing your hand.

“Don't forget Zaun.” Vi says, standing up and giving you your letter back.

“I'm allowed there?” You take the letter, tucking it inside your coat pocket.

“Of course,” she scoffs, head gesturing towards the large window that overlooks the bridge connecting Zaun and Piltover. “It's open, kid, just cross the bridge.”

You can't help but think that she's egging you on, trying to rile you up by your fear of the undercity. It would work if you were actually afraid of it. Truth be told, you're excited to see what Zaun has in store for you.

“I'll keep that in mind.” Your smile tells them just that.

—

You feel like a piece of meat being scrutinized by the whole council. Their eyes hold unsung words as they stare at you in their important chairs. But you're not backing down, not when you’ve come so far. The spotlight above you shines brightly, making it harder to see the council members’ faces. You didn't expect to stand before them, practically dragged by an enforcer by your ear. If you did expect it, you might've prepared a speech or something. Now you're just standing there awkwardly under the harsh light.

“She's Noxian.” The one with platinum blond hair says, ringed fingers tapping on Mel's letter that they've passed around. “People might not be comfortable with her running around. For all we know she could be a spy.”

You scrunch your face, mouth clamped shut to prevent a nasty word from escaping.

“That's why she should be running around,” Caitlyn defends you. She sits on the head of the circular table, blue hair shining under the light. “The people need to not be afraid of them any longer. Are you afraid, councilor?”

The blond sucks in her teeth, annoyed.

“Caitlyn's right, it'll be good in the long run. If what the letter has stated is true, then we might be able to establish trade routes with Noxus in the future.” The councilor with a golden mask hiding half of their face says, voice gentle and soft amidst the previous arguing. “Mend the relationship between our two countries.” A handful of them nod in agreement.

“Say,” someone with short hair and strong features says, “does it work? Telling them about the shit they've done?”

“Yes,” you stand up straighter. “My professor has been recording these histories for a couple hundred years or so. Whenever her writing has reached the people it has helped. Little by little the histories have opened our eyes to the cruelty of war. I wouldn't be here if it hadn't worked.” They listen to you intently. “I'm the direct evidence of that.”

She shifts in her seat, dark eyes swirling with thoughts, and a metal arm glimmering under the light. “Are you from a noble house just like Medarda?”

“No, I'm just like everyone else in Noxus. Our research and expenses have been sponsored by a noble house though. That's the only connection I have with the nobles of Noxus.” You swallow thickly, “only just recently I've found myself acquainted with Mel Medarda.”

“You've mentioned your professor and his unusually long lifespan, and due to that, he has gathered what…” A stout council member flips through a book, you guess he has done his research about you. “Approximately 271 first hand accounts of Noxus’ cruelty?”

“It's 283,” you say with a steely gaze. “And she isn't like everyone else. She has chosen to use her long lifespan to help, to enhance her knowledge, not gather riches for her own benefit.”

“Do you intend to do the same?” Caitlyn asks, voice calm and reserved.

“Yes,” you close your hands into fists, this time you don't release the pressure. “I won't be able to live as long as her, but I can try to achieve something close to what she has done.”

“You remind me of someone.” Caitlyn's muffled words were so quiet you thought you heard wrong. Before you could simmer on what she has said, she clears her throat. “We can monitor her progress by meeting up with her every week until she has finished her work. Make sure that she's writing the whole truth.” They nod at her words. “All in favour of her staying and doing her research?”

The air grows heavy, stifling as they ponder what Caitlyn relayed to them. For a minute or so, you thought you were about to go empty handed.

The woman with the metal arm raises her hand in favour. Then more follow, until only two of the council members remain.

“That settles it then.” Caitlyn nods at you, and you feel like a fish bone stuck in your throat has been finally pulled out. “You may interview anyone who is willing. Don't make us regret this decision.”

You inhale deeply, you feel the world is sitting atop your shoulders now. “I won't.”

—

Violet and Caitlyn receive you in a much brighter mood than before. The office is filled with sunlight as it spreads across the expansive room, the curtains are furled, and the weather has cleared up since you got into Piltover. The air smells like bergamot and a hint of something sweet. A sweetness that is revealed when a plate of sugar cookies is placed on the table in front of you, accompanied by a cup of steaming tea.

You've been interviewing them for more than three hours now, hence why they've brought out the snacks and drinks that are slowly getting colder as it lays there untouched. With every question they answer, the scene of war gets clearer and clearer in your head. And as you go further and further into the conversation, their expression changes from sadness to anger. You take care of your wording from then on, make sure that you show tact in front of their war torn faces.

“What happened up there?” You ask after they both recall their side of the story. “While Violet was fighting with…” you pause as Vi exhales shakily. Clearing your throat, you don't poke and prod at her side anymore. She's still living through the pain of what happened, they all are. Caitlyn seems to think the same thing. “I'm sorry.”

“How about we continue that part for next time?” She squeezes Vi’s hand affectionately. “As for what happened up in the hextower with Viktor and Jace, we don't know the whole story. We just know that Ekko was the one who ended it.” You write the name atop your notebook for reference, the tip of your gilded pen tapping along it.

“He hasn't talked to us about it.” Vi adds after a bated breath. “Or to me after….Jinx.” Her brows pinch together in hurt. “I still have no idea how he got her to help us. All I know is that he did everything he could to end it. For that we’re grateful for him, even if he doesn't want us to be.”

“Jinx,” you repeat the stranger's name softly. Mind locking his and her name together. “Was Ekko close with your sister?”

She chuckles, eyes turned towards the smoke rising from her cup. “Once, when we were kids.”

Cait leans closer towards her, thumb brushing gently atop her calloused knuckles. “You don't have to tell it now if you don't want to, Vi.”

“I'm sorry about your sister.” You gently shut your notebook close. “I don't want to push you into recalling a memory that still aches.”

“You can tell that she's gone by that? I must look fucking sad right now then.” Vi half jokes, nudging Cait’s shoulder with her own, a subtle way of saying that she's alright.

You smile gently, “I know the look, I've seen it a hundred times before. But it doesn't feel any easier every time I see it. I really am sorry.”

Vi sighs, and Cait squeezes her once more. “You're right, let's do this some other time.” She stands up abruptly, pacing towards the open window, basking in the warmth of the Piltover sun. Your lips are already forming apologies, “and don't say sorry again.” She looks over her shoulder as Caitlyn follows right behind her. “You're just doing your job. Don't worry, I'm not gonna lunge at you for asking about it.”

You nod, standing up. “When you're ready, I'm just here. Thank you for your time.”

They both nod as Caitlyn's hands rub along Vi’s arms. Before you could leave, Caitlyn calls after you. Her heels clicking against the marble floors as she walks over to you. “Wait here.” You do as you're told. She turns around towards the coffee table to grab a handful of cookies, placing it over an open napkin and then folding it neatly. “You should talk to Sevika, she's a council member representing Zaun. She could help with their side of the story.” She reaches for your hand when you only stare at her, opening your palm for you and giving you the wrapped cookies. “Figured you haven't eaten yet.”

“Thank you, Caitlyn.” You smile sweetly at her, hand now heavy with the cookies.

“Sevika talks to Ekko almost everyday ever since they've become partners in restoring Zaun. You'll have a better chance at having a minute with him through her.”

“Where is she in Zaun?”

“Are you afraid now?” She raises a thin brow, eyes shining under the sunlight.

“Not even a little.” You smile, “I just heard that it's easy to get lost in the lanes.”

Cait nods, “She's near the harbour.”

“Thank you,” you turn to open the door but before you do, you look back at them. “and thank you for the hospitality.”

—

You walk through Zaun with purpose. The lanes look much better than what you've seen through reports. The streets are no longer dark and bleak, there are street lamps in every corner, and the shops look like they're thriving just as well as their Piltover counterparts. There are green overgrowths, flowers and grass peeking from concrete cracks and vines growing and slithering atop metal walls.

You've only been in Piltover for a week, and you've spent most of it talking to willing council members and citizens. They all convey the same thing you've seen before in people who have suffered tremendous trauma. The hurt is embedded in their eyes, grief in their bones. But you also see the same thing in their tone just like what you've seen countless times before— hope, it's laced in their way of talking, weaved through their movements as they go about their day to day operations. You can see that they're looking forward to tomorrow, even when the past still knocks on their doors. You see them answer the knocking, but never letting it enter and fester in their home.

You see the same thing in Zaun, they've suffered as much as Piltover had, even more before the war. The walls still bear the violence it once carried, the air still shifts with heaviness and voices lost in the very streets you're walking on. The place buzzes with life, Zaunites rebuilding their home, people carry on, life carries on.

As you go further and further into the heart of the undercity, you see the same face on the walls, blue hair flowing in the breeze, shining eyes staring down at you through her steely gaze. Every corner you see a semblance of the mysterious girl, blue and pink trailing behind her, people rallying alongside her. They all bear the same hope, some weave anger akin to a woman scorned through the graffiti, some etch her face with sorrow and loss. But it's all the same face, same eyes, same hair. You think you already know who she is.

You make it to the center of Zaun where a hefty statue stands. It's a sculpture of a man with an air of authority around him. Curious, you read the plaque next to his feet, reading his name— Vander. You recognize his name from what Violet has told you. Looking up at him, you see through his bronze eyes, if only he could talk, all the stories he would tell.

His statue has blue flowers placed at his feet in respect to him. There’s a banging sound right behind it, getting your attention. Peeking behind the statue, you see what looks like a bar being rebuilt upon the ashes of what it used to be. With one last look at Vander, you continue towards your destination.

Walking along the harbour brings you peace, the water lapping at the coast. You hug your coat tighter around your torso, cold breeze seeping through the fabric as the air flutters your lashes.

You make it to Sevika's place without a hitch. She surprisingly waits for you right outside her door, expression flat as she stands on the steps.

“Finally made it.” She wears a brown poncho over a white shirt, silky hair falling over her face. “Vi told me you were coming.” She answers your silent question when she sees your confused expression. “Come.” Before you could get a word in, she's already heading inside.

—

Your eyes as usual roam around your surroundings, ever curious at what kind of person you're about to talk to. Her office is smaller compared to the Kiramman estate, but it doesn't lack personality. The work table in front of you is solid oak, papers and metal parts litter over it right next to a heavy looking arm with colourful doodles all over it. The walls are concrete, a honeycomb brown painted over it. The circular windows are fully open, overlooking the harbour below. It lets in a cool sea breeze while the sun has fully set in the horizon. The quiet hum of the lights and radiator tamps down any left over anxiety you have.

Right behind Sevika's chair lies an aquarium filled with colourful fish and rocks placed on the aquarium floor. It gurgles and lets out air from time to time, it's faint blue light bathing your form. The potted plants dotted along the room dance in the breeze, its rustling sound reminds you of the tree back home swaying in the wind.

From what you've heard about her, she seems like a woman of few words, someone who prefers to use her fist instead of talking. But based on what you've heard from her so far after talking to her for two hours, she seems far from what she used to be. You look at her and you see a council member, a pillar of Zaun. A lot can happen in three years.

Your eyes glance back towards the metal arm, its shark-like feature has you curious at how it even works. Index reaching towards it, chair creaking from under you, your curiosity makes you touch the cold metal, its pink and blue paint rough against the pad of your finger.

The door creaks open as Sevika enters, light flooding inside the room and you immediately flinch back into your seat. “You're sitting in the dark, kid.” She flicks the light switch beside her, warm yellow light flooding in.

You look over the backrest of the chair to see her properly and not a reflection of her on the aquarium glass. “I didn't know where the light switch was.” She didn't seem to notice what you were just doing.

“You could've asked.” Her heavy footsteps thump on the creaky floorboards.

“Don't worry, I'm not afraid of the dark—” the clang of a metallic plate placed in front of you makes you jump in your seat. You stare at her, wide-eyed.

She chuckles lowly, sitting down on her seat with a tired grunt. Gesturing towards a plate of salted biscuits, and small sandwiches, she meets with your eyes confidently. “Sorry for the lack of spread. I didn't expect for us to take this long.” She takes the same heavy arm from the table, grabbing a bottle and oiling the hinges with care.

“It's fine, thank you.” You grab a biscuit, all the while eyeing the craftsmanship of the metallic arm. Sevika notices your stare.

“What, never seen one of these before?”

“No, I've seen prosthetics before. It's just— this one is unique looking.” You say while chewing, finding the biscuit pleasantly salty. The sandwich looks enticing from where you're sitting.

She chuckles wryly. “A fancy way of saying it looks fucked up. I rarely use it these days, I use this one instead” she lifts up the simpler looking metal arm she currently has on. “I just like to…take care of it. Make sure it doesn't rust.”

You smile, “it means a lot to you, I get it.” Your thumb brushes along your beloved pen. “It looks well made, did you build it yourself?”

“It was a gift.” She hums in reply, now wiping a cloth around the arm. “Where were we?”

“We're at the part where I told you that we should rest.” You say with a teasing smile.

“We're done resting, kid.” She scoffs.

“And just like what I've told you before you took off, you don't need to rush it. We can take our time.”

“I want to get this over with.” Sevika leans on the table, eyes narrowed at you. “Where were we, kid?” She says with extra emphasis.

“Let's see…” You lean on the table yourself, mirroring her look but with a smug smirk while pretending to flip through the pages of your notebook. “We were at the part where your ass was being handed to you.”

If you talked to her like that three years ago, your ass would be the one being handed to you. But now, Sevika laughs loudly, moving away as she sits back on her chair.

She grabs a biscuit, using it to point at you before taking a bite. “You’ve got balls. You would've thrived here a few years ago, eh?”

“Maybe, we'll never know.” You shrug. “Now, are you sure you want to continue?”

“I've got a busy schedule, of fucking course I want to continue.”

“Okay, I just needed to make sure you're alright.”

Her eyes dart towards the arm, frowning briefly before looking back at you. She puts it down with a slight clang against the table. “I'm fine,” she sighs, and you nod in understanding, clicking your pen as you ready to scribble down her words. “After I got nabbed by one of those creepy puppets, there was just darkness with bits of light. Like a… like stars.” You write her exact words.

“You felt like you were floating, but were still restrained in real life.” You recall the same feeling the other people you've talked to relayed.

“Yeah, exactly that.” Her eyes swim with thoughts. “Then, I was back— just like that.” She snaps her fingers together.

“Like you woke up from a dream?”

She shuts her eyes close for a second before opening it again. “I heard the last echo of an explosion, when I looked up at the hex tower, it was already gone.” Taking another bite, she continues. “I guess that was Ekko’s work.”

There it is again, that recurring name. “I keep hearing about him.” Your pen subconsciously circles around his name.

“The boy savior, they call him.” She slumps down on her seat, evidence of her fatigue etched under her dark eyes. “And we still don't know how he fucking did it.”

You pinch your brows together in questioning. “You don't know either?”

“Fuck no, we might work together to help Zaunites, but he still hates my guts.” She blinks at you, lips pursing together. “Maybe you can get him to talk. I'm as curious as everyone else, we never know, the kid might have some secret weapon on him.”

“Who is he really? Violet says he's an old childhood friend. The others don't know much about him either, all I know is that he saved everyone at the last minute.”

“I think it's best that you ask him yourself, kid. Ain't that your job?”

You sigh, closing your notebook. “You're right, where is he usually?”

“Firelights hideout. It used to be a secret but they opened it to everyone who needed it after the war.” She crosses her leg over the other.

“Fireflies?”

“Firelights.” She corrects. “He's the leader, has been since the very beginning.” Her eyes go towards your closed notebook. “Hey, we're not done here yet, kid!”

You stand up, tilting your head at her teasingly. “I know, you told me to find Ekko so I'm going to go find him.”

“Well, not right now!”

You're already at the door. “I'll come back, don't worry! Y’know it's best to tell your story after some rest, it helps in better recollection.” You're not lying, she did seem tired. And you're in too deep to not go and find him now before the day officially ends.

She glares at you, mouth slightly agape. “I'm going to hit you.” She's starting to stand up when you sprint away.

“Thank you for the hospitality, councilor Sevika!”

—

Zaun is fully alive at night. The streets are filled with people laughing and hanging out with their loved ones. Which means there's plenty of people to ask where the firelights hideout is. Good thing that some of them were drunk enough to not ask you questions, the downside is that they're too drunk to give you coherent directions. So you're stuck in the middle of the undercity looking lost, but with the help of some people who haven't had a drink yet, you manage to find the entrance after an hour of walking around. All the while you try to ignore the looming presence following right behind you ever since you left Sevika's. Whoever it is, they don't seem to want to hurt you, so you pretend to not sense them until they decide to reveal themselves, or fight you. Whichever comes first.

Your feet ache and your stomach grumbles, but the sight of the huge gingko tree with its lively leaves swaying in the night wind makes it all worth it. A smile slowly spreads across your cheeks, the air is fresher down here, wind fluttering your lashes, sending goosebumps to spread across your arms.

The twinkling fairy lights make you chuckle to yourself, children run amok, giggling while their parents try to call them back home. The place is beautiful in its own way. You can see the large walls enclosed around the commune with circular vents dotted around it, a remnant of its past secrecy.

“You can come out now.” You say in a confident tone. Looking over your shoulder, you see his outline, the person who has been following your entire journey to the hideout. “I was lost and you didn't even bother helping me.”

“I heard you were looking for me.”

The mysterious man comes out of the shadow, the dark parting for him like theatre curtains.

Draped in a large puffy coat, steely brown eyes glaring at you through the white face paint. His whole demeanor screams ‘leader.’ White hair shining in the moonlight, twists tied in a bun while a few strands drape over his face. The blue metallic charms wrapped around his hair clinks together whenever he moves. The hoverboard hums in his hand, the faint green light illuminating his face as it flickers in and out. Adding to the intimidating air he's trying to convey.

You have to admit it, he looks strikingly handsome, albeit intimidating and tough. But you like tough, and intimidating is just another word for overawe, but you're not easily impressed. His daunting shell is an obstacle for you to crack open and take a peek inside. You're curious what his genius mind thinks, out of all the things they've all told you, nothing else has gotten you beyond excited than the man standing before you. His side is the final piece of the puzzle, the pièce de résistance you need.

You smile at him, a genuine one, not the same polite smile you give when you're interviewing someone. “It's nice to finally put a face to the name.” Hand reaching out to him in greeting, he just looks at your stretched hand, eyes darting all over your form suspiciously. You're suddenly conscious of your posture and how you wear your clothes.

“You're noxian.”

“What, too obvious?” You gesture around your crimson clad self. Outfit tailored to suit you and your profession.

His gaze narrows, eyes turning to slits as his mouth turns into a scowl. “Are you spying on us?”

“No,” you furrow your brows, hand retracting back to your side, the sound of your leather messenger bag thumps against your hand.

A tad disappointed. “didn't Sevika tell you about me? Or Vi?”

He flicks his aprehensive eyes from your head to your shoes, knuckles tightening around the hammer he carries. “Guess you weren't important enough.”

“I guess that's why you were following me, huh?” You say sarcastically. If I wasn't that important, why follow me? Is what you wanted to say, but you're playing it cool, lest you lose what precious time you have with him. You need to get his story.

He scoffs, hand still holding his weapon, resting it atop his shoulder. “You were asking too many questions. You could've been robbed or killed.” A breeze passes by between you, rustling the leaves above and slicing the tension.

“Well, you know what they say about curiosity and the cat.” His frown deepens, teeth grindingly frustrated. You sigh, swallowing down your sass. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” You tell him your name as nicely as you can. You've come far from brawling with fellow noxians at the bar, if only your mentor could see you now. “I'm a noxian historian, Mel Medarda tasked me to record and write what happened here three years ago so that—” he's already walking away from you. “—hey!”

“Save me your sales pitch.” Ekko puts the board on his back and hooks the hammer on his belt in one fluid motion as he walks further into the commune.

“Sales—! I'm not trying to sell you anything.” You follow behind whilst people walk past you, all staring at the interaction you're having with their leader. The place is lively despite the moon gazing down upon them. The place smells faintly of freshly cut grass and mint. “I just want to talk to you.”

“We're talking now.” He says all without looking over his shoulder.

“Wait! Can you at least listen to what I have to say? Just give me a minute.” You try to follow even when he expertly dodges around people and buildings. He's trying to lose you in the hubbub of the hideout. “Ekko, please!” As you round a corner, you see him retreating up to the tree, hoverboard humming from under him as he dashes upwards. “Oh come on, man!”

He looks down at you with a faint smirk, brow raised as he watches you kick a lone can in frustration. Stepping down from his board, he enters his tree house, making sure that you hear the slam of his door.

“So you're not going to talk to me?!” You yell up, palms cupping the sides of your mouth. The firelights look at you with a mix of annoyance and confusion. “Ekko!”

“Go away!” His voice is carried by the wind, he doesn't even poke his head out of the window to talk to you clearly.

You stomp your foot on the dusty ground. “Fine! Thank you for talking to me!” You sarcastically say, almost sticking out your tongue out at him childishly. Sighing, you compose yourself, trying to smile and kindly wave at the passers by. “Hello, sorry.” Walking back to where you came from, you mutter a curse under your breath.

You can't exactly blame him for not talking, you are a stranger to him. If he doesn't want to speak to an old childhood friend and comrade then he definitely won't talk to you. Your tired feet carry you out, but the smell of something savoury takes you away. Looking towards the source, you see a small food stand nearby, its fire blazing and its fried food calling for you.

“Maybe just a bite.” You're already walking towards it with purpose, coin pouch already out of your pocket as you find your seat.

—

The moon rises high above you as you've finally eaten your fill and left the commune with less coins in your pocket, and your feet aching. At least you've talked and interviewed a few people along the way. The trip wasn't all wasted, but you can't help but feel like you're missing out on Ekko.

As you enter an alleyway leading out into Vander's statue, you hear footsteps echoing behind you.

“Did you change your mind—!?” A bullet whizzes by your head, dodging it at the last minute as it leaves a dark streak where it almost hit you right in between your eyes. “Hey!”

Three people come out of the shadow, they're all in different builds, one lanky and holding the pistol that's still smoking. While right next to him is all muscle, fists at the ready. The last person to show themselves is much younger, a smaller boy who couldn't be older than seventeen. His lips tremble slightly, but his eyes are determined as he raises a knife towards you.

“A tourist enters a dark alleyway only to be met by a gang of ruffians.” You click your tongue, “How cliché.” Taking off your messenger bag, and dropping it at your feet, you take your golden pen from your pocket. “My professor wouldn't give you a passing grade.”

“Shut it, girly!” The one with the gun shrieks, pulling the hammer down, ready to shoot again. “Give us the bag or I'll shoot you right between your eyes.”

You suck in your teeth, egging them on. “Nope, not a chance, I've got all my writing in there.”

“I'll count to ten then I'll send my men after you!”

You tilt your head, thumb brushing along the side of your pen. “What men? All I see is a brute who probably blocks with his face and the other looks like he's about to piss himself.” Hand raising in front of you, you point at them with the end of your pen. A familiar mechanical humming seems to get closer and closer towards the alley, you ignore the sound. “And one coward who can't even shoot for shit. I've seen better aim from talking goats—!”

“Shut up!” A shot rings out, the scene unfolds in slow motion. Muzzle flash and gunpowder flying about into the air as you twist and click your pen.

“Shit, look out!” Ekko's voice pierces the night air, but the sound of your pen clicking and whirring into place as it stretches silences the thudding in your heart.

His hand reaches for you, hovering above on his board as he desperately tries to get you away. Just as his fingers close around the collar of your coat, your gilded pen turns into a sharp rapier. The bullet collides with the tip of the sword, effectively slicing it down the middle and shattering it into pieces.

Metal shards bounces off, one scratching your cheek while sparks were flying about as Ekko couldn't stop his momentum. Eyes wide in shock, hand still holding onto you, he brings you down with him. The two of you slam against the side of the building in a harsh thump. Collapsing on each other, head hitting his own.

Your shoulder hits the brick wall, while Ekko slinks down right next to you, tumbling down on his hoverboard. “Ekko?!” You've come face to face with the boy savior himself. He heaves in place, hand still holding onto your back. “You idiot! I had it!”

“Me?! You're the one flaunting your money all over Zaun!”

You gasp, clutching your imaginary pearls. “Flaunting?! I—”

“Grab her!” Great, you've forgotten about the would-be thieves.

“Stay here!” Ekko tries to stand up but his board landed on his leg awkwardly, weighing him down. “Damn it.”

“No, you stay here!” Scrambling up, you poke at his chest, right in the middle of the bright pink ‘X’

“Get the sword! It looks like it's made of gold!” The shooter instructs, his idiot twosome striding quickly towards you.

“Oh you can take my fucking money but you can't take my fucking pen!” You ready your stance, one hand gripping the sword.

“Wait!” Ekko finally gets up, now able to push the heavy board out from above him. “Don't—!”

They rush towards you, instead of thrusting your sword into their intestines, you take the blunt approach by slapping them with the sides of the sword that isn't as sharp. The whipping sound rings in your ears, followed by their pained and shocked groans.

“Ow! What the—?!” The younger goon grasps at his reddening cheek, pain blooming where you slapped him with the rapier.

“Didn't your mother teach you manners?” With one side swipe, you keep landing harsh slaps all over the bigger goon. He yelps, touching where you just hit him. They can't even get close to you as you keep smacking them whenever they get near. Their hips, legs, cheek, and butt are no longer safe from your walloping.

Your grin is unmistakable, clearly having fun at…whatever it is you're doing.

Meanwhile, Ekko looks at you with a raised brow, mouth slightly agape at the ridiculousness happening in front of him. Completely gawking at the scene. They tried to kill you and take your things, so why are you playing with them like they're children? One even has a knife for fucks sake.

“Enough!” The shooter yells from the other side of the alleyway. His hand shakes whilst both of his henchmen sink down to their knees when you hit a particular spot in between their legs. “Stop playing around!”

Ekko steps right next to you, glaring at the man while his hand grabs his hammer from his belt. “What do you think you're doing, hm?” His jaw tightens, “I thought I finally got into that thick head of yours.” You can see why he's considered as the leader. He bears it well.

You pant in place, watching as the air around you turns parlous as Ekko stands his ground. You flick your eyes at the two men crawling by your feet, still incapacitated, skin turning into a red angry hue.

“Let us have this one, man!” He gestures wildly with his gun, despite the threat of it accidentally going off, you and Ekko don't even flinch. He notices, eyes glancing briefly at you. “She's noxian anyway!”

Your brows furrow in anger, hand tightening around the handle of your sword. The younger you would've lunged immediately, but you let Ekko handle his people, you can see that's what he's trying to silently convey to you based on how he's standing slightly in front of you. Ready to shield you if need be. Or ready to hold you back if you do decide to pounce.

“You've got a decent job all lined up, and a kid waiting for you back home.” His tone doesn't waver. “The three of you have people waiting back home and yet you decide to hit a noxian who knows how to fight!”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” You mutter under your breath, fixing your hold on your rapier.

He heard your mumbling, glaring at you for half a second before returning his attention back towards the trio. “Go home.”

“But—”

“Go before I sic this noxian on you.”

You fake a lunge at them, effectively making them run with their tails tucked in between their legs. As they scramble off, you smile at their retreating backs, leaving you and Ekko in the dust. Adrenaline still flows in your veins, bouncing on the balls of your feet from the rush of it all.

“You showed them— oof!” Your bag is suddenly shoved in your chest.

“Go. Home.” He points at you, finger poking at the leather of your bag.

“Hey! I'm not a zaunite so you can't tell me what to do.” You put your bag over your shoulder, hand still enclosed around the hilt of your sword, its golden sheen shining in the dim streetlights. “Come on, we make a pretty good team together, right?”

He kicks his hoverboard, and it whirrs into life, green light bouncing around the alleyway. “What were you doing?” Looking over his shoulder, he sees the cut on your cheek.

“What?” You scrunch your nose, still bouncing on your feet. Following his gaze, you touch at the ache blooming on your face, feeling the warm blood oozing out of it. “Oh, it's fine, just a cut.” He twists around to face you fully, arms crossed over his chest. You realize that you can use the time to question him. “What do you mean by your question exactly?”

He inhales, eyes flitting between your face and the sword. “You have a fancy sword and you don't even know how to use it.”

“Trust me, I know how to use it.” Lifting it up, you let the gold inlays glimmer in the light. Its swirling patterns catch his curious brown eyes. “I just— I promised myself a long time ago that I won't draw blood unless absolutely necessary.” Thumb tracing the button, you twist your hand and click it. The sword retracts back into a pen within a second. “Do you think I'll travel alone defenseless?” He narrows his eyes further, slowly calming down. “The question is, what are you doing here, Ekko? Were you worried about little ol' me?” Your eyes shine with mischief.

“You're never letting this whole interview thing go, huh?” He jumps backwards onto his hoverboard, arms still crossed on his chest. His brown eyes swim with something you can't decipher.

“As much as I want to respect your decision, I need your side of history. You're the missing piece, Ekko.” You shrug, smiling. “And unfortunately I can't leave without that missing piece.”

His lips purse into frustration, eyes darting along the wall sitting behind you. “Damn it.” Without another word, he flies off into the night, leaving streaks of green in his wake.

“Wait!” Your eyes follow him but you remain in place. “Why does he keep doing that?” Chuckling, you look at what he was staring at, finding the same blue haired girl painted on the walls. “If only you could talk, my job would be way easier.”

—

“Tell her to leave Zaun alone.” Ekko's commanding voice rises above the Kiramman office. His fists thump against the desk, sending papers and pens to topple over.

Caitlyn sighs in her chair while Vi settles to lean against the bookshelf behind Cait. Sevika pinches the bridge of her nose, standing near the windows as her previous words were ignored by Ekko.

“We can't just bar her from Zaun, Ekko.” Caitlyn answers back. “She has a job to do, a job that the council would want her to finish.”

“What for?” He huffs, “it already happened, people died, we almost lost but we didn't, end of story.”

“Because of your help, Ekko.” Vi finally speaks after what felt like hours of back and forth. “Which, none of us knows what you did to win it for all of us. She needs the whole story so that it works. So that people know what the arcane is capable of, so that it doesn't happen again.”

“I did it for Zaun.”

“I talked to her,” Sevika says from her spot. “If I could do that, kid, then you can.”

“You can't force me.” Ekko straightens up.

“We're not—” Caitlyn starts.

“Ekko,” Vi inhales sharply, hand playing with a metallic trinket shaped like a monkey, its surface singed, paint chipping away. “This could bring peace. We all know what's stirring in Noxus, if shit hits the fan again— I…I can't do that again.”

Ekko can't get his eyes off of Vi’s hands wrapped around the seemingly odd thing.

“We can ally with the other nations if need be.” Caitlyn grasps Vi’s hand briefly before rubbing her temples, “what happened here was a warning.” Her voice wavers. “If we can warn the people of Runeterra with it, we could save millions of lives.”

“Are you sure you can talk about this with her here?” Ekko gestures towards you sitting quietly in your chair.

You blink, pausing from blowing at your steaming cup of tea. “Is it rude to blow at your tea?”

“She signed a confidentiality agreement. You can always retract statements so she doesn't write it down. She just needs to write what happened, nothing else.”

“You'll be nice to Ekko, right, Spark?” Vi gently smiles at you.

“As long as the boy savior here is nice to me.”

Ekko groans, surrendering. “Let's get this over with.”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Please consider reblogging if you liked it! Please tell me what you think ❤️

[blustalker]

𓇻 𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗥 ᵃʳᶜᵃⁿᵉ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Part 1. etc etc.

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 ;; Silco, Sevika, Jinx 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; A collection of dynamics and interactions, SFW, Platonic. In which you're a weapons dealer from Piltover working with the undercity, Zaun, all for the sake of your own benefit. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; I love writing interactions surrounding one character dynamic, so here it is! I'll probably write stuff like this more, it's enjoyable for me. Probably will write a part 2 w/ other characters.

11.29.24 Masterlist

You were an anomaly in Silco’s carefully constructed world—a Piltie who didn’t sneer at Zaun but didn’t romanticize it either. You were coy and calculating weasel who wielded a sharp tongue and a sharper wit with precision, forcibly creating a space in the murky waters of Zaun’s criminal underground.

Your voice carried the tone of sincerity, but it never fooled anyone for long; your smile never reached your eyes, and your words were more weapons than pleasantries. You could smile while explaining the most grotesque scenario known to mankind.

People underestimated you often. Some said you had been overconfident, but you knew you had power—the kind born of understanding the value of everything around you, including yourself. What made you different, however, was that you had the ability to force it under your own bare hands, you claimed ownership of everything you wanted.

You supplied Silco with the finest weapons Piltover could create, the kind that never made it into the hands of their enforcers or the powerful and rich aristocrats. The kind that gave Zaun a fighting chance. But you didn’t do it out of charity or loyalty. It was business, pure and simple, and you enjoyed the game.

Dynamic with Silco:

Silco tolerated you. He had no illusions about who you were or what drove you. You were eccentric and unpredictable, traits he usually despised, but your results spoke for themselves.

You brought him weapons that turned the tides of battles, secured deals that strengthened Zaun’s position, and provided insights that few could rival. You granted him so much power and influence within days.

Your dynamic was a strange push-and-pull. You’d waltz into his office unannounced, throw yourself onto the nearest chair, and launch into a rapid-fire monologue about your latest ideas or complaints. He would sit behind his desk, curling and uncurling his fingers around a cigar, and watch you with an expression of faint disinterest.

You'd never come in with your own bodyguards of any kind and you'd come by so often no one questioned you walking up the stairs of the Last Drop.

You came by as if you were close friends.

“You have a remarkable talent for talking,” he’d say dryly once you finally paused to breathe.

“And you have a remarkable talent for listening,” you’d shoot back, unbothered by his lack of patience.

Still, there were moments of quiet understanding. Silco recognized your value, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy your company, and you respected his vision, even if you didn’t always agree with his methods. It was a professional relationship at its core, but there was an underlying current of mutual acknowledgment that kept you both coming back to the table.

Dynamic with Sevika:

Sevika didn’t trust you, and you didn’t blame her. You didn’t make it easy for her to like you, teasing her with remarks just toeing the line of disrespect (especially about her arm).

Whenever she was tasked with escorting you on high-stakes exports, you could feel her eyes on you, weighing and measuring, trying to figure out where you fit in the grand scheme of things.

You always ignored it. Her distrust didn’t bother you—it amused you. You loved toying with her stoic demeanor, throwing in cryptic comments and unnecessary flair just to see if you could chip away at her cool. You were unpredictable, and she hated that.

She also had to bear with you for the sake of her boss, Silco. She would hold back loud groans every time you flung open his office door and drop a load of plans and logs onto his already cluttered desk.

And sometimes, out of a desire to share the distaste of being around you, Silco stopped asking her to leave his office. He'd have her stand and listen to you ramble and ramble. If he had to, she did too.

Still, you had your moments. Like the time you presented her with a large selection of highly specialized mechanical arms—sleek, durable, and laced with the latest enhancements Piltover could offer. Her reaction had been hard to read, a mix of suspicion and begrudging admiration as she inspected them all.

“What’s the catch?” she asked flatly, flexing the joints, testing the weight of the mechanical arm.

You only grinned, spreading your hands in mock innocence. “No catch. Just a gift for Silco’s most trusted lieutenant."

She didn’t believe you for a second. But when the arms proved to be everything you promised, she found herself thinking about you less as a threat and more as an enigma. Not a friend, not an ally, but not quite an enemy either.

Dynamic with Jinx:

Your first meeting with Jinx was unplanned. You had stormed into Silco’s office mid-afternoon, as per usual, all grins and energy, barely pausing to knock. Sevika didn't stop you, as per usual.

You launched into an elaborate spiel about your newest weapons designs, gesturing wildly as you described their destructive potential, opening blueprints after blueprints on Silco's desk.

He only nodded along, waiting for a pause in your dialogue to ask questions.

But above Silco’s desk, perched like a mischievous cat, Jinx watched you with wide, curious eyes. She had no intention of sitting through one of her father’s boring meetings, but you were different. You were loud and exciting, and your enthusiasm for chaos mirrored her own.

You were the first person she's encountered to have such a bold and eccentric personality like her own.

Before Silco could silence you with a quip, Jinx leapt down, landing with a loud crash on Silco's desk, sending blueprints flying.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she interrupted, eyes gleaming. “You’re talking about guns?”

You blinked, taken aback for only a second before grinning wider. You weren't questioning her sudden appearance, to be honest, you didn't care to. “Not just guns. Masterpieces. Works of art. Top of the state types. Wanna see?”

Silco sighed heavily as Jinx dragged you to a nearby table, where you began sketching designs and explaining mechanisms. The two of you quickly fell into a chaotic rhythm, talking over each other in a flurry of excitement.

“She wasn’t supposed to meet you,” Silco muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

But it was too late. Jinx had found a kindred spirit, and you found yourself with a new, albeit unpredictable, ally. Silco already dealt with two mad inventors separately (one being his daughter and the other a sly weasel), but together? He and Sevika both knew this would become a new headache for them. Silco’s office would never be the same.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[blustalker]

｡ﾟ•┈୨ Le temps de guérir Part 1 ୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Steb x F!reader

The herald's grip just released and all the Medics organize helps to all the wounded, you are no exception. That's when your dear Mentor reappears, wounded, disoriented, and definitely mute...

Tags: angst, pining, Steb definitely has guilt and PTSD, slow burn, trust the process

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

“There...” You judge with a voice you want comforting, “Your wounds are minor.” You tidy up your utensils in your pouches, infinitely relieved that your mentor is okay. The wounds were impressive but superficial.  

Steb was your mentor for almost two years, teaching you medicine in warzones and you grew incredibly attached to the aquatic Vastaya Enforcer. Too attached for a simple Mentor/protegé relationship to be honest, but you keep it professional. Steb never appeared inclined to try relationships other than cordial and friendly with his colleagues and kept his private life a secret. 

For all you know, he could be happily married with a large family and you would be none the wiser!   

But when you saw the blood on his blue jacket while he was helping a wounded civilian to reach the infirmary tents, you almost dropped everything to rush to him. You managed to grab his arm at some point to force him to sit down and let you examine his body. You disinfected and dressed the wounds cautiously, making sure not to cause him pain in the process. He let you do it, in his usual mutism. 

But he is... more silent than usual. 

His muscles are also hard, contracted like under a lot of tension that he cannot get rid of. You refrain from proposing a massage, not that you would mind, but he is more modest than the usual civilian, he would probably not tolerate such contact. 

Fair enough. 

You check the bandages one last time, standing behind him, silencing your beating heart. This is the first time you see him without a shirt and you wish it would have been in other circumstances…You gently pat his naked shoulder. 

“There you go, Steb.” You say warmly. 

He turns his head towards you and contemplates your face in silence. You thought he was about to say something but he just... looks at you, mute, detailing all of your face so intensely you do not know what to do under such scrutiny. 

“Hum.... Is there a problem?” You finally ask, your throat dry before his gaze. 

He blinks, like he realized he was fixing you and slowly shakes his head, his gaze returning to the ground, but he takes your hand holding his shoulder in his, and squeezes it as to say thank you. 

“You are welcome Steb.” You warmly say, still a bit shaken. 

You take off your hand and it seems to you he tries to hold it back... 

But that must be your delusion speaking. 

“Do you hold on?” You ask, turning your back to him to observe your two hands covered in dead scales. 

His organism has evidently been put through a lot of stress. You wash them and make some order on the table, putting the soiled instruments in a sink while the sterilized ones return in a large drawer. 

You only hear a deep sigh in response. Understandable. Everything happened so quickly... Ambessa’s army, the herald,... That freaky mind stuff they did, still gives you shivers down your spine. But as soon as your mind was freed from the Herald’s influence, all the medics started to organize themself, rushing to the victims despite their own wounds and fears. You have been running in all directions for almost 24 hours by now and only now did you cross paths with your dear aquatic Vastaya...  

You turn back to your mentor, cleaning a scalpel with an alcoholic wipe. 

“What about Maddie and Loris?” You ask, “I did not see them anywhere.” 

A single shudder courses him and his shoulders lower like all strength left him, elbows resting on his knees he passes a hand in his hair with another sigh. 

Oh... 

You leave the scalpel to the side and pull on the tent’s opening to close it, giving you a bit of intimacy. You come kneeling in front of him, trying to catch a glimpse of his turquoise gaze. 

“Steb...” You try, “Do you want to talk about it?” You offer soflty. 

His nostrils flare in a clear no. Whatever happened, he isn’t willing to talk about it, at least not now... Or just not to you... 

You boldly caress his cheek, making him angle his head towards you. So many emotions lay in his blue eyes 

Confusion 

Pain 

tenderness 

Shame 

Embarrasment 

Sadness 

You offer him a gentle and supportive smile. 

“Whatever happened... It was not your fault, Steb.” You say gently. 

You know nothing of what happened, but you know for a fact that Steb always does good and tries his best all the time. 

You know it in your soul. 

His pupils widen at your words and his cheek scales wave a single time as his ears perk up, proof of his inner turmoil. 

“It was not your fault, I know it.” You repeat in a whisper, giving him your undying support. 

He lets out a short breath, like he was holding it all this time, and his own hand clasps around yours, brushing his cheek in your palm softly. He seems to savor the contact and your words like it was everything he wanted to hear. 

The only words he desperatly needed to hear to go on. 

You stand up, looking into his ocean eyes, drowning with pleasure in his intelligent gaze, your thumb brushing his cheek scales fondly. 

“And if anyone dares say it is your fault, I’ll personally handle them, you can count on me.” You grin tightly, trying to make him smile too. 

Steb considers you before slowly closing his eyes and brushing his cheek in your palm before pulling your hand to his lips and tenderly kissing the supple flesh like a precious relic. 

You open your mouth agape at that move and before you can take off your hand he stands up too, towering with all his height, looking down at you, and takes a step forward. 

Caught unaware you take a step back and he follows until your lower back hits a table, blocking you between the furniture and Steb’s tall body. He did not release your hand and his own comes to cup your cheek infinitely softly, caressing the skin with the tip of his magical fingers like he would brush the petals of a rose. 

“...Steb?” You ask with a dry throat, unsure of what came over him. 

He details... 

No 

Devour your face with his eyes, pressing his body against yours, gently tilting your head back as he leans forward, brushing the tips of your noses together... 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat while his cheek scales wave and his ears shake, tension coursing his muscles like a dark ocean, keeping you on your toes. He looks deeply into your eyes like he could read your soul through them, his third eyelid blinking once. 

He seems to wait for something 

From you 

Your consent  

Obviously. 

Your brain completely blue screens, leaving you absolutely useless between his hands.  

What the hell is happening? Your mentor, about whom you’ve been fantasizing a romantic life with for two years, the man you headcannoned was already married, the man you ardently desired and thought was dead during the attack before reappearing like a flower, wounded but alive, awaits your permission to kiss you? 

Your trembling free hand discreetly pinches the skin of your thighs, making you wince and realize that no, you are not dreaming nor hallucinating this scene... 

This 

This is all you ever wanted 

To know his embrace and warmth against your body, to feel his beating heart against your palm, his hands roaming your skin, his lips brushing yours and his eyes telling you all the love no words on the planet could ever describe... 

Waking up in his arms and eating breakfast together, going to work hand in hand and waiting for the other at your favorite café, go back to the same house you both call home, but it always feels empty and cold in the other’s absence... 

You must have hit your head in the attack 

This is the only logical explanation. 

He never demonstrated inclinations toward you. Sure he relaxed enough around you to let the stoic mask slip occasionally, but this is so incredibly rare, you are no closer to him than Maddie or Loris. 

He... 

“Steb, no.” You finally breathe after a difficult gulp. 

His eyes round up slightly as his cheek fins freeze still. 

“Steb, you must be in some sort of shock. You are wounded and disoriented, you do not know what you are doing.” You continue, “Sleep for a bit, I’ll bring you a warm meal after, all right? You... You need to rest.” 

This is for the best. 

He doesn’t know what he is doing, he might regret it later!  

You are his former protege and friend, this is not like him. 

Out of respect for him, you must stop this madness. He is in no state to consent himself. 

He considers you, shock appearing in his turquoise eyes as his breath gets stuck in his throat. His ears lower as he takes a step back, letting his hands fall back to his side and you cannot help but feel like one of you two made a huge mistake right now. 

But you can’t say who. 

You force your mouth into a friendly smile and gently guide him back to sit on the bunk. 

“There... Take a nap, I’ll bring you something to eat, you must be starving. Lay down, make yourself comfortable. I... I will come back.” 

You exit the tent in shambles while Steb fixed the ceiling intently. 

You pace the entire camp, your brain scrambled, trying to make sense of what happened, biting down your thumb’s nail. 

Steb... Isn’t like himself, you saw it yourself. He needs care and rest, but maybe not from you... 

When you reenter the tent with a fuming lentil curry, Steb and his uniform are nowhere to be found. 

Like they were never here to begin with... 

[blustalker]

The Lab Inspector's Daughter

--------

Summary: You're a lab inspector. Boring job. But the little girl you took under your wing sure made it interesting. She grew up into a smart kid, easily finding her way into Piltover's finest Academy. She also decided she would double as a matchmaker.

Pairings: Viktor x gn!reader (the sound of heels are mentioned but they can be any heel, like on a boot or whatever)

Wordcount: 8.2k

Proof-read: Never

Warnings: cute family relationship, the Viktor and Jinx friendship I desperately want to see, reader is the supportive parent figure we all need, mentions of BPD and PTSD (and episodes), explicit language, slightly out of character Viktor? reader goes off on Viktor, he ends up kinda diggin it, Sky says it isn't her first time being held at knife-point, Jayce is barely mentioned and I feel kinda bad about it, I don't know what I'm talking abt science wise so just work with me here, main plot is more about reader being there for jinx and their love for Viktor is a side plot, I might make it into a part 2 for more romance but eh, we'll see

One fateful night, while in the Undercity running some errands for Heimerdinger, you heard blood curdling screams behind a burning building. Your initial reaction was to run away and call for the Enforcers but the cries were far too high pitched to be just anybody. It sounded like a young girl. You wouldn't live with yourself if you left a defenceless little kid in the alley of a burning building.

You remember that night like it was yesterday, the blue haired girl sobbing beyond belief. She was a mess, a dead, mutated man behind her as she clawed at the ground, screaming out for a Violet. You stood in front of her, bags heavy in your hands as you watched. It tore your heart up.

"Hello, sweetheart." You lowered yourself to her level, leaving your bags on the floor. "What's wrong?"

A lot was wrong with this scene but she was the only one alive to tell it. She was curled into herself, breathing ruggedly as she peered up at you through her hands. Her hair stuck to her forehead in the pouring rain. Your footing slipped out from under you when she rammed into your midsection.

"She left me!" She screamed into your hold, her voice raw with pain. Her little arms wrapped strong around you. Hesitant, yes, but you couldn't stop yourself from bringing your arms around her.

You never planned on being a parent. That night, however, left you with a daughter you would burn the world for.

...

"It's okay to be excited, you know." You smiled and finalized some paperwork on the clipboard in front of you, heels echoing through the halls.

Jinx let out an exasperated sigh from besides you. "Being excited is for children during the holidays," She tossed her long blue braid back over her shoulder. "I'm just joining you to get a possible interview to intern under the creators of Hextech, it's-" A giggle escaped her as she wrapped her arms into the crook of your elbow. "Okay, I'm really excited!"

You laughed, gently nudging her hip with yours. "I knew it. You should be excited, they're very fun people." Jinx gasped, her precious sapphire eyes wide.

"You've met them?!" You felt bad as you shook your head, watching her deflate into your shoulder. Her lips pulled into a slight frown.

"No, but Heimerdinger talks very highly of them." She nodded along, jostling your side with her head movements, her lower lip in a pout. "Now, you're sure your professor let you off for this?" You turned your head towards her, levelling her with a questioning look.

She gritted her teeth, blowing air through them. "It was once!" She pushed off you, making you stumble. "And he admitted it was his fault for poor scheduling! Not mine!" She crossed her arms over her academy vest, head turned from you.

"I know, darling, I just wanted to double check." Shaking your head with a fond smile, you stopped in front of two large doors. Turning to her, you fetched the lab key from your satchel.

Jinx stood to her full height, still shorter than you despite her confidence holding her high. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she bit back her smile. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, braided hair brushing near her ankles, she beamed.

Your heart clenched in proud sorrow. Jinx looked so grown in her academy outfit. Her pressed ruby shirt under her off white student vest, gold tie adorning, tying it all together. Her soft brown pants were held by a belt she couldn't keep her markers off of. Neon scribbles of whatever she felt like on the black leather. Her boots, polished to perfection the night before in preparation for today.

Her excitement on her sweet, soft face never changed from when she was a kid. Her curiosity and desire never faded.

You sighed, refusing to deny the urge to cradle her cheek. Jinx leaned into it, her bangs brushing against your wrist. "How are you feeling?"

"They're quiet today." She whispered and raised her hand, her thumb resting on your knuckles. Her blue and pink nail polish beginning to chip off. You returned her gentle smile.

"I'm glad." You stepped back and held up the golden key. "Remember, as long as you aren't actively trying to blow something up, they'll love you." With a flourish, you unlocked the doors to the famed labs of Hextech.

The rumble through your shoes felt far too familiar. Your hand that held your clipboard went to shield Jinx's face and you brought her close to your body. She tucked herself into you when you turned her around, having your back exposed to the loudest explosion you've heard in a while.

Smoke flooded the room, whipping through your hair. Coughing shook your ribs as you held Jinx closer, trying to block her from the smog. Two others joined in on the hacking before the pop of a window being opened was heard. And just as soon as it started, the smoke was gone.

"That was," An accented voice was interrupted with a harsh cough. "Not what was predicted."

"No shit, Vik." The man who was standing waved his hands through the air, trying to get the ashy air out faster. "That was a level 8 explosion, we need like... what? 6?"

"Try 4." Jinx pulled away from your grasp now that the danger was gone. For whatever reason, she was incredibly knowledgeable in the art of explosives. And for years, as long as she kept herself safe, you let her tinker and learn more.

However, you did not feel comfortable letting her walk over to the table where the two famed scientists worked, picking up the burnt pieces on the floor as she went. But she already went, talking as she did.

"I don't know what you're trying to do but level 8 explosives are pretty much illegal, and too large of an impact to keep anything alive." She held the blown gears out to the two. "The prototype made a set 5 - maybe 6 - explosive, amp it up and you could effectively kill yourselves." The two men gawked. They definitely weren't expecting a blue haired teenager to roast them on their profession.

Feeling like this was the opportune moment, you introduced yourself. "Hi, you'll have to forgive my intern but I'm here for your lab inspection. Jayce and Viktor, right?" You smiled and adjusted your shirt from how tightly Jinx had held onto it.

The brunette, Jayce, straightened from his hunched position over his co-worker. You guessed that was Viktor, who was still sat in his chair. "Wait, what? That's today?" He ran over to a stack of paper, quickly shuffling through it.

You gave a nod, joining him by his side. Casting a quick look to Jinx, the gears she held had been switched for a screwdriver as she pointed to something in front of the man beside her. He was leaning in just as much as her, nodding along as she spoke.

Jayce found the envelope he was looking for, his fingers digging into it. He pulled out the letter and his thick eyebrows drew together as he read it over. "No, see?" He showed you the paper, pointing to the date. "It says the twenty..." He trailed off, re-reading it. He whispered a soft 'oh.' It was, in fact, today.

You sighed softly. "We can reschedule, if we must, but I'm busy for the next few months. And, if Heimerdinger is correct..." Jayce sighed as you lifted up the pages in front of your calendar.

"We need the green light by the end of the week if we want to keep working." His large hand ran over his face. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he swore quietly under his breath. He shook out his body before turning to the desk Jinx and Viktor hunkered over. "Viktor! The lab inspection is today, shove things into drawers!"

You hid your laugh behind your clipboard, watching as the other man sat up straight so quickly, his back gave a few cracks. He fumbled for the crutch beside him and stood.

"You said it was next month, Jayce. Are you sure-?" He walked over, hands gesturing to the mess around them.

"Yeah, I guess I lied. It's today." Jayce sighed, leaning into the counter behind him. His hazel eyes turned to you. Looking you over, you noticed the spark most had when they knew they were in trouble. Jinx had the exact same look before she would butter you up. Often after she already blew up half the kitchen.

He smiled wide, a handsome tooth gap showing. His smile was award winning. Fitting for Piltover's golden boy. "I'm so sorry you had to catch us like this!" He crossed his strong arms over his chest, smile still wide. "We're usually much more professional, but some days we just have to take larger risks."

You could see Viktor beside him, fiddling with the crutch beneath his arm as Jayce continued to joke about how they were much more put together. You've heard them all before. Most scientists were actually terrible at organizing, these two no different.

As he blabbered on, you took their appearance in fully. Jayce was tall and had a strong, sturdy build. Charisma rolling off him as he talked with his hands. His academy suit switched out for a more practical lab wear. A dirted white tunic with eight buttons in front. Leather protecting his shoulders and his red slacks held up by a large gold and brown belt. He had a five o'clock shadow and a small slit on his eyebrow.

Viktor was quiet as ever, eyes cast to Jinx as she nodded her head along to an unknown tune. What eyes he had, sharp and as gold as the scrap metal littered around the place. His chestnut hair ruffled, slightly pressed down from the goggles on top of his head. His shirt was a reddish-brown, lighter stripes running down his sleeves. What you assumed to be a comfy knit sweater vest over it. He had a leg brace but not one you've seen before. Made you wonder if he had designed it himself.

He looked nice, but drained. His eye bags looked heavy. Your concern was derailed when you saw two adorable moles, one under his eye and another above his lip.

You felt embarrassed as a wave crashed over you, desperate to kiss them.

"So, considering all that, what's our mark at?" Your attention snapped back to Jayce. He had gone back to leaning on the desk behind him, crossed arms and bright smile in place. You sighed.

"Oh, you guys totally failed!" Jinx spun in the chair she took over, dropping the tools back on the desk. "2 out of 10, which is considerate despite almost blowing us up when we walked in." You held out your clipboard with the ratings for her as she skipped over.

Jayce tried to say something but Jinx continued.

"Lack of proper ventilation, no solid tool kit in sight, no cleaner for tools either," She tapped the pen against her chin as she read off the list. Jayce stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You smiled at him, nudging him with a nod to listen to her. "Not to mention, your research tactics are far below the board. You also have at least 3 uneaten sandwiches out, in a very chemical environment, that could be detrimental to everything."

You pulled out the 'denied' stamp and Jinx slammed it on the packet, making the two scientists jump. "Failed!" She handed them the papers.

"No... no, we need this lab!" Jayce begged, handing the papers to Viktor as he stepped in your space. "She's an intern, what does she know?"

"A lot." You took the stamp Jinx handed back. "And she's not done yet." You smiled. Jinx flipped through a few pages before pulling out yet another packet.

Viktor deflated. "Please, I don't want to be denied again."

"According to Heimdinger's official book of lab safety, section 10; untapped discoveries, you have passed with flying colors!" You handed Jinx your approved stamp with a huff of amusement. She hit it hard against the papers. The two flinched again. "Congrats! You get to keep your laboratory for another year!"

Jayce and Viktor stood before her, gawking yet again. They looked to you and all you could do was shrug.

"You do need to get that sandwich thing under control though, that's super dangerous." Jinx added and held the clipboard to her chest. "Or fix the ventilation so the chemicals can be more dispersed, therefore leaving your sandwiches alone."

Jayce gave a slow nod before turning to you. Brown eyes wide. "Why wouldn't you just approve us in the first place?"

"Heimerdinger insists. 'Unanimous vote,' He says." You gave yet another shrug. You had no real idea why Heimerdinger, the oldest on the council and in science, didn't just push his handbook as mandatory. But you had to follow it.

Viktor's free hand came to cradle his chin, nodding. "Yes, he does say that a lot. Council must've wanted their opinions first then double checked by Professor's requirements."

"Exactly." You breathed. You've read about Viktor when sorting files for the Professor. He was his favorite assistant. Besides the good looks, his attention to detail must've been why. "I'm very sorry, it is always a rollercoaster but, you know," You smiled. "Council rules."

Jinx handed your clipboard back. She gave a small nod towards them, eyes wide and waiting towards you. Their attention was stuck to the papers she handed to them. With a deep breath, you continued.

"You know, my dau-" You cleared your throat. No time for favoritism. "My intern is looking for a more hands on job in the labs." Viktor looked up, golden eyes peering into you. "I know you two have been looking for a second assistant, and as her employer, I can guarantee she'd be a perfect fit." You nodded towards the table they had been sitting at earlier. "Especially if you need help with explosives."

Jinx swatted at your shoulder. To anyone else, that may have not been a very good thing to point out. But these two built their industry on risk taking. You walked in on an explosion. They would be happy to have help with it.

Viktor looked at her, eyebrows pensive. Before he gave a light smile. "I would like to hear more about that theory you were telling me about." Jinx's face flushed and she couldn't keep eye contact, eyes darting to the floor.

"Anyone who can downgrade a blow up from an 8 to a 4 in just a few minutes is someone I want on our team." Jayce held out a hand. "What's your name?"

"Uh... Jinx! My name's Jinx." She quickly took his hand with a wide smile. Her eyes turned to you, shining with possibility. You gave her an encouraging nod. "I'm a second year student, my name and face should be easy to find on any roster." She beamed.

"It was great to meet you, Jinx." Jayce patted her shoulder. "We'll think about it, okay?" He offered. She nodded and you thanked them.

Jinx was bouncing off the walls when you closed the door behind you.

...

"Do you think they actually liked me?" Jinx paced behind you, nervously tugging on her hair.

"I don't think they would lie." You supplied, nodding to yourself as you looked over the Hextech lab review sheets. "They definitely appreciated your input earlier." She groaned behind you.

"No! No, they didn't say that!" You turned in your seat, ready to say 'yes they did,' when you noticed the far off look in her blue eyes. Her eyebrows were pinched together as she wrapped her arms around her. "They didn't say that..."

You scooted your chair closer, softly resting your hand on her arm. First, your fingertips followed by your knuckles. Placing your palm flat on her skin, you called her name, voice low and quiet.

"Whatever they're saying isn't true." You reminded. "They just want to make you upset. You're stronger than them." Jinx let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm stronger than them." She echoed. Her gaze still fixed on the wall opposite of you both. It was the bookshelves in your office. To her, you weren't sure what it was.

"You're safe. They can't hurt you." You stood and joined her side, movements slow so she could tell where you were going.

"They can't hurt me." She forced a deep breath. You held open your arms, giving her enough space to decide if she wanted the hug or not. She never did deny you, but some days the visions were too much and touching could send her over the edge.

She folded into your arms quickly, hiding her face in your shoulder. Her hair tickled your nose as you rested your chin on her head. Her nails gently scraped your back, her grip trying to stay light.

"They were impressed, I could tell." You mumbled into her hair, fingers playing with a few stray strands of her soft teal hair.

"You're just saying that." She sniffled, forehead nuzzling your shoulder.

"No, sweetheart. You're far more capable than you give yourself credit for." You took a hold of her shoulder, urging her away so she could see your face. "I know you never believe me but you got into the Academy because your intellect impressed Professor Heimerdinger. Not because I'm close with him, but because you're smart. You have ambition and you chase it. You are going to get that job."

Her eyes welled up and she hugged you again. Full of emotion, no longer afraid.

And of course, you were right.

You weren't surprised when she burst into the kitchen the next day. She was hyperventilating, mouth running a mile a minute as she recounted her day. You sat through her sidetracking, letting her get it all out of her system before she screamed out:

"I got in!" Jayce and Viktor apparently had pulled her aside from class and asked if she was still up for their internship. She readily said yes and they handed her some paperwork to fill out.

Which went straight into your hands given that you were the only one who could focus out of the two of you. And, despite her being old enough, you were technically her guardian for another year.

She rambled on about what they told her. How they would have to put her as something far lower than her skillset at first due to how the internship rules worked. They promised they would pull her up the ranks as quickly as they could because her ideas did not belong sweeping the floors.

They explained the rules of their workspace and insisted if she had any objections to them, she should say something so they could find a way to work around it. Their space was built on communication and working around each other, she had the right to find her fitting too.

She then promptly screamed, scaring you out of your chair, upon seeing the time. She made you get up and shoved you towards the closet. She promised them you'd be there the same night, for a "parent interview or whatever."

It was for reference, on how well Jinx was in the lab. Under pressure and dealing with dangerous items. It would've been unethical, you being her parent and all but when you told them your concerns, Jayce waved a hand in dismissal. He trusted you would be impartial. Jinx deserved this job, you were going to remain impartial, n matter how badly you wanted to gush on about how amazing your daughter was.

They remained professional, taking notes and nodding along as you talked about Jinx's work ethic. What scared you the most was when they asked where she grew up. You knew Viktor was from the Undercity himself but you still felt nervous. The jobs Jinx had been considered for were immediately shut down when they learned she was your illegitimate daughter from the Undercity.

However, Viktor seemed to smile. The conversation side tracked as he asked you why you decided to adopt a kid from the Undercity. When you gave them the clif notes on how you found her and ultimately decided she was yours now, they shared a smile. Viktor said he was happy to hear you were so welcoming of others.

They also did not seem off put by her PTSD nor her bipolar episodes, Jayce saying "You have to be a little crazy in our line of work."

You wanted to disagree, and clarify she wasn't crazy, she had a shitshow of a childhood. But Viktor nodded and another laugh fell over the two, you joined. It was light hearted. You weren't going to get overprotective.

The next three months flew by. Jinx came home with a new story every day. How Jayce showed her the hex crystals and how she almost let it slip how her and her sister stole something similar when they were young. When she got nap couch privileges. Or the time Viktor had fallen asleep during their research, so Jinx decided she could do the same. That was one hell of a debate when you told her she couldn't make a habit out of staying the night.

She told you about their other assistant, Sky, and how she couldn't tell if she was also from the Undercity or not. You didn't know what to tell her. She still hadn't figured out Viktor was from the Undercity, you weren't sure how to interpret her assumptions.

You would sometimes visit her workplace, to drop off the lunch she forgot to take. Jayce and Viktor never had any objections to your presence, no matter how many times Jinx said it wasn't allowed. They even would insist you stayed some days, just to drag out Jinx's obvious embarrassment. In that time, you got to know them.

Viktor was sweet, Jayce, too, but Viktor had something about him. He didn't mind showing you whatever they were working on, shushing Jinx everytime she protested. He took his time to explain how the machines worked.

Jinx would always say 'It's pointless to explain it.' Because she knew you never got it. And Viktor would always respond 'It's easier, that way, I won't have to fight anyone on my every word.' Before throwing a very pointed look her way.

Jinx was very fond of Viktor, that you could tell from how she spoke about him at home. In the lab, she followed him around and took in everything he said. They were comfortable enough to spit rude remarks at each other, knowing the other would only return it, with even more malice. A violent repartee. But they weren't actually angry, not at all. It seemed that their form of bonding was shoving each other around and Jinx telling Viktor his shoes were untied, only for her to hit the back of his head and run when he looked down.

It was sweet. It felt like she finally had the second parent you never could provide for her.

But each day, that sick sad pride overcame you. She was all grown up now, in a job she loved dearly. You were happy to see her enjoying herself. Glad to see her pursue her dreams. But it hurt. It hurt telling her about a lab review you did only for her to nod along, absent-minded, as she reviewed her own work.

She didn't get excited when you told her about the jobs you did. She no longer tailed behind you, begging to join you in hopes she could sneak in an interview. She barely cared when you said you'd be in Noxus for a week. They were having some convention and you weren't going to ignore a paid trip to Noxus.

But Jinx didn't care. She nodded and asked when you were leaving. You gave your answer and she went to her room to finish up a project, forgetting her dinner.

She did join you to the Hexgates, wishing you luck and love on your departure. She also slid you a list of art supplies she had her eye on. You couldn't say no to her. You didn't know how anyone could say no to her.

The convention was nice. Noxus was a beautiful place. You met Ambessa Medarda, almost died on the spot when she complimented your work. It was nice but you wish it went faster. You missed your sweet Jinx. You missed getting to visit her in the lab. Missed getting to talk with Viktor each time. You made sure to buy the pencils and markers she asked for, along with some truffles you thought she would enjoy.

You came home, hurrying down to the Academy to turn in your reports and see your daughter. You gave Heimerdinger no time for pleasantries nor explained much, dropping the packets off before running home. You adjusted yourself and bag before you entered, box of chocolate truffles under your arm.

"Jinx! I'm home!" You called out as you unlocked the door. Lifting the truffles up, "I got some good looking treats! Come try them with... me..." You trailed off, hearing muffled sounds. Sounded like crying. "Jinx?"

You let your bag drop to the floor and ran into her room. You found her curled into her side, tears streaking down her face. Her nails dug into her hair as she cried.

You fell to your knees in front of her, pulling her hands away from her face. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" You cupped her face, thumb brushing under her eyes.

"It was a mistake! It was a mistake!" Jinx begged. "No, it was an accident- Sky, she just- No! It was a mistake!"

"I believe you," You moved to sit on the edge of her bed. "What happened, what mistake clouds you, honey?"

Sniveling, she pulled herself into your lap. "I don't know... things got too much and I tried to get out." You softly congratulated her. Getting out of stressful situations wasn't her strong suit. She often found comfort in the chaos. It was hard to unlearn it. "But they needed my help and it was just so much then Mylo- SHUT UP!" She screamed at the wall. "It was your fault! You told me to!"

You ran your hand down her spine. "Deep breaths. You're safe with me. I'm not leaving." She shuddered.

"I... I acted out, and they fired me."

"What?!" She flinched back at your raised voice. You soothed her, apologising. "No, no I'm sorry, I'm angry with Jayce and Viktor."

"You're not mad at me?" Jinx's eyes were wide and watery. "Because they are, so is Viktor." She pointed to the wall. "No, they're not mad, they're making fun of me. It's my fault."

You shook your head. "No, you tried to get out of the situation. Whoever kept you there is at fault." Jinx almost started bawling all over again as you stood up. You gently pressed her shoulder down, stopping her from following. "I'm going to talk to them, see what happened." She cast her head down. "It wasn't your fault. And there's some truffles to make you feel better."

"Did you get the paint pens?" You nodded. She hugged your arm. "Thank you."

...

Jet lag be damned, you stormed through the Academy halls, rage rolling off you. The students who usually said hi to you immediately looked the other way. They could feel it, the way your blood boiled over with anger. You've only felt this way once before, so consumed with rage. It was when some kid destroyed Jinx's rocket she spent weeks on. You did not care that the elementary school had forced you out, you were only glad that the other kid was kicked out too.

You forced a few breaths, trying to let the anger shimmer out. You couldn't get too upset on the off chance they would understand and give Jinx a second chance. Using the master key given by Heimerdinger, you pushed through the lab doors.

It was much messier than last time. Papers were scattered across the tile floors. Metal scraps among them, chairs cast aside like someone had too hard of a temper tantrum. Chalk pieces were broken and some dust particles still lingered in the air.

The only person in the room was Viktor. He was mumbling to himself and picking up papers from the floor. He kept a hand on the counter as he struggled to lean down.

You sighed, and picked up papers strewn around as you walked over. He didn't notice your presence until you held out a stack to him.

Viktor was startled when you handed him the papers. He straightened up with a small huff and set aside the few he gathered. Taking them from you, his fingers brushed over yours.

"I heard Jinx got fired over a mistake?" You didn't even bother to beat around the bush. He sighed through his teeth.

"If that was a mistake, I'd hate to see what an intentional attack is like." The papers hit the table with a harsh smack.

"She said she had a manic episode," You crossed your arms over your chest. Viktor shook his head.

"She caused the explosion that caused all of this," He gestured to the mess of a lab. "And then tried to leave." He leaned in, snarling in your face. "That sounds like poor discipline."

Your eye twitched. He was starting to push it. "She was stressed and tried to find a safe space to calm down. If you had given her a chance-"

"She held a knife to Sky's throat, you tell me how to give someone like that a second chance!" His grip tightened on the metal desk. He stood up and turned around, using the counter to help him get to a chair.

That part was left out on Jinx's side. You stalled before giving a stiff nod. "I didn't know about that, sorry. But could you try to talk to her? I'm sure she will apologize if you give her the chance to explain herself."

Viktor scoffed as he took a seat. "No explanation can fix that crazy result." Another twig snapped. You barely held it together, taking a breath as you forced your shoulders to lower from your ears.

"I thought you said you needed to be... crazy in this line of work." Hands tightened around your biceps as you said it. It felt dirty in your mouth.

"We said slightly crazy, not insane." He grumbled and hunched over some equations in a leather bound notebook.

That's it.

Like a fake blood capsule from a Halloween store popped over your eyes, you only saw red. The final branch had snapped. And with it, your ability to remain calm.

No one calls your daughter insane.

"Are you stupid?" You blurted out. Viktor looked up from his journal, golden eyes wide. "Jinx has worked here for 3 months and in that time, had only one breakdown. You're the scientist, you can do the math on how uncommon that is, can't you?" The words fell through your teeth. Like venom dripping from your mouth. "I warned you, she suffers from bipolar episodes because of the shit-fucked childhood she had! And you said it was fine! Something in this lab scared the shit out of her to send her into a spiral and your response was to make her stay and clean up? Are you dumb? How thick is that skull of yours for you to yell at a panicking kid?!"

Viktor's eyebrows narrowed. "She threatened a co-worker!"

You stepped forward, getting in his space. "Before or after you decided it would be so smart to yell at her?" He fell silent. "Exactly. You know, I thought you would be the most accommodating with her."

"Why?" He growled. "Because we're both from the Undercity?"

"Because you're both constantly undermined!" You threw your hands up, using your hands more as you got angrier. "I've read your file, Viktor. I had to when sorting through Heimerdinger's stuff. I know how horrible people treat you because of where you're from and what you lack. Every step of the way, you have been underestimated and yet you're here, one of the revered founders of Hextech!" Your finger was in his face by now.

"Jinx has been doubted, dragged and spat on every step of the way in her career. When you let her work for you, I thought she would finally feel comfortable and have a fair chance because I know you would offer it to her." He tried to scoot back but your hand caught the armrest of his chair, holding him in place. "I'll pay for the damage, I'll take the responsibility for it all, just give her another chance. Please. Talk to her and let her explain."

Viktor swallowed, staring up at you with large eye. You pushed him, watching the wheels on his chair send him back further than you meant. His elbows awkwardly stuck out by his side as he held the arm rests.

You shook your head. Once Viktor met your eyes, no longer any anger or fear in them, you left.

...

Jinx poked at her plate, pushing her pancakes around with her fork. Her free hand held her chin up. Her eyes were drained of her usual excitement, dark circles under the darkened blue irises. Last night ruined her.

You tried your hardest to get her ready for another school day. School always cheered her up, she loved being challenged and seeing the result of her hard work. Her intelligence had kept her in class longer as she discussed theories with her professors.

She didn't want to even try.

"Give it a few days," You tried to reason. You held her bag out with a sympathetic smile. "They'll come around." She shook her head, bangs moving with her.

"No, I messed up. Big time." Jinx looked to the side, tears welling up. "No one will ever want me again." You whispered a soft 'hey,' and placed a hand on her cheek. Letting her bag drop onto the empty seat besides her, you tugged her onto her feet.

A tear rolled down her face as you held her. "It's going to be okay. If all else fails, you'll just have to make your own lab. Your own industry." Her arms wrapped around your shoulders. "Like you always wanted."

Your hand went into her hair, the other tight around her torso. You rested your chin on her head. She was tucked deep into your hold, rubbing your shoulder with her forehead. Together, you gently swayed, rocking her back and forth. You took deep breaths, smiling when you heard her join you.

"If you really can't finish the whole day," You urged her to pull away. She did, crossing her arms over herself, eyes still cast down. You took a hold of her shoulders, easing them from the side of her head. Brought her face to look at you, pink lips in a slight pout. "You tell the professors you don't feel well and you can come home."

She nodded and picked her bag up from the chair. Her fingers traced over the neon drawing she made how many years ago? Her sapphire gaze reached to meet your eyes.

"I believe in you." You reminded, pressing a light kiss to her temple.

"I love you." She wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug before running out the door. You laughed and called your love after her, before sighing. She didn't say that often, she was afraid to. She was growing out of old habits. You couldn't be prouder.

You turned to the kitchen, hands on your hips. Now, you were going to bake her some chocolate chip muffins.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you heard the timer go off, signalling the muffins had been baked. Sliding your hands into the knit gloves Jinx made for your birthday, you pulled the oven door open. Heat flooded out, making you wince from the intense heat. With it, came the sweet smell of chocolate chips and vanilla extract wafting through. It reminded you of simpler times. When you would bake these for your Jinx when she scraped her knees.

A light knocking came from the door at the same time you pulled the metal muffin tray out. Glancing at the time, you sighed. It was a little past lunch. It must've been Jinx. The sight of muffins would cheer her up so you brought them along with you to the door.

"I made you some of your favorites," You sang out, unlocking the door. "Chocolate chip…" You trailed off, eyeing the man in front of you.

Viktor looked down at the tray of muffins in your hand, leaning against his cane. His lips curled into a soft smile, pulling that cute mole up. "Those look delicious." He raised a slender hand.

You yanked the tray back. "They're for Jinx." Your words fell out like bricks, boring and plain. He gave a short nod and dropped his hand.

"Fair." His crutch shifted under his arm. His chest expanded with a deep breath. "I eh... wanted to... say sorry for acting so brash with Jinx." You perked up. His amber eyes took in your expression. The hand on his cane shifted with a crinkle.

You looked down, surprised why his cane sounded like plastic. A small bouquet of flowers were held out, awkwardly making him lean on his cane as he held them for you.

"Oh! I- thank you." You smiled and took them with your free hand. Taking a deep breath, nose hovering over the mix of pink and white petals. They smelt sweet, like the irreplaceable truth of Mother Nature. But you halted. "Shouldn't you give these to Jinx?" You raised a brow.

Viktor laughed, sultry and sweet. "She insisted I give them to you." He readjusted his crutch, sighing as he finally stood right. "I did talk to her and she explained everything." You nodded. "And you were right. My anger only scared her more, making her feel the need to threaten a life in order to escape."

"Thank you, for giving her another chance." You opened the door more. Tilting your head to the side, you silently invited him in. "I know there isn't ever a good reason to threaten others, and I'm working on that with her, but thank you."

He nodded and tentatively walked in. "She's a bright kid. And, if I truly made her upset, I wanted to at least offer an apology."

You pointed him to a seat near the kitchen table, moving to get a vase for the flowers. "I need to apologize too," You sighed and put down the tray of muffins. "I had no right to-"

"Oh, please, that was fun." He gave you a light smile as you slid the dishware in front of him. You cocked an eyebrow. He shrugged. "No one ever has the gull to yell at the poor disabled Undercity kid. Less so now that I'm a 'revered founder of Hextech' " He made air quotes as he sat down. "Those who do only insult me for the leg I don't have." You tried to offer a soft sorry but he continued. "Being told I have a thick skull in my own laboratory was eh... very entertaining experience." Viktor laughed softly, placing his head in his hand as he watched you, molten gold irises scaling your entire body.

A blush overcame you as you grabbed a vase. The neon animals scribbled on it reminded you to take a breath. He was enjoying this. You might as well.

"Are you telling me the revered founder of Hextech likes to be degraded?" His face erupted with pink as he sat up a little straighter. You laughed, filling the vase with some water. "Want a muffin?"

Viktor swallowed once. Then twice. With a deep breath as he sat back, he nodded. "I would like one, yes."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Hextech." You plopped the white and pink flowers into the colored vase with a smirk. His eyes followed your movements, that pretty pink still on his high cheekbones.

"Viktor, please." He corrected softly.

You pulled down a plate and slid it over the counter. "Sweet milk?" You offered and he perked up once more.

"You have that?" He nudged the plate closer when you placed a muffin on his dish.

"If I ran out, I'm pretty sure Jinx would die."

Viktor's shoulders sagged. "Must be an Undercity thing. I would die without sweet milk, too." You shared a laugh.

Like a demon spawning by the call of her name, the moment was broken by a loud shrieking laugh as Jinx kicked down the door. She rammed right into you, her excitement vibrating off her.

"You were right!" She screamed and held you close. "Viktor came by and talked it out and I got the job back! And I went to Sky to apologize and she said that it was nothing, that she had been held at knife point before for more serious reasons and I got my job back and-"

As Jinx rambled into your shoulder, you cast Viktor a look. He was sitting there, watching the two of you with lifted brows. Curiosity shining in the honey pot of his eyes.

Slowly, you peeled her off as she continued to talk. You slid her a glass of sweet milk and a napkin with her muffin on top. Her body responded by picking the items up but she wasn't mentally aware of what she was given, she just held them as she spoke.

"Jinx, sweetie," You tried, gently cupping her face. She hummed, eyes wide with glee. You tilted her face to the side, showing her that there was a guest in the house.

Instead of stopping, or maybe even trying to continue talking with Viktor, Jinx screamed and threw her muffin at him. The baked good hit his chest with a sad thump and fell to the floor, as your daughter hid behind you.

You sighed. "He's real. Not a vision." She peeked over your shoulder.

Viktor wiped off some of the chocolate that got on his vest and brought it to his lips for a lick. "I would say I'm pretty real, too."

Jinx stopped functioning. Her breath stalled as she peered at him. You gave her head a soft pat, like a restart button, she finally stepped back with an awkward laugh.

"Whoops, sorry. Got a bit carried away…" She twirled a stray strand of hair on her finger. Viktor gave a soft smile.

"I'm only surprised you forgot it was your idea I visit, given how insistent you were about the flowers." He leaned back into the palm of his hand. He was gentle with Jinx, reminding her of earlier events in a quiet tone. It made your heart flutter, seeing someone treat her well.

"Right… Right! And that you should ask them on a date!" It was your turn to short circuit.

"Eh, Jinx!" He sat up, red covering his face. She let out a soft 'what?' "I was going to do that… on my own time."

"You say that all the time though!"

"You've been wanting to ask me out on a date?" You turned to Viktor, watching his face get beet red.

"Maybe-"

"Ever since you made him lunch along with mine," Jinx proudly answered for him, earning another glare from her boss.

"That was at the beginning of your internship…"

"Yeah, he's been trying since then."

"I'm about to fire you again, Jinx." Viktor grumbled and ran his hands over his face. She gasped.

"Wait, no!" She turned to you, firmly gripping your shoulders. "Y/n, Viktor hates you and doesn't want you to ever speak to him again."

"Jinx!" You and Viktor both shouted, voices tinged with embarrassment. You cleared your throat and pushed her off. "I think you need to go to your room. Or back to- did you skip class to tell me this?"

Jinx laughed, patted your shoulder, gave Viktor a very obvious wink before bolting back out the door. She definitely skipped class.

Slowly, you turned on your heel and faced Viktor. He leaned back in his chair, long fingers drumming the table. His gaze was stuck on the vase of flowers he had filled earlier and a bright blush on his face.

Breathing out, "A date, huh?"

Viktor sighed, slumping. "I uh, yeah…" You couldn't stop the smile that spread on your face. "I was planning on asking you soon but… well, it seemed a tad inappropriate to ask you to dinner after I apologized for yelling at your daughter."

You chuckled and crossed your arms. "That's thoughtful, thank you."

"You don't have to, I'm sure you're very busy… and I am not… the, well,"

"Dinner sounds nice." Leaning forward on the kitchen counter, you tilted your head. "Are you free after work tonight?"

Viktor's face erupted into that same pink. He gave a slow nod, "Dinner tonight works."

"Great, it's a date." His lips broke out into a wide smile. Sitting up straighter, he opened his mouth to speak.

Your shoulders were near your ears to block out the loud pop that shook the room. Colorful confetti burst over the entire kitchen. Paper purple, red, and blue streamers fell over your head

Jinx stood proud with her newest invention, 'a confetti cannon' in hand. Ashy smoke blew out from the barrel as she beamed, smile so wide her precious tooth gap was on display.

"Date match: success!" She sang out with a loud whoop. "I knew the plan would work!"

"What plan?!" You and Viktor both asked, over the loud ringing of her newest explosion.

"The plan that got you a date!"

"So… you purposely got yourself fired by threatening Sky so we could date?" You narrowed your eyes.

Jinx lowered her cannon. "No, that was a mistake." She shook herself out before beaming again. "The plan was to get you to bond over yours truly." She gave a bow, blue braids falling with her.

You ran a hand over your face. Of course Jinx would pull this. She was the common denominator in her formula of love. You began to rethink if her plan started before she was even interning for them.

Viktor's laugh broke up the silence. He was shaking his head, hand on the table as he stood while he laughed. "Jinx, you are insufferable." He grabbed his cane from the back of the chair and walked over to her.

She stood tall, the cannon strapped onto her shoulder dropped as she tucked her hands behind her back. "Better get used to it, candy cane." Her hand stuck out to point at you as she stared up at him. "Because we're a packaged deal."

"So are your explosives." Viktor brought a hand to her hair and he pushed her head down with a scoff of a laugh. "Get back to class before I tell Heimerdinger this is your third time skipping."

"Third time?!" You gaped. Jinx blew you a kiss before bolting out the door. You and Viktor walked to the door to watch her. To make sure she was actually running to class, not hiding behind the door with her cannon reloaded with more confetti.

You looked behind you. Paper pieces and little glitters were everywhere. Even in the muffins. And in the glass of sweetmilk left out. You sighed and slumped against the door.

"I am so sorry." You offered, slightly embarrassed by your daughter's hijinks.

Viktor only smiled. "I hope her pushing doesn't deter our date. Whether or not we have developed feelings due to her meddling, I would still like to get to know you more personally over dinner."

You watched his face closely. His bright gold eyes were crinkled at the edge by his smile. His high cheekbones were tinted with red. And those adorable moles tempted you still.

You smirked. "She's right, you know." He quirked a bushy brow. "You want to date me, Jinx is non-negotiable."

He returned your dark smile. "The real concern is, can you handle two insane scientists?" He lifted your hand to press those surprisingly soft lips to the top of your knuckles. "Meet me outside the labs tonight?"

This sudden confidence had you floored. "Yeah… can't wait." With a wink, he walked out of your house.

This was going to be fun.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Check out my Masterlist!

[blustalker]

what a situationship does to you:

Found the letter: Didn't find the letter:

[blustalker]

he looks so fucking soft i cant get over it

SILCO in ARCANE Season 2 Ep. 7: 'Pretend Like It's The First Time'

[blustalker]

ARCANE 2.03 - "FINALLY GOT THE NAME RIGHT"

Caitlyn’s strike team

[blustalker]

❝ That heavy breathin' on the floor ❞

Vander x ftm!reader | Sevika x ftm!reader (customer) | Silco x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, angst | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD + partly written on my phone | wc: 17k

warnings: violence against a sw, police brutality, r! is nearly assaulted but is saved, r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, strap-on, minor daddy kink (sevika), pussy-eating, choking, slapping, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used), murder, graphic depictions of violence

masterlist; pt. 1; pt. 2

authors note: this kind of gets a bit heavy at the end with themes of injustices against s*x workers along side police brutality and r! nearly getting assaulted by a haughty rich dude from Piltover. If its it's too heavy, please prioritize yourself ! *song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander (202cm), Sevika (185cm), and Silco (182cm) in this fic.

"So, how'd you decide this career was the best course of action in your life?" your lips twitch at the question. Well, less of the question and more of the person asking; there was an accent these Topsiders have. Dripping with condescension and haughtiness. It was like they were bred to have their noses pointed up, as if there was some sort of treasure up those pin-holes.

"You're asking for my life story?" you drawl, watching as his hands crawl up your thighs. They were splotchy with age spots, but plumper than the old timers from here. Figures. You split your legs for him and he wets his lips. "You get off on that sort of things?" you throw an arched brow his way, a look he dismisses with a wanton grope of your unclothed cunt.

"If I say I do, you'd have to indulge, correct?"

Even the way he asks his questions felt like he was talking down to you.

You hated events like these. The brothel hosted them for the handful of clients who could afford to rent out a whole floor for themselves, usually they were sleazy Topsiders with their stupid little kids who'd come of age.

Easier to pop all sorts of cherries in the underbelly of Piltover because 'they'd do just about anything for some coin!'

You take a long drag of your hookah while the old fuck grinds his palm to your dick. It's strange how soft his hands are. You're used to callouses, palms that strike with power behind them and grips that bruises. This was pathetic.

"My dad bailed on my mom before he knew I was even conceived," his eyes glimmer with morbid curiosity. He rubs his hands up and down, a tepid rhythm that sincerely lacks in any semblance of pleasure. "My poor, young, dumb, mother. She tried really, really, really hard." "Did she?"

You nod, looking off at the floor where a whore was sucking off another Topsider; laid on her belly between his legs on the cushions and duvets. The theme of this event had been some dumbass ancient civilization. With white toga's and golden wreaths some of their kids spent a week working on.

"She worked her ass off. Determined to make life worth living for me."

"Did she work...here?"

There it was. That sick fascination. He didn't even know if this story was real, you could be bullshitting him but it doesn't matter. As he strokes your cock, his eyes gleam with a cruelty that only men of his status could possess. Pain was a fetish; it was a welcomed one even. But this? This fetish that he has, of listening to sob stories and fulfilling his torture fantasy. Did he think he was better than a sexual sadist because his hands were soft and wimpy?

He must. Perhaps he even thinks this line of questioning elevates him from your usual customers. Makes this all feel more 'ethical'.

It was funny seeing a predator file their teeth down into shiny sparkling stubs (his veneers were blinding) but forget they still had claws. Your lips curl away from your teeth, in disgust and rising anger.

Then Doe appears in front of you. Her hands stroking up your thighs as she blocks the Topsider's face from yours. The twitch in your brow is hidden behind your mask, but the corners of your mouth twist in confusion. She slips her fingers into his hold, giggling as he greets her.

"Mr. Erikson," she returns the flirting he dishes out, slipping his finger under the strap of her toga and tugging it down. When she brushes her hair over her shoulder, she gives you a pointed expression.

Calm the fuck down, was written all over her face. When she flits her eyes to your trembling hand, you loosen your grip on the hookah and click your teeth. She climbs smoothly onto that old fuck's lap, distracting him with her perky tits while you walk away.

The beaded curtains rattle angrily as you sulk past the threshold. Glaring at every privileged little fuck there on your way out of the hall. When a blonde man tried to grasp at your wrist you tug it away with a snarl. Fucking Topsiders. Going to the Undercity to get their dicks wet, maybe even delude some poor shit into thinking that they could be more. As if they'd ever marry anyone from here, or claim the children they fathered.

Because that's what Topsiders do. They take. All they know to do is take and take and take with no regard nor care —

A hand grabs at your wrist, harshly tugging you back and when you spin you grab the brooch at your shoulder and unclasp it to press the point to Sevika's neck. Your eyes widens and she lets out a low whistle.

"Hello to you too."

"Fuck, Sevika," you hastily bring your 'weapon' down, mindlessly clipping it to the golden make-shift rope-belt at your hip. She lets your wrist go while you lean in to make sure you hadn't actually drawn blood.

"Don't just grab me like that," you chastise. She takes notice of your get-up then glances towards the muffled noises of the hall behind you. "You finished in there?" she asks.

You should tell her no. You'd been asked for by name from the Topsiders, having done well at a previous party like this.

"Yeah. You want me for the night?" she shifts the tooth pick to the other side of her grin, reaching another hand to tug you in by your waist. "C'mon baby, say it nicely."

Sevika tilts her head, her rough hands making your lashes tremble. Both of her hands grab firmly at your ass, hitching you up and close. Her firm body, the scent of smoke and ash and alcohol easing you down as they mingle with Sevika's naturally smoky cologne. Judging from the bag of coin she has hidden in her jacket — that you can feel from under your hand — she was most likely in a good mood from winning a game.

"Say it sweet, how'd you'd ask those Topsiders to fuck you?" she's just getting a rise out of you. It wasn't a secret to Sevika that you despised the Topsiders. Even if you never ranted to her about it, every time they walked into the establishment your mask could barely keep your expression of dismay at bay.

You narrow your eyes at her. Smoothly slipping a hand into her jacket and taking the bag of coins out and holding it out of her reach when she tries to grab it.

"You think you deserve to fuck me?" you play along with her game. Leaning your face in to hers, your mask brushing her cheek. "Little limp dicks like you can barely make me hard, much less cum." Sevika's grip is bruising. The fabric of your toga nearly giving away to her harshness. Sevika was going to fuck you just the way you needed. Fast and hard; a true Zaunite in every way.

Your mask had been tossed aside, most likely on the floor of your room somewhere. The spray-painted golden wreaths, brooch, and belt were safely placed onto one of the dressers. The toga did not get that much grace though. Having been ripped away from your body as Sevika spun you around to pin you down on your stomach at the edge of the semi-circle bed.

"Sevika!" you exclaim in genuine alarm. She can still hear the smile in your voice so she just stares at the cloth material in her hands and breathes out a laugh. It lands next to you while she takes off her cloak.

"That cost money?" she questions mindlessly. You turn over on your back, staring up at her, stark naked. She'd spit out the toothpick before she smashed your lips together up the stairs, yet somehow she's found a cigarette to put between her teeth.

"Yeah," you replied in a matter-of-fact tone, reaching up to your nightstand to grab your box of matches. Striking one to light. She leans over you, her rough hands feeling up your split thighs and you light up her cigarette for her.

"I bought the damn fabric." "Cheap fabric," she replies as she pulls climbs on the bed. Her clothed body pressed against yours.

"Or maybe you're just freakishly strong," you retort with a huff.

"I'll pay extra," she laughs when you raise your brows.

Whores. So easy.

"Fuck, Sevika." She strokes your dick with her fingers which makes your breath hitch. "Yuh - You're gonna...You have to slow down."

"I know you can take more than this." You scowl at her, she just presses down on your poor dick. "I'm talking about gambling, dumbass. You're getting the extra coin from it, aren't you?"

She rolls her eyes, grabbing you face in her other hand and smushing your cheeks — involuntarily making your lips purse out like a fish while she stares down at you. The white smoke slithering up into the air making her grey eyes shine like a vengeful spirit.

"You don't want me here spoiling your ass?" she says gruffly, her fingers now slipping down to your winking hole and smearing your slick over it. "Who else is gonna remind this hole how rough you need it?"

Your eyes soften. She can see your resolve melt as she slips a finger inside of you, she groans just as your brows twitch and knit together. Anal was Sevika's wheelhouse. She always made your entire body shiver and shake when she gets in the mood to fuck you as if you were nothing but her personal flesh light.

"Fuh - fuck you," you hiss out. She knows you don't mean it. Because your customer's moods was your own wheelhouse. You know how they like to play, how much chase they want, how much biting they love. It's why your roster of clients were oddly attached to your fox mask.

She brings her hand to your neck and watch as your back arches of the bed as she fingerfucks your ass while she has her thumb inside of your cunt. Her cigarette was beginning to burn too much and when the ashes drop onto your thigh, you squeak in alarm but don't tell her to stop. So she simply doesn't.

Sevika occasionally slips her fingers back inside of your cunt to gather more lube and you only give her a whine of displeasure.

"You're fine," she reassures, "I'm the first Jane of the night, right?"

When you give her a quizzical look she laughs.

"Your ass is way too tight. Either I'm the first of the night or there's some micro dicks at that party."

"You're way too fuckin' cocky, you know that?"

When Sevika has you fully stretched out, she gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching your chest raise and fall as you're splayed out on the bed whilst she takes off her clothes and grabs at the cloak and bag she dropped on the ground. Your thighs were wet from your own slick and the lube she'd fished out from your drawers, you watch her move when you lift your arm away from your face.

She's putting on her strap. Just the sight of it has both of your holes clenching. Sevika smushes the cigarette in an ash tray and whistles, twisting her wrist to point down and you hate how much your stomach flutters at the casual dominance. You get on your hands and knees, face pressed to the bed. She grabs the globes of your ass, stroking her dick in the other hand.

"...Are you waiting for me to beg?" you wonder after a moment.

"Might be nice to hear." Your laughter makes her grin. Not that you could see it. You take a few breaths, then look at her from over your shoulder.

"C'mon, daddy. Fuck me." You whine out. Sevika stares on. Unimpressed. You curl your lip, twisting your upper half a bit further to stare back.

"That's a classic."

"I've heard better."

"Hah! From who? Doe?" you fully lay on your side now, smirking as you look up at her. "You're real sweet on her, huh?"

When Sevika grunts, you throw your head back to laugh. She grabs at your ankles but you kick her efforts away and drag yourself further up the bed. She calls out your name flatly but you just giggle.

"You are," you purr. "Thought you said falling for whores are for chumps."

Sevika narrows her eyes, grabbing at your calf and tugging you back down. You squeal, still smiling even when she grabs your ripped toga to tie your wrists together and pull it between your legs as she bends them so far forward your knees are nearly touching your chest.

"Struck a nerve, daddy?" you challenge. Her dick catches on the rim of your asshole, pressing but not breaching.

"You're such a fucking brat. Just a fiend for this kind of shit, huh? Like it rough?"

The thick head of it presses in and you groan. The noise airy — as if she'd knocked it out of you by simply pressing in despite the resistance.

"Your wolfman fuck you like this too?"

You make a noise. Half-squeak and half-gasp, brows furrowing and jumping in alarm when she just slams in more than half of her cock inside.

"Fuck!"

"He fucks your ass like this?"

She readjusts her stance, the bed creaking as she keeps your body at her complete mercy. Pinned under her frame, hands tied up and pulled by her strength while her thick cock is intently filling your ass up. The position makes her hit all the right spots, and you want nothing more than to drown in the overwhelmingly delicious pressure she's pulling you into. But her questions has caught you completely off guard.

"Sevika," you moan out, pushing at her waist with your weak fingers, trying to relieve some of the pleasure. She slopes her brows in faux concern.

"Yeah, you're sweet on him, aren't ya'?"

She slides into you some more, the veins on her cock making your toes curl as your hole clenches around her. She groans as though she can feel it. And you toss your head back.

"You're fucking huge," you whine out.

"Is he bigger or smaller?"

You roll your eyes at her and she smirks. She inches back a few then just drops all her weight down. The moan you let out is nonexistent, mouth opened in a silent scream as your back arches and your vision goes white.

"He make you feel that good?" You suck in a quick breath, as if remembering you could but she doesn't let up.

"I definitely touched something there, huh?"

She starts thrusting. Shallow but quick, just pistoning in and out of your poor ass while your cunt weeps out for a sliver of attention. She ignores it all in favour of waiting for you to flutter your pretty eyes open.

"Duh - daddy," you hiccup out and she just pulls your tied hands out from between your thighs to instead pin above your head.

"S'little too late to act nice, sweet cheeks." You mewl, hips bucking as she continues her onslaught. "Daddy, plea - ah!" The smack of her palm against your ass has your entire body jolting.

"It's a yes or no, baby."

Tears darken your lashes, you bring your hand to her face and use any bit of core strength you have to press your lips with hers but she simply pushes your face down. Not by your neck. No. She's intentionally cruel as she has the space between her thumb and pointer right under the top row of your teeth.

As she thrusts out moan after moan, all you can do is let her hear it. It's humiliating. The noises you make are all choked up, saliva is beginning to pool from the corners of your mouth. No matter how much you thrash or push or try to buck, she just continues to rail you.

You know Sevika would stop if you tapped at her four times in a row. It was something the both of you had long established as a non-verbal safe-word when there's a craving for something harder.

She knows you know how to stop her if you need to. You don't. So she ploughs into you, groaning as she watches you struggle.

"C'mon baby, that's it." She's purring, sweat beading down her face as her hair comes undone. She's a vision like this. Her strong arms flexing under the low lights, her firm stomach clenched as though you were truly milking her cock. It makes you a bit delirious, especially when she's chewing on her lower lip and looking down at you like this.

"Cum around my cock. Like a proper bitch," you groan, knowing she's close from the way her grip on you tightens.

You're feeling the building pressure finally reaching its peak and you bite down on her hand, glaring at her as you moan around her flesh. She just smiles, wide and proud. A true predator.

Her teeth sharp just like her claws.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your cunt pathetically squirt, the wetness just urging Sevika on as she forces you to bite down harder.

"You alright?"

Vander's voice feels like an ice pack against bruised skin. An apt metaphor considering he was putting an ice pack to your bruised ass.

"Mmm," he chuckled at your muffled response. After Sevika and you got scolded by your madame, you sought refuge at The Last Drop. Of course, Sevika simply thought you wanted a drink and you had. You hung around her side until she got swept up into a game of poker and slipped away to the back. All under Vander’s watchful eye.

He had grabbed an ice pack just as you slipped through the back, tapping another bartender’s shoulder to take over while he went upstairs. Which is where he found you. In his bedroom, shimmying out of your outfit and looking at him with those pleading eyes.

“You’re off early,” he kneaded at the back of your thighs, watching as your muscles jumped and twitched. “You tapped out?”

He sounds rightfully surprised. You’re not the type to just get off work early because of a bruised ass. You’re tougher than most of everyone here. You stare at him, face smushed against your crossed arms. He reaches to brush some hair away, and you melt further on his mattress.

“Darling?” you frown but finally confess. “I ran away from some dumbass party that the madame was hosting for some Topsider fucks.”

“You thought I’d be angry knowin’ that?” Vander arches a brow. Laying down next to you, trusting that The Last Drop could handle just a few more minutes without him. “You’re allowed to be angry at them. Shits bloody unfair.”

You get on your elbows, placing your chin in your palm while he looks down at you.

“Aren’t you angry at them?” you watch his expression shift. It’s a barely noticeable twitch, really it could be written off as a muscle spasm if anything.

“Aren’t you tired of being angry at them?” you continued.

“I put those dreams on the shelf a long time ago,” he attempts to soothe you by cupping your face. It works, just barely, but you lean into his warmth. “I’ve got too much to lose. This place, the kids.” He pauses and brushed his thumb across your cheek, his pinkie tilting your head up.

“You.”

The comfortable silence washes over. You take a breath and sigh, nuzzling into his large palm. The sweet act has him smiling, glad you drop the topic and using his strength to pull you to lay on his front.

“Sorry, I’m a little dirty.”

“Mm, I like you dirty.”

He laughs. The action jostling you a bit but you simply wrap your arms around his neck while he holds you firm.

“You could just work here.” He runs his hand down your back, kneading his thumbs in at a few knots. You groan into his ear, shaking your head. “You dunno’ what you’re sayin’”

“I’m serious,” he adjusts the ice pack and you shiver a bit as the its sweat drips down between your thighs. “Bar could always use a nicer face than mines.”

“Derek’s pretty enough.” Vander laughs. It rumbles in his throat this time and you grin just hearing it.

“B’sides, you’re plenty handsome.”

“Yeah, but not one of us compare to you, darling.” You hum in agreement, sighing as he works more knots loose.

“Don’t have ta’ come here to lick your wounds if there’s no wounds to lick. Could spend more time with Powder and Claggor, the kids are fond of ya’”

Your eyes slip open. Heart squeezing fondly at the mention of those little rascals. Vander and you aren’t exactly a thing, not said outloud anyways, but he introduced you to his kids. That meant something. He taught you how to sneak into his room too. When your landlord had to kick you out for a few weeks to accommodate for her lame ass nephew, you sheltered at The Last Drop and well, you all bonded.

The guilt in your heart stabbing into you night after night as more feelings poured into this already tumultuously boiling pot of emotions.

But Silco thought it was a good thing. He’d probably be telling you to take Vander’s deal on becoming this weird stay-at-home bartender/boyfriend/babysitter to get more information. Whether it be from Sheriff Grayson or the ever restless Vi.

“Think about it?” Vander blinks up at you when you lift your head. When your lips meet, it’s sweet. Slow and sensual, more lips than tongue. Pecks and real long-lasting ones. You murmur his name and he whispers yours back.

“You not sore?”

“Fuck me slow?”

He smiles and claims your lips again. Vander drifts his hand to the ice pack and removes it. The thud it makes when it falls to the ground makes you giggle, so he attacks your neck next; you give him free reign, gasping when he switches your positions to have laid down next to him.

You’re not even sure what happens next. One moment he’s clothed and the next he’s not as he practically snuggle fucks you on your side. He doesn’t have a bed frame but the springs in his mattress makes a few jostling noises as his cock slid in and out of your cunt.

“Vander, ah-mmphf, fuuuuck,” you press your face into the pillow and simply let him move you around. Completely at his mercy as he holds your waist.

Sevika glanced up at the faint thuds she was hearing above her. But refocuses on the table before her, scoffing at her competitor's lame poker face. Someone turned up the juke box and the noises are a distant memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he lifts one of your arms to wrap around his neck, kissing the underside of your arm and brushing his teeth there. The sensation of his beard makes you shiver.

“Deeper, please, Vander. Need you s’much deeper.” He kisses you, pulling out to readjust his position. You’re still laid on your side and he straddles your left leg and slides his thick cock inside of you again. Your voice trembles.

“There, darlin’?” you nod, whimpering when he rocks his hips in and out of you. You clutch at the bedsheets, turning your face into the pillow again as your cunt clenches down around him.

“Fuck, c’mon. Don’t push me out,” Vander threads his fingers through your hand and gently, as if you were made of glass instead of jagged metal, turns your head to him.

“Easy, loosen up a bit. Can’t fuck you how you need me to if you’re too tight.”

You whine, taking a few breaths and trying your best not to clench around him. Fuck, he was so thick. Even if you weren’t clenching, you were sure he’d still feel snug. He thanks you with a kiss to your forehead, gently shushing you when he moves again.

“Vuh...Vander...fuuuck, baby, please.”

“I’ve got ya’, come on, cum f’me.”

“You — Are you —”

Vander grunts, nodding as you once again clamp down on him. He knows you’re close, right on the edge and he wants to follow and dive with you. He kisses you, practically straling your breath away as his thrusts get sloppier and harsher. You mewl, nails digging into the back of his hands. Your orgasm washes over like a wave, your hips bucking as Vander feels your cum spurt around his dick and balls. He’s close behind, filling your insides with thick ropes of cum. He’s murmuring something into your skin. Something you can’t make out.

“Shit, shit.”

When he pulls out, your cunt clenched around nothing but air. Twitching and pulsing just like your little dick, aftershocks of pleasure running through you. His cum begins oozing out between your legs and he pants at the sight. You do nothing to stop him when he places you on your back — putting a pillow under your ass — and dives his head between your legs.

“Vander,” you moan out. Breath hitching as he licks a fat stripe up your cunt. “Let me do this for you,” he mumbles, groaning at the taste of your cum and his mixing together on his tongue. “Just let me take care of you.”

You stretch your arms above your head while he eats your boypussy out like he’s a starved man. His beard wet with your juices as your writhe on the bed. He doesn’t even tease, just intently cleaning and eating you out. You moan weakly for him, voice hoarse from servicing the Sevika and now fucking Vander.

You pinch your brows, squirming on the bed and gasping airily as Vander eases you into your nth orgasm of the day.

When you reach that peak, he eases you back down from the clouds. Carefully stroking over your thighs as he watches you catch you breath.

This is where you belong, he thinks. On his bed, legs spread and boycunt leaking with his cum; his name coming out your lips and his hands on your thighs. Vander presses kisses up your hips and chest, finally giving you a kiss on the lips.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

He chuckles and you trust him enough to slip your eyes closed.

“Just rest,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.”

Quitting was a sordid affair. There'd been a few passive aggressive claims from your madame about you crawling back and you calling her a cunt. Despite that, the both of you still acknowledge each other when she does walk into The Last Drop — it's hard to hate the woman who'd been generous enough to teach you everything you needed to know to survive.

The month that passed had been smooth sailing. You've gotten closer to Vander and his kids, even Benzo's little protege Ekko had come around to you. Which interests Silco, so you get close to Benzo. When Powder needs help with carrying stuff to his shop, you help. The guy was loyal to a fault and stubborn just like Silco had mentioned.

The first lesson you'd been taught in your ex-profession had been not to get feelings involved. Don't even dare to associate with customers who begin to get emotionally invested — it was bad for business in the long run. Sex isn't complicated but once you tangle in feelings? Bad mix for you. But when it came to listening in and relaying information, that career devastating choice is a powerful weapon. To turn trust into a dagger and thrust it under their ribs, tilting the blade up to hear that poor sucker suffer with each inhale.

So why is it so different this time?

How could you tuck in Powder at night and then sneak off to meet Silco in the docks to tell him what you'd overheard from Vander, Benzo, and Sheriff Grayson's discussions?

Were you that heartless?

Revolution is messy, Silco had once told you. It takes blood, sweat, tears, guts, and more guts. You don't ask for permission and you certainly don't ask for forgiveness after. Violence was necessary for change. Vander had lost sight of that, gotten soft.

But isn't it too cruel to play with his heart this way?

Would he love you if he knew what you were fighting for?

Would he condemn you for how you want respect?

He'd given you free roam of his home. Let his kids get attached to you. Gave you a job. All because he loves you.

"Is this really okay?" Vi says, which pulls you out of your thoughts. Your pupils shrink, turning to face her with your brows near your hairline.

Right. You were at the river with the kids.

The water gleamed and glimmered with metal wreckage in the bottom. There was also the unmistakable sheen of oil in it, but it honestly just added colour to the teal. The kids had breathed in worse, besides, it wasn't everyday they get to swim and just act their age.

"What? It's harmless," you snicker out, smoothly recovering as you lean back on your hands. She frowns, standing next to you on the banks. Vi constantly looks up at every little noise. Even if her head didn't turn, it was like the tip of her ears would just flick up like a vigil cat.

"Vi, it's fine. We're allowed to be here," you peer down at Claggor teaching Powder how to squirt out water between their palms while Mylo is on the shore. Wet and a bit glum looking as he shakes off the water from his hair.

"It's good to get a bit of sunlight," you tell Vi as you swing your legs over and smile as Powder accidentally shot a stream of water up Claggor's nose with amazing accuracy. Mylo laughs and Claggor splashes the water back over him. Her furrowed brow softening the tiniest bit.

It quickly returns as she turns her attention to the tall buildings with their golden ornaments and expensive detailing. You lean on your hands, nudging her leg with your elbow to pull her back.

"Hey, bet if you aim just right you can splash Mylo, Claggor, and Powder when you dive." She raises a brow, smirking at you.

Vi and you didn't have the best beginnings. She knew what your profession was and Mylo didn't exactly help with his long tales of the 'rumours' he's heard. Vander could protect himself, she knows this, but she got prickly when you had unceremoniously moved in during your landlord-nephew fiasco. Over some time though, she finds herself liking your more cynical nature. Although you acknowledge that they're kids, you also give them more credit than most adults do. It's nice feeling respected as a person.

"Hah! What are you betting?" You open your mouth to put an offer of some coins when the yell of an enforcer makes you twist your head and instantly clamber onto your feet.

"You! Stay there!" He yells, his blue uniform gleaming under the light. It's so rare seeing them all armoured up above ground. The sight should mean that you were well within your rights to be here, if he wore the armour that meant you were close enough to the Lanes to get him uncomfortable.

"C'mon, let's go! Let's go!" Vi nods and instantly hurries to gather her siblings attention, Claggor lifting Powder out the water and rushing to the shore while Mylo gathers their clothes. You know the enforcers would take some time climbing down — especially with his dumbass protective wear — so you use those precious minutes to ensure every one of them were ahead of you.

"(Y/N)!" Powder and Mylo call out when they hear you yell behind them. Vi skids to a stop, eyes wide when you find yourself pressed to the brick wall.

"Just go! Go!" she hesitates and you grit your teeth. "GO!"

The enforcer turns his gaze to them, his harsh breathing against your ear making you shudder. Vi is helpless as she grabs Mylo and Powder's wrist to tug them forward.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" you seethe out as you feel him patting you down.

"Not loiterin', not skulking, we were just - Fuck! Take it easy!" he kicks your ankles apart and you try to spin around only to get backhanded by your faceless attacker. He covers your eyes with his gloved hand, moving your head here and there as though he was inspecting you.

"Yeah, you're him," his mask makes his voice sounded inhumane. A machine-like quality that zaps out any bit of remorse or compassion from him. "You fuckin' slut."

Crumpling to the floor, you quickly cover your head and curl up when you see his boots flying in your direction.

Powder can only see glimpses of this violence as she turns her head back. Vi tells her to focus but she can't. Because all she sees is you on the floor, torso bare because you'd been swimming, bare foot too; hair wet, completely defenseless. Your grunts of pain echoing through the tunnel and your eyes having relief in them as the kids narrowly escape.

"What happened?" is Vander's first question when they all tumbled into The Last Drop. Instantly straightening up at Vi's distraught expression. It was still too early for anyone to have stumbled in, even by the Lanes standard, so he gave them all his attention.

"Vi?"

"We - we were just - we were just swimming," Mylo breathes through his nose, knees nearly buckling at the fright and rush of adrenaline. Their run through the underground, barefoot, and wet had certainly brought enough attention as is. Vander ushered them to get in, locking the front doors as they all suddenly find their voices.

"He said it was safe, they just, they grabbed him!" Vi is beginning to stomp, and Claggor nods along.

"(Y/N)?" Vander asks and Powder nods, eyes brimming with tears as she turns her attention to the doors. You should be bursting through it right now. Why weren't you?

"We were just swimming," Mylo repeats. Vander grabs his jacket. "I'm going with you!" Vi announces.

"Your feet are bleeding," he points out. "All you'd do is get in the way. Everyone of you stay here. I'll fix this."

Powder watches on as Vander rushes out the front door. Vi is still arguing, attempting to follow along either way but whatever shit she got trapped in her skin causes her to wince and falter. Claggor catches her, attempting to guide her to the chairs while Mylo is repeating the same thing.

"We were just swimming."

Topsiders had a weird thing for grudges. You understood that better than most. Eye for an eye and all that. But for Topsiders? It seemed rejection was worthy of a grudge. When you come to from the haze, you're on the wooden floors of a familiar face's house. His figure comes in fours, then twos, and finally come together in one.

Mr. Erikson. From that dumbass toga event at the brothel.

He's much more hideous in brighter lights. His plump cheeks and beady eyes more prominent. You cough, attempting to get up onto your feet only to be kept down as a familiar boot presses down on your shoulder. The bruise that was already blooming there made you grit your teeth while he harshly stomped down. Erikson winces, waving his hand to make the enforcer stop.

"Not so rough now. If he's too broken, it'll be painful to look at."

Glaring venomously at him as you stubbornly peel yourself off the floor and onto your staggering feet. The world spins but you stomp your foot to get some sense of equilibrium. There's a pounding in your head that pierces through your eyes and there's blood in your mouth; but all you can feel right now is the numbness in your limbs and the rapid pulse in your neck,

"I named you to your madame. The fox with the sweet (S/C) skin and pretty lips. The boy with the tightest cunt I've ever felt. You were there at a previous party, my other son's birthday."

You spit out some blood, wiping it away with the back of your hand as you sway in your spot. He curls his nose but continues.

"I had been hoping to give you as a gift to my youngest, Troy. But then you left, and when I asked for you again your madame wouldn't tell me just where you went. "

"You fucking kidnapped me because I wouldn't fuck you and your son on his birthday?"

The incredulity of the entire situation makes you choke out a laugh. Even with your spinning vision, this office was clearly that of someone who made decent money. With its mahogany bookshelves and leatherbound covers. Some books here were probably older than your ass, much more priceless too. Hell, you bet even that stupid fucking nameplate with the name Stephen Erikson carved into the gold had costs more than you.

"She said you quit. It was very hard to find you, considering the masks and all." He sniffles derisively. Off-put by your brash display. You were so nice and tender at the brothel, now you were acting like a completely different person.

"There's other guys with cunts, you geriatric chaser —" The enforcer backhands you again and it sends you flying to a shelf, a few books tumbling down while you desperately try not to fall on your ass.

"Troy," the old man reprimands with a drawl. He turns his attention back to you; "We'll pay you handsomely for a night."

You shake your head, digging your nails into the wood as your vision spins again. Troy, that shit, takes off his helmet and he's much more honest compared to his father; his fetish for pain was evident. Perhaps Stephen hadn't filed his teeth like you'd thought. Maybe they were just made to grind bones to dust, prolong their preys pain because unlike a predator with their fangs these teeth aren't for a merciless death.

Clearly he had learned this from his father who was enabling this behaviour. He probably taught him everything he needed to know anyways. You pant as you notice the painted family portrait on the wall of the study. Mr. Erikson and his three sons, all wearing their Enforcer's badge with pride. You recognized them all, each stupid event flashing through your head and each memory makes you more and more nauseous.

"I'm a fucking bartender now, I don't do that shit anymore" you growl out. Stephen sighs, leaning back in his leather tuft chair, looking completely bored by this entire insane exchange.

"Troy tells me he found you with a few kids. Yours?" When you say nothing in reply, he takes your seething silence as a yes. "Following your mothers footsteps, are you?" He shakes a bag of coins. Then tosses it onto the floor, golden pieces spilling out in front of you.

"You can work your ass off. Make life worth living for them."

There was a knock at the door. You waste no time and yell but get the breath knocked out of you as Troy swiftly pins you to the book shelf, a gloved hand over your mouth as he holds your hips in place with his own. Your skin prickles, just his weight on you has your stomach feeling sick.

"Who the hell is that?" Troy hisses at his father, his blue eyes panicked. The old man, as cool as a cucumber, simply tells the person on the other side to state their business.

"It's just the bloody maid," he scoffs out.

But the maid does not state their business. It's just pure silence on the other end until there's suddenly pounding. It makes the old man stand and Troy loosens his grip so you bring your knee between his legs. As he curls over you shove him away and retreat into a corner just as the door bursts open.

You recognize them. Ran, Lock, a few other nameless goons who you don't quite remember, and in the center of it all?

"Silco," you move and you fall to your knees. His expression darkens. The men and women fill the room, crowding Troy and his father to the other end while Silco makes his way to you. He offers a hand and you take it, leaning against him as he looks you over. Your lip was cut and one side of your face was scratched up, bruised and sore. The fact that you were dressed for a swim, torso bare, and feet scratched up from being dragged, made his ire raise.

"They did this to you?" He shrugged his coat off, and slipped it around your shoulders. You drew the front closed, nodding as you tuck your head under his chin.

"I wouldn't fuck them and they got pissy," you whisper to him. Silco growls, the rumbling noise soothing you just like Vander's chuckle would. He cups your face in his hand, his pinkie sliding under your jaw and his thumb across your cheek.

"What is this? Who are you?" Stephen stands, reaching for something on his desk but getting slammed face first onto the hard wood. There's a loud crackling noise that follows and you flinch out of shock. Silco simply guides your head to his neck, one hand smoothing over the back of your head and sighing in relief as his palms lift with no crimson.

"Dad!" Troy's yell gets cut short when he's forced onto his knees. There was a scuffle, fists meeting face and knees slamming themselves into his diaphragm. A small smile twitches to your face as your eyes slip close. Silco squeezes you, jolting you a bit.

"Stay awake, come. Sit."

Silco moves casually. Setting you to lay down on the lounge chair in the study, taking his coat off your shoulders to instead drape it over your. He pulls out his handkerchief to wipe away your blood while he kneels next to you. He takes his sweet time with you, his men keeping the pigs still as they both find themselves pinned down.

"I'd heard an enforcer had been snooping around the brothel. Asking for someone, demanding even" His voice makes your heart calm down, adrenaline ebbing away as he presses down on the cut on your eyebrow. The pain keeps you awake, but he still purses his lips at your hiss. Silco stands up, sighing softly. A kid comes to your side, offering you a flask of water. He's careful as he tilts your head up, watching intently as you sip it down.

"You're a proud man, aren't you Stephen?" Silco admires the family portrait, taking it the details of each face before he turns his attention to the table of trinkets below it. "A family of enforcers. Protecting the city you love." Silco tilts his head as he hears them struggle once again.

"While the city you constantly take from suffer from your greed."

"Fuckin' trencher," Troy spits out. His cheek pressed on by the heel of a boot. His blue eyes were shaking with indignation. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Fissure Folk, Sump Rat, Undercity scum," Silco answers. He steps over Troy's head and jerks his chin to signal Lock to step away from Stephen. He does and Stephen inhales, his entire body shaking as he coughs and coughs. The impressive table creaked under the old man's rattling breathes.

Ran brings Silco the fallen leather tuft chair and he crosses his legs as he sits.

"I'm sure you boast about being a near native to the undercity. With how often you visit our brothels with your men and sons. Using our bodies for your sick desires then beating it when you have the uniform on. Pretending to be a saint as your city fills your pockets. As if you've actually done anything worthwhile."

Stephen continues to hack, wheezing and whimpering. Every breath he took felt like a blunt blade was scratching up his lungs. His ribs were broken, he was sure of it.

"Yet, despite how many hours you've spent with our men and women, you still fail to understand the most important thing about us." Silco spreads his legs, elbows on his knees as he leans in so Stephen was looking right into his eyes.

"We protect our own."

"Please," Stephen's voice sounded strained. Like air escaping out of a broken pipe, the pitch ear grating. "I'm sorry."

Silco openly observes Stephen's splotchy red face. Cheeks full and plump, his brows trimmed and his dyed hair shining unnaturally cherry red. The family potrait was recent, but the artist had covered up their earlier renditions of Stephen's wrinkles while his blonde sons all looked their current age.

"No, you aren't." He states dryly, motioning for the man to slam Stephen back onto the table, him howling in pain just as Ran switches the radio on.

A jaunty tune plays. The singer sighing about puppy love as the melodic background singers and stringed instruments accompany his voice. He leans back in the chair, nodding as Stephen's captor wrings his hands back.

"But you will be."

"No!" Troy twists and bucks like an animal. His eyes wide with horror. As if he hadn't intended to strip you of all your dignity just moments ago. The sight of that fear on their face, that dawn of realization; even when they don't realize that they're only getting what they deserve, it soothes a part of Silco's soul.

"No?" Silco repeats.

"What do you want?" Troy is pleading now. The sight of his old man's hand pulled behind his body, ready to be broken in half, causing him enough distress for tears to fill his eyes.

"We'll give you anything!"

"Troy!" Stephen wheezes out in retaliation. Silco looks at the golden nameplate on his desk and scoffs. Anything? This house wasn't in any impressive neighbourhood. The portrait maker had been shoddy in their cover-up. The trinkets had a fine sheet of dust across them and the books weren't kept in the best conditions. Their maid had been an old woman with her back hunched, making her shrink down to the height of a pre-teen. Tired, slow at work; not the best money could get.

They weren't rich by Piltover standards. It's why they go to the Undercity for their parties. Things were cheaper there and get even cheaper when you flash your badges.

"You've nothing I want." He says simply, making sure Troy felt that pit of dread consume him entirely.

"We didn't know, we didn't know he was yours" Troy squirms, but the thug above him with the lazy eye simply stomped down on him harder. Knocking the air out of him and making him bite down on his tongue hard enough it fills his mouth with blood.

"No, because all that mattered was he was a trencher and he'd rejected your money. So predictable."

Lock smirks as Silco jerks his chin again and begins pulling Stephen's arm the wrong way. He screeches like a sewer mouse. You find yourself coughing as you laugh, reaching a hand up to cover your eyes at the noises. The song kept playing, the contrast of its sweet melody and words to the scenario before you simply adding more fuel to your delirious humour.

"PLEASE!" The youngest son doesn't even try to fight when his enforcer badge does nothing to intimidate others. When he's in a room full of people who wanted nothing more than crush him, he tucks tail and shows off his underbelly.

You try to hear what Silco says next, but the headache begins to grow stronger and the blonde kid next to you panics when he notices your eyes fluttering close. "Hey," he hisses, drawing Ran's attention as they kneel by your side.

Their voices become a blur and unconsciousness beckons you so sweetly. As hard as you try to fight, you find yourself sinking into that dark embrace, floating into nothingness as the pain shrinks away.

There's an incessant purring next to you. Just under your left armpit, warm and comfortable. It's the only thing you can feel and hear, your senses still dulled. While your mind runs a million miles a second, your limbs feel heavy and locked; as if they'd turned into lead. You're trapped in your own mind. Your eyelids feel like bricks and as your eyes move under them, left to right and right to left, you feel his hand slip into yours.

"Easy now," that voice, that honeyed drawl. You breathe sharply through your nose and he squeezes your hand. "I'm here. Easy."

Silco lifts the darkness from your eyes and your vision takes its damn sweet time returning to you. You see him though. Shifting from a blurry figure to that face you adored so much. He offers a ghost of a smile, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he sees the wildness in your eyes tame itself. The damp rag across your eyes is placed back into the bowl.

"You're alright. The Doctor says your adrenaline just ran out," he pushes you down gently when you try to sit up. It was for the best, considering how much your body was aching. Not even in the sexy, satisfied, way. You wince, grunting when you fall back onto the mattress. The purring machine next to you lifts its head and you raise a brow at the furless cat. It yawns, looking a bit disgruntled at your movement but stubbornly staying put as it curls up.

Breathing ball sack aside, you ask Silco what happened.

"What do you remember?" he lets your hand go to squeeze out the water from the rag, wiping away the cold sweat on your neck. "You giving me your coat, then some girl squealing, but don't remember much after."

Your retelling makes him scoff, clearly amused. The sight of your bruised lips and face twists his mouth into a frown. "I should've been there sooner."

"Don't start with that, come on." You wince as your sides pulsed in pain, a boot shaped bruise already beginning to darken. "How'd you even find out about the Eriksons?"

"The kids were running down the Lanes barefoot and wet - " you gasp and cut him off.

"The kids!" You lurch up, the cat growling in discontent as it sprung up into an arched back pose from the sudden movement. Regret is instant and striking, your muscles screaming in pain and head pulsing once again. Silco steadies you by your shoulders, brows furrowing.

"Fuh - fuck, are they alright? He mentioned seeing them, Silco. Tell me those assholes are - "

"They're dealt with."

His tone makes you pause, you peer at him through your eyelashes. "Did you...?" he smiles but shakes his head.

"Him and his father are more useful alive. But a few bones were broken. He was in the academy with Sheriff Grayson's second in command, Marcus."

Silco leans in, pressing his forehead with yours. Uncaring of the dampness of your forehead or your hair. The tip of his nose brushes agaisnt your cheek and you flutter yours eyes at the feeling.

"So he's in your pocket?"

"I was worried," he dismisses the questions so blatantly you wring out a breathless laugh. "Your madame said she had a feeling who the enforcer was, if it weren't for her..."

"I would've been fine," you cup his marred cheek, allowing him to slip his arms around you. "I'm tough."

No, you're not, Silco wants to say. The fever you've developed from the stress and cold and the wounds on your body — you were a statue made off jagged metal but it didn't mean you couldn't get scratched, bent, melted. You would have survived but that didn't mean you should be going through such injustices.

"I plan on staying here until we're free," you promise to him as you slip your eyes closed. "I wanna see Zaun with my own eyes."

You feel him lean in closer and then his lips are on yours. Your brows knit together, the cut there stinging but you don't mind it. Silco kisses you like he wants to devour you. The heat he brings is like a glowing dagger; the silver steaming and glowing orange from the fire. Cutting you and cauterizing the wound at the same time. Painful, seeringly painful, but not deadly.

You part your lips, twisting your head as he clutches the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his hands making the hairs on the back of your neck stand, applauding him almost. You clutch at his vest, whispering his name as he tangles his tongue with yours.

Feeling you, holding you; Silco can't remember the last time he's felt this light and grounded at the same time. He was truly worried, you know. His heart dropping to his stomach when Deckard informed him about Vander's brats rushing through in complete panic. It was a random act of violence. Piltie's finest once again throwing their weight around.

You lean back and he chases. Your teeth clack together and you wince, so he kneads at your nape and lowers you back on the bed.

You should stop. This wasn't right. Your grip on Silco's vest loosens as you remember sweet Vander. Whose kisses felt like burning smoke going down your throat, filling your body with warmth that is entirely too phantom-like and too suffocating all the same. You shouldn't go further, you shouldn't. Silco slips a hand to your chest, pulling your thin blanket down and you wince, pulling away from the kiss to gasp. Silco and you pant heavily, the heat dissipating the longer you do.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head and assures you it's alright.

"How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours. He's been looking for you. His accomplices too." Most patrons of The Last Drop had been anxiously waiting to hear your return. We take care of our own. Those just weren't pretty words. Benzo had told them to calm down, saying Vander will handle it but it was evident that a pin could drop and they'd turn over every little rock to find you.

Their respect for Vander's leadership is the only thing holding them back. It's holding you back too, he can tell. Ever since you'd moved in, you stray away from his touches. You've grown a sort of affection for Vander. Just like he had.

"Shit, I should head back then." Silco nods, helping you sit up. "The boy he says he's at the edge of the Lanes. Asking around."

It makes your heart flutter.

Ran looks you over when you walk up to them, a question in their eyes.

'You okay?'

"Could be better," you tell them. Dressed in an oversized shirt and your pants from earlier. They nod, reaching to slip their hand under your arm and you wince.

"Thanks for this and the save," they shrug and look ahead.

'Don't mention it.'

When you do spot Vander, your face brightens up. But Ran frowns, suddenly hiding behind a couple of crates. You don't quite get it until you see blue.

Vander was talking to an enforcer. Not just any enforcer either, the fucking sheriff.

"Grayson, I'm not askin' for much here," he growls out. She looks away, shaking her head. "You're not giving me much to go off on, Vander. The kids say he got taken by an enforcer for no reason in broad daylight but they can't even tell you any more details?"

"They were terrified, I'm sorry if they didn't come t'have a chat with 'em!"

Vander's muscles were tense, shoulders drawn and jaw clenched. He looked exhausted. His hair tousled from him constantly running his hands through them. The greys in his beard looking more prominent all of a sudden.

"Grayson, please."

Please.

He's begging for help from an enforcer.

You dislodge from Ran, giving them a nod as thanks before you limp towards them. The sound of your uneven footsteps makes their head snap your way. Vander whispers your name, then says it again with more volume as he rushes to hold you. He scans you, from top to bottom as he holds you in his arms.

"Shit, shit, you're okay." You're not, but your anger does calm the tiniest bit as he pulls you into a hug. Grayson looks at you and from over Vander's shoulders, you glare daggers into her. That fucking uniform, that breathing mask hung around her neck.

You still hear it. Vander pleading for help from her.

"Are you alright?" Sheriff Grayson says, coming close as Vander lets you go. You push him away, fists trembling as you walk towards her. Her eyes harden, lips pursing at your unrestrained strife.

"Screw you," you hiss, digging your pointer finger to her chest. "Screw everything you stand for."

Vander calls out your name, placing a hand on your shoulder that you shrug off. Even when your life had been in danger. Even when he could've done something. Vander remained a docile pet to Topside, begging for his masters help like a good lap dog.

Your lips tremble, tears filling your eyes.

"I'm here for you, (Y/N). If you could just tell me the name of the enforcer who'd done this to you, I can help you," Grayson tries to reason. Even when you were patched up, it was clear you'd been smacked around.

"It doesn't matter," you seethe out. "I just want to help, I can't if you don't tell me," you shake your head and walk past her.

"Fuck you."

"(Y/N)," Vander offers Grayson a glance but she shakes her head, turning away as he rushes after you. She watches the both of you, the anger in your posture so evident it makes her mouth twist.

Vander is quiet as you get inside the elevator. As it rumbles to life, you grip onto the railings instead of him and he tires to soothe you but you flinch away from him. "Darlin'" he places a hand on your shoulder and you spin, gnashing your teeth as you yell.

"Sheriff Grayson!? You went to her!?"

"What else was I meant to do?" He grits out.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!" you throw a fist at his chest, he lets you.

"I was fucking terrified, do you - do you know how fucked it was!? He grabbed me off the damn street! He fucking -" you inhaled sharply as your ribs screamed in pain. If you closed your eyes you could hear the thudding noise of his feet flying to your body.

Vander feels his heart drop and he tilted your head up. His large hand cupping your face as tears streamed down your cheeks. You're running hot, fever returning as your emotions ran high.

"I was so scared, Vander." Your sob pierced through his chest. Nothing had compared to that pain of letting you down. Nothing. Not when the skin of his knuckles ripped apart or when enforcer bullets whizzed past his ears and made his hearing tune into a high pitched ring or when he'd been stabbed. He gathered you in his arms, despite your weak pushes and protests. He holds you to his chest and tucks your head under his chin, just holding you there.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

Heads raised the second the doors opened. You blinked in surprise at the sight of the usual patrons. A blue blur rushed towards you and you grunted at her tight hug but smile down at her.

"Hey, Powder..." you pressed her face to your stomach, rubbing her back as she sobbed in relief. Vi approaches you next, showing a rare moment of softness as she slips under your open arm. Milo and Claggor rush in as well and you wince a bit but just laugh softly. Ekko sighed out in relief, Benzo's eyes softening at the sight.

"You all worried about me?" you give the patrons a coy smile that they scoff at but the relief was evident. "Cut the bullshit and stop smiling," Sevika says, crossing her arms. "What the fuck happened?"

Vander drapes his jacket around your shoulder. "Story for another time. How about some free drinks, yeah?" the mood lightens up a bit, despite the question hanging heavily in the air.

Powder is glued to you, sniffling as she clings but you don't mind. "C'mon, let's go down," you tell the kids and they nod. Milo rambles about what he'd done if you weren't caught off-guard. Vi shaking his head at him while Claggor just helped you down the stairs.

"He alright?" Benzo asks Vander when he comes around to the bar. Derek waves Vander away, pouring everyone a drink and Vander nods appreciatively his way as he sits. "No, he isn't" he confesses, glaring at the bottles of liquor, at his reflection in them.

"Fight! Vander! Fight back!"

Benzo slides him his pipe and Vander simply holds it in his hands. The look in your eyes. That disappointment etched into every line on your face. The rage that flowed down your cheeks. Vander brought the apparatus to his lips, lighting a match and inhaling to calm his shot nerves.

"He'll be alright. He's the tough sort, yeah?" Benzo places a heavy hand on Vander's shoulder, tilting his frame down a bit. "He was scared, Benzo."

"He was scared and I couldn't do anythin'."

"Powder, I'm okay," you reassured for the fifth time in a row. You don't dare try to peel her away from you but you do make an effort to calm her trembling frame. Poor thing was shaking like a damn leaf as she laid besides you on her bottom bunk. Vi smiles wryly, just watching the scene with more emotion than a kid her age should have. Ekko peers down from the top bunk, asking if the cut brow hurt and you just scrunch your nose and laugh.

"Nah, come on. I'm not a wimp, Little Man."

Mylo nudges Ekko, echoing your statement in his own words. Claggor appears, holding a cup of some warm water and offering it to you. "Here, you must be tired," you thank him and hitch Powder up with you as you sit up a bit.

"You guys, I really am okay."

Powder just tightened her grip around you. All she could hear was the sounds of that scene. You sprawled onto the floor, half-dressed, bare foot; a fully armoured enforcer above you with his legs swinging back as you yell at her to go.

"Don't leave," she whispers against your stomach and you brush your fingers through her bangs. "I won't, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"Where are you four going?" they stiffen up, twisting their heads to look at you as you leaned against the railing leading to Vander's office and bedroom. You were dressed in a large shirt that reached your knees, eyes still puffy from sleep as you held a mug of something warm. Mylo gawks, mouth gaping like a fish as he tries to find the words; hands coming to scratch the back of his head. Claggor just stiffens up like a board and Powder hides slightly behind him.

Vi lowers her hood, looking a bit smug. "A morning walk," she says cooly. You arch a brow, bringing the rim of the mug to your lips. Last night had been a busy night for the bar, a few scuffles ignited because some dumbass didn't know when to cut himself off when he needed to. So Vander was fully conked out and you wanted him to take as long as he needed to recuperate.

"Mhm," you glance at each of their faces for a moment then sigh and close your eyes. "What's the job?"

Vi's shoulders fall. Damn you and your perceptiveness. It was unnerving how good you were at reading people at times.

"Little Man gave a tip," that woke you up a bit more. "You sure you can pull it off?" Vi nods firmly, her shoulders squaring confidently.

"We're ready."

"Stay safe and stay out of sight," they grin up at you and rush out through the back. Powder gives you a wave that you return before silence washes over the empty bar. You crack your neck, grunting as the satisfying popping noises echo then make your way down the stairs.

You prepare to set-up for the noon crowd. Leisurely moving around as you swept and wiped down everything. When Vander does lumbers down, he gathers you in his arms by wrapping them around your waist. Those damned arms. You swear his bicep was as big as your damn head.

"Mornin'" you chuckle as he rubs his beard to your cheek. "You weren't b'sides me, not a very good start" you roll your eyes at him, patting his arm so he lets you go and you can turn around to look at him.

"Kids awake?"

"They left to get breakfast," you turn and plant a kiss on his lips, smiling as he groans into it. "I made you coffee, c'mon. Gotta start the day right." Vander groans again, firmly cupping your ass in his hand and lifting you onto a table. You laugh, glancing at the windows but he simply blocks your body from view.

"If we're talking about starting the day right..." "Vander!"

"You said the kids are out, right?" You squeal when he brings his face to your neck, moaning as he kisses over the previous hickeys he'd left. He brings your crotches together and you chew on your lips as you feel his morning wood against your clothed cunt.

"Fine, let's start the day right." You feel him grin against your neck.

“Atta’ boy.”

Huck is chipper today. Greeting you with that flush on his cheek that never fails to remind you of a blushing maiden. "Closing that deal, Huck baby?" you asked, smiling sweetly his way. He sputters but nods, asking for a pint to sweeten the deal.

"Coming right up" Vander presses a hand to your waist as he walks behind you, asking if you could wipe down a table and you nod. Sevika bumps her knee to yours as you clean the table next to hers.

"Is he a damn vacuum?" she says as she eyes the hickeys on you. "You jealous, Sev?" her nose crinkles at your teasing but she doesn't deny it. She just laughs at it, turning her attention back to her cards. You lean down, making a grimace as your stare at her deck that makes the others start double guessing.

Who were they to believe? Sevika's calm expression or your grimace?

She huffs through her nose, watching your profile from the corner of her eyes. Though that's cut short by the tense scene in Huck's corner. You straighten up, brows furrowing as you watch it unfold.

Though everything goes smoothly once Vander sends them a simple message, something about that interaction makes your stomach twist. The news about an explosion happening Topside didn't help ease this pit of snakes and they only knot themselves into worse shape when the kids walk in.

Vander and you share a look as he walks to their room, you can't leave the bar unattended so you trusted him to ask. But this feeling just wouldn't leave you. When Vander pops back put with a sack over his shoulder and Claggor following behind, you slip out the bar to stop in front of your boy.

“Who did this?” Claggor shifts under your gaze, trying to cover his bruise with his hand. Pretending to scratch at his cheek. “One of us,” Vander answers for him. That brings up more questions than it does answers. So Claggor just shrugs.

“It was some blonde kid and his goons. Said something about us crossing his turf.”

You frown but let them pass after ruffling Claggor’s hair. Turning your attention back to the bar. The rest of the night goes by smoothly enough, a few verbal scuffs but nothing you couldn’t handle. When Vander returns, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’d Benzo say?” he tightened his grip then sighed. It was a heavy one and you make a questioning noise.

“What? What happened?”

Vander poured both of you a shot and silently handed you the glass. You take it but the frown does not disappear. He clinks your glasses then throws his head back, you copy his motion. Not grimacing as it burns down your throat, simply staring Vander down as that feeling in your gut worsens.

“They need their slab of meat for the explosion today.”

Deckard bumps into you as he gets escorted out by Lock. Who does not waste anytime in flirting with you: “Hey, hot stuff,” Lock calls out and you scoff. “Keep on dreaming, bud.”

“Every night, baby!” his reply makes you smile, shaking your head as you open the door to the lab. The squealing pink vines on the floor never failing to make you shudder as you avoid stepping on them. You know they’re not technically alive but you swear, every creak and whine this rundown factory makes is just these things making their way out.

“Ah, (Y/N),” your smile tightens. “Hey, Doc.” he shares a glance between Silco and you then walks to his station. In his own way telling you to just ignore his presence. Silco continues to stare at the rat cage, entranced at the squealing and yowling. The splatter of blood against the glass makes you flinch but you stand next to Silco and pale.

“What the hell is that?”

“An upper hand,” Silco traces the planes of your face with his eyes. The micro expressions you display — twitches, spasms, tugs. Even when contorted in disgust, you were a marvel. Especially when backdropped by the creatures of the depths. The speckles of light piercing through the water just add to your allure. He knows you’re not fond of his affections, not without feeling guilt, but he reaches for your hand and presses your knuckles to his lips.

You steel your emotions, expressions turning neutral. As if you could hide the way your lips quiver to hide that grin.

“Silco. Did you ask Deckard to jump my kids?” The softness of the moment is broken by the accusation. He lets go of your hand and glances at the savage rat tearing into the corpse of the cat.

“I told the boy to simply observe. I gain nothing from hurting them.”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms as you walk away from the gruesome view. You glance at the table, picking up the gun-shaped needle device, testing its weight in your hands.

“You doubt me?” You frown at the tone he takes. “No, I don’t.”

Because no matter how you spin it, Silco was right. There was no scenario where Deckard trying to beat the shit out of your kids gave him an upper hand in the grand scheme of things.

Silco watches your fingers tinker with his device. Lost deep in thought while you flip it over and trace your touch down every scratch or bump it had. It's on the tip of your tongue, he sees the way your jaw is clenched. How your shoulders are tensed up despite wearing that thick jacket, hood drawn up to hide your face.

A bitterness ebbs its way to Silco's rationale. That look in your eyes, that contemplativeness. It was doubt.

"I won't be able to give you an answer if you don't ask," he turns around to the underwater scene instead. The sight of you weakens him too much. Silco can't allow you to be a distraction, no when the pieces are falling just where they need to.

"There's nothing to ask." You place the device down and slip your eyes closed. No matter what he says, how he tries to reassure you; it wouldn't change what was already set in motion.

"You said the kids would stay out of it, right?"

"Yes."

He wouldn't look at you as he says it. His figure casting a long shadow on the scuffed floors of the lab and the hairs on the back of your neck pricks. The Doctor calls out your name and you reluctantly tear your eyes away from Silco to tilt your head questioningly at him.

"It's getting late. Best to get back before suspicions raise." The unrest was worsening. The Undercity folk have been walking on a tight rope made off steel for years now. The rope digging viciously into your feet, slicking up the material while you held your hands out to your side. This so called 'peace' that the Topsiders called it was laughable.

With how hard the enforcers were hitting now, that tightrope walker's knees were beginning to buckle as their blood gushes beneath them.

You openly glare at their masked heads, nails digging into the wooden crate of goods. Waiting for them to pass you before you stepped out from the tight alleyway. You worry for a moment about your kids. They were in a more secluded part of town, in their little hideout and you hope they're keeping their heads down like Vander had told them too.

A pair of boots appear in your vision, that obnoxious mechanical breathing lifting the edge of your hood. You scowl, lifting your head to glare into those bug-like lenses.

He says your name, you can tell his face is scrunched up as if even muttering it annoys him. You curl your nose, standing your ground. "What the hell do you want?" Troy scoffs, his gloves creaking when his hands curl into fists.

"Just being thorough in my search, we're looking for four sump rats."

You glance over his shoulder, noticing a few other enforcers asking others who do little to hide their anger. Topside really doesn't know how much restraint it takes to continue this 'peace' and they still insist on poking the bear.

"A councilor's kid almost got hurt."

"So they need four kids to get their lick back?"

One kid almost got hurt and Topside is asking for justice. Yet they turn a blind eye to the kids who were breathing in toxins and starve day after day. Because it's never been about unity, it's about subservience.

Troy glances at your crate and you scoff. "Piss of, Piltie," you shoulder through him and Troy lets you. His fathers arm would never bend right anymore so he knew better than to put his hands on you again. But he still glared at the back of your head, burning holes into you. You turn, walking backwards and lifting one hand to flip him off before you make your way back home.

Sevika's voice is the first thing you hear when you walk in. You place the crate down, slipping your hood down and glancing at the small crowd of people. Vander regards you with a nod and you stand besides him.

"We should hit them back. We got the numbers to beat them." Sevika's words makes a few head nod, soft cheers of agreement echoing through the room.

"Yeah. Let's teach them what it means to mess with us." Another voice says, you cross your arms, leaning your hip against the bar. Sevika is looking right at you, tilting her head at the apprehension on your face.

"You sure that's what you want? We crossed that bridge once before, we all know how that ended." Vander is trying to reason with an angry crowd. An exhausted one. You do nothing to hide your frown at his words. He pretends not to see it.

"You're just protecting your kids," she retorts. A vein jumps in Vander's neck, his jaw clenching the tiniest bit.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you. We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together."

His sentiments were noble. But the tightrope was beginning to tremble and the walker on top of it was now desperately crouched to grip at it with their hands instead.

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight."

Vander stands and you feel a smidge of fear in your heart. He was pulled taut, all of this stress showing through the tightness in his posture. He towered over Sevika, a rumbling growl building in his throat.

"Do I look afraid?"

Sevika doesn't falter. She scoffs, meeting his challenging gaze with no issue.

"No. You look weak."

Marcus walks in with a purpose. His men following behind him making sure to puff their chests with each stride in. The Last Drop patrons find their fingers twitching, readying itself to grab at the blade near their hips. You level your gaze with Troy, he meets it head on and in a blink-and-you'll-miss motion he glances at the stairs leading down.

You straighten up, heart jumping to your throat.

Marcus' arrogance is like rubbing salt into an already festering wound. He doesn't need to say but he does it anyways and your little tightrope walker is now gone. Just two poles standing in the darkness, with no evidence of the rope or the walker ever existing.

You rush down the stairs, the door flying open and calling out for your kids. You instantly gather Powder and Ekko into your arms, checking over Claggor and Mylo while Vi talks to Vander.

"We need to fight back!" her fist slams into the wall and you meet Vander's eyes from over her shoulder.

Still.

Still, he remains stubborn. He tells Vi he has to show her something and you feel that same disappointment build in you. That day you saw him pleading for help from Sheriff Grayson after she had asked if the kids were truly getting their facts right.

Vander was too soft to protect anyone. Your heart squeezes at the revelation, but you numb yourself out to it. Even when Piltover was calling for the blood of your kids, he still deludes himself into this fantasy of peace.

He was weak.

You bring your lips to Powder's forehead, keeping Ekko close to you while Mylo and Claggor shift uneasily as Vi follows Vander out.

"Come on, help me close up early." Mylo and Claggor uncross their arms, nodding. You pull away from the embrace and cup Powder and Ekko's faces in each hand.

"Ekko, you should get back to Benzo's, it's getting late." He pauses but nods, so you stroke over the back of his head and press a kiss to his temple. "Enforcers are gonna be crawling all over, want me to drop you off?"

"No, I can be sneaky!" Ekko beams up at you and you return his grin, standing to send him off. Powder stands next to you, watching as Ekko disappears into the alleyways with an agility of a street cat.

"Why won't Vander fight?" she looks up at you, brows furrowed. "They're ruining everything. The enforcers. They threw a guy through a window, they're -"

"Monsters." You finish for her. She sees the scar running down your brow and inches close, so you wrap an arm around her. Man, she's grown like a sprout, limbs all lanky and awkward.

She couldn't grow up in a world like this.

"All of them are monsters," she whispers under her breath and your silence just cements this further into her brain.

"All of them," you continue.

When Vander returns with your eldest, he knows he's pissed you off. You won't meet his eyes, nursing a drink in your hand while you stare at a card in between your hands. He stands next to you and plucks your old business card from your fingers. It was wrinkled, yellowing with age and some words already fading. But your writing on the back remains.

'Come see again soon'

"Revisiting memories?" that was the theme tonight it seems. You'd slipped that into his jacket after he pulled off a drunkard away from you. Vander still remembers the seat you were sat in, what you were wearing, and that gleam in your eyes when you catch him staring at you for a bit too long.

He sits next to you and glances at the cast iron gloves. Those memories do little to make him happy. You take a swing of your drink, slamming the cup down and moving to stand. Vander calls out your name, grabbing at your arm to tug you in. You grunt when you land against his chest.

"You're pissed at me."

You roll your eyes at him, using your hands to push away but he does not relent.

"You honestly think we should go to war with Topside?" there's a bite to his tone. His patience with Vi had been in abundance, she was young and hurt. But out of everyone else, he thought you should understand him better.

"You want her to live like this her entire life? Keeping her head down and taking every beat down for a noble purpose?" You slur out, ripping yourself from his arms to grab at your coat.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive" his voice raised the tiniest bit but he restrains himself and it pisses you off more. You put on your jacket and he sighs. "Where the hell are you going?"

You smack his hand away, stumbling a bit as you turned to face him.

He wants to hear it. A scathing 'fuck you' or 'leave me alone, asshole'. But you just narrow your eyes at him, lips trembling as its set in that frown, then just shake your head and turn away to walk out.

You don't know where you planned on going. You let your legs carry you around, aimlessly wondering through the alleyways until you find yourself at a familiar backdoor. You push the heavy door open. The busy wallpaper and creaky floorboards give you more comfort than you expected.

"(Y/N)?" Doe blinks at the sight of you. She takes off her mask and you stare at her concerned face. "Are you okay?" you shake your head and lean in. Her eyes widen when your lips meet hers, she places firm hands on your chest and push you back.

"You're drunk."

You shake your head, cupping her face again and kissing her. She groans, murmuring your name before she bites down. You hiss, back hitting the wall as she shoves you. "You're with Vander." The reminder makes you laugh. You slide down the wall, putting your head between your knees as your tears well up.

Sevika thanks Doe for telling her where you were, crouching to grab a fistful of your hair to raise your head. Your empty gaze makes her sigh. You don't even fight when she slings your arm over her shoulder and lifts you onto your feet.

"The hell are you two taking me?"

"Silco's." Doe answers flatly.

Sevika feels you stiffen up. "I knew you hated them, but never figured you'd been working with him the whole time," she gruffs out. "Wish you would've told me about it sooner."

"Sorry, I'll be sure to invite you into my super secret group club the next time, okay?"

You're sober enough to be sarcastic without slurring words together. She just adjusts her grip on you and makes her way to the factory by the docks.

The Doctor greets you as Sevika drops you onto a chair. A dark shadow moves idly by the windows and you clutch at your neck as you crack it again. "Why am I here?" you mumble, pinching your brows. "To keep you safe."

You look at him through squinted eyes. "Why wouldn't I be safe?"

You had no idea what had happened. Not Benzo's murder and not Vander's kidnapping. Call it luck or a happy accident, Silco doesn't care. He's glad you're not looking at him with an ounce of hatred, just simple confusion.

"Stumbling around drunk," he begins "late at night." He was worried you'd run away. Ran and Lock had looked for you at the bar, even asked around for you. Thankfully, Sevika had found you.

"I'm a big boy" you reply, leaning back in the chair only to smack your hand onto the edge of a table when you realise it was a stool.

"Sober him up," he tells the Doctor who reaches for a small jar on the shelves. "This won't make you sober," he tells you as he unplugs the cork from the top, you grimace and bring your face close. "But it'll wake you up."

The sharp sting that wafts up your nose makes you groan, backing away from his outstretched hand. Doe keeps you from falling backwards, steadying you while you making hacking noises.

Silco and Doe nod at each other. She's got you, he can trust her with this. He turns and Sevika follows in step. They step out, the door thudding close.

It was better to keep you away from this. You cared too much about Vander, he can't let you get distracted from the freedom that's right there. Shimmering like a desert oasis in front of him. Hate him if you must, but Vander had done himself in the second he decided to put on those handcuffs.

The hound of the underground was nothing but a lapdog now. He can't keep his people in check anymore, it's why they've turned to him instead. They need this. Zaun needs this. Vander will be known as a coward who ran away with his kids. Leaving the undercity to save his own skin, so his hands remained clean from anymore blood. Like the true coward he was.

You'll forgive him for this. You'll have to.

You're standing now, peering into the rat cage while Doe stared at the test tubes full of creatures on the shelves. Every time you even glance at the direction of the exit, Doe steps subtly in your way. He wanted to keep you in here? Seriously? You weren't that damned drunk.

You hear muffled voices from outside and as Doe picks up a test tube, you take your chances wrestling with her. She blinks in alarm, nearly dropping the tube as you suddenly dash towards the door. The Doctor stands as the the glass breaks and splatters green glowing liquid onto the floor. She calls out your name and you twist the handle open, slamming it closed in her face. She pounds on the door, cussing you out for being a bitch and you would've replied with your own string of colourful words but a body crashes next to you.

It's Lock. He groans, jaw loose and mouth bloody as he his head limply falls backwards. You notice the shadows from the bridge and look up.

"Vi!" she feels ice in her veins. She chances a glance down and yells out your name in confusion. Silco tightens his grip on the railing so Sevika whistles sharply. You yell as a few of her men try to grab you.

"(Y/N)?' Mylo repeats, his hands trembling even more. Vander's heart drops to his stomach but he snaps Mylo back into focus.

Why was she wearing those gloves? No, what the hell was she doing here in the first place?

"Silco!" you avoid a pair of burly arms, ducking away and bumping into the crates filled with Shimmer. "What are you doing!? You promised!"

He motions for more of his men to rush the bridge. Vi doesn't have enough time to process your words fully. She shakes her arms, cracking her neck as she prepares to fight. She must've misheard. She must have.

"SILCO!"

Your yells are making Vander's heart race. He can't see you. Only hear you. If Silco was ready to get rid of his kids just to ensure his control over the undercity, he doesn't dare to imagine what he'd do to you. Vi is determined, she cannot let her fathers die here. Not when she was the one who'd put them in this situation in the first place. These series of events, this domino effect all began from that damn explosion.

She can't let herself be orphaned again. She can't let Powder be orphaned again.

You continue to evade them, grabbing a wooden plank and smashing it over a few heads to put enough distance. When you reach the stairs, you yell out for Vi again. Silco doesn't dare look your way as you rush towards the bridge. He cannot get distracted. He can't.

Sevika grabs at you, her arm wound around your waist and you snarl. You aim your elbow at her head, making her flinch enough to loosen her grip. It still isn't enough though. Even then, she squeezes you like a damn snake.

"Let him go!" Vi growls out, adrenaline pumping through her veins. You dig your nails into Sevika, slamming your fist onto her arms while you struggle. Deckard watches this half-dazed, purple liquid oozing out from the corners of his eyes as he's bent over the railings.

"Ready to rise to the surface?" Silco holds the glass vial of Shimmer to his face. Deckard's breathing quickens and he downs it.

It happens quick. One second Deckard is just another boy and the next he's a monstrous figure rushing towards Vi. You yell, finally managing to elbow Sevika right in her face. She drops you and the second your feet are on the ground you sprint towards Vi.

You gather her in your arms and damn near skid to a stop once you past the threshold of safety. "The door! The door!" Vi yells, grabbing the handle and you help her. It slams close just in the nick of time, Deckard squealing from the other side as he pounds his fists so hard, it makes you and Vi bounce away from the door. You dig your heels in and grip onto the handle, sweat beading down your nose as you try to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! You alright?" you cuss under your breath but let out a breathless laugh.

"Never better."

Vander sighs, looking to Vi next. He feels the rush of cool air as Claggor finally makes a hole big enough for them to escape from.

"You did good, Vi."

She feels hope stir within her.

You don't remember what happens next. It's a fiery blur, only flashes of images bursting through every time you open your eyes to blink. The smoke was so thick and the metal door ontop of you was so heavy. Vi is crying.

Vi is crying and Vi never cries.

She calls for your name, her body trembling underneath you. When you wheeze, she sobs. Whether out of pain or relief, you can't tell. Ahead of you, you see the most horrifying sight.

Claggor. Mylo.

Dead.

"I want her to stay alive. I want all of you to stay alive."

You brace yourself onto your elbows, straining out a yell as you try to lift yourself up enough for Vi to shimmy out. It groans above you, scraping against the floor inch by painful inch as you feel your eyes water. Vi calls out your name again, finally looking her age as she tries to crawl out.

What have you done?

When a hulking figure comes close, you yell in an attempt to scare him off. But it wasn't Deckard, it was Vander. Your Vander, with his veins glowing purple and his body nearly double its size. There's heat coming off from him, his rapid growth most likely putting his body through torture. You swear you can hear his enlarged heart as it beats like a war drum.

What have you done?

Vi finally crawls out and she turns to hold the door up so you can too. You stumble and kneel right in front of Mylo's outstretched hand, grasping at it while your other hand tries to dig him out.

"C'mon, c'mon baby. You're okay, you're okay." You sob, lifting your eyes to look at Claggor next and begin shaking your head. It was just ash and debris, he wasn't that pale. He was strong, he was your strong boy. You wipe away some of the dust from his face and choke back a sob when all he does is loll his head to the side.

"No, no, no. Claggor, Mylo."

There's a loud explosion. The building rumbles, the roof creaking as it sinks down. Vi is clutching at your shoulder, crying as she stares at her brothers. Vander gathers you both in his arms and flies through the escape plan. You scream, feeling the heat lick at your back.

Vander takes the brute force of the fall. Cushioning you and Vi as his last act of love. You hear it, his heart as it slows. You shake your head, looking down at him, cupping his face as rain descends onto you.

"Vander," Vi whimpers out.

"No, baby, please. I'm sorry," you brush your thumb over his cheek, one hand remaining on his chest. The shimmer was wearing down, his pounding heart begins to get slower and slower.

"I'm so sorry, Vander."

He leans into your palm, feeling the tiniest bit of happiness that you two were still alive. He'd always joked about dying, how he wanted to have you over him like an angel. And you'd always laugh, telling him he was ridiculous.

"Take care of Powder."

Vi screams next to you. You hang your head, sobbing as you hold his face in your hands. You press your foreheads together, kissing him one last time before you pull away.

"Vi, it worked!"

Who was that?

"Did you see me? My monkey bomb finally worked!"

Vi gets up and you turn your head to follow her. The sight before you is strange. Vi and Powder were fighting, yelling at each other but you can barely hear it over the rain and crackling fire.

Vi hits Powder and you shakily bring yourself to your feet. As Powder begs for her sister to come back, you stumble towards her. She turns to you, crying nonsensically about how she just wanted to help and you nod, trying to form words but your tongue feels like lead.

Silco finds her desperately shaking your shoulders as you sprawl out onto the ground. He sees your chest going up and down so he concerns himself with the girl.

"Hello, little girl. Where's your sister?"

Then the strangest thing happens. She lunges at him, brings him to his ass, but hugs him so tightly he's confused at her intentions.

"She left us. She's not my sister anymore."

Silco brings a hand to the back of her head, understanding just to well about what she was feeling. He glanced at Vander's grotesque body then at yours.

"It's okay. We'll show them. We'll show them all."

What have you done?

He knows you're pissed at him. Actually, pissed doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling. But Silco remains cool in your presence, standing in Vander's office, looking at the stack of papers. Stock intakes, accounting bullshit, Powder's doodles. You're sat on the couch, staring at your lap with a blanket over your shoulders. Powder's head in your lap as she twitches and sniffles in her sleep.

"You promised me you wouldn't hurt them."

"I didn't."

You bring your hand over Powder's ears, glaring at him. Your face angled down, eyebrows so tightly knit he swears he sees a vein pop out on your forehead.

"You killed my sons."

"She did."

Your expression hardens. Powder shifts for a second and instantly your anger fades, you smooth out her bangs from her head and pat her back rhythmically.

"We share the blame, (Y/N). I didn't do this alone."

He sits on Vander's chair, reaching for his cigar. Vander's body hadn't even gone cold yet and here Silco was, already intending on desecrating his grave by smoking his cigars, as if intently chasing away the scent of Vander's smoking pipes.

You carefully move Powder, shushing her as she stirs and draping your blanket over hers to keep her warm. Silco watches, lighter in hand, poised to burn. You spin the chair, Vander's chair, and kick his legs apart.

He should be more cautious. Foxes are known to get close to their prey, associated with daggers and tricksters because unlike a wolf they couldn't use brute strength to bring down their enemies. You could choke him out, try to pin him down and reach for a pencil to shove through his eye.

But he uncrosses his legs and you sit on his lap. You reach for the box of matches, and strike it. Silco watches you watching him; the orange glow of the cigar not quite piercing through the darkness in your eyes.

"When Powder drinks from the bar, she has her own cup and metal straw. She likes to make gadgets, she gets restless sometimes and snoop around. She's smart, so you'll have your hands full."

Silco arches a brow, inhaling and exhaling out the smoke. Your eyes flutter, burning a bit but you can't even muster a single tear.

"You're offering to babysit?"

"She's my daughter."

You wrap your arms around his neck, your smudged and soot-stained face tucking itself to his neck. You could rip his throat out right now. But where would that leave you and Powder. Running from his men, constantly looking over your shoulder. No. You made your bed. You lay in it.

You said you wanted a better future for your kids. How could you rip Powder away from the only shot she has at being safe?

"I'd do anything for her." You shift your position, bringing your lips to his ears.

"I'll even keep your bed warm. I know you like how I do you."

Silco isn't stupid. He knows how dangerous you are; he hired you to infiltrate and gather information and for years you did just that. Now Vander was dead. You were as wicked as he was.

And now, you had every right to kill him next. So sleeping with you? Sharing a bed, and keeping you close where you'd have access to his operations. You subtly thrusting Powder into the fray, telling him about her needs and how to take care of her. Saying you'd stay if her safety was guaranteed.

This was a bad idea.

But Silco is intrigued. He'd thought you'd be yelling at him. Screaming bloody murder, wrap your teeth around his neck and try to tear it off.

Cunning little fox. You're planning something. Painful and meticulous. You'd make your revenge something people would whisper about as a warning.

He wants to see how far you're willing to go. He's glad that you share the same obsession with him as he does with you now.

Fine.

If the both of you were going to destroy each other, let it be known that Silco allowed it to happen in the first place; if you need to be broken down to be his, then he'll gladly place his chess pieces on the board with you.

Vander and Benzo's death shocks the undercity. You imagine people glancing at each other, confusion and lost written across their faces. Their protector was gone and in his place was the disgraced Silco.

But what truly sends people reeling is you standing besides him. You, Vander's boyfriend, the one his kids called dad among others. The slut that Vander had given a home too. Had given a job to and loved.

No, adored. He adored you, did you forget that?

He looked at you like you hung the damn moon in the sky.

How could you?

You fucking traitorous whore.

You had prepared for this. Steeled your emotions and walked among Silco's entourage with your head held high. Let them hate you, you know you deserve it. You expect the spit thrown your way, wiping it away with no emotion. You expect the harsh words, the cusses and threats.

But you're frozen in place when a man comes running at you, a knife held in his hand. You recognize him; a stall owner who Vander liked to do business with. Often trading fruit peels for this or that. He used them to do an array of things, though Vander recounts that he often used it as a way to smell fresh.

You smell it. That citrusy scent as he rears his hand back. "You whore!" he yells out.

Sevika kicks him square in the chest and as she leans too far back from the lack of balance (you think the loss of her arm was well-deserved) you keep her steady.

But it invigorates the crowd of grieving people. They throw things at you, trash and dirt at first. But then someone flings a brick and you barely dodge it in time before it smashed against your head.

Silco couldn't have people thinking that his entourage was weak.

So he brings you back to that walkway, the stalls now ransacked and the owners all kneeled before you. Hushed whispers come from the windows above you, children peeking curiously and mothers rushing them away.

These people were all Vander's friends. They did business with him, ate with him. You'd been there, eating with them. You glance away, sighing out a shuddering breath.

"Getting queasy?" Silco muses out.

"I've never been fond of butchers."

"Someone has to get their hands dirty. We can't all be expensive whores." You glare at him reproachfully.

"I want to leave."

"No."

Silco motions for Sevika and you scoff; "Look at you. Asking for another person to suck a John's cock for you. Expensive whore, is that what you called me?"

Silco gives you a tepid look, but then pulls out a dagger. He stares down at Vander's friends. Silco then stands behind them, bringing the blade to their throats. They look at you, nothing but pure hate in their eyes.

"You fucking traitor."

[blustalker]

give me that old man🫵

And off they go, sailing off into the hopefully brighter future.

[blustalker]

Ohh would it be a shamee if someone sent over a fanfic where bill cipher ended up choosing ford than starting the apocalypse pshh like imaginee...yk..bill pines..and they're married HA imagine. Please send me one

[blustalker]

sigh SIGHH

soooooo….. my hugh jackman phase has officially begun! he’s so hot i want to lick every inch of him 24/7!!!!!!

[blustalker]

This song is so Bradley Bradshaw coded I'm balling my eyes out

[blustalker]

if i was a ghost id gladly br a graveyard one

thanks for tagging🤞 ignore the fact this was late af

@mxbrahms

Made a uquiz because of that ghost/haunting poll

[blustalker]

just realized rn that i got tagged mb bro thanks<3

Televisions - Current Joys

My Love All Mine - Mitski

It Almost Worked - TV Girl

September - Sparky Deathcap

Left - sign crushes motorist

@sircrayons @mxbrahms @theseawakes and anyone

Tagged by @darklight-owl ,thank you🩷!

RULES: When you get this you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to, then tag 10 people!!

Nonsense-Sabrina Carpenter

One Way-King Gnu

Silence-Marshmello ft Khalid

Vampire-Olivia Rodrigo

SPECIALZ-King Gnu

Tagging:

@mikotofubar @dumbasselric @rheawolf @ldwoolart @rukia-writes @constantreaderfool @bluelric @fivekrystalpetals @tinyarmedtrex @modern-oedipus @illuminateandrelate @jwilliambyers @coffeekaspbrak @agentlilicarter @meltsoul

[blustalker]

gonna kms PLEASE JUST ORPHAN UR WORKS IM BEGGING YOU PLEASE DONT DELETE