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vieoeil-riae · 1 month ago

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still waters run deep

Steb x reader

read on ao3 (more warnings and notes here too) | masterlist

Steb is your date to the first annual Unity Gala - and you find that your little crush not only grows upon spending the evening with him, but that your feelings may be reciprocated.

rated T+, about 4k words, nothing too suggestive, minor alcohol consumption - I really wanted an excuse to write something based on the amazing art of Steb smiling and dancing (art linked from IG). Please enjoy!

“Champagne, ma’am?”

A server was at your side, smiling warmly as you nodded gratefully. Balancing an ornate silver platter on the palm of one hand, he grabbed a flute from among several others that rested atop that very tray, and handed it to you. The server nodded as you thanked him before he departed on his quest to serve another guest.

From the balcony and with a drink now in hand, you observed the many people pouring into the University, gathering in the ground floor atrium to meet up and converse before ascending the stairs to the ballroom located where you were on the second floor. Your hand loosely held the railing as you continued to peer down and around. Survivors from Zaun and Piltover alike were dressed in their finest, and even though the regional styles were normally quite different from one another, the dress code had been decidedly more laxed for the evening, keeping in mind those who may have not had much left after the war.

You smiled as you brought the glass to your lips.

This would be the first annual Unity Gala, and while the surface reason of this event was in the name–to celebrate the unity of Piltover and Zaun–the gala had another purpose: to raise funds toward relief efforts for those who were majorly impacted by the war; rebuilding, relocating, medical aid, and more. The dust had only recently begun to settle; many were still trying to get acclimated to the newer appearance of the city, while many others were attempting to accept the newfound peace between the formerly at odds cities.

You, among many of the other planners, were hoping that the more fortunate would dig into their pockets and donate to the relief fund. That was why it was a deliberate decision to invite the elite and political heads of other regions of Runeterra; maybe they’d show their gratitude toward one of their most powerfully influential partners by donating to them in their time of need.

You took another sip of champagne.

Still eyeing the entrance, you finally spotted your date for the evening.

Watching him navigate through the throng of people was… adorable. Observing him smile and nod, wordlessly greeting people he may or may not know. He always did seem entirely out of place in large crowds, and that could be said now, as he was out of uniform and off the occupational clock. Right now, he was a normal citizen of Piltover. A guest at the gala, just as you were.

You figured that you should meet him downstairs, but as you started to walk along the edge of the balcony, he’d seemingly clocked you before you had a chance to save him from the growing crowd.

As he ascended the stairs, you nervously smoothed your hands down your dress, a garment you’d never had a chance to wear out until now. It was a bit much, in your opinion. Definitely a piece way outside your comfort zone, but you weren’t oblivious to its alluring effect – if the many looks you were getting from other guests were anything to go by. This type of attention you were receiving was more than you’d gotten in your adult life, and you weren't going to feign ignorance as to why.

The dress really did look good on you, contoured to accent your silhouette in a surprisingly complimentary way. Geometric in pattern, the black lines shimmered under the light, running along the lines of nude that were an extremely similar tone to your skin. While it adorned no straps, the neckline was not as low-cut as some of the other dresses you saw wandering around, but what you spared in cleavage was more than made up for in the back. The purposeful dip plunged low, exposing a generous amount of skin down to your lower back, the curve of your spine.

You slowly moved along the railing, the slit of the dress parting with the slight bend of your knee as you took every step. You’d almost forgotten just how much of your very bare leg would be exposed when you walked, and you took a breath to cool down the heat that steadily rose to your cheeks.

Another sip of champagne would help.

Steb finally made it up the stairs, and the smile that tugged at his berry lips as he approached you was unexpectedly arresting. You’d almost forgotten how to speak, how to breathe. You were suddenly, comically, very aware of how you were dressed in his presence. The two of you were here, together, while you were looking like… this.

Another sip from the glass.

His eyes were wide and appreciative as he not-so-subtly appraised you. You felt your cheeks heat at his gaze. He’d never really had a chance to see you so dressed up before; there’d never been an occasion for you to be.

Blessedly, his hands were quick, beating you to a greeting. You nodded your hello, but couldn’t stop yourself from saying something ridiculous.

“A lot different than the usual attire, huh,” you joked.

Steb smirked. You look beautiful, he signed. His elegant fingers looked mesmerizing as he moved his hands so fluidly, despite the slight expression of what you read as self-consciousness.

There had to have been a blush darkening your cheeks. Your friend, someone who you’ve had a silly, schoolgirl crush on for a year now, was totally liking what he saw. Bashful turned confident.

More champagne.

“You know, you clean up well yourself.”

He really did look so good in his white button up dress shirt, fastened with a black split tie and accentuated with a navy suit jacket hugging his lean torso. Dark slacks fell from his narrow hips, and shoes shinier than you thought possible practically reflected his stature under the shimmering lights of the many chandeliers.

“Thanks for accompanying me this evening,” you continued, noting the beat of awkward, unspoken tension left from the exchanged compliments. “I know you’re not one for crowds.”

I may not be, but it’s for a good cause. Steb looked around for what seemed like the first time since reaching the second floor, noting the floral arrangements and table settings that were surrounding the polished ballroom floor, already filled with lightly dancing and conversing guests. You did a fantastic job.

You modestly shook your head, what you were hoping would be a distraction from your blushing. “I was only a small part in this.”

Your date gratefully declined a passing server’s offer for champagne with a gentle, dismissal wave of his hand before returning his attention to you.

Regardless.

Your heart was suddenly beating a little too rapidly – and you could have pinned that on the bubbly, but the disarming charm Steb was capable of most definitely was the culprit.

Glass now empty, you looked around for a place to dispose of it. Almost on queue, a server took the flute from you, but this time when you were offered a full replacement, you declined.

You nodded toward the seating area, where the hors devours were being served. Steb extended his forearm, and almost too eagerly, you wrapped your fingers around it. “Let’s just hope this evening’s elite put their money where their mouths are.”

The string quartet had started playing not too long ago, right on schedule, and many guests had taken to the dance floor, abandoning their small plates and drinks at the well-dressed tables. You and your date, however, took advantage of the thinned mass, and claimed seats just out of the way of the main walkway that led to the crowded floor. The music was gentle, as were the voices of the guests and the clinking of dinnerware. It was all very elegant, and up until Steb had cleared his throat, you weren’t sure just how long you’d been sitting in silence, admiring it all.

“I’m sorry.” You met Steb’s arctic ocean eyes, easily finding whatever forgiveness he felt needed displaying. “I was lost in all of this–” You gestured vaguely to your surroundings.

As if in total understanding, Steb nodded solemnly. From his seat his back was to not only the quartet but the growing crowd of guests, and with nothing more to say, he turned in his chair to watch what was happening behind him. You, on the other hand, had an opportunity to instead watch him – the way his ears flickered whenever there was a sudden crescendo in sound, a boisterous laugh or click of a glass in cheers. Even the fins of his dorsal that began at the back of his head and disappeared into the collar of his suit jacket seemed to move ever so subtly–if you blinked you’d miss it–perhaps in involuntary reaction to the many stimuli the evening had to offer.

You weren’t great at small talk. Bedside manner came a little easier, in an occupational setting. You weren’t sure what to say, not that you wanted to disturb Steb’s people watching. He was good at that – observing and analyzing. It bode well for him on the job. Perhaps he’d find an interesting conversation starter to try with you in his apparent hunt for entertainment. You were just hoping that he wasn’t considering how horribly boring of a date you were.

Maybe you needed another glass of champagne.

The servers here must have truly been mind readers, because not even ten seconds later, a dashing young man arrived with another tray balanced on his gloved hand, only this one carried a single glass, and it was soon offered to you along with a bright smile. Your verbal thanks to the handsome young man seemed to pull Steb’s attention, and he turned back around, a little smile pulling at his lips as you seamlessly brought the glass to yours.

You had no time to feel bad for not offering Steb a glass before the server had departed because you quickly remembered his decline to the offer before the two of you had sat down.

“You don’t like champagne?” you asked, curious enough but also grateful for a real inquiry for gracing your thoughts.

Steb fully turned back around, his hands gently tapping against the perfectly white tablecloth in thought.

In truth, I have not tried it. He looked down at his hands with a knowing, almost secretive smirk for a beat before returning his gaze to you. I’m not a consumer of alcohol.

More of your curiosity piqued, fanned further by his attempt at hiding what could be an engrossing anecdote, one that may be at his expense. Absently swirling the sparkling liquid in your glass, you tilted your head in thought, resting your chin in the palm of your free hand.

“Any particular reason?”

If you must know… my tolerance is not high by any means.

“I’m assuming there’s an interesting story behind that self discovery?”

A teasing glint narrowed his eyes. Maybe.

Conversation came a little easier after that. The two of you had begun sharing stories about work, a topic that was simple enough to discuss. You had met Steb through your work, afterall; someone he and his former partner had arrested needed medical assistance before their arrival to Stillwater, the kind of treatment the officer couldn’t administer at the time with his limited resources. You’d been the paramedic on call that evening, and just a few short months later, he’d reentered your life instead as a coworker, having changed careers following the end of the war.

You rarely share shifts with Steb, but whenever your rotations had lined up, you could never help but to have felt entirely too eager. Even in those few and far inbetween shifts at his side, you’d been too consumed with the job at hand to even discuss hardly anything outside of the job. So what was taking place now at the gala was new, and a little exciting, especially as the two of you entered the territory of sharing more personal information – like regarding family and interests.

The last time you’d been on shift with Steb was about a month ago – and that’s when you’d brought up going stag to the gala, innocuously commenting on how you weren't going to have a date to something so large in importance to your healing city, to something you’d been planning alongside the surviving council members and their associates for months. In truth, you hadn’t considered taking him as a date, but when Steb had so benevolently offered to go with you, it hadn’t been difficult by any means to refuse him.

The quartet took their leave a short time ago, but the music never stopped. You noticed that the tune of the evening started to change as the genre of music switched to something more instrumental, and had more people joining the mass of moving bodies. Coattails and dresses flared and swung to the beat, couples smiling as they moved fluidly as pairs.

The whispering scrape of Steb’s chair legs against the floor quickly overtook your attention.

He was upright now, looking down at you with his dark cyan brows raised in an almost expectant way, and you practically missed the way his hand had slowly extended toward you.

It was an invitation.

Too many thoughts flew around in your head, but most of your focus was volleying between two:

Oh my goodness… he’s asking me to dance…

…Steb knows how to dance – Do I know how to dance?

Standing slowly and with a healthy dose of uncertainty, you accepted the invitation. With your hand held loosely with his own, Steb guided you toward what you had previously assumed would be one of his worst nightmares, his feet moving with a determined fluidity across the polished floor. Blessedly, he found a spot not too thick in the throng – but you stood there, surely visibly shocked and unsure of how to proceed.

A handsome smile changed his expression into one of understanding and acceptance.

Gingerly, he guided your hand to his lean shoulder, your other hand encased in his own slender one. He didn’t give off much heat, but you became aware of just how close you were to him, and could smell the faint aroma of what you assumed was his natural scent, something unlike any cologne you’d ever smelt. It was refreshing – like a meadow after rainfall.

His coolled hand on your bare back brought you back to reality.

The look in his eyes was soft and careful, something that sought after a confirmation, to which you quickly gave – but not first without an empty swallow that felt entirely too thick for your throat.

Steb took the lead immediately.

The classical tune was slow enough for you not to trip over yourself – or him, thankfully. Your inexperience was easily masked by not only the crowd of many others moving similarly, but by Steb’s apparent expertise in the steps. His closeness to you, while still remaining considerate, gave you enough room to admire his footwork, the way his shined shoes effortlessly waded through polished waters.

Trust came easily, any hesitance diminished as Steb guided you every step of the way. He was good at this, at navigating a dance floor. He held you, not too tight but with just a firm enough grip to make you weak in the knees while still staying alert and ready for any change in step, but he kept it simple, novice, accommodating for your introduction to the movements.

You risked a glance up, and instantly felt heat rush to your cheeks when seeing how Steb was already looking down at you, a faint smile on his lips and a sparkle of fondness in his eyes. The little frills accentuating the sharp upper curves of his cheekbones flitted as he watched the inevitable question transfer from your thoughts to your lips.

“Where did you learn how to dance like this?”

Steb bit back a laugh at your inquiry, one he must have known had been coming. He shook his head, the telltale gesture of one requesting a conversation to be tabled for later. You ceded with little effort.

The tune faded out, and Steb’s hands regretfully removed themselves from your skin. All you could do was suppress an even larger grin while looking up at him, and it was clear in his expression that he was both glad to have led you during the dance, but a bit sheepish at the overall exchange.

The song changed into one more upbeat, a pleasant change in genre. You recognized the tune as a popular track from your current favorite record – and feeling emboldened, it was self-decidedly your turn to take the lead.

Steb was now the one feeling out of place and unsure. He pressed his dark lips into a line. Regarded you with uncertainty.

You couldn’t help but fully grin now, an expression that admittedly felt too cheesy and ridiculous as you squeezed his hand.

“No steps,” you spoke a bit louder over the rising volume of music, the formal gala turning into more of a party with the passing of time further into the night. “Just… feel.”

You began to sway with his hand still in yours, your arms flowing like grass in a gentle breeze and taking him along for the ride. He still wasn’t moving much, his attention too focused on you, perhaps trying to decode the freestyle movements. There seemed to have been something akin to amusement twinkling in his eyes as he watched you move to the upbeat instrumentals.

Then you released his hand and nodded to him with encouragement. Steb’s eyes widened comically, but you didn’t relent.

“Listen to the music and do what your body is feeling.”

As if mustering up the courage, he bobbed his head along with the beat once, twice, thrice before seemingly coming to a decision.

Unexpectedly, he twirled you, then pulled you in toward his torso before grabbing your other hand and moving a few steps backward, arms extended. You laughed out loud at that, a sound unmistakingly full of glee with a tinge of surprise. The reaction was a grin spreading on his face, the gleam of white teeth more dazzling than expected. Steb was so handsome, and you felt that crush of yours had since grown, the pull of his orbit too strong to fight. Not that you wanted to fight it – not now, as you witnessed first hand his walls beginning to come down, those fortified borders that you assumed would only weaken with a battering ram made of trust and affection. Steb’s entire demeanor changed, the carefully crafted stoicism faltering now that he was here with you.

Maybe you weren’t the only one with feelings for the other.

A few more upbeat songs had played since the first. Steb’s jacket had been shedded, his tie loose around his collar. Inhibitions thrown to the wind, you had started to get closer to him, using the music and its dance as a more than believable excuse. You grasped his shoulders, his arms–which were more defined than you’d thought–and his hands, carefree and enjoying every minute. Steb seemed to similarly be more forward with his gestures. His hands, though still respectful in their various placements, found themselves on your arms, your back, your sides. He’d pulled you in for another close dance, one that suggested a slower melody, even when the music itself was anything but.

The two of you were enjoying this, enjoying each other. You think you’d heard him laugh along with you at one point, after he’d twirled you a little too far to where you’d almost bumped into another couple dancing. He was intoxicating, his smile, his touch, his very presence. You had half a mind to thank your supervisors for inadvertently keeping your shifts separated, lest you’d fallen harder for him long before this evening, only making the plummet deeper for yourself.

After what felt like an hour–neither one of you apparently wanting it to end–you made the call. Steb followed you back to your table, where his discarded jacket had been waiting from its spot hung over his chair. From the pitcher of water that had been placed on the table, Steb poured you a glass, then one for himself.

You guzzled it down in seconds, more parched than you’d thought.

That was… nice, Steb noted, his hands loosely signing after finishing his own glass. He poured you each another.

“Now are you going to tell me where you learned to dance?”

He huffed a light chuckle. Only if you tell me where you did.

“That’s different!” You giggled. “What I was doing didn’t require learning anything.” You took another sip of water. “Freestyle is just that. You move with feeling, not with memorization.”

That’s fair, Steb ceded. The academy I attended offered dance as an elective.

“That’s not something I would imagine many people, let alone young students, would jump at the chance of taking.”

His gentle, incredulous smile was almost hidden as he brought the glass to his lips. A flirtatious feeling tugged at you, and pulled the next words out of you easier than anticipated. The sparkle in your eyes, however, came naturally.

“But I suppose you’re not like many people, Steb.”

Your experimental tone earned a raise of his brows. You were hoping you hadn’t crossed a line, though taking into account the length of time the two of you had been dancing together not too long ago, the line was admittedly a bit blurred. Was there even a line at this point? If eyes could talk, his had already sent several coquettish comments your way.

Steb leaned forward, as if to speak secrets into your ear, but kept enough distance to allow you to translate the motions of his hands.

If you’d allow me to take you out, maybe I could show you more of just how… different I am.

You bit back an eager smirk. “I’d like that.”

The pair of you left the table shortly after that exchange, tension sitting heavy in the air between you two. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, Steb walked you out into the crisp evening air, pausing once reaching the grand entrance, lined with dazzling lights and balloons that practically glittered in reflection under the stars.

Your apartment was only a few short blocks from the University, not that Steb knew that.

He turned to face you. Would you like me to walk you home?

His offer, however innocent it meant to be, was a tempting one to accept. However – you felt that if he were to walk you home, you’d be fighting the urge to invite him inside…

You weren’t totally ready for that yet, and if you knew anything about Steb’s true character, neither was he. You truly felt as if he’d be someone to take it slow with. Savor in. What you could possibly have with him could be better than anything you had previously, and you weren’t going to risk ruining it right out of the gate.

You smiled gratefully, and placed your hand on his shoulder. “That’s very kind of you, Steb, but I’m not too far.” To ease the blow of rejection–if that were something he was feeling deep down without letting it show–you tacked on, “I am looking forward to spending another evening with you, if that’s something you were still interested in?”

Of course. Will I see you at work tomorrow?

Your schedule’s image thankfully popped inside your head rather quickly, and recalling that you would in fact be on shift tomorrow, you nodded.

We’ll set something up then.

With all the admirable poise of a gentleman, Steb lifted your hand and placed a chaste kiss over the inward curve of your fingers. His eyes shone an even more dazzling shade of icy blue as he observed your pleasant reaction to his gesture. He took a step back.

Have a lovely rest of your evening.

Steb turned and started toward the opposite direction of where you’d soon be headed, leaving you standing there in something not unlike starstruck awe.

When you finally did get home, showered and changed into your comfortable loungewear, you rested in bed and stared at the ceiling, too effortlessly remembering the feeling of his hands on you, his scent, as he moved with you on the dancefloor, the press of his cool lips against your hand, his arresting smile, the sparkle of his glacial eyes.

Excitement was an understatement when ruminating on your feelings regarding seeing him again.

#yumyummmm #to read later #treatsiesss 🫶🫶#steb arcane x reader

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