#Arcane Scar fic

[kaminocasey]

Daddy's Home

Summary: Scar comes home late at night to you, after being out with the firelights.

Pairing: Scar x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut. A lot of smut. Rough sex, Scar likes to be called Daddy, unprotected p in v (wrap it up friends), Angst

WC: 2.4K

A/N: Ah, my first Scar fic lol. And the first smut I've written for any Arcane character so please be gentle with me lmao. I love this man so much it's insane, he makes me wanna get his name tattooed on my ass. (Kidding but lmao)

Taglist Form │ Arcane Masterlist │ Scar Playlist

The neon lights travel through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft pink glow over everything. You’ve been awake for hours, waiting for Scar to come home to you. The baby is tucked against you, sleeping peacefully, not even realizing her father isn’t home right now. 

You’ve known Scar for years, having become Eva’s babysitter for when Scar would go out with the Firelights, sometimes not coming home until the next morning. It never bothered you before. He was doing what needed to be done. 

But now… it’s harder. His missions with the Firelights were becoming more and more dangerous that sometimes you can’t help but stay up and worry. And now that you two are together, finally, it makes things more difficult for sure.

A few hours later, you’re on the verge of sleep but get woken up by a set of hands scooping Eva up. Instinctively, you grab her and then raise your fist to fight off whoever just grabbed her. You’re not exactly the best fighter, but you’re almost certain you could hold your own in an emergency. 

“Woah, relax, babygirl. It’s just me.” A deep familiar voice chuckles in a hushed tone. 

You sit up, finding Scar taking Eva into her room and then returning a moment later, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Since when are you ready for a fight?” He teases, starting to strip his clothes.

“Since I became a mother.” You whisper. 

Despite being frustrated, you can’t tear your eyes away from him when he peels his shirt off, dropping it to the floor. He lifts up off the bed momentarily to take off his pants and then slides next to you, pulling you against him. 

His piercing green eyes that always manage to see into your soul meet yours and he sighs softly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart-”

You instantly feel bad, knowing he’s only doing what needs to be done. 

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry. I know what you’re doing is more important in the grand scheme of things.” You murmur, kissing his chest. 

He shakes his head, reaching underneath the hem of your shirt and trailing his sharpened nails lightly up and down your back. “Not more important than you and Eva. If you want me to stop-”

“You can’t. Ekko needs you too much.” You murmur, trailing your own fingers over his chest. “But thank you.”

He sighs, knowing you’re right, and grabs your hand, bringing up to his lips. It’s a silent agreement that you’ll just suck it up until this fight is over. If it’ll ever be over… 

“Did everything go-” You start but he rolls over on top of you, silencing you by crushing his lips to yours. 

Scar’s sudden roughness leads you to believe that maybe he had a close call with death tonight. While you try to push that to the back of your mind, his lips make their way down your neck, his sharp teeth lightly grazing over your skin. You melt as his hands travel down to your hip, gripping tightly.

“Scar-” You whimper softly. 

He lets out a soft growl letting you know he’s got you… that he needs you. He looks down at you for permission and when you nod, he pulls you up quickly so he can pull your t-shirt off. Technically, it’s his but you wear it more than he does. It’s comforting to wear when he’s not around.

Before you can reach up to kiss him, he kisses you first, pushing you back down to the mattress with a slight force and you smirk up at him. 

“Look so pretty like this for me.” He whispers softly as he drags one hand down your chest, palming your breast while the other hand holds you by the hip, keeping you anchored.

You let out a whine, making him smirk as he squeezes with more pressure, dragging a breathless moan from you. 

“So needy for me aren’t you? That’s the real reason you needed me to come home, wasn’t it? Needed me to fill this sweet little pussy, huh?” He’s right there in your ear, licking a stripe up your neck and teasing the lobe of your ear. 

“Fuck… Scar-” You try to roll your hips against him to let him know you need him now. 

“What do you want first? Tongue or cock?” He purrs, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your covered clit making your underwear rub just right to make you gasp.

He starts to pull your underwear down, discarding them to the floor as you wonder why he’s making you decide? He knows how indecisive you are when you’re needy and desperate for him. What happened to the roughness?

You look up at him. “Tongue.”

It comes out like a desperate plea. But you know he doesn’t mind one bit. 

“Tongue it is, sweetheart.” He winks and then rolls over onto his back. “Come have a seat.” 

You let out a breathless laugh and then straddle Scar’s face, eagerly. 

“My favorite view.” Scar murmurs before wrapping his long, strong arms around your thighs and anchoring you down to his face so you can’t go anywhere. 

He licks a long stripe up your already soaked warmth and your hands fly to his hair with a gasp, gripping tightly, making him moan against you. You both live for this kind of intimacy. The kind where you have to be as close as possible when you’re together. Sex doesn’t even have to be involved. 

But it’s always a plus, isn’t it?

His grip on your thighs tightens as he starts to eat you out like a man starved. The moans that leave your lips sound absolutely sinful to your own ears. His lips tighten around your clit, sucking enough that you can feel your release coming a little too soon.

“Fuck daddy…” You whimper. 

He hums roughly and the sound reverberates throughout your entire lower half, making you squirm. You look down at him and he throws you a wink, making you shake your head at him, amused. 

One of his hands leaves your thighs so that he can run it up your stomach and then

grope your breast again. Your hand falls to his, letting him know exactly how to touch you. He doesn’t need it, though. He always just knows how you need him. His grip tightens, making a breathless whimper leave your mouth.

Scar’s tongue slips back down to your entrance, making the grip you have in his hair tighten. You take the moment to reach behind you into his briefs, wrapping your hand around his hardened length. He groans into you and you tighten your grip with a needy gasp. 

“Gods… babygirl… keep going.” He encourages you, letting go of your thigh for only a second while he pulls his briefs down further for you. 

You smirk down at him, stroking him exactly how he likes, deep and slow. He groans again and you give a slight twist, making his hips buck against your hand. 

“Good girl… always know exactly how to handle me, don’t you?” He asks, his voice rough with need. 

Your head falls back as you writhe against his face, continuing to pump his length until you start to feel your edge nearing. 

“Gonna…” You gasp. “Sc-”

“Fuck… do it, baby girl. Come on daddy’s face.” He groans, his grip on your body tightening. 

All you can manage is a high pitched quiet whimper as you get thrown over your edge, your orgasm practically ripped from your body by Scar’s tongue. He doesn’t give you much time to come down from the high of it all before he pulls you off of his face and presses you into the bed, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. 

“Sorry baby… need to be inside you right now… that okay?” He pleads, and all you have to do is nod before he pushes into you fully. 

He growls as you let out a breathless gasp. Your fingers press into his strong shoulders as he buries himself inside of you, unable to move for a moment. 

“So fucking wet.” He whispers into your neck, licking and biting softly as one hand travels up to the back of your neck and the other tightens on your hip. “All for me, hm, pretty girl?” 

You whimper with a nod, barely able to say anything more. He chuckles, understanding, as he presses a kiss to your jaw. He slowly pulls out, only to push back in just as slow. You pull away to look up into piercing green eyes and he grins as he drags his cock out only to push it in a little rougher, making your lips part as you gasp, clenching around him.

His cock drags in and out repeatedly, the wet sounds between the two of you filling the room sounding like music to both yours and Scar’s ears. 

“Doing so good for me, baby girl. So fucking good.” He kisses your forehead gently. “Gods, I love you.” 

“L-love you…” You whimper, digging your fingers into him even more.

Scar’s lips travel down your jaw to your neck, licking in a way that sends goosebumps down your body. His licks turn into sucking and you can’t help but clench around him, which makes him growl lowly, his grip on you tightening even more. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you, pretty girl?” He smirks with a darkened look while he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look him in the eyes.

You nod slowly and he glances down at your parted lips. 

“That’s what I thought.” He nods, sitting up, pulling out of you suddenly, making you miss the full feeling he gives you. 

“Wait-” You sit up with him. “I’m-” 

Before you can even finish what you were trying to say, Scar pushes you down onto your front with a growl so that your face is buried in his pillow, forcing you to inhale the smell of him on his pillow. His foresty scent has always been intoxicating to you. 

You moan softly while he trails his sharp nails down your back again, teasing you before placing a swift smack to your ass. You gasp, looking back at him with need in your eyes and then find him smirking down at your naked form. 

“Tell me how much you missed me.” He whispers. 

“I missed you…” You whimper. “So much… I always do.” 

He leans down and places kisses down your spine before he retracts his nails, gripping your hip with one hand while guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance with the other. 

“Scar… please.” You plead. 

He pushes into you without another word. There’s no slowness to it this time as he pushes in fully, burying a soft growl in your neck as he leans over you, pushing you further into the mattress. 

“Fuck, I missed you too, baby.” He whispers. “Couldn’t wait to come home and wrap my arms around you…” 

You can hear the fear in his voice and you know right then that there was in fact a close call with death tonight. 

“Use me…” You whisper, knowing he needs it. 

He tilts his head for a moment before asking if you’re sure.

You nod. “Please.” 

“I won’t be gentle…” He warns you.

“I know.” You’re betting on it. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle, kissing your shoulder. “Tell me to stop if you need me to.” 

You nod, understanding. “I will.”

“Good girl.” He gives your hip a squeeze and sits up on his knees, still buried inside of you. 

As promised, he pulls out and then roughly pushes in with a dangerous growl. His hands move from the safety of your hips to the flesh of your ass, gripping so tightly you know there will be bruises in the morning. And that’s alright. You know he needs this.

He goes almost silent as he slams his hips against you repeatedly. The only sounds in the room are his growls, your whimpers, and the soaked sounds leaving your pussy.

One of his hands leaves your ass to trail up into your hair to grip tightly, pulling your head to the side so he can see your face. You look up at him as best as you can, your mouth open, practically drooling from how good he’s making you feel. 

“Need to fill you…” He grunts, desperately.

You nod with a soft moan, clenching around him. He smirks again and slams against you roughly.

“You love it, don’t you?” He growls. “Being full of my cum.”

“Y-yes… please…” You whimper. 

He groans at the sound and you can tell he’s close by the way his head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut. You know he’s trying to savor the feel of you around him. 

“Cum in me daddy…” Your voice sounds broken, desperate even… 

But it works. His hips stutter and his hand on your hair releases as both hands grip your hips again, squeezing tightly as he falls on top of you, pressing you even more into the mattress. He groans as he paints your walls with himself, filling you as full as he possibly can. 

He holds you there like that for a moment, holding it inside of you and you can’t help but smile. 

“You okay?” You ask, softly, after a moment. 

He nods and then slips out of you, falling to the bed as he pulls you into his arms, kissing your head. “Yeah… I’m alright. Are you?” 

“I’m perfect.” You murmur, kissing his chest. 

“That you definitely are, sweetheart.” He smirks.

“Do you want to talk about what happened while you were gone?” You ask, softly.

“Nah… Just had a close call, is all. Couldn’t wait to come home to you and Eva…” He mumbles, pressing his lips to your hair and holding them there. 

You nod, understanding. “I’m glad you came home to us.”

“Me too.” He nods and then pulls you even tighter against him, needing your comfort.

You wrap your arms around his large frame as much as you can and squeeze. He lets out a content sigh.

“I hope you know I’ll always fight to come home to you.” He tells you in an apologetic tone. You nod. “I know that.”

“I love you…” He whispers, brushing his lips against yours. “More than you could ever know.”

“I love you too.” You whisper back, smiling against his lips. 

A few moments later, he’s asleep in your arms and you don’t even care that you’re in an awkward position. All you care about is that for now, he’s home safe with you. Tags: @moonstrider9904 @justanothersadperson93 @idledreams

[mollysunder]

This is the worst lie Jinx has ever told herself.

Felicia's literally just Vi with a braid.

Now young Silco, that's just male Jinx with less baby fat, but we all know Jinx's face is only getting sharper.

Forget the Felicia, it's like the artists decided Silco was literally Jinx's only parent. The resemblance is still there even when Silco gets older.

You think anyone who knew Silco when he was young looked at Jinx and went, "yh that's Silco in blue".

[woaza]

LOVE LOVE LOVE UR SCAR STUFF!!! I am so glad he's starting to get stuff written for him he's so awesome!!!! Please keep going feed us scar fiends

Scar (Arcane) x reader || Pt.2

Link to Pt.1

Contains : Continuation of my head cannons and thoughts on scar in a relationship and as a person.

Word count : 3.4k

Warnings : Scars baby mama being a little crazy(?), grief, mentions of death, some of this is kind of a stretch?

A/n : I HEAVILY AGREE with you! He needs more written about him. I can never find any it’s so strange. I’m so glad you liked my last scar fic. I will definitely continue to do them! I have a lot of requests for other characters, but I need some of him.

— Scar is a Vastaya or more specially a Chirean. Well at least some form of a Chirean? (At least from what little there is about him.) Chirean’s were first discovered by a Zaunite miner. They can’t speak human languages but are bat like. Which scar is. So I don’t know if he is a Chirean or at least some sort of subspecies or a descendent. Since he is classified as one and there is very little known about them.

— One thing we know about Chireans are that they are Omnivorous. So they don’t really have any diet restrictions, but most real bats are fruit bats. So Scar will eat meat and vegetables, but fruits are definitely a favorite of his. Just think about it. In the slums food is hard enough to keep on the table. Sweet things (not to mention difficult to grow) like fruits are a rare treat. Scar feels like they are a special treat, but something about fruit just makes him happy. (So bonus points if you have a fruity perfume or cologne?)

— With those bright green eyes of his can definitely see great in the dark. With that being said also more sensitive to lights. When the two of you wake up in the morning he groans in annoyance so loudly when you turn on your nightstand light. Which yes, nobody likes seeing the bright light first thing in the morning. But for him it’s ten times worse. He will burry his face against your body, looking for an escape from the light.

Though with his eyes comes many benefits. Like Late night walks with him are a must. When his daughter (Who in my head I’ve been calling Petra but I read a cute fic where she was called Riri. So I’m in debate of what her name is but I digress) is being watched by Ekko or someone else he trusts, he’ll take you out on late night walks. He loves to hold you close, helping guide you when you can’t see because it’s too dark.

— When you two first start to see each other more romantically. He literally pretends to be so nonchalant. Acting like he’s above slightly cheesy romantic activities. At the start is the type to watch you dance instead of joining in. Despite desperately wanting to. He just wants to make sure your really in it for the long run and not a quick fling. Scar takes his relationships very seriously, especially because of his daughter.

—Since we are in the topic of his daughter, Baby mama? I could see this going a couple different ways— and I don’t know which is worse.

The first way is that he never had a good relationship with her. Maybe it was a hookup or a messy situation in general. He grew up in the slums and probably wasn’t the greatest of a person himself. “True love” wasn’t really the top of his concerns. Until him and this woman had a daughter together. He (immediately) was ready to become more serious because a child was involved (probably because he felt uncared for in his childhood, not wanting to do that to a child?). Though she didn’t want that and hesitated. Eventually leaving him to raise her by himself.

The second way I could see, is him truly falling in love with someone. Finally having a family and starting to build a life. Having a daughter and a small place to call home, that is until the city’s were flooded with shimmer. Losing his wife/partner to it and will never forget her.

In either case I think the mother of his child is another reason he’s kind of concerned with romance and getting closer to you in general. Scared that everything that happened will just repeat itself.

A/n: maybe more of this? I like making these. BUT I love this photo of him sm. I think it’s cute he’s just genuinely smiling at his daughter.

[trappolia]

── NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN

(minor spoilers for season 2!) sevika. near what feels like death, sevika has a revelation and a confession.

Sevika thinks two things when the Hexcore's static passes through her scar and seizes her bloodstream.

One: she can't believe that she's writhing on the floor in agony, beaten by Vi's little Piltie girlfriend in her ridiculous beret.

Two: she might actually die today.

It's ridiculous, she thinks, how everyone has gone to absolute shit. There's a new sort of madness glinting in Jinx's no-longer-baby-blues (the odd magenta shimmer of her eyes sends a shiver down her spine) and not to mention that little shit that has tagged along in this operation, with Jinx doing little to dissuade the runt besides some sarcastic melodramatic warning and a few finger guns. And now they're here, beaten and clawing at each other's faces wildly like fucking children (she can see Jinx in her peripheral, has never seen her fight so sloppily with her little hands; she understands now why Silco had insisted her skills laid in engineering and inventions, rather than the fists that her sister wielded so boldly) and Sevika doesn't know where the fuck Isha is nor does she know what the fuck is going on with their weapons. Her new arm is fine, albeit heavy with extra weight and throbbing with phantom pain— but something had gone wrong

She's going to die. She's going to fucking die, and because of some fucking magic trick gone wrong.

Sevika doesn't fear death. Hell, she's lasted a lot longer than what her own mother thought. Life down here in the Undercity is nothing like the wealth and opulence and light of Piltover's Topside. To some, death may have been a blessing. Some days, Sevika thinks that it's better than cleaning up after Jinx's messes and running Silco's errands.

But Silco is dead, and the one thing he loved more than their city is off the fucking rails. Sevika can't die now. Not with these fucking blue bellies gassing her home with the fucking Grey again, not when there's so much left to be done.

And maybe there's a third thing in the mix too. Caught between rage and pure, genuine terror, Sevika twitches and grunts and claws at her skin, thinking: Fuck. Fuck. She's going to die like a wimp whimpering on the cold stone, and she's never going to see you again.

Sevika is not the romantic sort. Before you, she'd found simple pleasures in the smoky rooms of Margo's brothels, or pretty doe-eyed lasses she met at the bar. But now she finally finds it in herself to admit that for fucking once, she might have wanted to take you to a candlelit dinner. Seen you giggle and shit about her poor attempts at romance— not the malicious sort of giggle, no, but fond. Endlessly fond, in the way Sevika never deserved.

The thing — magic, engineering, Hextech or whatever the fuck it's called — crackles across her veins and bones, setting fire to her blood and the viscera that sits contained under her skin. Her body gives another involuntary jerk. It's certainly not her first time having the misfortune of being caught at the wrong place at the wrong time— hell, that blue explosion all those years ago is the reason she has to rely on a metal arm now. But this is different, wrong. It sinks deep into her bones, claws at the essence of her being with its arcane

Sevika tries to scream, but she can't.

In the ringing between her ears, Sevika can only think of where she could be— anywhere but here, either dying or something far, far worse. She wants to sit by your bar after a long day's work while listening to you re-tell the odd and frankly ridiculous narratives your patrons tell you when they're neck deep in drink and tab. She wants to wake up in the middle of the night when you roll over and instinctively press yourself to her side for warmth in your sleep. And maybe, more than anything, she wants to go back in time and cradle your face when you beg her not to leave, kiss you and tell you that she'll be home in time for dinner.

(She'd dismissed you then, told you that a spoiled Piltie couldn't beat her ass hard enough to keep her down.

She was wrong. So fucking wrong.)

Sevika thinks of you now, waiting at home. Anxious; oh, so anxious, because Silco is dead and Jinx has been haywire and who is level-headed enough to at least attempt to clean everything up, but she's only one woman and the Chembarons are fucking deranged and she's just— just—

"Just come home safe, Vika."

Fuck. Fuck.

From her periphery, she registers Cait — Vi's little girlfriend, that prestigious bitch — stumbling to her feet, fumbling for her glitching (why the fuck is it glitching?) rifle. Sevika moans in pain, trying to will some strength into her muscles to get up, fucking get up! Cait can't be a better shot than Jinx. No one is. But Jinx is out of weapons, having been clawing at Vi with her bare hands and pink-blue nails for what might have been just a minute or hours, Sevika's brain is too muddled to tell. But she knows Jinx, knows that she's nearly damn useless when it comes to rationality without her sanity and her trinkets, and when she's squabbling with Vi so blindly, so violently, Sevika knows Cait will have a clear shot.

And she does.

Sevika hears a cry. Pained, almost child-like. She thinks its Jinx, at first— and for a split moment, it is. Jinx, blue-haired, glossy-eyed, a finger shot straight off its knuckle. Electricity crackles over the palm of her gloved hands, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly with each breath she takes.

But then the pain overtakes Sevika again, and she clutches at her rib, her leg— everything. She wants it out, but she doesn't know where it even is.

When her eyes clear again and she can breathe semi-properly, it's Isha now. That little runt with her mop of messy brown hair and that stupid helmet that's toppled to the floor. Vi is straddling her sister-- or was, before that stupid kid ran from where she was hiding in the rafters (when had she gotten down, and how did she do it so quickly?), shoved herself between the pink-haired turncoat and Jinx.

There's two holding a gun now.

Words being spoken. Isha wails, clinging onto Jinx fiercely even when Jinx tries to shove her off, equal parts frustrated and confused by the younger girl's behaviour. Sevika thinks of you, just as quick to shove yourself between Sevika and danger when the two of you had been barely strangers.

"Come back to me."

A groan rips itself from her throat, silent but pained. Sevika pulls herself to her feet, the goddamned Devil's lightning still crackling around her limbs like some fancy magic trick gone horribly wrong (She hopes it doesn't ruin her new arm. She literally just got it this week, goddammit.) Cait's back is turned to her, the Enforcer's hands gripping her rifle like a lifeline— but too stupid, too caught up in playing hero for her fucked little kingdom to notice the heavy footfalls behind her.

She stumbles to the wall, wracks her brain for somethng. She's missing it. Sevika blames it on that damn Jinx, the way she yaps like an overexcited puppy when she's explaining her plans; and the way she never actually elaborates on them, because "Sevika is too dumb, Sevika won't get it." Stupid kid. Sevika needs to get her out of here.

"Sevika. Please, don't do this," your pretty face, your teary little eyes. You're a tough little cookie, Sevika knows, like a stubborn weed growing in their nasty streets, but you're always so quick to tears when you think Sevika's staking her bets too high.

Maybe she did. But she can't lose the game. Not now.

One more bet.

Her human arm fumbles clumsily over the flat stone wall— not one of those pillars that Jinx and Vi had so recklessly ruined in their squabble. She feels along the ridges, remembers the flares and bombs that Jinx had planted all around Topside.

There's a click.

"Don't go."

Oh, she's not going. She's got another day yet.

[calllay]

I made an offhand post about AU Jayce and Vanco earlier, but I didn't really think it through enough so. Here.

Jayce and Viktor in the alternate universe.

After the deadly explosion, Jayce is banished from Piltover.

To Viktor, even a fascinating idea isn't worth people getting hurt. He won't be working on hextech. But I think he's intrigued enough to look at Jayce's work before it's destroyed - and to find Jayce and stop him from killing himself.

Viktor tells Jayce to keep going. That he shouldn't give up and kill himself or go off into banishment - he should keep working and make amends by helping people.

So Jayce (who started all this by blundering into Benzo's) hides out in the undercity instead of leaving. It's foreign to him at first, but he perseveres and becomes passionate about Zaun's cause. He works as a tinkerer and grows a sexy beard.

He meets Vander and Silco, and we can have all kinds of drama here of him realizing Vi was their kid and deciding whether to reveal it was his fault and what goes down after that.

Meanwhile, Viktor keeps following the rules for now, maybe becomes more important at the Academy, but he thinks often about Jayce. Maybe they can't meet up since Jayce is still supposed to be exiled, but they exchange letters where they discuss all the ideas Viktor is working on and inventions Jayce is trying.

Vi's death is a catalyst for Piltover to reconsider the undercity's plight, and with Vander, Silco, and now Jayce's efforts, things vastly improve for Zaun.

Heimerdinger from the other universe replaces this universe's Heimerdinger three years before episode 2x07. He groks what's going on, gets Jayce unbanished, and moves to Zaun to wait for Ekko and be part of the growing invention scene there.

Viktor - the Zaunite who became a respected Piltover scholar - and Jayce - the son of Piltover who became a beloved Zaun inventor - finally get to work together, and somehow, it's like they were never apart.

[adashulaz]

Arcane hc about Steb and Maddie.

Steb can't talk like everyone else in the show, his words come out as like a trilling sound. So he typically stays silent because no one can understand him. No one but Maddie, when they first met and she heard it, she immediately made it her mission to learn how to understand him. After all, Maddie didn't think it was fair that Steb couldn't voice his thoughts due to no one understanding him. So when Steb lets out a trilling noise to voice his displeasure about something, Maddie immediately starts giggling at the language he uses. Such as "You moronic buffoon, that's not how it works, you're dumber than a rock without any damn brains you absolute fucking idiot".

This causes Steb to realize Maddie could understand him or at least has a general understanding of what he's saying. So obviously they become friends, after all, Maddie is the only person to make the effort to try and understand what he's saying. Obviously Steb takes it upon himself to figure out how to make it easier for Maddie to understand him. Mainly due to his trilling being more based on how his voice sounds and since he speaks more monotone and very rarely with emotion, it makes it much harder to understand him. So when he finally knows enough sign language to be confident in his ability in it, he goes to Maddie to tell her. Maddie is obviously excited because she understands sign language, one of her family members uses it so she has to know it. But the idea of having a friend learn it for her, is heartwarming.

So due to all of this, the two are close. They're always seen together because of the fact that they bothered to learn something for each other and only each other. It created a bond that couldn't really break. It's why when Maddie set out to go find Vi, Steb went along with her. He couldn't risk losing the only person who bothered to try and understand his words.

[greenlightbulbonawire]

Misfits (yeah like the Arcane song)

XLVIII.

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Summary: From the dark musty cell of Stillwater all the way to the very base of Firelights, but where to from there? Guess you'll just have to let fate lead you.

Author's note: I know I'm posting a day late so forgive me please, I wasat a social event yesterday and it didn't occur to me to post in the morning lol, anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and have a good rest of your day!!

previous chapter: Fourty seventh chapter

next chapter: Fourty ninth chapter

Masterlist

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Your hoverboard was secured on your back and the cape moved as the wind blew past you, your arms snaked around Ekko’s torso, holding on as he flew you two back to the base. But this time it was different, it wasn’t just to be safe, no, you wanted to be like that, but the reason why stayed an uncovered mystery to you. And it scared you, you never felt this way towards, well, anyone, and you didn’t know what it meant. Ekko was talking about something, his voice muffled in the background, all you could think about was how it felt to almost hug him, to bury your face into his jacket. “What do you think, [reader]?... [Reader]?” He called your name and turned a corner, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You said, realizing that maybe you should’ve paid attention to what he was telling you. “I’m sorry, I zoned out.” A soft chuckle escaped the boy's lips and his chest moved slightly against your arms as he drew air into his lungs. “Eh, it wasn’t important anyway.” Ekko dismissed his own words and shrugged, he slowed down the device and flew towards the ground. The almost silent space around you was now getting louder and louder with every pace you took, informing you two that you weren’t far away from the life filled streets of the Lanes. The machine came to a stop and you reluctantly took your hands off of the boy’s chest, feeling slightly disappointed when you did. What the hell are these feelings?

You hopped off the board and Ekko did so too, then he kicked it up and made it fall right onto the device embedded into his jacket, the hoverboard catching onto it and staying on his back, just like yours was. What came now should have been pulling away a metal grate, opening a sewer, crawling into it, and disappearing in the dark until you reached the Firelight entrance again, but Ekko turned his back to it, facing another street, littered with people and various questionable businesses. For a moment it seemed like he wanted to say something, yet then he groaned and turned back to the grate. You were so confused, but just shook your head and pushed the cover of the opening of the sewer off with your foot.

As always, after some time in the dark you ended up in front of the familiar circular door, usually, it was Scar or Ekko or someone else opening it for you, but this time you pressed your side against the stone and heaved, and maybe the times you basically sneaked out of the Firelights base were actually useful, because you definitely remembered it being harder to open. Ekko slipped into the hideout and you followed close behind, he stopped a few paces away from the door, his hands resting on his hips as he scanned his surroundings. Then he turned to you and outstretched his hand. “Give me the board, I’ll go fix it.” Your shoulders moved up and down and you silently pulled it off your back, giving it to him like he told you to. “As you wish.”

“Scar. hi, do you have time?” You turned to the bat-like human, as he popped out of somewhere, you had a certain thing you needed to do, and Scar just happened to be the perfect victim. “Uh, yeah? What do you need?” The man stopped in his tracks and turned to you, some other people he emerged with looked at him, before they exchanged a few words with eachother and continued in walking. “I wanted to ask you something.” “Okay, let’s go sit somewhere.” The man offered and you agreed with a nod, following him as he headed for the little wooden platform in front of the memorial. Scar sat down on the edge of it, leaning his arms against his knees and waiting for you to join him.

“So, uh, I don’t know how to really explain this, but uhm, well, I… there’s this person.” You started to ramble, searching for the right words that could help you explain how you felt, but drawing almost blank. “I feel a certain way about them and I don’t understand what the feeling is. And I hoped that you could maybe help me?” Scars mouth twisted into a smile, a rare sight when he was away from his kids, and he turned his face to you. “It’s Ekko, isn’t it?” In that moment you swore you had a heart attack, you were frozen with your mouth open. “How can you know that??” You asked with a bewildered expression. “He told me.”

[six-swords]

would u write batfish shopping for toys together?? the plug in the most recent one had to come from somewhere and I know they could definitely have fun... oh now I'm thinking about steb with a strap... hmmm

anon, ur mind is fucking huge... steb with the strap like??? i'm a little feral about it. i was initially only seriously thinking about steb with the strap in the context of steb/lest bc my catgirl queen is not serving top, but omg, steb topping scar with the hexstrap (or would it be the shimmerstrap bc they're in zaun lmfao) is soooo delectable. i was just wondering yesterday if people would be interested in top!steb/bottom!scar stuff 👀

shopping for toys together is such a fun idea, too, teehee. i'll file these into my mental list of potential fic ideas <3

[beforetimes]

timebomb wip i've been writing lately... coming 🔜

[vastayan--vigilante]

#3: MEETING EKKO PART 2: "THE JOB"

He was eating at Jericho's when the boy from the alley next appeared, seemingly alone this time, sidling up to him with all the confidence of a seasoned salesman.

"Well, hello there - Scar, right? I've got a job for you, if you're looking to make some easy extra coin."

Scar slanted the boy a nonplussed look, with an edge of evaluation. No fear in those eyes, now. Perhaps it was because they were in a busy market street in the middle of the day, this time, and he wasn’t visibly high.

Or perhaps the kid had just sussed out that if any chem-thug was safe enough to approach - yeah, it'd probably be the one who was willing to protect a couple of random street rats from enforcers, no questions asked, as they scurried across his turf.

"...Who's paying?" The question was shrewd. Niska didn't mind her crew taking odd jobs from third parties, so long as she got her fixed cut of the profits and the work didn't involve helping her competition. Street rats didn't have the funds to hire muscle like him, though. So who was the boy working for?

"Ekko - that's me." The boy's chin jutted out a little as he answered, but other than that he remained remarkably nonchalant. As if this was a perfectly normal business dealing.

Scar just raised a single eyebrow at him, silently skeptical.

You?

The boy set his jaw and folded his arms; holding the chem-thug's gaze, he leaned forwards over the counter in what looked to be a practiced effort at confident swagger. Admittedly it lost some of its impact when it came from a twelve year old less than half his height, but Scar could give him points for effort.

"I've got the coin," he informed Scar plainly, "And you need the work, or else you wouldn't be eating the cheapest thing on the menu. So what'll it be?"

...Perceptive little punk, aren't you?

Scar took another bite of his cheap stew, chewed, and considered.

Of course he needed extra coin. There was barely enough to last the month, nowadays, since the cost of Shimmer had increased again. Niska had also taken a cut out of everyone's last pay, over some bullshit 'building repair' costs. There was plenty that needed repairing at The Rats Castle, of course, but the repairs rarely seemed to actually happen - and if they did, they were a cheap patch job that didn't fix the actual problem.

Did Ekko know that? Had he researched Scar, like a mark, before approaching?

Oh, what the hell. It wasn't like he had anything else going on right now.

"...Why ask me?" Generally the street rats clustered together, and were very distrustful of strangers. For good reason, too. The small and weak were easy prey for opportunistic monsters, and Scar knew all too well how many of those there were in this city. Was Ekko trying to fight fire with fire, by hiring a monster of his own? He wouldn't be the first to try. But he was certainly one of the youngest.

Ekko gave him a look.

"Because I need a big, scary-ass adult," he informed Scar, cheerfully blunt, then gave the vastaya a pointed look up and down. "And you fit the bill perfectly."

Despite himself, Scar felt his lips twitch upwards. Yeah, that was pretty much what he'd expected.

"...How much?" This was the important question. He doubted Ekko and his little friends had managed to scrape together very many coins for something like this. The fact that he was trying at all meant there must be someone he wanted to be dealt with very badly.

It wasn't that the money was the only motivating factor. Hell, if there was someone out there hurting kids, Scar would be willing to beat them up for free. But, of course, he needed to eat too. So if the boy could pay, he'd take the coin.

For a brief moment, Ekko looked almost surprised that he'd gotten this far this quickly.

You probably prepared a whole sales pitch, didn't you, Scar thought with dry amusement.

"So you're interested? I haven't told you what the job is, yet."

It was the vastaya's turn to give Ekko a patently knowing look; after all, you didn't (by your own admission) select the biggest, scariest person you could find, unless it was a job where you needed muscle. The boy knew what he could do. He and his little friend had definitely heard it, even if they hadn't stuck around to watch.

"You want someone fucked up," Scar surmised around a mouthful of fish. The boy, to his credit, didn't even flinch at the bluntness.

"Well, yeah, no shit. Aren't you gonna ask who it is?"

The vastaya chewed, swallowed, and shrugged. Did it really matter? He beat up strangers and familiar faces alike basically every day.

"...Do they deserve it?" He simply asked instead. People rarely got what they actually deserved, of course. But it wasn't every day a street rat this young had the money and the nerve to hire his own muscle - to present his name like it meant something, like it was a name you'd want to remember.

Something steely and dark clouded the boy's expression.

"Yeah - he does. He killed my friend."

Scar's clawed hand twitched against the tabletop, fingers curling inwards a fraction, but his expression remained unmoved.

"Pink hair?" He asked abruptly.

There was a flash of shock across Ekko's face, as if he couldn’t believe the chem-thug had remembered his friend in the alley with him that night - or that he was bothering to ask about her.

"..No. No, someone else."

Unmistakable guilt on the kid's face. Between that and his lack of injuries, Scar suspected he'd either been elsewhere when this had happened - or he hadn't been as brave as his friends, in the moment.

A lot of people were less brave than they thought.

"I'm sick of assholes like him thinking they can use kids like me for target practice. I'm sick of running and hiding all the time. I want him to get a taste of his own medicine."

...Fair enough.

"How much?" Scar repeated pointedly.

Ekko was silent for a moment, as if mentally calculating.

"40 silver cogs."

The number felt deliberate, like a gauntlet thrown down. A low-end offer, but not quite so low as to be insulting. Was that genuinely all the kid could afford, or was he chancing his arm? The chem-thug's gut told him it was the latter.

"60," Scar countered immediately.

Maybe it was ruthless to be pushing a street rat for more coin, but the way Ekko's expression sharpened and his lips quirked upwards confirmed his gut feeling - this was both anticipated and respected. After all, the kid clearly wanted to be taken seriously, and no savvy sumpsnipe did business without haggling.

"50," Ekko returned with assertive finality. "Half up front."

Kid had definitely done his homework. Scar was privately amused at the sheer ballsiness of the offer, in spite of his skepticism.

"...Lot of coin, for little pockets," He observed wryly, by way of acquiescence. He wasn’t going to ask where the boy had gotten the money from - it wasn't his business. Everyone did what they had to do to survive, down here. All that concerned him was whether Ekko genuinely had it to pay him with or not.

"I've got my ways." the boy gave him a conspiratorial smile, utterly unfazed.

"You think I'd lie to you?"

When it came to money, everyone lied in The Lanes, if they were smart. If they could get away with it. It was a dog-eat-dog world.

The vastaya set down his fork, and extended his hand, palm up. He'd finished eating - now it was time for the kid to put his money where his mouth was, or Scar would be walking away.

"Show me."

Something flickered in Ekko's eyes - smart of him to be hesitant, as plenty of opportunists would simply pocket the coin and laugh the kid away. Scar wasn't inclined to do that, though. He wasn't a complete asshole.

...Besides, he had a feeling anyone who pulled a stunt like that with this kid, would promptly find their freshly lifted spoils (and possibly their own wallets) had been pickpocketed right back off them before they even made it to the end of the street.

A small pouch materialised, and was pointedly dropped into the vastaya's waiting palm - without any coins being added or removed. Had the kid really predicted the exact price terms they'd settle on so confidently that he'd prepared for it? Had 50 silver cogs been the price he'd intended to pay all along, and he'd just let Scar think he was haggling upwards?

That was... cunning as hell, actually.

Ekko held his gaze proudly. Challenging him to check.

Scar weighed up the pouch in his hand, appraisingly, then opened it and counted the coins. 25 exactly. He'd have been affronted at how clearly he'd been played by a little street rat, if he wasn't so impressed.

Just for good measure, he bit into one of the coins.

Huh. Real, too.

Ekko smirked at him, and extended a bold hand across the table.

"So, big guy. Do we have a deal?"

Scar contemplated the proferred appendage for a moment, then reached up and clasped it with a solemn squeeze. Ekko's hand was dwarfed by his own, but the kid didn't hesitate to squeeze back; he had a very firm handshake, in spite of his small, weedy size.

Scar bared his sharpened teeth in a sanguine smile.

"Lead on, little boss."

Ekko's expression did something strange, before he huffed out a laugh.

"Yeah, all right, I like the sound of that. Let's go, then - I'll fill you in on the way."

[misswynters]

༘⋆♡ Arcane characters reacting to having you be a vs bombshell model

featuring: vi, sevika, mel, cait, ekko, viktor and ambessa

warnings: kissing, heavy touching, implied nsfw themes

inspired by my fic XOXO w/ jinx (which is why she isn’t included)

a/n: might of went overboard with some (let me know if there any mistakes)

Sevika

Sevika leaned against the wall, her eyes sweeping over you as you entered the room, the curves of your body accentuated by the form-fitting outfit you were wearing. She didn't say anything at first, her gaze intense as if she were appraising you, testing you. "You look good," she finally said, her voice husky. "But l've got a better idea.

Want to show me just how good?" She stepped closer, her hand grazing the side of your cheek as her fingers gently trailed down your neck. "I want to see you in that lingerie of yours-the one you always wear when you want to really make an impression. The one that drives me wild," she added, her lips curling into a half-smile.

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise between you both. She didn't need to say it twice. The way her eyes burned into you told you everything.

As you slipped out of your clothes and into the requested set, she took a slow, appreciative breath. "Damn... Now that's what I'm talking about." The hunger in her eyes was unmistakable, and you could tell she was ready to claim this moment as hers.

Sevika leaned back in her chair, the low light of her quarters casting sharp shadows across her face as her piercing gaze locked onto you. Her usually composed demeanor faltered slightly as you stepped closer, the lingerie she had insisted on seeing clinging to your figure in all the right ways. She let out a low hum of approval, her scarred lip quirking into a smirk as she rested her elbow on the armrest, her metal fingers tapping rhythmically against her knuckles.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, y’know that?” she drawled, her voice husky as her eyes roamed over you, lingering on every detail of the delicate lace and silk.

“You said you wanted to see it,” you teased, stepping between her legs, your confidence wavering slightly under her intense scrutiny.

Sevika’s smirk widened as she reached out, her human hand brushing over your hip while the cool metal of her prosthetic traced your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. “Didn’t think you’d actually listen,” she admitted, her tone rough but tinged with amusement. “But damn, you wear it better than I imagined.”

Her grip tightened, and in one swift motion, she pulled you onto her lap, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. Her hands roamed boldly, one sliding to your waist to pull you closer while the other cupped the back of your neck, anchoring you to her.

“You’re mine tonight,” she growled against your lips, her voice low and possessive. “Every damn inch of you.”

The tension in the air was electric, her touch igniting a fire under your skin as she kissed down your neck, her sharp teeth grazing your skin playfully. You could feel her smirk against your collarbone as her hands continued their exploration, leaving no part of you untouched.

“Sevika,” you gasped, your voice trembling as her lips and and hands sent your senses into overdrive.

She chuckled, the sound rumbling through her chest as she leaned back slightly to admire the effect she had on you. "Relax," she murmured, her thumb brushing over your cheek as her eyes softened ever so slightly. "We've got all night." And knowing who sevika is with you, you knew that she was telling the truth. It was going to be a rough night.

Vi

Vi was already leaning against the wall when you stepped off the stage, her arms crossed and a cocky grin plastered across her face. The moment she saw you in your intricate wings and delicate lingerie, she couldn't hide her pride-or the heat in her gaze.

"Damn," she drawled as you approached, her eyes shamelessly raking over you. "How am I supposed to share you with the whole world when you look like that?" Your cheeks warmed as you stepped closer, unable to keep the smile off your face. "You like it?" you teased, spinning slowly to give her the full view.

"Like it?" she repeated, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you. Her hands found your waist, pulling you flush against her. "Babe, I love it. But now I can't stop thinking about getting you out of it." She whispered, her breath warm against your ear, the promise of more heat to come in her voice.

Before you could answer, she reached out, pulling you toward her with a strength that made your heart skip a beat. Her lips found yours, firm and passionate, a kiss that left no room for hesitation. Her hands slipped down your back, pressing you flush against her, grinding your hips together for just a moment, enough to send a thrill through both of you. Hands roaming from the soft silk of your waist to the small of your back, where she hooked her fingers over the straps of the wings.

"You're incredible up there," she murmured against your lips, her voice husky. "But I think I prefer this view with just you and me."

You laughed softly, your hands sliding up her chest and locking behind her neck. "So, no complaints about my job, then?"

She smirked, leaning down to nip at your jawline. "None. As long as I'm the only one who gets the private shows."

"Jealous much?" Her grip tightened slightly on your hips as she kissed a trail down your neck.

"Nah," she murmured, her lips brushing against your skin. "Just possessive." Your breath hitched as her hands dipped lower, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What do you say we head home? I wanna see you take this off."

Mel Merdarda

The evening air was heavy with the scent of candles and sweet perfume as you stepped into Mel Medarda’s private quarters. Her golden eyes lifted from the glass of wine in her hand, and the moment they landed on you, the room seemed to still. She was lounging on a chaise, her regal posture radiating authority, but the flicker of surprise and desire in her gaze softened her otherwise impenetrable demeanor.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight,” she murmured, her voice like velvet, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She set her glass down and stood, her silk gown cascading around her as she crossed the room with an elegance only she could command.

Her hands reached out, brushing against the edges of your robe. Slowly, she pulled it aside to reveal the intricate lingerie beneath. The golden embroidery glimmered in the candlelight, hugging your figure perfectly. Mel’s fingers grazed your bare shoulder, her touch light but electrifying.

“You’re a vision,” she whispered, her voice dropping an octave as her lips found yours in a kiss that was both reverent and insistent. Her hands traced your waist, pulling you closer as her warmth enveloped you.

Breaking the kiss, she looked into your eyes, her smile soft yet mischievous. “Tonight, you’re not just mine to admire,” she said, her voice sultry as she led you toward the chaise. “You’re mine to worship.” And worship you, she did, with all the precision and devotion you’d come to expect from her.

Caitlyn Kiramman

Caitlyn had always been composed, but the moment you entered her bedroom, the shift in her demeanor was undeniable. She stood by the bed, her eyes never leaving you as she slowly approached.

"You're looking stunning, as always," she said softly, but there was something more to her words— something loaded with desire.

Before you could respond, she moved quickly, her hand finding the back of your neck, pulling you into a passionate kiss. Her lips were gentle at first, almost hesitant, but that hesitation faded quickly as she pinned you to the bed, her body pressing you down.

Her hands roamed, tracing the curve of your body as her lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, each kiss leaving you breathless. "You're mine now," Caitlyn murmured, her voice filled with possessiveness and longing, as she kissed you with renewed fervor.

Caitlyn's weight pressed you gently into the soft mattress as her lips moved hungrily against yours, her usually refined and composed demeanor unraveling in the privacy of her dimly lit bedroom. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silver glow over her tousled hair and sharp features as she kissed you with an intensity that sent heat rushing through your veins.

Her hands roamed your sides, her touch firm but reverent, like she was mapping every inch of your body for the first time. As her lips left yours, you barely had a moment to catch your breath before they found their way to your jaw, then lower, to the delicate skin of your neck.

"You're incredible," Caitlyn murmured against your skin, her voice husky and filled with awe. Her hands slid under the hem of your shirt, her fingers grazing your bare skin as she drew closer, her hips flush against yours. "How did I get so lucky?"

Your breath hitched as she grabbed your wrists harder above your head with one hand. She tilted her head up, her sapphire eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips. "Do you want me to continue?" she asked, her tone soft but teasing as her free hand traced lazy patterns down your torso.

You nodded, unable to form words under the weight of her gaze, and she leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Good," she whispered before trailing kisses down your neck, her hand releasing your wrists to cup your cheek.

Her kisses became slower, more deliberate as she moved lower, her touch grounding and unhurried, savoring every reaction she pulled from you. You arched into her, your fingers tangling in her hair as she found the sensitive spot just below your collarbone.

"You're breathtaking," Caitlyn said softly, her voice raw with emotion as she pulled back for a moment to admire you. She leaned in again, her lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss before she smiled, her thumb stroking your cheek. "And you're mine."

It wasn't just the passion in her touches or the hunger in her kisses that left you breathless, it was the way Caitlyn held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The quiet devotion in her every move.

Ekko

Ekko was nervously tapping his fingers against his leg as he watched you enter, his eyes wide. He'd always admired you from afar, but seeing you now in that revealing outfit-it was too much for him to handle.

"U-uh... can we... can we do a private show? Just for me?" he stammered, his cheeks flushed. His fingers fidgeted as he tried to gather the courage to ask, his voice full of a mix of excitement and nerves. You could tell he was flustered, and a smile crept onto your face. You approached him slowly, giving him a teasing wink.

"Of course," you said softly. "Just for you, Ekko." His eyes lit up, and the look of wonder on his face made your heart flutter. You moved into the center of the room, giving him a slow, sensual dance, letting the rhythm flow through you.

Every movement you made seemed to take his breath away, and when you finished, he was speechless, his eyes wide and full of admiration. "That... was amazing," he whispered. "I-I can't believe you did that for me."

Ekko leaned against the wall of the hideout, his face still flushed from your impromptu “fashion show.” His wide eyes darted between you and the floor, his words stumbling over themselves.

“I-I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“You asked for a private fashion show,” you teased, stepping closer, the soft fabric of your robe brushing against your legs. “I just delivered.”

Ekko swallowed hard, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually…” His voice trailed off as he gestured vaguely toward you, his fingers twitching.

“You didn’t think I’d wear something like this for you?” You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “You really underestimate me, Ekko.”

His gaze flickered to yours, the usual sharp confidence in his eyes softened by his clear awe. “No, it’s not that,” he muttered, his voice dropping. “I just didn’t think I deserved to see you like this.”

That caught you off guard. You stepped closer, reaching out to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his warm skin. “Ekko,” you said softly, “you’ve done so much for me. For everyone here. You deserve a lot more than just this.”

His hand came up to cover yours, his touch steady despite his flustered demeanor. “You don’t have to do anything special for me, you know?” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “Just… you being you is enough.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. His breath hitched, but he quickly melted into the kiss, his hands hesitantly finding your waist. The tension in the air shifted, the nervous energy giving way to something warmer, more intimate.

As your fingers threaded through his hair, Ekko pulled you closer, his grip firm but gentle. The kiss deepened, and you felt his heart pounding against yours, fast and steady like the rhythm of a drum.

When you finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were slightly swollen. “You’re really trying to kill me here,” he joked breathlessly, his hands still resting on your waist.

“Not at all,” you teased, trailing a finger along his jawline. “But I do like seeing you flustered. It’s cute.”

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder to hide his embarrassment. “You’re such a tease.”

“And you love it,” you quipped, wrapping your arms around his neck. Ekko chuckled, the sound muffled against your skin. “Yeah,” he admitted softly, his arms tightening around you. “I really do.”

The moment lingered, the hum of the hideout fading into the background as the two of you held each other. For all the chaos and danger in your lives, this was a rare moment of peace. And neither of you wanted to let it go.

Viktor

Viktor's lab was cluttered with papers and equipment, but as soon as you stepped in, the clutter seemed to disappear. All he could focus on was you. You stood before him, your usual elegance replaced by an undeniable confidence, as you slowly peeled back the layers of your clothing. Viktor's breath caught in his throat as you revealed what lay beneath. The way your eyes met his, made his pulse race.

You leaned casually against the counter, but the smirk playing on your lips betrayed how much you enjoyed his reaction.

"Well?" you teased, your voice soft yet challenging. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?"

Viktor blinked, his lips parting as if to form words, but they didn't come. His gaze flickered downward to the lingerie you wore, all delicate lace and sheer fabric, a stark contrast to the sterile and utilitarian environment of his workspace. "You're... truly something," he finally managed, his accent curling around the words.

You tilted your head playfully. “Something good, I hope?"

He took a cautious step closer, his cane clicking softly against the floor. "You know exactly what I mean," he murmured, his voice lower now, tinged with awe. His hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brushed the fabric at your hips. "You've outdone yourself."

Your heart skipped at the reverence in his tone. "I thought l'd surprise you," you said softly, leaning into his touch.

"You've done more than surprise me," Viktor admitted, his golden-brown eyes locking onto yours. "You've... completely distracted me."

You chuckled, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. "Is that such a bad thing?"

Before he could answer, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. Viktor stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard, but then his hands found their way to your hips, hesitant yet firm. He kissed you back, slow and deliberate, as though trying to savor every moment. When you deepened the kiss, sliding your fingers into his hair, Viktor groaned softly against your lips. His grip tightened, his fingers brushing against the bare skin beneath the lace. The cool touch of his metal prosthetic sent a shiver down your spine, and he immediately stilled. "Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly, his brows furrowing in concern.

You shook your head, smiling up at him. “No. You could never hurt me."

Relief washed over his face, and his grip on you grew more confident. He leaned in again, this time guiding you backward until the edge of the counter pressed into your lower back. The hard surface contrasted sharply with the warmth of his body as he kissed you again, more fervently now.

His hand roamed upward, tracing the delicate straps on your shoulder before cupping your jaw, tilting your face so he could explore the curve of your neck.

You gasped as his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

"I have a pretty good idea," you teased, your hands slipping under his shirt to trace the lines of his torso.

He groaned again, his lips finding yours once more. The lab faded away, the hum of the equipment replaced by the sound of your shared breaths and the soft clink of his cane as he shifted to pull you impossibly closer.

For once, Viktor allowed himself to forget his work, his experiments, and the ever-looming weight of his ambition. In this moment, all that mattered was you-and the way you made him feel alive.

Ambessa Merdarda

Ambessa reclined back in her chair, her gaze heavy and consuming as you finished your slow, deliberate movements across the room. The rich velvet curtains framing her private quarters swayed slightly with the night's breeze, though the air felt anything but cold under her watchful eyes. You stood before her in the intricate lingerie she had requested, the delicate pink fabric accentuating every curve of your body in the flickering firelight.

Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, the powerful general seemed at a loss for words, a rare vulnerability slipping through her commanding exterior. At nearly twice your height and with shoulders that could carry entire armies, Ambessa always made you feel small in the best way. A stark contrast that clearly did something to her now as her gaze grew darker.

"You've outdone yourself," she finally said, her voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I knew you'd be breathtaking, but this..." Her words trailed off as her golden eyes roamed over you. Feeling emboldened, you tilted your head with a playful smile. "Is it everything you imagined, General?" you teased, your voice soft yet sultry.

Ambessa smirked, the slight twitch of her lips only emphasizing her predatory demeanor. "More," she admitted, rising from her chair with a deliberate slowness that made her seem even larger. She approached with the precision of a lion stalking prey, her heavy boots clicking against the polished wood floor. When she stood before you, the top of your head barely reached her chest.

Her broad shoulders eclipsed the firelight behind her, casting you in her shadow as she placed her massive hands on your hips. She pulled you forward effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing to her, the size of her hands spanning nearly your entire waist.

"You've got my attention," she murmured, her voice rumbling against your smaller frame as her fingers traced the delicate diamond straps of your lingerie. Looping it around her fingers, letting it fall off your shoulder.

"Now, what will you do with it?" Your breath hitched as her lips brushed the shell of your ear, her warm breath fanning your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. Her hands roamed your body, the stark contrast of her rough, calloused touch against the soft silk of your lingerie making you tremble.

"Ambessa," you whispered, your voice trembling as her kisses moved lower, trailing along your neck and collarbone with an intensity that left you breathless.

She chuckled softly, her hands tightening their grip on your waist, her fingers brushing against your lower back as she pulled you impossibly closer. The difference in your size only seemed to spur her on, her gaze filled with an almost possessive hunger as she loomed over you. "Careful," she teased, her tone a mix of amusement and warning. "I might start thinking you enjoy being at my mercy."

Then ambessa made her way back to her chair, sitting down while manspreading, with her arms laying of the arm rest. Looking at you with a feverish expression. "Come here," she commanded softly, her voice velvet. "Since you're looking even more irresistible than usual."

You hesitated for just a moment, the air thick with unspoken desires, before walking towards her.

"Dance for me, darling," Ambessa purred, eyes darkened with intent. "Let me see you move."

With a small smirk, you began to dance, slow and seductive, your body swaying to an invisible rhythm. Her gaze followed every movement, and you could feel her heat from across the room.

As you moved closer to her, her hands caught your waist, pulling you in for a slow, deliberate kiss. "You going to kill me with the way you move," she murmured against your lips, and you couldn't help but smile at her words, feeling the tension between you both become even more palpable. “How about you use those skills for a different purpose.”

taglist: @iwanttoberich420 @pluhhbabyy

banners: @anitalenia

[kamaluhkhan]

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2k summary: after years of thinking her dead, ekko brings vi to the firelight base. you don't really know how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. warnings: arcane level angst + lesbian yearning. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader has tattoos and a star-shaped birthmark behind her ear (y'all know vi loves a nickname and i thought 'stargirl' was v cute so i had to make it work). fic gets slightly suggestive at the end ;) author's note: happy act iii release day!!! i wrote this instead of working on my thesis oops. in my defense, vi has sparked something in me that i simply cannot ignore. i'm also working on a werewolf! pitfighter!vi x vampire slayer!reader fic (set in the same universe, just with a slight twist) sooo that might be done before part 2 of this fic (which is where the smut happens hehe). anyways, thank you for reading!

inspired by that quote: "i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. we are good people and we've suffered enough" by nikka ursula

even after all these years, vi is still the first one to notice you. 

her eyes widen as she hesitates to pull away from ekko, but you clear your throat to catch both of their attentions.

“i thought we were gonna question her together.”

ekko wipes a stray tear from his cheek and stands up a little straighter. 

“you were taking too long,” he shrugs. “don’t worry — she’s clean.”

you trust ekko’s judgement, but you still can’t reckon with the fact that vi is alive. you’d splashed cold water on your face just before to make sure you weren’t dreaming. 

“i don’t know.” you walk closer until you’re standing arms length from vi. “the vi i knew wouldn’t be caught dead with a topsider, let alone an enforcer.” 

you examine her carefully, and you imagine she’s doing the same to you. vi looks more grown up — stronger and sharper. you’d spent so much time in limbo, not knowing if she were alive or dead. you aren’t sure how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. 

“i guess the shoddy undercut is a pretty clear give away,” you deadpan.

vi quirks an eyebrow at you. “shoddy, huh? you know, your tattoos look like they were drawn by blindfolded children.”

she smiles, all bright and toothy. the scar on her upper lip stretches, achingly familiar, and you decide there’s nothing you want to do more than to bring her into your arms, to bring her closer, so you do. 

her hair tickles your cheek as you whisper:

“i did those tattoos myself.”

vi chuckles, and you feel it vibrate across her body to yours.

“i know. they’re beautiful.” her index finger traces the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear; you shiver. “i was just messing with you, stargirl.”

vi was the only one who ever called you that, said you made her life brighter or some other sweet nothing that would effortlessly fall from her mouth.

gods, she was the first one who even noticed that birthmark on your skin. 

“i was messing with you, too. the hair — you look hot.”

you feel her heart beating faster against your chest as she smiles into your shoulder.

she’s here.

she’s not some ghost from your past.

she’s really here. 

you’re so overwhelmed by how solid she is against you that you start to pull away, but vi catches your hand before you can fully untangle yourself from her. 

“that’s all i get?” she wonders, licking her lips.

you’re tempted, very tempted, to give her more. maybe you would have, until ekko clears his throat behind you.

“should i….give y’all a moment?” ekko asks. “i’ll go get the piltie.”

you then remember who vi came here with; she might not be working for silco, but you stand by your suspicions at her bringing a topsider to the lanes. 

you slip your hand from hers. you roll your shoulders back as if that would really shake away the hold she’s always had on you.

time has passed. things have changed. neither of you are kids anymore, and you don't have the luxury of indulging in a frivolous crush.

“it's fine, e. let’s show them around.”

“still a night owl, i see.”

vi finds you perched on one of the trees highest branches, surrounded by firelights as you sketch something. you close your sketchbook instantly and place it on the other side of you when vi sits down.

“thought you’d be in bed with that enforcer of yours.” 

“her name’s caitlyn.”

“caitlyn,” you scoff, shaking your head. 

the bitterness you try to hide is all too transparent to vi, who has to bite back a laugh at your pettiness. 

“you say her name like you’re gonna hex her. never pegged you as a jealous ex.”

“technically, we never broke up,” you point out. 

a firelight lands on your hand, and you let it crawl up the lines etched on your skin. 

“if that’s the case, i owe you an apology for cheating on you when i was in prison.”

you frown, but say nothing, your eyes following that same firelight as it illuminates your tattoos. 

“don’t worry, i’m kidding!” vi pauses. “mostly.”

the firelight flies away, and you huff out an annoyed breath. 

“whatever. i don’t care who you’ve fucked, or who you’re fucking. and, you don’t owe me anything. it’s not like we’re anything to each other, anymore.”

vi sucks in a sharp breath — she wouldn’t have expected such harsh words from you.

“is that why you can’t even look at me?” she finally asks.

you’d been strictly business since you first reunited hours ago. you expertly distanced yourself from vi all throughout the tour of the firelights’ base, and throughout dinner, too. 

where’s the girl she’d spend hours goofing around with, who always had a witty response to her sarcastic remarks, who smiled at her in such a way that made her chest glow? where’s the girl who brightened vi’s life when it seemed like the darkness would never leave?

“i don’t know,” you admit. “part of me still can’t believe you’re alive. i know that i should be happy that you are, but i keep thinking about everything i could have done to protect you, and powder —”

“hey. it’s my job to worry about everyone, remember?”

“you weren’t here.”

“i am now.”

she gently moves your chin so that you face her, so that you can see that she’s not going anywhere, at least for tonight. 

which is probably more time than either of you thought you’d ever have together again.

vi notices how your eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and she feels something spark in her chest. but then, you shake your head as though trying to wake up from a dream and turn away once more. 

“that enforcer of yours —”

“she’s not my —”

“whoever she is, she talked about how we all need to heal. i just keep thinking about what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through…. how it never really stops. healing would be nice, but it’s hard when you have to keep fighting every day. you remember what ekko said, about why we chose this place?” 

of course, she remembers. 

“that if even a seed can survive down here, maybe we could, too.”

 “we. who’s ‘we,’ vi?” you laugh, but there’s no joy behind it. “we’ve gotten used to surviving without each other. maybe it was meant to be that way.”

“that’s not fair.” 

“a lot of things aren’t fair.” you gesture around at the base. “this — this community — took blood, sweat, and tears to build and i just know how easy it would be for someone to destroy it all. which is why we fight, obviously, to protect all this and each other, but i’m scared that we can only do so for so long before we burn out.”

you press your knees to your chest and curl into yourself. vi notices then — the slump of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and just how deeply exhausted you must feel, down to your bones. 

you let out a shuddery breath. “is it even all worth it?”

vi swallows the tears building in her throat. you had always been the hopeful one, and it makes vi’s chest ache to think about what you must have endured to lose the brightness that had been woven into your being. 

that's part of what got her through these past few years, and there's no way she's going to let it fade.

“i....i think so,” vi starts, trying to find it within her to be inspirational. “maybe it'll make a difference in the long run, even if we don’t see that now. maybe someone, someday in the future, will be able to not just survive, but live in a better world.”

you raise an eyebrow at her, and vi swears there's a slight smile on your face.

"what?" she asks, her cheeks heating up.

"i'm just...surprised. how is it possible that prison made you less cynical?”

there's a glimmer to your eyes that wasn't there before, something playful, and vi decides to lean into it.

"oh, it wasn't prison," vi says, nudging her shoulder against hers. "see, i ran into this pretty girl from my past and she's this totally badass freedom fighter now, so i think there's some hope in the world."

you snort. "good to know you're still an unbearable flirt."

"i thought you loved that about me."

you laugh, a sparkling sound that vi wishes she could carry with her wherever she goes. it’s contagious, too, and vi finds herself giggling along with you. when it dies down, you rest your head on her shoulder, something you did even back when you were only friends.

“i missed you,” she admits. 

“yeah?” your voice is softer than a whisper. 

you lift your head and vi cradles your face in her hands.

vi nods. “so fucking much, and i want to prove it. if you’ll let me. please.”

“vi,” you exhale. she’s so close now that she can feel you breathing against her lips. “i can’t. you’re with that enforcer.”

“we’re not together,” vi assures, bumping her nose against yours. 

she leans in ever so closely to kiss you, but you move away. 

“you’re still with her, though, and you’re leaving in the morning,” you continue. “things are already so….complicated. i just don’t think we should start something we won’t be able to finish.”

with nothing more to say, you gather your sketchbook and pencils. vi’s sure that you’re not going to bed, just off to nestle into another hiding spot for the night, away from her.

maybe you’re still putting up a cold front, protecting yourself because that’s how you've been surviving in this world where the risk of losing everything lingers, and only gets heavier as you grow older.

but, gods, vi really has missed you, the you she remembers so vividly, the you that shone through just moments ago. she knows that glowing heart of yours is hardened by layers of ice, and she’s determined to make them all melt away.

so, vi gets up, heart beating in her throat, and calls after you:

“haven’t we already?” 

you stop in your tracks. you slowly turn around to back at her.

a moment passes, maybe more. the two of you suspended in time. your eyes are telling her a million different things – you’re confused, you’re scared, you’re tempted, you’re tired – and all vi can do is unsuccessfully blink back more tears because it’s true, how your story together never got the happy ending you deserved. 

“please, y/n. if this is our second chance, even just for a night —”

she’s cut off by you crashing your lips against hers.

the two of you were young, really, just girls when you first kissed. it was awkward and messy and though it ignited something in the pit of vi’s stomach, it was nothing compared to this.

she lets you guide her as you please, lets you press your warm body against hers against the trunk of the tree. she lets your lips mold into hers until her lungs are burning. 

your chest is heaving as you pull away slightly; vi bites back a whine, feeling empty. but air isn’t what she needs, she’s sure of it. what she really needs is more of you.

you study her like a work of art, like you're committing her to memory in case she slips away. your thumb wipes away a fallen tear, across the tattoo on her cheek. 

fuck, no one's held vi this tenderly since, well, you.

“you’re so beautiful.”

vi blushes, becoming increasingly flustered. she'd wanted to make this about you, take care of you in all the ways she'd imagined, but the way you're looking at her, touching her....she's not a religious person, but vi thinks she might have stumbled into her own, personal heaven, with you having some divine hold on her, soft and bright and passionate.

you're kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when you repeat: "you're so fucking beautiful."

“yeah, i know. they should build statues of me,” she breathes, closing her eyes and trying to keep upright on weak knees. she squeezes your hips in an attempt to keep herself steady.

you’re the only person vi can recall calling her beautiful. 

sexy? oh, yeah. charming? definitely. hot? often. 

no one else calls her beautiful, though, let alone makes her feel like it the way you do.

“bad at flirting and full of yourself," you tease. "some things really don't change."

by now your lips are travelling lower, and vi doesn't want to miss a second watching you have your way with her. when her eyes flutter open, vi gets a glimpse of something over your shoulder.

“hm, i guess drawings are a good place to start.” 

she gestures with her chin, which she instantly regrets as you pull away to follow her gaze, eyes landing on the sketches of her from your fallen sketchbook.

“you weren’t supposed to see those,” you groan. "they're personal...."

it's cute, how flustered you get after making vi all hot and bothered.

vi smirks. "personal, huh? had some fun picturing me when i was gone? missed me so much you had to draw me back to life?"

"well, no - wait, yes, obviously, i missed you, but --"

vi cuts you off with a searing kiss.

she tugs on one of your belt loops to bring you closer to her. vi presses her thigh between your legs, relishing in how your mouth opens in a perfect gasp. vi takes the opportunity to bite your bottom lip and you whimper.

“don't be embarrassed, baby," vi mumbles against your mouth, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "you know i missed you, too. 'cept i'm not talented like you, so my creative imagination had to carry me through some long nights."

“is that so….” your hand slips underneath her tank top, and you manage to pull a groan from vi by scratching your nails against her stomach. “maybe you can clue me in to what, exactly, you’ve imagined.”

vi grins triumphantly. she places a kiss on your birthmark before whispering in your ear:

“sure thing, stargirl.”

[outoftheseine]

-AZRIEL “THE SHADOWSINGER” FIC RECS-

i am so obsessed with him it is not even funny | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

the trials of aphrodite • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (unrequited love, so much pining)

unrequited love | part two • azriel x reader

↳ by @lyssasdrafts (angst)

a field of dandelions • azriel x witch!reader

↳ by @prythianpages (made my heart warm, some angst, smut)

bloodied bonds | sinner’s sacrifice • azriel x rhysand’s sister!reader

↳ by @ellievickstar (hanahaki au, angst)

if it all fell • azriel x reader

↳ by @pellucid-constellations (angst, comfort, i feel for azriel :()

the silent one | 2 | 3 | 4 | azriel x fem!oc

↳ by @feyreswaterybowels (found family, slowburn, angst, fluff, comfort, mute!oc, tw: past sa)

lonesome | part 2 • azriel x reader

↳ by @assassinsblade (angst)

ocean eyes • azriel x reader

↳ by @redheadspark (very fluffy, angsty at times, smut, dad!azriel)

crush • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (so so fluffy, smut)

i laugh like me again… she laughs like you | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 • azriel x reader

↳ by @azrielbrainrot (very angsty, grief, violence, torture)

was any of it true? | full throttle | alt. ending • badboy!azriel x goodgirl!reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (modern au, angst, happy ending, smut)

pushed to the edge • azriel x seer!reader

↳ by @stormhearty (oh boy hurt me so good)

baker!reader x azriel

↳ by @imaginesmai (so fluffyyy)

and so, the stars aligned | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @offthepages

finding home • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @parkerslatte

sweet like sugar • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingsbychlo (fluff, angst, smut)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

tiny shadows • azriel x reader

↳ by @xmalfoyweasleyx (fluff)

his shadows know • azriel x reader

↳ by @daycourtofficial (fluff)

he feels safe with you • azriel x reader

↳ by @florencemtrash (warm, fuzzy fluff)

the quiet between • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thewulf (mean!az, angst, fluff)

you drew stars around my scars • azriel x reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (fluff, slight angst)

arcane • azriel x death god!reader

↳ by @serpentandlily (fluff, tw: alludes to sa)

butterfly kisses • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (fluff, suggestive)

threads of hazel • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (oh beautiful angst)

laborious activities • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (fluff and labour things)

marriage-life • azriel x reader

↳ by @delulustateofmind (sooo fluffy)

baby blanket • azriel x reader

↳ by @sapphicmsmarvel (fluff)

implode • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @daydreaming-nerd (really angsty)

blinded • azriel x reader

↳ by @lady-of-tearshed (oh so angsty, unrequited love)

scartlet-tipped secrets; peonies, for you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @angelshadowsinger (hanahaki au, unrequited love, angst)

totally annoying and not funny at all • azriel x reader

↳ by @sillymercury (fluff, little angst, literally idiots in love)

never yours • azriel x reader (lucien x reader)

↳ by @really-fanny-longbottom (angst, stupid azriel tbh, fluff)

let me keep you company • azriel x reader

↳ by @utterlyazriel (so so fluffy)

you found me • azriel x reader

↳ by @pit-and-the-pen (angst, blood, comfort)

pretty little shadowsinger • azriel x reader

↳ by @illyrianbitch (fluff)

happy ending • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (fluff and a little angst)

pancake • azriel x reader

↳ by @acotarxreader (fluff, comfort, tw: panic attack)

domestic bliss • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @bat-boys (very fluffy, slightly suggestive)

and yesterday you were here with me • azriel x reader

↳ by @dawneternal (angst, comfort, tw: miscarriage)

(what if?) all i need is you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @empiresofstorm (whipped azriel, comfort, fluff)

baby mine • azriel x reader

↳ by @thisblogisaboutabook (angst, comfort, fluff, tws: sa and trauma)

calypso • azriel x reader

↳ by @solbaby7 (fav kind of female rage, mentions of blood)

the girl who cheated death • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @utterlyotterlyx (fluff)

the tormented & the unforgiven • azriel x reader

↳ by @lucysstoryworld (very angsty, graphic torture)

tattoos older than you • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @surielstea (age-gap, suggestive)

“you were flirting with me?” • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thehighladywrites (suggestive, fluff, humour)

[woaza]

Scar(Arcane) x reader

Link to pt.2

Contains : Thoughts and long drabbles.

Word count : 3.4k

Warnings : None!

A/n : Wish we knew more about him so bad. I’m definitely open for discussion on him. I’m trying to understand his character with what little information we have. Lowkey wrote way too much? Especially because this is all speculation.

— We see throughout the little bits and pieces of screen time that he has, that he’s a somewhat caring person. Just rough around the edges, but I don’t think he’s this rough brute. When you first meets you he’s not going to be overly kind. Definitely the type to keep his distance until he has a reason to be around you. Like he’s sweet to Ekko, his daughter, and the other firelights. He has a lot of weight on his shoulders (someone check up on his posture asap) so it makes sense for him to be weary of strangers. His life and people he cares about are constantly on his conscious.

So It seems as if once he cares about you he really cares. He will make sure to show it. Definitely doesn’t seem like the type of man to think he’s ’too tough’ for emotions. Yes maybe a front (a very big front. Always grunting and looking angry) he puts on, but that’s not him. Once you’ve earned a place in his heart he will show it. Doing everything in his ability’s to be there for you. Especially as his S/O. He trusts you with so much, not only his heart but to be around his daughter. You’re part of his whole world, you are a big part of it. That doesn’t come easy for him but once he loves you, he loves you.

— He definitely takes things as it comes. Trying to take Day by day. He learns from everything he sees. Which is a necessity for someone in his position. Probably has had to his whole life, most people in the under-city feel that way. That’s very much the mentality he has with your relationship. Of course he thinks ahead sometimes, he’s not an air head. He and Ekko discuss their concerns with the firelights and their base. To many people? Not enough resources? He’s thought about it, but at the end of the day all he truly wants is to return by your side.

That’s another thing he can’t help but overthink. You. Where he wants to go with you, how will your relationship progress? He wants to do everything he can for you. Often worries he’s not giving you or his daughter enough. Although he dose his best to just appreciate every moment he has with you.

— A very alert person, always conscious of what’s going on around him. From when him and Ekko are on a mission and he’s helping Ekko dodge bullets to making sure his daughter dosent trip as she’s taking her first steps. He seemingly always knows what’s going on around him. Especially with his sensitive hearing. You could be in another room and let out a disappointed sigh, and he’d stick his head in the room a double check to make sure you’re okay. (All because he heard you sigh from down the hallway.)

— Goes nonverbal a lot. As his S/o you learn to understand all his grunts and shoulder rolls. Especially if your around people he dosent trust or are meeting for the first time. (With expectations.)

We saw him with the children, who all seemed to be comfortable around him. Maybe he was even watching over them. So I’d like to think he has a soft spot for children.

— Super protective of you and his daughter. His little family means everything to him. He wouldn’t do all of this if it weren’t for you two. If people even look at either of you side ways, he’s quick to send a glare back. He’s not protective in a jealousy kind of way, he definitely trusts you and is confident in your relationship. If he wasn’t or didn’t trust you to even do that. He wouldn’t have even bothered with a relationship in the first place. It’s safe to say he truly loves and trusts you if he decides to build a relationship with you.

A/n: I have sooooo much more to write about him. Trust I will write more.

[arting-block]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | vi x f!reader

❝maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at caitlyn. then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you.❞

summary: you've seen vi around as a kid. always at arms length, observing from afar. now she's back, angry and bitter after her stunt with the kiramman heir. you see each other once more. this time as an opponent in the pit. or rather vi and reader fuck each other's lights out.

pairing: pitfighter!vi x pitfighter!reader

warnings: ARCANE S2 ACT 2 SPOILERS, SMUT, angst (unhappy ending whoops), porn with too much plot, depictions of violence, reader has tattoos and scars, afab!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, boxing being used as foreplay, switch!vi, switch!reader, slight brat taming, oral (vi receiving), biting kink, spit kink, knife kink (if you squint), light bondage, finger fucking, vi is obsessed with your tongue, you're obsessed with her fingers

words: 10.2K

a/n: i've crawled out of the trenches and spat out a smutty fic for my glorious muscle queen. there's some plot in there, but it's mostly just filler to bring out the tension teehee. if there's demand, i'll make a part two, maybe more ;). post divider credit: @cafekitsune

Your body felt cold as the nerves settled in. 

The crowd’s uproar can be heard above you, wild cheers and screaming that blends into nonsense. The thumping of shoes on the ceiling above you syncs with your wild heart. The announcer is amplifying their excitement, spewing out the bets in place. Two thousand golden hexes and five hundred silver cogs for you—Arachnid. You instinctively reached for your shoulder, where the design of your tattoo was exposed. The skin along your back rises as the cheers for you overwhelm the arena. Investors from Zaun come together for their favorite fighter. Yours keeps you on a tight leash, pushing you into each fight to get more, more, more.  

You adjust the bandages around your knuckles. You twist your body, stretching the aching muscles until you’re loosened up. Occupying your time before the gates to the tunnels lift. Your heart races, pounding against your ribs. You’ve been a pit fighter for a little over two years. Before that you were tumbling through the undercity engaging in street brawls for food. Fighting wasn’t new to you, yet you were bouncing off the walls with anxiety. 

You were in relatively good shape to fight. A few days of rest and some shimmer got you back on your feet from your last fight. Black Hog was a beast up close but you managed to put up a good show. Normally you wouldn’t be put up against someone of a different weight class, but you were desperate for money. You won the fight with a broken rib and bruised face. Your investor, Parvata, had a gleam in her eyes that soured your victory. 

“Seems as though the spider likes big game,” she drawled, taking a long drag of her cigar. “We’ll see how well you fare against Gord’s fighters. I hear he’s got a prodigy in his ranks. A girl, ex-enforcer, I hear.”

Gord was talking up a storm about his fighters, but you had a feeling the feud between Parvata and him went deeper. Your stunt with Black Hog proved to her that you had skill. A chance for her to settle the score. 

Parvata didn’t know much about Gord’s prodigy. You, on the other hand, had an inkling of who she was. 

You can’t exactly say you were friends with Vi growing up. Your parents knew Benzo and in turn knew Vander as well. Vi and her friends were often away, either in Piltover or across Zaun to gods know where. Interactions with her were rare and short-lived; cordial and surface-level. You exchanged names, glances, laughs, but you weren’t friends. You’ve heard whispers over the years. Vi getting arrested and going to Stillwater. A few years later she is barreling down Zaun with the Kiramman heir. Now the whispers are saying she’s back in Zaun permanently. Fighting in pits for low wages and shit beer. 

You crack your neck, feeling the bones pop and shift. Was she still the spitfire kid you’d see running through the slums? Does she still have her choppy hair brushed to one side? You roll your shoulders back, flexing the muscles, feeling them tighten under your damp skin. 

Will she even remember you?

More cheers erupt as the announcer lists off your opponent’s bets. One thousand golden hexes and eight hundred silver cogs. You have a feeling that more money would be added at the split second before the fight begins. You force yourself to take a few breaths. Focus. Focus. 

You hear the familiar blare of an alarm. A sharp, loud sound that cuts all noise. Your heart spikes—the start of the show. The walls start to vibrate with the noise of the crowd. 

The announcer taps his mic, bringing the attention of the people eagerly awaiting 

Metal gears whirr and the bright lights of the area spill into the tunnel. 

“Spinning webs of tangled limbs is her name!” the announcer says. “Speed and lethality is her game! Give it up for Piltover’s all-around champion—Arachnid!”

You step into the area with all the masked confidence you can muster. The sounds of the crowd are deafening. Hundreds of people crammed into their seats, pushing against one another to get a clear view of you. In their hands they wave black tickets with a red spider in the middle. The air is thick with sweat and alcohol. You pull on your bandage again, tightening the wrappings around your hand. Light patches of blood are dotted along your knuckles. 

“And now for the whirlwind that took this pit by surprise…” The crowd is at the edge of their seats, the noise is bordering on ear-splitting. “The Iron Fist of Zaun!” the announcer yells. 

The gates across from you start to lift and you see a shadow approaching the pit. Your breath catches in your throat. 

Haunting. Everything about Vi is so unlike what you imagined that your brows rise. Dark hair dye is messily applied to her usually vibrant pink hair. Smudges of black were smeared across her face like she applied it with her eyes closed. Your eyes can’t help but drift along her exposed neck, collarbone, and arms. Tattoos and bandages scattered across her skin. 

Vi’s step falters. A wave of shock passes her face before a narrow look settles into her features. 

The wide-eyed, toothy grinned girl was gone. Her dark lips curled down, her nose scrunches slightly as she takes apart the view of you. Wherever bandages don’t cover, you see an array of purple bruises and silvery scars along the canvas of her skin. The harsh lighting of the pit cuts her muscles in such a way that makes her look carved from marble. 

Your breath catches in your throat at her heavy, predatory gaze. Bright blue eyes never leave your face. 

DING!

The starting bell shocks you out of your nerves. In an instant your anxiety evaporates and an odd thrill overtakes you. Instinctively you raise your hands near your face, letting your arms and legs feel loose as you get into a fighting stance. Vi’s expression is unreadable as she leisurely walks the perimeter of the arena. Her eyes dip towards your body. She lingers on the spot near your exposed stomach, a jagged scar that disappears under your pants. 

You take the opportunity to attack. Vi mirrors your raised hands, expecting you to hit her head on. Instead, you duck at the last minute, colliding your shin to her knee. 

— — —

The bag of coins is hefty, more so than you’re used to. 

Your finger digs through the gold and silver; one thousand and fifty golden hexes; four hundred and fifty-five silver cogs. More than enough to cover rent and food for the next three months. 

You don’t bother with a jacket to shield yourself from the heavy downpour, opting to skip the festivities and head straight back home. Your usual thirty minute commute is delayed by the aches in your hip and abdomen. If you weren’t so well versed in getting hit, Vi’s punches would’ve been lethal. 

Gord had every right to brag about his fighter's prowess. Vi was by far the deadliest opponent you’d ever faced. The aim of the game is the knockout, not to kill, but you know the refs aren’t going to get between two skilled fighters with a lust for blood in their eyes. You were all teeth and nails, more animal than human in that pit. It was hard to get into Vi’s blind spots and even harder to accurately land any good punches. You were backed into defense for most of the fight. Vi probably hoped to tire you out before delivering the finishing blow. 

You can tell if someone fights because they enjoy it. There’s a crazed look in their eyes as they try to trap you into continually dodging or blocking their assault. You fight for survival, even if you have some love for the game. Fighting is what kept you alive all these years. It pays the bills, keeps a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food on the table... 

Vi is clearly using fighting as an outlet. You were just unfortunate enough to be her punching bag. 

In a maneuver that damn near pulled a muscle in your back, you used the wall for momentum to jump on top of Vi. Your legs wrapped securely over her hardened biceps and your arms locked her head. Your chest pressed against the hard planes of her traps.  You could feel the heavy thud of Vi’s heart. Choking someone out wasn’t as near of a spectacle as Parvata would’ve liked, but you won the fight without a concussion. 

The rain poured harder as your shaky hands fumble for your keys. The fight ended an hour ago. You let out a string of curses as you try to find the correct key you needed. Cold air stiffens your fingers and your exhaustion is starting to take over. Or so you tell yourself. 

Sweat, blood, and alcohol. That was what the pit smelled like. Thick and hanging on your tongue like smog. 

Your fingers finally latched onto the right key, jamming it into the lock and forcing your way inside. 

Vi was a furnace. Her back radiates warmth as if to scorch you alive. The imprint of her arms still aches between your thighs. Like the pit, she too smelled of sweat, blood, and alcohol. Bernie’s Brew, the cheap shit from the bar above the arena. But there was a sweet musk to her skin. More intoxicating than any liquor. 

The speed at which you rip your clothes off makes your already overused muscles burn more. There’s an inexplicable urge to scrub your skin raw, erasing the phantom smells of Vi off of your skin. You let the cold water fall onto your heated skin. 

You wondered if Vi could feel the burn of your core on her lower back. 

— — —

It takes one week for Parvata to start hounding your ass about returning to work. 

Pit fighting wasn’t all that you did, though it made you the most money. In between brutal takedowns you would run errands around Zaun for her. Debt collecting. In the sweaty arena, at least there was glory to be had when fighting. In the damp houses of the undercity where everyone is barely scraping enough money to even live, it sours your mood for the entire day. There’s no glory to forcing a single father to cough up his last few golden hexes. Which wouldn’t even make a dent in his debt to Parvata. The sight used to make you feel guilty. After a few years of it though, you’ve gotten used to the angry yelling, the sob stories, the begging for one more week to get more money. 

When you find yourself back into the pit, it wasn’t Vi you were up against. 

You ignore the pang of disappointment and let yourself run loose. All the tension and frustration from your day was unleashed. One of your better performances. A right hook slammed into your jaw and a knee found its way into your ribs. But you delivered a well-placed kick to the side of their neck. The lanky man with snake tattoos fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. 

DING DING DING

The ring of the bell announces you as the winner. You hear the chant of your name, the howls of laughter as Rondo is dragged off the floor still unconscious. 

Tonight’s crowd is exceptionally packed. Friday nights usually are. The harsh lights above you make the masses of people blur into a single entity. Various warbles of words blending together. You don’t know why you scanned the crowd. You don’t know why your eyes immediately drifted to your right, pulled by an unknown magnetic force. But it does. 

First you see a burly man with his arms crossed. His face is hard and his physique is like a brick; rectangular and sturdy. He’s looking at you in curiosity. 

Then you see the dark outline of Vi. Your skin burns when you realize she’s already staring at you. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. She doesn’t seem to be particularly impressed by you. Her hands are in her pockets as she holds your intense gaze. The man next to her leans over and whispers in her ear. Her eyes never leave yours as she replies. Their conversation is muddled by the cramped people around them. 

For a second, the smell of the pit mingles with the memory of you pressed against her. Her strong back flexing beneath you as she tries to buck you off. The wild look in her eyes when she realizes what you were doing. Your heart beats faster, and not because of the adrenaline. 

You break the spell between you, stomping into the tunnel and weaving towards the exit. 

— — —

It carries on for a few weeks. 

You can never tell if Gord is pushing Vi to fight more or if Vi willingly puts herself through hell every other day. The Iron Fist of Zaun is always in rotation, more so than any other fighter. It’s gotten to the point where people are betting how long Vi could remain undefeated. You’d assume that Parvata would try to push you to fight her again, just to win the bets against her. She doesn’t. With it, no good pay. 

You find yourself settled in the crowds instead of in the pit itself. You don’t join in on the cheers or booing. Guy after guy, match after match. A few missed punches, a nice fist to the face, and the sharp ding of Gord’s bell. Just when you think that there will be no more matches for the night, Vi comes slaughtering in view. 

You hate how you immediately perk up, watching how she goes for a punch that knocks a metal jaw off of someone. A single punch. In less than a minute the fight is over and the crowd goes crazy. Vi’s sweaty back faces you. Her entire upper back is exposed and you now have a clearer view of the beautiful tattoo that adorns her skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. A cruel, taunting voice whispers that you wish to trace the wet muscle along the inked skin. Smelling her, tasting her—

You were unprepared for Vi to turn around and hone in on your spot in the crowd. As if she knew you were there, watching her from the shadows. You can’t help but observe the steady rise and fall of her sweaty chest. A bead of sweat making a tantalizing trail down her cheek and dropping between the swell of her breasts. Your mouth dries, suddenly parched. 

Something hot and wanting stirs inside of you. Vi must’ve seen it on your face because her usual scorned face shifts to a teasing smirk. 

A referee motions her towards the tunnels and Vi’s gaze momentarily leaves you. The spotlight is stripped away from you and you feel like you can finally breathe. Your clothes feel too warm—too tight along your body. Her gaze alone is a fire and you want to feel its burn. 

You part the crowd, trying to find the familiar door that leads down to the gate tunnels. 

A rough hand shoots out from behind, yanking you towards the exit. 

— — —

In a strange twist of events, Parvata ends up finding use for you outside of the ring. J’kepie’s bloodied body is dragged into the stale office and Parvata drips off the badge on his jacket. She drags you by the collar and jabs the pin into your leather jacket. Her insignia; a mountain range with a star above it. Head debt collector. 

“Consider this your promotion,” she growls, blowing smoke into your face. “Do well and you’ll get double the pay. Triple if you don’t ask questions” 

You know better than to fight her on this. So you nod. 

— — —

An entire month passes before you find yourself back in the pit. 

Debt collecting—you soon realized—was a misleading title. A glorified mercenary. If that bastard were still alive you would use your mechanical webbing to string him out on the lamppost by his neck. A client paid good money for J’kepie’s services, only to fail miserably. You weren’t allowed a day of rest,  swept up in Parvata’s circle. Caught in the webs of political alliances, drug wars, and hush money payments. After weeks of slaving away, you had finally stomped out the last of the client’s enemies. 

Your reward? Thirty-thousand golden hexes and a weekend off. 

You were at your wits end. The money you earned paled in comparison to the headache of cleaning up J’Kepie’s mess. You were constantly relying on yourself to do the work of over twenty people. You didn’t know how Parvata made it this long with such incompetent drones. At least she always kept true to her word. With the money you have saved up, you were able to buy a bigger home with a working shower. Food isn’t a scarcity anymore and your clothes were brand new.

You don’t know why your mind constantly drifts to the smelly arena tucked in the slums of Zaun. It’s not like you particularly loved fighting. It’s something to keep you occupied. Zaun was a vicious cycle of violence; of dirty tricks and guerilla warfare. In the pit, the only rules were to use your fist, your brain, and nothing else. Your only chance to take control of that cycle and make something out of it. 

Between the long days with blood caking your face, your mind wanders. Not to the thrill of the fight or the satisfaction, but to the angry phantom with piercing blue eyes and a warmth that rivaled the sun. She appears in your dreams with rough hands, calloused from years of fighting. Her fingers dance along any exposed skin; tracing your tattoos with the heavy weight of her tongue. Your back would arch, chasing her touch that she would so readily give you. Hoping that she catches your skin with her teeth, marking, biting—

Morning slips into night and your worn shoes carry you from your (somewhat) cushy apartment to the graffitied building that vibrates with music. Parvata doesn’t accompany you or even mentions for you to continue fighting. Too many loose ends to burn off. With her gone, no substantial money will be placed in your favor.  

You didn’t want the money. You were angry; itching to let off steam. To gather up your frustration and let it boil over the surface until there’s nothing left of you. 

At least that’s what you’re hoping for. 

“Sorry kid, all available fights are booked up.” 

You force an inhale, keeping your voice as even as you can. “C’mon, you know I’m one of Parvata’s. One fight that’s all I ask.” 

The old lady doesn’t lift her eyes from her book. Her eyes drift from one side to the next at a snail’s pace. “I know who you are, kid. Seems like you’re without your owner too. Doesn’t budge the fact that all fights are booked. Can’t you read?” She jerks a thumb to the sign next to her. 

NO SLOTS AVAILABLE

Below the sign was a list of the available matches. Your heart spikes at the words, “Iron Fist” being scribbled in for the first match. Her opponent is none other than Rondo. 

Gears start to turn in your head. 

With a final huff, the old lady tugs a metal string, pulling a sheet of metal over her kiosk. Your nails dig into your wrapped palm, trying to keep yourself from punching the glass. If your fist doesn’t connect to someone’s face soon, you are going to end up in Stillwater by midnight. Not even Pavarta would come save your sorry ass. 

“Fifteen minutes before it’s showtime!” the speakers blare out. 

People have already started to make their way inside through the front entrance. Red tickets in their hands, waving them around excitedly. A recurring color you’d see as you pass by. The sounds of music and cheering can be heard inside, enticing you in. 

You were going to fight whether that old bitch likes it or not.

— — —

Going through the crowd of people was going to shave down the limited time you had. There were multiple entries into the building reserved for staff and VIP members. Fighters typically use the main entrance or go through one of the VIP doors if they’re accompanied by their sponsor. Parvata was away doing gods know what and you didn’t want to fumble through sweaty bodies. The shortest route would be sneaking into the kitchen. 

The lock to the kitchen easily clicked open after a few twists of your hooked pin. Fridays means more people to feed so most of the staff were preoccupied enough to not care about you sliding between them. You breeze past chefs and waiters as you make your way through. A bit far removed from the main event, but you still have ten minutes before it starts. On the other side of the kitchen was a discreet door with small red trim on the bottom. No one looked your way as you opened it. 

The air is considerably colder here. You let muscle memory carry you through the damp corridors until the familiar waiting room comes into view. The door to the room opens and a tall man with snakes coiling his neck steps out. You quickly press against the wall, out of sight. 

A gruff voice calls out to the man: “Will you be back in time? Ten minutes is gonna go by real quick.”

“Just gon’ take a piss,” Rondo grunts, flicking the end of his cigarette to the floor. The door slams shut and he retreats further down the hallway.  

You use the shadows to your advantage, following him like a ghost.

— — —

Vi downs the last half of her beer. The third one today.

Her fifth fight this week. By anyone's standards, that’s too little time to recover. A restless night between each match and shit beer won’t do her any good, but she can’t find it within herself to care. Loris does at least. That’s good enough for both of them. The burn the beer leaves behind gives her the buzz she needs to carry on. Not enough to get her shit-face (not yet at least), but just enough for her body to feel loosened up.

To ease the pain Cait had left behind. Even if it’s only temporary. In the early days, all she could see was the dark blue hair and sharp face of Cait hiding between people. Her face lingered, festering the hurt in her chest until all she could do was sob into her pillows at night. She stopped, only because something else was distracting her. Keeping her afloat in the sea of her grief. 

Another ghost of her past. A hazy memory from bygone days. Where Powder was still her sister; Claggor and Mylo were still pains in her ass; Vander would pour her favorite juice after a successful trip. Sometimes Vi would come home to see you perched up on the bar. Your legs would swing on the stool as you talked to one of her friends. She would mostly see you with Ekko, letting him rattle off your ear until he couldn’t breathe. Rarely would she interact with you, let alone talk to you. She never would’ve admitted to it then, but she was intimidated by you. A pretty, shy girl with a bright smile is enough to make anyone fumble over their words. You were her first crush, for years she was haunted by you. She realized that far too late when your parents had died. You drifted from them. From Ekko, Powder, and her (even if you didn’t know it). You kept in touch with Benzo for a while before he too died. 

Vi wasn’t close enough to know where you’d gone. 

Her fondness for you lingered. During her years in Stillwater she thought of your animated conversations. Short-lived as they were, Vi replayed those talks in her head. Your laugh would tease her in dreams. Your soft hands tracing the scars along her body with love and care. Your kisses would be as sweet as your laugh. By the time Cait had busted her out of that dingy cell, the dreams fizzled out until you were just another memory in her mind. 

Cait was different. While you were just a daydream, Cait was something real to Vi. It wasn’t just a simple crush between the two of them. Not love either, but something different. A trust in each other. Someone to count on when the world turns against them. When the end of her gun slammed into Vi’s abdomen, it felt worse than any punch to her face. Cait took the trust between them, ripped it with her teeth, and spat it out without a second thought. When Cait left Zaun, a piece of Vi went along with her. 

Pit fighting seemed like the only natural outlet for Vi. Why not take the only thing she’s good at and use it to distract herself? It seemed like a good plan at the time. Loris didn’t say much about it, but he knew that she was stubborn enough to follow through with or without him. It worked well enough. Loud music and cheers drowning out the pounding of her heart and the whispers of Cait’s voice. 

But then you appeared across from her. A ghost turned real and tangible. The shy girl who would scream at the sight of any bug had grown up to be a fighter. Outwitting her strength in a way that stole her breath—literally. You were deadly, even as Vi had you cornered with whip-fast punches. When you jumped on her back, compressing her body between your legs, her head at the mercy of your arms, Vi’s anger evaporated. In a mere five minutes you did what no other substance could: make her forget about her heartbreak completely. 

Maybe it was a good thing that she was angry at Caitlyn. Then she wouldn’t feel so bad, thinking about fucking you. 

— — —

Vi enters the pit in sync with the announcer. 

Per routine she automatically starts to rake through the crowd. A mesh of excited faces with their mouths open, screaming her name until their throat grows hoarse. Vi would see your face at every match, watching like a hawk. Your visits grew shorter and shorter. A month ago you stopped coming. Still, Vi grazed over the seats, hoping to see you lingering in the shadows. 

When her eyes fail to see you, her shoulders sag imperceptibly. 

“Get ready for the Piltover Boxing Leagues’ middleweight fighter—Rondo!”. 

Her brain short-circuits when you walk to the arena. The crowd goes wild at your appearance, shouting your name in hopes you would look their way. Instead you held Vi’s shocked gaze. Something is different about you. A look of hunger flashes in your eyes, a determination that was absent when you first fought. Vi forgets about Caitlyn’s betrayal; the feeling of her lips pressed against hers; her toned, lithe body molding against Vi’s torso. 

Vi forgets it all when you stand in front of her. It was forever ago when she had that childhood crush on you. All pure, sweet, and innocent. Something else blooms in her body. Not love, trust, or the fleeting whispers of her old crush on you. A different feeling. A steady heat that slowly overtakes her body. A curiosity that nips at her mind. The urge to pick you apart, analyzing everything that makes you tick. To back you against the wall with nowhere to run. 

Vi’s attention was solely on you. Only you. There’s a spackle of blood across your face and a fading bruise near your temple. She raises her hands near face and you do the same. A charged energy ignites between you two and with it comes a newfound passion. A desire to win. 

DING

Your muscles snap into place as you bolt forward. Vi meets you halfway, sending a hard punch straight to your face. 

— — —

The lights above you strain your eyes. A dull ringing is present in your ears and you feel your body involuntarily swaying to the bass of the music. Vi is not much better. She’s breathing considerably harder now with a fresh bruise on her chest. There’s a noticeable strain in her hip from where you’ve kicked. For the better part of five minutes the two of you were locked into a series of punches, kicks, and scratches. Vi’s body was more rock than flesh. You jabbed every sharp corner of your body into her, slowing her down enough to send your elbow to the side of her head. Vi retreats, putting distance between you two. One of Vi’s hand wrappings came undone thanks to your teeth, leaving her bruised knuckles exposed. 

You circle each other, trying to catch your breath. Vi is terrible at guarding vital parts of her body, but she makes up for it in explosive punches and a speed that rivals your own. Your body is tense, threatening to lock up from exhaustion. You keep your fighting stance, watching Vi’s every move in case she tries to pull another fast combo on you. 

You’re starting to understand why people have a passion for this—the fight. Not just showing off cool moves or delighting in beating someone up just for the sake of it. Not for survival or just as a way to let out all the pent up energy in your body. 

For the first time in your life, you’ve met an opponent who is skilled. In most circumstances you are engaged with people who utilize strength or weapons with little regard to finesse. You stood out to Parvata for your ability to out maneuver, outwit, and overcome opponents who otherwise have the bigger advantage. The thrill that came from a fight would wear off and slowly that high became less and less potent. Each fight felt the same as the last. 

Fighting became a chore, a job to do in order to get money. Pavarta signs and you show up. Dull. Repetitive. Redundant. 

Vi was your perfect antithesis. A break in a mind-numbing routine. Where you attack, she finds a way to block. When you falter she’s hot on your heels. You know she remembers you. You can feel it in the way her gaze keeps falling down your body and back up to your face. Even as you’re trying to knock her teeth in. She doesn’t let her familiarity with you cloud her judgement and you find yourself appreciating it. You’re glad to know that with each punch, she truly means it. 

A blink is all it took for Vi to come swinging once more. You twist out of the way and ram your fist into her side. Vi grunts out, elbowing you in the back. The sharp angle of her joint sends a wave of pain. You fall to the ground, barely catching yourself with weak arms. Vi doesn’t give you time to recover. Her steel-toe boot kicks your side, hard enough to make all the air leave your lungs at once. Pain shoots everywhere. 

With a huff you bring your leg out, swiping her ankle until she’s on the ground with you. It’s a struggle to try to get on top of her. Her mouth in a snarl as she tries to fight you off. 

Much of her intimidation comes with her being on two feet. On the ground, however, she’s flailing. 

You force yourself past her arms and settle your weight on her chest. Vi tries to punch your abdomen but you redirect her punch. Your nails dig into the wrapping and undo it. When her other hand tries to land a hit, you take the loose end of her wrapping and bind her wrists together; caught in a web of your doing. You slam her bound arms above her head onto the concrete. The sound is so crisp that the ringing in your ears cease. 

Vi is full-on thrashing beneath you. She jerks and writhes, desperately trying to buck you off of her. It doesn’t work, of course. You lean closer, taking in the messy makeup, the silver nose ring, the small scars across her face. She’s surprised, her mouth parts to let out frustrated huffs. Her once soft blue eyes are overtaken by her dilated pupils.

She stops shifting beneath you and it’s then that you realize that you’re fully seated on top of her breasts. Your core is settled on top of her sternum, the wild pulse no doubt could be felt by her. The heat is all consuming. A sickening shock goes down your spine and with it comes the familiar ache of arousal. Vi’s gaze is no longer surprised or panicked. Hunger is written as clear as day in her darkened eyes. 

The referee runs beside you, slamming his hand on the ground. Once. Twice. 

The final slam declares you the victor. 

DING DING DING

— — —

Vi is no stranger to being roughly handled. Seven years in prison didn’t exactly go by smoothly. Hell, these past few weeks were filled with nothing but split knuckles and a mind-numbing headache. You were all coiled muscle and snapping teeth in the ring. Vi was wholeheartedly expecting to be dragged off to an empty room and be devoured by you.

But you continue to give her more surprises. 

“Let's get you cleaned up,” you say, leading her out of the building. A soft invitation that was so unlike your behavior when fighting. It’s the first time in years since she’s heard you speak. Directly at her, no less. Vi’s brows draw into a furrow and your lips tilt to a smile. “It’s a bit of a walk, but I know your place doesn’t have good heating.” 

The adrenaline from the fight starts to dissipate, and so does the innate want in her body. She can think clearly now.

Vi stops in her tracks, glaring. “Stalkin’ me much?”

“I’ve been fighting in that pit longer than you, Vi.” Her heart flutters with the mention of her name. You continue walking, kicking rocks out of your way. “It doesn’t exactly pay you much. I had two jobs and could barely keep the water running. Plus, you don’t seem to wash out that makeup.”

“I do.” She doesn’t. You give her a smirk to let her know that you see through her bullshit. You tug on her naked wrist. Warm and tender, like she’s a piece of glass. She lets you. 

You greatly understated how much walking there was to your place. Vi doesn’t complain in the slightest, especially if it means talking to you for longer. Occasionally you would point out a new restaurant that opened or a brothel that many Piltover elites would favor. You’re easy to talk to, she concludes. Sometime during the walk, your hands joined together. Wound tightly, swaying in tandem with your steps. She doesn’t deny that you’re an entirely different person, but there’s part of the old you that remains. You’re still talkative. A trait that Vi often finds annoying, but with you it falls under the category of endearing. Your smiles light up your face, as small as they are. 

Your apartment is better than Vi had pictured in her head. Spacious with high windows and modest furniture. It’s cozy, intimate. More so than when Vi entered Caitlyn’s home. In Piltover, Vi is painfully aware that she doesn’t belong. Everything bad in her life traces back to the gilded city with gleaming white buildings and blue skies. No matter how much money you seem to make (which Vi guesses is a lot more than you make it out to be), you’re a Zaunite through and through. 

Maybe the three mile hike through the Lanes was worth it, Vi thinks wryly.  

The lock to your door clicks shut and Vi is fully aware that she’s alone with you. 

You lean against the wall, kicking off your shoes. The perpetual twilight of Zaun makes your body glow. You peel off the jacket with that shiny gold badge, revealing your bruised body. Your tank top is tight along your chest, emphasizing your body in a way that makes Vi’s face darken. Her fingers curl inside of the pockets of her jacket, itching to touch you. 

“Something the matter?” you ask. A genuine question seeing as how Vi’s face is pinched, focused on you. The darkness of the room makes her look angry. 

Before you can open your mouth again, Vi crosses the room until she’s all that you see. Her hands, rough and calloused like you imagined, find the hem of your top. Your breath is caught in your throat, your body jolting at the contact. Her thumb gently follows the skin along your hip bone—the jagged scar that caught her attention all those weeks ago. You feel her trace imprint of your scar, her thumb teasing the edge of your pants where it continues. 

“Been wonderin’ how far this goes,” she murmurs. She flickers up at your face, hesitating just a bit. Waiting for your permission. 

Your face is warm and your smile is full of teeth. “Why don’t you fuck me to find out?” you challenge. 

Vi wastes no time in slotting your bodies together. Your response is immediate. Your hands slide up her abs, trailing upwards until they knot in her dark hair. Vi groans into you, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue into her mouth. The sound she emits makes your spine tingle. Vi’s warmth is all consuming. Her hands are everywhere—your hips, the small of your back, your ass—mapping out your body’s topography with her eyes closed. She’s eager to have you close, to feel you, claim you. 

A bit too eager with the way she’s pressing against your lips so hard that you think they’ll bruise. But with the way she’s groping your ass you don’t even have the will to care. 

The leather jacket around Vi’s shoulders is pushed away by your hands. Using Vi’s hair as a leash, you tug her head back, forcing her to reveal her neck to you. You latch onto the soft patch of skin just below her jaw. Vi keens, gripping onto your hips like a vice. 

Her skin is still tacky with sweat. The salt dissolves with your open mouth kisses. Your teeth gently nip the hollow of her throat until the vessels beneath her skin breath. A mark; ownership. Vi jolts when she feels your tongue, hot and needy, drag along the column of her neck. If it wasn’t for your tight grip onto her, Vi is certain that her knees would’ve given out right then and there. 

You jerk her back, harder this time. Vi releases her hold on you. Her eyes are glazed over, her eyes dilated once again. You hook a finger onto a loop in her pants and drag her deeper into your apartment. Vi stumbles, trying her best to get her shaky legs to move faster. You barely felt her up and already she’s been reduced to a horny mess. 

Vi is far from inexperienced. She had a rotation of girls in her prison block vying for her attention, begging for a quick fuck in a supply closet or in the showers. She’s no stranger to being touched, to have a tongue slide into her mouth, or being groped. She doesn’t understand why it feels different when it comes to you. Why is she buzzing with excitement when the door to your room squeaks open? Why does her heart skip a beat when you shove her onto your bed? Why the fuck does she let out a pathetic whine when you lift up your tank top, revealing your bare chest to her? 

You crawl on top of her to kiss her again. It’s slower, precise, but equally as firm. Vi knows she’s strong enough to tug you closer, but the way your tongue keeps sliding against her own makes her head foggy. When you pull away, an obvious trail of spit connects you two. With a single hand you pop open the button on her jeans. Cold anticipation fills her. 

“Wanna take my time with you,” you say against her swollen lips. There’s a raw edge to your voice that lets Vi know that you’re desperate for her too. 

A glint of metal catches Vi’s eyes as you pull out a small knife from your pants. With the precision of a surgeon, you slice open the bandages that cover her chest. The muscles of her abdomen flex when your knife cuts a touch too close to her skin. The layers of wrappings fall open like a flower in bloom, revealing her bare torso to you. 

You kiss along her neck once more. Your lips carve a path down to the middle of her sternum. Wet, sloppy, occasionally accompanied by the glide of your tongue. Vi’s hips involuntarily jerk upwards, trying to alleviate the ache of her core. 

“You’re such a—ah—fucking tease,” she huffs. 

You hum against the underside of her breast. “So impatient,” you chide with a gentle nip of her skin. “Not unlike your fighting style.” 

All words of protest die in Vi’s throat when you take a nipple into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive bud, watching Vi arch into you. You can’t help but grin at her disheveled state. You palm her other breast, twisting the hardening nipple with your fingers. One of Vi’s hands flies to her mouth, trying to silence the higher pitched gasps and moans. 

You pinch her nipple a little harder. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll stop.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she whines. 

You cup her clothed pussy, digging your hand harshly against the crest of her slit. The moan that escapes Vi is music to your ears. “I’m trying to be nice Vi. I want to hear every noise you make.” You punctuate your words with another roll of your hand. “Can you do that for me baby?”

A few more slides of your hand and Vi gives a weak nod of affirmation. Satisfied, you continue your trail down her torso. You’re a drug. You must be. Your lips alone are undoing her, fanning the flames of her desire in a way that no one else could. With every tender bruise, your tongue gently prods it with a cruel grin. Vi keeps her hands fisted in your sheets, trying to please your demands of hearing her. She’s not used to receiving; being at the mercy of someone during sex. It’s as foreign of a concept to her as living her life in Piltover with an ivory tower and silk clothes. She’s not used to being beaten in a game she’s good at, especially not to the same person. Not with fighting and certainly not through sex. But you managed to do it anyway. 

You’re an enigma to her. Opposite to her in such a way that leaves her aching. Oil and water, yet you find a way to compliment her. Separated by time, but equal when together. Her match in a ring, and her match in bed it seems. 

Vi lifts herself on her forearms, watching you with rapt attention when your mouth leaves her body. You move to her feet, undoing the tight laces of her boots and tossing them onto the floor. Once her other shoe hits the ground with a loud thud, you’ve finally reached the faint trail of hair under her belly button with a soft kiss. Your teeth catch the fly of her zipper and pull it down. The sharp sound made her heart pound faster. You tug onto her pants and underwear, Vi lifting her hips to help you slide them off her body. 

Cold air hits her cunt and she sucks in a breath. Your lips part in awe, seeing the proof of her desire leaking out of her entrance. You settle between her legs, placing your hand on the corded muscle of her thighs to keep her spread for you. You watch her opening clench around nothing, practically begging you to put your mouth on it. Apparently, you were staring a second too long. 

“You gonna watch or are you gonna fuck me?” Vi snaps, already fed up with your prolonged teasing. Her cheeks are flushed as her eyes challenge yours. “Don’t tell me you forgot how to eat pussy.”

Vi grins at your displeased face, happy to see your assured confidence crack just a little. 

You give her a sharp glare, but that only seems to stir a spark of rebellion against your cruel tyranny. You certainly can’t have that. 

So you press your thumb against her puffy clit and watch as her jaw goes slack. 

“Could you repeat that?” you ask with mock innocence. You let your thumb gather some of her slick and gently rub her crest. A wordless gasp leaves Vi as you continue your slow ministrations. “Something the matter, Vi? Spider got your tongue?” Your thumb is pressing against her harder, almost to the point of pain. You shake your head with faux sympathy, clicking your tongue. “Poor thing’s been neglected. I barely touched you and you’re already ruining my sheets. Maybe I should leave you here so I can prevent a mess.” 

A strained noise of protest escapes from Vi. Too caught up in pleasure to see past your obvious bluff.  “Don’t you dare…f-fuck! Don’t you dare stop—shit.”  

“You’re not in the position to be making demands,” you state, emphasized with a light pinch of her clit. Vi bucks her hips into your hand, trying to get as much friction out of you. 

“‘M sorry…won’t do it again—ah—promise!” 

As much as you want to prolong her suffering, you’re too selfish to deprive yourself of good pussy just to prove a point. Next time, you think to yourself. If there will be a next time. You push down that thought, focusing on the growing slick accumulating in your palm. Vi whines when your hand leaves, but quickly swallows any scathing words when she feels your tongue drag along her slit. Kitten licks and kisses along her pussy makes Vi more desperate. But it’s not enough to release the pressure in her core. You continue to tease her even as she’s starting to grow frustrated. You would prod her tight entrance with your tongue, only to retreat a few seconds later. You watch with a grin at Vi’s mounting frustrations, wanting to test her patience with you. 

When you latch onto her clit, sucking it gently, Vi damn near sobs in relief. 

You’re a god. That’s the only explanation. Your saliva holds a magical elixir that sends her nerves ablaze and makes her mind go blank. If this was a ploy to get her to join your cult, she’ll be attending mass every day of the damn week just to experience your mouth on her cunt, no questions asked. Your firm hold on her thighs keeps her from crushing your skull between them. In a few minutes she’s already starting to shake. 

When you add a finger to the mix, Vi is making sounds she never thought capable of. It takes a few tries to find the right spot, but when you do, you’re merciless. Your finger and mouth working in sync to bring her to the height of her pleasure. The pressure between Vi’s legs threatens to snap. Her body winding tighter, tighter, tighter—

Vi chants your name like a prayer. Broken wails that plead for your grace; to give her sweet relief to the pain you had also caused her. “Please, please, please! I can’t…fuck, I need to cum! Please—”

Who are you to deny a beautiful woman’s cries? You add in a second finger, never faltering in your brutal assault. Vi’s pussy clamps down on your fingers—the only warning of her impending descent. 

The pressure explodes outwards. Energy ripples through her body in powerful waves until she’s left shivering. Vi’s back arches off the bed as she cries out your name, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Her strong legs wrapping around your head, suffocating you with her body and essence. Cum gushes onto your face and fingers as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. Only when she parts her legs and starts to jerk her hips away do you stop.

Vi is left shaky, her chest struggling to inhale deeply. Still, she hauls you from her legs and pulls you in for a kiss. She lets out a groan at the taste of her sex on your lips. 

You give her one more peck before pulling away slightly. “Forgotten how to eat pussy, huh?”

The look in Vi’s eyes tells you that she doesn’t regret it one bit. “Worth it to have you prove it to me.” 

“You’re a brat, you know that?” you say, exasperated. 

Vi grabs hold of your waist and rolls you on your back. She doesn’t bother teasing you with nips and open mouth kisses along your body. You were right to call her impatient as she fumbles with your belt. There’s a fire behind those blue eyes of hers, a look of ambition and cunning.  

Before you could question her motives, Vi grabs both of your wrists and mounts on top of you. You feel the clink of your belt as Vi wraps them around your wrists, tying them to your metal headboard. In the span of a few seconds, she manages to secure you to your bed, completely at her mercy. Her slick core rubs against your stomach as you helplessly pull against your restraints. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you ask. 

Vi’s hand travels appreciatively down your chest, stopping you giving your breasts a squeeze. “Repaying the favor.” She wears the same look as she does in the ring. Halfway between a glare and a look of curiosity. 

Vi shifts off of you, relieving your body of her weight. Instead she settles between your legs, much like how you did before. 

You tilt your chin out, glaring up at her. “You think that you’re in charge now just because you restrained me?” 

“I do, actually.”

You’d be lying if you said you don’t find it incredibly hot to be at the complete mercy of someone like Vi. Still, you hoped to have your streak of conquering Vi to be undefeated, at least for the night. Vi is too busy tracing her fingers along your body, mentally counting all the scars she could see on your body. You try to not let it show that her seeking fingers have an effect on you, however your traitorous skin erupts in goosebumps wherever her finger travels. Vi takes her time visually appreciating her body. She enjoys the feeling of warm flesh beneath her fingers, the subtle shivers whenever she finds a particularly sore spot. 

“So beautiful,” she whispers, almost to herself. “Been wanting this for so long.”

A shallow chuckle escapes you. “Since you saw me in the pit?”

You whimper softly when she kneads the soft mounds of your breasts.  Her brows furrow and her movements falter for a moment. 

“Before that,” she corrects, in a serious tone that shocks you. 

It takes a moment for the implication of her admission to hit you. You almost laughed at the ridiculous notion. You wanted nothing more than to be friends with Vi as kids. But any advance was met with hesitation. She would constantly avoid any prolonged interaction with you. You tried not to take it to heart; she always had a lot on her plate. You assumed she didn’t think you were cool and you’ve learned to make peace with that. Even if Powder constantly assured you that Vi didn't actually hate you…

Oh.

“I just…I thought that…y'know.” 

“Y’know what?” Vi asks. 

You force a steady inhale. “I thought that you didn’t want to be friends with me. I grew up thinking you secretly hated me.” Suddenly the immediate chemistry between you two in the ring starts to make sense. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? When I saw you again I thought that you wouldn’t remember—”

Vi shuts up your rambling with a kiss. A dizzying, passionate kiss that steals what little air you have left in your lungs. You wrap your legs around Vi’s hips, bringing her closer. She lets you press your pelvises together, groaning in your mouth when you start to move. Her hips move in sync with yours, grinding against your heated core with fervor. 

Vi breaks the kiss but doesn’t stop the movement of her hips. “I thought about you every night since our first fight.” You let out sharp gasps when her hands return to your chest. “When I saw you in the stands, I wanted to drag you to the bathrooms and fuck you against the sink” Her hands finds your hips and presses you down to her pubic bone, hard enough to make you arch into her with a whine. “Let me have you. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“Do it,” you say, your voice growing hoarse, “take me. I’ll be yours.”

There’s the unspoken meaning behind that declaration. A line that separates you two, once crossed it can have the power to destroy you from the inside out. You don’t seem to realize the weight of what you’re saying. Vi knows her mind is still conflicted on Caitlyn. She can’t bring herself to commit to hating her, but she can’t deny the toll it’s taken on her mind. Poisoning her. With you, the pain recedes, forgotten and pushed away. A distraction. A damn good one. 

When Vi kisses you again, she remembers all of the reasons why she was so drawn to you. You were more than just a pretty girl that she admired from afar. Her antithesis. Should she accept your invitation, wholeheartedly, you will have the power to be a weapon of her undoing. Vi should be scared of that. Not too long ago she poured her heart and bled for someone who ultimately discarded her. 

But then you moan out Vi’s name—breathy and desperate. A longing to rewrite your shared past between each kiss. A call to action. To finally answer one of Vi’s biggest what if? 

Vi runs past that separation between you two. Just for tonight, she promises weakly. 

In her haste to get your pants off your body, she snaps the button of your jeans and yanks the garment off along with your soaked panties. Her fingers run along your slit, teasing your entrance with the pad of her finger. 

“Please!”

Vi slides her middle finger down to the knuckle, curving ever so slightly. You jerk into her hand and Vi knows she’s found your weakest point. It’s like her fingers were made your pussy. She gives an experimental press of her finger, slowly building up a steady pace. Your tough demeanor chipping away bit by bit with each drag of her finger. 

You’re panting heavily. The squelching sound of your wet cunt fills the space between your bodies. Vi sets a moderate pace, enough to elicit moans, but not enough to satisfy. Vi must’ve seen the look on your face. 

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Her hand moves a touch faster, but you’re so wound up that any difference makes you cry out. “That’s it—that’s my girl.”

 A steady ache builds in your core at the name. You pull needlessly against the tight restraints, hoping that one more tug would be enough to free your hands. You want to touch her, to bring her closer to you bodies and fuck you properly. 

Vi laughs at your struggle. “Too much for you? Should I slow down?”

You shake your head vehemently. “More…give—fuck, give me more Vi. Need you…need more of you!”

The moment you feel her lips on yours, you also feel the addition of another finger deep in your cunt. The effect is immediate. Vi could barely kiss you with how loudly you’re moaning; jaw hung open, head thrown back, and your hips furiously meeting her fingers. She grabs your open jaw and forces you to look at her. Vi’s spit hits the back of your throat. When she sees you swallow—mouth closing and throat squeezing—she lets out a string of curses. 

A third finger makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your thighs seize up and your chest tightens. You’re so, so close. You need something more. Just one more push and you’ll fall off the edge. 

As if Vi could read your mind, her hand leaves your face, pressing below your belly button, right where her fingers meet the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. The pressure from her other hand combined with her feverish fucking was enough make you cum—hard. Your body twists in on itself, trying to ride out the pulses of pure feeling. Blinding pleasure rips through your body like lightning, hitting you fast and leaving behind a burn. Your cum rushes out of you like a dam, coating Vi’s fingers. 

“That’s it baby. You’re taking me so well. My good girl,” Vi coos, slowing down in her assault against your cunt. 

It takes a minute to come down from your euphoria. Your body slowly relaxes as Vi eases her fingers out of you. You can’t help but whine at the loss. 

In an executive act of mercy, Vi tugs at the belt restraint, freeing your sore wrists. 

You feel warm. A hot, pulsating nerve that’s been rubbed raw. Never in your life had sex ever been that good. You don’t even think you’re even capable of making yourself cum that hard. Vi collapses beside you, pulling you to her chest. You breathe in the scent of her; sweat, musk, and faint traces of leather. 

“We’ll shower tomorrow,” she mumbles into the side of your head. Exhausted. 

You feel the lull of sleep start to take you too. You bury your face into her neck, letting yourself trace patterns along the muscles of her back. Her strong arms wrap around your body, caging you with her warmth. Her soft, bruised, scarred skin enveloping you. You lay like this for a while, listening to the slow staccato of her heartbeat. Vi’s breath evens out and soon she’s asleep in your arms. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep as well. 

— — —

At some point during the night, Vi twists away from you. You only notice when her voice starts to pull you awake. 

“Didn’t…didn’t mean to,” she whispers. Her face is scrunched up, pained. 

You’re unsure what the protocol is for someone having a bad dream. You want to smooth your thumb over her pinched brows, kissing her frown until her imaginary worries go away. But if Vi wakes up, would she talk about it? You’re paralyzed by the decision, you opt to simply stay on your side of the bed. If it gets too much then you’ll wake her. In the meantime, you’ll try to ignore her sleep talking. You only have the weekend off after all. Soon, Parvata will be knocking on your door, demanding for your services. The thought alone makes you exhausted. 

The bed shifts again and this time Vi’s arms find you. This time, your back is pressed against her chest, her lips ghosting over the top of your shoulder. 

“Sorry…” she murmurs into your skin. A longing spelled with each syllable. “Love…I love you.”

You’re frozen. Her arms around your waist feel like dead weight. A sour feeling is felt in your gut; the feeling that whatever comes out of her mouth will haunt you. 

Vi’s mouth moves again. Sounds pressed against your skin, trying to be let out. Then, you hear it. As clear as Piltover’s skies.

“Caitlyn.”

You felt your heart stop in its tracks. It’s the clearest word that came out of her ramblings. With it comes a shock of clarity that makes the room feel ten degrees colder. Caitlyn…why does that name seem familiar?

Kiramman. Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi’s supposed enforcer buddy before she would up in the pits. Responsible for the removal of one of the chem-barons and their followers. Not much is known about what exactly went wrong to have Vi end up back in Zaun. But one thing was clear. 

Vi was using you. To distract herself from the Kiramman heir. It wasn’t a desire to reconnect with you that led her to follow you. Seems as though sex was a better option than shitty liquor. You feel Vi nuzzle against your skin and you fight the urge to recoil from her touch. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim to her. She wasn’t your girlfriend. You didn’t establish any boundaries or attach any labels to what you were. She never accepted your invitation after all—”I’ll be yours”. 

You slowly maneuver your body until you’re facing Vi. She’s still sound asleep. The hard crease in the middle of her brows is gone, looking  more relaxed than you’ve seen her. You shouldn’t feel jealous. Vi isn’t your partner. And now you have confirmation that she most likely never will be. 

So you cling onto her. Pretending that just for tonight, she’s actually yours. 

[carmensbrain]

MORE JAYCE!! anything is fine! Use ur imagination 😫🤤🫶

I’m always looking for an excuse to write about my male wife ⸜( ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ 🎀

Once more to see you - Jayce talis

Contains: Arcane survivor! Jayce x reader

Rating: E for every brain

Warnings: none

Author’s note: this is short but I’m about to eat thanksgiving dinner so here’s a snack for you brains

Fic starts below the cut!

Jayce has always been a simple man whose only solace after a long day of juggling council responsibilities and hextech work is being able to come home to fall into his lovers arms, but after everything that’s happened in the last year he couldn’t be more desperate for the chance just to see you.

His body ached every time he even thought about getting up but he had to find you, pulling himself through the corridors of your family’s estate to stumble into the bedroom you two shared. He fumbles with the door knob before finally pushing the door open, the warm scent of your lingering perfume washing over him.

“[name]?” He called out, voice gruff and broken as he pushed himself further into the main area of your room. His voice sent a shiver down you spine, months of searching for him tirelessly had finally come to an end and neither of you could fully accept it.

When you had come out of your bathroom to confirm it was truly him his eyes had already begun to well with tears. He looked like a shell of the man you knew, facial hair and scars coating his once clean skin, tailored suit torn to shreds, hair messily falling on his face, despite all of this you could still see your lover behind all of the blood and dirt that coated his skin.

Before you could get a word out he had pressed his lips to yours, arms wrapping around your waist. His touch was rough, hands shaking as he holds you close as if you’d vanish into thin air if he let you go. Your hands come up to hold his face, beard scratching against your palms.

After what might’ve been forever he pulls away from the kiss, breath shaky as he clings to you once more, face buried in your shoulder. You carefully led him to the bed, letting him rest on your chest.

“Do you want talk about it?” You ask, keeping your voice soft and quiet as your hands gently detangle his messy hair.

“No…” He mumbles, shoulders relaxing as tension slowly simmers out from the muscles on his back.

“I just want to lay here” His voice is exhausted, he hadn’t slept in weeks and at this point he wasn’t sure if he could anymore. The warmth of your touch was the only thing that calmed the images flashing in his head every time he shut his eyes.

“Just for now…”