#Vander x GN!reader

[whoreforsexymen]

Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭

Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.

And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.

But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.

Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎

(GIF cred: me <3)

Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader

Pronouns: No pronouns used.

Rating: Slight NSFW because Reader and Vander are presumably half naked in bed, so 18+!! MDNI !! You WILL be blocked

Word Count: 524

Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.

Tags: A little spicy, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance

Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍

“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.

You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.

“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.

His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.

“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.

You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.

“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.

You can’t help but laugh at his wit.

“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.

He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.

“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ "You Can Have My Last Name" — Zaunites x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: I'm pretty sure this idea is like. Everywhere by now. But people from Zaun/the Undercity don't really have surnames so plot is basically what if Reader offered up theirs. Simple and cute type stuff idk I wanted some fluff

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Viktor

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Mentioned the nature of his lack of a surname rather casually, while venting about how Piltover kept trying to say his paperwork was 'invalid' for lacking one. He explained to you that it was common for anyone in the Undercity, and that most from there didn't have one at all

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More confused than anything when you offer yours, or he at least pretends to be. The truth is the idea flustered him coming from you so casually, so to cope he acted like he didn't know what you were implying

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Thinks about it for several weeks afterwards, subconsciously mulls over how your name would sound paired with his in his mind. He writes it down a few times too, just to test it out. Finds out pretty quickly that he likes the sound of it

Vi

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't miss the implications a bit, as a matter of fact she IMMEDIATELY flirts back by asking if you'd really give your precious name to any pretty face you come across

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Teases you about the idea relentlessly any time the subject of names is brought up, or in any way she can really. Often makes jokes that she's gonna make a fool out of the name

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Secretly actually very honored that you'd offer it up to her but she doesn't feel like admitting that yet, you're gonna have to deal with jokey teasing for a good while first

Jinx

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Snarkily says she wouldn't be a good fit for your name to hide the fact that she really doesn't think she deserves to be considered a part of your life

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ohh, you might be crazy too if you're gonna give it to someone like me"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Feels kinda bad that she wouldn't have anything like that to offer you in return. She loves the idea of having a family to belong to again, but her own self doubt gets in the way of admitting that to herself

Ekko

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh- uh- what??"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genuinely very caught off guard. Not at all in a bad way, he just doesn't know how to respond to such a sudden and blatant flirt. Quickly tries to think of something to say as you're chuckling and reassuring him it's okay

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He ends up telling you through his fluster that it's not really gonna bring you any good to proudly announce a Zaunite as part of your family name. But in the end, he gives you a soft smile and says it's a nice thought he isn't against

Sevika

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Is that so?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More keen on the idea than you'd might think- tells you it wouldn't be such a bad idea, but you'd have to prove it's a name worth adopting first, teasingly daring you to make it a name you'd both be proud to wear

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Tells you to reconsider once or twice, but mostly because she loves seeing how determined you get when defending her right to bear your name

Silco

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't pick up on what you're implying at first at all, simply tells you that isn't how that works and you're talking nonsense

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You have to prod into the implications a little more to get him to finally register what you're actually trying to say. It takes him a moment, but when he catches on he falls silent for a while

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ends up mildly tripping over his words while telling you he's not really someone to give such an important thing to, and that you should get a better head on your shoulders and keep focused (largely to hide the fact that the offer genuinely caught him off guard. He's never gonna stop thinking about it)

Vander

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Actually not against the idea. Seems to chuckle it off at first, but once he realizes you're being serious he fondly mulls over the idea with you while cleaning up for the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Recognizes the idea might not be very feasible, but hey, what's wrong with having hope? Everyone's allowed to have dreams to chase, right? No harm in chasing this one together, then

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Promises that once things are settled down enough that he'll try to make it happen with you. As long as the kids he takes in are all alright with you, of course

[zevrra]

thinking about (s1)vander today…how he probably loves cuddling. especially in the mornings when he first wakes up, still half asleep, grumbling a ‘good morning’ while pulling you into his arms even tighter.

or how he probably loves it even more when you wake him up with morning head. pulling him out of whatever dream he was having, just to find you under the covers, kissing down his stomach. following his happy trail like a guide to what you truly desire. he’d lovingly place a large hand on the top of your head, caressing you gently as you strip him of his boxers and get a full view of his morning wood. listening to him groan the second your hand wraps around his thick shaft. you press kisses into the angry red tip, glancing up through your lashes at the disheveled man.

“just couldn’t wait, huh?” he’d grumble but not as a complaint; he would never complain about this. not when your mouth replaces your hand and wraps around the head of his cöck. not when you looked so pretty doing it too. he’d simply pull your hair back and watch with an intense gaze as you did what you wanted.

oh and how he fucking loves it when you get all messy and sloppy with your blöwjöbs. turns him on to no extent when you make sweet, pitiful noises while gagging along his shaft. spit dripping down your chin as tears cling to your cheeks. he’d grunt and groan softly at your handiwork, never taking his gaze off of you. all it does is feed the fire burning in his lower abdomen.

[prettybouquets]

𝓘gnited⊹₊⋆｡°✩

gn!reader x vander

request; heyyy I saw ur requests were open! I was wondering if you could do enemies to friends to lovers with vander x Reader some time after the revolution happy ending pleasee😝💗💗

word count; 1.4k

cw; nothing

a/n; im lwk not sure if i like this since ive never written for vander before so give me tips if needed!! <3

The Last Drop was alive with its usual hum of activity. The murmur of conversation, the occasional clink of glasses, and the low thrum of music created an atmosphere that was both lively and strangely intimate. You sat at your usual spot near the corner, nursing a drink as your eyes followed Vander’s every move behind the bar.

He worked with a practiced ease, his broad shoulders flexing as he reached for bottles and wiped down the counter. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing forearms corded with muscle that moved in a hypnotic rhythm. Every now and then, a patron would call for his attention, and he’d flash them a gruff smile, his voice carrying over the din with a warmth that contrasted his rough exterior.

You weren’t sure when it started—this fascination with the man who had once been your enemy. During the revolution, you had been on opposing sides, clashing in ideals and, on more than one occasion, with fists. But time had a way of dulling old grudges, and now here you were, sharing the same space, the same air, watching him with a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“You keep staring like that, people might think you’re planning something,” came a voice beside you.

Startled, you turned to find Vander standing there, a smirk tugging at his lips. He placed a freshly poured drink in front of you, his hand lingering just long enough for you to notice the faint scars along his knuckles.

“Just admiring your craftsmanship,” you said, attempting to sound casual.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Craftsmanship, huh? Didn’t think pouring drinks was much of an art.”

“You make it look like one,” you replied, your tone light but sincere.

For a moment, his expression softened, and the tension that always seemed to linger between you eased. But it didn’t last long. Vander leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.

“Careful, or I might think you’re trying to butter me up.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to let him see you flustered. “And what if I am?” you shot back, meeting his gaze head-on.

His eyes searched yours, the playful glint in them fading into something more intense. The noise of the bar seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent standoff. You could feel the tension crackling in the air between you, unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings hanging in the balance.

“I’ll be back,” Vander said finally, pulling away and returning to the bar.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. As he resumed his work, you noticed how his movements seemed a little less steady, as though your exchange had affected him as much as it had you. It was a small victory, but it was enough to make you smile.

The evening wore on, and the crowd began to thin. You stayed, unable to tear yourself away. Vander noticed, of course. He always noticed. When the last patron finally left, and the bar was cloaked in a quiet stillness, he approached you again, this time with a bottle and two glasses.

“Figured you might like something stronger,” he said, pouring a generous measure into each glass.

You accepted the drink, the warmth of his presence as he sat beside you making your pulse quicken. “Didn’t think you’d have time for me,” you teased.

“There’s always time for you,” he replied, his tone serious enough to make your breath catch.

You looked at him, really looked at him. The weight of his responsibilities, the scars of his past, the quiet strength that had drawn you to him in the first place—it was all there, written in the lines of his face and the set of his shoulders. And yet, beneath it all, there was a gentleness that he reserved for only a select few. For you.

“I never thought we’d end up here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither did I,” Vander said, his gaze fixed on you. “But I’m glad we did.”

The air between you felt charged again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a quiet, simmering anticipation that made your heart race. Slowly, cautiously, Vander reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the table. His touch was warm, grounding, and it sent a thrill through you.

“I know we’ve both got our demons,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I’d like to see where this goes. If you’re willing.”

You smiled, your fingers curling around his. “I think I’d like that.”

He leaned in then, his movements deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. When his lips met yours, it was soft at first, almost tentative, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. But as the kiss deepened, the tension that had been building between you for so long finally found its release.

When you pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Vander rested his forehead against yours, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his face.

“Guess I should start pouring you drinks more often,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet bar. “As long as I get to watch you do it.”

© prettybouquets 2024. all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, or repost any work as your own.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

SFW only

Oneshots

Sacrifice Reader takes Powder's crystals and hands them over to the enforcers presenting herself as the scapegoat. Being the last kid that Vander had taken in no one would even miss her, right?

Oneshots

Vampire!Vi/Caitlyn/Jinx x gn!reader One scenario for each. When the bloodbank got robbed Caitlyn has nothing to feed on. You're more than willing to share your blood. - blood, blood sucking, petname bunny, kisses -

Oneshots

Vampire!Vi/Caitlyn/Jinx x gn!reader One scenario for each. When you realize you're being stalked by a Vampire you don't see any other way besides confronting them. - blood, blood sucking -

Oneshots

Silco x gn!reader Soft Silco as a dad hours. pure fluff

Silco x fem!reader Silco is late and his girls can't help but worry

Series

Vander x Bartender!Waitress!reader A series of little standalone fics following fem!reader and her relationship with Vander and their kids Warnings at the start of each chapter - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -

Oneshots

Vander x fem!reader When Vander wants to sacrifice himself you realize that you can't let him do it. The kids need him. The lanes need him. - angst, hurt/comfort, abduction, forced drug use, torture, character death -

Vander x fem!reader You have a panic attack, luckily Vander is there to help. - panic attack, explicit violence/gore -

Mother's Day Vander x fem!reader The kids and Vander prepare a surprise for you.

Oneshots

Vampire!Vi/Caitlyn/Jinx x gn!reader One scenario for each. You're bad at fighting and Vi hates injustice. - blood, blood sucking, Vi punches people (surprise), hand/wrist kisses) -

[conretewings]

Don't imagine ducking into the Last Drop about closing time to find it quiet and peaceful for once, the old jukebox still going softly

The oddly inviting scent of old wood, with the faint traces of alcohol, age, and a metallic tinge pulls you further in

Don't imagine looking to see Vander sprawled in a booth, arms across the seat back, his pipe sending wisps of smoke skyward and heavy brow crooked curiously

He rests easily yet powerfully, his posture both vulnerable and intimidating, like a lion or wolf surveying his territory

Those gorgeous steel-blue eyes, the ones you secretly adore, study and entrap you and you find yourself temporarily frozen

"'Aven't seen ya around in a while, love. What brings ya in tonight?"

Don't imagine his voice like honeyed bourbon, deep and smooth but burning through you and sending sparks flying up your spine

You stutter out an apology for coming in so late and whirl to leave but-

"Ey! Where ya goin'? I'm still open, it's pourin' out, and 'sides, I could use the company."

You thank him, trying not to stare as he braces his hands on his knees to stand, the thick muscles of his arms on display

He goes around behind the bar to grab a bottle and two glasses, then returns to the booth, and to your surprise gestures for you to join him

Time passes easily, too quickly as you treasure this, chatting and sipping the liquor, some sort of high-quality stuff, the kind that goes right to your veins

Those veins that are now on fire with how he's gazing at you

When did you two move so close?

Don't imagine him casually putting an arm around you to pull you in fully

"It's gettin' chilly. Why don't ya come 'ere?"

Definitely don't imagine him giving you a devious grin, or reaching out to gently grasp your chin, his large thumb swiping your bottom lip

You feel like you'll burst into flame at this point and you've never wanted something more than the promise those eyes held

"Ya know...I've always liked ya. Was kinda hopin' we'd get a chance like this..."

Don't imagine resting your hand on his face, your heart hammering like a wild thing as you silently all but beg him to do it

Don't imagine his lips meeting yours, that flame roaring to life and you inhale sharply

He tastes faintly of bitter tobacco and the sweet liquor and you've never had something so wonderfully intoxicating

Don't imagine tangling your fingers in his thick, surprisingly soft hair, involuntarily letting out a soft groan as his tongue swipes across yours

He pulls back, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other grasps your thigh, a downright devilish grin on his slightly flushed face

And definitely don't imagine him murmuring, "Well then...now that we're on the same page, where this goes t'night is up to you, darlin'..."

@immortalbumblebee @archerofthemists @barbersjoy @band--psycho @vander-affectionate

[ijwrsmff]

Yandere! Vander x Reader

A request I got in DMs =~= It took a while to get to it, but here's the second story of the day! I got inspiration and knocked it out. I gotta head to work soon, but I hope y'all enjoy it!

Tw; swearing and yandere-typical behavior.

Word Count: 1,297

You didn’t think anything was wrong…at first. You were a good bit older than Vander’s kids, and they became like your own as well. They were a rowdy bunch, and you considered yourself just as much of a cool parent as Vander was. Although he could be much more strict than you. Never wanting the kids to “risk” their lives or legal action when going topside. 

After a while, you began to go with them. Just in case things went awry. Vander wasn’t aware of it for a while, but when he found out he was livid. It was a side of him you rarely saw. Initially, you thought he was mad at you for taking the kids on a risky mission to help him afford their living expenses, but no. He was mad for something entirely different. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” It wasn’t an angry yell, but rather a venomous mutter. “You’re risking your life for a few coins, don’t you know how dangerous that is?” He walked closer, and you stood your ground. You would defend those kids, and yourself against him. It wasn’t the first time, but it still made you anxious. But in your heart, you knew he’d never hurt you or those kids. 

“How else are we gonna pay for everything? It’s not like running this place is cheap, we know you’ve been struggling with it.” As he walked towards you, his look became even more…unhinged. “We’re just trying to help, and I wouldn’t ever let those kids hurt at the cost of my own life.” You decided to play his game and take a step closer, but you were completely caught off guard by his next action. 

He grabbed you, not roughly by any means, but enough to keep you in place. He was stronger than you, by far. You knew no matter how much you struggled he would only let you go when he allowed it. “That’s the whole problem. You baby them too much, they can take care of themselves. Especially Vi. She’s the oldest, she’ll make sure they don’t get hurt. You, on the other hand, are weak. Sensitive, and naive.” He leaned forward and his look turned softer. “You’re better off to stay here with me.” 

You glared at him, and ended up trying to take a step back to get some space, but he didn’t let you. “Vander, they’re still kids. If you’re not going to go with them to make sure they’re safe then I will.” Your gaze almost faltered, but you tried to show your determination in that look. Even as you could see the wheels turning in his mind, you tried to show you were brave enough to stick up to him. 

“No…no you won’t.” His voice was soft, and it was clear he came to a decision. Without another word from him, he dragged you to the basement of your home, where you stayed with him and the kids. “I figured something like this might happen eventually…” Despite your words of protest there would be no way to stop him with how strong he was. 

The basement was a place no one was allowed, and only Vander had the key. Not that anyone could get in or out without help from several, with how big and heavy the door was. It was almost like a vault, and you and the kids had always thought it was a place where he kept the finds that wouldn’t sell, or a place with items of significant value to Vander. Even now…that might still be what it’s used for. 

But those thoughts were halted when he opened the door to find a large room. A fridge, kitchen, bed, closet, and desk. “Vander…what is this?” You looked around the room, which was almost like its own home although in a single room and looked at him in confusion. He wasn’t…going to keep you here…right? “Vander?” He wasn’t answering, but his eyes looked full of resolve. 

He thought long and hard about his words, and eventually dragged you to the bed and shoved you down. “Don’t worry…you’ll be safe here. No risk, no threats, any of it. You have everything you need. Food and water, a bed to sleep in, and most importantly…me.” He smiled softly, and eventually headed back to the door. “I’ll come see you every day, I promise. You’ll love it here. It’s not much, but it’s the best I have.” 

He opened the door, and you screamed as you rushed at him. “Vander you bastard! Let me out of here!” As you swung, he turned around and grabbed your fist. His look was calculating, and you couldn’t make out what he was thinking. “The kids will know something is up! They won’t just let you trap me here like this!” It was the best defense you had, but he didn’t seem to care. 

“People go missing in the lanes all the time. They’ll be sad you’re gone, but they’ll be okay. They’re tough kids.” He grabbed both your arms, preventing you from screaming again and said, “I can take care of them. Just as I can take care of you. I can even teach you to cook some of the dishes you like me to make for you.” He smiled for half a second before going to his usual cold expression. 

“Vander you’re crazy! You can’t just keep me here like some sort of prisoner!” You kicked him, but he wasn’t phased. Within seconds, you were on the ground several feet away from the door. “LET ME OUT OF HERE!” You rushed at him once more, but he was already out of the door as you banged against it. 

Within days, your will was nearly broken. He came in, talked to you and left. Every night. You became silent at some point, and simply did whatever he said. Ate when he told you to, slept when he told you to, anything. Hoping that eventually, he would let you see the kids again. He talked about them a lot, how they would still go topside to get some extra coins. How they missed you, but grew closer to them when they realized they could lose him too. 

After several days, of which you lost count, you were completely broken. When he entered, your eyes were glazed over. He smiled, and touched your cheek. You didn’t even flinch anymore. He talked to you, or rather at you, but you couldn’t form words. Those kids…they missed you. You considered them your own. And Vander…you loved him. You did before, but did you now? It was hard to say. 

Before he left, you walked up to him as he approached the door. The only words you could think to say, sat on your tongue as he looked back at you. This was the first time you’d willingly touched him without him prompting it. He turned, and smiled, but the smile was small when he heard your words…

“Vander…Please…Let me go.” Tears had fallen for days and days prior, there were none left for you to shed. Broken was the only word that seemed fitting of you. And even as he replied, you couldn’t find it in you to cry, or scream, or do anything, really. 

“Not before…not now…not ever.” He turned and kissed the top of your head, and left. 

This was your life now. Sitting alone, your only contact with another living soul being from the man you loved. In some form or another. He was all you needed…he was all you wanted. Sitting and waiting for him to come back, didn’t seem so bad. He loved you so much he couldn’t bear to let you go. And maybe…just maybe…

You didn’t want him to. 

[waywardsou2]

Just letting y'all know I write...I write x reader and ships

So if y'all are looking for arcane content...hit a home boy up

That is all

[nausicaaandhermouth]

A Kiss For Loyalty

masterlist

young!silco x gn!reader [1.2k][AO3]

summary: You find him after the attack on the bridge, and you're left to figure out how to tread the fragile state of him.

tags: young silco, a few hours after vander tries to drown him, angst, established relationship, hurt silco, not betad

a/n: mid-lecture we were looking at photos of gash wounds and i couldn't help but think of young silco's face fresh after the drowning, so ofc i had to write a comfort fic for him. kinda comfort. it's mostly angst.

Vander couldn’t look you in the eye, couldn’t form a single word. And at first, worry was what overtook you—Silco hadn’t survived, lost in the fight. But the more you looked at the larger man who had returned, the more you recognised something else: the aftereffect when he’d had too much to drink, had raised his voice, had felt guilty. Regret.

You find Silco in your bedroom, curled up on the worn mattress that had held you both some countless nights. It had overheard the visions for your new nation, the sloppy passion of drunken evenings, the quiet rise and fall of breaths during winter. Now it’s witnessing something new.

You’ve never heard Silco cry. Your bedroom shrinks at the sound of it, as if the corners darken and round themselves to hold and hush him. It’s a sharp sting, an undeniably pained cry bleeding into his palm, cupped around his mouth.

When you approach, you’re silent—assessing, investigating, worrying if this isn’t something you can fix. He’s never been so evidently broken. You’re not sure whether it’s about Vander or at the failure of their uprising, both of which had taken a large portion of his heart.

“Silco?” you whisper, taking another step forward.

“Don’t,” he manages, his sobs becoming quieter, but affecting his breath, bubbling out of him in squeaks and chokes. “Please,”

You shake your head, keeping your ground but keeping your eyes on him. He’s refusing to remove his reddened hands from his face, his hair curtaining over his left side, black, wet strings.

“You’re hurt,” you furrow, focusing on the blood down his hand. You rush forward, chest attempting to wrangle in a frenzied heart. “Show me, hey, S—”

“Stop!” he inches away from you, a childlike recoil that makes you freeze.

It’s a foreign behaviour, a desperation he’s never worn, never come close to mimicking. As far as you’ve known him he’s been the opposite. Even in pain, he stitched together a composure so convincing it made others doubt he could ever truly feel the hurt he was raised around.

You suppose that it’s something he’s worked on, refined throughout the years after taking on the responsibility of becoming Zaun’s face, alongside Vander. His ideologies had spilled straight from his heart into your ear. You understood why he worked so hard to maintain a strong face.

That man was gone; he hadn't entered the room this time.

He’s hiding, you see, shielding his face from you. This, you understand, is something he thinks may spare you from even a fraction of the pain he must be feeling. He’s always been so. To hoard the suffering and smile.

“You don’t want me to see you?” you ask, kneeling by the bed and retracting your hands.

Silco doesn’t answer, the chokes of suppressed sobs the only sound from him.

“It’s alright,” with a shake of your head, you turn around, facing the other way and leaning against the bed. “I don’t have to see you. Just… just talk to me,”

You wait a beat, then another, waiting for his voice, willing his voice to regard you again. Anything with a meaning that you could warp into a sign of hope.

“Please,” you add. It’s unintentionally desperate, pleading, giving him the power of controlling where the conversation goes. Something he needs, you suppose, something he’s certain is still predictable.

You hear a sharp breath behind you, then the shuffle of your bedsheets. Your eyes slide the farthest they can without turning your head, attempting to see any glimpse of him.

Then his hand enters your periphery, pale skin against scarlet, fingers twitching and shaking as his forearm rests on your shoulder.

You take gentle hold of his hand, turning it this way and that in search for wounds. But nothing. “Who…” your breath escapes, “Is this your blood?”

“Yes,” he responds, a word that pricks at your lungs sharply.

You see the moment clearer now. A wound so deep that to reveal it is its own pain.

You recall Vander’s face. The shame that distorted his features, how ugly it becomes as you try to piece together the fragmented pieces. 

“Vander did something,” you surmise. Your breath quickens, a sneer creating brackets around your flared nostrils. “Did Vander do something?”

You feel Silco’s breath near the top of your head, but before you’re able to turn, a weight settles over you. Momentarily, you hold, letting the firmness of his muscles process on your body, around your shoulders, his other arm snaking over your bones and holding you backwards to him.

You hear his soft sniffs over your head and slightly to one side, the bone of his cheek pressing against your crown.

There it is again. It’s a spear through your body, the sound of him. It strikes a fissure along your lungs, each sudden inhale a crack veining in your airways, each tremoring breath he takes an earthquake on your skull. Vander, what have you done?

You take his hand and hold it to your cheek, the cool back of his hand against the warm apple of your face. You interlace your fingers, a familiar practice, just as fluid as the locking of legs in the night, or the pressing of palms for a prayer.

Next was the chaste kiss on his index knuckle, for loyalty. Then on the middle knuckle, for liberty. Another on the ring knuckle, for luck. And lastly, a kiss on the pinky knuckle, for love.

It was a silent conversation he and you had made, meeting mouth to bone always easier than devoting a voice to each word.

His other hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing your arm upwards and over your head, your own knuckles meeting his familiar lips. But they tremble.

He breathes a kiss, gentle, on your index knuckle, starting, then failing. His breath falls jagged on your skin.

For a moment he restarts, the warmth of his air hovering over your knuckle. But again he fails.

Your frown deepens. Even more so when he moves your hand and skips to your pinky knuckle, the only promise fulfilled.

“How bad is it?” your voice slightly muffles against his hand near your mouth.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “At the… we were at the river, he—” he grips your hand slightly tighter.

“It’s still hurting?”

His clothes shuffle. “Yeah,”

“Let me look?”

Silence.

You start to think he’ll reject you again, not yet prepared to face you in whatever shape Vander had left him. But he loosens his arm around your shoulders and moves away, his presence at your back fading.

Your other hand remains in his, the anchor, as you shift on the floor and turn.

You look up and your eyes meet. No. One eye meets yours.

You sense his panic by how the one remaining blue jumps between your eyes, tips of his mouth downwards. He brushes aside his wet hair.

The left side of his face had been marred, a trench of exposed muscle, skin, and blood bared at you. The blackened sclera is haunting, a flame moving in tandem with the watery blue of his other eye.

You’re more than certain there’s nothing but indignation gushing through your veins. Yet, Silco remains beautiful. You realised a long time ago it was difficult for him to not be, no matter the state of him. And still now, left eye diseased with the molten of betrayal, mouth frowned by grief, fear in his good eye.

“It’s not over,” he whispers, leaning forward as you reach up and cup the unmarred side of him. “We’ll take back Zaun,”

There he is. No man, no river, could ever kill him. “You’ll show them,” you press a kiss to his index knuckle.

[whoreforsexymen]

Strong Drinks & Broken Links 🍺⛓️‍💥 CH. 1

Gray Hair & The Absence of Care

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Pronouns: GN!Reader (for now— please see this post for details)

Rating: SFW, except for strong language and consumption of alcohol (drink responsibly, people). Reader is old enough to drink, despite what Vander thinks.

Word count: 4.7k (the rest are going to be far longer, so be prepared)

Tags: Slowburn, Reader is implied to be 21+ years old, Age Gap, Heavy Use Of Language/Alcohol, Reader might be a little too angsty (I’m sorry), Tense Situations, Vander being the caring mentor type he is but in a poorly thought out way.

Notes: I don't think I've ever posted a fic on this account. So, welcome to my only outlet for the brain rotting obsession I have for this man. ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT SEASON 2, OR I'LL FIGHT YOU.

((If any of you want to be added to a tag list for this fic, please lmk!! Ask box is also open for requests/suggestions/comments 🤍 feedback is always appreciated 🤍🤍))

It had been a terrible night so far.

Not only had you been shortchanged more than two-thirds of the agreed-upon pay for a job you’d completed—but that paltry sum had quickly slipped from your grasp entirely, taken by a gang of thugs.

You had to give the undercity credit—it had an uncanny ability to remain a perpetual cesspool. You’d managed to take down two of the muggers, but the third—the one who’d made off with your coin—had slipped away while you were dealing with the others. Just your luck. The payout had been pathetic to begin with, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of failure. It looked like you’d be scraping the dregs of the city to find enough for your next meal, yet again. 

That is, unless you decide to drink your dinner. As well as your sorrows, in the process. The idea struck you as you neared the central bar of the undercity, still sulking as you were making your way back to the shack you called home. The Last Drop. A name that said it all. If there was any place where the undercitizens of Zaun gathered, it was here. No doubt the owner had to be the wealthiest man in the area, though that wasn’t exactly saying much in a place like this. 

You made your decision. A warm meal might be out of reach, but liquor could suffice—if you drank heavily enough, that is. Or at the very least, it might dull the sting of the night’s failures. 

The bar was an eyesore, a hulking building among the rundown structures of The Lanes. A garish neon sign blinked above the entrance, buzzing like an angry fly, casting sickly light on the grime-streaked pavement. Inside, the din of loud music and the clatter of drunken chatter spilled into the street. It was a haven for folks with any background, no matter if they sought business or pleasure within its walls. 

You pushed through the door, noting how no one even bothered to glance your way. That was how you liked it—under the radar, always out of sight, always out of the mind of untrustworthy beings. 

Then again, you didn’t trust anyone anyway.

You duck and weave through the crowd of rowdy patrons, eyes scanning the bar for a table or booth at which you could hunker down and nurse your drink in peace. Your frown deepens beneath the hood of your jacket when you come up empty-handed. Typical. No matter, though. You’d have to order at the bar anyway, regardless of where you sat.

It’s when your eyes settle in the direction of the bar that luck seems to briefly shine upon you—there’s an empty stool. Without hesitation, you make a beeline for it, not wanting some drunken fool to snag it before you could. You practically dive-bomb onto the seat, landing with a small grunt, air knocked from your lungs. After the night you’ve had, this stool feels like an oasis, despite the new absence of oxygen beneath your chest. You settle into it like it’s the only thing left in the world, clutching the seat as if someone might try to commandeer it if you let your guard down low enough.  

The realization dawns on you that, in order to get a drink, you’d have to interact with the bartender. You hold that fact in high regard with contempt. 

Chit-chat? Not tonight– or truthfully any night. You’ve never been crazy about casual conversation. The events of the evening have only soured your mood further, and the last thing you need is some eager bartender trying to make nice. Normally, you’d avoid sitting at the bar for that reason alone, yet here you are.

Thankfully, the bartender pays you no mind, his attention fully set on the patron he’s currently tending to. That is, until said patron leaves and the barman finally turns to you, his new source of focus. 

The sheer momentum with which you rolled your eyes almost knocked you out of your seat. 

“Welcome to The Last Drop. What’ll it be?” His voice is deep, and heavy, garnering a thick accent that clung to every word. 

He’s an older man, though exactly how old is hard for you to pin down. His hair’s gray, his eyes tired, the lines of age having etched themselves into his face long ago. However, there’s something youthful about him—something that makes it hard to tell whether he’s an old-looking thirty or a young-ish fifty. Frankly, you don’t care enough to continue your mental evaluation of him. Age shouldn’t matter when it comes to bartenders. They either know how to pour a decent drink, or they don’t.

You don’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Something strong.” You mutter, your voice mostly flat, but with a hint of irritation that danced along the edge.

The bartender scratches at his graying beard, his gaze thoughtful as he considers your request. You grit your teeth, hoping he won’t try to scam you by giving you something weak and overpriced, just to line his pockets with your hard-earned coin. You’d seen it happen to others, and you’d be a damned fool if you let it happen to you. 

The bartender studies your face, or at least what he can see of it beneath your hood, before his gaze shifts to the shelves beneath the counter. After a moment of deliberation, he selects a bottle with thoughtful ease, pulling the cork out with his teeth. With his free hand, he grabs a tin cup and pours in a copious amount, sliding it toward you with a swift flick of his wrist. You’d almost call it a generous decision on his part, considering the fact that you hadn’t even paid your dues first. His choice to serve you first goes a long way in easing your suspicion, at least for the moment.

You dig into your pocket, retrieving the few gold coins you’d managed to hold onto when dealing with the aforementioned thugs. They weren’t enough for one measly meal, but they were enough for a drink or two– or three, but who’s going to keep track? Certainly anyone but you. You’d only stop once your pitiful wealth ran out. Without a second thought, you toss them onto the bar top, making it unspokenly clear to the bartender that you were hoping for much more than just this one drink. You grab the cup, lifting it to your lips and downing the lot of it in one quick, greedy gulp. The warmth spreads through you almost immediately, and it feels like a small victory over the obnoxious turn your night has taken.

The bartender watches this with a faint chuckle before you slam the empty cup back down onto the counter. He takes it without a word, refills the tiny tin chalice, and begins passing it back. Without missing a beat, you grab the cup from him, draining the contents in a second gulp before he even has time to set the bottle back down. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” he remarks casually, his voice low and steady as he finally reunites the bottom of the bottle with the countertop. 

“I’ve seen a lot of things.” you mutter, your eyes fixed on anything but him. The words come out flat, though there’s a weight to them. It’s more than just a refusal to talk—it’s a refusal to let anyone look too closely. You avoid eye contact like the plague. Eyes, after all, are the windows to the soul. And letting someone peer through them is a risky gamble you’ve never been apt to take.

You were clearly beyond uninterested in the beginnings of this conversation. The lack of willingness to be friendly reigning clear as you shove the tin cup towards him yet again. He grabs the empty cup and refills it once more—your third drink in under five minutes. He seems reluctant to hand it back. He maintains a grip on it as he eyes you again, this time much more thoughtful.

“Care to chat about it? Might be healthier than drownin’ yourself at the bottom of a bottle,” he offers plainly.

You give him a sidelong glance, not even trying to mask the edge in your voice. 

“Doesn’t sound like a good business strategy, encouraging your paying customers to cut back.” You fire back quickly, the sharpness of your words outpacing even your annoyance at the unwanted conversation.

The bartender chuckles again, a spark of amusement flickering in his tired eyes. There’s a glimmer of understanding in his smile—maybe he’s seen more than a few like you in this dive. Or maybe, he knows in the same fashion as you, that sometimes it’s more palatable to fill the silence with alcohol than with words.

“Fair point, but I’d prefer to keep my patrons alive. Helps me sleep at night, y’know?” The bartender shoots back, his eyes fixed on you, all too curious about what’s hidden beneath your hood. The conversation quickly turns uncomfortable, a painful reminder of why you’ve never liked bartenders—they always talk too much and ask too many personal questions. As far as you’re concerned, they should stick to the charade for the sake of their regulars, and leave all unsuspecting customers alone. 

The momentum of yet another roll of your eyes causes your head to bob ever so slightly— your hood creeping back towards the line of your hair. The new, incredibly subtle, view of your face made the barman clench the cup in his hands with rigor. 

His eyes narrow slightly, the amusement fading from his voice. 

“Where’re your parents, kid?” He asks, his voice low and in demand of an answer. 

The question hits you like a slap, and for a brief second, you find yourself caught off guard. You’re not someone who’s usually thrown by imbecilic remarks from the residents of The Lanes, but this one? It’s different. Not just the audacity of asking such a personal question, but the clear assumption of your age being made so boldly. 

Your head snaps up, and before you can stop yourself, you push your hood back, breaking your own rule about eye contact. Why? Who knows. Today has already gone off the rails, and you’re too far gone to care. The liquor’s sudden grip on your senses began to cloud your judgment, and honestly, it was far from shocking. To be fair, you had asked for something strong… Not to mention having no substantial food in your belly to dilute the potency you sought after. All in all, there was no ignoring how the liquor was starting to pummel you like a brick to the face would. 

You meet his gaze, eyes scanning his face for any sign of what he’s gunning after by asking such a question. But there’s nothing obvious behind those gloomy eyes of his. No clear motive. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to get under your skin or if he’s just another fool with a quick tongue. 

“Rotting in their graves,” you mutter, voice sharp and, in addition, spiteful. 

“Which I’m sure you’ve got one foot in, yourself, Gramps.” You make a mockery of the decades that are clearly stacked against you, hoping to push him back into his corner.

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he practically snorts, running a hand over his silvery beard as he crosses his arms; resting them across his stomach with the casual authority of someone who’s seen it all. He’s not rattled by your quips—no, not in the slightest. 

“How old are you, kid?” His voice is flat now, a hint of something more serious creeping in, though you can’t figure out why. You’re even more unsure now about his intentions. Constantly expecting the worst from people was your lot in life. 

“Too young for you.” You snap back, pushing forward with your usual sharpness, trying to regain some control over this ridiculous conversation. You reach for the cup he had refilled for you, but before you can even graze it, he snatches it away, clicking his tongue like a disappointed parent.

“Tsk, tsk,” he tuts at you, as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I asked how old you were.” he repeats, his voice now devoid of any amusement. 

He watches you carefully, his gaze inspecting your face as if he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know were there.

You roll your eyes, irritation growing, and narrow them at him, unwilling to back down. You can’t tell if he’s probing for something deeper, or if he’s just getting off on making you uncomfortable. Either way, you’re done playing his game.

“Why are you so curious, huh?” you scoff, leaning in and making a bold decision to double down on your irritation. “I’m just another patron here to drown in my sorrows and drink them away. Not to mention, I’m paying for the privilege.” Your words are bold, and with that same boldness, you reach across the bar and rip the cup from his grasp.

You try to bring the drink to your lips, intent on finishing it off. But just as the cup nears your mouth, the bartender’s large, rough hand slips over the opening of the cup like a solar eclipse. 

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing as he sizes you up with a look that could strip paint. In that moment, something clicks in his mind. The defiance in your voice, the way you’re carrying yourself—it all reinforces his suspicion. You’re not old enough to be here. When you walked in, your hood had obscured most of your face. But now that it’s gone, he can see it clearly: you’re just a kid, trying to score some alcohol. The only thing that kept him from throwing you out on your ass, was your cadence. You looked young, and spoke carelessly, but you sounded grown. If you were in fact grown, he’d ease up. 

However, with the way you look—bloodied and bruised, no less—he’s convinced you’re in some kind of trouble. The kind of trouble he doesn’t want being drug through his bar. He doesn’t know where you’ve been, who you’ve pissed off, or what kind of people you run with. But this? This is his bar, and he’s fought too hard to maintain the fragile peace that reigns here. He won’t let you ruin that for him and his loyal patrons by dragging your poor choices in with you. 

“Seems I’ve struck a nerve,” he says, his voice no longer playful but flat and serious. “Either tell me your age, or you’re cut off.”

The room seems to hush around you. The muffled chatter of patrons behind you fades as the bartender’s tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. It’s a quiet threat now, the kind that lets you know exactly how much leverage you have—and how little he’s willing to tolerate.

“You didn’t strike shit,” You hiss. “and I don’t need to answer to shit.” You add. 

The bartender bends over the counter, his face inches from yours. The bitter scent of smoke hangs thick on his breath, hot and rancid, and it presses against your skin like a physical weight. The damp air in the bar swirls around you, brushing your cheeks with an uncomfortable warmth that feels suffocating, as if the room itself is closing in.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll have no problem lettin’ my loyal patrons cut your tongue out for us to hang above the bar.” He says fiercely. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching the eyes of the dozens of patrons who have fallen silent, their conversations and business abruptly halted. It’s clear—they’re waiting for a signal, ready to back up their beloved bartender if things escalate.

“You can call off the cavalry, Gramps. I was just leaving,” you retorted, swiping one of your coins from the counter, as if to refund yourself for the drink you’ve yet to have. You release your grip on the cup, almost slingshotting it backwards from the sheer force you two had each been bestowing upon it. 

“Sit down.” the bartender commands, his voice low and final, as you attempt to abscond. 

You don’t reply, instead moving to shoulder through the row of patrons who are standing like silent sentinels, waiting for the slightest nod from their bar’s gatekeeper. It’s not like you expected them to part, but the way not a single person dares budge makes your blood boil. The crowd might as well be a wall of stone. 

“Sit. Down.” the bartender demands again, his tone sharper this time, a razor edge cutting through the haze of the bar.

You grind your teeth, your patience wearing thin.

“I’ll take my patronage elsewhere—”

You don’t even finish your sentence before a hand, seemingly out of nowhere, pushes you roughly back. You stumble, barely managing to stop yourself from falling flat on your ass. The sudden movement sends a rush of heat to your head, the anger spiking through your veins like fire.

You seethed at the touch, the anger burning hot in your chest, every muscle in your body coiled with frustration. But you knew better than to keep pushing your luck. Not today. Not in a situation like this, with dozens of hungry eyes watching, their hands twitching near their weapons of choice, waiting for the slightest excuse to make a move.

Biting back a torrent of curses, you forced yourself to swallow your pride, choosing to stay quiet—at least for now. It wasn’t worth the fight. You could practically feel the heat of their glares digging into your back as you turned on your heel, eyes locking once more with the bartender’s. You reclaimed your seat at the bar with deliberate flair, each movement oozing a sense of defiance and attitude. It was a performance, one you were used to. To you, it felt like you were playing the part of someone tough. But you knew, deep down, that to anyone else—especially the bartender—you probably looked like nothing more than a naive, immature idiot who didn’t know when to shut up. It wasn’t a great look, but at least it kept people from getting too close.

“I’m sat,” you muttered, voice brimming with the remnants of your irritation.

The bartender shook his head slightly, a hint of amusement creeping back into his expression. You could feel the tension in the room dissipate, the energy shifting as the crowd behind you resumed their rowdy conversations. The noise began to swell again, and for a moment, it almost felt like the bar was returning to some semblance of normalcy.

He grabbed a dirty glass from the counter, handling it with practiced ease, and pulled a rag from beneath the bar. As he began polishing the glass, he didn’t so much as glance your way. His focus was on the glass, and for a few moments, it felt like you were nothing more than a background detail to him. You could feel your impatience growing with each passing second. If he had something to say, you wished he’d just say it already. At least that way, you could get out of here—and maybe keep some of your pride intact.

The bartender continued his slow, methodical motions, running the rag around the rim of the glass with an almost exaggerated calmness. He didn’t bother to look up, yet you could feel the weight of his gaze on you through the silence.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” he said, his tone neutral, almost too much. “How old are you?”

You weighed your options. If you didn’t answer, you had no idea what would happen next. If you did answer, you still had no clue. It was a gamble either way.

“(Insert age here),” you muttered, the words slipping out begrudgingly, each one like a weight lifting off your chest.

The bartender scoffed lightly, a soft laugh escaping him that made your skin crawl. Your fingers began tapping impatiently on the bar’s edge, the rhythm a soft counterpoint to the growing tension between you.

“____ years old and still so naive… You really are just a kid, eh?” His words hung in the air, his eyes still locked on the glass in front of him, but you could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“There are worse things I could be,” you shot back, your voice laced with a mix of defensiveness and defiance.

“S’pose that’s true,” he replied, finishing up his polishing with the air of someone who had all the time in the world. He set the glass down next to the others—clean, polished, and waiting to be used. With a fluid motion, he slung the rag over his shoulder, then placed one hand on his hip and the other on the edge of the counter. He shifted his weight, leaning just slightly into the bar, his posture relaxed yet somehow still imposing.

“But on the other hand,” he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “what you already are ain’t too good either.”

It wasn’t a threat—more of an observation, one that hung heavily in the air, like the smoke in the room. You felt the weight of it, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was a warning or just another way to mess with you. Either way, you could tell this conversation wasn’t over.

You could feel the first few bubbles of anger rising in your chest, the heat creeping up your neck as your blood threatened to boil. You’d always been quick to anger—an unfortunate side effect of your temper and stubborn streak. They were the crosses you’d carried for as long as you could remember.

You scoffed again, the sound sharp and biting, as if it were the only defense you had left. You had already rolled your eyes a dozen times tonight, but it felt like you were on the verge of an explosion.

“What’s your goal here, Gramps?” you spat, your voice dripping with sass, every word a little jab. You didn’t care to hide your bitterness. You liked to fight with words just as much as you did with your fists, and the bartender was starting to see that loud and clear.

“You got the answer you were looking for. Whether you believe me or not, you’ve already served me twice. If my age was such a concern to you, you would’ve kicked me out long before I even sat down.” Your words hung in the air once more, and you could see the gears turning behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

He just let out a quiet laugh, as if your logic amused him. And he didn’t bother to answer, not even in the slightest.

The silence stretched, thick and tense, and it was clear he wasn’t going to explain himself. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of an explanation. He simply leaned back, eyes flicking over to the rowdy crowd behind you.

It was infuriating.

You stayed silent for a beat, but only because you knew you’d have more to say. And damn right, you did.

“Do you do this with every new customer?” You snapped, your voice rising now, the frustration boiling over. “’Cause if you ask me, I’m not sure how this shithole’s still in business. You discourage your customers from drinking, even though this is a fucking bar, and that’s all people come here to do. You make it impossible to drink peacefully, just like you make it impossible to drink at all!”

The words spilled out like fire, each one more forceful than the last. Your temper was no longer something you were trying to hold back—it was running rampant, and it felt good to let it out, even if it was in the form of a scream. You weren’t about to let this bartender—this stubborn old man—have the upper hand. Not when it felt like he was deliberately pushing your buttons.

“So if it’s alright with you, Gramps, you got your answer, and I don’t owe you shit. I’m leaving.” You actually raise your voice purposefully this time, slamming your hands down onto the counter as you push yourself off of the stool once more. 

The bartender wasn’t fazed by your outburst. In fact, he’d dealt with feistier, louder, and much more difficult people than you—people who could out-shout you or out-punch you if they had to. He wasn’t bothered by your temper. He had raised four kids on his own, after all. He’d learned a thing or two about handling stubborn personalities, whether they were kids or grown adults who carried themselves like children. And you, in his eyes, were just another brat testing his patience.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was steady, calm, and authoritative, with an edge of finality that cut through the noise of the bar.

Before you could react, his hand shot out faster than you expected, grabbing your shoulder with an unexpected gentleness. He tugged you back into the seat with a kind of effortless force that made your breath catch in your throat.

You shot up from the bar stool in a flash, but his hold was stronger than you anticipated.

Instinct kicked in, and your own hand shot out like a snake, grabbing his wrist with a quick, almost violent motion. You shoved it off your shoulder, irritation flaring up like wildfire.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you glared up at him, the heat of the moment burning in your eyes.

You huffed, your fists clenching at your sides, teeth grinding. The room seemed to close in around you, but you weren’t backing down—not now, not after all of this. The tension between you and the bartender was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel the weight of the crowd’s silent attention being drawn to you once more as they waited for your next move, but you weren’t afraid. You didn’t have time to be.

The man let out a heavy sigh, the sound thick with disappointment. 

“Look, kid—”

“By the fucking god’s, I’m not a kid!” you snapped, your eyes flashing a level of ferocity that sliced straight through him.

He pressed his lips into a thin, hard line, his gaze cemented on you still as he took a long, steadying breath. Patience was his virtue, and he was willing to endure this sparring match for as long as it took. 

“It’s clear you’re in some kind of trouble,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe, just maybe, instead of lashing out, you could let someone help—”

You cut him off mid-sentence, your words an unpleasant interruption.

“Help? You want to help? Surely that’s the wrong word. Surely, I heard you wrong, cause, from the way I see it, you’ve done nothing except cage me in here, threaten me, and withhold what I paid for. So if it’s with any consolation, take your ‘help’ and fuck off.” 

Enough was enough. Without another word, you climbed atop the stool, bracing yourself for what came next. You steadied your balance, then launched yourself toward the crowd with calculated precision. The dismount was quick—intentional, forceful. You tucked your legs in, soaring over their heads in a perfect flip, and extended them just before hitting the ground behind them. Without pausing, you bolted for the door, heart pounding in your chest.

To your surprise, you made it—flying through the door and slamming it shut behind you with a satisfying crash. Finally, you were free, never to be seen within a hundred yards of this bar ever again. 

The patrons had made a half-hearted attempt to grab at you as you rushed past, but a sharp, deafening whistle from the bartender stopped them in their strides. He shook his head softly, a silent message that it wasn’t worth the chase. That it was better to let you go. If you were in trouble, it would catch up with you soon enough.

Deep down, the bartender hated seeing someone so young seal their own fate in such a way. But, in the end, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t save them all—no matter how badly he wished he could.

He couldn’t help but wonder— if maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little too assertive, or downright impetuous with you after all.

But it didn’t matter now. You were gone. All he could do was hope you’d survive out on those streets. 

taglist: @blogforhoes @committingcrimes-2047 @dirtandcrime @eternalgoddessofart @woozulo @lutaaaslostacc-d8 @heidiland05 @sugaaawaraaa

[the-darklings]

FOR YOUR ARCANE PROMPTS LIST POOKIE: "hands under your lover's clothes" w/Silco??? perhaps?? perchance?? PLS PLS POOKIE, MY GLORIOUS QUEEN, MY EVERYTHING <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ silco x gn!reader, complicated relationship, a little angst, no spoilers for s2, cat & mouse dynamic but who is who? wc: 768

“It’s dangerous playing games with a patient man.”

“Are you? Patient?”

Silco’s mouth flutters into what could pass for a fleeting smile. It’s a rare expression on him, an ease that is seldom seen in the years since he left Vander’s side. Nowadays, he is nothing like the fresh-faced youth so desperate to fix the world you first met.

“More so than many, I’d reckon,” he replies placidly, watching you with idle interest. You lean on his oak wood desk, the rough grain of the wood warm beneath your fingers as you skim over his notes and ledgers. His meticulous nature is evident in the way he organised everything about the Shimmer trade. It’s almost irritating. “You are here for a reason.”

The gentle accusation falls on deaf ears.

“I was just saying hello,” you drawl, your voice low, swinging your attention his way. Silco’s scoff is a low, throaty sound, barely audible, but filled with disdain. 

You’re not sure when it started, you and him. If it was survival or a desire for a better life that drove you both from the start. You wanted freedom and independence and then he took the Undercity, and, in a way, you too. Since then, you’ve existed in his sphere, enjoying his favour. Flaunt it without making it obvious, slipping past the cracks of his rules. 

He appears so collected on his chair, a king on his throne in truth, but his immaculate clothes are wrinkled, buttons undone, and his Adam’s apple bobs when you touch his tie. You know better than to go near his throat. The last time you did, fingers eager and teeth nipping at the taut flesh there, he jerked back as if shocked. Terror and rage had overcome him, twisting you on his bed, still tangled in each other, before you could turn back your instincts. When his hands closed around your throat in response, you didn’t fight him off, and maybe it was that above all else that made Silco snap out of his spell.

No, instead, you slip your hand past the unbuttoned shirt, tracing over his sharp collarbone. Silco rests his cheek lightly on his hand, watching you through a narrowed eyed stare. Daring you, yes, but also curious. The heavy scarring on his face never bothered you. You didn’t lack scars of your own, but this… 

You slip forward, knee resting on the chair between his parted legs, hand slipping lower, to rest over his thudding heart. 

“Hello.” Your lips shape the word before you breathe them against his lips again. Your free hand cups his face and the hard beat of his heart echoes against your palm. 

The kiss is gentle, more civilised than either of you are used to, a sweetness that lingers even though it’s not what either of you normally craves, but when he doesn’t pull away, a secret thrill shoots up your spine. His deep inhale fills your ears, the heat of his lips imprinting on yours. A deep, rumbling sound vibrates through his chest when you deepen the kiss, your fingers moving in gentle circles over his skin. 

With a viper’s swiftness, Silco snaps his hand behind your head when you break the kiss, keeping you close. Nose to nose, your breaths mingle. You can’t quite tell what lingers in his burning gaze, one icy blue, another molten gold. 

“Are you hoping to endear yourself to me?” he asks, knowing and throaty. “A foolish play.”

“I won’t say that,” you say, breathless. “And if I was… well, I think you’re holding up just fine.”

Licking your lips, you pull back, grinning at him. He hasn’t moved, his knuckles returning to his cheek. Nonchalant, except for the heavy weight with which he still examines you. Silco won’t indulge you in admitting you do this because you’re the only one he can rely on in this shitty, twisted world of yours. You support his vision, you’ve always believed it, even when you were younger. 

Adjusting your dishevelled clothes, you look over at him once more. Not so crisp and orderly for once. Satisfaction nestles in your gut at the observation that the usually perfectly groomed and dressed man—this infamous crime lord—is a mess in the dim light of his office. Undone. Caught. Even if predatory hunger reflects in that golden hue. 

You wag your fingers in a playful wave. “It’s dangerous playing games with patient people, love, haven’t you heard?”

[mx-pastelwriting]

Move Over

Vander x GN! Reader

Summary: The kids asking if they can spend the night in you and Vander's bed.

Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic, Fluff, Cuddles & Snuggles

Waking to the noise of feet running down the hall with pitched voices hushing each other, the creek of your shared bedroom door added to the mix. Sitting up, turning on the light next to you shows all four of the kids standing in the door frame, all dressed in nightwear, some hugging stuffed toys.

"What are you guys doing? What's wrong?" You say sleepily to the nervous children. "Can we sleep in bed with you?" Vi speaks up for the group.

"We got scared," Powder says next, softening your heart further. Just as you nodded, Vander wakens, but it was too late for his say as they all climbed in. "What?" Vander asks confusedly, but the kids tuck themselves in, the girls cozying up to you while the boys nearly push Vander out of his bed.

Already planning the morning out, knowing you'll need to make Vander a big steaming pot of coffee, maybe even running the last drop for the first hour to let him sleep in without the kids, of course.

Just as they fell asleep, Vander sat up, seeing the labyrinth that is his bed. Hearing him sigh loudly, which received a shush from Mylo. Accepting defeat, hearing the bed creek as he lay back down, pulling the covers over the kids before cuddling them close.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @sophieissleepy @birbita

[deathbxnny]

Arcane women cheating on their s/o and getting caught. | Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika x Gn!Reader

(Part 2)

So I'm writing this whilst extremely sick, but the idea just wouldn't leave my mind, so I'm sorry if this sucks... also, you're welcome in advance!<3

Content: TW!Cheating, angst, hurt/no comfort, swearing, some violence? Idk, just chaos, probably ooc, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VI

In hindsight, you should have known better than to think that she'd be yours forever. When you were children under Vander's care, she had promised you that she'd be yours for life. It was naive, and deep down, you knew that it wouldn't last. Especially when she was able to leave prison with the help of that Enforcer.

You weren't blind to how close they were when Vi came to visit you weeks after her release, claiming to have an important mission with the blue haired woman she had to finish first. But things fell into place again with her, and you pushed those thoughts aside from the joy of having your girlfriend back... until the denial finally caught up to you months later, when you were asked to go on a mission with her and Caitlyn to catch Jinx once and for all. You refused at first, unwilling to be the cause of more pain in Zaun, yet Vi couldn't see how wrong it was.

She followed the Kirammann near blindly even when she should've known better, and that hurt. You ultimately just joined because she practically made you to and didn't leave you much of a choice. The jealousy was, however, unbearable, yet Vi just called you dramatic in response.

It was no big deal anyway. Her and Caitlyn were just partners in this mission, you know? It's really not that big of a deal. They are just very good friends at best. Can't she have friends, or are you that controlling now? The lies finally came to the surface when you trailed after them secretly whilst Vi asked for a private moment alone. It felt wrong and invasive at first, but what you saw was a lot worse than the guilt. Caitlyn leaned forward to kiss Vi on the lips, and a perhaps foolish part of you hoped that your girlfriend would push her away to tell her off. Yet she didn't do that. Instead, she dropped her gauntlets and melted into the Piltovans embrace fully, as though your relationship didn't matter. And maybe it never did to her.

You let out a shaky sigh, doing your best not to absolutely freak out in the face of absolute doom. Everything suddenly felt so tense and suffocating, your body trembling in horror. You should've listened to your gut feeling months ago. But love blinded you. It really did. You couldn't look away either, your broken heart pounding against your ribcage wildly when it finally dawned on you that you were an idiot this whole time. Everyone must've caught on except for you, and yet you had the hope that she'd never do this to you. Not your Vi. Never your Vi. Prison must've changed her more than you thought.

Unable to breathe and completely devastated, you attempted to step back and flee. You didn't even want to bother and yell at her when she didn't even deserve your time anymore. But alas, fate had different ideas, as you knocked over an empty can that made both women part in surprise. Vi's eyes immideatly met yours, a shocked look on her face as though you were the one that betrayed her. "Oh fuck... wait, I can explain, I, we-" "-Vander would be disappointed in you, Violet." You said, unable to stop the painful words from slipping out of your lips. Her feelings would never be protected by you again anyway. You've wasted years of your life waiting for her and caring for her when she finally got out. You never complained, and you bit your tongue every time she did something that you disliked. But it was all for nothing.

Vi was left speechless at your words that awoke a deep insecurity she had attempted to hide for so long. Imagining Vander's disgusted and disapproving face didn't help. Pushing Caitlyn out of the way, she tried approaching you carefully, afraid to lose you. You were the last thing she had left. "Please babe, it's... that was... Fuck just let me explain." But there was nothing she could say to make you forget what you saw. And you sure as hell weren't going to stay with a cheater. Vander taught you to know your worth, and you wouldn't let him down like that.

So when Vi was close enough, you slapped her right across the face, making her stumble. How could such an innocent gaze do the worst things? You had to get out of here before your hands stained the blood of your own people, too. "Cupcake wait -" "-Our people are dying at her hands, whether you like to see it or not. And I refuse to be a traitor either." Not bothering to hear what else she had to say, you simply left and never looked back.

Forever truly is never promised.

》CAITLYN

She has grown distant to you ever since her mother's death. Something you understood and supported by allowing her space to grief. You did everything for her to have a comfortable transition into this uncertain future, hoping it would ease the pain ever so slightly. But things aren't that easy. Her rage was brewing and overflowing into an irrational hatred for all Zaunites due to who had killed her. You may have never met Jinx, but even you understood that not everyone down there was like this. They didn't deserve the anger.

Yet Caitlyn couldn't see it your way and refused to, which led to many arguments and eventually a separation for the time being. Your heart was hurting, and you couldn't recognize the woman she had become. But of course, you were the crazy one. The Traitor, who empathized with those "animals", a word you were still in disbelief in to hear from her of all people, considering her late mother's ambitions. Ambitions that she stepped all over after she used her vents for an unforgivable plan that gassed the entire undercity with "the grey". You couldn't believe it. It left you to sit at Cassandra's grave frozen and bewildered for hours on end, guilty about being unable to do anything.

But just as you thought she couldn't get any worse, she had to prove you wrong like always.

On a moonlight night, you made your way through her estate in search of the last of your belongings. You weren't going to stay in Piltover any longer after she became the commander. Not being able to stand what she now was, you took it upon yourself to leave as silently as possible. Perhaps get back at her for hurting you, as selfish as it may have been to you at first. Yet the guilt melted away when you creaked open the door to her room, a room you often secretly shared. You didn't think she was home around this hour, as you hoped she was too busy to be there yet. But alas, there she was, with a familiar red-headed officer of hers. The one you couldn't stand at first sight, as you felt like there was something off about her.

You were right about that, at least. You couldn't make out everything, but their scandly clad figures moving around the bed was enough to paint a picture you wished to forget. Oh, how the rage took ahold of you in that moment! For a split second, you finally understood how she must've felt like. And god did you hate it.

Unwilling to let this ruin the reason you've come here to begin with, you unceremoniously switched the lights back on and casually began to grab your things off the shelves and vanity. Caitlyn jumped up in surprise when she finally could see again and saw you standing there, back facing her. She was speechless, and so was the sly officer below her. Although the smirk was easy to hide behind a covered mouth. "Don't mind me. Just here to get the last of my belongings." You said, voice shockingly steady. Despite the shocking situation, you felt calm and undeterred, finally done with her at last. "W-wait, this isn't what it looks like, love. This means nothing, I-" "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. No need for it when my skyship is leaving soon." You turned to glance at her and felt a sick satisfaction at her horror striken face. She certainly never expected you to catch her, and you certainly never expected her to sink so low.

Stumbling out of the bed and after you, as you exited the room, she ignored Maddie's hushed pleas to stay. "Come on, wait and allow me to explain, at least! I... Things have been hard lately -" You walked quicker now, not wanting to hear what she had to say. But she just wouldn't let you go. "- And, and you weren't around and I..." "Are you done? I wasn't around because you didn't want me to. Now let me leave at once, or I will scream and alert everyone in this building of what you're doing." Caitlyn stood still at the top of the grand staircase that you practically ran down. Before you slipped through the doors, however, you turned to her one last time, tears finally burning in your eyes so treacherously.

"Your mother died in vain, hoping from the heaven's above that her daughter would be worth the Kirammann name... and yet, all she does is roll in her grave at your actions. Oh, the shame." You hissed out before slamming the doors shut and never looking back.

》SEVIKA

Sevika was well known for her loyalty to those who deserve it. It was unrelenting and filled with unparalleled devotion, especially to you. Or so you thought.

Looking back on it, you wondered when the first red flags started appearing. Was it when she ditched Vander for Silco? Or when she spent endless nice "gambling" in some downtown bars instead of hanging out with you? Or was it maybe when she would only come back home extremely late into the night... or days later, sometimes.

There was always a new excuse, too.

She had a lot to do. Missions are piling up. Some random drug dealers weren't handing over the money they owed to Silco. Enforcers were causing some trouble. The Firelights were causing some trouble. She got too drunk and had to crash somewhere closer to the bar. Jinx blew something up again, and she had to fix it. Silco had her running all over Zaun collecting debts. Blah, blah, blah... the creativity was never-ending, and you were beginning to get beyond enraged about it.

You weren't stupid after all. It didn't take much to figure out that she was lying most of the time, and it was clear that she didn't care if you knew either. It was all very half-assed, to say the least. And the people that you asked for confirmation would always roll their eyes, knowing just as much as you did that it was bullshit and she was definitely doing something she shouldn't. Like getting drunk to the point she couldn't remember where home is. Metaphorically and literally. But what got you the most is how blatant and in your face it was.

The question as to why she was doing this now after years of being together is one you'll most likely never get an answer to. And you've made peace with that a while ago. Revenge was, however, still very much on the table, and you'd be damned if you didn't get an ounce of it.

With some bribery, Jinx was thankfully very willing to rat out Sevika, going as far as to even happily lead you to her. She wanted to see the world burn and knew that you weren't the type to let people get away with hurting you. And so, she leaned back with the sweets she acquired through you and watched as you casually loomed behind her in some run-down brothel. She apparently really loved frequenting this one, according to the crazed girl, something that made you scoff. She'd trade you in for THIS? Now that's an insult. The brothel workers nervously scooched away from her at the sight of your face. You two being a couple was well known, but you didn't blame the girls for doing their job. A bag is a bag, and you're about to have Sevika's head in one.

Grabbing a nearby bottle of wine, you practically smashed it over her head, knowing that it would do little to hurt her. "What the Fuck?!" She cursed, immideatly standing up to bash someone's face in. Yet after being met with your unimpressed look, she froze. "Hm? What is it? Not having fun anymore? Because I certainly am." The brothel workers quickly fled, leaving you alone. In the distance, you could hear Jinx's cackles. At least someone was actually finding this amusing. "... Ah... Hey, sweetheart... I uh..." "Call me that again, and I'll gouge your eyes out next. Years and years of loyalty to your miserable ass and this is what I get, Sevika? Have I really gotten that boring to you?" You hissed out, trying your best not to burst into tears.

You've been with this woman for so long through absolutely everything imaginable. But it wasn't enough for her. She had changed over the years into someone you hated, and you couldn't believe you were willing to waste so much more time with her. Not anymore, though. Suddenly feeling so suffocated in this stuffy room, you rolled your eyes and threw what was left of the broken bottle right at her speechless form before turning and leaving. "You know what? I don't care anymore. Go and find someone else who will in this hellscape because I promise you that you won't."

Stepping out into the dim lanes of Zaun, you felt more free than ever before as you ducked into the darkness for good. She'll never see you again, and you'll be sure of it, as you listened to her calls for your name getting further and further away.

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

Young at Heart - Alternate!Silco x GN!Reader

This all came about from a 'Late Night Thought' I had last week and i didn't think it would have any traction and it seemed to take off. So, I wrote the fic. (The poll wanted it the Alternate timeline Silco. This is my first time writing this version of him)

((Fluff, humour and established relationship) with a suggestive ending)

When Silco asked me to drop everything and meet him in the upstairs office ASAP. You know I threw my bar rag a little too hard in the direction of my co-worker, hitting him square in the face, declaring I was taking my break early. I couldn’t even hear their disgruntled profanity ridden response. As I was already hopping up the staircase, taking some of the steps two at a time. When I burst through the door, my excitement instantly vanished.  

“When did a bomb go off in here?” I chuckle dryly as I try to edge my way into the office to get a better look. Papers were strewn about all over the floor, boxes overflowing with files and receipts that surround a rather dishevelled looking SIlco who was sat in the center of the explosion.  

“Ah, you’re finally here. You can start over that side of the room.” Not even looking up from his mismatched pile of papers, he waved off in the general direction he wanted me to be. 

“Ya knooooow. When you told me to drop everything, this was not what I had in mind.” I sighed as I slowly manoeuvre my way, without slipping, through piles of documents and files to the far corner where he wanted me to begin. “Why are you needing my help exactly?” I ask flicking the lid off a box stuffed with all sorts of crap I couldn’t care less about. 

“I’m trying to find certain set of files that I need to update the agreement we have on the bar but as you can see from the mess around you that the filing system I had perfectly in place was not up to standard and I'm needing to go through everything again because ‘some’ people did not see fit to follow my system.” 

I can hear the exasperation laced in his voice.  

“Where is Vander and why isn’t he helping you with this?” I turn to face Silco, he meets my eye. 

“He is out trying to buy me the time to find said files. It’s the least he can do after this.” He gestured to the mess around the room. “He thought he knew exactly where the files were and . . .” He imitates an explosion sound throwing some of the papers he held to get his point across. I wince at the realisation of it all. 

“How long have you been going at this? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” I lean gently against the bookshelf as to not upset any boxes nearby. 

“Hours have become days and I'll be damned if it becomes weeks.” He throws the last of the papers in his hand down onto a makeshift pile that collapses under its own weight. “Urgh, fuck me!” he rubs at the bridge of his nose.  

“If I'm honest I thought that’s why you called for me.” I smirk at his gently reddening cheeks. Choosing to change the subject matter I ask. “What do these files actually look like? I might be able to help you better knowing what I'm trying to find.” 

Silco realising his basic error, begins to explain what I needed to assist him in recovering before we settle back into the search again. 

----- 

The task carries on for a few more hours in a comfortable silence. I had to ask if someone could talk to my coworker about my elongated break. When SIlco requires my presence most of the time he calls me away from work it's for a brief yet hot and handsy make out session that leaves me flustered when I go back to my post. Our relationship was known only to a few close friends and family. But I’m pretty sure everyone knows now because he and I aren’t quiet by any means. Yet nobody says anything about it to protect his professional image. 

“AHA!” Silco exclaims aloud as he stands up from the desk chair, a few precious papers clutched in hand. 

“Found them I see.” I glance over my shoulder briefly at his gleeful face. 

“Yes, finally.” He lets out a sigh in relief, looking over to where I was preoccupied with a box that he didn’t realise was accessible to me. “Please stay out of that one. It's labelled private for a reason.” His voice catches when he saw what I held. 

“Daaaaamn, so it is true.” I turn waltzing over to him, being careful of the still very messy floor, I flip the photo over in my fingers so he can see better. 

“Give me that.” When I get close enough, he reaches out for worn item in my hand. I lift it just out of reach above my head, playing a little game of keep away with his beloved memory. He steps nearer to me, so our chests are touching. 

“Oooo, so close.” I change hands quickly keeping the photograph away from his long fingers. “Come on you can do better than that sweetheart.” I smirk booping his nose quickly with the corner of the photograph before pulling my hand away again. His left arm snakes around my waist turning us around enough so he can push me backwards onto the desk with him almost straddling my right thigh. 

“Well now” I wiggle my brows suggestively, making sure the photograph is still too far away to grab in our new position. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He rolls his eyes at me as he leans closer for the photograph. 

“Funny you say that as it’s normally you dragging me down with you.” I lift my knee grazing his inner thigh causing him pause. 

He says my name in a warning way. 

“Okay Mr Serious pants.” I reply in a mocking tone. 

He manages to finally grab the photo from me, checking it for rips or tears before pulling away and walking back to place it safely back into the box of memories. I follow behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder. 

“Next time you see a something marked private. I expect you to respect my privacy.” He places a one hand on top of the box of memories and the other rests atop my crossed arms. He sighs again.  

“Maybe you can grow it out again.” I let my inner thoughts be known. 

“What are you talking about?” He turns his head to the side to look at me. I pull one arm away so I can thread my fingers through his much shorter hair, scratching lazily at his scalp. Pulling a low moan from his throat. 

“Your hair darling, that picture proved you can rock the style, plus we know how much of a whore you can be when I do this.” I pull lightly on his hair making him gasp. 

“Don’t you think I’m too old for that style.” His breathing was ragged as he tries to remain calm. I chuckle darkly at my flustered partner, with practiced ease I spin him so I loom above him, lifting his chin with a single finger. 

“Of course, darling.” I lean down our lips graze with my words. “You’re just proof that men get finer with age.” He smiles at my words as I steal his response away with a soft kiss.  

-----

I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it

[scarletemeterio]

hii, saw u wanted arcane requests. from what ive seen on tiktok, apparently jinx was able to escape after the explosion in the very last episode and survived and ran away on that blimp thing, so could u please write a jinx x fem reader where after the explosion, jinx comes to get reader and they run away together happily to another region to have a fresh start and have a quiet, peaceful life. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls and thank you.

A Fresh Start (Jinx x Gn!reader)

Warnings: mentions of death, use of (Y/N) once

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Fandom: Arcane

Summary: see request

Word Count: 1.6k

No set pronouns for reader

•••

You still remembered every detail, every word said, replaying the moment in your head. You'd had a fight with Jinx, nothing serious you'd thought, but when she and Ekko found you, you could see the pain in her eyes. She came running to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things I said,” she apologized, her voice breaking. “You've always been there for me, and I've been ungrateful about that.”

You hugged her tightly, with your arms surrounding her waist, hiding your face in her shoulder.

“It's okay, it doesn't matter now,” you mumbled. “Are you okay?” You asked, breaking apart and caressing her face.

She simply nodded, but you could read her like an open book, and you knew that there was something she wasn't telling you.

Before you could keep questioning her, Ekko decided to speak.

“I hate to interrupt the sweet moment and everything, but we have to hurry if we wanna survive,” he said. You gave him a confused look, slowly breaking your embrace with Jinx.

“Yeah, the world is basically about to end,” the girl said. And both she and the boy tried their best to give you all the information you needed, trying to come up with a plan.

When you were almost finished with the globe, Jinx pulled you apart for a moment, wanting to talk to you.

“I really am sorry about before," she started saying, “I just couldn't think straight at the moment and I took it out on you.”

“Hey, I said it was okay and I meant it,” you comforted her, grabbing her hand.

“I just don't want us to be on bad terms, we don't know what could happen out there,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

“We're not on bad terms, okay? Don't worry about that, my love,” you answered, not wanting to think about the worst case scenario.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, (Y/N), I'm so lucky to have met you. You mean the world to me, and I love you so much.” Tears were already falling down her cheeks, making it hard to contain yours too.

“I love you, too, baby.” You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes to better savour the moment. “Don't worry, we're gonna be okay,” you tried to reassure her. “I'm not saying today will be easy, but we'll make it, and soon this will all be just a dark moment from the past.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck once again, not being able to control her sobs anymore. You were taken aback from the sudden action and her reaction. Her embrace was tight and almost filled with dread, almost as if she was certain something bad would happen. You decided to get those thoughts out of your head. Danger was knocking at the door, and you couldn't ignore it anymore; the moment to fight had come.

When you got to the fight scene, Vi quickly joined you, and so did Vander. Ekko took control of the globe, making it crash into the building, knocking the air out of your lungs. When you finally got back on your feet, you quickly went to help Vi and Jinx against Vander, but a hard blow at you was the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness.

You had no idea how long you were out of it. Ekko's figure was the first thing you saw when you woke up, and he helped you sit down slowly.

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “You got hit pretty badly.”

“I'm fine,” you groaned. “Where’s Jinx?” He ignored your eyes, tilting his head. “Ekko?”

He only had to look at you, and you could instantly feel the world crumble around you. Tears quickly flooded your eyes, still looking at the boy in front of you.

“Tell me it's not what I'm thinking,” you pleaded.

“She sacrificed herself to save Vi.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted it to be some sick joke, for her to get into the room and tell you that it wasn't true, that she was fine and you didn't have to worry about anything. But you knew her, and you knew something felt off about her in that last conversation you had. Turns out something bad did end up happening.

•••

Not many days had passed, the pain still fresh. You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the city in front of you. You were in the spot Ekko had shown you not long ago, trying to find a bit of peace in contrast to the mess in your head.

Life in Zaun was very unpredictable, which made it difficult to make long-term plans, but also made it easy to not get attached to anything nor anyone. But Jinx was the exception. You just couldn’t stop yourself from getting attached to her, and now you were suffering the consequences.

To be honest you wouldn’t really change anything, not even the pain you were feeling right now. Changing things would mean not even getting to know her, and you were grateful to have met her, to share your life with her. You were simply paying life’s price for love.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, but you kept your gaze to the front.

“I'd really like to be alone, Ekko,” you said, assuming that the boy had come to check on you.

“I'm not Ekko.”

You froze in place. You had to be hallucinating, it had to be the only explanation. She was gone, and nothing would change that. You shook your head in disbelief, looking up at the sky.

“I'm even hearing her voice now,” you said. You could feel that presence even closer now, and you quickly grew frustrated with what you thought was your own mind. “Leave me alone!” You screamed, turning to the presence behind you and freezing once again when you finally saw her.

“Hey, it's me,” she whispered.

You quickly got up, never breaking eye contact.

“But- You- How?” It was all you could say, barely whispering, still not truly believing what you were seeing. She was right there.

“I guess being injected with crazy amounts of shimmer to keep me from dying had its perks,” she explained almost jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “I managed to escape the explosion.”

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you come back right away? Why let us believe you were dead?” You had a million questions in your head, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy.

“I needed everyone to believe it, to have a fresh start. Vi would never give up on me if she knew I was still alive; she'd follow me to the end of the world.”

You still kept your distance from her, it all seemed unreal. A few minutes ago you were grieving her, and now she was right in front of you, as beautiful as ever. But you felt anger inside you as well. She could've told you, she could've saved you from that horrible pain of thinking she was actually gone for good.

“You knew you were gonna fake it all along, didn't you?” You realized, thinking about that last conversation you two had. “That's why you were so emotional, so shaken and distressed.”

“Baby, I-.”

“You knew, right?” You interrupted her, voice cracking with your words.

“I did.”

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know when you'd started crying, but the tears kept falling down your face.

“You let me believe you were dead, Jinx! Dead!” You didn't even try to hide how emotionally distressed you were. You needed to let everything out. The blue-haired girl broke the distance between you two, holding you in her arms while you sobbed into her chest, quickly collapsing to the ground.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I made a mistake and I should've told you,” she said while running her hand through your hair. You could tell by her voice that she was also crying, filled with guilt. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“I get why you did it,” you told her after a while. “I don't blame you for wanting peace, but you have no idea how much it hurt me to think that I'd lost you.”

She cupped your face and made eye contact with you before pressing your foreheads together. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, feeling like she could never say it enough times to express just how much she regretted not letting you know before.

“I'm just glad you're actually okay, love.” You leaned in to her touch, savouring the moment after such turmoil.

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“I want you to come with me,” she uttered.

“Come where?” You questioned.

“I don't know, away from here,” she replied. “I really want that fresh start, but I know that trying to live without you would be absolute hell. I've had many uncertainties in my life, but you just feel right. If there's something I'm sure of is that I love you, with every part of me.”

“I love you, too,” you told her. “And I'd also follow you to the end of the world.” You let out a hopeful smile, and so did she before cupping your face to kiss you.

Her lips against yours felt absolutely right, like it was just the way it had to be, forever and ever. You belonged together, and there was nothing you wanted more than to build a future with her, away from all the ghosts from the past. You knew it wouldn't be easy, both of you had a lot to let go of but with her by your side everything felt a bit easier, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

•••

i absolutely loved this request, thank you anon! i'm a sucker for angst

also i'm 100% sure she's still alive

[imachaoticghost]

Me gusta soñar, me gustas tu

Summary: Timebomb x reader matching things (accessories, clothes, tattoos or etc) because they would like to get married but uh you know (request)

Warnings: no plot, fluff, gn!reader, not proof read

Pairings: Alternate!Powder x reader x Ekko

A/n: since I didn't know if the request was meant for alternate powder or Jinx, I did both. Enjoy!

Alternate! Powder and ekko

I think if they want to get married, but they can't, they'd be the type to have promise rings.

Probably one with either three small gemstones of the colour of each (blue for powder, white or orange for ekko and whatever colour you like) or one with each of your initials engraved (as in EP and your initial)

Powder would probably have it on a chain around her neck, and Ekko either on his finger or in a chain too. Under his shirt probably, to not damage it or lose it.

You're just sipping on your drink, waiting for your two partners in one of the tables of the Last Drop. It's a lazy day, slow, sunny, nothing you wouldn't like to go out in. Vander is cleaning glasses when he notices the ring.

"What's that? Getting married already?" He teases, watching Powder and Ekko come in, light catching on the silver around Powder's necks. It isn't until Ekko puts his hand on the counter that he notices the gems on his finger. "Matching rings hm? Get engaged already" He teases again, serving them their drinks.

Benzo has about the same reaction when he walks in, a playful scowl on his face. "You're too young to be thinking about marriage" He scolds, not so playfully. But you all don't care, simply happy to have matching rings.

Then there's more permanent stuff, for example tattoos

I'd see ekko being a clock, and powder either a raven or some gears. Or then you could have the moon (powder) the sun (ekko) and the stars (you). Anything that is symbolic. The three of you would have the same tattoo with the three symbols.

I don't think they would outright tattoo their partners names on their skin, it feels too... impersonal in a way. Or maybe just not like them.

You were all lounging in Powder's hideout, thinking, talking. "What about tattoos?" You proposed, and immediately ekko started doodling.

"Yeah, maybe we could do like... I don't know, birds?" He chuckled, making various different designs.

When you finally picked your designs, you went to a tattoo artist, giving him a few days to create the stencil. In the end, Ekko chose to have his on his shoulder, and powder on her calf, the three of you showing it off once it was all done.

To be honest, it's probable all of your parents were quite sceptic about the tattoos. But once it was done, it was too expensive to get it off. So no one could do anything else than warn you it might not be a good idea.

It was. You kept it forever.

If they feel more like matching things casually, then there's three options

For clothes they'd probably go off a colour, for dates, for example, today everyone goes with a red item, like a jacket, a dress, etc.

Or maybe color coding, like, everyone wears a red top and a blue bottom.

Or maybe simply pattern matching. Something like that.

"I think we should do blue" Powder argued.

"But I want to wear my red jacket!" You complained. Ekko just laughed at your antics.

"But red doesn't go with my hair" she argued.

"It does, stop being a bitch." You muttered, shoving your red hoodie at her, slipping on your red jacket.

"You're finished?" Ekko mused, red coat already slipped on. "Were going to be late"

Powder pouted, nodding as you tugged her out, on your way to meeting with all of your friends. Everyone stared at the laughing couple you were, but how could you care when your girlfriend was snickering along with your boyfriend?

You could also match a piece of jewellery you would wear every day, so for example some earrings, a bracelet, a necklace, maybe everyone a different one but theme coded.

So let's say you do earrings, powder would be blue, ekko gold. So, you could be wearing sapphire gold earring, or a gold necklace and a blue gemstone.

More than everyone wearing the same piece of jewelry, they'd do like a theme and each wears their partner's theme. So ekko could be wearing a blue earring and a ring with your theme.

Or it vould be a charm more than a colour.

Everyone noticed it, from night to day, all of you had changed the usual jewelry you wore, ekko's plain silver earings had now each a small charm, different. Powder's necklace had, added to the crystal it used to have, two more charms with it. And you wore the same, well, not excatly, they had one you didn't, and you had one each didn't have.

And finally, the third idea I'd have would be key chains or trinkets. Something that reminds you of your two partners. Maybe custom stickers, or a key chain that says E and P, etc

You could have a phone cord made by powder with blue and golden pearls or maybe gears and clock charms, or a special key chain.

And they'd have the same. Of course, you add whatever feels like you to it. So let's say, you're red and roses, you would each make a phone cord or key chain (depending on preference) with blue pearls, mechanical charms, red pearls, rose charms and golden pearls and clock or clockwork charms.

"Wait- put more blue ones" Powded shoved more pearls towards you, your key chain having a majority of gold and your color. "Please" She pouted.

You willingly agreed, chuckling as she shoved the same pearls towards Ekko. "You too, there's almost none" she complained, like a child. Even if the majority of Ekko's was of both of your colours, barely having gold.

"Powder, we're going to end up with all blue ones" He chuckled, amused at her antics.

"Well that's good, everyone needs to known you're my partners." She scoffed, tugging you closer to her.

You ended up with an almost all blue key chain with mostly charms for Ekko and barely anything for you. Not that you were complaining. Now you had both your partners always in your pocket.

You could also wear matching nails, I feel like Ekko would love to paint his nails. Maybe a colour for each partner or the same colour for everyone. Although that feels less like their chaotic energy.

You held Ekko's hands, painting his nails, one blue, one gold, one of your color, another gold and another blue. Powder was besides you, shaking her hands to make them dry faster.

Soft music played in the background, humming along with it. Your nails had been painted by Powder and hers had been painted by Ekko.

"Do you like it?" You asked softly, examination his hands for any flaws in your paint. "It's cute" you hummed.

"I love it. It's really pretty" He chuckled, taking your hand and kissing it. "Like you" he winked.

"You're gonna mess up your nails" You complained, showing them off to powder. "Look, they're gorgeous"

"Like you" she hummed, grinning. They both stared so much you couldn't help but blush.

Jinx and ekko

If we're talking about Jinx, she would probably go the extra mile and get something more than rings, who knows how far that woman would go

If you're not much the extra type, she would do rings, and so would Ekko. Just like alternate timebomb, they would have something matching in the rings

Maybe three stones again, golden, blue and your colour, or maybe more like your three names together, but jinx would probably put yours in the middle

Ekko would just be the type to follow her ideas, as she's a wild card but in the good way. And she's dedicated

"And I mean, worst that can happen is that we have to make it ourselves" she joked, already picking scrap metal. She was going to make it herself, no matter what you would argue.

And then, a few days later, you would have each a ring around your neck, on a chain. Vi would ask her about it, and the firelight's children would definitely ask Ekko. But they would keep it to themselves, just happy to know they have their partners around their neck.

If we're talking tattoos, Jinx would get the biggest tattoo ever for you and Ekko, wherever you ask her to. Ekko would probably get it somewhere more discreet, he doesn't seem like the type to get visible tattoos, it's more something for you and her

The design would be way more attention calling, you could do birds, a raven, an owl and a bird for you, or symbols, her monkey, ekkos clock or gears and whatever you feel like fits you.

Jinx would totally tattoo your name if you ask her to, but ekko would probably tell her it's not the best idea, especially since she is still a criminal and the three of you are often in danger. Giving directly your partners' names isn't the best idea.

She showed up a few days after choosing the design, showing her back and moving her braids aside. "Look toots, I got the tatto" she giggled, showing off a monkey, a clock and your symbol. "It's about time yall get yours" she pouted.

Ekko shook his head, smiling. At least he had managed to convince her to not get your name. She went towards him, throwing herself on his shoulders. "Whatcha mocking me about hm?" She scolded playfully, glancing at your soft smile.

For casual matching, or date matching, jinx isn't the type to own a lot of different clothes, so she would probably add something symbolic of you to her outfit, like, let's say, a clock for ekko (I'm obsessed with the idea of clocks representing ekko) that she would wear every day

Ekko would do the same if you're up for it.

But if we're talking proper clothes matching, Jinx would just steal something, either from you or from piltover. She would do anything to make you and Ekko happy, your wish is her comand. And Ekko would just follow the vibe, he seems like the more passive type for some reason

If we're talking jewelry, Jinx would love to wear matching jewellery for you. Whether it's the same necklace, or a similar one, she says yes immediately.

Ekko might be a bit more difficult, but he would take an alternative. He would never outright refuse to match with you, how could he?

So for example, you could buy a matching set of earrings, necklace and bracelet, or something like that and they would each take one (jixn the necklace, ekko the earrings probably)

"Hey look what I found" you smiled, showing them three pairs of earring, one with a white crystal, one blue and one of your colour.

Jinx immediately threw herself to you, catching the earrings and gushing about them to Ekko. She took one of her colour, helping ekko put it on and begging you to let her. If you didn't have your ears pierced, you better have them pierced now.

Finally we have key chains. Well, I don't think any of them would be the key chain type so they'd probably do more like... charms that they put on their clothes and belts

Maybe something Jinx and Ekko would make for you, or that you make with them. Small trinkets you'd stick on your stuff

Ekko finally finished sculpting the same monkeys that were on his machine. He added a small key ring on top, putting it besides the other two. He just had to make the three clocks now and they would be done. Jinx would love to add the chains He thought.

"Almost done pretty boy?" You kissed his cheek. It was late, you should both be asleep. Jinx was already snoring on the couch, Isha laying in her arms.

"Almost. Go rest, I'll join you later" he murmured back, hugging you and tugging you on his lap. Maybe you should sleep in his arms, while he works.

And nails, jinx would love to do your nails like hers and also ekkos if he let's her. Just imagine, jinx seeing you wear her colours, I think she would be so happy and proud.

If not maybe Ekko would help you do your nails and you'd do his the same way, and you'd beg Jinx to let you do hers too.

I think that would be cute, that the three of you do each other nails, and make matching little designs and stuff

She was giggling like a school girl, painting your nails the same colour as hers. Your back was against Ekko's chest, his legs on either side of you, his arms around you.

As soon as Jinx finished painting all of your nails you pulled her in, wrapping your legs and arms around her, pressing her back against your chest. And that's how you spent the rest of the evening, all cuddled up.

Something else Jinx would love to match would be stuff in your hair. If you have it long enough to braid, she's sticking stuff into yours and Ekkos hair before you even know about it

Maybe just the same golden stuff she has or maybe actual little trinkets and charms that she made or found

"Your hair is so pretty you know that?" She murmured, braiding your hair, adding the same golden charms she had added into her hair and into Ekko's. "So soft, so shiny, how do you do it?" She pouted a bit.

Ekko watched her with a smile, adding the same charms to her own braids.

A/n: my phone hates me and I think this isn't the right version. But have it anyways because I will not proof read this. I'm sleep deprived and I have to sleep. I hope you like it ;)

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