#bad end golden cassandra

[threepandas]

Bad End: Golden Cassandra

People don't listen. Not when what your saying, scares them. Especially when, what you're saying, scares them. They like to pretend, instead. That if they don't hear you? It's not happening. Can't and WON'T happen. That you're just a liar. Speading fear, for the fun of it.

But oh, when has reality ever been that kind? That agreeable?

Tell me, WHEN has it ever bowed to the tantrums of men?

I can't think of a single instance. Knew it wouldn't now, either. So, really? What was I to do? Keep trying? Beat my head against walls of willful ignorance, until the deigned to give? Hoping, against all reason and evidence, that they MIGHT, just MAYBE, do so in the nick of time? Please. I was hopeful, not a fool. Optimism does not render a soul naive.

Like the fall of Atlantis, the sacking of Rome. Great Alexandria burning. Everything was going to be destroyed. Rather dramatically, too, and rather deservedly. I couldn't and DIDN'T defend it. Try to change it? Yes. Try to SAVE them? Absolutely. But not once, not EVER, would I defend it.

After all, it was a system built upon the backs of slaves.

Death was the only reasonable outcome. Revolution, the Voice, of those unheard and in chains. Their magic, their power, used for the convenience of their so called "betters". It was disgusting. Vile.

Set dressing, for an Otome Game.

As though their VERY LIVES, their SUFFERING and SOULS, were nothing but pretty little plot points in someone else's PLAY! The indignities they faced. The starvation and thirst. Being forced to watch friend and loved ones suffer, Scream, DIE!

But Oh, at least the Protagonist gets her handsome meat to oogle. They'll know their place, as they play along. Broken nicely and so very, VERY greatful for her scraps. She can play at revolutionary. Or perhaps at savior, should she feel the need. Assuming she doesn't leave them in chains.

And I? Oh I am supposed to play dress up and face her, in some sick "duel" of love! Abuse and use to my heart's content! The Gods jest. For I will do no such thing!

I can barely recall the plot. Only that the gloss over the rather significant socioeconomic and political fall out that is sure to follow. The Kingdom is not going to survive. Should it not be one sort of Revolutionary revolt, it will be another. Corruption, stagnation, and willful ignorance are simply too wide spread among the upper echelons. Baked too deeply into the foundations.

Gods... I... I tried.

It hurts. Like ripping out finger nails, one by one, when I finally gather enough. Not even all that I wish I could. But simply... enough. There is not enough time, the rumblings of revolution have grown too loud. I... I HAVE too go. And... and I know they won't come with me. My friends, my family, the neighbors. All those who smile, nod, and listen but don't believe a word I say.

The pain is hollowing. A truely special sort of hell.

Looking back, to little cousins on tiny legs, helping you pack. With their round little cheeks and small little hands. Watching them try to lift bags like a "grown up". Your friends and family, treating it all like a trip to the country side and not the last time you'll ever see them. The... the day being... being so accursedly normal. Mild weather and gentle breeze. Like your world isn't ending. Like everything isn't gone.

Wanting to be wrong. Traveling and traveling. Wanting to be wrong. Everything mild, calm and sweet. A hell of self doubt. Every night and every dawn. Are you insane? Were they right all along? Were you reading signs, portents of Doom, where there were none? But still... you travel. A caravan filled with your life's work.

Every scrap of modern knowledge. A copy of every work and definitive artwork. Every play, treatise, and textbook. Every old Diary I could get my hands on and endless days patrolling the book markets. A lifetime's work. All spent in hand-me-downs and out of fashion clothes, just for this. The preservation of knowledge.

But what if I'm wrong?

Fiddling with the piles of ward stones, as I get farther and farther north. Closer and closer to the land I stashed away. Hidden, within layers upon layers, of ever circling bureaucracy. A magic rich grove of Gold-leaf Ginko. They would have been harvested to oblivion, if I hadn't hidden them, and the species is already endangered.

I have been using a tower I built (in a natural clearing, as I would sooner remove my own limbs, then a single branch upon one of those trees) there as a seed bank. Every endangered magical plant species I came across? I sent as many seed as I could, to my bank. Had even begun the lengthy process of creating automatons, so they could build a green house (carefully!) into the mountain.

Seems I will have nothing but time, now, to dedicate to that project.

As I get closer, passing through the beginning of the valley towns (that lead into the high lands)? My Family Ring breaks. The terrible Crack of it, a sharp knife to the gut, splitting the morning silence. Father is... oh Gods, Father is...

Yet, even before I can come to terms with this terrible new reality? Beneath my travel cloak and jacket, nestled precious like the love it represented, my Clan Mantle begins to snap and crack like popcorn. Enchanted stone beads cracking apart violently, with the lose of the life they were made to represent. Shrapnel tearing at my clothes as I desperately rip at my cloak, my jacket, blood already welling up from various wounds.

Pop, dead. Crack, dead. Snap! Dead.

I manage to rip the heavy necklace from around my shoulders. Already half the bead are gone. More, like lethal firecrackers, shooting off even as I fling the enchanted jewelry into a nearby leather bag. Scramble for a nearby heavy blanket to cover it. Blood stains everything, dripping from shallow nicks and shrapnel wounds alike. I... oh gods, I barely notice I'm crying.

The sounds have startled the horses. One of them even got hurt. It.. it takes hours to fix. I have to stop in the next town. Shaking. Shaking. I.. I think I may be shaking. C-crying. "To remember where you came from." That's... oh god. That's what Clan Mantle's are FOR. A symbolic gift, really. They... they could never have known.

That it would actually serve it's original purpose. It's ancient purpose. The reason they USED to be made. To... to show who was still ALIVE. Oh gods. I... I can't check. Can't bear to look. The sound has stopped. Is it over? Are... is there...? Please, gods, don't make me look. Don't make me KNOW, how few members of my own family are left.

I was right. Gods, damn them.

Gods damn them all.

I was RIGHT.

Bandaged, healed, I travel faster. Time is running out. It doesn't matter, now, which "route" she took. Everything will have fallen apart. I reach my grove and don't even bother to set up a tent. Wards before all. Better to sleep on the floor, then be caught unaware. I work around the clock. Feeling like clawed fingers are ever so gently, wrapping around my throat, one at a time. Tick, tock, tick, tock. And oh, the tighter they squeeze.

Barely... BARELY! Do the wards thrum to life, deep and powerful, before I feel some almost god like crash into them. My hands shake. Still kneeling in the dirt, from where I placed the last stone, I slowly look up. And... and curling above the golden trees? Shades of copper catch the light. Massive and leaning. Stepping on my wards. Looking down in annoyance, as they refuse to part.

(Distantly, I hear the horses scream in terror. I... I wish I could do the same.)

I flee. Scrambling without dignity, back to the seed bank's tower. Trying to keep out of sight. A hopeless endeavor, I know. What other reason could such a power Dragon be out here for? If not to finish what was started? But... but hope has carried me so FAR. Can it not carry me just a bit farther?

No attacks come. No insults or threats. Yet...

The presence does not leave.

I can not hide forever, for all that fear exhausts and bids me too. All my supplies are out side. My wards, at least seem, to have held? But how can I trust it? Knowing just how strong a dragon's magis is. Sure enough, the second I step outside? There he stands. The copper dragon. Just beyond the wards.

Worse still? He is a man I recognize. Which can only invite pain and suffering, as he played no small part in the revolution. Not to mention, his significance to that damnable Game. Was he "supporting character"? A "hidden route"? An antagonist I could not quite recall? I can not place it. He was THERE, but not lead about by the nose, like the others. Not broken, as they were.

Now, here he stands, light catching off his ornaments and nails. As he tap, tap, taps them lightly against my wards. In sequence. Amused. His eyes locked with mine and glowing from within. Fire and magic made manifest. The king was a fool to think he owned this man. A "royal gaurd dog" indeed. Ha! They brought death into their house, then kicked it.

A slow smile, spreading like poison through sleeping veins, creeps across that deceptively youthful face. Sharp, sharp teeth are revealed to the air. I think I may amuse him. Perhaps I have for quite a while. I have made it no secret, after all, that I know he is dangerous. Treated him as the threat he truely IS. Others thought it was funny. Would find excuses to shove me at him, just to see me panic. All the while, he pretended, like a GOOD little dog, to be polite.

His eyes had always been laughing.

And now? He doesn't even bother to hide.

"You ran away." His voice rings out, the barest hint of rasp, like the drawing of a blade. It fills the silence. Demands attention. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to find you?"

To be honest? I had hoped no one would look. That I had given them no reason to even try. Perhaps that had been naive. I was a part of the system too, in the end. Guilt by association. That didn't explain him, however. Had I wronged him? Beyond the obvious. (And the obvious sat between us, like so much rotten filth. How could ANYONE over look that?)

"Their courts burned, just like you always warned they would. You should have seen it."

He stopped to chuckle. Closer to a sneer, then a sound of true amusement. His distain and delight intertwining as he savored the memory. He leaned closer. Letting his forehead press against the barrier. Enjoying, reliving, his moment of triumph, once again.

"Ha, ha~ Oh, but you should have seen their faces. When they realized you were right. That you had warned them and warned them, but they had refused to listen! It was glorious, darling. They howled with such regret and fear. A magnificent symphony~ you made for me."

I backed up against the carts. The wounds from broken beads stinging harshly with every shift, like the screaming of the dead. Scared. Gods, I'm s-so scared. I can't possibly have invited this... r-right? I never flirted or... or suggested anything! So-! So why is-?! Gods, why is he here?!

"You can't run from me, clever girl. Not for long. You saw me and I see you. Too clever by half. They really should have listened~!" He broke off to laugh, a sharp mockery of the dead. Fangs catching the light. "But they didn't, did they? My poor clever girl. We truely were buried by filth, weren't we? How glorious it must be. To finally be free."

"But~! Did you really think you could escape ME, my clever girl?"

"You're not nearly so foolish. Open the barrier, darling."

"Let me in. Our revolution is over, I have won."

"Now you can't escape me~"

[livvyofthelake]

what if. there was a book. and it was not good. and it was written by one of your most beloved authors of all time. and this is absolutely not a one time disappointment because this is exactly how she writes all the time. well then you might have to confront that you have shit taste!

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead. 

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants. 

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse. 

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit. 

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits. 

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault. 

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim. 

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight. 

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine. 

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look. 

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes. 

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror. 

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he��ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it. 

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face. 

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him. 

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you. 

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said. 

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same. 

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after. 

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle. 

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to. 

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead. 

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills. 

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself. 

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again. 

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands. 

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones. 

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore. 

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. 

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her. 

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her. 

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved. 

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved. 

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you. 

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them. 

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?” 

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage. 

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe. 

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again. 

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better. 

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years. 

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan. 

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house. 

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves. 

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home. 

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real. 

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up. 

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this. 

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them. 

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better. 

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad. 

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can. 

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real. 

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand. 

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do. 

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying. 

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch. 

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture. 

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself. 

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob. 

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything. 

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway. 

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since. 

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt. 

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse. 

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better. 

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh. 

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive. 

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped. 

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you. 

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy. 

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns. 

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight. 

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you. 

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room. 

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something. 

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him. 

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said. 

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now. 

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face. 

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings. 

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in. 

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.” 

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @allllium  ♡ 

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Intercity Relations (An Arcane one-shot)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two weeks later:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was when you first saw him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[muffinsin]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 2: human greed

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Daniela awakens to hands over her, turning her over, lifting her arm, cupping her face. She opens her eyes, groaning groggily.

“Bela?”, she whines. What’s her sister doing here? Where’s-

Where?

She frowns. No, that isn’t right. She doesn’t understand. What happened the previous day? She was- seduced. She was- happy. Who was she with? She searches her mind, but comes up empty. Who? What?

She jumps, pulled from the mess of thoughts in her head, gazes into her older sister’s golden eyes as her face is cupped.

“Dani…”

“Hi, Bela!”, she greets happily. If she didn’t remember flashes of the last night, she would think she convinced her sister to sleep over in her room. Still, she’s happy to see her.

It feels like Bela is busy so often, running the wine business alongside with Mother, she barely has time for Daniela and Cassandra and to play. Before she can overthink things, she throws herself at her sister, wrapping her arms tightly around her in a hug. She breathes in her familiar scent, feels her flies in the swarm. It feels so long since she got to have a conversation with Bela that wasn’t limited to how much work she still had to get done.

Surprised, her older sister holds her tight. Unlike Daniela, she remembers the previous night perfectly, the symbol on her back, the bruises, being weighed down when she found the Beneviento crest and went to get help.

Daniela squeaks in surprise when she’s turned again. As Bela gasps and drags her palm over her bare back, she becomes a little more aware of her state of undress.

She raises her arms to cover her chest, her head turning to glance at whatever Bela seems to be looking for.

“What-? No! No, no no! It was here!”, she gasps, shocked. Yet, even as Bela keeps stroking the soft skin, it doesn’t magically make the mark she was so sure she saw appear. Where did it go? Was it there in the first place? She doesn’t understand, it felt too real. It can’t have been a dream. How else would she have gotten into her sister’s room? Why else would she have woken up by her side? But, Daniela’s back is every bit the spotless, soft skin she knows. It doesn’t make any sense…she remembers; the Beneviento mark, the bruises at her sister’s skin…

“Show me your legs”, she demands then, worry evident in her voice. While confused, Daniela doesn’t protest or deny her sister, sensing something is wrong with her. A bad dream, perhaps?

While Bela investigates skin far too soft to have been bruised recently, Daniela’s thoughts wander yet again.

She remembers bits here and there, remembers the bliss of the day before. Remembers sitting by the flowers, crying. Remembers someone was there. Why can’t she understand? Is this one of her delusions again? A dream that felt far too real? No, her sore, but spotless back and the ache between her legs reassure her: whatever it was and whoever was with her, it was real.

So who was it?

A maid?

No, that cannot be.

Bela and Cassandra keep such a tight watch on them, chase them away when they get close to Daniela, knowing very well what their true intentions with the young woman are. While Daniela forgets, the two older sisters remember the pain she is always in when it comes to an end, when they find an untimely demise or are forced to meet their end after hurting the woman and betraying her trust.

So, if not a maid, who then?

Does Bela know? She woke up in her room, after all. Did she spot her sweet, mysterious lover?

Daniela opens her mouth, is about to ask, but stops herself.

No…what if Bela didn’t know, didn’t see, if Daniela told her and she took her lover, again? What if she claimed they’re evil, want to use her, aren’t truly in love with her, and takes them again? She doesn’t want to be alone, anymore…

As such, she only watches as her older sister traces the skin at her ankles, as though in wonder.

Bela doesn’t believe her eyes. No, what? She could have sworn she saw and felt the swollen bruises there mere hours ago. Did they heal on their own due to Daniela’s biology? But, who caused them, then? Her sister may be naïve and delusional, but certainly not in risk of actively harming herself! She gulps, then moves back towards the young woman.

Daniela watches wordlessly as her cheeks are cupped again, Bela’s gaze intense. She knows already, a question is going to come, and her sister will expect no less than a completely honest answer.

She feels as though she shrinks into herself, feeling somewhat intimidated by her sister’s knowing gaze. Even as a child, Daniela never managed to hide anything from her sister. Now, she desperately tries to hide the fact that she has a new lover.

“Who was with you yesterday?”

Ah, yes, there’s the question.

Daniela gulps, then shrugs. Bela tilts her head a little. She doesn’t buy it.

“No one!”, Daniela attempts, then. She shrinks a little as Bela’s gaze turns from stern to loving. She doesn’t want to lie, not to her sisters and mother, who always took care of her… not Bela, who is staring at her so lovingly and caringly, perfectly conveying that she doesn’t want to take from the redhead, only wants to protect her as any good older sister should.

She can’t help it. Family is forever. She gives in.

“My new love”, she answers as truthful as she can. She has no name for her sister, has no appearance to share with her.

“Who, Dani?”, Bela pushes, her voice soft. Whoever this new love of her sister is, she knows they are no good for the young woman. Judged by the happiness glazing delusional Daniela’s eyes, the woman doesn’t see that, yet.

“I don’t know..”, she answers, sad at this fact, herself. She just wishes she knew who it was, would run into their loving arms given the chance.

Oh, the previous night…she doesn’t remember details, only the love and happiness she felt, how she was kissed and held, dominated easily, fucked into obliviousness and a deep slumber.

Marked? Yes, she thinks so, but when her hand reaches back to touch her skin, she no longer feels the brand she was sure she was marked with the previous night.

Bela doesn’t miss the action, of course, but stays quiet. Her sister looks…lost, almost.

“What happened, little one?”, she asks instead, careful not to push her sister. She doesn’t want to trigger a manic episode, doesn’t want to risk Daniela pulling away and shutting herself away to reach for love she will not find, only to return crying, sobbing, whimpering to her family’s arms.

She’s in luck, she seems, for Daniela’s lost, wide eyes only set on her and no anger follows.

“I- don’t know…”, she whispers. “I was happy, and loved”, she eagerly adds. “She kissed me”, she whispers, happily, her eyes widening as she notices the “She” slipping. So it was a woman! Perhaps a maid after all?

Bela’s eyes narrow at this. She, Lady Beneviento, a woman she knows terrifyingly little about. Has her sister caught her eye? She should think so, yet…all marks from the day before are gone, with no proof they were there to begin with. Can it be? How could it be? Lady Beneviento’s domain is far off through the woods, by the waterfalls, by the mountains and cliffs. And most importantly; she is said to rarely leave her house and interact with others. And, of course, Bela is not oblivious to the business-like relationship she enjoys with Alcina. It would be foolish to come for one of her daughters, much less to harm one, lest she wants to risk not only this, but start a fight between the Lords of the Village.

She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. She must be wrong. It must have been a maid, spotting Daniela’s vulnerability and exploiting it, disappearing just before Bela turned to her room. A nasty nightmare, all of it, it has to be. There is no proof of it being anything else, after all…

With a last look over Daniela, she presses a kiss to the top of the woman’s head, promising she will go hunting with her later on to make up for the scare in the morning, then leaves her to get dressed.

Daniela scowls angrily as she kicks pebbles, leaves and sticks out of her path. Gripping her sickle tightly, she forces herself not to whine to herself. Where Bela should be, right by her side, is only the carcass of a deer the auburn haired woman has caught for herself.

She tracks quietly through the forest, her dress bloodied, her bottom lip quivering despite her futile attempts to be unbothered.

Eventually, she sinks down against a tree, grabbing the limp animal tightly and pulling it to her like a large stuffed animal.

She cries openly, sweet tears running down her cheeks. She feels the lightest, faintest phantom of a wet touch against her cheeks before it passes again. She holds the animal closer, her tears dripping against its bloodied fur.

Stupid Bela, stupid promises, stupid hope, stupid loneliness that seems to follow poor Daniela wherever she goes…!

Bela had promised…promised she’d go hunting with her, as they had when they were younger. But, of course, work came first.

Always, everything comes first before Daniela…

She’s spiralling. Doesn’t even notice it.

Why does Bela hate her?

Why would she lie?

She seemed so sincere this morning, holding her so close, so tight, like for once Daniela was more important than the work Mother entrusted to her.

She promised, promised, promised, promised!

She lied.

She’s a liar.

Why does everybody lie?

She’s all alone.

Why is she always all alone?

Just then, she feels the touch again, less wet, grounding, like the faintest touch of a palm against her upper arm. She turns immediately, back on her feet with her sickle raised.

Alas, nothing is there at all.

Then, she hears, it.

“Dani? Where are you?”

Bela. Liar. Pretender. Wrong.

More tears run down her red face.

Her sister’s voice gets louder and Daniela finds: she doesn’t want to talk to her, now. Doesn’t want to listen to her excuses as to why she worked, why she prioritized something over her sister again. The deer drops to the ground.

She takes off running, far away from the worried calls of her liar sister.

“Dani?! Where are you? I can’t feel you!”, Bela calls, desperately trying to find the connection to her sister through their swarm. It’s almost like the younger woman is either drawing back or withheld from it. She swarms and runs through the wet woods fast, trying to locate the auburn haired woman. She doesn’t like this, doesn’t like her out by herself after the nightmare she’s had. It’s all her fault, all her fault for letting her sister spot her wrapping up work before they agreed to go hunting.

She thought she could finish it, fast, why…

Daniela runs, uncaring of the branches tugging at her cape and dress, tearing and biting into her skin through them. Her lungs burn, the air warm enough for her to hunt carelessly, but bitingly cold the more the moves from the castle.

She can’t stop, won’t stop, doesn’t know why.

“Come”, she hears, like a command she can’t refuse.

Her legs move on their own even when she finds clarity again, knows she has to return to Bela and ease her worries. She should return to the castle. Should hunt with Bela now she finally has the chance! Her legs keep running, her body moving beyond her control. She can’t reach her swarm! She feels so lost…

And still, she feels as though lured in, the farther away her legs carry her, the more she feels as though in a trance. Like she must simply follow this voice in her head, urging her to keep going.

She doesn’t notice when her legs stop moving beyond her control and it’s her who is walking, more and more, more and more and more. The air is bitingly cold, now, uncomfortable so. She pulls her torn cloak around her.

A part of her yearns to find Bela, to return to the castle, lay in her lap in front of the warm fireplace, her belly full from the delicious deer, Bela’s warm voice filling her ears as she reads to her from her favourite book, Mother’s hand in her hair, gentle, loving, as Cassandra takes apart the dear she brought her and praises her for it.

But, the voice… she doesn’t even notice where she goes, what she passes.

At last, she stops, pauses. She stands in front of a manor, dark, made of wood, vines and plants surrounding her.

“Come”

She obeys.

[umeqii]

What r your headcanons for dating Varian? 😋

I'M SO HAPLY SOEMONE REQUESTED YHID JAHSJSJAHSAH (shinobu is me rn >_<)

also for the sake of my hyperfixation; i'm yur older sister in this story ;33

also tw some mentions of death ☆

fandom ; rapunzel tangled the series

character ; varian

reader ; gn

creator ; umeqii

okay, varian is the sweetest ever ^_^

ym would have met after his villain arc, and probably through rapunzel (ofc she's the mc)

you and raps met when she was on her adventure trip thingy for the black rocks

by the time something went wild bc whenever the rocks are involved, something always goes wrong, you guys definitely got very close!

and you guys frfr clicked into older sister and younger sibling

speaking of older sister (lmao this is where the best character and person ever comes in)

you have an older sister mari 😙🙀😋😘

okay so long story short, mariya's only a few years older than you, so she's 17-18

she took you in bc idk ur parents left you or smth and you went to an orphanage and got adopted by mariya

well she didn't take you in, her older sister rosalyne did :3

but rosalynes dead now xoxo

so that's when mari stepped in to fulfill her older sister's dream of eternity and bringing peace between people !!

you were 12 when rosalyne died; when you first met mari, she seemed really intimidating and angry (like younger shinobu, so that's why i added her as the photo :3)

rosalyne however, was very gentle and kind and she saw the best in everyone (like rapunzel !)

the reason why she wanted her eternity was because of how her husband died and he said she was pretty like his eternal love for her or smth idrk i'm literally dying of laughter rn writing this sorry

but idrk how rosalyne died, she probs js tripped on a knife and it stabbed her or sum but she's dead for the sake of the plot ☠️☠️

but yeah, mari stepped in and basically mimicked everything about rosalyne and kept her anger to herself (shinobu kinnie guys xx)

anyways, back to varian

once you were back to rapunzel's palace so you could meet all of her friends, varian saw you

he wasn't the type of boy who believes in love at first sight; but let me tell you somethin' !!

since he was the royal engineer, one of his inventions went kinda wrong and he was walking around to greet rapunzel with black smoke on his face, but not on his eyes thanks to his goggles, and messy ass hair ://

he was originally gonna find more mechanics to use but he heard raps' voice so he went to go see her

and then he saw you

oh my golly goshers

HIS JAW DROPPED 💯💯💥💥💥

you were smiling at rapunzel so sweetly and your eyes were so beautifully detailed??

were everyone's eyes like that?

this was the first time he ever stared at someone so much, not even when he had a puppy crush on cassandra

and the way the golden hour's light shone on one half of your face, it made you look angelic !

and when you opened your closed eyed smile, the light was obsorbed by the swirls of your iris (idk wtf an iris is i js saw it once in a book i thibk)

and then raps n you saw varian just standing there like he witnessed two people having the devils tango 😨😨

you ended up giggling slightly due to his current state and you brought your hand out, whilst introducing yourself, for a handshake

"hi there! i'm y/n!!" AND BROOO THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT HIM >

you looked at him so purely

AND MF KNEW THIS WASN'T A CASSANDRA TYPA CRUSH 😭😭😭💯💯💯

he was down bad lowkey

"o-oh!! h-h-hi varian, i'm y-y/n..NO WAIT, I-i'm varian, nice to meet you y/n."

i got 2nd hand embarrassment for writing that much stutters goddamn .

he thought he was cringey and just ruined all changed to talk to you

but you thought it was cute and dorky

and you have a thing for dorks

anyways, you guys got close after talking about alchemy ig idrk my head hurts like crazy

and when he frfr realised he was inlove with you was when he was trying to sleep, and he looked out of a window and saw a pretty flower

"hm. y/n would like that."

then he clocked it

why tf was he thinking about you 😭😭??

i mean who wouldn't :33

then he was just all like "oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh" as he stuffed his face into his pillow

oh and you knew you liked him from the first time ym met, bc dorks r cute idk

you asked him out though after about 6 months of being best friends

it don't matter if you get scared of rejection, your amazing older sister threatened that if you didn't ask him out, you wouldn't live with her anymore !!

(common mari W)

and yeah, you just said it randomly when he was working on a potion or whatever it's called

"hey y/n, this is an example on why you shouldn't put too much of this substance in-"

"i'm inlove with you, varian."

"WHAT"

and cue the explosion because he infact did put too much of the substance inside his potion.

"oh crap, my bad."

"but if you don't like me in that way, please just forget this whole conversation happened."

BUT HE DID?!?×??!?!

and yeah, since you guys are 14-16, you just hugged him and he spun you around as he kissed your cheek with a red face >3<!!

he's always so sweet and precious with you!!

dare i say rapunzel n mari made a bet to see who would ask the other out first

"ha. pay up, blondie."

"awh..fine."

rapunzel was rooting for varian and as already discussed, mari voted for yeewwww :333

varian however loved how enthusiastic yu were and how excited you were when talking about yur silly little interests >_<!!

whether yur a girl, guy, nb, or all of them, you fr taught varian skincare types of things to help with his eyebags

varian’s love language wld defo be acts of service and words of affirmation, so expect alot of that!1!

you would definitely hug and praiss him alot for his inventions, and even dating, he would always get stiff and flustered whenever any of this happened ^_^!!!

[icedcoffeedisaster]

Ask from @shortstrawberry that I accidentally deleted because tumblr hates me. So sorry!

I feel especially bad because that was the first ask I received 😔

Either way, I hope you enjoy! And feel free to sneak back into my askbox if you want

Just A Cold

Donna x MC (Reader)

Summary: You caught the flu and haven't been to the shop in two days. Donna is concerned and comes to check on you

It was quiet. Too quiet. The shop had been almost empty for the past two days with just Donna to tend to the duties. Luckily, not many people had swung by apart from Cassandra, making her record appearance of three times in one day for three girls she was desperate to avoid the wrath of.

Golden rays of light cast through the pristine windows of the shop as the silence of the day persisted, her phone laying quietly on the side with no messages since the one two days ago informing her you weren't feeling great. Donna was set on coming to care for you, but you had insisted it was just a cold and that you'd be fine for work the following day.

She stared at her unanswered messages, the 'delivered' status haunting her thoughts even when she was trying to continue her work earlier. It wasn't like you to get this sick, what if something had happened to you? What if you weren't OK?

She was going to come see you, and make sure you were OK. You were her everything, so why should you recover alone?

Her movements determined, Donna set about closing up the shop and the mess from earlier. In her distracted state, she had dropped a plant pot full of soil, successfully coating her smock and gloves in dirt. It also ended up with a streak on her face when she wiped her brow unknowingly.

With the lock turned and the closed sign up, Donna got in her car and drove above the speed limit to reach you.

/ / / / / /

You felt like death. Probably looked like it too.

You felt the cold sweat coating your skin and forcing your clothes and hair to stick to your body. It was uncomfortable in all the worst kinds of ways, and you were desperately trying to warm up under the copious amounts of blankets and comforters that you had wrapped yourself in. Your body was aching. Every movement felt like you were being chained down, and yet there was no position that granted you respite. Breathing itself was a struggle, an effort to get a decent amount of air in. The mountain of blankets probably didn't help here, but you were too tired to care

It was hell. And the one angel of your life was out of reach as your phone had become lost in the sea of blankets that you dare not search in. Long since dead, the charger had been stolen by none other than Angie on the night you two and Dani had gone drinking. Those fireball shots would be the death of you.

A gentle knock interuppted your train of thought as you cast a weary glance towards the door, sceptical. It knocked again, slightly louder.

"Dolcezza, may I come in?"

A smile etched its way onto your features, yet all you could muster was a cough when you attempted an answer. To your luck, the door opened, and light was cast into the dark cave of your room. Donna shut the door behind her before rushing to your bedside, the back of her hand immediately against your forehead as she frowns, eyes meeting yours.

"This isn't just a cold, mia cara. Come, let me help you."

Her voice was gentle, yet firm. Something told you she wasn't going to accept no as an answer.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you up, dragging you close to her as she helped you stand. Shivers wracked your body as you held onto her, burying your face in her neck with a whine in an attempt to get closer. A gentle squeeze and whispered encouragements warmed your heart and soul as Donna moved you to the living room, dragging a spare blanket behind her, which she draped over you once you were settled on the couch.

With a regretful smile, Donna detached herself from you, her hand coming up to cup your face as she kissed your forehead before moving away.

The smell of something cooking drifted over from the kitchen shortly after, where a pot of something sat on the oven with Donna stood by it, lips pursed in concentration. Her smock lay folded on another counter with her gloves on top, leaving her in her work shirt with the cuffs folded to just above the elbow. You turned to get a better view, content to just watch as she worked in content silence.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Donna moving towards you, two bowls of soup in hand as she sat beside you. Her own bowl she placed on the table in favour of helping you eat yours, her smile growing wider as she saw how much you enjoyed it.

Nothing could beat Donna's cooking.

It took a while, but the pair of you were finished, bowls neatly stacked on the table. Whether or not they'll make it to the kitchen is another question.

Warm, slender fingers traced patterns on your back as you leant against her, snuggling as close as possible in your confined space. You lay curled against her, her arms around your middle and legs intertwined under the blankets. A comfortable silence lay over the pair of you until she spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me, love? You worried me." Donna's eyes met yours, a furrow in her brow.

You hesitated before answering, voice scratchy from the illness.

"I didn't want you to worry, I just didn't think it would be this bad. I would have come in today, but i didn't want you to get sick either"

"I know. But don't leave me in the dark next time. I will always be here for you, dolcezza, you know this. You're mine, and I won't have you facing this alone"

A smile broke out on your face as you pulled her closer, relaxing against her as you felt the tension melt out of your body. You stay like that for a while, with Donna rubbing your back and eventually moving her hand to the back of your head, where she ran her fingers through your hair before she spoke again.

"Rest love, I've got you"

And for the first time in two days, you drift off to a peaceful sleep.

[ultimate-marysue]

To all interested in toxic, dysfunctional Batfam/Bad or Abusive Dad Bruce I have a proposition of sorts. As much as I love a Bad Dad Bruce where the kids all comfort and help each other standing up to Bruce, I think it's more likely and more interesting if they're completely isolated and desperate for Bruce's approval.

(If this isn't your cup of tea ignore this post. I'm also a fan of Good dad Bruce and wholesome Batfam but I understand some people are only interested in one or the other and that's valid. There's space for everyone in this fandom. Also TW for discussions of psychological Child Abuse)

How abuse (especially the brand the comics accidentally depict at times and the fandom enjoys portraying) works is more complicated that a Mean Bad Guy and a bunch of sweet and adorable perfect victims that unionize together. You make your victims fight each other, you choose golden children and scapegoat kids to rotate between so none of them gets too comfortable. That creates friction and rivalry even on a subconscious level. You may know logically the abuser is the one creating the situation and yet your brain is annoyed whenever a sibling knocks you down in the Favor pyramid.

No one wants to be the scapegoat and when your abuser seems so big and inescapable, the only way to avoid it is pushing someone else under the bus. Not to mention how you believe their logic. When you're compared favorably to another sibling, you internalize said criticism as moral flaws that you're above off. Which makes you resent said sibling even more when they regain favor and you're left thinking "I did everything right, and yet this failure gets dotted on???!". It's the prodigal son parable, Cain and Abel.

I know this makes your fav character extremely morally grey but I find it fascinating. Like, Tim absolutely despising Jason for being a failure and a killer (victim blaming him), seething when he comes back to the family and Batman begs him to come to dinner because how dare he. Tim's done everything right and he doesn't get half the attention. How he tries to steal the spotlight from Damian, clawing at his role as Batman's side quick because that's all that's ever gotten him positive reinforcement.

Dick constantly compares himself to Cass because he was Batman's original partner, she doesn't get to come and suddenly be the apple of Bruce's eye. He thinks he's over the mind games, moving away and trying to encourage his brothers to raise above this nonsensical competition for Bruce's attention...and yet when it comes to Cass (the only one that threatens his status as Golden Child) he can't help but feel just as defensive as his siblings are with him.

Jason who claims to not need Bruce's love and yet is completely addicted to the intermittent reward of his affection. How he still resents Tim for making it a point to be Bruce's obedient little lapdog, how he still blames Dick for being too perfect to reach.

Damian who is constantly being compared to Tim. Perfect Tim who is so smart, and obedient and socially savvy. How do you get your father to approve of you when your competition is 1) The Original Boy Wonder 2) His most perfect and loyal soldier in the cause 3) The World's Most Dutiful Sidequick. He'll never be as great as Dick, as Devoted as Cass nor as obedient as Tim.

Cassandra knows she's the favorite, and even when Dick briefly usurps her place in Bruce's made up mental hierarchy she knows it won't last. She's too good, and that drives all of her insecure praise-starved siblings up the wall. She may not be purposefully mean, but the end result is the same.

Duke may be the only one escaping mostly unscathed. He's playing along with the whole family thing, but his real parents are alive, he's going back to them as soon as he fixes their situation. He's been in the system since they were jokerized and this is not his first encounter with this kinda dynamic so he's not engaging. He admires Bruce's work, but Batman was never his inspiration. There's no hero worship to blind and entice him, and that low-key scares Bruce. Which is why Duke also gets the golden child treatment, an instinctive attempt at winning him over.

Steph and Barbara often find themselves reeling from the shit they hear from the "Waynes". Because everything makes sense to their internal logic, but the second you talk to an outsider they feel the need to call CPS. I can see them arguing with Tim and Dick respectively and calling them out on the twisted way they talk about their siblings sometimes. Same with Cass.

These are just raw ideas, but I just think if you're going to play around with the concept of abusive Dad Bruce, you can enrich the analysis by reflecting on the consequences of said upbringing. It doesn't mean they can't talk things out and fix it, but acknowledging how abuse twists your brain can give depth to your interpretation. Victims aren't perfect martyrs, if you grow up in a fucked up environment you're gonna think fucked up things. And not all of those are self afflicted and cute, sometimes you're going to think very mean things about your fellow victims. And I'm not even bringing Alfred Sneaky Enabler Pennyworth into this, that's already its own post.

I'm not saying you should never write them banding together for comfort, I'm not even saying that this interpretation is canon (like, at all, it just isn't). I'm just saying I don't see enough of this idea and I wanted to share it.

[crow-aeris]

Part 1 of Chapter 12 is out! part 2 will be posted later tonight :3

tags below if yall are interested

Chapters: 12/13

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Catherine Todd & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Talia al Ghul, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake

Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Talia al Ghul, Cassandra Cain

Additional Tags: Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, BAMF Jason Todd, Jason Todd Needs a Break, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Kid Tim Drake, Kid Jason Todd, Kid Damian Wayne, Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Baby Damian Wayne, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Protective Siblings, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Shenanigans, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, No Batcest | Batfamily Incest (DCU), Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Protective Bruce Wayne, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Kidnapping, Mentioned Duke Thomas, Mentioned Batkids, other characters not mentioned in tags, BAMF Tim Drake (DCU), Manipulative Tim Drake, but only slightly?, Smart Tim Drake (DCU), Memory Loss, Memory Alteration, i think i should've added these earlier, idek man, Lies, Tim Drake Lies, Protective Dick Grayson, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Roller Coaster, Worried Dick Grayson, All-Blades (DCU), Jason Todd Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time (DCU), Dick Grayson Has a Bad Time, Cursed objects, Jason Todd Whump, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Mentioned Ra's al Ghul, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Protective Talia al Ghul, Talia al Ghul Tries, Young Cassandra Cain, Kid Cassandra Cain, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Good Parent Janet Drake

Summary:

During a mission gone wrong, Jason watches as his brothers were seized by a pendant, crushed into clouds of golden dust before disappearing into the air. Then, Jason too was seized by the pendant... but rather than being lost to the ever-shifting darkness that death was, Jason... wakes up?

Oh dear god- again?!

[starrenati]

Somehow I feel like this chapter is both most and least comforting from all the ones written already. But I really like how it turned out anyway, so please, enjoy.

Chapter XIV

"Lover of the stars"

Hours passed and Alice was still sitting in the same spot, her eyes focused on the, now cold, tea in her cup. Both pros and cons of that decision seemed to weigh the same. It would be bad to betray it all, everything she knew until now. Sure. But oh how much she wanted to learn more, how to silence her mind on her own or at least how to deal with that pain without another catastrophe, like the one in the city. What surprised her the most, was the fact that Cassandra didn’t push at her at all. She just finished her tea, got up and left her here, alone. Not something she expected at all, no… Alice expected anger and demand for the answer, for frustration to arise over time and get loud. But it was calm, dust still like a golden glitter falling through the air and almost orange sun rays. 

On one hand, she didn’t want to agree, what if Wade and Logan find her? They’ll feel betrayed. They won’t want her anymore, as she’ll become as much of a villain as Cassandra is. On the other hand, it wasn’t guaranteed that they’ll ever find a way to get here. To the Void at all, more even find her in that vast space. She sighed, finally finishing the tea and getting up from the table. Her body felt stiff from sitting down for so long, she stretched, welcomed by well known cracks of her joints and spine, filling out the empty space. She frowned at it, it was suddenly so loud and overwhelming. She could’ve run. Or at least it felt like that. To just jump out from the window and make a run for it, maybe she’d manage to escape, find Laura and others if they’re still here, but she felt like someone tied a heavy, metal ball to her legs. She wouldn’t run. Of course not. It’d feel like a betrayal. Cassandra didn’t kill her, she trusted her and gave her time and space to make a decision. Running away would make her into an ungrateful coward. So Alice just sat down in what seemed to be the window and also eye socket of this gigantic skull. 

Her legs dangling in the air, as her mind remained as crowded as ever. Sure, the decision seemed simple. Say no, try to run and save your life, find a way to go back home. But there was so much more to it. She learned so much in such a short time and it made it all so much more difficult. Her dad not being her father, her mother being part of some fucked up agency that apparently not only sentences people to the Void, but also experiments on them if they’re interesting enough. Her powers getting out of control and warping time in some very wrong ways… What’s next? Waking up to it all being just a dream? On the same bench in the park, when she was fourteen and ran away from home for the first time? Or maybe when she was five, waking up in the garden to rain soaking her in seconds? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for it to be just a dream. At least it’d be a bit more bearable. 

She sighed, watching the people, Cassandra’s pawns, move down there, talk and enjoy each other's company. Will it happen to her as well if she says yes? To become just a mindless pawn with no free will, trapped in this corpse's arms? Not a very bright future, but with a warm undertone of belonging somewhere. With other freaks of nature, similar to her. It was all so messed up, right? She should’ve wanted to go home. Go back to those that cared for her, and yet she was contemplating about staying here, with some maniac woman, who’ll probably just use and discard her. 

She shook her head, raising her eyes to look at the darkening sky. Only now noticing that there was more than one moon, several colorful points that were probably some long forgotten planets or stars. Right. Everything that ended and was not needed anymore, was in the Void. Not only things but also parts of nature. Stars… So many constellations lost through time, from so many universes, now painting that sky in some color she couldn’t even name anymore. It was breathtaking. So she just sat there, watching them like a little kid watches a christmas tree, while sparkles in her own eyes were brighter than the stars in the night sky. 

“You like the stars? How peculiar.” 

Alice jumped in place, hearing Cassandra behind herself so suddenly. She should’ve expected that, after all she was in her empire, not even held against her will, just stuck there. 

“You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Alice said back, her undertone carrying that little angry snap, mixed with guilt and shame. She didn’t mean to be mean. It just happened. On its own. 

“You’re angry. About?” 

“Of course I’m angry. From what I heard I don't have any other variant. It's just me. In the whole multiverse it's just me, no copies,and yet I was deemed useless enough to be sent into this hellhole! 21 years of living hell just to be sent here without even a glimpse of a happy ending!"

Saying it out loud helped to tidy her mind a bit, sort it into the right places, instead of wandering around it with no purpose at all. 

"Even your anger is gentle..."

"What?"

"When I get angry I skin people alive or throw them to that hungry maniac. You barely raised your voice at me..."

Cassandra spoke gently, for no reason at all, but something told her to act like so. Despite not being around this girl for most of the day, she still kept her eye on her in some ways. That’s how she knew the turmoil of emotions that was inside this girl's head and heart. Gnawing mess of fiery anger, quiet guilt and murky tiredness. For the first time in years, Cassandra felt something close to empathy, while looking at Alice. So many unanswered questions, all leading to thinking she was at fault for it all, just because she was born like this. It must hurt to know you were born for a purpose of being nothing for others, for a purpose of being pushed aside and forgotten even by the closest ones to you. 

“You don’t know how to be angry. Truly furious. You carry too much guilt in yourself to reach it.”

Cassandra was back to her usual, monotone voice, simply stating another fact. Leaving Alice even more sheepish, causing her to look away towards the sky once more. To let her mind wander away from this moment, almost like she was trying to protect herself from any further harm. Maybe she was. Maybe facing the truth was too much for a beautiful night like this one. Cassandra just sighed, when there was no reply again. She expected that, of course, she would’ve been surprised if there would be any response at all. But as much as she wanted to force this girl to talk, she decided to give it up for now. The days in the Void are countless, and time barely passes through a land of forgotten things and people. Through this empire built on lies and false hope. Instead, Nova just sat down by Alice, without any more words, just took off her coat to not sit on it, as getting off dust from a beige fabric was hell to do, even with her powers. The cold reached her skin, causing goosebumps to appear, it’s been a while since she felt it, usually she was already hidden away in her favorite spot in this place, away from everything and everyone. 

Nova looked towards Alice once more, seeing her relax, strands of poorly dyed hair moving along with the night winds, but the tension from her face was almost gone, jaws unclenched, eyebrows relaxed, breathing slowly. Maybe, just maybe, Cassandra for a split second felt bad about the upcoming betrayal. Giving up this unfamiliar calmness for craving power. But she just wanted to show the world, universe, the whole multiverse.. What she was made for since day one. That she was meant to rule over bigger things than just some trash dump of nowhere. That she was meant to be looked up to and feared, that she was the strongest telepath, not her oh so loved twin. He done nothing. She knew that much, that he did nothing, every variant of him being nothing but a failure in terms of this amazing power, failed in saving other mutants with her as well. He was nothing but a failure. Wasn’t he?

“...” 

She looked towards Alice again, catching onto the fact that she said something, but this time it was Cassandra’s mind getting loud and tuning out everything around. 

“What?”

She squinted her eyes at the girl in front of her. This time her tired eyes focused on Nova instead of the night sky. How ironic to be called Nova and have a star lover stare at you. 

“You’ll get cold. You shouldn’t sit here without your coat.”

Cassandra found herself completely dumbfounded. Was… Was this girl caring for her? After all the threats, the tries to kill her, all that play that was made just to hurt her, she was caring? It was unbelievable. For a moment there, Nova took it as an offense, some cruel joke that was meant to make her out as weakling that can’t even handle sitting in a cold night, ready to get angry, maybe even attack, but… It wasn’t it. She heard it many times that for humans, eyes are the windows to the soul, to everything that’s true. There was no malice or hatred, there was genuine care for some reason. 

“I’ll be fine. You on the other hand, I don’t want to have you coughing and having your snot everywhere around. You can’t regenerate like I do. Go inside.”

Switch to a more cold and aggressive tone. Safe way out. It was always working, and also kind of true. The last thing she wanted right now was to have a coughing, sneezing, complaining mess here. After all, all the meds in the Void were the failed ones as well, it won’t help and might make it only worse, and dealing with that alone sounded like a headache. But this girl, this weird creature made to look like a human, just smiled at her, shaking her head and looking back at the sky. The audacity. Ugh, the things she had to do to earn her trust to use her powers more freely for her own will. Insanity. Pure insanity. 

Cassandra got up and left with no more words said, while Alice stayed there, watching the sky follow with even more stars that probably didn’t have a name anymore. Or were long forgotten, but just as pretty as the day they were lost forever. Alice could sense that this calm was just a moment before a real storm, but it somehow soothed her soul, at least enough to make it possible to make her final decision. She was watching the stars for a bit more, watching the moons and planets to come to their full glory. Maybe she’ll regret it, or maybe not only her life would change the moment she’ll voice her idea. But something from inside, something almost unreal, told her that this is a right thing to do, maybe it was just the voices, or maybe it was something connected to her time warping ability giving her a glimpse towards the future. She got up, taking a step into the dimly lit room. 

“ Cassandra.”  She spoke, gaining the attention of the other woman that was once again sitting by the tea table, her sharp blue eyes falling onto Alice. “I agree to stay here with you. To learn from you about my powers.”

She felt a sharp pain in her chest for a short while. Pain of betraying those that loved her, and were now probably looking for a way to get her back. But maybe, if she learns enough, she’ll fix it all, just so it'll be again the end of a particularly hot summer, when her headache was too much, and the balcony was in full bloom. 

“I knew you’d make the right choice.” 

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: They might eventually learn to be nice to each other. Very grateful to everyone who's reading and hopefully enjoying, too

Warnings: 18+ Violence, talk of possible sexual assault, alcohol, some pretty graphic descriptions of drug use and needles (if that makes you nervous it's only the first paragraph). Smut and Rust is mean and high as a kite. Cassandra is more than consenting but I'm a firm believer that with the cocktail of hardcore drugs, devastating grief and the overall testosterone fuelled Crash persona he had to embody, sex with him would be rough. Not bad, but rough.

Caramel. Burnt and bubbly, that thick, sticky goo swirling around. Cassandra had made it once, after class, cause she'd see it on the on some bored ass-housewife baking show during a bout of insomnia. Poured all over graham crackers with an extra sprinkle of salt and, when it had cooled down enough, she'd swiped her finger across the pan, letting the golden sludge coat her fingers as she sucked it off. No 'fuck me' eyes, no deliberate dragging of fingertips over pouted lips. No, this was pure fucking indulgence. For a brief, caramel slathered moment of a purely childish whim, her body belonged more to her than it had done for years. Anyway, Caramel. Yeah, it's what Cassandra told him meth reminds her of; bubbling away on that slither of foil. Smoking, snorting, inhaling, whatever: she could tolerate that. Injecting, she could not. Said it made her agitated, that she could almost hear the puncture of the skin's jelly when the needle went through.

That was why Cassandra is so fucking jumpy, now. Through the coke, speed and crass commentary on their supposed sex life, she'd remained calm. Like an amateur form of astral projection, she had described it as while doing their laundry in his kitchen sink, you detach yourself from your body. I ain't really there, just a vehicle for what I need it to give me in that moment. It's just meat at the end of the day. Meat that is serving as a vehicle for a purpose: money, sex, drug receptacle, exercise, etc. A theory that had held up until now; the restlessness of discomfort and boredom making her squirm on his lap. Rust tries to reign her in with a firm forearm pressed to her stomach, which works, until her sharp, glossy nails start to dig into his skin, leaving little half-moons adorning the tick leather of his biker jacket.

'Cool it. Two more beers and I'll take you home,' he mutters into her ear, his forearm pressing her deeper into his chest as he does so.

'You think you're fucking driving after the shit you've put in your system?! Boy, you must be out of your fucking mind. No, I'll be the one driving,' Cassandra spits back, her acerbic tone warranting the attention of a few surrounding Iron Crusaders who can't resist to add in their two cents,

'You gonna let your woman talk to you like that, Crash?' a biker called Razor teases, a lacerating edge to his voice. The cocktail of drugs and liquor pulsating through his bloodstream mixed with powder keg that is Cassandra are putting Rust's nerves on a knife edge. If he was a better (and more sober) man, he might've treated her better, might have allowed himself more tenderness in her regard. But he's not and he can't. Any sign of weakness and the suspicion will grow and fester like mould, and he's not the only one with the fucking gun pressed to his temple: Cassandra's right there with him. Except it won't be gun for her. No, those fuckers will relish in finding a far more sadistic, humiliating way to prove the dominance of the Iron Crusaders. And the worst part? Cassandra's 'punishment' will only be an extension of his own. What's more denigrating than that? That the violence, just like the body it is inflicted upon, doesn't belong to you. Rust tries to justify how he's about to act with that train a thought but quickly pushes it down. He's past the delusion that justification facilitates. Once you hit a dog, you need to kill it. Otherwise, it'll rip you to shreds.

'Trust me, she knows her place. She's just acting up in the hopes that I give it to her a little rougher, tonight,' he deadpans, before grabbing her chin and tilting her head back so that they can make eye contact, 'But she should be careful. Much more out of that smart, little mouth of hers and I'll use it as a fuckin' ashtray.'

Fuck, he sees the pure ire that that phrase elicits from Cassandra's eyes over the whoops of the Crusaders.

'Try it and I swear to God I will spit it right back in your fucking face,' she borderline snarls at him. All this over some needles, baby? Rust thinks, his now non-existent sobriety only allowing his apathy towards her recklessness stretch only so far.

'Cassandra, baby,' he crassly pats her cheek a couple times like you would a pet, 'I'm giving you a total of 10 seconds to shut that mouth before I occupy it with somethin' much more useful for me and much more entertainin' for my brothers than your sass mouthin'.'

'You fu-' she doesn't get the word out before Rust stands up, lurching her body up with him: her abdomen folded over his forearm while supported by a firm hand on her crotch. Definitely uncomfortable, he muses, maybe even a little painful. Though, he'd feel a lot fucking worse if his hand wasn't pressed up against a wetness that is about two hours in the making. He puts her down,

'We're leaving.'

'No, we ain't. My stuff's still in the back-'

'Do you have shoes?' Rust deadpans.

Cassandra glances down to her Tony Lamas, 'Yeah, but-'

'Then you can walk to my fuckin' truck and sit your ass in it. You'll get your shit tomorrow.'

She stares at him and, beneath the gelid fury of her features, he sees a deep, burning desires; that same burning that reduced Troy to ashes. All over one man's fucking desire. That's what everything in this god forsaken world boils down to: that carnal, visceral act of sex. And everything is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power; a power that Rust and Cassandra are fighting for. Oh he sees it in her eyes, all right. Poor baby, don't you know a working a pole or giving a lap dance is one thing, Rust thinks. But Cassandra already knows that dance and she knows this word; her gaze carries the authority of a girl weaned on the milk of a world where icy, serious shit happens. Insatiable thing as always, his Cassandra. Like a sordid, seedy-underbelly inversion of the ingenue blossoming into the woman, Cassandra needs the heady, briny smell of the room, to lick the salt of sweat from his temple, for him to fuck her because she's been cold for too long and the burn won't matter cause fire is fire.

He yanks her arm, pulling her out of the club with him, as he calls over his shoulder to the Crusaders with mean grin,

'Don't wait up for me, boys. Try not to bleed Ginger of all his money, the fucker owes me a rematch.'

Met with some whoops and 'alrights', Rust pushes open the heavy, mirror door and pulls her towards his truck. Wrenching open the passenger side door, he all but throws her inside. When he sits down, Cassandra pounces on him, trying to get a few slaps on him before he shoves her back down.

'Is that your idea of fucking payment, huh? Yeah, let's just degrade the bitch infront of the rest of those pigs. That'll show her who's in charge,' she seethes.

He yanks on the stick shift and pulls out of the lot, now speeding down the road back to the trailer park,

'You know, Cass? You being angry at me would be a lot more effective if I couldn't smell how wet you are.'

Rust braces for the slap, tensing his hands on the wheel so as to not lose control of the truck but Cassandra just stares at him, dumbfounded. A flush creeps up on her collarbones. Whether it's from shame or the pure shock of arousal, Rust doesn't know. He contents himself with either outcome.

'Are you gonna fuck me, tonight?' in a voice so meek and whispered that it should never be used to speak those words. Rust takes as sharp inhale of the Camel he just lit,

'Yeah. But I ain't touching you 'til we're home.'

'Why the hell not?'

He glances back over to her, giving her a one over in those white, lace bra and panties, those endless legs in the worn leather of her cowboy boots,

'I wanna see how wet you can get without me even touching you.'

Very, Rust discovers, as he has her strip off in the middle of the trailer and hand him the damp panties.

'Shit, baby. All I have to do is manhandle you a bit, huh?' Rust murmurs, tilting them in his palm to admire the glisten under the nauseating, yellow overhead light.

'Crash, I-'

'Shut the fuck up and put this on,' he says, handing her his heavy, leather biker jacket. She stares at him before taking the jacket and shrugging it on. Gunpowder, liquor, tobacco and sweat. The cool metal of the zipper does nothing to soothe the burning of her skin, where it rests on the bulge of her breasts.

'Turn around,' Rust mutters and, still staggered by the brazen act of possession he's just performed, Cassandra obliges; demonstrating the embroidered High Speed Low Drag Son of a Bitch and Iron Crusaders emblem on the back. The jacket ends just above the curve of her ass, the sleeves slightly too long: the overall effect should give some sleazy, leather-clad Lolita effect but it doesn't. Not with how his Cassandra rolls back her shoulders, juts her hip and lifts her chin when she turns to face him, again. Those cool, dark eyes regarding him with the wisdom of a girl too young to contain the effervescence of passion and danger that Cassandra does.

'I said turn around.'

She bites the inside of her cheek but turns and Rust lands a stinging smack on her ass, making her jump pathetically.

'Go lie down on your back. Keep that jacket on,' and again, she acquiesces. Once lying down, Rust hovers over her and retrieves the single stack 9mm and a small ziplock bag containing white powder, from the inner pocket. That stirs Cassandra from the lethargy of want she's been under,

'Are you fucking serious?' she sits up on her elbows, the jacket falling slightly open and exposing the contrast of tanned skin with the milk paleness of her breasts.

'With the shit in my bloodstream, I have about an hour before I start getting cold sweats and convulsions. An hour ain't gonna be nowhere near enough time to do what I intend to do to you. So, hold still,' he drawls before placing a heavy hand on her sternum, pushing her back down and scraping a line on one of her tits. She feels a jolt in her stomach before an embarrassing rush of heat between her thighs as he lowers himself and inhales it off of her, jerking his head back as the chemicals merge into his bloodstream, plunging him into white hot, acidic ecstasy. He reaches down and runs his fingers at the seam of her core, rubbing that little nub,

'Where's all that attitude now, baby? I don't have to be mean about this, y'know?' Rust murmurs, now grinding the underside of his palm into her wet heat. Cassandra gulps down a moan as she responds,

'You do,' she half states, half whimpers.

'You're right. I do,' as he smiles that nasty smile again and lands another sharp smack, on her core this time which elicits a choked moan from her.

'Back up, baby. Go further onto the bed,' Rust says before standing to his full height as Cassandra awkwardly shuffles back, the jacket now hanging off of one of her shoulders.

'I should fuck you from the back, that way you might finally learn some fuckin' manners,' Rust says, pulling off his shirt and dropping to his knees onto the mattress. Cassandra scoffs, that usual incorrigibility bubbling up. Fuck, he has her naked, wearing his fucking biker jacket and she can still summon that rancour, the one nurtured by a life of obsolete promises, blood on linoleum floors and the way your first cigarette tastes more bitter than the rest as it's now your only remaining comfort after daddy not holding you anymore. Never one for insipidity, Cassandra spits back, acrimonious,

'What? So, you don't have to look me in the eyes like a real man when you come?'

Rust lets out a harsh huff of laughter, devoid of any amusement, 'All this sass mouthin' from someone who's practically humpin' the sheets for some release.'

Which earns a kick from Cassandra, foot aimed at his nose before he grabs her ankle, hauling her leg over his shoulder; the abrupt movement making her core rub against the denim of his crotch. The sudden friction making her inadvertently buck against him. Rust looks down,

'Either you stop that or I will make you get off with just this,' he drawls and Cassandra doesn't even have the strength to argue.

'Please, Crash, please. You know I'll let you do anything you want.'

He hums, tempted, while he unzips his trousers and pulls down his boxers,

'Your pussy's too good for you to be givin' yourself away this easy.'

'How would you know?' she breathes out.

'Wasn't born yesterday, Cass. Pussy this wet,' he grunts, sliding in two fingers straight, 'and this tight, don't come easy and it don't come often. Plus, since whoever or whatever made you, made you fuckin' perfect in every goddamn way, I doubt they skimped on this.'

She moans, too dazed with fucking herself on his fingers to really notice the compliment. He lowers himself onto his forearms and blows gently onto her seam,

'No, no, no, Crash. You're gonna make me dry, it's gonna hurt,' Cassandra whimpers out, squirming before he brings his tattooed forearm to rest on her stomach, pinning her down. He looks up at her, ceasing his fingers movements,

'It should fuckin' hurt. Way you've been actin' all night.'

'Please, please, Crash,' she sobs.

Rust hums pensively before sitting up on his knees, grabbing a fistful of Cassandra's hair, to yank her head up, and holding out his slick fingers in front of her mouth,

'You don't want it to hurt, baby?' he murmurs in that dangerous, velvety drawl.

'No.'

'Fine. Spit on it,' he deadpans, keeping his hand in front of her. And she does it.

'So, you can behave,' he says, rubbing the wetness on her core, not that she needs it with how it's running down her and onto his sheets. That tart, salty smell; so distinctly woman. We're all just fuckin' animals. Monkeys, Rust thinks. But right now, as he slides his cock into the whimpering mess of tanned limbs and leather beneath him, he feels more human than he has in years. He recalls reading about negative utility: we as humans don't actually really care about pleasure, just minimising suffering. Bullshit. This fucking hurts, it hurts with how hard he is, the ache in his knees from holding this position, the burn of the capillaries in his nose from chemical erosion. He knows hurts for Cassandra, too; way that she's gasping and choking, poor baby probably hasn't got it since prom night. But, fuck, if he wants it. This pain is only whetting his appetite for the pleasure to come, as he feels Cassandra already pulsating around him; like the moment right after he takes LSD when his mouths tastes like blood just before he tastes colours. In this pleasure-pain maelstrom, his definitions start to fade. Yes, he feels more human right now than he has in years, since he has since he saw the mess of blood and teeth on his driveway. Rust looks down at Cassandra, a gleam of sweat on her brow just like his own. As the culmination of living takes over his thrusts and his senses, the only thing grounding him is her voice, like a mantra,

'Crash.'

[threepandas]

⋆˚✿˖°New Master Post!⋆˚✿˖° \(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)/

MHA:

Hawks: 1

Hawks-Bird4Bird: 1 2 3 4 5

AFO: 1 2 3 4

Aizawa: 1 1 extended

Yamada: 1

Izuku: Your Biggest Fan: 1 2 3

Dabi: 1

DC:

Batfam: 1

Star Wars:

The Vode's List: 1 1.5 2 3

Counting Down: 1 2 3

KHR:

Sun Burnt: 1 2 3

Bad End:

Hidden Heir: 1 2

Happy Hunting: 1

Kept Safe: 1

Chosen: 1 2 3 4 5

Bunker: 1

Into The Light: 1

Cold War: 1

Restructuring: 1

Soldier A: 1

Superior: 1

Command: 1

Prey: 1

Mama Mine: 1

Eve: 1 2

Cultivation: 1

Out In The Cold: 1

Preserve Us: 1

The Nunnery: 1

Toxic: 1

Heroic Collection: 1

For Us: 1

Traps: 1

Stolen: 1

Knights End: 1

Royal Red: 1

Kuro Ryuko: 1

Union: 1

Screen Demons: 1

We Are: 1

Nobody's Here: 1

Winter's Victory: 1

Witness: 1

Jester~Jester!: 1

After The War: 1 2

Royal Weddings: 1

No Good Turn: 1

Poisoned Cups: 1

No Question: 1

My Faithful: 1

Games Played: 1

Loyalties: 1

Actions Speak: 1

Century Demons: 1

In Bad Faith: 1

Trust: 1

Lost At Star Sea: 1

Golden Cassandra: 1

[pinkorchidsinspring]

Maybe because the tortured POETS department was her SPEAKing NOW. This album was her testimony. After all, it came straight from the desk of the CHAIRMAN of the tortured poets department. Right? This is her

Saying that she’s been a functioning alcoholic til nobody noticed her new asthetic. Fortnight

Saying that the kind of people she dates leave type writers at her apartment TTPD

Saying that rivulets descend her plastic smile MBOBHFT

Saying that they’ll say she’s nuts if she talks about the existence of her wife Down Bad

Saying that she feels as though her career was the gun that made those two graves SLL

Saying that they slammed the door on her whole world 🤍🌼 BDILH

Saying that she had years of labor, locks and ceilings⛓️‍💥 for just one hour of sunshine ☀️ FOTS

Saying she needs to forget 🥃 FLORIDA!!!

Saying that she is in fact guilty as sin ✝️🏳️‍🌈 GAS?

Saying that the industry should be afraid of little old Taylor. WAOLOM

Saying that her lover had a Halo of the highest grade, and traces hearts on her face. ICFHNRIC

Saying that her and her lover’s field of dreams were engulfed in fire. 🔥 loml

Saying that she’s miserable, and nobody even knows. ICDIWABH

Saying that she wonders if in 50 years will all this be declassified? TSMWEL

Saying that she’ll make a comeback to where she belongs. The Alchemy

Saying that it truly is hell on earth to be that heavenly. Clara Bow

Saying that her longings remain unspoken. TBD

Saying that these eras of hiding truly will be fading into gray. imgonnagetyouback

Saying that some old men once said “one bad seed kills the garden” that is the music industry. The Albatross

Saying that she needs to know if she’ll always wonder “what if?” COSOSOM

Saying that the deflation of their dreaming after the patch job on coming out during lover era left Taylor bereft and reeling. How did it end?

Saying that her relationships as far as the public knows are so high school in comparison to her real love.

Saying that she’ll go to secret gardens in her mind to escape the here and now of Taylor Swift™️. I Hate It Here

Saying that all that time the swifties were throwing digital punches at whatever guy was unlucky enough to be picked that month, It was all for nothing. Because it wasn’t real. TYA

Saying that she’s transfixed by the rose golden glow of her lover, aka the one in rose blush. ILIPW

Saying that shes been on her knees, begging someone to please change the prophecy, she doesn’t want the PR money, she’s had enough of this punishment. TP

Saying that bloods thick but there’s NOTHING like a payroll, and she said it first, in a mourning warning, no one heard. Cassandra

Saying that as the men mascurade around with grown up Taylor, her younger self waits for her to come out because she said when she grew up she was gonna come find her. Peter

Saying that she was reviled by everyone except her own father. The Bolter

Admitting that in sweetness, she does all this showmanship because she vowed to keep a secret from the little boy who plays with dinosaurs. To protect him. 👩🏼‍🍼Robin

Saying that when it’s all over she’ll know what the agony had been for. The Manuscript

In case you didn’t catch on yet, these admissions are all from each of the 31 songs on the album.

I repeat: The reason Taylor released more signed copies of an album that is full of her real thoughts, is because this is her TRUTH. This album was her SPEAKing NOW.

The end is near my friends.

[aardvaark]

the librarians "and the fatal separation" (s3e9) watch through:

nice to see jacob fighting someone - the actor’s fight scenes in leverage are always so fun.

oh man, flynn’s (life-representing) candle looks a little close to the end. however, i assume the candles/library can’t be a perfectly accurate representation of when the person is gonna die because otherwise you could do whatever you want until your candle is low and be certain you’re gonna survive. also it’s fun to see baird’s huge candle display & ezekiels literally being a birthday cake candle lol.

i find it interesting that cassandra can have magical powers that kind of come from nowhere. correct me if i’m wrong but afaik, so far, there’s no artifacts or spells or anything considered responsible for her magical gift. since magics returned to the world, it could kinda spontaneously show up, right? but that means other people could probably gain that kind of innate magic, huh?

hmm baird, care to elaborate on that mentor of yours?

ezekiel’s known as the smartest librarian & cassandras all offended lol.

charlene!!!!!! she’s just been found and she’s immediately chastising flynn for turning up and looking for her lmaooo

baird is a sleeper agent? EXPLAIN.

"you took a bullet for me. i’ll never forget that, let alone repay it". i know the general/baird’s mentor means that shes always indebted to baird because no favour or amount of money is equal to what baird did for her, but the way she says it sounds like she wouldn’t do the same for baird. like she wouldnt repay it by catching a bullet for baird even if she had the chance.

thinking about charlene’s budget and like. where DO they get their funding from. i don’t doubt that they’d get funding, im sure keeping certain artefacts out of the hands of the general public (or those who’d use them for a bad cause) is in the interests of many people/organisations with money. but their allies are fairly few & far between so id like to know specifically. and i guess theoretically they could have some kind of money source artefact, like the fairytale golden goose running around one of the rooms in the library, but it can’t be infinite because then they wouldn’t have to budget. unless they’re just really strict about not affecting the wider economy.

whatever charlene told baird wasn’t a comfort but something that really shocked her!! what was it??

[muffinsin]

You write so quickly wow! Could I be 👀 anon pls? I requested the cockwarming and edging fics 😎 could i request how the girls would react if they walked into their rooms and their s/o is ass up face down on their bed, completely ready for them? (May or may not be inspired be real life events hehe)

Thank you!🤗 Of course! Which cockwarming and edging ones? As of your request- absolutely! ;) I’m guessing that may or may not have been an exceptionally fun experience then ;)) deciding to make it G!P sisters again, as it’s been a recent ask in the requests and seems to fit this one!

Generally; Feel free to specify that factor if it’s important, otherwise I will likely (should the scenario not fit well like this one) not automatically give the girls cocks ;)

Let’s get into it!😙😉

Masterlist

Bela

She is certainly surprised! Pleasantly so. She didn’t think of you as this naughty ;)

“Draga? Are you in-“

She stops dead in her tracks when she spots her on her bed, in such a compromising situation

Golden eyes widen as she takes you in, and in less than a moment the door bangs shut and she is swarmed over to you

“What’s the meaning of this, little one?”, she coos. Her nails drag over your presented ass cheeks, scratching and teasing lightly

“Presenting yourself in such a…slutty position”, she whispers seductively

She relishes in hearing you gasp

She feels hot and bothered already upon seeing you this way. How long had you waited obediently? She likes to think it was long enough for you to consider toying with yourself

That task, however, is reserved for her only. And you know this

“My poor, little slut”, she coos in a faked, sweet voice. Her fingertip brushes between your thighs, the other grips your hair and pushes your face back against the sheets when you attempt to move

“Are you this needy?”, she whispers rhetorically

“It’s best you let me take care of you, then, little one”

She feels too warm and tight under her clothing, an issue you don’t have

She starts off by pushing a single digit inside of you, chuckling at the wetness that allows her to slip her finger inside so easily

“My, you have been waiting for your Mistress for such a long time, haven’t you? Or are you just feeling particularly slutty today, sweet thing?”, she wonders out loud. Your replies are muffled against the sheets

Your position slacks slightly when her thumb brushes against your clit

A hard spank to your ass reminds you to straighten up and arch your back again

“Very wet, good girl”, she praises when she pulls her finger out again, smirking at the line of arousal that spreads from your core and ends at her fingertip

It takes the skilled blonde mere moments to get out of her clothing and tease your entrance with the tip of her cock

“Tell me how bad you want it, little slut”

She refuses to enter you until you do just that, opting for stroking herself and humming lowly until you do

Once the obedient words slip past your tongue, she doesn’t hold back

She thrusts inside hard and fast, eager to fill you and provide what you are so clearly in need for. She feels so riled up from seeing you in such a position, in her room!

Be prepared for many, many orgasms and your hole to be full of her cum after ;) she certainly makes sure you are completely satisfied after

Cassandra

She is the sister to immediately take advantage of such a position and exploit it completely. It’s a rare and increasingly sexy sight to her

She enters the room hastily, having smelled you across the hallway already

You have no time to prepare yourself or realise she is there. The huntress moves quietly and fast

Your gasp of surprise when rough hands take a hold of you is music to her ears

“Look at you, pet”, she sneers, her clothed, large cock pressed up against your ass cheeks. She rubs herself lazily between them as she digs her nails in your hips

“Soaked and in such a compromising position for me”, she comments, her fingertips dragging across your skin and causing goosebumps to appear in their wake

You hiss at a sharp spank to your ass cheeks. She gropes them eagerly

“Were you hoping I would find you like this, sweet prey? With your filthy cunt dripping and messing my bed?”, she speaks clearly. Having you in her bed was incredibly intimate to her

You feel her pull up her dress and push down her undergarments

“Or maybe you tried yourself as a free use slut? No, you’re by far too much of a tight toy”, she cooed, laughing and groaning when she pushed herself inside of you without warning

“Good, that’s it. Let me hear your beautiful voice!”, she commands as you moan and whimper at the sudden intrusion. She’s right, of course; she does still stretch you

“Lady Ca-ssandr-AaH!”

She grips your hips tightly, using your hair almost as a leash to keep you in place and pull you closer to her as she thrusts inside

“That’s it”, she praises, pleased with your answers and reactions

“You should be glad I’m not punishing you. But you can’t help it, can you, pet? You’re a mere whore in heat”, she whispers in your ear. Her vulgar words make you gasp

She is sure to draw that and many, many other sounds from you in the best hours ;)

You’re thinking you might’ve found the new best way to rile her up fast

That is, if you don’t mind being railed like a mere toy and marked all over

When she feels like she is done railing you, she exploits your vulnerable position by tying you up in it

It is what you begged her for, isn’t it? At least in her eyes

She will drag orgasm from orgasm from you, taste you on her lips and watch her cum drip out of you

Daniela

She blushes when she finds you this way, her cock twitching the moment she enters her room and sees you

“My love…”, she moans, eagerly swarming to you and holding your exposed cheeks.

She loves to see you this way and can’t at all keep her hands to herself

She doesn’t want to, either

Daniela won’t waste time to undress as well, although she will prefer a taste of her lover first, opting for being under you and having your lips around her cock while she makes you ride her face

“Mhhmmm, you taste divine, my sweet”, she praises eagerly

Daniela is quick and skilled with her tongue, humming and moaning, lips wrapped around your clit for a moment before she pushes her tongue inside

And with every lick into your sweet core, her nose brushes up against your clit

She won’t get enough from you even after you cum, but both of your eagerness pushes her to tug you back into the position she found you in

With her hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder, she leans over you and pushes herself deep inside

She’s close, but can hold out longer. She wants to feel you cum around her so many times

Daniela’s hands wander and grope, moans slipping from her lips as much as yours

She’s surprisingly quiet in bed, but the noises you drag from her make you squirm nonetheless

A single thing is clear as day; Daniela expects to find you this way a lot more often in the future,

Even goes as far as to tie you up in such a way during the day and randomly come to check on her sweet, loving pet

She finds the new position ridiculously arousing ;)

[changingplumbob]

Chopra Household: Chapter 6, Part 11

Rahul and Cassandra get some time to themselves then it's time to taste test the golden egg!

CW: Moderate sim spice

If Viola is attempting to say something it will be in brackets, otherwise you can assume it's just trying out sounds Mercedes has a speech delay and may get words wrong, correct wording will be in brackets if that is the case Savannah aka Honeybee Mercedes aka Little Ladybug Viola aka Green Bean

Cassandra takes a nap after a long shift while Rahul and Lavina get the kids to bed. Rahul finds his wife snoring softly when he heads to bed. He doesn’t want to wake her but past experience has taught him that if he doesn’t she’ll wake up cold.

Rahul: My darling, time to get in bed

Cassandra: Hmm… Oh, but… I missed you at work. I want to talk *sleepily* I like your voice

Rahul: *chuckles* Will you at least get under the covers? Then I promise I can talk to you until you fall back to sleep

Casandra: Deal. I love you

Rahul: I love you to

He pulls back the covers and replaces them as she climbs in. He leans against her hip and takes time to admire her. Sometimes he forgets how lucky he is that Cassandra ended up loving him back.

Rahul: Are you comfortable now

Cassandra: Very. And I won’t get cold so you can stop worrying about that

Rahul: Sorry my darling, I’m always going to worry about you. It’s part of being married

Cassandra: So you married me so that you could worry about me

Rahul: Well that and…

Cassandra: Lots of woohoo and babies

Rahul: Something like that

Rahul massages the top of the sheets and duvet that runs over Cassandra’s hip, enjoying the spark in her eyes. He still doesn't know what possessed him to show up at her house the day she turned 18 and propose to her, but sometimes there's no fighting your feelings. He'd been making deliveries to her house since he was 16 and once the 13 year old let him inside the house rather than making him leave the bags on the stoop they formed a close if unconventional friendship.

Rahul: How are you handling everything

Cassandra: With the girls? I mean I know it’ll likely be tough for Mercedes at school but Savannah sticks to her like glue. And Viola, she’s hitting so many milestones. I didn’t know if having your mum here was going to help but it’s nice to have an extra set of hands. What about you?

Rahul: *sighs* Savannah, I mean we knew right away she was going to be a handful didn’t we? Mercedes seems more unsure of herself under the bravado, we need to make sure she doesn’t feel invisible. Viola is still holding her first word in *pouts*

Cassandra: *giggles* She’ll speak when she’s ready, Mercedes did. Don’t worry big guy, we’re doing good

Rahul: Are you doing good

Cassandra: Very. Although I do feel like a bit of misbehaving

Rahul: Is that right

Cassandra: Mmhmm

Rahul: We’ll have to be careful mum doesn’t hear us

Cassandra: She didn’t hear us this afternoon, she won’t hear us now

Cassandra pulls Rahul’s hand closer and begins kissing it. Rahul manages to maintain his composure until she begins to slide his fingers into her mouth and his lust overcomes him.

After more than a decade of being intimate the pair know what each other likes in bed and other less conventional places. It’s like Cassandra said, they make a symphony together. Every time Cassandra is amazed at how lovingly Rahul looks at her, his green eyes flooding with emotion.

For Rahul, he feels accomplishment every time he brings her pleasure. When she first said she thought she was demisexual he had no idea what it meant, but she talked him through it. That for her it meant that she didn't perceive someone as attractive until she got to know them, really know them. It took him months after that to work up the courage to ask if she thought he was cute, but he was certainly pleased with the answer.

Now he knew every sigh, shiver and squeal Cassandra made meant that she loved him. She had learned who he was, the good and the bad about him, and that connection opened her eyes to seeing him as desirable. Rahul knew it may be foolish but he did feel a sense of pride knowing he was the only one his wife was attracted to.

When they were finished they felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Rahul: I hope we made another baby

Cassandra: Me to but…

Rahul: Tell me my darling

She stroked his head of curls and like usual his eyelids grew heavy. He fought to stay awake though, he wanted to listen.

Cassandra: Savannah wants to go camping. I don’t know that I’ll be great doing that pregnant

Rahul: If I remember you got pregnant halfway through our last trip there and managed splendidly

Cassandra: *chuckles* So you’re saying don’t worry… just like I was telling you

Rahul: *smiles* yeah. See, we’re the perfect pair

After being put to bed early Viola needs a change and a feed in the early morning. Luckily nana Lavina is here to help!

Lavina: Okay, open up

Viola: *keeps mouth closed*

Lavina: I know you must be hungry, don’t you want some nice food

Viola opens her mouth to try and babble that she’s bored of carrot but before she knows it the spoon is in. Reluctantly she swallows but as nana feeds her she ends up smearing the food all over herself. She may have a good appetite but really she just wants a nice bottle.

Lavina: Oh now, we can’t put you to bed like this now can we? Best have an early morning bubble bath

Viola: ga loo dun (no more carrot please)

Cluckton: *crows* Hear ye, hear ye... I'm the boss, that's the message

Rahul: That’s Cluckton. I think I’m going to hire a ranch hand

Cassandra: Really? You love gardening

Rahul: I know but I have other skills I need to work on and I want to make sure you have enough time for your music. Now, go have a nice bath and I’ll sort out breakfast

Entering the kitchen Rahul decides to use the golden egg for the household’s breakfast. After a quick call to hire a ranch hand his mind wanders back to the fun he and Cassandra has last night. He is indeed a lucky man.

Mercedes: Papa are you daydreaming

Rahul: Why

Mercedes: The stove is on fire

Rahul: *scoffs* the stove is not- oh damn, fire

Mercedes: *sighs* I told you

Rahul: Let’s not panic. It may seem like fire but it’s really just broken

Mercedes: Umm, it looks like fire to me

Rahul: If it were fire I’d be able to extinguish something but repairing seems like the only approach

Mercedes: Papa, does the watcher make things break

Rahul: I don’t think so. Some sims think the watcher does but I reckon the watcher fixes things for us

Mercedes: If not I’ll scratch their watching eyes out *hisses*

Savannah: All done in the bathroom! You can have it now Mer- Papa why is the stove on fire

Rahul: *sighs* It’s not full fire, just give me a second honeybee

He manages to fix the oven and resume the eggs. Good thing to as we do not want to waste our golden egg.

The golden egg mixture leaves the household dazed BUT they also get a nice golden glow for the morning, as well as some cute cartoon stars.

Golden eggs, now Mr Cluckton approved!

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