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honey-tongued-devil · 6 months ago

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▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]

If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!

Jayce:

- It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm

- But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different

- When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions

- It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look

- And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day

- It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts

- Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second

Viktor:

- For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one

- He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway

- That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet

- What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer

- The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you

- And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body

- Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them

- For the nights when he feels lonelier

Ekko:

- Communism

- There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore

- The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it

- But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes

- Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket

- It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it

- And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you

Vander:

- Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you

- When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by

- And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin

- “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else

- After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift

Silco:

- Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places

- Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them

- The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it

- Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his

- That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you

- But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe

- “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump

Jinx:

- Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare

- She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean

- It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it

- It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it

- Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable

Vi:

- Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed

- Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it

- That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month

- The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you

- When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt

- She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to

- But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others

- That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life

Caitlyn:

- Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need

- And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen

- So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform

- Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you

- It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you

- The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers

- There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often

Mel:

- For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you

- “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked

- It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body

- It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something

- But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless

- When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her

- And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects

- Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare

- Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had

Sevika:

- Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous

- But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders

- And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers

- It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do

- And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours

- But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it

- In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously

- And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable

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unluckiestmember · 8 months ago

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how abt headcanons for the arcane women on a beach date? :0 feel free to add/remove anyone ^^

Coming right up!

Arcane X Beach Date with Reader!

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika, Ran and Vander

Warning: Some slight suggestive themes and mild cursing. But pretty much SFW.

A/N: Aww, summer is practically over! I hope you guys had fun this summer and stayed safe! Whatever is next in the future, I hope we all have a great time and look forward to the rest of 2024! We only got three more months until Season Two guys, I know we can do it even if it feels so far. So let's hang in there!

Powder/Jinx

“Hey, hurry up and look over here, toots! I’m about to pull off the biggest cannonball!... Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine- Now watch me!”

At the beach, Jinx is absolutely going to do everything under the sun, whether it be legal or illegal! She might not be the best swimmer, but she loves getting in the water, especially jumping in and getting her adrenaline going. And you better expect her to get you involved in a water fight! Just don’t expect her to play fair, girlie has a bunch of mechanisms she can make into weapons for your game and she’s not afraid to use them!

Sand castles are requested and being buried in sand is a must. A date at the beach with the Loose Cannon feels more like a hangout than a lovely day together in the sand, but don’t get it wrong. Jinx loves spending time with you at the beach and will sneak some kisses to your cheek or slam her lips on yours. She’s pretty sure your beach date is probably one of the best days of her life and it’s all thanks to you.

Violet “Vi”

“This is the perfect weather for a nice swim, babe. Hey- Race you to the other side. Last one there is buying ice cream!”

When you invited Violet to a date on the beach, she was more than ready, she was beyond excited! She is a perfect balance between playful and romantic, always flirting with you in regards to your swimsuit and even sneaking some seductive touches along your body. And right when she’s done or is about to kiss you, she’s quick to trick you by running away gleefully waiting for you to catch her or messing with you.

She’s not exactly the best of swimmers, but is willing to learn and get her feet wet just for you. If you both aren’t having fun talking to each other and exploring the beach side by side, then guests of the beach better expect to see a happy couple making out in the sand or getting affectionate. Peering eyes or none, a beach date with Violet is all you could ever ask for and more.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“Ahh, isn’t this absolute bliss, my love-... Did. Did you just splash me? Oh, you’re gonna pay royally for that.”

Caitlyn has been to the beach quite a lot in the summer with her family and always loved spending time on the coast. So when you asked her on a getaway there, she was immediately on board. During your date, she makes sure you are all okay, rubbing sunscreen on you and checking if all your equipment is accounted for. Caitlyn is more on the quieter side, having a picnic in the sand with you or laying in the shade and just catching the breeze.

But do not let this fool you; She can be playful and accept your requests to swim, especially since she’s a pro at it, or just play in general! She’ll always be open to exploring underwater with you or even making some sand castles together! When it’s time to go, Caitlyn almost doesn’t want to leave, but at least she has a sweet memory and new tradition to share with you.

Ekko

“You’re right, we all needed this vacation. Everyone’s happy and you’re happy, so I’m fine. Wanna take a swim with the others?”

Ekko has never been to the beach before. He’s only heard stories from Pilties that passed by the undercity and seen pictures of it, but has never set foot on one, and neither has the Firelights. Whenever he needed a swim or a getaway, he would just find a local lake or river to satisfy him and everyone else’s needs. So you can imagine his surprise when you set up a little vacation for him and his allies on the coast!

The leader of the firelights is beyond happy the entire time you’re by his side and showing off the beach to the firelights, engaging in small games of volleyball or tag with the young ones. Of course it’s still a date for you two, so he’s sure to give you all the love and care you could ask for when the kids or Scar aren’t taking up you two’s time. But even then, it is all in all a fun experience to share, whether alone or with the freedom fighters.

Viktor

“Aye! How is the water so cold? Maybe you should swim on without me… Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch-. H-Hey! Fine, I’ll join you, let’s just take it slow.”

It had been years since Viktor had stepped on a beach before you asked him on a date there. The once feeling of sand in his feet made him raise an eyebrow and the wind touching his skin had him a bit nervous with his body out. From the looks of it, you were sure at first that this would be a hard time to enjoy together…

But after a while and a bit of convincing to let loose with some encouragement, the scientist finally let loose a little and enjoyed all of the beach with you. He may not be able to swim, but walking in the water, holding your hand and feeling the small waves crash into his ankles? Now that was a piece of absolute heaven. And exploring uncharted territories with you to find the most beautiful of caves was beyond delightful. He would have to remind himself to come to the beach with you more often.

Jayce Talis

“What’s up? Are you admiring my muscles?... If you’re looking at them dry, I can’t wait to see how you’ll look at them wet. Now come on in!”

All it took was one date to find out that Jayce practically belonged on the beach with you! There he acted like such an excited child in his trunks running immediately into the water with your hand in his to feel the waves wash over you two. Don’t expect to do much outside of swimming unless you need something from your personal belongings, and even then Jayce will go grab it for you and head straight back in!

He isn’t much of a goofball swimming with you outside of small moments of teasing, but he does get quite handsy and flirtatious, holding your waist and pulling you close to kiss you. Everyone can practically put together that you are his with how affectionate he is around you. And he doesn’t care either because he doesn’t mind putting you on the pedestal where you belong. It’s a chill date, but a nice date regardless.

Mel Medarda

“Mmm, we needed this, sweetheart. A day away from the nagging, pointless fighting and having to meet expectations? It’s absolutely worth it.”

A beach date with Mel has got to be one of the calmest dates you’ll ever have in your life. Mel isn’t much of a swimmer, preferring to just walk down the coast with you. But even then, she spends most of her time sunbathing and simply taking in the ambiance around the both of you in relaxation. For some it may be boring, but for her just being near you and practically doing nothing is heavenly.

Of course she won’t be a prude though. Sometimes she’ll take a minute and collect seashells to take home with her as souvenirs. And if you do want to swim around or really utilize the beach, she will let you and simply watch you having fun lovingly from the sidelines. That is unless you want her to join you, then just ask and she’ll be right by your side enjoying every second with you.

Sevika

“Ran is challenging me to volleyball and I was wondering if you’d want to be my partner?... Thanks babydoll- Hey, Ran! Get ready to get your ass kicked!”

Sevika doesn’t go to the beach unless it’s with a group of friends. Only then with them and you as company is she gonna have the time of her life! Outside of work and in the sand, the muscular woman is a lot more relaxed and a bit playful with everyone, including yourself. She’ll do whatever you’d like as long as it means you both are enjoying yourself.

Want to play a few games? She’s all for it. Want to just kick back and take in the sun and the waves? She’s cool with that too! Nothing is off limits for the Right Hand of Zaun, and I mean nothing. Because if you feel it’s not exactly a date, then Sevika has no problem taking you somewhere a bit more secluded and showing you a great time~. At the end of the day, you’re sure to look back on your time with your girlfriend at the beach fondly and can’t wait for the next one!

Vander

“We should try and make this a tradition. You, me and the kids, come down to the beach every summer. They’d look forward to it every year. And so will I…”

Everytime you and Vander go to the beach, it is usually with the kids as an annual family outing. Yeah, the both of you have to babysit a bit and deal with the mindless teasing of the sumprats when you both get intimate, but you enjoy yourselves regardless. You love when the Hound of the Undercity plays tag with his adopted children, even dragging you in for the ride and getting a good adrenaline kick from it all.

You two always leave the beach excited for the next time around the following year with tired kids needing to be laid down. He makes sure to let you know how grateful he was to spend time with you and everyone else, nuzzling into you and whispering how much he loves you. Though you miss those days, you never broke that tradition, even when the world fell apart. No matter what, you always come back every summer to the beach to keep the memory alive…

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

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prythianpages · 8 months ago

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But the Worms | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Azriel is woken up by your daughter in the middle of the night to answer some of her questions.

warnings: fluff, dad Az

word count: 943

a/n: Just a short little fic that can be read as a stand alone. This was inspired by a scene from Bob's Burgers lol.

Rain pattered against the window steadily, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder. Every so often, the sky would flare with a jagged streak of lightning, briefly illuminating the room with a cold, blue light before plunging it back into shadow. The storm was a familiar, comforting backdrop to Azriel’s slumber.

But his shadows, ever vigilant, stirred with a whisper of unease.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered open, drawn by the shift in his shadows. That’s when he heard them. The faint, hurried sound of small footsteps. His shadows fluttered toward the door as they sensed the hesitant shuffle against the wooden floor.

He didn't need his shadows to tell him who was on the other side. Had it been his first born, he'd never hear the steps as she loved to sneak up on him,. The door would've been open abruptly with no hesitation whatsoever but it's been years since she last had a nightmare. A nightmare she didn't welcome, at least.

That was not the case tonight. It was his second-born. Sweet little Alora, who, true to her name, should be dreaming of unicorns and rainbows as she loved to recount to him every morning, rather than being awake.

His gaze flickered to you. While Azriel was a light sleeper, you were a heavy sleeper and truth be told, you were sound asleep, back turned toward him. A shadow tenderly caressed your back before he shifted his attention back to the door. He was already sitting up in the bed, blinking away the sleep or at least trying when the door opened quietly, muted with the help of his shadows.

Alora stood at the door. Her hair, the exact shade of yours, was disheveled, the bangs she cut herself last week splayed over her forehead awkwardly. A rite of passage, you had called it, reminding him that your first born had done the same.

Her eyes, the exact shade of his, were wide and glistening, and there was a pout on her face.

Azriel’s chest tightened at the sight, wanting nothing more than to soothe whatever troubled her, despite his fatigue. He extended his arms out, and Alora ran right into them, her small frame immediately enveloped by his.

Cradling her to his chest, he pushed her bangs back and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“No. I haven’t slept at all,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Azriel frowned, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight, and his eyes were begging for sleep, lulled by the rain falling outside. “Is it the storm?”

Alora placed her hands on his chest, pushing herself up slightly. She spared a glance to your sleeping form before leaning in closer to her father, careful not to wake you with her voice. Though, Azriel doubted you'd wake at all.

Her hazel eyes, so innocent and pure, stared into his own. “Do you think worms have dreams too?”

Azriel's heart softened further. Her worries were so small, so wonderfully trivial compared to the burdens he had carried as a child.

“I’m sure they dream,” he murmured, gently pulling his daughter's head back to his chest, wishing for her to always have such simple worries. He also hoped she’d be content with his answer and finally drift off to sleep herself.

“But what do they dream?”

“The same things you do.” He replied, trying to stifle a yawn. He snuck a glance at you, still oblivious to your daughter’s insatiable curiosity.

“Do they get nightmares too?”

Azriel fought back his groan. He loved his daughters deeply and strongly. He would go through all ends of the world for them. Any other time, he would entertain this conversation fully, but it was late, and Alora should be fast asleep like her sister.

“Mel says worms come out when it storms so that we don’t hear their cries.”

Speak of the little devil herself. Mel was sure to get an earful from him. Tomorrow morning, or rather, in a couple of hours. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to muster the energy to explain, his body aching for rest.

Azriel could hear the thoughts swirling through her mind as she continued. “Why would they cry? Is it because of the bad dreams?”

“Don’t listen to your sister,” he said gently, running a hand through Alora’s tousled hair.

“But you told me to listen to her yesterday morning.”

“I did,” Azriel replied with a slight grimace, regretting that decision immensely at this very moment. Granted, he had said that after Mel told Lor to stop riling up Sprinkles, her pet scorpion. “But that’s different.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and weariness.

“But the worms–”

“The worms don’t have nightmares and they come out during storms because they love the rain. Now, go to sleep. Please.”

Alora let out a small gasp, her hand losing its tension against his chest. “You promise?”

“Yes.” Azriel replied quickly, not certain what exactly he was promising. He'd deal with it later.

“Okay.”

When he finally felt her body relax in his arms, he let out a breath of relief. He held her tighter in his arms, shifting them to face in your direction before settling Alora between you both. He didn’t have the energy to take her back to her bed.

He gladly gave in to the heaviness of his eyelids, his eyes closing shut and ready to embrace sleep under the comfort of the rain once more--

"Daddy?"

He didn't bother opening his eyes. "Yes?"

"I love you."

His lips tugged up into a smile. "I love you too, my sweets."

Alora snuggled closer to him, tiny hands grasping onto his larger one and placing it over her face. She always found comfort in his touch, despite the scars that marred his hands. It was something that never failed to make his chest swell with warmth. Along with the way both his daughters always looked up to him, eyes full of affection and admiration.

His thumb caressed her cheek, soothing her as his shadows settled back into their corner of the room, curling into the bed Alora had gotten them for Solstice this year.

For centuries, his shadows had slept among other shadows, usually underneath the bed or in the corners of rooms. But Alora had felt bad for them one night, and when shopping for Solstice this year, she had asked you to take her to the pet store and picked out the softest bed for Azriel’s shadows.

Though his shadows had never complained or shown any interest in comfier sleeping habits, they had vibrated with excitement at the sight of the gift. Now, they slept there every night, happy and content, snuggling amongst one another and curling into a ball.

As his thoughts began to blur and drift, the world around him softened, the edges of his awareness becoming fuzzy and indistinct. Now that he knew your daughter was okay and her curiosity satiated, he could go back to sleep.

His breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the gentle rise and fall of your own breath. Just as he was about to give in to the sweet embrace of sleep–

“Daddy?”

He could barely manage a grunt in response.

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

Oh, this was definitely your daughter.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel imagine #azriel drabble #az!dandelions #azriel x witch reader

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megalony · 9 months ago

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It's Bubba

Here is a new Evan Buckley imagine, requested by a lovely anon. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Birthday Wishes (Prequel)

Summary: When Evan's parents come into town, they aren't happy to find their grandson prefers Bobby over them. And they take their frustrations out on (Y/n).

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n)'s lips curved into a grin and she couldn't help the relief that overwhelmed her when she realised who was at the door.

"Come in." (Y/n) opened the door wider and took a step backwards to allow Bobby inside.

Her eyes followed him as he stepped into the hall, one hand tucked into his pocket and the other stretched down to push the small pedal bike through the hall. She closed the door, pressing her lips together to dampen her smile that threatened to reach her eyes. She watched Boby push the pedal bike towards the stairs so it was just out of the hallway so it wouldn't be a trip hazard.

"All fixed for the little man." Bobby stuffed both hands in his pockets and turned to face (Y/n) as she stepped past the stairs.

James had spent the weekend with Athena and Bobby and the three year old had tried riding his bike around the block, with Bobby's supervision of course. The four year old was rather fast when he had his training wheels but one of them came loose and the bike took a tumble.

Bobby had fixed the wheels back on and checked it over and he knew James would want the bike to play on before next weekend when he was due to spend the night with him and Athena again.

"Thank you, he'll be very pleased."

"Is he around?"

(Y/n) gave Bobby's arm a squeeze and pointed into the lounge. She stayed close behind him as he walked into the living room and took a peek around. Cartoons were playing on the tv, there was a colouring book on the table and crayons scattered along the floor.

And there was James, curled up in a ball on the sofa, head almost hanging off the edge and arms bound to his chest. Drooling onto the pillow as he dozed off in a power nap.

"Want a coffee?" (Y/n) kept her voice quiet, not wanting to wake James just yet when he had only been asleep for a good ten minutes or so. He would wake up soon and he would be thrilled to see Bobby when he did wake up. The three year old was under the impression that Bobby was his grandad and nobody would or wanted to correct him on that.

"Sure." Bobby patted his hand on the back of the sofa, grinning at the little boy that always stole his heart, before he spun on his heels and moved towards the kitchen.

He had come round today because he had the day off and Bobby hated to swing by and leave in a hurry. The one time he had tried to do that James had cried when Bobby didn't come inside for a drink or stay long. He wanted to hang around and chat to his grandson when he woke up.

"So, how are you?" Bobby took a seat at the kitchen table while (Y/n) flicked the kettle on and got some mugs out ready.

"Did Evan tell you his parents are in town?"

The way (Y/n) arched a brow and glanced over her shoulder at Bobby made him whistle lowly and hang his head for a moment.

No, indeed, Evan had not mentioned that little fact. Although it did explain why Evan had been restless on shift yesterday and why he had been so twitchy and distant instead of involved and forever bombarding the team with facts and new information he had learned.

"Oh, so that's who you're expecting?" He noticed (Y/n) had seemed a little jumpy when she opened the door.

(Y/n) didn't want her in-laws turning up when Evan wasn't here. She never knew what to say to the Buckley parents, things were always tense and awkward and she needed Evan to play referee and keep the peace and the tension down.

They were in town now and they had visited Maddie this morning and they should be coming to visit (Y/n) and James anytime soon. (Y/n) was dreading it, but if Bobby was here it might calm the waters a little. She hoped.

"Evan's on shift, how lucky." (Y/n) joked and placed a cup down in front of each of them, using the table as leverage to ease down and try to shake the discomfort in her back.

She slouched back in her seat, pushing her knees forward into the table while her shoulders jabbed back into the chair. The looser she sat, the easier the pain was to handle in her back and stomach.

(Y/n) hadn't been in this much pain when she was pregnant with James, but then again, she was having twins this time.

She almost wished Evan and Maddie hadn't told their parents she was pregnant. They wanted to come down more often now they knew she was having twins, just like they visited a lot when they had been expecting James. They rarely visited Evan before then, but once James was born they were down every other month and kept calling to see how he was. Evan had never had so much contact with his parents since he moved out at eighteen.

It was nice that they were trying to make an effort, but it was too little too late. They were in contact much more often now that Evan had his own family, but it still wasn't enough. Going from almost nothing to a few visits didn't make James see them as his grandparents. He thought of (Y/n)'s parents as his grandparents and he saw Bobby and Athena as Evan's parents, therefore they were his family.

Bobby had been there when James was born, he had seen him almost every day and cuddled him and took care of him. He and Athena were always taking James on days out and having him sleep over and were teaching him to ride his bike. They were his grandparents.

"I'm sure he doesn't feel very lucky. Does the little man know they're coming?"

"No, just in case they don't turn up today."

(Y/n) didn't see any point in telling James in case the Buckley parents didn't make it here today or something came up. And she knew James wouldn't be excited to see them like he would when he saw Bobby. James didn't spend a lot of time with Evan's parents and it had been months since they had last visited and over a year since they had taken him out anywhere.

They pledged when he was born that they would spend a lot of time with him and take James out places, because he was their first grandchild. So far they hadn't kept up with that ideal, and Evan hadn't expected them to either.

"Oh," (Y/n) took a quick sip of her coffee, pursing her lips when it burned the back of her throat. She set her cup down and moved her hands to the table, pushing herself up despite only just sitting down.

She aimed for the fridge and pulled down the latest scan photo Evan had pinned with a magnet, next to James's latest drawing. Which happened to be a stick figure James said was Evan, stood next to a bright red fire truck.

"Here," She couldn't hide the smile from her lips when she slid the photo over to Bobby and sat back down.

Her left hand moved to glide across her stomach where both twins were kicking up a storm. Her right hand began to tap against the table as she watched a soft but proud smile flutter across Bobby's face as he skimmed his thumb across the picture. He still had the first picture Evan had given him to announce he was going to have his first kid. Now he was having two for the price of one this time.

"For me?" He murmured quietly, wafting the picture before he got his wallet out his back pocket to keep the picture safe when (Y/n) nodded. "Only two months left."

"I can't wait." As much as (Y/n) was happy to be pregnant, she was eager for it to be over and to have both babies in her arms.

The timing was hopefully going to work out though. They had been warned (Y/n) could go into early labour because she was having twins, something which had put Evan on red alert and set off his anxiety. But (Y/n) was hoping that wouldn't happen because in three weeks it would be James's fourth birthday. Which happened to be on the same day as Evan's thirtieth birthday.

She wanted to get the party out the way and celebrate both her boys before she had the twins. The last thing they wanted was her to go into labour just before the party and ruin the day for James or take the attention away from him and Evan. Or to go into labour now and have two screaming babies disrupting the little family party they had planned out.

Maddie had taken the lead in organising a party, of course Evan had to know about it because it was for his son, but he didn't know the details. All he knew was he had his birthday off work and so did his team so they could all have a big get together. Evan didn't know where it was happening, what time, what was planned. Nothing.

It was a big birthday for him and Maddie and (Y/n) wanted to celebrate.

Evan had been head over heels when the day before his twenty-sixth birthday, (Y/n) went into labour. And when James was finally born, they looked at the time and realised it was three in the morning. Officially Evan's birthday. He got to share his special day with his boy and it had been the best present he had ever gotten.

"I'll bet. So, what's he asking for his birthday this time?" Every time Bobby asked James what he wanted or what he was expecting, he seemed to ask for something different.

"A fire truck. Like, a real one, he wasn't impressed when Evan told him he couldn't get one."

James had sat in the truck before and been for a ride and he was enthralled by the work his dad and grandad both did. He loved the trucks and the ambulance and he asked if he could have one. Evan politely explained the best he could do was get his son a replica toy truck for now which made James cry.

He wanted Evan to bring the truck home. James was under the impression that since his dad was a firefighter, he should be able to drive the truck whenever he liked and use it as his personal car.

The doorbell broke apart the conversation and (Y/n)'s shoulders visibly slumped and the way she flopped her head forward had Bobby's face softening.

He reached out to pat her arm before she pushed up and sighed, trudging out the kitchen towards the front door.

They were here. (Y/n) couldn't imagine it being anyone else at the door, she wasn't expecting anyone and she knew Maddie would be on shift this afternoon which was why her parents had gone to see her first this morning. It had to be Evan's parents.

Please don't stay until Evan gets home!

She had a horrible gut feeling that they would hang around all afternoon and stay until Evan came home from work so they could see him. (Y/n) didn't want to have to entertain them all day, but it seemed like that was a big possibility. Part of her hoped she could manage to persuade them to leave later this afternoon and come back tomorrow when Evan was off.

It would be easier for everyone, (Y/n) wouldn't be so drained if they turned up tomorrow, Evan would be home and recuperated after a good nights sleep and James would be a bit more lively.

The calmest, controlled look (Y/n) could muster plastered across her face when she opened the front door and was met with the sight of her in-laws.

Their smiles were warm and made some of the nerves in (Y/n)'s stomach die down, but it still didn't feel right to see them without Evan being here. He always controlled the situation, he steered the conversation and stopped his parents from causing any arguments. And if an unsettling topic arose, Evan squashed it immediately.

Despite everything Evan had been through with his parents, somehow, he was always calm and composed and (Y/n) didn't know how he did it.

"Hi, you made it. Come in." (Y/n) moved to let them in, watching the way they shrugged off their coats and hung them up as if they were round here every week rather than every couple of months.

They were more at ease than they used to be, but they still looked and seemed out of place here. Not like when they visited Maddie. They were happier visiting her, and for the longest time (Y/n) couldn't understand why. Until it was made clear why Evan had been born in the first place.

"Do you want to go into the kitchen?"

(Y/n) led them into the kitchen, locking eyes with Bobby who took another sip of coffee and stayed seating. He didn't feel the need to stand up or shake hands or try and make any effort in a big hello with the Buckleys.

"Would you like a drink?" (Y/n) rolled her lips together and watched her in-laws as they dithered, debating whether or not to sit down at the table or stand near the counter. They seemed to settle on sitting opposite Bobby at the table, although they looked perplexed as if wondering why he was here.

"A cup of tea would be nice."

She rattled through the cupboard for any teabags. Evan could drink coffee like it was water and most of the team had a preference for coffee, but not many of their friends and family drank tea. (Y/n) used to have a taste for iced tea when she was pregnant with James, but she hadn't drank much of it since.

An old pack of teabags was still in date and (Y/n) set to work making them each a drink.

"How have you been? You remember Bobby,"

"Yes, yes, Evan's Captain. We're well, we missed little James, where is he?" Margaret nodded towards Bobby and watched him raise his mug towards her before his eyes flitted over towards (Y/n).

Bobby couldn't help the nagging feeling that clawed behind his chest. They weren't asking how (Y/n) was. God knows when the last time was that they had seen or talked to her, and here they were not bothering to ask how their pregnant daughter in law was doing in herself.

But he held his tongue. There was no sense saying anything, Bobby didn't want to start an argument and he knew it wasn't worth it.

"I'll go see if he's awake."

With their cups placed in front of them, (Y/n) smiled and slowly padded through into the living room. She didn't want to wake James, she wanted to let him sleep because he needed it, but if she didn't wake him now and Bobby left, James would get upset. He would want to see him and Evan's parents wanted to see him.

They always made the effort with James, maybe because they knew they had messed up so royally with Evan and were trying to make amends through his son.

A smile fluttered across (Y/n)'s lips when she saw James was still in the same place she had left him earlier, cuddled up on the sofa.

It took some effort for (Y/n) to lean on the arm of the sofa and lower herself down to her knees. She smoothed her hand across her stomach, settling the twins while her other hand moved out and brushed through James's hair. She brushed her fingertips across his temple and moved his messy hair back on his head which roused him.

His tired eyes blinked open like headlights and be brushed his fist against the tip of his nose, squeaking a yawn while he stretched his arms above his head.

"Someone's here to see you." Her voice was quiet and she leaned across to kiss his cheek which puffed out into a smile.

That was all James needed to wake himself up. A shiver tore through him and he sat up straight, stretching and wriggling like a worm on a hook before he scrambled down off the sofa. He didn't have to know who was here, James loved visitors he would attach to anyone who came by.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) heaved herself back up to her feet and followed James through into the kitchen.

"There he is." The happiness in Phillip's voice was surprising, but it was James's reaction that had (Y/n)'s heart jumping up into her throat.

Panic fluttered across James's face when he saw his grandparents sat at the table. He could see Phillip's arms stretched out towards him like he was waiting for James to run into his arms. And Margaret was leaning forward with her hands clasped together and a sickly sweet smile on her face. But James didn't want to go over to them.

He didn't want hugs or kisses from the two people he didn't know very well. The grandparents that were more on the phone than they were in person. The ones who held his hand too tight when they sporadically took him out. Who were more often than not arguing with his parents or visiting his aunt Maddie. The ones who upset his mum and didn't often speak to his dad.

The three year old paused in the doorway, hands wavering in front of him as he tried to work out what to do. He didn't know whether to back up and cling to his mum or go over and let them hug him.

He didn't have to decide.

The moment James looked up and realised there was another person standing in front of the sink washing a cup, he seemed to become animated again and come back to life.

"It's bubba!"

Excitement flooded James's voice and his arms stretched out as a grin as broad as his arms fluttered across his face.

"Hey, there's my little man." A quiet 'oof' left Bobby's lips when the three year old barrelled into him like a bullet. He leaned down and scooped James up, setting him on his hip so the little boy could curl his arms around his neck and cuddle up close.

He pressed a kiss to Bobby's cheek and clung tightly to his neck, giggling and shimmying when Bobby swayed him from side to side.

Although James could say Bobby, he never called him that. Since the moment he began to talk, he could never pronounce Bobby and it always came out wrong. So James ended up calling him bubba, something which Evan had called James when he was a baby. Now that was James's special name for the person he classed as his grandad. He thought bubba meant grandad and no one corrected him on that.

Just like when he saw Athena, he called her 'nanny Nash' and she loved it.

"How are you, hm?" Bobby kissed his temple and eased back against the counter, jostling James in his arms. His eyes flitted across to (Y/n) when she sat down at the table across from her in-laws who could do nothing but stare at Bobby and their grandson.

"You fix the bike, bubba?"

"I did, it's all fixed and ready for you."

The squeal James let out had bobby's smile broadening and he let James pull him down by the neck so he could snuggle their cheeks together. He murmured "Thank you," and squeezed Bobby tighter.

The glares Bobby could feel being sent his way made him hug the little boy tighter like he was suddenly afraid they were going to try and snatch the little boy from him. He kissed James's temple before he leaned forward and set him down to his feet again.

"I think I'd better get going, I'll be on shift to see your dad soon."

"You leaving?" James grabbed Bobby's hand and swayed their arms back and forth between them for a few seconds, the disappointment clear in his voice which made Bobby shiver. He didn't want to go but he had to, he couldn't impose and he did have to get ready for shift soon.

"I gotta go, but you'll see me at the weekend, okay?" He kissed the top of James's head and rubbed his hand across his back when James let go of him to hug his legs.

Part of him wondered if the toddler was going to let him go or not, but James eventually unravelled himself with a soft "Love you," which Bobby returned.

He watched James clamber up onto (Y/n)'s lap and his smile softened when the three year old wiggled onto her knees and huffed at her stomach which seemed to be in his way. His hands tapped down on the table as he leaned back into (Y/n), curving around her stomach while she kissed the top of his head and wrapped both arms around his waist.

"I'll speak to you soon."

"Thank you." (Y/n) reached up and gripped Bobby's hand when he held her shoulder as he passed.

Part of her wanted him to stay. She wanted back up, help, a friend to stick around until Evan came home. But they both knew it would be easier if he left, and he had to get ready for work, (Y/n) wouldn't delay him just because she didn't want to be on her own with her in-laws.

(Y/n) was ready for a lie down.

She was ready for Phillip and Margaret to either make their departure or for Evan to come home and save her.

She rested her head on her hand and looked across the table at her little boy. James was sat on Phillip's knee, munching on a biscuit, pushing a toy truck across the table. He didn't look impressed, he wasn't settled.

The couple had interrogated James for almost an hour, asking him questions, trying to check on him and how he had been doing. What he liked to watch and play with and of course, James had told them all about Bobby helping him to ride a bike.

"Tv?" James looked across at (Y/n) who reached for a biscuit herself. She didn't like eating in front of Margaret, not after a few years ago when her mother in law liked to tell (Y/n) what she should and shouldn't eat. And she doubted Margaret would agree or listen if (Y/n) tried to say she was eating for three, which she was.

"Go ahead baby."

He needed no more permission than that to scuttle away from his grandparents and rush into the living room.

"Evan should be home soon." (Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair and leaned her head to one side. She tried to smile, but she felt exhausted. She wished she and James were visiting because then it would be easy to make an excuse and go home. She couldn't exactly kick anyone out of her own home, it wouldn't be right and they were Evan's parents, (Y/n) didn't feel like she had the right to tell them to leave. That was Evan's job, his responsibility.

"Why did you let him call him that?" Margaret's words took (Y/n) by surprise.

Her brows furrowed and she looked over at her with confusion in her eyes. What was she talking about? Why did she have that look of discern in her eyes and something foul on her lips?

"Call who what?"

"Bubba."

"Oh, well that's- that's what he's always called Bobby, he could never pronounce Bobby properly." (Y/n) smiled fondly at the thought, even though she knew Phillip wouldn't see this so happily.

It was just a name that stuck, something that James found comfort in calling Bobby. A name that he loved, but whenever it was Bobby's birthday or Christmas or a special event, James would get him a card that said grandad on the front. He saw Bobby as Evan's dad and therefore as one of his grandparents, and that was the way they all liked it.

"But I'm his grandad. You let him run right past me to get to Bobby, and he's not even family. James barely spoke to us just now."

They couldn't blame (Y/n) for that.

It wasn't her fault that they weren't around enough for James to feel like they were his true family, his true grandparents. He couldn't help being close to Bobby when Bobby was always in his life and they weren't as close to him. Bobby had cared for him when he was a baby, looked after him, took him out most weekends and dealt with his temper tantrums and checked in when he didn't feel well.

If Phillip and Margaret didn't bother to check in or be around for most of James's life and the important things, they couldn't expect him to be close to them if they didn't do things in return.

"He is Evan's captain, not his father and James shouldn't be calling him grandad-"

"He's been in James's life since he was born, he's as good as a grandparent." (Y/n) turned away from them, twisting to the side on her chair to stop looking over at them.

"No he isn't, I'm his grandad, you shouldn't let him call Bobby that, it's wrong."

With a scoff, (Y/n) shook her head and used the table as leverage to push herself up. This wasn't fair and she didn't have to sit and listen to them chide her for something that wasn't her fault and wasn't even a problem to begin with.

"How can it be wrong? Bobby's prominent in his life, you see how much James loves him."

(Y/n) threw her hand to the side, wishing she could just project her thoughts and memories into their minds so they could see this from her point of view. They couldn't just expect things to go both ways and want James to be attached to them if they didn't put the effort in and see him often enough.

She padded over to the sink, dumping her cup before she tried to tidy the counter. She needed something to do before they sent her up the wall.

"You didn't even say anything to him. He completely ignored us and you let him, he can't get away with everything-"

"He didn't do anything wrong." There was no reason for (Y/n) to tell James off if he hadn't acted out or done anything wrong. He had been affectionate and happy and he was now entertaining himself in the living room, he had been as good as always today.

With one hand gripping the counter, (Y/n) moved her other hand down to cradle the side of her stomach. She didn't feel very well.

When was Evan coming home? Couldn't they wait for him to have this argument?

"And what was all that about a bike?"

(Y/n) couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes and she was glad they were sitting behind her so they wouldn't see.

"Bobby's teaching him to ride a bike, they had a collision at the weekend so Bobby fixed it for him." She motioned to the hallway but she was rather surprised when Phillip got up and actually went to take a look. As implied, there was a blue pedal bike in the hall that both of them had completely overlooked when they came in.

She spun on her heels when she heard Phillip tut and gasp and her eyes widened when Margaret had tears in her eyes.

Her free hand moved down to her stomach that twinged like a coil within her had been pulled and she let herself slump into the counter to keep herself upright. Adrenaline was coursing through (Y/n)'s stomach and fluttering up to her chest, making it harder to breathe and her fingers were starting to turn numb.

"We could have- I could have taught him. For goodness sake (Y/n) that man isn't family. I'm his bloody grandad."

"Wasn't it Maddie who taught Evan how to ride a bike?" She couldn't help the snappy response or the way her nose crinkled and her upper lip curled into a grimace. They couldn't be pulling this one on her. They didn't teach Evan to ride a bike or show any interest in helping him and watching him grow up. Maddie had been both sister, mother and father to Evan.

That was the reason Evan was so desperate to be there for all of the moments with James. He didn't want his son to feel as left out, cold and alone as he did growing up and it was why Evan wasn't surprised when his parents fell through on their promise to be around for their grandson.

So if Bobby wanted to step into that role and keep up the pretense of being a grandparent and actually love James, Evan was more than happy for his Captain and surrogate dad to do that for them all.

"And he stays with this Bobby on the weekend? You've never let him stay with us," Margaret moved her hand to cover her chest like there was a hollow pain she was trying to blot out and it made (Y/n) feel infuriated.

Dread crept up the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she could feel tears burning in her eyes. She looked around them to try and peek into the living room, but James was none the wiser to what was going on. He was sat on the floor with a few toys scattered round him and a Scooby Doo cartoon playing on the tv, he was happy in ignorant bliss.

"I never- that's out of order."

Both hands moved to her stomach as tears welled up in her eyes from both fury and agony. She was starting to feel like a boombox, her heartbeat pulsing under every inch of her skin making her vibrate. And the twins were starting to shift around so much it was becoming painful. Her abdomen was tense and tight and weighed heavy making (Y/n) want to lean forward more than usual.

"You've never a-asked for James to stay with you." They had never asked, but even if they did, (Y/n) wouldn't agree. James may be a social butterfly, but he didn't settle with many people, only close family.

He wouldn't cope being away from home to stay with Phillip and Margaret, he would be crying and wanting to be back home. Bobby and Athena were different, James had been staying over with them every other weekend since he was one. It was what he was used to, and he was often staying with Maddie and Chimney when she wanted time with her nephew.

(Y/n) reached her hand out when James came toddling into the kitchen, toy truck cradled to his chest and a worried look on his face. He stared between his mum and grandparents, unsure what was going on. But he didn't like the way Phillip had his hands on his hips and how Margaret looked a mix between angry and upset.

"You need to have words with him, (Y/n). You're turning him against us-"

"Stop it."

"Well you shouldn't-"

"Don't shout at mummy." James stomped his foot down on the floor and moved to stand in front of (Y/n). He lifted his chin and looked up at them with a defiant look that matched Evan one hundred percent. He didn't know why they were arguing or what they were talking about, but he didn't like the way they were talking to his mum.

He knew if his dad was here he would of already manouvred in front of (Y/n) and would have told his parents off already. Without Evan here, James felt the need to stop them shouting at his mum.

"Sweetie I- we weren't-"

Both of them paused when a quiet "Oww," tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she hunkered down. Her nails scratched into the kitchen countertop and her other hand pushed up into her abdomen like she was trying to lift up the weight of the twins to relieve the pain she was now feeling.

She couldn't help the way her knees bent forward and she lowered down like she was trying to crouch or do a squat behind James.

The tears welling up in her eyes started to fall freely down her face as her chin tucked into her chest that was starting to shake. Her stomach was hurting, more specifically, her lower abdomen. Sharp, striking pains hit her like a knife and she shuddered through her next breath, begging for the pain to disappear.

This wasn't right. (Y/n) was on observation by the midwife, she was having extra check ups to make sure she wasn't going to go into early labour and to control things if she did. She wasn't likely to make it to her due date with twins and now, (Y/n) had a horrible feeling that this might be labour pains.

She couldn't go into labour now. She was thirty-one weeks, they had two months left before this should be happening, or in the very least, one more month before they should be thinking about this.

Her in-laws were stressing her enough to cripple her body down in pain. If they had distressed her enough to enforce contractions, Evan was going to hit the roof when he found out.

"Honey, what's the matter?"

"I- I don't…" Reaching her hand out, (Y/n) shifted to grip the table but her knees were almost scraping the floor.

She shuffled, bending her feet oddly to get herself across to the chair and she shook off Margaret's hand when the older woman tried to reach out for her. (Y/n) didn't want her help when she was probably the reason for (Y/n)'s sudden pains.

For a few seconds, none of them said anything. Both elder parents stood hovering by the table, unsure what to say or what to do to help. Margaret looked like she was going to reach out for James but he moved quicker. He stood beside his mum, leaning into her just a little in case she didn't want his touch, but he wanted comfort and security at the same time.

(Y/n) tried to take a few deep breaths and ward away the tears, she hated being upset when James was around to see. She didn't want to scare him like that, but when another pain tore through her abdomen, she couldn't help the way she started to shake.

Her body coiled forward and she swallowed down a whimper, moving her hand back and forth across her stomach but it didn't do anything, not that she was expecting it to take away the pain anyway.

"Call Maddie." (Y/n) spat the words through gritted teeth as she stared up at the pair of them through blurring eyes.

"She's at work-"

"Then call 911!" Her voice changed to a low whine and she slammed her hand down on the table to get their attention. She felt the way James jumped against her but he stayed close and did well not to cry too. If Maddie was at work that was better for (Y/n), Maddie could give them the advice they needed and get help. She could do something and call someone because Bobby was now at work and they didn't know if Evan was on his way home or not.

(Y/n) needed help and she needed Maddie if she was going into the hospital because she didn't want Phillip and Margaret to be the ones looking after James.

She needed someone she trusted who James would feel comfortable being around and Maddie was the only person they could call right now when everyone else was at work, including Evan.

Slouching to the right, (Y/n) flopped her right arm on the table and dropped her forehead down onto her arm. She could feel herself beginning to shake when another pain wracked her stomach in a low, dull throb. The first one felt like a contraction, (Y/n) knew what that felt like even after four years. And she would guess that this was some sort of stress pains but whatever they were, she shouldn't be having them.

A quiet mewl left her lips and she wanted to smile when she felt James tenderly kiss her arm and smoothed his hand up and down her back like he wanted to do something to help her.

She wanted Evan. They both wanted Evan.

… Evan could feel himself trembling, legs close to giving way as he rounded the corner and set off into another sprint down the corridor. His hands balled into fists at his sides and his chest was heaving, threatening to strain and break free from his shirt.

The moment his eyes locked on his family, a small puddle of relief started to bloom in his stomach. He felt better for seeing them, but he still didn't know what was going on.

His lips rolled together when his sights set on James. The three year old started to whine and wriggle on Maddie's lap, previously settled leaning into her chest until he realised Evan was finally here. He kicked his legs out and slid beneath Maddie's arms, sliding down to the floor so he could set off into a sprint.

James's arms deadlocked around Evan's legs and he tilted his head back, looking up at his dad with tears in his eyes and his chest panting and heaving.

"Daddy."

Leaning down, Evan scooped James up, allowing his boy to grip his neck and snuggle close into his chest.

"I'm here, I've got you."

Evan danced his eyes around his family. Maddie pushed up from her chair and stepped closer, her hand already on his arm giving a light squeeze to try and calm him down and give whatever comfort she could. Their parents remained seated in the corridor, hands linked together, worried eyes gazing up at Evan as if he was a profit that had just appeared in front of them.

"What happened?" Evan didn't know what brought them all here.

He had only just climbed off the truck after a two hour call out when the shift lead told him to call Maddie because dispatch had gotten through to the station that he had a family emergency. And all his sister told him over the phone was that (Y/n) had had pains and they were taking her to the hospital to get checked out.

He let Maddie steer him a few feet away down the corridor and her eyes flitted to James, but the toddler wasn't listening. He was happily humming into Evan's chest and drawing patterns on his shirt. Evan didn't have chance to change. He had sped from the station down here to the hospital so he was still in his shirt that was black with smoke, damp with water backsplash and tight and crumpled from heat.

"She started getting cramps, the doctor said it was the start of labour pains."

Evan could feel his upper lip curling and he tilted his head back, trying to dull down the ache in his lower chest and the fire burning behind his ribs.

"Why? It's too early… when I left last night she was fine. Where is she?" Evan wouldn't have gone to work if he thought (Y/n) wasn't well or if he'd of known she would go downhill like this. There was nothing to suggest she was going to go into labour and it was too early for that, this would be premature for the twins and dangerous.

Evan bounced James up and down in his arms and cradled the back of his head, tilting his head down so he could kiss the top of his head.

"They've given her something to stop the contractions."

"Thank God, Maddie what happened?"

The way Maddie looked across at their parents made Evan's stomach drop. What had gone on while he had been at work? Something had to have happened, (Y/n) couldn't just go into labour out of the blue when she had been fine last night and there had been no problems before now.

"Mum and dad were round to see them… (Y/n) said they were arguing with her."

"They did this?" His tone was dark but it was the look in his eyes that set Maddie on edge even more.

She watched the way he leaned down to try and set James back on his feet, but the little boy wouldn't let go of Evan's neck. He clung to his chest and wriggled in his arms, whining to try and get Evan to keep hold of him.

"James, baby let go for a minute-"

"They shouted at mummy."

Evan paused, crouching down with James stood between his knees with his arms bound tight around his neck. His hands squeezed James's sides and he kept him close, trying to stay calm.

"What did they say, baby?" He wasn't sure if he wanted the answer or not, but Evan wasn't impressed in the slightest that James had clearly heard something he shouldn't. Had his parents really shouted at his wife? Had they argued with her with James nearby to hear them? Had they upset his wife enough to cause all of this and panic his son too?

"They were arguing about Bubba, and the bike… they were being mean." James leaned his head on Evan's shoulder and pushed into his chest until Evan held him tighter and kissed his temple.

"Okay. Okay, baby you stay with aunt Maddie for a minute, then we'll go see mummy. Bubba's coming soon to see us all too."

Evan shared a look with his sister and he chose to ignore the panic in her eyes while he carefully nudged James across to her. He waited until she had her arms wrapped around him before he got up and advanced over to his parents. Both hands curled into fists at his sides and he took a glance over his shoulder to make sure James was at a safe enough distance away not to hear anything, although that meant Evan was going to have to keep his voice down.

"Evan-"

"I was in the middle of a double shift, and I get a call to say (Y/n)'s in hospital, so I come down here to be told she's in labour after arguing with you. And you have the nerve to stick around? What the Hell did you say to her to cause this?"

He hadn't even finished his twenty-four hour shift before he got called to come here. Evan thought maybe (Y/n) had had some sort of fall or she was sick or having some kind of pains with the twins. He wasn't expecting her to be in labour- which hopefully had stopped by now. And he wasn't expecting his parents to be the cause of all this.

"She got herself worked up-"

"Labour doesn't count as worked up, mum, it counts as fucking stressed out. What did you say?"

"James wouldn't come near us today, he's rushing around with that Captain of yours, calling him his grandad and spending weekends with him. She's turning him against us Evan, we are his grandparents."

A horrid shuddering breath rocked Evan's system. His hands found his hips and his foot began to tap against the floor as he looked up at the ceiling. He could feel his fingers puncturing into his hips and his chest ached at their words.

How were they blaming (Y/n) for this?

She hadn't done anything to warrant any of this. It was their own doing and now they had stressed his wife into labour when she was supposed to be resting and taking things easy until the twins were born.

"Just leave."

"Evan, don't do this, please."

"Bobby is James's grandad, always has been, always will be. He doesn't stay with you because he barely fucking knows you and I wouldn't trust him with you either. Look what you've done today, we'll be lucky if she doesn't go into premature labour now after this." Twisting to the left, Evan motioned his hand out towards James. "Come on, we're gonna see mum."

As soon as James trotted over to him, Evan grabbed his hand and steered him straight ahead. He wasn't stopping to argue and he wasn't having James getting worried or upset any further than this. He wanted to see (Y/n) and make sure she was alright.

He could feel Maddie close behind them and he rapped his knuckles lightly on the door before he headed inside.

His lips curved into a smile before he could stop himself and something warm flooded his eyes when they set on his wife. The moment her arms stretched out for him, Evan let go of James so he could move forward.

Evan almost melted on the spot when (Y/n)'s arms looped around his neck. He wound his arms tightly around her waist, trying not to squeeze too much and cause her any more pain or discomfort. His face burrowed into the side of her neck and he inhaled her scent, smothering his lips against her skin while he felt (Y/n)'s hand run up and down his back.

"Are you okay? What did the doctor say?"

Evan let his weight slump down on the side of the bed and he didn't miss the way the bed groaned beneath him and he felt it shudder when James scrambled up on the other side of the bed.

(Y/n) gripped Evan's hand and opened her other arm out, mumbling "Hi baby," when James crawled up and plonked himself down beneath her right arm. She didn't miss the way Evan's eyes kept moving to her stomach and she gently moved his hand to rest on her stomach. She wasn't tender or made of glass, he could reach out for the twins like he always did without fear of making her feel any worse.

"Contractions have stopped, but I'm here for twenty four hour observation to make sure they don't start again. They're both doing okay."

Evan mumbled his relief before he leaned forward and pressed his lips down against her stomach. His lips curved into a grin when he felt James's fingers brush through his hair, something the little boy had always seen (Y/n) do often.

"Sorry to drag you away from work."

"Hey, if you're not well I need to be here. Bobby's coming down soon, said he'd look after a certain someone for us so I can stay with you."

He could see the panic that fluttered across (Y/n)'s face and he felt her grip tighten on his wrist when she looked towards the door before she looked back at Evan. It wasn't that she didn't want Bobby to come by, of course she did, it was sweet that he cared and that he was willing to help them when he didn't have to. But Evan's parents were outside that door and (Y/n) didn't want another fight breaking out if they saw the Buckleys.

"Evan, you parents-"

"Aren't staying. Everyone who matters is right in here, so no worrying. Everything's okay."

They were all in here and when Bobby arrived, that would be their immediate family right here in this room. His parents had been told to go and Evan doubted they would hang around after what had happened today. He wasn't going to let this happen again.

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bobby nash #maddie buckley han

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anticipatedexhale · 2 months ago

Text

Happy birthday!!! It's a day to celebrate you!

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: they surprise you on your birthday!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, flufffff and also definitely not proofread

Mel Medarda.

Mel Medarda did not do things halfway. When she loved, she loved with intensity. When she planned, she planned meticulously. And when it came to you? Well, she was going to make sure your birthday was something you would never forget.

You had a feeling something was up when, the night before, she had simply kissed your cheek and said, “Wear something nice tomorrow, darling.” That was it. No explanation. No hints. Just a knowing smile before she walked away, leaving you both intrigued and slightly terrified.

And now? You were standing in front of an enormous, private dinner setup on one of Piltover’s highest balconies, the entire city glittering below like a sea of golden stars. A long, lavish table stretched before you, covered in candlelight, rich wines, and an array of gourmet dishes that looked too perfect to eat. Soft music played in the background, and the scent of fresh roses filled the air.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “Mel…”

She was standing beside you, looking as breathtaking as ever in a deep gold dress, her earrings catching the candlelight. She smiled at your reaction, clearly pleased with herself. “Surprised?”

“That’s an understatement,” you breathed, turning to her. “How did you—when did you—?”

She chuckled, looping an arm through yours and guiding you toward the table. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

You shook your head in disbelief as she pulled out your chair for you—because of course she did—before settling in across from you. “Mel, this is… a lot.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Are you saying you don’t like it?”

“No! It’s—” You gestured around wildly. “It’s incredible. I just don’t know how to deserve all this.”

Mel leaned forward, resting her chin delicately against her fingers. “You don’t have to deserve it,” she said softly. “I wanted to do this. Because you deserve to feel celebrated. To feel adored.”

Your chest tightened at her words. She had always been someone who built walls, who calculated every move, but with you? She always let you see the tenderness beneath it all.

A warmth spread through you as you reached across the table, taking her hand in yours. “Thank you, Mel. For everything.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Happy birthday, my love,” she murmured. “Now, let’s toast—to you.”

She lifted her glass, and as you clinked yours against hers, you realized that, out of everything—the lavish gifts, the extravagant setting—the real gift was this: Mel, choosing to love you in the way only she could.

------------------------------------------------

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had never been great at keeping secrets. It wasn’t that he was bad at lying—he just got too excited and always ended up giving himself away. So, when your birthday was coming up, you could tell something was up.

He’d been acting weird all week—disappearing for hours, sending hurried messages to people when he thought you weren’t looking, and worst of all? He sucked at playing it cool.

“What are you up to?” you had asked him the night before, arms crossed as he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to distract you from a set of blueprints on his desk.

“Nothing!” he had said way too quickly, grinning wide enough to make it obvious that he was lying. “Just, uh, some important Council business!”

You didn’t buy it for a second. But instead of prying, you decided to let him have his fun.

Fast forward to today. Your birthday.

The entire morning had gone by suspiciously normally. Jayce hadn’t mentioned a word about it. No casual "Happy birthday!" No cheeky wink. Not even a hint of whatever he had been planning. You were starting to wonder if he’d somehow forgotten—until you walked into his workshop.

The second you stepped inside, BOOM!

Confetti everywhere.

Not just a little—an entire explosion of tiny colored paper pieces rained down on you from above, and in the middle of it all stood Jayce, arms wide open, looking way too proud of himself.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” he shouted, grinning like a kid who just pulled off the best prank ever.

You blinked, completely frozen in shock as confetti slowly drifted onto your hair, your shoulders… everywhere.

Jayce, realizing that maybe confetti cannons were a bit much for an indoor setting, winced. “Uh… okay, maybe that was overkill.”

You stared at him, then at the absolute mess he had just created, and finally burst into laughter.

“Jayce! What the hell?!” you managed between laughs, shaking the confetti out of your hair.

He let out a relieved chuckle, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. “Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But hey, at least it was memorable, right?”

“Very,” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “But please tell me this isn’t all you planned.”

Jayce gasped dramatically. “Of course not! Who do you think I am?”

With that, he took your hand and led you toward the back of the workshop, where a table was set up with a cake—one that was definitely a little lopsided but obviously homemade. Next to it, a small pile of gifts, and most importantly? A chair with another small confetti cannon.

“Jayce,” you warned, eyeing it.

“Okay, fine, I’ll put it down,” he said with a laugh, setting it aside. “But I do have one more surprise.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box. The moment you opened it, your breath caught—it was a tiny Hextech pendant, glowing faintly, crafted into a delicate design.

“I made it myself,” he said, a little bashful now. “Figured you deserved something special.”

Your heart melted. All the ridiculousness, the over-the-top confetti, the chaotic energy—it was so Jayce. And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “This is perfect.”

Jayce exhaled, finally relaxing. “Good,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

------------------------------------------------

Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t the type for grand gestures. He didn’t do over-the-top surprises or loud celebrations. He preferred the quiet things—the ones that mattered, the ones you’d carry with you long after the day had passed.

That’s why, when your birthday came around, you weren’t expecting much. Not because he didn’t care—far from it. But because Viktor was always lost in his work, constantly chasing ideas, and you didn’t want to burden him with expectations.

So, when the morning passed without so much as a mention of your birthday, you tried not to let the disappointment creep in. Maybe he really had forgotten.

But then, late in the evening, as you walked into his dimly lit workshop, you found something waiting for you on his desk.

A small, neatly wrapped package. And next to it, a stack of papers, the ink still fresh.

Your name was written at the top.

Curious, you picked up the papers, eyes scanning the first few lines. And then your heart stopped.

It was a letter. No—many letters. Pages upon pages, filled with Viktor’s precise handwriting.

You sat down slowly, hands trembling as you began to read.

He wrote about the day he met you. How he hadn’t expected someone like you to step into his life, let alone stay. How, despite the chaos of his mind and the limits of his body, you had never treated him as anything less than whole.

He wrote about the small things. The way you made tea exactly how he liked it, even though you hated the taste. How you always remembered to bring an extra blanket when he fell asleep at his desk. The way you touched him—so gently, as if you saw the pieces of him that no one else did.

He wrote about the nights he spent awake, thinking of you. Wondering how someone like him had managed to deserve someone like you.

And at the very bottom, in slightly messier handwriting, was the last line:

"If I am to leave any mark on this world, let it be the love I have for you."

Tears blurred your vision by the time you finished. You pressed a hand to your mouth, overwhelmed, as you turned to see Viktor standing in the doorway, watching you with quiet apprehension.

“You—” Your voice broke. “You wrote all of this?”

A faint flush touched his cheeks as he shifted his cane, looking away for a moment. “I am not good with spoken words,” he admitted softly. “But I wanted you to know.”

You stood, crossing the room in seconds before wrapping your arms around him. Viktor stiffened slightly, then melted into your embrace, exhaling shakily.

“You didn’t forget,” you murmured against his shoulder.

His hand came up to rest against your back. “Of course not,” he whispered. “How could I?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes still wet. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a small, almost shy smile. “Then I suppose it was worth every word.”

------------------------------------------------

Caitlyn.

Caitlyn Kiramman was a woman of precision. Strategy. Planning. She didn’t do things on a whim—every move she made had a purpose. So, when your birthday rolled around, you knew she had something up her sleeve.

But you hadn’t expected this.

“Caitlyn,” you said slowly, staring at the handwritten note she had left on your bedside table. “Is this… a scavenger hunt?”

The paper was neat, her elegant script detailing a simple instruction: "Meet me at the shooting range. Wear something comfortable. Happy birthday, darling."

A grin tugged at your lips. You had no idea what she was up to, but you weren’t about to back down from the challenge.

Clue #1: The Shooting Range

When you arrived, the place was empty—except for Caitlyn, who stood there in her crisp uniform, a knowing smirk on her face.

"Right on time," she said, stepping forward to hand you your next note.

"You really set all this up?" you asked, amused.

She winked. "I am the Sheriff, you know. I have my ways."

You unfolded the paper, laughing when you read it. "Show me what you've got—hit the target three times in a row, and I'll give you your next clue."

“Oh, you know I’m not as good as you,” you groaned, giving her a playful glare.

She merely crossed her arms, looking smug. “Then I guess you won’t be getting your next clue.”

You sighed dramatically before stepping up to take your shots. By some miracle (and maybe a little bit of Caitlyn’s coaching over the years), you managed to land all three.

Caitlyn looked genuinely impressed. “Not bad. I might have some competition.”

You grinned. “Now give me the next clue, Sheriff.”

Clue #2: The Bakery

The next stop led you to a small, tucked-away bakery—one that you and Caitlyn often visited after long days at work. The moment you stepped inside, the owner smiled knowingly and handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box.

Inside? Your favorite pastry, still warm. And another note.

"A little something sweet before your final stop. Meet me at the place where we first realized we were more than just friends."

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew exactly where that was.

Final Stop: The Rooftop

You climbed the familiar fire escape, the city stretching out beneath you. The cool breeze hit your skin as you reached the top, and there she was—waiting for you with a picnic set up, lanterns glowing softly around her.

Caitlyn turned at the sound of your footsteps, her smile softer now, more intimate. “Took you long enough.”

You let out a breathless laugh, taking in the sight. “You really went all out.”

She stepped forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I wanted today to be special for you. You deserve that.”

Your chest tightened at the tenderness in her voice. You reached up, taking her hand in yours. “It already is.”

She exhaled, eyes searching yours before leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. When she pulled back, she smirked. “Happy birthday, darling. Now, come on—before the food gets cold.”

And as you sat together, laughing and sharing stories under the stars, you knew that this—her—was the best gift you could have ever asked for.

------------------------------------------------

Vi.

Vi never made a big deal about birthdays—especially her own. But when it came to you? She wanted to do something. It didn’t have to be fancy or extravagant, just something that would make you smile.

So when you woke up to an empty bed and a note scrawled in her messy handwriting—"Meet me at our spot. And wear something you can move in."—you had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

The "spot" turned out to be an old, abandoned bridge overlooking Zaun, a place you two often went when you needed to get away. When you arrived, Vi was already waiting, leaning against the railing with her usual cocky smirk.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," she greeted, pushing off and walking toward you. "Took you long enough."

"You are aware that normal people do things like dinner and gifts, right?" you teased.

Vi shrugged, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "Yeah, well, I ain’t normal, and you’re not getting some boring, predictable date."

Before you could ask what she meant, she stepped back and tossed you something—knuckle guards. Not unlike hers, but sleeker, custom-fitted to your hands.

You stared at them, then back at her. "Vi—"

She grinned. "Figured we could get into a little trouble together tonight. You game?"

Oh, of course she planned a street fight for your birthday. You laughed, shaking your head. "You’re unbelievable."

"Yeah, yeah, but you love me anyway," she said, nudging your chin up with her gloved hand. "And after this? We’ll grab some drinks, maybe dance, maybe do something actually romantic."

You slipped on the knuckle guards, flexing your fingers. "You know, for once, I think I like your idea."

Vi smirked. "Atta babe."

And with that, she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the night, ready to make this a birthday neither of you would forget.

------------------------------------------------

Jinx.

Jinx didn’t do things halfway. Ever. If she was going to celebrate your birthday, then it wasn’t just going to be some boring dinner or a couple of gifts. No, no, no. It had to be big. It had to be chaotic. And, most importantly, it had to be fun.

So when you woke up to a loud BOOM in the distance, followed by a series of colorful fireworks lighting up the Zaun skyline, you had a gut feeling that Jinx had something to do with it.

You barely had time to get out of bed before the door slammed open, and there she was—grinning wildly, hair messy, hands covered in soot.

“Happy birthday, hot stuff!” she practically screamed, launching herself at you.

You barely caught her, stumbling back as she wrapped her arms and legs around you like an overexcited monkey. “Jinx—what the hell was that explosion?”

She giggled, pressing a quick, excited kiss to your cheek. “Your birthday surprise!”

“…You blew something up for my birthday?”

“Duh! But it wasn’t just something—it was a whole abandoned building! You should’ve seen it—BOOM, KABOOM, colors everywhere!” She jumped down, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, I saved the best for last!”

You weren’t even dressed properly before she was dragging you out the door, her energy contagious despite the slight panic bubbling in your chest.

The Grand Finale

She led you to an open rooftop, one of her favorite hideouts. The moment you stepped onto it, you saw what she had set up—scrap metal and neon signs arranged into a very crooked-looking Happy Birthday! message, flashing erratically with sparks flying from the edges.

Your mouth fell open. “Jinx… did you—”

“Make it myself?” She puffed out her chest proudly. “You betcha!”

It was… chaotic. Dangerous, even. But it was so Jinx, and the fact that she had put in all this effort—in her own, reckless way—made your heart ache in the best way.

She flopped onto the floor, patting the space beside her. “Alright, birthday babe, sit. I got one more thing.”

You sat down, still in awe as she pulled a small, messily wrapped box from her coat. “Now, before you open it, just know that I think it’s cool, and if you don’t like it, I will cry. Probably. No pressure.”

You gave her a playful side-eye before unwrapping it. Inside was… a handmade, slightly dented metal locket, with her signature blue monkey logo engraved on it.

You opened it and nearly laughed—inside was a tiny, badly drawn stick-figure version of you and her holding hands.

Jinx watched you carefully, chewing her lip. “Sooo… you like it, or am I gonna have to start the waterworks?”

You turned to her, grinning. “Jinx, I love it.”

Her face lit up, and before you could react, she tackled you in a tight hug, knocking both of you onto the ground.

“Best! Birthday! Ever!” she cheered, giggling as she pressed kisses all over your face. “Now, let’s set off the big fireworks!”

You exhaled, laughing as she pulled you back up, her excitement never fading. And as she set off the last explosion of the night—lighting up the sky in wild, electric blue—you realized that, in all her chaos, Jinx had given you the most uniquely perfect birthday you could have ever asked for.

------------------------------------------------

Ekko.

Ekko was a man of few surprises. He was methodical, thoughtful, and knew how to make things right—whether it was fixing a broken clock or fixing his world. But birthdays? That was a bit of a new territory for him. So when yours came around, you could tell he was determined to make it special.

You woke up that morning to a soft knock on your door. When you opened it, there stood Ekko with a wide grin on his face, holding a small box wrapped in plain paper.

"Happy birthday," he said, his voice warm and a little sheepish. "I hope you like it."

You smiled, taking the gift from him and opening it. Inside was a beautiful, hand-carved pendant—a clockwork piece that looked just like a miniature version of his old time machine. It was intricate, delicate, and totally Ekko.

"You made this?" you asked, amazed.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know it's not much, but I thought you'd like something that... reminded you of us."

The pendant was a symbol of time, and that alone was enough to make your heart flutter. You couldn't help but smile as you hugged him, thankful for the gesture. "I love it."

"Good," he said, his grin returning. "Now, c'mon. I have something else planned."

A Quiet Escape Through Time

Ekko led you through the streets of Zaun, but this time, there was no rush. No plans to rush into battle or solve problems. This time, it was all about you—and the time you’d spent together.

As you walked, Ekko began to recount stories of the past: your first meeting in the undercity, when he had been just a kid trying to survive; the way you helped him and his friends when everything felt like it was falling apart. With every story, you felt yourself sinking deeper into the warmth of his words.

Eventually, you came to a quiet, secluded spot by the river, an area you didn’t even know existed. The sound of the water trickling over rocks was the only noise in the air, and the view of the stars above was breathtaking.

Ekko set down a small blanket he had brought along, gesturing for you to sit. "This was one of my favorite spots when I needed to think," he said softly. "I figured you might like it too."

You sat down beside him, your legs stretched out on the soft grass. Ekko opened a small pack, pulling out a couple of homemade sandwiches, some fruit, and a thermos filled with his own special brew.

"Happy birthday," he said again, handing you a cup of the drink. "I thought we could have a peaceful moment together. No chaos. Just... us."

You took the cup, your heart swelling with affection. "This is perfect," you said, your voice quiet but full of meaning.

Ekko watched you for a moment, then smiled, though there was something a little more sincere behind his eyes. "I know we’ve been through a lot. And I know I don’t always show it, but... I’m really glad you’re in my life."

You reached out, gently resting your hand on his. "I’m glad I’m in yours too, Ekko."

For the rest of the night, the two of you sat together, talking and laughing under the stars, with no rush or distractions. And when the moon was high in the sky, Ekko pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

"I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know I’m happy right here, right now," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t help but feel that Ekko’s simple, thoughtful celebration was exactly what you needed. In that quiet moment, everything felt just right. Time could slow down, but with him by your side, you knew that every second was worth it.

Author note: GUYSSSS ITS MY BDAY IM FINALLY 17 YUPPIEEE (Jan 30)

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savi0rr · 4 months ago

Note

love the viktor with wife scenarios!! can u do one where they're on a date and COINCIDENTALLY (or not) jayce and mel found them!

prollt viktor saying "I genuinely dont know why my brain stops whenever I'm looking st you. Maybe I'm going crazy"

silly arguments and all

jayce finally realizes that viktor indeed has a wife

Sneaky Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Wife! Reader

In which, planning dates can be a little difficult, having to sneak around and all. But in the end, it’s all worth it…kinda.

a/n: thank you, queen, for requesting I was starting to run out of ideas

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Are you ready?” Viktor asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as he tilted his head to the side, his expression serious yet curious. He slowly rose from the bed, gripping his cane tightly, the faint creak of floorboards accompanying his movement. You nodded enthusiastically, wanting to convey your eagerness as you applied the final touches to your outfit at the vanity. “Yes!” you replied cheerfully, your excitement evident as you stood up to face him. With a playful smile, you twirled slowly, letting the fabric of your attire flow around you before your eyes landed back on him.

Viktor remained silent for a moment, his gaze roving over your carefully chosen ensemble, taking in every detail from the subtle embellishments to the way the colors complemented you. He finally nodded, his voice a gentle murmur as he said, “Looks good,” though his eyes flickered to the side, betraying a hint of something unspoken.

With a playful smirk, you walked over to him, your confidence shining through. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” you teased, winking at him. However, the playful banter was met with an intense glare from Viktor. He huffed in response, his tone light but firm as he said, “Don’t push it,” before taking a step out of the room, the doorframe silhouetting his figure.

You giggled at his reaction, a lightness filling the air as you quickly followed after him. “Wait up!” you called out, your laughter ringing as you hurried to catch up. Viktor rolled his eyes at your antics, a suppressed smile threatening to escape despite his attempts at maintaining a façade of annoyance.

Meanwhile, in a different part of Piltover, Jayce had enlisted Mel to help him pick up some parts for a groundbreaking new project he was working on. However, these components were decidedly illegal in the city, necessitating a late-night excursion to retrieve them. The two of them walked cautiously down the quiet, dimly lit street, their eyes darting over their shoulders intermittently, ensuring they weren’t being followed.

Abruptly, Jayce halted, coming to a stop right in front of Mel, forcing her to pause as well. “Jayce?” she asked, an eyebrow arched in question, curiosity and concern mingling in her voice. The atmosphere grew thick with anticipation as a sense of urgency settled between them, both aware of the risks that loomed ahead.

“Shh!” Jayce hissed urgently as he quickly maneuvered Mel away from the open street, guiding her behind the rough stone wall of an old building that stood in shadow. The air was thick with tension as he peered around the corner, prying his eyes from the dark to glimpse you and Viktor stepping onto the pavement ahead. A sly smile crept across Jayce's face; he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in curiosity before letting out a knowing smirk. “That’s definitely his wife,” he muttered under his breath, a glint of mischief flashing in his eyes.

His hands moved swiftly, and without a moment's hesitation, he shoved the heavy box filled with intricate, expensive parts into a nearby trash can, the metallic clang echoing slightly in the stillness of the night. Mel’s eyes widened in disbelief, her face shifting from confusion to incredulity. “You just spent a fortune on those parts, and you’re dumping them?!” she exclaimed, her voice low but fierce. She peered over his shoulder, her expression transforming into one of utter disbelief. “Seriously?” she added dryly, disbelief dripping from her words.

Jayce shrugged nonchalantly, a flicker of nonchalance in his demeanor despite the seriousness of the moment. “I highly doubt anyone will see these,” he replied, casting a glance back at the box, half-buried in the refuse. He was trying to appear dismissive, but Mel's worry hung in the air like a thick fog. Mel sighed, exasperation etched on her features as she shook her head, her frustration palpable. “You’re lucky I’m invested in this,” she muttered, her voice laced with a mix of annoyance and affection.

Jayce flashed her a quick, reassuring smile before darting after you and Viktor, a flicker of determination evident in his stride.

Meanwhile, you walked alongside Viktor, who moved carefully, his crutch tapping rhythmically against the concrete sidewalk with every determined step he took. Small huffs escaped his lips, a testament to the effort he was exerting. Concern gnawed at you as you glanced over, an eyebrow raised in genuine worry. “Viktor, love, what did I say about pushing yourself?” you gently admonished, coming to a halt to face him head-on.

Viktor paused, his brow furrowing deeply as he looked up at you, a familiar defiance stirring in his eyes. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the weariness in his voice betrayed him. He straightened slightly, trying to project confidence, but you could see the tension in his posture, the subtle signs that he was indeed straining against his limits. The night felt heavy with unspoken concerns, but you knew better than to push him too hard—he’d always had a stubborn streak.

“When did you develop an attitude?” you teased playfully, tilting your head to the side with a sly smirk dancing on your lips. Viktor's cheeks flushed a faint shade of pale red, indicating his slight embarrassment. “I do not have an attitude,” he grumbled defensively, shifting his weight against his crutch for support. He hesitated for a moment, avoiding your gaze, then looked back up at you, his expression softening as he added, “I’ll... slow down.” The admission seemed to hang in the air, suggesting he preferred to concede rather than endure a lengthy lecture from you, which he knew all too well could stretch on for twenty minutes.

Just then, Jayce and Mel peeked around the corner, their curiosity piqued by the playful exchange. Jayce raised an eyebrow, a confused frown creasing his forehead as he grumbled to himself, clearly struggling to decipher the conversation between you and Viktor. Mel, ever the pragmatist, rolled her eyes at Jayce's low mumble before quickly covering his mouth with her hand. “Be quiet,” she muttered under her breath, her tone a mixture of exasperation and amusement, before her gaze shifted back to you and Viktor, a look of mild concern on her face, wondering how the two of you would continue.

You and Viktor had made it to a small grassy area near a serene little water body. The two of you settled onto a wooden bench, and Viktor let out a small sigh of relief, feeling his body relax. You giggled and raised an eyebrow. “Feeling better?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. Viktor nodded and placed his crutch beside the bench. “I told you so,” you said teasingly, leaning in closer to his ear.

Viktor tensed up and shot you a glare. “Don’t even start,” he muttered, a frown creeping onto his face. You giggled again, leaning in even closer. “Don’t start what, dear?” you asked, your hand slowly inching toward his. As your fingers brushed against him, he shivered. Viktor gulped. “You’re… making it quite hard to think straight,” he admitted, feeling his heart start to beat faster than usual. You fluttered your lashes at him, giving him an innocent look. Viktor clicked his tongue in response.

As the night draped its dark cloak over the forest, a tense atmosphere enveloped the scene. From their concealed vantage point behind the twisted trunks and thick underbrush, Jayce and Mel peered intently at you and Viktor. Their hearts raced with a mix of curiosity and dread, torn between the urge to remain hidden and the inexplicable desire to unearth the secrets unfolding before them. They were acutely aware that they were trespassing into a realm of mysteries that were never intended for their eyes.

Jayce, driven by an urgent impulse, shifted slightly closer, doing his best to remain concealed amidst the foliage. Yet, with a fateful crack, his foot stumbled upon a weathered branch, shattering the silence that enveloped the woods like a heavy fog. The sharp sound pierced the air, causing you and Viktor to instinctively turn your heads toward the disturbance. “Maybe it was just an animal?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, glancing sideways at Viktor for reassurance. His silence spoke volumes; his focus was riveted on the shadowy treeline ahead, his expression a mixture of alarm and intrigue.

As if responding to your tension, the thick clouds overhead began to part, bathing the forest in a soft, ethereal glow from the moon. This pale light created dancing shadows among the trees, casting an enchanting yet eerie aura. Viktor’s eyes widened in realization as he caught sight of indistinct shapes lurking within the misty darkness. Confusion painted your features; you leaned back slightly, your heart pounding. “Oh gosh,” you breathed incredulously, the realization dawning upon you. In that moment, Viktor’s grip on your hand tightened instinctively, a silent promise of protection as both apprehension and curiosity swirled in the air around you.

Jayce and Mel exchanged wary glances, a shared understanding passing between them as they realized they had been caught in the act. Jayce let out a long, heavy sigh, the weight of their situation pressing down on him, and he slowly stepped into the dim light, the shadows relinquishing their hold. Mel followed suit, her own resigned sigh escaping her lips, a testament to the gravity of the moment.

“Viktor…” Jayce began, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with an undercurrent of nervousness that betrayed his calm exterior. Viktor’s brow knitted together in confusion, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the unexpected presence of his friends. “What on earth are you doing here?” he asked, a mix of irritation and concern evident in his voice.

Jayce and Mel exchanged another glance, each hesitant to completely articulate the truth lingering in the air. Mel stepped closer to Viktor, a determined yet uncertain look in her eyes. “Well, Viktor,” she started, her voice faltering slightly as she struggled to find the right words. “It’s hard to explain,” she continued, glancing away momentarily, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“It was my idea,” Jayce interjected, his voice firm yet gentle as he placed a reassuring hand on Mel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he added, his eyes drifting down to their interlocked hands in a moment of vulnerability. As he glanced from their fingers to Viktor’s face, something clicked in his mind—the unmistakable sight of Viktor’s own wedding ring. The realization hit him like a wave, and suddenly, the gravity of their situation became all too clear.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Jayce said quietly, breaking eye contact as he looked away, unable to fully meet Viktor’s gaze. The tension hung thick in the air, a palpable mixture of fear, regret, and the lingering hope for understanding..

Viktor remained still for a moment, the air heavy with unspoken words, before he slowly pushed himself to stand. With deliberate movements, he grasped his crutch, its polished wood glinting softly in the fading light, and tucked it firmly under his arm. You felt a sense of urgency bubbling inside you, compelling you to follow his lead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jayce,” Viktor murmured, his voice low and almost reflective, before beginning to make his way down the path. You quickened your pace, eager to keep up with him.

As you both faded into the growing shadows, Jayce stood anchored in place, eyes locked on your retreating figures, his expression a mix of curiosity and contemplation. “Did you see that?” Mel broke the silence, her arms crossing tightly over her chest, a hint of disbelief in her tone. Jayce stared after you and Viktor for a moment longer, then nodded slowly, the gears in his mind clearly turning. “Matching rings,” he finally said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, feeling the rough stubble there. “I didn’t know Viktor was that kind of guy.” His words hung in the air, laden with surprise and perhaps a touch of admiration, as they both processed the moment they had just witnessed.

#x you #oneshot #x reader #fluff #arcane #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #reader insert #arcane x reader #arcane x you #viktor x you

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hybridirl · 1 year ago

Text

so pretty.

18+ only, please!

abby x f!reader

a/n: hi everyone!! i’m sorry that this is an abby fic cuz i’ve been getting ellie reqs!! so i’m sorry if i disappoint but i rlly needed to scratch this itch

brief summary: your dad’s co-worker is sooo cute! you hadn’t seen her in so long! tonight, a dinner is happening with his team! you just have to hurry up and get dressed, because she just caught you nakeyyyy.

tw / worship, age gap (it’s not pronounced), pet names, praise, pure smut(?), cunnilingus, cheating, slight mommy kink, rushed sex, reader gets referred to as “daddy’s little girl,” use of y/n, AU

⋆⭒˚☾⋆.˚

you let out a quick sigh as you tugged your dress up, slipping your shoulders into the straps and taking a glance at your clock.

fuck, you thought to yourself, dad’s gonna be pissed. you were late downstairs for a very important dinner your dad was hosting! this was your first ever dinner you’ve been invited - no, well, forced to go to. all the other times, your whole time growing up, they’ve been at restaurants which your dad told you you couldn’t go to. well, now they’re here. and now you have to make a good impression and have spectacular manners for these people. uh oh.

you looked at your outfit, a tight-fitted, wine red dress. it was appropriate enough, but it was definitely showing your body off. you didn’t have time to change, though, so, a quick spray of your dior perfume would be your final touch. spritz, spritz, and you’re hurriedly rushing down the steps. you don’t have to peek around the corner to know who’s there: your dad, isaac, manny, owen, mel and… was that abby? you gulped. you hadn’t seen abby in so long, yet she’d been on your mind all that time. suddenly you were self conscious, adjusting your dress and adjusting your hair if you could. you peeked around the corner, and almost squeaked at the sight. she was there. she wore a skin-tight, long-sleeve dress.

why are you covering up those pretty arms? was the first thing you thought. those arms had kept you up at night as you fantasized about them holding you, worshiping you, and vice versa for you. your cheeks were heated, flushed with blood as you became entranced by her body. your eyes trailed down to take in the rest of her, her muscular back, legs, stomach. oh, god. you might have to go back to your room.

“y/n!” your dad called, making your head perk up and the rest of his team turn to look at you. they greeted you with friendly faces, having not scene “daddy’s little girl,” as your dad would say, in a hot minute. you stood up straight, giving a stiff wave as you rushed to go sit down by your dad’s side.

everyone was staring at you. you couldn’t tell if it was the dress, or that they hadn’t seen you. you tried your damndest to never even glance at abby and you did pretty well, barely even uttering a word to her whilst you talked pretty chattily to the rest. yes, that probably hurt her feelings, but your sanity was slightly more important.

you continued to eat, your mind now focused.

“so, y/n,” abby called whilst the others chatted, “how’s school going?” you glanced up, giving an awkward smile as you swallowed your food.

“it’s, uh, going,” you replied with heated cheeks. “it’s going.” she smirked a knowing smile and brought her hand to yours. your gaze didn’t falter as it continued it’s strenuous stare at her face. you tried to hide a growing grin,

“you can always ask me for help,” she offered, “i’m pretty good at math, y’know.” you felt your lips twitching to a small smile and you nodded.

“yeah,” you said with a nod, pulling your hand away slowly. “thanks, mrs. anderson.” she gave you a small smile, her eyes so briefly flickering downward to your chest that you hadn’t noticed.

the night went on, slowly coming to an end while you dismissed yourself upstairs. it was late and you had things to do tomorrow. a quick shower was what you needed while you hurried to the bathroom. everyone had left except for a few stragglers, who you had assumed were going to leave pretty soon.

you quietly entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. you stepped toward the mirror, giving a lopsided smile at your slightly disheveled state. you slipped out of your dress then stepped out the pool of your cloth. you stepped toward the bath, running it whilst you plugged the drain. you sat on the tub, taking off your shoes and socks to flex your feet.

you jumped, hearing a crack of lightning outside the window.

jesus, you thought. you didn’t realize the fan would be so bad. you groaned silently, turning the water off and pulling the plug on the drain. you were slipping back into your dress, the straps just above your waist before the door swings open. you yelped, covering your chest quickly.

“i didn’t know,” the smooth voice stated. your jaw was slack, staring abby in. “sorry.” but she didn’t turn away. her eyes flickered down to your chest, taking in what she could see. “…sorry,” she said once more before beginning to turn away. you didn’t know she was still here, you thought she’d left.

“well, wait,” you called before you could realize what you were doing. her gaze fell back on you, her brows raised. “i… um…” you felt your arms begin to relax, and your eyes widened as they fell to your sides, uncensoring your body for her.

“y/n,” she breathed. “your dad’s downstairs. so’s owen.” you both gazed at each other as a silence emerged. your eyes flicked down her body, especially the muscles that covered her arms.

“…i don’t care,” you spoke softly. you watched her slowly shut the door behind her as she entered. doe-eyed, you watched her approach you. she took a hold of the dress that hung around your waist, pulling it so you were close.

“daddy’s little girl ain’t so little anymore, huh?” your eyelids fluttered, gasping as her lips touched your neck. you hummed a “no” in response and your hand gripped her braid, tugging it as she bite into your neck. she let out a groan at your hair-tugs, which only fueled you. “mm, the boys would be so upset, huh? but, look how pretty you are. how’s a woman like me gonna resist a pretty girl like you?” she paused to pull away from you, “…can i touch you?” you nodded your head and her huge hands went to massage your breasts, eliciting a moan from your lips. “shhh. don’t get loud, baby, don’t get loud. just let mama touch your body.” they moved from your breasts and down to your sides and she spoke once more, “can i pull your dress down, baby girl?” you nodded, and the dress with down, down, down. her hands cupped your ass as you stood and she kneeled. “look at that,” she sighed and kissed your naval. “spread your legs for me, sweet thing, let me take a look at you.” you adjusted, spreading your legs just a tad to let her get a view of your inner lips, wet and needy.

“abby,” you huffed, slightly impatient. she smirked and squeezed your butt hard. you whined, writhing slightly.

“hush up,” she demanded lowly, kissing down your stomach. she sighed as she inhaled your scent, nostrils flaring. “mm, fuck you smell good.” your cheeks heated with embarrassment and your hand went for her hair again, pulling her closer to your throbbing pussy. “so impatient, sweetheart. you’re lucky the boys are downstairs… if they weren’t, i’d be bending you over my knee. god, look at this body…” her hands trailed back up your sides, squeezing your breasts once more. you could feel yourself drip as she began to kiss your thighs. “oh, baby,” she groaned into your thigh, bringing her hands back down. she licked right to your vulva, leaving a trail of saliva on your thighs. “should i tongue this needy pussy?”

“yes,” you gasped, nudging your hips forward. “abby, please.” you’d been waiting for this for so long, you needed her rough tongue on you. she leaned in to give your cunt a sloppy kiss, gently sucking on your clit. you hunched over, pulling her head closer to you. her hands grabbed your ass as she began to lick at you. “abby.” she smiled into your pussy while her tongue flicked against your clit, then dipped into you. “fuck…” she guided your hips along her tongue, each time her tongue found your sensitive little bud, curving right at the end to give you so much pleasure.

“it’s alright, baby, ride mama’s tongue,” she said quickly, opening her mouth wide for you. you obliged, hurriedly running yourself along her tongue.

“abby, abby,” you whined, gripping her hair to pump her head. she kept staring at you, her blue eyes boring into yours. “a-abby.” her hands soothingly ran up and down your thighs and her mouth closed slightly, suckling back onto your clit. “please!” you whimpered, the grip on her hair tightening. she groaned, the vibrations hitting your pussy so perfectly.

“shh.” she kissed your clit a few times before her fingers slipped into you. your jaw fell open and your head tilted back. you moaned her name quietly, heavy breaths filling the air. you could feel yourself, how close you were.

“please let me cum on your tongue,” you pleaded, your eyes locked on hers. she chuckled into your cunt, nodding whilst slurping up your juices. your legs trembled as you approached the edge of your orgasm. whimpers left your throat before you bit your lip, coming undone right on her tongue. she eagerly licked your nectar up, your hips rocking and grinding.

eventually coming down, you slowly pushed her head away. her face was drenched with your essence, a smug smile plastered on her face.

“that good, sweetheart?” she asked with a small kiss on your thigh. you nodded slowly, your breath heavy.

“yes,” you managed to say between labored breaths.

“let’s hope the boys didn’t hear, huh?” she stood up and guided your dress back on before speaking once more, “we’ll be doing this again.”

you bit back a smirk.

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aspenmissing · 1 month ago

Note

omg i think i sent my last request not anonymously😭😭😭 my bad, i also didn’t specify which fandom from😭😭😭 i was in a hurry SORRYYYY.

Now properly: could you maybe do some good old fluff with arcane characters??? (like silco, jayce, viktor, mel) like reader has had a stressful long day and gets home mentally and physically exhausted so they let themselves be vulnerable (aka clingy and cuddly) with their SO. thank uuuu love your writing!!

ʜᴇʟᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴀʀᴍꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴍᴇʟ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ || 5072 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴇxʜᴀᴜꜱᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ɪ ᴀᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ɪᴛ!

JAYCE

The weight of the day clung to you like a heavy fog, your limbs aching, your mind drained. Each step toward the apartment felt sluggish, as though the world itself was pressing down on you. The only thing keeping you moving forward was the thought of him—Jayce. Your home, your anchor.

As the door creaked open, the familiar warmth of your shared space washed over you. The scent of something faintly metallic and oil-slicked—a sign Jayce had been tinkering again—lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hint of parchment and the subtle spice of his cologne. It felt safe, comforting, like the embrace of something familiar in a world that had felt unbearably heavy today.

"Hey, sweetheart," came his voice, rich and soothing, as he looked up from his desk. His eyes softened the moment they landed on you, his expression shifting from concentration to concern. The sight of him—tired but still effortlessly handsome—made your chest tighten, your exhaustion creeping into something softer, more vulnerable. He had always been your solace, your steady ground when everything else felt overwhelming.

You didn't reply, only made your way to him with slow, dragging steps. His brows furrowed as he took you in, setting down the tool in his hand. "Long day?"

A nod. Then, without hesitation, you sank into his lap, arms winding around his neck, face burying itself into the crook of his shoulder. A heavy sigh left you, relief washing over as his warmth surrounded you. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your cheek, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

Jayce let out a quiet chuckle, his arms coming up to pull you even closer. "That bad, huh?"

You hummed in response, unwilling to move from your newfound comfort. Your body curled into him, hands gripping at his shirt like you were afraid he’d disappear. You didn’t need to explain—you knew he understood. He always did.

His hand found the small of your back, rubbing slow, soothing circles while his other hand cradled your head, his fingers threading through your hair. "I've got you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Just breathe, love."

And you did. Inhaling his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounding you. The tension in your body melted away, replaced by something safer, softer. Jayce shifted slightly, adjusting you in his lap so you could rest more comfortably, his lips brushing against your hair every so often, whispering sweet nothings. His fingers traced gentle lines along your spine, his warmth seeping into your skin, melting away the fatigue that had worn you down all day.

For a long while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, his warmth easing the stress from your bones. The room was quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace and the distant hum of the city outside. He held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his touch reassuring, his presence unwavering.

"You should’ve told me you were this tired," he murmured after a while, voice gentle. "I would've come to get you."

"Didn't want to bother you," you mumbled against his shoulder, fingers tracing idle patterns along his collarbone. You knew how busy he was, how much weight he carried on his own shoulders. The last thing you wanted was to add to it.

Jayce sighed, nudging your face up so he could look into your tired eyes. "You're never a bother to me. Ever." His eyes held nothing but sincerity, a depth of devotion that made your heart ache in the best way.

His sincerity made your heart ache, but in a good way. You nodded, leaning into his touch as his thumb brushed against your cheek, his warmth seeping into you, filling the cracks left by the day’s exhaustion.

"How about this?" he offered. "We get out of here for a while. Just you and me. Somewhere quiet, somewhere warm."

The idea was tempting, the thought of an escape with him, away from everything, but at the moment, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere but right here, tangled in his arms. "Later," you murmured, nuzzling back into him. "Just wanna stay like this for now."

Jayce chuckled again, his hold tightening ever so slightly. "As long as you need, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

And with that, you let yourself completely relax, knowing you were exactly where you needed to be. Safe, cherished, and undeniably loved.

VIKTOR

The familiar creak of the apartment door barely echoed in the dimly lit room as Y/N stepped inside, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. The day had been merciless—filled with unrelenting stress, deadlines, and the ceaseless hum of expectations. Every muscle ached, every thought felt heavy, and all she wanted was the solace of Viktor’s arms.

The warmth of the space was welcoming, bathed in the golden glow of scattered lanterns and the quiet crackle of a small fireplace. A gentle clinking of metal against wood met her ears, and she turned to see Viktor standing from his desk, his cane steadying him as he moved toward her with concern flickering in his amber eyes.

“Ah, you’re home,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the storm in her mind.

Y/N barely had the energy to respond, only managing a quiet hum as she crossed the room in a few unsteady steps. Without hesitation, she melted into Viktor’s embrace, arms winding tightly around his waist as she buried her face against his chest. He stumbled slightly, adjusting his stance with his cane, but never once did he waver in holding her close.

“Moje srdce,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “You seem… exhausted.” (My heart)

A shuddering breath left Y/N as she nodded, fingers clinging to the fabric of his vest. “It was a long day,” she admitted, voice muffled against him. “I just… I just need you right now.”

His arms tightened around her, one hand moving up to gently thread through her hair in slow, comforting strokes. “Then take what you need,” he whispered, his words laced with nothing but tenderness.

Y/N felt herself relax at his touch, pressing closer, soaking in his warmth, his steady presence. Viktor’s cane clinked softly as he maneuvered them toward the couch, easing down with her still wrapped around him. She curled up beside him, her legs tangling with his as she rested her head against his chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a while, there were no words—just the soft sound of their breathing, the warmth of his fingers tracing absent patterns against her back. He didn’t rush her, didn’t demand explanations. He simply held her, unwavering in his quiet devotion.

“You work too hard,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I could ease your burdens.”

Y/N exhaled a shaky sigh. “You already do,” she murmured, shifting to press a kiss against his jaw. “Just being here… holding me like this. It’s enough.”

He huffed softly, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Good. Because I rather enjoy this myself.”

A small, tired laugh left her lips, and she nuzzled closer, breathing in the familiar scent of him—ink, parchment, and something uniquely Viktor. The weight of the day began to lift, replaced by the steady comfort of his presence, the quiet strength in his touch.

As if sensing she needed more, Viktor’s fingers continued their soothing patterns along her back, his other hand trailing along her arm in absent-minded caresses. “Would you like some tea?” he asked softly after a moment. “Something warm might help.”

She shook her head, not quite ready to let go of him just yet. “No. Just this,” she whispered. “Just you.”

Viktor’s smile was tender as he pressed another lingering kiss to her temple. “Then I am yours,” he promised, his voice like velvet, laced with unwavering devotion. “For as long as you need.”

Y/N sighed in contentment, allowing herself to be fully enveloped in his warmth. With Viktor by her side, she knew she could let her guard down, just for a while. He was her refuge, her safe place, and in the comfort of his embrace, the chaos of the world outside melted away.

She shifted slightly, tucking herself further into his arms, and in that perfect moment of quiet serenity, exhaustion finally gave way to peace. With Viktor holding her, whispering sweet reassurances against her hair, she knew she would be okay.

JAYVIK

The moment you stepped into the shared apartment, exhaustion clung to your body like a second skin. Your shoulders slumped, feet dragging across the floor as the weight of the day settled deep into your bones. You barely had the energy to close the door behind you before the only thought on your mind was finding comfort in the two people who made everything feel lighter.

Jayce was the first to notice you, standing in the kitchen with a mug in hand, his dark eyes softening the second they landed on your figure. "Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, setting the mug down as he stepped toward you. "Long day?"

You only hummed in response, barely managing a nod before making a beeline for him. The moment your arms wrapped around his broad frame, you let out a deep sigh, melting against him. Jayce chuckled softly, his strong arms encircling you with ease, one hand moving up to cradle the back of your head. "You must've had it rough."

Viktor's voice carried from the couch, warm and knowing. "Oh, she is in one of those moods again," he mused, pushing himself up with his cane before making his way over. His golden eyes were filled with quiet affection as he took in the sight of you clinging to Jayce like your life depended on it.

You peeked up at him, reaching out with one arm, your fingers curling in silent request. "Vik..."

His expression softened as he sighed, feigning exasperation, but he was already stepping closer. "You are insatiable," he murmured, shifting his cane to one hand so he could wrap the other around you, completing the embrace.

Between the two of them, you were enveloped in warmth, their steady heartbeats a grounding presence that anchored you from the overwhelming haze of stress. Jayce pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, while Viktor rested his chin lightly atop your head, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back.

For a moment, you just breathed, the tension in your body slowly easing as they held you. "This is nice..." you murmured, your voice muffled against Jayce’s chest. "Needed this."

"You should tell us when you need us, darling," Viktor chided gently, shifting his weight so he could lean into the embrace without straining his leg. "We are more than happy to be your safe space."

"Always," Jayce added, squeezing you a little tighter. "You do so much. You deserve to let go sometimes."

You felt a lump form in your throat at their words, the overwhelming sense of love filling you up until it nearly spilled over. You sniffled quietly, curling closer into them. "I love you guys so much."

Viktor chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "We love you too."

Jayce smiled, resting his cheek against your hair. "More than you know."

And in their arms, you let yourself be vulnerable, letting them hold you together, piece by piece, until the stress of the day melted away completely.

Jayce rocked you slightly from side to side, his grip firm yet gentle, his warmth radiating through you like a balm. "C'mon, sweetheart," he whispered, his fingers running through your hair. "Let's sit down, yeah? You need to rest."

You nodded against his chest, not moving right away, just absorbing his scent—cinnamon and steel, the faintest hint of oil from his tinkering in the lab. Viktor, ever patient, ran his hand up and down your back in slow strokes, a methodical comfort that made your eyelids droop.

Finally, Jayce guided you toward the couch, lowering himself first so you could settle onto his lap, curled against his chest. Viktor followed, seating himself beside you, his cane resting against the arm of the couch. The moment he was settled, he pulled you into his side as well, sandwiching you between them.

"Tell us about your day?" Viktor prompted gently, his accent lilting, voice low and smooth.

You hesitated for a moment before sighing, nuzzling deeper into their hold. "Just... a lot. Work was draining. So many deadlines, so many people talking at once. My head felt like it was going to explode."

Jayce hummed in sympathy, his large hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your lower back. "You push yourself too hard," he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. "You need to take breaks, you know?"

"I know..." you admitted, closing your eyes. "But I don't always realize how much I'm holding in until I get home."

Viktor tilted his head, studying you with a gentle expression. "And that is why we are here," he murmured. "To remind you that you do not have to carry everything alone."

You sniffled, your fingers curling into the fabric of Jayce’s shirt as you nodded. "I know. And I'm so grateful for you both."

Viktor’s lips brushed your forehead in the softest of kisses before he leaned his head against yours. "Rest now, miláčku," he whispered. "Let us take care of you." (Darling)

Jayce's arms tightened around you, his warmth, his presence, all-consuming yet safe. "Yeah, just let us hold you for a while."

And so you did. You let yourself be wrapped up in them, in their love, their warmth, until the weight of the day faded into something distant, replaced only by the steady, unwavering comfort of the two people who meant the most to you.

VANDER

The dim glow of the Last Drop’s lanterns flickered against the wooden walls, their light dancing over the aged wood, giving the space a familiar warmth. The scent of ale, smoke, and the faint spice of something fried lingered in the air, clinging to the very foundation of the bar. It was a scent Y/N had grown used to, one that often felt like home. But tonight, it did little to soothe her.

The weight of the day pressed down on her like an iron shackle, dragging with every step as she pushed open the heavy door. Normally, the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses brought some comfort, a reminder of the life that pulsed through the Undercity despite its hardships. But tonight, it all felt distant, like she was wading through a fog, too exhausted to care.

All she wanted was him.

Vander.

Her weary gaze landed on him behind the bar, his broad frame hunched slightly as he wiped down a glass with slow, practiced movements. The moment he caught sight of her, his hands stilled, concern etching into the hard lines of his face. He set the glass aside, stepping forward instinctively, his sharp eyes scanning her face, reading her in an instant.

"Rough one?" His voice was a deep rumble, quiet enough that only she could hear.

She didn’t trust her voice, not with the lump forming in her throat, so she only nodded. That was all it took. Vander didn’t push, didn’t ask her to explain or tell him what had happened. He simply opened his arms, offering the only comfort she truly needed.

She closed the distance between them in an instant, stepping behind the bar and into his waiting embrace.

The moment his strong arms wrapped around her, the tight knot in her chest loosened, just a fraction. Vander held her firmly, his large hands pressing against the small of her back, rubbing slow, comforting circles over her tense muscles. He was warm, solid—a foundation she could lean on when everything else felt like too much.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, gripping the fabric as she buried her face against his chest. The scent of smoke, leather, and something uniquely him filled her senses, more comforting than anything else in the world.

"I gotcha," he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple in a featherlight kiss. "You’re safe now."

A shuddering breath escaped her as the last of her resistance crumbled. The exhaustion that had been pressing down on her all day settled fully into her limbs, making her feel boneless in his arms. It didn’t matter if anyone saw—if the patrons noticed how she clung to him, how vulnerable she was in this moment. Vander didn’t care, and neither did she.

His embrace tightened ever so slightly, as if silently telling her that he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. And she didn’t want him to.

For a moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other, the world outside of their bubble fading away. The hum of voices, the clatter of tankards against wood, the distant sound of laughter—it all blurred into nothing.

Vander was the first to move, pulling back just enough to cup her cheek with one of his rough hands. His thumb traced lightly over her skin, the callouses warm and grounding.

"C’mon, let’s get you off your feet," he murmured.

She barely had the energy to nod, letting him guide her away from the bar, his palm resting firm and reassuring against the small of her back. She didn’t pay attention to the curious glances from the regulars. Vander was leading her away from the noise, from the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders, and that was all that mattered.

The moment they reached the small room above the bar, Y/N let out a heavy sigh, the last bit of tension slipping from her body.

Finally, home.

She barely made it to the bed before collapsing onto it, her limbs too heavy to do anything else. Vander was right behind her, kicking off his boots, ready to give her space if she needed it—but she didn’t want space. Not from him.

Without hesitation, she reached for him, her fingers curling around his wrist as she tugged him down beside her. He let out a quiet chuckle, but didn’t resist, lying back against the mattress as she wrapped herself around him like a lifeline.

His warmth seeped into her immediately, a slow, steady comfort that eased the tension from her muscles. Vander shifted slightly, getting comfortable before his strong hands began smoothing down her back, his touch as gentle as it was reassuring.

"Clingy tonight, huh?" His voice was teasing, but there was nothing but fondness in his tone.

Y/N barely had the energy to respond. She only hummed in agreement, nuzzling against the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

"Don’t care," she mumbled against his skin.

She felt his lips curve into a small smile against her hair. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

And she knew he meant it.

For a long while, they simply lay there, wrapped in each other, the only sounds in the room being their steady breaths and the faint creaking of the old wooden floor beneath them.

Y/N pressed her palm against Vander’s chest, feeling the slow, solid rhythm of his heartbeat. It was steady, grounding—home.

After a while, Vander’s voice rumbled low against the silence.

"Y’know you don’t have to carry it all alone," he murmured, his fingers tracing slow patterns along her spine.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she curled in closer, pressing herself against him like she could somehow absorb his strength. His words settled deep inside her, touching something raw, something she had tried so hard to ignore.

"You’ve got me, love. Always."

Her grip on him tightened. The lump in her throat swelled, and this time, she didn’t try to fight it.

"I know," she whispered, voice small but sincere.

And with Vander holding her, she finally let herself believe it.

But he wasn’t done taking care of her.

His hands never stopped moving—strong fingers kneading gently at her shoulders, brushing through her hair, massaging away the tension that had settled into her muscles. Each touch was slow, deliberate, filled with unspoken love.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked after a moment, his voice thick with quiet patience.

She hesitated, her mind flickering back to the events of the day, the stress, the exhaustion, the frustration that had nearly swallowed her whole. She didn’t want to relive it—not yet.

"Not now," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just… need you right now."

Vander hummed in understanding, his lips pressing another kiss to her forehead.

"Then that’s what you’ll get."

And he kept his promise.

For the rest of the night, he held her. Let her be as close as she wanted, whispered soft reassurances into her hair, made sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

And when sleep finally claimed her, warm and safe in his arms, Vander was still there—his grip never loosening, his presence never wavering.

Because she didn’t have to carry it all alone. Not with him by her side.

Always.

SILCO

The dim glow of lanterns flickered in Silco’s office, casting long, wavering shadows against the walls. The scent of oil, parchment, and cigars lingered in the air, mixing with the faint, familiar perfume of her. It was a scent that had woven itself into his world so seamlessly that, even when she wasn’t here, traces of her always remained. But tonight, she was here—unexpectedly.

He hadn’t anticipated seeing her until later. Not that he minded. If anything, the sight of her curled up in his space, wrapped in his dim light, stirred something deep in his chest. A warmth he scarcely allowed himself to feel.

Y/N lay sprawled on the worn leather couch, her body half-draped over a pillow she clung to like a lifeline. Her limbs sagged, exhaustion carved into the curve of her frame, and though her eyes remained closed, he could see the weight of the day pressing down on her. The tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers gripped the pillow as though holding herself together.

She looked utterly spent, like a candle burned to the wick.

Silco exhaled through his nose, stepping closer. His movements were smooth, soundless, his keen gaze scanning her as if she were one of his pieces on the board—delicate, valuable, irreplaceable.

"I wasn’t aware my couch had been claimed as your bed," he murmured, voice edged with amusement yet laced with something deeper. A quiet invitation for an explanation.

Her only response was a sigh, shifting slightly but not bothering to lift her head. "Didn't mean to intrude," she murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. "Just... didn’t want to be alone."

Something cold and sharp coiled in his chest.

Silco had never known softness before her—never understood the need for something warm to return to at the end of the day. His world had been built on steel, fire, and ambition. No room for weakness. No space for vulnerability.

But with her?

With her, it was different.

She had rooted herself into his life in ways he had never anticipated, never prepared for. She had slipped through his defenses without him realizing, burrowing into the parts of him that had long since been hardened by war and betrayal. And now, seeing her like this—so drained, so worn down—it set his teeth on edge.

His sharp eye flickered over her, scanning for any sign of injury. His mind already raced ahead, piecing together every possible cause for her state. Had someone hurt her? Threatened her?

His voice was steady, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it. "What happened?"

Y/N shook her head, barely able to summon the strength to answer. "It’s nothing," she whispered, nuzzling further into the pillow as if to disappear into it, "Just… long day. Bad day. I don’t wanna think about it right now."

That wouldn’t do.

Silco never let problems fester. He cut them out at the root. Eliminated the threat before it could grow.

And yet—

He sighed, sinking down on the edge of the couch. He reached out, fingers brushing against her temple, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The movement was deceptively gentle, almost reverent, as if he feared she might break beneath his touch.

"Who?" he asked simply.

A small, tired laugh escaped her lips. "Silco—"

"Who," he repeated, more insistent now, his voice a low growl. "Who do I have to kill?"

There was no jest in his tone. No humor. Just that sharp, deadly intent that always lay coiled beneath his words.

Y/N’s lips twitched into something close to a smile, even as exhaustion dragged at her. "No one," she assured him, reaching up with lazy fingers to catch his wrist, grounding herself in his touch. "Just… stay."

Silco studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers, as though peeling back the layers of her exhaustion, her weariness, trying to find the source of what had drained her so completely. He did not ask again. If she wanted to tell him, she would. And if she didn’t, he would find out on his own.

His sigh was quiet as he shifted, settling onto the couch beside her.

It was rare for him to do this—to let himself be this close, to sit still when there was always work to be done, threats to address. But tonight, she needed him. And that mattered more than anything else.

She wasted no time in curling into his side, pressing her face against the crook of his neck. The warmth of her breath ghosted against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. She smelled of rain and faint traces of perfume, a scent that had become something of a comfort to him in ways he would never admit.

Silco stiffened for a fraction of a second before his arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. His grip was firm, unwavering, as though anchoring her to him.

"You're unbearably clingy when you're like this," he muttered, but the words carried no bite.

Y/N hummed, her fingers lightly tracing along the fabric of his shirt, the movement slow, absentminded. "And yet, you're still here."

He huffed a quiet laugh, low and rough. "Yes," he murmured, voice softer than the shadows around them. "I am."

She relaxed against him, her body melting into his, the exhaustion of the day finally beginning to wane. The quiet solace of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breath, the warmth of his embrace—it was enough.

For all his sharpness, all his ruthlessness, he held her as if she were something precious. And for all her exhaustion, for all the weight pressing on her shoulders, she knew that as long as she was in his arms, she would never have to carry it alone.

Silco held her tighter.

Because this—this quiet, unspoken devotion—was something he had never had before. Something he would never let slip through his fingers.

MEL

The weight of the day clung to you like a second skin—heavy, suffocating, relentless. Your muscles ached, your mind was fogged with exhaustion, and all you could think about as you stepped through the door was her.

Mel.

She was where she always was at this hour, seated elegantly on the velvet couch, a glass of red wine in hand, golden eyes reflecting the dim light of the evening. The sight of her, so poised, so breathtaking, made your chest tighten—not in desire, but in relief. You were home.

Your shoes barely hit the floor before you were sinking to your knees in front of her, no hesitation, no words. Just the overwhelming need to be close. You rested your head against her lap, arms slipping around her waist as if anchoring yourself to her presence. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you nuzzled against the silk of her dress, feeling the warmth of her body beneath it.

Mel didn’t speak at first. She simply set her wine glass aside, her fingers immediately carding through your hair, her touch as gentle as a whisper. “Long day, my love?” she murmured, voice low and knowing.

You hummed, not even lifting your head, just pressing closer, seeking out every bit of warmth and comfort she had to offer. “Draining,” you admitted, eyes fluttering shut as she traced slow, soothing patterns along your scalp. “Didn’t have the energy to pretend today. I just want to be here… with you.”

Mel’s touch didn’t falter. Instead, she moved her hand down, caressing the curve of your cheek before tilting your face slightly so she could see you properly. “Then be here,” she said simply, her voice like silk and honey. “You don’t have to be anything else with me.”

Something inside you cracked at her words, and you tightened your hold on her waist, burying your face deeper against her. She let you—of course she did. Mel always knew when to offer words and when to simply be.

After a moment, she shifted slightly, adjusting herself so she could lean down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come up here, darling,” she coaxed, hands slipping to your shoulders. “Let me hold you properly.”

You whined softly in protest, not wanting to leave your spot against her lap, but her gentle insistence was impossible to deny. Reluctantly, you allowed her to guide you up onto the couch, and the moment you were within reach, she pulled you against her, wrapping you up in the warmth of her arms.

You melted instantly, curling into her side, your head resting against her shoulder as her fingers trailed up and down your back in soothing strokes.

“There we go,” she whispered, pressing another kiss against your temple. “My poor, exhausted girl.”

A soft, contented sigh left your lips as you let yourself relax fully against her. There was no pressure to talk, no expectation to be anything other than what you were in that moment—just tired, vulnerable, and utterly safe in her arms.

And as her embrace enveloped you, steady and unwavering, you knew there was no place in the world you’d rather be.

#arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #mel x reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce x y/n #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #vander x reader #vander x y/n #vander x you #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n #jayvik x reader #jayce x reader x viktor

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hivemuthur · 20 days ago

Text

To Be Known - Ch.1.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! Modern AU, set in London, current era but not very specific. Uncharted waters for me, because I have no idea how many chapters it will come out as.

Reader is: British, Young Vic (get it?) theatre company director, working class, in her 30s, a control freak, a semi-conscious sub. Viktor is: Czech (as always), working in biotech with Jayce, working class, in his 30s, a control freak, a conscious dom.

MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 4,6K

warnings, or rather this work contains: d/s dynamics between main characters (but who the fuck knows what Mel and Jayce are doing), love (attraction?) at first sight, no strings attached to lovers/strangers to lovers (so like reverse emotional slow burn?), lots of porn, angst, happy resolution. I will be adding kink warnings as they appear in the future chapters.

author’s note: Ok, so, um, hi! A Deer and a Man is ending, so something else has to begin. It’s like… a very freeform thing I’m doing here. Sort of about nothing, just relationships with d/s dynamics, because I want to play around with some kinks and stuff. I’m trying to make it make sense here, but not everything might, since it’s just my subjective take on things. It will have some d/s etiquette but not always, because I’m clumsy and my characters get infected with my clumsiness :v Nothing’s new really (hehe, get it?), some plot, some porn, some feelings. It’s basically me going to IKEA asking you if you wanna come and grab some vegan meatballs and the meatballs are smut in this :v So yeh, hi, welcome to another blurb of a mutlichap work.

Special thanks to my friends @rennethen and @strongfartzemergency for pre-reading this and enabling my brainrot. Artist is @petitesieste, just ahh ♡

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Your eyes glaze over the computer screen, trying to memorize a list of poor souls to probe the next day. An ouroboros of theatre life has reached another mark, one where you must make a million decisions in a short span of time: Which plays will grace the stage, who’s performing in them, who’s directing, and who’s dressing all those people in their fancy costumes? And, most importantly, who’s paying for all of it?

So far, a successful year has set your bar even higher, with the next season looming in the golden light of August evenings. You don’t even have time to warm your bones in it—you have to think ahead, transport your brain to the future, to a cold January, when the real test begins for you. In truth, you don’t have time to do anything beneficial for your bones, and you’ve just learned to accept that your joints crack like dry wood every time you move.

A head peaks through the crack in your door, and you don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“Charlie,” you greet him, your nose still scrunched up by the screen. “I know, I know. I’m going, I just need a second.” You begin to rise from your chair but remain hunched over, extending your arm blindly toward the computer. “Did you bring my shoes?”

“Yes, and I’m not kicking you out,” says Charlie, passing you a pair of ballet flats. “But if you want a driver, well… he’s getting impatient.”

“That’s okay, I can commute,” you smile at him, taking the shoes and glancing at your watch. “It’s only Camden… oh, shit, it’s very late. You should, in fact, kick me out.” After a few hurried jumps while putting the shoes on, you're back to frantically picking up unrelated objects and shoving them into your purse: tissues, lipstick, random notes to review in the morning, and Mel’s gift—a seasonal Young Vic pass for her and her plus one.

“Where are you guys meeting?” he asks, passing you the rest of the things you will obviously want or need. It’s a seamless collaboration with Charlie. Since the very beginning, you two have been sharing a brain, and this is partly why nothing has collapsed yet. On the contrary—both you, as a theatre company director, and Charlie, as an assistant director, have been doing an amazing job, mending together a forthcoming approach and love for theatre. And this is all your head is at, despite the one evening of reprieve where you can share beers with friends in a pub that Mel has chosen completely out of character for herself. Which is why, instead of answering, you ask, “Do you really think we can do Hamlet?”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to do Hamlet?” Charlie parrots, passing you a coat with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, is it not a bit… on the nose? It’s my second year, and my brain’s steamed up so much that I’m doing Hamlet?”

Charlie chuckles softly, as he steps behind you to dress you up. “You are going to do a bitchin’ Hamlet. And now can you please go and have some fun for once?”

“This is fun, Charlie. Hamlet is fun,” you say, holding his arms and giving him a playful shake. “Fun!”

“Calm down, captain,” he grins, rolling his eyes. “Where are you guys going?”

“Ugh… World’s End?”

“World’s End?!” Charlie covers his mouth in feigned horror, his eyes wide. “This is so unlike Miss Medarda!” he whispers, shooting you an incredulous look.

“I know, Mel wanted casual,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. Then, as you move past him, you swat him lightly on the shoulder, seeking another round of uninhibited cackles. “Don’t be mean, Charlie!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Charlie laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, World’s fucking End, who would’ve thought. Let me fetch you a driver, my lady.”

You shake your head and scan your office one last time, making sure you haven’t left anything important behind. Figuratively, of course, since almost everything dear to your heart is actually being left behind. And even though it’s only for a couple of hours, not being in control is frightening.

On the other side of the coin are your friends, with Mel right up front. She’s been there since the very first second of your meeting—right after you yelled at a light technician, making him flinch and nearly fall off the ladder. You had immediately corrected yourself with, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. But this lightwork is still shit. Please fix it. I ask you kindly.”

That was when Mel grinned, wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and whispered into your ear, “Okay. I want to be your friend.”

Since then, Mel has been one of the main patrons of your theatre company, and you—being a firm unbeliever in your own abilities—are convinced it’s largely her money and pep talks that have granted you the creative freedom that led to you becoming an artistic director. Your worlds collided fast and hard, and, being another person married to her work, she quickly became one of the closest people in your life.

Until Jayce.

Mel, being someone who treats every relationship as an investment, doesn’t limit her influence to the arts. So when her family decided to fund research grants for scientists from the Francis Crick Institute, you knew something was coming as soon as she justified the decision with, “And they are both very handsome.”

You know the urge very well—the ever-nagging need to have everything under control, to oversee every grain of sand that rolls through the waist of the hourglass, every second planned, every schedule so tight there is barely time to breathe. It’s one of the things that bonded the both of you.

So when Jayce came along—with his motivation stemming not from a sickening need for self-accomplishment or a desperate urge to prove something to the world, but from the purity of his own heart and a healthy curiosity—Mel began to crack. And then the disease spread to you.

Now, you actually rest. You spend your free Sundays socializing. You talk about things other than work. You’ve even been on a few unsuccessful dates. And it’s all Jayce’s fault.

You loved him for it immediately—the small crumbs of the outside world granted to you and Mel through his unabashed joy and excitement. Jayce made things fun, and turning your phone off—briefly relinquishing control—became a little less terrifying.

From there, your thoughts drift in different directions until your absent-minded stare at the moving lights outside the car window is interrupted. The driver, in a grumpy tone, informs you that you’ve arrived at your destination. You crack the joints in your hands before thanking him and bidding him goodnight.

The World’s End is all red from the outside, its glow bleeding onto the wet pavement. Through the glass, you spot the back of Mel’s heavily accessorized hairstyle, a head of intricate twists and gleaming accents. You glance at your reflection, and—well. You’ve seen better days.

Your mini skirt has twisted around, placing the slit exactly where you don’t want it, so you yank it back into place, cursing Charlie for not telling you. In the process, you notice a small eyelet in your tights, the hole widening with each step you take. No nail polish to stop it from spreading. You curse yourself for that one. Your shirt is crumpled at the stomach—a reminder of hours spent hunched over your desk. Your necklace has caught a bunch of stray hairs, which you pick out frantically as you stride toward the door. And the rest of your hair? An artistic mess, sculpted by an impatient hand that’s raked through it a hundred times too many today.

Once inside, Mel’s slender hand and a row of her impossibly white teeth beckon you forward as she stands up to give you a hug.

And the inside of The World's End is exactly what you would expect from a Camden pub—big, loud, and brimming with mismatched charm. The walls are cluttered with a collection of art that looks like it was bought in a rush at a local flea market. There's a hum of conversation mixing with the thrum of the music playing in the background, and the space itself is large, almost cavernous. The low ceiling and uneven, wooden floorboards give it an unpolished look that feels welcoming to some, but it's not exactly the kind of place you'd expect to see Mel at.

Mel, in contrast, belongs in a sleek, minimalistic bar, somewhere where the drinks are as carefully curated as the furniture, where everything is perfectly composed. Here, she’s lost in the midst of it all, a little too refined for the space, as if her sharp lines don’t quite align with the pub’s rough edges. The things we do for friends.

“Darling, I’m glad you made it,” she chirps, walking toward you and spreading her arms wide.

“Now I can say I’d go to the end of the world for you,” you murmur into her shoulder, squeezing her tight. Then, pulling back, you present a small envelope. “Happy birthday, love. Here—best possible seats.”

Mel’s brows lift as she takes the tickets, flipping them between her fingers. “You shouldn’t have,” she says, though the gleam in her eye betrays her excitement. “But thank you. You wouldn’t believe who Jayce has managed to drag along,” she murmurs into your ear.

“Oh, it can’t be,” you whisper back, scanning the table over her shoulder.

A few of her closest friends sit huddled together, deep in conversation and laughter. Then, Jayce’s broad frame, unmistakable even in the dim light. And next to him—

A pair of loose shoulders, wrapped in a red shirt stretched between two sharp blades. The nape of his neck, covered in a mess of brown curls. He leans on one hand, nodding along to whatever Jayce is saying, his profile cutting sharp against the glow of the street lights.

Viktor. The last man standing, the one seemingly immune to Jayce’s influence when it comes to making people step out of their comfort zones. And yet, here he is. Of all occasions, it’s Mel’s birthday that has somehow coaxed Viktor out of his self-imposed solitude. A horse you wouldn’t have bet on.

You are led to the table, where all the seats seem to be taken—until Viktor removes his cane from the empty stool beside him and gestures for you to sit between him and Jayce. As you lower yourself onto the stool, you take his hand briefly and say, “The smartest man in the room, finally in the room.”

“You must be talking about Jayce,” he counters, a glint of amusement in his eye. He holds your palm for just a moment longer than necessary before letting go. “I’ve heard much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” you reply with a smile—until Mel’s head suddenly pokes between the two of you.

“What’s your poison, honey?” she asks. Only now do you notice her flushed cheeks and the way she’s completely disregarded the concept of personal space, her arm stretching beyond your shoulders to tug playfully at Jayce’s hair.

“A pint of bitter?” you say, startled.

She frowns slightly, but you quickly follow with, “Cheers,” hoping to steer her attention elsewhere. Her eyes squint at you, but she relents, giving Jayce’s back a clingy hug before strolling off to the bar. Only now Viktor’s hand releases yours.

He studies you for a moment before turning to his glass, giving you the chance to take a closer look—

The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the hollow between his collarbones, skin up to his neck is covered in a satin sheen of sweat. Tendons shift beneath it, blue veins threading along his throat. His hair is faintly damp around the ears, curling and plastering itself to his temples. From the side, his jaw forms nearly a perfect square.

You don’t dare to look higher.

Lower down, though, his sleeves are rolled up carelessly, exposing freckle-specked arms. You spot it by dropping your gaze naturally.

Mel was right. They are both very handsome.

As the birthday gal disappears toward the bar, you are left wedged between the two scientists, the noise of conversation assaulting your ears. Across the table, Amara leans in, her many rings clinking as she refills someone’s glass from a sweating bottle of wine. Beside her, Salo—always overdressed for the occasion, his blonde curls neatly combed back—gestures broadly mid-story, his voice animated. A few seats down, Mion, the youngest among them and always balancing the line between sharp and naive, listens intently while occasionally stealing olives from Mel’s abandoned plate.

"So," Jayce starts, shifting his weight so he can face you properly. “What’s keeping you so busy these days?”

You exhale, stretching your arms along the back of your seat, making your spine pop. “Wrapping up meetings with playwrights, directors, and actors—making sure everything aligns. Managing funding and sponsorships, finalising script choices.”

Salo whistles. “Sounds like a headache.”

“It’s a miracle she’s here at all,” Jayce adds, nursing his beer. “I half-expected her to send a regretful telegram from the depths of her desk.”

That earns a laugh from Amara, who nudges your foot under the table. “And what are the plays, then? What’s in?”

You rest your chin in your palm and do a mock countdown with the fingers of the other. “Further than the Furthest Thing, The Scottsboro Boys, A Streetcar Named Desire—possibly Hamlet.”

Mel, just returning with your beer, lets out a delighted gasp as she sets it down. “Hamlet? Oh, darling, tell me you’re doing it.”

“Calm yourself,” you warn, reaching for your drink. “I said possibly.”

She spreads her hands dramatically. “I can already see it now—the staging, the lighting—”

“Don’t start designing the posters just yet,” you cut in, but she’s grinning too widely to be discouraged. “I can still change my mind.”

“You know that’s a lot for one person,” Viktor remarks, leaning in from your right, his voice lower, meant just for the two of you. His pupils are darker, wider than the number of glasses of wine he’s had would suggest, assessing you from under hooded eyelids.

“I’ve always run through my life,” you say simply, tipping your glass toward him. “I do have help, though.” Viktor clicks his tongue, his mouth curving into a half-smile.

Before you can figure out what it means, Mion suddenly snaps her fingers. “Wait—how did you and Mel meet, anyway?”

Mel waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, I saw her preparing Yerma, and it was love at first sight.”

“Love?” Salo lifts a brow.

“She was standing on stage, sleeves rolled up, arguing over how the chairs should be arranged.” Mel sighs theatrically. “Her diligence. Her eye for detail. I knew I had to have her.”

Jayce snorts. “And by ‘have her,’ you mean ‘fund her.’”

Mel grins. “Exactly.”

The table dissolves into laughter, glasses clinking. Conversations crisscross—Salo and Mion bickering over some technical aspect of stage production, and you don’t have the heart to correct them. Jayce launching into an enthusiastic recounting of an experiment gone wrong. Someone beside you leans in to talk, and for a moment, you lose the thread of conversation.

The haze of smoke, the warmth of alcohol-softened breaths, the layered voices—it all blurs. Next to you, Viktor is speaking, but his words are swallowed by the noise.

The room tilts slightly, or maybe it’s just the drink settling in. Sounds overlap and ring in your ears as exhaustion takes hold and you zone out. Somewhere nearby, a bottle of wine gets passed around, then discarded in the middle of the table, still within your reach. A voice cuts through the fog, softer, closer. Then sharper, clearer than before.

Foreshadowed by Viktor’s hand on your leg—his right palm rests on you, and the moment it does, you tilt toward him, only to find he’s done the same. His fingers press inward, just barely grazing the inside of your thigh. It’s a gentle invasion, entirely unprovocative, something that simply happens—natural. His left arm hovers over your backrest as his mouth nears your ear, and you can feel the tickle of his hair on your cheek.

“Pass me the wine.” A soft command, tilting toward a question at the end, firm and quiet all at once.

You reach for the bottle without looking, your eyes fixed on his throat as he breathes. The moment it comes close, his touch leaves your leg and finds your fingers instead. His skin brushes yours, spreading the sweat from the glass onto your own, and something coils low in your stomach.

“Good…” he murmurs, clipped, as if something else should follow. “Thank you.” And then his warmth is gone, leaving you painfully sober, achingly empty.

It’s one of the most agonising seconds of your life—except this time, there’s something sickly sweet curling around the edges, a lingering undertone that was missing from all the other agonising moments you’ve suffered through.

For the rest of the evening, your attention doesn’t waver, save for the necessary moments to put Mel in the spotlight.

Viktor lingers close. Not close enough to raise any eyebrows—everyone else is too busy bickering and laughing at Jayce’s anecdotes—but enough for you to notice and relish in it. His breath occasionally fans your face when he leans over you for the bottle, his knee bumps yours under the table. He sits tilted toward you, his arm hooked against your stool, and his eyes never leave you, one way or another. He bombards you with questions and answers yours without blinking.

"Where did you study?" you ask, lips glued to the rim of your glass, leaving an stamp of your lipstick there.

"Abroad," he says vaguely, tipping his head. "You?"

"England. Try again," you counter, not looking up, only baring your teeth to the remnants of a cocktail in your hand.

Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, tilting his glass idly in his fingers before conceding, "Vigilant, of course. Very well—biochemistry at UTC Prague." He pauses, watching your reaction. "Then onward to Francis Crick through MSCA. Now—tell me yours." The last part, a command again, gentle and firm and you find yourself reciting in no time.

"Theatre and Performance at Goldsmiths," you reply, your words a little looser, the alcohol working its way through your veins.

"Ah, how prestigious," he murmurs, voice laced with amusement.

"If you consider five years of bullying that, then yes," you slur, twirling your drink in your glass. His expression sharpens, brows lifting slightly in silent question. You sigh, meeting his gaze. "I got The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art scholarship. Before that, I led an utterly non-prestigious life in Staines."

"Hardworking girl," he purrs, and oh—his hand returns to your thigh, this time less inconspicuous as he drags a long finger up and stops just beneath the hem of your skirt.

"Where do you live?" he asks, his voice dipping lower, quieter, like the answer might be something just for him.

"Hackney," you answer immediately, then, seeing his knowing smile, feel the need to correct yourself. "The bad Hackney. You?"

"Eh, Islington," Viktor says, a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

Your mock jaw drop is immediate. "Unbelievable," you drawl. "And you dare to make fun of my fancy living?"

Viktor smirks, his fingers brushing your thigh before retreating. "You are making it up. But we can share a cab home then."

Something jumps in your chest at the thought of being locked in a tiny space alone with this man. And the cab driver, but, nevertheless. "I suppose we can. When do you want to go?" you ask, as steadily as you can manage right now.

He exhales slowly, then leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Let's go now."

You have to stop your eyes from rolling in your skull. In fact, with the mix of various alcohols cursing through your veins and the secretive glances he’s been giving you, you’d probably nod vigorously if he offered to fuck you on the bar.

You step away from the table, weaving through the crowded space as you pull out your phone. Your fingers tremble slightly—whether from the drinks or the anticipation, you can't tell. It doesn’t matter. The cab company confirms your ride is on its way, barely three minutes out.

When you return, Viktor is still lounging against the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his now-empty glass. He doesn’t look at you right away, but his body angles toward you the moment you step back into his space. You lean in just enough to let the scent of him—wine, sweet sweat and washing powder—settle into your senses before speaking.

“We have three minutes,” you say casually, as if not stopping yourself from clenching your thighs.

Viktor gives a small, knowing nod and starts shuffling around for his cane and coat. His movements are unhurried, but there’s a quiet efficiency to them, a preparedness that has you smiling.

From across the table, Mel lets out a dramatic sigh. “You’re leaving already? I knew I shouldn’t have sat two workaholics together.”

Jayce snorts into his drink. “At least they lasted this long. I was expecting Viktor to slip out halfway through.”

Viktor hums in vague amusement, fastening the buttons of his coat. “And miss all your storytelling? Impossible.”

Mel rolls her eyes but grins. “Fine, fine. Go, be boring. Just don’t forget—” she waggles a finger at you—“you owe me a Hamlet.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Goodnight, Mel.”

With that, you feel Viktor’s hand brush lightly against the small of your back—an absentminded gesture, almost cautious, but it sends a thrill down your spine.

It’s raining again, and neither of you has an umbrella, so you huddle together under your purse until Viktor opens the door for you. You fall in with no grace whatsoever and slide your ass across the back seat to make space for him. He steps in slowly, throws his address to the driver, then slumps down beside you, looking at you expectantly.

For a moment, you freeze—until you realise everyone is waiting for your address. Mumbling out the street and number, you lean back, your shoulder blades pressing against his arm.

And oh. You know damn well you won’t be able to let this go beyond tonight—or that you shouldn’t be fucking around where you figuratively eat—but he smells good, and his eyes stay on you, dark and hungry. So you tip yourself into the crook of his shoulder, tilting your head up with an innocently pleading look.

Viktor chuckles, as if something has just been confirmed, and his slender hand finds its way between your thighs. His body shifts subtly, shielding you from the driver, who barely suppresses an eye roll in the rear-view mirror. His lips, burning with alcohol and want, close over yours. His tongue pushes inside, licking slow and deep along the row of your teeth. His fingers travel up your leg, stopping painfully close to where you ache for him most, and squeeze—just enough to brace himself as he leans in further.

You fumble with the buttons of his coat, slipping your hands beneath to tug his shirt free from his trousers. Another warm chuckle rumbles against your lips.

“So efficient,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to mouth at your ear. His breath is hot when he whispers, “Do you want to fuck here, or will you be a good girl and wait until we get home?”

A strangled moan escapes you, and your own hand flies up to clamp over your mouth. Viktor grins against your skin.

“Good. Quiet,” he purrs, before dragging his tongue in a slick trail down your neck, stopping halfway to suck a bruise into your flesh.

Breath stumbles in your lungs when he stops, lips flushed, wet and red with your smeared lipstick, his teeth barely grazing your skin before he leans back to look at you. His fingers remain firm between your thighs, a teasing pressure that makes your legs tense and tremble beneath his touch.

Whatever has led you to this moment is not your usual behaviour, but somehow, you can’t be bothered to announce it. Long ago—somewhere after shitty date number five, or fifteen—you swore off bad sex for the sake of no sex and peace of mind. You grew tired of partners who were more tease than do, and the ones who assumed you’d thrive on organising everything in bed, just as you do at work.

You crave someone to take that pressure off you. Someone who would simply allow you to be dumb, even just for a few moments. To fuck your brains out so that poor strongest muscle of yours can replenish and breathe before you have to step back into the saddle and lead the chaotic orchestra of theatre technicians, actors, directors, and founders toward whatever critics deem a successful season. To take all the decision-making away and praise you for it.

And you have no guarantee that Viktor will do exactly that—other than the way his roaming hand squeezes your leg so firmly or the way his tongue, insistent and wanting, doesn’t ask permission before invading your mouth. The way he has stared at you the entire night has left you hotter and more bothered than anyone’s scrutiny ever has. And even if this is a mistake, it’s one you are willing to make. Your thighs shake at the thought, and Viktor gasps softly against your lips.

"You're trembling," he murmurs, voice low as the vowels roll thickly off his tongue. His free hand reaches up, pushing your hair aside. He trails his knuckles along your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly against your parted lips. "Cold, or something else?"

You give a breathy laugh, rolling your hips ever so slightly into his palm, chasing that friction. Viktor hums, pleased, before his fingers slip higher—just barely ghosting over the hanging-there nylons shielding your underwear. Your breath catches.

The cab rattles over a pothole, jolting you both, but neither of you pulls away. If anything, it only makes Viktor bolder. He shifts to face you fully, pressing you back into the seat as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue curling languidly around yours. You taste wine and your own spit on him, and it makes you dizzy.

His hand abandons your thigh only to grab your wrist, dragging it to the front of his trousers, where he's already half-hard beneath the layers of fabric. "I want you," he breathes against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip before letting his forehead drop to yours.

You palm him through the material, pressing just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. The sound alone makes a fresh gush of lust bloom in your knickers.

Then—a pointed cough.

You both jolt as if caught doing something far more illicit than you already are.

"Islington," the cab driver announces dryly, eyes fixed firmly on the road.

Viktor huffs out a laugh, dragging his fingers through his already-mussed hair. "Do you want to come in?" he says, as if you hadn’t just been grinding against each other like reckless teenagers in the back of a cab.

You swallow, pulse still pounding in your ears. "Yes," you nod. "Yes."

“I suppose we will wrap up the ride here,” Viktor says reaching for his wallet and taking out one note too many to make up for whatever the poor man had to endure.

“Yeah, mate, I figured. Have a great night.”

#my writing #viktor arcane #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader #viktor x reader smut #viktor smut #viktor x f!reader #viktor x oc #arcane #arcane fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor nation #to be known

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snoozify · 2 months ago

Text

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

Pairing: Melvika X reader

Warnings: Threesome, Switch Sevika, Blowjob (Sevika receiving), public sex (at Y/N’s job), praise/dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, baby and doll), Oral (Mel receiving), Mel Dom!Mel, Dom!Reader, (1940’s slang)

A/N: I wrote Sevika as trans, and I’ve seen mixed reactions some saying it’s offensive and others saying it’s not. My intention is never to offend, so if this portrayal is hurting anyone, please let me know, and I’ll rewrite it or take it down. I want to be mindful and respectful of how people feel about representation. This is very lengthy so hopefully everyone enjoys it.

The 1940s, often remembered as the Golden Age, was a decade of war, change, and cultural evolution. With World War II raging across the globe, countless men were sent overseas to fight, leaving women to step into roles once dominated by men. No longer confined solely to the home, women worked in factories, took up jobs in offices, and proved their capabilities beyond keeping the house clean. This shift in societal expectations ignited early movements for civil rights and women’s rights, as people began questioning the rigid structures of the past.

Despite the war casting a long shadow, entertainment thrived. Jazz clubs were the heart of the nightlife, their smoky interiors alive with the sultry melodies of saxophones and the smooth voices of legendary jazz singers. Hollywood flourished, and the burlesque scene exploded in popularity, offering people a thrilling escape from the grim realities of wartime.

For you, burlesque dancing was more than just a job, it was a way of life. The stage was your world, the warm glow of the spotlights, the dazzling sequins on your costume catching every flicker of light as you moved. You thrived on the attention, the way men eagerly tossed their money at your feet, and how women whispered enviously, wishing they had a body like yours. It was a game, a performance, and most importantly, it paid the bills.

Club Desire

A haven of glamour, seduction, and exclusivity. This wasn’t just any burlesque club, it was the best of the best, a place where only the most captivating performers were allowed to grace the stage. It stood as a sanctuary for women, offering them independence, protection, and a chance to make a name for themselves in a world that often overlooked them.

Unlike the seedy joints scattered across the city, Club Desire set the standard as a beacon of elegance and prestige that made other establishments look like cheap imitations. It wasn’t just the number one club in the country for its dazzling shows and high-profile clientele, it was a symbol of power, an empire built on allure and talent. And your boss? She’d do anything to keep that image untarnished.

Dancers hurried around the dressing room, adjusting corsets, perfecting their curls, and dusting powder onto their skin to catch the light just right. The club’s golden rule was simple: perfection. No smudged lipstick, no loose straps, no missteps. Every performance had to be flawless, every moment intoxicating.

You moved to your usual spot by the mirrored vanity, adjusting the straps of your sequined dress, feeling the cool silk against your skin. Naomi, ever the cool cat, leaned beside you, fixing the seams on her thigh-high stockings. She shot you a smirk through the mirror.

"Nervous, doll?" she teased, fastening the last clip of her garter belt.

You scoffed, dabbing a final touch of rouge on your cheeks. "You know me, sweetheart. I was made for this."

And it was true. You thrived under the stage lights, reveled in the attention, in the way the crowd’s eyes followed your every move, entranced, yearning. Club Desire wasn’t just your workplace it was your stage, your kingdom.

A sharp knock at the dressing room door cut through the chatter, and a voice barked out, "Five minutes, girls!"

It’s showtime.

Naomi winked at you, smoothing down her dress. As you slipped into your heels and made your way to the stage entrance, you could already hear the announcer hyping up the crowd. The anticipation crackled in the air like a live wire.

The moment your heel clicked against the polished stage, a hush fell over the room, followed by the slow, rising hum of excitement. The band struck up a sultry tune, the soft wail of a saxophone weaving through the thick haze of cigar smoke, setting the mood just right. The golden glow of the stage lights kissed your skin, catching every shimmering detail of your dress, every curve, every teasing movement.

You knew how to work a crowd. It was a game of push and pull, temptation and restraint. Give them just enough, keep them wanting more. Your hips swayed to the rhythm, your gloved fingers trailing along your shoulder before slipping down your arm, peeling the silk away with agonizing slowness. The men at the front leaned in, their cigars smoldering in forgotten ashtrays, their drinks left untouched as they watched, spellbound.

You spotted familiar faces in the crowd, businessmen loosening their ties, soldiers on leave looking for a last taste of something sweet before shipping back out, women with red lips and sharp eyes watching with quiet admiration.Some came for the show, others came for the escape. Either way, they all left captivated.

At a table near the back, nestled in the shadows where only the high-rollers and untouchables sat, a pair of figures caught your eye. Mel Medarda and Sevika. You nearly missed a step but years of experience kept your movements smooth, your expression unshaken. What were they doing here?

Mel sat poised, her chin resting delicately on her hand, her legs crossed watching you with an unreadable expression. Regal. Amused. Intrigued. Beside her, Sevika lounged back, a cigarette dangling from her lips, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as she observed you through lidded eyes.

They didn’t belong in this crowd. Not as patrons, at least. Mel was too powerful, too calculated to be here for just a night of entertainment. And Sevika? She looked like she owned the place rather than simply visiting it.

Something about the way they watched you intense, deliberate, expectant sent a shiver down your spine.

Your routine continued flawlessly, but your mind raced. Had they come for you?

As you finished your routine with a slow, deliberate turn, the final note of the saxophone lingering in the air, the room erupted in applause. Whistles, cheers, the clinking of glasses. Money fluttered onto the stage like golden leaves in the autumn wind. You bent down with a practiced smile, scooping up a few bills, letting the men in the front row believe for just a second that they were special.

But your focus was elsewhere.

Mel and Sevika hadn’t moved.

They were still watching you, the applause, the spectacle, the noise none of it seemed to faze them. Unbothered. In control.

You took your time stepping off the stage, offering the crowd a last lingering glance before disappearing behind the velvet curtain. The second you were out of sight, you exhaled, running a hand down your arm to shake off the tension coiling beneath your skin. Something was off.

"Nice work out there, doll," Naomi’s voice pulled you back. She leaned against the vanity, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. "You had those boys eating outta the palm of your hand."

"Yeah," you muttered, rubbing your arms as if that could rid you of the feeling of being watched.

Naomi turned to you, arching a brow. "What's with the long face? Thought you liked the attention."

You hesitated before speaking. What could you even say? That two of the most powerful women in the city were sitting front row, eyeing you like you were a game piece they were about to move? That something about their presence made your skin prickle, even after years of performing for all kinds of men and women?

Before you could respond, the dressing room door creaked open, and the boss’s sharp heels clacked against the floor.

"Y/N," she called, her expression unreadable, her lips curled into something halfway between a smirk and a warning.

You straightened immediately. "Yeah, boss?"

She stepped closer, fixing a stray strap on your dress, smoothing out the fabric like she cared.

"You’ve got company," she said, her voice low. "And they don’t like to be kept waiting."

Your stomach twisted. You already knew who she was talking about.

Mel and Sevika.

Naomi shot you a look, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but you couldn’t focus on that now. You swallowed hard, forcing a breath through your nose.

"Where?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

The boss grinned. "Private room. Go on, doll. Wouldn’t wanna disappoint ‘em."

You hesitated, then nodded, smoothing down your dress, adjusting your gloves.

You forced a steady breath, smoothing your hands down the fabric of your dress before stepping out of the dressing room. The club was alive with music, smoke, and laughter, but it all blurred as you made your way to the private rooms. Your heels clicked against the polished floors, every step sending a pulse of nervous energy through your veins.

Mel Medarda and Sevika.

These weren’t your average patrons, the kind that got sloppy on whiskey and loose with their wallets. They had power. Real power.

Reaching the door, you hesitated. A second too long.

"Go on, sugar," the bouncer grunted, barely sparing you a glance as he opened the door for you. No turning back now.

You stepped insideThe air was thick with cigarette smoke and expensive perfume.

The lighting was lower than in the main room, casting deep shadows against the plush velvet seating. Mel lounged effortlessly on the couch, her head resting against Sevika’s shoulder. A glass of something dark swirled in her hand. Sevika, ever the enforcer, exhaled a stream of smoke, eyes locked onto you like she was sizing you up.

You cleared your throat, trying to steady your nerves as you spoke, “The b-boss sent me. Said you ladies were lookin’ for entertainment.” You forced the words out, keeping your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

Mel’s gaze lingered on you, her head tilting slightly as a slow, knowing smile crept across her lips. It wasn’t the kind of smile that made you feel comfortable, it was the kind that made you feel like she already knew everything about you, like she was always ten steps ahead.

"Entertainment," she repeated, her voice like honey, smooth and dangerously calm. "I suppose that’s one way to put it." She took her time with the words, drawing them out, letting the weight of them settle in the room.

Sevika, lounging beside her, took another lazy drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling up around her like a serpent. She exhaled slowly, the tendrils of smoke rising toward the ceiling before her sharp gaze landed on you. “Close the door, sweetheart,” she drawled, her tone a little colder now, a little more commanding. “Don’t want anyone listenin’ in on our little chat.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you turned toward the door, closing it with a soft click, the sound echoing too loudly in the otherwise quiet room. You could feel the tension thickening, wrapping around you as the room seemed to close in.

Turning back, you found both women watching you with eyes that didn’t miss a thing. Mel leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping against her drink, while Sevika’s eyes never wavered from you, watching you like a hawk.

Mel patted the seat next to Sevika, her smile sharp and teasing. “Sit. She doesn’t bite… unless you want her to.” She said it like she was enjoying the game, swirling the wine in her glass as she watched you closely. The flicker of amusement in her eyes was unmistakable.

You glanced over at Sevika, taking in the sight of her. The buff, brown-skinned woman was lounging with an almost predatory calm, her gaze fixed on you, a hunger in her eyes that was both intense and unsettling. She didn’t look at you like a stranger no, she looked at you like she already knew exactly what she wanted.

You hesitated. You had dealt with men and women wanting something from you before, but this? This felt different. There was no pretense, no soft words or polite gestures, just raw, unapologetic desire.

Despite the knot forming in your stomach, you forced yourself to sit. Your hands gripped the edge of the seat for a moment before you relaxed into it, trying to look composed, even though every nerve in your body was on edge.

Mel’s smile widened as she took another sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving you. Sevika’s gaze didn’t falter either, still locked onto you with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

Mel studied you for a long moment before setting her glass down. "You’ve got quite the reputation here. The boss speaks highly of you."

You forced a small smile, keeping your posture poised. "I aim to please."

Sevika scoffed, the sound low and amused. "That so?"

Mel leans over Sevika’s lap, closing the space between you. "We didn’t ask for just any girl tonight," she murmurs, her voice smooth but edged with something that sends a shiver down your spine. "We asked for you." Her gaze locks onto yours, intense and unyielding.

Your eyes drop to your dress, unsure how to respond to the dark-skinned woman before you. She clicks her tongue in disapproval, then tilts your chin up with a single finger.

"You’re very pretty," she muses, her eyes drinking you in. "The way your body moves… so graceful."

Before you can react, she shifts, climbing over Sevika and settling into your lap. Your breath hitches as she leans in, her warm breath ghosting over your neck.

"Thank you," you manage to whisper. She smiles, lips dangerously close to your skin.

Mel hums, the sound vibrating against your skin as she brushes her nose along your jawline. "Shy, are we?" she teases, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika exhales sharply, clearly amused. "Don’t scare her off, Mel," she drawls, though there’s no real warning in her tone, only entertainment.

Mel ignores her, fingers trailing lightly down your arm, her touch featherlight but deliberate. "I like the quiet ones," she murmurs, her lips just barely grazing your ear. "They always surprise me."

Your breath stutters, heat pooling in your stomach at her closeness. Her confidence is intoxicating, and the way she looks at you like she already knows how this night will end makes it impossible to pull away.

"Relax," she coaxes, pressing a hand against your thigh. "You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want this."

Sevika leans back, taking a slow sip of her drink as she watches, her gaze dark with interest. "Go on," she says, nodding toward you. "Tell her what you want."

Mel tilts her head, waiting, patient but expectant. Her fingers trace lazy circles against your leg, and you know there’s no escaping her attention.

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Mel watches you closely, waiting, her patience unwavering.

"F-Fuck, I don’t know," you finally whimper, your voice barely above a breath.

Sevika chuckles, low and amused, as she pours herself another drink. "If you don’t know, doll, how can we give you what you want?" She tilts her head, smirking. "Hmm?"

Frustration coils in your chest, your body thrumming with need. You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling shakily. "F-Fuck me," you gasp. "Touch me, do anything."

The moment the words leave your lips, Mel is on you.

Her mouth crashes against yours, the kiss nothing like you’re used to hungry, all-consuming. It’s as if she’s devouring you, taking what she wants without hesitation. When you moan, she takes it as an invitation, her tongue slipping past your lips, claiming you completely.

Mel’s fingers press into your thighs as she deepens the kiss, her body molding against yours. The heat of her, the way she moves with such effortless dominance, has your head spinning.

Sevika watches from her seat, swirling the liquor in her glass with a lazy smirk. "Mel’s always been a bit greedy," she muses, amusement lacing her tone. "Hope you can keep up, doll."

Mel doesn’t bother responding, her focus is entirely on you. Her hands roam, tracing the curve of your waist before slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, her touch featherlight but deliberate. She drinks in every sound you make, every hitch in your breath, like she’s savoring it.

She pulls back just enough to let you breathe, her lips hovering over yours. "You taste sweet," she murmurs, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "I knew you'd be sweet."

Your body is burning, anticipation coiling deep in your stomach. She shifts in your lap, rolling her hips just slightly, and it sends a shock of pleasure through you. Your fingers dig into her sides, grounding yourself, because everything about her is overwhelming.

"Look at you," Mel purrs, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to meet her gaze. "You’re already falling apart for me."

Sevika hums in agreement, taking another slow sip of her drink. "She’s a pretty thing when she’s desperate."

Mel grins, wicked and knowing. "Lucky for her, I like desperate."

Her hands tighten on you, and you realize you’ve given yourself to her completely.

Mel’s hands roam your body with a purpose, but it’s not enough not for her. With a slow, deliberate pace, she begins to strip you of your burlesque costume, piece by piece. Each article of clothing falls away, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air and their hungry gazes.

Once you’re bare, she takes her time admiring you, fingers tracing the curves of your body before she effortlessly lifts you into Sevika’s lap. The shift is dizzying, your body now pressed against the firm, solid warmth of the other woman. Sevika leans back, watching you with a smirk as Mel settles behind you, her breath hot against your ear.

"You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this," Mel whispers, voice dripping with desire. Her lips graze your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, she shifts her leg beneath you, her knee suddenly pressing up against your clit. The unexpected pressure has you arching your back, a sharp moan escaping your lips.

Sevika chuckles, the sound dark and amused. "Usually, my wife and I don’t indulge in things like this," she muses, her rough hands finding their way to your waist. She grips you firmly, holding you in place as her thick thigh presses against your aching core. "But then we saw you dancing, prancing around that little stage we just had to take a bite."

She guides your movements, rocking your hips against her leg, each slow grind sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Mel’s hands don’t stay idle; they glide over your body, teasing, exploring, her touch featherlight yet possessive.

"Just look at you," Mel murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "So eager for us."

Sevika’s grip tightens on your waist, guiding your movements as you grind against her thick thigh. The friction is intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through you with each slow, deliberate roll of your hips. Your hands grasp at her shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto, but the teasing smirk on her lips tells you she’s enjoying watching you struggle for control.

Mel, still behind you, drags her fingers down your arms before wrapping them around your torso, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "That’s it," she coos, her voice smooth as silk. "Let us see how good you can be."

Sevika hums, her thigh flexing beneath you, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure up your spine. "Bet you’ve never been touched like this before," she murmurs, her gaze locked onto your face, drinking in every little reaction.

Your breath comes in quick, uneven gasps, your body melting under their touch. Mel presses soft, teasing kisses along your neck, her hands roaming over your bare skin, adding to the unbearable heat pooling in your core. She drags her nails down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake before her fingers ghost lower, hovering just above where you need her most.

Sevika tilts her head, amused. "Think she’s ready for more?"

Mel chuckles against your skin, her breath hot and teasing. "Oh, she’s been ready," she purrs. "Haven’t you, sweetheart?"

Your only response is a whimper, your body trembling with need. You’ve never felt this exposed, this worshiped, this desperate for more.

Mel’s fingers finally dip lower, and Sevika tightens her grip, keeping you right where they want you. There’s no escaping them now—not that you’d ever want to.

Mel’s fingers trail lower, teasing, barely touching where you need her most. The anticipation is maddening, and your hips stutter against Sevika’s thigh, seeking more. A low chuckle rumbles from Sevika’s chest as she watches you unravel.

"Look at her," Sevika murmurs, her voice thick with amusement and something darker. "Already shaking, and we’ve barely even started."

Mel hums in agreement, her lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "She’s so sensitive," she muses, her breath hot against your skin. "I think she likes being teased."

Your whimper is involuntary, frustration and need tangling in your chest. "Please," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mel smiles against your skin, pleased with your desperation. "Mmm, that’s better," she murmurs before finally slipping her fingers between your thighs. The first touch is barely there, a soft stroke against your slick heat, and your whole body jolts in response.

Sevika’s grip on your waist tightens as she forces your movements to slow, keeping you from chasing that pleasure too fast. "Let her play with you," she says, her tone commanding. "Let her take her time."

Mel grins, pressing a lingering kiss to your jaw. "Sevika likes to drag things out," she murmurs, her fingers dipping lower, teasing your entrance before retreating. "But I don’t mind making you beg."

A soft, frustrated moan escapes you, your head falling back against Mel’s shoulder. She takes advantage, her teeth grazing your throat before she soothes the spot with her tongue. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me what you want," Mel purrs, her fingers continuing their slow, torturous exploration. "Use your words, sweetheart."

Sevika smirks, her thigh flexing beneath you again, sending another wave of pleasure through your body. "Yeah, doll," she drawls. "If you don’t ask properly, how will we know what to give you?"

The pressure is unbearable, their combined touches making you dizzy. You can barely think, barely breathe, but you force yourself to speak through the haze of pleasure.

"Please," you whisper, voice trembling. "Touch me… make me feel good."

Mel hums, satisfied. "Good girl."

And with that, she finally gives you what you’ve been begging for.

Her fingers part your slick folds with deliberate intent, a single digit teasing your aching core before plunging inside. But Sevika isn’t satisfied—not yet. Sensing your need for more, she leans in close, her breath warm against your skin. Her grip tightens around your jaw, forcing you to meet her gaze as she squeezes, a silent demand for your full submission.

Your glazed eyes lock onto the woman before you, Sevika’s signature smirk stretching across her lips as she drinks in the sight of your wrecked state. The pleasure coursing through your body is unbearable, heightened by Mel’s ruthless touch between your trembling thighs. Every calculated stroke of her fingers against your dripping heat pushes you closer to the edge, winding you up so tightly you feel like you might snap.

Sevika watches with dark amusement, her sharp gaze flickering between your parted lips and the desperate way you writhe under their control. She leans in, her breath warm against your skin, planting soft, teasing kisses along your jaw, across your cheekbones—each press of her lips a stark contrast to Mel’s relentless abuse of your overstimulated cunt.

Your moans are breathless, needy, and your voice shakes as you finally break. “I- I’m close,” you whimper, the pleasure cresting into something unbearable. “Mel, please- please let me cum.”

The woman behind you hums in approval, the sound rich with amusement. You can practically feel the smirk against your skin as she continues working you closer, her fingers curling just right, sending sparks through your already-overwhelmed body. But just as that final wave is about to crash over you, just as your body tenses in anticipation of release she stops.

Her fingers slip away, leaving you empty, aching, and teetering dangerously on the edge of blissful oblivion. A strangled whine rips from your throat, your hips jerking in a desperate attempt to chase the pleasure she so cruelly denied. But Mel only chuckles, her hands gripping your hips to still you, her amusement evident in the smug lilt of her voice.

“Not yet,” she murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss against the shell of your ear. “You’ll cum when we say so.”

And at that moment Sevika unzips her pants “I wanna fuck that pretty face of yours” she says removing you from her lap Mel pushes you down on your knees “if you do a good job Sev might reward you” she says bending down with you “I’ll help you lead” Mel says pulling down Sevika’s briefs her cock plops out precut already coating the base.

Sevika exhales a low, guttural moan, her head falling back against the couch as her muscles tense with anticipation. Her broad chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and her fingers twitch at her sides, fighting the urge to grip something perhaps your hair, perhaps Mel’s.

Mel smirks, clearly pleased by Sevika’s reaction. She shifts, resting her head on Sevika’s thick thigh as she gazes up at you with an amused glint in her golden eyes. One of her hands moves with practiced ease, wrapping around the base of Sevika’s cock, her fingers stroking slow, deliberate motions along its length.

“She’s very vocal,” Mel muses, her voice smooth and teasing as she rubs her thumb over the slick tip, smearing the glistening precum. She tilts her head slightly, casting you a look of expectation. A silent challenge.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening as you watch the way her hand moves so effortless, so sure of itself. Then she lifts her gaze, that knowing smile still playing at her lips. “You try.”

Your breath hitches, but you obey. Tentatively, you reach out, your fingers wrapping around Sevika’s cock, warm and throbbing beneath your touch. The moment you begin stroking, mirroring Mel’s rhythm, she pulls away, withdrawing her hand and leaving you to continue alone.

But she doesn’t leave entirely. Instead, she leans in closer, her lips parting as she presses soft, teasing kitten licks against the sensitive head. The contact is featherlight, barely there, but it sends a violent shudder through Sevika’s body.

“F-fuck,” Sevika groans, her voice breaking, her head tilting back even further as her hips jerk slightly upward. Her restraint is slipping, and Mel hums approvingly against her.

You glance at Mel, catching the wicked glint in her eyes before she flicks her tongue again, slow and deliberate, drawing another strangled moan from Sevika. It’s intoxicating watching the way she teases, the way she makes Sevika unravel with such minimal effort.

Mel hums against Sevika’s skin, her tongue trailing slow, teasing circles around the sensitive head before pulling away just enough to glance at you. The corner of her mouth curls into something smug and knowing as she watches you hesitate, your hand still working along Sevika’s length, but not nearly with the confidence she expects.

"Come on," Mel purrs, her voice smooth as silk, "don’t be shy. She likes it when you take your time.”

Sevika lets out a ragged breath, her fingers digging into the couch as she fights the urge to thrust up into your grip. Her muscles twitch, her body reacting to even the slightest movement, and it’s intoxicating the power you have over her in this moment.

Encouraged, you lean in, mirroring Mel’s earlier movements. You start slow, pressing soft kitten licks against the tip, tasting the salty precum that beads at the head. Sevika groans at the contact, her breath stuttering, and her thighs tense on either side of you.

Mel watches you closely, her golden eyes gleaming with approval. “That’s it,” she murmurs, her fingers ghosting over your jaw before she guides you gently, angling your head just right. “Open up.”

The way she says it so casually yet commanding sends a shiver down your spine. You obey, parting your lips as you take Sevika into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before sinking lower, taking in more of her inch by inch.

Sevika’s response is immediate a sharp inhale, a deep groan that rumbles from her chest. One of her hands flies to your hair, her grip tightening but not pushing, just holding. Like she’s trying to ground herself, to keep some semblance of control.

“Fuck—” she hisses through clenched teeth, her head tilting back against the couch.

Mel chuckles softly, clearly amused by how quickly Sevika is unraveling. She presses her cheek against Sevika’s thigh, watching with a lazy sort of satisfaction as your mouth works around her. “She’s so sensitive tonight,” Mel muses, her fingers stroking absentmindedly along Sevika’s thigh. “I wonder how long she’ll last.”

Sevika growls in response, her grip tightening in your hair for just a second, and Mel laughs, pleased with herself. She shifts closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Then, as if to test you both, she joins in her tongue flicking out to tease whatever part of Sevika isn’t already claimed by your mouth. The sudden added sensation makes Sevika curse, her hips jerking involuntarily.

“Fuck- Mel, you-” Sevika’s voice breaks off into a strangled moan, her entire body shuddering beneath your combined efforts.

You feel her thighs tremble against your shoulders, her grip faltering for just a moment before tightening again. She’s close you can feel it, hear it in the way her breathing turns ragged, in the way her muscles lock up, desperate to hold back just a little longer.

Mel pulls back just enough to glance up at Sevika, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Think you can hold out a little longer?” she taunts, her lips glossy, her voice full of amusement.

Sevika glares down at her, but the effect is ruined by the way her chest heaves, by the way her jaw clenches like she’s barely hanging on. “Shut up,” she grits out, but there’s no real bite to it, just raw, desperate need.

Mel only smirks, then turns back to you. “Let’s push her a little more,” she whispers, her fingers brushing over your cheek as she urges you forward. “I want to hear her beg.”

Sevika’s breath is ragged, her muscles taut with restraint, her fingers tightening in your hair as if she’s clinging to the last shred of control she has left. Her thighs tremble against your shoulders, and the deep, guttural groans ripping from her chest send heat pooling low in your stomach.

Mel watches with lazy satisfaction, her golden eyes glinting with mischief as she tilts her head, lips still slick from where she had teased along Sevika’s length just moments ago. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb before resting her chin against Sevika’s thigh, observing you with quiet amusement.

"She’s trying so hard," Mel muses, her voice smooth, teasing. She flicks her gaze up to Sevika, smirking. "You always act so tough, but look at you now."

Sevika growls in response, her grip tightening in your hair for a fleeting second before she forces herself to loosen it. "You talk too much," she grits out, her voice hoarse, strained.

Mel chuckles, clearly pleased. "Oh, I do," she purrs, her fingers trailing lazily up Sevika’s thigh. "But you love it."

Sevika doesn’t respond not verbally, at least. But the way her hips twitch, the way her head falls back against the couch, the way she exhales a sharp, shuddering breath every part of her betrays just how much she’s unraveling.

Mel turns her attention back to you, her fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin slightly so that you look up at her. "You’re doing so well," she murmurs, her voice softer now, coaxing.

Before you can react, Mel leans in, her hand guiding you as she joins you once more, her tongue dragging slow, deliberate strokes along the underside of Sevika’s cock, her movements synchronized with yours.

The effect is immediate Sevika jerks beneath you, her hips bucking up involuntarily, a strangled groan ripping from her throat. "Fuck—"

Her head slams back against the couch, her fingers digging into the cushions so hard her knuckles turn white. You can feel the way she’s trembling, the way she’s barely holding herself together.

Mel hums against her, sending vibrations coursing through her already overstimulated nerves. She pulls away just slightly, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin as she murmurs, "Not yet."

Sevika lets out a choked, frustrated noise, her entire body thrumming with tension. "Mel—"

Mel smirks, tilting her head slightly as she glances up at her. "You’ll cum when we say so," she reminds her, echoing her earlier words with wicked satisfaction.

Sevika curses under her breath, her jaw clenched, her entire body coiled so tight she’s seconds away from snapping.

Mel looks at you again, golden eyes dark with hunger. "Let’s make her beg," she whispers. Then, without another word, she takes Sevika deeper, her tongue working expertly, her fingers gripping your chin to encourage you to follow suit.

Sevika gasps, her body lurching forward as her restraint shatters. "Fucking please," she groans, her voice raw, desperate.

Mel pulls back just enough to smirk up at her. "There it is," she murmurs, satisfied. She glances at you, her thumb tracing your bottom lip.

Sevika growls low in her throat, her hips jerking slightly. "Shut the fuck up," she grits out, but there’s no real venom behind her words only raw, aching need.

Mel laughs, her voice rich and sweet like honey, but there’s something wicked underneath it. She turns back to you, her fingers tracing the edge of your jaw before tilting your chin up, her eyes searching yours. "What do you think?" she asks, her voice soft, but the command beneath it is clear. "Should we give her what she’s begging for?"

You glance at Sevika at the way her head is thrown back against the couch, her thighs tense against your shoulders, her cock twitching against your tongue, glistening with need. She looks wrecked. Absolutely desperate. And the thought sends heat pooling deep in your stomach.

You nod.

Mel smirks, pleased with your answer. "Good," she purrs. "Then let’s ruin her."

Without hesitation, she moves first, her tongue flicking out to tease along Sevika’s length, slow and deliberate, before taking her into her mouth. The way she moves is practiced, confident, completely in control and it’s mesmerizing.

Not wanting to be outdone, you follow her lead, your lips wrapping around the other side of Sevika’s cock, your tongue working alongside Mel’s in a synchronized rhythm. The reaction is immediate.

"F- Fuck!" Sevika chokes out, her entire body lurching forward, one hand flying to Mel’s hair, the other gripping the back of your head. Her thighs tense, threatening to snap shut around you both, but Mel’s firm hand on her leg keeps her spread wide.

Mel moans around her, the vibrations sending a violent shudder through Sevika’s body. You feel her cock twitch against your tongue, her breaths coming faster, more erratic. She’s right there hanging on by a thread, so close to unraveling.

Mel pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, her voice dripping with amusement. "She’s trying so hard to hold back," she muses, glancing up at you. "But we can’t have that, can we?"

You shake your head, and Mel grins, wicked and knowing. "Then let’s finish her off."

You don’t hesitate. You take Sevika deeper, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue pressing against the sensitive underside as you bob your head. Mel mirrors you, her fingers squeezing Sevika’s thigh as she works her closer to the edge.

Sevika’s entire body goes rigid. "Oh- fuck, I-"

She tries to warn you, but it’s too late. Her grip tightens in your hair as she comes undone, a wrecked, guttural moan tearing from her throat as her hips jerk up, her release spilling onto your tongue. She shudders violently, her body trembling, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths.

Mel pulls away first, licking her lips as she watches Sevika with a satisfied smirk. "There we go," she murmurs, her voice thick with amusement. "Such a good girl for us."

Sevika groans, her head lolling to the side, utterly spent. Her fingers twitch in your hair before she finally releases you, exhaling a shaky breath.

Mel reaches for you, her fingers brushing against your chin as she tilts your face toward hers. "You did so well," she praises, her voice soft now, intimate. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

The way she’s looking at you, eyes dark and knowing, makes your stomach flip.

Mel runs a hand through her hair as she rises to her feet, golden eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. Her smirk is soft but full of purpose as she tilts her head.

"Lay on the couch for us, baby girl," she orders, her voice smooth as silk, leaving no room for hesitation.

You obey instantly, shifting to lie back against the plush cushions. The moment you settle, Mel hums in satisfaction, a pleased smile curving her lips. "Such a good girl," she muses, trailing her fingers along your thigh as she watches you, her touch light yet possessive.

Sevika, still catching her breath from her previous release, chuckles lowly. She shifts beside you, one hand wrapping around her still-sensitive cock, giving it a slow, lazy stroke as she watches you with darkened eyes. "Hope you're ready for me, baby," she rasps, aligning herself with your aching, slick cunt. Her smirk is sharp, teasing. "You can take me, can’t you?"

Before you can answer, Mel moves, straddling your chest, her knees pressing into the cushions beside your head. She glances down at you, brushing her fingers through your hair, her expression softer than Sevika’s but no less commanding.

"Hopefully, I’m not too heavy," she murmurs, but the playful gleam in her eyes tells you she already knows the answer.

Then, without waiting for a response, she positions herself over your mouth, lowering herself slowly, her warmth, her scent overwhelming you in the best way.

Sevika groans at the sight, gripping your thighs as she presses forward, sinking into you with a deep, slow thrust. "Fuck," she growls, head tilting back as she stretches you open. "Tight little thing, aren’t you?"

Mel lets out a soft laugh, her fingers tightening in your hair as she rolls her hips against your lips. "Let’s see just how well she can handle both of us," she purrs.

Mel exhales a slow, pleased sigh as she settles against your mouth, rolling her hips with unhurried precision, savoring every flick of your tongue. Her fingers thread through your hair, holding you in place, not forcefully, but with enough control to remind you who’s in charge.

"That’s it," she purrs, her voice smooth, indulgent. "Just like that, baby. Make me feel good."

Sevika, however, is far less patient. A frustrated groan rumbles from her chest as she pushes inside you, her thick length sinking into your slick heat. The way you tighten around her, clenching instinctively, draws a deep, guttural curse from her lips. She pauses for just a moment, her breath heavy, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as she steadies herself. Then, without warning, she pulls back slowly, deliberately before driving forward again, pressing deeper, stretching you open inch by inch.

Each thrust is measured, controlled, yet brimming with restrained intensity, as if she's savoring every second of the way your body yields to her.

"Shit," she growls, her voice strained, rough. "You feel so fucking good."

Mel chuckles at Sevika’s lack of restraint, amusement flickering in her golden eyes. "Careful," she muses, lifting herself slightly, only to press back down against your eager mouth. "You don’t want to break her just yet."

Sevika lets out a sharp breath, her fingers tightening against your skin. "Tch. She can take it."

And to prove her point, she sets a steady rhythm, rolling her hips into yours, stretching you with every deep, measured thrust. Her cock drags against every sensitive spot inside you, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. The force of it makes your moans vibrate against Mel’s cunt, drawing a sweet gasp from her lips.

"Oh," Mel breathes, her nails grazing your scalp as she shudders. "That’s perfect, sweetheart. Just like that."

The weight of her against your mouth, the way Sevika fucks into you with slow, controlled force—it’s overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. Every sensation crashes into you at once, heat pooling low in your stomach, pleasure mounting with every thrust, every roll of Mel’s hips, every deep, throaty moan Sevika lets out above you.

Sevika watches with dark, hooded eyes as Mel rocks against your face, her lips parting in pleasure. "She’s making you feel good, huh?" she mutters, her voice thick with lust.

Mel hums, biting her lip as she gazes down at you. "Oh, she’s doing beautifully," she praises, her fingers tightening in your hair. "So eager to please."

The pace builds Sevika thrusting harder, deeper, pushing you closer and closer to that delicious edge. Your muffled moans grow more desperate, your body tightening around her, drawing a sharp hiss from her lips.

"Fuck, baby," Sevika grits out, her thrusts turning rougher, needier. "You gonna cum for us?"

Mel smirks, her own pleasure evident in the way she gasps at every flick of your tongue. "I think she is," she murmurs, her voice thick. "Be a good girl and let go for us, won’t you?"

Between the relentless pace of Sevika’s thrusts and the intoxicating taste of Mel on your tongue, the coil inside you snaps. Your body seizes, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your muffled cries vibrating against Mel’s cunt as you come undone beneath them.

Sevika curses under her breath as she feels you tighten around her, her rhythm faltering for just a moment before she chases her own release, slamming into you with deep, desperate thrusts.

Mel watches, golden eyes dark with satisfaction, her hips rolling through her own climax as she presses down just a little harder against your mouth, riding out the waves of pleasure.

Sevika isn’t far behind. With a sharp, ragged groan, her grip on your thighs tightens, and she spills inside you, her breath hitching as she thrusts shallowly, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of all three of you, bodies tangled together in the aftermath.

Mel is the first to move, exhaling a satisfied sigh as she lifts herself off you, her fingers brushing tenderly over your flushed cheek. "You did so well, darling," she murmurs, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, tasting herself on your tongue.

Sevika, still catching her breath, smirks as she pulls out, running a hand through her damp hair. "Fuck," she mutters, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re dangerous."

Mel chuckles, stretching languidly before turning to you with a knowing smile. "Mmm, but she’s ours now, isn’t she?"

Sevika grins, reaching down to squeeze your thigh. "Damn right."

You can hardly believe what just happened. Here, in the private room of your job, you had just spent the last hour tangled between the two most powerful, most breathtaking women you knew. The air still carries the remnants of heat, the faint scent of sweat and desire clinging to the space like a ghost of what had just transpired.

A smirk tugs at your lips as you glance around, the reality settling in. If you wanted, you could tell everyone spin the story into something legendary, a tale of indulgence and reckless pleasure. But some things are better kept unsaid. Some moments are too raw, too electric, too wholly yours to be shared.

Instead, you exhale, running a hand through your hair as you steady yourself. You’ll carry this secret like a brand against your skin, a delicious memory etched into your bones. And as you step back into the world beyond that door, no one will have any idea what just happened behind it.

This was gonna be longer but I’m tired and can’t go on anymore. Please like comment, and reblog that would be greatly appreciated. Don’t forget to request! ︎ © seulszn.

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yanderecrazysie · 9 months ago

Text

Twisted Zoo: Chapter 11

Prologue (beginning): here

Previous Chapter: here

Next Chapter: here

Note: THE TAGS BROKE AGAIN, I'M SO SORRY!

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @twstsandturns @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @the-ace-reader @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @sushiperson @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester @owodi @girl-nahh-two @obeythehuman @berry-efoy @ivorette @the-broken-truth @losingmybrain @sxftiebee @queens-unheard-thoughts @medicine-san @strugglingsleeper @asdorlia @nightskylark @cashmerek @rocketstyx and @ryovel wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (I have removed the tags that weren’t working for me, apologies if yours was removed!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you.

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

NOTE 2: Sorry that it took over a month to write this, but I needed inspiration + my new job is kicking my butt. It’s pretty short and bad but I didn’t have a lot of inspiration.

—-------------------------------------------------------

You were on your way to the birds’ enclosure when you heard your name being called. You turned around to see Crowley making his way towards you, one arm raised to flag you down. You hurried over to him.

“Yes, Mr. Crowley?”

As you drew closer, you could see the concern on his face.

“I need you to come with me,” he said softly, leading the way to the aviary. You nodded and followed him, worry starting to consume you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

Mr. Crowley led you around to a side of the aviary you hadn’t been to before- a side that faced neither the employee entrance nor the zoo visitors. It took only a few seconds to realize why he had led you there.

The metal enclosure had been dented outwards, as though a lot of force had been applied to it from the inside. The seams were starting to split apart, artificial light from inside the enclosure peeking through the cracks. It looked like an elephant had been body-slamming the aviary’s walls.

“Wha- what happened?” you asked, stunned.

“We’ve had some… incidents recently. All of the halflings have been acting up more than usual and, as you can see, there’s been some damage to the aviary’s metal dome.”

“But the birds are so well-behaved!” you protested in shock.

“That’s the thing,” Mr. Crowley said gravely, “It seems to happen after your visits. The halflings become… agitated when you aren’t around.”

You couldn’t believe that the gentle, friendly birds had caused this kind of damage to a metal enclosure. And because of you? It was almost unthinkable.

“I don’t understand,” you said in a near whisper, “Why would they do this?”

Mr. Crowley sighed wearily, “Halflings form strong bonds, that’s why we have so many bonded species at this zoo. They will especially latch on to anyone who shows them true kindness. You clearly mean a lot to them and your absence upsets them.”

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” you said, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings.

“I know, and I don’t blame you,” Mr. Crowley reassured you, “But we need to find a solution.”

“Do you have any ideas?” you asked.

Mr. Crowley went silent and avoided eye contact. A thrill of apprehension shot up your spine but you willed it away. Mr. Crowley would never put you in danger, right?

“For now, just continue as normal,” Mr. Crowley replied, “We’ll work on fixing the enclosure.”

You nodded and the zoo director dismissed you with a careless wave. You hurried to the enclosure’s employee entrance and were disturbed to hear, instead of the usual quiet, the sounds of squawks and hoots and other cries.

You stepped inside and were surprised by the scene you were met with. The halflings were clearly distressed: pacing in their cages and looking around wildly, feathers fluffed up in agitation. Even calm-and-collected Vil looked ruffled.

“Guys? Are you alright?” you called out softly.

Ace was first to respond, “Where were you?” he demanded to know, voice tinged with panic, “You’re late! You’ve never been late before!”

“I’m sorry, Ace,” you said, trying to sound as soothing as possible, “I was talking to Mr. Crowley about some… problems with the enclosure.”

Ace’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Problems? What problems?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you said, feeling a little nervous by the intensity of his gaze. Glancing around, you could see that every bird halfling had their eyes trained on you.

Trey flew from his birdhouse to his perch, landing gracefully on the wooden perch and fixing you with a stern glare and saying, “You can’t disappear.”

You nodded, trying to calm them all down, “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

Vil stepped forward, his beautiful feathers out of place and ruffled. His eyes were narrowed and he was frowning as though disappointed in you, “You always leave us.”

You were overwhelmed by all of their intense gazes and you felt a lump form in your throat. “I’m here as often as I can be.”

Epel looked up at you with watery eyes, “We worry when you leave. Not safe out there.”

You forced a gentle smile to your lips, “I’m perfectly safe. And I’m here now. Let’s all calm down everyone, okay?”

Slowly, the halflings relaxed. Rook stopped pacing, Vil smoothed his feathers, and Trey flew back into his bird house. Even though the tension had mostly disappeared, the underlying worry and hint of possessiveness remained.

You turned to Deuce, who hadn’t spoken yet, but instead looked at you wistfully. “Are you doing okay, Deuce?” you asked.

Deuce’s eyes softened, but the troubled frown remained on his face, “I’m fine,” his voice was strained, “I missed you.”

Your heart ached, “I missed you too,”

Ace piped up in an annoyed tone, “Why can’t you just stay here with us?”

You blinked in surprise, “I have a life outside the zoo. I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here.”

It was Cater’s turn to speak, and the expression he gave you made your stomach twist unpleasantly, “You’re too good to stay with us halflings, mademoiselle? We do not have a life outside this zoo, but we deserve that, don’t we?”

“Wh-what? Of course not!” you spluttered.

“Then stay!” Epel whined, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“I- I can’t,” your voice came out in a whisper. You shook yourself and turned around, heading for the staff door, “I’ll go get your meals…”

There was an eerie silence as you passed out their meals. Each of the halflings took their salads and set them aside, their appetites gone. The tension in the air was so thick you thought you might choke on it.

Finally, the time came for you to leave. As you turned towards the staff door, a hand grabbed the back of your shirt. You turned in surprise to find Riddle outside his enclosure, his pink feathers standing on end.

“Promise… you’ll come back.” Riddle choked out, fighting back tears.

You turned to him and gave him a gentle smile before pulling him into a hug. “Of course I’ll come back.”

“Promise!” he demanded.

“I promise.”

With the way they all looked at you, with victory and possessiveness, you halfway wondered if you had sold your soul with that promise.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

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jhyoos · 2 months ago

Text

Of Roses And Steel

chapter five : speechless

mentions: major character death, angst, love triangle, romance, medieval au, royalty au, protective sevika, strong reader

notes : ik yall mad at me but hopefully this will redeem it…

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When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the unfamiliar scent of damp earth and the faint aroma of burning wood. You weren’t in your chambers anymore. Instead, you found yourself in a modest tent, the fabric swaying gently in the wind. The bed beneath you was crudely made of wood, but layers of thick blankets were draped over you, keeping the cold at bay.

You tried sitting up, but a deep ache spread through your body, as if every bone protested the movement. Your throat felt parched, and a hollow pang in your stomach reminded you of how long it had been since you last ate. For a moment, you simply sat there, dazed, until the muffled sounds of shouting and hurried footsteps outside the tent reached your ears.

Your heart quickened as memories came flooding back—the sparring match, Mel’s betrayal, the searing pain of the blade in your stomach. You flung the blankets off, your breath catching as you looked down at yourself. The wound was gone, the skin where the blade had pierced you now smooth and unmarred. Even your injured hand, the one Mel had cruelly targeted, was bandaged neatly and free of pain. Whoever had tended to you had done an exceptional job.

Curiosity—and fear—drove you to action. Slowly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet touching the cold ground. You moved to the tent’s flap, peeking through the small opening to get a glimpse of where you were.

What you saw made your stomach twist.

Outside, soldiers bustled about, their armor glinting under the overcast sky. Horses neighed and pawed at the ground as they were prepared for battle. Weapons were sharpened, arrows were fletched, and the air buzzed with tension.

Your gaze shifted beyond the camp to the horizon, and your breath caught in your throat. There, in the distance, was your castle, its proud towers rising against the sky. But something was wrong. Thick, black smoke curled upward, blotting out the clouds. The once-pristine white walls were marred with scorch marks, and the faint echo of shouting and clashing steel reached your ears.

Suddenly, a deafening boom shook the ground beneath you. The noise rattled the tent poles, and your heart leapt into your throat. Your eyes snapped back to the castle just in time to see an explosion tear through one of the outer walls. Rubble flew into the air, and the sky seemed to darken further as chaos unfolded before your eyes.

A war was happening.

You stumbled back into the tent, your mind racing. How had this happened? How long had you been unconscious? And, more importantly, where were your father, Sevika, and Vi?

You sat down on the wooden bed, pulling the blankets tightly around yourself as if they could shield you from the nightmare unfolding around you. The ache in your bones and the distant sounds of war felt surreal, like a dream you were desperate to wake from. You closed your eyes, silently pleading for everything to vanish when the faint sound of the tent flap being drawn back startled you.

A figure stepped inside, and your heart skipped a beat. It was Sevika, clad in her full armor. Her chest plate bore scratches and soot stains, and her face showed exhaustion, but her eyes… her eyes softened the moment they landed on you. Relief washed over her features, her expression melting into something almost tender—something you hadn’t seen from her in what felt like forever.

She crouched down before you, balancing on the balls of her feet as her hand braced the edge of the bed for support. Her piercing gaze studied you as if she couldn’t believe you were real, her lips curving into a faint, shaky smile. “You’re awake,” she said, her voice low and filled with emotion.

“I guess I am,” you replied weakly, your voice hoarse. You couldn’t even find the strength to return her smile. “How long… how long have we been at war? And with who?”

Sevika sighed, running a gloved hand over her face. The fatigue in her movements betrayed just how long she’d been carrying the weight of the battle. “Noxus,” she said finally. “Mel… and her mother, Ambessa. They’ve been planning this for years, waiting for the right moment to strike. You’ve been asleep for a few weeks now.”

Your heart sank. “Weeks?” you whispered, dread curling in your stomach. “And… my wounds?”

Her jaw tightened slightly before she looked away, her voice dropping lower. “Shimmer,” she admitted. “Don’t ask me how it works. I don’t know what it is either, but your father… he gave it to me. He said it was the only thing that could save you.”

“My father…” The words barely made it out of your mouth, your heart now pounding with fear. “Where is he?”

Sevika didn’t respond right away. She looked at you, her steely demeanor faltering as something deeply vulnerable flickered across her face. Her lips parted, and for a moment, you could see how much it pained her to deliver the next words. “He’s dead, Your Majesty.”

The world seemed to stop. The tent around you blurred, and the only thing you could hear was the deafening echo of her words. “Dead?” you repeated, your voice breaking. Your chest tightened, and it felt like the air was being ripped from your lungs. “Oh god… oh god…”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. The tears came fast and hard, falling freely down your face as you clutched your chest, trying to steady your ragged breathing. This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Your father—the man who had been your guide, your protector, your family—was gone.

Sevika reached out and gently took your hand, her large, calloused fingers carefully rubbing soothing circles over your palm. Her touch was steady, grounding, even as you fell apart in front of her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured softly. “I’m so sorry.”

But you couldn’t bear it. The grief was too heavy, the weight of everything too much. You pulled your hand away from hers, curling in on yourself as sobs wracked your body. “Please… just leave me alone,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika hesitated, lingering as if debating whether to argue or to stay and comfort you, but she respected your wishes. With a reluctant nod, she rose to her full height, the weight of her armor creaking softly as she adjusted it. She glanced at you one last time, her face unreadable, before turning and slipping out of the tent, leaving you to your sorrow.

You knew you couldn’t afford to stand there and wallow in your grief—not now. It’s not what your father would have wanted. He would’ve told you to rise, to stand tall even when the weight of the world was pressing down on your shoulders. So, after the tears had run their course, leaving your face streaked and your chest aching, you forced yourself to get out of the bed. Your legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but you willed them to move.

Steeling yourself, you pushed the blankets aside and shuffled to the opening of the tent. Poking your head out cautiously, you searched for Sevika. The camp was bustling with activity—soldiers preparing for the next phase of war, the clinking of weapons being sharpened, the low hum of conversations that buzzed like static. Amid it all, Sevika stood just outside your tent, leaning against a wooden post, cigarette in hand.

She noticed you immediately. Her sharp eyes softened for a moment before she dropped the cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it under her boot. Without hesitation, she made her way over to you, her heavy armor clinking faintly as she moved.

“How?” you asked, your voice trembling as you stared at her, hoping for some explanation that would make it all hurt less.

Sevika hesitated briefly before responding, her tone steady but grim. “Ambessa. Gun to the head,” she said simply, not sugarcoating the brutal truth. “We didn’t have time to mourn for long. We gave him a proper burial before we had to evacuate. He’s right beside your mother, by the willow tree.”

Your breath hitched at her words, and for a moment, you felt another wave of sorrow rising, threatening to swallow you whole. “That’s… that’s where he always said he wanted to be,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The thought gave you a bittersweet comfort. At least they had honored his wishes.

Sevika nodded solemnly, watching you closely as if gauging your reaction.

“So… that means I’m queen now?” you asked, the realization finally sinking in. The words felt foreign, heavy on your tongue. Queen. The title sounded like a burden, not a triumph.

Sevika’s gaze swept over you, taking in your disheveled state—barefoot, wrapped in the blanket draped over your shoulders, and looking every bit like someone who had just woken from a nightmare. “Yes,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “But not like this.” She gestured to you with a slight nod. “We need to get you some armor. And clothes. Something worthy of a queen who’s ready to fight.”

Her words were matter-of-fact, but there was a spark of respect in her tone, an acknowledgment of the weight you now carried. You straightened your back, drawing in a deep breath. If you were going to be queen, you had to look the part—no, be the part. Your father wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sevika led you through the camp to a large, well-constructed tent that stood apart from the others. The fabric was reinforced, and the entrance was adorned with subtle but intricate designs—a quiet declaration of your status.

“This tent was just for recovery,” Sevika said, gesturing back toward where you’d been. “This one will serve as your home until further notice.” She pulled back the flap, holding it open for you to step inside.

The interior was breathtaking. It wasn’t your castle chambers, but it had been meticulously arranged to replicate them in tent form. Rich, warm rugs covered the ground, lanterns cast a soft glow, and a sturdy bed draped with fine linens dominated the space. There was even a small desk and a wardrobe against one side. It was a strange comfort to see these remnants of your old life amidst the chaos of war.

“Apologies,” Sevika said, breaking your reverie. “You won’t have any servants to dress you, but I can get you some warm water to wash up.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god. And yes, please,” you said, managing a small smile.

She gave a firm nod, then stepped out of the tent, leaving you alone.

You turned your attention to the mini wardrobe, pulling it open to inspect its contents. Inside was a modest selection of clothing: mostly your fighting attire, with a few simple sleeping gowns tucked to one side. Then your eyes fell on something unexpected—your father’s cloaks.

You froze, your hand brushing against the familiar fabric. The sight of them sent a pang through your chest, but there was also a warmth in the gesture. This was Sevika’s doing—you were certain of it. Carefully, you took one off the rack and held it up, examining the intricate embroidery that had once symbolized his power and grace. On impulse, you brought it close to your face and inhaled deeply. It still smelled like him—a mix of leather, parchment, and faint cologne.

The flood of memories was almost too much to bear, but before you could get lost in them, a faint shuffling sound caught your attention. You turned sharply, your eyes scanning the room.

“Eros?” you called out tentatively.

From the shadows, a familiar form padded forward—a large feline with sleek fur and striking eyes. As he stepped fully into view, you gasped. It was your beloved big cat, Eros, but he had grown considerably since you last saw him. His lithe frame had filled out with muscle, and his purrs, once soft and kitten-like, now rumbled like thunder.

“Oh, you’ve gotten so big!” you exclaimed, shocked but delighted.

Eros approached with slow, deliberate steps, his tail swaying behind him. You quickly set your father’s cloak down on the bed and dropped to your knees to greet him. His massive head nuzzled into your hands, and you stroked his fur, marveling at how much he’d changed.

His deep, rumbling purrs vibrated through your palms, a soothing sound that grounded you in the moment. For the first time in what felt like ages, you smiled without effort, feeling a flicker of peace amidst the storm of your new reality.

After your bath, you took your time dressing, carefully selecting your attire. From the wardrobe, you chose a dark, fitted tunic embroidered with silver threads that mimicked the patterns of vines and stars—a nod to your kingdom’s crest. Over it, you wore a sturdy yet elegant pair of black trousers tucked into polished boots. The final touch was your father’s cloak, the rich fabric draping over your shoulders and fastening at your collarbone with the family crest embossed on a silver clasp. It was heavy but reassuring, like his presence still lingered with you.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped outside the tent, your boots crunching on the dirt below. What greeted you took your breath away.

Hundreds of soldiers stood outside, their armor polished despite the grime of war. They surrounded your tent in organized ranks, their expressions solemn and respectful. At the forefront was Sevika, standing tall with her arms crossed, her eyes filled with something that looked like pride.

The moment they saw you, the soldiers dropped to one knee in unison, their fists pressed to their chests. The sound of their collective voices echoed through the camp like thunder:

“Long live the Queen!”

The weight of their loyalty and reverence nearly overwhelmed you. You bit your lip, trying desperately to hold back your tears, but your emotions threatened to spill over. This was it—you were their Queen now. The dream you’d nurtured since you were a child, to rule and care for your people, had finally come true. All the training, all the lessons, all the sacrifices had led to this moment.

Clearing your throat, you steadied your voice and raised your hand. “Stand.”

The soldiers rose immediately, their eyes fixed on you with unwavering attention. The camp fell silent, save for the crackle of distant fires and the soft rustle of wind through the trees.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you stood tall, your father’s cloak billowing slightly in the breeze as you began to speak.

“I stand before you today as your Queen,” you began, your voice firm but warm. “It is an honor and a responsibility that I do not take lightly. My father, King Silco, ruled this kingdom with strength, wisdom, and unwavering determination. He built a legacy that will be remembered for generations, and I vow to uphold it.”

You paused, letting your words settle over the crowd.

“This war has tested us all. It has taken from us our peace, our homes, and our loved ones. But it has not taken our resolve. Together, we will rebuild. Together, we will fight. Together, we will triumph. Because that is who we are. We are strong. We are united. And we are unstoppable.”

Your voice grew stronger as you continued, drawing courage from their attentive gazes.

“I promise you this: I will lead with honor. I will protect this kingdom and everyone within it, no matter the cost. Your sacrifices will not be in vain, and your loyalty will not go unnoticed. Together, we will see the dawn of a brighter future.”

You let your eyes scan the crowd, meeting the gazes of as many soldiers as you could. “You have my gratitude, my respect, and my unwavering loyalty. I will not fail you.”

A hush fell over the crowd as your words echoed in the air. Then, one by one, the soldiers began to cheer, the sound growing louder and louder until it filled the entire camp. They raised their fists to the sky, their voices ringing with renewed determination.

Sevika stepped closer, her lips curving into a rare smile. “You did good,” she said quietly, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the cheers.

For the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself a small smile in return. This was just the beginning.

After the celebration, the camp slowly settled into a quieter rhythm. The soldiers returned to their posts or their tents, and the clamor of voices dimmed to the occasional crackle of a fire or the clinking of armor. You approached Sevika, who stood a few feet away, inspecting her gauntlet, the faint glow of embers from her cigarette illuminating her face.

“Where’s Vi?” you asked, stepping up beside her.

She glanced at you and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Piltover. She’s bringing more soldiers—willing ones. Vander’s paying them three times the usual rate to ensure their loyalty and determination.”

You nodded, processing the information, but before you could dwell too much on the thought, Sevika’s tone shifted slightly. “Anyway, are you hungry? It’s not much, but we’ve got beef tips and rice. Better than nothing.”

The mention of food reminded you of how long it had been since you last ate. “That would be nice,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

She gave you a nod and gestured for you to follow her to the mess area. The table she led you to was modest, crafted from wooden planks and worn from years of use. She pulled out a chair for you, the action surprisingly gentle for someone as rough and stoic as Sevika.

You sat down, appreciating the gesture, and watched as she grabbed a bowl from the table nearby, ladling a hearty portion of beef tips and rice into it. She handed it to you, her fingers briefly brushing yours as you took the bowl.

“Thanks,” you said, the warmth in your voice undeniable as you met her gaze.

“No problem,” she replied with a slight smirk, leaning against the edge of the table. Her tone softened as she continued, “And… if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I know what it’s like to lose your parents. They’d be proud to know that such a good person is their queen now.”

Her words struck something deep within you. The sincerity in her voice, the way her normally guarded expression softened for just a moment—it was enough to make your heart ache in an entirely different way. You looked at her with a mix of admiration and longing, feeling yourself fall for her all over again.

Without thinking, the words slipped from your lips, low but clear. “I would do anything to kiss you right now.”

Sevika froze for a moment, her eyebrows raising in surprise before her usual smirk returned. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Maybe eat first,” she teased, pushing off the table. “Then I’ll think about it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as she walked away, her stride confident and effortless, leaving you with your food and the fluttering warmth in your chest. She always knew how to leave you wanting more.

The days following your coronation blurred into a rigorous routine. Sevika trained you with relentless determination, her methods demanding but effective. No matter what she threw at you—sword drills, stamina exercises, or hand-to-hand combat—you refused to quit. Your resolve impressed her, though she rarely said it outright, save for the occasional nod of approval or a brief, satisfied smirk when you executed a move perfectly.

When you weren’t training, you found solace in the woods. Eros would trot alongside you, his sleek fur glinting in the sunlight as he prowled through the underbrush. You spent hours by the lake, honing your aim by shooting at fish in the crystal-clear water. Sometimes, with luck and precision, you caught a few. The larger ones you saved for dinner, while the smaller catches were tossed to Eros, who eagerly devoured them with low, rumbling purrs of gratitude. These moments of quiet and simplicity brought you a sense of peace, a small escape from the weight of your new responsibilities.

But it wasn’t all duty and solitude. Late at night, when the camp had quieted and the only sounds were the crackling of distant fires and the rustling of leaves, you and Sevika would steal moments together. It had started unexpectedly after an intense training session. You were exhausted, sweat dripping down your brow as you leaned against a tree to catch your breath. Sevika had approached you, her usual stoic expression softening for just a second. Without warning, she leaned down and kissed you—firm, passionate, and electrifying.

From that moment on, it became a routine. Whenever you were alone, her lips would find yours, and you’d lose yourself in her. Her kisses were a mixture of tenderness and hunger, as if she were trying to protect you and claim you all at once. Each stolen moment left you breathless, craving more but knowing these private exchanges were enough to sustain you for now.

When the Piltover soldiers finally arrived, it was a sight to behold. They marched into the camp with precision, their uniforms pristine despite the long journey. Among them was the royal family, their presence both surprising and humbling. You stepped forward, determined to greet them not as a grieving daughter but as the queen you were meant to be.

As the soldiers settled into the camp, you insisted on sharing your tent with them. It was large enough to accommodate a few extra people, and you found comfort in the idea of company, especially with the looming tension of war. Among the new arrivals was Vi, her familiar cocky grin lighting up her face as she approached you.

“I brought reinforcements,” she said, gesturing to the soldiers behind her. Then, with a hint of hesitation, she added, “And… I want you to meet someone.”

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity as a tall, graceful woman stepped forward. She had a quiet confidence about her, with sharp eyes that seemed to take in everything around her. “This is Caitlyn,” Vi said, her tone softer than usual. “She’s… she’s my lover.”

For a moment, the air between you grew heavy with unspoken words. Vi fidgeted, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I know we’re in the middle of a war, and this probably isn’t the time, but… I thought you should know. I’m sorry if—”

You interrupted her with a small, understanding smile. “Vi, it’s okay. You can’t help love. None of us can.”

Relief washed over her face, and without another word, she pulled you into a hug. It was firm, warm, and filled with unspoken emotions. You weren’t sure if it was her way of thanking you or a silent goodbye in case things went wrong, but you embraced her nonetheless, finding comfort in the gesture.

As Vi pulled away, Caitlyn stepped forward, offering a polite bow. “Thank you for welcoming us, Your Majesty. It’s an honor to fight by your side.”

“Please, call me by my name,” you said with a kind smile. “And thank you—for standing with us in such uncertain times.”

Caitlyn nodded, her respect clear, before stepping back to join Vi. As the two of them exchanged a glance, you couldn’t help but feel a small pang of envy at their connection. But it quickly faded, replaced by a quiet determination. You had your people to protect and a war to win.

You, Sevika, and the royal family gathered in the dimly lit tent, the air thick with tension as the strategy map lay sprawled across the wooden table. Sevika leaned forward, her armored finger tracing the lines of the castle and its surrounding areas, her voice sharp and commanding.

“Ambessa Medarda is a warlord,” she began. “She’s been dismantling civilizations for decades. She’s seen every strategy and tactic. If we try to face her head-on, we’ll lose. We have to outsmart her.”

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the map. “What’s the plan?”

Sevika’s expression remained focused. “We’re within the protective shield your father designed before his passing. It keeps the monsters at bay and prevents Ambessa’s forces from launching a direct attack. But that shield is also our key advantage. If we can infiltrate the castle and disable it, we can release the monsters onto her army, throwing them into chaos.”

“Disable the shield?” Vi asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what about the townspeople and servants? They’ll be left defenseless.”

“I haven’t forgotten them,” Sevika replied, her tone firm. “I have a soldier inside the castle—Ekko—who’s disguised as one of Ambessa’s men. He’s been working to evacuate the servants and townspeople to the depths of the castle’s prison. It’s the most secure location we have, with reinforced walls and iron gates. There are only two keys: one with Ekko and one with me. No one can get in or out without them.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “And once they’re safe?”

Sevika continued, “That’s when we strike. We’ll send a small team to infiltrate the castle. Ambessa’s forces are concentrated on the perimeter, so we’ll use that to our advantage. We’ll split into two groups—one to disable the shield, and another to take out her lieutenants. Without her generals, her army will collapse, especially once the monsters are unleashed.”

“And Ambessa herself?” Caitlyn asked, her voice steady.

“She’ll come,” Sevika said. “She thrives on the battlefield. Once her forces are in chaos, she’ll want to confront whoever’s leading this rebellion. That’s when we’ll strike. She won’t have her lieutenants to back her up.”

You stared at the map, your fingers gripping the edge of the table. “What about Mel?” you asked, your voice colder than you intended.

The room fell silent for a moment. Sevika looked at you, her expression unreadable.

“She’s in the castle,” Sevika admitted. “Ambessa’s daughter could be useful. If we capture her, we can force Ambessa to act recklessly. She’d never abandon her child.”

“Useful?” you repeated, your voice rising. “Mel isn’t useful. She’s a traitor. She let Ambessa take the castle and stabbed me without hesitation. I don’t want her captured—I want her dead.”

The intensity of your words startled the room into silence. Vi shifted uncomfortably, while Caitlyn exchanged a glance with her. Sevika, however, held your gaze, her jaw tightening.

“Your Majesty,” Sevika said carefully, “I understand your anger. I do. But killing Mel outright might not be the best option. We can use her to—”

“Ok,” you snapped, cutting her off. “We can use her to draw Ambessa out but she betrayed this kingdom, betrayed my family. She doesn’t get to live after that.”

Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. “If that’s your decision, then I’ll make sure it’s carried out. But you need to know: killing her will enrage Ambessa. She won’t come to negotiate or surrender. She’ll come for blood.”

“Good,” you said, your voice unwavering. “Let her come. I’m not afraid of her.”

Vi stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “Look, I get it. What Mel did was awful. But people make mistakes. Are you sure there’s no chance she—”

“There’s no chance,” you interrupted. “Mel isn’t a victim of circumstance. She knew what she was doing. She’s as dangerous as her mother, and I won’t risk letting her betray us again.”

The tension in the tent was palpable, but you didn’t back down. Finally, Sevika broke the silence.

“Fine,” she said. “Mel’s life is forfeit. But I’ll handle it. You don’t need to carry that weight.”

You met her gaze, your resolve unshaken. “No. This is my fight, and I’ll see it through myself.”

Sevika studied you for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish, Your Majesty. We’ll make the necessary adjustments to the plan.”

The room fell into a tense silence as Sevika turned back to the map. “We move at dawn,” she said. “Everyone knows their roles. Rest up tonight. This isn’t just about the castle or the kingdom. This is about sending a message: no one takes what’s ours without paying the price.”

You glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of those who stood with you. The anger in your chest burned hotter, fueling your determination. This was your kingdom, and you would do whatever it took to protect it. And when the time came, Mel would pay for her betrayal.

The camp was quiet, with only the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustling of leaves breaking the silence. You sat cross-legged by the fire, carefully carving arrows for your bow. Eros lay beside you, his massive form sprawled out lazily as he purred softly in his sleep. The task kept your hands busy, but your mind was far from at ease. The events of the past weeks weighed heavily on you, their memories replaying over and over like a haunting melody you couldn’t escape.

You didn’t notice Vander approaching until he sat down beside you with a heavy sigh, his presence as solid and reassuring as ever. He watched you in silence for a moment before speaking. “You okay?” His voice was low, steady, and full of concern.

You didn’t look up, keeping your eyes fixed on the arrow you were carving. “Yeah… I’m just making arrows.”

“I mean mentally, (Y/N),” Vander said gently, his gaze unwavering as he studied you.

You hesitated, your movements slowing. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, but you were too tired to mask your feelings anymore. “I’ve been stabbed by a friend who lied about who her mother was. Heartbroken more than once by the same woman I kissed a few hours ago. I’ve taken a mythical substance to survive, and now my parents are dead—killed by that same woman’s hands.” Your voice cracked slightly as you added, “No, Vander. I’m not mentally okay. I don’t think I ever will be.”

You resumed carving the arrow, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against the shaft filling the space between you. Vander leaned forward, his broad hand covering yours and stilling your movements. You looked at him, your tear-filled eyes meeting his steady ones.

“You sound just like your father when he was your age,” Vander said, his voice thick with emotion. “That attitude, that fire—it’s all him. But you also have his forgiveness, his strength, and his resilience. He loved you more than anything in this world. I should know—he used to send me letters every day when your mother was pregnant with you. He wrote about you before you were even born, asking for advice, dreaming of the life he wanted to give you. He wanted nothing but the best for you.”

Tears spilled over as you listened to Vander’s words, the ache in your chest growing heavier. “If he wanted the best for me, he wouldn’t have died,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m not ready to be queen, Vander. I can barely make decisions about my own life, let alone choices that will change the lives of my people.”

Vander reached out, placing a comforting hand on your head. “You’re ready if you’re asking yourself that question,” he said firmly, his words carrying the weight of certainty. “Your father believed in you, and so do I. You’ve got this, kid.”

With that, he rose to his feet, leaving you alone by the fire. His words lingered in the air, offering a faint glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil in your heart. You wiped your tears and turned your focus back to the arrows, your hands steady despite the storm raging inside you.

As you worked, a new determination began to settle over you like a second skin. You weren’t going to stop fighting—not until the war was over, not until both Ambessa and Mel Medarda were brought to justice. You swore to yourself that their heads would one day rest in your hands, and until that day came, you would keep fighting with everything you had.

The fire crackled softly as you continued carving your arrows, trying to keep your mind focused on the task at hand. The weight of the night and the looming battle ahead hung heavy in the air. You didn’t hear her approach, but the familiar sound of armored boots stopping beside you made your heart skip. Sevika sat down in the same spot Vander had vacated earlier, her presence commanding yet comforting in a way only she could manage.

You glanced at her briefly, then returned to your work, the tension between you palpable. The silence stretched for a moment before Sevika broke it, her voice low but steady. “I love you.”

Your hands froze, the arrow slipping from your grasp as you slowly turned to face her. “What?” you asked, unsure if you’d heard her correctly.

She met your gaze with unwavering sincerity. “I love you, (Y/N). I have for years, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to say it.”

The world seemed to stop for a moment as her words sunk in. Your heart raced, and your mind scrambled for a response. “Thank you…” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Sevika raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“I—I mean…” you stammered, flustered. “I love you too, Sevika.”

A rare smile spread across her face, softening her usual stern demeanor. Without a word, she stood up, extending a hand toward you. You hesitated only for a second before placing your tools aside and reaching for her. Her grip was firm but gentle as she pulled you to your feet, her calloused hands warm against yours.

Sevika cupped your cheek with one hand, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin as her eyes searched yours. “I want to prove to you how much I love you,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Come to my tent with me?”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Are you trying to seduce me?” you teased, your voice playful but your heart pounding.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation, her straightforwardness catching you off guard but making your cheeks flush. She took your hand again, this time entwining her fingers with yours as she began leading you toward her tent.

As you followed her, the weight of the world seemed to momentarily lift, replaced by the promise of something tender and true. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a spark of hope—a reminder that even in the darkest times, love could still shine through.

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