#mel madarda x reader

[fleurvi]

Big Chested S/O | Arcane Women

request for arcane women with big titty gfs

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader, big chested!reader, titty play, titty sucking, marking (vi), titty slapping (grayson), strap on sex (grayson, sevika)

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Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa cannot keep her hands to herself. She had invited you to soak in the bath with her and cleared the attendants and guards from the room when you first entered, leaving the two of you alone. You're sitting between her legs with your head against her chest.

Within minutes, her hands reach around to your chest. She squeezes roughly; she treasures you, but you're a grown woman and can take some rough handling.

“Touch yourself for me”, she all but orders, and you listen, hand slipping beneath the warm water to play with your slit while she gropes your tits and rolls your nipples between her fingers. “Does that feel good?”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

DIABOLICAL ORAL FIXATION.

Cait finally comes to bed and finds you lying awake with a book. “You didn't have to wait for me,” she says, crawling over to your lap instead of her own side of the bed.

“I'll always wait for you, you know that”, you sigh in response. She pulls you into a kiss to show appreciation before trailing her lips down your neck and collarbone. When she gets to your chest, She lifts her head to look you in the eyes before leaning down again to take one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking on it. She presses a finger to your hole as she pulls away from your chest.

“Can I touch you while I suck on these gorgeous tits?” she asks, smile splitting into a grin as she lowers her head back down.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

She likes to watch them bounce as you ride her strap.

“Yeah, just like that”, she grunts as you bounce on the toy. She calls it training. She knows it's not right to engage with a subordinate in this way, but when you make such a pretty picture to look at, who is she to deny herself? She's not making eye contact with you though, focused on your chest in her face. When you slow down a little, thighs burning with the ache of riding, she brings a hand up to harshly slap them. “Why are you slowing down? I'm not finished with your training,” she says, hands gripping your hips to assist you in gaining back your pace. “If you keep up just like that, I'll give you a reward.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

Mel asks you to model topless for her so she can paint you. You have to get her back on course multiple times because she keeps getting distracted by your tits.

“I thought you were a woman of composure”, you tease as she gets caught staring again. She rolls her eyes in response.

“I've been finished for five minutes; I just wanted extra time to stare at them,” Mel says matter of factly. You get up from where you've been posing, engulfing her in a back hug as you examine her artwork. It's impressive. She paints you in such a sensual light. Your hands drop from her hips to her thighs. “While I was painting your chest, I was thinking about having them as my next canvas.”

“Yeah? If you show me how much you like them, I'll think about it,” you say as she turns in your arms, ready to walk you over to her bed and worship your chest with her mouth.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

Sevika likes to feel them rub against yours as she fucks you nice and deep. She thrusts her hips, grinding her cock inside you. You'd been begging for her to get the strap and fuck you, and now that she's inside, you're a drooling mess. She's completely covering you, pressing her muscular body on top of yours. The way your sensitive nipples rub against her chest as she rocks against you makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. Skin-on-skin contact is Sevika's weakness.

Sevika has a very short list of things that get her going, and your tits are top of that list.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

After a rough fight, Vi will find an empty room, back you up against the wall and let out all her pent-up energy on your tits. She loves to leave marks, decorating your chest with hickies and bite marks. She's enthusiastic, letting her actions tell you how she feels. She's desperate with how her tongue drags along your skin, and her teeth sink in. Her mouth is too occupied to speak, but you can hear the curses she grits out between biting and sucking on your precious skin. She's also a proud woman, and knowing you have her marks on you fuels her to do more. Your boobs are the perfect destresser for her.

“Fuck, look at you”, she growls, admiring her dirty work. “Always so fucking pretty.”

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Thank you so much for requesting, I'm so abnormal about the arcane ladies, I need to write more for them. I hope you enjoyed!!

[anticipatedexhale]

Jealousy jealousy~~

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

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

☆ ◞ summary: when they get jealous at someone trying to make a move at you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. Fluff kinda angst idk

Jayce Talis.

The night had started out normal enough. A quick stop at a Piltover lounge, a few drinks, good company—it was supposed to be relaxing. Jayce had been looking forward to it all week, especially since he finally got to spend time with you outside of work.

And then he showed up.

Some random, smooth-talking socialite, flashing a charming smile and leaning just a little too close to you at the bar. Jayce had been mid-sip of his drink when he first noticed it—the way the guy’s hand subtly brushed against yours as he laughed at something you said.

Jayce didn’t consider himself a jealous person. He really didn’t.

But he also didn’t like the way this guy was looking at you.

At first, he tried to play it cool, sipping his drink, pretending not to pay attention. You were perfectly capable of handling yourself, and it wasn’t like Jayce had any claim over you.

Except… maybe he wanted one.

His grip tightened around his glass as he watched the guy lean in again, this time saying something low and smooth. You chuckled—polite, but dismissive. Jayce knew that laugh. It was the one you used when you were humoring someone you had zero interest in.

Still, the guy wasn’t getting the message.

Alright. That was enough.

Jayce pushed off his seat and strode toward you, placing a casual—but firm—hand on your lower back as he slid beside you. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, his voice deliberately warm. “Sorry I took so long. Did I miss anything?”

You blinked up at him, immediately catching on. “Oh, not much. Just some small talk.”

The guy’s smile faltered slightly as he glanced between you and Jayce. “And you are…?”

Jayce grinned, though there was something unmistakably sharp beneath it. “Jayce Talis.” He extended his hand, his grip just a little too firm when the guy shook it. “And you?”

The guy shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, just a friend.”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Oh, just a friend?” His hand on your back subtly pulled you a fraction closer. “That’s funny. See, I thought you were hitting on my partner.”

You choked slightly, eyes widening as Jayce looked at the guy with a perfectly polite expression—like he hadn’t just dropped that word so casually.

The guy’s confidence wavered, and he let out an awkward chuckle. “Oh, no offense, man. Didn’t realize.”

Jayce’s smile stayed in place, but his eyes gleamed with something dangerously smug. “Yeah? You do now.”

The guy mumbled some excuse and quickly retreated, disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Jayce with an amused smirk. “Partner, huh?”

Jayce coughed into his drink. “I panicked.”

You raised a brow. “Seemed pretty smooth for a panic move.”

“…Okay, maybe not panicked exactly.” He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You tilted your head, enjoying watching him squirm. “Jealous?”

Jayce scoffed. “What? Me? Nooo.” Then, after a pause, he sighed, rubbing his face. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You grinned, reaching up to straighten the lapel of his coat. “You’re cute when you get possessive.”

Jayce groaned. “Great. Now you’re never gonna let me live this down, huh?”

“Nope.”

But even as you teased him, Jayce couldn’t help the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. Because you were still here—with him. And that’s all that really mattered.

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Mel Medarda.

Mel Medarda was not the type to get jealous.

She was confident, poised, and completely in control at all times. If someone wanted to flirt with you in front of her, well—let them. She knew where you would be going home at the end of the night.

That being said… she did have her limits.

The evening had been going smoothly—an elegant Piltover gala, golden lights reflecting off the crystal chandeliers, the air buzzing with soft music and hushed conversations. You had accompanied Mel as her guest, and while she was busy entertaining council members and diplomats, you had wandered to the refreshment table.

That’s when he appeared.

Some overly ambitious noble, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He was all charm and slick words, flashing you a practiced smile as he poured you a glass of wine, his hand lingering a bit too long as he passed it to you.

Mel had been watching from across the room, her expression unreadable as she sipped her champagne.

She gave him a chance. One.

And then she saw it—the way his fingers barely grazed your wrist as he leaned in, whispering something undoubtedly bold.

Mel hummed, swirling her glass lightly before making her move.

With effortless grace, she glided through the room, her golden gown shimmering under the chandeliers. By the time she reached you, her presence was undeniable—the noble stiffened slightly as she placed a hand lightly on your arm, her touch as soft as silk.

"Darling," she purred, her voice smooth as honey, "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

Your eyes flickered with amusement as you caught the subtle edge beneath her words. You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or nervous for the poor fool beside you.

The noble, to his credit, tried to play it cool. "Ah, Councilor Medarda. I was just getting to know your lovely companion."

Mel smiled—slow, dangerous. "Were you?"

There was no sharpness in her tone, no outright hostility. And yet, the noble swallowed thickly, suddenly aware that he had overstepped.

She turned to you, her fingers trailing lightly down your wrist before intertwining with yours. "I do hope they haven't been bothering you," she mused, brushing a stray hair from your face as if the two of you were the only ones in the room.

You smirked. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Mel let out a soft, knowing hum. "Of course not." Then, without another glance at the noble, she gently tugged you away, her grip light yet undeniable.

As you walked off together, you leaned in slightly. "You know, I think you scared him."

Mel arched a brow, amusement dancing in her golden eyes. "Good. He was getting on my nerves."

You chuckled. "Jealous?"

Mel merely smiled, raising your hand to her lips and pressing the softest kiss to your knuckles. "Jealousy is such a petty thing."

But the way her fingers tightened slightly around yours told a different story.

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Viktor.

Viktor didn’t get jealous—or at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself.

He was logical, rational. Petty emotions like envy were for people who had time to waste. He had work to do—innovations to create, problems to solve.

And yet.

He had been going over blueprints at your shared worktable in the lab, completely immersed in his notes, when he heard it—someone else’s laughter mixed with yours.

His pen stopped mid-scratch.

Looking up, he found you standing by the doorway, engaged in a conversation with some bright-eyed researcher. They were laughing, gesturing animatedly, clearly trying to impress you. And what was worse? You were actually smiling at them.

Viktor felt a twinge in his chest, something unpleasant curling in his gut. He frowned, tapping his pen against the desk. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But then the researcher leaned in just a little too close, and Viktor’s patience snapped like a frayed wire.

He pushed himself up with his cane, making his way toward you at an unhurried pace. The clack of his cane against the floor was rhythmic, steady—an unmistakable presence approaching.

The researcher caught sight of him and faltered slightly. “Oh—Viktor! I was just talking to—”

“Yes, I noticed.” Viktor’s tone was light, almost pleasant, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it. His golden eyes flickered between you and the researcher before landing on you entirely, his focus unwavering. “You’ve been gone quite a while. I was beginning to wonder if I had lost my most valuable assistant.”

You raised a brow at his pointed wording, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Didn’t realize you were keeping track of my time, Vik.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, his gaze assessing. “I keep track of all important things.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks at the way he said it—so matter-of-fact, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The researcher, now clearly uncomfortable, cleared their throat. “Well, I should—um—get back to work.” And with that, they all but scurried away.

The moment they were gone, you turned to Viktor, arms crossed. “That was subtle.”

Viktor sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Ah, my deepest apologies. I had no idea my mere presence would cause such a reaction.”

You chuckled. “So, are you going to admit you were jealous, or should I just assume?”

Viktor scoffed, but there was the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “Jealousy is irrational. I was simply…” He searched for the right words, tapping his cane idly against the floor. “…reminding them of their place.”

You grinned. “And my place is?”

Viktor leaned in slightly, his voice lower, softer. “Right here. With me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

For someone who claimed not to get jealous, he certainly had a way of making it very clear.

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Caitlyn.

Caitlyn Kiramman was not the type to get openly jealous. She prided herself on her composure, her ability to remain level-headed even in high-pressure situations.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t feel it.

You had been at a local café in Piltover, waiting for Caitlyn to finish up her rounds so the two of you could grab lunch together. While you were minding your own business, some overconfident merchant had slid into the seat across from you, flashing you a way too eager grin.

Caitlyn spotted it the moment she stepped onto the street.

At first, she hesitated, watching from a short distance. She wanted to trust you to handle it—but then the merchant leaned in, their hand brushing against yours on the table, and Caitlyn felt a prickle of irritation rise in her chest.

Alright. That was enough.

With long, purposeful strides, she approached the table, her blue eyes cool and calculating. “Excuse me,” she said smoothly, her voice polite but firm.

Both you and the merchant turned toward her. You instantly perked up. “Cait! There you are.”

The merchant, however, didn’t seem to take the hint. “Ah, and who might you be?”

Caitlyn’s smile was razor-sharp as she placed a gloved hand on the back of your chair, her presence undeniable. “Captain Caitlyn Kiramman of the Piltover Enforcers,” she replied smoothly. “And the person they’ve been waiting for.”

That got the merchant to stiffen slightly. “Oh—my apologies, I didn’t realize…”

Caitlyn arched a brow. “Didn’t realize what? That they were already spoken for?” She leaned in slightly, tilting her head. “Or that you were wasting your time?”

The merchant let out an awkward chuckle, making some excuse before quickly retreating.

Once they were gone, you turned to Caitlyn with an amused smirk. “That was almost scary.”

Caitlyn huffed, finally slipping into the seat across from you. “I simply dislike people who overstep boundaries.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Caitlyn scoffed, lifting her tea to her lips. “I have nothing to be jealous of.”

“Really?” You grinned. “Because that looked a lot like jealousy.”

Caitlyn gave you an unimpressed look, but the faint pink at the tips of her ears gave her away.

You chuckled, reaching across the table to brush your fingers against hers. “You could’ve just told them I was yours, you know.”

Caitlyn exhaled softly, her expression finally softening. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

Your heart fluttered at the undeniable certainty in her voice.

Because, jealous or not—she knew exactly where you belonged.

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Vi.

Vi wasn’t the type to subtly get jealous. If she was annoyed, you knew it.

And right now? She was definitely annoyed.

You were both at Jericho’s bar, just grabbing drinks and unwinding after a long week. Vi had left your side for two minutes—just to talk to the bartender about another round—when she turned back and saw some cocky Zaunite leaning way too close to you.

Her eyes narrowed.

At first, she just watched, arms crossed, observing how the guy was grinning at you, clearly testing his luck. He was laying it on thick, too, his hand resting on the bar near yours, body language screaming overconfidence.

Vi cracked her knuckles.

Taking her time, she sauntered back over, sliding onto the stool beside you and draping an arm over your shoulders in one smooth motion. “Hey, babe,” she said casually, ignoring the guy entirely as she leaned in, pressing a kiss against your temple.

You blinked up at her, amused. “Vi?”

She hummed, finally turning her attention to the guy. “And who are you?”

The man, now clearly realizing who he had just been flirting with, hesitated. “Uh—just talking to your friend here.”

Vi’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly. “Yeah? Looked like you were talking to my partner.” Her voice was deceptively light, but there was an unmistakable warning beneath it.

The guy held his hands up, chuckling nervously. “Didn’t know they were taken.”

Vi arched a brow. “Well, you do now.”

The guy muttered a quick apology and made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowd.

Once he was gone, you smirked, tilting your head toward Vi. “That was subtle.”

Vi scoffed, picking up her drink. “Please. If I really wanted to make a scene, he wouldn’t have walked out of here with both legs working.”

You chuckled, leaning against her. “So… jealous?”

Vi huffed, taking a sip of her drink before muttering, “Whatever.”

You grinned, nudging her side. “You so were.”

Vi sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Alright, fine. Maybe a little. But can you blame me?” She leaned in, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip. “You are kinda irresistible.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and Vi grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

“Now,” she said, finishing her drink, “how about we really make it obvious who you belong to?”

The playful challenge in her voice sent a shiver down your spine.

Yeah. Vi might not do subtle jealousy—but you weren’t complaining.

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Jinx.

Jinx wasn’t just jealous—she was possessive.

She didn’t do subtle. If someone was getting too close to you, you bet she was gonna make a scene about it.

It started when the two of you were wandering around Zaun, just minding your business when some overly confident guy swaggered up to you, flashing a grin that instantly irritated Jinx.

She didn’t immediately do anything, though. No, she wanted to see just how far this guy would push his luck. So she crossed her arms, leaned against a nearby crate, and watched.

And, oh boy, was this guy an idiot.

“Didn’t think I’d run into someone as good-looking as you in a place like this,” he purred, clearly thinking he was smooth.

Jinx’s fingers twitched.

You, clearly aware of the tension building beside you, gave an awkward chuckle. “Uh, thanks?”

The guy actually reached out, fingers just about to brush against your arm—

—and then BANG.

A single gunshot blasted the air, a bullet embedding itself right next to the guy’s hand on the wall.

You didn’t even flinch. But the guy? He jumped, whirling around to see Jinx casually twirling Fishbones in her hands, a manic grin stretched across her face.

“Oops,” she sing-songed, rocking on her heels. “My hand slipped.”

The guy paled. “What the hell—”

Jinx tilted her head. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. Go on. Keep flirting. See what happens.”

He took one look at the absolute delight in her eyes—at how she was clearly enjoying this—and bolted.

Jinx cackled as he disappeared down the alley. “Coward!”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Jinx, really?”

She huffed, marching up to you and slinging an arm around your shoulders. “What? You’d rather I let that slimeball run his mouth?”

“I could’ve handled it,” you teased, leaning into her.

Jinx squinted at you, poking your cheek. “Yeah, yeah. But I wanted to handle it.”

You smirked. “Jealous?”

Jinx gasped dramatically. “Me? Jealous?” She clutched her chest. “Pffft, please. I just really like scaring people.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Mhm, sure.”

Jinx pouted before pulling you into a sudden, tight hug, her voice muffled against your neck. “Mine,” she mumbled.

Your heart skipped

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Sevika.

So when she saw some cocky guy chatting you up at the bar—leaning a little too close, looking a little too comfortable—she didn’t immediately react. She just leaned back in her seat, swirling her drink, watching.

Jealousy was for insecure people. For weak people. She was neither.

You weren’t encouraging it, but you were being polite, nodding along as the guy kept talking. That annoyed her.

He was still talking? Still standing there?

Sevika sighed, rolling her shoulders before finally deciding she had enough.

She pushed off the bar with her metal arm, the heavy clank of it hitting the counter making the guy flinch before she even reached you.

“Hey,” she drawled as she slid up behind you, pressing just close enough to make a statement. Her voice was casual, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Didn’t realize we were making new friends tonight.”

The guy blinked, looking up at her—then immediately went pale when he realized who she was.

Sevika tilted her head, taking a slow drag of her cigar. “Something wrong?”

The guy took one last look at her—the sharp set of her jaw, the glow of her mechanical arm, the way she was clearly daring him to keep talking—before quickly muttering something about needing to be somewhere else and scurrying off.

Sevika exhaled a slow stream of smoke before looking down at you. “You just let anyone talk to you, huh?”

You smirked, leaning against the bar. “You jealous?”

She scoffed. “Please.”

You raised a brow. “Mhm. So you just casually felt like intimidating some random guy for no reason?”

Sevika rolled her eyes, taking another slow sip of her drink. “I don’t like interruptions.”

You chuckled, nudging her. “Right. Definitely not jealousy.”

She sighed, shaking her head before resting her metal arm against the bar beside you, effectively boxing you in. She leaned down just slightly, her voice lower now.

“You wanna test me?”

Your breath hitched.

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Thought so.”

She didn’t say she was jealous.

But the way she made it very clear who you belonged to? Yeah. That said enough.

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Ekko.

Ekko wasn’t the type to immediately get jealous. He was pretty secure in himself and in your relationship. But that didn’t mean he was oblivious.

So when some guy at the Last Drop started flirting with you, he didn’t overreact. At first.

He had been talking to some of the Firelights, keeping an eye on you from across the room, when he noticed the guy leaning in a little too close. At first, Ekko just sighed, shaking his head. He figured you’d shut it down.

But then the guy touched your arm.

And suddenly, Ekko wasn’t feeling so chill anymore.

Taking a slow breath, he rolled his shoulders before pushing off the wall, walking toward you with the effortless confidence that only he could pull off.

The guy was still chatting you up, completely unaware as Ekko slid in behind you, looping an arm around your waist before leaning close, his lips brushing your ear.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You blinked in surprise, glancing up at him. “Ekko?”

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before looking at the guy in front of you. His usual laid-back demeanor was still there, but there was a new sharpness in his gaze.

“Who’s your friend?” Ekko asked, his voice smooth but unmistakably pointed.

The guy hesitated, clearly unsure how to react. “Uh, just—just talking.”

Ekko hummed, tilting his head. “Yeah? Funny, ‘cause my partner doesn’t really need company.”

The guy opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly second-guessing whether it was worth pushing his luck.

Ekko smirked, his grip on your waist just barely tightening. “You good, man? ‘Cause you’re looking a little nervous.”

The guy quickly muttered something about needing to leave and disappeared into the crowd.

Ekko exhaled through his nose, watching until the guy was definitely gone before turning back to you.

You crossed your arms, amused. “Jealous?”

He scoffed. “Me? Nah. Just don’t like watching idiots waste your time.”

You smirked, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Mhm. Sure.”

Ekko sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s cute.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

[yrlocalwerewolf]

mel medarda x reader hcs ! ✩ (MEN DNI.)

ough. this woman is always covered in gold. no matter what she's wearing it's got to be gold. gold pajamas, gold embrodered shirts, whatever.

dates are really special to her. she loves going out for dinner with you, or a movie or something. mel loves to dress up for them.

she spoils you but more in moderation. she's never been an overspender, and she'd rather give you money for you to buy your own stuff instead of buying it for you.

but she will go above and beyond anytime there's an event. your birthday? you're getting a huge party and breakfast in bed and maybe a nice lunch. if you don't something and tell her about it, she apologizes over and over again and swears she won't do it again.

her gifts are always good. books, new games, whatever. she has a little list that she uses to keep track of everything you say you want/like. your favorite colours blue? noted.

she's never really wanted a pet, maybe a sphinx cat, but she might entertain the idea if you ask.

acts of services !! she loves when you take time out of your day to do stuff for her, no matter how small.

this woman uses up all the warm water. either you get up before six to have a hot shower, or you're stuck waiting until it heats up again.

she spends hours a day getting ready. you have to remind her several times when she's doing her makeup that she can do it in the car.

passenger princess. can't drive for the life of her. she'll just get a taxi for the two of you if you, also, cannot drive.

she has been through one too many situationships with women. she's the type of girl to make out with you for an hour and then ask what you two were after.

she says 'i love you' at least ten times a day to you. she jokes that if she doesn't do that, then she's been replaced with an imposter.

her mother's death weighed heavily on her. ambessa wasn't the perfect mother by any means, but she was her mother. and that had to count for something.

it wasn't easy to get mel to open up to you at first, especially after the final battle and that act on the council. she was really closed off and hardly talked. she felt responisble for a lot of things (the people in the council dying, caitlyn losing her eye ect.) and you had to work really hard to convince her otherwise.

mel is heads over heels for you. always hugging you each night before she sleeps and burying her face in your neck.

[jittersbitters]

The Long Game pt.2 [Cautious]

{Viktor from Arcane Smut Story}

Warnings: smut, light dom!vik, jealousy, fingering, oral (female receiving), more exhibitionism, AFAB reader, Arcane + IRL accurate Politics, it a bit long, mentions of praise, choking kink if you REAAALLY squint, Salo being an asshole

Word count: 7.7K (40-60min read time)

Story plot: A holistic healer from NW Shurima works privately for Councilmen Hoskel as a sort of assistant. Viktor and her meet years before the events of Arcane and have an up-down relationship that takes shape over the course of many years. Starting all the way back in their academy years, first knowing each other as respective transcribers for their council mentor/patrons during meetings. Maybe they should have stayed in that room?

Chapter Summary: After a turbulent meeting with your boss you are forced to go to a holiday celebration at the Kirammen's. Having low, boring expectations for your night till Viktor's unexpected presence crashes you're suffocating political agenda and that of the aristocrats around you. Just when tension mounts and uncertainties seem to linger, a heated moment on a balcony has the academy assistant pulling you into the garden for a new level of risk.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | • Viktor Masterlist •

Authors Note: Sorry for taking longer than I said to get this out. I passed out writing and went to the hospital for dehydration and other chronic issues I aggravated over this last semester. I'm fine now and got released for Yule/Christmas day. It's not technically a holiday fic but it has the elements for it. It long again but I had nother else todo in the hospital and I couldn't post with their shitty internet.

MDNI NSFW below cut (Farther below)

“Councilman?” I knocked on the door, popping my head in with a quick look around the room. Large imported furniture and crystal edged windows that made light flit across the room — why couldn’t these windows be in the rest of the house again? “I finished rewriting the notes from the last meeting.”  

“Hmm.” He waved me in with a boney hand, glancing up just quick enough from his mess of papers to check if I shut the door behind me. I eyed him as I came to stand in front of his desk; the tension in his brow deepening as he squinted at his notes, his hand trembling slightly as he rubbed his eyes. I noted the number of lines he had struck out, effectively rendering that page useless. His eyesight was starting to go; I’d have to add it to the list of ailments to tend to— or attempt to.  

I threw a crumpled piece of paper that had rolled away into the trash can, offering him a soft smile. “Don’t worry about organizing the trade deals. My father had me handling his for years, so I’m certain I can craft somethi—”  

“Craft?” His laugh was coarse, filled with a familiar malic. He regarded my business acumen as little more than a joke in comparison to what my healing skills could do. “You genuinely believe I would allow you to draft such important documents? With that pitiful excuse for business jargon you just spat, I’m questioning whether I should even let you deliver them!” I visibly flinched as his snotty, blended gravel of a laugh filled my ears and making my stomach turn inside out.  

I flinched at the weight in his sardonic laughter, a sound both grating and belittling that echoed in my ears, squeezing my insides. How could I have allowed my empathy to blind me, even momentarily, to the repugnant shell-like cockroach of a man he truly was?  

Sadly... he had financed my journey here, provided a roof over my head in Piltover—a debt I could not easily shaken off without my parent’s coin purse. My parents wouldn’t risk their own money; paying Hoskel back might ‘demotivate’ me and endanger our diplomatic efforts.  

Their words, not mine. 

Unable to quit but him equally unable to fire me, I expressed my displeasure by slamming the notes onto his desk with a glare. He raised his arms like I had attempted to hit him, face mixing with disbelief and anger as he watched me take long strides out of the room. “You belligerent—!”  

I slammed the door behind me, hands clawing at the neckline of my dress, feeling the fabric constrict like the atmosphere in this suffocating place. I had to remind myself to breathe. 

~~<3~~ 

The Kirammen house looked gorgeous in the light of the setting sun. The building’s blue and off-white colors blended beautifully with the setting sun. A breeze gently swaying the bare trees tops and fluttering the ladies' dresses. I pulled my fur shawl tighter around my shoulders, feeling a shiver creep down my spine. My dress cut far to low for this weather, material cold against my skin as it shimmered in the dying light. It was not built for winter; I was not built for winter. 

“Cassandra is eager to see you tonight,” Hoskel said, gently rubbing my hand as he linked our arms to lead me through the doors to escape the evenings chill. 

We were attending yet another gathering for Piltover’s social class; a stuffy event just for indulging in the exotic food and drink from their stores during a sudden snow-freeweek. Loose lips made for the best business deals. Unfortunate for me, Hoskel had brought me as an accessory, an attraction he intended to parade around to facilitate prospective deals. The conversations typically stretched on forever, dull and monotonous; Noxus in summer seemed better, frankly.  

 “May I?”  A servant helped me slip out of my fur before disappearing to hang. The house was grand on its own, though I still couldn’t help but admire the evening’s decor—pearl chains and satin draped with velvet bows hanging beautifully throughout the space. Evergreen garland and red berries stung with gold thread. The flickering glow from the countless candles pulled me into the warmth of its ambiance, nearly distracting me from the pair of molten eyes observing me from across the room.    

There is no way... 

My reaction upon spotting Viktor wasn’t subtle, but I made no effort to disguise it. A complex smile tugged at my lips, my heart fluttering in my chest. Viktor had never graced any of these gatherings before, and Heimerdinger was only slightly more inclined to socialize, once every couple of months. For both to attend... 

Viktor was up to something... 

He looked good, too. Suspiciously good.  

But I wasn’t complaining... 

Leaning casually into his cane as he stood with a group of fellow academics alongside Heimerdinger. He had traded his Academy uniform for a sharp wine-red shirt and a fitted black dress jacket. He had preened; it was obvious. From the shine of his shoes and the polished metal of his cane.  

A wave of embarrassment rushed through me as I watched his thumbs absent-mindedly stroke the handle, remembering. I haven’t been able to get the feeling, the ghost of his fingers, out of my mind the last couple of days. I had to catch myself from ‘slipping up’, letting my mind wander to far during the day. Then at night it seemed to be the opposite, unable to finish what he started as my body wasn’t satisfied by my own hand.  

The gold cord of my dress suddenly felt heavier against my neck as he caught where my stare lingered. Rolling his lips to suppress a smile as he gave me a small bounce of his brow, seemingly pleased as he looked at my appearance. 

I had never cared about anyone's approval, but his made my cheeks warm with shyness.      

“My lovely sage,” Cassandra Kiramman glided over, her arms open wide. Her dress was perfectly tailored to match the evening’s decor, resembling a pearl on a silver necklace. Her welcoming hug pulled me away from my distraction in the form of a brunette scientist. “Piltover seems to be treating you well!”    

“My sage, Councilwoman,” Hoskel interjected quickly, watching our embrace with a scowl as his opposing chairwoman shot him a reproachful glare over my shoulder.    

“Calm down, Tormund,” Tobias slid between us as his wife released me, much to Hoskel’s annoyance. “Your sour demeanor might just chase her away.” He wrapped an arm around me briefly, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Just let us know if he becomes too much. Our patron from midtown is always keen to discuss sun-stones.”    

“While he can be a bit blunt, Hoskel has been quite the gracious host these last few months,” I replied, glancing at Hoskel to let him know my words were meant for him as much as for the Kirammans.    

“How... unusual for him,” Cassandra eye the short man, clearly aware of Hoskel’s nature, before masking her suspicion with a smile. “You must join us for tea sometime; Caitlyn has been eager to showcase her marksmanship achievements,” She squeezed my arm before linking with Tobias.    

Tobias shot Hoskel a pointed look. “Give the girl a break, councilman. From what I heard about the last meeting, she certainly deserves it.” He turned to me, smiling warmly. “Always a pleasure, dear. Do make time for a visit.”    

Hoskel grumbled subtly under his breath as we watched them slip into the crowd of arriving guests. He grasped my arm tightly, drawing my attention to him. “Don’t wander off,” he warned, almost threatened. I watched him walk away, scoffing as he went straight for shady merchants and traders. Never a man to change.  

Seeing an opening in my night, I turned back to where Viktor once was and found nothing. He had seemingly vanished form thin air, leaving behind a conversation that reflected the same. I tried to move through the crow, looking around for him in the sea of bodies. My irritation starting to bristle the longer I looked, severely needing a drink.  

“Excuse me.” I tried to call for a server, huffing when a group to monopolize his tray. I turned for another one, following after another server as tried to wave for his attention without attracting everyone's around me. They only seemed to turn their back from me, “May I—” 

“Two glasses.” That familiar drawl cut in beside me. My blush from before coming back to my cheeks as Viktor stood there, hand coming up to gently brushing my up my back as he leaned closer. Body carefully hovering around mine as his other arm reached around to take the glasses from the server’s tray. “Thank you.”  

“Viktor.” I breathed, finding my words trying to hide in my throat as my heart jumped up to meet them. I took my drink from him, holding it awkwardly in both hands so I wouldn’t drop it “I —I didn’t expect to see you here.”   

“Mm. Was not my original plan for my night.” His smile warmed me from the inside out even as his fingers brushed the collum of my spin softly, curling to first graze his knuckles before splaying to take up as much space as possible. He was bolder, I had given him an inch and he was determined to take a mile.  

“That make’s two of us.” I spoke into my drink, trying to hide in my drink as his fingers made the muscles of my back shutter underneath them.  

“Are you not enjoying?” he asked, and I could sense a hint of hope hiding beneath his casual words. I hesitated, noticing his untamed eagerness running wild in his eyes as he watched my expression for any advantage.  

“...I’m mostly here out of obligation.” I confided, glancing at Hoskel smoozing. I sucked my teeth before turning into victor more, any reservations I had about ‘wander’ vanishing as I felt peeved by him- still sour with our earlier fight. “I’d rather be bundling or reading, but I won’t turn down the free food and drinks... or company” I took a sip from my glass, reveling in the sweet taste.     

He hummed, smiling into his own as he took a swallow to find his words. “We are... much alike, it seems.” He whispered into the edge of his glass before taking another quick drink.  

“Are you here just for the food?” I teased, pressing farther as I saw my own advantage. 

 “Perhaps,” he mused, before adding with a hushed tone, “perhaps not.” a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth as he spoke low in my ear like we were sharing a secret. I suppose we were, but he didn’t have to make it so obvious. “I can’t say my presence here is entirely selfless.” I returned to my drink, finding it nearly empty and my mouth still parched, as his eyes bore into mine. Conveying a multitude of thoughts and intentions that were unspeakable, less they be heard by unwanted ears.     

“You're quite the uncautious man.” I licked my lips as I swaying slightly. I turned to watch the room instead as I faltered under his gaze, his alone like a thousand pairs observing every little twitch my lips made and breath I took.  

The atmosphere thickened as the night wore on, guests gravitating toward the food table we stood in front of as new arrivals flowed in. With the added closeness, he was forced to move closer. His eyes traced a path along my neck and shoulder, tracing the cording wrapping my neck and the hang of my spiral earrings dangling from my lobe, watching how it brushed my shoulder every time I took a deeper breath.  

“In.” His thumb started to stroke between my shoulder blades as his breath fanned the side of my face, voice a low thrum in my ear. 

My breath hitched as I felt myself gravitate toward him, eyeing him from the corners of my vision. My heart starting to make its nervous ascent up my throat again. “What?” 

“It’s incautious.” His corrected with a self-satisfied smile, delighting in my surprise as his hand shifted up to thumb at the cord wrapping around my neck to hold up the front of my dress. He played with it, running the finger along the stack, his hand resting at the base of my neck. Holding me gently as he guided me away from the increasingly crowded table, deliberately closing any lingering distance between us as our sides came together. “How do you say…” We were so close he only needed to murmur, “The student becomes the master.”  

A rush of heat coursed through me, breath hitching in my throat. The cord around my neck felt suddenly too tight, and I weakly pulled with it in search of relief. 

His thumb slid under the cords in response, relieving some of the pressure from the back. Simultaneously, pulling them into my throat, the contrast made my insides twist and flutter. Did he know just what he was doing? 

“Viktor—" 

“Ah! Just the woman I was looking for.” I stood there, mired in thoughts about Viktor’s intentions when Salo’s honeyed voice cut through the ambient chatter of the party. “The talented apothecary Hoskel insists on keeping all to himself!” the councilman approached with a mockingly congenial smile. Even his simplest words felt more like insults, his eyes glinting with condescension. “You’re making quite a name for yourself in my assistant's circles. Even Medarda’s girl is asking about you. Well done.”    

I had to blink before I was able to force a polite smile, despite the flutter in my stomach quickly turning to annoyance. “Thank you, Councilman Salo. I do my best to serve who I can in need.” I felt Viktor’s irritation souring the air already as he glowered at Salo, hand not curling against my back now starting to grip his cane tighter. 

“Hmph, then perhaps this is the perfect moment to discuss your relationship with the council.” He slinked closer, cutting into my previous conversation with Viktor and trying to steal my attention like a vulture. “With your... herbal remedies, you could become a valuable asset.” His voice dripped with feigned admiration, his gaze flickering toward Viktor as if urging him to leave us.   

Before I could respond, Salo’s hand settled at the base of my back, where my dress hung low with loose fabric. My heart raced with discomfort. I instinctively arched away, only to feel his hand follow. Each brush of his fingers intensified my urge to disappear into the ornate wallpaper. Salo had the kind of connections that could shift the city’s dynamics, while I was merely a healer in Hoskel’s service. This position left me with little choice; despite every fiber of my being screaming at me to move away, I held still.    

Salo had never been this friendly with me, but he had a reputation for being opportunistic. I wondered how long it would take for the rumors of Hoskel’s deteriorating health to reach his ears, validating the others about Salo eyeing his resources for a takeover, and I guess that included me.  

Viktor stood a few paces behind me, tension radiating from him as he sized up the situation. I hoped he would let me handle this on my own; any bad reaction to Salo could jeopardize my reputation, and by extension my patron’s. Our fragile partnership wouldn’t survive a public argument with his biggest rival.     

“Think about how much the council could benefit from your knowledge, especially with a favorable recommendation regarding your parents—” Salo continued, oblivious to my discomfort. He began to guide me away from Viktor, toward his group of colleagues and traders to talk with. Hand incessantly pressing into the small of my back, uncaring. “—you could assist with—”     

Viktor stepped forward to stop us, his expression rigid as he glanced between us. “I believe the lady is busy, Councilman,” 

He just had to say something. My knight in shining fucking armor. It would be endearingly cute, if it wasn’t ill timed. 

“Oh! Heimerdinger’s undercity assistant!” Salo face flickered as turned to Viktor, a sourness to his tone even as he tried to hide it.” I did not expect either of you here. So many interesting personalities in attendance it seems.” 

I tried not to scoff at the unabashed classism; the Piltover-Zaun political climate was not lost on the surrounding Shumira cities, and it seemed to be as much of a game to Salo as my discomfort was. “Councilmen Salo, I think—” 

“Not that I’d expect you to see potential—beyond just scrap metal,” Salo interrupted, talking over me because I suddenly didn’t matter now that his authority was being challenged. Ugh, men.” you must see something of use, of course. Why else would you concern yourself?” The audacity of him, fixing his gaze on Viktor’s cane and his injured leg, as if he relished the chance to undermine him further. I could see Viktor's jaw clench, his eyes momentarily darting away, a subtle but telling sign that the jabs, however veiled, had hit their mark. “Just think about what she could bring to the council—her help with medicinal initiatives and valuable insights.”    

I leaned away from Salo with shooting brows, my tone slightly raised in shock and indignation. I wanted connections, not backhanded compliments at the expense of others. “Councilmen, that is not— 

Viktor’s hand found its way to my back, and my hiccup, combined with the warmth of his touch between my shoulder blades, caused me to stumble over my words. “The lady has other commitments,” he declared, pointing a challenging gaze at Salo that warned him to back off. His fingers firmly gasping at my skin, attempting to press me closer to him, each movement revealing the simmering anger beneath his composed exterior. Despite my embarrassment at my back became their battle ground, I couldn't help but appreciate Viktor’s defense. “It would be rude to keep her from them, don’t you think?” 

Frustration flickered in his eyes; he was losing. “Relax, we’re just having a friendly conversation,” Salo tried to hum, his condescension clear — he was used to charm working in his favor. “Isn’t that right, my dear?” He turned to look at me, pressing his fingers into my lower back, copying Viktor but he was daring me to disagree.    

Oh, now they were letting me talk? How kind.  

Swallowing hard, I bit back venom and fear, and I forced a tight smile. “Quite... However,” I struggled to keep my voice steady with the unease in my stomach, “I really should get back to my rounds.” I shifted into Viktor as his glare burned through the air around is, boiling as Salo’s smile returned, trying to grab at the last bit of dominance I just threw him. It all left a bitter taste in my mouth I wasn’t going to be rid of anytime soon.   

“I’ll escort you,” Viktor shut down any farther attempts from Salo, tugging me to his side. The blond scoffed, realizing he had lost and bowing out gracefully. Finally withdrawing his hand. “If you’ll excuse us, Councilman,” Viktor lowered his head mockingly, I copied clumsily, before guiding me with a little push, leaving no room for protest.    

“An interesting evening ahead, isn’t it?” Salo called, dripping irritation as he stepped back, the amusement fading from his face as he watched our hasty exit.    

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My heart no longer strangling itself in my throat. “Thank you—”    

“Come,” Viktor hissed into my ear, voice low. He continues to slide his hand down, leading me through the crowd, absorbed in his own churning thoughts and seemingly oblivious to how we appeared to others. He halted at the dip; jealousy evident. He allowed himself to cast one last glare over his shoulder as he let out a quiet tsk, thinking I wouldn’t catch him. But I did.  

I caught the way his fingers slid across the collum of my spine while holding open the garden’s balcony door. I noticed how he was taking up the same spot where Salo’s hand lingered; however, unlike tentative touch Viktor greeted me with before, this was unmistakably more aggressive.    

Once outside, the crisp night air enveloped us, washing away the stuffiness of the gathering and the tension from the exchange. It allowed my chest to finally expand fully, allowing me to feel lighter as I found my way to the balcony’s edge. The moon bathed the carefully manicured hedges in a silvery glow, and the intoxicating scent of blooming jasmine drifted around us.  The cool night sent a grounding shiver through my body, helping to steady my rapid heartbeat.  

I felt his hand brush over my shoulders as he followed to stand next to me. “Are you —” 

“You can’t bait Salo like that,” I interrupted this time as pushing his hand away and turning back toward him. Rationality flooding back, hindsight being unfairly 20/20. Seeing the damage we could have caused to my future here. I took a calming breath to stead any hostility that leaked into my voice; I wasn’t angry, I was scared. “Your words were sharp—almost reckless. Don’t you care how it reflects on me—or even Heimerdinger?”   

“Reckless,” He scoffed, not getting my point. “Heimerdinger will survive.” I tsked at his answer, looking away as his expression soured at the sound. There was something so genuine that hurt. “You think I should just smile and nod like a simple courtier? I refuse to compromise my integrity!”  

“’A simple courtier’?” My head felt like a swivel as it snapped back to him, gawking at him for a moment. Hurt sinking as his last word struck a chord.  

He’s too stubborn, but perhaps he had a half a point.  

“I am not... I — “My tongue feeling heavy as forced myself to speak freely to, basically, a stranger. “Salo is... a pompous, self-serving ass. I know he is, Viktor, but integrity holds little value in politics. I can’t screw anything up here. ”   

He hesitated, his voice becoming a weird combination of biting and soft. “His actions were unnecessary. I was merely pushing back.” There it was—a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. Was it jealousy?    

I stepped closer, my own curiosity peaked. 

“What do you mean by ‘pushing back’?” I watched his reactions as I talked, looking for something else. Though, I still had to lecture him, just gentler than I originally intended. “If Salo interprets your comments as an insult, it could backfire on me.” I glided around the balcony, staying with the railing, so there was at least some distance between us even as I stayed in his orbit. “Hoskel could fire me and then...” I shrugged, giving him a coy stare. 

A flicker of regret softened the fierce look in Viktor's eyes. “It’s hard to watch,” he confessed, “After the meeting, I—”, before hesitating, “You’re so familiar with him.”     

“Being familiar with him is part of my job, Viktor.” My heart raced, fighting to maintain composure as I caught his backtracking. Feeling excitement as I played with him for once. “This city isn’t just made from science and formulas; it’s built by perceptions. Salo has the power to manipulate those perceptions. This attitude could lead to...”    

“Don’t you think I understand that?” he snapped, the frustration growing in his tone amplifying something lighter, more vulnerable. “You’re worried about my attitude? What about Salo’s? His hand on your back tonight was completely inappropriate!” 

“So that’s what this is about? You think I don’t know how to handle myself?” The way his eye twitched made me refute the idea before he was able to respond. I could see why he liked watching my reactions, it was like a puzzle and his was growing interesting by the second. “No. You’re reacting this way because you don’t like how he treats me. Specifically.”  

And I was going to crack it. 

“Thats not...” Viktor looked away to find compose; frustration and compunction evident in the way his jaw clenched, staring out into the garden. A breath rattling his bottle, shoulders heaving before he stepped toward me, feeling safe. “His motives seemed questionable; caution... would be best.”    

“Caution?” I challenged, taking the moment as an opportunity to press. With what felt like glee, I tilted my head. Being coy again.  “That’s rich coming from you.” 

 He scoffed, “What does that mean—”   

“Hand on my thigh,” I shot, pushing from the railing to enclosed on him again feeling emboldened as I watched him instinctively backed up. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as I watched one start to tinge his own. “Whispering in my ear to just pay attention,” I jabbed an accusing finger into his chest, feeling the heat radiate between us. “Fingers traveling farther and farther up. Persisting. Inappropriate.”   ��

“That was different!” He seized my elbow, yanking me toe to toe with him as a burning intensity sent a thrill up through me. “Both of us are at fault for what happened.”   

“Fault?” I scoffed; my voice laced with mock hurt even as a bit of truth seeped in. “You... You're the one who fingered me in the middle of a council session!”    

His gaze narrowed as warmth flushed fully consumed his cheeks, a spark of defiance igniting in him at my exclamation. He started to back me up, countering my attempt to corner him to the window with his own. “Did you not enjoy it...”    

“Excuse me?” I tried to retreat, only to feel my escape blocked by the railing I once sought comfort in, his body soon to follow as he boxed me in.   

“Did you not,” his head dipped as his hand came to rest against the edge of the stone as he left his cane next to us, “enjoy my fingers buried inside you?” His gaze bore into mine with an intensity that crackled the air between us with an intoxicating mix of confrontation and undeniable attraction.   

I couldn’t breathe. 

“Viktor —”   

Viktor leaned in closer, his voice playful yet laced with an intensity that sent a thrill through me. "Did. You. Enjoy. It?" His breath fanning down the side of my face and neck again. This time without the stale air of the party I could smell the carbonated alcohol on his breath mixed with the spice of something with anise. "I won't repeat myself again."   

I didn’t hesitate with this chose — "Yes.”   

In that moment, his lips crashed against mine with a fervor that transcended the heated words we’d exchanged. The kiss ignited the air around us and I melted against him, my resolve crumbling like fragile parchment before a roaring flame, consuming heat radiated from his every action.    

His hands started at my waist, burning me as his teeth found my lower lip and pulling it hard with desperation. A shameless, startled moan jumping from the back of my throat allowing his tongue to muffle it a second later. I used a tight grip to ground myself, hands sliding from his shoulders to curl into his hair as I gave back everything he gifted. Longing and frustration, a bitter-sweet concoction, two vastly different worlds colliding in a moment that felt dangerously exhilarating. I felt every nerve in my body awaken as his lips smothered mine and vice versa, adding gasoline to a fire that was smoldering inside us.    

I felt out chopped breath mingling, dulling my senses and drowning out the rational voice that warned of the trouble this could cause if someone looked out the window. One of his hands began to move to find the familiar skin of my thigh. Grabbing it with a hapless want, pulling it closer to his. Bending me slightly as he pushed in for more, teeth bumping as he took everything he could. I couldn’t bring myself to protest, reveling in the warmth of his body that seem to encircle me, protecting from the chill of a dry winter beyond this intimate cocoon we had created.   

We didn’t pull away so much as me having to push him back, breathless and dazed. My fingers playing with whatever they could grab, one still in his hair and the other fiddling with his shirt collar. I could feel the weight of our argument dissipating still, leaving behind the lingering ache of unfulfilled desires. My heart raced in my ears to the same beat as the party just a couple yards away behind a glass door. A thill matching the swell of my lips and the pressure of his fingers, it was dizzying already.   

Did he feel it too...?  

My questioned seemed to be readable on my face as he answered with another kiss, insatiable but sweet this time. A hand jumping to hold my face as he tilted my head perfectly into his. His hand bigger them my check as his fingers found part of my hair to smooth other my ear. He drank in every small sound I couldn’t hide, the hand on my thigh starting to push up the split of my skit. Tracing and thumbing the reflective material, teasing it higher and higher.   

His kiss was a sweet as candy, but his actions mimicked the liquor of our drinks. I was ready to risk being caught if it meant I could satisfy the slowly droning thrum starting in my belly.   

“Where is that damn healer!” The shrill, angered voice of my patron broke us away from each other. Viktor and I broke apart to watch Hoskel pass by the window looking for me, both of us stiffening as we waited for him to find us. Luckily, he didn’t, continuing on through the room grumbling something muffled by the door.   

I let out a small laugh that seemed to infect him, our heads still spinning. “I should... I should go see what he wants before someone comes out here looking,” I hummed, reluctantly pulled away from Viktor, giving a soft push to his shoulder to urge him to let go of my leg.   

Though when I moved around him, I found I was unable to leave as he stops me with a hand on my wrist. Demanding grip giving away his desperation even as he masked it with gentle words. “What if you didn’t?”  

I turned my head confused, “But —”  

“What is the worst that could happen?” He pulled me closer again even as he started to step away from the balcony himself. A plan brewing in his eyes.  

“I can’t just leave him,” I pointed out, only receiving an amused smile. “I thought we agreed to be careful —”  

Viktor’s smile widened, “Careful? Where's the fun in that?” He leaned a fraction closer, his breath tickling my ear as he chuckled. The sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket, making me blind with those fuzzy feelings again. “Sometimes it’s those reckless decisions that lead to the most interesting outcomes.” His eyes sparkled, his head bobbing toward the garden behind us, his meaning clear now.  

I bite my lip as I weighed the outcomes of my next words. “Interesting, or hazardous?” I countered, raising an eyebrow, to bide time. 

“Is there a difference?” He tilted his head slightly, regarding me with a playful seriousness that made my heart race. “You can’t deny that the thrill entices you, as much as it does me.”   

“Enticing, yes. Dangerous? Also, yes.”   

He started tugging me toward the garden regardless, slowly stepping toward the stairs with on hand dragging me and the other remembering his cane. “I’d hate to think you’d shy away from a little excitement.”   

“Excitement?” I felt my reservations fall away as I let myself be dragged. The smile on my lips undeniable, the butterflies in my stomach unfamiliar. With one last look back at the party inside, I willingly started to follow Viktor. “Well, I suppose I could manage a little.” 

I couldn’t suppress my excitement as we hurried down the steps, careful not to trip. Of course, we stumbled on a raised stone, eliciting a giggle from me and a soft chuckle from him as he pulled me closer. We continued down the vine-covered stairs until we reached a spot where the wall sheltered us from view. My back pressed against the twisting flora with grass tickling my angles. His hands resting just shy of the opening at the back of my dress, while smiling up at the windows we had hidden from and then down at me. The tension from the balcony lingered, more electrified now that we had stolen this private moment at the risk of our jobs.   

This time, I was ready as Viktor edged closer, maneuvering one of his feet to settle between mine, pushing me firmly against the wall. We melded into the blooming flowers that surrounded us, his nose brushing against mine. Our smiles mirrored each other as our faces inched closer together. He allowed my hands to trace his jaw before his lips brushed mine again. 

This kiss began slower than the ones before, with passion rekindling as he immediately claimed my lips. He wasted no time, yet relished each moment. Sparks crackled between us as his hands roamed the curve of my back and I pulled at his hair again.  

Stealing my breath again, leaving my brain short on oxygen, his lips began to greedily descended to the line of my jaw, trailing to the exposed skin of my throat. Dragging across the taught muscles while the delicate cord restrained him from getting every inch. His hands toyed with the excess fabric cascading down my back, as if contemplating whether to give it a tug for more access.  

I was taken aback by the whimper that slipped from my lips when he chose not to, instead contenting himself with what skin he could suck of my shoulders. He took everything he desired, leaving me breathless while one of his hands curved along my back, drawing me closer to him as the other hand roamed down my dress. He gathered the skirts, his fingers tactfully gliding against my thigh until they reached the juncture of my hip and waist. His head rested against my collarbone, the heavy desire making us drown in each other. His eyes were focused on the way his hands twisted the shimmering fabric as his breath fanned across my chest which rose and fell with anticipation.  

“Viktor,” my voice escaped as a gasp while I clutched his back, feeling my legs twitch as his hands drifted away from the fabric of my dress to my laced folds. He pressed and caressed with a teasing touch, elevating his mouth again to mine to drink my pants. He didn’t take his time like before; there was no slow buildup or gentle movements. He was desperate, and with no one to witness us, he could be as hap-hazardous as he pleased.  

His name slipped from my lips in the form of a soft moan as he pushed into me. My hair began to tangle in the vines, head going back, as he immediately pumping his fingers, starting slowly and gradually picking up to a steady pace. 

 He curled and swiped his fingers with precision, just like he had in the meeting. He instinctively knew when and where to apply pressure—a quick learner. His grin brushing my lips as eyes flickered between mine and my open mouth. I found it difficult to close, each breath becoming more labored as he whispered soothing words into my ear talking me through the start of a building orgasm. He was saying how good I would feel, how sweet I’d taste. His accent doing horribly wicked things, making the release come all that faster.   

“Do you think you could stay silent if I gave you more?” He asked, tilting his wrist and eliciting a deep, drawn-out gasp from me. His thumb circling and pressing the little numb at the top, dragging it down teasingly as he watched my reaction completely engrossed. Cheeks rosy and my eyes fluttering, losing all rationality to the feeling of his fingers stuffed inside me.   

I nodded; my voice edged with desperation. “Yes. Yes, I can be quiet.”  

Only needed my consent, he slowly withdrew his fingers from me. I let out a whimper at the loss, but any anger quickly faded as he brought the digits to his lips. It echoed his actions from the end of the meeting, right before they vanished past his chapped mouth. The teasing sound he made sent a rush of heat from my cheeks down my neck. Unable to talk, only pant as I watched him lower himself into a knee.   

“Your leg,” I tried to stop him as he tried to hide a hiss, only receiving a harsh smack to the hand trying to pull him up.  

“I’m fine,” He bit back, sending a warning look my way.  

His hand slid away from his mouth, gliding up from my ankle to my knee before effortlessly letting it rest on his shoulder. I felt exposed as the chill in the air made my legs tremble, a wave of anxiety settling in my stomach as Viktor's inquisitive gaze roamed over me. Unapologetically, he leaned in closer, tracing his lips along the inside of my thigh. He followed the same path his fingers had taken during the meeting, back to mirroring those precise movements and calculated gestures. His intense focus left me breathless, even before his mouth found my dripping cunt, breathlessness turning into a breathy moan. As the fabric of my skirt fell over his head, his lips and witty tongue began to explore, dragging and molding against me, opening and closing, reacting to every response until he perfected the rhythm.  

Which meant it didn’t take long for another louder moan to escape me, one I quickly stifled by biting down on my bottom lip. Soon to bust it as my hands tried to find a purchase somewhere. One strangling the vines behind my head and the other tangling in his hair as his nose brushed against the nub, a familiar pleasure starting to coil in my stomach. I started shifting my hips restlessly, chasing my release as it started to tickle my edges.  

Finding it hard to keep my lip between my teeth as sounds grew more desperate. The thorns of the vine cutting into my palm as my grip tightened, making him grown as his scalp throbbed. It made my hips raise in surprise and a shameless whorish moan to break past. His following tut draw it out as he held my bucking hips still against his face. Pinning my cunt to his mouth as his tongue moved between the folds— pushing and curling, the movements perfected already. A newfound determination fueled his actions as he pressed his face as close as physically possible, nearly suffocating himself. His grip on my thigh and bone of my hip feeling like it was going to be bruised.  

I chanced looking down, my eyes having fallen closed in this rush of lust. Prying them open I let out shutting gasps as I found him completely lost between my legs. The sight awakening something inside me, no man confident enough to act so desperate. Kneeling beneath me, For me. Hiding like a young boy in his mother’s skits — 

Wrong time to think of — FUCK! He can’t stop. 

“Don’t stop,” I couldn't hold back the longing gasps and soft cries that escaped from the back of my throat, his available fingers glided from my reddening thigh to join his tongue. They quickly synced, accompanying a chuckled at my new pathetic mewling and lust-drunk reactions. My hips giving small tight rolls, fighting against his grip even as it grew skin splittingly tight in an effort to maintain control over. Unable to keep myself from clenching, something he caught with another core rattling chuckle.  

He seemed to be enjoying how the muscles around his face started to twitch and spasm as much as I was enjoying myself. My thighs cutting off his air, much to his happiness as a groan confirmed it and sent my heart into my throat. A warmth starting to pool in my navel as the pulsing began to matched the rise and fall of my chest, hand pulling his head in harder. The band starting to tighten passed the point of no return.   

How was he already making me come. 

“Viktor, I —” He silenced me with a gentle hush, already aware of what I was about to say. I pressed my head into my shoulder, stifling a choked sob as the knot in my stomach grew so tight it became near painful. A shutter coursed through my shoulders, desire igniting my veins with a white-hot intensity as I teetered on the edge of true pleasure. This was a sweetness I had been denied last time, but now I was free to embrace it fully.   

The fall was so much sweeter than the climb as I felt every nerve in my body be lit a flame, hips stuttering as Viktor held my hips down against his mouth with all his strength. Both hands having to shoot up and bruise my skin in order to keep me still, milking my orgasm with just his skilled mouth till I was whimpering for him to stop. My plea faded into breathless whispers as I worked to salivate my dry mouth, feeling as though all the moisture had been drained from my very soul.   

When he finally did stop, I felt like all the air rushed back into my lungs.  

His rough hands smoothed over my hips and thighs, coaxing the tight muscles as he gently lowered my leg from his shoulder. He pulled his head from my skirt, resting his chin against my stomach, his eyes sparkling with amusement as his lower face glistened with my slick in the moonlight. I would have been completely embarrassed if my mind hadn't still been swirling.  

“What?” My voice was soft as I brushed my fingers gently through his hair, trembling slightly with the fear of shattering this sweet moment. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

“That was absolutely not quiet,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he slowly rose, using my hip and the vines behind me for support. I did my best to ignore the slight grunt from the strain on his leg, learning from last time. 

We caught each other’s gaze, and in that instant, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us. The moonlight enveloped us in a silver glow, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way the light danced in his hair.   

“We shouldn’t be out here,” I whispered, half-heartedly trying to sound serious, but the flicker of mischief in his eyes told me he was already thinking of a way to push our luck a little further.   

“Just a few moments longer,” he urged softly, brushing his thumb across the middle of my back I nodded, feeling my heart race at the intimacy of it all. It felt exhilarating, sneaking away and making our own wanton little paradise under the starlit sky.  

... Until a metalic clink came from somewhere above us.   

My breath caught in my throat, and I craned with him to look toward the sound. “Was that…?” I started, glancing back at him, but he was already scanning up the stair wall.  

Before we could decide what to do, a voice called out, cutting through our tranquility like a knife. “Hello! Is anyone out here?” My heart sank as I recognized the voice—it was Elora another assistant to the council, wandering into the garden. I glanced at him with wide eyes, and we both shared a fleeting expression of panic. 

 “Time to play it cool?” he suggested, trying to lighten to mood.  

 I couldn’t help but smile, smoothing down my skirts. “Let’s just hope we weren’t missed,” I replied, shaking my head as the moment we had just shared clung to the air between us.   

 “You first,” He smiled at me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as he nodded up the steps as Elora called out again, threatening to come out to the garden. “Perception and all that.”  

I gave him a thankful grin in return, doing the same with the squeeze. “Sweet,” I complimented as I chanced a small quick kiss, catching him off guard. I didn’t let him recover before I turned to walk away, pulling my hand away last. I saw him give a goofy wave as I ascended the stairs, plastering on a political smile to join Elora on the balcony. “My apologies, I needed air and the Kirammen garden in still breathtaking,” I linked my arms with hers, admiring her lovely blue dress.   

“Oh! We can take a walk if —” I stopped her from turning back to the garden.  

“No!” I said that too loud, drawing her suspicious with a raised brow. “I am fine. I assume Councilwomen Medarda wants to see me?”  

“Yes, your patron has been talking incessantly about your specialty in toxic flora and my mistress was most intrigued by the applications you have found for them medicinally...” Elora’s voice faded into all the others of the party as we emerged from the doors. I sent one long look out to the garden, a new bounce to myself as I joined the group surrounding my Patron.   

“Do try to keep your wits about you. It would be unfortunate if you were to embarrass me,” Hoskel muttered, his voice low but laced with irritation.  Never one to miss a chance. 

I rolled my eyes, “I won’t embarrass you.” I dipped my head lower towards the gorgeous council women to my right, her soft green eyes observing me and liking what she saw. “It's a pleasure to meet you Councilwomen, Elora and my patron speak highly of you.”  

She bowed her head back, eyes flickering to the balcony doors behind me, Viktor walking in finally, a fact unknown to me. “The pleasure is all mine, doctor.” 

(Himerdingers lab at the Acadamy or Hoskels mannor next time? still haven't decided)

Taglist: @freakboycentral • @jollyperfectiontimemachine • @ac1d-0 • @chaoticevolution • @that-gingernut-girly • @im-just-a-simp-le-whore • @shortbreadbunny • @circeinspace • @miju69

[mlgwen]

something about… manipulative women 😍

[carmensbrain]

🌟seize the sol, as they say!🌟

Carmen/Carma 🎀 (she/her)

REQUESTS: OPEN!!

Heya! I’m new to writing on tumblr so here’s my little intro!! ♡

Will write! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)

-fluff

-angst

-scenarios/head cannons!!

-fem x masc

-fem x fem

- X fem! readers!!! ^O^

Wont write ( •᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

-nsfw!! I can do drabbles but nothing that explicit sorry!

-yandere/dark/dead🕊️ I can’t write anything like that for my own mental health and I don’t want to engage with it :[

-Masc x Masc as a woman I don’t think I should be writing for mlm as I don’t know how male attraction feels and I wouldn’t be able to accurately portray it sorry :(

- X masc! Reader I can’t write male readers, idk how y’all’s brains work and I don’t wanna

Fandoms/characters below cut!!

✧= priority

꩜= last pick

Overwatch

-Cole Cassidy ✧

-Gabriel Reyes/Reaper ✧

-Hanzo Shimada

-Genji Shimada

-Hana Song/D.Va

-Lúcio Correia dos santos

ARCANE (NEW)

-Jayce Talis ✧

-Viktor

-Ekko

-Mel Madarda

Call of duty: modern warfare

-Philip Graves

-Simon “ghost” Riley ꩜

-Kim “Horangi” hong-Jin

-Kyle “gaz” Garrick

The spiderverse (new!)

-Miles Morales (earth 1610)

-Miles Morales (earth 42)

-Gwen Stacy

-Spider-Man Noir

(I will not write for Miguel sorry!)

Creepypasta/Marble hornets ꩜

-Tobias Rodgers/ticci Toby

-Natalie Ouellette/Clockwork

-Jane Richardson/Jane the killer

-Brian Thomas/hoodie

-Tim wright/masky

-Alex Kralie

Detroit become human

-Connor

-nines

-Gavin reed (if you ask nicely..)

-Kara

-Marcus

Misc

-Simon Henricksson (cry of fear)

-Dirk/Dave Strider (Homestuck)

-Hawks (my hero academia)

-Captain Curly (mouthwashing) [pre crash only]

-Leon S Kennedy (Resident evil 4)

More coming soon…

[anticipatedexhale]

Arcane women and promise rings? Like reader hand makes it out of whatever they got and gives it to the girls and how they would react

hihiii this is suchhh a cute idea omgg.

How romantic you made them a promise ring!.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, mel, sevika, jinx, ambessa, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: you swoon them over with a hand made promise ring!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader.flufff!!

Mel Medarda.

The evening was painted in gold, the last rays of the sun filtering through the grand windows of Mel’s private chambers. The room was as lavish as ever—fine silk curtains, elegant sculptures, and artwork that spoke of power and refinement. But despite the luxury surrounding her, Mel sat in quiet contemplation by the balcony, a glass of wine resting idly in her hand.

She had been deep in thought all day, her mind burdened with the endless political games of Piltover’s elite. Her expression, normally poised and unreadable, was slightly softer now, the weight of it all evident in her tired posture.

That’s when you approached, your hands nervously clutching a small box.

You had spent weeks working on this. It wasn’t extravagant like the jewelry Mel was used to—it wasn’t encrusted with rare gems or crafted by Piltover’s finest artisans. But it was yours. Every twist of metal, every etched detail, every imperfection… it was made with your own hands.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer, your voice gentle. “Mel?”

She turned to you, her golden eyes flickering with curiosity at your tone. A small smile played at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes yet. “Hmm? What is it, darling?”

You hesitated for a moment before holding out the box. “I… made you something.”

Mel raised a delicate brow, setting her glass down before reaching for the small package. Her fingers, always graceful, carefully undid the ribbon before opening it.

Inside, the promise ring gleamed in the dim light.

It was simple, yet undeniably thoughtful—crafted with an elegant design that suited her perfectly. You had carefully engraved a small pattern along the inside, a design inspired by the murals of Noxus, a quiet nod to her past.

Mel was silent.

For the first time in a long while, she seemed stunned.

You watched as she lifted the ring between her fingers, studying it with an unreadable expression. Your heart pounded in your chest—was it too simple? Too unrefined? Was this a mistake?

Then, she spoke—her voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“You… made this?”

You nodded, suddenly feeling nervous under her intense gaze. “Yeah. I know it’s not the kind of jewelry you usually wear, but I wanted it to be something personal. Something that… means something.” You swallowed. “It’s a promise. That no matter where you go, no matter what happens, I’ll be here. With you.”

Mel’s lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around the ring as if it were something fragile, something precious. Slowly, she looked up at you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, her carefully guarded walls slipped—just a little.

She didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she reached for your hand, her touch impossibly gentle as she slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

For a long moment, she simply stared at it, as if memorizing the feel of it against her skin. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across her lips.

“You are full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice laced with something deep, something warm.

Before you could respond, she pulled you into her arms, her embrace soft yet firm, like she never wanted to let go. Her fingers traced gentle patterns along your back as she whispered, “I’ll hold you to that promise, you know.”

There was something vulnerable in her tone—something rare.

You smiled against her shoulder, your arms tightening around her. “Good. Because I meant every word.”

Mel pulled back slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, her golden eyes filled with something unreadable, something dangerously close to love.

She lifted her hand again, admiring the ring once more, before glancing at you with a smirk. “You do realize this means I’ll have to outdo you, right?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And for the rest of the night, Mel kept glancing at the ring, her fingers brushing over it absentmindedly—proof that, for once, someone had given her something real. Something that wasn’t about politics, power, or war.

Something that was simply you.

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

Caitlyn kiramman.

Piltover’s skyline stretched endlessly beyond Caitlyn’s balcony, the city lights flickering like stars against the deep blue of the evening sky. The cool air carried the faint scent of rain, and somewhere in the distance, the muffled sounds of the city continued as always—never truly sleeping, never truly silent.

Caitlyn had just returned home from an exhausting day. The precinct had been chaos, the kind of day where nothing seemed to go right—criminals slipping through the cracks, paperwork stacking higher than she could manage, and politics interfering with justice. It was enough to make her sigh the moment she stepped through the door, peeling off her coat and running a hand through her hair.

That’s when she noticed you.

You were standing near her desk, looking slightly nervous, a small box clutched between your fingers.

She raised a brow, immediately sensing that something was up. “You look suspicious,” she teased, a tired but genuine smile tugging at her lips as she stepped closer.

You chuckled, shifting on your feet. “Suspicious? I thought I looked charming.”

Caitlyn smirked, placing a hand on her hip. “That remains to be seen. What are you hiding?”

You hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and holding the box out to her. “I, um… made you something.”

The amusement in Caitlyn’s eyes softened into curiosity as she carefully took the box from your hands. Her fingers brushed against yours for a brief second—a small, familiar touch that made your heartbeat quicken.

Slowly, she opened it.

Inside sat a promise ring, simple yet carefully crafted. The band was sturdy but elegant, made to withstand her fast-paced life as an Enforcer. You had taken extra care to engrave a delicate design on the inside—tiny, interwoven lines that resembled a winding path, symbolizing the journeys you’d take together.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched slightly.

She wasn’t the type to be rendered speechless often, but as she held the ring between her fingers, her usual sharp wit faltered.

“You… made this?” she finally asked, her voice softer than before.

You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah. I know it’s not as fancy as the jewelry you probably grew up with, but—”

Caitlyn cut you off with a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she turned the ring in her palm. “Are you joking? This is perfect.”

You blinked. “It is?”

She glanced up at you then, her deep blue eyes filled with something warm—something unguarded. “Of course, it is. You made it. That alone makes it better than anything I could buy.”

She slipped the ring onto her finger, admiring how it fit. It wasn’t extravagant, it wasn’t something that screamed wealth or status, but it was hers. And more importantly, it was from you.

For a moment, Caitlyn just stared at it, an unreadable expression flickering across her face.

Then, without warning, she stepped forward and pulled you into a firm, heartfelt embrace. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, her body pressing into yours as she buried her face against your shoulder.

You felt her exhale deeply, as if letting go of all the stress from earlier, letting herself breathe for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “I don’t think you realize how much this means to me.”

You smiled, your arms tightening around her. “I just wanted you to have something real. Something that’s ours.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands still resting against your waist as she studied your face, her expression softer than you had ever seen it. “It is. And I promise, I’ll wear it every single day.”

Caitlyn was a woman of her word.

And as she laced her fingers with yours, her thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knuckles, you knew—without a doubt—that she meant it.

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

Ambessa.

The Noxian war tent was quiet—an unusual thing, given that it was usually filled with the sharp clatter of weapons, the deep hum of strategy meetings, or the bold laughter of hardened soldiers. But now, there was only the flickering of torchlight and the steady sound of Ambessa sharpening her blade, the steel whispering against the whetstone.

She sat at the large war table, maps and battle plans sprawled out before her. She was always planning, always calculating her next move—such was the way of a general who had built an empire with her own hands.

But tonight, you had something else planned.

You took a slow breath before stepping forward, setting a small metal band beside her weapon. The contrast was almost comical—her massive sword, engraved with the blood of history, and the simple ring you had crafted with your own hands.

Ambessa glanced at it, then at you, arching a brow. “What’s this?”

You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. “A ring.”

She let out a low, amused chuckle. “I can see that. But why are you giving it to me?”

You shifted, feeling the warmth of the fire behind you. “It’s a promise ring. I made it.”

That got her attention. Ambessa stopped sharpening her blade, setting it aside before picking up the ring with the same hands that had conquered nations. It looked small between her fingers, delicate compared to the war-forged armor she wore.

“You made this?” Her voice was quieter now, but no less commanding.

You nodded. “I figured… you have a lot of power. A lot of people swear loyalty to you, but it’s always tied to war, to politics. I wanted to give you something different. Something that isn’t about conquest.”

Ambessa was silent for a long moment, turning the ring over in her fingers, examining every imperfect groove and scratch. You had worked hard on it, even consulting a blacksmith to make sure it was strong—strong enough to survive even her.

When she finally looked back at you, her expression was unreadable, but there was something there—something soft.

“You know, in Noxus, promises are not made lightly,” she murmured, slipping the ring onto her finger. It wasn’t ornate, but it fit well enough, and she seemed to appreciate the weight of it. “They are binding. A vow, once given, is expected to be upheld—no matter the cost.”

You swallowed. “I know.”

Ambessa tilted her head, watching you with sharp, knowing eyes. Then, with a slow smirk, she leaned forward, her presence commanding even in the quiet. “Then tell me—what exactly are you promising, little one?”

You held her gaze, steady despite the way she had a way of making people feel small in her presence. “That no matter what battles you fight, no matter how much the world sees you as just a warrior, you won’t have to carry everything alone. That someone will always be here… not because they have to, but because they choose to.”

Something flickered in her golden eyes—something rare.

Then, to your surprise, she let out a deep, satisfied chuckle. “Hah. You truly are foolish.”

You blinked. “Uh—”

Before you could react, Ambessa reached out, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting your face up toward hers. There was no mocking in her expression, no condescension—only something heavy, something real.

“But I suppose,” she murmured, glancing down at the ring once more, “even a fool can make something worthy of keeping.”

And with that, she pulled you into a firm, unshakable embrace, as if sealing the promise herself.

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

Vi.

The night was quiet—rare for Zaun. Usually, the city never slept, filled with the distant clang of machinery, the hum of shimmer deals happening in dark alleys, and the occasional brawl breaking out in the slums. But for once, things were still. Peaceful.

Vi sat on the rooftop of your shared hideout, leaning back on her hands, legs stretched out as she watched the neon lights flicker in the distance. She had been quiet all night, which was unlike her. No teasing, no playful jabs—just a sort of tired stillness that weighed on her shoulders.

You knew why. She’d been out all day handling trouble—some gang fight that nearly turned ugly, a reminder that no matter how much she wanted to change things, Zaun always found a way to pull her back into its chaos.

That’s why you were here. That’s why the small, handmade ring in your pocket felt heavier than it should.

You took a deep breath and sat beside her, nudging her shoulder lightly. “You good?”

Vi blinked, then turned her head toward you with a lopsided smirk—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

You hummed, pretending to be casual as you pulled something from your pocket. “Well… maybe this’ll help.”

Vi glanced at your closed fist, curiosity flickering in her tired pink eyes. “What, you finally got me a golden tooth so I can match Sevika?”

You snorted. “No, but I did make you something.”

With that, you opened your hand, revealing a simple metal ring. It wasn’t flashy—not polished like something you’d find in Piltover, not encrusted with gems. But it was solid, sturdy, and built to last. Just like her.

Vi blinked, completely caught off guard. “Wait… you made this?”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah. Took me a while, but I figured… I dunno, you always put yourself in the middle of fights, always taking hits for other people. Thought maybe you deserved something that’s just… for you.”

For once, Vi was speechless.

She picked up the ring, turning it over in her calloused fingers, tracing the rough edges. She wasn’t the type to get sentimental over gifts, but this—this was different. This wasn’t some expensive piece of jewelry from Piltover, wasn’t something someone threw money at to impress her.

This was you.

After a long moment, she exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. “You really went and made me a promise ring, huh?”

You nudged her with your elbow, suddenly nervous. “Shut up. It’s not dumb, okay?”

Vi grinned, but there was something soft in her expression—something rare. “Nah, it’s not dumb. Just didn’t think anyone would… y’know. Do something like this for me.”

She slipped the ring onto her finger, flexing her hand as if testing how it felt. It wasn’t perfect, wasn’t smooth, but that didn’t matter. It was real.

And then, without warning, she leaned over and pressed a firm kiss against your temple. Not rushed, not teasing—just solid, grounding.

“Guess that means I gotta keep my promise too, huh?” she murmured.

You tilted your head. “And what exactly are you promising?”

Vi grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against her side. “To keep you safe, dumbass. And maybe—just maybe—get us out of this city one day. Just you and me.”

And as the neon lights flickered in the distance, she twisted the ring around her finger, a silent reminder that, for once in her life, she had something worth staying for.

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

Jinx.

Finding Jinx was never easy.

She was like a ghost—always slipping in and out of the shadows, disappearing for days, only to reappear like nothing happened, a manic grin on her face and a new stash of explosives in her arms. But you knew her better than most. Knew that beneath all the chaos, all the unpredictability, there was still a girl who needed something—someone—to come back to.

That’s why you were here now, weaving through the abandoned warehouse she had claimed as her latest hideout, the dim glow of neon lights casting eerie shadows across the walls.

You spotted her up ahead, sitting cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with one of her gadgets. She was humming to herself, lost in her own world, before her head snapped up at the sound of your footsteps.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," she drawled, spinning a wrench in her hands before tossing it over her shoulder with a clatter. "Did ya miss me?"

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer. "You’ve been gone for three days, Jinx."

She grinned, unbothered. "Aww, you keepin’ track? Cute."

You sighed, shaking your head. No matter how much she deflected with jokes, with teasing, you could see the exhaustion creeping at the edges of her expression. The kind of exhaustion that came from running too long, from never stopping.

"Here," you said, pulling something from your pocket. "I, uh… made you something."

Jinx’s blue eyes flickered with curiosity as you dropped a small, handmade ring into her palm. It was rough, slightly uneven, made from repurposed metal scraps you had carefully bent and shaped into something hers.

She blinked, tilting her head. "What, a ring? What, you proposin’ to me now?"

You chuckled. "It’s a promise ring, Jinx. Not a wedding band."

She held it up to the dim light, watching it glint as she twirled it between her fingers. "Hmm… so what's the promise?"

You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. Jinx wasn’t like other people—she didn’t trust easily, didn’t believe in things the way most did. But you had to try.

"That I’m not going anywhere," you said softly. "No matter how far you run, no matter what happens… I’ll always be here."

Jinx went still.

The air between you felt heavier, the usual playfulness in her expression faltering for just a second. She stared at the ring, then at you, something flickering in her eyes—something unsure, something vulnerable.

"That’s a pretty big promise," she muttered, voice quieter now.

You nodded. "Yeah. But it’s one I plan on keeping."

Jinx was quiet for a long moment. Then, suddenly, she grinned wide, slipping the ring onto her pinky finger with a dramatic flourish.

"Well, duh you’re gonna keep it," she said, leaning in close until your noses almost touched. "‘Cause if ya don’t, I’ll find ya."

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, I figured."

But before you could say anything else, she grabbed your wrist and tugged you down onto the floor beside her, settling against your side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Y'know," she murmured, playing with the ring, "it's kinda nice… havin’ somethin’ to come back to."

And in that moment, you knew—you had given her something no one else had. A reason to believe.

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

Sevika.

Sevika wasn’t the kind of woman who cared for sentimental things. She lived in a world where promises were just words, where loyalty was bought and sold, and where people who got too attached ended up dead.

That’s why this was stupid.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you sat at The Last Drop, waiting for her shift to end. The dim glow of the bar lights flickered above you, the scent of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Sevika was across the room, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, watching over the patrons like a wolf waiting for an excuse to sink her teeth into someone.

She hadn't noticed you yet.

Good. That gave you another minute to talk yourself out of this.

But before you could, Sevika’s gruff voice cut through the noise. “You’ve been sitting there for a while.”

You looked up just in time to see her approach, her mechanical arm gleaming under the low light. She pulled a chair out and sat down heavily, eyeing you with mild amusement. “Something on your mind?”

Your fingers clenched around the small piece of metal in your pocket. This is dumb. She’s gonna laugh.

But you had already come this far.

Wordlessly, you pulled the ring out and set it on the table between you.

Sevika blinked, then looked at you with a raised brow. “What’s this?”

You swallowed. “A promise ring. I made it.”

For a moment, she just stared at you. Then, she let out a low chuckle and leaned back in her chair. “The hell are we? A couple of love-drunk teenagers?”

Your stomach twisted. “Look, if you don’t—”

Her fingers closed over the ring before you could finish.

She turned it over in her palm, inspecting it like she would a blade—searching for flaws, for weaknesses. And yet, she didn’t toss it aside. Didn’t mock it. Didn’t mock you.

“You made this?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

You nodded. “Yeah. Figured… you don’t have a lot of things that are just yours. Thought maybe you should.”

She was quiet for a long moment. The usual sharpness in her expression dulled slightly, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

Then, without a word, she slipped the ring onto her pinky finger.

It was rough, imperfect, but it fit.

“You know promises don’t mean shit in Zaun,” she muttered, flexing her fingers like she was testing the weight of it.

You exhaled. “I know. But this one does.”

Sevika studied you for a moment before shaking her head with a smirk. “You’re a damn fool.”

But she didn’t take the ring off.

Instead, she stood, ruffling your hair roughly before walking away—ring still on her hand, fingers brushing over it absentmindedly.

And for Sevika, that was as close to an I love you as you were ever going to get.

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

Author note: THIS WAS SO COOL TO WRITE OMG FEEL FREE TO SEND MORE CHAT

[anticipatedexhale]

Hey I love the way you write!!

I was wondering if I could request arcane characters reacting to reader pulling a tiktok prank on them like not saying ily or wiping their kiss or something along those lines I think it would be really funny :3

Hello hello!! Thank you soso much omg this has to be the best compliment ever! Also this idea is so cute omg love it!.

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

Just kidding~~

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

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

☆ ◞ summary: when you wipe their kisses as a joke

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader.ermmm just fluff lol, really sweet, kinda suggestive (Mel..)

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been affectionate. He wasn’t the kind of man to hold back on physical affection—whether it was casual touches, lingering glances, or, most importantly, kisses.

So when he finally caught you in his arms after a long day, he wasted no time. “Missed you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a soft kiss there.

Then another.

And another.

You let him place a few more before casually lifting your hand… and wiping them away with the back of your sleeve.

Jayce froze.

You barely held back a smirk as he pulled back, blinking in exaggerated offense. “Wait. Did you just—”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “What?”

His lips parted in pure betrayal. “Did you just wipe off my kisses?”

You nodded, fighting the laughter bubbling up in your throat. “Yeah. Had to get rid of the evidence.”

Jayce narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

You hummed, tilting your head innocently.

Big mistake.

Because before you could react, Jayce lunged. He scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you right off your feet as you yelped in surprise. “JAYCE—”

“Oh no, no, no,” he laughed, grinning like a man with a mission. “Now I really gotta make sure my kisses stick.”

And with that, he attacked—peppering your face with kisses, your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, anywhere he could reach. You squirmed, laughing as you weakly tried to push him away. “Okay—Jayce, stop!”

“Nope.” He grinned against your skin. “Gotta make sure you can’t wipe these off.”

He finally stopped when you were breathless with laughter, setting you down but keeping you close, hands resting on your waist.

“Still wanna wipe ‘em away?” he asked, his voice softer now, eyes warm as he gazed at you.

You smiled, pretending to think about it before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips instead. “Nah,” you murmured. “I’ll keep that one.”

Jayce’s grin was radiant as he kissed you back, slow and lingering, his hands pulling you just a little closer.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m never gonna stop giving them to you.”

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

Mel Medarda.

Mel Medarda was a woman of grace, of control—and yet, when it came to you, she could be unexpectedly affectionate.

Which was why, after a long meeting, she found herself seated beside you on the velvet couch in her private chambers, fingers gently tilting your chin toward her. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she mused, her voice smooth as silk.

Before you could answer, she leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

Then another to your temple.

And another, right at the corner of your lips.

You let her linger for a moment before casually lifting your hand—

And wiping them away.

The air in the room shifted.

Mel pulled back just slightly, eyes narrowing ever so subtly as a small, knowing smile curved her lips. “Hmm.”

You met her gaze, feigning innocence. “What?”

Her fingers trailed down your jaw, her nails lightly grazing your skin. “Did you just wipe off my kisses?”

You shrugged, leaning back slightly. “Maybe.”

Mel hummed, considering you. Then, ever so gracefully, she stood, circling around you like a lioness sizing up her prey. “How bold,” she murmured, trailing a single finger across the back of your neck as she passed behind you.

You swallowed. You knew that tone.

Before you could react, she suddenly leaned down, hands pressing onto the couch on either side of you, trapping you beneath her golden gaze. “You do realize,” she whispered, lips brushing your ear, “that you’ve just started a war you cannot win.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you held your ground, lifting your chin defiantly. “Oh? And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Mel’s smirk deepened.

Then, in one slow, torturous motion, she kissed your jaw.

Then your cheek.

Then your neck.

Each kiss was softer, slower, more intentional—a silent challenge, a game only she could win.

You tensed, resisting the urge to melt under her touch, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Mel pulled back just slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Go on, then.” She tilted her head, daring you. “Wipe them off.”

You hesitated.

Her smirk widened.

Checkmate.

With a resigned sigh, you slumped back. “Okay, fine. You win.”

Mel chuckled, running a delicate hand through your hair before placing one final, lingering kiss on your lips. “Darling,” she murmured against them, “I always do.”

And this time, you didn’t dare wipe it away.

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

Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t always the most openly affectionate person. His love was quiet, expressed in lingering touches, thoughtful words, and the occasional stolen moment between long hours in the lab.

But tonight, for once, the lab was forgotten. It was just the two of you, curled up on the worn-out couch in his workshop, a rare moment of peace.

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek.

Then another, just beneath your ear.

And, with a rare flicker of playfulness, one to the tip of your nose.

You let him do it, let him savor the moment—before lifting your hand and wiping them away with an exaggerated swipe.

Viktor paused.

Slowly, he pulled back, amber eyes blinking at you in confusion. “Did you just… wipe away my kisses?”

You nodded, barely holding back a grin. “Yep.”

He frowned slightly, tilting his head like he was trying to analyze you. “…Why?”

You shrugged. “Felt like it.”

Viktor stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, very softly, he murmured, “I see.”

And just like that, he started shifting away.

The warmth of his body left yours as he sat back, hands folding in his lap, an unreadable look crossing his face. You immediately felt cold.

Oh no.

You had expected him to pout, to tease you, maybe to try again—but instead, he looked almost defeated. His gaze flickered downward, a quiet, hesitant chuckle escaping him. “I suppose my affections are unwanted then?”

Your heart sank.

“No, no, no—Viktor, it was a joke,” you rushed, reaching for him before he could pull away further.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden shift in urgency. “A… joke?”

You nodded, grabbing his hands tightly. “I love your kisses.” You softened, guilt creeping into your voice. “I just wanted to mess with you a little. I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t want them.”

Viktor was quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in. Then, ever so slowly, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “…So, you do want them?”

You huffed. “Yes, obviously.”

He exhaled, amused, before suddenly tugging you right into his lap. You let out a startled sound as his arms circled you, his face now inches from yours. “Good,” he murmured.

And then, with that same teasing glint in his eye, he leaned in—kissing your cheek, your forehead, your nose, all over again.

You laughed, feeling warm again as he held you close. “Okay, okay! I get it!”

But Viktor didn’t stop. He hummed, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips before whispering against them, “I dare you to wipe that one away.”

You didn’t.

You never would.

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

Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn wasn’t the type to show affection in extravagant ways. Her kisses were soft, subtle—gentle gestures that spoke more than words ever could.

But when the two of you were alone, she let her guard down just a little bit more. She’d pull you close after a long day of work, her fingers gently cupping your face before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Missed you today,” she’d whisper against your skin, soft and warm.

You smiled, running your fingers through her hair. “I missed you too.”

She pressed another kiss to your nose, then one on each of your cheeks. And then, just as she was about to place a kiss on your lips, you swiped your hand across your face, wiping them away dramatically.

Caitlyn froze.

You let out a small laugh, feigning innocence as you met her wide-eyed gaze. “What? I had to clean off all those kisses. Can’t leave the evidence lying around.”

Her lips parted in mock offense, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh really?”

You nodded, suppressing a smile. “Yep, really.”

Caitlyn shook her head in disbelief, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know what? I think you need to be reminded of how good my kisses are.”

Before you could even respond, she leaned in quickly, catching your lips in a kiss so sweet and slow, it made your heart skip a beat. You tried to pull away, but Caitlyn wouldn’t let you, her hands gently guiding your face back toward hers, sealing you into the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, you were breathless. “I—"

“You’ve made your point,” you teased, trying to sound unaffected, but your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

Caitlyn’s grin was full of triumph. “Good.” She pressed another quick kiss to your nose before leaning back and crossing her arms. “Now, I think we need to go to the kitchen to finish what we started.”

“Finish…?”

“The game of ‘who can kiss who first without getting wiped away,’ of course,” she said, her eyes sparkling with playful competitiveness.

You sighed, pretending to roll your eyes, but the truth was—you didn’t mind at all. You could never get enough of Caitlyn’s kisses.

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

Vi.

Vi had a tendency to be the type to show affection through actions rather than words. A hand on your shoulder after a hard day, a little wink, or a lingering touch. But there were moments—like now—when she let her guard down completely.

It had been a long day, full of tense meetings and far too many difficult conversations. Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the two of you found yourselves on the balcony of her apartment, the city lights flickering like tiny stars below you, Vi’s shoulders relaxed for the first time all day.

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then another one to your temple.

“Been thinking about you all day,” she murmured, her voice low and comforting.

You grinned, leaning into the kiss, but as she went for a third, this time on the corner of your lips, you quickly wiped them away with a swift swipe of your hand.

Vi paused, a little caught off guard. “Did you just—”

You smiled mischievously, holding back a laugh. “What? You had some lipstick on, I needed to clean it up.”

She stared at you for a moment, eyebrow raised, before an almost wicked grin spread across her face. “Oh, I see how it is.”

You blinked, confused for a second, before she grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly. Before you could react, Vi pulled you closer, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your lips.

“What’s the matter?” she teased, her voice full of amusement. “Didn’t want me kissing you? I can always go for a few more.”

You started to say something, but before you could, she placed kiss after kiss all over your face—your cheeks, your forehead, your nose—until you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, trying in vain to wipe them away.

“Vi! Stop!” you chuckled, half-heartedly swiping at your face as she grinned in victory.

She laughed, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close, a warmth radiating from her that had nothing to do with the city lights. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice turning softer, almost fond. “You’ve got a perfect face for kisses, and I’m gonna make sure you remember that.”

You melted into her embrace, the playful teasing mixed with something deeper—something that made your heart skip a beat.

And, despite your best efforts to wipe them away, you didn’t mind one bit.

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

Jinx.

Jinx was never one for subtlety, especially when it came to how she felt about you. Her love was loud, chaotic, and sometimes downright unpredictable. But that was part of what made her so Jinx—so impossible to ignore.

Tonight was no different. After an eventful day filled with explosions, fireworks (literally), and a few too many close calls, Jinx found herself in a surprisingly calm moment with you. The two of you were sprawled out on the couch, watching the flickering neon lights of the city outside, a bag of candy between you as you both snacked and shared stories.

She looked over at you, a mischievous glint in her eye, before launching herself at you suddenly.

“Mwah!” Jinx planted a big, messy kiss on your cheek, smacking it loudly.

You blinked, laughing as you wiped your cheek dramatically. “What was that for?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Just felt like it.”

Before you could say anything else, she pressed another kiss to your forehead—this time, even more exaggerated, leaving a sticky trace of candy on your skin.

You sighed in mock annoyance, wiping your forehead as if it was covered in goo. “Jinx, seriously.”

“Oh, no! Don’t wipe it off!” She gasped, leaping back to hold your hands away. “I spent all this time planning my kiss attack and you're just gonna—”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics. “What attack? You just kissed me!”

But Jinx wasn’t about to let it go. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned in again, this time aiming for your lips.

You had just enough time to react and swipe your hand across your lips, wiping away the kiss before it could land.

She froze, staring at you in exaggerated shock. “Did you—did you just wipe my kiss away?!”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t want your lipstick all over me.”

“Lipstick?! Are you kidding? I don’t wear lipstick! It’s my love, dummy!” she protested, a wild sparkle dancing in her eyes.

“Sure, sure,” you teased, wiping your lips again just to mess with her.

Jinx pouted for a second before her playful nature kicked back in. “Alright then. If you wanna play dirty, so be it.” She pressed her face against yours in a flurry of chaotic kisses, planting them on your cheeks, nose, chin—everywhere—until you were laughing too hard to keep wiping them away.

“Jinx! Stop! You’re getting my face all wet!”

“Nope!” she replied gleefully, her wild hair bouncing around as she grinned like she had just won some grand victory. “You started this, now you gotta finish it!”

In the end, you gave up, letting her have her fun. There was no way you’d win against Jinx when she was like this—wild and unpredictable, but so full of love in her own explosive way.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

Ekko.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Ekko to find small moments of peace in the chaos that surrounded your lives. Despite the constant hustle of the city, there were times when everything just slowed down. Tonight was one of those times.

The two of you sat on the roof of one of Ekko’s safehouses, looking out over the lights of the city as the evening breeze played with your hair. It was quiet, serene even. The perfect kind of night for some simple moments of affection.

Ekko smiled softly as he leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You know," he started, his voice low and warm, "I’ve been thinking… I really like these moments with you. Just us, you know?"

You smiled back at him, feeling your heart flutter. “Me too.”

In an instant, his lips pressed gently to your cheek, soft and warm. He lingered for a second, just enjoying the closeness before pulling back, his hand still resting against your face.

You reached up and dramatically wiped the spot where he kissed you. "Mmm, I think I got something on my cheek," you teased, pretending to be serious.

Ekko blinked in surprise, before chuckling, his expression full of amusement. “What, you’re wiping off my kiss?”

You gave him an exaggerated pout. “Yeah, I think it was a little too much. I mean, I did just wash my face, Ekko.”

His face fell for a moment, the playful energy turning into mock hurt. “I see how it is… You’re rejecting my love.”

You laughed, giving him an apologetic look. “No, no, I’m just—”

Before you could finish, Ekko leaned in quickly, planting a kiss on your nose. You swiped at your nose instinctively, as if you could stop the kiss from sticking.

"Hey!" he protested, raising an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What’d I tell you about rejecting my kisses?"

You grinned, wiping your nose again. “I wasn’t rejecting them, just, um, cleaning them off."

Ekko rolled his eyes, but the playful sparkle in his gaze was unmistakable. He leaned in once more, this time pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you could do anything about it.

“You can wipe it off,” he teased, grinning widely as he pulled back, “but you won’t get rid of it that easily.”

You laughed, your heart warming at the way he could always make you feel so lighthearted, so at ease. “I didn’t want to wipe it off, Ekko,” you said softly, leaning into his chest. "I just wanted to see how you’d react."

Ekko’s grin softened, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. “You know I’ll always kiss you, no matter what. Even if you pretend to wipe them off a hundred times.”

You snuggled against him, your heart full of affection. "I know, Ekko. I know."

Hello my lovelies! I really hope you enjoy this! It was much shorter than I expected it to be...but I hope it's enough for you guys, I chose wiping away the kisses because I found the ideas to be much more hilarious, but if you'd like to see me doing the other one I would love to!! <33

[anticipatedexhale]

Sweet dreams silly~~.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

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

☆ ◞ summary: you fall asleep on them!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, fluffff and obvi not proofread.

Jayce Talis.

The day had been long—longer than it had any right to be. You had spent hours in the lab with Jayce, watching him tinker away at a new hextech prototype, listening to him ramble about energy outputs and stabilization. His voice was soothing, deep and rich, and even though you had tried to pay attention, exhaustion was slowly creeping in.

Jayce, as usual, was caught up in his work, hyper-focused on the glowing blue crystal in his hands. “You see, if we refine the stabilization matrix, then the energy dispersal won’t—” He stopped mid-sentence when he heard a soft sigh.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw you slumped against the desk, your head tilted slightly to the side, breathing slow and even. Asleep.

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Guess my lecture wasn’t that interesting,” he murmured, shaking his head.

For a moment, he just watched you, his expression softening. You looked peaceful like this, your usual tension smoothed away by sleep. The sight of you made his heart squeeze in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared for.

He hesitated, then carefully reached out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek before deciding against it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, stretching before adjusting his position.

Then, with the utmost care, he lifted your head slightly and guided it onto his shoulder. You stirred, mumbling something incoherent, but instead of waking up, you just curled into him instinctively.

Jayce went completely still.

His brain short-circuited for a second. He could feel the warmth of your breath against his collarbone, the way your body relaxed into his.

And he was not prepared for how much he liked it.

Swallowing hard, he slowly exhaled, trying to act normal despite the fact that his heartbeat had picked up. He carefully reached for his coat draped over the back of his chair, unfolding it and draping it over your shoulders.

“There,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Wouldn’t want you getting cold.”

His work was officially forgotten. He knew he should probably wake you up, tell you to go sleep somewhere more comfortable, but... maybe just for a little while, he’d let you rest.

Besides, the way you fit against him felt a little too perfect.

With a soft chuckle, he leaned his head back against the chair, allowing himself to relax just a little.

“Yeah,” he whispered to himself, “I could get used to this.”

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

Mel Medarda.

The evening had stretched on longer than expected, filled with soft candlelight and quiet conversation. Mel had invited you to her private chambers—away from the noise of the Council, the endless debates, the weight of responsibilities pressing on both of you. It was supposed to be a simple night, just the two of you lounging on her luxurious couch, sipping on fine wine, indulging in each other’s presence.

But the warmth of the room, the softness of the cushions, and the gentle cadence of Mel’s voice had lulled you into a peaceful haze.

She had been speaking about an upcoming political maneuver, something sharp and intricate, her words like silk as she absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm with her fingertips. You had tried to keep up, really—but the exhaustion of the day weighed heavy, and before you knew it, your eyelids fluttered shut.

Mel only noticed when she posed a question and was met with silence. She turned slightly, catching the way your head had dipped forward, your breathing soft and even.

A quiet chuckle left her lips, amusement dancing in her golden eyes. “Falling asleep on me now, are we?”

She made no effort to wake you. Instead, she reached for a silk throw draped over the chaise lounge, delicately pulling it over your shoulders.

Her fingers, always so careful and precise, brushed against your cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. She let them linger for just a moment longer than necessary, taking in the peaceful expression on your face.

There was something so rare about this—seeing you like this, so utterly vulnerable and unguarded. Mel wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the quiet intimacy of the moment, but something about it made her heart ache in the gentlest way.

She adjusted her position slightly, allowing your head to rest comfortably against her lap. Slowly, she traced soft, absentminded circles along your shoulder, indulging in the quiet moment.

“Sleep well, my love,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I suppose this means I win our little debate.”

With a small smile, she leaned back, resting her head against the couch. And for once, she allowed herself the rare luxury of just being—wrapped in the warmth of your presence, in the quiet understanding that neither of you needed words to fill the space between you.

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

Viktor.

The lab was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock and the occasional scribble of a pen against paper. The usual chaos of hextech research had settled into a peaceful lull, and Viktor was fully immersed in his work, sketching complex diagrams in his notebook.

You had joined him earlier, intending to keep him company while he worked—though you had underestimated just how soothing his presence could be. The soft scratch of his pen, the low hum of his thoughts murmured under his breath, the dim glow of the lamps—it all wrapped around you like a lullaby.

Viktor, absorbed in his notes, barely registered the moment when your head slowly dipped against his shoulder. At first, he simply continued writing, assuming you were just leaning in to read his notes. But when your breathing evened out, slow and steady, he finally glanced down.

His pen paused mid-stroke.

You had fallen asleep.

Against him.

Viktor blinked, momentarily taken aback. He wasn’t used to this—someone being so comfortable, so unguarded around him. It wasn’t something he expected, nor something he thought he deserved.

Carefully, he shifted his position, mindful of his leg as he adjusted his posture. You barely stirred, only sighing softly as you nestled closer. The warmth of you against his side was... distracting.

He swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were, how easily he could feel the rise and fall of your breath. His fingers twitched against the notebook, his thoughts scattering in a way they never did, even in the most difficult of calculations.

A part of him thought about waking you—telling you that the desk chair you were sitting in wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place for sleeping. But another part of him, the part that secretly relished this quiet moment, didn’t have the heart to disturb you.

Instead, he reached for a spare blanket draped over the back of his chair. Slowly, carefully, he wrapped it around your shoulders, making sure you wouldn’t catch a chill in the cool night air.

With an exhale, he let himself relax, just a little. He shifted his gaze back to his notes, but his mind wasn’t on hextech anymore. Instead, it was on you—on how easily you had trusted him enough to drift off like this, on the rare and unexpected comfort that came with your presence.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He turned the page in his notebook, picked up his pen, and continued writing.

But this time, the equations didn’t seem quite as important as they had before.

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

Caitlyn kiramman.

The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering golden light across Caitlyn’s study. The two of you had settled in for a quiet evening together—her going through case files, you flipping through a book she had recommended. The plan was simple: a peaceful night away from the chaos of Piltover’s streets, just the warmth of the fire and each other’s company.

But somewhere between turning the pages and the gentle rhythm of Caitlyn’s voice as she murmured notes to herself, your exhaustion won. The weight of the long day caught up with you, and before you knew it, your eyelids drooped, your body leaning ever so slightly to the side.

Caitlyn only realized what had happened when she felt your head rest against her shoulder. She stiffened, blinking in surprise.

She turned her head slightly, catching sight of your peaceful expression—eyes closed, breathing slow and steady. Her lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but no words came.

For a moment, she sat completely still, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t that she minded—far from it. But Caitlyn Kiramman wasn’t used to people leaning on her like this, depending on her for comfort in such an effortless way.

Slowly, her tense shoulders relaxed.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she carefully shifted, just enough to make sure you were comfortable without waking you. She reached for the knitted throw blanket draped over the couch and gently pulled it over you.

Her free hand hesitated for a second before she finally allowed herself the small indulgence of brushing her fingers lightly against yours, tracing a faint pattern along your knuckles.

"You must be exhausted," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I suppose my reading material wasn’t that exciting, then."

Despite her teasing tone, there was nothing but warmth in her gaze as she looked down at you. She had spent so much time building walls, being the sharp and poised Enforcer that Piltover needed. But moments like this—quiet, simple, intimate—made her realize just how much she cherished having someone to let her guard down around.

Caitlyn let out a soft breath and, after a moment’s hesitation, leaned her head against yours, closing her eyes just for a second.

"Sweet dreams, darling," she whispered.

And for the first time in a long while, she let herself sit there and just be—with you, with the warmth of the fire, with the quiet understanding that, for once, she didn’t have to be on high alert.

Tonight, she could just be Caitlyn. And that was more than enough.

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

Vi.

The night air was cool, a faint breeze drifting through the open window of Vi’s small apartment in the Undercity. The two of you had spent the evening sprawled across her couch, talking about everything and nothing—stories from her time in prison, your latest adventures, and, of course, her constant teasing about how you could never beat her in a fistfight.

She had promised to teach you some new moves earlier, but after a full day of running around, you were too exhausted to keep up. At some point, you had curled up beside her, just listening as she talked, her voice a low, comforting hum in the background.

And then… sleep had crept up on you.

Vi only noticed when she cracked a joke and got no response. She glanced over, her smirk fading slightly when she saw your head tilted against her shoulder, your body fully relaxed against her.

“… Oh,” she muttered, blinking.

For a second, Vi just sat there, her usual confident demeanor wavering. She wasn’t used to this—someone trusting her enough to let their guard down, leaning on her in a way that wasn’t about throwing punches or watching each other’s backs in a fight.

She carefully shifted, mindful not to wake you, but when she moved even the slightest bit, you instinctively burrowed closer, nuzzling against her shoulder with a quiet sigh.

Vi froze.

Her ears went a little warm. She had taken plenty of hits in her life, but this? This was something else entirely.

She cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck. “Jeez, you really just knocked out on me, huh?” she murmured, her usual teasing tone softer than usual.

She hesitated for a moment before finally draping an arm over your shoulders, pulling you just a little closer.

“… Alright, fine. I guess I can be your pillow for a little while,” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

Leaning her head back against the couch, she let her eyes drift to the ceiling, her fingers absentmindedly tracing gentle circles against your arm. For someone who had spent most of her life fighting, running, surviving—this kind of stillness was new.

But it wasn’t bad

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

Jinx.

The hideout was a mess of half-finished projects, stray bullets, and a ridiculous amount of neon paint splattered across every surface. It was chaotic—just like her—but somehow, it had become one of your favorite places to be.

Jinx had been rambling for at least an hour now, bouncing between topics as she worked on some new explosive contraption. “—and then, I was thinking, BOOM! But not just a regular boom, like, a big boom! The kind that makes people’s ears ring for days—”

She turned, expecting some kind of reaction from you, only to find you completely out.

Jinx blinked.

You were curled up against the couch, your head resting on your arm, completely passed out mid-conversation.

At first, she just stared.

Then, she let out a snort. “Pfft—you serious? I was just getting to the best part!”

She dropped onto the couch beside you, crossing her arms and pouting like a kid who had just lost their audience. “Jeez, tough crowd. Didn’t know my storytelling was that boring.”

But as much as she wanted to mess with you—maybe yell something loud just to see you jolt awake, or doodle something ridiculous on your face—she found herself hesitating.

You looked… peaceful

It was rare to see someone so relaxed around her. People were usually on edge, waiting for her next unpredictable move, but you? You had just fallen asleep like this was the safest place in the world.

Jinx huffed, but her expression softened as she flopped down beside you, tucking her legs underneath her. She nudged your cheek lightly with a gloved finger. “Y’know, you’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d be real mad ‘bout this.”

With a dramatic sigh, she grabbed an old, tattered blanket from the other side of the couch and threw it over you—mostly covering you, though she wasn’t exactly precise about it.

Then, after a moment of thought, she carefully leaned in, resting her head against yours. Just for a second.

“… Don’t go thinkin’ this means I’m goin’ soft, got it?” she mumbled, even though you were too deep in sleep to hear her.

She stayed there anyway.

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

Ekko.

Falling Asleep on Ekko

The night was peaceful in the underground hideout. The hum of machinery and the distant sounds of the city above faded into a quiet lull, and you found yourself sitting next to Ekko in his little corner of the world. The light from his contraptions flickered softly, casting a warm glow that made the otherwise cold and metallic room feel like home.

You had been chatting with him for hours—about your latest adventures, the wild things you’d seen, and some of the crazy plans you both had for the future. Ekko was always so full of ideas, always looking to improve things, but tonight he seemed more focused on listening to you than anything else.

You could feel the comfort of his presence—how he always made you feel safe, like nothing could touch you when he was around.

But, somewhere between his soothing voice and the warmth of the room, your body started to betray you. The exhaustion of the day, the endless thinking, and the stress of the world above all melted away. Your eyelids grew heavy, and before you knew it, your head had dropped forward, finally succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Ekko didn’t notice at first, lost in his thoughts as he tinkered with a small device in his hand. But when he glanced over and saw you, your head resting on his shoulder, he froze.

For a moment, he just stared at you, trying to figure out if you were just resting for a second or if you had actually fallen asleep on him. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he realized you were out cold, a peaceful expression on your face.

His heart did a little flip, but Ekko wasn’t the type to show how flustered he was—so he kept his focus on the work in front of him, pretending he wasn’t slightly melted by the way you trusted him enough to fall asleep like that.

But then, you shifted slightly, your body leaning a little further into him, and before he could stop himself, Ekko gently wrapped his arm around you to keep you steady. He didn’t want to risk you waking up if you were uncomfortable.

His fingers brushed against your hair, the lightest touch, but it made his breath catch in his throat. For a moment, he just sat there, letting the quiet fill the space between you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at you. “Otherwise, I’d be all annoyed you fell asleep on me.”

But the truth was, he didn’t mind at all. It was like for once, he didn’t have to be the one in control, didn’t have to be the one always thinking a step ahead. He could just be here, with you, with the weight of your head against his shoulder.

Ekko leaned back against the wall, letting his head rest for a moment as well. He didn’t fall asleep himself—no, his mind was always too active for that—but he let himself enjoy the stillness of the moment.

And when the morning came, and you stirred, groggily waking up, he’d be right there, ready to pull you into a warm hug. Because that’s what Ekko did—he protected, he cared, and he made sure you always felt at home, no matter where you were.

But for now, he just sat, smiling softly to himself, and allowed himself to savor the quiet and the warmth of you beside him.

Authors note: U GUYS ARE ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL THANK YOU SOSOSOSO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT AND LOBE U HAVE GIVEN ME MWAHH

[anticipatedexhale]

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)

[anticipatedexhale]

Can I have this dance?<3

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

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

☆ ◞ summary: sometimes music and you partner is all you need to forget about reality

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. Just tooth rotting fluff and also not proofread as usual.

Mel Medarda.

The grand estate you shared with Mel was eerily quiet. It was rare for her to find a moment away from the politics of Piltover, but tonight, the moonlight filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over the room. She sat on the couch, a wine glass in her hand, lost in thought.

You approached her quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, her golden eyes meeting yours, and for the first time that day, the tension in her expression softened.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, setting her glass down. “Sometimes I wonder if all the sacrifices are worth it.”

Without a word, you reached for the music player and turned the dial, filling the room with a soft, mellow tune. Mel raised an eyebrow as you held out your hand to her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, though the corners of her lips twitched in amusement.

“Distracting you,” you replied, your voice warm. “Dance with me.”

She hesitated for a moment, her calculating mind likely weighing the practicality of such a frivolous act. But when she slid her hand into yours, the tension melted away.

You pulled her to her feet, guiding her into the open space of the living room. The music wrapped around you both as you placed one hand on her waist and held her hand with the other. She followed your lead, her movements elegant and fluid.

“You know I’m not used to letting someone else take charge,” she teased, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Then trust me,” you said softly, twirling her gently.

Her laughter, rare and unguarded, filled the room. For those precious moments, the weight of her responsibilities faded, and she allowed herself to simply be.

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

Jayce Talis.

The lab was silent except for the faint hum of Hextech cores. Jayce sat at his desk, his head buried in his hands, the weight of the Council’s expectations pressing down on him. He’d spent the entire day navigating political minefields, attempting to convince Piltover’s elites that his inventions weren’t just weapons of war.

You entered quietly, carrying two mugs of tea. He didn’t even look up as you set one down in front of him.

“You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing like this,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the desk.

“I can’t stop,” Jayce muttered. “If I do, it all falls apart. The Hexgates, the city’s future… everything.”

You placed a hand on his, squeezing gently. “You’re not in this alone, you know.”

He finally looked up, his tired eyes meeting yours. “I know. I just… sometimes it feels like I have to carry it all.”

You nodded, standing up and walking over to the phonograph in the corner of the room. “Then let me carry you for a little while.”

A soft, melodic tune began to play, filling the lab with warmth. Jayce blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips despite his exhaustion.

“Dancing? Now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” you replied, holding out your hand. “You need a break, and I need an excuse to be close to you.”

He chuckled, setting his work aside and taking your hand. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

As you pulled him into the open space of the lab, his movements were hesitant at first, the stress of the day still clinging to him. But as you swayed together, his body began to relax, the tension melting away.

“This is nice,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Told you,” you teased, resting your head against his chest.

Jayce’s arms tightened around you, and for a moment, the world outside the lab ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, the music, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

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

Viktor.

The soft glow of the workshop lamp illuminated Viktor’s figure, hunched over his desk. His cane leaned against the table, and his leg brace clicked faintly as he shifted in his seat. He was lost in his work, tinkering with a delicate piece of machinery, his brow furrowed in concentration.

You approached quietly, your footsteps soft against the floor. “Viktor,” you called gently.

He didn’t look up. “Just a moment,” he murmured, his voice tight with focus.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention. “You’ve been at this for hours,” you said softly. “It’s time for a break.”

He sighed, setting down his tools and leaning back in his chair. “I cannot afford to stop now. There is still so much to do.”

“And none of it will matter if you run yourself into the ground,” you replied, your tone kind but firm. “Come on. Just five minutes with me.”

His golden eyes met yours, uncertainty flickering across his face. “And what do you have in mind?”

Instead of answering, you walked over to the small gramophone in the corner and selected a record. A gentle, soothing melody began to play, filling the room with warmth. You turned back to him, holding out your hand.

“Dance with me,” you said, your voice soft but inviting.

Viktor’s brow furrowed. “You know I cannot—”

“I know,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m not asking for perfection. Just stand with me. Sway with me. That’s all.”

He hesitated, glancing at his cane. “I do not want to hold you back.”

“You could never hold me back,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “Let me hold you instead.”

After a moment, Viktor rose slowly, leaning on you for support. You guided him to the open space in the room, your arm steady around his waist. His movements were hesitant, his weight carefully balanced, but you matched his pace, swaying gently to the music.

“This is… unconventional,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“So are you,” you teased, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled softly, his hand tightening around yours. As the music played on, the tension in his posture eased, and he let himself lean into you, trusting you to guide him.

For those few moments, the world outside the workshop ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, the gentle rhythm of the music, and the quiet intimacy of being together.

When the song ended, Viktor sighed, a soft, contented sound. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with emotion.

“For what?” you asked, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“For reminding me that even with my limitations… I can still feel whole,” he replied, his gaze warm.

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “You’ve always been whole to me, Viktor.”

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

Caitlyn.

The clock struck midnight as Caitlyn finally stepped through the door, her uniform slightly scuffed and her boots leaving faint marks on the floor. You had been waiting for her, the sound of your footsteps drawing her tired gaze upward.

“Another night of chaos?” you asked softly, approaching her.

She sighed, rubbing her neck. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Just… a bit more than I expected.”

You nodded, taking her coat and setting it aside. “Then you need something to remind you of the good in the world.”

She tilted her head, curious. “And what would that be?”

You didn’t answer, instead walking over to the small speaker on the counter. The soft strum of a classical waltz filled the air, and you turned back to her, holding out a hand.

“Care to join me?”

Caitlyn chuckled, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you replied, your smile widening.

With a small shake of her head, she took your hand, letting you pull her into the center of the room. Her posture was elegant, her steps precise, but there was a playfulness in her eyes that made your heart flutter.

“You’ve been planning this, haven’t you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But only because you deserve it.”

Her expression softened, and she let you lead, her body swaying effortlessly with yours. The music wrapped around you both, creating a bubble of peace in the otherwise hectic world.

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

VI.

The room was buzzing with the afterglow of triumph. Vi had just returned from what felt like an impossible mission—freeing a group of Zaunites from a shady Piltover deal. It wasn’t just a win; it was a statement. She had pulled it off without casualties, a feat she rarely allowed herself to dream of.

As she stepped into your shared space, you were already waiting, grinning like you’d just seen the sun rise for the first time.

“Didn’t expect me back so soon, huh?” Vi teased, dropping her gauntlets by the door. Her smirk was proud, but you could tell she was still riding the adrenaline.

“Not gonna lie, I was preparing for a two-day brooding session without you,” you joked, walking up to her.

Vi rolled her eyes, but her smile softened as you placed your hands on her shoulders. “Guess you’ll just have to deal with me instead.”

“Guess so,” you said, leaning in to kiss her cheek before heading toward the corner of the room. You flicked on the record player, and a jazzy, upbeat tune spilled into the air.

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re celebrating, huh?”

“You bet we are,” you replied, holding out your hand. “You just saved a ton of people, Vi. That’s worth a dance or two.”

She hesitated, her confidence faltering just slightly. “Dunno if I’m any good at this kind of thing…”

“Good thing I am,” you said with a wink.

Reluctantly, she took your hand, and you pulled her into the open space of the room. Her movements were a little clumsy at first, but as you swayed together, she relaxed, letting herself enjoy the moment.

“You’re not half bad,” you teased, spinning her gently.

“Don’t get used to it,” she shot back, though her grin betrayed her enjoyment.

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

Jinx.

The hideout was a mess, as usual—scraps of metal, spray cans, and half-finished gadgets littered the floor. Jinx was perched on her workbench, muttering to herself as she scribbled something incomprehensible onto the wall. She’d been like this for hours, her mind a storm of ideas, plans, and the lingering echoes of a rough day.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching her. Her hair was wild, her movements twitchy, but you could tell she was holding something back—something darker.

“Jinx,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the silence.

Her head snapped toward you, her eyes narrowing for a moment before softening when she recognized you. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, her tone half-relieved, half-guarded.

“You’ve been cooped up in here all day,” you said, stepping into the room. “You need a break.”

“I don’t need anything,” she shot back, her voice sharp, though it lacked its usual bite.

You walked over to the corner where an old, beat-up radio sat. With a click, soft music crackled to life—an upbeat, swaying tune that seemed completely out of place in her chaotic workshop.

“What are you doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Dancing,” you replied simply, holding out your hand.

Jinx stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Dancing? Seriously? In here?”

“Why not?” you asked with a grin. “You’ve been running circles in your head all day. Let me spin you around instead.”

She blinked, caught off guard by your response. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but there was a flicker of amusement in her voice.

“Maybe,” you said, stepping closer. “But you’re smiling now, aren’t you?”

Jinx scoffed but didn’t push you away when you gently took her hand. “Fine. But if I trip over something and fall, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” you said, guiding her into the small open space in the room.

She was awkward at first, her movements jerky and uncertain. But as the music filled the room and you began to sway together, she started to relax. A hesitant giggle escaped her lips, and it quickly turned into full-blown laughter when you spun her around, nearly knocking over a stack of spare parts.

“This is so dumb,” she said between laughs, though she didn’t pull away.

“And yet, you’re still here,” you teased, pulling her close.

Jinx grinned, her blue eyes sparkling in a way that made your heart ache. For a moment, she was just a girl lost in a carefree moment, free from the weight of her past and the chaos of her mind.

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

Ekko.

The Firelights’ hideout buzzed with energy—members coming and going, their voices blending with the faint hum of machinery. Ekko had been busy all day, bouncing between fixing gadgets, strategizing patrols, and keeping everyone safe. You hadn’t seen him stop once, even to catch his breath.

When the group finally dispersed for the night, you found him outside, perched on the edge of a broken rooftop overlooking the dimly lit streets of Zaun. His hood was pulled back, revealing the tired lines on his face, but his eyes were still sharp, scanning the city below.

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” you called gently, stepping out into the cool night air.

Ekko turned, his lips curving into a small smile when he saw you. “Can’t afford to,” he replied, though the weariness in his voice betrayed him.

“You’ve done enough for one day,” you said, walking up beside him. “The city will still be here tomorrow. You need to take a moment for yourself.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “And what would I even do with a moment to myself?”

You grinned, holding out your hand. “You’d dance with me.”

Ekko blinked, caught off guard. “Dance? Out here? On this rooftop?”

“Why not?” you asked, your tone light. “It’s quiet, the stars are out, and you need a reason to stop thinking for a bit.”

He hesitated, glancing down at your hand. “You’re serious?”

“Always,” you replied, taking a step closer. “Come on, Ekko. Humor me.”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh, standing and taking your hand. “Alright, but if I fall, you’re taking the blame.”

“You won’t fall,” you said, pulling him into the open space of the rooftop.

With no music to guide you, the two of you swayed to the rhythm of the city—the distant hum of machinery, the faint whispers of wind through the alleyways. Ekko was stiff at first, his movements uncertain, but you didn’t let go, guiding him gently.

“You’re supposed to be leading,” you teased after a moment.

“Pretty sure you’re better at this than I am,” he shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

You laughed, spinning him anyway, the sound of your joy breaking through the heavy air of Zaun. Slowly, his body relaxed, and he began to move with more confidence, his steps matching yours.

“This is kinda nice,” he admitted after a while, his voice softer.

“Told you,” you replied, resting your forehead against his.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Ekko’s hands were steady on your waist, his gaze fixed on yours as if you were the only thing grounding him.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, his tone filled with quiet gratitude.

“Dancing?” you asked with a teasing smile.

“Making things feel… less heavy,” he replied, his expression soft. “Like maybe it’s okay to stop fighting for a little while.”

You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “It’s always okay. You don’t have to carry everything alone, Ekko.”

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

Vander.

The bar was closed for the night, the chairs stacked on tables and the lights dimmed. Vander leaned against the counter, his large frame casting a shadow over the worn wood. He was nursing a glass of whiskey, his expression distant.

You approached him, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” you said gently.

He sighed, setting the glass down. “Just thinking. About the kids, about Zaun… about everything.”

You nodded, understanding the weight he carried. Without a word, you walked over to the old radio on the shelf and turned the dial. A soft, nostalgic tune began to play, filling the room with warmth.

Vander raised an eyebrow. “What’re you up to?”

“Dance with me,” you said simply, holding out your hand.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” you replied, your smile unwavering.

With a small shake of his head, he stood and took your hand, his calloused fingers wrapping around yours. You guided him into the center of the room, his movements surprisingly graceful for a man of his size.

“You’re not half bad at this,” you teased, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Used to dance all the time,” he admitted. “Back when things were… simpler.”

As the music played on, the two of you swayed together, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. Vander’s arms were strong and steady around you, grounding you in a way that no one else could.

[anticipatedexhale]

How do you think arcane characters would react to burn scars? I have them on the back of my thighs and thought I can't see them everyone who can says they cover most of my thighs and there dark

Your burn marks are a symbol of strength, not flaws. They tell a story of resilience, and that makes you uniquely beautiful. <3 please never feel otherwise.

Burn scars.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

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

☆ ◞ summary: arcane characters reacting to your burn scars

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. A lot of sensitive topics like, burn marks , insecurities, self doubt, the way the reader got the scars are not mentioned, if anyone is uncomfortable in reading about scars or is triggered I suggest to please not read this

Jayce Talis.

The evening was warm, the kind of night where the city hummed with quiet life outside the lab’s tall windows. Jayce sat on the floor of his apartment, leaning against the couch, his arms stretched out behind him as he watched you.

You were sitting on the edge of his bed, legs stretched in front of you, absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh.

The moment your fingers brushed over a particular spot, you flinched.

Jayce noticed immediately.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, careful. Not his usual booming confidence, but something gentler.

You hesitated. "Yeah, just..." Your fingers ghosted over the area again before you sighed. "Old scars."

His brows furrowed, eyes dropping to your legs. And that’s when he saw them.

Burn scars.

uneven marks stretching across the back of your thigh, the kind that told a story—one you clearly weren’t eager to share.

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly aware of his silence. "They’re not a big deal," you said quickly, a half-hearted attempt to brush it off. "I don’t even think about them most of the time."

Jayce didn’t look convinced.

"Can I?" He gestured slightly, not reaching out but offering the space for you to decide.

You hesitated.

Most people pretended not to notice them. Others stared without thinking, their curiosity poorly disguised. But Jayce... he was just waiting.

After a long moment, you nodded.

Carefully, he reached out, his fingers brushing over your skin—warm and deliberate. He didn’t recoil, didn’t wince, didn’t try to mask any reaction.

He just held you.

His thumb traced the edges of the scars with something close to reverence, his touch featherlight but grounding. "You know..." His voice was quieter now. "Scars aren’t something to hide."

You scoffed, a weak attempt at a laugh. "Easy for you to say. You don’t have—"

"I don’t," he admitted. "Not like these. But I know what it’s like to carry something from the past. And I know it doesn’t make you any less..." He swallowed, searching for the right words. "You."*

Your chest ached at the sincerity in his tone.

Slowly, his hand slipped down, intertwining his fingers with yours. "You don’t have to pretend they don’t exist," he murmured. "And you sure as hell don’t have to pretend they don’t bother you."

The knot in your throat tightened. You weren’t sure what to say—if you even could say anything. So instead, you squeezed his hand, letting the weight of his words settle between you.

Jayce squeezed back.

And in that moment, the scars didn’t feel quite as heavy.

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

Mel Medarda.

The warm glow of candlelight flickered against the silk-draped walls of Mel’s quarters, casting long shadows across the ornate furniture. A gentle breeze drifted in from the open balcony, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of Piltover’s nightlife.

You sat curled up on the velvet chaise lounge, legs draped over the side, basking in the rare quiet moment. Mel was beside you, her fingers tracing absent-minded patterns along your arm as she studied a painting she had been working on earlier.

"You’ve been quiet tonight," she observed, her voice smooth but laced with curiosity.

You hesitated before shrugging. "Just tired."

She hummed softly, setting aside her brush before shifting to face you fully. Her golden eyes roamed over you, perceptive as always, until they landed on where your pants had shifted slightly—just enough to expose the back of your thigh.

Her fingers stilled.

"Come here," she murmured, voice softer now.

You hesitated for a beat before sitting up, allowing her to gently tug you closer. With a delicate touch, she brushed the fabric further up, revealing the burn scars beneath.

You watched her expression carefully, waiting for the usual flicker of pity, the well-meaning reassurances you’d heard a hundred times before.

But Mel Medarda did not deal in empty sentiments.

Her eyes traced the scars slowly, as if committing every detail to memory. "These..." she started, her fingers ghosting lightly over the uneven skin. "They remind me of gold leafing."*

You blinked. "Gold leafing?"

"Mhm." She tilted her head, her braids shifting over her shoulder. "In my homeland, when something is broken, it is often mended with gold—highlighting the cracks instead of hiding them. It is meant to show resilience. Beauty in imperfection."

Your throat tightened slightly. "I don’t think most people would call these beautiful."*

Mel’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your gaze to hers. "Most people lack vision."

The weight of her words settled between you, unspoken but understood.

Then, her lips brushed against the scarred skin—slow, deliberate, reverent.

A shiver ran through you at the intimacy of it, the way her breath warmed your skin, the way her fingers trailed up your thigh with featherlight precision. She placed another kiss, then another, until the tension in your shoulders melted under her touch.

"You are art," she whispered against your skin. "Even in the places you try to hide."

A shaky breath left your lips, but for once, you didn’t pull away.

For once, you let yourself believe her.

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

Viktor.

The lab was quiet except for the steady scratching of Viktor’s pen against paper and the occasional hum of machinery. You were seated on the workbench across from him, stretching your legs out absentmindedly after a long day.

It had been a particularly warm evening, and in the comfort of the empty lab, you had rolled up your pants slightly to cool off. You hadn’t even realized that in doing so, you had exposed a part of your thigh—until Viktor’s gaze flickered over, and he stilled.

His pen halted mid-word. His golden eyes lingered, brows furrowing slightly.

"You are injured?" His voice was quiet, yet laced with something unreadable.

You blinked, following his line of sight before quickly tugging your pant leg back down. "No, it’s just... scars," you muttered, suddenly feeling hyper-aware of his stare. "Old ones."

Viktor didn’t look away. "May I see?"

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because most people either avoided acknowledging the scars altogether or gave you the same well-meaning but rehearsed reassurances.

But Viktor wasn’t most people.

With a quiet breath, you slowly rolled the fabric back up, revealing the uneven burn scars across the back of your thigh. You didn’t look at him—didn’t want to see whatever expression he might be wearing.

Seconds passed in silence.

Then, the gentle scrape of his chair as he moved closer.

Viktor didn’t reach out immediately. Instead, he observed them carefully, like he was reading something important—tracing the pattern with his eyes as if piecing together a puzzle only he could solve.

"Scars are... interesting things," he murmured, voice softer now. "They are proof of endurance. Evidence that pain was felt, yet you remained."

You swallowed thickly. "That’s one way to put it."

His gaze lifted to yours, and for the first time, you caught something in his expression—understanding.

Slowly, Viktor shifted, rolling up the fabric over his own leg. The scars along his knee and shin were different—ones born of overuse, surgeries, the toll of time—but they were scars nonetheless.

"People see these and assume they know my story," he said, tilting his leg slightly. "They assume pity is required. That weakness is present." His golden eyes flickered back to you. "But we are not weak, are we?"

Something tightened in your chest. "No," you said softly. "We’re not."

Viktor studied you for a moment longer before, carefully, he reached out. His fingers hovered over your thigh—giving you space to pull away.

You didn’t.

His touch was light, barely there, but warm nonetheless. "Your scars do not lessen you," he murmured. "They do not take away from who you are. They are merely a part of your story. And if anyone tells you otherwise..." He huffed a small breath, a ghost of amusement in his voice. "Well, they are simply not as intelligent as I am."

A small, breathy laugh left your lips despite yourself. "Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?*"

Viktor smirked faintly, withdrawing his hand only to tap lightly at his temple. "Genius, remember?"

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingered.

And for the first time in a long time, the scars didn’t feel like something to hide.

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

Caitlyn kiramman.

It had been a long day of patrolling the streets, and Caitlyn had returned to her estate looking exhausted. The moment she stepped through the door, she was greeted by the warmth of the fireplace and the soft hum of the house’s familiar sounds. It felt like a reprieve from the intensity of the day.

You were already curled up on the couch, a book in your hands, though your mind was elsewhere. Caitlyn’s presence always brought a sense of calm, but today, there was an unease you couldn’t shake.

As Caitlyn removed her coat and began to relax, she noticed you glancing at your legs, the slight fidgeting of your hand around the hem of your pants. She’d learned to read you like a book, noticing the smallest shifts in your behavior. Something was off, but she wasn’t sure what.

She walked over to you, gently resting a hand on your shoulder, her voice calm but insistent. "What’s going on, darling?"

You hesitated for a moment before you replied, your voice quieter than usual. "It's nothing, just... been thinking."

Caitlyn’s eyes softened, but she didn’t push. Instead, she perched herself on the armrest, her gaze never leaving yours. "About what?"

You sighed, feeling the weight of her gaze press on you. It was a warmth that made it hard to hide things from her. Slowly, you moved to pull your pants up slightly, revealing the scars on your thigh—old, deep burn marks that you had long since grown used to but never really let anyone see.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, and her hand instinctively reached for yours, her thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. "You’ve never mentioned these before..."

You swallowed, not wanting to look at her, but you couldn’t help it. "They’re just scars, Cait. They don’t mean anything."

She tilted her head, clearly not convinced. "I don’t believe that for a second." Her voice softened, and she slowly knelt down beside you, her fingers brushing the skin around the scars with tenderness, her touch barely grazing you as if you were something fragile. "Scars tell stories, but they don’t define you. Not to me."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. It wasn’t the first time Caitlyn had said something so reassuring, but it was the first time it felt like she truly meant it. The quiet compassion in her voice was enough to make you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

"You don’t have to hide them," Caitlyn continued, her gaze meeting yours with gentle intensity. "You don’t have to hide anything from me, ever."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, not wanting to seem weak. But Caitlyn, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in you. With a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"You don’t have to carry the weight of this alone," she murmured against your hair. "I’m here, always."

You allowed yourself to lean into her, the warmth of her embrace easing the tension in your chest. The touch of her fingers against the scars felt like a promise, a silent vow that no matter what had happened before, no matter how you felt about those marks on your skin, Caitlyn would always see you for who you were—not for the pain you’d been through, but for the person you had become.

"I’ll always be here," Caitlyn whispered again, her voice low and steady. "And I love you, scars and all."

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you let yourself melt into her arms, the comfort of her presence washing over you. For the first time in a long while, the scars on your body didn’t feel like something to be hidden. With Caitlyn, they simply became another part of the story, and it was a story you were no longer afraid to share.

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

Vi.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind the smell of damp concrete and rust in the air. Vi kicked off her boots as she stepped into your shared apartment, shaking the water from her hair with a tired groan.

"That was a hell of a patrol," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck before flashing you a lopsided grin. "Miss me?"

You looked up from the couch, giving her a small smile. "Always."

Vi plopped down beside you, tossing an arm over your shoulder with easy affection. "What’s up, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet."

You hesitated, shifting slightly, but Vi felt the tension immediately. She leaned back, studying your face, and her playful grin softened.

"Talk to me," she coaxed, voice dipping into something more gentle. "Something’s on your mind."

You sighed, glancing away. "It’s stupid."

Vi gave you a pointed look. "Babe, you know I don’t do ‘stupid’ when it comes to you. Spill it."

You hesitated before slowly rolling up the hem of your shorts, exposing the burn scars on the back of your thigh. You felt Vi go still beside you. Her usual warmth, her teasing nature, all of it quieted in an instant.

You braced yourself for some kind of pitying response, for words you didn’t want to hear. Instead, Vi’s fingers brushed over your skin—rough, calloused hands moving with the gentlest touch.

"How long have you had these?" she asked, her voice unreadable.

"For a while," you admitted. "I just… don’t really show them to people."

Vi was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the edges of the scars, slow and deliberate. You could feel her exhale against your shoulder before she finally spoke.

"You know," she murmured, "scars tell me more about a person than their words ever could."

You huffed out a dry laugh. "Yeah? And what do these tell you?"

Vi smirked, but there was something softer behind it, something careful. "That you’re tough as hell. That you’ve been through shit and still came out standing."

You swallowed hard, something twisting deep in your chest. "I don’t always feel tough."

Vi shifted closer, pressing her forehead lightly against yours. "That’s ‘cause you don’t see yourself the way I do." Her hand curled around your thigh, grounding, steady. "But I see you. Every single part of you."*

Your breath hitched when she leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss over one of the scars. Then another. And another.

Your fingers curled into her shirt as she whispered, "You’re beautiful, scars and all."

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

Jinx.

Jinx was never good at staying still. Even now, as she lay sprawled across your lap, she fidgeted—twirling a wrench in one hand while her other absentmindedly traced shapes on your arm.

"You’re awfully quiet today, sugar," she mused, tilting her head up to peer at you. "Not planning to ditch me for some boring, normal life, are ya?"

You gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. "Nah, just thinking."

Jinx flipped onto her stomach, resting her chin against your thigh. "Ugh, thinking’s overrated. What’s got you so—" Her words trailed off as her gaze flickered lower, landing on the burn scars on the back of your thigh.

For once, Jinx went completely still. No jokes, no teasing—just silence. You knew she’d seen them before in flashes, but you had never sat down and talked about them. And Jinx? She never pried.

Until now.

"Where’d ya get these?" Her voice wasn’t mocking, wasn’t playful. Just quiet.

You shrugged, trying to pull your leg away, but she caught your knee, holding you in place. "They don’t matter."

Jinx’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Kinda seem like they do, since you never let me see ‘em."*

You exhaled sharply, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. "I just… don’t like how they look. It’s not a big deal, Jinx."*

"Uh, yeah it is."

She sat up abruptly, straddling your lap, and before you could react, she reached for a marker off the table. With an impish grin, she clicked it open and began doodling over your scars.

"What are you doing?" you asked, baffled.

"Making ‘em cooler," she replied, sticking her tongue out in concentration. "I mean, these could totally be lightning bolts—oh! Or flames. Hell, we could even add little skulls, make it look all badass, like, ‘yeah, I survived a hellstorm, what of it?’"

Despite yourself, you laughed. "Jinx—"

"Shh, shh, artistic genius at work," she interrupted, tapping your nose with the marker.

You shook your head, but you didn’t stop her. Her focus shifted as she ran a gloved hand down your thigh, fingertips barely grazing over the scarred skin.

Then, softer, she murmured, "Does it still hurt?"

Your chest tightened. "Not physically."

Jinx hummed, twirling the marker between her fingers. "Yeah… I get that."

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the city outside. Then Jinx leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of the scars, quick but sincere.

"There. Now it’s magic. You’re stuck with me forever."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt lighter. "Is that how magic works?"

"Duh." She kissed another one, then another, grinning against your skin. "You’re mine, and I’m yours. No stupid scars change that."

You reached up, brushing her cheek. "You’re a menace, you know that?"

Jinx beamed. "And you love it."

And yeah. You did.

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

Ekko.

The Firelights’ hideout was quieter than usual tonight. Most of the crew had already turned in, leaving just you and Ekko sitting on the worn-out couch, the soft hum of old music crackling from a beat-up radio.

Ekko had his legs stretched out, arms draped behind his head, watching you with that easygoing gaze of his. "You’ve been weird today," he finally said. "What’s up?"

You hesitated, fingers curling around the hem of your shorts. "It’s nothing."

Ekko arched a brow. "Right. And I’m Councilor Jayce Talis."

You huffed a laugh, but it quickly faded as you shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep your legs tucked beneath you. Unfortunately, Ekko was too damn observant for his own good. His eyes flickered downward, catching the movement—then landing on the burn scars on the back of your thigh.

His expression faltered. "Yo... what happened?"

"It’s nothing," you said quickly, shifting to pull your legs away, but Ekko reached out, stopping you with a hand on your knee.

"Nah. Don’t do that." His voice was gentle but firm. "You always let me ramble about my scars. What makes yours different?"

You swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "Because they’re ugly."

Ekko frowned. "Ugly?"

"Yeah." You exhaled sharply. "People stare. Whisper. It just… reminds me of shit I don’t wanna think about."

Ekko was quiet for a moment. Then, without warning, he shifted, adjusting his weight until he was kneeling in front of you, his hands braced on either side of your legs.

"Look at me," he said softly.

You hesitated before finally meeting his gaze. His eyes weren’t filled with pity. No forced reassurances. Just raw, quiet understanding.

"You know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured. "Somebody strong enough to still be here. Somebody who’s been through hell and didn’t let it break ‘em."

His fingers traced feather-light over the scars—not afraid to touch, but careful, like he was memorizing them. "You think these make you ugly? Nah. They just prove that you survived something meant to take you out. That’s powerful."

Your throat tightened. "I don’t always feel powerful."

Ekko huffed out a small smile, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss against one of the scars. "Then let me remind you."

Another kiss. And another. His lips were warm, grounding, a silent promise in every touch. You closed your eyes, exhaling as you let yourself lean into his presence.

"You’re still you," he murmured against your skin. "Scars don’t change that. They never will."

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I must apologize to all of you because of such a delay I have been dealing with alot lately and also last year of highschool so much Happening BUT PUSHING THROUGH please send requests tho! I LOVEEE em!

[anticipatedexhale]

Come on! Get ready!! they're taking you on a date <3

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, vander, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: how cute ! They decide to take you on a date(character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. Pure fluff, and yeah that's it!!.

Mel Medarda.

Date Spot: A high-end art gallery followed by an exclusive rooftop dinner.

Mel enjoys sophistication and luxury, so she’d choose an art gallery showcasing Piltover’s finest works, followed by a private, candlelit dinner overlooking the city.

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Mel’s hand rests lightly on your arm as you step into the gallery, the warm glow of chandeliers casting a golden light over the polished floors. The air smells faintly of expensive perfumes and freshly polished wood. As you approach a painting, Mel pauses, tilting her head thoughtfully. “This one,” she murmurs, gesturing to a striking abstract piece, “is about the illusion of control. It’s fascinating how it challenges our need for order.”

You can’t help but watch her as she speaks, the passion in her voice drawing you in more than the painting itself. She notices your gaze and arches a brow. “What? Do I have paint on my face?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No, I just like listening to you.”

Her lips curve into a soft smile. “Careful, darling. Flattery like that might make me keep you out all night.”

Later, as the two of you settle into a cozy corner of a rooftop restaurant, the city’s lights twinkling below, she raises her glass to you.

“To beauty,” she says, her voice low and warm, “both the kind we can see, and the kind we feel.” The candlelight dances in her golden eyes, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has faded away.

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Jayce Talis.

Date Spot: A lively Piltover festival.

Jayce loves excitement and fun, so he’d take you to a bustling festival filled with games, food stalls, and music, making sure it’s a night full of laughter.

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The sound of laughter and cheerful music fills the air as Jayce leads you through the vibrant streets of Piltover’s annual festival. The scent of roasted nuts and sweet pastries wafts by, and colorful lanterns hang above, casting a warm glow.

“Alright, pick a game,” Jayce says, grinning down at you. “I’m winning you a prize.”

You point to a ring-toss booth, and he confidently strides up, paying for a few tries. His first attempt misses completely, and you can’t hold back a laugh. “Hey, that was a warm-up!” he protests, grabbing another ring.

After a few more tries (and some playful banter about his aim), he finally lands one, earning a stuffed animal for you. He hands it over with a triumphant smile. “See? Told you I’d win something.”

As the night goes on, the two of you share sugary treats and dance to live music under the lanterns.

When the fireworks start, Jayce pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “This is nice,” he says softly, his usual confident demeanor giving way to something more tender. “I should take nights off with you more often.”

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Viktor.

Date Spot: A quiet observatory on the outskirts of Piltover.

Viktor values intimate and meaningful experiences, so he’d take you to an observatory where you could stargaze and talk without distractions.

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

The observatory is quiet, perched on a hill overlooking Piltover. Viktor leads you inside, his hand brushing yours briefly before pulling away. “I thought you might like this,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s one of the few places where you can actually see the stars clearly.”

As you step onto the balcony, the night sky stretches out above you, a canvas of glittering stars. Viktor adjusts a telescope, his movements careful and precise. “Come here,” he says, motioning for you to look.

You lean over, and he places a hand on your back, steadying you. Through the lens, you see a cluster of stars glowing brightly. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, straightening up to look at him.

He smiles faintly, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight. “It reminds me of you,” he says after a pause, his voice quieter now. “Brilliant, even in the darkest places.”

For a moment, you’re both silent, the world around you fading into the stillness of the night. Then, Viktor hesitates before reaching for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “It means more than I can put into words.”

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Vi.

Date Spot: A rooftop boxing ring overlooking the Undercity.

Vi would take you somewhere personal to her—a rooftop she knows where you can spar, laugh, and share a moment under the stars.

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

“Trust me,” Vi says, a teasing grin on her face as she leads you up a narrow staircase. “You’re gonna love this.”

When you reach the top, you’re greeted by a makeshift boxing ring set up on a rooftop. The view of the Undercity sprawls out below, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows.

“You brought me to fight?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

She laughs, tossing you a pair of gloves. “Not fight. Spar. Big difference.”

The two of you step into the ring, and she takes it easy on you at first, showing you how to throw punches and block. But soon, the playful competition begins, and before long, you’re both laughing too hard to keep going.

As you sit on the edge of the ring, catching your breath, Vi nudges you with her shoulder. “You’re tougher than you look,” she teases, her eyes softening.

“And you’re not as intimidating as you pretend to be,” you shoot back, grinning.

She leans in, her expression turning serious for a moment. “This was nice,” she says quietly. “I don’t let a lot of people in, but... I’m glad I let you.”

The vulnerability in her voice catches you off guard, and you reach over to take her hand. The two of you sit there for a while, the sounds of the Undercity fading into the background as the stars twinkle above.

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Caitlyn Kiramman.

Date Spot: A picnic in the countryside.

Caitlyn prefers thoughtful, intimate moments. She’d plan a private picnic on a grassy hill outside of Piltover, where the two of you could enjoy some quiet time together surrounded by nature.

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

The sun is warm, and the breeze carries the faint scent of wildflowers as Caitlyn sets the picnic basket down on the blanket she’s laid out. You watch as she carefully arranges everything—fresh bread, fruit, cheese, and a bottle of wine.

“I know it’s not as exciting as a big event,” she says, glancing at you as she unpacks, “but I thought we could use a little escape from the noise.”

“It’s perfect,” you assure her, settling down beside her.

She smiles, the tension in her shoulders easing as she pours you both a glass of wine. The two of you spend the afternoon sharing stories, laughing, and enjoying the food. At one point, Caitlyn leans back, her hat shading her face from the sun, and looks at you with a rare, relaxed expression.

“You’re good for me, you know,” she says softly. “I spend so much time chasing leads and solving problems... I forget how nice it is to just be.”

You reach over, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You deserve it, Cait. You work so hard for everyone else.”

Her cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she takes your hand in hers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice almost a whisper. “For reminding me what’s really important.”

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Jinx.

Date Spot: An abandoned fairground in the Undercity.

Jinx would take you to a forgotten fairground she’s decorated herself with colorful lights and strange contraptions. It’s chaotic, but it’s her way of showing you a piece of her world.

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

“Ta-da!” Jinx shouts, throwing her arms wide as you step into the abandoned fairground. Strings of mismatched lights are strung haphazardly between rusting rides, and strange, homemade decorations dangle from the stalls.

“You... did all this?” you ask, looking around in awe.

“Of course!” she says, bouncing on her toes. “You’re always saying I don’t do normal dates, so here it is. Jinx-style.”

She drags you toward an old dart booth, where she’s set up bottles and targets. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!” she says, handing you a handful of darts.

After a few rounds of chaotic (and hilarious) attempts at hitting the targets, Jinx pulls you toward the Ferris wheel. It creaks ominously as she climbs inside, patting the seat beside her.

“Don’t worry, it won’t fall,” she says with a mischievous grin. “Probably.”

As the wheel lurches to life, you can’t help but laugh, holding onto the metal bar as the two of you rise above the fairground. The view is a mix of the Undercity’s flickering lights and her makeshift decorations below.

“See?” Jinx says, her voice softer now as she looks out over the scene. “It’s not fancy or perfect, but... it’s ours.”

You glance at her, her usual manic energy replaced with something quieter, almost vulnerable. “I love it,” you say, reaching over to take her hand.

Her cheeks flush slightly, and she looks away, a nervous laugh escaping her. “Good,” she mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. “’Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

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Vander.

Date Spot: A cozy dinner at The Last Drop after hours.

Vander would want to keep things simple and meaningful, opting to cook you dinner in his bar after closing. He’d light a few candles and make sure it’s just the two of you.

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

The Last Drop is unusually quiet, the usual crowd of rowdy patrons gone for the night. Vander moves around the bar with practiced ease, a worn apron tied around his waist as he stirs a pot on the stove in the back.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you say, leaning on the counter and watching him.

He glances over his shoulder, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s no trouble. You deserve a good meal, and I figured it’s about time I cooked for you.”

The table he’s set up in the corner is simple but thoughtful, with a few candles flickering softly and two plates waiting. When he finally brings the food over—a hearty stew and fresh bread—you can’t help but smile at how much care he’s put into everything.

As you eat, Vander leans back in his chair, watching you with a content expression. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to just sit down and enjoy a meal like this,” he admits.

“Well, you should do it more often,” you say, nudging his foot under the table. “You’re always looking out for everyone else. Let someone look out for you for a change.”

He chuckles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You’re already doing that,” he says quietly. “Just by being here.”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten, and as the two of you sit there, the world outside the bar fades away.

[fleurvi]

Omg could you do their reactions to their s/o having a Diva attitude

Attitude | Arcane x reader

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: caitlyns and sevika's are suggestive

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

Ambessa Medarda

You better get your shit together. Ambessa doesn't have the time or patience for this attitude. If it's aimed at someone else, she rolls her eyes and lets you get on with it, but she will not tolerate it if it's directed at her. She demands respect from everyone, and that includes her partner.

“You better fix that attitude before your mouth gets you in trouble.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

Caitlyn is turned on by it at first, but she can't tolerate it for long. Caitlyn is very short tempered, and your attitude will just rile her up and cause an argument between the two of you. If it's directed at someone else though, she's all for it. She likes watching you tell someone else off.

“You're so frustrating, but you're so hot when you argue with me.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

Are you insane? Don't even attempt to get away with an attitude. She's not as patient as she seems. She has absolutely zero tolerance for your divatude. How you conduct yourself in public reflects her. If you dare direct that attitude towards her, it's either take a punishment or go somewhere else.

“You better watch your mouth before I take matters into my own hands and teach you some manners.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

Mel finds it amusing when it's not directed at her. Your sharp tongue excites her, and she feels inclined to back you up when need be. She'll always indulge and let you complain. However, if you try and sass her, it will result in an insult so subtle yet accurate that it lingers in the back of your head for the next week. She doesn't appreciate being on the receiving end of your bullshit. Overall though, she enjoys your attitude. She likes that you don't let people walk all over you.

“That's funny, Baby. I can't believe you said that to her.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

I genuinely think Sevika would be amused by it. She's a scary, tough woman and is completely unphased by your attitude. If it's directed at someone else, she'll stand behind you like a guard dog daring the object of your sass to argue back and give her a reason to fight. She likes it even more when directed at her; your fiery, combative attitude turns her on. She likes a bit of natural competition.

“Oh yeah? you wanna keep talking to me like that? Keep going, baby. We'll see if you can keep this attitude up when I've got you bent over.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

Another one who finds it endearing. Except, unlike Sevika, Vi prefers watching you direct your attitude at other people. There's something about watching you verbally take someone down or give a nasty eye roll that riles her up. When it is directed at her, she's not intimidated; she can't stop thinking about kissing you to shut you up.

“Don't worry, baby, that guy totally deserved it.”

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

my requests are open!

thank you for reading!

[anticipatedexhale]

They are trying to cook for you, key word is trying!.

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, vander, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: they try to surprise you by cooking up a meal! (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. Other than that nothing just sweet pure fluff, also not proofread yuppie!!

Mel Medarda.

Mel doesn’t usually cook, but she enjoys challenging herself to excel at anything she attempts.

She researches recipes beforehand and even practices privately to ensure she impresses you.

She insists on perfection—not just in flavor, but in presentation.

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When Mel told you she wanted to cook dinner for you, you didn’t know what to expect. She wasn’t the type to roll up her sleeves in the kitchen—her usual dinners involved lavish spreads delivered by Piltovan chefs. Yet here she was, dressed impeccably, her sleeves neatly rolled, slicing herbs with the precision of a master artist.

You sit on a stool, quietly admiring her grace. Every movement she makes feels deliberate, from the way she stirs the sauce to the way she tastes it with a thoughtful hum. “This needs a hint more acidity,” she murmurs, reaching for a lemon.

Finally, she places the plate in front of you—a stunning dish that looks like something from a gourmet restaurant. You almost don’t want to ruin the artistry by eating it, but the aroma convinces you otherwise.

After the first bite, you can’t help but let out a small moan of approval. “Mel, this is incredible.”

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile, her golden eyes gleaming with pride. “I’d hope so. I don’t do mediocrity—not even for a simple dinner.” She leans closer, brushing her fingers lightly against yours. “But seeing you enjoy it makes all the effort worthwhile.”

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Jayce Talis.

Jayce throws himself into cooking like one of his Hextech experiments—lots of ambition, not much planning.

He uses way too many ingredients and utensils, convinced that “more is better.”

The kitchen is a disaster by the end, but he’s proud of the chaos he’s created for you.

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“Jayce, what are you—oh my god, is that smoke?” you exclaim as you walk into the kitchen.

Jayce spins around, holding a spatula in one hand and a pan in the other. There’s flour on his face, and the counter is covered in an alarming array of spices, half-chopped vegetables, and what you think might be egg shells.

“Relax! I’ve got this!” he grins, though the sizzling pan in his hand suggests otherwise. He flips something in the air, but it lands half out of the pan. He quickly scoops it back in, glancing over at you sheepishly.

“You know,” you tease, crossing your arms, “you could’ve just let me cook.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he retorts, turning back to the stove with renewed determination.

When the food is finally done, he presents it to you with a proud flourish. It’s... not pretty. Some parts are slightly burnt, others undercooked, but you can see the genuine effort he put in.

You take a cautious bite, and while it’s not perfect, it’s oddly endearing. “It’s... not bad,” you say, smiling at his hopeful expression.

He beams like you just handed him an award. “See? Told you I could do it.” He pulls you into a flour-dusted hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Next time, though, I’ll definitely get it right.”

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Viktor.

Viktor rarely cooks, as his focus is usually on his work, but he secretly enjoys the idea of creating something special for you.

He’s not overly confident in the kitchen but is determined to make it a success.

He gets overly absorbed in the “science” of cooking, sometimes forgetting the practical side.

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

You find Viktor in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up and a cookbook propped open beside him. He’s frowning slightly as he measures ingredients with the precision of an engineer.

“You’re cooking?” you ask, a little surprised but mostly intrigued.

He glances up, his expression softening at the sight of you. “Yes, I thought... well, you deserve something thoughtful. But I may have underestimated the complexity of this recipe.”

You watch as he carefully stirs a sauce, only to realize too late that the pot is starting to boil over. He yelps, stepping back quickly, and you stifle a laugh as he scrambles to salvage the situation.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, half to himself, half to you, wiping his brow with a flour-dusted hand. “A minor setback.”

When he finally presents the meal, it’s a little uneven—the sauce is slightly too thick, and the vegetables are cut at oddly different sizes—but it tastes surprisingly good.

“This is amazing,” you say with a warm smile, and Viktor visibly relaxes.

“I am glad,” he murmurs, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose I cannot compete with professionals, but knowing you enjoy it is... enough.”

You reach over to take his hand, and he squeezes yours gently, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks.

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VI.

Vi doesn’t have much experience cooking, but she’s confident enough to think she can wing it.

She’s more interested in making it fun than perfect, cracking jokes and sneaking tastes while she cooks.

The end result is edible (barely), but her effort and enthusiasm make up for it.

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

When Vi told you she was going to cook dinner, you weren’t sure what to expect. Now, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, you can’t decide whether to laugh or intervene.

“Don’t just stand there,” Vi says, grinning at you over her shoulder as she stirs something in a pan. “I’ve got this under control.

The “control” she’s referring to involves a half-chopped onion, a bag of pasta precariously balanced on the counter, and a sauce that looks... experimental.

“Vi, do you even know what you’re making?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Dinner,” she says simply, throwing in a handful of spices with no regard for measurements.

When she finally serves the food, it’s a little burnt and overly seasoned, but her proud expression as she watches you take a bite makes it impossible to complain.

“Well?” she asks, leaning forward, her elbows on the table.

“It’s... unique,” you say diplomatically, and she bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, okay, it’s terrible,” she admits, leaning back with a grin. “But you’re still stuck with me, so deal with it.” She reaches over to steal a bite from your plate, her playful smirk softening into something warmer.

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Caitlyn.

Caitlyn grew up in luxury and rarely had to cook for herself, but she’s surprisingly good at it thanks to her perfectionist streak.

She approaches cooking with precision, following recipes to the letter.

She loves making meals that remind her of home but adds her own modern twist

She loves making meals that remind her of home but adds her own modern twist.

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

The smell of something delicious pulls you into the kitchen, where Caitlyn is standing at the stove, her hair neatly tied back and an apron wrapped around her waist.

“Is that... pie?” you ask, sniffing the air.

She’s completely in her element, moving with quiet efficiency as she checks the oven and stirs a pot of soup. When she catches you watching her, she tilts her head.

“It’s a family recipe,” she replies, turning to you with a smile. “I thought you’d like something comforting tonight.”

“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to help?” she teases.

You end up chopping vegetables under her guidance, and by the time the meal is ready, the two of you have fallen into a comfortable rhythm.

When she serves the pie, it’s golden and flaky, the filling warm and fragrant. You take a bite and let out a hum of approval.

“This is amazing, Cait,” you say, and her cheeks flush slightly.

“I’m glad you think so,” she says softly, her hand brushing yours as she takes her seat. “It’s nice to share this with you.”

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Jinx.

Jinx can’t cook. At all. But she’s convinced she can and gets wildly creative in the kitchen.

She’s more interested in the process than the result, turning the whole thing into chaos.

She’d never admit it, but she just wants to make you smile, even if the food is a disaster.

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

“Close your eyes!” Jinx exclaims, practically bouncing on her feet as she leads you into the kitchen.

You do as she says, bracing yourself for whatever chaos awaits. When she finally lets you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a table covered in... something.

“Ta-da!” she announces, waving her arms at the feast she’s prepared. It’s colorful, chaotic, and borderline unrecognizable as food

“Uh, Jinx, what is this?” you ask, trying not to laugh.

“It’s dinner, duh,” she says, sitting down and shoving a plate toward you. “I mixed all the best stuff together. You’re gonna love it!”

You take a cautious bite, and while it’s not exactly good, the way Jinx watches you with wide, eager eyes makes it worth it.

“Well?” she asks, leaning forward, her grin almost childlike.

“It’s... creative,” you say, and she bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, okay, it’s a mess,” she admits, but her smile softens as she reaches out to steal a bite from your plate. “But it’s our mess.”

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

Vander.

Vander is a practical man and isn’t really interested in fancy cooking.

He tends to stick to hearty, simple meals that will fill everyone up—comfort food is his specialty.

He’s a little self-conscious about his cooking skills but always tries his best to make sure you feel cared for.

You hear the familiar sound of clanking pots and the rich scent of stew wafting from the kitchen. Vander stands at the stove, stirring a large pot with his usual no-nonsense attitude. His sleeves are rolled up, and his broad back is hunched over the counter as he checks on the simmering ingredients.

“Smells good in here,” you say, leaning against the doorframe and watching him work.

Vander glances over at you, a bit startled but offering a warm smile when he sees it’s just you. “It’s nothing fancy,” he grumbles, his voice a little sheepish. “Just thought I’d make something filling for us. No one needs to go hungry, right?”

You step closer, leaning in to smell the stew. It’s a mix of root vegetables, tender meat, and just the right amount of seasoning—simple but comforting. “It smells amazing,” you say honestly.

He looks pleased but still tries to downplay it. “Yeah, well, I’ve been doing this kind of thing for a while. Had to keep people fed in the Undercity, after all.”

You sit at the table as Vander sets down two bowls of stew in front of you. The meal is nothing extraordinary in terms of presentation, but the warmth and heart behind it are undeniable. It’s exactly what you need after a long day.

Vander sits across from you, digging into his own bowl, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, eating.

When you finally finish, you lean back in your chair, satisfied. “Vander, that was perfect,” you say, giving him a smile.

He looks a bit surprised, his face softening. “Glad you liked it. I know I’m no chef, but... well, it’s nice to know I can still make you happy with something simple.”

You reach across the table, placing a hand on his. “It’s not about the fancy stuff, Vander. It’s the care you put into it.”

His hand covers yours, his expression filled with warmth. “Just don’t expect me to start experimenting with fancy desserts or anything,” he chuckles. “But I’ll always make sure you’re well-fed.”

You smile, feeling both comforted and cared for in his presence, knowing that even if the food was simple, it came with a whole lot of love.

Authors note: hehehe this was so silly to write omg I lobe them.

[anticipatedexhale]

Could you do a drabble of Arcane x rockstar reader? Classic prompt that's been overused 😞

I believe this prompt will never get old darling I absolutely love this idea!!

I'm a Rockstar~~!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

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

☆ ◞ summary: them absolutely being smitten by their Rockstar partner

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, the tension is crazy , suggestive like really, I must say Viktors and sevikas parts made me feel smth..

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had never been the type to feel starstruck. He was the golden boy of Piltover, a man who walked into any room and commanded attention without even trying.

And yet, here he was, sitting front row at your concert, absolutely wrecked by the sight of you on stage.

The lights flashed behind you, turning your silhouette into something almost otherworldly. Your voice—strong, sultry, powerful—cut through the air like a drug, and Jayce swore he could feel every word vibrate through his chest.

You weren’t just performing. You were owning the stage, strutting across it with a confidence that made his blood run hot. Your fingers danced along the microphone stand, your outfit hugging every inch of you just right, your movements sharp and fluid all at once. The way you tilted your head, the teasing way your lips curled into a smirk every time you met his gaze—it was all too much.

Jayce sat there, legs spread, arms resting on his thighs, pretending to be composed when, in reality, he was anything but. His fingers twitched against his knee, gripping the fabric of his pants as his jaw clenched.

You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

And you loved it.

Your gaze flickered to him mid-song, and instead of looking away, you leaned into the mic, voice dropping lower, sultrier. “This one goes out to a very special someone tonight…”

Jayce swallowed hard.

His fingers twitched again, his body instinctively shifting in his seat. Fuck.

It wasn’t fair. He was used to being the one people looked at like this. The one who had admirers swooning over him, not the other way around. But you? You had him wrapped around your damn finger, and you knew it.

The concert ended in a blur. He barely registered the cheers, the way the entire crowd was completely enamored with you. The only thing on his mind was you—how fast he could get backstage, how soon he could have you all to himself.

When he finally pushed through the crowd, security recognizing him instantly and letting him through, he found you in your dressing room, still glowing with post-show energy.

“You,” Jayce started, voice thick, heated, as he leaned against the doorframe. “You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?”

You turned, feigning innocence. “Me? Torture you?” You took a step closer, tilting your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jayce.”

His hands were on you before you could say another word, fingers curling around your waist as he pulled you close. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips brushing against your jaw before he murmured, “You know exactly what you do to me.”

Your grin was devastating, a slow, lazy thing that sent a shiver down his spine. “Maybe I do,” you mused, fingers tracing up his chest. “And maybe I like seeing you like this.”

Jayce let out a low, almost pathetic groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?”

You laughed, hands threading through his hair. “But what a way to go, huh?”

And yeah. Jayce couldn’t even argue with that.

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

Mel Medarda

Mel Medarda was not the type to lose her composure.

She had spent her entire life mastering the art of control—her words, her expressions, even the subtle tilt of her head that could make men beg for her attention. She played the political game better than anyone, moving through high society like a queen among pawns.

But then she met you.

And you—the reckless, magnetic, wildly talented rockstar who seemed to command the attention of an entire city without even trying—had the audacity to be hers.

Tonight, she sat in a private VIP booth, legs crossed, wine glass in hand, watching as you performed under the blazing stage lights. The world saw you as untouchable, a star burning too brightly to hold. But Mel? She saw the way your gaze kept flickering to her. How, even with thousands of people screaming your name, you sang for her.

The song slowed, the bass humming low through the speakers as you stepped toward the mic, voice dropping into something sultry, teasing.

“This next one,” you said, letting the words roll lazily off your tongue, “is dedicated to someone very special in the audience tonight.”

Mel raised a brow, lips curving into a knowing smirk as you lifted your hand and pointed directly at her.

A murmur ran through the crowd, people turning to try and spot who had caught your attention. Some guessed, some whispered, but Mel? She simply sipped her wine and held your gaze, unfazed.

You lived for the way her expression never wavered—cool, controlled, elegant. Unshaken. But you also knew better.

You knew how to crack that perfect, composed shell of hers.

So you turned away from the mic, running a hand through your hair, letting the sweat from the performance cling to your skin in a way you knew would drive her insane. Then, as the guitar hummed in the background, you let your fingers drag down your chest, slow and teasing, as if tracing where her hands would be if she weren’t across the room.

Mel exhaled through her nose, slow and measured, shifting in her seat.

Oh, she was seething.

Not in anger—no, Mel Medarda didn’t get angry over things like this. But she did get possessive.

She let you play your little game. Let you soak in the crowd’s adoration, let you tease and smirk and act like the stage belonged to you (which, to be fair, it did). But the second the show ended?

She was waiting for you.

You barely made it three steps backstage before her hand caught your wrist, tugging you aside into the privacy of an empty dressing room. The door clicked shut behind you, the hum of the concert still ringing in your ears as you turned, grinning.

“Enjoy the show?” you asked, feigning innocence.

Mel tilted her head, gaze sharp as she stepped closer. “You enjoy making a spectacle of yourself, don’t you?”

Your grin widened. “Only for you.”

She studied you for a moment, eyes trailing over the way your chest still heaved from the adrenaline, the way your hair was slightly damp from the stage lights. Then, without a word, she reached up and dragged her thumb across your lower lip, slow and deliberate.

A shiver ran down your spine.

“You drive me to madness,” she murmured, her voice impossibly smooth, like velvet and steel wrapped into one. "And you know it."

The air between you thickened, the tension sharp enough to cut. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry, but you refused to back down. “Maybe I do.”

Her fingers traced lower, featherlight, trailing over your pulse, her touch both gentle and possessive. “And what should I do with you now?”

The question sent a delicious shiver down your spine, but before you could answer, her lips brushed against yours—not quite a kiss, just a ghost of contact, enough to send heat pooling low in your stomach.

Then she pulled away.

“Come home with me,” she murmured, voice softer now, quieter. “I’d rather have your voice just for myself tonight.”

Your breath hitched.

You could handle teasing, the playful power struggles, the tension, but this? This was something deeper.

This was Mel Medarda wanting you—not just to chase, not just to possess, but to be with you.

And for the first time tonight, you were the one caught off guard.

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

Viktor.

Viktor wasn’t one for loud crowds.

He wasn’t the type to thrive in the flashing lights, the deafening cheers, or the overwhelming press of bodies all moving as one. He spent his days buried in blueprints and research, lost in the quiet hum of his own thoughts.

But for you?

He would endure the storm.

Because even though concerts weren’t his scene, you were.

So now, he found himself standing at the edge of the stage, tucked away from the madness of the crowd, cane resting against his leg as he watched you move under the lights.

And damn—you were breathtaking.

Not just because of how you looked up there, all fire and confidence, a force commanding the attention of an entire stadium. But because this—this—was your element. The way your body moved with the music, the way your voice carried through the speakers, raw and unfiltered, sent something sharp curling in his chest.

Viktor had spent his life chasing brilliance, seeking genius in numbers and theories. But tonight, you were the most brilliant thing he’d ever seen.

The song shifted into something slower, the guitars easing into a sultry rhythm, and you turned just slightly—just enough that your eyes found him through the haze of stage lights.

Viktor barely had time to react before you did something utterly, devastatingly reckless.

You jumped down.

Right off the damn stage.

The crowd roared, and Viktor’s heart nearly stopped as security scrambled, but you just laughed, weaving through the fans like you belonged among them. The sea of people parted for you, hands reaching, voices calling, but you weren’t stopping for them.

You were walking straight to him.

Viktor’s grip on his cane tightened. His brain short-circuited as you strode through the VIP section with that effortless, infuriating confidence—grinning, sweat still clinging to your skin from the stage lights, a live wire of energy.

Then you were there, standing in front of him, so close he could see every rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” you murmured, voice teasing, but your eyes—your eyes were something else.

Viktor swallowed thickly, forcing himself to breathe. “Somehow, I think you would’ve found me anyway.”

Your grin widened. “Of course I would.”

And before he could get another word in, before he could even process what was happening, you grabbed the front of his vest and kissed him.

The crowd screamed.

The music surged.

And Viktor? Viktor forgot how to think.

Your lips were warm, demanding, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the performance. He knew he should pull away, should say something, do something, but all he could do was brace himself against his cane and fall into you.

You broke away just enough to whisper, “You look good in the spotlight.”

Viktor let out something between a laugh and a groan, shaking his head as heat curled at the tips of his ears. “I think you might be trying to kill me.”

You pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth, softer this time. “Not yet.”

Then, just as quickly as you came, you stepped back, flashing him one last wicked grin before turning and jogging right back onto the damn stage.

Viktor exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, his mind struggling to catch up.

The scientist in him despised the lack of logic in how you made him feel.

But the man in him?

He was completely, utterly ruined for you.

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

Caitlyn kiramman

Caitlyn had been raised in a world of refinement—strict etiquette, hushed conversations over expensive wine, and appearances that had to be meticulously maintained.

Which is why she had no idea what the hell she was doing here.

The room throbbed with bass, the crowd a sea of energy, bodies pressed together as the lights cast dazzling colors across the venue. The air smelled like sweat, spilled drinks, and electricity.

And yet, despite the overwhelming chaos of it all, Caitlyn couldn’t focus on anything but you.

You, standing on that stage, confidence oozing from every motion, every note you sang, every teasing smirk you shot toward the audience.

You weren’t just performing—you were owning the damn room.

Caitlyn knew she was staring, but she didn’t care.

She had been raised to maintain her composure, to keep her emotions in check. But watching you up there, commanding thousands of people’s attention, only to flick your gaze right at her between verses? It did something dangerous to her.

She should have been used to it by now. You flirted with everyone—the audience, the cameras, your bandmates. It was just part of your stage persona.

But damn it, when you locked eyes with her and winked before hitting the next note, Caitlyn felt her heart stutter.

She needed a drink.

---

The concert ended in a blur of flashing lights and roaring applause, but Caitlyn didn’t move from her spot near the back.

She waited.

Security was already guiding you off the stage, fans still chanting your name as you disappeared behind the curtains.

A moment later, her earpiece crackled.

"Your VIP pass still gets you back here, Kiramman."

She rolled her eyes at the teasing lilt in your voice but didn’t hesitate to slip past the barriers, her polished boots clicking against the concrete floor as she strode toward your dressing room.

She found you exactly how she expected—leaning against the vanity, still glowing from the performance, towel draped over your shoulders, hair damp with sweat.

And grinning at her.

“You should really sit further up next time,” you mused, tilting your head as she stepped inside. “I could barely see you from back there.”

Caitlyn scoffed, crossing her arms. “I was trying not to be a distraction.”

Your smirk widened. “Oh, love, you think you’re the distraction?”

She arched a brow. “Considering you nearly tripped over a speaker when you saw me in the audience last time?”

You let out a groan, dragging a hand down your face. “That was one time—”

“—And the crew hasn’t let you live it down since.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, but the corners of your lips twitched. “Okay, detective. You win this round.”

She took a step closer, tilting her head. “There are rounds now?”

“Always.” You leaned in, lowering your voice. “And I fully intend to even the score.”

Caitlyn felt her pulse quicken, but she kept her expression unreadable. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Without missing a beat, you reached for the towel on your shoulders and, with an utterly shameless grin, tossed it at her.

Caitlyn let out a startled noise as the damp fabric smacked against her, the heat from your skin still clinging to it.

You laughed—really laughed, the sound warm and utterly carefree—before stepping closer, plucking the towel from her hands before she could react. “Don’t look so scandalized, officer. I thought you’d be used to a little sweat.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, but her lips betrayed her, curving into something dangerously close to a smirk. “Oh, I don’t mind a little sweat.”

Your eyebrows lifted in interest, but before you could throw out another flirty remark, she turned the tables on you.

She reached forward, grabbing the front of your shirt, and yanked you in.

Your breath hitched as she leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur against your ear.

“You’re still a bit breathless,” she noted, feigning concern. “Hope I wasn’t too much of a distraction.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re always a distraction.”

Her smirk widened. “Good.”

Then, before you could regain control of the situation, she pressed a kiss to the edge of your jaw—just enough to leave you completely off balance—before stepping back with an infuriating amount of poise.

You blinked. “You little shit—”

“See you at the next show,” she said smoothly, already walking toward the door.

And just as she reached for the handle, she threw one last glance over her shoulder, smirking.

“Score: Kiramman—one.”

Then she was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of the dressing room, utterly wrecked.

“...Oh, it is so on.”

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

Vi.

Vi wasn’t exactly used to this kind of scene.

Sure, she’d been to her fair share of rowdy clubs and underground fights—places where the air buzzed with adrenaline and the energy made your bones vibrate.

But this?

This was a whole different kind of chaos.

She stood at the very edge of the packed venue, arms crossed, boots planted firmly on the ground as she watched you command the stage like you were born for it.

And damn—maybe you were.

Vi wasn’t the type to get all poetic, but shit, you were a sight.

Sweat clung to your skin under the flashing lights, your voice carried through the speakers with that raw edge that made people feel something. Every movement, every glance, every grin sent the crowd into a frenzy.

And the way you owned it?

It made her chest tighten in the best and worst ways.

Because while everyone else in the room was watching you like you were some untouchable star, she knew the version of you that crawled into bed at ridiculous hours, the one who bitched about setlists and late-night rehearsals, the one who stole her shirts and stretched them out just to mess with her.

And yet, every time she saw you up there, looking like you belonged in this chaos, she found herself falling all over again.

Which was why she wasn’t even surprised when you did something completely reckless.

Because, of course, you did.

---

You should have known better.

Vi was already giving you that look from the sidelines—the one that screamed, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Naturally, you did something stupid.

“Let’s make this interesting,” you called into the mic, and the crowd roared as you hopped off the stage without warning, security scrambling to keep up.

Vi groaned, running a hand down her face. You are going to be the death of me.

You waded through the crowd effortlessly, high-fiving fans, grinning as people reached out, soaking in the energy. And then—just to push your luck—you made your way straight toward her.

Vi could feel the heat of a thousand eyes on her the moment you grinned and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her forward.

“C’mon, Vi,” you purred into the mic, the teasing lilt in your voice making her stomach drop. “You’re not scared of a little fun, are you?”

Vi arched a brow. “Oh, you’re a menace.”

But she let you pull her in anyway.

The band picked up a steady rhythm, and before she could even process what was happening, you slid an arm around her waist and—

Oh.

You were dancing with her.

Not just moving—dancing. Slow, teasing movements, your body pressed against hers, the heat of your skin seeping through the thin material of her shirt. The crowd screamed, people losing their minds as you twirled her once, keeping your grip firm.

Vi could handle fights, she could handle explosions, she could handle damn near anything—

But this?

This was just unfair.

She should be annoyed. She should be cussing you out for pulling this stunt in front of thousands of people.

Instead, she found herself smirking.

“You’re playing with fire, babe,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You grinned. “Lucky for me, you’re fireproof.”

Oh, you were gonna pay for that.

With a wicked glint in her eye, Vi suddenly flipped the script—yanking you flush against her, dipping you low enough that you gasped into the mic.

The crowd lost their minds.

And then—just because she could—Vi dipped her head and kissed you, deep and slow, right there in front of everyone.

You barely had time to recover before she pulled back with a smirk, letting go just as fast as she’d grabbed you.

“Better get back up there, rockstar,” she teased, stepping back as you blinked up at her, dazed. “You’ve got a show to finish.”

You swallowed hard, eyes flickering between her and the screaming crowd.

“…Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath.

Vi just winked.

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

Jinx.

"Beautiful, Beautiful Chaos" (Jinx x Rockstar!GN!Reader | Reckless Love, Wild Nights, and Kissing in the Mayhem)

---

Jinx wasn’t the type to sit still.

Not in a fight, not during a job, and definitely not in a crowd of sweaty, screaming people losing their minds over you.

She thrived in chaos, lived for it, breathed it in like air.

And tonight?

Tonight was the kind of chaos she loved.

Neon lights flashed across the stage, strobes flickering as you jumped onto an amp, mic gripped tight in your hand, voice cutting through the thick, electric air of the underground venue. The bass thundered through the floor, shaking the ground beneath her feet.

Jinx wasn’t watching the crowd.

She was watching you.

Because—fuck—you looked so good when you lost yourself in the music. When you screamed into the mic, when your body moved like you didn’t care if the world fell apart around you.

You had that wild look in your eyes.

The same kind of reckless, untamed spark that made her chest tighten and her pulse race.

God, you were so—

“YO, YOU LITTLE SHITS WANNA HAVE SOME FUN?”

Your voice rang out over the speakers, wild and breathless.

The crowd roared.

Jinx grinned.

Oh, she knew that tone. That devious, impulsive tone that meant things were about to get stupid.

And Jinx loved stupid.

She pushed herself up on her toes, trying to get a better view as you suddenly jumped off the damn stage—barreling straight into the crowd, no hesitation, no security, just pure adrenaline-fueled insanity.

"OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE—"

Jinx shoved her way forward as you disappeared into the chaos, people screaming, hands grabbing for you, the whole place erupting into something unhinged.

A bottle smashed somewhere. Someone tripped over a speaker. A guy with a mohawk straight-up passed out from excitement.

And in the middle of it?

You.

Grinning like a maniac, letting the crowd carry you, singing the last chorus like you didn’t have a single fucking care in the world.

Jinx didn’t even realize she was moving until she was right there in front of you—arms crossed, head tilted, looking so unimpressed despite the fact that she was definitely impressed.

You grinned, still breathless. “What’s wrong, trouble? Didn’t think I’d come to you instead?”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah?” You leaned in,“You like it.”

Jinx didn’t like it.

Jinx loved it.

But she’d rather die than say it out loud.

So instead, she did what she did best.

She grabbed your face and kissed you stupid.

Right there.

In the middle of the chaos, with neon lights flashing and people screaming and beer spilling onto the floor.

You gasped into her mouth before melting into it, arms sliding around her waist, your body pressing flush against hers like you wanted to burn the moment into your skin.

And Jinx?

Jinx just smirked against your lips.

Because, yeah.

Maybe she did like this.

Maybe she loved it.

And maybe—just maybe—she was never gonna let you go.

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

Sevika.

The venue was packed, the air thick with anticipation. You had the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand, your voice cutting through the bass, a raw, magnetic presence on stage. The lights flickered in sync with the beat, flashing as your body moved effortlessly with the rhythm, the mic gripped in your hand like you were born to hold it.

And Sevika? Well, she was front and center, standing just off to the side, watching you with an intensity that almost felt suffocating. Her posture was rigid, her arms crossed, her gaze never once leaving you.

Her heavy, leather-clad frame was nearly a stark contrast to your energy—wild, chaotic, and untamed as you commanded the stage. But you knew what she was thinking. Knew that under all that tough exterior, there was a fire. A fire that you had kindled long ago.

And tonight? That fire was burning brighter than ever.

---

The song ended, and the crowd erupted into a roaring applause. You took a breath, your chest heaving with exertion, sweat dripping down your neck. But you weren’t done yet.

With a wicked grin, you grabbed the mic, looking straight at Sevika.

“You think you can keep up, big girl?” you teased, voice dripping with playful arrogance.

Sevika’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was a cold, almost predatory glint in her eyes. “I could do this all day,” she muttered, her voice low, the words meant just for you.

The crowd was still cheering, but all you cared about in that moment was the tension that was crackling between you and Sevika. You’d both been dancing around it for so long—the chemistry, the constant pull, the teasing glances, the silent challenges that never seemed to break. But tonight? Tonight you were done playing games.

You took a few steps toward the edge of the stage, reaching out for her, pulling her closer. The crowd was still lost in the music, the band riffing off to the side, but all that mattered now was her—her and the way she looked at you like she wanted to devour you whole.

Sevika’s large hand gripped your wrist with a firm, almost possessive force, pulling you into her space. She towered over you, but her breath was steady, controlled, as if she was trying to hold back a flood of desire.

“You think you can just waltz in here and—”

Before she could finish, you closed the distance, your lips crashing into hers. The kiss was fierce, hungry—no longer playful, but desperate. Your body pressed against hers, and you could feel the tension in her muscles, the way she resisted just enough to drive you crazy. But you weren’t having it. You needed her. And you weren’t going to stop until you had her.

Sevika’s hand slid down your back, gripping your waist with a force that left your breath stolen. She pulled you closer, her lips moving against yours with urgency, heat building between you both. Her other hand threaded into your hair, tugging you even closer, pulling you deeper into the kiss like she couldn’t get enough.

You gasped when she bit your lip, just enough to make you shiver. “You’re playing with fire,” Sevika growled, her voice raw, breath hot against your skin.

And all you could do was smirk up at her, feeling the thrill of the chase. “I’ve never been afraid of fire,” you whispered back.

Without warning, Sevika spun you around, pushing you against the nearest wall backstage, her body pressing against yours, heat radiating off of her. She leaned in close, her lips brushing your ear as her breath ghosted over your skin. “If you think this is just a game,” she murmured, “you’re wrong.”

Your hands found their way to her chest, tracing the muscles hidden beneath her leather jacket. “Then stop playing and show me,” you dared her, your voice low, taunting.

The air between you crackled with electric tension, both of you pushing, pulling, testing the boundaries until it felt like something was going to break. Sevika’s lips hovered dangerously close to yours, her breathing ragged, as if she was barely holding herself together.

And then she leaned in, capturing your lips again, deeper this time—no more teasing, no more games. It was as if the kiss itself was a release, a breaking point of every silent moment between you, every want you both kept locked away.

When she finally pulled away, she smirked down at you, her voice a dangerous whisper, “This is just the beginning, sweetheart.” Her hands were already trailing down your sides, her lips just inches from yours, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

---

Back on stage, you finished the set with a wicked grin. You knew you’d both be facing the aftermath of that moment soon. But for now, the music carried on, and you knew Sevika was right where she belonged—on the edge of control.

And you? You were done being patient. Tonight, there would be no more running from this intensity.

The chaos had only just begun.