#vander x reader fic

[whoreforsexymen]

Strong Drinks & Broken Links 🍺⛓️‍💥 CH. 1

Gray Hair & The Absence of Care

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had been a terrible night so far.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, you didn’t trust anyone anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t waste time with pleasantries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grind your teeth, your patience wearing thin.

“I’ll take my patronage elsewhere—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was infuriating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look, kid—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mossangelll]

arcane characters as sugar mommies/daddies ˚₊‧꒰ა $ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

been thinking about mel as a sugar mommy and decided to spread the joy to other characters >:)

haven’t proofread but i was obsessed with the idea and needed to get my thoughts out, hope you enjoy ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

cw: don’t think gender is specified but i had a fem reader in mind so that might show, smut, degrading language used in a consensual manner, minors dni, 18+ only

Vi

the alluring one

you’re trying to buy a round of drinks when your card declines and just as you’re about to die from embarrassment, her warm hand settles on your shoulder as her scarred lip smirks down at you

she pays for multiple rounds of drinks and before you know it, you’re making out in the alleyway

the rest is history

you never thought you’d be in an arrangement like this but she had her ways of convincing you otherwise

has a bunch of different girls on her roster that she maybeeee doesn’t tell you about

don’t worry, you’re the only sugar baby she pays this much for

when you find out you can’t even be that mad about it - she’s so hot you’d let her get away with anything

you’re smart enough to be pouty around her and take advantage of the situation - get ready for the greatest apology of your life

she invites you to her place just for you to find thousands of roses in the foyer and a gift box with your name on the table

she has you follow a trail of clues until you end up in her bedroom, still juggling an armful of gifts, where vi is waiting for you with a hopeful look

she rushes over to take the boxes from you and smothers your face in feather light kisses before apologising for making you feel shitty

her apology doesn’t stop there though and carries on well into the night

you complain about your bus being late? she’s already sent an uber black to your location

you don’t know which gaming console you want? she’s got it covered - multiple packages with every console you mentioned are arriving by the next day

you’re at a party but you’re feeling needy? she’s already dragging you to a storage cupboard, crowd be damned, and eating you out with such fervour you think you might see heaven

pays for your gym membership at a place like equinox and makes sure you two take full advantage of the sauna - it might be warm in there, but you come out sweaty for a whole other reason

has a garage full of vintage motorbikes that cost a fortune and only she can touch

pays you your days salary (and then some) so you can take time off work just so you can visit her at her home gym

she uses you to show off her impressive strength by lifting you as if you weigh nothing in her arms

getting used as her personal gym equipment is a major turn on

lives to impress you with her physique, she gets so pleased with herself when she notices your eyes darken as they wander over her toned body

she definitely has mirror ceilings and she definitely makes you stare at yourself as she fucks you stupid underneath them

Jinx

the mischevious one

she’s the rich artsy kind and you’re her muse

this means she needs you around 24/7 in case creativity strikes her - naturally, this leads to her paying for your company

has you come over to the studio all the time

one time, she set down a canvas on the floor, told you to strip, covered you two in paint and fucked you right there and then

the rolling around, teeth bared, guttural moan, primal kind of fucking; she relished in the bruises that bloomed on your neck and chest as she sucked on your most sensitive spots

the resulting painting was quite impressive to look at, even if thinking about its creation made you more flustered than you’ve ever been

her hands aren’t only good for creating art pieces it seems

she’s one of the sugar mommy’s that pays you the most since she views your company as priceless when it comes to her work

you get anything you ask for, seriously

you’re decked head to toe and all of it is something jinx either gifted you or gave you the money to buy

if it’s something not available to buy, she buys luxurious materials that cost more than your salary just to craft it for you

takes you to the kind of stiff, fancy places she hates just to have you wear vibrating underwear which she has the controls for

sometimes it’s even the opening night of her art gallery

she makes it a challenge: how long can you go without drawing attention to yourself due to your moans - the longer, the more money you get

it’s downright obscene, the way she knowingly glances at you with subdued glee , your slight whimpers echoing as you try your best to muffle the sounds, tears welling up in your eyes

she goes back to chatting up art collectors and investors as she secretly turns up the power of the vibrations hitting you right to the core

she calls you her “sweet thing” when you get back to her penthouse and she makes it up to you by giving you her bank card

she likes to make you laugh during sex too, she doesn’t like if you try to make it too “dour”

Caitlyn

the inexperienced one

cait’s been single for a while and it’s obvious it’s taking its toll

her friends encourage her to go out and meet someone new but she’s too focused on work to waste time on someone she probably won’t like

one day she stumbles upon a sugar baby site and says fuck it

the first date is pretty awkward but after a couple drinks, you manage to loosen her up so she’s more free with you

she has no clue what her role in this kind of arrangement is so she goes all out from the get-go; she loves spending money on you to the point it’s a bit insane even if she tells you not to worry

has to ask her friends for advice on the group chat constantly (she has a history of fumbling attractive people and she’s not letting it happen again)

adds you to her country club membership so you two can play tennis on the weekends

this place is fancyyyyyy but she makes sure you feel comfortable

gets you a instructor if you don’t know how to play

this obviously means she buys you about ten different outfits with tennis bracelets to match each

buys you a penthouse in the best part of town, close to where she lives of course so she has easy access to you

you two christen every single room in your new place, no stone left unturned

scissoring in the large bedroom, head on the lavish kitchen countertops, taking turns fucking with the strap on the balcony with a breathtaking view, fingering in the living room - everything and anything you can think of

her job isn’t done until the two of you are exhausted and wailing loud enough that the neighbours 20 floors down are complaining

she is insatiable when it comes to you, it’s like you lit a fire within her that she can’t put out no matter how hard she tries

completely adores how cute you act when you try to deny her pricey gifts

even more so when she gifts you a first edition book and your demeanour turns more panicked by the second

really though, she’s freaking out more than you are although she doesn’t show it often

her biggest fear is gifting you something you hate which leads to you ending everything

you’ve never had a sugar mommy treat you like this

she gives her assistant special instructions to let you into her office at any time, a privilege only you’re blessed with

you manage to distract her and before she knows it, she’s forced to make herself look presentable in only five minutes despite having a smudge-proof lipstick mark on her cheek she can’t get off for the life of her

doesn’t want to admit that she wants more than a purely transactional relationship with you

Silco

the generous one

gives you an exorbitant amount of money every time you see him

like, a CRAZY amount

it barely registers for him though, he has more money than should be possible

he goes as far as to give you his black card even if you didn’t ask for it

goads you to max it out and somehow, despite spending so much, you’ve barely dented the thing which makes him laugh

he expects you to spend most of the money he gives you on luxuries you wouldn’t normal buy and asks you to do a haul and model it all for him in his office

behind the scenes, he’s busy paying off your any debts you might have, setting up a trust fund for you, looking for houses you would like

wants you to be set up for life

showers you in decadent lingerie that fits you perfectly from boutiques like la perla, agent provocateur and honey birdette - only the best for his girl

has to replace your lingerie quite often though, he goes feral when he sees you all dolled up just for him

even more so if you were good and listened to his demands, buying the exact lingerie he wanted to see you in

has you sign a detailed contract before the arrangement begins since he wants to make sure you’re comfortable with everything

also wants to make sure you follow his rules

wants you to only refer to him using “sir” when it’s just the two of you

i see him as the kind of sugar daddy that does expect some sugar in return

he’s very abrasive in bed, and calls you all types of degrading names which only serves to turn you both on further

has some…curious interests that he pays you more for indulging in - he is a gentleman after all

“my money hungry slut” and “little whore” are his favourites

takes you on shopping sprees for aftercare (and maybe he does cuddle too but you can’t let anyone else know that) - he doesn’t want you to think he views you a less than just because of the life path you’ve chosen

his idea of pillow talk is giving you tips on the stock market and trading

Sevika

the brusque one

she has commitment issues, is afraid of vulnerability and has a high sex drive

this has led her romantic relationships to fail in one way or another, which is where you come in

she sees it as a simple business transaction - nothing more, nothing less

she likes having you around but don’t get confused: she doesn’t want a real relationship with you

doesn’t sugar coat her words around you and while it might make anyone else run for the hills, you appreciate her honesty

having someone as gorgeous as you coo and hang onto her every word does inflate her ego

everyone wants you, eyes appraising you up and down, but they can’t have you - only she can

so punctual with her payments that it genuinely feels like any other regular job

she looks down on those so called sugar mommies that skimp out of paying a fair rate - you don’t need to worry with her, you’ll be getting more than you ever really needed

despite presenting a stoic image, she can’t help but give in to your every whim

all you have to do is glance at a display window with even a hint of longing and she’s immediately rolling her eyes, dragging you into the shop to buy it for you

if you get tired walking around and ask her to carry you she will huff and puff but that doesn’t stop her from scooping you up anyway

she has a strap on AND it’s the kind that ejaculates too

you two go to luxury toy makers and get straps custom made to tailor to both of your wants and desires

she perhaps gets attachments for her mechanical arm too…

she doesn’t skimp out on the good stuff when it comes to you

her hot grunts ring in your ears as she grinds into you, her body seemingly encompassing your entire body and mind

creampies you every time and fucks the cum back inside of your dripping hole just to watch it leak back out and repeat the cycle again until you’re begging out for her

you’re in a daze for a good ten minutes after and she can’t help but snort at the faces you make

maybe this isn’t just a simple transaction to her

Vander

the hesitant one

vander feels icky about the relationship he has with you at the start

he’s much older than you and you’re still in university, it makes him feel like such a bad person who’s preying on your vulnerability

you make sure to always remind him that he’s single-handedly paying for your tuition

you love what he does for you!

once he gets past that hurdle though, god have mercy on your soul, you will be ruined for other people

he basically acts as your mentor just with some extra benefits on the side

loves to hear you yap about any projects you’re working on and does his best to help with any issues at university

he’s the type to text you good morning and good night every single day without fail

even gives you a bigger allowance if you wake up early and reply to his good morning texts quickly

what? it’s an incentive to get you to attend your lectures

likes to be called daddy even if it does make him blush intensely

he gets off on the idea of being your protector and the only one to provide for you

cockwarms you when you’re working on assignments and it turns your brain to mush every time

spanks you when you stop paying attention

honestly it feels like he’s working against you whenever he does this

also gets jealous when you talk about dates you had with other people

he never made the relationship an official one, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking you hard, his hand prints left on your hips to mark his territory

definitely can’t walk the next day and he’s so smug

down BAD

Ambessa

the teasing one

ambessa has play things in every city; you name a place, odds are she’s got a hook up there

you’re no exception of course

in fact, you’re her favourite out of them all

whenever ambessa calls, you run to be at her service

L O A D E D

exposes you to experiences you never even knew existed, i’m talking about things only the upper 1% can do

she’s the kind of sugar mommy that likes to hear about your day over a glass of wine

the mundanity helps her calm down from her hectic life

she will hold the things she does for you over your head

it’s mean but she views it as her right considering all the luxuries she gives you access to

jokes she’s going to go to a perfumer and get the scent of your sex turned into a perfume

when you accept a surprise gift from her, it turns out it was not a joke - you should’ve known something was up the second her wicked smile made an appearance

actually doesn’t smell too bad

has you use it every single time you’re around her and only then

she’s a FREAK what can i say

whisks you off to couple spa days; you both deserve a little rest and relaxation every now and then

speaking of spa days, she often asks you to massage her which usually ends with your large hands pawing all over your body

she likes receiving more than giving but she still prioritises giving you plenty of orgasms through the night

what kind of sugar mommy would she be without ensuring you’re also satisfied with your arrangement?

you’re worn out from what she considers foreplay

still, you need to make sure you’re being as thoughtful as she is otherwise you’re getting kicked down the rungs of her sugar baby ladder

Mel

the cunning one

mel is the best sugar mommy around i know it

doesn’t do it often - she tries to limit herself to one sugar baby every once in a while

she sees them as worthwhile investments

if you want to be her sugar baby, you need to bring something useful to the table

she meets you at a science exhibition and is thoroughly impressed with your work

you need funding to complete your research and she needs relief from her stressful life as a counsellor

a win-win situation if you ask her

you don’t see her often, she’s too busy solving problems with the council, but when you do, she makes sure it’s worth your time

expensive dinner dates, surprise weekend get-aways, opera concerts - anything you ask for, it’s yours

not only is she funding all of your research, she takes you to galas where you can mingle with the elites you need to win over to achieve more exposure for your research

she usually sends boxes full of clothes and shoes to your house for you to wear to these outings, and picks you up fancy black car with a chauffeur and bottles of wine in coolers

she has her hand on your leg the entire journey there, a faint smirk on her lips when she notices how hot and bothered you are

in a relationship like this, she likes to be the dominant one in bed

she doesn’t expect anything sexual in return but if you’re willing she’s more than happy to fulfill those needs too

leans towards being sensual and romantic but that doesn’t mean she won’t make sure to fuck you thoroughly

heavy on foreplay to the point you think you’re going to pass out from the pent up energy in you

has lots of toys she likes to use on you, she’s very experimental and wants to test which one you respond to the most

also likes you to use the toys on her too and when she sees you suck her wetness off the toy you just used on her, she melts into a puddle

yeah, you’re getting an instant increase on your allowance and you’re getting a new custom wardrobe

Jayce

the proud one

jayce comes from a relatively well-off family, but his inventions launched him into stardom and left him with more money than he knew what to do with

he decides the best thing he can do is spread the love

he finds you on a site for this kind of stuff, something he would rather die than admit, and knew he had to get you on a date with him

makes you custom jewellery set with the most unique stones you’ve ever seen and loves when you wear them out on dates with him

you probably have the entire gdp of a small country just on your wrist alone

wants a play-by-play of all the things you bought that week, he’s lowkey into hearing how much of his money you spent on treating yourself

he wants you to buy even more things with his money than you already do which flusters you but you give in every time

he’s another one that wants a fashion show where you try on everything you bought

he just likes to sit and clap with a smile as you twirl for him

loves to show you off at all the balls and galas he’s invited to

takes you on late night drives in his alpine a110 r-turini and he always has one arm, big with straining muscles, around your headrest which never fails to make your heart flutter

oh i can see him being into role play

maybe he’s your boss and you’re the maid he just caught stealing from him lmao

he loves to get sloppy head from you and offers you all sorts of gifts in return

talking, or helplessly groaning in this situation, about all the ways you can drain his money is his form of dirty talk, “yeah, just like that babe. you want me to buy that new phone don’t you? well, take me like the good girl i know you are and work for it.”

he’s so whipped for you it borders on quite cute imo

Viktor

the cocky one

viktor came into new money after selling the patent for one of his inventions

he is well aware that he’s an attractive guy and could have pretty much anyone he wants, but his long work hours aren’t conducive to healthy relationships

so he takes it upon himself to get a sugar baby, no strings attached

has you stay with him in his lab to keep him company - he loves listening to your idle chatter about things he has no interest in

but when it’s you talking about them he’s captivated by every word

likes to call you his “cute lab assistant” and tries to hide how much he likes it when you call him your “handsome scientist”

he fails obviously

he explains extremely complicated topics in a very contrived way, even when he knows he can simplify it for the average person, because seeing the dumbfounded look on your face gets him going

closes down a whole shopping mall just so you can frolic about and shop to your hearts content; oh, don’t worry about all those bags, he has a guy to carry them all so you two can focus on having a nice date ^^

gonna be real, he’s the kind of guy to fuck you against the wall of the changing room, not caring that the bashful shop assistants can hear every single clap of skin slapping against each other and the strangled moans you both let out

buys all the clothes you tried on, you’re too fucked out to notice the looks you get from the workers, and the fact that the clothes might be a bit…dirty 😭

at least he tips them enough to make up for it

sprays his designer cologne on your gifts so you remember who you belong to

playfully suggests you give him a lap dance so he gets his money worth but you both know it was anything but a joke

good thing you love putting on a show for him!

this guy is such a troll, he literally throws money on you and slips bills in between the straps of your underwear as you sensually dance for him in the lingerie he paid for

has to control himself from pouncing on you then and there

he really enjoys the way you can both tease each other and not take things too seriously

masterlist

[cosmicporos]

What would Arcane characters call their partner? What pet/nicknames would they use?

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE! Thank you anon :3

Synopsis: A lot of little cut scenarios where arcane characters call you by cute pet names!

Characters: Sevika, Vander, Silco, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor

((awkward Ekko x reader, Teasing Viktor x reader (he calls you an airhead…))

Warning: Angst for Silco, called you “Pet” but ends with comfort!

Not proofread

Sevika

Nicknames for you: Darling, Dear, Sweet thing, Babe, Dove.

Okay maybe I’m over sentimental but imagine her calling you Dove because you bring her so much peace in life. So you’re quite literally her little peace dove.

Sevika leaned against the bar, her mechanical arm resting on the counter as she watched you move around the room. It wasn't anything special-just you tidying up after a long day-but to her, it was everything. "You know," she started, her voice low and gravelly, "you've got this way of makin' the world feel... quieter."

You paused, glancing at her with a small smile. "Yeah? That a good thing?"

She smirked, pushing off the bar to walk toward you. "It's a damn miracle, is what it is. You don't know what it's like Dove… how loud it gets up here." She tapped her temple with a finger, her gaze softening. "But then you show up, and it's like everything just... stops."

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in her voice, but you kept your focus on folding a stray cloth. "I didn't think I was doing anything special."

Sevika snorted, stepping closer. "That's the thing. You don't even try, and still... you're it for me. My peace. My little Dove."

Vander

Nicknames for you: Peach, Love, Sweet Pea, Darling, Sunshine, Lass/Lad.

The Last Drop was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of mugs and background chatter of conversation was replaced by the occasional cough or sniffle from the makeshift beds spread around the common room. Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Vi lay bundled in blankets, their fevered faces flushed as they sipped the herbal tea Vander had brewed.

"Peach," Vander called softly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness as he approached you. You were perched on a low stool, dabbing a cool cloth against Powder's forehead. He knelt beside you, resting his broad hand on your shoulder. "You've been fussin' over them all day. Why don't you take a break, huh? Let me handle things for a while."

"I'm fine," you said, though your hands trembled slightly as you wrung out the cloth."They need us."

He tilted his head, giving you that steady, knowing look of his. "And I need you to take care of yourself, Peach. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Powder stirred, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. "Don't go," she mumbled, her voice weak.

You smoothed her hair back, glancing at Vander. "See? They need me."

Vander sighed, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite himself. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Alright, Peach. We'll do this together, then."

Silco

Nicknames for you: Darling, Precious, lovely, Pet, Beloved.

After Jinx’s fiasco over at Topside it was obvious Silco was more than simply stressed.

In fact tension in the room was palpable, suffocating as it weighed down on your chest. Silco's piercing gaze bore into you, his lips pressed into a thin line. You'd overstepped-at least, in his mind-and now his sharp tongue was letting you know it.

"Stay out of matters you don't understand, pet," he snapped, the word cutting and cold as it left his mouth.

You flinched, the sting of his words settling deep. Your jaw clenched, and you refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cracked edge of the table.

“I was—I was only thinking about Jinx.” You gulped down the bile that burned in your throat. “Temporary keeping her from missions is keeping her safe.” You spoke finally looking up at him with your wet pathetic eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Silco's breath hitched as he realized what he'd said, the regret settling in almost immediately. His tone had been cruel, and the look on your face drove a pang of guilt through his chest.

“I apologize…” he said softly, his voice no longer harsh. "That was... uncalled for." He spoke as he stood up, fixing his cuffs as he walks over towards you.

Silco stepped closer until he was within arm's reach. "I shouldn't have said that. You didn't deserve it," he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You mean too much to me for me to speak to you that way."

When you still didn't respond, he hesitated for a moment before tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his mismatched ones.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his tone sincere. "You are not my pet. You are my beloved. The only one who stands beside me, who understands me."

Caitlyn

Nicknames for you: Petal, Cheeky one, Muffin, Trouble, Dearest.

Flour completely dusted the countertop and your face as you tried to knead the dough. Caitlyn stood across from you, her sleeves rolled up, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Petal," she said, tilting her head, "you're supposed to knead it, not wrestle it."

You huffed, brushing flour from your cheek. “It's sticking to my hands! I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to tackle this.”

Caitlyn chuckled and walked over, gently taking your hands in hers. "Here, let me show you." She guided your movements, her hands warm and steady.

When the dough finally started to cooperate, you couldn't resist smearing a bit of flour on her cheek. She froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Trouble," she murmured, her voice teasing.

You grinned, backing away. "You love it."

Her soft laugh filled the kitchen as she grabbed a handful of flour. "Oh, I do. But you're not getting away with that."

Ekko

Nicknames for you: Firefly, Sugar, babe, baby, Cutie

You sat on a spinning chair in ekko’s workshop mindlessly spinning while watching him work. He was trying to fix a circuit board, but his focus seemed to drift in your direction. You caught him glancing at you a few times, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking of something important.

After a moment of silence, Ekko cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering slightly. He set down his tools and looked at you with a small smile, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey, uh... can I tell you something?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden and strange behavior. "Sure. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well, I've been meaning to call you something... I dunno, it's just, uh, you're always so sweet, you know?" He glanced up at you briefly, cheeks turning faintly pink. “So, I was thinking... Sugar?"

There was a long, awkward pause. You blinked, processing the nickname, unsure how to respond. "Sugar?" you repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

Ekko's face reddened even more. "Yeah, I mean-because, uh, you're sweet... like sugar? You know?" He shrugged, clearly flustered now. "It's not like, weird, right?"

You couldn't help it you laughed, the sound light and teasing, but not unkind. "I don't know, Ekko. It's a bit... unexpected," you said, still grinning.

His gaze shifted, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Okay, okay, I get it. That was dumb, huh? Just trying to be smooth, but I guess it's not my thing." He shifted uncomfortably.

against his arm, your smile softening. "It's cute," you said, voice warm. "But I think you can do better."

He met your eyes, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his awkwardness. "Yeah? You think so?…Well, I'll keep working on it then."

Viktor

Nicknames for you: Beautiful, Trinket, Dearest, Cheeky, Airhead, Sweetling.

You were fiddling with a complicated piece of tech, the gears and wires all tangled in a way that made your focus drift. Viktor stood beside you, watching with a raised eyebrow as you muttered to yourself.

"Careful, darling," he teased with a sly smile, his voice smooth and mature. "An airhead might break something important."

You shot him a playful glare, a little flustered. “I'm not an airhead! Besides…I'm working on it!" you said, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice.

Viktor chuckled, reaching over and gently fixing the wires with practiced hands. His tone softened as he met your gaze. "I didn't mean it, Sweetling. You're far from an airhead. You just... get a little lost in your thoughts sometimes." He smiled warmly. “And I think it's kind of endearing."

You felt your heart warm at his change in tone, the teasing replaced by something far more tender. "Geez thanks, Viktor." You pouted and sighed out quietly.

He smiled and chuckled softly, his hand now brushing against yours. "Anything for you, Sweetling."

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT<3 thanks so much for all the support on my last post :>

FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REQUEST AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED IT! (I love reading comments and any feedback!)

[motthe]

Maybe some Young! Silco fic? (Or anything that you wanna do) I already loved his older version but his Young self in The last episodes got my heart in a grip 😭💖💖 He looks so full of dreams and maybe a little silly. Maybe with a energetic/chaotic significant other!

young!silco also has me in a death grip don't worry. hope you enjoy this!!

warnings: fem!reader, violence, sexual innuendos, secondhand embarrassment for drunk rambling

“It’s doable!”

“Doable and survivable are two very different things.”

Vander knocked his head against the metal backing of his mining gloves repeatedly, aching for the two of you to come to a compromise. The light of the fungi matched the tink tink tink of his patience running thin.

Crunching footsteps had him pausing, one eye opening to find Felicia pushing her helmet up higher on her head as she stared at you and Silco just beyond, still very much squabbling. She leaned on her hip, one hand rising to rest on it as she smiled down at Vander’s hunched form.

“Are they still arguing about the gap?” she whispered.

He groaned quietly instead of answering. It was all she needed.

“I can make it!” you protested, arms gesturing to the other side of the ravine. “I’ve jumped buildings twice the distance.”

“When you’re jumping buildings you can see the ground,” Silco argued, pointing to the darkness below. “We don’t know how long a fall that is, you absolute lunatic.”

“You’ve gotta hand it to her,” Felicia chuckled, taking up camp next to Vander. “No one else would even think of jumping across.”

“She’s an adrenaline junkie,” Vander muttered. “Jumping off shit is all she thinks about.”

“Would you—just let me—damn it, Sil!”

The shuffle of boots and clothes had both of their heads turning, watching with equally amused expressions as Silco passed by with you being half carried half dragged away from the ravine. Silco didn’t pay them a glance as he went. You kept stretching back the way you came, struggling but not truly putting all your energy into it. Felicia could tell. You loved being his center of attention for as long as possible, even if it kept you away from your wild pastimes. 

The sound of a horn echoed through the caves, sending the fungi white with the sound. The work day was finished. 

“Back to the last drop, then?” Felicia hummed, standing and offering a hand to the big man. He accepted it with a soft grin, following her out. The two of them watched Silco far ahead, who was now fully carrying you in your grieved state. You kept muttering you could have made it.

“Think they’ll ever get together?” she hummed, nudging Vander.

“Wish they would,” he sighed. “It was annoying years ago, now its just pitiful.”

She laughed, waving a hand at you when you pulled your head up from Silco’s shoulder to eye them. “Well, she’ll never do it. She’s convinced herself he’s too focused on our cause to ever settle down.”

“Some days I think the same thing,” Vander said, introspective when she glanced up at him, “others, I catch him looking at her. He doesn’t open up, barely does around us, but…”

“Disappears around her, yeah?” She smiled at him and he mirrored her, nodding.

Later that night, the Last Drop was bustling with the newest record added to the box. You’re dancing over chairs, running across the edge of the pool tables as people chant your name. Someone tossed a mug through the air and you caught it, swallowing the contents down and cheering with the rest before continuing on with dancing. 

Silco watched from his bar seat. He had cruel timing, turning his eyes back to his notebook when you pulled yourself away from the crowd to glance at him. To you, he was lost in his own world, but really he fell into yours quite easily. You were distracting. He perked up at the sound of your voice without meaning to, knew the outline of your body in his periphery. Abrasive and chaotic. You’re too much, too loud.

Too perfect for someone as withdrawn and stiff as him.

“Oh, heaven help me,” Vander grumbled, both hands on the bar as he stared at the scene. Silco paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “She just downed three shots in one.”

“How many does that make it now?” he questioned.

“Eight.”

Both of their heads dropped, knowing how the night would be going.

“All right, I give!” Felcia slammed a hand on the bar as she walked up, panting. “I can’t keep up with her. Gods. Where does she get the energy?”

Vander passed her a drink as Silco shrugged, music blaring all around them. Felicia scowled when she noticed his journal. 

“Oh, c’mon, Silco. Let loose for a bit!” she shouted over the din of the bar, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I did that, nothing would ever get done around here,” he returned, smirking as she rolled her eyes. 

The counter shook under them, the second bang of Vander’s fist sending both of them on high alert. Two meant trouble. 

Felicia spun around, Silco turned in his seat. There by the record player you were backed against the wall by a man, one arm caging you in while his fingers pinched your chin. The cold look in your eyes had a shiver streaking down Silco's spine. You were a storm like this and he’d been lost to it for years. 

The man said something that made you scoff, batting his hand away and sliding to get out from under him. As his hand grabbed your upper arm Silco realized he was no longer sitting. Even across the room he could read your lips.

“Last chance. Beat it,” you warned.

The man laughed and tugged you closer, it sent your knee right between his legs. When he bent over, Silco heard the crack as your fist met the man’s jaw. He hit the ground, dead weight. 

Fuck, he thought, hands curling into fists at his side. You were perfect.

You stumbled back a few steps. It seemed those shots had soaked in. You were cradling your hand as yells broke out, slow to turn as a couple of goons stood from a table nearby.

“Great,” Felicia puffed, pushing off the bar, “he had lackeys.”

Vander shouted as they ran at you, Silco was halfway to you when you dodged the first swing, putting you straight into the path of another. Your back hit the record player, a scratch disrupting the music. The entire bar turned, regulars rushing forward without second thought and jumping the goons. 

Silco went straight to you, mindful of the chair Felicia was brandishing overhead as she flew into the meat of the fight. 

“Let me see,” he said, sliding a hand under your jaw and tilting your head back. You were hunching, still holding that hand of yours to your chest. 

“Hey, Sil,” you slurred, grinning and wincing. Your lower lip was busted, the right side of your face already beginning to swell from the jaw up. “Can you believe that guy? Down in one hit, hah!”

“Still have all your teeth?” he asked, wiping the blood trailing from the corner of your mouth. 

“What? You want me to open wide for you?”

He ticked a brow, scowling through the heat that flashed through his stomach. 

“Come on, let’s get ice on that,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around you. You hummed happily, falling into his side. Even as drunk as you were, your feet barely stumbled as he led you to the basement door. He nodded to Vander who already had the same idea, coming around the back of the bar to pass him an ice pack and a clean rag. He thanked him.

“Take care of her,” Vander said, rubbing a hand over your back. You tossed the big man a smile before he returned to his station.

“Keep that on there,” Silco said to you, heart aching as you hissed at the touch of it. 

“I’ve got it,” you muttered, hand brushing his. He made sure you kept it pressed to your cheek before opening the door and helping you in first, careful of the stairs as he closed it behind him. The sounds of fighting and the skipping music was muffled as he led you into the bowels of the Last Drop, setting you down gently on the couch.

He reached for your hand, frowning when you turned away from him. 

“Let me see,” he said.

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, curling into the couch.

“I’d like to see that for myself,” he pushed, fingers gentle as they smoothed over your wrist. Your furrowed brow relaxed a bit, watery eyes trailing to him. “Let me see,” he asked again, softer.

You sighed, the weight of your arm settling into his palm as he moved to sit next to you. You hand shook in both of his, the skin of your knuckles ripped open and gushing red. When he attempted to move your pointer and middle fingers you whimpered, head falling into his shoulder.

He apologized, pulling one hand away to reach into his jacket. “It’s sprained. I’ll need to wrap it.”

“Sweet Sil,” you sighed, your good cheek rubbing against his shoulder as you brought your knees up, “always prepared for the worst.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t constantly getting into trouble,” he hummed, pulling out a roll of bandages and beginning his work. You curled into him as he cleaned you up, tensing when he secured your bruised digits. As he tied the bandages off around your wrist, he sighed, holding your hand in his, thumb running over your skin. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffed.

He turned his head, a breath punched from his lungs as he saw tears slipping down your cheeks. The ice pack laid abandoned in your lap. 

“What are you apologizing for?” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I always make a mess,” you whispered, little gasps slipping. Each one was a bullet to his chest. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. “I always annoy you.”

“No,” he murmured, arms stretching over you to pull you into his lap, “no, you don’t annoy me, pet.”

“Yes, I do,” you sobbed. “I get into t-trouble when I-when I just want you to look at me.”

Oh, Gods help him. He knew this was the alcohol talking but the hopeful flame in his heart was burning into a torch. He needed to calm you down and get you to bed. 

“I’m looking,” he said, lips grazing your forehead as he rubbed your back. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m always looking.”

You sniffed and he grabbed the bloody rag, nudging the cleanest corner towards you to blow your nose. He chuckled when you groaned, curling deeper into his chest.

“Too drunk for this,” you mumbled. “Stupid shots.”

“Stupid shots, indeed,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let's get you some water and go to bed.”

You whined, hiding your face in his neck. “Wanna stay here. M’warm.”

He sighed, settling into the couch. Eventually you would nod off. He’d carry you into bed, then.

“Hair’s nice.”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to look down at you, but it was impossible with you smushed up against him.

“Your hair,” you said, lips moving against his neck. “I like it when it’s bun. Hair frames your face nice. S’handsome.”

You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, he thought, holding back his laughter. You were never going to live this down and he wasn’t nearly nice enough to not tease you about this for the rest of your life. 

“Face hurts,” you sighed. He rubbed your calf, shushing you.

“Sleep, pet,” he murmured against your forehead. 

“You’ll stay?” you asked.

“I’ll stay,” he promised.

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

nsfw sevika headcannons.

author's note - this is really short sorry but hi i'm making a comeback.

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

- def into choking. she loves seeing you claw at her arm, loves seeing your eyes get all glassy eyed from how stupid she's making you on her cock.

- she loves marking, seeing bites she littered on your body from the night before gets her all hot and bothered. "who did that to you, bunny?" , she always asks you the next morning, thinking it's so cute how flustered you get.

- she can't get enough of manhandling, especially if you're on the heavier side. it's such an ego boost when she's able to pick you up and throw you around, hauling you into any position she'd like.

- face fucking is a must. she'll make you look at her while she grinds her clit up on your tongue, her juices spreading all over your face. or she'll force you to go all the way on her dick, sevika will swear up and down that she can feel the way throat constricts when she shoves her strap all the way down your throat, relishing in the way you gag, making some of the prettiest sounds she's ever been blessed to hear.

- show!sevika would probably be too afraid to do anything in public for the sake of your safety, but modern!sevika's favorite thing is to fuck you in the most public of places. fingering you on trains, eating you out in a resturant's bathroom stall, sometimes, she loves to use those long distance vibrators whenever you're out alone.

uhhh that's all i have sorry :3

[zevrra]

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

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

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

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

[gingernut1314]

The Water's Cold Embrace Masterlist

Content: Female reader x Slico, pre-Arcane season 1, will go into season 1 but much later, young Silco, Vander, Sevika, Felicia, Connol, & baby Viktor, Vi, Powder, Viktor's parents, canon typical descriptions of violence & death, reader has water manipulation powers, sex (further warning in individual part), drugs, smoking, revolution, unrequited love...or is it???, friends to lovers, slow burn, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia/Connol)

A/N: since season 2 came out I was reminded that I had some bits and pieces of this story I made while watching season 1 and thought, hey, now is a good time as any to put them out there into the world. I wanted to write for the characters pre-season 1 cause how fun would it be to write for all their interactions before everything went to complete shit? It's so much fun and thus this fic was born lol. I hope you all enjoy!

↞ to Arcane Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Setlist: (Full Playlist)

Blood//Water

Love and War

Living in the Shadows

Snakes

Mermaids

The Angry River

Start a War

The Water's Cold Embrace:

Prologue:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 1: The Winds of the Undercity {1.2K}

Act 1:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 2: Turkey and Cheese {2.7K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 3: Sack of Potatoes {2.9K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 4: Just a Bedtime Story {3.7K}

Act 2:

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 5: Don't Jinx It {4.5K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 6: Bit of Friendly Banter {4.1K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 7: The Water's Embrace {5.9K}

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 8: Head On {7.6K}

Act 3: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 9: Like Seahorses Do

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 10: ....

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 11: ...

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 12: ...

Act 4: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 13: Wailing Sea Witch

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 14: ....

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 15: ...

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 16:

Epilogue: -COMING SOON

ᥫ᭡ Chapter 17: The Waters of Zuan

[local-crying-boy]

🅂🄸🄻🄲🄾

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𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖, 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕒𝕟

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚇 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝��𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎/𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘, 𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝!!! 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 2 𝙰𝙲𝚃 2

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚘𝚙, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛>>, 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘, 𝚅𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛>> 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚌𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 359

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The faint, familiar sound of a certain song echoed throughout The Last Drop, the stillness of the room having shifted into a more light-hearted one with the music that was now playing.

There was a small laugh from Vander, who had been cleaning up the bar, a small shake of his head once he had realised what song was playing, again. Silco didn't have much of a reaction, apart from the subtle uplift of his lips, however, it had mostly been hidden from the fact that he was looking down at his notebook. Whereas, you had become so fond of the song that you couldn't help but leisurely swing your head side to side.

The blue haired woman was standing over at the jukebox, freely swaying her body in tune with the music. Her movements were both carefree and (almost) elegant, it could've looked like Felicia was attempting to replicate more of the sophisticated dancing in Topside, but the three of you knew she was just going with whatever she came up with in the moment.

A soft hum alongside the music blended in soon enough, Silco's eyes glancing up and over at you, who was mindlessly nodding your head along to the music - lost in your own world, no doubt.

A doting smile pulled on the man's lips, Vander noticing from his place behind the bar, as he looked over at your relaxed figure. He couldn't help it, he swore, you looked so untroubled in that mind, like the place the four of you called home wasn't such a shit-hole, like there was actually good in this hell.

The way your eyes sometimes shut when you got to a certain part in the song, or when you messed up your whole body would still until you could continue and get it right, that was when his heart was flutter in his chest.

The moment didn't last long, however, he heard the faint, amused breath from Vander, which quickly caused Silco to shake his head and keep his gaze down at his notebook in front of him, shaking his pen in his hand as if he was thinking about what he was writing.

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Masterlist

[vandersbf]

Fluffvember 15

In the firelight/candlelight // “I love you”

Tags: gn reader, reader x vander, fluff, parenting

warnings: vi has a nightmare and wakes up crying, no details about the nightmare are given.

author’s note: done with exams, which means more writing time! I’ve never shared my writing online before so i was nervy but yall have been amazing to me, thank you. :)

You wake up to the sound of crying. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” A hand is placed on your shoulder, the bed creaking as you come to. You sit up slowly, watching him grapple with a shirt, his back turned. The room is dark, and you narrow your eyes as he opens the door, letting in a crack of light. After a moment, you straighten up fully, forcing yourself to step out of bed and follow. 

Soft whispers join the crying, which has started to fade into hiccups as you near the kids’ room. The door is open an inch, and you near the frame slowly, your footsteps light on the cold floor. Vander is kneeling on the floor next to Violet’s bed, cradling her gently while she cries on his shoulder. Across the room, Powder sits with her feet tucked under her, watching her older sister with a nervous expression. She spots you, shrinking a little, and you nod towards her, reaching out an arm. She doesn’t hesitate to silently dart out of bed and to your side, and you wrap an arm around her head, softly carding your fingers through her hair. You reach down to scoop her up, turning to carry her out from the doorway and to the couch in the communal room outside. You make sure to gently shut the door behind you, muffling the noises of her big sister’s wails. 

You plop down on the couch together, and Powder burrows into your chest. “There you go.” You reach for the throw blanket, draping it over her small frame. “S alright, dear.” You whisper, tucking the coarse blanket around her. “She’ll be fine soon. Everyone has bad dreams.”

Powder falls back asleep in no time, conked out in your lap. Soon enough, Violet’s cries fade to sniffles, and then stop. A moment later, Vander steps out of the room, and you lift your head from where you’d been resting. 

“Told you not to worry ‘bout it.” He says when he sees you holding Powder.

”And I didn’t.” You keep running your hand over Powder’s back, feather light. “No worries here.” You take a deep breath before standing up slowly, making sure not to disturb the sleeping girl. You carry her back to bed and set her down, pulling the blankets back up and tucking in a stuffed animal next to her while Vander watches.

It’s only after the door is shut behind you again that he speaks. “Still. You don’t have to do all this.”

”I know what I’m signing up for, Vander.” You insist. “I have just as much of a responsibility of love to them as I do to you.”

It takes him a moment, but he cracks. “…Thank you, love.” He reaches out and touches the side of your face. “You’re smarter than I’ll ever hope to be.” He whispers, stepping forward and lining up your foreheads, so you can feel his warm skin against you. “I love you.”

”I love you too.” You reply, and it feels natural. “Carry me to bed?” You whisper, and his arms wrap around your sides, scooping you up and into the air, back towards his bedroom.

[tiyawnyana]

Hi. I saw u have requests open and i wanna request Vander x neutral reader making outtt …. maybe perhaps :] have an awesome day

Lowkey adored this- had so much fun writing for younger Vander since I've been dying to oop

A/N: i headcannon that Vander was a FLIRT when he was younger bc look at that man and tell me he doesn't know he's a hunk

Characters: Younger! Vander x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: slowish build up, making out, maybe a teensy bit ooc but honestly? No i think he was a flirt

Children DNI

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Vodka Tonic

You had met Silco down in the mines originally, you were lost and he had helped you find the rest of the group.

That same evening, he had invited you out to have drinks with he and his friends.

That's where you met sweet Felicia, with her soft voice and cute dances, and Vander.

Vander, all muscle and large and gorgeous. Smooth, deep voice, that quite honestly could lull you to sleep.

"Got yourself a buddy now, aye Silco?" He has said eyeing you for a moment.

"Found him down in my section of the mines," Silco nods, patting your back.

You nodded weakly, a slightly strained smile on your lips as you wave awkwardly.

Felicia paid it no mind, smiling all too friendly at you as you walk in behind Silco.

"What's your poison?" Vander had asked, and you quirked a brow in question.

He lifts a bottle of liquor wordlessly with a faint smirk.

"Oh! Oh- uh," you think for a moment,"Vodka tonic," you managed to murmur under his curious gaze.

He nods with that same smirk,"You're after my own heart," he had stated, turning to make the drink.

Your cheeks warmed much to your dismay before shaking your head quickly.

You attempted to make conversation, but ended up just listening to Felicia talked about, well, whatever she was talking about.

You couldn't get your eyes off of Vander.

Vander with those thick arms. Vander with his gorgeous eyes. Fuck.

Over time, your presence became a constant. You had cooled yourself down, insisting that Vander wouldn't take interest, you were Silco's friend. Therefore, Vander's friend.

Until you found yourself alone in their little apartment with none other than Vander- Felicia wasn't feeling too hot and Silco.. well, Silco just sometimes disappeared, figuring out work or other things alike.

You almost left, feeling awkward and bumbling out apologies but Vander patted your back. Kind as ever. Insisting you stay and have another one of his drinks like any other night.

"C'mon, I don't bite," he has teased with a smirk,"Hard-"

The last part was muttered as he turned around to walk over to their liquor cabinet, and you did a double take, not believe he had said it.

You let a snicker tumble out and Vander grins over at you, relieved that his joke stuck.

The night had been... surprisingly nice.

He had joined you this time, nursing his own vodka tonic as he sat beside you at their little bar.

He asked about you. Your childhood, your upbringing. Turns out you had basically grown up of opposite sides of the Lanes, just associating with different kids and teens.

Vander kept eye contact, listening with his entire being as he cracked jokes or laughed about something you said.

You had ended up entirely too drunk, leaning against the bar and blatantly flirting with him.

Your cheeks were rosy, and Vander was chuckling as you complimented his eyes.

"You're drunk," he laughs, patting your knee.

"Doesn't take away the fact that you're handsome," you drunkenly chuckled.

"I'll take you seriously when you're able to tell me sober," Vander fixes you with a teasing pointed look as he stands. He stretches, a little sliver of his lower stomach showing as his shirt lifts before he's grasping your elbow and helping you up,"You can crash here for the night, can't have ya leavin' like this."

"Oh- it's okay, I've been piss drunk and made it home," a lie,"I'm fine-"

Vander doesn't say anything besides another pointed look, not leaving you any room for argument.

You grumble beneath your breath before being dragged off to a small room with an old, worn mattress.

He's quiet and it's almost serene. Intimate, even, when Vander hands you one of his worn shirts to wear for the night.

Laying in Vanders bed- alone, wearing his shirt, gazing up the ceiling as your vision swirls about gives you ample time to fantasize about the man currently crashing on the small couch out in the living/dining/main area.

The next day, you had woke with a shock, a thumping ache in your head as you sit up with a groan.

The sound and smell of food has your stomach rumbling.

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you step out of the room to be greeted with Felicia animatedly chatting away with Vander who seems to be cooking up some breakfast- eggs and bacon?

Felicia must have heard you, eyebrow raised as she turns before smiling in delight as she calls your name with a side hug.

"I'm sorry- feeling a little sick-ish, didn't want to give ya any illness," she suddenly smirks as she eyes the shirt you're wearing,"Nice shirt."

You look down in confusion before the memories of the night before rush to the surface, a hot blush of embarrassment covering your cheeks.

"Oh- um," you clear your throat before grinning sheepishly,"Thanks."

You watch Felicia wander into Vander's view and smirk at him as if she knows something.

You idly stand there for a moment before deciding to sit, feeling woozy.

You lean forward, elbows on your knees as you rub at your temples while willing yourself not to dart out of the small apartment.

Vander wanders over, old socks coming into view as he places a plate of breakfast on the small table.

He crouches before you as you lean back in surprise,"Got a headache, aye?"

He's there- unbelievably kind eyes peering at you as he hands you a glass of water.

"Yeah," you murmur, taking the glass with a thankful albeit awkward smile.

He stands, going back to the food and asks Felicia if she wants any before she's declining with a smirk, taking her leave.

After a moment, Vander comes back, pulling a small stool up to sit across from you with his plate in hand. It's almost comical, the stool is so small beneath him and the plate looks equally small.

"Food will help," he hands you a fork.

You take it, nodding in thanks as you begin to eat quietly.

You find your gaze trailing over to him as you both eat, quickly averting them when he looks back at you.

He carefully takes the plate from your hands when you're done, going back to the sink to clean them off.

You're moving to the bedroom to fetch your shirt, carefully folding Vanders as you step back out.

"I'm.. gonna go," you murmur awkwardly,"Got a shift down at the mines at noon."

Vander swings his rag up onto his shoulder after drying his hands, turning to look at you and leaning against the sink.

He eyes you for a moment, taking in your awkward fidgeting as you hold his shirt.

"Please don't... feel awkward about last night," he reassures carefully,"You were drunk. We can.. chalk it up to that."

You swallow thickly, nodding in embarrassment.

Taking your leave was even more awkward, somehow; placing his shirt down on the small table before nearly darting out, as if your tail were between your legs.

A week passes. Silco grows annoyed with you as you respectfully decline his invites to Vanders and his place.

You throw yourself into work, working longer hours until you hit a pipe, a burst of the grey shooting straight into your lungs.

You're dragged out of the mines, told you're to rest and take a few days, much to your dismay.

Silco hears of it, meeting you on the surface and scolding you.

On the second day of rest, Silco finds you at your dingy apartment, dragging you out and ignoring your groans and before you know it, you're at a bar.

The Last Drop.

You don't recognize it, finding it brand new and nearly empty, save for Felicia and Vander who converse at the back of the building by the bar.

"Hey!" Felicia waves to you both with a grin, patting your arm with a softer smile,"I heard what happened in the mines, I'm glad you're okay!"

Vander looks over at you, surprised to see you after a little over a week of nothing.

You're sheepish under his gaze, embarrassment written on your face.

"Glad you're alright," he says softly.

Felicia talks about her job, groaning about her sector of the mines while cooing about her spouse. Silco remains quiet as usual, writing into his journal and sipping the whiskey Vander had poured for him.

Wordlessly, Vander places a glass in front of you. Vodka tonic.

"Thank you-" you manage to say genuinely.

He smiles and nods at you, turning back to listen to Felicia.

After a little while of nursing your drink, Felicia yawns, stretching her arms above her head before side eyeing you, then Vander.

"Silco- can you walk me down to the Lanes? Connol works later at the mines tonight," she murmurs with a pointed look.

Silco looks at her in confusion before something dawns on him, nodding as he downs his drink and closes his journal.

Felicia kisses you on the cheek, bidding a Goodnight as she leaves with Silco.

You open your mouth, preparing to leave too- until another glass is placed in front of you.

It's not a vodka tonic, much to your surprise.

You look up at Vander in confusion, shock wracking your belly as he leans closer to you from across the bar.

"Try it," he nods to the drink.

You hesitate before shrugging, surprised at the taste- warm and light, a drink you're unfamiliar with.

"That's my favorite drink," Vander murmurs, eyeing you carefully.

You raise a brow,"Thought vodka tonics were your favorite."

Vander smirks slightly,"They're... good, but not my favorite."

You hum in response and he continues before you can say anything.

"Said it was my favorite to connect with you," he says that softer, turning to grab another glass and pours himself a cup, ending up with a vodka tonic.

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion,"wh- huh? Why?"

He fixes his gaze on you again then walks around the side of the bar to sit on the stool beside you.

His thigh brushes against yours as he settles in, resting his elbows on the bartop.

He sighs, shrugs, lifting his drinks and sipping it as he side eyes you.

Your cheeks warm, a feeling of almost hope bubbling up beneath the surface. You don't dare say anything.

"I told you- that night- that I'll take you seriously if you tell me sober," he murmurs, eyes locked onto his glass.

You clear your throat,"Yeah- I remember.."

He only gives you a narrowed look as he turns to face you. His thighs frame yours as he turns you in the stool to face him.

"Well?" He smirks.

You narrow your gaze in disbelief.

Curse Vander and his kind eyes, his gorgeous face and large hands that now hold a soft grip over your knee.

You swallow thickly, cheeks reddening.

"I- uh.." you struggle to speak, laughing in surprise,"Wha-at is happening-?"

Vander just gazes at you wordlessly, a faint smirk on his lips.

You're unable to speak- wishing you could form the words that you know you said when drunk-

Luckily, it seems Vander understands your trouble.

Suddenly, he's lifting his hand towards your face. You flinch slightly, and you don't miss the hesitation in his eyes but he licks his lower lip as he gently cups your cheek.

"Easy," he murmurs as he carefully tugs you closer, free hand taking your clenched one off your thigh and thumbing your fist open, thumb rubbing your palm soothingly.

"Vander-"

"Tell me to stop," he locks his eyes on yours, waiting.

You don't say anything, your eyes flicking down to his mouth before trailing back up to his eyes.

He smirks. Then leans in, slotting his lips over yours.

This kiss is awkward, initially. You're stiff, surprised and still in complete disbelief.

Vander pulls back to look at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and lidded gaze.

He brushes a strand of hair from your forehead. His palm moves down from your cheek to the side of your neck, thumb brushing over your pulse point and that smirk returns as he feels your heartrate.

"You alright?" He murmurs, gaze flicking back down to your lips.

You lick them, nodding quickly before moving closer, nose brushing against his as you begin to breathe the same air.

He chuckles and fuck, it's attractive, but he finally presses his lips against yours again.

You sigh into him, nerves rattling into your bones but he feels good.

Vander leads the kiss, gentle and sweet, typical.

His thumb moves to your jaw, pressing slightly to silently tell you- open up.

You listen- mouth opening just enough for him to press his tongue in.

"Nnh-" you hum softly, shivers rolling down your spine as his tongue tangles with yours.

You're almost squirming in the barstool. Free hand clenched into a fist perched on your thigh, other in Vanders grasp. Spine straightening then slouching.

Vander sighs into you, turning your head slightly to kiss you deeper. A low moan escapes your mouth and you almost pull back out of embarrassment but he hums a 'no,' refusing to stop kissing you.

You lean closer, unclenching your free hand and placing it on his thigh.

He releases your hand, now carefully gripping your thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth higher up. A tingle blossoms in your belly- dozens of butterflies spawning in as Vander groans into your mouth, panting softly. He pulls back for a split second, just to tilt your head the other way and he's back to pressing his tongue into your mouth.

You inch closer, hand rising up on his thigh with a surprised moan as he nips your lower lip-

Suddenly the barstool wobbles and you yelp, pulling back from the kiss and he grasps your elbow, stabilizing you.

You gaze at him- your lips tingling and breathing slightly ragged. You manage a soft laugh, tilting your head forward and leaning against his shoulder to cover your blush.

He cups the side of your neck, urging you back with a fond smile.

"Want to crash here tonight?" He asks softly, gaze lingering on your eyes.

You peer up at him before returning his soft smile with a nod,"I'd like that."

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

A/N: yippeeee!!! Lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list :)

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Fourteen

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag for other chapters | warnings: profanity, death threats (?)

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Fourteen:

You peeled your eyelids open. They felt practically glued shut as you eased Allison off of your lap- you felt feverishly hot, clothes sticking to your skin uncomfortably as you got up to take a much-needed shower. 

Allison woke up too, blinking. She looked fully rested. Regretting your lack of sleep, you disappeared into your bedroom to get ready for the day.

By the time you were done Allison had disappeared from the office and a man was sweeping up the glass from the carpet. You nodded at him as you put your hand on the doorknob, opening the door to reveal a veil of golden beaded strings.

“Leave even a single piece and I’ll cut your head off,” you said casually as you stepped through the curtain. He looked up at you nervously.

“Yes, Madam.”

You entered the lobby. You stepped out of the large, curved entrance you had for your office, turning around to see the rosy, warm, inviting interior before walking across the lush carpet of the front lobby, going for the stairs. The door opened and the familiar heavy frame of Sevika walked in. 

“[name],” she said breathlessly, stepping forward towards you. “Silco told me about the deal. The-“

You walked straight past her.

You could feel her eyes burning onto your back as you stalked up the stairs, not sparing her another glance. Reaching the landing you leaned against the railing, taking a peek downstairs. You could just see the edge of Sevika’s boot, before she moved past the foot of the stairs to duck into a hallway. Another pair of feet followed her.

You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself off of your leaning position, going down the hallway. You eventually reached the room you’d put Allison and her friend in, rapping your knuckles twice on the door.

The door opened to reveal the little girl, hair straight and black and dark. She looked up at you, shadows under her eyes, and panic flitted across her face.

“Madam,” she said quickly.

You didn’t bother with greetings or formalities. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

She looked at you, as if she was wondering which answer would get her head chopped off and which answer would get her a pat on the back. You continued:

“I don’t like little girls who lie.”

“I haven’t,” she admitted.

“Why not?”

“Sleep terrors.” You stepped into her room as she opened the door a little wider.

The place was sparse, with two bunk beds, a light and a rug. There was a tiny sack dumped in the corner, very few belongings spilling onto the hard wood.

You clicked your tongue, hands behind your back as you slowly turned, surveying the room. At least the beds were made, you noticed. The children were neat.

“What do you need?”

The girl looked up at you nervously. “Wh-what?”

“A shelf,” you remarked, looking at the empty space on the walls. “Would you like a desk? Can you read or write?”

She nodded silently. 

“After I get you the basic components, this room is free for you to personalise as you wish.” With a twirl of your hand, you produced a small pin in between your fingers. “I need you measured for some new clothes too.” You crouched down to her level. “After that, you do whatever you want as long as you don’t get yourself in trouble. We give our people freedom here.”

“Does this place have a name?”

You stared at her sallow face, taken off guard by the question, then brushed aside her hair. “I’m not sure yet. All these years, and we’ve never had a name.” People usually called it the brothel. What did you have in mind?”

“The House.”

You laughed. “It’s quite boring for someplace as glamorous as this, don’t you think?” You eased the pin into her hair. “Here. This pin will mark you as a member of, er… this place.”

She ghosted her little fingers over it. “The Haven.”

You licked your lips, turning the name over in your head. “That’s… where did you learn a word like that?”

“I met a girl who told me about this place. She said it was a haven for people who were running away. I never knew what it meant.”

You hummed, then straightened up. “That’s a great name.”

“Thank you,” she said bashfully, shuffling her feet. Without another word you left through the door, hurrying down the stairs and back to your office.

You had barely made it to the beads before you heard your name again. You groaned, turning around to face Sevika. 

“What do you want?”

“Five favours, huh?”

“I’ll call on you five times, and you will do whatever I tell you to without question.”

She laughed. “Or what? What if I don’t?” She took a step towards you. “You think you can just make me?”

You shrugged, clasping your hands together, the image of piety. “If you want to kill Donna, be my guest.”

She froze. “What?”

“What?” You batted your lashes at her innocently, beginning to circle her. She turned, eyes tracking your every move. “Is there something wrong?”

“What do you mean, kill Donna,” she hissed. You stopped walking, and turned to look at her abruptly.

“I mean, if you don’t follow the rules of the deal, Donna dies. It’s simple, really.”

You could see her clench her jaw. “Well, I wasn’t planning on disobeying anyways.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” Your voice was smooth.

“I was just testing to see your reaction.”

“I’m sure you were.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a good person, [name]?”

You smiled thinly. “That’s far too much credit than what’s due. What ever gave you that idea?”

She stared at you disbelievingly. “You take in people in need. What else is there to say?”

You raised a finger. “One could say I exploit people in need. Sure, I exploit them with a strict moral code, but I’m using them nonetheless. It’s purely transactional. I know they need me, and I take advantage of it.” You shrugged. “Don’t go getting excited, now.”

“[name], if anything happens to Donna…” Sevika’s voice was a growl. You crossed your arms, sweeping a languid hand over your chin.

“Well, her performance has been quite lacklustre lately…” you snickered at her expression.

“I’ll fucking kill you with my own two hands.”

“I doubt you’d want to suffer the consequences of that.” Your eyes flicked to her cloaked shoulder. “No one would like it if you killed me with your one, single hand.”

Sevika stared at you, breathing heavily. Agitated. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Anything to get a rise out of my adversaries-“

She grabbed your shoulder, fingertips digging into your skin. You clicked your tongue, irritated.

“Ah- ah- ah. Don’t go assaulting me,” you gasped, scandalised. You drew your face close to hers, grinning. She scowled at you. Your eyes flicked to the corner.

There were about ten people standing in the corner, completely frozen from whatever they were doing. They all stared at Sevika unblinkingly. A silent warning.

“That’s creepy,” she muttered.

“I know,” you said gleefully. She released your shoulder and you stumbled back. 

“Since when are we your adversaries?” She snarled. “We just struck a successful deal, for fucks sake. On amicable terms.”

I threw a knife at your boss. What part of that is amicable?

You scowled. “He will never be able to consider me an ally after the way he did me wrong, understood?” You stormed forward, jabbing a finger into her chest. “On my dead body will I help you sewer rats for anything that doesn’t involve my gain.”

“And what’s your gain?” Sevika whispered, voice scathing. You smiled widely, eyes glinting.

“His loss.”

-

“We need to expand.”

There was a map rolled out across the dark wood of your desk. You tapped a carefully manicured finger onto a specific spot in the undercity. Donna leaned over, inspecting the map with her sharp eyes. You drew slow circles on the spot and tapped it again. Allison was sitting on the sofa, watching you both with childlike interest.

“There’s too many people seeking asylum. We don’t have enough space.” You waved your hand to the ceiling. “Despite this place being massive, we need more.”

Donna propped herself up on her elbows, eyes tracing the river drawn on the map. “What’s that place?” She looked at where your finger was touching.

“It’s an old property that just got abandoned. Used to be a factory. The owner died to enforcers after he refused to give it up.”

“Why’d they make him give it up?”

“No idea. Probably because it wasn’t ’up to code,’ what they always say.” You bent over the table, eyes glinting. “They just don’t want Zaun to progress. To get more powerful.” Your voice was a dangerous hiss.

“How would one factory change that?”

Your eyes went from narrowed to normal and your muscles relaxed. “You’d be surprised.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “The enforcers just left after they finished moving all the stuff out yesterday night. The place is up for grabs.”

“Who’s to say we’ll get there on time? Before anyone else does?”

“I am,” you said firmly. “Send a team out, now, and set up something there. Spray our insignia on the front so no one dares to take it.”

So that was the plan. Take the factory, occupy it, and set it up. Of course you’d still run operations from the brothel- the Haven- but you could have it used as accommodation and more.

Donna was looking up at you with something akin to admiration in her eyes. You gave her a small, thin smile. You quite liked the girl.

You really hoped Sevika wouldn’t make you have to kill her.

[committingcrimes-2047]

I'm thinking about Vander x reader- im thinking about a story where they are maybe childhood friends and then they end up fighting on the bridge together but get separated and no one knows where Reader is so they assume theyre dead only for them to show up a year later.

Imagine Reader showing up at the last drop as its closing and Vander has his back to them and tells them that hes about to close up shop and they just sit down and maybe ask for a super specific thing that they always used to order and he like turns around and realises its them and it goes from there.

I know people are in agony with the new season so I thought I might as well throw some silly little ideas out into the wild. Please tag me if anyone writes this- not because its my idea but because im desperate for more Vander please and thank you.

[xoxo-honeyy]

wake-up call

^ he's such a scrumptious dilf, jus' wanna eat him up

summary: you wake up to strange noises coming from the bathroom and decide to go investigate. when you open the door, you find vander in a very compromising position...

warnings: afab reader, unprotected vaginal sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), cuddle fucking, dom!vander, sub!reader, tried very hard not to describe readers looks (implied chubby reader? kind of), somewhat of a size kink? (blink and you'll miss), male masturbation, use of pet names (princess, love), cockwarming, barely proofread, reader walks vander like a dog, smut that ends in fluff. reader is a stressed out mama, porn with little plot, please let me know if I've missed anything!

author's note: so i wanted to write a somno fic with vander but i didn't really know how to go about it so here's this mess that i don't know what to do with! this is also crossposted on ao3 at xoxo_honey!

wc: 1.6k

It had been a long day at work. Fights needed to be broken up, various repairs had to be made, and one of the beer taps broke which made business go a lot slower than usual. All of this caused Vander to come home a lot later than he usually did which put him in a bad mood.

All day while he was at work, Vander couldn't stop thinking about you. your soft touch. The way your plush body slotted perfectly against his. How you curled up against him this morning when he tried to get out of bed. the way your tight cunt wrapped around his cock so perfectly the night before, drowning him in orgasmic bliss. And all day he was trying desperately to force those thoughts away to avoid any awkward boner situations with his customers. but, towards the end of the night, his nasty thoughts came back in full force and flooded his head with a lust-filled haze. 

So when he got home, Vander already had two strikes against him. He was grumpy and sporting a half-hard cock. 

He unlocked the front door and closed it behind him. He quietly crept past the kids' room and made his way into your shared bed where you were snoring softly. 

Today hasn't been much better for you either. It was your day off of work so you decided to take the kids around the undercity and entertain them with the various light shows and firework displays. What a terrible idea. Not only were all of the children extremely giddy to spend the day with you, but they also made pancakes loaded with sugar and syrup to get them extra hyper. 

So, your day consisted of carting four restless, sugar-high kids around the Undercity, but you were also running on little to no sleep thanks to Vander and his outrageous libido.

When it was time to get back to your dingy little apartment, the five of you were exhausted and decided to go to bed early. 

Unlucky for you, a horny and cranky Vander had just laid down right next to you. The neon lights shone in through the moth-eaten curtains of your bedroom and cast a dim glow over your sleeping form, outlining the plump curve of your breasts and highlighting the gorgeous planes of your face. Which really wasn't helping Vanders...situation at all.

Deciding that he needed to relieve himself before getting a good night's sleep, Vander moved to get back up from the comfort of your shared bed and made his way to the bathroom. 

It had been a while since he needed to jerk off. Trying to remember how exactly he used to do it before you came along, his mind started to wander to different pictures of you. Vander could only remember your lips wrapped around the base of his cock while his tip repeatedly hit the back of your throat making you gag and moan around him.

Fuck.

The soft clinking of his belt becoming undone filled the muggy air of the cramped bathroom. Vander moved his pants and boxer down so they hung low on his waist, exposing just enough so his girthy dick was able to spring free from its confines. 

He spit on the palm of his large hand and wrapped it around his shaft, slowly moving it up and down. The rough calluses on his palm only served as a reminder of your soft one stroking his cock, finding different ways to tease him and make him cum. he moved his hand back up his penis and made contact with his leaking tip. His thumb moved back and forth over the slit and more pre-cum spilled down his length.

No longer able to control the noises coming out of his mouth, Vander bit down on a wad of his shirt. But this only helped stifle the sounds to a certain extent.

Down the hall in your bedroom, you were awakened out of your stupor because of strange noises coming from the bathroom. worried that one of the kids was sick, or god forbid, there was an intruder in the house, you decided to get out of bed and go investigate.

As you made your way down the hall, the noises became clearer and they were similar to the noises you heard during previous nights. You immediately knew who was in the bathroom.

You opened the door and found Vander hunched over with his hard cock in his fist, with his balled-up shirt in his mouth. 

Now Vander had three strikes against him. He got caught and was still horny, but his bad mood lessened upon seeing your beautiful face. 

Immediately Vander moved to pull his pants up while fumbling over his words trying to come up with an adequate explanation as to what exactly he was doing. 

You quickly cut him off, "What are you doing?" a slight smirk played at your lips. You knew exactly what he was doing.

"M sorry princess, didn't mean to wake you." He avoided the question.

Stepping closer to him you responded in a soft, sultry, whisper, "That's not what I asked."

Stopping his actions, you took his erect tip into your hands and started stroking him. Repeating the same motions he was doing just moments before. He immediately let out a guttural moan and you stopped your teasing movements. 

You turned your back to him and walked out of the bathroom knowing full well he was hot on your trail. 

The two of you made it into your bed and laid down, but Vander was confused, "What are you doing love?" 

Not responding, you simply pulled down your cotton pajama shorts along with your thin panties with a noticeable damp spot in the center and rolled over so your back was pressed up against his broad chest.

"'M tired Vander." You explained, "Don't feel like doing anything." 

But there was an underlying message that Vander had not yet caught onto.

You gave him a moment to think, and when his eyes brightened, you knew he had figured it out. 

Slowly, Vander moved impossibly closer to you and moved two of his thick fingers to your heat. the digits moved at a tantalizing pace, up and down your folds to work you up for his girthy cock. Your slick was dripping around his fingers and when he pushed one in, it came out soaking.

Letting out a whimper, you started to rut your hips against his hands in hopes to relieve the ache in your core. 

Vander only chuckled and whispered, "All you gotta do is ask princess. I don't know what you want if you don't tell me."

Broken words tumbled from your lips, "Please, wan' your cock."

"Where do you want it? your mouth?" He responded knowing full well exactly where you wanted it.

You couldn't wait anymore, "Want it 'n my pussy."

Deciding that you had enough, Vander finally gave you what you wanted. He slipped his hefty dick into your tight, wet heat. Each time you had sex, it took you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of him because he was just so big. the two of you sighed a breath of relief, hours of wanting and lust-filled brains had rendered you both into horny teenagers. Vander's large arms wrapped around your waist so he was holding you firm into his body. The embrace pouring love and protectiveness through your very being.

After you had gotten re-used to his impressive girth, Vander started to lightly thrust in and out of your core. His movements were more akin to grinding than thrusting but he was too tired to fully complete his movements. His hand moved down to your red, needy clit and started rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves. 

As a small form of punishment, Vander lightly slapped your swollen clit a number of times until tears formed in your eyes. stopping the harsh movement, he started gently tugging at your button until breathy moans fell from your lips. 

The added movement of his fingers combined with his dick repeatedly hitting your cervix, you felt your stomach clenching and your thighs shaking, a sign of your impending orgasm. Letting out a series of high-pitched moans you shoved your face into the pillow and bit down on it. 

Vander's hips faltered and the hand that was tugging at your clit started lightly quivering. He was also close. revived with newfound energy to finish the two of you off, Vander's thrusts became more powerful. The sound of skin slapping reverberated around the room.

Suddenly your mind went blank, the only feeling you were capable of discerning was pleasure as your orgasm rolled over you and took over your entire nervous system.

Sensing that Vander was at the precipice of his imminent orgasm, you decided to help him out by meeting his harsh thrusts by grinding your hips back onto his, overstimulation be damned.

It was all too much for him. The clenching of your cunt, the way you wrapped so perfectly around his cock, the feeling of your soft body safe in his arms. His seed spilled into you filling you up with warm, gooey liquid, the familiar sensation was oddly comforting. 

You removed the pillow case from your teeth and took in lungfuls of the cool night air. Vander massaged your waist and hips to get rid of any potential bruising and whispered into your sweaty skin, "Maybe I should wake you up like that more often."

Laughter bubbled up your throat and reached Vander's ears.

"M extra tired now." You sighed, thinking of all the things you had to get done in the morning.

Vander, already knowing the amount of work you had piled on your desk suggested, "Why don't you take the day off tomorrow? The six of us could have a spa day or something?"

Leaning your head against his sweaty chest you closed your eyes and smiled, "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

hope you guys liked this, i had sm fun writing it! this is also cross-posted on ao3 at xoxo_honey, the link is in my pinned post!

[jhyoos]

Dreams Come True

Chapter 7: Unconditionally

hockeyplayer! vi x idol!reader

summary: fans find out about you and vi’s relationship, but she’s a country away

mentions: angst, panic attacks, fluff, fame au, modern au

notes: I hope y’all are bundled up for the people that are experiencing the cold front rn. And my heart goes out to everyone who lost their home from the fire in California! 🫶🩷

Getting ready for the meet and greet felt strange. From the moment you stepped into the venue, it seemed like everyone was walking on eggshells around you. Mel and the rest of your group members kept checking in, offering reassuring smiles and casual questions like, "You good? Need anything?" Even the makeup and wardrobe staff seemed overly attentive, constantly fussing over small details that normally wouldn’t have mattered. You appreciated their care—it came from a good place—but deep down, you just wanted to feel normal again, not like someone everyone had to keep an eye on.

When the time came to step out on stage, you were blown away by the turnout. The venue was packed to capacity, and even more fans crowded into standing areas, clearly having paid extra to get as close as possible. The energy was electric, and the roar of cheers when your group appeared sent a wave of warmth through you. You couldn’t help but smile as you scanned the crowd, their signs, banners, and glowing lights all meant to show love and appreciation.

The meet and greet itself went off without a hitch. Fans were respectful, kind, and incredibly enthusiastic. Each member of the group got equal attention, with fans taking time to gush over everyone’s talents and personalities. The gifts were overwhelming: stuffed animals, handmade crafts, letters, and even a few bouquets. One fan had made a scrapbook of the group’s achievements over the years, and everyone had to take a moment to admire the thought and care put into it. It was a reminder of how deeply your music touched people.

Still, there was an emptiness lingering in your chest. Vi wasn’t there. She was across the country, competing in a major hockey game. You were proud of her, of course, but you couldn’t help but miss her. It had been days since you’d last seen her, and though she tried to call or text whenever she could, it wasn’t the same.

But there wasn’t much time to dwell on it. Your schedule for the week was packed. There were acapella renditions of your debut album to rehearse and record, talk show appearances to prepare for, and photoshoots for magazines and the company’s promotional campaigns. The constant rush of activity was exhausting, but it kept your mind off things, at least for a while.

On a Saturday, your group had a gig with a popular talk show to perform and chat with the hosts. The experience was exhilarating—the hosts were welcoming, the audience was lively, and it felt amazing to showcase your group's music to such a wide platform. The performance went flawlessly, and the interview segment brought a lot of laughs and heartwarming moments, solidifying the bond your group shared in the public eye.

When the show ended and you were leaving the building, a wave of fans awaited you outside, their excitement palpable as they cheered for your group. You followed your members out, but as you stepped through the door, you couldn’t help but notice the cheers weren’t as loud for you. The realization hit you like a cold gust of wind, making your heart sink. You pushed through the uneasy feeling, plastering a smile on your face as you waved to the crowd and joined your group in the waiting van.

Inside the van, your group members settled into their seats, chattering about the performance and the fans. Steb, your manager, climbed in after you, shutting the door firmly behind him. The lively energy in the van was quickly replaced with a heavy tension when Steb sat directly across from you, his expression serious. He leaned forward, holding out his tablet.

“There’s an article,” he began. “With a lot of evidence about you and some hockey player…dating.”

Your stomach dropped as you hesitantly took the tablet from him. It was a TMZ article, complete with all the hallmarks of a scandalous exposé. The text messages featured in the article were clearly hacked, showing snippets of private conversations between you and Vi. There was also a side-by-side photo comparison of you wearing Vi’s hoodie the night of your attack and Vi wearing the same hoodie during a halftime appearance at one of her games. But the most damning evidence was a photo of you and Vi outside your apartment door, mid-kiss.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, your hands tightening around the tablet. The weight of the situation felt suffocating.

You glanced at Mel, who was sitting beside you, her concerned eyes scanning the article over your shoulder. She noticed your reaction and gave you a reassuring rub on your back. “It’ll be okay,” she said softly, trying to ease your nerves.

Steb took the tablet back, his face unreadable. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

You exhaled sharply, leaning back against your seat. “Set up a press conference for me, Steb. I’ll figure it out there,” you replied, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling inside.

Steb nodded, sliding the tablet back into his bag. “I’ll get it arranged.”

Mel turned to you, her brow furrowed with worry. “What are you going to say?” she asked, her voice low to avoid alarming the others.

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t affect you guys any more than it already has. I’ll take responsibility…this is on me.”

The group had fallen silent, their attention now focused on you. You looked at Mel again, guilt weighing heavily on your chest. “I’m really sorry, you guys. Especially you, Mel.”

Mel gave you a small smile and shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. Just focus on being honest. We’ll handle the rest together.”

Her words brought you a small sense of comfort, but the lingering unease about the situation made it hard to fully relax. As the van drove away from the venue, you stared out the window, mentally preparing yourself for the storm ahead.

When you got home to your apartment, the silence felt deafening. The weight of the day clung to you like a heavy cloak, suffocating and inescapable. Dropping your bag by the door, you walked to the couch and sank into it, hoping for a brief escape from the chaos. Grabbing the remote, you turned on the TV, flipping through channels without much thought.

But as soon as the screen settled on a news station, your stomach dropped. The same incriminating photos from the article—Vi’s hoodie, the kiss outside your apartment—were plastered on the screen, accompanied by speculation and commentary. The bright, intrusive graphics felt like a spotlight exposing your vulnerability to the world.

With a frustrated groan, you quickly turned off the TV, tossing the remote onto the couch beside you. You leaned forward, burying your face in your hands as the emotions overwhelmed you. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as the stress of everything finally broke through. The constant pressure of being in the public eye, the fear of how this might impact your group and career, and the vulnerability of having your personal life laid bare—it was too much all at once.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you from your spiral. Sniffling, you pulled it out and saw the name on the screen: “My Violet 🫶.” For a moment, you hesitated. You didn’t want to drag Vi into your breakdown, but the familiar name and the thought of her voice gave you the tiniest glimmer of comfort.

Taking a shaky breath, you answered. “Vi?”

“Yeah, cupcake,” her voice came through, soft and grounding. “I know. I saw the article, and I’m on my way back to the States right now. We’ll figure this out together, okay? I love you so much.”

Her words made your chest ache. “Vi…” you began, your voice trembling. “Wait. I have a press conference tomorrow, and…I’m going to decide what to do. What’s best for both of us.”

There was a pause, the silence on her end filled with her hesitation. You could imagine her trying to find the right words. “Do what you feel is best,” she finally said, her voice steady but carrying a weight of unspoken emotion.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Vi,” you admitted, your voice breaking as fresh tears threatened to spill.

“No matter what you do, I’ll always be here,” she assured you, her tone firm and unwavering. “I love you.”

Before you could respond, the line disconnected. You stared at the phone in your hand, the screen fading to black. Her words echoed in your mind, offering some comfort but also adding to the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

You curled up on the couch, holding your knees to your chest, as exhaustion crept over you. The silence returned, but this time it felt heavier, laced with uncertainty about what the next day would bring.

The next day, the press conference room buzzed with anticipation. As you prepared in the small green room beforehand, the reality of what you were about to do sank in. You stood before the mirror, adjusting your outfit for the hundredth time—a simple but professional ensemble meant to exude confidence you didn’t quite feel.

Your hands trembled as you smoothed the fabric of your blazer, and you met your own eyes in the reflection. "You’ve got this," you whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath. "This is just another performance. Just get through it."

But no matter how many times you tried to steady yourself, the pit in your stomach remained. You ran a hand through your hair, adjusted your earrings, and straightened your posture. After one final glance in the mirror, you walked out to meet your manager, Steb, who was waiting for you by the door.

The press conference room was alive with energy. Bright camera flashes and the low hum of murmurs filled the space as you stepped onto the stage, flanked by your manager. The air was heavy with expectation, every pair of eyes fixed on you as you took your place at the long table.

You sat down, your heart pounding as you adjusted the microphone in front of you. Steb sat beside you, his presence steady and calm, but the tension in the room was suffocating.

"Good afternoon, everyone," you began, your voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. "Thank you for being here today. As many of you know, there have been recent rumors circulating about my personal life. I’m here to address them directly."

The floodgates opened almost immediately, questions firing off from all corners of the room.

"How long have you known Violet?" one reporter asked.

You cleared your throat, forcing a small smile. "We’ve known each other since freshman year of college," you answered.

"And how did you meet?" another voice chimed in.

"We had the same English class," you replied, your voice more confident now. "We supported each other through it—late-night study sessions, group projects, and everything in between."

The questions kept coming, each one more pointed than the last. You handled them with as much composure as you could muster, giving measured and thoughtful answers. But then came the question you had been dreading.

"Let’s get straight to the point," a reporter said, leaning forward eagerly. "What’s the nature of your relationship? Are you dating? Friends? Friends with benefits?"

The room fell silent, the weight of the question pressing down on you like a physical force. Your heart raced, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing.

You looked out at the sea of expectant faces, and then at Steb, whose expression remained neutral but supportive. This was the moment everything could change—your career, your group’s reputation, your carefully crafted image.

But as you thought about the truth and what it meant to you, a calmness settled over you. You’d worked so hard to get where you were, but you also knew that living a lie wasn’t sustainable.

With a deep breath, you leaned forward to the mic. "Yes," you said, your voice firm and clear. "We’re dating."

The room erupted into a flurry of murmurs, cameras clicking wildly as reporters scrambled to capture the moment. You held up a hand to quiet the room, taking another breath before continuing.

"We’ve been dating for a few weeks now. I understand this might come as a surprise to many of you, but I want to be honest—not just for my sake, but for everyone who has supported me along the way."

"Do you worry this will impact her career as much as yours?"

You froze for a split second, the gravity of the question settling over you. Steeling yourself, you met the reporter’s gaze.

"Of course, it’s a concern," you admitted. "We’re both very dedicated to our careers, and we’ve worked hard to get where we are. But we’ve also talked about this. We’re committed to supporting each other, no matter what. That’s what a partnership is—standing by each other through the highs and lows."

The room quieted, all eyes locked on you as you continued.

"Look," you continued, your voice softer, yet firm, "I know that to many of you, we’re just faces on a screen or people you cheer for from afar. Vi is an incredible athlete, and I’m part of a group that’s had the privilege to share our music with the world. But we are so much more than the images you see or the personas we put out there."

You paused, your gaze sweeping the room, making eye contact with some of the reporters as you gathered your thoughts.

"We’re human," you continued, your voice cracking slightly but growing stronger. "We have feelings. We have fears, dreams, and lives that exist outside of the spotlight. Vi is more than just a hockey star—she’s a person with the biggest heart I’ve ever known. She’s been there for me when I felt like I had no one else. We were together before…but fate brought us back together. She’s made me laugh when I couldn’t find a reason to smile. She’s been my rock, my safe space. And I hope I’ve been that for her too."

A few reporters leaned forward, their pens still, as they listened intently.

"I understand that this is shocking for some of you," you went on, swallowing hard. "But for me, love isn’t something I can just put on hold or hide because of what other people might think. It’s real, and it’s messy, and it’s terrifying sometimes. But it’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced."

You paused again, your hands gripping the edge of the table as you steadied your breath.

"Vi and I... we didn’t ask for this attention. We didn’t plan for our relationship to become public this way. In fact, we haven’t even confirmed our relationship to ourselves yet. But now that it’s out there, I want you all to know that we’re not just some headline. We’re two people who care deeply about each other. And we’re asking for the chance to live our lives—our real lives—without judgment or assumptions."

A lump formed in your throat, but you pushed past it, your voice unwavering.

"I also want to say this to my fans or just over all AURORA fans," you added, looking directly into one of the cameras. "I love you all. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, and I’m so grateful for your support. But I also hope you’ll remember that I’m a person, just like you. I have a heart that beats for the things I’m passionate about—music, my group, and yes, the person I love. I hope you can continue to stand by us as we navigate this new chapter."

You leaned back, your heart still racing as the reporters clamored for more questions. But you tuned them out, focusing on the sense of relief washing over you. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were being true to yourself.

Steb placed a hand on your shoulder, his silent gesture of support grounding you. As you left the stage, the cameras continued to flash, but you walked away with your head held high. No matter what came next, you knew you had faced the truth—and that was something no one could take away from you.

The moment you stepped off the stage, the tension in your body began to dissolve. The green room was a welcome reprieve from the blinding lights and relentless questions. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, tugging at your tie and tossing it onto the desk.

"Jesus Christ…" you murmured, running a hand through your hair as you tried to compose yourself.

"Jesus Christ indeed, cupcake," came a familiar, teasing voice behind you.

You spun around and saw Vi leaning casually against the doorframe, her sharp features softened by the warm smile on her face. Relief washed over you.

"Thank God," you said, moving toward her without hesitation. Your arms immediately wrapped around her neck, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"I missed you so much," you murmured into her shoulder, inhaling the comforting scent of her familiar cologne.

Her strong arms circled your waist as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "You were so brave out there," she whispered, her voice filled with pride and love. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Violet. I love you more than anything," you replied, pulling back slightly to look at her.

Her blue eyes searched yours for a moment before she leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. You melted into her, one hand resting on her cheek while the other clung to her jacket. The kiss deepened, filled with all the emotion and unspoken words that had been building between you. It felt like the world outside didn’t exist, just the two of you in that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and with your forehead resting against hers, Vi smirked. "You know they’re probably going to write about this too."

You chuckled softly. "Let them. I don’t care anymore."

She kissed you again, softer this time, before grabbing your hand. "Come on, let’s get out of here before someone barges in."

The two of you exited the green room hand in hand, but the moment you stepped outside the building, a swarm of paparazzi descended. Flashing cameras and shouted questions filled the air as photographers jostled for a better shot.

The security guards pushed the crowd back, creating a path for the two of you. Despite the chaos, Vi kept her arm around your waist, holding you close as she guided you toward her car.

"Over here!" one of the guards called, opening the passenger door. Vi helped you inside, her hand lingering on yours for a moment before she closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

Once inside, the noise of the crowd was muffled, and you let out a sigh of relief. Vi glanced over at you, a soft smile playing on her lips as she reached over to squeeze your hand.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice low and comforting.

"Yeah," you replied, looking at her and feeling a sense of calm wash over you. "I’m okay now."

"Good," she said, starting the car. "Because you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day."

"Best news I’ve had all week," you said with a small laugh, leaning back in your seat as she pulled away from the chaos and into the streets.

Your company decided it was best for you to take a brief, secret hiatus to let everything settle down after the press conference. You didn’t protest—this was the perfect opportunity to relax and reconnect with the people you loved. For a few days, you surrounded yourself with your family, Vi, and Vi’s family, cherishing every moment of normalcy and peace.

One highlight of the hiatus was Vi finally meeting your parents properly. Despite your initial nervousness, they welcomed her with open arms, immediately putting her at ease. Vi, usually so confident, seemed genuinely touched by their warmth, and you couldn’t help but smile as your worlds started to blend seamlessly.

On another day, you visited Vi’s family, where you were already a familiar and beloved presence. As soon as you stepped through the door of Vander and Silco’s cozy home, you were met with literal open arms. Vander immediately pulled you into a bear hug, his hearty laughter filling the room.

"Welcome back, superstar," he said, ruffling your hair like he always did.

"Thank you, Vander," you said, laughing as you gently swatted his hand away.

Silco, ever the reserved one, gave you a knowing smirk from the doorway to the kitchen. "That press conference you had—it’s everywhere. Kudos to you for handling it with such poise."

"Thank you, Silco," you said, your cheeks warming slightly.

Before you could say more, you heard a familiar soft giggle from behind you. You turned to see Isha, Vi’s younger sister, running up to you with her arms outstretched.

"Hi, Isha!" you said warmly as you bent down to hug her.

Isha, though mute, was one of the most expressive and intelligent kids you’d ever met. At just her young age, she was already tackling middle school math and doing science projects for fun. Her enthusiasm and brilliance always left you in awe.

As you stood back up, the sound of a door opening caught your attention. Jinx and Ekko emerged from her room, and Jinx’s mischievous grin lit up the hallway.

"Hi!" she said as she bounded over to hug you tightly. "You’ve been MIA."

"Hi, Tinker. I haven’t seen you in a while either. You too, Ekko," you said with a smile as Ekko gave you a casual wave.

"I’m a busy man," Ekko replied with a smirk, leaning against the wall.

"Oh, please," Jinx interjected with a dramatic eye roll. "He has nothing on his plate but his own ego."

You laughed, shaking your head at their usual banter. "Ekko, I owe you my life, seriously. As soon as my long-awaited check comes in, I’m buying you something. Name your price."

"Don’t worry about it," he said, but you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "But if you insist, I’ll start making a list."

The warmth and familiarity of their home wrapped around you like a blanket. Vander soon returned with a tray of drinks, while Silco called everyone into the kitchen for dinner preparations. You felt a profound sense of comfort, knowing that no matter how overwhelming the outside world could get, you had this—these people who cared for you without pretense, who saw you for more than just your fame.

And most importantly, you had Vi, whose hand brushed yours under the table as you shared a quiet smile, both of you basking in the simple joy of being surrounded by family.

taglist : @val-k13 @ren-ren23 @snowbunnyboo @taurtel @justsomegaygirlig @alex-thegiraffeboyy @tobiotruther @krilara @veladeangl @maruiin

[girlwithadragonheart]

2 ~ The Fool

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: Adapting to your new life will take some time. Luckily, you have a friend to help you out.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Kids asking intrusive questions, teasing, swearing, suggestive comments toward reader, I think that’s it

A/N: Kind of a transition chapter, I tried to make it as interesting as possible for everyone involved XD

Chapter 1 Masterlist Chapter 3

Your eyes grew unfocused as you read over a student’s essay. You’d been sitting there for what felt like days grading papers and planning assignments.You’d scarcely had time for a break lately. The starry blue cloth covering your desk almost seemed to glow as your eyes crossed.

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat back for a moment, letting your eyes drift to the domed ceiling. Various constellations were carved into it, all aligning with the sky above. 

Absently, you shuffled your cards between your two hands, watching them glide through your fingers, the sound doing something to soothe your weary mind. You continued until a card flew from the deck, landing crooked on your desk face down. Glancing at it, you tilted your head, wondering what your spirit guides found so urgent that you needed to hear it right that moment. 

Setting your deck to the side, you let your fingers hover over the single card before carefully flipping it over.

The Fool.

New beginnings, freedom, spontaneity, adventure.

The Fool depicts a youth walking joyfully into the world. He is taking his first steps, and he is exuberant, joyful, excited. He carries nothing with him except a small sack, caring nothing for the possible dangers that lie in his path. Indeed, he is soon to encounter the first of these possible dangers, for if he takes just a step more, he will topple over the cliff that he is reaching.

The Fool is a warning to not be naive to risks and to be aware of the path you’re treading.

In its upright position, it was the bright start of a new journey. When reversed, it was a warning that you were stepping too far beyond your path and it would lead to potential disaster. 

It had landed sideways. Perfectly neutral. 

Both a warning and a premonition. Urging you to be sure-footed and take your time on this path.

The waters were cold and dark if you plummeted to the depths, but they could also embrace you in the serenity of their stillness—the weightlessness provided a steady release from the heaviness on your shoulders, if you let them.

An assured knock landed on your door, and when you looked up, Lest was in front of you. Her ear twitched as she regarded your drawing.

“The cards giving you a hard time again?” She grinned mischievously.

You sighed, leaning back and gesturing to the card in front of you. “What do you think?” You asked.

She leaned over your desk, eyes darting over the card and its position. “Did it land that way?” She questioned. You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “Interesting…”

“That’s it?” You deadpanned. 

“What do you want me to say?” She stood up straight, raising a brow as she crossed her arms, mimicking your position. 

You sighed, letting your eyes close as you laid your head back against your chair. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Am I doing the right thing?” You opened your eyes to peer at her as she took a drag from her pipe, the purple smoke drifting through the air. Her presence always calmed you as did her insight.

“Have you asked them?” She nodded to your card deck. “They’re the only ones who could even come close to telling you.”

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

You rolled over, and the sheets were cool beside you. Your eyes fluttered, but you didn’t open them yet, wanting to enjoy your time in bed before getting ready for work. 

When your lids finally pried apart, you were in an unfamiliar room with air that made your lungs tight and no light filtering through the windows. You sat up, trying not to panic as your eyes flitted around the room.

There was a door across from you and a curtain to your left. You looked down at yourself, seeing a massively baggy t-shirt twisted around your frame from the way you had slept, undoubtedly. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather, and the previous days’ events came flooding back to you.

The exile. The thieves. The hunger. You clutched your stomach as it growled—nowhere near the severity it had been—and noticed how thin you had gotten just in a few days without any source of nutrients.

And out of nowhere, Vander had found you and brought you back to his bar-slash-home, fed you, cleaned you up, and tended your wounds before offering you a place to sleep. Fucking weird thing to happen out of nowhere, but listen, after the hell you had been through, you would take what you could get.

Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed, remaking the blanket behind you before carefully heading downstairs. You ran a hand through your hair, praying it wasn’t as messy as it felt.

The first thing you noticed was the smell of fried eggs. The second thing was a head of blue hair and a head of pink hair, sitting at the bar. Vander was behind it with a hotplate cooking the eggs you smelled.

He looked up with a half smile as a stair creaked beneath you. You froze, being caught peeping and tucked yourself half behind the corner as both girls turned to you. The younger one—-Powder, if you remembered right—-regarded you with wide eyes, a more curious stare. Whereas her sister, Violet, scowled, looking past you and up the stairs.

Most of the time, you would pride yourself on your interactions with children, but you weren’t from here, and they weren’t from Piltover. You knew there was bound to be some kind of lapse between you.

“Breakfast?” Vander asked, calling back your attention from the little ones. 

You smiled sheepishly and nodded as you finally made your way down the stairs to join them at the bar. You took a seat at the end of the bar, pulling on Vander’s shirt to try and cover as much of you as it could. Which—-while not surprising—-was a lot.

Vander started dishing out food and introduced you to the girls. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while, alright? So no funny business.” He pointed the wooden spatula at them each, eyeing them carefully as though he could already see their plans.

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread on your lips watching him. He slid a plate to you and you nodded in thanks, glancing away as he sent you a wink. You looked at the girls as they dug into their food and cleared your throat. 

“If you guys have any questions, I’ll try to answer them,” you told them.

Vi looked at you with half an egg shoved in her mouth, practically scowling, while Powder’s eyes darted between you and Vander.

“Are you really from up there?” Powder asked with wide eyes.

You glanced at Vander, and he just shrugged and nodded. “Yes, I’m from Piltover,” you told her. “I was a teacher.”

“Why did you come here?” She asked. “Did you want to visit?” You wished it could be explained with such child-like innocence. The truth was far darker.

“Nobody comes here because they want to, Powder.” Vi rolled her eyes. “What did you do to get kicked?” She questioned.

“Violet—” Vander scolded.

“No, it’s alright,” you assured him. “She’s right.” There was a flash of surprise in Vi’s gaze before it was quickly covered up again. “There was an accident, and the council needed someone to blame. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. You weren’t really sure what the truth was anymore.

“So Vander saved you?” She eyed you suspiciously. “Is that why you’re wearing his clothes?”

“Mine needed a wash,” you shrugged a shoulder, starting to cut into your eggs. Vander chuckled as he cleared his own plate.

“Do you have any cool stuff from Piltover?” Powder asked excitedly.

Your thumb absentmindedly rubs the place your ring used to be. “No, sadly I was mugged the second I stepped foot here.”

Vi scoffed. “Typical. You Piltovians all think you’re better than us, but you couldn’t even take care of your own stuff.”

“Yeah, silly me for letting those four guys take me out,” you shrugged. “Get all your facts straight before throwing around accusations.”

There was a suspicious sound of a laugh hidden by a cough coming from where Vander was sitting. Vi looked at you with shock and disgust as though you had just struck her. Powder looked between you and her sister as you started calmly eating your breakfast.

“Speaking of,” Vander said. “Your clothes are clean.” He took his plate to the sink behind him, setting it down. “Think you can handle this lot while I go get them?” he asked.

You looked at the girls before turning back to him. “I think we’ll be alright.”

Vander nodded and made his way down the stairs. Powder eyed you curiously. “Do you have a family? Do you miss them?” She asked.

“I…” You thought back to your life in the glorious upper city. All the pomp and circumstance. Your classroom. Your students. “I had my students,” you tell her. “Not a traditional family, I suppose.”

“You said you were a teacher,” Vi stated. “Wasn’t it boring?”

You laughed. “No, not at all. Sometimes, I suppose, but mostly? Every day was an adventure. You hear all kinds of things. I mean, think about it, I worked with other teachers and a bunch of kids.” You dragged a hand through your hair.

“You must know loads of stories!” Powder exclaimed. “Can you tell us one?”

You glanced over, seeing Vander coming back up the stairs with your folded clothes. “Maybe another time, kiddo,” you smiled.

Vander came over to you, setting your clothes on the bar. “There ya go. I couldn’t get every stain out, but I did my best.” He scooped up yours and the girls’ plates, moving to the sink. “I’ll get this cleaned up while you get dressed. We’ll open up the bar after,” he told you.

Vi led her younger sister downstairs as you picked up your clothes and headed the other way. “Thank you, Vander,” You said as you left.

“Anytime, lass,” he responded before you were out of earshot.

You took your clothes upstairs, shutting the door and pulling Vander’s shirt off. You folded it carefully and left it on the bed for him. Picking up your dress, you ran the fabric between your fingers. It was familiar, albeit still stained with some loose threads. But it was soft, and it was almost all you had from your earlier life.

Slowly, you brought the cloth to your face and took a deep breath, letting your eyes close. It smelled faintly of tobacco, but other than that had no scent. It didn’t smell like grime and body odor anymore. But it also didn’t smell like your detergent. It didn’t smell like your perfume. It didn’t smell like home anymore.

You took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed, feeling your eyes tear up. Home. That was no home anymore. You rubbed your eyes furiously; This was not the time for a breakdown. You inhaled deeply, though unsteady, until the rising tide of your emotions had receded back to the gently rocking waves of the sea.

You slipped your dress over your head, moving to the bathroom to adjust it in the mirror. Gently running your fingers through your hair, you parted it the way you liked, starting to twist the strands into dutch braids to keep it out of your face. You secured it carefully before pushing them back over your shoulders and tugging on your dress, feeling almost comfortable again. 

Your gaze drifted, settling on your tarot deck on that little bathroom shelf. Your hands braced the sink, fingers itching to reach out and do a reading. You missed the feeling of the cards between your fingers. You were used to shuffling them idly between your hands as a way to distract your mind.

But what’s the point?

With a sigh, you flicked off the bathroom light, letting the curtain drift closed behind you as you made to leave. When you opened the door, a pair of boots rested on the stair in front of you. You stared at them for a moment, remembering what Vander had said last night. These must be Vi’s extra pair.

You sat down in the doorway, pulling the boots on. They were a bit snug, but surprisingly comfortable and broken in. At the very least, they were warm and would keep your feet from getting trampled by customers. You had to remember to thank her when you next got the chance.

When you got downstairs, Vander had finished pulling the chairs off the tables and was behind the bar, organizing the drinks below. He looked up as you entered. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you responded.

He chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Just… remember where you’re at,” he said carefully.

“Worried they won’t understand me if I use big words?” You joked.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes, though his smile gave him away as he turned on the neon lights outside. He tossed you a worn apron, and you quickly tied it around you as you mapped out the bar to learn where things were.

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

Not even an hour in, the place was teeming with patrons. Vander had insisted it wouldn’t be too busy—just a “light evening”---but the roar of voices, clatter of tankards, and the occasional crash from a dropped glass said otherwise. You did your best to keep your stress levels down, reminding yourself you didn’t have to be perfect, you just had to get the job done. Everything would be fine. Hopefully.

You were balancing a tray of empty mugs, weaving between the raucous tables and trying to avoid bumping anyone as you walked, when a man barked at you from across the bar. “Oi lass! When are we getting more drinks over here?!” the man questioned, slamming his metal tankard down on the wood of his table.

You flinched from the sudden noise, one of the mugs on your tray tipping precariously. Your breath caught in your throat as you shifted, hand darting out to catch it and place it back on the tray carefully. You glared at the man, cursing under your breath as you hurried back to the bar. You dumped your tray down with a huff, your patience starting to wear thin as Vander prepared their drinks.

“Do they always yell like that?” You asked, resting against the counter with one hip popped.

“Only when they’re sober,” Vander replied, watching the drinks he made.

Your brows dropped and you gave him a dry look. “Oh, so this is normal?”

“Welcome to the Undercity, Princess,” he said, his smirk widening. “You learn to let it roll off. Comes with the territory.”

You crossed your arms on the bar as you waited for him to finish. “Well, I’m letting it roll off alright. Right into my mental list of people I’ll ‘accidentally’ spill drinks on.”

Vander chuckled, setting the bottles back under the counter, and finally looking at you. “Not sure you’ve the patience for this line of work.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “And miss the chance to work under you? Never.”

His smirk turned into a full laugh as you started putting their drinks on your tray. “Careful, or I’ll start thinking you like it here.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man.”

He put a hand over his chest in mock hurt, winking at you as you walked away to serve the men their drinks. You balanced the tray carefully as you weaved through the crowd of tables again. You smiled as you reached their table, setting their drinks down in front of them. 

“Sorry for the wait boys,” you said as you tucked the tray under your arm. “Is there anything else I can get you for the moment?” You asked. 

The boy closest to you couldn’t be more than nineteen, though the rest looked to be in their thirties. “I know something you can get us, love,” The older man across from him said. “Or rather somethin’ you can take,” he elbowed the guy beside him, snickering. “Our boy Tommy here still has his virginity!” The table howled with laughter, but the young boy looked rather uncomfortable.

You fought the roll of your eyes, shooting an apologetic glance to Tommy before leaving, finding they were too engaged in their own joke to address you anymore. You found an empty table, clearing the drinks off it and balancing the tray in one hand as you wiped down the table with the other. 

You cast a final glance around the room checking for anyone who needed your attention before making your way behind the bar to wash some of the mugs that had started piling up. Vander was just serving drinks and talking to his customers. You vaguely wondered how many of them were regulars here and how long he had known them all. Regardless, he looked much to calm in this sea of faces and storm of demands.

As you set to washing the mugs, you spoke over your shoulder to him when he wasn’t engaged with someone else. “You make this look so easy. It’s almost offensive.”

Vander glanced over his shoulder, one hand still pouring a drink. “Years of practice, Princess. You’ll get there.”

You snorted, setting a mug on the drying rack. “If I don’t keel over first.”

“You’re holding up fine,” he said, passing the freshly poured drink to a customer and flashing a quick grin at you. “Though you missed a spot on that last mug.”

You froze mid-scrub, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, already moving to grab another mug for a refill.

You quickly grabbed the offending tankard off the rack and squinted at it. Spotless. “Looks clean to me,” you muttered before glancing back at Vander. “You just like messing with me, don’t you?”

Vander shrugged, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Keeps things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes and dunked another mug into the soapy water. “You’re lucky you’ve got charm, old man. Otherwise I’d dump this water over your head.”

He chuckled, sliding another drink across the counter. “If that’s the best you’ve got, I’m not worried.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, a small grin tugging at your lips despite yourself.

His teasing was cut short by another customer slamming a mug down, demanding a refill. Vander gave you a wink before turning back to the crowd, leaving you to pick up your tray and go see what trouble was in store this time.

“Dickhead,” you muttered under your breath.

You moved across the floor to one of the tables by the entrance, smiling at the man drinking alone. A flash of blue and pink caught your eye as Vi and Powder ran past the windows. You couldn’t help the way your chest squeezed when you saw them. Happy and almost carefree kids. You hoped it would stay that way.

You turned your attention to the man, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he spoke around it. “I’d heard Vander took the Pilty in off the streets, but I couldn’t believe it until I’d seen it for myself.” He sat forward, taking his cigar between his fingers and blowing smoke in your face.

You let your breath catch until it dispersed so you didn’t cough and make a fool of yourself. “Quite,” you said simply. You didn’t like the way this felt, and you wanted to get out of this conversation as fast as possible. Your gut had never steered you wrong before, you weren’t about to stop listening to it now. “Is there anything I can get you, sir?” You asked.

“A ride if you’re selling it, sweetheart,” he grinned, and you felt dirty. Disgusting.

“I’ll have to decline,” you said with a forced smile. His eyes roved over your form. It was common for men to have this kind of reaction to any woman, especially one of such refinement. They just couldn’t wait to get their hands on them and corrupt them like some twisted right of passage. “If that’s all, I’m sure others need my attention.”

He huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure they do,” he licked his cracked lips before putting the smoke back between them.

You fought the twitch of your lip as it tried to become a sneer. Without saying anything else, you headed back behind the bar. Though you made sure to keep composed and completely masked, Vander’s eyes darted over you as you set your tray down.

“Y’alright?” He asked quietly as you moved to the sink.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you told him, picking up the mug you had dropped before and resuming your task. You could feel his eyes on you still, and you refused to meet his gaze. “Really,” you assured him.

You were almost certain he didn’t believe you, but he also didn’t press about it, turning back to the bar and serving someone else.

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

Finally, after what felt like an endless nightmare, the last straggler had left the bar and Vander flipped the signs off. You huffed out, practically deflating as you untied your apron and hung it up on the far wall next to the bar. The kids had come back a few hours ago and gone downstairs, and you watched as Vander locked the place up for the night.

You moved to the small closet where you grabbed the broom and started sweeping the wooden floors. Your feet and back ached from the work. Luckily, you had found a few minutes earlier to grab a bite to eat so you weren’t overly hungry. 

You and Vander worked around each other as he wiped down the tables and started putting chairs up for the night. When he finished with the tables and chairs, he moved behind the bar to count coins. 

“So, is this the glamorous nightlife of Zaun I’ve heard so much about? Dusty floors and sticky counters?” You asked him.

He didn’t look up as he spoke. “Better than wherever you came from, I’d bet.”

You scoffed, leaning against the handle of the broom. “Oh, absolutely. Who needs fancy parties and clean air when you’ve got rat traps in every corner?”

He chuckled. “You’re getting the hang of it, though. Starting to look less like a lost little princess.”

You paused with mock offense. “Is that a compliment?”

He finally glanced up at you with a wry grin. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You grinned back, “Too late,” you said, going back to your task until you felt you had finished.

Once the two of you had settled down you sat at the bar and Vander poured himself a drink. “Can I get you anything?” He flashed you the same smile he gave his customers, and you rolled your eyes.

“Just give me whatever you’re having,” you said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

He raised a brow but said nothing as he filled two glasses halfway with a dark amber liquor, sliding one over to you before pulling a stool around to sit facing you. He lifted his glass to you, and you clinked yours against it with a tired smile.

“To my new life,” you toasted.

“Cheers,” Vander said before taking a drink.

You tipped your head back, feeling the liquid burn down your throat, a bitter, woody taste in your mouth. Your lips and nose screwed up in a scowl, and Vander laughed.

“You should see your face,” he said.

“I’ve seen less pleasant things,” you joked as the burn in your throat faded.

“I’ll drink to that,” Vander responded, draining his glass.

You pushed yours away with a frown. “I won’t.”

He chuckled again, “More for me,” he said, taking your glass and pulling it toward him. After a moment of not completely uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. “Despite your griping, you’re good with the people,” he observed.

“Comes with the territory I guess,” you shrugged. “All the politics up top and my job…” you trailed off.

Vander stroked a hand over his beard as he swirled the glass idly. “A teacher, eh?” He asked. “Did you like it?”

You sighed. “It was the best part of my life,” you told him, that faraway look taking over your expression. “Those kids… they were everything to me.”

He nodded in understanding. “They’re all the more foolish to let you go,” he said, tipping his head back and draining your glass. You looked down at your hands folded in your lap, fighting to keep all your emotions you’d been white-knuckling at bay. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “But you can if you want to.”

“I think it’s best left in the past, now.”

A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Have a good day/afternoon/night, my loves! <3

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[chappellroansdreamgirl]

sevika and her kitty gf! ^.^

author's note - uhhh this kinda sucks but i have better shit coming i promise!!!!

content warnings - fluff mostly, mentions of death i think??? or mentions of violence- MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE!!!!!

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

- in my head, nekos can like pick and choose whether they want to be in cat-form or hybrid form, and that's kinda what happened when you two met.

- it was an especially bad day for sevika, another one of jinx's plans had failed which had meant silco had thrusted the responsibility of cleaning up his daughter's mess on his #2 . it was exhausting, having to care for a child she hadn't even signed up for. she had longed for a connection that wasn't about power or obligation, just pure domesticity.

- a group of drunks was messing around with you in an alleyway, throwing rocks at you and such, usually sevika would walk on with her night. but something stopped her from doing that this time and she scared the group off with her presence rather quickly.

- you nuzzled your face against her leg, rubbing on it repeatedly as the prettiest purrs came out of your mouth, she let you stay like that for a while until she decided to continue her walk back home.

- but everytime she turned around, she would see you curiously follow her around, your ears perked up and your paws never planted that much on the ground.

- she tried scolding you, yelling at you, trying to get you purposefully lost in dark places. but she eventually caved and let you follow her. "one night only."

- she didn't know what to feed you so she cooked you salmon because it's common knowledge that cats like fish.

- she let you roam around the house, gritting her teeth everytime she had to reprimand you each time your paw almost "slipped" and broke something. but at least you were smart enough to not repeat the same mistake twice. you listened well, she'll give you that.

- at some point, she found herself in bed with a kitty sleeping snuggly on her chest, her upper body vibrating as the creature was purring happily atop of the feared woman, your tail tickling sevika's buff arms every now and again.

- she'd never admit it to anyone but she melted when she saw you like that, having imprinted on her already.

- you could understand her surprise when sevika expected to see a furry friend perched on top of her chest and woke up next to a random woman with the same fluffy ears as the cat she couldn't find anywhere else in her home.

- after you had explained to her what you were and your abilities, she had felt way better than she had when she thought a random woman came into her house.

- you had offered her something no one else ever had. if she had provided you with a place to stay, you would provide her with some type of companionship.

- she was hesitant and hadn't believed you could offer her anything she hadn't already had. but she agreed, half out of amusement and half out of thinking this was a gift from the universe somehow.

- you'd always be waiting at the door in cat-form for her when it was time for her to come home. at first you'd take the initiative and lay down in her lap. curling yourself up in a comfy ball, spreading your paws out on sevika's thighs.

- after a while of getting used to this sevika would pick you up herself and situate you somewhere close to her, you two would usually stay there for the remainder of the night.

- when you're in hybrid form and cuddling, she loves to stroke your tail while you're on top of her. she'll call you a pretty kitty as you purr into the crook of her neck.

- whenever you two get into an argument, you immediately go into cat-form and walk off somewhere else when you've had enough, something sevika both loves and hates.

- wouldn't it be so funny if sevika had started bringing you around to the last drop with her while she's gambling. it was unheard of before but no one was going to question sevika. but then some guy cursed at you or something for getting too close to him while you were wandering around and then she had to beat some guy's ass over her cat.

- loves when you put your head in her lap and she can give your ears a good scratch.

- when she's had a really terrible day, you'll lay down on her chest and plant little kitten kisses all over her skin.