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queen-of-nightmare-16 · 18 days ago

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PEACE | Vander/Warwick X Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS - Fluff • Threat • Injury • Mention of death • Brief mention of blood • Season 2 Spoilers! • Cuddling (BECAUSE THIS MAN DESERVES ONE!!)

PAIRING: Vander/Warwick X Fem Reader

SUMMARY: you were once Vander’s wife but believed he was dead after the cannery exploded. Now you’re staying at Viktor’s utopia hoping the machine herald can bring him back to you

WORD COUNT: 1985

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The commune had been like a fever dream. That something so peaceful could exist in Zaun. Where everyone pulled their weight and shared resources and supplies without ulterior motives. It seemed like a paradise. It seemed too good to be true.

It was almost too much.

In just a couple of days — or was it even hours — your world had been turned upside down.

When Vi and Pow-- Jinx found you, you were both thrilled and sceptical. To see your adopted daughters together again. It certainly confusing to see that they somehow came back together again and with a little girl in tow but they had some information that nearly made your heart stop.

Vander … was alive!

A rasped pained laugh had been your response. It wasn’t possible. You heard the tale: Vander, your husband, died saving Vi. That was it, end of story. It broke you. So much so that you went searching for his body but found nothing. No doubt Silco had it thrown in the Pilt out of spite.

But Jinx was adamant. She claimed she fought some “version” of him in Stillwater, a beast, but it was still him. There was still something inside that recognised her. It was ludicrous. You had half a mind to tell them to leave and let you wallow in your loneliness. But your motherly urge clenched your heart; there was no way you could let them attempt to track this beast alone. Especially with a young child.

So you followed them, deep into the mines with spear in hand. Vi claimed they’d be safe thanks to her gauntlets but it provided you comfort. It had always been your weapon of choice.

After Vi and Jinx had their rather childish fight, the young girl who you had learnt was called Isha, received a bloody nose thanks to Vi’s elbow. You had wiped it clean with your sleeve, offering her a sweet smile as she sniffed but you all continued further in. Until your heart sunk completely when the ground rumbled. A distant roar surged fear through all your hearts, Jinx pushing Isha behind herself and Vi took a firm stance. Your knuckles became white clutching your spear; breath becoming staggered and fearful.

That when you saw it. A glimmer of red in the darkness, growing closer and brighter with every second; the ground trembling from its pounding fists. Jinx attempted to talk to it but nothing stopped its pursuit.

The sound of Vi’s gauntlet grabbing the beasts body before it could reach you caused the bioluminescent plants to light up and that when you became face to face with it. It’s blood red eyes were raging, a clawed paw stretched out desperately reaching out for Isha. It felt as if your heart was breaking all over again. There was an unrecognisable fury. This thing wanted to kill you all. How stupid it was to believe that this was him.

Vi became bloodied and bruised as she fought the beast, Jinx shielding Isha behind her with her gun raised. In a desperate attempt to save your daughter, you joined her in the fight; slashing and stabbing at its body. Yet it did little to nothing to halter it’s anger. It’s body healed at lightening speed.

This wasn’t a fight you could win.

It reared is large paw back, attempting to smite Vi in one swipe. Until you shoved her out of the way towards Jinx and took the hit yourself. It’s large arm smacked you away, your body surging through the air to slam into the wall. A yell rattled past your lips at impact, body feeling like it had just been shattered. You struggled to raise up to your feet until you realised the beasts attention had turned to your daughters. A glob of bloody spit from your mouth regained it, its crimson eyes glaring at your in a furious wrath. As your grip tightened on your snapped spear, you wielded it like you would a knife. You were ready to die here if it meant your girls could take the opportunity to escape. But Jinx halted your determination. She pleaded — no — begged for you to believe her. That this thing in front of you was the man you loved. Your eyes had shut, breathing slow as it leapt; its teeth bared ready to tear you apart.

But when you were face to face with it, so close that you could feel its breath on your cheeks, a sudden glimmer of familiarity befell you. A flicker of hope. Either way, it wasn’t stopping. So you took that chance. You tossed the broken weapon to the side and screamed his name.

Before you knew it, you were wrapped in its large arms. Eyes wide and breath shuddering, your hands slowly crept up to rest on its chest still unsure. But it wasn’t tearing you apart. Wasn’t disembowelling you with its claws. One of its pawed hands rested almost gently to the back of your head, pulling you tight to its body like it would be the last time. You almost wanted to free yourself from its grip out of fear. Until a low grumble from his jaws uttered a single word; causing a wave of tears to flow from your eyes like a waterfall. Your name.

It was him. It was your Vander.

And here you were. In Viktor’s small utopia; praying that this “herald” could heal your husband. Or return his mind to him fully. You cautiously watched Viktor exited from the greenhouse Vander had been designated to; the mechanical man slowly walking away in exhaustion.

“How long do you think this is gonna take?” Vi asked, staring at him in suspicion.

A deep breath heaved from your nose at her question. “I don’t know. In all my years I’ve never dealt with a ‘herald’ before,” you sighed tiredly. “I’ve never dealt with someone coming back from death either”.

“There’s a lot of things we haven’t dealt with,” Vi replied sadly.

She was right about that. It had been a small comfort to you, knowing that if Vander was gone his soul was finally at peace. But now here he was, back from the dead and twisted in his own body for whatever sick maniacal reason. Your brows furrowed in anger as a certain person invaded your mind. “I’ll kill Singed if I ever see him,” you swore, teeth coming close to grinding at the mere thought of that so called ‘scientist’.

“You’ll have to get in line,” Vi quipped, her soft small smile falling as quickly as it formed. “I’m gonna head to bed. You coming?”.

“I’m … I’m actually gonna go visit him. See how he’s doing,” you informed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. With a soft nod, Vi watched as you walked away towards the greenhouse.

There was still a wave of nervousness as you reached the door but it faded away when your gaze fell upon him. A few soft grunts huffed from his curled form, lying on the ground with a sorrowful look on face only for his head to perk up at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you greeted, shutting the door behind you. Vander rose up slightly, watching you with his new mismatched eyes as you sat down next to his hulking figure. You offered him a honeyed smile, stretching your legs out and leaning back against a pillar. “Any … any change today?”.

Vander snorted sadly in response and glanced down to his paws. Your hand quickly stretched up to cup his jaw, turning him back to look at you; your thumb gently stroking against his cheek to sooth him. “It’s ok. There’s always tomorrow,” you hushed, blinking back a set of tears as he nuzzled into your hand.

You couldn’t help but take in his features, from the sharp fangs to the large ears that twitched at the slightest sound. It made your heart clenched; that sometimes in a certain light or a quick glance you could just see a glimmer of the man you loved.

Almost as if he could sense your change in mood, Vander’s eyes opened; staring at you with a tilt of his head that must’ve said ‘what’s wrong?’.

“I’m ok,” you sniffed. “I’m just glad to have you back”.

He seemed to think to himself, contemplating something before shuffling closer to your body. You waited with bated breath, curiously watching as he fell to his side and laid his head to rest on your lap, his back to you and gaze directed to your boots.

Though it brought a smile to your face. Your heart fluttering at the recreation of a moment you and Vander would often share before things went to hell. Whenever Vander was stressed after a long day he would rest his head in your lap, sighing in relief as your fingers would cascade through his brown locks. The two of you would talk for hours, about your day or whatever your were worried about. It was a quiet intimate experience between you two.

“Heh, just like old times. Ey, Vander,” you teased, raising your hand to comb through the fur on his head. Vander groaned out softly, immediately relaxing against you. “Remember when we used to do this when we were younger? You denied it from hell to high water … then Benzo walked in and wouldn’t shut up about it”.

There was a chuff like laugh from Vander as his paw rested itself against your knee, his breath coming out steadier. The both of you fell silent as you thought of your fallen friend. Of all your fallen friends. Benzo. Connol. Felicia.

Silco.

You didn’t have a clue if Vander even knew his brother had passed. You hadn’t found it in you to ask or tell him either. There was so much going on already you didn’t want to bring him more heartbreak. No matter what had happened between them, Silco would always be his brother. He knew Vander long before you did. They played together as kids, worked together as teens, planned a revolution together as men. You knew in some way Vander would be devastated.

With a sigh, you continued massaging his scalp. No point in telling him now. One thing at a time.

“When we’re done here, how about we go away? Leave the Lanes, leave the Undercity. Find somewhere peaceful, somewhere safe,” you suggested. “Tell only the girls where we are so they can visit”.

Vander awkwardly glanced over his shoulder, staring at you in confusion.

“You didn’t think I was just gonna leave ya, did you?” You playfully quipped.

“However many tries, however long it takes; I am gonna stay right by you side,” you promised, leaning down to place a kiss against his brow, his eyes fluttering shut in content. “Like I’ve always said: it’s me and you till the end, big guy”.

When the sun rose in the morning, Vi had woken to discover you were missing. Both Jinx and Isha were still sleeping together in a pile of blankets whilst your bed appeared neat and unslept in. She rose to her feet and made her way over to the greenhouse, carefully opening the door as quietly as she could. Only for her shocked face to fall into a slight smile.

Somehow in the night the two of you had shifted. You were now laid out on your side, sleeping the most peacefully you had in years. Vander’s large arm had placed itself over your waist, keeping you trapped against his large body; his breath tussling your hair every time he exhaled. His massive paw was clutched in both your hands, pulled tightly to your chest. There wasn’t a care in the world to the two of you.

Just peace.

Vi smiled and decided to leave you be, allowing you both to enjoy your own personal paradise for a little longer.

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First time returning to Imagines/One Shots but what they did to this man broke my heart and I felt like writing something for the first time in ages. Riot, I’ll never forgive you for what you did to Vander!!!

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wrthzell · 24 days ago

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hi! Could you write a Vander x male reader where Vander in his werewolf(?)/Warwick(?) form recognizes the reader, and reader also recognizes him, and is so so happy to meet his old lover again

Sorry any mistakes, English is not my first language!

𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍 — (Vander/Warwick X Male Reader).

Note: Thank you for the request! No worries; English is not my first language either, and your request was very comprehensible. It turned out a bit short, but I hope it's to your liking.

Summary: The old memories of what could have been and what was haunt you, but after being called to the mines you once used to work on, you find that maybe your life won't have to be filled with regret and longing.

Warnings: Spoilers, don't read unless you've watched Arcane.

Key: (Y/n) — Your name. | (H/c) — Your hair colour. | (E/c) — Your eye colour.

Sickly green neon lights reflect on murky brown water, and a stomach-churning stench rises from the walls of the worn-down building; the grey impregnated itself in any surface it touched, like acrid sulfur. (Y/n) crouched in front of The Last Drop, (e/c) eyes squinting to make out any recognisable feature in what once was a haven to him.

He dusted off the dirt that had collected in the upper part of his pants and inhaled sharply, lungs long accustomed to the poisonous fog of his hometown. He pressed forward. The inside was empty—needless to check; he wouldn't find her inside. The paper felt like lead in his pocket, heavy and foreboding—a reminder of his failures and the grief that followed any Zaunite like a wailing shadow.

He hadn't gone to the mines in years, and he hadn't had to work there in such a long time that he wasn't sure what exactly they looked like after everything. The entrance was falling apart, and wood planks, detached and broken, littered the floor, and glass cracked underneath his shoes. He tightened his jaw and looked down, the pitch-black darkness of the cave illuminating with every step.

Thump, thump, thump. The impact of his boots against the floor echoed—the caves amplified each sound closer than it truly was—and the faint noises of water dripping reached his ears along with a low rumbling. She was deeper there, had to be. His fingers rubbed the paper note inside his pocket, hope simmering inside his chest.

Thundering footsteps started to come in his direction; something metallic scratched against the walls. He raised his guard, crouching and aiming his gun at the origin of the sound. The walls illuminated in a quick flash, and a dark shadow moved too fast for him to brace himself for it, the thing colliding into his chest and throwing him to the ground.

Mismatched eyes looked straight into his, and a gaping maw with sharp teeth stopped just short of tearing his face apart. Shivers went down his spine, and his lips quivered, tears welling in his eyes as he raised a trembling hand to the creature's face. A sharp set of footsteps entered the place, the light going up again and illuminating the monster's face further. Greyish dark fur coated a familiar face and warped it into something recognisable but not completely.

“Thought you'd want to see him.” Powder announced, her gun clanking against her belt.

Vi stepped closer, opening her mouth and closing it before finally settling on explaining it. “It's...”

“Vander.” He held the man's face in his hands, tears falling down his eyes, a thunderous storm inside his heart. The man he loved. The man he loves. He holds him tenderly but strongly, as if afraid that when he lets go, it will all dissolve and morph back into his bleak reality.

Vander softens, resting his head against the crook of the other man's neck. A content sigh leaves his nose and ruffles the hair on the (h/c)-haired man's head. “(Y/n).”

“Sheesh, even he recognised him way faster than you did.” The blue-haired woman jabbed at her sister, the corner of her mouth pulled up in a teasing smirk. Her facade breaks as she sees a hand outstretched in her direction.

(Y/n) reassuringly squeezes her hand, a wide smile on his lips as he unburies his head from Vander's fur and turns it towards his daughter. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me. You love him as much as we do,” she laughs bitterly. Her hand, albeit hesitant, holds his tighter.

“I do. I don't know how you found him or what happened, but you brought me back to him. I haven't felt like this in so long.” His voice sounds choked, and he looks back at the pair of blue and yellow eyes, his hands caressing the rough skin. He feels Vander's strong arms curl around him, and the fur tickles his neck and arms, warm and comforting. “I love you,” he whispers in the man's ear, loud enough for only them to hear it.

“Love... you.” He answers back.

#male reader #x male reader #xmalereader #malereader #arcane #arcane x male reader #vander x male reader #vander x reader #arcane x reader #warwick #vander #warwick x reader #warwick x male reader #reader #x reader

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immortalbumblebee · 30 days ago

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Chapter 19: Heart of Gold

Figured the Vander fandom could use a lil' treat right about now, so here's my gift to all of you! Fingers crossed for Act 3 tomorrow!

(Also yes, two updates in a single week. Points to me!)

THIS IS SMUT! 18+! MINORS DNI PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Masterlist

“You hungry at all? Think we’ve got some leftovers I can warm up for y’.” He asks once you step through the threshold, shutting the door behind you. The apartment feels eerily empty without the others, despite the mountains of stuff that litter the floor space and every perceivable surface. But the homey warmth is welcomed after your bitterly cold walk home. You feel your cheeks begin to warm, sense coming back into them. You’ve hidden your hands in the large sleeves of Vander’s jacket, but still curl your fingers as warm blood begins to flow back into them.

You shake your head. “Maybe some water, if you don’t mind? And find where we put the bandages?” You ask. You’ll have to put fresh plasters on your injuries after your shower.

“Of course!” Vander nods, and once the door lock clicks, he turns back to face you. He stands there for a moment, hands in his pockets and shuffling his weight from foot to foot, and looking down at you without saying anything. The air felt thick, charged, like something still hung between you, unresolved. So much so that it took you a solid moment to even realize you were doing much the same, just stupidly looking up at him. You found yourself wanting to say something, to bridge the space, but the words felt too small, too fragile. So, you just stood there. Time stretched, thick with everything that had been said, and everything that hadn’t. All that was left was the weight of your shared space, now too big for the both of you. The seconds slipped by, silent and heavy, until you weren’t sure if it was you or the room that was holding its breath.

Finally, it’s Vander that speaks first, pulling the world back into motion. “You’re sure you’re alright?” It should be a simple question, but it feels like a lifeline thrown across a gap.

You shift, unknowingly taking a small step towards him, and the tension in your chest that you hadn’t even realized was there begins to lessen. You feel his gaze on you soften, but your own gaze is still absent-mindedly locked on his feet.

“I’m fine now,” you breathe out. Your voice barely more than a whisper. “Promise.” There was a long pause after that—no rush to fill the silence with anything else. But then he takes a step towards you, closing the physical space, and a gentle knuckle moves your chin up to meet his gaze. Something in his eyes—something raw, desperate—mesmerizes you and you suddenly can’t move your eyes away, locked in on the storming gray.

Wordlessly, he extends his hand. You have to shove the sleeve of his jacket up your arm in order to meet his touch with your own, the large calloused hand easily enveloping yours. His thumb brushed over my knuckles once, twice, each touch like a promise, soft but knowing. Still silent, he lifts your hand to his lips. The warmth of his breath ghosts over your wrist before he pressed a soft kiss to the plaster, the touch lingering, gentle, reverent. Then, with gentle fingers, he opens your hand to press it against the warmth of his cheek. Despite your best attempts to keep your hands warm outside, the warmth of his cheek burns at the winter-bitten skin of your fingers, and his stubble brushes against the meat of your palm.

His eyes closed, just for a moment, and in the stillness, there was something…but you couldn’t put a name to the feeling that filled that entryway to your shared apartment. Meditation? Thoughtfulness? A prayer? An apology? Whatever it was, you stayed, refusing to pull away but fighting the urge to bury yourself in his chest and stay there for an eternity. Thankfully, you don’t have to fight the urge for too long as he eventually does lower your hand, giving it one last, soft, reassuring squeeze before lowering it back to your side.

“I’ll get that water for you, Love.” He says with a smile, snapping you out of your daze. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Somewhere between sad and thankful. “Go and wash up.”

“Right.” You nod. Showering! Showering is good! In all your romantic kissy-faces to each other, you’d almost forgotten the reason you had been itching to return home so quickly. You quickly peel off his jacket, handing it back to him before bending down to unlace your boots. As you do, you’re quickly reminded of the coolness of your apartment as it hits your very exposed flesh all at once. Gods, you needed to get out of these fighting clothes. Would it be too dramatic to say you wanted to burn them? Maybe. But the thought still crossed your mind.

The steam that wrapped around you was almost like a blanket, the warmth of the water a slow, soothing balm against your aching bones. The hot spray cascading from the top of your head, and pouring down your neck and over the skin of your back. Lazily, you’d lifted an arm and watched as the water washed away the dirt and grime from the past few hours, leaving behind murky trails as the droplets rolled down your skin.

You shouldn’t be taking too long in the shower, you knew this. The boilers for your apartment building were old, and tended not to hold much hot water. But the minute you felt the heat seep into your muscles, you were hypnotized. Closing your eyes, you turned and let the water flow down your hair and into your face, the sound of rushing water drowning out any and all noise from the world outside. It hurts a little when the water hits your nose, shocking you out of your peace and making you step back away from the stream.

Right, you think to yourself, your injuries. Had to work around those…

You look down at your damaged wrists, the raw, angry skin still tender from the rough treatment, and a small annoyance flickers in your chest. How are you supposed to wash your hair when you can’t even get soap in the wounds? Your fingers hover near the shampoo bottle, but your mind veers off, lost in a different memory. The shackles. You can almost feel the cold, unforgiving metal around your wrists again, the way they had bitten into your skin, rubbing it raw with every movement, tethering you in a way that was both physical and psychological. The sensation of being bound, unable to escape, floods your thoughts, and the anxiety tightens in your chest.

You breathe deeply, pushing the memories away as best you can. Your gaze shifts to the temperature dial of the shower, and your fingers flex, tentative, before flicking your wrist just so. The heat of the water rises, just a touch more, and as it hits your skin, it’s like a switch flips. The tension in your hands begins to ease, the deep ache in your muscles loosening, like a rusted hinge moving for the first time in ages after being oiled.

There’s a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts, and you call out an invitation to come in.

“Just wanted to check in,” Vander calls, “makin’ sure everything’s alright.”

You respond quickly, without even thinking. “Yup, I’m all good!” But another look at the shampoo bottle reminds you of your predicament. “...actually…could I ask a favour?” An uncomfortable feeling rises in your chest, the dread of having to depend on someone else for something so simple as washing your hair.

The door clicks as Vander steps inside. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“I-” you exhale a sigh of annoyance, “I think I need help washing my hair. My wrists…”

You don’t need to say any more before Vander starts stripping himself of his clothes, the sound of rustling fabric and his belt hitting the tile floor. The rushing water is almost enough to drown out the self-deprecating thoughts that trickle into your mind, and the sound of your heartbeat skipping in your ears as he climbs in behind you.

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel his hands on your body. His fingers swiping over the various discoloured bruises that now decorate your skin, some from Sevika, some from the Enforcers. You can feel the weight of their gaze, full of care, but also something else—concern, maybe even guilt. “I promise, I’m fine.” You say as you turn around to face him, and his eyes immediately shift to your nose. You didn’t realize he was so close to you, your chests basically pressed to one another once you’ve turned to face him. “You and I both know I’ve been through worse.” His eyebrows lift a little and he nods, muttering “fair enough,” as he detaches his hands and bends down to the shampoo he knows is yours.

“I’m sorry to ask so much of you.” You blurt as he pours out the bottled liquid. But he just gives you a knowing look.

“It’s you, Doll,” he smiles, and you realize it’s the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him all night. “You could never ask too much of me.”

Your heart skips all over again.

As he begins working the shampoo into your hair, you find yourself leaning into the feel of his fingers. They’re a little awkward, clearly not used to doing this for someone else, but his touch feels heavenly as they rub into your scalp. Your eyes shut, but your hands latch onto his hips to help keep you steady. It doesn’t take him long to work the solution into your short-cut hair, and he ever so gently tilts your head back into the shower’s stream to wash it away.

“That cut to your nose’ll scar nicely.” He remarks as his hands keep busy in your strands.

“Like it?” You tentatively open one of your eyes and smirk. “At least my muzzle’s not quite as mashed as yours.”

He chuckles lowly. “We’re still young, Minnie. Give it a few more years, and we’ll see who’s talking. Besides,” he tips your head back up, but his hands stay entangled in your hair, “even with all the broken cartilage in the world, and every scar imaginable, you’re still gorgeous compared to my ugly mug.”

A heat rises through your chest that has absolutely nothing to do with the steaming shower, and suddenly, your retort about how much you hate that stupid nickname has vanished from your mind. Instead, you force a roll of your eyes and gently swat at his side with a scoff.

“Oh fuck off, so not true.”

“I think it is.” He smiles, his eyes locked on yours as a small smile pulls at his lips. “Besides, can’t blame a man for trying to flatter his girl.”

Your eyebrows fly up into your hairline. “‘Yours’, huh?”

He hums in confirmation, his thumb brushing at the base of your skull. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and your breath catches in your throat. He smirks as he confirms, “mine.” There’s no questioning tone or uncertainty, it’s matter-of-fact. Before you even have time to think of a proper response, he’s bending down to retrieve the soap.

He rathers the bar in his hands, his eyes flickering back and forth up to yours, searching yours, as if asking for permission. The tension in the air is palpable, the space between you thick with hesitation. You nod, just once, barely, but it’s enough. He moves with practiced care, gently moving one sudsy hand to your shoulder. You can feel the bubbles wiping away the remnants of the grime and sweat, but you don’t move your eyes away from Vander. His, on the other hand, scans over every inch of you as he continues to move his hand over your skin. The moment his hands reach for your wrists, you flinch, instinctively pulling back, but he stops—just for a beat, letting you adjust, giving you a moment. His touch is careful, soft as he moves away from the tender wounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “I should have done something to stop them, to help you.”

You don’t say anything at first, letting him continue to work the soap into your torso. You can feel his hands pause for just a moment around your chest, almost out of habit, before continuing to slide over your sides. Then you lift your hands to his shoulders, stilling him. You search his expression, guilt coming up to the surface and written all over his furrowed brow. You’re looking for something, anything to indicate the right thing to say to him. But then you're moving to your tip-toes, and your hands are sliding around him, pulling his lips down to meet yours.

Your lips are gentle. There’s no heat, no rush, to the kiss but he melts into it all the same. There’s a small, echoed, ‘thump’ as the soap falls to the floor of the shower and his hands encircle your waist. He’s gentle, careful, but pressed you into him. Not unsure or uncertain, just careful of the way your body moves with his touch.

Eventually, you pull away, but he refuses to let you go, and keeps the closeness between you even tighter as he gently presses his forehead to yours. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, and his strong grip keeping you firmly in place. The hot water from the shower streams down your back, and the combined heat from the steam and the shared warmth of his body radiating into both of you. When you do eventually separate, it’s only thanks to a firm hand on his chest that he lets you pull away.

“I think I can handle it from here.” You smile a little to yourself. “I’m 90% sure we’re about to run out of hot water, and I’d really rather that not happen while I’m in here. Is it okay if I meet you out there?”

There’s something like a low growl deep in his chest, and he pulls you in one more time, this time to press a gentle, tender kiss to your wet hair. One of your hands finds its way to his chest, the pads of your fingers tracing over the lines of his muscles appreciatively for a moment longer than strictly necessary before he takes a step back.

“Take all the time you need, Love.” He smiles, squeezing your hand one final time before stepping out. You let him take your hand with him, until the very last moment before he disappears behind the curtain.

As you predicted, it takes next to no time at all for you to finish washing up. You quickly dry off and dress in a much comfier set of clothes, but you’re still toweling off your hair as you step out of the bathroom and into the apartment at large. As you could have guessed, Vander’s sitting there, patiently, on the couch with a first aid kit on standby.

“You didn’t have to actually wait for me.” You explain. “And you really don’t have to help patch me back up.”

“Oh, please,” Vander scoffs and waves you off, “you’ve patched me up plenty, it’s only right if I return the favour every once in a while.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but take the spot next to him nonetheless, smiling as he grabs the antiseptic from the kit. His movements are calm, but a little unsure. Usually it’s him getting patched up, not the other way around. You watch him, the quiet comfort of their presence filling the space between you.

He focuses on your wrists first, his hands gentle as they begin cleaning and dressing your wounds. There’s no rush in the way he works, no sense of urgency, just the steady rhythm of their touch. The coolness of the ointment soothes your skin, and for a moment, you forget the discomfort, focusing instead on the simple act of being cared for. His fingers graze your arm as they adjust the bandage, warm and reassuring.

The silence between you isn’t heavy anymore. It’s easy, companionable, a shared moment of quiet that feels more like a pause than anything else. You lean back into the cushions, finally able to relax, the weight of the day starting to lift, if only for a little while. And in that space, with them beside you, you feel happily reassured, content even.

“You don’t have to apologize, you know.” You break the silence. His hands pause over the bandages for a moment, indicating he heard you, but his gaze doesn’t lift to meet yours. “You did help me. I’m assuming it wasn’t Silco’s idea to get my mom and Niya involved.”

He shrugs, wrapping the second bandage around your other wrist. “It was Silco who said that if we were seen anywhere topside, we’d get thrown in jail with you.” For such a large man, it was surprising when his voice was this small.

“He was probably right.” You nod, and lift your already-bandaged hand to cup his cheek. “But you still found a way to help me. What matters right now is that I’m safe, here with you, and everyone down here’s okay.”

He leans into your touch for a moment, shutting his eyes. He seems to be thinking to himself for a moment, then sighs, nods, and turns his attention back to bandaging you up. You drop your hand.

“Suppose you’re right.” He mumbles, practically a whisper, and he looks up to give you a thankful smile. One you’re more than happy to return.

“When am I not?”

To this, he can’t help but chuckle, and he gives you a knowing look, one that makes the air feel lighter, more peaceful. There’s something about his presence, the way he handles you with care, that feels grounding, even comforting. As he finishes with your wrist, he finally turns his attention to your nose. This one’s easy, shorter work, as he simply dabs on the last of the antiseptic and sticks a plaster to the bridge of your nose, just under your eye line.

As he finishes tending to you, his hands remain steady, not moving away, not yet. He looks up at you, eyes soft, searching for a sign—anything that might let him know you're ready for him to pull away. But you don’t want him to. Instead, you happily let him move closer to you, his body pressing against yours as he captures your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in tightly as his mouth moves over yours, a mix of tenderness and hunger in his touch. Time seems to slow down as his mouth moves over yours, the kiss slow and languid, as if he wants to savor every moment. His hands gently caress your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he kisses you tenderly.

He takes his time, exploring your mouth with a gentle but firm tongue, mapping out every contour. He moves from your lips to your ears, his breath hot on your skin as he whispers sweet nothings, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck that make your toes curl. Your hands snake around to the back of his head, your fingers gripping into his hair and successfully drawing out a moan from him. This makes you smirk, but you’re surprised when he quickly pulls his face away from you.

“When do you have to be at work?” He asks, voice husky but concern written on his face.

You shake your head. “I don’t, I booked today off in case the fight went sideways. You?”

His concern melts away into a gleeful smile, his arms enveloping your torso as he lifts you up with absolutely no effort, sitting back to lean against the arm of the couch and pulling you into his lap, your thighs straddling his. “Not until tonight.”

Gods bless!

You dip your face back to meet his lips again, letting a moan ring out at the contact. The kiss is slow and somewhat tentative at first, and it’s clear he wants to be gentle with you. But more and more as your kiss continues to deepen, he quickly becomes more confident until he inevitably dips his head back down to the crook of your neck. But he still moves slowly, taking his time to taste and touch, his mouth finding the sensitive spots on your neck, the hollow of your collarbone, and the slope of your shoulder. His mouth sears a path of pleasure as his hands continue to wander over your body, exploring every dip and curve. His stubble scratches you in the most delectable way.

He worships you with his touch, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you, to commit the feel of your skin to his memory. It feels like every touch of his lips is your own personal heaven, your hand dropping to his shoulder and gripping, your chest heaving as your breath becomes more and more laboured. Damn this man, damn him and his memory of every little nerve ending in your body.

As his hands move under the fabric of your shirt, you give him a silent nod of approval, letting him slide the material up and off your torso and not carrying where into the depths of your home he throws it. He pulls away, just for a moment, as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his eyes scanning over every inch of you. “Best fuckin’ tits either side of the bridge, I swear to the Gods…” This makes you giggle a little, which only makes his smile grow even wider.

“Shut up and kiss me again, idiot.” You laugh, using your magic to pull him in by the metal studs in his vest. He’s only too happy to follow orders, crashing his lips to yours once again.

Your hands run up his chest, helping him out of his vest and he thankfully takes the hint, pulling his shirt over his head. You take the moment to shimmy out of the pajama shorts you’d only just gotten dressed into as he begins to fiddle with his belt. It only takes a second for you to flick your finger, and the belt unloops itself and goes flying towards the bedroom. He gives you a knowing look.

“What?” You shrug as he resumes discarding his pants. “What’s the point of having these damn powers if I can’t use them, hm?”

“Lil’ trouble maker.” He tsk’s but very shortly pulls you right back to his lap.

His strong, muscular chest pressed up against your own, the feeling of skin against skin sending a wave of heat through both of you. He kisses you with a fervor and intensity that takes your breath away, his hands holding you tightly against him, as if he's scared to let you go. You feel as desired and wanted as you've ever been, every touch and kiss from him making you weak in the knees and stealing all rational thought from your mind. In all your years, you’ve never once felt quite as desired as you do with Vander. Similarly, it takes only a mere touch from him to make your knees weak and your mind go empty. Simply put, it’s just…him. And he’s the only one you want.

The thought, and the pure intimacy of it all, is enough to make your hips begin to grind down on their own accord. You can feel how he’s pressing into you, how hard and perfectly shaped he is against your body. His hand finds your hip, steadying you and catching your gaze in a questioning look.

“Sure you’re up for this tonight, Love?” He asks, thumb rubbing softly against your pelvis bone. But all you’ve got to do is smile and dip down to capture his lips as you tilt your hips and scoot closer, for him to let out a full-body shiver and grab your hips with both hands, and thrust fully into you. You moan out a slew of curses as your body writhes against his, everything else ceasing to exist as he fills you. Getting lost in his embrace, his face finds your neck again and begins to pepper kisses across the skin. You feel the desperate need for friction, a primal urge taking control, but you're already so sensitive and overwhelmed from the initial stretch that you know you need time to adjust. He groans, a deep, guttural thing, when you finally take all of him, and the sound drives through you, making your core tighten in response. Your own self-restraint crumbles, and your hips move on their own accord, silently pleading for him to finally give in and begin the movement you both crave. Thankfully, he seems unable to resist, his own hips moving to match your rhythm until you hit the pace you need, causing pleasure to crash into you.

His strength is absolutely an asset, his hands helping to guide your hips up and down as you begin to slowly ride him. Your mind was already practically spinning, moans and curses tumbling from your lips as he dragged in and out of your warmth. Your hands find his shoulders (fuck, he has nice shoulders), a desperate attempt to ground yourself and bite back the urge to dig your fingernails into his skin.

“So-fuck–” you whine, almost pathetically, “so fucking full.”

The sound sends a shockwave through Vander, all but ramming himself deeper into you in a way that feels like it breaks your brain. But you both feel it, the desperate hunger for more.

“That’s right. You take me so well, don’t you, Love?” He moans into your skin, pulling away from your neck to take in the sight of you on his lap. Somehow, seeing his eyes, seeing the way he looks at you; like water to a man parched, like your the greatest treasure you could hope to find. Mesmerized by the pleasure on your face and the way your tits bounce as you move against him. It feels wonderfully perfect, and all you can do is moan and nod, each time your hips snap down, sending a fresh wave of ecstasy through your body.

He’s relentless, his hips grinding against yours like he owns you, and there’s a sense of ownership in his actions, as if he’s claiming you as his own. He lets out a growl against your ear, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. He’s wild and intense, and the pleasure he’s giving you is so much more than you ever thought possible. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back as you hold on for dear life, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations.

At this point, any semblance of gentleness is long gone, replaced with the primarily urge, the exquisite electrical feeling that buzzes through both of you. You’re riding him with every intention of chasing both of your releases, every thrust down having him gripping your hips harder and harder to the point where you’re half-aware of the bruises you’re sure to have after. He dips back to the crook of your shoulder one last time, licking up the length of your neck with the flat of his tongue before suddenly, the piercing feeling of his teeth against your shoulder shocks through you. You shriek in the mix of pain in pleasure, letting your head roll back to allow him more access.

“Mine.” He growls into your ear. “Understood?”

“Fuck-yes!” You cry, feeling the coil in your lower stomach begin to tighten. “Yours. All of me, all that I am, yours.”

Fuck it. Right now, right here. All you needed was him.

He’s driving you crazy with a pleasure more intense than you could have imagined, his body moving against yours with a raw, primal force. With each deep, hard thrust, you feel him claiming you, leaving you completely at his mercy, and the sense of submission only adds to the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, and he’s able to draw out every ounce of pleasure from you. Knowing you’re both on the brink, he reaches out, grabbing one of your hands and pressing a kiss to your palm, then your bandaged wrist, then your arm, then where he just marked his teeth into your skin, all the way back to claim your lips. It’s maddening and intoxicating all at once, it’s perfect, and you find yourself being flown over the edge.

“That’s-” he lets out his own string of curses as you tighten around him, “that’s it, that’s it! So fucking good!”

Your mind is so fried from your orgasm that you barely register him all but throwing you onto the couch, didn’t even register the feel of the fabric on your back. But you most definitely felt him suddenly thrusting back into you, hooking one of your legs over your shoulder to allow him full and complete access to you. He’s more than happy to press kisses to the inside of your thigh, which mixed with the fully lewd sounds of his quickened pace, is enough to get you fully sex drunk and delirious as he continues to plow into you.

“Gods, you look so-” he bites your thigh, and the same shriek escape your throat, combined with your drunken moans and whines, and it’s enough to make him groan deeply into the flesh he’s biting. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Please!” You whine, voice cracking as your hands balling into fists as your mind struggles to comprehend the amount of pleasure flowing through you right now. “I need it, need to feel it! Vander, please!” That’s more than enough to ruin him, Vander dropping your leg so he could crash down and kiss you as he buried himself deep into you with one final thrust. You felt him groan against your lips and claw at your hips as he emptied himself into you, his chest rising and falling with each panted breath.

You remain wrapped up in each other's embrace as several minutes pass, your lips moving against one another’s in a satisfied and languid kiss until he finally pulls away to catch his breath. He gasps for air, his warm breath fanning across your collarbone and sending a shiver through you.

Eventually, he can finally speak again, and he releases a deep, satisfied moan, “Fuuuuuck, that was good.” He manages to lift himself up slightly, gazing down at you with eyes filled with an adoring love, as they reach for your hand, their fingers brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that makes your heart warm. You smile back at him, feeling giddy and blissful. “You alright, Love?”

Taking a deep, calming breath yourself as your consciousness slowly returns to you, you slide your hands up around his neck. “Oh Gods, yeah.” You laugh, and the smile he cracks is so wide, you’re sure he’s going to hurt himself. His head bends down, peppering your face full of kisses until you’re giggling and pushing him away. “...We should probably maybe move off the couch, though…and maybe grab our clothes before the guys get back.”

He whines a little, but concedes. “Right, yeah, hang on…”

Bless him, he carefully maneuvers you into your room, masterfully managing to stay completely in you until you’re laying on your bed. Then, with one final kiss, you feel him pull out before wandering back to the living room to collect all your things as you begin to clean yourself. It takes mere moments, but it feels like ages until he’s back in the room with you, tucking the both of you into your blankets as you begin to seep into the cozy warmth of your shared bodies.

For a while, you just sit there, the two of you wrapped in warmth and quiet. Every now and then, he gently adjusts the blanket around you, their touch always light, always careful, like he’s trying to wrap you in comfort from every direction. You laugh softly when he tries to adjust your pillow for the third time, but it’s a light, easy sound, one that feels like things are returning to normal again.

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. The room feels full of little moments like this—touches that reassure, smiles that say everything without needing to be said. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, but time feels slower, softer, in the best way. The world outside seems distant, like you’re tucked away in this small bubble of calm, where everything feels safe and cared for.

It’s simple, it’s quiet, but in that space, it’s everything.

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manias-wordcount · 2 months ago

Text

Things that Bite at Night (Warwick)

Kinktober 2024 Day Twenty-Nine: Predator/Prey

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You know better than to go out at night on most days.

But despite a lifetime of warnings, you couldn’t help but have a few moments where you just ignore them. Or forget. Or feel a little too brave- a little too invincible. And how could you blame yourself? You’re still young. You’re still naive enough when you try to acknowledge it. Who cares that you’ve been going to the bars long enough that nearly every bartender on this side of the river knows you by your face? Those same bartenders are twice your age and they go out at night. They make it back alive over and over and over again. So long as they don’t have any outstanding debts or look at someone the wrong way, of course.

But you keep your nose clean. You keep your head down. You don’t have any reason to worry about disappearing late into the night. You don’t have any reason to worry about things that go bump in the night. You don’t have any reason to worry about things that bite at night either. You’re a Zaunite- born and raised. You know how to handle yourself. You know how to handle business. So why…?

Why can’t you move…?

Every part of you that is still desperate to fight is screaming at you right now. Every part of you is still afraid more than anything of pain and dying and the thing in front of you is fighting desperately to get you to move an inch- a muscle- anything. But your body feels heavy. And your mind is still in a daze. All you remember is that you were running. All you remember is that you were running so very fast.

In fact, the memory is vaguely starting to come back to you. It’s hard to recall perfectly- you must have hit your head when you fell not too long ago. You must have hit your head when were tackled. But before that, you remember that you were running between dark, damp alleyways- trying to make it back to the main road. Back where there were people. Back where that thing couldn’t get to you. Not without others around to stop it.

But that didn’t come so easily to you. Because all you could focus on was making sure that your steps were quicker and faster than the sprint of that monster behind you. Your feet ached and ached with each step. Your legs burned every time you moved them. There was a dull throb in your shoulder from the sheer number of times you accidentally threw yourself into a brick wall trying to make a quick turn even quicker. And you can’t count just how many times you’ve almost tripped and slipped over uneven streets and sidewalks that were slick and wet with a concerning mix of booze, blood, and hopefully water.

But you still tried to run. You still tried to outrun the very thing that was chasing you. You still tried to make the heavy footsteps and deep, growling sound coming from behind you disappear with just your sheer speed and wit alone. You still shouted for help and tried to throw obstacles in its way. You tried ducking down both roads that you knew and roads that you had no idea existed. You tried to backtrack. You tried to go where you thought there might be people who could help you. You tried to go where you knew there would at least be people- kind-hearted or not.

But sometime later, you found yourself on the cold, hard, uneven floor. Sometime later, you found yourself dazed and confused and in pain all over. Sometime later, you found yourself staring down the muzzle of the beast you’ve heard be called Warwick.

Any hope or bravery you once had was ripped from you in a cold, dead instant the second you were met with the massive teeth of what you could only assume to be the real, live wolf monster that haunts the streets of Zaun. When you first caught sight of the thing, all you could tell was that it was a large, dark mass of fur and glowing green chemicals. As it chased you, you caught sight of metal glints here and there. Were they armor? Were they chains? You don’t know. You may never know.

But now as you lay here- whimpering pitifully with tears slowly leaking from your eyes, you realize that you’re not too surprised that you couldn’t escape. You’re not too surprised that this is what it has come to. Because the stories you’ve heard from others were brutal. A monster that stalks the back street and will tear the limbs off of anything it comes across. Most people have been lucky so far- Warwick had a funny habit of running into a few of the nastiest drug runners and kingpins you know. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t the occasional, seemingly innocent enough civilian found in a pool of blood with a bite taken out of their jugular. A fate that you can only imagine is about to fall upon you in just a moment.

So the only thing that fills your aching mind in that moment is fear. Fear as it growls lowly in front of you, its large paws stamping at the ground as it lurks closer. Fear as it bares its fangs at you, showcasing the very wide mouth that you will can and will snap you up in just a second. Fear as it crawls over you- toying with you like you were never a person but just their latest hunt. Fear as the only thing you start to see is dark fur and the eyes of animals filled to the brim with bloodlust. Fear as it leans in closer and closer and closer and closer to your neck and-

Licks you.

It licks you.

The realization hits you slowly. In fact, by the time your mind has stopped spinning, you found that the thing crowding above you has already licked at your neck once more. The sensation was slimy and wet and overwhelming as its long, long tongue made a show of trailing upwards around your collarbone and It did so at an agonizingly slow pace- only further contributing to the feeling of being toyed with. Like it’s trying to rile you up. Like it’s trying to taste your sweat. Like it’s trying to see if you were worth the hunt. And if you’re worth hunting again.

But either way, you can’t move. You can’t move. You just can’t. You still can’t find a chance to escape. Because its large, large claws are keeping you pinned to the ground. Because it's heavy, heavy body is keeping you from being able to push it away. Because its wet, wet nose against your skin is keeping you awake and alive yet chock-full of fear.

Because where there’s a nose, there’s a mouth. And where’s there a mouth, there’s teeth. Teeth that you’ve stared down once before. Teeth that are currently starting to nibble at your skin. Teeth that you know are capable of doing more than just a little playbiting. Teeth that you know belong to something that isn’t just some dog but a monster fully capable of horrible, horrible things.

But that’s what you get. That’s what you get for going out at night. That’s what you get for taking that wrong turn and walking into its territory. That’s what you get for not being fast enough. That’s what you get for not being strong enough. That’s what you get for being brave. That’s what you get or being stupid. That’s what you get for being naive. That’s what you get for going out at night. A beast. A monster. A murderer. A hunter. A wolf. And you have no one to blame but yourself.

And the sharp pair of teeth near seconds away from sinking themselves into your mouth.

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monstersholygrail · 26 days ago

Note

LIGHT ARCANE SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2

okaaaay not sure if you watch Arcane on Netflix....but a new season came out

and I never played league of legends. the only LoL lore I know is literally from Arcane lol

Sooooooooo.....there's a beast thing.....called Warwick....and spoiler alert, he was a DILF.... so now there's this DILF beast that was forgetting his humanity...but when he was tender, I was like "oh fuck, I want him to mount me something fucking feral." and this guy is huge. Like absolutely GIANT.

Send help.

Boy, oh, boy, I sure do watch Arcane lmao. I’ve been deeply obsessed with it since Season 1. I’ve watched it over like 10 times and over half of those times were immediately after Season 1 came out. No joke Arcane has been my favorite animated show for years and Season 2 has only furthered the obsession

I tried playing LOL after S1 but its players were not joking when they said it sucks. I tried. I tried! But yeah it’s not that fun. I’ll probably try again at some point lol

And yesssss ofc I know Warwick/Vander!! I love them both just as they are. No matter what. DILF man is sexy as fuck. I’d jump his bones and his wirings in a heartbeat. But the way he acted when he was all calm (and maybe when he was all angry and scary too 👀) was honestly very attractive. His little growls and everything made brain go brrr

He’s seriously so huge it’s insane and definitely hot asf. I don’t blame you at all, I want him to mount me too. We can make him an even more legit DILF lmao

Brain just reminded me of how he acts when he smells blood and some very naughty and dirty thoughts filled my head. Thoughts surrounding fucking you so hard he makes you bleed and you briefly see his eyes flicker from blue/green to red as he tries to maintain control. But he can’t help as it slips a little which only has him getting rougher with you and making you feel even more good

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pupcor3 · 28 days ago

Text

The airs gone cold.

Content warning ⚠️

Smut - monster fucking - werewolf!vander - knotting - rough fuck - size kink - breeding?? -slow burn - aftercare ❤️-pussy licking-

Ever since you've gotten news about Vander or Warwrick you've seen what he's become, a big hairy monster that smells blood more than a mile away. You haven't seen it in real life, just in the news you see everyday.

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

As you're strolling through the under city keeping your guard up looking around seeing the last drop abandoned not knowing where else to go to get away from the people you break in.

As you get in you trip and fall,sighing.. you get yourself up and sit on a stool taking in the scent remembering the old times with Vander.. oh how you missed him you missed his touch, the smoke smell, his big arms.. oh how you missed him.. you lay your head on the bar closing your eyes...but you feel a drop on your leg,

You open your eyes and see that you have blood on your leg probably from when you tripped and fell and hit your face first..

You get up and wipe your nose with your sleeve from your ragged down hoodie you got from Vander it had some burns on it but that's all the damage it has.

.....

Then all of a sudden you hear footsteps.. you get up and go behind the bar and cover your nose from the dust so you don't sneeze.. then you hear growling and sniffing coming from the front door of the last drop.

It tries to open the door manually but it can't do it barges in making a loud bang. You try your best to not sneeze to uncover your blow. You sneak your head up from the bar and see.. it can't be.. it's WARRICK?....

You gasp and he turns his head around but you hide your head quickly before he can see you.. he growls softly and walks over to the bar where you can hear the footsteps from the beast. He sniffs and catches your blood scent, you pray to the gods that he doesn't do anything.. but it doesn't work no matter what he's caught on your scent. He growls and puts his arm over the bar and grabs your leg and yanks it from under the bar

Your met with Warwick's face his eyes land on your smeared blood from your nose bleed and licks it.

He growled softly and puts you over his shoulder and you felt the fur and muscles on him and he brings you to the back of the bar where the hound sleeps. He throws you on the bed and crawls on the bed like a lion stalking it's prey.. you cant help but like it ..?.

He catches a scent and puts his muzzle on your private part and smells the wetness on your pussy he growls softly and crawls the pants off and smells it even harder.. he spreads your legs and presses his snout on your pussy and his snout is warm.. you grind on it and he growls softly almost like he's telling you 'don't move..' he slowly lets his tongue out and licks your clit, you moan a bit and he makes purr sound and he keeps on sucking and licking on your clit putting his tongue in your vagina going in... And out.. in and out ... You can hear the slurping from him eating you out like his last meal... You grind yourself on it almost seeing stars..

But he brings his tongue out and takes off your hoodie and groping your breasts licking your nipples and you moan from his tongue but as your focused on him licking your breasts you hear the unzipping of pants and he stops licking your breasts letting his rod out in the open letting it rest on your pussy..

He looks at you for a yes and you nod.. he slowly pushes it in stretching you out holding your mouth so your don't scream from the pain and the good stretch.

He slowly pushes in and you can feel him in your stomach... He slowly takes it out and goes out and slowly goes in.. a few seconds later he's going rough.. "S-shit.. V.!...V-Vander!.." you moan out as he keeps fucking you rough like a man who's never had sex in his life..

You feel your high coming you arch your back clawing at his back "f-fuck!!.. I'm cuming...!" You moan out and cum on his dick..

But he's not slowing down.. he keeps on going and going making you moan loud.. you worry that people are gonna hear you, but Vander? He couldn't care less.. he leans in for a sloppy kiss feeling his teeth and yourself from when he was licking your pussy both of you moan in the kiss

You can feel him getting close cause of the signs like grunting and groaning making a couple of moans in the way.. he slams inside of you not quitting and he slams in you letting his cum not getting a single drip go to waste wanting to see you as a mother caring his pups....

He keeps on going slamming in and out while your feeling the cum run down your pussy getting sticky from the cum...

You can feel your second high coming you grip his muscles rolling your eyes to the back of your head and you feel like you're seeing stars.. cumming on his dick again.. you moan out a little 'shit...'

He keeps on fucking.. you can feel his second and last high coming getting sloppy and more slowly and he slowly pushes all his cum in you... Letting his cum fill you up.. you can feel the cum filling you up as you calm down and he knots inside you..

He gently lays down on the bed and lets you lay on his chest feeling his eyes slowly close as all that comes up to him making him and you feel exhausted.. you can feel some cum running down your thighs but you don't worry .. there's plenty of that in you..

You slowly drift off slowly falling asleep in warmth knowing you have your Vander back..

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

Well I'm back from a break.. more things coming your way !! <3 it's been a long time I'm I'm HORNYY THEN EVER EHHEHEHEHEH 🫶🏻🫶🏻😝 I'm so glad to be back!! Love you guys !! Reposts and likes and comments are appreciated!!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)🩷🩷

#vander arcane x reader #vander smut #werewolf!vander #monster fucker #warwick x reader #warick x reader #vander arcane #vander x reader smut #vander #nghhhhhh #i need this man #letthismenmanhandelme #he can get it #my pussy is soaked

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yoghurtcup · 7 days ago

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Myth Of The Lanes

Every Place Has A Cryptid

Every culture has their myths. Even more have ones based on real events, places, and even people. This myth in question is the latter, of course. While Warwick is only known to those in Piltover and Zaun, he is a well known cryptid surrounding the deepest parts of the undercity. With only a select few knowing the truth behind the story, that truth being that he isn't a myth. Because of this fact, many avoid the Lanes at night; that of course being the crawling grounds of the Zaun-born cryptid. The undercity, if you asked anyone who did not live there, was dangerous enough during the day anyway. Which means that many have only thought of verifying the truth of the myth and seeing Warwick in the flesh if he so had any. Children dare eachother and many a drunk yell boldly of their false stories of seeing such a creature and fending it off with naught more than a bare fist. That said, only those who are used to the many alleys of Zaun or the pointed buildings of Piltover have more smarts than curiosity, this story is of someone who found themselves in the middle of discovering why come night fall, no one travels through the Lanes.

You are that someone. With this new technology heralded by some guy in Piltover, you were able to take a ride to visit the city of progress in all it's shimmering glory. And if time called for it, a quick look into the quietly spoken of undercity, Zaun. From the window of your quickly moving luxury blimp you saw spiraling towers and large buildings adorn with gold and blue trimmings. You shiver, the zap of something electrical hitting your skin even from inside, you prepare your little bag you took with you, and prepared for the surprisingly smooth landing. From the sky you knew these buildings were large, but looking up at them made you feel…insignificant. Nonetheless, there is touring to do, and you have a one way ticket to the best sites and tourist traps this city has to offer.

The tour guide was very kind, and you are known for asking many questions. You find out that the creator of this Hextech is named Jayce, and that his discovery of turning magic into a controlled science is how you got there. You suppose that is interesting, but the tour followed a strict path with hardly any people in the streets, which meant slipping away to find out about Zaun would take a pretty hefty distraction. Or in your case, truly hope that the next big important thing was near a crowd of maybe fifty. You don't do well with confrontation if more than one person could see you cause a scene.

All things have to end eventually. The tour was interesting, you think. After the fifth demonstration on how genius Hextech is and how much it means to the city of progress you tuned it all out. The crowd scatters, with everyone doing their own thing, you realize now is the time if any to find your way to Zaun and see it for yourself. You had heard from someone on the blimp that there were many ways to get there, but the easiest way was a bridge that connected them, you figure they may be right since all they spoke of was being from Piltover. They were kind enough to tell you what you wanted to know, with a vague warning that the undercity (which is what they called it, almost in disgust) was dangerous, and while the sun shone on Piltover, only the shadows hold Zaun. Whatever that could mean. Only one real way to find out.

In your humble opinion, with how the Piltians speak about Zaun, there shouldn't be a bridge so easy to cross between them. There was probably a lesson about this during the tour, but your brain fogs up trying to remember. Regardless of history, no one seems to stop you, and some people are walking past you from both cities. No time like the present, so you take your first few steps into Zaun, and the difference was stark. Large white buildings and clean streets to dark wooden homes and forcefully made dirt and rock paths. The layout of the place was confusing, and the air smelled slightly of poison. You've made it this far regardless of the feeling of unease this city gives you, and to back down from secrets is unlike you. No stone left unturned, Zaun has no idea what's coming.

Zaunites are very polite, actually. Of course there are the rude, loud and downright unwell in every place, but for the most part Zaunites are kind. They could tell just from your clothes that you weren't piltie as they call it, and Zaun while large in populace was small, no one knew who you were, but as long as you were respectful to them, they were the same to you. Many zaunites took the time to help you out, breathing techniques and places to go for food, some even took the time to tell you of the history of Zaun. A city built on a past of hard labor and revolution. Rivetting! You've always adored a place with culture, and if you are being honest with yourself, Zaun feels more alive than Piltover does. You follow a few people to the largest place in the city, a bar named The Last Drop. The outside wasn't much to go on, but warm light shone from the windows, and you could hear the conversations from where you stand. They tell you the bartender there, he's the one you go to for anything, people deem him as the leader of Zaun. He sounds intimidating, but who are you to back down now? You're already here, so you might as well.

The inside of The Last Drop was cozy, you feel like you could stay here forever. Looking around, you saw a few rowdy folk, but for some reason they kept their violence to a minimum, most bars you go to would have atleast one person bleeding over a broken table. You sit at the bar not remembering the last time you've had a proper drink. The bartender has his back turned to you, but you can tell from the pure wall of muscle that he's huge. No wonder there's no bar fighting here. You wait patiently as he deals with other patrons, he's just one guy, one big guy but just one. You stare at the wood of the bar and zone out to the sound of the music from the jukebox in the corner.

After a bit of waiting around and watching back and forth from people well into their third or fourth drink, a tap on the bar gets your attention. Looking up, you can finally see the face of the bartender, and wow. He has kind eyes, and brows that make him look always atleast a bit concerned, he looks well kept with greying hair pulled only partially into a bun. Staring doesn't get you drinks though, so you shrug and gesture to the vaguely brown looking bottles behind him. You really can't think about the last time you had a drink, but you know from just looking at him you need atleast one before you can pull yourself together to say a single word. He pours the drink for you, keeping quiet and only nodding once it's placed in your hand. The look of it makes your head spin, when was the last time you did this? Well, bottoms up.

Halfway through your first sip it hits you. It's strong, and burns the back of your throat before you can taste it, and maybe you shouldn't have asked for something that tasted so flammable but it was too late for that. You were never much of a lightweight but it seems like you won't need more than just the one cup to embarrass yourself if you aren't careful. The taste lingers after you put down the cup, and you feel yourself loosening up. Liquid courage most people call it, and now you feel you understand the sentiment.

Soon enough you feel the courage to say something, anything to the bartender. With the drink heavy in your stomach making you feel like you can pull this off without fumbling, you go to speak. That is until a patron besides you gets a bit too rowdy. The bartender turns to calm him down, and takes his hardly empty mug from his hands with a look that says he's had enough. The rowdy idiot protests loudly, and the sound of chatter dies down as the others in the bar turn to look at the issue. You shrink in your seat and hold your cup to your chest, this has nothing to do with you and you are not going to get involved.

"And I'll fuckin tell you what!" The idiot starts, slurring his words to the point that it seems impossible for anything to make sense. "You can all fuck right off! I ain't scared of none of you! Know why? I faced Warwick!" You sip your drink, and the idiot looks around with his fist raised in the air. For a good three seconds there was silence before everyone bursts into laughter. People falling over themselves and eachother as the idiot blushes in frustration. "Quit that!" He exclaims, fists now balled to his side like a toddler being told no. "I'm telling the right truth! I faced it myself and made it out alive!" You raise an eyebrow at this proclamation, but it's swept under the rug when you hear an amused snort from behind the bar.

"Right, and that ain't something I heard before." The bartender's voice makes you jump. The gravelly, smooth cadence resonates in your ears and hits you in the chest. You feel like you've just taken another sip of your drink that you had forgotten about with all the nonsense and mirth happening all at once. Unable to tell if your face is hot from the settling of the alcohol or the fact that you spent more time thinking about the single sentence that was said, you cover your face with your cup and decide it's better to not draw attention to yourself.

"You know what, to hell with all of you!" The idiot stumbles head first from the bar, the laughter finally dying down as a few stray chuckles are tossed into open air. Soon everything goes vaguely back to normal, and the bartender tends to a few empty glasses and mugs. Your cup is just about empty at this point, first drink and you're already trying to keep steady. Leaning against the bar, you watch as the bartender focuses on cleaning the same cup over and over. His fingers are very meticulous, you notice almost instantly, and despite how large his hands are he holds the glasses with poise as if he's been doing it for years which, judging by the look on his face he definitely has.

He notices you staring before you do, and with a gently raised eyebrow decides to strike up conversation. "You must be one of them tourists from topside." He tosses the dry rag over his left shoulder and places the cup down. Leaning against the bar just close enough for you to get a good look at his surprisingly grey-blue eyes and wow, his eyes are blue? Your face steams a bit again, and you almost reach for the empty cup. You nod, and realize that you may need a bit more liquid courage before jumping into speaking with him. He notices this, atleast the empty cup, and takes it upon himself to pour you another. "Unusual for someone to come all the way here, any particular reason why?" He hands you the full cup, and you down half of it. Regret stings the back of your throat like you've never felt, but it gets your blood flowing in your brain again.

"Saw a bridge during the tour, wanted to know what was on the other side." You tell him, putting the now half empty cup on the bar. This was the truth, for the most part. You don't know how to openly tell him that you heard whispers on the ride over and wanted to see what the fuss was about. He chuckles deep, and you start feeling like you'll need a third cup sooner rather than never. "That's a new one." He stands up straight, taking a glass from a patron that thanks him and places a few coin onto the bar. "See you next week eh, Vander?" The patron says as they leave, the bartender, who you now know is Vander, nods as they close the door and turns to grab his wet rag. "Hell, most pilties keep out of here, and they definitely don't come this far in." He turns to you, wiping the glass clean clearly curious still. He gestures for you to elaborate, and you realize you don't have much of a reason.

You shrug, truth be damned you just wanted to see what it was like here. You have no regrets in satiating your initial curiosity, but after the little spat that happened, you have more questions. "Really, I just wanted to see what was going on. Kind folk led me here, that's all." You actually sip your drink this time after explaining yourself, something about his face just feels comforting the more you look at it. You're almost positive that isn't the drink talking. Vander gives a half smile, maybe you said something he liked? You are truly unsure. You finish off your drink and decide against a third. Placing a few bits of currency that you aren't sure can be properly exchanged here. "Sorry…" you feel embarrased, you don't know about the foreign money policies here, but Vander doesn't seem to mind. "You paid, and that's good enough in my books."

After a few more minutes of a very comfortable silence, you decide that it would kill you to not atleast ask. "What's a Warwick?" Vander glances at you as he dries off a few more mugs and cleans off the bartop. "A myth." He says simply, case closed. Except that isn't good enough. "Sure, a myth. But that weirdo was adamant about seeing whatever it was…" He puts the mug he had dried down a bit harshly, cutting your sentence off. "It's a myth, he was drunk. That's it, alright?" He raises a brow at you, and you take that as a hint that you shouldn't push. You nod and stand slowly. "It's…probably late right? I need to find a hostel or something." You try to guess the sun position from the window, but no luck. You pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

"Be safe." Vander says as you walk towards the exit. You would have waved off his words if not for two very important things. First being you were certaintly more than a bit tipsy. The second and most jarring is well, you have no idea how to get back to that bridge. The smart thing would be to ask someone for help, and even inebriated you knows better than to wander on your own. However, you are feeling particularly stupid after two cups, and you want to know where these alleyways go. Before you can talk yourself out of something as stupid as getting yourself lost while drunk, your feet start moving. Soon enough the lights of The Last Drop fade into the distance, and if you looked back you wouldn't know which right or left would take you back. It's cold in a dark alleyway, you've learned just now. How could you be so damned stupid? You decide that it's better to stop. Your legs hurt, and it could be easier to get back to the bridge if someone walked by. You sit on your bag and look at your surroundings, you somehow stumbled onto an opening. The problem? No one is around. From the looks of it, anyone who would be around left not long before you showed up. It was eerie and quiet, and you have no idea how it became night so fast.

You need to keep moving, is the thought you had. The chill air and sudden feeling of being watched sobered you enough to a point where you realized how dumb you had just been. Getting to your feet you take your bag and sprint. Paranoia has you assuming something is following you, the quiet of the city is convincing you that you may just be going a bit mad. Either way, you catch yourself getting more lost, and you eventually collapse from the pain in your legs. Damn it all, why didn't you just stay at the Last Drop? Exhaustion hits you before frustration, and you are too tired to scold yourself for this blunder. Leaning against a wall you take time to catch your breath, the smoggy air of Zaun filling your lungs and making you choke. Whatever. You close your eyes, and as much as you'd prefer a warm bed, this is the best you're getting for tonight.

Until something wakes you up. It isn't ideal to be awoken mid dream, but you figured it was some passerby wondering who you were and why you were asleep against a wall. For a time, you don't open your eyes, and try to ignore whoever is standing over you. That doesn't last long though, because this person refuses to leave you alone, your brows furrow as you realize you aren't going to get any sleep this way. With a huff you open your eyes, and you expected a person, like a normal Zaunite doing a nightly sweep or something. Instead, you see a large, hulking beast. All fur and fangs and two eyes with different colours staring you down with an intention you can't read from your exhausted state. You freeze in fear seeing this thing tower over you like this, and you bet that even while standing it could dwarf you with ease. You have no idea what it is, and before you can proccess anything it reaches for you. Between the several feelings you have and the speed this thing can move, you find yourself saying one final thing before you were knocked out cold. "Warwick?"

#vander #warwick #vander arcane #warwick arcane #vander x reader #warwick x reader #chapter one

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bestwitchsam · 29 days ago

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We urgently need to talk about the beauty of Jinx in the parallel universe, guys. #ArcaneAct3

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antiqcore · 30 days ago

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“Arcane comes out this week!”

…

“Arcane ends this week.”

#arcane #arcane s2 #arcane x reader #jinx arcane #vi arcane #arcane silco #vander arcane #warwick #jinx and isha #isha arcane #caitlyn kiramman #viktor arcane #ekko arcane #league of legends

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prismkith · 11 days ago

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may I ask for a oneshot with jinx like introducing her girlfriend, fem!reader to vander/warwick? and for a while he's like just sniffing and eyeing her suspiciously or whatever until he sees her and jinx in a super like intimate and sincerely loving moment?

also! may I be 🫀 anon? :3

Hi! Yes you absolutely may! i loved this request, and I hope you love what I wrote based off of it!

'How I met your grandfather'

pairing: Jinx X Fem!Reader

genre: fluff, maybe a hint of hurt/comfort

Wc: 2835

You sigh as you enter Jinx’s hideout, shoulders sore and the bags under your eyes growing heavier and heavier. You'd been out with Sevika keeping the lanes in check after the Stillwater breakout, and it was tireless. Enforces had been down your throats the entire time, and balancing keeping the enforcers from beating angry zaunites while also wanting to beat the shit out of them yourself had taken its toll.

The lanes have been a never-ending job since Silco died.

You felt horrible for leaving jinx alone after the attack, but she understood. You worked for Silco when he was here, and now sevika. She knew what your job entailed and was used to you being gone for days at a time.

Stepping onto the still wings of the fan, you were confused by the noise or lack thereof. Her hideout was never quiet, always the sound of her tinkering, or having dance parties and bug-boxing matches mixed with Ishas giggles.

“I’m home! Anybody here?” you call out into the air. The only response is the echo of your own voice. “Isha? Jinx?” you call out once more. Confused, you walk up to her workstation, cluttered and disorganized as always. You're met with a note on her desk, your name in her distinctive scribbly handwriting on the front page.

‘Hey trinket, we found Vander. Took him to some mystery healer on the edge of Zaun. Meet us there if we aren't back before you.

Love ya’

Your eyes widen as you scan the letter once more, her lack of detail slightly worrying. Questions flooded your brain as you flipped her vague note to find directions on the back.

Scurrying to get your things together as quickly as possible, you take off in the direction of this ‘mystery healer’, your heavy boots loud as you run to find your girlfriend and her back from the dead dad

________________________________________________________________________

You're slightly panting as you reach the gates she directed you to, having sprinted half the way there, and jogged the other half. Pausing for a moment as you catch your breath, you make eye contact with a man standing in front of the gates.

His eyes are white, and he's covered in these bubbly pearlescent patterns, donned in the strangest clothes you've seen. You manage to mutter “The fuck…” before he’d beckoning you closer.

You slowly stand up straighter, distrust evident in your features as you begin to approach him.

Deciding that you in fact, do not want to open the can of worms that is the freaky-looking man with a blank expression, you attempt to walk straight past him, eyes set on the entrance in front of you, searching for any sign of wild blue hair or large semi robot beast.

You're stopped by Mr. Freaky before you can waltz past, his thin frame swerving in front of you. “I must ask that you turn in any weapons before entering,” he says, an odd cadence in his voice that you've never heard from a zaunite. You scoff at this request, “yeah, no thanks” you reply before attempting to shove past once more.

You stopped once again, his tone firmer this time. “I must insist, as it is the policy of the Machine Herald”. You consider just socking the guy in the face and making a run for it but decide that you don't know what kind of crazy superpowers this guy might have, and to be quite honest you don't want to find out.

“Look, not gonna happen. Not sure who this ‘machine herald’ is, but I'm looking for someone else. Just let me pass, i’ll be on my merry way and you can keep doing whatever…. This is” the annoyance shameless drips from your voice now, you have places to be and this guy is single-handedly keeping you from said places.

He once again denies you access, and you lose your shit. You're now (loudly) in a full-blown argument with this guy, neither of you budging. His voice is only starting to rile you up more, and you're an inch away from executing your hit-and-run plan from earlier when you hear the raspy voice of your lover calling your name.

You freeze immediately, fist pausing mid-air as your eyes dart behind the man to see Jinx, leaning against the entrance, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

“Stand down, sergeant. No beating the greeter.” her voice is sarcastic and teasing, and you sigh in defeat. Arms dropping and face annoyed as you reluctantly hand the man your pistol and several pocket knives that you keep strapped to you in various places.

Once unarmed, the man simply smiles and steps aside, and you make sure to knock him in the shoulder before stomping over to your girlfriend.

Your annoyance subsides as you see her smiling face, your arms immediately wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. You feel her relax into your embrace, strong arms circling your waist and giving you a good squeeze before pulling back.

“What the hell is this place, and why did that fish-man never change his facial expression once?” you question your voice laced with confusion and slight concern.

She simply shrugs her shoulders and turns to start guiding you through the odd community full of tents and more people with white eyes and pearlescent patterns. “Vi said she knew of a healer here in the lanes. Said he was performing some miracles or some magic bullshit.” she spins on her heel to look at you while continuing to walk backward. “Personally I think he's just some weird purple fortune teller, but Vi trusts him and Vanders actually getting better, so..” her voice softens during the last part of her sentence, voice trailing off as her eyes cast slightly downward.

You pause in your tracks, shock evident on your features. “Wait, Vi’s here?” not even attempting to hide the surprise in your voice at the mention of her estranged sister.

She sighs, once again avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I mean, it's her dad too. Didn't feel right not letting her know that he's alive, at least.” you slowly nod as you come to terms with her reasoning.

“Anywho! Now we're here at this weird commune run by a metal fortune cookie that can read minds and I dead honestly think this place is a cult. Everyone here is weird. And the only good food is the fruit. The only snacks are trail mix and it's all eighty percent raisins,” her lip curls in disgust, shaking her head slightly before continuing. “I fucking hate raisins. Just give me a grape, I don't want its juiceless corpse as an alternative.”

You snort at her wording, but can't help yourself agreeing. Raisins suck and it's a crime to ruin perfectly good snacks with them.

You continue to follow her, passing tents all full of people dressed similarly to the first man you met. Some were in tents that looked more like workshops, cooking, and sewing, and some in tents that looked more like homes, full of pillows and blankets and small furniture pieces.

She continues to ramble about this place, she mentions that Isha is off in a tent somewhere helping a group of women weave a blanket (boring), how the healer (who you figured out is the machine herald from earlier) somehow knew her childhood name, and how Vi had turned into some emo looking alcoholic and lost another fight to jinx in an underground tunnel.

Finally, her walking begins to slow as you both reach a greenhouse near the middle of the village. It's a dome made of detailed stained glass, and you can vaguely make out the shape of the massive frame of Vander inside. You spot Vi sitting on the edge of what seems to be a water well, and Jinx’s description isn't too off. You make a mental note of the poorly done hair job and vow to make fun of her for it later.

When Vi looks up and spots you, she sends you a nasty glare before stomping away with an excuse of finding Isha. You roll your eyes, so what if you've tried to kill each other a couple of times? No big deal, honestly.

Jinx also rolled her eyes and dismissed her sister with a wave of her hand. “She’ll get over it, don't worry. She was just as dramatic when I went to find her.”

She simply crossed her arms, leading you to a bench outside the greenhouse. Once sat, she slumps into your side, shoulder pressing against yours and head leaning against the side of your own.

“It's weird, you know? It's him, he remembers me and Vi but… he’s also part of this beast he's trapped in. Vi keeps asking for my opinion on… All of this, but I have no clue. I think I'm still in shock from when I realized it was him.” She shakes her head, letting her voice trail off. You sit in silence for a moment, letting her words marinate in your brain.

You weren't sure how to respond, for Christ's sake, you barely even knew your own parents. What the hell do you say to someone who killed two of her dads, and then found out the first one is actually alive but trapped in the body of a hostile science experiment?

Deciding that there was nobody on the planet who could find the words to comfort someone in this situation, you simply grab her hand instead and allow her to rest against you. She knew what your body language meant when words failed you. She always did.

You sat like that for a while, enjoying each other's company and the quiet. It wasn't often that there was peaceful silence in Zaun, as silence usually meant danger. You both relished the feeling of letting your guard down for the first time in years.

Eventually, a man… or.. Robot? You weren't sure, steps out of the greenhouse. His body is a mix of purples and blues, looking like a painted night sky, and he is adorned in a cloak similar to those worn by the others on the commune. He approaches the both of you, still sitting on the bench, an aura of confidence and peace to him. His accent is thick when he finally addresses Jinx.

“I've decided to end our session today. Your father's condition is improving slowly but I can see him growing tired, and I fear pushing him too far may bear consequences.” he nods his head at you in a greeting as he finishes his sentence, before turning and walking away.

Jinx grumbles a response, something of a ‘thank you’ mixed with some sarcastic remarks, and you think you hear an ‘aluminum psychic’ mixed in there, but before you can think too hard she grabs your hand pulling you towards the greenhouse.

You stumble slightly, but follow her as she impatiently hops towards the door. Pushing the large door open, she drops your hand and runs inside. You're met with the smell of fresh plants and herbs as you follow her inside, slowly looking around the room and taking everything in as she runs over and wraps her arms around her father, asking how he's feeling.

His eyes immediately snap to you, a look of distrust and unease in his eyes as he stares you down. Jinx notices, and slowly steps back from her hug. She keeps her eyes on vander as she backs towards you, grabbing your hand before speaking.

“Vander, this is my girlfriend.” her voice is soft as she begins to slowly walk towards him, hand still locked in yours.

Fuck, you were not prepared for the whole “meeting the dad” part of all of this. Sure, you've met one of her dads before, but that's because you worked for him, so the stereotypical introduction wasn't necessary at the time.

Attempting to calm your nerves and make a good impression, you clear your throat and lift your hand as an offering for a handshake. “Hi- um, hello. Nice to meet you, sir. Big fan of your work. Both the daughter and the, uh, other stuff.” your voice shakes as you attempt a joke to try and relieve some of the tension growing in the small greenhouse.

Your introduction is met with silence, and then more silence, as Vander just stares at you, occasionally glancing between you and Jinx.

Finally, your girlfriend decides she's seen enough to rescue the situation, stepping between the two of you before breaking the screaming silence. “Well, this has been wonderful. We’ll let you get some rest for now, though.” she grabs your hand again, speedily leading you out of the greenhouse back into the peaceful village of tents.

Once outside you feel her drop your hand and pause, looking over to see her with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised, amusement causing the corners of her lips to curl up. “Nice one! Real smooth, babe.” she teases. You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek and resting your hands on your hips. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

_____________________________________________________________

Vander glances around at the smiling faces surrounding him. Sat at a small picnic table outside the greenhouse sat his family. His eldest daughter to his right, and the miniature Powder to his left. A feast of fruits, salads, and roasted vegetables covered the table. A dinner cooked by a group of people on the commune.

Across from him sat grownup Powder and her… girlfriend.

Vander was already struggling to come to terms with the fact that his daughters were now grown. It felt like no time had passed in his mind, but the years had left their mark on the girls nonetheless, and now he has to come to terms with his youngest daughter being out in the world of romance. His little girl, all grown up and dating women he'd never even met before.

He continues to stare at the two of you, giggling and talking with the others at the table, shoulders occasionally brushing together. His eyes were weary as he watched you two, despite the fact that Powder seems to trust you with everything, nothing changes his distrust and distaste towards seeing his little girl all grown up.

He continues this internal battle in his mind, struggling with the growing protectiveness only amplified by the traces of the beast still in his mind. Even the tiny powder trying to get him to eat and offering him water couldn't help distract him from the affection being shown from across the table.

He could tell you knew he didn't trust you, as every time you made eye contact your eyes would dart away, face casting downwards.

Eventually, the sun sets, and the conversation at the table begins to slow as the food in front of him is quickly destroyed by the hungry teens accompanying him, miniature powder having fallen asleep against his leg not too long after.

He watches as Powder begins to grow tired next to you, her eyes drooping and shoulders slowly slouching as she tries to keep herself awake. You notice, and gently nudge her before deciding it's time to call it a night. You stand, and pull Powder up from the bench she's sat on.

“C'mon, sleepyhead,” you grumble as you turn around and lean over. She turns around and throws herself onto your back, her legs going around your waist as you catch her and lift her until she's snuggly pressed into your back, her head leaning into your neck as her eyes close once more.

His eyes soften as he watches you make your way to his side of the table to pick up the miniature powder from his lap and lift her to your front, one arm wrapped around her keeping her small frame firmly against your chest, the other arm still hooked under one of Powders knees to keep her balanced against your back.

The act reminds him of when Powder and Vi were young and would fall asleep on the couch or at the barstools while he cleaned up the bar after a long night. The memories caused a pang in his heart, chest contracting at the memories of when they were young, reminding him of all the years he must have missed.

As you slowly begin to walk away towards the tent Vi directed them to, he speaks up before you're too far away.

His gravelly and deep voice calls out behind you, “It was nice meeting you too..” you pause in your steps, turning your head to look at the man behind you to confirm you weren't hearing things. Upon seeing your face, he glances down before continuing, “You seem like a good kid, you're, uh, good for Powder.”

Your face slowly splits into a grin, simply nodding your head at him once, before turning and continuing your trek into the night.

Meet the future father-in-law: check.

____________________________________

A/N: ahhh first one shot let's go! hope you guys enjoy this one :3 luv my girl jinx that's my wife fr

#fanfic #fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane #arcane x reader #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx #league of legends #jinx and isha #vander #warwick

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xetlynn · 24 days ago

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hii i have a little request for ekko like omg i love him so bad

so imagine winter times come around and you an ekko are in your shared room (the firelights bases ofc)

and he sees you shivering under your cover so he comes over and just cuddles all up under you

thennn a few words and giggles are shared and thingss get a little heated between yall and ykyk 🤗

I hope you wanted smut. That’s what I made.

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Still Cold

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUTTTT

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: it’s cold, you need to be warmed up. (Established relationship)

Contains: hand job, oral m! Receiving. Afab. Whimpering, whiny sub Ekko:(

You shiver, wearing a few layers of clothes along with tons of blankets. Your nose practically freezing off since you feel claustrophobic if you put your face under the covers. You hear the door open to you and your boyfriend’s shared room. Steps coming towards you. “You cold or something?” He asks, You just scoff in response like it wasn't obvious.

He snickers, throwing the blankets off of you causing you to whine. “Oh shush, c’mere you big baby.” He climbs into bed, pulling your body on top of his.

”You’re warm.” You mumble, clinging onto him. “I’m so cold.” You complain, he puts the covers back over the both of you.

“I know a way to make us even warmer.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you shove his face away from your neck before he got the chance to pounce on it with his lips. He got hard before he even got into the bed. “I’m too cold to think about that.” You huff, adjusting yourself on him so you were more comfortable.

It didn’t help Ekko’s situation though. He needed you badly and you put yourself right over his crotch. He tensed up but nonetheless stayed quiet, rubbing your back to get you warmer. “My body aches from how cold it is.” You wiggle over top of him. Ekko lets out a low, almost inaudible grunt. “Stop moving so much.” He grabs your hips to keep you in place. “Sorry, sorry.”

A few moments go by and you begin to understand why he told you to stop moving. You feel something poking against your core. Your lips lined into a smirk, deciding to mess with him. “Ekko, massage me again.” You look at him with a pout. His eyes met yours, he seemed extremely nervous. He never wanted to push anything on you, so when you said you were too cold to think about it he stopped and he tried to take the thought out of his brain.

“Um, alright.” His hands move on your back again, you let out a soft moan, humming into his chest. The vibration only worsening his perverted thoughts. Your digits find his hips, going up and down his body in slow motions. He wanted to stop and shove you off of him.

You were so soft, such a comforting body he just wanted to explore every part of you. Keep you warm and safe. His member twitches and you chuckle. His face flushes.

“He sure has a lot to say.” You tease him, not looking at him as your hand goes underneath you, trailing all the way down to the place he needed you most. He lets out a gasp.

Your smaller hand palms him through his sweatpants. “Pretty girl, please.” He whimpers, he pulls his arms up to his head, watching your focused expression. “You wanted to keep me warm, right?” A smug smile tugging upwards, “my hands are pretty cold.” You go to his ear, kissing it softly as the hand that was once palming him went to the waistline of his pants. “Gonna treat you so well.” You lay your head back down on his chest, moving your body slightly off of him so you could get a better view of your actions.

Ekko watches as his girlfriend extracts his dick from his clothing agonizingly slow. Spitting on your hand before smearing it on his tip, mixed with his precum. “So cute.” You compliment.

“Cute?” He huffs, your thumb rubs it over the sensitive mushroom top. “Mhm.”

He bucks his hips up, desperate for you to touch him more. You take your hand away to shove his hips back down. “Be patient.” You sit up with the blankets over your shoulders. You spread his legs apart enough so you could sit in between them. You yank his pants off half-way, keeping them at his thighs.

His orbs grow darker by the sight of you on your knees before him. Even though you're clothed up you are the only one to affect him this way.

“What do you want?” You ask, your fingers dancing around his skin. “Take your shirt off. Please.” He mewls in a soft tone. “Then I’ll be cold.” Your bottom lip puckers out as you give him puppy-dog eyes. “I need to see them, they’re so beautiful.” He begs, his hand going down to his dick, using your spit to pump up and down. “If that’s what my boyfriend wants. I guess I can make some sacrifices.” You take off your sweater along with the tank top that was underneath. Flaunting your breasts.

“Stop touching yourself.” You prod aside his wrist replacing it back with your palm once again. Stroking his cock while leaning over to pronounce your boobs out. “I was supposed to b-e warming- shit- warming you up.” He stammers, grabbing at your left tit, massaging it gently. “This is warming me up.” You giggle, laying a kiss on the cockhead. He squeezes his eyes shut as your tongue kitten licks him.

Your hand is still kneading at the base. “I- ohmygooodd.” He groans. “Use your mouth.” He runs a hand on top of your hair, grasping at it. “Not very good manners.” You glance up at him. He holds a breath. “Please use your mouth pretty girl. Please.” He whines like a dog, rutting his hips up only to be knocked back down. “Patience, Ekko.” Your voice was soft but stern.

You’ve never acted like this before, it was new to him. He was normally in control. “Fuck, okay, okay.” He throws his arm over his eyes. You snigger, sticking your tongue out. You smack his cock on it repeatedly until popping it between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks, sucking on his tip.

You lower your head until your nose hits his pelvic region. His happy trail tickles you ever so slightly. You go back up then continue at a leisurely state. Frustrating him ridiculously. “[Name] please stop messing with me. I need more.” He tugs at your hair. “Mmmmhmmm?” Your noises pleasuring him. “I’m going to fuck your throat if you don’t do something.” He tells you through gritted teeth.

The thought of him facefucking you aroused you. You felt the wetness in between your thighs even through all your clothes. You move your heel underneath your cunt. Pressing your butt down to feel the friction as you bob your head up and down on your boyfriend's thick cock.

Now being more mindful of his needs. The slurping sounds with a mix of occasional gags. You hold onto the top of his thighs as you get faster. Ekko’s toes curling from your skills. He felt like he was about to cum at any moment. His abs tightening, flexing just for you.

“[Name], pretty girl. I- oh fuckfuckfuck… I’m close.” Once again his pelvis went up. You weren’t expecting it causing your upper torso to contract as you gag. You lift up, his dick falling against his stomach. The saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your chin. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. I promise.” He implores, his hands wandering on your chest down to your stomach.

“Fuck my throat.” You vocalise, sounding raspy. “A-are you sure? You don’t have to do it because I mentioned it.” He double checks and you smile, pulling forward by his shirt, kissing him. Your spit and his own liquid smudges across his mouth.

You drop him back down on the pillows. He plants his feet down on the bed, lifting himself up a tiny bit and you put your mouth back on his dick. “You ready?” He bites his lip, your eyes look up at him. Your cheeks rise, making you seem like you’re squinting to show that you’re smiling. You give him a thumbs up. Both of his hands go to your head.

He thrusts up into your muzzle, starting off tender you wink at him then his hips begin to accelerate. You hold onto his legs for support. His hands pushing you down as far as you can take him.

“I’m going to cum! Fu-uuuuck!” He keeps the quick pace. Your pussy spasms at his moans and whimpers he made. “I love you so much, pretty girl. So so so much.” He breathes heavily. “Gonna let me spill into your throat? Swallow it like a good, beautiful girl that you are?” He questions you and you hum out. Slightly nodding your head. “Fuck, that’s my girl.”

His cock convulses, his tip bruising your uvula. “Ohhh, love you, love you , love…” His voice gets cut off as he cums, his mouth hanging open with no noise coming out. His seed spurting down your throat as your nose pressed against his skin. He restrains you in place until his balls are completely empty. He roughly drops down and you swallow everything before coughing to catch your breath.

His dick lays limp and his face looks fucked out. “Hope you know I’m not done with you.” You smirk, grabbing his soft cock and he whines, attempting to push you away. “Too sensitive, pretty girl.” He complains. “Mmm I’m still cold though.”

He tiredly rubs his face realizing how long of a night he was about to have.

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holysmokesblog · 1 month ago

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Could it be real?

Vander x reader

Words: 0.5k

Warnings: -

Summary: You must face a fact that seems impossible, but it’s right there before your eyes—it’s just a matter of believing it.

Note: It's been over two years since the last time I posted something here. I hope you enjoy this piece, and that the translation is correct since I'm not very good at English. <3

He was there, just a few meters away, but he didn’t seem like himself. He didn’t look like him, didn’t sound like him, and didn’t even smell the same. He was simply unrecognizable.

Vi’s heavy hand rested on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked at her, searching for answers, but she only stared at the massive creature lying on the ground.

“Are you sure it’s…”

“Completely.” Vi didn’t let you finish your question. She released your shoulder and approached the giant, who lay asleep a few meters away. She gently touched its back. The beast stirred uncomfortably, but upon seeing the young woman, it relaxed. “I have no doubt.”

You stepped closer, slowly, afraid your approach might alert the massive being, but it kept its back turned.

“Just look at him, and you’ll understand.”

The creature hunched over, trying to appear smaller (an impossible feat), and took a cautious step forward. You stepped back, which made him freeze in place.

Finally, the immense creature turned, and you saw him. He wasn’t how you remembered. He didn’t look like the man you’d fallen in love with in the Lanes, the one you’d shared most of your life with, built a family with. But without a doubt, it was him.

“Vander?”

Your mind raced, struggling to comprehend everything that was happening—how your husband, the man who had died years ago, was now back in a body that wasn’t his own.

You remained silent, unable to respond. Your brain kept trying to process everything, but no answer came. Vi, still enraged, was about to say something else when a loud snort stopped her.

Seeing that you wouldn’t come closer, Vi stepped in again.

“I know he looks different, but I swear, this is Vander. He remembers us.”

“How is this possible?”

“We’re not sure, but you have to trust me.”

“I searched for his body for months. I didn’t… I didn’t find anything—”

“That doesn’t matter anymore!” Vi snapped, furious. “He’s here now. We can help him; we can bring Vander back! How can you not be happy?”

The massive creature that had once been your husband took another step in your direction, but this time, you didn’t back away, so he kept advancing. Panic gripped your chest with every step he took, the fear that touching him would wake you up in your apartment, drenched in tears.

When he finally reached you, he lifted one of his enormous hands and gently brushed your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to stream uncontrollably.

“Is this real?” You looked into his eyes. “Please,” you begged. “I don’t want to wake up.”

Vander didn’t dare touch you again, fearing you might run away, but you couldn’t stand it any longer. You buried yourself in his chest. He hesitated for a moment but finally wrapped one massive arm around you, lowering his face to your head and inhaling deeply.

“You’re real,” you murmured through your sobs, unable to believe it.

“I’m here,” he said in a deep voice, squeezing you gently with the arm that held you close.

#vander arcane #arcane x reader #arcane league of legends #arcane series #arcane netflix #arcane #vander x reader #vander and vi #warwick #arcane season 2 #arcane x #arcane s2 #vander s2

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slvtmeout · 1 month ago

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Viktor from arcane got me all hot and thirsty again. Now I’ll be ovulating for next 3 weeks he’s on the screen. Bro makes me want to ride him so baddddd🙏. Id fuck him in his lab on Jayces desk nice and slow as he struggles to breath (in a good way not his usual way ;P). He would almost die from how good it feels 🎀 tho now in season 2 he lost his pp but there’s always a way yk. Since he’s a scientist and inventor I bet he would figure something out ;D I don’t mind riding his hextech dick instead of his real one 😔😁

#viktor arcane #arcane #league of legends #viktor league of legends #jayce x viktor #viktor #jinx arcane #vi arcane #jinx league of legends #arcane jayce #jayce league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor x jayce #caitlyn kiramman #vander arcane #arcane silco #silco and jinx #warwick arcane #arcane season 2

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immortalbumblebee · 19 days ago

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Chapter 20: Forged in Fire

So two chapters of this series passed 100 notes this week? Holy shit, guys!!! Thank you so much! I've been trying to find as much time for writing between finals, but this is probably going to be the last chapter I publish until the hoidays.

Thank you so much for y'all support. The likes and comments are really motivating.

Content warning for mentions of birth

Masterlist

Working at the factory had become excruciating since you got arrested. Well, it had always been a little excruciating. But it had been especially bad for these past few months once word had gotten out that you’d spent the night at the Enforcer HQ. Your pay had been considerably docked, nearly all your coworkers all but refused to interact with you, and all your supervisors would go out of their way to be right pricks to you whenever given the chance. Morichi had made it clear that you’d almost fully lost your job from the whole kerfuffle.

It was fairly easy to ignore when you were working, primarily just focusing on your work. Sure, your supervisors were bad, but no worse than the chembarons your sort were used to back home. No, what really made it insufferable were the moments between work, like in the dressing room when you could feel your coworkers eyes’ on you, hear their judgmental murmurings.

Finally shedding yourself of the annoyingly stuffy uniform, you couldn’t help but close your locker with a particularly loud ‘slam’. The room grew silent at this, which only worked to further irritate you.

Fuck this

Storming out of the change room, you didn’t even think as you made your way down the hallway and over to the catwalk that led you to the staff entrance. As you crossed the raised catwalk, however, you found yourself stilling as you passed over the main floor underneath. Down there, you could hear the high-pitched hum of the metal on the conveyor lines. Eerily familiar. As you watched the assembly line workers do their work, you found yourself focusing on the metal parts being put together. Long pipes and complex golden mechanisms. All being locked together and assembled until finally…the all too familiar shine of the barrel of an Encorfcer’s gun. Hundreds, if not thousands of them being pumped out of this factory every damn day.

You’d put the dots together after your arrest, when the Enforcers had stormed the fighting ring. The ringing had been too familiar, like a blacksmith recognizing his own maker’s mark.

Zeroing in on the cool, familiar texture of the metal, you couldn't resist the urge to lift one hand. A few pieces on the conveyor belt trembled briefly, then floated effortlessly a couple of inches off the ground. With a subtle flex of your fingers, the metal obeyed—curling in on itself with a sharp, satisfying ‘crunch.’ It was almost as if you were breathing—effortless, instinctive, and perfectly in tune with the world around you.

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you let the metal fall thoughtlessly back onto the belt and went to continue on your way, didn’t even notice anyone around you as you began to march down the catwalk. That is, until you came crashing full-force into a tiny body. Colliding, you both stumbled back, the impact snapping you out of your daze.

“Oh!” Victoria exclaimed, jumping back. “Terribly sorry!”

“Oh my gods, no. I’m so sorry. I totally wasn’t looking where I was going.” You scan her over, but she looks fine.

“No, no. ‘ts my fault, really!” She waved her hands anxiously, her cheeks flushing. “Are y’alright, miss?”

“I’m fine.” You give her a little smile. “Thanks.”

"N' problem!" she says, just as a few of your coworkers round the corner. The moment they spot you and her standing there, their expressions shift subtly, but it's enough to catch your attention. You can practically hear the hushed whispers starting up behind you as they hurry past, heads down, moving with that practiced air of nonchalance—like they think the two of you are completely oblivious to the thinly veiled judgment they're broadcasting.

“Well now,” Victoria murmurs, “who pissed in their pond?”

“Sorry,” You sigh, lifting your hand to rub the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “Y’may wanna back off from me. Seems like ‘m bit of a social pariah at the moment.”

Victoria shrugs. “Like anyone ‘round ‘ere be given’ me the time of day, anyday? I’m the only foreigner workin’ here, lass. Heard you got yourself locked up?”

“It’s…a long story.”

Victoria seems to think for a moment, looks around (lacking any semblance of subtlety) then motions to the worker’s exit. “Wanna catch a smoke wit’ me?”

As she led you outside, you were immediately thrown off by the unexpected direction she took. Instead of heading toward the usual smoking section, she veered sharply in the opposite direction, heading straight for the bridge. Her pace quickened, and despite your curiosity, you asked her where she was taking you. Without even looking back, she waved you off, offering no explanation.

For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed your mind—was this some sort of twisted trap? Were you walking into some elaborate murder plot? The thought lingered, but before you could give it more weight, she made a sharp turn down a narrow flight of stairs, just as the bridge came into view behind you. You had never taken this path before, and only now did you realize how easily you'd overlooked it. The steps seemed unremarkable, tucked away beneath the looming shadow of the bridge, as if they were meant to be ignored.

The descent felt oddly quiet, the rhythmic thud of your footsteps mingling with the distant hum of the city. After just a few flights of stairs, the air grew thicker with the scent of brine and decay. You reached the bottom and, as you rounded the last corner, the waters of Pilt River stretched out before you. A small, neglected beach lay before you, its shoreline littered with an unsightly amount of garbage. Old, rusted cans, plastic wrappers, and pieces of broken wood jutted out from the dirt, an unfortunate testament to the city’s disregard for this forgotten corner.

Yet, amidst the debris, something caught your eye. Set into the side of a nearby wall, nearly camouflaged by grime and neglect, was a large manhole. About as tall as Vander, if you had to guess. The rusted metal bars that covered the opening were more than big enough for a normal-sized person to slip right through.

“What…is this?” You asked Victoria.

‘M not really sure, to be frank.” She shrugged, wandering closer to the giant manholes. “When I first moved ‘ere, I took it upon m’self to find all the points o’ access t’ the water tha’ I could. Even if I can’ be swimmin’ in it, it’s nice just to be close to it y’know? But these…these stuck out t’ me.” She slipped right through the bars. “This tunnel in particular splits off, say, ‘bout half a mile out? Goes that-a ways,” she points off in the direction of the bridge, “righ’ under the river.”

You followed her lead, stepping easily through the rusted metal bars. The air in the tunnels was thick and stagnant, a foul mix of rotting garbage and something else—something eerily familiar. A few breaths later, the stench hit you like a wave, sharp and unmistakable—the pungent smell of Zaun’s mines. It was the same stench that clung to the clothes of the boys when they came home from work, the same tainted air that swept through the slums and left so many of your people sick every day.

"This... this is part of the Underground’s ventilation system," you said, the realization hitting you as the damp walls closed in. "It must have overlapped with Piltover’s sewage system somewhere along the way, when they were engineering the city. Seems pretty par for the course, doesn't it?"

Victoria wrinkled her nose. "Ventilation and sewage?" she repeated, sounding dubious. "That don’ 'ound righ’."

You stifle a chuckle. "Welcome to life on the other side of the bridge." You paused, eyeing the dark path ahead. "But... Victoria, you’re sure this leads to the other side?”

She nods. “Not far in, I’d wager, but it definitely be lettin’ out on the Promenade. Been there m’self. Tunnels could definitely use some serious upkeep though, I warn. There’ a pretty big leak a good ways in.”

“How many people know about this?” you asked, your mind racing with possibilities.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Who else would I be tellin’, Lass?"

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Then why show me?"

She shifted uncomfortably, casting a sideways glance at you.

“Well, if I’m bein’ honest…you’re the only one at that factory that treats me as anything more than a stupid immigrant that ‘an’t speak. And I figure, if you e’er need to…y’know, I just figure you’d ‘ave more use for this than me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt the cogs in your mind clicking into place. A direct tunnel from the Promenade to Topside. The sheer scale of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

"Lady be damned." You muttered under your breath, shaking your head. The magnitude of what you were looking at was sinking in. You raised a hand and let it slide over the worn stone, feeling the miles of metal pipes buried within it. The structure was ancient, far older than anything you’d seen before. It would need significant repairs before being used for anything substantial, but the potential... The potential was enormous.

“Victoria…” you said, your voice low with awe. “You’ve got no idea how big this is gonna be."

Back at the apartment, you’re more than happy to share this news with the guys. You pulled out the old blueprints—dusty, frayed at the edges, but still legible enough to make sense of. They’d been tucked away for years, a relic from when one of you managed to snag them from Piltover’s archives. As you spread the paper across the table, the lines and markings revealed exactly what you’d hoped for: the tunnel on Piltover’s side was labeled as a sewage system, but further down by the shoreline, it merged seamlessly with the ventilation tunnel that led up into Zaun’s upper levels.

The room grew quiet as everyone leaned in, taking in the implications.

“How bad’s the damage?” Vander asked, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. His brow furrowed with concern. “This girl, Victoria, said there’s a leak?”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to recall every detail Victoria had mentioned. “I’m not sure exactly. The tunnels are old, and if there’s a leak, it could be a serious issue. But if I can get in there with Connol and some of the other factory folks, we can probably assess the damage and figure out how to fix it.”

Vander gave you a curt nod, but the expression on his face told you he wasn’t completely satisfied. He was always cautious, always weighing the risks.

Silco, ever the skeptic, leaned forward, his sharp eyes fixed on you. “And your source can be trusted?” His voice was calm, but there was a glint of doubt in his gaze as he scribbled something into the worn pages of his notebook.

You met his gaze, unwavering. “I’d say so. She’s Bilgewater-folk, like me and Ma.” You paused, considering the weight of your words. "I trust her. She wouldn't steer me wrong."

Benzo let out a laugh, breaking the tension that had begun to build in the room. He threw an arm around you in a rough, familiar gesture, his grin wide and infectious. “Trust a gutter fish to be all tricksy-like,” he joked, the teasing tone in his voice lightening the mood. “Good find, Fishie.”

“If we’re able to get this into proper commission, this could change a lot of Zaun’s infrastructure. What if we—” Silco’s words were abruptly cut off as the door to the apartment swung open with a loud crash. The sudden intrusion startled everyone, and you all whipped around, trying to make sense of the noise.

Standing in the doorway, panting heavily and struggling to catch her breath, was Niya. She was disheveled, her work clothes torn and streaked with dirt, as if she’d sprinted across the entire length of Zaun. Her eyes were wide, panic etched across her face.

“What in the blazes—!” Benzo started, his voice rising in surprise and confusion.

Niya barely seemed to hear him as she staggered into the room, clutching her side and gasping for air. “Felicia, she–fuck that was a lot of stairs-she-” She made a sudden gagging sound, her body curling inward as if she was about to collapse. It was clear that she was exhausted, and something about her frantic movements made your gut twist with unease.

“Fel? What’s wrong with Fel?!” Vander sprang into action, running over to help Niya further into the apartment as she continued to hack up a lung. The moment his hands were on her, however, the poor girl all but collapsed into him.

“The baby!” Niya puttered out. “Fel, she-oh geez-went into labour!”

The apartment broke out into panic, all four of you crying out in different voices.

“The baby’s not due for another couple months!” Silco’s voice broke out against the panic.

“Seven weeks, but yeah. I know.” Niya gestured to herself, her breath still ragged. “You think I would’ve run all the way over here if it wasn’t an emergency?”

You felt your heart sink as you moved quickly to support her, taking her into your arms, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. “Niya, where is she?” The urgency in your voice was impossible to hide now.

She wiped a hand across her face, trying to push through her exhaustion. “We were at her place. Had a playdate scheduled. My niece, Skye, she—” She broke off, coughing harshly, and then continued, “She ran to get Dr. Yan.”

“And Connol?” Silco’s voice cut through the room, sharp and demanding.

Niya pointed back toward the door, her body still shaking. “Already ran and got him from Heisen’s factory. He should be with her by now.”

Vander, already moving, was the first to gear up. As he laced up his boots, his expression hardened, a stone wall of determination. His voice dropped into that deep, commanding tone that everyone knew meant business.

“We need to move, now!” Vander’s words were quick, measured. “Min, grab the first aid kit, painkillers, any medicine we’ve got. Benzo, emergency water, towels, matches—now! Move it!”

The adrenaline coursed through you, making everything seem sharper, faster, like your mind was suddenly running in overdrive. Your heart beat heavily in your chest as you sprang into action. Your legs felt like they were moving on their own, each step pulling you closer to where you needed to be. You bolted and grabbed the first aid kit, not bothering to check what was inside as you threw it into an old duffle bag. Then, you started grabbing anything else you could find—rubbing alcohol, numbing ointment, gauze strips, painkillers, and any other supplies that might come in handy.

Benzo was already ahead of you, throwing on his jacket and grabbing the emergency water, towels, and matches, his usual lighthearted demeanor gone. His face was set, and you knew that under all the humor, he was as serious as Vander right now.

“We’ve got that shipment coming in from Noxus tonight.” Benzo mentioned, handing Vander the supplies. “But only one of us has to be there to do the hand-off. I’ll meet you at Con and Fel’s.”

You shake your head, handing Silco your duffle. “Two of us go, just to be safe.

Silco’s sharp mind was already calculating their best route, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “Vander, Niya and I can take the path that lets up by Babette’s,” he said, looking over at you all. “If you take the route we take to Lou’s from the promenade, it’ll get you back to their apartment the fastest. Cuts through some of the alleyways, avoids main streets. You’ll be there in half the time than any of the main routes.”

Vander nodded, already moving toward the door. “Good, let’s go!”

***

The tradeoff had taken far longer than expected, and when you finally reached the apartment, Felicia’s piercing screams echoed down the hallway, sharp and urgent even from several doors away. Your steps quickened, Benzo muttering under his breath about the delay as the two of you pushed through the door.

Inside, the tension was palpable. Niya stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly as she glanced toward the bathroom door. The little girl at her side—her niece, Skye—clutched an old book to her chest, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. On the bed in the corner, Violet sat perched beside Vander, her legs swinging back and forth as he played with her and an old stuffed rabbit. The moment you stepped inside, she spotted you, her face lighting up like a candle.

“Auntie Min! Uncle Benzo!” Violet squealed, leaping from the bed and barreling toward you.

“Sorry we’re late!” Benzo panted as he stepped over the threshold, ruffling his hair with one hand. “Damn traders wouldn’t stop haggling, and then someone got knife-happy.”

You shrugged off your jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. “I got them to agree to the original price in the end, didn’t I?” you shot back, giving him a sideways glance. “How’s she doing?”

“No major updates yet,” Silco answered, his tone clipped but steady. “But we haven’t had to call in an emergency ride to the hospital, so that’s a good sign—for now.” His eyes darted to the bathroom door before returning to you, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

Violet reached you, arms outstretched, and you scooped her up effortlessly, her tiny frame folding into your chest. She wrapped her arms around your neck and squeezed tightly, her happiness contagious even in the heavy atmosphere.

“Auntie Min, look what Uncle Vander gave me!” Her little hands grasped a little golden amulet tied to a thin black cord around her neck. It was a simple piece of jewelry, but you recognized it easily as a bracelet that Vander liked to wear to important events.

“Wow! Look at that!” You smiled, your eyes casting over to Vander with a raised eyebrow. “That was very nice of him.”

Vander, standing nearby with a proud smile, nudged Violet gently and stepped over to the two of you. He wrapped a secure arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer.

"Tell Minnie what I told you when I gave it to you, kiddo," he prompted, his voice warm and encouraging.

"Umm... if I'm gonna be a big sister..." Violet said really slow, her eyebrows all scrunched up like she was thinking hard. "I gotta remember to take care of them. And... this is gonna be a thing that helps me remember!". She leaned back just a little, her face lighting up with a wide, toothy grin as she looked up at you. Her excitement was so pure, so full of love, that it was impossible not to smile in return. That bright smile, filled with so much promise and joy, made your heart melt in a way nothing else could. You gave her a little extra squeeze and a kiss to the forehead before setting her down.

“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Luv,” Benzo replied, stepping in for a quick high-five that made her giggle.

“Is Dr. Yan in there with your parents?” he asked, motioning to the closed bathroom door.

Violet nodded, her bright pink locks bouncing with the movement as she pointed toward the door. “Mommy’s been in there a long time.”

“These things take time, little one,” Silco said gently as you brushed her hair back from her face. You could feel her energy, her eagerness, and a touch of nervousness beneath it all. She clung to you like a lifeline, her small fingers gripping your shirt.

From the corner, Vander cleared his throat, catching your attention. He looked calm but watchful, his hand resting on the children’s book he’d set aside. “Felicia’s tough. She’ll pull through,” he said in his steady, reassuring tone.

Benzo nodded, his jaw tightening. “She’s tougher than most of us, that’s for damn sure.”

The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, and the room seemed to tighten with anticipation. The low hum of voices behind the door grew, rising and falling in strange patterns, and then it happened—the crescendo of frantic, desperate cries, followed by an eerie, sudden silence. The apartment held its breath. Time itself seemed to stop. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on that door, waiting for the next sound, the next moment, but it was as if the world itself was waiting to exhale.

And then… the sharp, unmistakable wail of a baby filled the space, raw and full of life. It was a sound so powerful it seemed to shake the air itself.

“Oh, thank the gods…” Niya let out a long, relieved sigh, her head falling forward as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from her shoulders. Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion, the tension that had coiled in her body for so long finally unraveling. Skye gently placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder.

Vander chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that filled the room with warmth. “It’s got a set of lungs, that’s for damn sure.” His voice cracked with genuine amusement, and he gave a small shake of his head, still eyeing the door as though waiting for the next sound, the next sign. Violet, unable to contain her excitement any longer, made a move toward the door. Her small feet pounded against the floor, eager to see her new sibling. But before she could take another step, Vander was there, quick as ever, sweeping her up into his arms with a gentle but firm grip. "Not yet, kiddo," he said, his voice soft but clear. "You’ve gotta wait for your parents to let you in on their own time. Okay?" Violet pouted slightly, her small lips curling into a frown, but she nodded, her eyes still trained on the door.

And wait you all did, for yet another set of long moments, Felicia’s cries now replaced with that of the infant. The rest of the group tried to busy themselves as best as they could—Benzo and Skye even began washing some of the dishes that had been left in the sink, their clattering almost a distraction from the tension hanging in the air.

Violet, content to be held by Vander, made faces at him, trying to distract herself. Conversations about business and idle chatter filled the gaps between those breaths, but none of it mattered. Not really. You couldn’t escape the waiting, the anticipation. Everyone in the room had been drawn into the same orbit, eyes occasionally drifting toward the door, hearts waiting for the next moment to arrive.

And then, with a soft creak, the door to the bathroom opened. The room fell utterly silent, as if the very air had been sucked out of the space. All eyes turned toward Connol, who stood in the doorway.

He looked dazed, weary, his face a mix of exhaustion and elation. His hand rubbed over his face, as if to wipe away the tension of the past hours. For a split second, panic flared in your chest—something about the way he looked, so tired and worn, unsettled you. But then he looked up at all of you, his eyes catching yours, and he smiled.

“It’s a girl!”

The apartment erupted in a wave of cheers and clapping, the tension finally breaking as everyone poured out their relief and joy. Vander and Silco both lunged at Connol, enveloping him in an enthusiastic embrace that was almost too aggressive for the moment, clapping him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him over. Connol, despite his exhaustion, laughed, wrapping his arms around them in return.

Violet, who had been playing with Vander, was suddenly all movement. She wriggled free from Vander’s grasp and darted across the room, her small legs carrying her quickly toward her father. Connol, still smiling wide, scooped her up into his arms, pressing a kiss to her hair and snuggling her closer to his chest. She giggled, the joy on her face as radiant as his.

“Are they both okay?” Silco asked, his voice a little rough with concern as he gripped Connol’s shoulder tightly.

“They’re fine! Perfectly fine!” Connol grinned, shifting Violet to his hip as he addressed the room. His voice was brimming with pride. “Yan wants to keep the baby in an incubator for a few days just to be sure, that’s where she is now. She might have a little trouble breathing, but…” He paused, looking down at Violet, then back at the others. “They’re both going to be okay.”

Violet’s eyes widened, her small hands tugging at Connol’s shirt. “Can I see Mommy now?” she asked, her voice filled with the kind of innocence and urgency that only a child could muster.

From behind the bathroom door, Felicia’s voice echoed out, soft but clear, though tinged with exhaustion. “You promise to be gentle and careful, sweetie,” she said. “Especially around the incubator.”

Yan poked his head out from the bathroom, his weathered face creased with lines that spoke of years spent helping others. He gave the room a reassuring smile. “The bleeding is minimal now, so long as Violet can handle a little post-birth gore,” he added with a knowing chuckle.

“I can handle it! I can handle it!” Violet exclaimed, twisting and wiggling her way out of Connol’s arms before taking off in a full sprint toward the bathroom. Connol watched her with a mixture of amusement and pride, a soft laugh escaping his lips. His eyes softened as he let out a long, weary sigh.

“Seven weeks early…” he muttered, his tone low, his hand rubbing his tired eyes. “I’ll admit, I was terrified.”

Silco, ever the steady presence, gave Connol’s shoulder another pat, his expression serious but supportive. “Yan’s practically delivered every baby in the Lanes for the past 20 years. They were in good hands,” he said, offering his usual reassurance.

“I know, but still…” Connol trailed off, his voice still carrying the weight of the fear he’d carried with him through the night. Then, as if a thought suddenly struck him, he turned his gaze toward Silco and Niya, who had been talking quietly in the kitchen. “Actually, speaking of being in good hands…” he started, his tone shifting to something more deliberate. “Fel and I were talking, and… we want you two to be her godparents. With Vander and Min being Violet’s, it just felt right, you know?”

Niya’s eyes widened in disbelief. She nearly squealed as she stepped forward. “Are… are you serious?” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with excitement. “Oh my goodness, Con! I don’t even know what to say!”

Silco, his usual calm demeanor never faltering, smiled warmly and extended his hand toward Connol. “I think I speak for both of us when I say we’d be honored, and we won’t disappoint. She’s in good hands, I swear it.”

Then, as Connol took his hand into a firm handshake, Silco paused, “Does she, uh…you know, does she have a name?”

Connol’s smile widened. “We talked about that, too. We were waiting to decide when she came out but,” he gave a nod, his expression full of love and certainty. “Powder. Her name is Powder.”

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