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Vander had taken a break, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, trailing kisses along the nape of her neck. "Already tired? Oops, I guess big Vander's getting old," she teased, laughing and turning to hug him, sighing heavily.

"We're almost done, today's been too busy." He nodded, completely agreeing with her, then leaned in close to her ear, so close she could feel his warm breath: "Besides, old? Are you serious, you think I'm old already?" he asked indignantly, raising an eyebrow. There was no real anger in his words, just playfulness, and she knew it.

"Tonight I'll show you I'm not as old as you think," he finished whispering, and she felt a hot shiver run through her, making her tremble and laugh nervously: "Sure, I'd like to see that."

She pulled away from Vander almost clumsily, laughing nervously and a little worried. She was just minding her own business, deep in thought, when a soft "Excuse me, excuse me" made her look up at a cute young woman who had entered with a giant beside her. Vander automatically moved to stand by reader side.

"Oh, welcome to The Last Drop, I've never seen you around here, are you new?" she asked enthusiastically, offering her hand to greet her.

She was a pretty, very young, well-groomed girl, who didn't even look like she was from Zaun, but rather from Piltover. She was also very shy; the reader noticed it the moment she shook her hand and introduced the guy next to her as her boyfriend. "Oh, he's so big for a tiny thing like you," the reader joked, and that was enough to make the girl blush like a tomato.

And that was even funnier; her boyfriend was enormous. How tall was she? 5'5"? And he was surely 6'3", besides how burly he was. "Don't worry, it's a joke, it reminds me a lot of Vander and me when we were young," she said, trying to calm her down. Vander nodded in approval and then led the boyfriend to an empty table.

"Is something wrong? You look worried," the reader asked. The young woman sighed, clearly nervous. "I want to know, how you two do it," she asked timidly, and the reader tilted her head, confused. "You know, how do they have sexual relations?"

____ froze for a moment, not even knowing how to respond. She even stopped wiping the glass in her hand. "What did you say?" she replied with a frown, and the girl got even more nervous, especially since Vander had returned and was also staring.

"I... I want to know, I," she stammered, "how do you do it? How do you have relations if he's so big and you're so small!" she blurted out. Vander's face was priceless; there was a long pause. He looked at her with a mix of horror and embarrassment—an inexplicable and utterly hilarious blend of emotions.

___ burst out laughing and picked up her glass again. "Don't let him be on top the first time, and you'll be very happy, understand?" she replied calmly, winking. Vander, on the other hand, was now staring at her like she was a spectacle. "Love, how can you say such things" he growled through gritted teeth, thoroughly mortified.

"Don't listen to Vander, okay? Listen to me, I had to tame the beast. Look, if you think you can't handle his weight for a few minutes, it's better not to let him be on top for a while," she said again. Vander pulled her arm as if to say, "Stop now, right now, love," and ___ shook her head with a wide smile, remembering when she first started dating Vander and how awkward it had been.

He was a beast—what could you expect from a man who fought and worked in the mines? He thought she was a rag doll or something. That's why she was giving the girl advice; she didn't want her to feel bad doing it.

"And set boundaries—very important. Tell him what you'd like or wouldn't like. Big men like to fall on top of you and crush you after an orgasm, right, Van..." He didn't even let her finish before pulling her arm and hiding her behind his back. It was clear how annoyed and uncomfortable he was.

"Alright, no more talking. Come back later for more advice, not today," he said in a rough tone, almost growling in her face. ___ sighed in defeat, crossing her arms and frowning: "That's rude, Vander!"

"I told you to stop," he growled dryly, and you almost broke the bottle in his face: "Don't talk to me like that, okay?" you retorted quickly.

"No more advice, no more talking about our intimacy, no more of this," he whispered close to your face, then sighed and pinched his temple: "I just didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, as uncomfortable as I felt when we did it the first time, I wish I had asked someone."

On the other hand, Ekko was an angel compared to the demons Vander had for children; Ekko was a saint. Such a sweet boy, so polite and loving towards her that she quickly took him in as her own son and guarded him under her wing, showering him with love and gifts to heal all the wounds he carried after the death of his parents.

The Reader, if you let her, could spend hours and hours talking about her family, like how Ekko got hurt the other day and she stayed to take care of him all day, or how Benzo gave her a new rare item instead of selling it. They are her greatest pride.

For her, Ekko was the definition of salvation. Benzo and she had tried to have children without success, and when they met Ekko, they instantly knew their time to be parents had come.

She usually keeps Benzo company, helps him with the business, and kicks out those who try to trick her because, according to them, 'she looks too naive.' In the end, it's just another funny anecdote for dinner. She also spends her days taking care of Ekko and raising him so that one day, he might find a better place far from Zaun. She always finds time for him to study: "You're so good at this, honey, what a handsome and intelligent boy I have, I feel so lucky," she says sweetly, giving Ekko a big hug with that overflowing maternal love.

Benzo, Ekko, and she were a not-so-traditional family. Benzo and she often looked like just a couple of friends or lovers, always in a corner laughing and flirting with each other, always giving each other little gifts whenever they could. Many times, when a new client walked in, they'd find them dancing while passing the time or wrapped in a hug: "Oh, I'm sorry, these young lovers nowadays, right?", the Reader would say with a laugh as she hurried to attend to the customer.

You know he loves you. He doesn't show it with words, but his actions are all you need to reaffirm it. You argue often, it's inevitable, but after that and his incredibly busy day, he comes into the room and hugs you, sighs heavily, and buries his head in your neck. His soft breathing and his heartbeat seem to synchronize with yours: "I know you're not going to apologize, now take off your clothes and come to sleep," you whisper to him, and he does it. That's his apology, and it's become a habit.

The next day, a huge bouquet of flowers and roses adorns the room's table with a letter that simply reads: "I love you," nothing more.

Crocodile is one of those men who gives you everything. Whatever you want, he'll give it to you. He doesn't care if you want to work or earn money on your own; he'll keep giving you money and the most expensive gifts, like countless jewels with precious stones whose names you don't even know. But don't even think that with those gifts will come cute nicknames; he simply calls you: "Hey, woman," and according to him, that's sweet enough.

He likes to see you well-dressed and happy. He listens, or pretends to listen, when you go to his office and talk about all sorts of things while he works. He lets you wear his coats, and when he's in a very good mood, he lets you sit on his lap and accompany him in silence while he finishes. But not everything is happiness: "For God's sake, you're so annoying, woman!" you hear repeatedly from him during the week when you're too cheerful or expressive. Other times, you're met with his contempt or him looking at you with that typical expression of disdain he always has: "No! Don't look at me like that, Sir Crocodile," you exclaim, annoyed, drawing a mocking smile from him.

He actually likes your stubbornness and lack of fear; it's interesting to see something different once in a while, like when you argue because he hasn't paid you enough attention that day or because he ignored you when you told him to do something. He finds it somewhat exciting, one could say. He smirks and exhales cigar smoke in your face to irritate you even more: "Yeah? And what else, honey?" he asks, leaving a long pause to give you a new nickname. He knows very well that this will calm you down and exasperate you with such an affectionate nickname: "I hate you", you reply, pulling away and ending the conversation.

Crocodile isn't jealous, but if someone messes with you, they magically disappear or appear with a completely desiccated arm. If you ask, it was a coincidence; if you insist further, he shrugs and smiles, saying, "they deserved it." He believes everyone should respect you as they respect him, especially his subordinates.

Reader, is always there for all her children; she takes her time with each one and knows how to treat them. Between her, Vander, and the kids, she's the the balance between a fun and a strict upbringing. She's a firm believer that children need to go out and have fun for a while without causing trouble. If they have minor problems, she'll soften Vander's punishment towards the children, but if it's something very serious, she will obviously scold them for putting their lives in danger.

Every morning, she gets up early to make breakfast for everyone. Mylo likes oatmeal, Powder likes waffles, Claggor likes scrambled eggs, and Vi needs a full breakfast because she's so active she needs to eat more. She always remembers that.

She worries about them and tries to be present whenever they want to tell her a secret, or come to her to solve a problem or seek affection. She loves it when they want her to pamper them; when she hugs them, she feels so happy and at peace that she melts from all the love and tenderness they give her.

Every day, she reminds them how much she loves each of them and how proud she is of them. Many times, they find her thinking about how much the children have grown or looking at the drawings Powder makes, representing her as a simple line and Vander as a circle: "Is that how you see Vander and me?", reader asks, laughing, and pats her on the head. Then, magically, a new drawing appears hanging on the drink shelf; anyone who laughs at her baby's drawing will face a furious mother.

And speaking of furious mothers, she is one of them. She would give everything for her family, protecting them like a mother bear guards her cubs. No matter how formidable her opponent, anyone who wishes to experience her wrath only needs to mock her family.

Also, every night she reads them stories and tells them about all the mischief she and Vander got into when they were younger. Other times, she falls asleep with them or lets them into her and Vander's room in the middle of the night. The result? A Vander almost thrown off the bed and with muscle aches the next day: "I'm sorry, honey", she says.

Reader, truly loved her children; she gave up her dreams of having her own to care for those wonderful kids. She pampered them, told them how much she loved them, bought them gifts, and encouraged them to be better people. She took time out of her free time to be with them, go for walks, or do family activities. Everything was perfect. Even when they were sick, she never stopped caring for them, staying up late and waking up early to check on them. Vander would always tell her: "Love, come rest, you'll get sick too," and she would refuse, believing no one could take better care of her children than herself.

Vander, he always makes sure you're okay, he doesn't let you carry heavy things, he doesn't let you spend too many hours bartending or doing too many things in general, but you're so stubborn that you refuse to listen to him, saying: "I'm pregnant, not sick, Vander!". He always, always laughs out loud when you tell him that, a dry, resigned laugh, and then? Then he makes you sit down, kisses you on the forehead, and goes back to tending bar.

Vander, he's the kind of husband who's always touching your belly when he has free time. He loves seeing you pregnant, with your huge belly and walking around like a penguin when it's trying to escape. "You look too beautiful my love". He tells you this as he kisses you on the face and stops at your forehead to give you one last kiss on the back of your neck.

When he sees you worried while looking in the mirror, he hugs you from behind, kisses the back of your neck and encourages you with his sweet words: "You're pregnant, remember? It's normal to gain weight, honey.", whispers softly.

He accepts your mood swings with a maddening ease. Sometimes they're so silly that he simply takes a deep breath and walks away to keep you from getting too stressed, but other times, when he's in a better mood, he laughs softly and hugs you, promising that everything will change and that he'll never make you angry or sad again. And if that weren't enough, he pampers you by promising to take a walk around the block.

The same goes for strange cravings, he looks at you with some understanding and fear: "This will end in nausea, stomach pain or directly vomiting, wrist pain." Vander tells you, looking with some disgust at the new combination, straight from hell. If it ends in vomit, he sighs and says "I knew it", for himself and then accompanies you to the bathroom to help you in any way he can.

And at night? Vander He takes all the time in the world to listen to you and talk to the baby. He lets you talk about how the baby kicks a lot at night and is very quiet in the morning. He listens to you talk about how your feet are swollen or how you dropped something new under the bed and he'll have to go find it. "So the baby is misbehaving with his mom, maybe you should talk to the baby or babies.", he says jokingly causing you to punch him in the arm: "¡Not! Not twins!" You responded immediately with some concern: "It's just a huge belly, you're big, they're not twins!", ends quickly almost on the verge of tears.

He lets you sleep on top of him, curled up or in any position that is comfortable enough for you to sleep that day, since you are a very light sleeper: "You woke up...again, come go back to sleep, doll."