#vastaya!reader

• Nobody understands how you and Sevika ended up together. You’re all sunshine, excitement, and endless optimism. She’s intimidating, grumpy, and looks like she’d rather bite someone than speak to them. The running joke around Zaun is that Sevika accidentally adopted you and somehow ended up married instead.

• You make friends everywhere. It doesn’t matter whether someone is a bartender, a chem-runner, a gang member, or an old woman feeding pigeons. Within five minutes you’re chatting away like you’ve known them for years. Half the people in Zaun know you by name, and the other half have probably been given a compliment by you at some point.

• You genuinely see the best in everyone. Sometimes to a frustrating degree. Someone is rude and you assume they’re having a bad day. Someone steals from you and you’re worried they must have been desperate.

Sevika thinks you’re far too trusting, but she also secretly adores that you’ve managed to stay kind despite growing up in Zaun. She loves watching people visibly relax around you and she loves that you never expect anything in return for your kindness.

• Sevika has absolutely no resistance when it comes to you. Nobody else gets away with half the things you do. You’ll interrupt important conversations to show her a particularly friendly pigeon, drag her across a market because you saw something interesting, or climb into her lap in the middle of the Last Drop. The most you’ll get is a grumble before she pulls you closer.

• Physical affection is your favourite thing in the world. If Sevika is sitting down, you’re attached to her somehow. The regulars at the Last Drop are completely used to seeing you perched on her lap while she drinks or standing behind her chair with your arms wrapped around her shoulders and your cheek resting against her head.

If you wander away for too long, her hand is already reaching for you the moment you come back within arm’s reach, settling you against her like it’s second nature.

• Ear scratches are your greatest weakness. The first time Sevika discovered it was an accident. One brush of her fingers behind your ear and you practically melted into a puddle against her side. Now she uses that information constantly.

Bad day? Her fingers find your ears. Feeling anxious? Gentle scratches and slow strokes through your hair. Falling asleep on her shoulder? She keeps one hand absentmindedly rubbing behind your ears. You’re mad at her? Somehow, a few minutes later, you’re leaning into her touch before you even realise she’s winning.

She’ll never admit how much she enjoys watching you completely forget what you were saying halfway through.

• You have a habit of collecting people. Strays, lonely regulars at the Last Drop, neighbours, random children, injured animals. If something looks sad, you want to help it. Sevika has come home more than once to find you’ve somehow acquired another creature that now apparently lives with you.

• Sometimes people make comments about you being a canine Vastaya. Most stop the moment Sevika looks at them, but occasionally someone is stupid enough to keep going.

What hurts isn’t usually the insult itself. It’s the fact that you genuinely don’t understand why someone would want to be unkind. Sevika hates seeing that look on your face. The confused, wounded expression when you’re trying to figure out why somebody chose cruelty.

She always shuts it down immediately and makes it very clear that nobody gets to speak about her wife that way.

• Sevika is fiercely protective of you, though not because she thinks you’re weak. You’re more than capable of handling yourself. She just can’t stand seeing people take advantage of your good nature. She knows exactly how soft your heart is and she’ll gladly become the villain of the story if it means protecting it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The years go by and Viktor's illness progresses slowly. Some years it stays stagnated, in others it progresses rapidly.

And you're there for every second of it.

While Viktor works away in a lab with his partner Jayce trying to improve the world in the one way he's confident in, through science; you work at a small but well-known boutique in Piltover. The academy is most notably known for their STEM programs, but there's a multitude of others to choose from. Architecture, anthropology, culinary, mixology, english, politics, cosmetology. You name it, the academy has it. So you chose fashion design.

The only reason you've even been given this opportunity is because of Viktor. Heimerdinger was desperate to make Viktor his protege, but Viktor had one demand. You'd be able to come with him.

Heimerdinger couldn't refuse.

So it’s no surprise when you get a call at work and damn near drop the phone in a panic. It’s a clinic, Viktor’s their patient, he fainted, you're his emergency contact on file, he wants to see you.

Your co-worker can already tell something is wrong and ushers you to leave. “I can hold the shop down no problem. Go deal with your emergency.”

You thank her profusely as you rush to the clinic, your hind legs much stronger than a humans; you get there in half the time.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor looks so small in the bed. A nasal cannula in his nose giving him a steady stream of light oxygen. His skin is even paler and he has a smidge of dried blood on the philtrum below his nose.

You grab a moist towlette and go to clean the blood with a small, “How’re you feeling?”

A small chuckle escapes the man before a coughing fit erupts from his chest. You hastily bring over his cup of water and help him drink it, not wanting him to get his hospital gown wet.

“I’m doing better than I was about an hour ago. I finally convinced Jayce to go home to sleep.”

Your ear flicks in annoyance as your eyebrows furrow, “How long have you been here?”

Viktor purses his lips and looks away from you.

“Viktor.”

“A few hours.”

“What! And I'm just getting called now?! Viktor!”

“If I had it my way, you wouldn't have been called at all!”

You reel back at that, you can feel your eyes stinging.

“The nurse said you wanted to see me.”

Viktor sighs, relaxing back into the bed as best he can, “I did, I do want to see you. But I don't want you to see me like this.”

“Tired?”

“Dying.”

The look of resignation on Viktors face pulls at your heartstrings. He looks so downtrodden. So tired.

You cup one of Viktor's hands in your own, “You said that you and Jayce found something with the hexcore. Maybe that's the key! It saved that plant, it could save you too.”

Viktor sighs, “I don't know why you've stuck by my side for so long. I'll be nothing more than a blip in your lifetime. An insignificant speck in your story.”

The grip you have on Viktor's hand tightens, “Because you're my best friend and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You smile lightly and shake your head, “No Viktor, I love you. I'd rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone. Who cares if my lifespan is longer than yours? You act like I won't follow you. Like I wouldn't fight all the gods to get you back. And if that wasn't an option, we’d be together forever in the cosmos. It’s you and me, together and always.”

Viktor sits there stunned as you look at him with all the love you have tucked away in your heart, and it’s quite a lot.

You shuffle slightly on the wooden chair, you feel like you're going to throw up due to the nerves, “…Are you going to say something?”

But Viktor isn't a talker, he's a doer. So he shows you the best way he can.

He leans forward and kisses you. It's the most passionate, loving, all-consuming kiss you've ever experienced. When the two of you eventually pull away, you're left speechless and you swear your eyes have hearts in them. You know for a fact your pupils that are typically slits are completely blown out now.

A purr encapsulates the room and Viktor smugly cozies himself back into his bed. You feel your face heat up as you hold yourself back from throttling him. Purring is very special. Very few people get to hear a vastaya purr, and once Viktor heard about the specialty and connected the dots on how often you purred around him, he made it a game to see how quickly he could get you to make that wonderful sound.

This is the quickest way by far.

“Have I ever told you how much I like cats?”

You smile fondly at the man, cupping his face with one of your hands, “Once, the day we met.”

Viktor hums, “You’ll be hearing me say it a lot more now.”

A loud laugh escapes you and Viktor looks at you with nothing but love.

“Do I have any competition with the stray cat you feed by our apartment?”

“No. Blitzcrank is a menace, he’s more like our sucky child. You’re my favourite.”

You huff at him as your purrs pick up in volume, the kiss you plant on his cheek is full of possessiveness, “I better be.”

“You are, darling. You are.”

You sat perched on the edge of his desk, tail flicking idly as you watched him. Every now and then, the sound of metal clicking against metal caught your ear, and you twitched slightly in response. But more than anything, you were captivated by the way Jayce worked—the way his fingers brushed over the components, the way he exhaled through his nose in a quiet sigh when things didn’t quite go his way.

He sighed again, this time deeper, before finally setting the tool down with a dull thud. He rubbed his temple, muscles tense with exhaustion. "This thing’s being stubborn," he muttered, running a hand through his thick brown hair before turning to you with a tired but warm smile. "Sorry, I’ve been working on this all night. I probably should’ve taken a break."

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. His shoulders were tense, his eyes slightly hazy with fatigue. He always pushed himself too hard.

A soft sound escaped you before you could even register it. A low, deep, rumbling purr.

Jayce froze.

Your eyes widened in realization, and you clamped your mouth shut immediately. Your tail fluffed up slightly in mild horror, and you could feel your ears burning with embarrassment.

You had never purred around him before.

Not once—not even when he absentmindedly scratched behind your ears in a way that made your whole body melt. Not even when he pulled you into his lap on colder nights, his warmth seeping into your skin as he held you close. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—you did, more than anyone. But purring was intimate. It was instinctual. Something that Vastaya did only when they felt completely safe.

And you had just done it.

In front of Jayce.

You could feel his gaze burning into you, his body rigid with surprise.

"Did you just… purr?" Jayce asked, his voice dangerously close to teasing.

Your ears flattened against your head. "No."

His lips twitched upward. "You totally did."

"I did not," you huffed, turning your head away, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you.

Jayce chuckled, leaning forward, his arm resting on the desk beside you. "I dunno…" he mused, grinning. "It definitely sounded like a purr."

"You're hearing things."

Jayce smirked, and before you could react, his fingers reached out, brushing gently under your chin—just barely. It wasn’t enough to tickle, but it was enough to make your chest rumble again.

You shut your mouth instantly, mortified.

His grin widened. "Oh, that was definitely a purr."

"Jayce," you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "Drop it."

But instead of teasing further, he reached out, carefully prying your hands away from your face. His expression softened, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles over the back of your hand.

"Hey," he said, voice quiet and sincere now. "I think it’s cute." You hesitated, peeking up at him. "Actually, no," he amended, gaze warm. "It's more than cute. It means you feel comfortable with me, right?"

You swallowed, your tail flicking behind you. Finally, you nodded slightly. "...Yes."

A warmth spread through his chest at your quiet admission. He had never expected to be granted such a rare and intimate part of you, but knowing that you trusted him this much made his heart ache in the best way.

"Then I feel honored," he murmured, voice gentle.

You expected a teasing remark, maybe another smug grin—but instead, his eyes held something deeper, something raw and genuine. His fingers tightened around yours, his thumb tracing lazy patterns along your skin as if committing the moment to memory.

Your tail curled slightly, your ears twitching as you let out a breath. And before you could stop yourself…

You purred again.

This time, Jayce exhaled a soft laugh—not mocking, not teasing, just fond. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him with ease, his warmth swallowing you whole. His chin rested against the top of your head, his voice vibrating against your skin as he whispered,

"You have no idea how much I love that."

A quiet sigh left your lips as you melted into him, your purrs resonating through the still air, steady and warm. If this was how he reacted, maybe purring around Jayce wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybe it was just another way of saying I love you.

VIKTOR

The steady click of Viktor’s cane echoed through the dimly lit hallway, a familiar rhythm that signaled his return. You had always found comfort in that sound—an indication that the brilliant inventor was coming home.

The scent of rain lingered on his coat as he pushed open the door to your shared apartment. The space was small but warm, a quiet sanctuary away from the chaos of Piltover’s progress. A fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering golden light across the walls. Books and blueprints were scattered across the table, but the chaos had a certain order—Viktor’s order.

And there, curled up on the couch, waiting for him, was you.

Your ears flicked at the sound of the door creaking open, and your tail swayed lazily over the cushions. “You’re late,” you murmured, stretching like a cat basking in sunlight.

Viktor let out a breathy chuckle, shutting the door behind him. He removed his coat and draped it over the chair before easing himself into it with a practiced motion. He stretched his aching leg, rubbing absently at his thigh before glancing toward you. “You waited for me,” he mused, a hint of something warm beneath his tired voice.

"Always." You shifted to sit up properly, the flick of your tail betraying your contentment at having him home.

He gave you a small, exhausted smile, his golden eyes soft as he studied you. “And how was your day, my feline muse?”

You smirked, watching him with sharp yet affectionate eyes. “Quieter than yours, I bet.” Your keen senses picked up the strain in his posture, the way his fingers trembled slightly from overuse. He had worked himself to exhaustion again, hadn’t he?

With a quiet sigh, you slipped from the couch, padding over to him on silent feet. Viktor’s breath hitched slightly when you knelt beside his chair, your hands gently pushing his own away so you could take over, rubbing slow, careful circles over his aching thigh. You knew he wouldn’t complain, but he never stopped you, either.

A deep exhale escaped him, his body slowly relaxing under your touch. “You always know what to do,” he mused, voice laced with admiration.

You smirked, ears twitching. “I am a Vastaya, love. I read people better than books.”

He hummed in amusement, but his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, letting himself simply exist in the comfort of your presence. The tension in his muscles gradually eased, his body unconsciously leaning into your warmth.

And then—unexpectedly, unintentionally—you purred.

A deep, soothing rumble vibrated from your chest, slipping past your throat as naturally as breathing. It was instinctual, your body reacting to his presence, to the comfort of having him close. The moment you realized, your eyes widened, and you clamped a hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

Viktor, however, froze. His golden eyes snapped open, surprise flickering across his face. Then—slowly, hesitantly—a smile spread across his lips.

“Was that… you?” he asked, voice tinged with wonder.

You groaned, ears flattening against your head. “I—no, I mean—yes, but—Ugh, I didn’t mean to—”

“You purred,” he interrupted, his voice carrying something tender, fascinated. He reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek, tilting your face toward his. “For me?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. “I—well, yeah,” you mumbled. “It just… happened.”

Viktor’s expression softened, and for a moment, he simply studied you—his brilliant mind, so often lost in theories and equations, entirely focused on you. Then, to your shock, he let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb stroking gently over your skin.

“I think it is the most wonderful sound I have ever heard,” he murmured.

Your ears twitched, caught between embarrassment and affection. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me,” he teased, his tone gentle, adoring. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your forehead, and the warmth of the simple touch sent another purr vibrating through your chest.

This time, you didn’t stop it.

Viktor’s chuckle was soft, a breath of warmth against your skin. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, letting you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, grounding and real.

“I could get used to this,” he mused, voice quiet but laced with genuine affection.

You smirked, nuzzling into him, allowing your tail to curl loosely around his leg. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep making me purr, won’t you?”

Viktor’s golden eyes gleamed, mischief and adoration swirling within them. “A challenge I will gladly accept.”

And in that quiet moment, amidst the warmth of your shared home, the hum of rain against the window, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you purred again—this time, for him alone.

JAYVIK

The warmth of the bed wrapped around you like a gentle cocoon, the familiar scent of oil, metal, and something faintly smokey mingling with your own scent as you rested between them. The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of Piltover’s lamps filtering through the curtains, casting long, golden streaks across the floor.

The city outside hummed quietly, distant and unobtrusive. Inside, the world had shrunk down to the slow rise and fall of breaths, the steady thrum of heartbeats, and the comfortable tangle of limbs beneath layers of soft sheets.

Viktor’s arms were loosely curled around your waist, his warmth steady against your back. His cane rested against the nightstand beside him, within easy reach, though he didn’t need it now—he wasn’t planning to move anytime soon. On your other side, Jayce lay just as close, one of his arms draped lazily over your hip, his large hand splayed possessively against your stomach, grounding you.

You felt safe here, enveloped in their presence, drifting in and out of sleep.

A soft, involuntary clicking noise escaped your throat as you nestled deeper into the blankets, the vibration humming through your chest. It was a sound of pure contentment, a telltale sign of comfort that neither of them had ever grown tired of.

Viktor’s lips quirked in amusement, eyes half-lidded as he listened. “She does that often,” he mused, voice hushed but warm.

Jayce let out a breathy chuckle, shifting slightly but careful not to disturb you. “Yeah. Means she’s happy, right?”

“Mm,” Viktor hummed in agreement, his accent making the sound richer, softer. “It is quite adorable.”

A moment of shared silence settled between them before Viktor’s hand lifted, fingers ghosting along the base of your ears. His touch was light, almost hesitant, before he gave in and began to stroke through your fur, moving slowly over the delicate curve of your ears and into your hair.

A shiver ran through you, but your body didn’t protest. If anything, the gentle touch lulled you deeper into that hazy warmth, the purring in your chest growing stronger. The sound vibrated softly against Viktor’s ribs, making him smile to himself.

Jayce’s grin widened as he watched the way your tail twitched beneath the blankets. “She’s gonna wake up soon,” he murmured, voice still laced with sleep. His free hand moved to brush his knuckles along your cheek, his touch warm and affectionate.

Viktor only smiled, continuing his slow, soothing strokes. The purring grew louder, rising and falling in rhythm with your breaths, a sound neither of them wanted to disturb.

Then, a soft flick of your ears. Your nose scrunched slightly before your eyes fluttered open, sluggish and unfocused. You made a sleepy, barely-audible noise before tilting your head into Viktor’s palm, instinctively seeking more of his touch.

“Good morning, miláček,” Viktor murmured, voice smooth with amusement as he rubbed a slow circle along your jaw. (Darling)

“Morning?” you mumbled drowsily, still caught in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness.

Jayce chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as his hand smoothed over your hip. “More like late night,” he corrected softly. “But you looked so comfy, we didn’t wanna wake you.”

You blinked slowly, the purring still rumbling from your chest, the sleep-heavy fog in your mind making everything feel soft and weightless. Viktor’s fingers trailed lower, slipping from your ears to your jaw, his touch gentle but firm.

“Mmm,” you hummed in response, stretching slightly before going boneless again, utterly relaxed.

Jayce’s hand squeezed at your waist before he leaned in, his nose brushing against your other ear as he exhaled a quiet laugh. “You’re purring louder than I’ve ever heard,” he teased, his voice low, affectionate.

Your eyes widened slightly, ears flicking backward as heat crept up your face. You hadn’t even realized you were purring that loudly—let alone that they could hear it so clearly. Your tail twitched beneath the blankets, curling slightly in an instinctive attempt to hide your flustered reaction.

“I—” You swallowed, face warming as you tried to tamp down the steady rumble in your chest. “It’s not that loud…” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Viktor chuckled, his other arm shifting slightly so he could rest his cane more comfortably against the headboard. “I suppose that means she enjoys it, no?” His tone was teasing but warm, and the way his fingers continued to stroke through your hair made it impossible to will away the purring completely.

Jayce grinned against your temple, clearly entertained by your sudden shyness. “Aww, she’s embarrassed,” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the side of your head. “That’s adorable.”

You groaned softly, ears flattening slightly as you buried your face against Viktor’s chest to hide your expression. But even as your embarrassment simmered, the steady, comforting weight of them around you kept you from pulling away.

Your tail flicked before curling lazily around Jayce’s leg beneath the blankets in silent surrender. Fine. They could tease. You weren’t going anywhere.

Neither of them stopped their gentle touches—Viktor’s fingers still combing through your hair, Jayce’s warmth pressing close.

You exhaled a slow, content sigh.

Here, wrapped in their arms, feeling the weight of their presence around you, you felt completely at ease.

You had no intention of moving anytime soon.

This was home.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

VANDER

The dim, golden light of the upstairs living area in The Last Drop cast long shadows against the worn wooden floors. It was peaceful up here, away from the raucous bustle of the bar below. This was their safe place, where the family gathered, away from the dangers of Zaun’s streets.

The scent of warm stew lingered in the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of aged whiskey from the shelves below. Vander had insisted on cooking tonight, waving off your protests with a smirk and a gruff, “Ya keep spoilin’ ‘em, love. Let me do it for once.” He’d grumbled about the old pot nearly burning the broth, muttering under his breath as he stirred, but the result was good—rich, warm, comforting. The kids had eaten heartily, the scrape of spoons against bowls interspersed with chatter and laughter.

Now, the evening had settled into something softer. Closer.

You sat on the couch, Powder nestled against your chest, her small fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the tufted fur at the end of your tail. She had always loved playing with it, absentmindedly twirling it around her fingers whenever she was close. Vi was sprawled on the floor beside the couch, arms crossed behind her head, staring at the ceiling as she listened to the others. Mylo and Claggor were huddled over a small game of dice, their occasional bickering punctuated by Claggor’s chuckles.

And Vander—ever the protector—leaned against the doorway with a satisfied hum, watching over all of you like a lion with his pride. His arms were crossed, but his stance was relaxed, that knowing look in his eyes as he observed, as if silently counting heads, making sure everyone was where they belonged.

Powder sighed against you, her cheek pressing into the fur along your collarbone. "You're so warm," she mumbled sleepily, her words slow and soft, as though she were already drifting. A tiny yawn followed.

You smiled, running your clawed fingers gently through her blue hair, careful of your nails. "That’s what fur is good for, little one."

Then it happened—without thinking, without stopping it—you purred.

A deep, reverberating sound started in your chest, thrumming through your body like a steady drumbeat, a sound of contentment and safety. It vibrated into Powder, who let out a sudden, high-pitched squeal of laughter.

"That tickles!" she giggled, her small frame shaking against you as she squirmed.

The entire room fell silent.

You froze.

Your ears twitched slightly, flicking toward Vi, who had bolted upright. Mylo's dice clattered to the floor, forgotten, as Claggor stared in fascination. And Vander—oh, that man—was watching you with an expression you couldn't quite place. Something warm. Something fond.

"You purred!" Powder announced, her voice bright with delight. She turned in your lap, peering up at you with wide, excited eyes. She poked your ribs gently, as if testing for more. "Do it again!"

A heat crept up your face, your ears flattening slightly in embarrassment. You hadn't meant to—it was just instinct, a natural reaction to holding someone close, to feeling safe.

Vander chuckled, stepping forward, his heavy footsteps slow and steady. He crouched beside the couch, resting a firm hand on your shoulder. "Didn’t know ya could do that," he murmured, voice low and amused. His thumb stroked absently along your fur, rough callouses against softness. "It’s nice."

"It's weird," Mylo added, tilting his head.

Vi smirked. "I think it’s cool."

Powder, still giddy, tugged at your sleeve. "Can I try?"

You let out a breath, glancing up at Vander. His gaze met yours, steady and reassuring, a silent encouragement. You sighed in defeat but couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at your lips as you curled your tail around Powder and started to purr again.

She howled with laughter this time, pressing her ear closer to your chest as if she could feel the sound even more. "It’s so funny!" she gasped between giggles. "It’s all rumbly!"

Vi and Claggor joined in, poking at your sides just to see if they could hear it again, while Mylo scoffed, trying to act unimpressed—but the way his ears perked up betrayed his curiosity.

Powder gasped suddenly, lifting her head. "Vander, you should try!"

You nearly choked.

Vander raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk curling his lips. "That so?" He shifted, leaning into you, pressing his ear against the side of your neck as if truly considering it. "Guess I gotta see what all the fuss is about."

Your tail flicked, slightly flustered, but you didn't stop purring—not when Powder was still laughing, not when Vi was grinning like this was the best entertainment she’d had all week, not when Claggor and Mylo had abandoned their game to watch.

Not when Vander—his warmth, his weight, his presence—was so close.

He hummed lowly, the sound deep in his chest. "Ain’t half bad," he admitted, voice gruff but gentle. His fingers traced absent patterns along your back, almost as if he were trying to match the rhythm of your purring. "Might put me to sleep if I sit here long enough."

Powder gasped dramatically. "No sleeping! You’re too big!"

Vander laughed, deep and warm, his chest vibrating against your shoulder. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you into his side effortlessly. “Looks like the kids are takin’ a likin’ to it,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. His beard brushed against your fur, rough but comforting, grounding. His voice dropped lower, just for you. "Never seen you do it before."

You hesitated, then leaned into him, letting his presence surround you. "Guess I never felt comfortable enough," you admitted. "Not until now."

Vander’s grip tightened ever so slightly, something unspoken in the way he held you. He exhaled through his nose, pressing another kiss—this one slower, more deliberate—against your temple. "Glad to hear it, love."

Then, to your horror, Powder poked Vander’s ribs.

He jerked slightly, eyes widening.

"Vander, do you purr?" she asked, tilting her head.

Vi cackled. "Yeah, come on old man, let’s hear it."

Vander scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned away, but Powder clung to him. "You’re big like a lion! You gotta have a big purr!"

"That ain’t how it works," he grumbled, but the way he pulled you closer to him contradicted the reluctance in his tone.

Powder wasn’t deterred. "I bet if you got comfy enough, you’d start purring too!"

"You really think so?" Claggor mused, rubbing his chin. "Maybe if we all piled on him—"

Vander immediately stood up, lifting you with him. "Not a chance," he said, though there was laughter in his voice.

The kids erupted into playful groans, Mylo muttering something about a wasted opportunity.

Vander simply shook his head, settling you against him as he walked toward the bedroom. "Think we’ve had enough excitement for one night," he murmured against your ear, his voice rough and fond. "C’mon, love. Let’s get some rest."

And as the kids finally quieted down, as Vander carried you to bed, as the warmth of the evening settled into something permanent, you knew—

You were home.

SILCO

The dim glow of the desk lamp bathed Silco’s office in a golden haze, casting elongated shadows against the worn wooden walls. The usual scent of ink and whiskey clung to the air, mingling with the faint trace of smoke from his ever-present cigar, though it had long since burned to embers in the ashtray. The quiet rustle of papers and the rhythmic scratching of his quill were the only sounds, save for the distant hum of the city outside—the heartbeat of Zaun pulsing beneath iron and stone.

Papers lay strewn across the desk, their edges curling slightly from the weight of ink and time. Silco worked with his usual efficiency, his quill gliding in deliberate strokes as he sorted through the endless demands of his empire. His focus was unwavering, his mind attuned to the ceaseless machinations that kept Zaun breathing beneath Piltover’s heel.

Beside him, she sat curled in the plush chair she had claimed as her own—the one positioned close enough to him that, even in silence, they shared a space neither intruded upon. Her feline grace was effortless, her body draped over the cushions like a creature of pure languid indulgence, yet she remained poised, every motion deliberate. The flick of an ear, the subtle twitch of her tail—all small, instinctive gestures that betrayed an awareness she did not need to voice.

Her tail, sleek and warm, had lazily coiled around his wrist, the tip resting just at the back of his hand. A silent claim. A tether.

Silco did not acknowledge it at first. He merely let it be, allowing her presence to weave itself into his own without resistance. It was only after several minutes that his thumb moved, slow and unhurried, tracing the velvety length of her tail in an absentminded rhythm. The gesture was unconscious yet reverent, an indulgence he hadn’t thought twice about taking.

The quill continued to glide over parchment, yet his other hand never stilled.

His touch was deceptively gentle. For a man known for cruelty, for precision and control, there was a tenderness in the way his fingers brushed over her fur, a slow, absent stroke meant for neither comfort nor distraction—simply a quiet acknowledgment of her presence.

Then, a sound broke the silence.

A soft, rolling purr vibrated through her chest, low and unbidden.

The first he had ever heard from her.

Silco’s quill stilled mid-word.

His lone eye flicked to her, searching, watching. The faintest hint of amusement curled at the edge of his lips, though it was tempered by something else—curiosity, perhaps, or something softer, something unspoken.

His thumb resumed its slow, deliberate motion along the curve of her tail, tracing the fine strands of fur with just enough pressure to feel the pulse beneath. This time, it wasn’t an unconscious movement. This time, he was savoring.

"You’ve never done that before," he murmured, voice low, roughened with the rasp of smoke and intrigue.

She blinked at him, her pupils dilating slightly in the dim light, ears flicking forward as if she, too, had surprised herself. But she did not pull away. If anything, her tail tightened around his wrist, just slightly, a silent invitation.

"And you’ve never stroked my tail like that before," she countered, voice velvety, teasing.

The smirk deepened at the corner of his lips, brief but present, as he gave a quiet, knowing chuckle. A rare sound.

Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the papers before him, quill moving once more, though his touch on her remained. The slow, hypnotic glide of his thumb continued, the subtle pressure shifting as he toyed with the strands of her fur, as if testing just how far he could push before she melted into him entirely.

And then, she purred again.

Softer this time. A hum of contentment meant only for him.

A sound that settled something deep within his chest.

Silco said nothing of it. But his grip around her tail, the way his fingers curled just slightly—possessive, claiming—spoke volumes.

She sighed, slow and deep, stretching her arms above her head before settling again, curling closer. He felt the whisper of her warmth at his side, the slight pressure of her arm resting against the edge of his desk.

“Comfortable?” he asked dryly, though there was no bite to it.

Her tail twitched in his grasp, teasing. “Mmhmm.”

His eye flicked to her briefly, amusement lingering in the sharp edges of his gaze. He should have been irritated by the distraction, by the way she made herself at home in his space. And yet, she was the only presence in his life that never demanded—never took, never schemed, never asked him to be anything other than what he was.

She simply was.

A rare, dangerous kind of intimacy.

The kind he should have resisted.

Instead, he allowed himself another indulgence—one more stroke along the length of her tail, one more moment where the weight of the world could wait just a little longer.

Her tail curled more securely around his wrist, her fingers tracing idle patterns along the edge of his desk. He could feel her gaze on him, half-lidded and lazy, though there was something behind it—an awareness, an understanding that stretched beyond words.

She had seen him in his worst moments, his darkest hours. The weight of his choices, the unrelenting pressure of leadership. Yet she never recoiled. Never flinched.

Perhaps that was what unsettled him most.

The knowledge that she saw him.

And still, she stayed.

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, but weighted in something neither of them dared name.

She purred again, softer this time, before shifting forward just enough to press her forehead against the edge of his shoulder—just a brief touch, a wordless acknowledgment before settling back into her seat.

Silco exhaled slowly, pressing his thumb just a fraction harder against the base of her tail before releasing her.

“Don’t get used to it,” he murmured, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him.

Her tail flicked, teasing, as she smirked. “Too late.”

And as the ink dried on his papers, as Zaun continued to burn and shift beyond the walls of his office, he let himself believe—just for a moment—that in this space, in this fleeting quiet, he was not alone.

JINX

Jinx had a habit of fidgeting. Whether it was twirling a wrench, spinning a bullet between her fingers, or bouncing her leg like she had too much energy for one body to contain, she never really stopped moving. But right now? She was still. For once.

The dim glow of neon lights from the workshop bathed the room in streaks of pink and blue, the soft hum of machinery serving as background noise. The chaos of Zaun was far away, and for the first time in a long time, Jinx was... calm.

All because of you.

You were curled up on her lap, tail lazily draped over the edge of the couch, ears twitching every now and then as her fingers idly scratched behind them. It had started out as a joke—Jinx had flopped onto the worn-out couch and patted her lap dramatically, fully expecting you to swat her away. Instead, you'd huffed, rolled your eyes, and plopped down, stretching out like a contented housecat.

At first, Jinx had cackled about it, teasing you with things like, "Awww, the kitty finally trusts me, huh?" But now, as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through your hair, the laughter had quieted into something softer, something almost... gentle.

It was rare to see Jinx this settled, her usual boundless energy dimmed to something quieter, something rare. The air smelled faintly of gunpowder and metal, mixed with the lingering scent of oil and whatever half-finished explosives Jinx had been working on before you arrived. It wasn’t the cleanest place, but it was warm. Cozy, even.

Then, it happened.

A low, deep rumbling sound vibrated from your chest, subtle at first but growing into a steady, rhythmic purr.

Jinx froze.

Her fingers stopped in your hair, and she blinked down at you, a slow, almost childlike grin creeping onto her lips.

"Wait. Was that you?"

You immediately tensed, ears flattening against your head.

"Shut up," you mumbled, voice muffled against her leg. You debated bolting right then and there, but Jinx’s grip was firm as she suddenly grabbed your cheeks, squishing them together with a dramatic gasp.

"Oh my God, you purr!?"

She sounded delighted. Not mocking, not teasing—just genuinely thrilled by the discovery. You groaned, trying to swat her hands away, but she was already giggling, shaking you lightly.

"This is the best day ever!" she declared, practically vibrating with excitement. "Why didn’t you tell me you could do that? I would’ve been petting you ages ago!"

You sighed, dragging a hand over your face. "Because this is exactly why."

Jinx didn’t seem to hear you, too busy wiggling in place as if she had just unlocked the world's greatest achievement. "D’you do this all the time? Like, when you're happy? Or when you're sleepy? Oh, oh! Can I make you do it again?"

"You ruined the moment," you grumbled, ears twitching in irritation.

"Aww, c’mon, don’t be a grump! Purr for me again, kitty-cat, I need to hear it!" She punctuated her words by aggressively ruffling your hair, laughing as you let out a half-hearted whine of protest.

"You’re worse than actual cats," you muttered, tail flicking against her stomach in annoyance.

Jinx gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart. "How dare! I am an excellent cat owner. If I had a cat. Which I don't. But if I did? It would love me. You love me."

You groaned. "Stop talking."

"But then how are you gonna purr again?" she sang, fingers wiggling as she hovered them over your ears like she was about to tickle you. "I gotta find the exact right spot—"

"Jinx, I swear—"

But her fingers returned, scratching gently at the base of your ears, trailing down to stroke your hair, and despite yourself, you felt it again—the warmth, the relaxation, the way your body betrayed you and melted into the touch.

It was quiet for a long moment, save for the steady hum of Zaun outside.

Then, reluctantly, barely even audible—

Purr.

Jinx gasped, eyes sparkling like she had just witnessed an explosion go off in the best way possible. "I knew it!"

You groaned again, dragging your hands over your face, but there was no escaping the inevitable.

"Professor Y/N?" Jayce called out after a moment, his voice cutting through the silence of the room, though it was softer than usual. He hadn’t intended to startle her, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Y/N slowly turned, her gaze meeting his for the first time. Her eyes were a striking amber that seemed to glow faintly in the light of the room. She blinked, her lips curling into a soft smile as if she hadn’t been surprised to find him standing there. The warmth of her expression gave him an immediate sense of ease, though his mind was still racing with questions.

"Ah, Jayce, I see you’ve found me," she said, her voice melodic, almost ethereal in its softness, as if each word held its own weight. She wiped her hands on her apron and straightened, stepping away from the canvas. "But please, Y/N is fine. I am not a fan of titles."

Jayce shifted, feeling slightly flustered—this was his own academy, and yet, in this moment, he felt entirely out of his element. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he began, his voice carrying the hint of apology. “I just... heard about you, and thought I’d come by and see your work for myself.”

Y/N tilted her head, her feline features accentuating the gesture. “Ah, you’ve heard the rumours then,” she said, her tone light, with a playful undercurrent that was as mysterious as it was captivating. “There’s no need to be shy. Art is meant to be shared, after all.”

Jayce stepped fully into the room, trying to act as though he wasn’t mesmerised by the scene before him. But the sight of her work—alive with vibrant colours, hues of blues, purples, and golds blending seamlessly—pulled him in. It wasn’t just a painting; it was a living, breathing piece of art, as though the canvas itself was in the midst of its own transformation. The unspoken power within it felt almost tangible.

“That’s incredible,” Jayce said before he could stop himself, stepping closer to take in the detail. “The colours... the blending. It’s not like anything I’ve seen before.”

Y/N smiled, the corners of her lips curling up with a mix of pride and amusement. “Thank you. It’s still a work in progress, but I find that’s often the way with art. It takes time to reveal itself, just like people do.”

The phrase stuck with him, stirring something deep within. Jayce’s mind raced with curiosity, wanting to ask a hundred questions—about her process, her background, the world she came from. There was something in the way she spoke, something in her choice of words that hinted at a depth of experience far beyond what he’d expected.

“I’ve heard you come from... quite a different background,” Jayce ventured carefully, the words slipping out before he could think them through. “From what I understand, you’re... not from Piltover?”

Y/N chuckled, the sound light and melodic, and her eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam. She moved toward the window, her gaze distant, as though she were seeing something far beyond the walls of the classroom. “Not exactly,” she said, her voice turning reflective. “I come from lands far beyond Piltover, where the magic of the world still flows freely. I’m here to teach art, but... I suppose I have much to learn about Piltover as well.”

Jayce’s eyes widened, and his pulse quickened at her words. He had heard whispers about distant lands, ancient magics, and secrets beyond the borders of Piltover. But hearing it from her—seeing the truth in her eyes—made it all feel so much more real. She wasn’t just a professor; she was a living connection to a world he had only ever dreamed of.

“I’d love to hear more about it,” Jayce blurted out before he could stop himself. “The magic, the lands you come from... I’m fascinated by the unknown.”

Y/N turned back to him, her gaze softer now, though still with that playful gleam. “Perhaps in time, Jayce,” she said with a sly smile. “After all, you’re not the only one who finds the unknown fascinating.”

A quiet challenge lingered in the air between them, unspoken but present. Jayce realised that, if he wanted to truly understand her—and the world she came from—he would need to open his mind beyond the rigid structure of science and logic that had always defined his thinking. There was more to learn here than he had anticipated.

“Well, I’ll certainly be attending your classes more often then,” Jayce said with a grin, his excitement and curiosity growing by the second. "I think I have a lot to learn from you, Y/N."

She gave a small nod, her smile widening as she returned to her canvas. “And I, you, Jayce.”

With that, their worlds—science, art, and magic—began to intertwine in ways neither of them had expected, each of them unknowingly stepping into the beginning of a shared journey that would challenge everything they thought they knew.

VIKTOR

Viktor had been wandering the streets of Zaun, more accustomed to the harshness of the city than he liked to admit. His young feet carried him down narrow alleyways, past discarded scraps and dim-lit corners. The air was thick with the stench of machinery and metal, the noise of industry surrounding him, but it was a strange hiss that caught his attention.

He froze, his heart skipping a beat. It was a familiar sound, like a cat in distress, but something felt different about it. Curiosity pushed him closer, his footsteps quiet on the cold cobblestones. With his cane tapping gently against the ground, Viktor moved carefully, the brace on his leg giving a subtle tug with every step. Turning a corner, he saw her: a small figure wrapped in a tattered blanket, her back hunched defensively. A group of stray mutts circled around her, their eyes glinting with hunger.

Viktor’s first instinct was to run—he had no love for dogs, much less the dangerous ones prowling the alleyways—but something held him in place. The girl was unlike anyone he had ever seen. Her hood was pulled low, but the way she moved, the slight hissing sounds she made, intrigued him.

The dogs lunged, their growls rising in the air, and Viktor’s heart raced. But before he could do anything rash, the girl hissed again, her body coiling, showing her sharp teeth. The animals hesitated, growling in response, but she was clearly in pain, defensive, cornered.

“Hey!” Viktor called out, taking a tentative step forward. “Leave her alone!”

With a quick, sharp motion, he threw a stone toward the mutts, distracting them for just a moment. It was enough. They scattered, growling their discontent but retreating into the shadows. Viktor took another step forward, his voice soft and steady.

“It’s okay... You’re safe now,” he said gently, kneeling down. His cane rested against the cobblestone as he balanced himself, careful not to startle the girl.

She flinched, pressing further into the corner, her large eyes filled with suspicion. She hissed again, the sound unnerving and primal. Viktor paused, his hands raised in a gesture of peace.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured, feeling a surge of empathy. "You're hurt." His gaze landed on her arm, where a deep gash had formed. It wasn't a fatal wound, but it looked painful.

She looked at him with a mix of fear and wariness, as though deciding whether to trust him or not. Viktor could sense the tension in her small body, her muscles coiled, ready to spring into action. He slowly reached into his satchel and pulled out a small piece of cloth. Gently, he approached her, not wanting to startle her further.

“I... I can help,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached out to her injured arm. “It’ll stop the pain.”

At first, she recoiled, the hissing louder now, but Viktor remained still, showing no signs of aggression. He didn’t want to force her, just to offer help. Slowly, as though she had made a decision, the girl relaxed her body slightly, allowing him closer.

With careful hands, Viktor wrapped the cloth around the injury, doing his best to secure it. The girl winced but didn’t pull away, and Viktor smiled softly.

“There,” he said. “It’ll be okay now.” His voice was warm, comforting in the way only a child’s voice could be. “You don’t have to be alone.”

The girl, still cautious, looked up at him through the veil of her hood. Her eyes, deep and knowing, met his for the first time, and something in the moment shifted.

“I... I’m Viktor,” he added, his words soft and sincere.

The Vastaya girl didn’t respond, but for the first time, she didn’t seem afraid. She tilted her head, her ears twitching slightly as she studied him. In that brief, quiet moment, the two children shared a silent understanding, the beginnings of a bond formed in the heart of Zaun.

Viktor’s heart beat faster in his chest as the girl’s piercing gaze locked onto his. He couldn’t read her thoughts, but he felt a strange connection, like a spark igniting in the dark alley. The air between them seemed to hang in a fragile balance, thick with uncertainty and unspoken understanding.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Viktor was acutely aware of the dim, flickering streetlights above, the distant sounds of the city carrying on as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. But in that quiet corner of Zaun, with the girl’s injury and the odd calm that had settled between them, it felt as though time had stopped.

Viktor shifted his weight, unsure of what to do next. He didn’t want to leave her alone—he didn’t even know why he cared so much. But something about her presence, the vulnerability in her eyes, tugged at him. She was so small, so different from him, yet he could sense she was capable of more than just surviving. She was something beyond human, something powerful, but there was an edge of rawness to her—something that spoke of pain and hardship.

After a long silence, the girl finally shifted, her movements hesitant. She glanced down at the cloth that Viktor had wrapped around her arm, and for a split second, he thought she might lash out. But she didn’t. Instead, she slowly reached up and pulled back her hood, revealing her full face. Her features were sharp, with feline-like eyes, golden in the dim light, and ears that twitched ever so slightly. She was a Vastaya, no doubt about it. Her skin, a faint shade of gray, was marred with cuts and bruises, but her eyes... her eyes held a world of untold stories, of loneliness, and something Viktor couldn’t quite name.

She looked at him with a strange mixture of confusion and curiosity. Despite her initial defensiveness, there was a softness there now, a flicker of trust in the way she regarded him. Viktor hesitated, unsure whether to push further or leave her to her own devices.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated gently, this time more earnestly. “I promise.”

The girl didn’t respond at first, but she slowly took a deep breath, her sharp teeth glinting in the weak light as she let out a long, calming hiss. It was a sound Viktor now recognised as a form of communication, one that told him she was settling down, at least for the moment.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Viktor said softly, his voice thick with a mix of determination and concern. “You need to get better.”

His words seemed to spark something in her. She blinked slowly, then leaned back against the wall, her gaze shifting to the ground, as if processing his offer. Viktor watched her closely, every second feeling like a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. She wasn’t just a wounded creature; she was something entirely different, something that didn’t belong in the streets of Zaun, a world that was harsh and unforgiving to those who weren’t human.

Suddenly, the girl spoke, her voice soft, rough around the edges as though she hadn’t used it in a while.

“Why... why help?” she asked, her words slow, as though trying to figure out if they were real. “No one... helps.”

Viktor swallowed, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest. He couldn’t quite explain it, but something inside him, something that felt stronger than his fear or hesitation, made him want to protect her, to give her something she hadn’t had before—kindness.

“I don’t know,” Viktor admitted, his voice a whisper. “But I don’t think you should be alone. And you shouldn’t have to fight so hard just to survive.”

The girl, still warily watching him, slowly nodded as though considering his words. She shifted a little, the blanket wrapping around her tighter as though shielding her from the world around her. Viktor wasn’t sure if she was acknowledging his help or simply lost in her own thoughts, but he sensed that she was, at least, a little more willing to trust him.

“I’ll... find a way to help,” Viktor promised. “I’ll find a place where you can rest.”

The girl tilted her head again, as if trying to understand the boy’s intentions. But as she did, Viktor noticed something else—there was a faint glow to her eyes, an intensity that seemed almost... magical. The power of the Vastaya was unmistakable, even in her weakened state.

Viktor’s gaze softened, and without thinking, he held out his hand to her once more, palm open. “Come with me,” he said, his voice gentle but earnest, inviting her to take that first step.

The girl looked at his hand, her golden eyes reflecting a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity. For a moment, she hesitated, her body tense as though weighing the offer. Then, as though deciding something in her heart, she slowly reached out and placed her hand in his.

Viktor gave a small, reassuring smile as he gently pulled her to her feet, his grip firm but not forceful. She stood a little shakily, her movements still cautious but less defensive now. He could feel the slight tremble in her touch, but there was no more hesitation.

Together, they began to walk down the alley, side by side, as Viktor led the way. The streets of Zaun stretched before them, dark and unforgiving, but for the first time, Viktor didn’t feel as alone in the world. And though he didn’t know where this strange journey would take them, he knew that he couldn’t let her face it alone either.

As they walked, the girl’s eyes remained fixed ahead, though Viktor could feel her studying him from time to time. After a while, she spoke, her voice quieter than before, but more certain.

“I'm Y/N," she said, her words careful, as though testing them in the air. She glanced at him, her golden eyes meeting his with a newfound softness.

Viktor nodded, her name settling in his mind as something important. Something he would not forget. ”I'm glad I found you, Y/N" he said softly, glancing at her as they walked together, side by side.

Y/N didn’t reply immediately, but there was a slight nod from her, a small acknowledgment of his words. The bond that had formed between them in that quiet, dim-lit corner of Zaun felt like a thread, tenuous but growing stronger with each step they took together.

They didn’t speak much more as they moved through the streets, but the connection between them was undeniable. Two lost souls finding a moment of understanding, walking the harsh streets of Zaun side by side. Neither knew exactly where their path would lead, but for the first time in what felt like a long while, they had each other’s presence. And that, for now, was

JAYVIK

After an exhausting day, Y/N’s journey through the streets of Piltover had become nothing short of an emotional gauntlet. The murmurs behind her back, those hushed voices and sideways glances, crept into her every thought. It wasn’t just the casual dismissal one might expect from those who looked upon her as a mere outsider—it was the disdain, the quiet hatred, the refusal to accept her because of what she was. Her Vastaya heritage was a mark she couldn't escape, no matter how hard she tried to fit in.

Her tail swished anxiously behind her, brushing the cobbled streets as her sharp ears picked up each whisper, each derogatory remark. Some muttered about her kind being ‘dangerous’ or ‘unnatural,’ others discussed her marriage to Viktor and Jayce with barely veiled incredulity, as though it were some grand farce. But it was the looks—the looks of disgust and fear—that clung to her the most. It was as if her presence itself unsettled them, as though her very existence was a reminder of something they feared.

By the time she reached the lab, she was exhausted—exhausted from the harsh words, exhausted from the constant vigilance, and, most of all, exhausted from the weight of being something they couldn’t understand. She felt small, as though she had no right to exist in this world that never truly accepted her. Her furrowed brow, her tail dragged low and twitching, spoke volumes, but it was her body language—slumped, defeated—that really gave it away.

Viktor had been working in his lab, seated in a couch near the far corner, his cane leaning against the desk. He heard the soft click of the door as it opened, followed by the telltale quiet steps of Y/N entering. He didn’t need to ask her what had happened. He could see it in the way her ears drooped, the tension in her shoulders, the weariness in her movements. He could feel her distress as if it were his own.

Without a word, Y/N curled up on the couch, her body instinctively seeking comfort, as though it knew exactly where it could find solace. Her head came to rest in Viktor’s lap, and he immediately reached out, his fingers tracing the edges of her feline ears with a tenderness that seemed to melt away the first layer of her exhaustion. The touch was slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing against the silky fur with the same careful affection he always showed her. She sighed quietly, letting herself sink further into the moment, her eyelids fluttering in a delicate mix of relief and lingering tension.

“You’ve had a rough day, haven’t you?” Viktor’s accented voice was low, almost a murmur, as he continued to gently run his fingers along the sensitive appendages. His tone held a quiet sympathy, as though he had already guessed the source of her weariness.

Before she could respond, the sound of Jayce’s footsteps echoed through the lab. He had been pacing, his mind undoubtedly preoccupied with work, as he often did when there was something on his mind. But as soon as he entered the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. His gaze landed on Y/N, and the moment his eyes met hers, he knew something was wrong. She was curled up on the couch, her body language all too telling, and her tail twitched anxiously behind her.

For a brief moment, Jayce stood still, confusion and concern flashing across his face. He hadn’t expected to find her in this state, certainly not after a long day. His heart tightened as he noticed the tear on her cheek and the slight tremor in her form. He quickly closed the distance between them, dropping to his knees beside the couch, his hand instinctively reaching out to cup her cheek.

His thumb brushed away the tear, and he stared at her, his expression softening with a mixture of worry and helplessness. He had never wanted to see her like this. “What happened, love?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, the concern unmistakable in every syllable. His gaze searched hers, trying to find the right words, but all he could feel was the overwhelming urge to make it better, to take away whatever pain she was carrying.

Y/N closed her eyes as the steady rhythm of Viktor’s fingers along her ears and Jayce’s hand against her cheek worked to calm the storm inside her. Their presence, their touch, felt like an anchor, grounding her to the present and pulling her away from the harshness of the world outside. It was as if, in this moment, the lab, their sanctuary, existed in a bubble—safe from the judgmental whispers, from the cruel stares, and from everything else that sought to diminish her.

“I hate it,” Y/N finally spoke, her voice soft, almost lost in the quiet. Her words came out in a whisper, as if she feared even saying them out loud would make them more real. “I hate walking through those streets, knowing that the moment they see me, they don’t see me. They just see… a beast. Something to fear.”

Viktor’s hand paused on her ear for just a moment, a slight tightening of his grip as he heard the raw pain in her voice. His gaze softened, the sympathy in his eyes obvious, but he didn’t need to speak right away. Instead, he simply continued his gentle strokes along her fur, as though his touch alone could offer comfort.

Jayce, kneeling beside the couch, reached forward again, his thumb brushing against her cheek in an attempt to offer reassurance. “You’re not a beast,” he said, his voice steady but laced with the emotions he was careful not to let show too much. He took a moment before continuing, his voice firm with an unwavering certainty, “They’re scared of what they don’t understand. And it’s not you they fear, Y/N. It’s what you represent. What you are.”

She let out a sigh, a tired sound that spoke volumes, and her tail twitched behind her. “I know,” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “But that doesn’t make it easier. Every time I walk through those streets, it’s like I’m being reminded that, no matter how much I try to fit in… I’ll never be truly accepted. Not by them. Not ever.”

Jayce’s brow furrowed, the sense of frustration building within him as he listened to her words. He could feel it, too—the anger at the injustice, the hurt that she tried so hard to mask. His fingers curled into a fist briefly, before he forced himself to relax. “No one should have to deal with that,” he muttered under his breath, a flicker of something darker in his tone. “If I could, I would make them understand—force them to see you for who you really are.”

Viktor, hearing the sharp edge to Jayce’s words, placed a hand gently on his shoulder. There was a quiet weight in his touch, a calmness that reminded Jayce of the necessity of patience. Viktor’s voice was cool and measured, his words always laced with that quiet wisdom he was known for. “I know you mean well, Jayce,” he said softly, “but forcing them to understand isn’t the way. It’ll only breed more fear, more hostility.”

Jayce looked at Viktor, the frustration in his eyes still apparent, but he nodded slowly. “I know… I just hate seeing her like this.” His voice softened as he turned back to Y/N, his thumb now gently running along the curve of her ear. “You don’t deserve this, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to carry their ignorance, their hatred. But, I promise you this—you will never face it alone. Not while I’m here. Not while Viktor’s here.”

Y/N felt a tear slip down her cheek at his words, a soft, almost imperceptible sound escaping her lips. She couldn’t help it; the tension in her chest, the constant pressure of feeling unwanted, unloved by the world, had finally broken free. But even in that moment of weakness, she didn’t feel ashamed. She knew that Viktor and Jayce wouldn’t judge her. They would only shield her from the world’s cruelty, just as they always had.

Viktor continued to run his fingers through her fur, not speaking for a moment as he let her emotions settle. When he finally did speak, it was with a quiet, unwavering resolve. “No matter what they say or think, Y/N,” he began softly, his gaze intense as he met her eyes, “you are ours. And nothing will ever change that.”

Jayce’s hand remained against her cheek, the warmth of his touch a constant reminder of his love for her. “They’ll come around,” he said, his voice steady but hopeful. “But until then, we’ll keep you safe. Keep you sheltered from the storm outside. And we'll keep reminding you every day that you’re everything we could ever want.”

Y/N closed her eyes again, letting their words wash over her, letting their assurances settle into her heart. The tears that had flowed freely just moments before began to slow, the peace that came from their comfort beginning to heal the raw ache inside her. She finally let out a slow breath, feeling her shoulders relax for the first time that day.

“I don’t want to feel like a burden,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to drag you into this mess.”

Viktor’s hand, still resting gently on her ear, gave a soft, reassuring squeeze. “You’re not a burden, miláčku,” he said, his voice filled with tenderness. “You’re our world. We chose you, not because we had to, but because we want to be with you. You’re everything we need, and nothing—no one—can ever make us feel otherwise.” (Darling)

Jayce nodded firmly, his voice a gentle promise. “We didn’t marry you out of obligation. We married you because we love you—because you’re the one we want by our side. No matter what the world says, we’re not going anywhere, love. And neither are you. Together, we’re stronger than anything they can throw at us.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love for them, the weight of the day beginning to fade as she realized, yet again, how deeply she was cherished by these two men. For the first time in hours, she smiled, a small, tired but genuine smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you both.”

Jayce’s hand cupped her cheek one last time, his fingers tracing the soft lines of her face with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “You’ll never have to find out, Y/N. We’re here, always. We made this choice, and we’ll never regret it.”

VANDER

Vander sat at the bar, wiping down a mug as the usual crowd filled the room with chatter. He had seen it all in his time running the Last Drop—thieves, mercenaries, gamblers, and all kinds of other souls looking to escape their troubles. But when the door swung open and a figure entered, the room seemed to momentarily still.

Her presence was unlike anything Vander had ever felt before. The moment she walked through the door, the atmosphere in the bar shifted. She was a Vastaya—a rare sight in the undercity—and her striking appearance immediately commanded attention. There was something almost ethereal about her, a quiet elegance in her every movement, like she was part of the very soul of the land itself. Her sharp eyes carried a mystery, a depth, and Vander couldn’t help but watch as she made her way towards the counter.

"You're a rare one," Vander remarked, his voice easy but genuine, his gaze lingering on her with genuine curiosity. "What brings a Vastaya like you down here?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she leaned in slightly. "A rare one, huh?" she teased. "I imagine you use that line on all the girls who come through here."

Vander chuckled, the edge of his smile deepening. "Only the ones worth mentioning," he replied, pouring a drink with ease, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of intrigue and amusement.

Y/N’s smile softened as she settled onto the barstool, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "A drink sounds good after a long day," she said, her voice light, but there was something about it that made Vander feel like there was more she wasn’t saying.

"I’ll make sure it’s to your liking," he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he slid the drink toward her, watching her every move.

=

Vander’s gaze lingered on Y/N as she sipped her drink, her features soft yet impossibly captivating. She had settled into the corner of the bar, seemingly at ease despite the ruckus of the surrounding patrons. Her eyes scanned the room with an almost knowing expression, as though she saw more than just the people around her, something beneath the surface. It was the way she carried herself—a subtle, quiet strength—that intrigued him most. There was a deep connection to the land, the city, the very air that she breathed, something that made her presence feel both foreign and strangely familiar at the same time.

As Vander continued serving his regulars, the atmosphere in the bar shifted. The usual noise of clinking glasses and rowdy chatter seemed to subside around her. Even the children, usually so full of energy and mischief, were drawn to her, fascinated by her serene calmness.

Powder, unable to contain her excitement, spent the better part of the evening in a state of pure wonder. She couldn’t seem to stop touching Y/N’s tail, her small hands running over the long, shimmering fur with unabashed joy. Y/N was more than patient, her soft laughter filling the space, her gentle nature evident in the way she responded to Powder’s innocent fascination. She shifted her tail playfully, letting the little girl chase after it in a circle, until even the other children couldn't resist joining in, laughing and mimicking Powder’s antics.

Vi watched from a distance, her arms crossed but a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She was always the protector, but seeing how easily Y/N connected with the younger ones put her at ease. There was something about Y/N that made Vi feel... safer, somehow. It was an unfamiliar sensation, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Claggor was quieter than usual, taking in the scene with his usual curiosity. He hadn't said much since meeting Y/N, but there was a certain respect in his gaze, a quiet acknowledgement of something extraordinary in her. Mylo, ever the joker, had already teased Powder about being "captured by the tail," but his tone was light-hearted. He could see that this was different. The children looked up to Y/N with an awe that couldn’t be faked, and he could sense that, beyond the playful exchanges, there was something deeper—something important.

But it wasn’t just the kids who felt it. Vander noticed it too. There was a sense of quiet power in the air whenever she was near. He’d run this bar for years, and he’d seen every type of person—mercenaries, criminals, drunks—but none had commanded the space quite like Y/N did. The way she held herself, the way she didn’t seem fazed by the rough surroundings, spoke volumes about her strength.

As the evening drew on, the rough man who had started the commotion earlier was still stewing in the corner. He was looking for trouble, scanning the room for someone weaker to take his anger out on. When he noticed Y/N again, his foul mood flared up, and this time, he stumbled over to her with malicious intent.

"You think you can just waltz in here, some freak with your weird tail, and not expect someone to call you out on it?" he slurred, his breath heavy with alcohol. The tension in the bar thickened as everyone realised what was coming.

Vi was the first to move, standing up from her seat and blocking the man's path. Her posture was rigid, and her eyes were hard, challenging him without a word. "You want to try again?" she said, her voice dangerously calm.

Mylo and Claggor followed suit, their expressions serious now, no longer the playful kids they usually were. Mylo gave the man a wicked grin, though there was no humour in it. "You’re in the wrong place,"

Y/N remained seated, her expression serene but her gaze never leaving the man. There was no fear in her eyes, just an unspoken understanding that she didn’t need to prove anything. Powder, small but fiercely protective, had already taken her position beside Y/N, hugging her leg tightly and glaring at the man with a protective fire that only the youngest could muster.

The man sneered, clearly not used to being challenged, and took a step forward. But before he could utter another word, Vander’s booming voice cut through the tension.

"You heard them," Vander said, his voice low and commanding. His presence filled the room as he made his way toward the troublemaker. "You’ll apologise, or you’ll be escorted out. I don’t care which."

The man hesitated, realising too late that he was surrounded. With a muttered curse, he took a step back, his bravado crumbling under the weight of the room’s collective gaze. "Whatever," he grumbled, stumbling toward the exit. "Freaks," he muttered, but the words were nothing more than a whimper as he left the bar.

As the man disappeared, the tension in the room melted away, and the kids immediately returned to their playful antics, a sense of security having settled over them once again. Powder looked up at Y/N, her eyes wide and full of admiration. "You’re not scared, are you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N smiled down at her, brushing a strand of hair from the girl's face. "Scared of what, little one?" she replied softly, her voice a balm to the chaos of the night. "There’s nothing to fear when you’re surrounded by friends."

Vander stood nearby, watching the children and Y/N with a warmth that didn’t quite fit the hard exterior he had built over the years. He found himself admiring her strength, her ability to make those around her feel like they belonged. It was a rare quality, and he hadn’t realised how much he had missed seeing something so pure in this city of decay.

As the night continued, Vander couldn’t tear his eyes away from Y/N. He had never been one for attachments—he had a bar to run, a community to protect, and a reputation to maintain. But something about her made him want to break all the rules he had set for himself. Something about the way she cared for those kids, the way she moved through the world with grace, made him feel like there was still hope in this city.

And maybe, just maybe, that rare connection was something worth holding onto.

SILCO

The air was thick with tension in the dimly lit alley, the heavy scent of industry and smoke hanging around the exchange. Silco’s focus remained sharp, his gaze unwavering as he handled the deal with practiced precision. Every detail was accounted for, every movement deliberate. Yet something, or rather someone, caught his eye in the midst of the transaction.

On the opposite side of the exchange, a tall, imposing figure gripped a leash in one hand, the other held by a woman tethered to him like an animal. The collar around her neck was cruelly tight, the chains dragging beneath her feet as she knelt on the cold ground, her posture slumped in submission. The sight of her—diminished, shackled—stirred something inside Silco. Her ears, long and pointed, betrayed her as one of the Vastaya, and the terror in her eyes cut through the hardened façade he’d built over the years.

Silco’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. He had dealt with many types of business, many different kinds of people, but something about seeing her like this—like a mere possession—churned in his gut.

"Finish the deal," Sevika’s voice broke his concentration. Her eyes, too, had landed on the woman, her gaze flickering between the two parties. Silco’s eyes flicked to Sevika momentarily, then returned to the woman, still kneeling before the leash-holder.

The deal concluded, the exchange seemingly done, but Silco couldn’t shake the image of the woman bound before him. The way they treated her, as though she had no life outside the chains—no future—gnawed at him.

“Hold on,” Silco’s voice was sudden, sharp, his eyes fixed on the leader, a broad man who bore an arrogant smirk. He stepped forward, his tone colder than ice. “How much?”

The leader glanced at Silco, then down at the woman at his feet, before tugging on the leash, pulling her closer to him. “She’s not for sale,” he growled, tightening the chain around her neck with a cruel jerk. Y/N gasped, her chest rising sharply as she struggled for breath, her hands instinctively grasping at the collar in a futile attempt to loosen it.

Silco’s expression darkened as the air seemed to freeze around him. His voice dropped low, each word wrapped in a lethal calm. “I didn't asking is she was for sale” he said, his eyes narrowing into slits. “I asked how much. Everything has a price.”

The tension in the alley grew thick, palpable, the threat of violence crackling between them like a live wire. The leader smirked, too comfortable in his arrogance, and flicked his wrist dismissively. “You think you can just take her?” he sneered. “She’s not worth your time.”

Just as Silco took a step forward, ready to make good on his threat, Sevika stepped in, her towering form casting a shadow over the exchange. She cracked her knuckles, her lips curling into a dangerous grin as her eyes locked on the leader, her posture poised for a fight.

The leader hesitated, his bravado faltering in the face of Sevika’s imposing presence. He scoffed, but the tension was palpable, and after a moment of standoff, he dropped the leash with a huff, spinning on his heel to walk away, his pride still intact but his anger boiling under the surface.

Silco’s eyes remained locked on Y/N, who still knelt on the ground, her shoulders hunched, her gaze cast downward. Her fear was suffocating, her trembling hands still clutching the collar, as though she feared even the slightest movement would result in punishment.

For a moment, Silco did nothing, simply watching her. He had never been one to show kindness, but there was something about her—something that spoke to him more than he cared to admit.

He approached her slowly, every movement measured, his steps silent on the cobblestone. Kneeling before her, Silco’s cold eyes softened ever so slightly as he gently took hold of the collar, his fingers brushing against her skin with surprising care. Y/N flinched, her entire body tensing as she instinctively recoiled from his touch, but Silco’s gaze was unyielding.

“Don’t be afraid,” he muttered, his voice almost too low for anyone but her to hear. His fingers worked quickly, unclasping the collar with a flick of his wrist. The chains fell away, clattering softly on the stone beneath them. Y/N’s breath shuddered, the weight of the collar finally lifted from her throat, but she remained still, her body trembling with both relief and uncertainty.

Silco took a step back, his eyes not leaving hers. He studied her carefully, his gaze flickering between the trembling woman before him and the desolation in her eyes. “I don’t care what your… ‘master’ called you,” he said, his voice growing colder with each word. “Who are you?”

Y/N hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to steady herself. For so long, she had been nothing more than a tool, a creature to be controlled. No one had ever cared to ask her name, to see her as more than a possession. And now, in the face of Silco's steady, unwavering gaze, she was unsure what to say, unsure if she even had the right to speak.

Her voice came out in a barely audible whisper. “I’m… I’m Y/N.”

The name hung in the air for a moment, as Silco processed it. There was something in the way she spoke it—soft, but filled with a quiet strength—that caught his attention. Y/N.

Silco stood slowly, his eyes never leaving her. There was a spark in her—a resilience that hadn’t been entirely crushed. He found himself intrigued by that spark, that flicker of defiance still hiding beneath her fear.

For the first time in a long while, Silco allowed himself a small, calculating smile. “Y/N,” he repeated, tasting the name, letting it roll off his tongue.

He extended a hand toward her, a silent invitation. “Come with me,” he said, the command in his voice unmistakable, but there was something else there, something softer beneath the icy surface.

Y/N stared at his hand, the disbelief in her eyes palpable. No one had ever given her such an offer. No one had ever wanted her for anything more than what they could control. But Silco was different. She wasn’t sure what it meant, what he saw in her, but for the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of something—hope, perhaps—deep in her chest.

Without a word, Y/N stood, hesitantly reaching out to grasp his hand.

And with that simple gesture, she stepped into a future unknown, away from the life that had shackled her, and toward something far more dangerous, far more promising than she could have ever imagined.

POWDER/JINX

The warm glow of the streetlamp bathed the alley in a soft, golden light, casting long shadows across the cobblestone. Y/N stood beneath its glow, her long, graceful tail swaying behind her, the quiet rustling of her fur almost blending with the sounds of Zaun’s endless hum. She was the kind of person who seemed to soften the harshness of the city, a gentle spirit amidst the chaos, a protector without ever lifting a hand in violence. Her presence brought a kind of peace to the children who often ran to her for advice or comfort, though that same peace made her a target for those who didn’t understand her.

Jinx had always watched her from the sidelines, her electric blue hair a sharp contrast to the darkness of Zaun. She had seen how the world treated Y/N, how they whispered and mocked her for being different. It hurt Jinx, the way people could be so cruel to someone so kind, and every time it happened, she couldn’t help but step in.

Tonight, she perched on a stack of crates, hidden in the shadows, her eyes flashing with a knowing grin. Y/N hadn’t noticed the group gathering around her yet—rough-looking men, their eyes narrowed with malice, clearly up to no good. Jinx’s heart sped up, sensing the tension before it even started. She knew what was coming.

Y/N’s ears twitched as the group approached, her tail flicking nervously. She turned her head slightly, her warm gaze meeting theirs, but she said nothing, never one to escalate a situation. She always tried to de-escalate, even when people saw her as nothing more than an outsider, something strange to be poked at and prodded.

The leader of the group stepped closer, his sneer almost as sharp as the knife on his belt. “What’s a beast like you doing here, huh? Don’t you know your kind doesn’t belong in the city?” He reached for Y/N’s fur, fingers outstretched as though she were some sort of exotic animal on display.

Before he could touch her, Jinx’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Touch her again, and I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to touch anything ever again,” she threatened, her voice filled with that familiar manic energy. Her eyes were wild with defiance, her grin unhinged as she leapt from the crates and landed in front of Y/N, her stance protective.

The man stopped dead in his tracks, recognition flashing across his face. The wild, electric-haired girl was no stranger to him, and her threat was all too real. Jinx’s grin widened, her eyes dark with fury. “Get lost, idiot,” she spat, “or I’ll make sure the next thing you touch is a bullet.”

Y/N reached out gently, placing a calming hand on Jinx’s shoulder. “Jinx, it’s alright,” she murmured, her voice a soft, grounding force. “Please, you don’t need to fight.”

But Jinx wasn’t listening. “No!” she snapped, spinning to face Y/N. “These assholes need to know you’re not their punching bag!” The words poured out of her like a storm, a mixture of frustration and protectiveness. Her eyes were burning with a fierce love for Y/N, the only one who had never judged her or feared her. “I don’t care what they say about you, or your tail, or your fur! They have no right to treat you like that!”

Y/N’s eyes softened, a small smile curving her lips as she looked at Jinx with affection. She could see the raw emotion behind Jinx’s anger, the desperate need to protect. It was something Y/N had seen before, something she recognised. Jinx wasn’t just protecting her. She was protecting everything they had—everything that was good between them.

Slowly, Y/N pulled Jinx into a hug, her arms wrapping around her tightly. Her soft fur pressed against Jinx’s skin, the familiar purring vibrating gently in her chest. It was comforting, soothing—a reminder that no matter how much chaos surrounded them, they had each other. Jinx's frantic energy settled for a moment, the warmth of Y/N’s embrace grounding her.

“I know, Jinx,” Y/N whispered, her voice gentle. “I know you’re trying to protect me. But I don’t want to fight. You know that.”

Jinx looked at her for a long moment, her breath ragged from the adrenaline. But as she met Y/N’s eyes, something shifted inside her. The anger that had burned so fiercely faded into something softer, something more tender. She remembered how Y/N had always been there for her, how she had never treated Jinx as anything less than a person, even when the world saw her as a monster.

The man, now realising that his words and actions had no place here, muttered a curse under his breath and slowly retreated, taking his followers with him. Jinx stood still, watching them leave with a satisfied smirk, her eyes still blazing. “Yeah, that’s right. Go cry to your momma,” she yelled after them, her voice dripping with disdain.

Y/N pulled back from the hug, brushing her tail against Jinx’s leg playfully. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she said with a teasing smile. “But I appreciate it.”

Jinx grinned back, her eyes still fiery, though there was a softness to them now. “I told you, you’re mine to protect,” she said with a wink. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you. Not on my watch.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with warmth at the words. She knew Jinx meant every one of them. “I know, Jinx. And I’ll always be here for you too,” she replied, her voice filled with sincerity.

Jinx’s expression softened even more, her usual chaotic energy tempered by a rare tenderness. She remembered the first time she met a Vastaya, a long time ago, when she was just a young girl. She had been in the Last Drop, just talking with her sister and brothers, when she saw a Vastaya walk in—a woman with long, flowing hair and bright, knowing eyes. Powder Jinx had been curious, intrigued by this creature who seemed so calm, so serene. She had approached her shyly, unsure of what to expect.

But the Vastaya had bent down to her level, a soft smile curling on her lips. “Hello little one, I see you have the curiosity of a cat, hm?” she had said, her voice like honey, full of warmth and understanding. She hadn’t looked at Jinx as though she were strange, as though she didn’t belong. Instead, she had reached out, offering Jinx her hand. That moment had been brief, but it had left an imprint on Jinx’s heart.

And now, standing in front of Y/N—another Vastaya, another being with that same quiet grace—Jinx couldn’t help but feel the same sense of belonging, the same warmth. Y/N wasn’t just someone different. She was a friend, a protector, a person who had never judged her for the wildness in her spirit. And Jinx wouldn’t let anyone take that away from her.

The man was gone, but Jinx was still filled with a burst of energy. She turned to Y/N with a grin, the playfulness returning. “You want to go grab some candy? I’m feeling like celebrating another victory!” she asked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Y/N chuckled, her tail flicking behind her in amusement. “Only if you promise not to steal all the good ones this time,” she teased, giving Jinx a playful nudge.

Jinx gave a wide, wicked grin. “No promises,” she laughed. “But hey, I’ll save you a gummy worm or two. Maybe.”

=

One day, when Elena was around 10, she accompanied her parents through the bustling Piltover marketplace. The stalls were alive with vendors selling everything from mechanical parts to exotic herbs. Elena darted from one stall to the next, mesmerised by the intricate clockwork trinkets, the vivid fabrics, and the glittering jars of strange potions.

"Mom, look!" Elena tugged at Y/N’s sleeve, halting in front of a stall filled with coloured threads that shimmered like the paints her mother used in her art. Y/N crouched beside her daughter, smiling warmly.

"That's beautiful, Elena," Y/N said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just like your work."

Elena's eyes sparkled. "I want to make something with these. Maybe a new quilt for the house!" she said excitedly.

Jayce, overhearing them, smiled with amusement. “Already planning ahead, huh? You do know your mum’s quilts are legendary in Piltover, right?”

Y/N chuckled, eyes softening at the thought. "She has a good teacher."

Elena beamed with pride, her excitement growing as she skipped to another stall. Her eyes landed on a peculiar set of enchanted crystals that hummed with strange energy. Her fingers hovered over them, intrigued by their shimmer.

“Are you sure those are safe?” Jayce asked, his protective instincts flaring.

Elena turned with a cheeky grin. “Of course! They’re just… magical.”

Y/N and Jayce exchanged a glance, realising their daughter was a fascinating blend of both their worlds—the rational mind of a scientist and the wonder of an artist with an affinity for the mystical.

=

As the day wore on, Elena continued her exploration, picking up trinkets and curious finds along the way. She was their child through and through—always reaching for something new, whether in the mechanics of Piltover or the untold secrets of magic.

Jayce watched his daughter from a distance as she carefully examined a piece of clockwork, her brow furrowed in concentration, and smiled. He saw so much of himself in her—a mind that could never be contained within the bounds of tradition, always reaching for more.

And as Y/N walked beside him, their hands intertwined, they knew their daughter would continue to weave their worlds together in ways they had never imagined. From Piltover’s mechanical wonders to the untold mysteries of magic, Elena was destined to make her own mark.

Their life in Piltover wasn’t always easy—being a Vastaya in a city of high society meant stares and whispered comments, especially when they strolled together as a family. But Y/N stood tall, her tail swaying behind her as she held Jayce’s hand firmly. The occasional glance or whisper from a passerby didn’t faze her. She had learned to rise above it long ago. Jayce, ever the protector, offered her silent reassurance with his touch, the steady strength of his presence beside her.

"Careful, Elena!" Y/N called after their daughter, who had run ahead in excitement. "Don’t run off too far."

Elena turned with a wide grin, slowing her pace. "I’m just looking for something fun!" she replied, her voice filled with the wonder of a child exploring the world.

A few people glanced at Elena’s energetic enthusiasm, the contrast to the calm sophistication of Piltover’s streets. Y/N caught the looks and flicked her ears in amusement, but Jayce didn’t miss a beat, squeezing her hand as they walked side by side. "She’s got your spirit, doesn’t she?" he teased.

Y/N smiled, her tail flicking behind her as she watched Elena. "She’s got a bit of both of us in her. I just hope she doesn’t get into too much trouble."

"You two are a lot of trouble together," Jayce teased back, his lips curling into a smile.

=

The warmth of the moment was something Jayce cherished. When they first met, he could never have imagined a life like this—a life filled with love, family, and a deep connection to a woman so different from him. Y/N, with her vast knowledge of Zaun, her calming presence, and her fierce protectiveness, had swept him off his feet. She had her own strength, her own struggles, yet she had always supported him, as he had supported her.

And then there was Elena a living testament to the way they’d both changed and grown. Elena was a reminder that love could transcend all—whether it be between cities or species. She had inherited Jayce’s insatiable curiosity and Y/N’s ethereal presence, a calm and warmth that grounded everything. She was the perfect mix of their worlds, a child with a fierce mind and an open heart.

As they walked further through the market, Elena suddenly stopped in front of a stall brimming with art supplies—paints, brushes, and sketchbooks. Her eyes widened with excitement.

"Mum! Look!" she exclaimed, tugging at Y/N’s sleeve. "They’ve got paints and all the colours you use for your lessons! Can we get some?" Her fingers traced the vibrant shades, her imagination alight with possibilities.

Y/N chuckled and knelt down beside her daughter. "You’ve got a good eye, sweetheart. These would be perfect for some new artwork. Let’s pick out the colours we need, and we can work on something together."

As they lost themselves in the moment, a passerby lingered a bit too long, his eyes darting from Y/N’s tail to Elena’s pointed ears. Y/N noticed and smiled politely, but the man quickly averted his gaze, muttering something under his breath. Jayce didn’t miss it either. He shot the man a pointed look, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t say a word.

Elena, her tail flicking behind her in excitement, jumped up. "Can I make something for Dad too? Like you always do for him, Mum?" she asked eagerly, her face lighting up with the joy of creating something special for her father.

Y/N smiled softly, resting a hand on Elena’s shoulder. "Of course, darling. We’ll make something special. How about a painting for Dad to hang in the workshop?"

Jayce couldn’t help but laugh softly. "You two will have a whole gallery before the day’s out, won’t you?"

Y/N winked at him playfully. "Perhaps. But we’ll make it something extra special for you. A masterpiece from both of us."

Elena nodded enthusiastically, her bright eyes alight with excitement. "Yeah, Dad! You’ll love it!"

Jayce smiled, kneeling down to their level. "I can’t wait to see what you both come up with." His heart swelled at the thought of his daughter and Y/N creating something together—an expression of their love for him. It was moments like this that made everything worthwhile.

As the family continued their walk through Piltover, Jayce couldn’t help but feel a deep peace settle in his chest. He had never believed in destiny, but the life he had now felt right—right in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Y/N and Elena were his world, and he would do anything to protect them. The life they had built, the family they had created, was everything he had ever wanted, even if it had come in ways he hadn’t expected.

There was a perfect balance in their little family—Jayce’s determination and vision, Y/N’s wisdom and gentleness, and Elena’s playful energy and unyielding love for both her parents. Together, they were a testament to what could be built when two people from different worlds came together with understanding, compassion, and love. Elena had the best of both worlds in her, and that made her something rare, something special.

=

As they headed home, the sun setting behind them, Jayce whispered softly to Y/N, "Thank you for this... for everything."

Y/N’s eyes softened as she leaned into him. "It’s not just me, Jayce. It’s all of us—together."

With her head resting against his shoulder, they walked into the future hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges came next. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of their love, Jayce knew that the future was theirs to shape, together. The stares, the whispers, the discomfort of others couldn’t touch what they had—what they had built. Nothing could.

VIKTOR

Years had passed since that fateful night in the alleyways of Zaun, when Viktor had first reached out to Y/N, guiding her away from the chaos of the streets. That moment had been the beginning of a journey neither of them could have predicted—a journey filled with both hardship and unexpected tenderness. As the years went by, their bond grew stronger, woven together by shared moments of quiet understanding, and an unspoken promise to never let go.

Viktor’s path had eventually led him to Piltover, a city of progress, knowledge, and endless possibility. The brilliant Heimerdinger had recognised Viktor’s genius and, after much persuasion, brought him to Piltover to become his assistant. It had been a turning point in Viktor’s life, a chance to leave Zaun behind and be recognised for his talents. But even in the gleaming towers of Piltover, Viktor had never left Y/N behind. She had been by his side through it all, as steadfast as ever, and it was in her presence that he found his peace.

Though Piltover was unfamiliar, even overwhelming at times, Y/N had adapted with grace. The city's bustling streets and towering structures felt a world apart from the alleys of Zaun, but Y/N’s ability to blend her Vastaya heritage with the world of Piltover’s scientific and artistic communities had made her a quiet but respected presence. Her talents—both as a healer and a seamstress—were highly valued, and over time, she had carved out a place for herself, always with Viktor’s unwavering support.

Their shared history, their differences, and their shared journey from the broken streets of Zaun to the polished city of Piltover were reflected in their daughter—Lira.

Lira had inherited both of her parents' qualities, yet she was truly a reflection of both their worlds. She had taken more after Y/N in many ways—her skin, the same faint greyish hue, her long, delicate ears, and her tail, which swished expressively behind her. But there was also something of Viktor in her, something sharp in her eyes—a quiet intelligence, an almost unnatural understanding of things. Lira was a blend of their two worlds, and in her, they saw the future—a new generation, capable of bridging the divide between science and nature.

They had named her Lira for a reason—a name that meant "song" in the old language of her mother’s people. Lira was a name that symbolised harmony, the blending of two very different worlds. It was also a tribute to her mother's Vastaya heritage, with the hope that, like the name itself, she would find a way to bring unity and understanding to the world, just as her parents had.

Viktor’s heart would swell with pride each time Lira came running into his arms. Her small hands would touch his cane, her eyes full of wonder as she asked him to explain the intricacies of his latest invention. Though Viktor had always been focused on logic, reason, and progress, the sight of his daughter’s curiosity, her hunger to understand the world, softened him in ways he never thought possible. Lira would sit beside him for hours, watching his work with wide eyes, absorbing every detail with an intensity that made Viktor realise that, perhaps, the future was more than just a series of equations. It was in the small moments—like the gleam in his daughter’s eyes when she solved a problem or the way her fingers danced across the pieces of his machines, as though she were already a part of his world.

But Lira also shared her mother’s creativity, her deep understanding of beauty in its many forms. While Viktor worked tirelessly at his projects, Lira would often be by Y/N’s side, learning the intricate arts of weaving, stitching, and crafting. Y/N would teach Lira how to create beauty from the raw, the imperfect—how to use her hands to shape something meaningful from the world around her. Whether it was repairing a tear in a favourite shirt or creating a new quilt from old scraps, Y/N would impart lessons that spoke not only of the skill of the craft but of the deeper understanding of the world’s rhythm—its delicate balance between nature and the manmade.

=

One evening, the soft glow of Piltover’s lights filtered through the windows of their home, casting long, gentle shadows across the room. Viktor was at his desk, lost in thought as he worked, his mind consumed by the details of a new project he was collaborating on with Heimerdinger. The familiar hum of machinery drifted in from the workshop, a constant companion in Viktor’s life. Yet, despite his mind’s focus, his thoughts kept drifting back to how much had changed since that first moment he had helped Y/N in the alley.

Behind him, Viktor heard the soft rhythm of Y/N’s sewing machine—a comforting sound that always brought him a sense of peace. Lira’s voice bubbled up with questions, her soft laughter filling the house as she worked with her mother. The scene was so familiar, so comforting, that Viktor couldn’t help but close his eyes for a moment, letting the peace of it wash over him. It was a far cry from the days of Zaun—no more threats lurking in the shadows, no more hunger or cold.

“Viktor?” Y/N’s voice, warm and calm, broke through his reverie. He turned in his chair to see her standing in the doorway, a soft smile on her face. Lira was perched on her mother’s shoulder, her small arms wrapped around Y/N’s neck as she gazed at her father with wide, eager eyes.

Viktor’s heart swelled with love at the sight of them. “Yes, lásko” he replied, his voice thick with affection. (Love)

Y/N crossed the room slowly, her movements as graceful as ever despite the tiredness that sometimes lingered in her body. She placed a gentle hand on Viktor’s shoulder, grounding him in the moment. “Lira’s been asking about your work again. She wants to understand how it all fits together.”

Viktor smiled, his eyes shifting to Lira, who was now standing at his side, her bright eyes fixed on him with an intensity that reminded him so much of himself as a child. “Does she now?” Viktor said with a chuckle. “She’s certainly persistent.”

Y/N smiled, a touch of amusement in her voice. “Just like you,” she teased. “She wants to know how things work, how they fit together.”

Lira’s golden eyes widened with excitement, and she hopped down from her mother’s shoulder to run to Viktor’s side. “Papa, how do you make the parts move like that?” she asked eagerly, her tiny finger pointing to the small mechanical model sitting on his desk.

Viktor’s heart swelled with pride and affection. He took a deep breath, then gestured for Lira to come closer. “Well, miláčku,” he began, bending down to her level, “it’s all about understanding the way the pieces fit together. It’s a bit like how your mother weaves her fabrics, you see?” (Sweetheart)

Lira tilted her head, processing the information, before repeating thoughtfully, “Like weaving?”

“Yes,” Viktor continued, his voice warm with encouragement. “Everything, whether it’s a machine or something more natural, is connected in some way. It’s just a matter of finding the right way to put it all together.”

Y/N watched the two of them, her heart full as she observed the bond that had flourished between Viktor and their daughter. Lira was a living testament to the way both of them had shaped her. The curiosity, the drive, the sense of wonder—all of it was there, in her.

The three of them stood together in that quiet moment, a family forged from the strength of their love, their shared creativity, and their unwavering belief in each other. The lights of Piltover shone brightly outside, but inside their home, there was a warmth that no machine could replicate. Together, they were a family—strong, united, and ready to face whatever the future held.

And as they stood there, Viktor couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. For the journey, for the lessons, for the love that had filled his life in ways he never thought possible. And for the tiny girl with the golden eyes, whose presence had made it all worthwhile.

“I’m glad we’re here,” Viktor whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled softly, resting her head on his shoulder as Lira clung to his side, her golden eyes wide with curiosity. “So am I, Viktor,” she said, her voice filled with quiet contentment. “So am I.”

JAYVIK

Several years had passed since that long, weary day in the lab. Time had a way of softening the sharp edges of past pain, but for Y/N, some wounds still lingered, just beneath the surface, waiting for the world outside to remind her of its harshness. Yet, in spite of these lingering scars, brighter days had emerged—days filled with laughter, love, and the indescribable joy of watching her children grow, finding their own voices in the world that had once felt so unkind.

On this particular afternoon, Y/N strolled through the park, her twins—Elowen and Cassian—holding tightly onto her hands as they skipped beside her. Elowen, with her wild curls bouncing in the breeze, had inherited Viktor’s meticulous nature but also Y/N’s boundless curiosity and wild spirit. She was always the first to ask questions about the world around her, eager to uncover the mysteries of both magic and science. Cassian, on the other hand, with his mischievous grin and dark eyes that mirrored Jayce’s, thrived on adventure. His curiosity often led him into trouble, but his infectious joy in exploring made up for it. Together, they were a perfect blend of their parents—two little bundles of energy, wonder, and mischief.

Viktor, leaning on his cane as always, followed closely behind them. His faint but content smile revealed how deeply he cherished these moments—the ones where time seemed to slow down, where the world faded away, and only the people at his side mattered. He was proud of his children, proud of Y/N, and proud of the family they had built together. And there was Jayce, walking beside him, just as devoted, just as protective. Y/N could see the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at their children, his love for them as fierce and unconditional as her own. Together, the three of them made a home, one built on love, understanding, and a shared commitment to protect each other from the cruel realities of the world outside.

=

But as they walked through the park, something stirred in Y/N—an old discomfort, a prickle of awareness that she couldn’t shake off. At first, it was subtle—just a few sideways glances from passersby. But as they continued, the stares grew longer, the whispers more frequent. She could hear the hushed voices, barely masked by the rustling of leaves and the laughter of children. Some of the looks were filled with curiosity, some with disdain. The word "unnatural" caught her ear, and muttered remarks about her “strange” heritage reached her with painful clarity.

Her chest tightened, and she could feel the familiar weight of their gaze bearing down on her. The faces that looked upon her with suspicion, fear, and even hatred never failed to cut through her, no matter how much time had passed. The tightness in her chest grew as she glanced down at Elowen and Cassian, who were oblivious to the tension in the air. They were laughing, caught up in their joy, but Y/N saw the way the world would see them too. Her children—her precious children—were not exempt from the cruel judgment. Their innocence would never be enough protection from the harshness of the world.

Viktor noticed the shift in her posture before she realised it herself. Her grip on Elowen and Cassian’s hands tightened, and her tail, once relaxed behind her, now flicked anxiously. He could see the muscles in her back tense, her ears flattening slightly in response to the murmurs and stares. He knew her so well that he didn’t need to ask. But he did, anyway.

“Y/N?” Viktor’s voice, low and cautious, reached her. He stopped beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, his cane resting beside him. His other hand reached for hers, a quiet offering of support. “Is everything all right?”

Y/N blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. She gave him a tight smile, but it was weak, strained. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, her voice faltering. “Let’s just go home.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed in concern. He knew her too well to be fooled by her words. He glanced around and saw what she saw—people still staring, still whispering. He could feel her anxiety, a tight knot in his chest as he struggled with the helplessness of not being able to shield her from it all. He said nothing, though, as they turned to leave, both of them guiding their children with quick, deliberate steps.

Cassian, sensing the shift in the mood, looked up at his mother with wide, innocent eyes. His gaze, full of concern, didn’t escape Y/N. “Mum? Why are we going home? We were having fun!”

Y/N forced a soft laugh, bending down to ruffle his dark hair, her heart aching with the weight of his words. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll come back another time, I promise.”

Elowen, always attuned to the emotions around her, glanced up at her mother with a furrowed brow. Her bright eyes, much like Viktor’s, narrowed with concern. “Are we going to be okay, Mama?”

Y/N’s heart clenched as she looked into her daughter’s earnest eyes, those same bright eyes that shone with curiosity and understanding. She kissed Elowen’s forehead gently, a soft whisper escaping her lips. “We’re always okay, Elowen. Always.”

Jayce, who had been walking slightly behind them, caught up and placed a hand on Y/N’s back. He had noticed the subtle shift in her mood, the change that always followed when the world became too much for her to bear. His voice, calm and steady, broke through her thoughts. “Don’t let them get to you, Y/N. They’re just ignorant.”

Y/N gave him a small smile, grateful for the support but not quite able to shake the lingering discomfort. “I know, Jayce. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

Jayce squeezed her shoulder gently. “We’ll make sure they never see the world the way we do,” he said, his tone filled with determination. “We’ll teach them how to rise above it. We’ll show them what true strength is. And they’ll grow up knowing that love and family are the most important things.”

Viktor nodded in agreement, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. “They already know what matters, Y/N. They’re growing up surrounded by love. That’s what will guide them.”

=

They continued their walk home in silence, Viktor keeping a protective hand on Y/N’s back, Jayce walking beside her, a quiet but unwavering presence. His warm smile, though faint, was a silent reassurance that they were all in this together. Elowen was perched on his shoulders, giggling with delight as she tugged on his hair playfully, while Cassian swung from his hand, laughing with each swing. Jayce, as always, did his best to be the stabilising force, effortlessly balancing the responsibility of keeping them safe while maintaining the lightness in his step that made the children feel unburdened by the world outside.

Y/N’s tail flicked nervously behind her, her unease bubbling under the surface despite the joy in her children’s laughter. She could feel the stares, the muttered comments, and the weight of the world pressing against her chest again. Viktor noticed her tension immediately and slowed his pace, coming closer to her side, his hand brushing against hers in quiet comfort. He knew her well enough to recognise the signs of her discomfort, though she was trying her best to hold herself together for the sake of their children.

=

As they neared their home, the murmurs faded into the background, replaced by the warm comfort of familiar streets, the comforting sense of belonging within their own space. Y/N sighed, the tightness in her chest easing as they reached the door. When the latch clicked shut behind them, a sense of relief washed over her like a wave. Here, in the sanctuary of their home, she was safe. She was with Viktor, Jayce, and their children—where the world couldn’t touch them so easily.

Viktor, ever observant, placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle but steady. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice full of empathy. “I know it’s not easy.”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath and leaned into him, her head resting against his chest for a brief moment. The steady thrum of his heartbeat soothed her, grounding her in the present, in the love they had built together. “I just… I just want to protect them. I don’t want them to see the world like I do. I want them to grow up free of fear.”

Viktor’s hand moved to the back of her head, fingers carding through her hair in a gesture of care. “They will,” he reassured her. “They have us. And we’ll teach them what matters—love, understanding, and the strength to rise above the ignorance around us.”

Jayce, having entered behind them, placed a hand on Y/N’s other shoulder. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, his voice low but filled with unshakable confidence. “They’ll never know the world like we do. They’re going to be better than that. And we’ll make sure of it.”

Y/N felt her heart swell with gratitude, her breath steadying as she looked at the men who stood beside her. Despite the world’s cruelty, she had this—she had Viktor, Jayce, and their children. Their family was her safe place, a foundation built on love, strength, and resilience. Together, they could weather any storm.

=

That night, as they settled in, Y/N tucked Elowen and Cassian into their beds, pressing gentle kisses to their foreheads. The twins were already drifting off to sleep, their innocent smiles and soft breaths reminding her of the purity of their hearts, untouched by the harshness of the world. “You’ll never have to carry the world’s burdens. We’ve got you. Always,” she whispered.

Her heart ached with love as she pulled the covers up around them, watching over them like a guardian, as Viktor and Jayce quietly stood by her side, sharing the weight of the moment. The world outside could be unforgiving, but within these walls, surrounded by their family, Y/N knew her children would always be safe. They had each other—and together, that was more than enough to face whatever the world threw their way.

With Viktor’s steady calm, Jayce’s boundless energy, and the love they shared, Y/N knew they would find a way through the darkest of times—together, stronger, united, and full of love. With their hearts intertwined, they were a force to be reckoned with, no matter what. And that made all the difference.

VANDER

As the months passed, life in the undercity settled into a familiar rhythm, but things were never quite the same after Y/N gave birth to Kael. The quiet, curious child brought with him a special kind of presence that seemed to resonate deeply within the walls of the Last Drop. From the moment he was born, Kael's appearance caught the eye of everyone in the bar. His features were a striking combination of Y/N and Vander—Vander's strong jawline and broad shoulders, but with Y/N's deep, almond-shaped eyes, shimmering with a mysterious wisdom far beyond his years. His small, cat-like nose and faint markings on his skin were unmistakable signs of his mother’s Vastaya heritage, marking him as something rare, something different in a world where differences were not always welcomed.

They named him Kael, meaning "mighty warrior" in an ancient tongue, as Vander had suggested. The name seemed fitting, not just for his appearance, but for the world he had been born into—one filled with struggle, hardship, and a need for strength. Y/N agreed, feeling the weight of the name as she held her son close. Vander, with his protective nature, already saw the resilience Kael carried, even as an infant, and he was proud to see that strength take root in his son. Y/N felt a similar bond, sensing that Kael was destined to carry a power that neither she nor Vander could fully comprehend.

In the meantime, the children of the Last Drop—Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor—had grown especially fond of Kael. The little boy’s serene presence seemed to calm the chaos of the undercity, and the children couldn’t help but adore him. They took turns helping Y/N with him, vying for the opportunity to hold him, to make him laugh, or simply to spend time with him. Vi, ever the fierce protector, kept a close watch over her little brother, ensuring that nothing could harm him. Even in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the bar, she would often sit beside Y/N and Kael, offering a silent, watchful gaze over the newborn.

Powder, though usually lost in her own world, was particularly enamoured with Kael, often offering him her toys and coaxing a giggle or smile from him, her face lighting up with pure joy when he responded. Mylo, the prankster, joked that Kael would grow up to be a tough kid, always looking out for his sister, and while his words were playful, there was an undeniable truth to them—Kael already possessed a quiet strength that would make him stand tall when the time came. Vi, fiercely protective, always kept a watchful eye on him, whether he was peacefully napping or playing, and would stand guard, her instincts flaring if anything or anyone posed a threat. Claggor, the silent one, gravitated toward Kael, his usual quiet nature softening around the baby as he sat nearby, observing with a gentle, affectionate gaze. It was clear to everyone that, despite their differences, each of them held a deep, protective love for Kael, their bond as strong as family itself.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the way her children had embraced Kael. There was a tenderness in the way they interacted with him, a protective instinct that ran deep. Vander, too, found his heart swelling with pride every time he saw Kael surrounded by his "siblings," playing, laughing, and sharing in the simple joy of being together. In a world as harsh as Zaun, moments like these were rare, and Vander appreciated them more than anyone could know. He found peace in seeing Kael grow up in the warmth of his new family, surrounded by those who cared for him and would protect him fiercely.

However, as much as Kael was a light in their lives, the undercity was not without its shadows. Life here was brutal, and not everyone looked upon a Vastaya child with the same warmth that his "siblings" did. It was one thing for Vander and Y/N to protect him within the confines of the Last Drop, but outside, in the rough streets of Zaun, there were dangers lurking at every corner.

=

One day, when Y/N and Vander were busy tending to the bar, they decided to let the kids venture out to explore Zaun for a while. The air was thick with the usual mixture of industry, smoke, and the distant hum of machines. The kids roamed the streets, their laughter echoing off the walls of the narrow alleys, their boundless energy filling the cracks of the city. Vi kept an eye on Kael, who was nestled in her arms, his curious gaze taking in the world around him. Powder ran ahead, giggling as she chased after a small mechanical bird that had caught her eye. Mylo and Claggor wandered together, though Claggor’s eyes were always alert, and Mylo kept up his usual antics, cracking jokes and teasing the others.

It was during this outing that they encountered someone who would test their bond.

A man, clearly down on his luck, spotted Kael from across the street. His eyes narrowed when he saw the child’s markings, his lip curling in disgust. He had no love for the Vastaya, nor for anyone who didn’t belong fully to Zaun or Piltover. The sight of Kael, with his distinct features—a blend of Vander's sturdiness and Y/N’s exotic markings—filled the man with a deep sense of disdain. He muttered something under his breath, his hand gripping the edge of a nearby crate as he approached the group.

“You think you’re one of us?” the man sneered, his voice rough and threatening. “What, you think this little bastard belongs here? A freak like him don’t fit in, not with the city’s blood or with any of you.”

Vi’s protective instincts flared, and she stepped forward, her fists clenched. “Watch your mouth,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

The man, clearly not used to being challenged, took a step closer, his gaze now focused solely on Kael. “I’ve seen your kind before. You don’t belong here,” he spat, his words dripping with venom.

Powder, who had been playing nearby, immediately ran to Kael’s side, standing next to him with her fists raised in defiance. Mylo and Claggor moved in as well, standing shoulder to shoulder with Vi, their expressions serious. The playful antics had fallen away, replaced by the fierce loyalty they had for each other.

“We don’t let anyone talk about him like that,” Mylo said, his usual cheeky grin replaced by a determined scowl. “You need to get lost.”

The man, realising he was surrounded, hesitated for a moment. But his temper flared again, and he sneered. “You’re all freaks, then. What are you gonna do about it?”

=

But before the situation could escalate further, the unmistakable sound of Vander’s voice rang out, deep and commanding as he approached. "I don’t think you’ve been listening," he said, his presence alone enough to make the man hesitate. "You’ll apologise, or you’ll leave. Your choice."

The man looked around at the children, then at Vander, realising too late that he was outmatched. His bravado faltered as he took a step back. "Freaks," he muttered under his breath, his words weak and meaningless now.

But just as he was about to leave, Y/N stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with a fierce protectiveness. Her ears were pinned back, and she let out a low hiss, like a cat cornered in a threat, her stance poised to defend her family. The man paused, momentarily startled by her reaction.

With a final glare at the children, the man staggered off, grumbling to himself, but his bravado had crumbled in the face of Vander and Y/N’s unwavering stance.

The tension in the air evaporated the moment he left. Vi, still holding Kael, looked down at him with a reassuring smile. "See? Nothing to worry about," she said softly.

Powder clung to Kael, her face beaming with pride. "You’re safe, Kael," she whispered, her voice full of admiration.

Mylo chuckled lightly. "Told you you’d be tough, little guy."

Claggor nodded silently, his gaze steady as always, but his actions spoke volumes as he kept a watchful eye on Kael. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to his little brother.

Kael, still a baby, looked up at them all with wide eyes, sensing the love and protection surrounding him. He let out a soft giggle, the sound a reminder that, even in the harshest of places, there was always room for love and family.

Vander and Y/N watched the scene with pride and gratitude, their hearts swelling at the sight of the children’s bond. Despite the chaos of Zaun, there was a rare beauty in these moments—moments when love and loyalty triumphed over hate. Kael was part of something special, something worth protecting, and Vander would do everything in his power to ensure that his son would always know that, no matter how dark the world around them became, he would never be alone.

SILCO + JINX

Years had passed since that fateful moment in the alley, where Silco had broken the chains that bound Y/N, both physically and metaphorically. In those years, the two of them had built something together—an empire forged from shadows and ambition, yet tempered with a bond that neither could fully explain. The world they had shaped around them had grown even darker, but it had become a world that they controlled, one where their power and influence rippled through the streets of Zaun and Piltover.

Silco, ever the calculating figure, had changed in small but undeniable ways. Y/N’s presence, her quiet strength and the way she could bring peace to his otherwise turbulent soul, had carved a place in his heart that he had never imagined. There was still coldness to him, still the calculating mind of a man who would sacrifice anything for power, but Y/N’s unwavering loyalty, her warmth, and the strength of her love had brought a new dimension to him. Silco no longer saw the world only through the lens of domination and revenge. Y/N had taught him that there was a kind of strength in love, and that perhaps there was more to life than just ruling with an iron fist.

The change in Silco wasn’t immediately visible, not to everyone, but Y/N saw it in the way he would hold her hand in the quiet moments after a particularly brutal business deal, or the way his gaze softened when he watched her care for their children. There was an unspoken understanding between them now, something beyond the power plays and dangerous politics that had once consumed them both. They were building a future—not just for themselves, but for the little ones who depended on them.

And then, their daughter was born.

=

She came into the world with a quiet intensity that mirrored both her parents. Her eyes were Y/N’s—bright and full of life, but with a depth that seemed to carry the weight of both their worlds. Her skin, a soft blend of Silco’s smooth, darker tone and Y/N’s lighter, ethereal touch, held the markings of her mother’s Vastaya heritage—small yet distinct patterns that hinted at her mystical bloodline. Silco, who had always been distant and controlled, couldn’t help but gaze at his daughter in awe, as if she were the most precious thing he had ever seen. The first time she cried, it was as though the sound itself cracked open something in him—something that had been sealed off for years.

They named her Sira.

The name felt right—it was simple, yet carried an air of strength and beauty that seemed to fit their daughter perfectly. It was a name that bridged both of their worlds: Silco’s world of control and power, and Y/N’s world of magic and nature. Silco looked at her and saw a future—one where his legacy would live on, not in the empire he had built, but in the strength and intelligence of his child. Y/N looked at her and saw the blending of two worlds that had once seemed irreconcilable, but now came together in the form of their daughter.

As Sira grew, so did the complexities of her existence. To Silco, she was his blood—a living, breathing piece of his legacy, a future that could be molded into his image. To Y/N, she was a connection to her own heritage, a continuation of a line that stretched far beyond the borders of Zaun and Piltover. She was their hope, their love, and their proof that, despite the darkness around them, something good could come from it.

And to Jinx? Well, at first, it was something else entirely.

Jinx had always been fiercely protective of her adoptive parents. They were her family, her everything. She had grown up surrounded by chaos, and Silco and Y/N had been the constant, the ones who had taken her in and treated her as their own. The idea of sharing them, of giving her love and attention to someone else, felt like a betrayal. So when Sira entered the picture, Jinx’s first instinct was to keep her distance, to resent the little girl for stealing the attention that she had always received. To her, Sira was a threat, an intrusion into the fragile space she had carved out in her heart for Y/N and Silco.

But Sira, even as an infant, had an innate charm. It wasn’t just her appearance—a curious mix of the fierce and the gentle—but the way she would giggle and grasp at Jinx’s bright hair or the way her tiny hands would reach out, wanting to touch, to play, to explore. Slowly but surely, the walls Jinx had put up began to crack. The more time she spent around Sira, the more she realised that the little girl wasn’t trying to take anything from her. She wasn’t a threat. In fact, she had a way of drawing Jinx in, of making her feel needed, wanted, and loved in a way that she hadn’t expected.

Sira quickly became the centre of Jinx’s attention. When she was a toddler, Jinx was rarely seen without her, proudly parading her around, holding her outstretched in her arms like a trophy to Sevika, to the gang, to anyone who would look.

"Look at her!" Jinx would say with a mischievous grin, holding Sira up in front of her. "Isn't she just perfect?"

=

At first, Sira was just a quiet baby, taking in everything around her with wide eyes, but she grew into a toddler full of curiosity and joy. Her giggles and the sparkle in her eyes were contagious, slowly softening even the hardest of hearts around her. Even Sevika, who had always been tough and unflinching, couldn’t resist a smile when Sira reached out to her, or when Jinx spun the little girl around, her laugh ringing through the air.

In moments like these, the older woman could hardly resist. The tiny hand in hers, the way Sira’s tiny voice would giggle as Jinx spun her around, the way she proudly showed off the little one as though she were her own—Jinx had finally accepted her role as the big sister, the protector, the one who would teach Sira the ways of their world.

=

Silco watched all of this with an intensity that could only come from a father who was fiercely protective of his daughter and also quietly proud of how his ragtag family had come together, in spite of the violence, the chaos, and the unspoken tension that had once ruled their lives. His dark eyes tracked Sira as she giggled, her tiny hands reaching up for Jinx, who was already spinning her around with a wide grin plastered across her face.

"Jinx," Silco called out sharply, his voice laced with concern as his eyes narrowed. "Careful with her."

Jinx paused, looking over at Silco with mock innocence, but the mischievous glint in her eyes gave away her feigned innocence. "Oh, come on! She loves it," she teased, giving Sira one more quick spin before looking back at Silco.

Silco stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking in, and he held up a hand, his voice suddenly stern. "That’s enough, Jinx." He moved closer to Sira, his eyes softening as he took her from Jinx’s arms. "She’s still too little for that much, alright?"

Jinx raised her hands in mock surrender but couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at her lips. "Alright, alright. You’re such a softie, Silco."

Silco didn’t respond at first, his gaze lingering on his daughter’s small, trusting face as she nestled into his chest, her little hands clinging to him. The sound of Sira’s laughter, light and full of joy, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. It was a reminder that, no matter how dark the world could get, there was still something pure—something worth protecting.

But now? Now, there was something more—something worth fighting for, worth living for. And that something was standing there, in the form of their daughter, who would one day inherit both their legacies, and who would grow up to be as formidable as her parents. Silco, who had always been a man of control, found himself utterly undone by the sight of his daughter smiling up at him. Her little hands reached for him, and his heart stuttered in his chest. This was no longer just about power and survival.

"Daddy," Sira whispered, her voice small and sweet, yet full of certainty as she held her arms out to him.

Silco’s expression softened, his usual cold mask slipping for just a moment. He reached down, lifting his daughter into his arms with a tenderness that only those closest to him would ever witness. "What is it, Sira?" he asked, his voice lower than usual, almost as though he was afraid she might break if he spoke too loudly.

Sira rested her head against his shoulder, her tiny fingers tracing the dark tattoos that marked his skin. "Love you, Daddy," she murmured, her words simple yet full of meaning.

His breath caught in his throat. Silco, the man who had controlled entire factions, who had torn through his enemies without hesitation, now found himself speechless, overcome by a feeling he had never quite understood until now. In Sira’s smile, in the way she clung to him as though he was her entire world, he realised that he wasn’t just a ruler. He was a father.

Y/N, always by his side, watched with a sense of contentment. Her gaze flickered between Silco and their daughter, her heart swelling with pride and love. The journey that had brought them here, to this moment, hadn’t been easy. Their family had been forged from the harshest of circumstances. Yet somehow, in spite of it all, they had found each other and built something stronger than anything Silco had ever set out to create.

"She’s growing up so fast," Y/N said softly, her voice full of affection as she approached, her hand brushing against Silco’s. "Can’t believe how much she’s learned already. She's just like you, Silco. Strong, determined, and fearless."

Silco’s expression darkened slightly at the thought of their daughter inheriting his dangerous traits. "I’d rather she take after you," he muttered, though the hint of affection in his tone was impossible to miss.

Y/N chuckled, her eyes filled with warmth. "Oh, I’m sure she will. She already has your wit. But she also has something more—something that neither of us can control." She smiled up at him, her hand slipping into his, a silent bond that spoke volumes between them.

The two stood there, side by side, with Sira nestled between them.

"You know," Y/N continued, her voice teasing now, "I used to think we would never get this moment. That everything would be consumed by the shadows we’ve built our lives in. But Sira, she’s proof that we can have more than just the fight. She’s proof that we can still live, Silco."

Silco looked down at their daughter, the quiet strength and warmth in her tiny form overwhelming him. The empire he had built, the countless battles he had fought—none of that mattered in the face of this small, innocent life that he and Y/N had brought into the world.

In the silence that followed, a rare peace settled between them. Silco, ever the calculating strategist, found himself no longer concerned with his empire. The life he had created with Y/N and Sira, with Jinx now fully integrated into their strange family, was more than any territory or wealth could ever offer.

And as the years went on, Y/N and Silco knew that no matter what the future held, they had built something unbreakable—a family united by blood, by choice, and by love. A family that, for once, wasn’t just about survival, but about living.

"She’s going to be a force," Jinx remarked from the background, watching as Sira tugged on Silco’s sleeve, her eyes bright with mischief. "Just like her parents." The words were both a promise and a challenge.

Silco glanced back at Jinx, his lips curving in a faint smile. "She’s already a force, Jinx. But she will also be something greater than either of us could ever have imagined."

Y/N nodded, leaning into Silco as Sira reached up once more, her tiny hands brushing against her parents. "Together, we’ve built this. And together, we’ll see it grow."

"You’re acting like someone's about to rob us," Jayce teased, watching as you warily eyed a group of rowdy enforcers walking by.

"They could," you muttered, tail fluffing slightly. "Piltover looks safe, but that’s what they want you to think."

Jayce raised an eyebrow, biting back a laugh. "Oh? So you think the big, bad bread vendor over there is actually a master thief?"

Your ears twitched. "You joke, but I guarantee that guy’s scammed someone before."

Jayce smirked, watching as you poked at a loaf of bread as if it might suddenly explode. Your Vastayan heritage was a dead giveaway—pointed ears, a tail that never stayed still, soft fur dusting parts of your face and arms. You were all instincts, all hyper-awareness, constantly scanning your surroundings for some kind of threat.

And then, just as Jayce turned to pay for the bundle of supplies—

BOOM!

An explosion ripped through the air, likely some careless Zaunite experiment down by the docks.

But that didn’t matter.

Because the moment the noise hit your ears—

You. Were. Gone.

Jayce blinked, processing the fact that he was now holding nothing where your hand had just been.

"Seriously?!" he groaned, already turning in circles to look for any sign of you.

The vendor, who had seen this exact thing happen before, gave Jayce a slow shake of his head. "You want me to hold onto your bread while you go find him?"

Jayce sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah. Probably best."

=

After way too much searching, Jayce finally found you clinging to a balcony like a terrified cat.

"Y/N," he called up, arms crossed. "Really?"

You peeked over the railing, eyes wide and still full of adrenaline. Your tail was so fluffed that you looked twice your size. "Did you not hear that?"

"It was an explosion," Jayce said flatly. "They happen."*

"Yes! And I am allergic to explosions, Jayce!*" You huffed, still gripping the balcony for dear life. "I have very good instincts. You should trust them more."

Jayce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You can’t just disappear every time something makes a loud noise, Y/N."

"I absolutely can."

"No, you—Y/N, get down from there."

You narrowed your eyes. "How do I know it's safe?"

"Because I'm here," Jayce said, exasperated. "And if another explosion happens, I promise I'll—"

POP!

Another distant bang echoed from the direction of the docks.

And you?

GONE.

Jayce didn’t even blink before you vanished again, launching yourself off the balcony and disappearing into the nearest alleyway.

Jayce let out the loudest, most dramatic groan imaginable. "For the love of—"

The vendor from earlier just so happened to be passing by and shot Jayce a knowing look. "Tough luck, champ."

Jayce glared. "I'm buying a leash."

VIKTOR

The clatter of metal against the stone floor sent you bolting.

One moment, you were beside Viktor, leaning over the table as he fiddled with a delicate contraption, and the next, you were gone—nothing but the flutter of fabric and a faint gust of air marking your departure.

Viktor sighed, rubbing his temple as he glanced upward. Sure enough, there you were, perched precariously on a wooden beam, tail wrapped tightly around it for balance. Your fur bristled slightly, ears flicking at every tiny sound in the lab, your wide eyes darting from one shadow to the next as if another danger was about to spring forth.

"You know," Viktor began, tapping his cane lightly against the floor, "for someone so agile, you are surprisingly easy to startle."

You blinked down at him, still clinging to the beam. "That was loud," you huffed, voice edged with nervous energy. "What if it was an explosion? Or a rogue chemtech monstrosity? Or—"

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. "It was a wrench, drahý," he reassured. "Merely a wrench slipping from my grasp, not the end of the world." (Dear)

You narrowed your eyes, still unconvinced. "You say that, but you work with some very unstable things."

Viktor leaned against his desk, shifting his weight onto his cane with a slow, measured movement. His golden gaze flickered with something between amusement and fond exasperation. "Then I suppose it is fortunate I have you here to flee at the first sign of danger. You can be my early warning system, yes?"

Your tail flicked, and you pouted. "I am not an alarm."

"No, of course not," Viktor said smoothly. "Alarms stay in place when triggered. You, however, are halfway across the city before I can blink."

You huffed but finally dropped down, landing lightly on your feet. Viktor reached out instinctively, his hand brushing your arm as you wobbled slightly. His fingers were warm despite the usual chill of the lab, a grounding presence against your heightened nerves. You resisted the urge to bolt again at the unexpected touch—he was one of the few people you allowed to get this close.

"Better?" you mumbled, ears still twitching, scanning for another sudden noise.

"Much," he murmured, giving you a small, knowing smile. Then, with a teasing tilt of his head, he added, "Though, if I were to create an alarm based on you, I would need to account for how quickly it vanishes when triggered. Quite the unique design challenge."

You swatted at his shoulder with your tail, pouting. "I swear, one of these days, I’m going to—"

The door slammed open.

Gone.

By the time Jayce stepped inside, all he saw was Viktor standing alone, sighing deeply, his golden eyes flicking upward to where you had once again scrambled into the rafters.

Jayce frowned. "Did… did I miss something?"

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ah, yes," he drawled. "Another successful stress test of my partner’s flight response. Quite effective. I should start taking notes."

Jayce raised a brow. "What, did you scare him off again?"

"I did nothing," Viktor said, voice tinged with mild offense. "He abandoned me. Again. One loud noise, and poof—gone, like a stray breeze." He tapped his cane against the floor pointedly, looking up at you. "Leaving me to my tragic fate, no less. If I had collapsed just now, who would have caught me, hmm? Certainly not you."

From the rafters, you groaned. "Not funny, Viktor."

His smirk said otherwise.

Jayce crossed his arms. "Okay, but like… how do you keep getting up there so fast?"

Viktor, still looking up at you with a mix of fondness and exasperation, deadpanned, "Years of evolutionary perfection, Jayce. He is a marvel of agility and fear-induced propulsion."

You peeked down at them, tail swishing. "Or maybe I'm just smart enough to know that if something explodes in this room, standing next to Viktor is not the safest place to be."

Jayce snorted. "Okay, fair point."

Viktor sighed dramatically. "I am deeply wounded by this lack of faith in my scientific prowess." He rested a hand on his chest as if physically pained. "And my physical safety, apparently. Do you even know how long it takes me to move across this room if you are not here to help me?"

You hesitated, eyes flicking down to his cane. A pang of guilt settled in your chest. He was teasing, sure, but there was some truth in his words. Viktor was fast—when he had to be—but his condition meant his movements were always measured, his balance reliant on careful distribution of weight and the steady rhythm of his cane. If something had happened while you bolted…

Your ears drooped slightly.

Viktor, ever perceptive, softened his expression. "I jest, lásko," he said gently. "Mostly." (Love)

You sighed before, with an almost reluctant grace, dropping down from the rafters again. Your landing was effortless, though your tail twitched with lingering nervousness.

"I don't mean to leave you in the dust," you murmured, rubbing at the back of your neck. "It’s just… instinct."

Viktor smiled, reaching out to tap your nose lightly with his finger. "I know," he said simply. "It is what makes you, you."

Jayce, watching the exchange, smirked. "Wow, this is the softest I’ve seen you be, Vik."

Viktor rolled his eyes, but his hand still lingered lightly on your arm. "Yes, yes, very amusing. Now, if you are done causing another mass exodus, perhaps we can return to work before another tool decides to betray me and sends my dear partner scurrying for the hills?"

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I don’t scurry."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged glances.

"You definitely scurry," Jayce confirmed.

Viktor nodded sagely. "Much like a particularly dramatic squirrel."

You threw your hands up. "Unbelievable!"

Viktor chuckled, guiding you gently back to the worktable. This time, when another tool clattered, you only flinched.

Progress.

JAYVIK

The lab was quiet—too quiet.

Jayce sighed, rubbing his temples as he scanned the room. The usual hum of Hextech machinery filled the air, faint blue light flickering off the metallic walls. The soft clinking of cooling metal and the occasional static pop of unstable energy in the conduits should have been a comfort, a familiar background noise to their work. But something felt off.

Something—or rather, someone—was missing.

Viktor stood beside him, leaning heavily against his cane, golden eyes narrowed with mild irritation. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished metal handle, his expression unreadable, though Jayce could tell he was just as unimpressed as he was.

“He’s hiding again,” Viktor muttered, shifting his weight slightly to alleviate pressure on his weaker leg.

Jayce sighed, exhaling sharply through his nose as he crossed his arms. “I didn’t even drop anything this time.”

Viktor gave him a pointed look. “No, but you did slam the door.”

Jayce groaned, tossing his head back. “That was hours ago!”

Viktor arched a brow. “He holds grudges.”

Jayce opened his mouth to argue but stopped as a soft rustling noise echoed from above them. Both men snapped their gazes upward.

Viktor shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. Jayce, however, let out a heavy sigh.

“Y/N,” Jayce called, voice gentler this time. “We’re not mad. You can come down.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, a pair of feline-like eyes peeked over the edge of the highest shelf in the lab. Wide, wary, gleaming in the dim Hextech glow. Y/N’s ears, normally flicking in restless curiosity, were flattened against his head. His claws were sunk deep into the wooden beam, gripping it like his life depended on it, his tail curled protectively around his body.

Jayce softened his stance. “Come on, big guy. We promise we’re not gonna grab you.”

Y/N’s pupils were thin slits, his tail flicking anxiously.

“I—I don’t trust you,” he stammered, voice tinged with unease. “You’re gonna grab me.”

Jayce blinked. “I was gonna grab you, yeah. But not if you’re gonna bolt.”

Y/N’s ears twitched, his claws flexing against the wood. “That’s what you say,” he muttered, shifting his weight slightly. “But then—bam!—suddenly, I’m trapped.”

Viktor tapped his cane against the floor, drawing Y/N’s attention away from Jayce. “The fact that you do not trust us despite being in a committed relationship is quite concerning, dear,” he mused, voice rich with amusement. “You practically teleport when startled. One day, you are going to hit the ceiling and get stuck.”

Y/N let out a nervous grumble, adjusting his position. “Not my fault you humans are loud,” he muttered. “Big, clunky, and loud. You make all this metal stuff, and it falls, and bam!—I’m dead.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but chuckled. “C’mon, Y/N, you’ve survived this long. You’re just—”

CRASH.

A wrench, precariously perched on the edge of the worktable, slipped and hit the floor with a loud metallic clang.

Gone.

Y/N was gone.

A blur of sleek fur and frantic energy shot past them at an impossible speed, his claws scraping against the floor as he vanished. The window rattled from the force of his retreat. Loose papers spiraled into the air, fluttering aimlessly in his wake.

Jayce groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

Viktor, unphased, merely chuckled, adjusting his weight. “You left a wrench on the table, Jayce. You brought this upon yourself.”

Jayce scowled at him. “You’re not helping.”

A long silence passed before Viktor tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking upward.

“Check the rafters.”

Jayce followed his gaze. Sure enough, nestled in the highest beams of the ceiling, a pair of glowing golden eyes peered down at them.

Jayce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really?”

A low, indignant hiss filtered down from the shadows. “I live here now.”

Jayce exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms while Viktor smirked. “Oh? Well, if you live up there,” Viktor drawled, “I suppose you do not need cuddles tonight.”

Y/N twitched. His tail flicked once, then again, betraying his internal struggle.

“…That’s blackmail,” he muttered.

“Motivation,” Viktor corrected smoothly.

For a long moment, Y/N remained frozen, his claws clicking against the wooden beams. His ears twitched, his tail curling, as if he were actively fighting an inner battle.

Then—slowly—he dropped.

He landed right into Jayce’s waiting arms with a soft thud, a tangle of warm fur and lean muscle settling against the larger man’s chest.

Jayce barely staggered from the impact, rolling his eyes fondly. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Y/N, thoroughly disgruntled, crossed his arms and scowled. “I hate how strong you are.”

Jayce grinned. “You love how strong I am.”

Viktor leaned in slightly, gloved fingers trailing lightly beneath Y/N’s chin, coaxing him to look up. “Do not think I did not see how you lingered in Jayce’s arms,” he teased, voice silky smooth.

Y/N’s tail bristled as he sputtered, pushing against Jayce’s chest. “I—I didn’t! I—shut up!”

Jayce simply chuckled, tightening his arms around him.

Viktor tilted his head. “Perhaps you need a distraction, hm?”

Y/N barely had time to react before Viktor’s lips brushed against his cheek, slow and deliberate, warm against his skin. Jayce, never one to be left out, pressed a kiss against the sensitive spot beneath Y/N’s jaw, his breath hot against his fur.

Y/N twitched violently, his tail puffing up to twice its usual size, his ears pinning flat.

“I—I hate you both,” he stammered, his face burning as he tried—and failed—to squirm free.

Jayce smirked. “No, you don’t.”

Viktor hummed in agreement, golden eyes glittering with amusement. “You tolerate us.”

Y/N groaned, covering his face with his hands, his tail lashing behind him.

For all his flightiness, for all his instinct to run at the first sign of loud noises and sudden movements—he did like this part.

He supposed he could tolerate the racket.

…For now.

VANDER

The Last Drop was unusually quiet tonight—well, as quiet as a bar in the Lanes could be. Vander leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes idly scanning the room. It was a rare moment of peace, one he wasn’t going to take for granted.

Y/N, however, wasn’t so sure about the supposed ‘peace.’ His ears twitched at every little sound, sharp eyes flicking from the dim lanterns to the swinging door to the creaky floorboards. His tail flicked behind him, a nervous habit he hadn’t shaken since he was a kid. The air in the bar was thick with the scent of ale, smoke, and the ever-present metallic tang of Zaun, but even that familiar comfort didn’t ease his nerves.

Powder was at his side, humming softly as she toyed with a small contraption in her hands. He liked the kid. She wasn’t as loud as Mylo, nor as aggressive as Vi. She had an energy about her, sure, but it was never overbearing. Plus, he’d found she startled just as easily as he did.

Claggor sat nearby, ever the quiet observer, tinkering with a small piece of metal, likely something salvaged from a junk heap. He was steady, reliable—someone who balanced out Mylo’s mouthy attitude and Vi’s stubborn streak. Y/N appreciated that about him. Unlike the others, Claggor didn’t demand much, nor did he ever get irritated when Y/N’s instincts got the better of him. He simply rolled with it, unfazed. Maybe that’s why Powder stuck close to him too. He was the calm in the chaos, and right now, Y/N could use some of that calm

They’d bonded over that.

The two of them had long since developed an unspoken agreement—when things got too loud, too overwhelming, they had each other’s backs. Powder had learned to stick close to Y/N, knowing he’d have the quickest reaction if something spooked them. And Y/N? Well, he liked having someone who didn’t judge him for his instincts.

So when Vander, ever the gentle giant, suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and let out a loud, earth-shaking sneeze—

Y/N reacted on instinct.

One moment he was perched on the bar stool, Powder by his side. The next? Gone. Both of them.

The chair rocked slightly in his absence before settling back down, and Vander blinked in bewilderment.

The rest of the room had barely registered the sneeze, but it might as well have been a gunshot for Y/N. In a split second, he had scooped Powder up and vanished, moving so quickly it left the patrons blinking in confusion. Mylo sputtered into his drink, Vi let out a long-suffering groan, and Claggor turned toward the door as if expecting to see Y/N already outside.

Vander rubbed his nose, sighing. “Dammit.”

Vi, across the room, groaned. “Not again.”

The door creaked open, and Claggor poked his head in from outside. “Did Y/N just bolt with Powder?”

Vi didn’t even look up. “Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

From above, muffled whispers floated down from the rafters.

“Y/N… we’re in the ceiling again.”

“Yes, I’m aware, Powder.”

A pause.

“You don’t have to hold me so tight anymore.”

Y/N hesitated before slowly loosening his grip. Powder shuffled, peeking down through the beams. “Vander’s just staring at us.”

Y/N peered down as well. Sure enough, Vander was standing beneath them, arms crossed, an exasperated yet amused look on his face.

“You done up there?” Vander asked, voice gruff but laced with fondness.

Y/N’s tail twitched. “… Maybe.”

Vander sighed and reached up. “C’mon, let’s get you both down before you fall and give me an actual heart attack.”

Y/N huffed but obeyed, gently lowering Powder before hopping down himself. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Vander’s large hands landed on his shoulders, steadying him.

“Y’know,” the older man said, voice softer now, “if you keep running off like that, I might just have to keep ya close all the time.”

Y/N flushed, ears flicking back. “Not my fault you sneeze like a damn bomb went off.”

Powder giggled beside him, and Vander chuckled, giving his shoulders a firm squeeze before finally letting go. “C’mon, let’s get you a drink to settle those nerves.”

Y/N huffed but didn’t argue, letting Vander gently nudge him toward the bar.

This time, he stayed put—though he kept one eye on the door, just in case.

SILCO

The Last Drop was never silent, but tonight it was particularly loud.

A fight had broken out near the bar, sending bottles crashing to the ground, glass shattering under boots, voices raising in drunken slurs and anger. Someone pulled a gun—then a shot rang out.

And you?

You were gone.

One moment, you had been sitting comfortably at Silco’s side, listening intently to the low murmurs of conversation, your tail curling idly around your chair as you observed his dealings with Finn, Sevika, and other high-ranking members of Zaun’s underbelly. The next, your instincts had seized control—muscles reacting before your brain had even fully processed the sound.

A blur of movement. The sharp scrape of claws against wood. Your body tensed as you vaulted upward, disappearing into the rafters, where dim lighting barely reached. Your heart pounded so violently that it echoed in your ears, your pupils blown wide as they flicked across the bar below, scanning for danger. Your tail was puffed up, bristling like a live wire, and your ears lay flat against your skull.

Down below, the fight had ended almost as quickly as it had started. Sevika had handled it with brutal efficiency—she always did. The unconscious man lay sprawled across a shattered table, blood trickling from his mouth. The rest of the bar had already returned to normal, though a few wary patrons were still murmuring amongst themselves.

But no one was looking at the poor bastard who had picked the wrong night to start a fight.

They were looking at you.

Finn let out a low whistle, exhaling a puff of cigar smoke. "Every damn time." He smirked, nudging his drink with lazy amusement. "You’d think he’d get used to it by now."

Sevika scoffed, arms crossed over her broad chest. "He's like a damn alley cat," she muttered, tilting her head up to glance at your silhouette in the shadows. "Skittish as hell, always bolting at the first sign of trouble."

Silco, however, said nothing.

Instead, he merely swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his mismatched gaze trained upward, following the exact spot where you perched. His fingers tapped against the rim of his glass, slow and methodical.

"Indeed," he murmured, his tone unreadable.

You swallowed hard, your breathing still uneven. Your claws remained locked against the wooden beams, muscles tight and coiled, every instinct screaming at you to stay put, to wait until the threat had fully passed.

You knew you looked ridiculous—cowering in the rafters like some cornered stray—but fear didn’t care about appearances. It didn’t care that you were supposed to be past this. That you were meant to be safe here.

And yet, your body wouldn’t let go of the tension.

Silco sighed softly, barely audible beneath the low hum of the bar. He set his glass down, then flicked his wrist in a subtle yet dismissive motion.

"Leave us."

Finn blinked. "What?"

Silco didn’t repeat himself.

He simply looked at Finn and Sevika—the kind of look that wasn’t a suggestion but an order. The kind that left no room for argument.

Sevika exhaled through her nose, shaking her head before pushing away from the table. "Your funeral," she muttered, striding off toward the bar.

Finn, however, was slower to move, clearly amused by the situation. He smirked, standing and adjusting the lapels of his jacket. "You spoil him, you know that?" he said, flicking his cigarette ash onto the floor. "The little guy runs every time, and you still—"

Silco’s gaze flicked to him.

Finn shut his mouth.

With a low chuckle, he gave a mock two-fingered salute and walked away, leaving you alone with Silco.

The silence stretched for a long moment.

Only then did your breathing start to even out. Your claws loosened their hold on the rafters. The moment Sevika and Finn’s eyes were off you, your body finally allowed itself to come down from the high-strung panic.

Silco leaned back in his chair, his attention never wavering from your spot above. He didn’t speak. He didn’t demand you come down.

He just waited.

It took time, but eventually, you moved.

Your descent was slow, deliberate—each movement cautious, muscles still primed to bolt if something too loud, too sudden happened again. Your claws clicked against the wooden floor as you landed, tail still flicking with residual unease.

Silco’s gaze met yours, unreadable yet calm. Then, with the same quiet patience, he gestured toward the empty seat beside him.

You hesitated, your ears twitching, scanning the bar once more. The tension was still there, just beneath the surface.

But Silco’s lack of urgency was grounding.

Reluctantly, you moved forward, slipping into the seat beside him with the same near-silent movements you always had. Your tail curled instinctively around your leg, your body still vibrating with a leftover edge of adrenaline.

"You’re particularly flighty tonight," Silco mused, voice smooth, calculated.

Your gaze flickered to the shards of glass still littering the floor. A barely noticeable shudder ran through you. "Loud noises mean danger," you muttered, your voice quieter than before, but no less firm.

Silco hummed, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass again. "A sensible instinct. One that likely kept you alive in the past."

You nodded slightly. It had. Survival in Zaun wasn’t just about strength—it was about knowing when to run, when to hide, when to disappear. You had survived because you knew how to avoid being seen at all.

Silco leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp yet unreadable. "But you are not alone anymore, little cat."

You bristled, ears twitching at the nickname. "I’m not little."

That same faint smirk tugged at his lips. "No?"

His movements were slow, deliberate—careful. He knew better than to startle you. His gloved fingers reached out, brushing along the sharp line of your jaw, then up, trailing over the fur-lined curve of your ear.

Your breath hitched, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Your ears flicked, but you didn’t pull away. Not fully.

Silco’s voice softened just a fraction. "You are safe here, Y/N."

The words lingered, heavy but not forceful.

There was a pause. A long, drawn-out moment where you considered them—where you considered him.

Then, finally, you sighed. Your shoulders unlocked from their rigid state, and cautiously, you leaned against his side, pressing into the warmth of his presence.

Silco didn’t move, didn’t push.

He simply let you be.

His presence was solid, steady—a tether in the storm that was Zaun.

Your tail flicked once, then settled, curling loosely over Silco’s leg as you allowed yourself to breathe.

Silco merely took a slow sip of his whiskey, allowing the quiet to settle between you.

You might always be skittish. You might always be quick to flee at the first sign of danger.

But as long as you had Silco, you’d always have a place to land.

JINX

The first time Jinx saw him run, she nearly choked on her own laughter.

Y/N had always been a flighty thing—jumpy, twitchy, ready to bolt at the drop of a pin. And, well, Jinx found it hilarious. She took it as a personal challenge, seeing just how fast she could get him to take off. Firecrackers, sudden yells, even dropping wrenches near him while they were fixing up one of her bombs—every time, Y/N practically evaporated into thin air.

It never got old. One second he was standing there, ears flicking at the noise—then poof! Gone. Vanished into the alleys or onto a rooftop, tail bristled, eyes wide. It was like magic.

"You're like a lil’ scaredy-cat! Or a rabbit! Nah, nah, a fox! Yeah, a big ol' fluffy fox!" Jinx had cackled once, hands on her knees as she doubled over in laughter while Y/N clung to a rooftop ledge, panting and wild-eyed.

The best part? He never got mad. Sure, he huffed and grumbled, but he never truly snapped at her. Maybe he just knew it wouldn’t change anything. Maybe deep down, he even liked the attention. But still—he ran every time.

Until the day it all went wrong.

=

Jinx had been lurking in the alley, waiting for the perfect moment. She’d found a little party popper in her stash—harmless fun, right? Just a tiny pop! Nothing serious.

She waited for him to pass. And then—BANG!

Just as expected, Y/N vanished.

But this time, there was a yelp. A bad one. The kind that made her stomach drop.

Her grin faltered. “Uh… Y/N?”

Silence.

Something twisted in her gut, an unfamiliar squeeze of something that felt a whole lot like guilt. Jinx didn’t do guilt. Not really. But something about this—about the way that yelp had sounded, high and wrong—sent her instincts into overdrive.

She scanned the alley, pulse picking up, a nervous energy she didn’t recognize bubbling beneath her skin.

Then she saw him.

Crumbled between two metal crates, one leg twisted at a nasty angle, his ears pinned back against his head in pain. His tail twitched weakly, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

He must’ve leapt too fast, miscalculated, and crashed straight into the junk pile.

“Oh, crap.” The words left her in a breathless murmur as she jogged over.

Y/N bared his teeth—not in the playful, irritated way he usually did, but in a sharp, pained grimace. “D-Don’t do that again.”

Jinx flinched. Not because of the words, but because of the way he said them—small, strained, genuinely hurt. Not just physically, but hurt hurt. The fun was over. The game wasn’t funny anymore.

For once, she was the one reaching out first. “Alright, alright, lemme help ya,” she muttered, scooting down beside him and nudging her shoulder under his arm.

He hesitated, but after a moment, let her take some of his weight. His ears twitched as she carefully helped him up.

Jinx wasn’t used to being careful. Being wild, being chaotic—that was easy. But the way Y/N winced with every step made her slow down, actually think about what she was doing.

She kept her voice light, trying to break the tension. “Damn, you’re heavier than you look.”

Y/N just exhaled sharply, more of a tired sigh than an actual response. His tail flicked weakly behind him, usually so full of movement but now dragging limply.

“…Guess I kinda overdid it, huh?” Jinx admitted, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Didn’t think you’d actually get yourself busted up.”

Y/N exhaled through his nose. “I don’t run for fun, Jinx. It’s just… what I do.”

That made her quiet for a second.

She wasn’t dumb—she knew why people ran. Fear, instinct, survival. She thrived on chaos, but Y/N wasn’t built like her. He was quick, sure, but not because he wanted to be. Because he had to be.

A memory flickered in her mind—of Zaun’s streets, of learning when to run and when to fight. Of knowing that sometimes, running was the only choice.

She let out a breath. “…Guess I won’t be scaring ya anymore, then,” she said after a beat, offering a lopsided grin. “No more poppers, no more sneak attacks. Maybe still some explosions, but, y’know, the usual kind.”

Y/N gave her a tired look, but his lips quirked slightly. “Yeah. The usual kind.”

Jinx helped him the rest of the way back, and for once, she wasn’t cackling at how fast he could run.

She was making sure he could walk.

The snow had been falling since dusk, slow, deliberate flakes drifting down from a sky the color of ink and bruised violet. They caught on rooftops and railings, on the edges of Piltover’s bridges, turning the city soft where it was usually sharp. Lanternlight spilled across the streets in warm pools of gold, making the snow glow as though it had been gilded.

The winter market stretched out before you like a living thing.

Rows of wooden stalls curved along the plaza, their roofs trimmed in pine boughs and red ribbons. Brass bells chimed whenever someone brushed past. Steam rose in lazy spirals from iron kettles and food carts, mulled wine thick with spice, roasted chestnuts split and hissing, sugar-dusted pastries stacked high and gleaming. The air was heavy with scent: cinnamon, citrus peel, smoke, perfume, wool, sweat.

Too much.

Your tail stayed low and tight against your leg, fur fluffed despite the layers of your coat. Your ears, half-hidden beneath a hood you had already adjusted three times, were flattened just enough that anyone who knew you would notice. Every sound felt too sharp. Every movement felt too close. Laughter burst without warning. Vendors called out over one another. Somewhere, a group of musicians struck up a tune that clanged too brightly against your nerves.

You stayed half a step behind Mel.

Not because she asked you to. Because your body chose it.

Being behind her meant fewer angles to watch. Fewer people brushing your shoulders. Her presence was a steady line through the chaos, tall, composed, unhurried. The fall of her cloak cut a dark, elegant shape through the crowd, and instinctively, you tracked it the way a cat tracks a familiar path home.

Your claws prickled faintly against the inside of your gloves. You curled your fingers into your palms to keep from flexing them.

Crowds always did this to you.

Too many smells layered over one another until you could not separate them. Too many eyes sliding over your fur, lingering a second too long. Too many sudden sounds that your instincts insisted were warnings, even when your mind told you otherwise.

You swallowed, forcing your breathing to slow.

Mel noticed everything.

She always did.

Without breaking stride, she eased her pace until it matched yours perfectly. Not slowing the crowd, just you. Her gloved hand drifted closer to yours, hovering there like a question she would not ask aloud. She did not touch. She never assumed. Even now, when the answer felt obvious, she waited.

“You don’t have to stay if it’s overwhelming,” she said quietly, pitched low so it did not compete with the market noise. Her voice cut through the din with ease, smooth, measured, calm as still water beneath ice. “We can leave.”

The idea was tempting. Embarrassingly so.

You shook your head quickly, ears flicking despite your effort to still them. “No. I want to be here,” you said, words tumbling out faster than you meant. “With you. Just give me a second.”

Mel glanced at you then, really looked. Her expression softened. Not pity, never that, but understanding. The kind that did not demand explanations.

Her smile was small and fond, something just for you. “Take all the seconds you need.”

You stopped walking.

Mel stopped with you.

You focused on your breathing. In, sweet pastry and pine resin. Out, hot sugar and smoke. In again. Out again. You counted the rise and fall of your chest, the steady presence of Mel beside you, the press of snow beneath your boots.

You were trying.

You always tried.

For her.

A child darted past without warning, laughter ringing bright and sharp. Little brass bells tied at their wrist jingled wildly as they ran.

The sound cracked through you like a whip.

Your ears slammed flat against your head. Your tail puffed, fur bristling from base to tip. Your heart lurched violently, instincts screaming to move, to hide, now.

Then a stall owner dropped a metal tray.

The clang was loud. Too loud. It echoed between the buildings, bouncing and multiplying until it felt like it was inside your skull.

You yelped, soft and broken, and the world narrowed to survival.

You were gone before you could think.

Your boots skidded on packed snow as you bolted sideways, slipping between two stalls stacked with garlands and carved toys. You ducked into the narrow shadow behind them, the sounds of the market dulling instantly as wood closed you in. You crouched low, shoulders hunched, breath tearing in and out of you far too fast.

Your claws slid free without permission, digging lightly into the wooden post as you pressed yourself into the gap. Your tail wrapped tight around your leg like a lifeline, anchoring you to the ground.

Safe.

Hidden.

Quiet.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing your breathing to slow, but your heart refused to listen. It hammered wildly, each beat echoing in your ears. Your senses stayed flared, ears twitching at every sound, nostrils flaring as you tried to catalogue scents again. Wood, snow, fabric, Mel.

Footsteps approached.

Not rushed. Not heavy.

Measured. Familiar.

“Y/N.”

Mel’s voice reached you before she did. Soft. Even. No edge of panic. No sharpness of command.

“I’m here.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. Slowly, carefully, you peeked out from behind the stall, one golden eye catching the edge of her cloak. She stood a respectful distance away, far enough that you did not feel cornered. Her hands were folded loosely in front of her, posture relaxed and open.

No threat.

No demand.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words trembling despite your effort to steady them. Shame curled hot in your chest. “I didn’t mean to. I just…”

Mel moved then, but slowly and deliberately. She lowered herself into a crouch, bringing herself down to your level without ever crowding your space. Snow clung to the dark curls at her temples, melting there. Lanternlight caught in her eyes, turning them molten.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said gently. “Not for being what you are. And not for reacting when the world is unkindly loud.”

Your ears twitched, uncertain, lifting just a fraction. You hesitated before asking, voice small. “Even when I run away from you?”

Her expression shifted. Something deep and sincere settled there, something that made your chest ache. “Especially then.”

She extended her hand toward you, palm up.

Still not touching.

An invitation. Always a choice.

Your instincts warred with your trust, heart racing as you stared at her hand. Slowly, tentatively, you leaned forward. Instead of taking it, you pressed your forehead against her knuckles, fur brushing the smooth leather of her glove.

Mel inhaled sharply, just once.

Her thumb moved with reverence, brushing gently along your fur, slow and grounding. The contact anchored you, pulled you back into your body. Your breathing evened out. The market noise faded into something distant and manageable, like weather behind thick glass.

“There you are,” she murmured, warmth threading through her voice.

When you finally stepped back into the open beside her, she rose with you. Without comment, she adjusted her cloak around your shoulders, drawing you closer to her side, shielding you from the cold and from the crowd.

The bells rang again somewhere far off.

This time, you flinched, but you did not run.

Mel’s presence was steady at your side, her pace matched to yours, her hand hovering close enough that you knew it was there.