Happy Halloween My Thirsty Friends 🧡 Here's A Little Treat For All The Vander Fans Out There Because

If I could rate my experience with this book it would most definitely be a 100/10 I would recommend reading my favorite part is when she went all momma bear mode when she saw the walker child and killed all the walkers using just her feet and no sharp weapon

King Ezekiel x SingleMother!Reader

Read on AO3

Reader is written as female, child is written neutrally.

Rated M - swearing, canon typical violence/gore, mention of child!walkers

Y/n = your name

y/c/n = your child’s name

y/c/e/c = your child’s eye colour

y/c/h/c = your child’s hair colour

This was it. I honestly did not know how in the fuck I could possibly manage to get us out of this particular jam.

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50 posts!

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

Reblog/like to kiss Nahuel at midnight ♡ Happy New Year!

sure. resending. basically vander successfully drowns silco to keep the peace only for a few days later for some kid who turns out to be silco's child comes to the last drop saying their daddy hasn't been by for a while and told them if anything ever happened to go find "A nice man named vander at a place called the last drop...."

-Thanks for the resend and sorry again for Tumblr's bullshit broken system 😒 Now onto the ANGST and I am so fucking sorry this took so long

**CW for darker subjects including: drowning, accidental murder, implied strangulation **

There were three days of silence, save for the ticking clock, the constant murmuring heartbeat of the city outside and occasional muffled sobs. Three days of drinking himself unconscious trying to chase away the demons, only to have them haunt his nightmares and awakening to start the cycle over again.

One lone man sat slumped at a corner booth of the empty barroom, a spent bottle next to his ragged form and another clutched in his shaking hand. His hair and clothing were a disheveled mess, his hands still raw and red from scrubbing them dozens of times. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, stared ahead into nothing, trying to avoid closing them for too long because every time he did he could see him-

Flailing, eyes wide in terror and shock, struggling and clawing at the water, at anything his slender hands could reach, streams of bubbles ripped from his throat as they and he slowed and slowed until-

Groans morphing into hiccups and quiet sniffles, he lowered his forehead to the table, his thoughts a howling whirlwind of guilt and fury; at himself, at him, at all of this. Try as he might he couldn't get the images, the screams out his head...

He was gone; his best friend, his brother, drowned by his own hands after months of disagreement, arguing and eventually back-stabbing had resulted in one final fight, fueled by blind rage and frustration. It had been a horrible accident; he hadn't meant to, hadn't wanted to go so far, he just wanted him to shut up and listen for once but he'd held onto him underwater just a little too long, squeezed just a little too hard-he clutched his hair then with a roar of despair, whirled to fling the bottle at a wall where it exploded in a shower of glittering shards and liquor before collapsing back to his seat, now sobbing outright...

"I-I'm sorry Silco...I'm so...so s-sorry..."

On the fourth day, waking up on the floor of the sparse bathroom next to a puddle of vomit that'd missed the toilet and a searing headache, he lay staring at the ceiling for some time before deciding he had to make some sort of effort. After he acceptably cleaned up the mess he dragged himself into the tub, hissing and cursing as the cold water ran over his sore, tired and dirty body.

He tried not to think too hard about the water.

On the fifth day, realizing if he didn't get the bar up and running again he'd likely lose it from lack of funds, he shuffled into the main room and began slowly to pick up the chairs he'd knocked over or thrown and sweep up the broken glass. A lot of folks relied on this place for a warm, decently safe refuge from the outside world, somewhere they could get a drink and find some sort of comrade among the other customers. News, gossip, business transactions, tall tales, all of these and more flowed through the place like the alcohol that was served, creating a sort of haven for the people of the Lanes, rough as it could be. Losing it would letting them all down, and he just couldn't bear the thought of that. He'd let people down enough for two lifetimes already.

He paused frequently, taking deep breaths and trying to calm the storm still threatening in his mind. The raging, boiling despair of the past days had partially given way to a sort of creeping numbness that was gradually seeping into his very bones. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse. What he did know, was that it had happened and it couldn't be taken back. He had considered seriously the notion of turning himself in to the authorities and spending the rest of his life rotting in prison, he deserved it, but then remembered how much people still looked up to and relied on him...if he did that even more would suffer, thus he was stuck now with the gift and burden of what he'd worked to become.

There was no way to remedy things, make amends for what he'd done, but perhaps...he could do what was possible to continue the dream of a better, safer, more independent city for everyone else.

As he worked he thought he heard a faint knocking at the front door. At first he was sure he'd imagined it, but then he heard it again, and again until eventually a small, insistent voice joined in. Sighing, he leaned his broom against a table and slowly made his way there. No doubt a child was looking to either try and sell him something, or play a joke, or ask for their parents when the place would reopen. He had not the strength or patience for any of these but regardless unlocked and cracked the door open. Immediately he spotted a small girl on the doorstep who couldn't have been more than six, her slender frame swimming in clothes that were a couple sizes too large and her auburn hair pulled back with a length of silk ribbon. But it was her eyes that truly grabbed his attention; pale blue-green and oddly intense, they caught his and didn't let go.

"...Can...I help ya?" he muttered after an awkward moment of staring at each other.

She took a couple steps back to look upwards at the building, gave an assured nod, then approached him again, "You're Vander, right?"

Vander tilted his head, immediately regretting it with the headache he still had, "I am...and who might you be? This ain't exactly a place for kids."

She fished around in the inner pocket of her coat; it looked like it had once been a fine piece, likely belonging to some well-off child topside, but was now worn and patched, the brick-red wool faded to a dull brown. Her pants and shirt were of similar condition; it seemed someone had put considerable effort into clothing her in the finest castoffs they could manage. Finding what she wanted, she straightened herself and held out an envelope with an air of grave importance.

"My name is Olivia, and I was told to come here by my papa if I didn't see him for more than four days. He told me to find the Last Drop and a nice guy named Vander and to give him this letter."

She recited all this with a practised tone, as if she'd gone over it dozens of times. Vander's brow furrowed; what was all this? Some sort of prank? A trap? Who had sent her? And why him? Who did he know that had a daughter? All these questions swirled in his fogged brain until he spied several men nearby leering curiously at Olivia. He clutched the doorframe a little harder; he didn't like the look in their beady eyes whatsoever.

Whatever the reason for her showing up she wasn't safe out here, and with the tiniest, faintest flame reignited in his heavy heart he opened the door wider, "C'mon love...it's gettin' cold out. I'll get you something hot to drink 'n we'll get this sorted out yeah?"

Soon Olivia was seated at a table, sipping a mug of weak but much appreciated hot chocolate as Vander sat across from her and turned the letter over repeatedly in his hands, trying to glean some sort of clue from the outside alone. The only mark on it was a neat 'V' in the center in bold, black ink. He glanced up at this mystery child, again wondering what in the world this was all about and with a reluctant sigh, tore the seal off and unfolded the couple-page length letter.

The moment he saw the handwriting the air was knocked from his lungs. The quick, graceful pen strokes and neatly straight sentences across unlined paper were instantly recognizable even before he'd registered a single word...but then his eyes traitorously began reading on their own and he couldn't tear them away.

"Vander; I despise sounding cliche, however if you're reading this, it means I am either somehow incapacitated, or tragically, I've met my end. In either case, I'm certain you're wondering who the girl is that gave it to you. There's no point in playing games or sugarcoating things, so to cut to the chase, this is my daughter, Olivia-"

'My daughter'

Here Vander stopped reading for a moment, of all the words scrawled on the page to tear at his heart those nearly made it stop. Silco had...a daughter? He pried his gaze from the paper to glance up at Olivia, feeling dizzy and sick all over again. Her attention seemed to be focused on the jukebox at the moment, those bright blue-green eyes wide with curiosity. Her father's eyes...

Vander shut his own tightly, drawing a slow, deep breath before reopening them to continue reading.

"-who as of my writing this is nearly six. If you're wondering how, I trust you recall the time we decided it would be great fun to visit that new brothel in Piltover just over the bridge? In a moment of youthful weakness I, well, even you can figure it out. I put it out of my mind entirely until several months ago, when a woman approached me with Olivia in tow, insistent I was her father. Of course I didn't believe a word of it, and called in a favor to have a test performed to prove it...and much to my shock it was true. I'm still trying to sort out my thoughts on this whole matter. Gods know I'm no man to be a father. Though, I must confess, my fondness for her has increased greatly these past months. She is a highly intelligent and inquisitive child, with a natural instinct for problem solving and a strong sense of justice. Paternal feelings are not something I'd ever expected to experience, yet here I am. I'm certain you're wondering many things right now, first of which why I haven't told you until now-"

Here the pen appeared to have stopped, multiple dots and specks of ink seeming to indicate he had been tapping it on the page as he paused to consider his next words. Vander felt his eyes well at the mental image of Silco sitting at a table or desk, chin resting in one hand as he tapped his pen and stared at the paper, Olivia curled up asleep in his lap clutching a puzzle toy. He exhaled mournfully, blinking the tears away and continued reading.

"-At first I didn't quite know how to, but then I concluded it would be best for all if her existence was kept quiet. We've become successful Vander, perhaps too much in some ways. We have our enemies, and can't risk them learning of anything, or anyone, that could be used against us. The less people knew about her the better. Secondly, about her mother well, she's not the reliable sort, and often vanishes from their meager apartment without a word or even a note. I question how much she truly loves Olivia versus how much she enjoys holding my purse ransom for her care. She's been disappearing more lately, which brings me to the most critical part of this letter. I need to do something to ensure her safety and wellbeing, even if I can't be there personally. I know we've been at odds for some time, but should you still hold any affection for me-"

Vander had to stop again for a moment to gather himself, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. Of course he did...but did he have any right to? He could hear Silco's voice in his head, narrating the words as clearly as if he was standing over his shoulder right now. For a brief, mad second he was certain if he looked, he really would be there, those bright eyes he'd gifted his child boring critically into him.

Now Olivia noticed, and blinked at him, "Are you okay mister?"

Vander let out a quick gasp, wrung from his dark thoughts and trying to force a smile, "Y-yeah sweetie just...was thinkin'. Gimme a moment gotta finish readin'..."

"-I ask you, with utmost sincerity, to do this one, vitally important task-I need you to bring her to her grandparents in Piltover, where she'll be safe and well cared for. I've included the address at the bottom of this page. Her mother refuses to do this out of stupidity and stubborn pride, but since she refuses to be a proper mother, I must be a better father and I know the grandparents would be thrilled to take her in. I have included a second letter for her to give to them explaining all relevant matters so you needn't worry about talking to them more than strictly necessary, if at all. Lastly, as for explaining to Olivia what's become of me, be honest. If I am locked away, tell her. If I am dead, be gentle, but tell her. Better her heart is broken now so she has more time for it to heal. Please do this for me, brother, and for her. She deserves the chance we never had, and if all my efforts in this world amount to lifting this one child from the muck and poison, then I can leave it with pride. Farewell, for now, or forever, and thank you for everything. -Silco"

Vander sat and gaped in stunned silence at the paper in his trembling hands. Would he help her? Without question. He'd utterly failed Silco already, and though helping his daughter wouldn't erase his sins or bring the man back, at least he could honor him by fulfilling his last request. That numbness had cracked, letting the howling storm of grief back in, especially when he dared look up to find Olivia staring at him in both concern and curiosity and had to look away again; her eyes, so alike Silco's, were too much to bear right now.

"What...does it say?" at length she wondered, "Does it say when mama or papa will be back?"

"I-" Vander choked, coughing out a breath then took a slow, deep one to steady himself, sniffling back more tears. The girl's face fell, seeming to understand his expression and Vander winced as she spoke again, quietly with a wavering voice.

"...Did...something happen to them...?"

"Sweet'art, I-I don't know 'bout your mom, but...but your dad...he..." Vander swallowed the lump in his throat preventing him speaking, forcing himself to look at the girl with every thread of calm sincerity he could muster; she deserved that much, "He's..."

Some time later, Vander gazed hollowly out a window, watching the raindrops occasionally spatter against it as he slowly blew puffs of smoke into the still air. He glanced at the small figure dozing fitfully and curled into a ball in a nearby booth. He had honored Silco's wish. He told her the truth...but not the whole story. She was grief-stricken and traumatized enough; telling her the man her father had trusted, the one sitting across from her and from whom she expected help and protection was the one that had taken his life wasn't something he could put her through. Perhaps someday he would tell her the rest, and should she choose to take revenge, well, he wouldn't blame her.

After hearing the grim news she had thrown herself onto him, seeking comfort and burrowing into his broad chest as she sobbed, but he'd been unable to return more than gingerly 'hugging' her with his forearms. Holding her with the same hands that had killed her father seemed, at the moment, far too cruel. She'd then crawled into a booth and eventually cried herself to sleep, so he'd taken up a vigil and draped his jacket over her for extra warmth. A small comfort perhaps, but one he could stomach easier.

Now she suddenly stirred and awoke, rubbing her red, swollen eyes and sniffling as she clutched the heavy leather garment around herself. Neither spoke, and Vander stood, going behind the bar and fetching a soft cloth and a dented cup, pouring the cleanest water he had into it. He then brought the items to Olivia, who took the cup with a whispered thanks. He gently dabbed her eyes and nose, cleaning her up the best he could.

She glanced at him with glassy, scared eyes then the floor, "...What's gonna happen now...?"

Vander hesitated for a second before laying his hand on the letter, "Don't worry, Olivia...I'm gonna take ya to your grandparents, safe 'n sound. You'll be a'right...your papa made certain of that."

She only nodded, still sniffling as Vander stood, "I'll be right back love, then we'll head out so we can get there b'fore dark. Ain't safe after dark..."

Vander adjusted his vest and pulled his overcoat a little tighter around himself to ward off the evening chill, keeping a close eye on his charge as she trotted beside him, and ignored all the sharply curious glances they received. He had changed into a set of more 'respectable' clothes he kept stashed away for whenever a trip topside was necessitated and he didn't want to draw any attention to himself. Well, once they crossed the bridge anyway; down in the Lanes still they garnered quite the variety of looks. Olivia's small fist was balled tightly around the hem of his coat as she kept close, and soon, after climbing flights of cracked stone and metal stairs and taking a rickety elevator, they found themselves on the surface level just as the hazy, clouded sun was sinking into the horizon. The drizzling rain had stopped for the time being, with a blanket of fog settled over the area. Vander strode down the muddy, trash-littered road leading to the bridge when he felt an insistent tugging at his pant leg, and looked to see Olivia gazing longingly up at him.

"What's the matter, sweet'art?" he inquired, and she stretched her thin arms toward him, "I'm tired...please?"

In an instant he realized what she was asking but this time, instead of feeling ill at the thought, although a stab of shame still coursed through him he was overcome by a sort of mournful bitter sweetness. Here was the daughter of his friend, a friend now heartbreakingly gone but here in front of him was a part of them. He couldn't apologize, make amends, but he could do this much.

'...if all my efforts in this world amount to lifting this one child from the muck and poison...'

Mustering a reassuring smile, he gently scooped her into his arms, holding her securely to his chest and shoulder and she curled herself into him with a content, if not equally melancholy, sigh.

In this way he made his way to and across the long, imposing structure, the fog obscuring then completely hiding the dark and toxic city behind them as he carried her toward a better life than her father ever had...

EPILOGUE:

Some time late in the night, Vander stood in the bathroom with his hands braced on the sink, staring blankly into the mirror at his exhausted and scruffy face. Dark blueish bags hung under his tired eyes and he could see the grey beginning to creep into his hair and messy beard. Insomnia and vivid nightmares had again claimed any attempt to sleep, so after pacing the empty building he'd ended up here.

Giving his reflection a disgusted snort he grumbled, "You're a right fuckin' mess..."

He turned the faucet on, gathering a palm-full of water to splash on his face and reflecting on the shock and emotional rollercoaster of the day. Silco had had a daughter he'd known nothing of until she appeared at his door, and though not her fault had only helped to deepen the wounds of guilt and shame in him. Still...

He recalled now showing up at the home of her grandparents, though clearly being not especially wealthy were quite comfortable, and how the older couple were obviously overjoyed to see Olivia and grateful to the man who introduced himself as a friend of her father's for bringing her there safely. Though they didn't speak much Vander realized they were well aware of their daughter's...unpredictability and Olivia would benefit from staying with them. The last he saw of her, and likely would ever, was when she waved to him and expressed her thanks before being led into the house.

He'd fulfilled his duty in escorting her safely there, not that it should have ever been under the circumstances it was. He had to grip the sink again as one more question crossed his thoughts, one she had every right to know but one he was praying she wouldn't ask and that just dug the knife further into his heart. While making their way through Piltover Olivia had abruptly asked what had happened to her papa.

"....He drowned..." had been his only reply, and seemingly satisfied the girl fell quiet again.

"...and it's my fault..." he now whispered to the empty air, scooping up another handful of water.

Before he could douse his face however, he felt a sudden and violent chill start at the base of his spine, and as it raced up his back all the hair on his body stood with it. A wave of creeping dread followed and he slowly lowered his hand, the water falling through his fingers to splash in the sink and onto the floor...wait. There was so much water on the cracked tile where had it...?

Then he was aware of something else...a presence of sorts, the sensation that someone was there, just at the edge of your conciousness. Braving the slightest upward glance-he quickly dropped his gaze back to the sink, nauseous and terrified to look up fully at the reflection he could just see in the mirror behind him out of the corner of his eye and certain he'd finally gone mad.

Silco stood there, ghostly pale, soaking wet with water dripping from his hair and clothing and glowering at him. A ring of dark bruises encircled his neck, and his hair clung to his face such that his left eye was barely visible-but the right absolutely burned with fury.

After the initial shock, shaking and heart hammering, Vander addressed him, "If you're...here to kill me too...I know I deserve it..."

Silco remained silent, unmoving except for the eerily unnecessary rise and fall of his chest with his 'breathing'. Vander felt his own chest tighten with the continued confusion and horror of this situation coupled with the guilt of what he'd done. He tried another line of conversation.

"Silco the-there's a million things I could, that I wanna say but it all feels...inadequate and stupid. You're gone and nothin' I do or say will change that. I...I'm so sorry..." his throat tightened but he coughed to clear it, a jumble of words he needed to say flooding out, "I wish ya'd told me 'bout Olivia...she's somethin' special. But especially now I understand why ya didn't...ya know what fucks with me? That not only did I-I take your life but I took the time ya coulda had with her...gods I-"

He drew several deep, calming breaths, unfair as it felt before continuing, "I did what ya asked. She's with her family, and they'll see to it she's well loved..if she's half as smart 'n resilient as you she'll really be somethin' one day..."

He dared to look upwards, feeling he owed Silco that much, "...And if she ever comes seekin' answers or justice, I'd rightfully give 'em to her..."

Vander saw his expression had gone from cold rage to still angry, but now blended with almost a regretful sadness. He gave the slightest nod, then slowly raised a hand as if to reach out to him...

And suddenly Vander couldn't breathe. He panicked, coughing and gasping for air, then braced himself on the sink before collapsing to his hands and knees. Falling onto his side, his vision swam with the water that filled his lungs and eyes and the image of Silco standing over him as he lost consciousness-

He awoke with a strangled, terrified shout and bolted upright, grasping at his neck and heaving in deep breaths, the realization that it had been a nightmare gradually settling in. Though that one had been a figment of his guilt-ridden imagination, the true nightmare of reality, of having to live every day with the knowledge and weight of what he'd done would be neverending. Eventually, he fell back into the sagging and worn mattress, staring at the wall and knowing sleep would likely allude him the remainder of the night.

The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺

Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)

Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.

Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.

Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.

Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.

Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍

(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)

Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn’t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.

Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.

With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.

Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.

This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.

To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.

You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.

The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.

"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."

As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.

They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.

"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.

If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.

After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"

His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.

You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.

"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."

Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.

A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.

“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.

Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.

"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.

"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.

"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.

Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.

“Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.

You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.

You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.

Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.

“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.

It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.

The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.

A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.

You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.

You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.

All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.

It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.

His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.

You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.

Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.

He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.

He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.

You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.

You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.

Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.

By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.

As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.

You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.

His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.

Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.

Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.

It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.

“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.

“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.

“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.

Alice and Bella are like: 'Alice' don't do shit 'bella' OK OK I won't

Demiteri be looking at bella like: my next meal tonight

Felix is just in the back like: why am I here

Jane is like: I will kill you all if you keep this shit up

Edward reading all of their minds except bellas: OK now wtf is wrong with y'all

#awkward

I just can't help myself *shrugs*