Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Fuck. Five o'clock, heading back for drink number six." You heard Scar's words, you always did, no matter how much the din of fellow patrons' debauchery crescendo-ed on any given night. Tonight's setlist was a mixture of alt rock and punk, hitting you like gritted teeth, bone deep and refusing to die.

His mouth barely moved, thin lips drawn in a tight line as clawed fingertips tapped a glass of amber liquid sitting squarely in front of him. Part of it was because you could recognize that voice that had grown so familiar, heavy with grit and gravel, yet warm like burning coals beneath a fire. The other part was because you were convinced his Vastayan capabilities seeped magic into his voice that could command attention and de-escalate tension in the same breath.

After almost seven years of being comrades as Firelights, he had never confirmed - or denied - it.

You didn't have to make eye contact either to know that his green eyes glowed with subtle amusement and smugness - the intent to strike like a snake in the grass in his tone.

You slid your gaze in the direction he indicated, catching first the sight of thick thighs stretching tight against worn leather, trailing up to the very nice assets above them, anchoring a sturdy frame clad in a fraying denim jacket marked with grease stains that said they could take you in a fight and fix you up good after - and Janna willing, you would gladly let them do both - and up to deceptively cute space buns that contrasted from the sharp blade of the rest of the person's demeanor. A few dark curls traced circles along the nape of their neck that took you longer than it should have to tear your eyes away.

You wanted to lick them. 

Oh, you were drunk. 

"Drink number six?" you countered, buying time before your inevitable defeat. Maybe you should have called it in when Karma, Khalil, and Sinth peeled off earlier, heading back to base. "Someone's been watching. Sure you don't want them for yourself?"

You took a long draught of your dark stout that had a faintly colored taste to it - like maybe it had sat in a barrel for too long, but you didn't give two fucks to think too deeply into it. This week had been a week from hell and a little funny tasting drink wasn't about to deter you from blissful obliteration.

Scar didn't bite. Just scoffed.

"You're too easy. Answer the question."

You blinked rapidly in exaggerated annoyance at him, which made his mouth twitch, but that steady jade gaze stayed fixed on your face, waiting for your answer as if he had asked something as simple as your name.

"If you're implying that I have a type" - you stole one more glance at the person before taking another sip, hiding behind your glass - "I do."

He snorted into his next sip, then coughed once, hard, fighting for a moment to keep his composure and not choke on his own spit.

"That's what you get," you muttered, shaking your head and doing your best not to check the time at five o'clock again.

Once Scar had cleared his throat, shaking back his broad shoulders into a more dignified posture, he leveled you with an all too familiar stare.

Well?

After a long moment, narrowing your eyes at him - although you weren't sure if you were actively doing so or because you were more than several beers in yourself and things were started to feel warm and liquid - you conceded.

"Marry," you said, as if that settled the matter.

He quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at you. You stared back.

He stared back some more, unblinking.

"Fine! Fuck, and then marry," you revised, rolling your eyes at the barely perceptible smirk playing at his lips. "But the end goal's the same."

"Doesn't matter. That makes three-two," he said, already scanning the packed first floor of The Last Drop for more prospective souls. "Drink."

You groaned. "We need a new game."

You drank.

His large ears flicked in amusement.

"Funny, you only seem to tire when you're losing," he deadpanned, taking an unnecessarily long drink from his glass.

"I think you mean efficient? I know when to cut my losses."

Scar hummed thoughtfully, which you took as giving you some credit.

"Besides, there's only so many options in this hole. We're all passing around the same -"

"Don't," he warned, fighting off the sly grin attempting to slash his face like a knife fight he won. He has.

You pivoted.

"'S'not fair, either," you said, hearing your words starting to slur, and doing your best to keep it together. "You have more options than me."

"Says the self-proclaimed equal-opportunity-player," he said flatly, looking down his bright pink nose at you, unimpressed.

"First of all," you admonished, "I said that once, and it does not bear repeating. Secondly, yes I am. Shhh, shhh let me finish."

He had opened his mouth to cut you off, his sharp teeth glinting.

"And thirdly, I meant that you have Fuck, Marry, and Kill at your disposal. S'not fair. You know I'm a lover, not a fighter. The odds are in your favor."

He full-on grinned at you at that, and you felt triumphant. Seen. This was the ease between you two.

"Only reason you're racking up points tonight, baby." You hit him with some finger guns, which was your telltale sign that you were dancing on the fine line of a little sloshed and very much smashed.

"Alright, think we can call it a night," he muttered, draining his glass and then shuddering a little as the liquor settled loosely into his bones, easing his limbs that normally clung tensely to his tall and broad frame.

You noticed he barely drank tonight, which was - different. But your brain was swimming too much to take two cut wires together and make a coherent spark of connection.

"I'd let her - they? I don't know pronouns, but five o'clock can kill me," you said wistfully as though Scar hadn't spoken, eyes sliding in that damning direction. "Five o'clock can do a little destruction. Send me to heaven or hell. Take me out - tonight," you said, smiling stupidly at your musings like nothing could take you down.

Something shifted in Scar's demeanor - a shift you wouldn't have caught in your dwindling state of inebriation, if it hadn't been for the years you, Scar, and the other Firelights had spent at this tavern, shooting the shit between scouting, patrol, and missions, trading iterations of your scrap survival day to day.

He raised a disapproving eyebrow at you, rising from his stool and towering over you with little effort, broad shoulders naturally hunching forward so his heavy presence loomed over your corner of the room like an eclipse.

"What?" Your voice was a sharp challenge that contrasted your previously slurred words.

"Don't joke," he said quietly, firmly placing a hand on your shoulder like he had done every other time he had called it a night, nudging you up from your stool.

You huffed. He pointed you in the direction of the exit.

"S'not fair!" You needed a new phrase, but your brain was currently incapable of latching onto anything else. "Best four out of six. Some juicy newcomers just came in, maybe they'd - and I'd -"

"Go," he said gently, but firmly, leading you through a mess of bodies that smelled like sweat and bad decisions until the front door was before you.

"S'not fair," you whined pitifully, before he pushed the door open and ushered you into the cold and damp night.

Admittedly, it felt like relief.

***

The streets of Zaun thrummed with life, a smattering of neon greens, yellows, and reds that threw shadows like rolling dice down alleyways and yet lit up the smog-choked sky in a brilliant, hazy green despite the darkness.

Without a word, your feet took the both of you down one of your regular, winding routes, intermittently ducking and weaving between food carts or businesses or alleys to avoid unwanted eyes. A few times Scar grunted or nodded at a familiar passerby, but no more than was necessary. His boots ground solidly into the dirt and stone pathways, a steady rhythm his body seemed to sway to languidly, like an old tune you once knew but neither of you could remember its name, locked away with memory.

You kept up well enough, despite the fact that his strides were as long as he was tall, and he was taller than most. Some nights he would look back at you, slowing and waiting, maybe even turning around and walking backwards to watch you stagger forward with amusement, but tonight you pushed through out of sheer willpower - and the determination that the liquor would not have its way with you yet.

"It would've been three-three if that last one didn't look like your ex," you offered helpfully, your feet taking you on a wide turn on a corner that knocked you into him briefly. Good thing he was solid.

He grunted. She had been tall with long, glossy black hair, Vastayan blood making her stand out and glow like a bottle of Shimmer - tempting and hard to tear your eyes away from. "But it's hard to tell with you, you can be unpredictable."

"I believe the word you used was 'enigmatic,'" he said dryly. Almost imperceptibly, his shoulders hunched a little more, protectively like he needed to keep this word safe.

"Correct," you said, swaying with your hands in your pockets, eyes up to the sky.

You both let that settle into the quiet, the only sounds your pair of footsteps crunching against gravel and an occasional shout or the shattering of glass several residences behind you.

"But then," you blurted, because there was only so much you could control at this point - either your body or your brain. For your safety, you focused on your body. "Other times, you're totally predictable."

You peered up at him, grinning. He cocked an eyebrow at you but kept walking, thin mouth zipped shut.

"I'm easy? You're easy. I know your soft spots," you said cheekily. "The first one. The Marai. Bit of a twink. He was cute though. All that hair slicked back - it was like, sea glass, I've never seen anything like it before. And those eyes! I don't blame you."

Scar groaned, a funny sound, a mixture of embarrassment and acknowledgment.

"Like you've seen the sea before," he said sardonically, taking a sharp left after passing an alley with clothes draped over fire escapes, swaying although the night was windless. They looked eerily like lost souls looking for somewhere safe to land.

"I have! You know I have! Hey -"

You stumbled back as he tugged at your well-worn shirt. He tilted his head to the right in the smallest gesture, mostly signaling with his gaze.

"Tunnel's this way, genius." His voice was low, a rasp just above a whisper.

You huffed, but let his warm hand on the back of your arm course correct you towards the entrance to the sewers, clawed fingertips encircling your bicep. Bracing without piercing.

"I can't wait till we win," you said, after grabbing his offered wrist and dropping easily to the damp ground of the sewer level.

Maybe a little too easily, as your body wavered and your knees buckled.

You should not have had that last drink.

He bent without a word to steady you, your grip on his arm tightening, nails digging into his wraps momentarily before the world up-righted itself again.

"See? Then we wouldn't have to get wasted just to make it through this Janna forsaken way back home."

"Point," he said, looking down his broad pink nose at you, frowning. "But speak for yourself. You gonna be alright or am I gonna have to carry you?"

"Ugh, you know I hate being carried," you said dismissively, plowing your way forward through the dimly lit tunnel.

"And I'd be overjoyed to do it," Scar said sarcastically, coming easily up beside you in two lazy steps. You took the next turn, huffing in reply.

Then his knee knocked into yours, nudging you sideways, one hand braced around your shoulder, so you didn't actually fall.

"Scar, what the fuck?"

"Puddle," he muttered, and you turned back, catching the oil slick of the puddle he made you sidestep. It seemed deeper and wider than it should have been.

You shuddered at the sight, his hand falling from your shoulder.

"You're welcome."

Neither of you had to look down to know that your left boot was beginning to tear at the seam and it would've been a bitch to clean, never mind walk back to the Firelight base in wet socks.

"Maybe just take my hand. Blindfold me. You're doing all the steering anyway. And everything's all - spinny."

Your hand had found his forearm again, gripping him for support as the liquor seemed to slosh dangerously in your belly from the unexpected sidestepping.

"Yeah, I'm good."

But he replaced your hand on his forearm with his own firm grip on the back of your neck, his large paw of a hand pressing the top of your spine. "Let's keep moving."

You walked together like that the rest of the way back to base, his broad hand a steadying weight. You allowed yourself to close your eyes every now and then anyway, blindfold or no. Shutting out the world while letting Scar take the lead felt like sweet relief.

You walked in comfortable silence, your footsteps echoing softly through the tunnels, meeting the occasional drip of water from the ceiling or a cracked pipe, Scar's boots sloshing through a puddle he steered you around to avoid, doing so without complaint. Unfortunately, shutting out one sense heightened the others, and the stale, dank air was starting to get to you.

You had walked these tunnels a thousand times and would walk them a thousand more, but you would never get used to it. Your memory of growing up with fresh air, if no other stability was granted, felt like a birth right your body would never cease to demand. And why should it? No matter how many lands across Runeterra your family had been pushed from due to ceaseless war and conquest, you held onto what you knew in your bones were basic rights for all life. Food, water, shelter. A place to grow and thrive.

It was this uncompromising principle that drew you to join the Firelights, after your family washed up on Piltover's shores, barely hanging onto the few skilled labor jobs the City of So-Called Progress offered, before sliding down to the abject poverty of Zaun. Your family had been banking on Piltover's promise of opportunity and advancement for all - a hope your parents clung to, as there were few places left to run, a decision born out of desperation more than choice.

Like all great lands and cities and empires, you had grown to learn the hard truth - they lied. Ceaselessly. Violently. Without remorse.

You had begun to huff out thick breaths of air through your nose, as if that would dispel the smell from your nostrils and lungs, when Scar finally pulled you both to an abrupt stop.

You opened your eyes. You had reached the entrance to the Firelight base. Scar placed a large hand on the lever that would unlock the steel door before he would have to strong arm it sideways. He paused, giving you a sideways glance.

"Still in one piece?"

"Mm." You nodded decisively. Too decisively. A wave like nausea.

"Think you can walk on your own now?"

"Mm." Your nodding turned fervent, then you stopped, as that triggered pressure in your head, like the pounding headache of a hangover soon to come.

Scar snorted quietly at the grimace on your face, before turning back to twist the lock.

"You were right," he said, nonchalantly.

"Of course, I was," you drawled, dragging out your s's longer than was necessary or intended. "About what?"

He threw you a look as he braced his legs into a slight squat, claws clenching through the smallest gaps between the steel and the dirt and cement. His thighs were massive, and you could see the lines of muscle pulling the fabric taut.

This wasn't a new revelation to you, but that didn't mean you could stop staring.

"He was cute," he grunted, the deep groan of bedrock splitting the night air.

"Four hours later," you said, passing through the opening he had made that was just big enough for each of you to slip through in the dark. "But?"

"But what?"

The base door closed with a soft crunch of earth meeting steel, a brief whirring and clicking sound indicating it was secured.

"Even if I couldn't obviously hear it in your voice - since you have zero chill - there's always a 'but' with you." Your tone was flat, gaze swiveling diagonally up to peer into his face as you both walked towards the treehouses.

He sighed, keeping his eyes up and locked on the central tree, though his shoulders fell into their deep slouch again.

"What, is it still 'not the right time'?" you pressed, feet carrying you to the wooden stairs leading up to the first level. You moved a little too eagerly in your sudden wave of passion on the subject, grabbing the wood banister before you could lurch past your own limits of safety. "Like when is the 'right time' then? Zaun doesn't stop - the war doesn't stop for anyone - "

"It's not that," he said, waiting for you at the top of the first floor landing, which admittedly, was no more than five or so steps ahead, but you hadn't eaten much today, so slow going up each step was the card you had dealt yourself tonight.

His luminescent eyes seemed to stare off at a point just beyond you, like he was thinking, considering, hesitating.

Not about what to say, but...how to say it?

You quirked an eyebrow at him, but upon your arrival on the landing, he just shook his head and turned, walking towards the line of doors that housed the senior Firelights on the first floor.

Their positioning closer to the ground was not a privilege, like you had initially thought - and scoffed - at. It was a promise of safety and sacrifice. If their base was ever found out and invaded, they would be the first to respond, giving the families on higher floors time to evacuate through the network of branches leading deeper into their base and back into the sprawling tunnels.

"See this is what I mean. Enigmatic asshole."

He stopped in front of his door and turned to look at you, a new expression in his face that you couldn't quite decipher. A smirk played at his lips at your words, but his body was tensely holding its breath all the same. His head seemed to duck lower into his hunch, if that were even possible.

"Stay," he said simply, nodding his head toward the door of his quarters.

Your gaze followed his eyes towards the door and back to him. And then you snorted. "And what, sleep on that plank you call a couch? No thanks, I made my place cozy for a reason. I can walk you know, I'll be okay."

You straightened up and pulled your eyelids wide open and alert as if to prove your point.

"I know you can," he said softly, gently, ignoring your antics. "But stay anyway."

Scar kept his tone casual, but there was a look in his eyes that contradicted his smooth voice: a heaviness, something more serious than he was letting on, and maybe even...fear? Like the request was more for him than it was for you.

You stared back at him, as measured as you could in your current state. It was that inkling of fear that pulled at your gut and made you swallow whatever petulant thing you were looking to say next.

"You okay?" you asked quietly, keeping your voice even and not as suddenly panicked as you felt. Nothing ever shook Scar. Ever. You had seen him dodge ChemTanks ricocheting at lightning speed through alleyways and even fall from the sky from his hoverboard, crashland onto a tin roof, only to roll sideways off the roof, land like a jungle cat as his feet caught the plummeting hoverboard again and shooting forward, weaving through buildings like nothing had happened.

He could be a little wild and reckless, but he knew how to catch himself.

Now he seemed unsure, and a wave of unease settled in your stomach.

He gave you a small smile and huffed out a heavy breath through his nose, as if steadying himself. He gave an unconvincing tilt of his head almost like a shrug but said nothing. Just nodded towards the door again.

"Enigmatic asshole," you muttered, frowning up at him. But you conceded. "Fine."

"I'll tell you when we get inside," he said quietly, stepping aside to let you through before closing the door with a soft click behind him.

**

Scar kept his quarters neat, but minimalist. It wasn't warm exactly, not like your place that you had worked hard to make feel like a home, as you did everywhere you went: patchwork pillows on your couch that you made with the kids during their skills workshop, some plants that were harder to kill lining the windowsill of your living room. The soft fabric of your homeland's flag graced the wall opposite the door, so it was the first thing you could see when you walked in. It was one of your few possessions you made sure never to leave behind.

There was nothing to soften the edges in Scar's place. It was all woodworked furniture, simple and made for utility alone. A small kitchen table with two chairs doubled as his work desk, where a small stack of papers and notes sat on an edge. Another carved chair sat in the corner of the living room, on the other side of a coffee table that was higher than usual, given his height.

And then there was the couch, which - really - it was a bench facing the front windows. The only softness offered was a thick blanket draped over the back.

"You need to do something about this," you said, kicking off your boots and making a busy beeline for the blanket.

He made a non-committal sound in his throat before trailing after you. He lowered his body down to sit, his frame so large and imposing that he took up most of the bench. Wrapped in the blanket thrown over your head and shoulders, you made a show of eyeballing the little space that was left for you.

"Come here," he said, a growing strain in his voice that your nerves were starting to flag. He lifted his arm and slung it over the back of the couch, opening up a space to his side.

"This how you host all your guests?" you teased. He rolled his eyes and nodded his head again for you to sit.

You sank down next to him, blanket still draped over your shoulders, and then, like clockwork, you slid sideways, plopping your head into his lap and turning onto your back to face him and the ceiling. You kicked your feet up against the sidewall, thankful that the couch was propped against it for you to leverage.

At last, your bodies sighed in relief together, the tension easing off, like you had both been waiting to breathe like this. Scar still didn't speak for a few minutes, allowing you both to settle into the comfort of each other's warmth, almost a ritual you now shared when you had the same rest day. You stretched the bones of your feet, rigid from all the walking, and he ran his clawed fingertips through your hair absentmindedly and yet with practiced precision, a habit he had started doing not too long ago.

It had just happened one lazy afternoon.

You had been poking fun at his ears, then poking them furreal, and he had started tapping his claws annoyingly against your head in retaliation. Initially, you'd ducked out of his reach, protective of your hair, but once he alleged that his claws gave the best head scritches, you'd narrowed your eyes, showing him how and where it'd be okay to play with your hair and scritch without fucking it up.

Then he'd shown you just how well he took direction.

Your eyes had fluttered and he'd just looked at you smugly, watching as you'd melted from his touch. It soon turned into a habit, playing with your hair with care while you talked and talked. You hadn't stopped him. It was a vulnerable act of trust that he'd seen through with integrity. These small moments of softness and connection were few and far between in a place like Zaun that demanded you stay hard on the outside if you wanted to survive.

But in closed quarters, away from the noise of the world, you shared these small comforts and intimacies, taking them as they came before they too slipped away.

Sometimes, when he was lost in thought, he would run the tips of his claws along your scalp, tracing the edges and the nape of your neck, over and over again in slow, meditative movements, like your hair was a garden he could rake through to find peace. This was perfectly fine with you - it felt amazing and brought so much relief tingling through your body. You often fell asleep like this, which for him, quieted your complaining about the hardness of the couch.

A win-win situation.

You never talked about this new ritual. There was nothing to say, really.

It didn't mean anything - it couldn't.

You had decided that soon after joining the Firelights. After multiple stints in too many places to name, finding work and doing your best to keep the job without losing your shit at your boss and eventually getting fired, the inherent power dynamics between you and those above you burned you to your core, leaving a nasty scar. You could be cordial but you would never be friends, equals, or "family" - a word they used to extract your labor while holding firm to a wage gap that was just "out of their control."

Nah, you had little respect for authority - but the Firelights were different. They moved as a community, making decisions collectively, and while Ekko was top leadership and Scar his Second, they were fair and amendable, open to feedback and taking accountability whenever they fell short. It wasn't perfect, but it was a system and leadership that felt better than most places you'd been in.

And then there was Scar, Second in Command. You didn't lie to yourself, you had eyes after all. But when you drew a boundary, you held it firm. You had been terribly attracted to him and for the first few months, you could barely breathe or speak when he was in the same room. Romantic pursuit was off the table, given his position in leadership. Friendship, companionship, wasn't something you thought possible in a real way, nor was it ever a goal.

But something loosened, opened up along the way - between relying on each other to coordinate distribution of goods to community members, learning more about each other during late night patrols, and having each other's back on the few missions you'd been on. It was bound to happen in this kind of work, bonds of comradery that built roots deeper than friendship. Maybe that's why you allowed your connection to go further - you weren't friends, you were comrades. The Firelights were about commitment, to the future you all dreamed of together, and of course, commitment to each other. A promise of protection and good will, regardless of how close or not your personal connections to each other were.

Eventually, you got over the initial stunning blow of his presence, and he grew more real and familiar to you as you learned the layers of the man underneath the broad, chiseled figure, the devastating cheekbones and even more devastating, back-breaking jawline, the lightly magical Vastayan allure and the Chirean animal side of him that said predator in a way that made your heart race with fear - for the wrong reasons. The eyes that lit the night like a storm of living, breathing firelights.

Right.

And if that damning flutter in your chest still happened now and then when you were around him - whatever. It was human. Biological instinct. Chemical response. All things beyond your control.

Life was about choices. You had made yours, and you never made them lightly. There were some boundaries you would not cross.

The quiet between the two of you had lapsed for so long that when Scar finally spoke again, you startled, his voice shaking you out of the light slumber you had slipped into without knowing.

"Shit, Scar," you cursed, slapping his hand away in agitation. "You can't just do that."

He chuckled and let his hand fall, offering no apology.

"What? What did you say? Was I snoring?"

A smile tugged at his lips, but he kept his voice even.

"No, you weren't snoring," he confirmed. "You were definitely sleeping though."

"Even more reason to NOT scare me like that." You glared, but it was weak, wavering in your mix of sleep and slow-coming sobriety.

"I said," he repeated. "It's not about the 'right time.'"

You took in a patient breath, brain snatching at thin air until it caught wisps of the conversation from earlier, the foggy image slowly growing clearer.

"Okay...so?"

"I saw Trina again. A few times, actually." He tried to keep his tone casual, but you could tell he was nervous, claws tapping a steady beat against the bench. You weren't sure why though.

Also, you bat down the slight tug in your chest like muscle memory.

You narrowed your eyes mischievously at him instead.

"I knew it!"

He looked down at you doubtfully, brows furrowed.

"No, you didn't."

"Okay, I did not, but whose fault is that?" you accused, keeping your tone light. "You little sneak."

"I wasn't -"

"'Oh hey, Scar, how are you? How's your day going? How's scouting been?'" you said, dropping your voice in a low, mocking tone. "'Oh, nothing new? Same shit, different day, huh?'"

The ghost of a wince passed over his face. He could hear how much of an idiot you sounded and definitely felt like, and the spite - though playful - behind it.

"It wasn't Firelight business," he muttered.

Before you could respond to that, a dawning realization hit you like a boulder.

"WAIT. Wait wait wait. Hold the fuck up. So I've been drinking and losing against you...for nothing?" you said aghast. "This whole time?"

At that, he definitely looked caught out. He paused, gem eyes wide, a rare, sheepish grin fighting at his lips.

"Not the whole time-"

"Scar! The point of the game was to NOT just be a game!"

You sat up now, highly affronted and facing him, hands thrown out in exasperation and downright betrayal. When you and a few of the Firelights devised your absurd drinking game of Fuck, Marry, Kill, guessing each other's answers using fellow tavern patrons as targets, the point was not just to rack up points and outdrink each other. After 3 failed guesses and shots along with them, you had to bear the consequence of making a move on one of your Fucks or Marrys, preferably the former.

Not the most creative or dignified game, but when one of you returned late the next day, executing a rough walk of shame that earned hoots and hollers from whichever idiots you were out with the night before, it clearly got the job done. And it was hilarious with the right group of Firelights. It became a steady game with your circle.

Scar was looking at you perplexed, like you had suddenly turned into a crackpot fortune teller reading the last dregs in his cup. He was looking at you like you were speaking another language. Your head started spinning. You could feel that growing hangover coming on.

"No wonder you've been refusing to make a move!" You spat this out, more to yourself. "And you knew I had to - I was going to follow through, 'cause I play with fidelity - that whole thing with Ahn didn't need to happen last week? Since none of it mattered and you weren't actually playing the game??"

You knew you were starting to sound hysterical, but you couldn't help it. Last weekend was mortifying. Everything had seemed to be going smoothly, and you'd thrown a smug look at Scar and the others while you left the bar, grabbing her hand to dance. Then her partner showed up and nearly clocked you in the head if it wasn't for your quick instincts to duck.

"You would have done it for the story anyway," he said, leaning forward and taking the glass of half-drunken water off the table. If you didn't know any better, you would think he had started to blush, a new hue coloring his face that you had never seen before.

He offered the glass to you, placatingly.

"Don't patronize me," you muttered, as you took the cup and drank deeply, letting the much needed hydration seep into your system.

And then, because Scar was not a masochist and preferred to keep his fur dry tonight, he waited until you were finished drinking to drop the bomb.

He said your name.

Once.

His voice was a low rasp. It sounded like a prayer. It made you cock your head sideways at him.

"What?"

"Trina's pregnant."

**

Shit.

Well, that sobered you up quickly.

"Shit," you said finally. It came out soft, zero bite.

It's not what you meant to say. You weren't sure what you meant to say. There were a million things you wanted to say.

Are you serious?

How far along is she?

Aren't you terrified?

Is she staying? Are you staying?

Does she want the baby?

Do you want the baby?

And on and on it went. The spiraling thoughts made you dizzy. It was the last thing you needed.

You sat back against the couch, staring forward towards the window looking for clarity in its smooth panes. It was past midnight and the dark obscured any view of the world outside. In the glass, you caught both your reflections, sitting side by side on the couch, his larger frame dwarfing yours. You made brief eye contact through the window's reflection before looking away.

"Huh," you said in soft wonder.

Scar turned his head to look at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's all you have to say?"

Oh, my bad, you thought wryly. I didn't think this was about me now.

But this was Universe-shifting and you needed to behave.

"I think I need more water," you managed.

He side-eyed you for a moment, before nodding and getting up. With his back to you in the kitchen, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to get your shoulders to relax.

He sank down next to you again, holding the glass out to you. Your fingers brushed against his as you took the cup. A zing of electric nerves sparked in your skin where you had felt his touch. Your hand jerked back involuntarily, and you swallowed the heat in your cheeks down, draining your glass of water, neither of you making eye contact again just yet.

Suddenly his place felt a lot smaller, almost cramped. And why were you sitting so close to him?

Through the awkward silence that fell between you, he dragged his clawed nails up and down his thigh, over and over again.

"It's that bad, isn't it," he said roughly, voice low in his throat, still not meeting your eyes.

"What?" you said, louder than you intended. "Why do you say that?"

He cocked an eyebrow at you, his pink nose scrunching dismissively, giving you a look from the corner of his eye that clearly said, You know why.

"Forget about me - I'm barely sober. How are you feeling about it?"

Scar sucked in a breath, like he hadn't expected to be asked that. He opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it, frowning. He hunched forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together under his chin. Still. Listening. His chest rose and fell as he breathed, deep and slow and measured.

"I didn't want her to grow up here, not with all this."

It was a whisper in the dark, as fragile as the wings of a firelight.

It broke you open.

"Her?" you repeated softly, watching his entire profile shift. His ears flicked, pinning back for a moment.

When he turned back to look at you, there was a brightness in his eyes. It was small, tender, but it was there.

"Just a feeling," he said quietly.

After a moment, you said, "A Vastayan feeling?"

Scar snorted out a laugh, breaking the tension in the room. Your bodies relaxed a little. Warmth spread inside you, relieved to see his smile, to make him laugh.

"A Chirean feeling," you tried again.

He knocked his shoulder against yours.

"Okay, not fair," you said, rubbing your shoulder dramatically. "You know your shoulders are like the size of your head. Which is pretty big. And thick."

He rolled his eyes and huffed at you through his nose.

"A parental feeling," he said, carefully trying out the words in his mouth.

"Parental," you breathed.

He nodded, and you lapsed into silence again. This time, it wasn't tense or uncomfortable, just pensive.

Eventually, you broke the silence.

"I guess it could be cute, having a little Scar running around."

He let out a full laugh and you gave him a small smile.

Then his laugh faltered, the crease between his eyebrows returning, something darkening in his eyes.

"I haven't told Ekko yet," he said. It sounded like his throat was aching, burning. "I don't know how this will change things for the Firelights."

You blinked rapidly, slowly processing the shame and guilt he must be feeling. In a world where death came swift and constant, it was heartbreaking to feel anything but joy at new life, especially one you had created.

You placed your hand on his forearm, firm and reassuring.

"Ekko will love this," you said quietly, as if saying it too loud would jinx all future outcomes. "He loves you. You're family. Whatever it takes, he'll make it work. You'll figure it out together. Besides, you wouldn't be the only Firelight with a kid."

"No," he said evenly. "But I'd be the only Second with a kid."

You both let those implications hang in the air for a moment, then let it fall away. It was too complicated, too fresh to make into any decisive meaning. Something to be solved another day. You rubbed your thumb in soothing circles around the curving muscles of his forearm, the sturdy bones of his wrist.

You let out a sigh. "You'll be okay. She'll be okay. This is what we're fighting for, no? Not just survival, but to thrive. To build a life. Lay down some roots and see how they grow."

That last part tugged at a swollen part of you. You kneed it in the groin until it recoiled painfully.

"You're family, too," Scar said softly, piercing green eyes peering over at you. He meant it as a statement, an affirmation, but it came out like a question.

As if to say, You'll be there, too, right?

"I know," you said quickly, too quickly, that suspicious panic rising in your chest at the use of that word family within a hierarchal system. It's not just a system, you reminded yourself. It's not just Firelights. It's Ekko, and Scar. It's individual people. Karma, Khalil, Sinth. Who you love and care about. This is a different kind of...collective.

His eyes watched you carefully, as if picking up on your mild discomfort, your thoughts warring within you.

"But I'm no good with kids," you deflected, laughing offhandedly.

"And I am?"

His mouth twisted in bemusement, but there was a sincere question in them that he silently begged for you to answer.

"Scar," you said softly, turning fully to face him now. You didn't stop your hand as it instinctually reached out and cupped the side of his face. His fur was velvet soft, skin warm against yours, like he was burning from the inside out.

You could feel your eyes stinging, shining and wet. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, brows still furrowed with anxiety.

"Scar, you'll be a good father. There's no other way it could be. Not with you."

You said it simply, because it was true.

He breathed in sharply at that and his whole body stilled.

Then, he let out a heavy sigh, a sound escaping him that was halfway between a groan and a whimper. Scar leaned his forehead against your shoulder, like a weight had momentarily lifted from his own and he needed support while he caught his breath from the sudden release.

You allowed him this small moment of reprieve.

"I hope so," he murmured quietly against you, his breath warm across the skin of your collarbone. It smelled faintly of whiskey and peppermint.

You fought off a shiver. Instinctual. Chemical. Nothing more.

"I have to be."

**

You crossed your own boundary that night. Or maybe, you came to stand right in front of it, staring and staring without moving, your breath fogging up the glass as you peered out a window, gazing at another life just on the other side.

Scar pulled you up without warning from the couch, nodding his head towards his bedroom in invitation. Your eyes widened momentarily.

"What? I'm not a monster."

You huffed out a laugh at that, side-eyeing his couch. "You need to fix that," you repeated.

As always, when it came to your decor suggestions, he ignored you.

Still, you allowed him to steer you towards the back of his quarters. If it was anyone else, especially in this high of a position, you would have dug your heels in and planted yourself on the couch. Maybe even gone home after an invitation like that. You were not about to be the gossip of the Firelight base for the next month.

But Scar wasn't like that. As wild and reckless as he could be, he was also a private man, keeping his business to himself, which he had obviously proved more than skilled at tonight.

More than that, he was genuinely kind and respectful, a kind of safety that let you ease into your friendship over time.

You trusted Scar. Maybe not enough to call family yet, the word still itching your throat, even if it threatened to seep like warm honey into your belly.

Even so, you were guarded enough to never put it past anyone to harm you in vulnerable positions, to take what they wanted, if they wanted it. But you listened to your body, and it knew: Scar could easily overpower you if he wanted, but he would never even dream of it. He would probably throw himself off his hoverboard before letting the thought ever cross his mind. Granted, given his history, that may not have been saying much, but still. It mattered.

And with that, you pulled off your socks and slipped under the covers with him, turning on your side to face him in the dark, snaking an arm underneath your pillow. He laid on his back, one arm thrown above his head against his pillow, sharp eyes staring at the ceiling in contemplation. His other arm rested on his abdomen, rising and falling with his chest as he breathed evenly. The nails of his claws glinted briefly as they caught the faint light from the bedroom window.

He knew you were watching him, and you knew that he knew. Neither of you minded.

After a while, a small hum escaped your lips, which you barely registered, lost in thought yourself.

You only noticed when his ears flicked at the sound, and he turned his head towards you, jade eyes glowing like a cat's in the dark.

Now he was watching you.

"So what now?" Your voice was a whisper, unable to help yourself. Your brain had been buzzing with a million questions again, your inebriation long gone now. "What are you going to do?"

Scar inhaled deeply, like the same question had been pounding through his head this whole time, too.

He turned on his side to face you, tucking a knee up towards himself. His broad frame blocked out the little light that streamed in behind him, which you knew revealed the inner bones of the treehouses in the daylight.

It was just the curved silhouette of his muscled shoulders, his cut arms, and his green eyes brightly locked on yours.

You took in a shaky breath from the intensity of his stare, willing your heart not to jackrabbit. You knew he could hear that, too.

"I have to talk to Trina. Convince her to move to our base. If not - here -" his eyes sweeping the room, indicating his own quarters - "then at least nearby. I can't have - I don't want to risk -"

"Of course," you said softly, cutting him off gently so he wouldn't have to say it. "I think that may be best, too."

Then, after a moment, you added, "I hope she'll come."

Scar's body stiffened briefly, as if it hadn't prepared for what that would actually mean.

Then he nodded.

A long moment stretched between you two, eyes never leaving each other's. You could hear every breath he took, filling his wide chest and escaping steadily through his nose. Your hands were close, almost side by side on the bed. Without touching, you could feel the growing heat of each other's bodies, lighting the space between you on fire.

You heard Scar open his mouth, but you cut him off before he could say something you would both regret.

"Come here," you said quietly, instead.

He blinked, shoulders tensing again for a moment. Then he exhaled as you both inched closer through the sheets, his knee brushing yours and sending a shiver down your spine. You pulled him in against you, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he buried his face against your chest, flooding you with his warmth. Your chin rested atop the stiff streaks of his wild black hair.

You just held him like that, your bodies getting used to the touch that was both familiar and safe, thrilling and dangerous.

The hum of both your jittering nerves had bounded into a crescendo with nowhere to land before slowly cresting and then dissipating, a soft relief washing over the air between the two of you.

Familiar.

You swallowed thickly, and he brought a hand to the back of your tricep, claws wrapping firmly around your arm, pricking your skin, hanging onto you like a lifeline. You didn't mind, the pressure of his nails brought sharp relief. You massaged the nape of his neck, pressing firmly against the corded muscles to release the tension there. You could have sworn he was softly purring, but the blood had rushed to your head and your ears, so maybe you were imagining things.

As his breathing evened and he drifted off to sleep, you still held him close.

But you were restless.

You told yourself a lot of things: some half-assed lies first.

That he just needed your comfort during this scary and vulnerable time.

That he was the Firelight's Second. Any light you gave him - warmth, peace, trust - would be transmuted to the rest of you, passing it on, strengthening the bonds that would keep you all safely together as a team.

You believed energy worked that way.

You were doing this not just for your benefit or Scar's benefit, but for all of you - the families and the children.

You let out a pathetic, stifled snort of breath at your own unbelievable bullshit.

You shut your eyes tightly, willing complete darkness to envelope you, a place safe enough to shape words to your feelings, to think the thoughts in your head that lived close to your chest, pulsing through you like an undeniable heartbeat.

Finally, that small part of you reached out, clutching tightly around the truth, around something you wanted to hold, but couldn't.

You were doing this because you wanted to.

Needed to.

You were stealing this intimate moment of solace with Scar - all for yourself.

If you could have nothing else, you would have him like this. Just like this.

Before everything, everything would change.

Chapter Text

Trina moved into the Firelight base the next week. Luckily, there had been extra space on the 2nd level that she could take for herself. You had to admit - a part of you was relieved about that.

Scar led her in one evening. You spotted them together from the third level balcony, slipping in through the crack in steel, then pausing at the entrance so she could take in the tree in awe and everything your community had built together.

You remembered the first time you'd seen the tree. Ekko was even younger then, which was hard to believe. But so were you. They were building out rapidly, seeking out individuals and families of utility or need, often times both. They had started out small, and trust was slow to build. But something about you must have screamed trustworthy - or maybe pity, because they swept your family of six with four children up almost a year into their founding. That's when you had met Scar.

You learned that he was quiet, reserved, but wild in ways that were needed. At least you thought so. He would be amongst the first to volunteer for the riskier missions, not with any bravado, but with the consistent confidence of someone who knew they could handle themselves and get done what was needed. You were instantly drawn to him, which triggered all the yellow flags.

You had lost, time and again, at the hands of those with power over your life. You had been uprooted and displaced, migrating for survival for most of your teenage years. You were of Ionian blood, but when Noxus sought to colonize the First Lands when you were twelve, your family fled to Bilgewater due to its proximity. It was not an ideal choice. There, your parents fought hard to hustle and keep pace with the smugglers and dock gangs that the lawless port city attracted. You even worked on the docks for a time, curiosity and trepidation crashing inside you every time a new ship came to port - Noxus' attack not yet a distant memory. Life there wasn't sustainable for long. Before a year had lapsed, your family stole onto a ship headed for Ixtal, hoping to prosper from the lands surrounding Ixoacan. Your parents had befriended fae back in Ionia, but those with magic in their blood in Ixtal were ambivalent about outsiders - for good reason. The conditions of wilderness and jungle were too harsh, and you never did find the city of Ixoacan. You found work in one of the villages on the outskirts of the deeper jungles, but it was barely enough to feed a family of six.

Finally, your parents heard of the progress building in Piltover. You all veered north, crossing along the border of Shurima, a land more unforgiving than Ixtal's. But you had no choice but to settle along its borders for a time, when Ember was born and your mother fell ill afterwards. Your father and older brother lived as mercenaries, gone for weeks or months at a time, as you cared for your mother and siblings in the oases that provided scant shelter. Once Ember was old enough to travel, you resumed your migration north to Piltover, then settling in Zaun by the time you were eighteen.

The only constant in your life was your family, perhaps the only thing that kept you whole inside.

So you were resigned. The last seven years was more stability than you'd had in a long time. You were grateful to Scar and Ekko, to the Firelights you'd become close to along the way. You were accustomed to waiting, to holding strong in any present conditions. If you could not have Scar in the ways you could scarcely acknowledge to yourself that you craved, then you could at least be there as one of his closest friends. There was no shortage of attention for you on his end, and you were both simple and uncomplicated in that way - a steady, unshakeable loyalty to the things that mattered to each of you, drawing you together to survive the terrible conditions of the Undercity. At least the Firelights made it fun.

And here you found yourself again, playing the role you had assigned yourself, and accidentally spying from above when you stepped out for air (it was intentional, you knew she was coming that night, but busied yourself all day to keep your mind occupied and Scar out of your hair - literally).

This was the first time you'd seen Trina, having only heard of her when Scar first shared about them meeting and hooking up at a bar in the Lanes awhile ago. You were grateful to be able to observe her from a distance. Had you been clearly perceivable, you may not have been able to school your face into the appropriate expression, especially as your eyebrows raised and your mouth dropped open slightly when you caught the bulge in her belly.

She was showing.

Not incredibly so that it seemed to weigh on her movements, but enough that it was solid, unmistakable, confirming the timeline Scar had told you: she was three months pregnant, which Scar had learned about just a few weeks ago, once she was ready to tell him.

It seemed impossible that a little being with Scar's flesh and blood, not just the genetic code but the parts of him that made him strong, that pushed him to survive, that were softened by loss and reinforced with quiet unquestioning love, was steadily growing in there. Your heart pinched bittersweet, caught by your own awe - and something else.

The tiniest part of you clung to the wild idea that - maybe, what if - it wasn't actually his? Then you clocked yourself for that stupid hope and let it wash away with the summer rain. You weren't one to entertain hypotheticals. You were grounded in the here and now.

And right now, this was the truth: Trina drank in the magical sight of the Firelight base glowing in soft golds in the dark. Then she looked at Scar, as if really seeing him for the first time. He looked down at her, watching, his expression careful, gentle. Then she reached out her hand to his, a small thing in the gravity of his palm that could hold the world up, and he took it. There wasn't anything more to it than that.

He ushered her forward, and she took her first few nervous steps further into the base and towards the treehouses, her hand hovering over her belly, protective. You were already hidden in the shadows, sitting on the ground with your knees up in front of your family's quarters, like the sad ghost you were choosing to be. You hunched lower still.

Before they completely disappeared under the platforms below yours, you saw Scar take his hand back.

He placed it on the small of her back instead.

You lingered outside until the moon glowed high and bright and full over the Undercity. An orb pulling at you like hope, making promises you knew it could not keep.

***

Because Scar was not a masochist, he introduced Trina to you amongst other Firelights, at the neutral ground of Friday community dinners. He had given her the rest of the week to adjust before deep diving into introductions, and you had busied yourself with more Firelight tasks - mostly scouting, off base. You didn't see Scar much, just once during your weekly meeting, where you leveled each other from across the room, a shared gaze, unblinking. Just seeing, knowing the other was there, but without anything to say. You slipped off and disappeared as soon as the meeting came to a close.

When you leaned in to kiss her cheek, you could smell the warmth that seemed to envelop her, like she was wrapped in a sweet blanket of cinnamon. Her heart-shaped face closed to a point at her chin, a wavy bob of black hair tucked behind one of her large ears and falling just underneath her chin. The effect was complementary, drawing the eye to her lips, which bore a thin hoop piercing that shone like a silver fang, left of her bottom lip. Her eyes were Chirean green and bright, and she had small, darker markings like Scar's where his brows creased, except hers were at the corner of her right eye, just underneath like a beauty mark. They curved like sparks, accents when she smiled or laughed.

She felt goddamn magical.

You couldn't blame the man. She was breathtaking.

You gave her your best welcoming smile after introducing yourself, and she paused for a moment, eyes lingering on your face, like she'd felt the tenuous vibe from you and wasn't sure if you were friend or foe, before moving on to your other fellow Firelights.

Well that did it. You would have to try harder to show up as the friend you were supposed to be.

You had to get your shit together.

So you went out to the Lanes the next evening, drinking double your weight in liquor and finding sweet pussy to wrap your mouth around in the bathroom stall of a bar you had yet to frequent. The following night, you ended up at Babette's, your skin searing with heat and need and grief as you chased your own oblivion.

Then you showed up for your afternoon patrol shift the next day with barely a scratch or a hangover. A smile on your face and your system rebooted. It was magical clockwork, really.

**

Some nights, you caught Scar retiring early to his quarters, Trina following in his wake.

Most nights, he spent alone, the light burning on into the night, blinds drawn and his shadow hunched over the kitchen table. After two weeks of giving each other space, you dropped by one evening, checking in on him. He looked more tired than you had ever seen him, which was saying something given his penchant for missions that left him bruised and bloody and satisfied, if he could help it.

When he noticed your presence at his doorway, something like relief seemed to wash over his shoulders, unfolding from the hunched position over the table where he had been studying notes and marking maps of the underground. His jade eyes glowed softly in the dim light, ears flicking minutely as he heard you approach. He gave you a warm smile - not with his teeth, because that would be weird and uncharacteristically cheerful coming from him - but one that softened the corners of his mouth nonetheless.

He welcomed your company.

Before long, you found yourselves back in ritual, head resting in the firm cushion of his thigh, his fingers running through your hair, tips of his claws occasionally scratching your scalp and sending goosebumps across your flesh - because apparently, you realized far too late, that you were the masochist you'd been thinking about this whole time.

He talked more than he ever had, sharing the intricacies of preparing for a newborn, the new ways he learned to support Trina, balancing it all with Firelight responsibilities, and answering your questions as best he could about raising Chirean Vastaya specifically. He didn't have all the answers, and you reminded him that he didn't need to have them all. They would come with time - if your migrant life had taught you anything, it was that you were certain of. When there weren't straight answers, you would make your own and push through. 

These evenings were quiet, intimate, filling you with warmth and a small semblance of normalcy that you both seemed to need as life changed rapidly around you. He never invited you to stay over again, and you never lingered late enough into the evening to warrant the chance.

You did try to cajole him into taking a break - just one night out with everyone, or a few of you, or even just you and him. You had seen him talking with Sinth a few times - maybe he'd come out, the three of you? He was more than aware of your regular escapades - sleeping around was a given for most of you - and as happy as he was for you, it didn't sound like you needed him as a wingman at the moment.

And what if I just miss you? you said instead. His hand in your hair still, the room fallen quiet.

Fine, you conceded, feeling a little petulant and reckless and also like you needed to veer out of serious territory. I guess you are tied down now. And I can't blame you - Trina's easy on the eyes, and she smells nice. You'd think you'd at least offer to share.

The look he gave you - it was a look so scathing that you wouldn't be able to look your parents in the eye for a week with the level of shame he bore into you.

Then he sighed and shook his head, muttering, You're worse than men sometimes. And I know men.

Yeah, you said regrettably. It comes with being somewhere in between.

You called that night in early.

Sometime near the end of summer, while out in the Lanes with Khalil and Karma, you won Fuck, Marry, Kill for the night, which you swore never to do again, because it was the most boring victory you'd ever had. This win sent you home not only untouched in ways that mattered (Khalil's flirtatious touches did not count, he was like that with people he was close with and gay in a way that meant you were off the table, even if you were genderfluid leaning trans masc) - but also more sober than you intended.

You were tipsy enough, however, to stop at Scar's quarters on your way up to yours.

After Scar had brought you up to speed with the latest Shimmer raid, lamenting the wound across his hand that would limit his ability to give Trina massages when she ached, you rode the waves of your emotions out loud.

She's almost in her last trimester, you observed.

She is, Scar acknowledged. You had decided lying down in his lap in your current pent up, brittle state would not be a good idea, so you had stayed sitting up, Scar leaning his head on your shoulder to close the gap between you instead. You told him this position did not help his already hunched posture, but he did it anyway.

How are you feeling?

Good. A little overwhelmed, he admitted. But she's healthy and the baby's healthy. That's priority.

Sinth's sister will be her midwife, yeah?

He nodded.

And she'll give birth here or...up in her place?

That we have to decide. She wants to make it feel sacred. Candles and flowers and things. Make sure she's as comfortable as possible.

You gave an exaggerated gasp that made his ears tweak momentarily.

Well shit, your place might get an upgrade? I'll have to thank her.

Scar grunted out a laugh. Yeah, maybe.

Your feet were pressed flat against the hard bench, knees up to your chest. You tapped your heel against the unforgiving surface, as though testing its integrity.

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Thunk, thunk - thunk, thunk, thunk.

You done?

You wiggled your foot for one last round, and he clamped down on it with his large palm.

You're allergic to fun, you muttered.

This is your idea of fun?

Mmhm.

Sad.

Well fuck you, too.

You stuck out your tongue and he breathed out a laugh.

And then there was nothing left, just his warm hand still holding you down and no other distraction or outlet to calm the buzzing in your mind or the treacherous beating of your heart.

You asked the question that had been plaguing you for months: Do you love her?

The question hung in the air, like it had a right to be there. 

He stilled.

After a long moment, he said, I care for her. A lot. Been getting to know her more. She's had it rough as Zaun gets, but she's tough. Good heart.

Beat.

But no. I don't think...I'm not in love with Trina.

Your heart pounded thick and slow, like it was moving backwards in time through molasses.

But that doesn't matter, he said. His voice was deep as coals, burning and sure. She's the mother of our child and I'll do right by both of them.

Another beat.

I know you will, was all you could say.

You bit back yet another burning question you would never ask:

Do you think you ever could be?

**

As summer came to a close, the cool shift in the air signaled fall, and with that came more changes.

You had been paired for evening patrols with a Firelight you were familiar with, but had yet to work closely with before. Their name was Ray, but they had gone by their birth name when you first met. You instantly bonded over your varied gender identities, what it meant to each of you, and eventually, Ray disclosed their plans for transitioning, hinting at a network of smugglers that could get the Undercity the hormones your trans community needed.

You also bonded over being outsiders to Zaun, sharing an ability to adapt, belonging everywhere and nowhere. Ray hailed from Shurima, came here three years ago with their siblings when their parents died in a mercenary raid. They had been with the Firelights ever since.

Zaun already birthed misfits and those who lived outside the neatly cultivated lines of Piltover's social norms, and while you had befriended folks of various gender identities, magical ability, and race across Runeterra, you had never known someone at the start of their transition, only afterwards - or none at all.

It stirred something in you that you hadn't previously considered.

You had never felt the need to transition, your body strong enough to keep you surviving through brutal changes in climate and various geographical-based diets. You bore the distinct features of someone raised on Ionia's islands, skin naturally brown from living on the southernmost island of the archipelago, but now lighter skinned from the scarce sunlight in Zaun. Your features were symmetrical enough to be considered beautiful, sometimes, and pleasing enough to attract those of all genders.

You knew your spirit was distinctly male like the mountains that stretched their arms protectively around Ionia's islands and distinctly female as its wild forests, old magic pulsing deep from its roots. You'd been reincarnated into a typically female body.

Knowing your spirit had always been enough.

But also, you had never had the opportunity at your fingertips, a life stable enough to consider - more.

All of you.

Maybe you had never felt the need to transition, because other basic needs had always eclipsed it. But you had noticed more trans community in the Undercity than you had seen anywhere else, and it brought you a new kind of hope.

It's nothing to feel guilty about, Ray said one evening, taking a delicate bite from the pastry from Elline's, known to make the best pastries in all of Zaun (and Ekko's favorite). They had nicked a few earlier today off an enforcer with the help of a few of the younger Firelights.

What, nicking sweets? Who said anything about guilt? you asked, halfway through your own tart.

About transitioning, you idiot, they said, laughing through their mouthful of flaky crust.

I don't feel guilty, you insisted, I've just...never had time to think about it too deeply before.

Hmm, said Ray, giving you a sideways look, like they didn't really believe you.

You let that float in the comfortable silence between you, walking almost shoulder to shoulder since you were about the same height. You both reached the end of your route, and you led the turn around a corner, starting another round through the tunnels.

There's no single way to be trans, they said thoughtfully, boots scraping along the rusted piping.

Or queer, you added.

Ray said your name like a question, piquing your interest. You cocked an eyebrow at them.

Yeah?

Are you queer enough? they deadpanned.

Pfff, you snorted. You thought about Scar, and then Trina of all people, and the string of folks you had been hooking up with the last few months.

I think I may be too queer, you said, mildly aghast at this reflection. I may need a break.

Ray's laughter burst out of their mouth unbidden, bouncing around the tunnel, and you elbowed them to hush. Your evening patrols had been relatively quiet, and you wanted to keep them that way.

You're a goon, Ray said fondly, side-eyeing you again. Then, We should go out some time.

Their words briefly knocked the air from your lungs, and your stomach did a little swoop like you'd missed a step.

That's a thing we can do, you said, recovering. If you don't get us killed on patrol.

I would never, they said, deep brown eyes gleaming.

You pressed on through your route, too many thoughts swirling through your brain to place them anywhere. It was nice, having someone to talk to about these things. Scar was the first person you'd let in at the Firelight base, and though he understood what it meant for you personally, it wasn't something he knew in his bones. You had always been good wingmen - people - for each other, and the Firelights you ran in tight circles with were a spectrum of queerness as well, but that's where it ended. They were all as cis- as they come - gender and perception far from their daily concerns, not something they navigated through every moment lived in this body.

That was more than okay.

But this...this was nice.

**

As Trina's due date approached, you found yourself nervously trying to be helpful in some way. You had barely been involved throughout the pregnancy, allowing her and Scar space to begin navigating things together as a family, and you mostly interacted with her during meals or when you caught her walking up to her quarters the same time as you. Sometimes it was no more than a neighborly goodnight, while other times, you stopped to check on how she was doing. Usually she was fairing well, all things considered.

One evening, when she was feeling particularly achy, you brought some warm tea down to her. Seeing you hovering awkwardly at the doorway, she invited you inside. You sat briefly in one of the armchairs in the living room as she gingerly lowered herself onto her couch. Thankfully, she had pillows on her furniture like a normal person, so you both settled in as comfortably as you could. Overall her place felt warm, with accents of reds and browns. It smelled nice too, a vanilla candle holding vigil in the window. Without the tea in your hands to keep you occupied, you looked for something to do while she laid with her head back, eyes closed, a small dimple between her brows as she grimaced in discomfort.

You thought what Scar might do.

A massage was out of the question, you and Trina were not familiar enough for that. You offered to warm some towels for her to lay across sore muscles instead, which she gratefully accepted. From the safer proximity of the kitchen stove, dipping a few rags carefully into boiling water, you got to talking about your lives before living at the Firelight base. You talked mostly at first, hoping to distract her from her discomfort, keeping things light with stories of the time you fell into a river in Ixtal trying to catch a fish, or the sounds of the jungle at night, or the time you saved a Poro in the deserts of Shurima.

These recollections seemed to put Trina at ease, a smile growing on her face though her eyes remained closed. You didn't know if Vastayans had the pregnant glow that some human birthing people could, but she did seem to radiate warmth, something that felt like contentment and peace. In turn, she shared stories of growing up in Zaun near the Entresol level, running from enforcers after she and the neighborhood kids were caught throwing rocks at cultivairs, one of those greenhouses where rich, sell-out Zaunites of the Promenade flaunted their bioluminescent plants and access to clean air.

We thought we could free whatever machine filtered the air in those rooms, get some of it to lessen the Gray on the streets, she said, laughing bitterly. We were six and had big plans. And you know damn well those Breathing Stations were only there to keep us alive long enough to keep working for Piltover.

You hummed thoughtfully. You had seen the Breathing Stations, but hadn't thought of them that way before.

I hope once he's old enough and gets into trouble of his own, the only consequence will be me and Scar devising some creative punishment that he absolutely hates.

He? you repeated, while chuckling at all the possibilities of what that task could be, especially at base.

I know, Scar thinks it's a girl, she said in a blasé tone. Fuck, if I know. But I'm going with a boy. Keep it interesting.

You laughed at that. You found that you liked spending time with Trina. It was a shame you had waited so long to start getting to know her more. None of you had talked about the role you would play in the baby's life - if any at all, their fragility sort of scared you - but you hoped she would be happy to have another pair of hands to help. You didn't think she'd mind.

The next week, you stopped by the community greenhouse, where Wes was teaching a group of young Firelights, their elbows probably deeper in the soil than they should have been. There was dirt everywhere.

Going well in here, you observed, picking up a trowel that had somehow landed on its face by the entrance. You purposely stuck it in front of one of the kids with their arms buried in the soil. Anaris, you thought her name was. She took it, grinning sheepishly.

I'd say so, Wes said brightly.

We're planting cover crops for winter! cried one you recognized as Arjun, as though it was the most brilliant idea they'd ever heard.

I can see that, you said, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. To be fair, it was a very important task that would help keep you all fed through the harsher months. But there was a certain level of interest you needed to show when a kid met you with that much enthusiasm.

You sidestepped one of the kids and peered at the mostly bare trellises taking up one corner of the shed.

They're naked cuz we picked them to store for later, one of the taller ones said. You didn't know their name, but they seemed much younger than their size suggested. You stood on tip toe and plucked a snap pea that had climbed higher than even the tallest one's arms could reach.

Missed one, you said cheekily, biting into it with a satisfying crunch. It was so fresh and juicy. You held it by the stem, shaking the remainder of it at the taller one. This'll be your job when you're older.

Their eyes widened before they nodded very seriously.

So what brings you in today? Wes asked, leaning an elbow on the table of planters, brow arched in curiosity.

I have a quest, you said, in a conspiratorial voice.

A quest??? Several kids yelled at once.

Yeah, you said, very seriously. I'm gonna need help, I think. It's a pretty big job.

Some of them dropped everything they were holding to scramble around you, waiting for instructions. You smiled apologetically at Wes, who just beckoned you all onward with his hands, not seeming to mind at all.

Half an hour later, a small huddle of kids made their way to the treehouses, trying and failing to walk inconspicuously. They did, however, succeed in hiding what was in the brown paper bundle between them, sticking to a formation of their own design. You threw an amused look at Wes, who watched with you from the threshold of the greenhouse shed, eyes shimmering.

They climbed hurriedly up the first level, then just as quickly up the stairs to the second level, the ones in front turning around and throwing their hands out to slow everyone else down. They created their own mini-traffic jam, and you thought maybe the package would be done for. Thankfully, the little one in the middle, whom they were huddled around, still held it securely in their arms like it was a baby itself.

After knocking and waiting anxiously, shushing each other, Trina opened the door, looking surprised to be surrounded by a gaggle of little children. She greeted them as a group, smiling and looking bewildered, not sure which kid to focus on. One in the back nudged the little one forward, and the kids parted like the sea. Her eyes widened and her ears flicked back as she saw what was in the kid's arms. Even from a distance, you could hear the kids going, Open it!!

Trina obeyed, unwrapping the brown paper to reveal the small bouquet of sunflowers you and the kids had picked together in the greenhouse. Her mouth opened and her eyes softened, smiling in wonder. Then she noticed the paper folded between the stems.

For your birthing altar - you had written, your name and each kid's name scrawled every which way on the paper. Her mouth made a soft Oh, and one of the kids turned and pointed very obviously at you and Wes standing by the greenhouse.

Smooth, you muttered to Wes, who chuckled.

You and Trina made eye contact, and you gave a sheepish wave. She waved back, closing her hands a few times as if reaching for your hand, lower lip pouting with gratitude. The kids giggled, pleased with themselves. Then she blew you a kiss, then another to the kids, and bowed her head in thanks before wobbling back inside, leaving the kids squealing with the satisfaction at a quest completed.

And leaving you feeling warmer in your chest than you'd expected to feel.

**

The morning of Taya's birth, you knew immediately that something was wrong.

Ekko rapped on your door at the crack of dawn, and you stared blearily at him, barely processing that he was standing there.

Scar and Trina need us. Hurry.

He didn't wait for you as you staggered to your room to put on regular clothes. The slight chill in the air raked against your skin and sent a chill through you, enough to start shifting the clouds in your mind from sleep. By the time you pulled a sweater over your head, your brain had finally rebooted.

Shit, the baby. What in Janna's name happened?

You burst out of your quarters, not bothering to lock the door and flew down the stairs as fast as you could, a solid tangle of dread starting to build in your chest.

A thousand images of what went wrong flew unbidden across your mind - a miscarriage, a stillbirth, the baby strangled in the umbilical cord.

Please please please, no, you thought wildly, your stomach turning.

When was Trina's due date again?

Maybe the baby was just premature?

You leapt the last few steps and landed carefully on the second level, already seeing Ekko waiting for you, holding the door slightly ajar, but blocking it for privacy with his body in the threshold. You gulped down several steadying breaths, trying to wipe your mind blank while also preparing for the worst once you stepped through that door.

Trina's place was dimly lit at the entrance, the familiar smell of vanilla and also a new scent - lavender? softening the air in the living room and kitchen.

The baby's fine, Ekko murmured quietly as he dragged you forward by the hand.

The baby's here? you whispered back in shock. You saw Trina last night at dinner, then slowly being guided by Scar up the ramp to her quarters. There was no sign of her going into labor.

She's with Sinth, Ekko said.

Then, before you could process that it was a baby girl, Ekko turned towards you, slowing you down before the bedroom door.

It's Trina.

Everything inside you slammed against your ribcage.

You couldn't have heard that right.

Ekko looked at you gravely, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight, almost forcing the reality on you before things slipped away. He gave your hand a squeeze before knocking.

Come in. The voice was Corinth, Sinth's sister and Trina's midwife.

You inhaled as the door opened, and your eyes were assaulted with more light than you had anticipated. Candles were burning on both sides of the room, surrounded by assortments of flowers, but a lamp had been turned on, shining directly on the bed.

Nothing could have prepared you for the scene in front of you.

Scar's back was to you as his whole body hovered over Trina on the bed, clutching her pale hand like he was an anchor that could hold her down through a storm at sea. Corinth sat on her other side, hand wrapped around Trina's wrist and muttering under her breath.

And then you saw the towel bundled tight and pressed between her legs, Scar's broad hand holding it firmly in place.

It was soaked with blood.

Your breath caught in your throat. You immediately came to Corinth's side, kneeling on the floor next to the bed, eyes locked on Trina's body. Her eyes were closed, and there was another towel on the floor, wrapped around what looked like smaller rags drenched in blood.

She went into labor almost three hours ago. The baby arrived maybe thirty minutes ago. Her blood pressure seems low and she hasn't stopped bleeding.

Hemorrhage, you breathed hoarsely. Corinth nodded grimly.

She fainted just before Ekko got you. No tearing as far as I can see. I need you to keep checking her vitals. I need to check the baby. She should be fine, but it's protocol. I'll be right back. I'm sending my brother and other Firelights out to get drugs to stop the bleeding. I - we know some people. Scar knows what he has to do.

For the first time since entering Trina's quarters, your eyes met Scar's briefly as you swapped places with Corinth. He looked stricken, and you both stared down at Trina again. You got to work immediately, being one of the few Firelights with basic medic training, your usual role during missions and raids. Your hands moved quickly and steadily, loosening then tightening the rubber around her bicep from Corinth's previous vital check, then started counting her pulses. As expected, it was lower than what was considered healthy, but you didn't have a baseline.

You continued assessing. You blocked Scar out of your periphery, knowing he was watching every one of your movements. Her skin felt clammy beneath the fur.

When you got to feeling her throat and forehead, she was burning up.

Was she this hot before? you asked the room at large. Scar shook his head sharply. Ekko, grab some hot towels please, hurry.

He left in a flash, leaving the three of you in the room.

Trina, you said softly, close to her ear. Scar sucked in a breath through his teeth, but you ignored him.

Trina, can you hear me? Please move if you can hear me.

Not a twitch of a finger nor any subtle movement on her face. Just her chest, rising and falling rapidly.

Trina. You said her name like she was awake and listening, like she was watching everything that was happening to her, like you could call her back to wakefulness with your voice and presence alone. I'm going to massage your belly a little, okay? We need to get your uterus contracting again.

Short of consent, your eyes met Scar's gaze, and he nodded. Are there gloves?

There, he said, voice strained and gruff, nodding towards the floor where a bag lay.

You knew you should wash your hands, but given the amount of blood loss in such a short amount of time, urgency took priority.

Scar was already lifting her birthing gown up when you moved back to gently touch her lower abdomen. It felt very tender. You began massaging, gently at first, then more firmly.

Ekko returned several minutes later, carefully placing the warm cloth on Trina's forehead before stepping away to give you all space. Scar's broad shoulders were tense, body rigid on the bed, and you both knew not to touch him right now lest he break.

Scar, you said after a minute or two. His gaze snapped to yours. I need you to keep massaging, I'll check her vitals again.

He nodded, carefully letting go of his grip on her hand to place it over her abdomen where yours had been moments before.

Shit, you cursed after a minute, unable to stop yourself. Her blood pressure's dropped.

Stop, Scar said, hand freezing on Trina's belly. It's making it worse -

No, you said sharply, and his piercing green eyes met yours.

This is the only thing that can help her until Sinth gets back with the drugs. If contractions start up again, it can stop the bleeding.

The weight of those words, the terrible ultimatum, seemed to paralyze the three of you. You all knew the restrictions of her conditions: there was no time to get her to a proper medical center, never mind afford treatment - whatever that entailed - never mind transporting her safely out of the tunnels to get there.

No matter where Trina gave birth in Zaun, she would need the kind of medical attention that was only available Topside. As this realization dawned on you, fear, and panic and bitter rage started to burn at your throat like acid.

A home birth had been the best and safest option.

This was the best you all had.

And now it had slipped into a nightmare.

Scar resumed massaging firmly, murmuring encouragement to Trina like she could hear him, too. Corinth burst into the room, holding a tiny bundle and passing it to Ekko, giving the all clear.

Then things started to move too fast and too slow all at once. Time felt surreal. One moment you were on the bed, the next Corinth had taken your place, moving between Trina's legs, reaching a gloved hand inside her and pushing her uterus up towards her belly button while Scar maintained pressure down, together trying to manually compress the organ. You heard distant voices outside, shouting maybe, and then the bundle was in your arms, and you realized the bundle was the baby.

Before you could make any sense of that, you heard a thud and then a loud crashing, skidding, screeching in the hallway, approaching fast. Scar's ears trembled at the sound, glowering and growling at it without turning his head away from Trina. Ekko crashed through the open bedroom door on his hoverboard, not dismounting until he pressed a small bottle in Corinth's hand. You didn't even remember him leaving.

She administered the oxytocic drug immediately and the whole room held its breath.

You weren't sure how much time had passed. Corinth said words to you, the bundle was gone again, and then your fingers were at Trina's wrist and you were counting pulses again.

Steady, you heard yourself saying, but it sounded like it came from someone else. Blood pressure's the same, low. But it hasn't dropped any lower.

You thought you saw Scar crumple forward on the bed. You didn't remember being ushered into the living room, but suddenly you were seated on the couch.

And the bundle was back in your arms.

Baby.

What did they call her? Something with a T, something like Trina...

Taya, you whispered in wonder as the name came to you.

Taya, Taya, Taya.

She was impossibly small. Wrinkled. So many folds. Nubs for bat ears. Eyes closed. You remembered that human babies couldn't really see for a time after birth, so maybe it was similar for Chireans.

Your heart expanded as you drank her in, whole rooms opening inside of you, welcoming this new life. So pink, her nose, her body the same grayish lavender as Scar's and Trina's coloring.

You handed Taya to Scar at one point. You thought maybe you exchanged small smiles or the ghosts of them. Told him to drink water. Ekko brought several glasses out for everyone. You and Ekko leaned into each other on the couch, catching your breath together, buzzing, sweat-slicked skin touching and bringing heat, physically grounding you until the steady warmth calmed and regulated you. Both of you were wide-eyed with disbelief.

Scar disappeared again. Ekko held the baby. You knew Trina was still hanging on, not in the clear yet. The sky outside the window began to darken. When a gray-green moon hung over Zaun, your feet made their way across the room like it was calling you.

You stepped outside.

You drank in the cool night air, feeling like you had never truly breathed until this moment.

A gentle wind ghosted through your hair, and you turned your chin up to the moon, thinking of the Zaunite lore around their deity, Janna. How she answered prayers, protected her people from complete annihilation. You weren't one for prayer, but you thought here, now, standing amongst probably the only living tree of this stature in Zaun, you could lift your prayers to the wind, and they might be heard.

They said a blue bird was a symbol of her divine intervention, a mark her followers wore. But the birds had left for the winter, and all you could see was a shadowy, waning moon, reflecting light that did not belong to it, like a false god.

**

Trina passed quietly in the middle of the night, amongst her flowers and burning candles, and Scar by her side.

You all had done everything within your power, and it had not been enough. The delivery came too fast, the blood loss too great in so short a span of time, and without an immediate transfusion, there wasn't enough oxygen to keep her organs going.

There had been arguing earlier. The mention of Shimmer, and Scar roaring that that was not an option. She had been a Shimmer addict - new information that startled you, but made sense later given Firelight history - and he could not, would not do that to her.

And it promised nothing, no guarantee of working properly without doing something far worse.

Now, the whole place fell quiet.

There was no more emergency. No finish line to cross. Nothing urgent to save or do.

The night felt unending.

Scar remained with her, kneeling on the floor, her hand clasped between both of his, his head bowed over the small mound their hands made together, forehead pressed to her skin. A new blanket had been placed over her body, the soaked towels removed.

He did not move when you and Ekko entered, his face still buried in her skin and the sheets. His ears didn't even twitch. It was just the two of them, frozen in time, still as graves on the bed. She looked like she could have been sleeping, and you hated that.

A small sound escaped your throat, and you staggered towards the bed, kneeling at her bedside, mirroring Scar. You reached for the hand you had held just hours before, now too cold to the touch.

None of it made sense.

The tears slipped out easily then.

Ekko came up beside you, his body trembling. He leaned carefully over Trina for a moment, cupping a hand to her face and taking in a deep, shuddering breath. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before straightening again, wiping his tear-streaked face.

Scar did not cry.

He did not look up for a long time. When he did, it was to look at Trina's face, like she had done an impossible feat, both beautiful and terrible.

You did not look him in the eyes, and he did not look at either of you.

To do so, to acknowledge, one by one and together, would make it too real.

Too final.

He was not ready. He held vigil all night.

You both stayed with him, trading spaces on the small bed or against the wall on the floor, getting up once or twice to make sure her candles burned until morning.

**

As daylight broke, you heard Corinth coming to stand at the doorway. You blinked at her from the floor. You were dazed. You hadn't slept.

You didn't want to wake up to remember a nightmare you could not escape.

Ekko was staring out the window, arms crossed, his back to everyone.

Scar still hadn't moved. You doubted he had slept either.

Corinth looked wrecked, the sadness and exhaustion and guilt hanging around her shoulders a fragile thing. She approached, her steps soft against the wooden floor, before she crouched next to Scar. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He didn't budge. She tried his name, whispering softly that she needed to tend to Trina, her body.

Still no movement. She looked at you and Ekko, and you glanced at each other.

Ekko left his place at the window, coming to kneel next to Scar on his other side, a pained expression on his face, like he hated what he had to do next. He whispered something into Scar's ear that you could not hear. He placed a gentle but firm hand on his upper arm, pressing soothingly into his skin before giving him a single, solid squeeze. More words in his ear.

When he still did not react, Ekko looked to you.

You took a deep breath and pushed yourself up from the floor. You felt as if you were made to walk the bottom of the ocean, the heaviness slow and unrelenting. You sat at the foot of the bed. You looked at Scar's bent figure, Trina's body beneath the blanket.

You turned to Corinth. What needs to be done?

She blinked, taken aback, and Ekko's gaze snapped towards you as well. They both looked at you in shock, like you had said something incredibly insensitive.

What I mean is - can he have more time with her? you corrected quickly, looking earnestly into Corinth's face. She - she needs to be bathed, cleaned, right? Before everything?

Corinth nodded carefully, starting to follow your train of thought, you hoped.

You looked around the room, at the flowers, the candles, the smell of lavender and vanilla still faint in the air. The lamp had been turned off some time in the night, soft morning light unfairly caressing her soft, still features in glowing yellows and pinks.

I know Trina likes rituals.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak of her in the past tense. You had just spoken to her only a night ago. Scar's ears twitched hearing her name. He made a sound then, like choking on a sigh.

I've heard of customs...some make a ritual out of washing the body of a - your words stumbled here - the one you lost. It could be something sacred. There's a tub, or at least, wash cloths if you keep her here? I think she would - appreciate, you know, being cared for. One last...

Your voice trailed off, breaking.

Corinth nodded slowly in understanding.

Can he help?

Is this something you want? You spoke directly to Scar now. You knew he was listening.

For a long moment, you thought he had shut down again.

This was a terrible idea, what were you thinking? Her bloodied parts would be nauseating and traumatizing to face. You wished you could stuff the words back into your mouth, but it was too late.

Then, you all watched as a deep breath rolled through him, his broad back and chest rising and falling.

Finally, finally, he raised his face, just barely.

You were startled to see he was looking at you.

His green eyes were ringed red, but they were dry. Their usual luminescence muted, like a light gone out. He looked like he had lost decades of his life overnight, and in the same breath, like a lost child of Zaun caught in its crossfires.

You had seen him break, but never like this.

It absolutely shattered you.

You felt the hot burn of tears rupturing again, starting in your throat and coming up behind your eyes, his gaping emptiness tearing a hole through your own chest.

Yes.

His voice was ragged, low. But it was there.

Please.

Corinth nodded, and you and Ekko breathed heavily, before touching him warmly on the shoulder, then leaving the three together in Trina's room.

He would begin saying goodbye, and you would both be waiting for him on the other side.

**

At Trina's final send off, Ekko gave a brief eulogy, eyes wet and voice choking with grief, but he soldiered on for Scar, who had fallen solemn and silent. This would not break him, you thought, but it would come close. You held his hand tightly throughout the ceremony, and you knew parts of him were dying alongside Trina, their hopes and plans for a future raising Taya together laid to rest with the mother she would never meet or remember. The mothers among the Firelights folded around him, whispering promises that he would not be alone in raising baby Taya, that she was all of theirs. That he was theirs, too.

The following weeks were the darkest times you had ever witnessed for Scar. The worst part was not just that he blamed himself, but also that it built up a barrier of guilt that kept him distant from little Taya. He was there, physically, relentlessly, but emotionally, he was fracturing.

If he was quiet and reserved before, now he slipped silently through the days like sunsets over Zaun, like the closing of shops in the Lanes at 4am, when nothing good happened, the streets were empty, abandoned. You never pushed for conversation and he didn't offer it. You just kept a steady presence in his day-to-day.

You realized just how bad it was, not a second too late, one evening after he put Taya down. He had taken to roaming on his hoverboard at night, and sometimes you caught him drifting far out over Zaun, silhouetted against the background of Piltover gleaming white and pristine and seductive in its violence.

You had heard the familiar soft whirr of his hoverboard kicking into gear below, from where you sat on your living room couch, trying to read a book you'd borrowed from Ray, but after half an hour, you'd realized you were reading the same lines over and over again. Nothing was sticking.

That's when you heard the rare, explosive sound of a hoverboard kicking into high gear.

Everything inside you froze as you caught the tail end of Scar, rocketing straight up into the night sky, ninety degrees and flying. He was climbing higher and higher, past the height of where hoverboards were supposed to go.

Your heart slammed in your chest when you realized with horror, he's going to drop.

And then you were moving, grabbing your hoverboard off the wall and bursting through your door. You were not the best flyer but like hell that would stop you now, jumping onto your board while screaming for Ekko, anyone, for backup. You shot into the night sky, daring to go faster than you'd ever flown before, your board vibrating and rattling beneath you, heart thundering in your ears.

You could spot him now, a speck in the midnight sky, a satellite glowing a faint green.

If you didn't know any better, you could have mistaken him for an actual firelight.

Ekko's board screamed past yours in a violent streak of neon that momentarily blinded you, imprinting on the backs of your eyelids. You slowed, momentarily, but that was enough.

They were coming down fast now, Ekko gripping Scar around the waist in a perfect tackle, aiming them east for the highest buildings in Zaun to break their fall. You careened after them, watching them crash land onto the roof, bodies tumbling over each other and boards screeching against metal.

You dismounted where they finally came to a halt, bruised and breathless, but nothing broken. Yet.

You were on him in a heartbeat, pinning him to the cold ground, your knees in his gut, hands shoving him again and again in the chest with all of your might, cursing him out with every last breath you had left.

What the hell were you thinking?

Are you insane?

What about Taya?

What about us?

Are you fucking kidding me, you motherfucking coward -

You slapped him across the face, and that's when Ekko pulled you off him.

Enough, he said.

Scar had just taken it. No fighting back, no movement, just staring at you like he was already underwater.

You were shaking. You took in a few deep shuddering breaths before you found yourself again, the tidal wave of grief and rage and utter fear cresting high with your racing heartbeat, before slamming through you like a shockwave. You collapsed over him from where you kneeled beside him, arms splayed around his torso, panting against his wide chest, your ear pressed to the leather over his heart.

It beat erratically, full and alive. You stayed like that until it finally slowed.

On his other side, Ekko gripped him by the shoulder, placing a palm against his face and turning his head to face him, waiting until Scar's eyes slid to focus on his friend.

His green eyes reflected moonlight in the dark.

You can't do that again, man, he said, sounding almost like he did at Trina's funeral. You can't just let go. Please. We need you. I need you. We'll find another way, together. But not like this, not again.

Promise, Scar. Promise us.

His gaze bore into Ekko's for so long, you thought Ekko couldn't take it much longer and would punch Scar in the face himself. But then everything in Scar gave out, his head tilting back against the ground with a thud, shoulders dropping like chainmail like they were the only things holding him together. You sat up immediately in alarm, but he laid still, surrendering, his eyes closed.

You caught the gleam of a single tear sliding down his face, cresting over the hill of his cheek bone, before he swallowed and nodded.

Once you and Ekko got him home safely, you both crashed on his couch and passed out till morning, only getting up when Taya needed a bottle a few hours before daylight. Neither of you let him out of your sight for the next three days, taking turns with Ekko, Khalil, and another mother to take care of Taya, then crashing on his Janna forsaken couch four nights in a row. None of you slept well, but you were all doing your best.

It felt terribly similar to the days after Trina died.

But for those three days, you were together. You were alive. You were all still here.

For the next few weeks, several of you rotated crashing at Scar's and helping with overnight care. And you would have continued, had he not asked for time to be alone. You staggered it to three times a week.

Scar came back slowly, in pieces, fragmented over the next several months. He threw himself back into Firelight duties as Second in Command. Ekko allowed it for a time, to keep him busy and provide a sense of normalcy. But after he returned with his partner from a simple scouting trip, both of them unnecessarily bleeding and ribs cracked, he put Scar on a temporary leave. Not without losing his shit at him first though.

He needed some time to grieve, to slow down. His ribs healed fine with Corinth's support. You saw him take baby Taya on a walk, bundled in the cold, before they disappeared together into the greenhouse. You noticed his ears perked up at conversations nearby, engaging, even if all he did was cock his eyebrow and frown, saying nothing. You brought him meals on days you helped with Taya, eating together in tired silence or dissecting whatever Firelight gossip you overheard, just so he could roll his eyes and huff.

Once, and only once, he broke down after you shared something small and seemingly regular that Taya did. It was sudden. Slow at first, you hadn't even noticed he was crying. And then his iron defenses snapped and toppled over. He was so, so exhausted, down to the bone, in ways he had never been asked to endure before.

It was the kind of mourning that took over the whole system, body and soul, and would not stop, would not let you go, no matter how much you wanted it to. Not until every last drop of it was felt.

You cried a little, too, tears mixing when your faces pressed close, warm and comforting for a time.

You let him lie his head in your lap as the quiet tears slipped down his face for what felt like hours. He let you hold him through it. You ran your fingers along the velvet fur of his ears, stroking them slowly, meditatively, taking your time to tend to each one. This, more than anything, seemed to relax his entire body, feeling the give as his muscles loosened and the sheer weight of his head against your thigh.

He finally subsided, passing out from exhaustion deep into the night. Your heart was twisting something fierce. You never wanted to see him like this again, for something to pierce through him so cleanly and deeply. You brushed his hair back and pressed your lips to his forehead.

You didn't move from the couch until Taya woke up wailing for her dad.

**

One day, sooner than you would have thought, Scar was tying Taya's unruly hair back, growing faster than any human's ever could, when she looked up at him, like she recognized him, was seeing him for the first time.

And then, she smiled at him. Not by accident, not thoughtlessly, not a fluke.

A real smile, just for Scar, one that could bring down the moon and the stars.

Scar's breath caught in his throat, a soft grunt of surprise. She watched him curiously, then broke into a smile again, cooing softly like she was laughing, but didn't quite have the lungs for it yet.

He stared at her, dumbstruck.

A long, quiet moment stretched between them, like a tether.

And then he brushed the back of his clawed finger along the bridge of her nose thoughtfully. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, his broad pink nose against her little one, nuzzling her like she was his, and he would never let her go.

He stayed like that for a long time, like maybe this new warmth could kindle new life inside him, and he would allow it.

Before too long, Taya got restless and cried out, grabbing both sides of Scar's face, pleased with this new ability.

She dug her claws in deep.

Chapter Text

The night before The Day of Reckoning for Piltover, you told Scar not to come back.

The day after the partnered scientists blipped out of existence, Ekko saving you all from some creepy, ethereal annihilation of the self, Scar did come back, but not the same as before. Something changed deeply within him.

But so had you.

Which was why you hadn't spoken to him for months now, completely icing him out.

Or as best as you could - you were still Firelights after all.

You threw a glance at the clock in your family's kitchen, your quick hands wrapping the last loaf of bread that had cooled on the rack. It was nearly eleven, and food distribution started at noon. That gave you enough time to make your rounds, gathering the neighbors' contributions, and organizing them at the head of the Firelight base.

After trailing carefully down two flights of stairs that wrapped around the wide girth of the tree trunk, your feet had barely touched the first floor landing, when a familiar voice called your name.

Just under the landing on the dirt road, you saw the silhouette of someone rolling up with a four tiered cart, the first two shelves already bouncing on the uneven ground with baskets of produce and other raw materials.

You squinted your eyes from the sun's bright rays, but smiled widely as you approached a familiar and yet, not so familiar face.

"Hey, you." Your voice carried all the glee and warmth that you felt whenever they were around, which hadn't been for awhile. You brought them in for a tight hug, which they returned. "Someone started early. You look good, Ray."

"Thanks, I feel like shit. Couldn't sleep," they said roughly, though they returned your warm smile, eyes brightening as they took in your appearance. "Been up since 5am. You make those today?"

"Sure did," you said, placing the bag on the third shelf, but not before digging something out.

You held out a small roll to them. "This one's from the last batch, still warm."

Ray gave you an easy grin, catching your gaze with gratitude and holding their palm out to you. You dropped it lightly in their hand, then nodded towards the cart and the direction of the other quarters.

Let's go.

You guided the cart while they pushed it up the landing's ramp. They took a bite out of the roll, still pushing the cart with one hand, but the remainder of the bread came off with it. They ended up swallowing the whole thing in one go.

Ray groaned as they chewed and savored it, and you shot them a look at the uncouth sounds coming out of their mouth.

"So fresh," they moaned. "So good. See? I knew switching to your rotation was a good move."

They gripped your shoulder tightly, giving you a good, affirming shake like it had been your idea, too. A brief warmth passed through your chest. You hadn't known that - you just thought Sen had switched to other duties since she was really a night owl, and Ray had picked it up.

When you saw their name paired next to yours on the list of weekly duties, you had quirked an eyebrow curiously, not recognizing the name at first. Your brain carded through the faces of all the new Firelights, but still couldn't place it. You'd shrugged it off until you saw them again today, the first time since they'd started transitioning months ago.

You couldn't place the name because Ray wasn't a new Firelight at all.

They looked good, really good. The growing definition of their jawline suited them, and it was clear that the new muscle distribution was...doing them all the favors.

"Well, you're welcome," you laughed, trying not to sound too pleased at your revelation. Or to pay too much attention to the heat their hand left on your shoulder.

Then you pulled a face. "But seriously, Ray, relax, it's just bread. Plus it's Sunday? And there's children around? People are gonna start thinking we put - something - in the bread."

Ray snorted out a laugh, their mouth wide and loose now that it wasn't stuffed with the roll. You couldn't stop staring at their dark, full lips.

"Didn't peg you as the religious type," they quipped.

And because something wild had possessed you, maybe it was their mouth, or their touch, or their laughter, or the relief and joy of seeing them after so much time had passed. Or maybe just too much sun.

You took the bait because it was just too easy and you couldn't not.

"What do you mean?" you said easily, putting on a demure tone. "I'm always on my knees on Sundays."

Their mouth fell agape, like they'd been gut punched, then a terrible grin of approval spread across their face. Your laughter rang out loud, satisfied with the reaction you elicited.

"Is that so?" Ray said smoothly, once they recovered, following as you guided the cart to the first door on your list. The cart rolled to a stop, and they leaned into your space, unnecessarily, rapping firmly on the door.

As the sounds of children yelling for their parents came from the other side of the door, they caught your gaze quickly, a conspiratorial look in their deep brown eyes.

Before the door opened, knobs twisting and locks clicking, they said quietly, looking up at you through their lashes, "Maybe you can show me sometime. Been a while since I prayed."

Now it was your turn for your jaw to drop. Your face flushed with warmth as the door creaked open. You wrestled the widening grin on your face into submission as best as you could.

"Morning, Red," they chirped easily, completely ignoring you while the corners of their eyes crinkled with pleasure.

"Morning," you echoed weakly, hoping your face had arranged itself into something more appropriate.

"It's not as much as last week's," Red said regretfully, short of a greeting and placing the bag of produce in your arms.

"That's okay," you said gratefully, pulling yourself together and into action. You placed the small load on the cart. "Everything and anything counts."

He was barely looking at you as he wrangled in one of his kids with his leg, their head attempting to pop through the door and listen.

"Hi, Noor," you called warmly to the little face, obscured.

"Hi!" Noor called back.

"That drastic change in the weather almost wiped us clean of everything." Red's voice was tight, suspicious, his eyes checking the sky as if it had plans to swallow them whole.

"I'm sorry. I'm glad they made it. But yeah, something has been...off, more than usual, ever since..."

You trailed off, because no one needed reminding of that terrifying day.

"We can raise it at the council meeting tomorrow," you pivoted, holding his gaze with sincerity.

He nodded roughly before closing the door.

You sighed, before turning and rounding on Ray, giving their shoulder a firm shove. They laughed, taking it and letting you jostle them into the cart as they smirked.

"That was not fair," you said coolly.

They took the handle of the cart and started pushing it again, eyeing the list in their other hand, looking quite unconcerned.

"Hmm," they hummed, eyes still scanning the list.

"What?" you said, reluctantly peering down to see what could be wrong.

"Never said I play fair."

You huffed and gave them another shove, but you couldn't help the small smile playing at your lips.

"Never again, dude."

Now it was their laughter ringing out, shaking the leaves on the trees.

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

And on and on it went as you made your stops, bickering - flirting - whatever, as you made your first level rounds.

Before reaching the ramp to the second level, you thought you heard the soft click of a door closing, heavy boots moving at a steady rhythm across the wooden platform.

You turned to look over your shoulder, but the figure was gone, casting a long shadow in their wake.

**

Turns out you were alright with kids.

Everything for weekly food distro had been set up neatly, for the most part, across two long tables, which was really four tables, paired together. You had some of the younger Firelights help you and Ray.

You gave the older ones - ranging from ten to twelve years old - five agonizingly long minutes to problem solve how best to setup the tables, elbows banging into each other, toes getting stubbed, and bickering voices starting to rise before you made them freeze, pause, and reconfigure the plan with your guidance, step by step.

One young Firelight in particular had stayed back out of the controlled chaos, but now the other ones were starting to raise their voices at her.

"That's so much work!"

"You don't need to do that!"

"Hey!" you said, not shouting, but allowing your voice to fill from your diaphragm so that it boomed over them, cutting off their voices. Ray looked over from their table behind you, where they were leading another small group of kids with set up. They quirked an eyebrow in question, but you just shook your head at them before turning back to your group.

"Mia's messing everything up," one Firelight complained, a blonde boy with his head shaved. Miggs, you thought he was called.

You came up behind the small group of them, standing next to Mia and watching her hands work effortlessly. She had been sorting the produce into groups by color, humming along to herself and completely disengaged from the kids around her.

"Messing everything up? Let's see," you said, pretending to deeply assess the setup as several pairs of eyes followed your gaze.

"Huh, everything looks great to me. I love this color coordination - thank you, Mia, what a good idea."

"But it's so - unnecessary," another one said, feeling obviously proud of their vocabulary.

"Well, okay, everyone would still get their portions either way at the end of the day," you said evenly. "But we don't always have to do things out of necessity, right? Sometimes we can just do things for fun. Don't you ever just do things for fun?"

"Yeah..."

"Is she causing any harm to anyone?"

"No..."

"Did she ask you to help her?"

"No..."

"Does it seem like she's enjoying herself?"

"I guess so..."

"Great, there's no problem then. Stop being vibe killers and go find something productive to do - I think we still need the water containers. It's go time in fifteen minutes."

Some of them groaned, before scattering across the courtyard.

Mia continued humming, pointing out the different colors and measuring each new vegetable against them.

"I am enjoying myself," she said absentmindedly.

You couldn't help but smile, giving her a small squeeze that got a chuckle out of her.

"Good Mia, that's all that matters."

You let out a long breath, grateful to have a moment to just exist during a busy morning. The sun climbed high in the sky now, and waves of heat were visible. You took a drink of water from the makeshift water bottle the kids had crafted for everyone earlier in the spring.

The water felt cool and clean down your throat. It paid to be ahead of schedule. Small pockets of peace.

Then Ray called your name.

"Yeah?" you called back, not turning around yet, stealing one more moment of quiet for yourself.

"Could you pass me the bag of small rolls you made?"

"Yeah, I got you."

You crouched, shuffling through the bag of extras that you hid under the table behind the tablecloths. After running the food distro for several years now, you had all learned to make sure everyone got their basic set of goods for themselves or their family before coming back for more. Although it still happened, sticky fingers were discouraged - unless for the good of the whole comm.

You felt the small lumps of the rolls with your fingers before you saw them.

"Ha!" you said triumphantly to yourself, sweat starting to bead at your forehead and the back of your neck. It burned a little on your baking skin, irritating and itchy.

You turned in your crouch, standing up quickly and holding out the little bag to Ray as you stepped closer to them.

"Found the little fuckers - shit," you muttered, swaying as a rush of blood and pressure pounded through your skull. Everything darkened around you in small bursts of black and white, and you shut your eyes until the world stopped spinning.

"Um, language? There are children around," Ray chided, echoing your teasing from earlier. They caught you stumbling back a step, placing a hand on your back to steady you.

"You good?"

"Yeah," you said, taking in a deep breath before slowly letting your eyes flutter open again. "Stood up too fast."

"And we got a smol roll for this little one," Ray cooed, proffering a single roll out to someone who came early, standing at the table.

You blinked a few more times, leaning on the table, before your eyes adjusted to the sunlight.

And then you found yourself staring into those jade eyes, glittering in the sun, locked on you.

"Scar," you breathed, blood rushing to your head again. You tightened your grip on the table. "Hey."

"Hey," he said, his sharp gaze flicking back to the roll that Ray still held out. He pointed encouragingly at the roll to Taya, who was sitting up brightly where he held her firmly against his chest.

Her eyes locked on the bread before she let out a joyful little snarl and closed both of her chubby hands around the roll, tiny claws cracking the surface.

Ray laughed and Scar smiled gently down at his daughter.

"Maybe less snatching next time," he muttered. His voice came out as a rasp, like he had just woken up and was using it for the first time today. The sound of it made your heart stutter, transfixed. "We're working on that."

He glanced at Ray, who nodded in understanding, and then back to you.

"Taya," you said softly, floating forward without thinking.

Taya's bright green eyes shifted from her prize roll for a moment to look up at you. She stared, and you weren't sure if it was in recognition or confusion. But then she smiled with all her teeth, and shyly buried her face in the bread roll and her father's chest in delight, before turning back to peek at you.

"Hi baby," you said again, greeting her in a higher, sing-song voice. Her smile grew wider and your heart seemed to painfully untether. You wanted to reach out to her, to take her back into your arms, into a little world that felt safe and just for the two of you.

But the dull throb of anger and hurt, and right now, mostly guilt, kept your hands leaning on the table.

When you had pulled away from Scar, you had pulled away from Taya, too. Everything had hurt too deeply, too precisely, like losing a limb. A dominant hand, changing the way you would have to navigate through the world.

Scar wasn't looking at you as he brushed some of the crumbs off his vest, and he didn't offer her towards you either, even as she stayed blinking curiously at your face.

"She's getting good with recognizing faces," he said, keeping his gaze locked on his daughter. "Even if it's...been awhile."

He kept his voice even, but you could still sense the tightness in his throat.

"Yeah," was all you could say, quietly, the ghost of a sigh.

Then, "Last time, I was still craddling her in a little bundle. And look at you now, already sitting up tall."

Taya broke into another grin full of sharp teeth at the sound of your voice.

"She takes after her father," Ray added.

For a moment, you had forgotten they were there, as you were sucked into this tunnel from a past life.

Scar's body tensed minutely, almost imperceptible if you hadn't known him for years. He didn't meet their eyes either.

"She does," he finally replied. "Not always a good thing."

"Hmmm," you hummed in a small laugh.

He looked down at you then, green eyes seeming to darken as they scanned your face, as if cataloguing every minute detail. Like he may not see you again, and he wanted some things to remember.

A cavern of emptiness yawned inside of you, feeling his large presence only a few feet away, closer than he had been in months. And yet you could not bring yourself to close the gap.

You broke eye contact, busying your hands by straightening things on the table that were already pretty straight.

"Thank you," he said, gesturing at Taya and her bread roll, which she was valiantly gnawing at. You were surprised there was still a good portion left.

"Any time, boss," Ray said, nodding their chin at Scar. You caught the small twitch of his jaw.

"Didn't mean to put you to work early," he said, offhandedly. His voice deepened with regret, and it drew you in like honey. "I forgot to pack snacks for Taya before drop-off and I'll be off base all day..."

"Don't worry about it," Ray insisted. "Leadership privileges, you're all good. If we're here, come as early as you want."

And there it was, a stone thrown unintentionally, but it sank deep and fast between you two all the same. You snapped out of your trance, reality hitting you in the throat.

"Oh," Scar said haltingly. "No, I don't -"

"Yeah no, Ray," you said, cutting him off coolly, your heart jackrabbiting, a sore heat rising in your chest, blood roaring in your ears. "That's not Scar's style. What an abuse of power that would be."

The words poured from your lips before you could stop yourself, coated in a tease like candied apples, but densely packed with poison at its core.

And really, you didn't want to stop. This blistering thing between you two? You wanted it to hurt.

Ray chuckled, having no reason to read between the lines.

You saw when the poison struck, a sharp inhale between his teeth. Scar's jaw clenched, then unclenched.

He nodded his head at Ray, then his green eyes locked on you, like he could pick you apart if only he could give you the time of day. Your skin pricked, as if scalded by his glare.

"Stay safe," he said, like he meant every ounce of it and would never take it back.

"Don't worry, I will," you said, as breezily as you could. Your heart a sunken anchor in your chest. "You too, Scar."

And with that, he was gone.

Ray gave you a look, noticing the tone of your voice, the abrupt tension left in Scar's wake. You smiled tightly, then looked away. You all had a distro to run.

**

Flashback - Four Months Prior, One Day Before the Last Stand at Piltover

"Have you seen Ekko?" Scar demanded, bursting like a steam engine through the doors of his quarters.

You startled, sucking in a silent gasp, catching yourself before you both woke Taya, who was wrapped snuggly in fabric against your body for her afternoon nap. You gave him a stern, pointed look between her and him.

"No, I thought he was with you all day?" you said, keeping your voice low. "What's wrong?"

You glanced at the front door, which he had left swung open, something he never did. He was still standing there, silhouetted at the threshold, chest heaving as he caught his breath, his hoverboard strapped to his back. He must have just flown in and dropped.

"Change of plans tomorrow," he said, casting a glance at you and Taya, like he was seeing you both for the first time. His scowl deepened. "It's not looking good."

"What does that mean?" A small stone of dread dropped in your stomach.

"They're taking the fight here - Noxus. Piltover's requesting our aid-"

Your eyes narrowed. "And what does that have to do with us?"

Scar just shook his head, his ears flicking in agitation. "This is different. It's not like anything we've seen before. Even Sevika thinks we should mobilize. I have to find Ekko -"

He was already turning on his heel, sunlight briefly blinding you as his massive frame revealed the sun outside, then quickly blocked it out again.

"Scar, wait!" you hissed, stepping forward as quickly and lightly as possible to meet him at the threshold. Taya turned her head against your body to the other side, long eyelashes fluttering momentarily, but didn't wake.

"You can't just leave me with that," you pressed, reaching out to grasp his arm. "How many are they expecting? Don't they have their HexTech bullshit? They can defend themselves - since when do we owe them anything?"

"How many doesn't matter," Scar said, voice softening minutely at your touch, looking down at your hand wrapped around his wrist. "It's not just HexTech. Talis' partner, Viktor - he's done something. Bigger."

He blinked, frown deepening and gaze shifting, looking for the right words. What could be worse than HexTech?

"You know the Chemtanks?"

"Yeah," you breathed, trying to connect the dots faster than Scar was laying them. "What like, HexTech Chemtanks? Wouldn't that be to their advantage -"

"Listen," he said firmly, reversing your grip, so he was holding onto you now.

You stilled.

"Silco's people could control the ChemTanks from inside the suits. Runs off Shimmer, right? This is more than that. This is like...the suits control you. Without the suit. Without Shimmer. Without HexTech. You are the suit."

You stared at him, mystified. Nothing was making sense.

"And Viktor has allied himself with Noxus," Scar finished grimly. "This thing...it can take control, hijack your body and mind, make you part of their army."

Now your confusion turned to outright anger and disbelief.

"The fuck - with what? How do you know this?"

"I don't know!" Scar snapped, "Magic?"

He threw his hands up, his shoulders hunching lower, like he knew how absurd he sounded.

"Magic," you repeated dully.

"It's Piltover, I don't know what bullshit they've been up to that's obviously more important than the Undercity," Scar scowled, stepping back again while reaching behind him, unstrapping his hoverboard. Your eyes traced his muscles that rippled with the movement. You couldn't help it. "But Talis showed us one of them. They're smaller than the ChemTanks. More humanoid than anything."

He whipped his board like a boomerang into the air, leaping onto it as it rocked forward slightly, stabilizing under his weight, its engines purring quietly with the familiar green glow.

"Their numbers can multiply exponentially," he said darkly. "If they get a hold of Piltover, then their eyes will be on Zaun next. None of us are safe. If you see Ekko, send him my way. We'll call an emergency meeting tonight."

Your jaw tightened, but you nodded. "I'll see you later?"

He looked down at you, then at Taya, discontentment straining his strong features into razor-edged relief.

"Yeah."

He shot off with barely a sound. You sighed, shaking your shoulders like that would help right the world into some form of stability. Your stomach lurched terribly at the memory of a Noxus invasion on Ionian lands.

This could not be happening again.

If this really was a last stand, you'd have to start making moves now. Your brain mathed the pivots needed for tomorrow. Find Nilo to watch Taya, give as many Firelights as possible a heads up so you could all prepare, pack the medical supplies...

But first things first, you all needed to track down Ekko.

**

Not five minutes later, Ekko dropped down from his hoverboard, landing next to you where you stood at the highest level of the treehouses. Taya was still strapped to your belly. You held a fan over her sleepy head, shading her from the harsh rays of the afternoon sun. Your gaze had been pinned on the towers of Piltover in the distance, frowning at the city like it had wronged you and your whole family personally, when you heard the soft whirring of the hoverboard.

You turned in surprise, expecting to see Scar and then even more caught off guard when Ekko dismounted, a sly grin on his face at your startled expression.

"Have you seen Scar?" he asked, strapping the hoverboard to his back and then leaning in to draw you into a warm side hug. Everything was happening too fast. But you huffed and let him bring you in, watching him run the back of his finger down the bridge of Taya's pink nose, smiling softly. She didn't even stir.

"Oh hey, Ekko, how are you doing today?" you said mockingly. "Oh me? I'm fantastic, thanks for asking."

He threw you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I - "

"You guys need to work on your people skills," you said, the exasperation in your voice mild.

"Can do," he said smiling, sounding game. "But seriously -"

"Yes, Scar's looking for you. Dropped in from the sky in real Firelight style," you said sarcastically. Your heart was still racing from his sudden presence scaring the shit out of you and you did not appreciate it. Then you leveled him with a serious look. "Where have you been? The way Scar's been talking, it sounds like the world is ending."

"He's not wrong," Ekko said, his bright expression turning momentarily solemn. He didn't answer your first question. "It's sounding like it'll be the fight for our lives. A day of reckoning, for sure."

"Were you at the council meeting, too? Did you see the Droid of Magical Mind Possession or whatever the fuck they want to call it?"

He quirked his eyebrows at you. "Now what in janna's hell are you talking about? No, I missed it."

"Oh, that's helpful."

"I was...helping an old friend," he said, not meeting your eyes. He chewed at his lip like he wanted to say more. Or maybe he was fighting a smile.

Everything was feeling bizarre today. You stroked Taya's back in circles, the warmth of her little body bringing you the smallest bit of reassurance.

"Okay, that's not suspicious or anything," you said flatly, staring him down.

He gave you a nervous smile, letting his white locks fall over his eyes as if that would hide anything.

That's when you saw the bruise, deep brown and a little purple, just at the junction where his collarbone met his shoulders.

Your eyes bulged.

"Okay, I know it's not my business, but is that a...?" you started, trying to find any other word than the one you were supposed to use. "Were you at Babette's? Is that some OG Firelight code for 'old friend?'"

He froze, adjusting his collar and squeezing his eyes shut, like he had an oncoming headache. He dipped his head back and breathed out a long sigh, opening his eyes to the hazy Zaun sky.

"No - and yes," he started, his expression a twisted mixture of bittersweet joy and pain.

"I'm not judging," you said quickly, backtracking. "It's just like...midday? And apparently the world is ending and you seem...okay? Cheerful, even? Wait is that -"

You reached out a hand, and he pulled back reflexively, but not before you plucked...thin snatches of bright blue hair off the skin of his neck. The kind left behind after a haircut.

"I wasn't at Babette's...I -"

"Who?" Your voice went up at the end. You had an idea - there was only one person who had sparked a blue-haired, blue-streaked revolution. But that was impossible.

"I was with Jinx," he spit out.

Okay, so not impossible. The confirmation landed like a pop to the face, then came back for seconds and thirds as your brain tried to make sense of it, tripping over itself each time.

He finally turned to meet your eyes, his brows furrowing like he was in disbelief himself.

"...okay?"

"I know where she's hiding out," he said quietly. "But it's not like that! Something about her has...changed. I know that's hard to believe, but I just need some time with her. I swear, she can -"

"Okay, Ekko," you said slowly, your chest twisting at the look in his eyes. Like he'd seen the ghost of a loved one. "Okay, I believe you. We can deal with that -"

"Later, I know," he said, shaking his shoulders back and straightening like he was locking in again. "You said Scar...?"

"He's looking for you, I'm surprised you didn't catch each other mid-air," you said. "Maybe hover around for a bit, you found me quick enough."

He gave you a small smile, starting to unstrap his hoverboard, nodding and mirroring what Scar had done not too long ago.

"Ekko?" you said tentatively, voice coming out tight.

He stilled at the edge in your tone.

"Yeah?"

"You think we'll make it out of this one?" You didn't want to ask it, to voice the question that'd been rising in your gut for the last half hour - but you needed to be prepared, for anything. You knew in your bones exactly the kind of destruction Noxus could bring. And now they had HexTech magic bullshit on their side.

"Maybe," he said, voice quiet. "I really don't know."

His eyes met yours, and you nodded resolutely.

"But we'll figure it out together," he said, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. His brown eyes locked on yours, and you could see the soul of the teenage kid who believed in the future of Zaun. It felt like it did all those years ago: a promise.

"I'll see you tonight."

"See you," you said quietly, too late, long after his figure shrank into the distant sky.

**

The waiting was killing you.

Once Nilo came to relieve you of Taya, you went straight to storage to prep the med supply kits, letting other Firelights you ran into know about the meeting, what's happening, and to spread the word.

You didn't know who last sorted the supplies, but you were both grateful and annoyed that it took you a whole hour to sort through the mess. You'd make sure to raise this issue at the meeting tonight. Some things just needed tight order and protocol, specifically for emergencies like these.

Finally, the med kits were packed neatly in a box. You held it against your hip and closed the door behind you, drinking in the fresh air outside - as fresh as the base could offer in Zaun - after an hour of stuffiness.

There was an eerie stillness about the base, rare in the hour before dinner time. Instead of kids running around, burning out the last of their energy for the day, parents chasing them to sit down and eat, there were no kids in sight.

It was a small relief.

Your word must have gotten out, and as you approached the central meeting room on the first level of the treehouses, you saw more of the adult Firelights trickling in, alone or in pairs, eyes and ears alert for any slivers of updates in the growing throng of people murmuring to each other.

The room was not large by any means, but you had all learned to arrange yourselves in a wide arc, a few rows deep, facing the front of the room. Ekko sat tensely on a small crate at the forefront, elbows bent over his knees, brows drawn. As usual, Scar was beside him, tall and foreboding, arms crossed and scowling as hard as ever at a point at the far end of the room.

Ekko made eye contact with each Firelight, nodding in greeting as everyone took their places. The room hushed and stilled, every gaze on him as he finally straightened up, commanding attention, boots planted wide and firm on the wooden floor.

"I know most of you have heard what's coming," he said grimly, looking around the room. There were murmurs of ascent as well as agitation.

"Noxus is heading to Piltover with a large fleet as we speak. You all know damn well that we don't fight Pilties' fights, never have. It's not in our blood, not when it's our blood that's spilled over and over."

A few heads nodded, but most were strained forward, waiting to hear the decision. Some shifted their positions where they stood.

The whole room held its breath.

"I'm gonna get to the point, and I'll be straight up with you all: I do not want to take on this fight. I am not commanding you to take on this fight. I am asking you to consider it though. And here's why - if Piltover falls, Zaun is next. It's as simple as that."

He looked pointedly into the faces turned to him.

"Everything we've built, for ourselves, for our families, is being threatened by this invasion. We have fought and bled and died to get where we are. We're so much stronger than when we started. But even so, we can't take on Noxus. Not by ourselves."

Someone cleared their throat to speak, and Ekko held up his hand.

"I'm getting to that, I promise. I'm laying out the details so you all can make a decision for yourselves."

Then he rose to his feet, like what he had to share next was too immense to be held still in his body, strong as it was. He looked at Scar, and Scar nodded affirmatively at him, a low, deep growl resounding in his chest.

"Okay. So." Ekko said, starting to pace. "This is not a cut and dry invasion like Runeterra's seen before."

He told you all about Viktor, his own time with Jayce Talis, Heimerdinger, and the Hexcore - how all of it connected to the abnormalities with your tree. He tried to explain wild runes as simply as he could, cutting to the point that all of that power, everything in the Hexcore twisted into some unpredictable anomaly, and Viktor was at the center of it, wielding all that power. He was coming to take it at the Hexgates, backed by the Noxian army.

After he explained how the harnessed magic could operate, manipulating each of you into their army, a few folks gasped while others huffed out laughs of disbelief, stern incredulity on their faces.

"I wish I was joking," he said flatly, shooting the ones who laughed a look. It wasn't harsh or cold. Just honest. "I couldn't make this shit up if I tried, and you know I would try."

That got a hum of amusement from some, slightly shifting the tension, but not entirely.

"For that reason, it's up to you. Scar and I are in, no question." His mouth frowned at the idea of any doubt around that. "We'll need back up, of course. We'll need as many of you as are willing. I want you to know in full terms that the risk is not only unknown, it's exponential. I've seen what this Hexcore can do."

He paused his pacing, for a moment, his eyes going distant as if shaken by knowledge or memories he could not begin to put into words. But he tried.

"It's limitless. The worst thing that can happen to you isn't death. I wish it was that simple. This thing can...change you. Change your reality. Reorganize everything you know about yourself, your lives, the people in it, and confuse you. Make it not seem real. You could think your life as you know it, right now? That it's all a lie. You won't know what to believe, what's real and what's been manufactured for you."

Your mouth opened in a stunned Oh, your blood suddenly running cold. Scar hadn't talked about that part. This seemed more than body and mind manipulation to serve in someone else's war. This sounded like something deeply psychological, that could reach into the core of you, further than this present moment.

Ekko watched gravely as different faces seemed to process this information. He shook his head, looking at Scar beside him, who huffed his breath defiantly out of his nose and just glowered. Ekko took a deep breath, glaring out into the room, and nerves seemed to swell as if you all knew he was finishing, packing the final blow.

"Even if you come back, I don't know if your mind will be intact. The risk is not death. We face that every day." He cocked an eyebrow, like that concept was child's play.

"The risk is the self."

There was a long, stunned silence.

Then a few exchanged glances, some headshakes, some whispered, side conversations. Finally, one of the senior ranking Firelights, one who had joined the collective not long after you, spoke.

"How do you know this?" Nialee's tone wasn't challenging or doubtful. Just seeking truth.

Ekko's eyes darkened and he looked downcast for a moment.

"I've seen it myself," he said quietly. All attention snapped back to him. "My time away...I wasn't just gone with Jayce and Heimerdinger. I was gone in the physical sense to another...place. It's too much to explain right now, but - it rearranged my perception of reality. That's why it took longer than I would've liked to get back to you all."

He swallowed thickly, shoulders trembling. You wanted to reach out, to touch him, to comfort. You resisted. It wasn't time for that yet.

"So what I'm asking for you to consider is, Are you willing to risk losing yourself?" He raised his eyebrow at Scar. "If you're wild and probably very stupid like me and Scar, you'll join us, and we'll gladly have you. I am never not humbled and proud to call you my comrades. I love each of you, in my own way. I love our community. I love seeing each of you love up on each other. So I'm asking you to think hard. You'll have until morning. Any questions?"

The questions flew in, some still disbelieving, some already calculating the tactical plan. After every question was raised, every voice heard, the room fell naturally into a hush. The air stretched taught between you all, like walking a tightrope, trying to get each and every one of you to the other side.

A feeling of resolution, in one direction or another, filled the room.

Scar leveled everyone's faces with his piercing, green eyes.

"Firelights!" His voice rumbled into every corner of the room. In response, you all stomped your feet once, boots hitting the ground together in unison. It shook the wooden walls and floors of the meeting room. It resounded in your chests, tethering you all to each other. Ekko allowed a small smirk of satisfaction play at his lips.

"If you decide to join," Scar said, voice burning like a furnace. "Your tactical team assignments are posted. We'll adjust for those missing."

With that, everyone scattered, rushing out of the meeting room home to their families or rushing to the makeshift board on the wall. You didn't bother joining the throng to read the list. The med team was small, there were only six of you.

Instead, you gathered a few of the med kits out of the box you'd settled on the floor, scanning the room to find your usual team members to pass them to.

Adjani met your gaze, and she jogged over, smiling and taking the pack from you.

"Dunno how useful these will be against mind control, but we'll do our best," she said, her teasing bringing a little levity to the very grim situation. "Thanks."

You gave her a warm, yet semi-bitter laugh.

"I got you. Ready as we'll ever be."

As she bowed her head in departure, you felt a heavy presence almost surround you, boots thudding to a stop at your back. You knew who it was before turning around.

"Hey, stupid," you said sardonically, your body easing in Scar's presence, despite everything.

"Hey," he said roughly, scanning your eyes with an almost pained expression. You reached out and touched his upper arm, his biceps bulging as his arms were still crossed.

"You okay?" you asked gently, the look in his eyes starting to needle at something in your gut. Your brows furrowed with worry.

"We need to talk," he said quietly. Everything about him felt stiff and strained.

Suddenly your stomach tightened and your jaw clenched. You raised your eyebrows at him, looking searchingly into his face, but he wouldn't meet your gaze. Instead he turned and led you out of the meeting room, stepping out into the night.

You followed quickly, your face darkening with anxiety.

**

Once he'd pulled you both out of earshot of the meeting room, finding a more secluded spot under the tree branches, he turned to face you, head on.

You startled at the abrupt shift.

It almost felt like a threat.

"What's up?" you said cautiously, mind grasping at straws trying to figure out what the hell was happening. "I haven't seen you all day. What's wrong?"

He closed his eyes and took in a heavy breath. When he exhaled, he opened them, but stared above your head, out into the darkness.

"I need you to stay with Taya."

"Okay?" you said incredulously, almost laughing out of confusion and your sudden nervousness. "I was planning on staying tonight anyway. We talked about that, remember?"

"Not tonight," he said tightly, still not looking at you. "Tomorrow."

Your mind clouded as you stared up at him, the muscle of your heart seeming to haul your blood flow in slow motion.

"Nilo's staying with her. I talked to him earlier, he said it was fine." There was a slight edge in your voice. You did not like anything his body language was saying.

"No, I want you with her," he repeated, jaw ticking. "It's gonna be a hellscape tomorrow, I don't trust anyone else with her, but you. You could bring her with you to your parents' -"

"Scar." You said his name, full-stop. Your heartbeat was starting to quicken at his words, the air in your lungs constricting.

"I'm going with the team tomorrow," you said slowly, as if he had fallen asleep at the meeting and you needed him to remember every word for his own sake and survival.

"The team will be alright, there's already five of them. Plus the Piltie's medics." His voice was still tight, dismissive.

"Scar," you repeated, like his brain was made out of boulders. The edge in your voice sharpened like steel. "What the fuck are you even saying? The Piltie's medics??"

"I need you with Taya," he repeated, like that trumped everything else.

"Taya will be fine with Nilo," you said through gritted teeth, your temper rising. "I'm with the team tomorrow, what the fuck is your problem?"

He closed his eyes, brows frowning, jaw clenching. His whole body wound tight as a gunshot.

He said nothing. He just breathed deeply, chest rising and falling, eyes still closed. You could hear the sounds of folks not far off, milling around outside.

The silence was telling.

"What?" you said, daring him to say it. "You don't want me going tomorrow?"

He was practically breathing steam out of his nostrils from his own temper.

"You're staying with Taya." It was no longer a question or a request. He said it like it was final.

"Excuse me?" you said in a deadly whisper, cocking your head at him like he'd lost his mind. "No, you don't get to dictate what I do. That's not how this works. If you don't want me going, then just fucking say it and we can talk about it."

After a beat, Scar's eyes flickered opened, finally meeting yours. They shone green and luminescent in the dark. That pained expression again.

"No," he said quietly. "I don't want you going."

You softened - an inch. "Why, because it's dangerous?"

He stared at you, which you took as a yes.

"Scar," you said, voice almost pleading. "We don't know what the hell is gonna happen tomorrow. But I'm gonna be there, like I always am. And we'll figure it out together, like we always do. I'm not staying behind."

"It's not that simple," he bit out, shaking his head dismissively.

"None of this is simple!" you whisper-screamed at him. "This is what we signed up for like, a fucking decade ago!"

He just kept shaking his head minutely, and if he didn't stop, you were gonna clap your hands over his stupid big ears till he was dizzy and make him stop.

"You're not going," he said quietly, looking down at you, his steady gaze resolute.

You laughed darkly. "Okay, and you're gonna stop me?"

"If I have to." He stared, unblinking. "I said you're not going."

"Yeah, actually, I am," you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. This was going nowhere. "I'm tired, and I'm done with this conversation. We have too much shit to do. I have to go make sure everyone got their med kits. I'll see you when I grab Taya."

You pushed past his mountain of a body, and he didn't stop you. But before you were more than a few steps away, he spoke again.

"It's not a request." He didn't say it with any heat or malice or as a command. Just said it like it was simple fact.

A nasty shiver went down your spine, like burning ice. You turned back slowly.

"You need to chill," you said, voice barely over a whisper. "I get the world is ending and all that, but you don't get to decide what I do. Go take a walk. Get some air. Drink some water. Come talk to me once you're" - you gestured up and down his abrasive form - "regulated."

You were never this condescending with him, never giving him this much attitude. But if he was gonna say dumb shit like that, you were not holding back. You could show your teeth, too.

You turned again to go.

"I'm Second."

Holy - he was going to give you an aneurysm.

"And?" you called back, not turning around while also trying not to sound hysterical.

"And Ekko agreed."

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your heart beat thundered in your ears. Your skin crawled with disgust, like you needed to fight back the sick tendrils climbing up your limbs, intent on tying you down into a chokehold.

Your brain snapped. You felt absolutely feral.

"EKKO!"

You yelled his name from your gut, startling the remaining Firelights as you stormed their huddle. You did not care. Scar had completely pushed you over the edge with his bullshit.

Sinth paused in conversation with Ekko, who froze, all the blood draining from his face.

"What the fuck is Scar telling me?" you hissed, rage rising as he just stood there looking guilty.

That made it so much worse.

"Please, not here," he said quietly, nodding for you both to step away.

"No, right here," you demanded. "Why is Scar saying you're good with me staying behind?"

Ekko's eyes darted behind you, where you knew Scar must be pulling up slowly. Sinth looked between the two of you, and then at Scar. He edged out of your little ring of fire.

"I'll see you all tomorrow," he said, as if to say, I am not getting involved. Good luck. Gave a two-finger salute to Ekko and Scar and you, then vanished into the night. The other Firelights murmured and followed suit, edging away quickly.

Ekko sighed heavily. He looked exhausted.

"Because I did - approve it," he said finally, once everyone had gone. Scar stepped closer, triangulating your conversation. His face was impassive.

Ekko's tone of surrender took you off guard.

"Why?" you asked, voice almost cracking with disbelief. You felt the slash of betrayal start to tear at the seams in your chest, but you held.

"Because," he said, looking like this was the last place he wanted to be and the last conversation he wanted to be having right now, between you and Scar. "We need you here to hold down the fort. Not just for Taya - you're one of our best medics. You'll be needed here."

"Which is why it should be me out in the field. Keep Zayn here, or Kimani, or Adjani - literally anyone else. This makes no sense."

Ekko winced at your tone, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, it has to be you."

You glared at Scar, knowing he was behind this decision.

His face was stone.

"Why, because Scar says so?" You were livid.

"Yes - and no, we agreed. This is the best decision for everyone."

"And you made this decision without me?" Your voice was bleeding out the betrayal.

"We had to," Ekko said, despondent. "It - it's too dangerous."

You just stared. Dumbstruck.

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard, Ekko. You've never bullshit me before, so don't start now," you warned. "Tell me the real reason."

"We can't afford -"

"Can't afford what?" Your voice was lethal. "More help when you get torn apart? And since when did you two decide it was okay to make decisions for me?"

"The decision's been made," Ekko said quietly. He wasn't fighting you. He was giving in.

You took a step back, looking between them, like you were standing in front of the two biggest idiot assholes you had ever met.

These two men, who had fought and bled and laughed and cried and healed alongside you for the last seven years. Ekko looked like he could read your thoughts, and his gaze shifted up to Scar.

He didn't budge.

Your whole world tilted on its axis.

Was the mind control already in effect? Was this what it felt like, to question everything in your life, to not know what was real, who you could trust?

"So that's it. You tell me stay and I just sit like a dog," you said, scathingly.

"Please," Ekko whispered. "You know it's not like that."

"Do I?" You looked each of them hard in the eyes. "Actually, I really don't."

You felt outnumbered and abandoned.

It was clear they had made their decision together. Behind your back. Without you. They didn't care what you wanted.

The seams of your heart twitched terribly.

In hindsight, the threads did something so much worse than coming loose and ripping your heart apart.

Instead, they got their goddamn act together. Threads stitching right back up neatly, the same way they came. Tied the knot into a death grip.

Sewing your heart up closed.

"You're unbelievable," you whispered to both of them.

No more than three feet apart from you, but they felt lifetimes away. You looked away, like they were specters from the grave - gone, out of your reach.

You walked.

Chapter Text

After walking off what steam you could, you headed back to your family's quarters to find some semblance of sanity. You had already tipped them off after catching Ekko on the top levels earlier that day, so your usual safety procedures were already in place by the time you got in. A lifetime of being on the move meant the emergency food and supplies were simply accounted for in their rucksacks by the door and each bedroom - Ember's job. You knew Dez, as the oldest, had already run through the evacuation routes with your parents and siblings. Emile had relocated with your father to the emergency shelters near the Sump levels and the ports, places for the elderly, sick, disabled, and young children to hideout or escape if needed. That's where you'd be going with Taya tomorrow. Scar wanted to keep her nearby for as long as he could.

A knock at the door.

Your head snapped up, pausing in the middle of giving your mother and Dez the Firelight meeting updates. You shared cautious looks before sighing, pushing your chair back from the kitchen table, and opening the door.

You knew you wouldn't like what was on the other side.

You gave Ekko a cold stare.

"I am really done with both of you today," you said flatly. You stood wedged between the door and its threshold. Normally, you'd let your family greet him and vice versa, but your body made it clear he was not welcome. "Possibly forever."

He stared up beseechingly at you, gaze thick with grief. You were reminded in small moments like these that he was still more a boy than a man, a few years younger than you, despite everything he carried.

"Look, I don't want to leave off with things like this. Can we just talk? I'll be quick."

You leveled him with a heavy look, scowling, before stepping out and closing the door behind you. You didn't move any further.

"Didn't seem to bother you before," you quipped, keeping your voice low. The dark of night stretched on behind him, enclosing you in this whispered conversation.

"He made me promise," Ekko bit out, looking wrecked with misery.

Good.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "The fuck does that mean?"

"Shortly after Trina died. After he tried -" His voice fell, and your heart stopped for a second. He swallowed and pressed on.

"He made me promise to keep you safe. No matter what. And I - I did. He reminded me of that tonight. At first, I refused," Ekko said softly, brows knitted and looking searchingly at you.

You stared at him, a mixture of anger and anguish crashing like fire and water in your throat. You could understand why. After everything, you really did.

But that did not make it right.

"And what about what you said earlier?" you bit back, letting the hurt line your face, lacing like acid through your words. "That we'd figure it out together? After all that fanfare at the meeting, everyone getting a choice? Are you serious, Ekko? You guys literally went behind my fucking back."

His mouth opened, his next words caught in his throat. He bowed his head and sighed, looking off to the side.

"He's a suicide risk," he murmured to the floor. You inhaled sharply, like he'd stabbed you in the gut to stop you from moving at all. A black rage rose like solid heat up to your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"No, you don't get to use that on me," you hissed in disbelief, stepping forward and leaning into his space. "That's so fucking manipulative, Ekko."

He didn't back away. Just looked up at you again with those eyes that held all the hopes and broken dreams of Zaun, shrugging sadly.

"It's true. You saw how he was after Trina. And he's...he's still in love with you."

His gaze shifted away, and your whole body stiffened.

No.

"Stop," you warned, your body starting to tremble.

"He has been, for years."

No no no, these were the last things for him to say. This was the last thing you wanted to hear right now.

"And this is love?" you cried, whisper-screaming into his face. "Stealing my autonomy? Making me stay behind, so I have to wonder, completely out of my mind waiting, not know if you're all going to come back? And if the fight comes here, and I die? We all die? You all get to fight and die together, and I get to hide and die alone?"

You didn't mean alone. You meant away from Scar. 

"It won't come here. That's the point," he said through gritted teeth, a new resolve squaring his shoulders. "You'll be with your family. Taya will be with you and your family. He just wants you both safe."

"Safety is an illusion, Ekko. You know that as well as I do." Your hard gaze dared him to say you were wrong.

He kept his mouth shut - for once. He knew you had him. You had seen more than enough together over the years, and even before that.

His mouth tightened.

"This whole thing's basically a suicide mission, you said it yourself."

"It's the only choice we have," he said roughly.

A flurry of philosophical arguments about choice spun through your mind, but you let the silence stretch on.

None of it mattered.

Bringing in Scar and affection had made it personal. There was only one thing left that could possibly make him understand how fucked up he was being right now.

And you were out for blood.

"Answer me this, Ekko." 

He met your gaze evenly.

"Tomorrow."

His gaze didn't break.

"Will Jinx be there with you?"

His eyes widened, expression on his face faltering. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

You nodded your head in terrible disappointment.

"Yeah, thought so. While the world is burning, you want the people you love by your side. You all get that privilege. But you took it away from me."

You'd never left the Firelight leader tongue-tied, but you had now. You weren't proud of it. You hated that he and Scar had put you in this position.

"You're so full of shit, Ekko."

You didn't say it meanly. Your voice came out small, like a simple truth that fucking hurt.

He backed away, like you'd slapped him across the face.

"Take care of yourself," you said quietly, before turning around and closing the door on him.

**

It took you another twenty minutes to get yourself together. You finished briefing your mother and Dez, prepared a space for Taya in your bedroom, before heading back outside, pacing the third level platform in several maddening loops. If anyone had looked out their window and caught you on your fifth rotation around the tree, they probably would have pulled you aside and asked if you were okay.

You were not. Ekko's words kept replaying in your ears without permission. He made me promise...after Trina died...he's still in love with you...for years. Your chest heaved and your face was hot and your muscles felt taut with every step. Your skin was covered in a layer of sweat.

You could have screamed, but you didn't.

Finally, when none of this movement slowed your heart rate, you gave up and bit the bullet.

The only way out was through.

Five minutes later, you huffed out your last disgusted sigh, and knocked on Scar's door.

The door opened.

"I'm getting Taya. She can stay with me tonight." It went without saying that you weren't staying overnight. You spoke to the air, not looking at him, looking past him into the living room, where you had spent so many nights passed out in his lap.

Your stomach twisted.

"It's okay," he said quietly, almost sounding guilty. Almost. "I got her."

Your gaze snapped up to him, heart starting to race again.

"Scar, please," you said, clinging onto the very last reserves of your patience. "Let me take her tonight. That was the plan. I want to."

He stared at you, those green eyes assessing, and you stared right back.

Please don't take this from me, too.

Scar sighed and nodded, stepping back to let you into his living room.

"It is late though," he said, shutting the door with a click. "Didn't know if you were still coming. I put her down for bed not too long ago."

Your eyes scanned his quarters, looking no different than any other time. Your gaze flicked to the couch, but you were not relaxing there tonight, or probably ever again. You could feel the heat of his body close behind you, watching you as you weighed your options, deciding where to exist in this place that felt both so familiar and yet suddenly so cold and alien.

"Of course I'm still coming," you muttered, making your way to the kitchen. You might as well pack her things for tomorrow. If you calculated correctly, she would be awake again in less than three hours. You could take her up to your place before then, she was a heavy sleeper. Or come back.

There was no way you were waiting here that long with Scar around.

He grunted, but said nothing, following you into the kitchen and lowering himself back into his chair, returning to doing a maintenance check of his hoverboard. You blocked him out of your awareness, settling into the familiar rhythm of preparing her bottle. The only sounds between you two were the opening and closing of the fridge door, your shuffling through the cabinets, and the occasional clinking of metal as Scar tinkered with the board.

The longer the silence stretched on, the more time your thoughts had to brew. The anger rose again to a steady simmer in your gut. You were careful with Taya's things, but more than once, you had snapped a cabinet or banged a drawer shut with more force than was necessary. His ears twitched each time, but he remained focused on the task at hand.

The third time you did it, snatching your rucksack aggressively from the chair next to him to start packing her things, he looked up sharply.

"What?" You hissed, tearing open the top of the sack and starting to shove things inside, deep to the bottom like you could punch a hole through it. You barely registered what you were putting into the sack. Your whole body was shaking.

"Please...don't be like this." His voice was soft, and you wanted to tear it from his throat.

Your eyes flashed at him.

"Be like what?" you whispered dangerously through gritted teeth. Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you, gently extricating the rucksack from your grasp. You thought to clamp down harder on it in a death grip. Thankfully, the shock of his presence so close to you was disarming enough that you remembered: you were supposed to be a level-headed adult who presented as capable of taking care of his daughter.

Not a feral bomb on a hair trigger.

You exhaled and loosened your grip. He placed the bag on the counter next to you, before carefully placing his broad hands around your trembling shoulders, claws grazing lightly against your skin. You wanted to feel scalded by his touch. You wanted it to burn, to instinctually pull away, but the warm weight of them only trapped you in place.

"Don't touch me," you whispered, but your voice and body betrayed you. He didn't move. You didn't make him.

"I know you're angry with me," he said quietly.

"No shit. That's a fucking understatement," you spat.

You glared at his chest, the buckles of his vest unclasped and leaving the firm muscle underneath exposed.

Not helpful.

Your gaze shot to the floor.

"We're only trying to protect you." You could hear the frown in his voice, knew how deeply his brows dipped as he gazed down at you.

You gave a brainless little laugh.

"We? Don't pretend this wasn't all your doing. You just bullied Ekko into following along," you said, glaring up at him accusingly. "And also? I never asked you to protect me like I'm some goddamn damsel -"

He growled lowly in his chest.

"That's not what this is about." He cut you off, leaning closer to your face. You knew this game, thinking he could intimidate anyone with his massive size. You stepped back in disgust, but your back only hit the wall.

Fuck.

Your heart started racing now, feeling like a cornered animal.

"Then what is it about? And don't give me some bullshit about it being too dangerous, I swear to -"

"It's not bullshit!" He didn't raise his voice, but the low heat of it thundered in your ears.

"You need to back the fuck up," you warned in a whisper. He was breathing heavily now, chest rising and falling with anger, his hot breath coming down your neck.

His jade eyes flashed.

He didn't budge. You felt surrounded by him, his heat and full attention folding around you. It was dizzying. You needed to regain control. There was no muscling your way around him, you knew that.

It was like he was daring you to draw blood.

Finally, you blurted out, desperate, "Is this because I couldn't save Trina? That I'll just be, what? Useless on the ground?"

That did it. He blinked, the heat in his gaze lessening the smallest caliber. Instead, it was replaced with a glint of cold indignation.

"You think I hold anything against you for what happened to Trina?" he asked in a deadly quiet voice. "That I think you're incapable?"

You stared up at him, your own eyes blazing, raging and feeling out of control.

"I don't know! Why else would you fucking put me on lockdown?"

You don't know how or why, but his fury only seemed to double.

"You're the only janna-damned reason I even got through that alive," he seethed, glaring down at you with hurt in his eyes, like you were purposely trying to cause him pain for thinking otherwise. "Why Taya and I are still here in one piece."

Your heart slammed against your chest. It was too much. You were both dancing around the core of this tenuous thing between you, growing raw and exposed and it was not supposed to be this way.

"I wasn't the only one who helped you -" you deflected weakly.

"Don't," he growled, slamming his hand against the wall behind you. He was caging you in, the heat of his body pulling towards yours like gravity.

"Don't," he repeated, softer this time, but still edged with frustration.

His voice ached.

He looked at you like you were the trigger.

"Don't downplay everything you mean to me."

You stopped breathing. The air caught between your ribs. His words drove a wave of heat through your body, warmth blooming in your chest and pooling in your lower belly. Your hands grasped at his wrists, whether for stability or to pull him off of you, you weren't sure. You looked up at him like he was impossible. All of this was impossible.

The sweeping flip of emotions made you feral, all ability to execute rational thought snapping in your brain.

The whole room felt too big and too small.

You didn't know what you wanted.

"You can't just leave me behind." Your voice was small, vulnerable, barely above a whisper, your fingers starting to claw desperately at his skin.

"You're not going!" Another low growl rumbled through his chest, like a finality. He bared his fangs in your face. He was closing in.

"Scar, let me go," you hissed, pressing your knee against his hip to keep him at bay, gripping his wrists hard enough to bruise. The animal panic was rising in you.

"I can't!"

His voice broke. His words blew through you. Your heart twisted with a yearning so painful, it physically hurt your chest, all the while your stomach dropped with despair.

He couldn't let you go, so he would trap you like a caged animal instead.

You were both breathing heavily, bodies trembling. Two forces coming to a head, neither backing down, relentless and terrified.

You spat in his face, the animal in you dragging all your weight down against his wrists, your other foot kicking against his torso. For a moment, you were weightless in the air, hanging from his arms, knee propped against the front of his body. Then his grip around your shoulder disappeared, coming to catch you under your thigh instead. He crushed your bodies against the wall, rendering your kicks futile.

You gasped, both your arms gripping his shoulders for balance, the heat compressing between you sending shockwaves along your skin. He was glowering at you, daring you to spit in his face again.

And because he was Second and had the upper hand, because he had weakened all your resistance, because the goddamn world was ending and he had taken all control and nothing mattered anymore anyway, you surrendered, collapsing over him until your faces were breaths apart, foreheads pressed together, searing with heat. Your mouth had fallen open, shuddering with need for air.

A strong hand gripped your thigh, his gaze burning into yours, and you were hungry for it.

You leaned in, and he froze. Carefully, almost in slow motion, you stuck out your tongue and licked at the light, velvet fur across his cheek, just under his eye where you'd spat at him, cleaning up your damage in apology. He exhaled sharply through his teeth, pupils suddenly blown. He pulled back, searching your gaze, blinking up at you with hooded eyes that were smoldering with heat. You tilted your head lower, licking at his lips before crashing your mouth into his.

Scar kissed you back immediately. You pressed harsh, open mouthed kisses all over - his lips, his cheek, his chin. He groaned and swallowed every single one, squeezing your thigh harder and running a hand up your back, drawing you closer to him. The scrape and pressure of his claws against your skin made you shiver with warmth. His strong chest pressed against yours sent a rush of blood pooling at your groin.

You grabbed his face between your hands, gripping the hard line of his jaw, thumbs caressing those sharp cheekbones as you tongued at his canines, then massaged his tongue with yours. You felt his ears flick and twitch with pleasure. Your mouths locked together, warm and wet inside each other, roughly deepening the kiss until you were full on making out.

This was the only control you could take and yet, you were drowning in him. You could feel your whole body growing hot and his heat melting into your skin, making you ravenous for more. You ran a hand down his chest and torso, reveling in the feel of each muscle beneath his shirt. You could have played with him like this for hours, memorizing every inch of him with your hands alone, but you needed more, burned with it. You pressed your hands further down until you were palming the outline of his hardening cock against his black jeans. He let out a strangled sound in response before he started tongue-fucking you, violently into your mouth, his hips stuttering forward to grind against your open hand.

You moaned into his mouth at the onslaught. You grabbed his hand around your thigh and pressed it roughly against the skin above your waistline and the fabric separating his skin from yours.

"Take these off," you murmured hotly against his lips.

A low groan rumbled in his chest before his hands were moving, anchoring you against the wall with a raised knee, foot propped on the kitchen chair as he stripped you down to your boxer briefs. He paused, quirking an eyebrow at you, a wicked look in his eyes. You weren't sure what parts of his bisexuality you were triggering, but you weren't complaining. The dark wet spot at the crotch where your cunt was dripping slick told him as much. He was transfixed, seeing how wet he made you, subconsciously licking his lips like he needed to take care of it.

"You just gonna stare, or you gonna let me ride you?" you said roughly, some of your anger sharpening the edge in your voice.

"Fuck," he growled, breathing out your name while lowering his knee down, your back sliding down the wall a few inches, bringing your hips level with his.

You pulled back enough on his thigh for your hands to make quick work of the buttons on his jeans, freeing his thick cock from his briefs. It slapped obscenely against the deep cuts of his lower abs.

"That is not fair," you muttered in hazy observation, taking his length firmly in your hand. He huffed out something like a laugh before it soon turned into low, choked sounds against your neck.

You were going to make him absolutely regret the devastating power move he pulled today.

*

Your legs wrapped around his waist, Scar fucked you hard and desperate against the kitchen wall, and you met every one of his thrusts with your hips rolling and grinding down on him. It was fast and filthy, his dick sliding in and out of you through the hole your fingers held open for him at the front of your briefs. Neither of you could hold off long enough to take them off properly.

You cursed his name in low moans the entire way. If the context wasn't so grim and dire, you thought this is what a friends-with-benefits hookup with him would feel like. It was hot and messy, and it twisted a burning shame in your core. It wasn't the kind of sex you'd imagined with him, but it was the power your body and soul craved to satiate the deep grief building inside you.

"Gotta - cum soon," he murmured, lips pressed along your jawline, your sweat mixing together at every point your bodies connected. You kissed him roughly then, biting and sucking at his bottom lip as you pulled him out of you and started jerking him off without mercy, using all that slick to your advantage. Soon enough, he gripped you tightly, claws digging into the skin of your back and around your waist. His hips stuttered, and he let out a low grunt as he came in your grasp, spilling hot down his lower abdomen, your wrists, your fingers, his teeth latching onto your neck as you continued pulling his orgasm out of him with long, rough strokes.

Once you had milked his cock to the last drop, your bodies slowed, huffing out breaths against each other's mouths as you both drank in much needed air. Your eyes met briefly, his a little dazed but satisfied. Eventually, his breathing steadied, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that threatened to break you in half. His hands roamed your body, coming down to press his palm against you through the soaked, ruined fabric of your briefs.

You grabbed his wrist, stilling his movement. You knew what he wanted, and you would not give him the satisfaction of completely undoing you. He had his taste, but he would not have that part of you. You could cry about it later in the shower as you finished, cursing his stupid name.

But you would not give in now.

"It's fine." You were not fine. He had taken years of your trust and slammed it into sewage waste. He had cornered you, made you want him, made your choices for you after knowing your history. Your one condition. The whole reason for holding your boundary. You were sick to your stomach with grief.

Scar looked down at you, a look of mild hurt ghosting across those iridescent eyes, before he nodded. Gravity had snapped between you, breaking the spell and throwing you back into your respective orbits.

He grabbed a wet cloth as you spiraled, cleaning you both up with firm, but gentle touches. He held your pants for you to take, and once you were both fully clothed, he peered down at you with an intensity that left you breathless. Like you were the last thing he wanted to see before he closed his eyes.

He placed a tentative palm around your shoulder, and when you didn't pull away, he brought his hand to the nape of your neck instead. He drew you gingerly into his chest, like he knew you were still raging, still hurting.

"I hate you," you whispered against him, your arms crushed to his torso in this one-sided embrace that damned you with his all-encompassing warmth.

"I know," he said quietly into your hair.

He sounded resigned to his fate.

"You can hate me. You can hate me and stay alive. Stay exactly who you are. That's what matters most."

You scoffed, glaring up at him with tears in your eyes. He gazed into your face, sorry and unendingly soft. It made you want to tear his hair out, claw at him, wreck him by any means necessary.

"This doesn't mean anything," you pushed back.

It did. It meant everything and not enough. It wasn't that it didn't matter - it just couldn't mean anything. Not like this.

He let you go then with a sigh, stepping back from where he had caged you in between the kitchen counter and the table. You pushed past him, heading to the bathroom to get yourself together. You splashed your face, gritting your teeth and willing the tears to hold. You cleaned the parts of you that still burned with the heat of him. Then you collapsed onto the floor, taking deep breaths and gripping the rug, gulping down the sobs that wanted to pour out of your chest.

Ten minutes later, you were ready to go.

You had Taya, mercifully still sleeping - that was potentially the quietest fuck of your life - in your arms, gathering up your bag of her things and heading towards the door without looking at him.

"I'll see you both in the morning, before I head out."

His voice was faint, like wind across a churning sea, reaching to caress your skin, your hair, your face.

He didn't know you were the ocean, swallowing his words soundless.

"Don't bother." Your voice was stretched tight in your throat, threatening to break. "Don't even fucking come back. I'll keep Taya safe. That's a promise. But that's all."

You shut the door behind you, your soul wanting to tear free from your body, feeling out of your mind as you headed up to your quarters, Scar's daughter in your arms.

**

Flashforward, Present Day

Summer gave way to yet another fall.

You had managed to avoid Scar as much as possible, somehow getting away with skipping meetings every other week. It didn't take much to get updates from other Firelights. Ekko was hardly to be seen at all, taking leave from his duties after losing Jinx. You weren't worried about missing missions since 1) You refused to go without a formal apology and some form of accountability, 2) They had slowed considerably, as Scar accompanied Sevika to Council meetings in Piltover, the Firelights trying on the diplomatic approach for what it was worth, and 3) You had taken to volunteering more of your time out in the open streets of Zaun, where your medic skills were plenty needed when you weren't patching folks up at base.

Between food distro, arranging checkups for your father, securing meds for your mother, and your regular Firelight duties plus your own off the clock, it'd been awhile since you'd had a moment to breathe.

Once you did find time, your circle of Firelights lassoed you into a night out in the Lanes.

It wasn't until you were two drinks in and starting the first round of FMK that your body started to settle and relax into the evening. You realized you'd missed this.

"Kill," Sinth murmured into his drink, giving Karma a wink.

A round of laughter, side-eyeing, and some elbows.

"You always think so highly of me," Karma said, unamused.

Her chestnut eyes lingered on the lithe figure of a Chirean man standing at a table top near the middle of the room, bobbing his head to the music, very clearly offbeat. Tonight, this club was playing reggaeton, and you knew Karma would be dragging you onto the dance floor before the end of the night. Honestly, you couldn't wait. You needed a release.

"Just because he's not the usual brute that damns me to hell doesn't mean he can't be my type."

A chorus of unconvinced Mmmm-ing followed her declaration.

"There's more to people than meets the eye," she sniffed, tossing her brown bangs out of her eyes. They fell into graceful waves on the rest of her soft pixie cut.

"Here we go," Sinth muttered. "Save the platitudes for the Gloriously Evolved, they're better use of your breath."

"You're not the divine reincarnate, babe," you said, smirking. "Sorry to break it to you. Again."

Karma's namesake was Karma of Ionia, the reincarnated soul that broke away from the path of her past lives that promoted peace by using her power to end Noxus' reign of terror across the First Lands, listening to her own modern truth and wisdom.

She probably should have never shared her name origins with her friends, but there was no way a name revered as a champion in your homeland was getting by the likes of you unquestioned. She even had her hair, making the resemblance uncanny.

"Divinely made though," Khalil said smoothly, lifting his cup to her. He tilted his chin majestically, matching the elegance of his braids that curved like horns on each side of his head, intwining in a V-shape and falling into one long, black braid down his back.

"Divinely made," you echoed, mirroring his gesture and looking her up and down.

Karma rolled her eyes, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.

"If you're all done," Sinth cut in, "Ms. Prima Donna over here still needs to answer."

She leveled him with her stare and said with satisfaction, "Marry."

You and Khalil laughed wildly together in disbelief, smacking at each other and banging the table with glee at Sinth's loss.

"It was going to be one or the other," Sinth countered. "Fuck was off the table."

Karma flipped him the bird, and you and Khalil continued your giggling. Clearly, he'd missed this, too.

"Don't know why you two goons are still laughing, you're down a point, too," he said, arching an eyebrow at you. You shrugged and clinked your glass against his, then Khalil's, and the three of you drank.

"Think that makes it your turn, my friend," Khalil said, amber eyes glittering against his honey brown skin, turning to Sinth. "Let's see what we got here."

Four pairs of eyes scanned the room surreptitiously - which is to say, with no chill at all. You balked as your gaze connected with a failed Fuck, and you took another quick gulp of your drink, starting to cough as it went down the wrong pipe. Karma clapped you on the back with a firm hand, unimpressed, until you quieted.

Smooth.

"Kill. Two o'clock," Khalil said with a sly grin. You waited until the others had their peek to look over at a light-skinned man with high cheekbones and a swath of bright blue curls falling over his eyes. For all intents and purposes, he was objectively charming.

"Mmmm," Karma hummed in a snide tone. "He looks too good, which means Sinth is too good for his ass. Nary a Fuck or Marry to be found."

"Sniped," you agreed regretfully.

The three of you looked at Sinth, who was giving you all the evil eye. The effect was sharpened by his deep set, gray eyes.

Then he tipped his head back and drank, his long black hair tossing back with the movement, revealing his undercut and the lighter skin of his scalp compared to the rest of his tan complexion.

"Wow, looks like someone's been projecting," Karma said wickedly, tapping her nails against the table. You and Khalil tried to keep your tittering to a minimum, but it was proving difficult, nearly three drinks in.

"I'm not the only one who chose violence today," he muttered.

"You're two down, we'll get you laid before the end of the night, babygirl, don't worry,"  you cooed at him.

He flipped you the bird as well.

The game moved on to Khalil, then you, each of you losing points along the way. You and Karma got up to get another round for the table. She had just been updating you on her sister's new business partnership with a merchant at the Promenade level, when the hairs on the back of your neck tingled, that unmistakable feeling of being watched.

You tilted your head towards the entrance. You had been leaning casually against the bar, but when your gaze settled on an all too familiar Chirean man with broad shoulders, a tight slender waist, and a face most likely carved by some Chirean deity of Sex & Power (you were sure this was a thing), your knees almost buckled, making you stumble and catch yourself on the wooden counter. Karma gave you an appraising look, like she thought you could handle your liquor better.

Then she followed your gaze.

"Don't - " you hissed, but it was too late.

She was twiddling her fingers in a blithe wave at Scar and Kayn, who had walked in together, making their way over to the bar. Kayn gave you both a wide smile, and Scar nodded in your direction, eyes flickering towards you briefly before looking away. Thankfully, they settled at the other end of the bar.

"In other news," Karma said, grinning widely at you and arching an inquisitive eyebrow. The bar hand slid a tray of your drinks over, some of the liquid splashing unceremoniously over the glass rims.

"No," you said tightly, cutting her off and grabbing the tray like a lifeline as your heartrate picked up.

"Of all the fucking weekends," you grumbled to yourself, laying the tray down on your table with more force than you intended. More liquor spilled.

"You know, those were kind of the point for tonight," Khalil said, eyeing you and the glasses warily, rubbing doubtfully at his chin. He kept his beard clean and close to the skin. "I'd like to have more than a shot left, thanks."

"I thought the point was team building," you said dryly. "Comradery in true Firelight spirit. And it's not like you paid for these."

"Right, because we bought the first round," Khalil said flatly, unimpressed with your sudden attitude.

"Uh oh," Sinth said, eyeing you up and down. "Only one person can get those briefs in a twist in less than five minutes."

"This one's ultimate FMK just made an appearance," Karma said gleefully, exchanging looks with Khalil.

"Holy - do not call him that," you groaned, already reaching for your drink.

"Honestly, I think Scar's the only Firelight who can manage to be all three," Khalil mused, picking up his drink and clinking glasses with Karma. "He's bad like that."

"Bad, or down bad?" Karma asked, sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth. Khalil gave a high-pitched "haaaa" of approval, and they both put a hand up, dancing alongside each other in the booth, shoulders rocking to their own rhythm of victory.

You groaned, lifting your glass to drown in your misery.

"Ah ah, save that for next round," Khalil said, lowering your drink from your lips.

"This is mutiny," you muttered, sinking lower into your booth, hugging the cool glass against your burning face. You wanted to wash away with the music, drown at the bottom of a keg.

"So what's the deal between you two anyway?" Sinth asked, apparently feeling obliged to pick at scabs. "You're ride or die since you met, then we all survive the Day of Reckoning, and everything is just ice? The fuck happened?"

"You know what happened," Karma said scornfully, coming to your defense before you even opened your mouth. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder and hoisted you to sit up. You did so begrudgingly, and only because it was a better posture for drinking.

"Yeah okay, but why are you still mad?" Sinth prompted, leveling you with his piercing gray eyes.

"Yeah, I'm not doing this right now," you said, staring hard at him.

He waved you away with the drink in his hand, giving you a dismissive look.

"Sinth has a point though," Karma said. Sinth gasped and held a hand to his mouth in mock surprise at her agreeing with him. She shot him a look and didn't deign to comment. "Being angry about his fucked up power move? Valid. But for this long?"

"Seems like it might be about more than just power moves at this point," Khalil added, not unkindly.

Your lungs constricted. You looked away.

"Also," Karma said seriously. "You guys need to stop wallowing and eye-fucking from across the room. It's sad and inappropriate."

"Especially at meetings," Sinth supplied.

"I feel violated," Khalil sprinkled in helpfully, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind his ear dramatically.

You mimed banging your head against your glass until Karma pulled it away from you.

"Will you chill out? Just talk. You've been best friends for years, and now you're never in the same room if you can help it. It's fucking weird."

"You're weird," you grumbled. She ignored you.

"All I'm saying is, if you don't fuck him, I will."

"Karma!" You shoved her, but she caught your shoulder, holding you back, then pointing a threatening finger in your face.

"Not the drink," she warned, holding it precariously away from you.

You rolled your eyes and swatted her hand away.

"Fine," Khalil drawled. "I'll be next in line. Twist my arm or whatever. We're hardly compatible, but someone has to put the poor man out of his misery."

"Next time, let me know that you all chose violence today? And I'll stay home," you groused. "Can we move on now? What happened to Round 2?"

"Speaking of things that are fucking weird," Sinth pressed like you hadn't spoken. It was the kinda shit that made your eye twitch. "Have either of you spoken with him recently? Like really talked, one on one? Something's...off about him. And it's not just cause of Little Mx. Sunshine over here."

You scowled at him, but leaned in closer.

Khalil ran a finger along his jaw, considering. "I did a few weeks ago. He seemed alright. Mostly tired from playing daddy, but that's a given. Explain 'off.'"

"He's...spacey," Sinth said, sounding suspicious. "Not spacey like, tired, dizzy, stops paying attention. But I've seen it twice now. The man's walking, going about his business, and just, stops. Tilts his head up to the sky. Like transfixed. Like he goes somewhere."

You all exchanged wary looks.

"You know, I've noticed people have been more...paranoid, since that day," you said, resting your chin on the brim of your glass. "A lot of looking up at the sky suspiciously. Like they're afraid they'll be zapped out of existence like the lover scientists."

"See, it's that," Sinth said pointedly. "I think I've seen most of leadership doing it, folks who were in Piltover that day. Came back with this weird quirk. I don't know what they're looking at, I've only seen it from a distance. Worth keeping an eye out."

"Last thing we need is more magic hivemind bullshit," Khalil said darkly.

"And shit still isn't moving in the direction we need at the Council level either," Karma added. "Sevika hasn't been happy about it. The hell was the point of all that if we're just going back to the same shit, different day?"

"Sevika?" you said, latching onto the most unserious part of the conversation. "Since when are you and Sevika close?"

"We - I didn't say," Karma stammered, a deep maroon coloring her face.

An exchange of knowing glances.

"Fuuuuuccccckkk," the three of you sing-songed, laughing hysterically. She muttered a few choice curse words. Then she drank.

"Ah, the sins of the flesh keeping the world goin' round," Khalil breathed dreamily.

You snorted.

"I'll drink to that," you said. "Alright Sinth baby, let's get you laid."

Sinth turned his head slowly.

He blinked those sharp gray eyes at you, locking in your attention. Then he dipped his head low, stuck his tongue out flat and wide, and started lapping suggestively at his drink a few times. At the mixed sounds of your reactions, he changed tactics and dipped in even lower, sucking up the first few swallows through rounded lips, cheeks hallowing lewdly.

That should not have made you grin as widely as it did. You blamed the alcohol.

"You can try," he deadpanned, straightening back up and drawing his expression back to stoicism.

"You goddamn animal," you said in awe.

"Disgusting," Karma gagged.

"Kay that's the energy we're trynna bring tonight," Khalil said, eyes alight with approval.

As another round of laughter resounded from your corner of the bar, you saw Scar's ears twitch, glancing over at your table.

Your gazes held for a second, two, three - before turning back to your present company.

It wasn't the last time your eyes collided with his that evening.

Fucking Karma, you thought hazily.

You were eye-fucking.

Chapter Text

The season closed in fire. Arson was its name.

For an entire month, the smell of sulfur and smoke tinged with melted iron clung to your nostrils as you bandaged up burn victims of the Undercity. You returned at least once a day to help with ongoing treatment, cleaning and redressing wounds. After the onslaught of each incident, you were pretty sure you preferred the regular smog of the Gray compared to the smell of charred flesh that made your stomach turn.

First, there was one of Silco's last few remaining Shimmer factories, which wasn't a factory at all, but a lab hidden inside an innocuous pawn shop. Some kids - from those just learning the sprawling network of "safer" routes through Zaun to those leaving adolescence, well-practiced in outrunning both enforcers and gangs - had stumbled upon it and set fire to the place of their own accord, taking after the precedent that the Firelights had set.

Then, there were 3 days of riots.

A whole section of the Promenade level was left burnt to a crisp after the Council in Piltover had voted against safer mechanisms to bring cleaner air to Zaun and streamlining health initiatives that would address the effects of the poor air quality. Instead, they chose to funnel that money into their defense budget against further attacks from Noxus, leaving Zaun's needs on a waitlist, yet again.

You didn't know which incident was worse, but both hit home in separate degrees.

You caught sight of Ekko during the first incident. While nearby Zaunites dragged the kids out of the burning building, you helped transport them to a designated makeshift safe area to triage and tend to the worst of the burns. He had been among the Zaunites running into the burning building; he must have been roaming on his hoverboard when he caught sight of the blaze. He had passed you a kid, coughing violently through the handkerchief Ekko must have wrapped around the kid's face to mitigate smoke inhalation, onto your waiting stretcher. You made brief, bewildered eye contact - both surprised and not surprised to see each other outside of official Firelight capacities - before nodding at each other and continuing to move. His eyes were all dark circles under abandoned melodies, and he looked thinner than when you'd seen him last.

Without speaking, you knew you both had ended that day with guilt weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Was it the Firelights' lack of presence on the ground that brought upon their actions?

Or would it have come to this regardless?

The riots, at least, you had expected.

Karma had tipped you off as soon as she heard the Council's decision from Sevika, so you had organized with Zaunites living along and on the outskirts of the Entresol, teaming up with those who had medical experience to setup nearby safehouses in shops, stalls, bakeries, mech workshops - any available space willing to be on standby to treat the injured. On the second day of the riots, you saw Scar and the other Firelights - Adjani and Kimani from the medic team - in the air and on the ground. You had a strange moment of déjà vu, bringing you back to the day the Firelights found you and your family taking cover during rampant Chembaron attacks on the Entresol. You remember being eighteen and seeing the rebel groups' animalistic masks, as if carved from bone, and getting flashbacks of your time in the forests of Ixtal.

Time seemed to circle and spiral around itself during that chaotic month.

Everything felt like a memory inside of a memory.

To stay afloat, you built rituals out of the old and new: eating regular meals with your circle of Firelights, a mixed bag depending on schedules, but at least two of you shared meals once a week now; and stealing some comfort with Ray, which had progressed to hooking up after Sunday food distros and finding the occasional quiet spots on your patrol routes to make out like you were teenage dirtbags again. It was silly and fun and kept your nervous system regulated for sure, which was pretty much all you could handle at the moment.

It was on a lazy Sunday afternoon, Ray doing their best to persuade you to crash a little longer, and you laughing and extricating yourself from getting their hands on you - in you - again, when you ran into Ekko a second time.

You shut the door to their quarters, keeping an eye out for nosy Firelights in the vicinity, and then quickly rounded the corner to the fourth level stairs.

"Fuck," you breathed, stopping in your tracks with barely a second to spare before you would have knocked straight into the Firelight leader.

"You scared the shit out of me, Ekko."

You were preparing to sidestep him and keep walking when a phantom white glow grabbed your attention from the corner of your eye. At first you thought his locks were glowing, but once your brain processed the image, it almost looked as if the skin along Ekko's neck was shining in thin, silvery rivulets up his throat. You did a double take, pausing in front of him on the landing. His deep brown skin looked smooth and normal, maybe a touch sun-kissed from flying around and hanging on rooftops lately. Whatever you thought you saw was gone.

He blinked several times. "No, Jinx, I - I - I-"

"What?" you said sharply.

Ekko squeezed his eyes shut, like he was trying to get his head clear and his vision to focus. He startled, finally noticing that you were standing in front of him.

"Fuck," he cursed, folding forward over his knees, his hands gripping his thighs and suddenly panting for breath like he'd run all the levels of Zaun in one go.

"What the hell - are you okay?" you asked, reaching a hand out to his shoulder. You had momentarily forgotten you weren't speaking to him.

"No -" His voice shook. "No - no - no - fuck! This should not be happening again."

"Hey, look at me," you said, gently lifting his head up to meet your eyes. "You're safe, okay? You're right here, at our tree in the Firelight base. Nothing's gonna hurt you right now."

Probably. Ninety-nine percent chance if your shared history of success as a growing hideout for Zaunites seeking refuge meant anything.

"I can't -" Ekko gasped, his eyes wild as he looked up at you. "I can't do this again."

You continued soothing him with your voice and hands, massaging circles across his upper back to ground him. He took a step closer, leaning his arm and forehead against your shoulder until his breathing began to steady.

"Can't do what?" you repeated at length. You looked around the balcony, no one else but you and him outside. "Do you want to sit?"

Ekko shook his head.

Then he slumped down against the wall, coming to a seated position at the top of the landing.

"I keep seeing her," he said, like it was wrong.

"Seeing...Jinx? Like flashbacks?" You sat down carefully on the ground next to him.

"No, like literally seeing her, in person - I think it's some remnants of the anomaly," he breathed out, almost like a sigh of relief, like he'd been holding the weight of this theory in for a long time and was finally letting it touch air. Those quick, sturdy hands were spider-gripping the ground on either side of him, slightly trembling.

"The anomaly?" you repeated slowly. "Like from HexTech? The HexCore?"

"Yes," he said, eyes widening in silent horror. "I can't keep doing this."

"When you say 'seeing in person,' you mean...?"

"Like I get...pulled into another dimension. An alternate universe. I can physically move around there and everything I touch is...real. Tangible. The people I see - they're flesh and blood. That's what it was like the first time, before Piltover. There's a whole multiverse of different versions of us out there."

You let that sit for a moment. It was hard to imagine, but it did sound like what Ekko had explained to all of you before. How it played with your reality.

He eyed you warily, like he was measuring your capacity to accept the extraordinary.

"I didn't go into detail with everyone before," he added, "Too much to explain and not enough time to persuade you all I wasn't losing it."

You nodded patiently. You had seen plenty across Runeterra - there was nothing outside of your realm of possibility.

"Okay...so how many times has this happened? And has it only been since Piltover?"

"That's the third time I've seen her," he said. His body gave an involuntary shiver like he was drowning in ghosts. "She's different - every time she's different."

He didn't answer your other question, but trauma and crisis training told you not to push yet.

"That's...not normal," you muttered quietly, starting to put the pieces together. This must be what Sinth had been talking about the last time you were out together. "It's almost sounds like you're...glitching?"

Ekko gave a shaky laugh. It sounded hollow.

"Glitching sounds about right. That's what it feels like. I'm not gone physically like I was, before we got rid of the HexCore. I'm pretty sure my body is still like, physically here? It just comes in blitzes. Sporadic. I don't know it's gonna happen until it's happening."

He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead against his legs, looking like he might keel over from a gentle gust of wind.

He needed rest.

A whole lifetime of rest.

You let him settle back into himself, into his body, letting the silence stretch its legs between you. Down below, you could see Firelight families walking quickly between buildings within the encampment. For a moment, you wondered at the fact that no one was sporting injuries, burned flesh under wraps. Then you remembered the fires had happened outside of base, amongst the rest of the local Zaunites.

Something about that didn't sit right with you.

It was also a sign that you really needed a palate cleanse. Just the memory made you taste smoke in your throat and threaten your eyes with tears from the burning.

Based off Ekko's weather-worn disposition, it seemed you both had been busy getting pulled elsewhere, out of your normal trajectory.

"I guess there isn't really a normal anymore," you said quietly, letting your resentment taste the air.

"Has there ever been?" His voice was small, slipping through the spaces between you and him that were left bruised and untouched.

"I like to think there was a time," you said, eyes distant. "We had a routine going. We were building steadily. For years. We knew who our enemies were."

That last part sat bitterly in your mouth.

"And now everything's been ripped away over time, scattered like it never mattered," he said solemnly. You thought he was talking about his real ghosts now, not just the anomaly glitching. The people lost, the wounds earned, the places between his ribs that bled and never stopped bleeding.

"They matter," you said firmly, eyebrows frowning down at him. Now you felt like Scar, displeasure pulling tension across your forehead. "I know things have been kind of...shit. But don't let that take away the meaning you've carved out of this hellhole. The things you created with your own hands. With the choices you've made. Even if they don't last."

You knew this truth down to your core. Like your family, it was a belief that kept you whole. If you had given up hope every time you had lost, been driven out, forced to start again, you wouldn't be here.

You'd be dead.

Or worse - compromising and letting yourself be used by those in power - without resistance. Just going along with it. Succumbing. Dead inside.

But you weren't.

"Even if the things we love come and go," you said adamantly. "That rage, that grief, that love we carry...it tells us that it mattered. And it still matters - maybe just in a different way. I know it's exhausting. But you have to find a new way to carry it."

He sat in the wake of your words, letting them wash over him. His eyes stared out past the balcony, past the base, it seemed.

"Do you think things will ever be...okay between us?" His gaze shifted towards you, then at the ground. The ache in his voice matched the ache in your chest.

So he was present enough to pick up on the sour edges of your voice.

You paused, letting the feelings rise to the surface. The initial ones, knee-jerk, reactive, distorted in color by trauma and the ones that left you yearning at night when you were alone. You waited more still, sifting through wreckage for the ones that still felt true after giving them all time to whirl around inside you.

"I think..." you said carefully. "There's a way forward, if we both want there to be. If we want to make one."

He was listening and then nodded slowly, weighing your words like maybe there was more to them.

"If and when you're ready to apologize" - your tone teased and leveled him in the same breath - "I should be ready to hear it."

His mouth fell open slightly, like he was jumping to scramble for the words.

"And not right now," you said shrewdly, holding up a hand. Not rude or harsh, just...pausing. "Not because I asked you to."

He closed his mouth, nodding, a small glint of life in his eyes that wasn't there before.

An awkward silence followed.

You let it.

You picked at an invisible scab.

Ekko ran his mouth against the folds in his cargo pants, lips brushing across the fabric in a self-soothing motion, his dark eyes reflecting obsidian again, wide open like he was fighting to stay present. In this moment. Next to you. Like if he closed his eyes for a second too long, he'd get whisked away again.

"So what's she been like?" you asked softly. "Your blue-haired bat from hell."

He huffed a laugh through his nose.

"Still blue," he started, and you lifted an eyebrow. "Still fiery as always."

He glanced over at you, as if checking that you were listening, that you believed him.

"What else?"

"The first time? She was young, the version of her I met in the...timebomb," he said faintly. "I've only seen her like that once." His voice was strained with nostalgia, like this was his favorite version of her.

"Another time, she's older, maybe ten, fifteen years from now. In her thirties."

"Wow," you breathed. "Sounds like a trip."

"It is," he said brusquely. "She knows me every time. A version of me that lives in that timeline with her, I guess. It's never more than a portion of the day. Long enough for me to see how she's doing. What she's been up to."

"And what's she like when she's older?" Your voice was butterfly soft, touching down in a landmine, not sure if you should ask.

"She's tired of me," he laughed, a terrible sadness and longing in his eyes. "We...there's kids."

You blinked.

"No..."

"Yeah." It cracked as it hit air.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. You thought about pressing your head into his shoulder, just for a moment, like you'd done countless times. You refrained.

"It's...it's, yeah," he said roughly. "Not...meant to be, I guess. Not here, anyway."

You allowed him his private moment of grief, a place where words could not reach. You could only imagine what Jinx and Ekko babies would be like. Wonderful, brilliant, world-ending and world-birthing chaos. None of you would be ready for it.

It was weird, how you could grieve the things that never were.

But for Ekko, maybe it was. It was real, somewhere out there.

"Our timeline's a bitch," you said.

A sound caught in his throat, almost a laugh, almost like choking. He looked at you like he'd like nothing more than to lay all the lifetimes he was carrying down in front of you, shards of a mosaic to piece through together in hopes of clarity.

"There's another one," he continued quietly, "She flew across Runeterra in a stolen mech blimp. She made a home in Shurima."

Stolen mech blimp. Sounded like Jinx.

"Shurima?" you said incredulously, half-baked laughter escaping your mouth. You tried to imagine Jinx, thin and pale and reedy, living in the harsh conditions of Shurima's deserts. "She would hate Shurima. She'd fare better with all the rogues in Bilgewater. Or Ionia, there's a mix of folks there."

He gave a real laugh this time. "You would think, right? I don't know, she seemed to like the change of scenery. And the food."

"Right," you said sardonically.

You exchanged helpless looks that said, What can ya do?

Before long, it was early evening and the sun was beginning to set in Zaun.

"I better get going," Ekko said, pulling himself up to standing. He offered you a hand. You let him hoist you up.

"Thanks for...all of this."

You nodded offhandedly. "So what now?"

He shrugged, unstrapping his hoverboard and kicking it to life. "Dinner. Then, a new day."

You almost rolled your eyes at his sudden nonchalance. Instead, you held out your hand, and he reached out for you. You gave him a squeeze, like this touch alone could keep you all safe before the next time you would meet.

You'd missed him.

"I'll see you around base, or...maybe in the streets." He gave you a pointed look.

You huffed out a sad laugh as he took off. You didn't ask where he was going. You didn't need to.

**

The second time you saw the glitch, you were ready for it. Kind of.

You just...weren't ready for it to be Scar.

Despite being from the islands, there was something about the cool bite of late fall, early winter that made you feel alive. You could start every day with that nip to your skin, the cold splash of air to your face, like it dared you to keep living. It was everything.

You had a lot more pep in your step as you weaved through the streets of the Undercity. You didn't need to use your hoverboard, but the thrill of air rushing through your hair and whipping your clothes in a wild wind tunnel around you was a small pleasure you didn't take for granted.

Also, the smog felt more bearable this time of year, instead of laying thick on top of itself in the summer heat, suffocating what joy could possibly be found when stepping outside. You may have taken some extra loops and turns before coming to a slow dismount near the rusted entrance door you'd marked several wind spirals earlier.

You strapped your hoverboard to your back and knocked the rhythm the kids taught you. You waited a few beats, then heard the faint scrape of another door just beyond the one before you. The door opened and a young Marai girl cracked the door open just enough for light to catch in her aquamarine eyes. The eyes seemed to squint with recognition, and the door fully opened.

"Hey little miss, how're you holding up?" you asked brightly, stepping through the doorway and finding yourself in the hallway of what was supposed to be a multi-storied building housing various businesses. Half of them were closed. The other half broken into by the Lost Children of Zaun.

Yuridice looked up at you listlessly, shrugging her shoulders, arms falling like dead weight at her sides. One arm was wrapped from wrist to elbow from the fire. She must have been around 10 or 11, far past the age of disillusionment with the world for kids who grew up in Zaun, and old enough to feel capable of taking things into her own hands.

She was kinda your favorite.

"Bituan's being a pain in the ass, reorganizing our meal system over and over again. Like if it's not broke, don't fix it!" She rolled her eyes.

"Uh oh, sounds like she's taking on too much by herself," you said thoughtfully, drawing from experiences as a Firelight. "You may have to push for a group solution. You been behaving yourself at least?"

That got a small smirk out of her, the teal fins along her ears fluttering.

"There she is," you said, grinning. Her smirk grew even bigger. "Alright, let's see about these bandages. Oh! And I got something you're gonna like."

Twenty minutes later, after cleaning and redressing the wounds healing nicely and sliding her a small package of pills - her hormones, Ray coming in clutch with their network - you were hopping back onto your hoverboard, leaving with satisfaction knowing that Yuridice's energy felt a little lighter. You were impressed with the way they were taking care of themselves and each other, best as they could. You knew Lest was also keeping tabs on them. You hadn't seen her in a long time either, not since before...that day.

It was nearing midday and Zaun was awake and in full swing. Folks lined up outside food stalls, others haggling down prices of goods in their most compelling voices. Since you were out here, you wanted to stop by Elline's and bring back some pastries. Maybe even save one for Ekko till you ran into him again. You were sure it'd be sooner than later.

You were touching down a few alleyways from the bakery, scouting some Pilties who had just left the shop, when a weird zap of energy seemed to pulse through the air. It made your hoverboard tilt the slightest bit, an invisible wave washing you a few inches from where you'd planned to land. As soon are your feet touched the ground, you immediately pressed your back to the wall, hitching your hoverboard over you shoulder without a sound.

You peered down the alleyway. As far as you could see, you were alone. After waiting a few beats, listening intently, hearing nothing but the unbroken stream of conversations on the main street, you peeked around the corner to get a visual.

All clear. Nothing unusual.

So weird.

You secured your board to your back and kept your guard up while you began making your way into the heart of the Entresol. You had made it past a few shops when your senses tingled and you felt a familiar presence. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a massive shadow that fell from the next alley into the main street.

It bore the unmistakable shape of bat ears, stretching like a pair of fangs across the ground.

You'd only ever met one Chirean of that size and stature. Was Scar following you?

Your eyes narrowed as you crept to the corner of the augmentation parlor next to the alley. You were preparing your words to confront him, quickly growing weary of having to peek around corners like this.

You rounded the corner and - your heart stumbled.

As expected, it was Scar.

Except he was standing there stock still, back almost to the wall, face tilted up to the sky. The same silver rivulets you'd glanced on Ekko, thinking you were imagining things, were glowing like a second layer of veins crawling up Scar's thick neck and stopping just past the sharp line of his jaw, bracketing his mouth.

He didn't turn. Didn't see you.

When you stepped closer, you saw why - his sharp eyes glowed iridescent as always, but with a blinding whiteness that overtook his pupils. His jaw was slack, thin lips parted slightly.

You stared up at him in horror, ice flooding your veins. You reached for him, then stopped just as quickly, your hand hovering a breath away from his chest. You had no idea how this anomaly glitch worked. What if touching him did...something and hurt him?

Ekko hadn't said anything dangerous really happened, but what in janna's name was reliable about a HexCore anomaly glitch?

Heart hammering, you took a step back, never taking your eyes off Scar's face.

"Scar," you whispered, standing straight in front of him. "Can you hear me?"

You felt silly, like this was a half-assed attempt at helping, but you didn't know what else to do. Scar didn't move. It was like his body was locked in position, his hands somehow still gripping the hoverboard securely at his side. You looked back at the main street. A few folks passed in busy groups, but their attention remained within their own business.

You took in a deep breath, trying to keep calm, even as a tenuous tremble, your insides wanting to crumble with despair, shook the air in your lungs. You said it again at a normal volume. Then a little louder.

Nothing.

You took one step closer towards one of his large ears. Standing on tiptoe - still feeling foolish - you whispered closely by his ear.

"Scar." Your breath would have tickled the skin along his earlobe, maybe made him shiver if he were conscious of it.

Shit.

You went into medic mode, circling him carefully, cataloguing any injuries, assessing if anything was off that told you he wasn't safe right now. His breathing was normal, steady. There was a large bruise that looked a few days old, stretching across the skin just below his armpit and disappearing into the gap in his vest that gave you a peek of his firm chest. Not great, but not threatening either.

You wanted to touch him so bad.

Anything could happen, or nothing could. He seemed safe enough right now. This had happened to Ekko multiple times, so you knew he would come out of it eventually, you just didn't know how long it would take. It wasn't worth the risk, even as your fingers itched, just to hold his arm, his wrist, his hand - your touch letting him know he wasn't alone.

You took more deep breaths. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to flatline, you noticed that you could feel a different energy around him. Maybe related to that weird pulse you felt earlier. No, definitely related, you told yourself, coming as close as you could, fingers tracing his outline without touching. At this proximity, you would have felt the heat radiating off his body. He always ran hot. Instead, there was a cool chill floating like small particles of ice ghosting his skin.

The need to touch him grew stronger, like a black hole intent on swallowing.

You didn't know if it was the anomaly or just your own worry. The fact that you couldn't tell did not make you feel any better. What if this thing was trying to pull you in? What use would you be if you were both sucked into some multiverse void?

Would you even end up in the same one?

This was maddening. You've been through hard shit before, you told yourself, steeling your insides. You can wait. It's gonna be okay.

With a heavy sigh, you stood there, crossing your arms, peering up at his glowing white eyes and then looking away. Your heart tugged with fear, but you held. Brought your gaze back. Stayed with him.

Time was moving weird again. This felt like the longest wait of your life, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes that passed from the time you found him to when you decided you could do nothing but wait.

Another minute passed. Maybe two. This was impossible. How long would this take? You regretted not asking Ekko more questions when you had the chance. You had focused on where he went instead of how it worked.

Suddenly, you felt another strong wave of energy pulsing outwards from Scar. It was cool to the touch, up close now, mimicking the crisp air outside. You teetered off balance for a second, like someone had poked you in the chest with enough force to make you stumble, but you caught yourself.

The vivid white glow in Scar's eyes began to dim, fading in mere seconds as if it never were, returning those familiar eyes to their natural, iridescent jade. A shiver ran through him from head to toe. The muscles of his limbs relaxed, his grip on the hoverboard slackening without letting go. He squeezed his eyes shut, the way Ekko had, brows furrowed in a severe V-shape towards his nose.

After a few moments, his eyes opened on yours.

A split second of downloading your presence before recognition flickered in his gaze. His eyebrows did a 180, rising till the furrow moved to a higher point above the marks on his forehead. You could have laughed if you weren't so shaken. He looked surprised - and then, mildly guilty. His gaze flicked away from you. A flush rose to his cheeks.

"Fuck," he muttered. No, he was full on blushing now, looking embarrassed.

That was new. And somewhere in the back of your lizard brain, kind of endearing.

"Hey," you said weakly, offering a small smile. "Nice to see you, too."

He blinked and took a step back, and those broad shoulders hit the wall.

He said your name like a question, like he wasn't sure if you were really there. Just hearing the rough timbre of his voice, your name in his mouth, flooded you with relief.

"Scar," you said softly. The ghost of a flinch. "Where did you go?"

His body stiffened.

A beat.

"How do you know?" he asked carefully, that low, familiar gravel to his voice that you hadn't heard in awhile, waves of smoke ghosting over searing hot coals burning at the base of his throat.

He was coming back in pieces, his sharp gaze now locking in on you the way he did sometimes, when he was trying to pull your thoughts apart with some invisible Vastayan prowess.

"Ekko," you said simply. "I found him" - you gestured at him, head to foot - "similar to this."

A maelstrom of emotions flared through his gaze. Confusion like he was registering that you knew, but not how much you knew. Relief that you had some understanding. Scrutiny - for talking to Ekko, but why? There was hurt there, too - and something else you were starting to form words around. Want. Longing. Sorrow. Grief.

It was too much. Your breath felt shallow in your chest.

"You saw Ekko?" he asked hoarsely. Except it sounded more like, You're talking to Ekko?

But not me. The part he didn't say.

You were slowly starting to remember that you weren't talking to Scar either. You were busy icing him out. And yet all of that had been erased the moment you saw him frozen, possessed by the remnants of Viktor's hivemind catastrophe. You were suddenly grateful you'd caught the glitch with Ekko first - you didn't know what you would have done without some small reassurance that Scar would come back to you.

Grabbed him, probably. Held on and gotten whisked away where you may or may not have been able to follow. The idea of it terrified you, a deep cleft in your chest. A knife slowly pressing between your ribs until you couldn't breathe just thinking about it.

"Ran into him actually - by accident," you emphasized. "He was...not okay. He told me he - went somewhere? Thinks its related to the anomaly. If he's right, I'm hoping it's just a glitch, and not..."

Your voice trailed off. Permanent. If either of them got pulled away, for months or maybe forever, as what seemed to happen to Jayce and Viktor, you didn't think you could handle that.

His eyes scanned your face, measuring, trying to take the temperature of your emotions. He was standing straighter now, taller, peering down at you from the safety of a bird's eye view. You knew it must make him feel more like himself. More powerful and in control.

"I think he's right," he said offhandedly, quietly. A whisper of smoke and ash. "It feels the same."

Your eyebrows raised of their own accord. "Does it?"

He nodded, unlocking now from his fixed gaze on you and taking a quick assessment of his surroundings - the alleyway, the buildings, the number of people on the street, the likely type of business that brought them here. Looking for friend or foe, threats or safety.

Seventy-five percent, you thought. Coming back was a gradual thing for Scar. Ekko seemed to recover much faster.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked, shifting his weight to the other foot and rolling his shoulders back, posturing in a way he never would have before the rupture between you two. He played it innocent, but you noticed he still hadn't answered your original question.

"I could ask you the same thing," you said dryly, cocking an eyebrow at him.

His face stilled, and he just looked at you.

A hundred, you thought. Scar was a terrible liar, when it came to deceiving the people he cared about. He hid behind his silence, using it and his stillness like an impenetrable shield. You could read his playbook aloud in your sleep. In Chirean. And you didn't even know Chirean.

"Are you feeling okay?" Your voice was gentle. You were letting him off the hook, for now.

"Yeah," he said roughly, looking around again. His body was strung with anxiety. "Just takes a few minutes."

You leaned into this opening. "How many times has this happened already?"

He gave you an old look, one you hadn't seen in a long time. Like he couldn't believe you were asking this of him, and yet he couldn't say no to you. Sometimes, you could get him to do almost anything, back when it mattered. It always made you feel pretty smug and powerful.

Was a small part of you looking forward to leveraging this during his current vulnerable state?

Maybe. Yes.

Did it feel good, a little vindictive? Also yes. You never claimed to be a saint.

Another beat passed, and he was still just staring at you. Whatever he didn't want to share yet, it had to be pretty big. Behind that wall of silence, you knew he was begging you for anything but this.

"Scar," you said firmly. It was that tone people used in reprimand, like telling a cat to get off the kitchen counter, and it was stubbornly doing its own thing, pretending it didn't understand you.

For a moment, it brought you back to when you were still teenagers. It was silly, because it always worked. Endearing, lizard brain echoed.

Shut up.

Displeasure pulled at his mouth, but he finally conceded. "Six."

"Six??" you repeated, horrified. "Ekko said it only happened to him three times so far."

He blinked.

"I'm twice his size. More of me to fill up," he joked lightly. "More of me to claim."

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. Was this the right Scar? Did the wrong one come back? Was he okay? He was making no sense. He was joking. Your heartbeat picked up again despite your earlier attempts at staying above sea level.

"Scar," you said firmly again. "Where did you go? Who did you see?"

He side-eyed you. Then his shoulders squared in resignation before nodding his head towards the depths of the alleyway, away from the main street.

We need to walk for this.

You sighed. Followed. Walked.

**

He gave you the breakdown of what had been happening since returning from Piltover. Keeping his body in motion seemed to ease him - and it probably helped not having to face you directly. There was still this weird energy between you, not knowing where you stood with each other in this very moment. You were here, you weren't running, and there was no venom between you two. He threw you a few furtive side-glances as you walked, which seemed to be all he could bear at the moment.

Given the intensity of what you had just witnessed, you were okay with this.

The first time it happened was two weeks after the battle. It had been terrifying for him, because it was in the middle of putting Taya to bed. He came back to her wailing - thank Janna - still held securely in his arms. He had no idea how long he'd been...gone, but after a few more times, he guessed no more than ten minutes in your time.

A wave of guilt washed over you hearing this, needling at your insides. He'd been alone. You'd left him alone, making it clear things were not okay between you when he got back. Ekko hadn't been around much either, Scar making him take leave, so he could grieve through whatever semblance of peace he could find. In the meantime, Scar had taken lead again and stubbornly didn't tell any other senior Firelights what was happening. He didn't even know Ekko was experiencing these glitches, too.

He had carried all of this weight, all by himself, while you were nursing your wounds from his betrayal.

How did things get so fucked up between you?

You walked together until he led you up a fire escape and to the rooftop of one of your best hidden scouting buildings that overlooked the Entresol. You came to a stop at the edge, both of you leaning with your elbows on the ledge, taking in Zaunites of all different genders, races, ages, abilities - some had a penchant for harnessing the power of mech augmentation, sections of their bodies gleaming with iron - going about their day. The air felt heavier up here, being so close to the Gray.

No, that wasn't it. This time of year, the Gray was thinnest.

It was because you and Scar were standing so close to each other. Now that you'd come to a stop, the awkward nerves came back, setting a thick tension between you. The last time you were anywhere near this close to each other...

You balked inwardly, a flush burning your cheeks at the memory, a terrible and completely unnecessary heat swooping in your lower belly.

Fuck.

You swallowed, steeling yourself to get your body and your heart under control. At length, you broke the silence.

"So...are you gonna tell me where this glitch takes you?" you asked lightly, glancing over at him. He kept his gaze fixed on the street below, but his arm, nearly bumping up next to yours, gave a small twitch in response. "Or am I to assume you're coming back perfectly sane the next time this happens?"

Those jade eyes flickered towards you in mild surprise. He let out a breath you could feel he'd been holding.

"If you're around," he said evenly, doubt - or maybe, an unwillingness to hope - curling around the edges of his words. Your stomach clenched. You deserved that one.

"And what if I am?" you challenged, firmly but without any heat.

He looked down at you again through half-lidded eyes that held more sorrow than you could bear to hold. You looked away quickly.

He shrugged, shoulders dropping into their usual hunch.

"Scar." Stop stalling.

He was making you say his name more times than you had in months. Almost like he was doing it on purpose, knowing what reactions he could draw out of you. This dance felt so familiar. Joy, relief, and terror swirled in your chest.

Your fingers jerked involuntarily, wanting to reach out to him, let him know it was okay. But you held back. He caught it though, your movement, the hesitation, the final decision. He watched you for a few more seconds. And then he relented.

"I've seen my family," he said quietly, fixing his gaze forward again.

Your heart squeezed at that.

"They're - we're all together again." He breathed out a weary sigh. "Things are - good."

You nodded, humming softly in understanding, but said nothing, giving him space to take up when he was ready. He flexed his hand, his long, knobby fingers, each knuckle protruding like a warning, splaying open like he'd been asked to hold something incredibly vast, then clenching it into a fist. You bit your lip subconsciously, watching those strong hands. You forgot how much you liked them.

The heat in your belly did not go away. You tore your eyes away before you started sweating.

"I see Trina," he murmured, voice like coals burning the very last of the fire inside them. His large ears pinned back against his head and stayed there. A muscle in his jaw tensed, his fingers twitched in his fist, but he still held.

You barely breathed. The resounding silence was only disturbed by the boisterous voices floating up from the street below. You weren't surprised - you were ready to hear it. If Ekko often saw someone important to him, it would only make sense that Scar would get whisked away to someone as important as Taya's mother.

You tilted your head up towards him, watching him carefully. His breaths were even, but it seemed like any other words he might even want to share next were caught thickly in his throat. The desire to touch him was possessing you like a stake through your spine, pinning you tensely to the ground, rendering you motionless with nowhere to run until you faced it.

Then his shoulders started to tremble, those massive muscles fighting a tremor like an earthquake was leveling the ground he walked on. He wasn't crying, but you could visibly see he wanted to crumble.

You couldn't bear it anymore.

Your body unlocked, your hands moving like instinct to cover his hand, grasping around his palm firmly. He flinched, and you thought he might pull away from your touch, but he allowed it. His hands felt cold - again, so unnatural for him. You peered steadily into his face, his eyes locked on the street below you, refusing to look anywhere else. So you held onto him until the tremors eventually subsided, his hand finally feeling a little warmer in yours.

He took a deep breath, like wind rushing upwards towards a mountain's peak.

"And Taya is older," he blurted out in disbelief, the fire inside him suddenly rekindled. Your mouth opened slightly. "And Trina...knows things about me I never got the chance to tell her myself. It's really..."

He trailed off, switching his gaze to yours like you would know the rest of the sentence.

"Disarming?" you tried, raising an eyebrow, hoping words could make sense of the perplexity on both your faces.

A brief light flickered in his gaze - a memory of warmth, relief at your understanding. The corners of his thin mouth curved minutely, giving you the tiniest of smiles.

You damn well near melted.

He nodded, looking grateful, like you'd given him a gift. This only sharpened the mixture of guilt and a swift thrill blazing through you. How lonely had he been?

Probably as lonely as you, the guilt echoed.

"I can only imagine," you said faintly, looking away before you spontaneously combusted from his gaze on you. You hadn't allowed that warmth near you in what felt like lifetimes, manufacturing a barricade only a Zaunite could build and fortify: a wall of pipes and wooden chairs, scrap iron and sheets of broken glass, guarded with any augmented weaponry that could spit hellfire to keep that warmth from coming close, from singeing you again.

And now it was all coming apart from a single warm glance, the shadow of a smile. You could have cried. This was exactly why you stayed away. To hold onto your own dignity and integrity and pride. To hold onto principle and what you knew you deserved.

Because outside of all those walls, you were weak for him.

You could admit that to yourself now, standing in his energy that somehow always made you feel like you were right where you're supposed to be. If you'd caved, you would have been giving up a part of yourself - and that you weren't willing to compromise. Still, a different wave of heat rose through you, making your face hot.

Shame.

For leaving him to hold it all by himself for months. For not even giving him a chance to apologize or say his peace.

Scar noticed your shift in attention, no longer zeroing in on him, but turning inward towards yourself. Like he knew what you were feeling. Because he kind of always did.

Now it was you who stared down at the street, watching groups of Zaunites pass by without seeing. It felt impossible that just this morning, you had been perfectly fine, moving through life without him. And now you couldn't imagine a life if he had actually been taken away from you. Not dead - but taken. You felt dizzy from hindsight.

After all this time, only now could you truly understand in your bones how he did what he did. The fear that drove him to cut that cord of trust between you. It didn't make it right by any means. But you could see now the greater picture you refused to see before.

And fuck, did it matter.

The sudden warmth of Scar's hand touching yours, holding onto you, pulled you out of your downward spiral. You had completely checked out of the conversation for a moment. You blinked, your eyes just staring at that beast of a hand over yours, claws careful around your fingers.

Your eyes found his.

He was looking at you with so much gentleness, it almost shattered you.

"I'm still in one piece," he said lightly, like that was supposed to comfort you. You almost whimpered. Instead, you nodded your head firmly, forcing yourself back into the moment.

"Good," you breathed. "You...stay that way."

He huffed out a small laugh through his nose. Then he looked away, drawing his hand from yours and holding onto the ledge instead. Your skin burned where his touch had been.

His brows had curved into their usual deep frown now. He was carefully avoiding eye contact again, gaze downcast, like he didn't quite believe the two of you were standing here on this Undercity rooftop outside of base, somewhat amicably, and even - miraculously - giving comforting touch. Like he didn't believe you were tolerating his presence for this long.

Now it was your turn to save this conversation from slipping back into awkward silence, a kind you were afraid could stretch on indefinitely again.

"So what's been happening to you," you started, regaining your voice. "It sounds similar to how Ekko experiences it. Seems like he sees people he cares deeply about" - you didn't mention Jinx, as it wasn't your truth to tell - "like different versions of them at different times. Multiple timelines."

You looked up at him for confirmation and were surprised to see he'd gone rigid. His ears flicked in agitation, claws digging into the concrete ledge.

"Is that how it is for you?"

A pause. Always a pause.

"You could say that," he said, evasively, voice tight in his throat.

You almost narrowed your eyes at him, but you restrained yourself. There was more he wasn't telling you. You wracked your brain, then remembered he had come back out of the glitch maybe an hour ago in that alleyway looking...embarrassed? Guilty?

Oh, now you had to know.

You peered up at him directly, leaning against the ledge, turning your body to face him as you watched him squirm under your gaze. The ease with which you did this was ridiculous. Like riding a bike. Like muscle memory.

"What do you mean?" you said, trying to sound as neutral as possible so he wouldn't run. "Do you see other people? Or like random people? Do you go somewhere...not here?"

Your tone was curious, looking for clarification. That was all.

His eyes widened momentarily, chest rising and falling as he fought to keep his breathing even. You thought maybe his heart was racing, if only you could hear the world the way he did. He wouldn't look at you.

"Hey," you tried, gently, changing tactics. "You can tell me. I need to understand what's happening to you. It kind of...scares me. A lot."

Holy Janna's hell. Your eyes were seeing it, but you brain was slow to process it. A deep flush was rising up those sharp cheekbones, a lovely soft pink that almost matched the color of his nose. His ears twitched, jerking in ways you'd never seen before. The muscles of that wicked jawline tightened, like he was clenching his teeth.

"Are you good?" you asked, biting your lip to keep from laughing and barely able to keep the teasing out of your voice. Whatever it was, he was planning to keep buried deep inside that thick skull of his.

He nodded stiffly. "No, not - random people."

"But other people, yeah?"

He nodded again, a little less stiffly. Then he side-eyed you for a moment, giving you that look again. The one that said, please, literally anything but this. Because you both knew he wouldn't lie to you.

Oh, fuck.

You thought maybe you were starting to put the pieces of his embarrassment and guilt together, your heartbeat picking up again, the heat coming back to flood places in your body that should be staying Shurima desert dry.

Except they weren't.

It couldn't be what you thought, because that would be...too much. You reached for something else, a fire extinguisher before you really had to pull the fire alarm.

"Not random, so like...Ekko? Or other Firelights? Anyone I know?"

Your cheeks were starting to burn. Your stomach was doing back flips. Your heart thumped with insistence, you could feel the reverberations in your collarbone.

"Not - Ekko." His voice came out as a tight rasp, making your eyes widen and stare intensely down at the street yet again. You were fighting a stupid, knowing grin from taking over your face. You wanted to cry. You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to run.

"But...other Firelights?" you asked, barely above a whisper. The heat was rolling off his body in waves like he'd gone up in flames. Your mouth felt dry.

He nodded slowly. His face was frozen, like he'd been caught and maybe if he didn't move, he'd still get through this unseen.

Yeah, fat chance of that now.

You took one more moment to contemplate your life choices. Like maybe you could stop yourself from what you were going to ask next. You mentally checked off this pause to reflect from your internal healthy habits list, so you could take the plunge feeling guiltless.

Like, you'd really tried your best.

"Do you...see me?"

A question that balanced on the eye of a needle. A question that asked a thousand more.

His jaw clenched again, clamping down hard. You exhaled, a mixture of giddiness and trepidation cut loose from your lungs.

"Scar."

An ear twitch.

More silence.

"Scar."

"Yes."

"Yes, you see me?"

"...yes."

You blinked rapidly, mustering up the courage to steal a glance at him. His mouth was at war with itself, that sly grin, that one that would split his face like a knife fight he'd won, was doing its damn best not to show off right now.

Now your whole body went up in flames.

"Oh."

His confirmation...it felt comforting.

And yet terribly invasive. And you didn't know why the latter turned you on so much, but it did. You felt the gush of warmth flooding between your legs before you could stop it, your body betraying you like it was nothing.

And because you'd learned a little something about your masochistic tendencies over the years, you didn't push any further. For once, you shut your damn mouth. You didn't ask all the questions you wanted to ask: What am I like? How old are we? Where are we? Are we together? What do we talk about AND what the fuck are we doing that has you so twisted up?

Nope, this was enough for today. You needed to cease and desist. You needed a private place to scream.

"It's not bad," he said at length, jaw cracking as he rolled back his shoulders again, finally seeming to shake off the tension, now that the truth was out. The pink flush had spread down his neck and if you stared a second longer, you would lick him in that sweet cove where his jaw met his throat and it just was not the time. Not the time!

You tried to play it cool, even though you were a hundred percent sure he could hear your heart jackrabbiting in your chest.

"Well, that was a bold-faced lie." You meant to sound sarcastic, unimpressed, but it came out more like a tease, wanting to know more.

Cool, so now you were flirting.

What the fuck was wrong with you??

Your tone made him turn to look at you, unable to help himself despite the consistent blush blooming across his face, his neck, his chest. You busied yourself with looking away at the Zaunites opposite his direction, but you knew he caught your reddening face. You knew he could hear your traitorous heart.

It was entirely too hot up here.

Scar must have decided he had the upper hand in this moment, because his cunning eyes were still on you, boring into you shamelessly, and there was nowhere to run. You blinked rapidly, and then rolled your eyes with a flutter, turning back to look at him since he was obviously intent on making his attention on you known.

And then he smiled, that sly grin he'd been holding back. The game of hide and seek was over. He wanted you to see it.

His grin a flame licking heat around your heart, licking you sweetly in the groin.

There was no pretending that the last time you and Scar had spent this much time with each other, you'd been desperately fucking. You could see it in his eyes - the memory swimming languidly in those green tides.

You'd made him cum. He'd been inside you. You'd felt the exact size and heft of his -

"I-" you said hotly. "I had somewhere to go actually."

You knew he knew exactly what you were doing, and you did not care.

"Oh?" he said. He cocked a thin, clever eyebrow at you, leaning his elbow against the ledge, turning all six feet and more of that muscular, dangerous body towards you with unabashed curiosity.

Damn him to every possible hell in Runeterra. Throw him in the Void. May the glitch take him. Janna has fucking forsaken me.

"Yes," you said firmly, unable to stop yourself from grinning stupidly as you started backing away towards the fire escape. "Elline's. I promised...someone."

Okay, you were bad at lying to him, too.

"Right," he said, never taking his keen eyes off of you, amusement playing at his lips.

"Mmhm. You'll get back alright?" There was no saving face, but you had to try.

"Yeah, I'm good now."

Asshole. He was practically chewing on the inside of his cheek with glee. "Gonna hang here for a bit though."

You swallowed. "Cool. I'll...see you around then."

"See you."

It wasn't a question. It was a promise.

You climbed down that fire escape with the last reserves of your composure. You didn't trust yourself to navigate your hoverboard right now. Your feet hit the ground, turned in a direction where he couldn't watch your dumbass retreating, and all but ran away like the fool in love that you were.

**

The heat from that day burned in your memory for a whole week. You considered skipping the weekly meeting to avoid him, but then, not only would it be a second, consecutive meeting you would miss, but you'd be letting him have the upper hand. You couldn't have that either. When you noticed each other's presence in the room, you immediately looked away and starting talking to the Firelight beside you, who looked a little taken aback at your sudden engagement. You could feel his gaze on you the whole time.

Scar had let you run away that day, but only because you both knew he would chase.

Thankfully several weeks passed without incident, giving you time to get your pride back intact and your senses in order.

One day after a skills workshop, Vin had to leave early, so you were left to pack up by yourself. The boxes weren't terribly heavy, but they were bulky with scrap metal, rusted pipe pieces and wiring sticking out, stacked three boxes high. Curiously, none of the older kids were anywhere to be found, and you hadn't been sleeping well, so of course you hadn't had the foresight to ask them ahead of time to stay and help.

You managed to kick aside the "door" at the entrance side of the makeshift community center, which was really an enclave between two thick roots at the back of the central tree, wide enough to fit a few wooden tables across in an arc. The walls were several room dividers comprised of refurbished metal sheets soldered together, with large windows that allowed you to see outside, but not inside (Ekko's design), allowing some privacy. They reflected back like mirrors to those walking its perimeter.

Once on the other side, you nudged the door closed with your foot, placing your weight on the other for balance. Just as you had persuaded it back into place, a large shadow loomed over you and the boxes were suddenly lifted from your arms.

You blinked and saw Scar walking towards the other end of the center, in the direction of the store house, your three boxes unfairly tucked under one arm, held securely against his body.

He turned around, pausing to look at you, arching an eyebrow as if to say, You coming?

You huffed and pulled up beside him, and he started walking again.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, for the sake of your dignity, "My balance is impeccable."

"Yeah," he said. "But I wanted to. Heading that way anyway."

You hummed and lapsed into silence, letting the sounds of the base preparing for lunch filling the space between you, kids running around screaming and laughing while the adult Firelights yelled at them to gather by the kitchens and help out.

Your arms free, you found yourself watching yours and Scar's reflections in the community center windows as you passed. His tall and broad frame alongside your shorter one, rippling with the bends of the room dividers. You wondered how it might look if you transitioned, your own angles sharpening and broadening.

"Still the same as yesterday," he remarked, observing your gaze. "And the day before that."

"Haha," you said dryly.

"Unless you see something I don't?"

"Nah, just admiring the view," you said swiftly, eyes alight but staring straight ahead. You weren't about to share your thoughts about transitioning - things still felt too precarious between you.

"Mmm," he hummed, with an exaggerated air of thoughtfulness. "Yourself, obviously?"

"Obviously." Your cheeks warmed.

"Any particular reason?" His tone was teasing, but there was also something...else there. "Hot date tonight?"

You snorted. "No, you dingbat, you know I'm on patrol tonight."

"Same difference." He side-eyed you. Now your face was hot.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what you think it means." He enjoyed being infuriating sometimes.

"I don't know what you're implying," you said evenly. "But stop implying it."

"Are they at least good in b - "

He didn't get to finish that thought, because you jerked your knee behind his, and he stumbled. Barely, catching himself with ease, the metal pipes clanking in exasperation.

But it was the principle.

"Ass," you said, smirking in spite of yourself. This was the drinking partner you'd missed.

His laugh was pure mirth, rumbling deeply in his chest.

"Jealous?" you quipped before you could stop yourself.

"Maybe. A little."

His laughter quieted. The air shifted between you. You huffed something that mimicked a laugh as more warmth bloomed entire gardens along your ribs. Neither of you made eye contact, gazes straight ahead.

"Anyway, I don't know where you'd get that idea."

"I have eyes and ears everywhere."

"That...should not be a thing."

"Maybe. But it is. For safety."

"Uh huh. Whose safety again?"

You'd reached the store house, a small shed with shelves with everything from medical supplies to random parts and pieces for hoverboard repairs and the like. Since the walls weren't insulated, there was a sharp chill inside as well.

You reached under his arm and extricated the top box, careful not to scrape him or yourself with any of the rough edges. You crouched, nudging a box of coated work gloves aside on the bottom shelf and placed the box down next to it.

"We've been well-stocked on medical supplies this season," Scar commented. "Your doing, I'm guessing?"

"Been spying me?" you teased, turning in your crouch as he lowered the next box for you to take. You shot him a look to let him know you were onto him - he'd definitely been trailing you that day you found him in the alleyway. He looked back, unabashed.

"The point of hoverboards is getting a bird's eye view of the Undercity - fast," he replied. You could hear the smirk in his tone as you tilted the box at an angle so the loose wiring wouldn't catch on the shelf above it. "Wouldn't be doing my job if you flew under my radar."

"Location, sure," you contended. "But activities? That's a little suspect." You heard him breathe out a laugh above you.

"Regardless," he said, glancing over your comment like a disinterested spear. "I'm grateful your pilfering skills have improved."

Your jaw dropped as you gasped at the jab, yet you couldn't fight the guilty smile off your face. You turned towards him, still in your crouch, hands gripping your thighs firmly to meet his accusation head on. You had to pause your restocking for this.

"Sorry stealing wasn't the sharpest of my many skills back in the day," you said, raising a challenging eyebrow at him. His jade eyes gleamed down at you in the dimmed light of the store house, mouth twitching. "I was kind of busy, y'know, being on the run, trying not to die in port towns and jungles and deserts, taking care of my little brothers, and my mom, learning how to hunt, how to spear a fish, how to -"

"Would've been a useful skill to have then," he said easily. You narrowed your eyes at him, and because he often exercised this keen ability to turn you into a petulant, spitting cat, you tugged at the laces of one of his combat boots. They were knotted tight, but your fast fingers made quick work of letting one of them loose.

He gave you an annoyed huff. "Really?"

You stared up at him, waited a beat, then did it again to the other one. He stared down at you, trying to tame his smirk as he measured his words.

"If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask nicely," he said in amusement, a lilt in his voice inviting you to meet his dare.

Your mouth fell open, but no words came out, warmth flushing across your face.

"I did get better," you grumbled, ignoring his suggestive comment and holding your hands out for the last box. "Give me that, you idiot."

He grinned at you, lowering the box into your hands. "Thank Janna - we would have died that winter without all hands on deck."

You pursed your lips shrewdly. "Oh, we could have died plenty of times, what with your reckless ass basically leading Silco's folks to our base more than once. Cuz showing off your new flying skills was obviously more important than our collective safety."

Now his mouth opened guiltily, as you shot him a look that said, Point. You turned and shoved the last box onto the shelf, then carefully rearranged it. You didn't mean to use that much force, but your heart was beating loudly in your chest and the adrenaline needed to go somewhere. You got onto your knees to feel more grounded, then sat back on your calves against the floor to give your thighs a break.

"I was still learning control," he muttered, like that was an excuse. "And the location of the base's drop-in point" -he was referring to the top of the large pipe right above the tree that had remained vulnerably open to the air in those early years- "relative to everywhere else."

"Mmhm," you hummed, unconvinced.

"Flying had that...addictive quality back then," he murmured, quieter now. "Still kind of does."

You sighed, mildly regretting that you couldn't just poke fun at him without touching a sensitive spot. Addiction ran in his family, whether to alcohol or to Shimmer, and was one of the reasons he'd joined up with Ekko and the other original Firelights. Most of them had a history with addiction, whether addicts themselves or impacted through family members. Joining the Firelights had helped him get sober, although he had still struggled with the addictive mindset, replacing the need to numb out pain with other addictions - like flying, or bulking up.

You softened, staring down at the floor and leaning back on your hands, not turning around yet.

"Guess we've both done a lot of growing."

He shifted his weight, an inch closer to you.

"Yeah. Guess we have."

You could feel his intent gaze on you like a beacon lighting up your senses. You pretended not to feel it, nor the heat of his body behind yours in such close quarters. You were wondering how to extricate yourself from this compromising position, when his black boot came across your line of vision, his foot dangling in the air next to you.

"Tie it."

You scoffed and knocked his foot away with an elbow.

"Not even a 'please'?"

"Tie it. Please." He wiggled his foot closer, back into your space.

"How old are you?" you chastised, knocking it away again.

He let out a tchhh sound that hit the back of his teeth. "I'm not the one who untied them in a tantrum. Got my hands full at home, thanks."

You dragged your feet around, turning your body to face him, chin tilted up. "Hands are looking pretty empty right now."

"I have thick fingers, plus the claws," he said, tongue in cheek. His eyes glittered with amusement down at you, and you couldn't help but mirror it back, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. "You know this is harder for me."

He just wanted you to touch him. He'd have to try harder than that.

"Oh, is it?" you replied, smirking. "Great - we know you love a challenge."

And you just stared up at him, unmoving.

He huffed out a breath of disappointment. Then sighing heavily, he crouched down that entire tight war machine of a body, till his face was level with yours and you had no choice but to stare at him, exchanging the same air in the breaths between you.

Yeah - you walked right into that one. His whole body crowded you, looming over you like a mountain as his steady hands began working the laces into clean knots again. He kept his clever gaze straight on you though, a softness, a question, a deep yearning threatening to pull you in. Your breathing shallowed, your face less than a foot apart from his. You could see the layered shades of gray-purple that fanned out across his cheekbones, the heavy bags under his eyes that held themselves up like crossbows. The thin scar running down his lip - that one, you weren't there for. He had earned it, and his name, during his first knife fight in the streets of Zaun. He had won, but the stitching was crude, done by the unpracticed hands of one of the OG Firelights.

He never did tell you his name before the scar, the one his mother gave him. You'd always wanted to run your thumb down it, like maybe the fault line would spill the secret heart of him if you did.

His mouth twitched as you stared at it, and you blinked, caught. His ears flicked, almost with - pleasure, and he shifted his weight, making to stand up. Before he could move, you reached for him. In another life, you'd extended your palm towards his face, caressed that jawline as he'd leaned into your touch, seeking comfort as he waded in unknown waters, before the crashing waves of parenthood bowled him over and fashioned him a new life, on a new shore.

Now, your hand simply reached for his in silent request, and he pulled you up easily from the ground with him without question. He gently let you go. Somehow, it felt like a test, like he was seeing if you would come back. Your gaze lingered on his, heart beating slowly, oddly calm - like your body was remembering the ease that once passed between you two.

Those green eyes pulled you in like the tide, and it took you another moment to realize you were floating. He gave you a small smile, and you gave him one in return. You didn't know what was happening, but you knew you couldn't just stand in this store house shed with him forever. Finally, you looked away and turned, pushing through the doors the way you came, getting a head start - to where? You didn't even remember.

In no time, Scar pulled up beside you, gazing down at your face for a moment, as if to see if you were okay, and then you walked together back towards the tree in silence, lost in your own thoughts. You didn't realize he had been calling your name until he leaned down towards you, saying it close to your ear.

You startled and stopped walking, looking up at him. You were surprised to see the more serious set of his jaw, contrasting from the loose-lipped teasing he'd given you just ten minutes ago. His eyes were the ocean staring back at you, waiting to see what the tide would bring.

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't keep meeting like this. Exchanging banters and dancing around each other. Maybe similar thoughts had crossed Scar's mind too, because that furrow was back between his brows. His body's energy felt tense - almost like he was preparing himself.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" you asked, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"I was saying," he started again, feigning annoyance. Then his face softened, those brows knitting even closer together like it was their sole purpose.

"I want to - talk, sometime. Sooner rather than later?" There was warmth in his voice, burning and sure.

You blinked up at him, the words registering slowly. You thought a small wave of resentment would rise, or even an echo of hurt. Staring up at him now, the steady sorrow and longing held in those luminescent orbs, you could barely recall what you would need to talk about. Strangely, things were starting to feel more like they did before. Like so much time had passed and yet here you were, meeting again, almost like nothing had happened.

Things were shifting, you could feel that, threads of familiarity stitching patterns between you two.

But it couldn't be the way it was before. It wasn't possible. Was it?

"Sure," you breathed. "Yeah, Scar. We can talk."

Your heartbeat was slow, your blood seeming to flow backwards in time. You didn't know what this feeling was. It wasn't - dread. It wasn't exactly fear either. Maybe - anticipation, simple and biological. You didn't know what was to come. It wasn't good or bad. It just was.

But you did know you were open to accepting its arrival.

Scar watched you wading through your thoughts. You'd assumed he would chase, the way he did when you'd been out in the Lanes, landing a kill for the night. The way he'd thoroughly enjoyed watching you squirm under his gaze on that rooftop a few weeks ago. It was everything your body had been craving. But this - this was different.

He wasn't chasing. He was being...intentional.

"Okay," he breathed, a small, grateful smile turning up the corner of his mouth. He paused, looking for more of what he wanted to say. He paused for so long, looking searchingly into your face, that you thought that might be it. Then -

"Thank you," he said simply, quietly.

That voice of fire and smoke, burning coals and ash. A voice that went down your spine like honey.

"I've missed you."

Your breath caught, your lips twitching in surprise and then - a slight frown.

"I know," you said softly. And, because you didn't think you had much reason left to be an asshole anymore, you let him know. "I've missed you, too."

His ears flicked, and there it was again. The warmth in his eyes, the softness in his smile.

There were probably folks walking around base, going about their day. But in this moment, it was like nothing else existed except you and him. It was the small intimate world you'd built together in his living room quarters, all those months ago, but here and alive, allowed to breathe the air outside beyond closed doors.

You had been here before, as friends, your bonds slowly tethering back together.

But it was definitely different.

And you wanted to know more.

Chapter Text

On Saturday, you stopped by the greenhouse, harvesting some of the flowers you had planted in your own corner pot a few months ago - these golden orange chrysanthemums that bled warmth into the bloodstream by sight alone. By Sunday, you were ready, a pretty lavender ribbon tied around them like a bouquet. You'd taken the day off from your Sunday distro with Ray, wanting an easy day at home where you could cook, clean, and take care of your family and things around your quarters. You wanted to make sure you would be alone, and you thought Scar would go alone, too.

So you let the early morning hours slip by for the taking. Midday, too.

Now it was the late afternoon, the day starting to slow.

You should have known you'd run into Ekko here. His back was to you, and as you entered the small alcove, he turned and gave you a small, fragile smile. You stepped closer, offering him a brief one-armed hug and he gave your hand a squeeze as it fell across his shoulder. The mural of the Lost Children of Zaun stretched high before you, the colors and faces muted by the late fall, overcast sky.

Stepping closer, you bent towards the small altar, wreathed in flowers. Candles stood tall in puddles of their own melted wax, their brims' lips sagging at the top, evidence of earlier vigils. At its center, a piece of earthen clay, the middle imprinted with a small hand, tiny half moons resembling claw marks. Your throat tightened.

Kneeling at the altar, you stared up at Trina's radiant face painted almost ten feet high above the offerings. There were her familiar sharp green eyes to match Scar's and now Taya's, the silver fang piercing on her bottom lip, the markings beneath her eyes to rival beauty marks. Her expression was calm, steady. You thought it fitting. More lost souls of Zaun surrounded her - most of whom were part of Ekko's upbringing. To think of how much loss he carried was immense.

You couldn't believe a whole year had already passed.

A wave of grief and regret rippled through your chest, closing your eyes as the first tears slipped down your cheeks.

I'm sorry, you said, speaking softly in your mind to her. I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry that Zaun couldn't protect you, that Piltover signed your death sentence. I'm sorry you never got to spend time with your little girl.

The tears gushed down stronger now, as you took in trembling breaths.

I'm sorry I wasn't there the whole time to help take care of Taya.

I did my best to keep her safe when I could.

I want to believe you can see her now, watching over her.

We'll build that world you imagined for her - things are shifting.

I promise.

Ekko placed a steady hand on your shoulder. Thankfully, it was grounding instead of breaking you further apart. You remained like that in silence together for a few minutes, letting the flow of tears slow and finally subside. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, rubbing the wetness from your face.

When you stood up, you noticed Ekko had something else dangling in his hands.

A blue carnation.

His gaze flickered over towards you, the ghosts in his eyes floating just underwater. He walked to the other side of the mural, climbing the ladder between the scaffolding and affixing the flower next to a newer painting beside the older one of Powder - a fresh portrait of Jinx, as she was when Ekko had last seen her in this timeline, head partially shaved and gaze ringed with grief, yearning and - something else.

Resolution , you thought.

Ekko returned to your side, and you both took in the entirety of the mural, like it held the span of lifetimes, a promise of eternal remembrance. Like maybe it was all worth it in the end.

Worth material changes in the here and now. Worth more than just legacies.

He broke the silence first.

"Time is weird," he said, and you couldn't help but huff out a small laugh at that.

"I'm sure for you, that's especially true," you murmured.

"Mm."

"But yeah, it is."

Some days, things felt linear and unbroken, your purpose mapped clearly, ongoing community needs pulling you forward. Other days, you woke up and didn't know which chapter of your life you were waking up to - who was still alive, which bonds were broken, which connections were still going strong. It moved in circles, unpredictable and yet consistent in its unpredictability, leaving broad strokes and patterns for you to trace, to make sense of this senseless world.

"It's almost winter," he said quietly.

You turned your gaze towards him, curious and listening.

"I don't know why, but the change of seasons always does something to me," he said, nostalgically.

"I get that."

"For me, it's like a signal, " he continued, eyes up to the faces on the mural. "This internal clock resetting, telling me to switch directions. Like maybe it's time to move on."

You could hear what he was saying underneath the poetry: he had given himself time to grieve, had taken a break from all the fighting and building, all the responsibility of being the Firelight leader. You didn't know where he ever was exactly, or what he was doing with his time. What helped him move through the grief, what wounds were still scarring over. But you could hear it in his voice - he was ready for something different. Something more.

And so were you. Neither of you knew what exactly, but it was there.

Then he said your name intently. Your eyes focused back on his face, and up close for the first time in weeks, you noticed the angles of his cheek bones and jawline had grown sharper, a little narrower, a faint five o'clock shadow carving away some of the boyish roundness. He was looking like more of a man now.

"I want to apologize," he said, a slight quiver in his voice. "For making you stay behind that day. I know I betrayed your trust. I let my allegiance to Scar overpower my commitment to you, as my comrade...and my friend."

You took in a deep breath, feeling that shield come up in your gut at the memory of everything that had happened between you.

He held your gaze, eyes wide with remorse. "It was fucked up. Really fucked up. You were right to call me out on my bullshit. And I'm grateful you did. I think I took for granted my position as 'the leader.' Told myself I was just protecting a friend. But it was more than that. I - I stripped you of your own dignity and worth. Took away your autonomy, because I could. Because I had that power."

His brows knitted as he frowned at the floor.

"You did," you whispered, acknowledging the weight of a shipwreck, lying quiet at the bottom of the sea. It could stay there. You were tired. So, so tired.

"I never intended to," he said, looking back up at you. "But I know intent and impact are different."

You nodded, staying quiet, allowing him to say what he needed to say.

"You said there used to be a time when we could tell who our enemies were." Your raised your eyebrows, recalling your last conversation. "And I want to be more cognizant of my own capacity to cause harm, especially to those I love dearly. And especially for as long as I remain the Firelights' leader."

You blinked at that. Not only because of his acknowledgment of abusing his position, but the unspoken possibility that there may one day be a time when he may no longer be the leader of the Firelights, the entire legacy he had built.

"You don't have to say anything," he added, giving you a knowing look. "Or have an answer right now. But maybe another time, you could tell me how I can make things right?"

You felt that answer resound in the pit of your stomach, a truth you had always known, had carried with you since leaving Ionia. But that was a struggle for another day. Right now, you were just grateful to have your friend back by your side, showing you the care you had sorely needed to see, all those months ago.

"Thanks, Ekko," you said quietly. "That - it means everything."

He tilted his head at you, giving you a small smile.

"You've always been a real one," he said, shaking his head in appreciation and mild awe of you. "I'm sorry I've been a little shit. Thanks for not - giving up on me."

You snorted at that. "Oh, I'm sure there'll be other opportunities to be a little shit. But probably for me, too. We can take turns."

His smile widened at that.

"Just promise you won't give up on me either when the time comes."

"Yeah. Yeah I can do that."

You lapsed into silence again. The sky above was shifting into a blazing orange, mixing with hazy neon green. A special sunset just for Zaun. Ekko brought out a match and relit the candles, their flames jumping to life and casting long shadows along the altar.

At length, you said, "Trina ever tell you about the cultivairs?"

Ekko turned sharply towards you. "Nah - what about them?"

You allowed a small smirk to pull at your lips. "Not even ten, and she and the other kids used to smash rocks through them. Whatever technology ventilated the air in there? They wanted it to work on the Gray. It's not a bad idea."

Ekko considered this. "Not at all - we never had the resources or time to really contend with the Gray directly. Not effectively at least. But this is the strongest we've been as collective, right? It's worth looking into."

You could see that shrewd, inventive spark in his eyes.

"You think you could replicate them?"

"I don't see why not," he said, pulling his mouth into a thoughtful frown. "I'd love to get my hands on one and try."

"We haven't done a raid in awhile," you mused. "I'm sure that could be arranged."

You exchanged sly looks. It felt good to be scheming together again.

As you both departed, you threw one last look over your shoulder at Trina's face, her memorial, the candles burning.

"If Taya has even an ounce of Trina's spirit - and I'm sure she'll have plenty - Scar's gonna have his hands full."

"Oh, for sure," Ekko agreed. "She's gonna hit the ground running. I can't wait."

**

At the next meeting, your heart leapt into your throat when you caught Scar walking in late. You had been catching up with Karma and Sinth, who had just come from having dinner together. It was always a miracle when they didn't kill each other, but you could tell from their side-eyeing that it wasn't from lack of trying.

You hadn't seen the Firelights' Second since he'd asked to "talk," and you weren't sure that you were ready for him to track you down for that yet either. His hulking shoulders seemed heavier than usual, making that natural hunch of his look even more severe as he moved across the room to take his place next to Ekko. One of the senior Firelights started giving the tech team's weekly report.

"This is why you're on the team," Sinth whispered out of the corner of his mouth, giving you a slight head nod. His hair was tied back into a ponytail today. "I fucking knew something was up."

"Yeah, but I don't know what we're gonna do about it," you murmured back, your gaze up front in your best embodiment of attentiveness. Really, you were just staring at Scar, who for once, wasn't eyeing you down, but staring listlessly at the floor. He looked exhausted.

On your other side, Karma switched weight on her legs, so that she ended up leaning closer to you, hip leaning against yours.

"Lover boy had a rough day playing Bat Daddy," she murmured into your ear. You side-eyed her, but tilted your head closer to indicate you were listening.

"Baby girl's been fussier lately. Also, she bit me," Karma breathed out in amusement. Your eyebrows raised a hair. "I bit her back."

Now you turned your face towards her, giving her a look that said, Why are you like this?

She snorted, and a few Firelights turned to look at her, including Ekko. He gave her a long look, and she had the decency to look repentent.

"On the cheek," Karma clarified in a whisper, once the attention was off her. "She needs to learn that there are consequences to her actions. But I think she liked it."

You smirked, but said nothing. From across the room, Scar seemed to come out of his reverie. His ears flicked minutely when he caught the look on your face, and for a second, you wondered in mild horror if he could actually hear your entire conversation. You met his gaze briefly, keeping your expression open, but neutral, then turned back to the next senior Firelight who spoke.

The meeting hit its midpoint, reporting finished. Karma was now fully resting her arm and head on your shoulder, tired of being on her feet. She muttered, "You think they're gonna say anything about the " - she pantomimed getting a small electric shock, fingers spasming next to your face, and you nudged her with your shoulder - "tonight?"

That was a good point. It seemed like pretty critical information to share, for everyone's safety.

"I don't know..." you murmured. "They should."

"Yeah, but it doesn't seem like it's on the agenda tonight," Sinth added, dismissively, as Ekko began giving updates from the latest Council meeting. "I think we should...talk to them first."

He sounded bothered that Scar hadn't disclosed anything to him directly. Out of everyone else in your circle, he was closest to Sinth. But given the fact that he didn't even tell Ekko or any of the senior Firelights what was happening to him, you weren't too surprised.

"Self-sacrificing asshole," you muttered. "I mean - yes, we should."

One update that did pique your interest was Ekko announcing another budget meeting vote on reallocating a portion - small though it was - to Zaun's needs. A direct result of the three days of riots. It was a small win, but every little action pushed the needle. Plus, you had other schemes in the works to take power into your own hands, into the hands of the people. Zaun would outlast Piltover. You all just needed to live long enough to see it.

Once the meeting came to a close, you cast a quick glance at Scar, who had also shifted his gaze towards you. Without thinking, you looped your arm into Karma's and started leading the three of you out. Karma rolled her eyes and Sinth looked bored with your antics, but they flanked you without question until you had cleared the throng of folks heading out. You were acting immature, but your damn heartbeat was picking up and making all the decisions for you.

Which, in this moment, was to run.

But Karma, because she was evil, swung you around and held you in place with a sweet smile on her face. You were hitching your knee back to collapse hers when she suddenly called out, "Scar!"

The stream of folks had thinned, the murmur of conversation drifting upwards as Firelights headed to their respective quarters. The man in question was closing the meeting room's door behind him.

He turned in your direction, eyeing the three of you like you were a gaggle of children who chose the wrong person to prank tonight, but headed over anyway.

"Your baby girl's got a nice set of teeth on her," she teased as he approached.

"I warned you she bites," he said tiredly, the faintest glint in his eyes. They met yours briefly, then returned to Karma. "Hope she didn't take off too much skin."

"Unfortunately not," Sinth said. "But she will, with a little more training, my friend."

Scar's lips twitched before he sighed.

"She's teething. It's been messing with her naps." He gave Karma a look. "Hence why I left you the iron-tipped gloves."

"Listen, not everyone she comes into contact with is gonna be all equipped. You gotta prepare her for reality. So I just took a little bite out of those chubby cheeks of hers. I think she got the message."

Scar huffed out a laugh, his eyes lighting with soft adoration that only his child could draw out of him.

"She behaving otherwise?"

Karma gave him a brief rundown of her morning with Taya before she was called for an urgent tech issue, leaving her with her father until tonight's meeting. You stood there awkwardly, trying to stay engaged in the conversation without seeming like your head was on fire. Halfway through, Sinth zoned out and then bid everyone goodnight, clapping Scar on the shoulder and pinching the back of your arm unnecessarily. You glared as he headed up, and he blew you a kiss.

Your friends were so weird, but this was why you kept them around.

"Anyway, all that to say you're doing great with her," Karma said genuinely.

"Thanks for taking her today," Scar replied, giving her a small smile and maneuvering around the affirmation.

"Scar," she said seriously. "When was the last time you gave yourself a break? Come out with us Friday, you been running yourself into the ground, and it shows."

You stifled a laugh. He stared at her flatly. "Always did appreciate that blunt tongue of yours."

Then his gaze flickered over to you curiously.

"It'll be fun," you managed, making a mental note to kill Karma in her sleep the next time you got the chance.

"I'll think about it," he said quietly, soft eyes lingering on you.

"We'll take it," Karma said smoothly.

And because she had some sense of self-preservation, she didn't immediately abandon you to be left alone with Scar.

"Anyone helping with overnight?" you asked innocuously. Something flickered in his eyes before saying, "No, but I've already had plenty of help today."

Karma's blunt observation won out - he looked in ripe condition for peeling off the floor.

"I don't mind helping for the first half of the night - I'm off tomorrow," you offered.

You watched his brows furrow, undoubtedly weighing the things he wanted versus the things he allowed himself behind his stern expression.

"You sure?" he asked, shoulders tensing like their remaining stamina was hanging in the balance of your mercy.

"I'm sure, Scar," you insisted, moving towards his door with him as if to prove you meant business. Karma had locked you in, and seeing Scar suffering, even if the suffering was just parental exhaustion, had sealed your fate, as it always did. There was no more running. You could feel yourself getting pulled in again, this growing desire in you to belong, to reclaim, to be familiar.

If only you would cross the threshold.

"Alright," he said softly, his whole frame pillowing, looking every ounce of gratitude that only a man severely lacking sleep could deliver.

"Night, Karma," you said, widening your eyes slightly at her. Keep it together.

"Goodnight," she said with an innocent smile. You were definitely gonna hear it tomorrow. "I'll see you Friday, Scar ."

He waved her off with a tired paw of a hand.

After another round of goodnights with Nilo, he departed, closing the door behind him with a soft click, leaving you and Scar alone in his living room. For a moment, you had to re-orient yourself to the situation, trying to remember how to act. Your brain flipped through all the previous options for navigating this space: lazily hanging on the couch, wearing Taya around for her nap, or...fucking. Yeah, the last one was fucking.

With mild trepidation, you wondered if he might take this opportunity to "talk," and if so, you would respectfully decline, because his living quarters were absolutely not neutral ground. Your nerves were already buzzing in fight, flight, or fawn mode, taking in the familiar sights and smells, recalculating the degree to which all of these sensations together equated to safety.

He quickly put you both out of further anxiety.

"I'll take the couch," he murmured, your gazes narrowly sideswiping each other's, before he moved towards his bedroom to check on Taya. "Take my bed."

You opened your mouth to argue, but - were you really? He knew how much you hated that couch, tossing a look back to you with a smirk before disappearing down the hallway. You let out a sigh, sending out vibes to whatever higher power that you were making the right life choices. If you were yearning to belong again, you needed to stop standing around like a stranger and make yourself at home. You headed to the kitchen and went through the cabinets, making yourself a glass of water.

His voice passing behind you made you jump as you closed the sink's tap.

"It's all ready - sorry, I tidied up what I could," he said, his voice a rasp of exhaustion.

"It's fine, like I give a" - you started, turning around to face him and pulling up short - "fuck."

He knew exactly what he was doing.

You were staring, suddenly entranced by his bare back, the carved muscles rippling as he made his way over to the couch in that languid skulk of his. The dimples on his lower back, just above that firm, tight ass that no pair of sleep pants could possibly hide, were prominent, and they were doing terrible things to your brain.

He caught your gaze for a moment, mild amusement ghosting over his own, before depositing himself onto that bare wooden plank with a muffled thud.

"Wow," you muttered, and you heard him breathe out a soft laugh.

Subtle. No chill.

"Goodnight, Scar." Your voice was tight and disapproving, and you both knew it was because you absolutely had to.

In his bedroom, you peered down at Taya's little body, growing thicker and stronger every day, curled in on herself in the crib. After a few moments, you were satisfied with catching her steady, even breathing before you climbed into Scar's bed like it was a completely normal thing to do. If you didn't make it a big deal, it wouldn't be a big deal, right?

His scent enveloped you immediately, and any misgivings or anxieties you were about to put your brain through fell away. You didn't notice it the last time you were here - as you were preoccupied with Taya's conception - but with Scar's absence, all the traces of him consumed your senses. His pleasant musk, a mix of sweat and heavy earth and something sharp and clean like mint. The exact place where the mattress sloped, sagging deeper on the side he favored, which of course was closest to Taya. How he only used a thin blanket and no comforter, even in the winter, since he ran hot all year round.

You turned onto your stomach, tucked an arm under one of his pillows, and buried your face in it, inhaling his scent again like it was a fertile land where only good things could grow and you needed that kind of oxygen in your bloodstream if your heart were to keep pumping as it should. Any remnants of embarrassment or shame were long gone. You were high off his aura that still clung to the sheets, your body relaxing into the comforting presence of him, and you knew with absolute certainty that he did not mind.

And well - well.

You don't remember drifting off to sleep, but you knew it was swift and easy. You didn't wake until Taya's soft cries pulled your heart and body into action.

**

Shortly after sundown on Friday, everyone stood aside as Scar muscled open the iron door of the Firelight base's entrance. He wasn't the only one with the strength to open it, but not one amongst your circle raised a single complaint, watching that beast of a hulking body do what it did best.

Gazes fluttered and snagged, a mixture of looking respectfully and disrespectfully. You were all truly the worst.

He ignored your stares and nodded for you to head out in pairs, staggering your departure times and splitting which routes you would take to the Lanes. You sidled up next to Khalil, who gave you a sly smile, throwing his arm around your shoulder, then pulling you closer around the waist as you mirrored the same with him. You both giggled for no reason besides delighting in each other's presence and started walking in tandem through the sewage tunnels, Khalil throwing up a peace sign to the others behind you. Karma and Ekko - a pleasant surprise, apparently he and Scar were a two-for tonight - following not long after. Scar and Sinth were to bring up the rear after they sealed the door again, all of you then spiderwebbing through the sewage system.

The heels of your boots scraped against the gritty floor as you walked, and after all your nonsense giggling, there was a nice, peaceful silence.

And then. "So a little birdie told me" -

"Rat," you corrected.

"Pfff - aiight a little rat" -

"Told you nothing," you quipped, cutting him off. "Can we pleaaase talk about anything else but him for a second?"

Khalil squinted down at you, then pursed his lips in dissatisfaction.

"Fine, keep your secrets," he chastised, following your lead as you turned the corner into a new passageway. "We'll have the liquor loosen those lips."

"Which ones?"

"Boy, don't be crude with me," he said, eyebrows raised in mock offense. "You don't wanna talk about Scar, but we can talk about your cooch?"

"Ew, don't call it that," you said, flaring your nostrils with the ick.

"I'm sorry, what do you prefer?" he questioned smoothly. "Your hooha, your hound of the underground, your -"

You clapped your hand over his mouth, stubble scratching at your fingers, and he barked out a muffled laugh.

"Anyway, moving on," you pressed. "What's new with the tech team?"

"Were you not listening at the last meeting?"

"Karma and Sinth cornered me, you know I heard nothing after that."

"Your commitment is inspiring, really," he drawled. Then he quirked an eyebrow in interest.

"Heard our boy's got a raid planned, bringing in some old tech for me to tinker with?" Khalil said. "Your idea?"

"Trina's," you said simply. He took in a long breath of recognition, nodding as if pleased.

"Ah, she was lowkey a badass," he said mildly, his tone tinged with regret. "Any tech skills? She could've been good on our team."

You sighed. "No idea. I know Chireans are naturally gifted engineers, but that doesn't have to mean anything. I'm sure her insights would have been appreciated regardless."

"For sure," he agreed, nodding like a world still existed where things like this could carry on. You thought of Ekko's and Scar's glitches. It's possible they did, which softened the ache - just slightly.

"You think it could work? Engineering some kind of air purifier?" you asked. "I mean, it's a band aid solution, but in the meantime..."

He looked forward, eyes distant but gleaming. "I'll have to see what we shall see."

**

The Last Drop was as it ever was - a loud, reliable pulse check of the Underground, where anyone and everyone could find some reprieve. Since you had all arrived earlier in the evening, the place was filling up, but not packed to the brim yet. Even in the winter, the hub was in full swing operations. The wooden tables were still clean from a recent wipe down, no spills or other questionable liquids that might sticky them by the end of the night. Its patrons lingered at the bar, huddled in the shadows in their booths tucked into the wall, swayed to the rhythm of the music while bullshitting around standing tables, the occasional burst of laughter drifting high into the rafters.

Scar bought the first round of drinks.

"To the king's return," Khalil said smoothly, lifting his glass up in his direction. The Firelights' Second raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment and tilted his glass in response to the chorus of appreciation, before disappearing behind it. Your eyes lit up, watching him as you took your first sip, something inside your chest settling warmly to have him back and everyone together again. Karma and Ekko flanked you at the standing table you and Khalil had grabbed earlier, while Scar, Khalil, and Sinth pulled up to the booth you'd saved next to it.

With everyone hydrated and accounted for, your group began to loosen and lean into the night.

It was the second weekend of the month, which meant it was hip hop and R&B night. One drink in, and you and Karma were already rocking your shoulders and hips to the hard-hitting boom bap of the beat, Ekko nodding his head along to the flow while grasping his glass loosely on the table in front of him. His gaze stayed watchful, taking constant stock of your surroundings. Despite having grown up around this bar, he was a rare patron. You nudged him in the shoulder, encouraging him to relax. He took a sip of his drink, but returned his gaze out towards the rest of the tavern.

A favorite came on, and Khalil started lip-synching and body rolling in his booth with a smug smile, you and Karma joining him. You sang and rocked into Ekko's space, not backing up until he gave you a little more sway in the shoulders. He didn't sing along, but the flow between you made you both cheese and break into soft laughter. When the beat picked up, the three of you started hyping each other up across tables, emphasizing certain words and body rolling with more and more passion until you were all cracking up.

These were the kind of nights you were fighting for.

Sinth and Scar paused their conversation to silently judge you all over the brim of their drinks. You couldn't help noticing those lucid green eyes lingering on you, tracking your body's every movement to the beat, every sway to a new rhythm. A heat warmed your chest, rising up your neck and making your skin hot. You kept dancing and talking to Karma like you hadn't noticed Scar's stare, but you both knew he knew that you had noticed. You were trying to stay focused in the conversation without a stupid smirk peeling across your face and betraying you.

Soon, you were all shuffling back and forth between table and booth, and even sooner, like tides pulled by the moon, Scar had pulled up by your side.

"Hey," you said warmly, smiling up at him.

"Hey, yourself," he replied smoothly, looking down at you and giving you a small smile in return. Janna, he was gorgeous. You clamped your hands around your glass, fighting the urge to grab his face and...you didn't finish that thought.

"Having regrets yet?" you poked instead.

"Too early for damage assessment," he remarked, lips twitching. As he scanned the room, something - someone - caught his attention. He gave a nod and a small smirk, before ducking his head back towards your group.

"New friend?" you asked, eyeing the Marai who kept making surreptitious glances at Scar. He looked vaguely familiar.

"Ah, you could say that." Evasive as ever. Well, that told you plenty.

"Mmm," you said knowingly. Then, because you couldn't stop the jealousy from rising like a viper, you asked, "Were they at least good in -"

"Steb," he said, cutting you off with a wild smirk, catching the tease you were throwing back at him. "Apparently used to be an Enforcer."

"A Piltie?? Janna, that glitch has really done a number on you, hasn't it?" you observed. "Who even are you anymore?"

And because you were maybe tipsy, you used that as a perfect excuse to cup that strong jaw, turning his head left and right in your hand, bracketing his mouth with your fingers, making his cheeks puff while tilting your head in careful examination. This "Steb" could stare all he wanted.

Face grabbing, check.

Scar kept his face carefully still as you manhandled him, his eyes following you no matter which way you turned his head. To his credit, his mouth didn't even twitch.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

He gave you a flat stare as you brought your other hand under the table and splayed a few fingers. You were enjoying yourself way too much.

He finally wrestled his chin from your grasp. "Four."

"Dang, you're good," you said, showing him your hand as you grinned in amusement.

"Dumbass." But his grin mirrored yours.

"Okay, last thing, I just gotta check your hearing," you said, reaching for his nearest pierced lobe to draw him closer.

Suddenly, his hand flew out, catching your wrist firmly between his long, clawed fingers. His green eyes pierced into you in warning.

You blushed, chewing the inside of your lip and eyeing him back, but you desisted. You forgot (no, you didn't) they were sensitive for him, possibly even an erogenous zone. You were intent on finding out one day.

"Will you knock it off," he mumbled, without any heat. You gave him a look before drawing your hands back and folding them neatly in your lap, like this was the most boring, demure thing he could have requested of you.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I embarrassing you?" you said evilly. "My bad, I'm not here to cockblock."

Yeah, you were.

"As I was saying," he continued, resisting a smirk. "Originally a Zaunite. Made his way up to Topside, climbed the ranks, and after the battle with Noxus, he defected."

"Promising," you said, tampering the twinge of jealousy in your chest with the scent memory of Scar's sheets only two nights ago. You took comfort in knowing you were the last person in his bed. Hookups did not make it to base.

"How's Ray?" he asked, then took a long draught of his whiskey. You knew that look in his eyes - like he was locking in to do some damage for the night.

"Ray's great," you said breezily, meeting the danger in his gaze head on. It was making you hot and bothered. You didn't know if you wanted to kill him or kiss him.

Ideally, you'd dick him down.

"But you knew that already, yeah? Eyes and ears to the ground and all."

He grinned and shook his head, ear twitching, canines gleaming.

"Alright people, load up! Round One in five," Karma called across the tables, corralling your group together for FMK. You were sliding your glass onto the tray for the next refill to start the game, when Scar bumped your shoulder lightly with his.

You peered up at him, curious. He nodded his head towards the front of the bar.

"Get some air with me," he said. It wasn't a question. Your heart skipped a beat and threw a look at everyone gathering around the table.

Karma met your gaze and you gave her a tight smile that said, Don't. Start.

"We'll be back," you said neutrally, pretending like your cheeks weren't warming as you spoke.

Ekko nodded, eyeing you and Scar, while three other pairs of eyes watched you all knowingly as you started to make moves.

"Wrong game, guize!" Karma called. "This isn't 7 Minutes in Heaven!"

"Yeah, we've leveled up," Khalil followed up. "It's this cool game called FMK! You're missing out! "

Scar flipped them the bird without looking back as you trailed after him.

Outside, the buzz of the tavern became a comforting background noise, filling the space between you and Scar. Not far off, folks huddled outside of different venues and stalls or crossed the Entresol in small groups. The temperature had dropped, and white wisps teased the air as you breathed, lips slightly parted. He led you just around the corner of The Last Drop, just to the side of the building that faced another street. A few street lamps lit up the side street, enough to alert.

Scar leaned against the wall, kicking a leg back, looking like he'd pull out a smoke like he did when he was eighteen. Didn't last long - cigarettes and fighter training didn't mix well. Those clever eyes watched you as you pulled up beside him, like he knew the memories you were recalling.

You gave him an expectant look, hands in your pockets and squaring off your conversation from where you stood. The glint of danger had left his gaze, now replaced with something more at ease. Softer.

It took you a moment to adjust your navigation from public Scar to Scar in private - closer, intimate. Your nervous system didn't know which way was up or down.

"Thanks again for the other night, watching Taya." His voice warm coals, stoking the fire. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." You shrugged, trying an easy smile, an attempt at fighting the animal in you that wanted to fight and fuck him.

"Don't remember you leaving. She missed you in the morning."

You miss me, too? you thought cheekily, but didn't say. You distinctly remembered leaving, because Scar had reached a hand out to you from the couch. You had let him hold yours in response, and he had caressed it with a thumb before relinquishing and saying goodnight again. It was sweet. It's not something Scar would be shy about recalling, so it kind of bummed you that he didn't remember.

Bat Daddy brain, you told yourself.

"She was good when I had her the first half. Finished her bottle. She was a little cranky, but no biting," you said, wiggling your injury-free fingers.

"Honestly, it's more likely to happen when she's overwhelmed," Scar admitted, casting you a sidelong glance.

You nodded in amused affirmation. "I can see how...some...can be a little sensory overload."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "But it's good for her. She needs exposure to various stimulation. Just have to find a different way to self-soothe with less teeth."

You nodded, considering.

"I bet Khalil or Ekko could come up with something for her teething though. Have you asked?"

"I haven't."

"Mm."

"I could...learn to reach out for help more," he said quietly.

"Mm."

A beat.

"You all have been more than enough though."

"Yeah," you said, guilt rising again as your gaze shifted to the street, then the lights of another bar nearby. "They've all been a solid support system."

He heard your self-exclusion first and foremost.

"Don't do that," he said, suddenly serious. You saw the slightest tightening of his jaw, just above his collar.

You stopped. An awkward tension.

Your gazes collided with frustrated heat before you both turned to the street again. You didn't want this tension. You tried to smooth things out.

"I'm happy you came out tonight."

He peered down at you then, and your bodies turning inward, almost facing each other.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, "It's been a little monotonous, heading out to the Lanes without you."

"That what you call all your extracurriculars lately? Monotonous?"

"Hey, after a while, you've seen them all. Sometimes it's not about the - extracurriculars. But who you're...extracurricular-ing with."

You tried to keep a straight face, meanwhile he busted out into a grin, spreading fang to fang, all canines. He kicked off the wall, crossing his arms and shifting his weight towards you. You smirked helplessly, narrowly avoiding eye contact, even as you felt your bodies drawing closer, like instinct.

"Oh?" He leaned his face in, willing you to look at him, the movement equivalent to tilting your chin up towards him with a clawed finger.

Your heart was racing. 

There was a long silence. You stared up at him, then looked away again.

He said your name. You heard the whispered ache in it.

"Scar," you murmured, turning back, looking into his eyes with all the push-pull, desire-dread he was capable of zigzagging you through in the same sentence. You needed him to pick one.

And because you wanted things to be okay between you - more than okay, you wanted them to be real - you leaned in and pressed a heady kiss to his lips. He froze for a moment, taking in the feel of your mouth against his. His lips parted slightly, but he didn't move to kiss you back. You tugged insistently on his bottom lip with your teeth, before pulling away slowly.

"Fuck," he murmured, breathing out white whisps of air.

"Sorry," you mumbled. You were not sorry. You couldn't let another moment this night pass without making your feelings explicitly known. Without staking your claim. Other Zaunites, past and present, be damned.

"No, I -" he started, staggering to keep a grip on his self-control.

"Out of order," he mumbled, ears flicking back and pinning to his head. "I need to apologize - first. For everything."

You felt a small drop of trepidation in your chest. You didn't want to go back in time and remember the cleaving.

Maybe that's why you also wanted to shut him up with a kiss.

Maybe you didn't want to feel these things again.

Maybe you were afraid that if you looked too closely, prodded too deeply, it wouldn't - couldn't be fixed. Not in ways you wanted it to be. Or maybe you just didn't trust him to truly make it right. And that was the part that scared you most of all.

He sensed your hesitation, chest heaving, rising and falling, body fighting to stay loose. To not tense up from pre-emptive rejection.

"When I asked to talk, I really just meant apologize," he said quietly. "It's been a busy week. Didn't mean to drag it out."

You stifled a laugh - you were the one dragging it out, hoping it wouldn't happen yet. Not yet. Not yet. For once, you didn't say anything. Now you were the one watching silently, tracing the dark lashes of that forlorn gaze, your heart an anchor of dread dropped to your stomach.

"Please," he said gently. "I don't expect your forgiveness or for things to magically go back to the way they were. It just - it kills me every day how much I hurt you. To know you're hurting. And I was the cause. I know I've made it impossible to be around me, and maybe that's not what you need. Maybe it's not something to fix or that I can fix. But regardless, you deserve an apology."

He glanced at you for affirmation - and well, yes. He was right about all of that. You felt your body start to give, tilting your head to indicate you were listening. Not exactly permission, but not outright rejection either.

"The damage I've done...it even drove you away from being active with the Firelights. To trust this thing we built together, that we dreamed and risked our necks for for years - I know you've been missing meetings. I couldn't live with myself for taking that away from you, too."

You had to snort at that, because that's what he focused on?

"There's a lot more to what we do than meetings, Scar. I've still been a Firelight - in my own way."

"I know." He sounded frustrated, irritation flashing in his eyes now, his brows frowning deeply. This was the part you were afraid of. Where emotions lit on fire. Where more fire was hurled. When shit got hard and there was never anywhere soft to land. You were always better off burning it all to the ground and running. Restart somewhere new.

And there it was.

You allowed yourself to feel it. The anger. The betrayal. The deep, deep disappointment.

You realized you weren't ready for an apology. Not until you got the resentment swelling in your chest out first.

"Scar, you did the one thing," you began, voice shaking from how emotional it made you and you hated it. You fought to keep from trembling, steeling your jaw and forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. "The one thing - I asked you not to do. What I said for years was the only thing I was afraid of from you. The only way you could possibly hurt me or lose my trust."

He nodded, meeting your condemnation with barefaced acceptance.

"You had to know what you were doing," you said, voice smaller now, breaking at the end.

It cracked the bravery in his face, of acknowledging the consequences of his actions. His mouth faltered, a thin gasp caught between his teeth. Sharp pain flickered across his eyes, full and shining with remorse.

He took in a deep breath before exhaling slowly.

"I did," he said, meeting your gaze and holding the weight of the pain you had carried for months. "I did know, and I did it anyway." 

More cracks along the chainlinks anchoring your dread, your pain. You knew it was true, as true as Piltover's pervasive hold over Zaun, and you needed to hear it. You needed to know as blazingly clear as the fire of righteous riots consuming the Promenade that you were not crazy, you had not been unreasonable. The validity of your pain was undeniable. And yet it still felt like a deep blow, like it was happening all over again, hearing the truth leave his lips. 

Then the shame seemed to blister in the air around him, charged. His eyes fell downcast.

"I'm not dumb. Like you said, you'd hinted at it for years, why you'd never have 'personal entanglements' with leadership. Why we were only ever drinking buddies and nothing more."

The last part made your stomach turn and your heart lurch, and you could see the ache in his eyes, too.

The nothing more.

Was that true? Did the lines never blur? You couldn't honestly say they hadn't. You didn't want that to be true. It was the first time you'd heard a clipped version of your friendship laid out plainly. It sounded like a thief's retelling, missing details, a decoy in replacement of the real thing.

"I understood where you were coming from," he said evenly, looking back up at the street, eyes distant. "I didn't think it was something I'd ever do or was capable of. And then when it came down to it, I felt like I had no choice. I was selfish with grief - I'm not using that as an excuse."

He paused, looking you in the face with a serious expression. You met his gaze and didn't look away.

"I used my position as Second to bend my will over yours. I took away your choices. Your agency. I - manipulated Ekko into backing me up. I knew there were power dynamics I was taking advantage of too, being older than him. I've...been very selfish lately."

You huffed out an ironic laugh. "And here I've been calling you a self-sacrificing asshole this whole time."

He gave a sad laugh. "Yeah. There's that, too. I fluctuate between extremes, there's no in-between."

"Yeah, ya think?" you grumbled, looking away annoyed.

A beat, drinking in your surroundings, like the hazy neon green sky, the harsh yellow street lights, the gravel road broken up perfectly for stumbling Enforcers, the voices filtering through the darkness - like all of it could add up to something whole.

He sighed.

"You were the one person I couldn't stand to lose, besides Taya," he said, voice tightening, eyes drifting to places colored with grief. It twisted the air in your lungs. "In trying to keep you, I lost you instead. I couldn't have fucked up harder if I tried. I'm sorry I caused you so much pain. I'm sorry I broke your trust. It means everything to me and...you didn't deserve any of that."

You looked at him.

"You know I had to wait every second that day, completely out of my mind, not knowing what was happening to you? The thing you couldn't do yourself - watch me throw myself into harm's way, allow even a sliver of possibility that I could get hurt - or like fucking possessed? That's what you made me do against my will. You couldn't bear it, so you put it on me to carry it."

Your nervous system was boiling over with resentment. And yet, soon after the words left your lips, the heat began to move like steam, slowly pouring out of you.

"I know," he said quietly. He let the weight of that sentiment hold, hanging in the air, because the truth of it was heavy. "I know."

"You left me behind," you said, in such a small voice. Your throat burned with it. Your eyes stung. A few tears slipped down your cheeks and you pushed them angrily away. If any passersby noticed, they could go choke on some dicks for all you cared.

He didn't move, just watched you grieve and allowed the tears to flow as they needed. After a few moments, you huffed a pathetic sigh out of your nose and looked back up at him.

He said your name like it was a standing truth - the real narrative, not the thief's story.

"I'm so sorry," he said, even more softly, his gaze gently meeting yours. "Hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do. I treated you like a subordinate instead of..."

He trailed off, looking into your eyes. Janna, it was hard to stay mad or hurt when he looked at you like that.

"A more than capable comrade. Someone who deserves to have their autonomy respected like anyone else. And - one of my best friends."

The noise of Undercity nightlife echoed around you, but it resounded like an empty tin can compared to the blood thundering in your ears, your head, behind your eyes.

He stepped closer, into your space, cupping your jaw like you'd done with him a handful of times, running a thumb over your cheekbones. His touch was warm, palm steady. You stilled, your heartbeat playing in slow motion.

"We've been ride or die, that's not something I want to just throw away. You're - my person ," he murmured. Those green tides flooded you, like they could hold you afloat for an eternity, if only you'd let them. "I've...loved you for years, just as we were. And what I did wasn't love. It was fear. And ego and power."

The admission should have bowled you over, collapsed your entire being, left you gut-punched and breathless with ecstasy. But no, you found instead that it was an easy truth - not some oyster newly washed up with the tide, bearing a precious, mysterious pearl to be bartered and bought. The admission of his care and affection for you was every grain of sand in an hourglass, watching and waiting and starting over and over again. Love had been weaved into the foundation, and now, it was just...building into something more.

He furrowed his brows at the ground, and you realized the frustration he showed earlier wasn't aimed towards you. It was aimed towards himself.

"I was a fucking coward," he sighed, letting his hand fall from your face, shoulders hunching in agitation. "I wasn't fair to you. I didn't care what you wanted - I just wanted you safe. You're always talking about gender roles, and I guess...I have my own shit to deal with."

Your eyes widened a little, because honestly? It was always abundantly clear that Scar was a cis-man. He held certain beliefs about manhood, and they shaped how he navigated through the world. And shit, you weren't actually sure if he'd been listening. Granted, he realized it after the fact, but it still caught you by surprise.

A pleasant surprise.

He had been listening to you.

"I have this need to take everything on myself. I feel like I have to protect everyone, even if they didn't ask for it. Even if they're more than capable of taking care of themselves. Bullshit that made me put all this impossible emotional labor on you when it mattered the most, instead of handling it like an adult. We could've carried it both - are you laughing right now?"

"I'm sorry," you said, wrestling with your mouth because you loved this big dummy and sure it was patronizing, but this smidgen of growth was kind of adorable.

He'd basically said emotional labor and got down on one knee.

"I just - I'm impressed, is all."

He huffed.

"Don't patronize me."

You mimed zipping your mouth, but your eyes still shone with muted amusement.

He swallowed. "I would never pull something like that again. I won't. I can promise you that."

His gaze found yours, bruised and guilty.

"But I can't lie to you. I don't - I don't fully regret it either. I can't ever regret seeing you alive and whole and fully...you."

The pain in his voice was the ongoing fear living inside you now, wondering if he would glitch, when he would glitch, and for how long? How long would this go on? Was there no fixing it?

As if sensing your fear and as if sensing his own, he closed in, leaning his forehead against yours, hand to your cheek again, like this contact alone could hold you down together, anomaly glitch be damned.

"You should know that about me, too," he said darkly.

"I do," you said, clinging onto his arm with your hand.

"It's not - unforgiveable," you said slowly, pulling back and looking at him carefully. He wasn't totally off the hook yet. "Not with you. Not when it's with me."

You felt the warmth cascading down your chest, your cheeks, undeniable. He let out an exhale, tension starting to bleed out of him.

"I just...need some time," you said quietly. His gaze flickered down at you, the slightest color of morose.

"Right," he said. He made to retrieve his hand from your face like it might scald you, like he would do more unintended damage, but you held him in place with your grip still on his arm.

"Just - listen, okay?" you said firmly.

He blinked, then nodded.

"The day I found you glitching out in the alleyway? I...finally understood. I saw with my own eyes what it was you were afraid of losing. Cuz that shit is not normal. It's otherworldly. It's fucking bizarre - and I've seen a lot of shit in Runeterra. It still terrifies me that it happens to you. If I could prevent it from happening to you again, I would, just...not the way you did it."

He nodded slowly again. Understood.

You let out a deep sigh, like you really hated that it'd come to this.

"I love you, okay? You big stupid oaf," you said, smiling at him while also frowning your brows at him. "You have to know that."

His ears flicked sharply, breath stuttering for a second, a puff of white smoke in the chill air.

"I do," he said quietly, lips twitching, a soft light in those deep luminescent eyes that filled you both to the brim with warmth. "You're one of those people who say 'I hate you,' because you're allergic to saying 'I love you,' or 'I love you and you're a pain in my ass' or 'I can't stand being away from you'" -

"Alright, relax," you said, face blushing with mild embarrassment.

"Even if 'I hate you,'" he continued, getting in the last word, "Also means...spitting in my face."

You choked on the next breath and your whole face felt splashed with heat. He looked down at you in amusement.

"The outcome wasn't terrible," he added.

"Scar!"

He didn't even buckle or budge when you hit him in the gut, because...why would he? Just smirked like he couldn't help himself.

"Fucking - janna," you muttered, trying to keep it together even though your whole body was pulsing with heat. You glared at him until his expression sobered, remembering the conversation wasn't over yet.

"I love you," you repeated softly. "And don't let it get to your head. I just - I want to be able to trust you again."

Your voice broke, because you wanted to. You wanted to trust him so badly. But strong bonds of connections didn't work that way. Things couldn't be repaired overnight, just as they hadn't been built in a day, but from year after year of showing up.

"And that's why you need time," he repeated through a long exhale.

You nodded, trying not to start a pity party over it, even though you wanted to.

"I can wait," he said simply. "Not going anywhere."

Now your heart almost burst.

Normally you were the one waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting. For the Noxus' invasion to end, for ships docking in Bilgewater to bare cargo and not more soldiers. For a sign of the mythic city of Ixoacan, for fish to circle and rest at the perfect angle between rays of sunlight and gritty riverbed. For your father and brother to return after months in the desert, for your mother to sit up strong in bed one day, free of ailment.

For Taya's arrival. For Scar to fall in a way that was final, with someone who was not you. For wherever the wind blew you and you could do nothing but follow its currents. 

You let out a deep exhale, white mist teasing the air. 

"What does needing time look like for you?" Scar asked, voice like smoke over water. 

"I don't know, Scar," you said honestly.

He nodded, taking that in as well.

You were both aware of your grip still on his arm, his thumb now massaging warm circles against your cheek.

"You still want me around?"

You laughed faintly. "Right now? Yes."

"Just for tonight?" he said innocently, as if simply asking for clarification.

You side-eyed him, trying to contain the smirk fighting at your lips.

"We'll see about tonight."

**

The Last Drop was officially packed once you got back inside. You squeezed through the crowd, Scar following behind, holding onto you with a firm hand at the top of your spine.

"Janna's fucking hell," Karma said loudly. Or slurred, really. They were deep into FMK now, possibly round three. "It's called 7 Minutes in Heaven, not 2 Hours to Fuck in an Alleyway."

Your mouth dropped, your eyes widened comically large, and you came real close to Karma's face, covering her mouth tightly while holding the back of her head in a death grip.

"Karma, I love you," you said through gritted teeth into her ear. "But please shut the fuck up. Like right now."

She laughed, licking her lips, and then rolled her eyes. She pantomimed zipping it.

"So where are we?" you asked shrewdly, picking up a glass waiting for you on the table. You downed that thing like it was a jug of water after a year in Shurima. You were feeling so much and not enough from your conversation with Scar. Your insides needed to return to some kind of equilibrium.

The beat was bumping, and folks were starting to let loose, mini-dance circles forming and mixing here and there. A pleasant shiver ran through your skin, your sensory body returning to The Last Drop, your friends surrounding you, bright eyes and easy smiles, an elated warmth wrapping you in its arms.

"I think we found Sinth's husband," Ekko answered, counting the relevant updates off on his hand. "Karma's found a beast of a man to destroy her tonight, hence her exceptionally obnoxious mood. Khalil's 'winning,' though I'm not sure he's happy about it."

Your grinned.

"And yourself?"

"I-uh...I'm one point away from making a move," he said sheepishly.

"Making a move??" you repeated obnoxiously now. The liquor, the energy, the ambience. It was contagious. "With who??"

"Blonde, long hair, ten o'clock," he muttered. You used the next verse's change in rhythm to dance your way into getting a visual. Thin, pale, average height, golden blonde hair falling back in waves that curved towards his lips, keen blue eyes. Brown leather jacket, deep blue lining the collar. Fingerless leather gloves. Thigh belt holster. The most striking - light blue triangles of light on his cheekbones, a sign of magical energy.

"Um, I fucking love this for you," you whispered, nudging him as he blushed.

As the night wore on, you were down two points, one away from a move. It was a moot point though, since everyone had agreed between exchanged glances and underhanded comments that you and Scar had already made your move.

Scar, as it happens, wasn't playing FMK. He was, however, pressing in close, always just behind you observing or by your side, leaning in without touching. For once, his shoulders and limbs were loose, and not just by the liquor. He still hunched forward in that Chirean beastly way of his, but you suspected it was also to be in your space, feeling the heat of each other without insisting on anything more.

Another one of your group's favorite songs came on.

You were three drinks in like a restart, you and Karma already dancing together in your own makeshift dance floor. You had your arms wrapped around each other's waists from the last song. Now as the beat transitioned to this familiar one, slowing to a sultry rhythm, you snaked your hands up to drape over each other's shoulders as you pressed in, legs almost interlocking, hips close.

Scar's eyes once again locked on you the whole time.

Give me a run for my money
There is nobody, no one to outrun me

Your center of gravity dropped with the beat, swaying your hips to the music, the intricate beats making your shoulders rock and your bodies roll, slowly grinding against each other, confident smirks making you feel lucid and liquid.

Scar may have been your drinking partner, but Karma was your ever constant dance partner. If you weren't jumping around, letting your limbs flail and your hair thrash on punk rock nights, then you were bending low and gyrating your hips to reggaeton. Or like tonight, you got close, intimate, grinding sensually and feeling good in your bodies, teasing each other playfully without words and commanding attention from nearby onlookers.

Lucky you, the nearest onlooker was the Firelights' Second, and his whole body had gone rigid, rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze from your bodies moving sensually against each other's. Your body against Karma's.

So give me a run for my money
Sippin' bubbly, feelin’ lovely, livin' lovely

It felt like you were floating in a pleasant haze, nothing existing but the music and this thing inside you that sang when you moved to the rhythm, like your soul could transcend into another realm, where nothing hurt and every part of your being was unleashed and set free.

On the other side of the table, Khalil was rolling up into Sinth's and Ekko's space, making the latter flush, grinning but pulling back out of that space with his drink in hand. In response, Khalil turned his full attention on Sinth, mirroring the two of you with an arm draped over his shoulder while grinding his hips to the music, coming close without touching. Sinth smirked, leaning his elbows back on the table casually, not grinding back but letting Khalil use him as his plaything.

Just love me
I wanna be with you

I wanna be with -

Floating back into your sensual body, you opened your eyes and met Scar's luminescent gaze, looking longingly like he wanted to swallow you whole. You gave him a small smile, holding his gaze as you maintained your slow grinding against Karma's thigh to the rhythm.

He was looking very, very disrespectfully.

It sent a thrill of pleasure through you, knowing what you were doing to him.

I wanna be with you, ayy

I wanna be with -
Love me

Karma turned, pressing her back up against your front, the arm that was draped over your shoulder twisting smoothly to wrap around the back of your neck instead. You both swayed to the music, her fine ass grinding against your crotch, meeting each other with the beat. Karma was hot, obviously, but your personalities together would end up lighting a trash fire. For you, there was a difference between someone being attractive and actually being attracted to them.

No, the object of your desire was blinking slowly, realizing he had gone rigid and loosening up again, mimicking Sinth and leaning against the table on one elbow, his drink in the other hand, face flush and practically sweating, trying not to lose his shit. As the song played on, Karma eventually broke away from you and made her way over to Scar, starting to dance up on him.

His body went rigid again. He was not having it.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, as you edged closer back to the tables, glancing at Scar before grinding up on Khalil the same way you and Karma had been interlocked. Khalil was feeling himself up as he moved like waves rolling through him, his hands tracing along his neck, over his collarbones, and down his chest.

You wondered who he was dancing for, if anyone.

Or maybe he was just dancing for himself.

Karma gave Scar a playful shove for being boring and made her way over to Sinth. Behind him, Ekko was leaning against the table, out of everyone's line of fire, but smirking, watching everyone having fun.

Yours and Scar's gazes collided, and the heat was overwhelming, the music pulling you toward him like he was the center of the Universe, the electric pulse from which all the beats in your blood cells were born. You stuck your tongue between your teeth, eyeing him as you swayed closer. He looked down at you through half-lidded eyes that said, Come here and What are you waiting for?

If I didn't ride blade on curb, would you still - love me?
If I minimized my net worth, would you still - love me?

You moved into his space, and your heart would have been racing if you weren't already loose and feeling good from the vibes. Falling back into his orbit felt like coming back home. The lyrics were silly in this verse, but you didn't care, smirking softly up at him as you draped an arm around those strong shoulders, sliding yourself between his legs. He pressed that huge paw of a hand lightly at your lower back, letting you move and do your thing. You rocked your hips slowly into his to the beat, your hand wrapped around the back of his collar as you ground close to him, gaze lowering to watch his thighs tense, closing the gap between your bodies and feeling the heat searing between you two.

Keep it a hundred

I’d rather you trust me than to -

love me

You brought your gaze back up to his, searching like he had the answers, if you both just had enough time.

Keep it a whole one hund'

don't got you,

I got nothin'

You moved your hand up his neck, cupping his jaw and pressing a thumb to his lips, caressing as you continued grinding on him. You could feel him getting hard through his jeans and you could feel your own slick and heat building below. He leaned down towards you, pressing your foreheads together as you kept moving to the music, your mouths fallen open, shared breaths hot and heavy.

Knock it out twice, I’m with it
Only for the night, I’m kiddin'

You smiled into his mouth, teeth crashing and clacking before running your lips roughly against his - hungry, teasing, letting you play with him.

Only for life, yeah, homie for life, yeah
Only for life, let’s get it

He cut your teasing short with a flick of his tongue licking hotly into your mouth, exploring the warmth behind your teeth and under your tongue, before kissing you like you had no business doing anything else. You absolutely melted, letting him take the lead now, his large palm cupping the nape of your neck as he drew you closer, deepening the kiss.

Am I in the way?
I don't wan' pressure you none
I want your blessing today

Love me

You made out in each other's arms, reveling in the feel of your bodies pressed close, hands roaming to massage and squeeze every curve your hands discovered, had always known.

Give me a run for my money
There is nobody, no one to outrun me

You broke away from the kiss, leaving him panting for breath as you turned your back to him, pressing up against the front of his body and holding him close behind you. You ran your fingernails along the skin at the nape of his neck covered in a thin layer of sweat, and you felt his breath heavy against your neck. Still rocking to the music, your hips following every drop of the beat, you pressed your ass against the firm bulge in his jeans, grinding into him with purpose. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fingers twisting into the belt loops at your hips, no longer able to contain himself and grinding back, following your lead to the rhythm while holding your hips flush against him.

Like you were his, like you belonged there.

So give me a run for my money
Sippin' bubbly, feelin’ lovely, livin' lovely
Just love me

You tilted your head up to the side, leaning in to brush your lips against his jaw. He nuzzled into your hair, pressing his nose into the skin behind your ear, sending warm shivers down your spine. Your hips settled and you relaxed your grinding. You let go of his neck and held onto his forearms wrapped around you, resting back into his warmth.

Everything had fallen away - your friends, the patrons, The Last Drop.

It was just the two of you, swaying slowly now to the music, like you had all the time in the world.

I wanna be with you, I wanna be with
Just love me, just love me, just love me

Chapter Text

As your group closed out the night, weaving your way through the throng of folks still mingling outside The Last Drop, you took stock of your dwindling company. Sinth had disappeared for the night, whether his hookup was actually husband material remaining to be seen. Karma had also slipped off with this barrel-chested, hulk of a man who gave off Pitfighter vibes - you made a mental note to check-in on her later tomorrow, 'case she couldn't walk. That left Khalil and Ekko, the former's arm slung around the Firelight leader's shoulders, smiling with pride and a conspiratorial look on his face. Ekko had made a move on the mystery mage, and though he didn't do anything rash like go home with him, he had made plans to meetup later in the week. You had to respect Ekko's game - he wore style and class like the gloves on his steady hands and it suited him.

The two of them walked ahead, getting a lead on one of the many routes to the tunnels.

That left you and Scar. After your little spectacle on the makeshift dance floor, Scar had tried to straighten up and compose himself, but your friends' smug gazes told him in no uncertain terms to cut the bullshit. You smiled to yourself, watching his mouth twitch and his muzzle pull down like he'd tasted something sour, then he'd sighed, downed his last glass of whiskey, and buried his face into your neck, wrapping his arms around you from behind, mooning over you unabashed. Your friends had hollered and howled like dogs, and he'd given them the finger. You'd just leaned into his warmth. Your body was flush with his heat and you did not care.

The two of you walked steadily down the tunnels, leaning into each other, talking quietly in hush voices about your friends' prospects for the night. You'd already placed bets, eyeing each other with a gleam of amusement in your eyes. At some point, your arms had brushed, fingertips touching, and soon, you were holding hands until you arrived back to base. Your head spun. You were still pleasantly drunk, but you knew it was the high of Scar's attention and electrical energy plugged into yours that was overwhelming your system.

**

You all but crashed into Scar's living room, shutting and locking the door behind you.

Your mouths found each other's again, locking in wet and soft and sensual. His tongue tasted like whiskey, hints of smoke and spices, as if to prove that his was a body born of fire and steel. He held your face as he kissed you, palms burning and almost possessive, thumbs digging into your jaw so the light prick of his claws against your skin only sharpened the ache in your lower belly - a desire to be utterly consumed and to consume. His claws raked their familiar groves through your hair, sending a pleasant tingling sensation down your body and more warmth blooming down your neck.

"Taya...?" you asked, breaking away for a moment to catch your breath.

You were panting, looking into his eyes that glowed like a predator tailing its prey and fuck, did it make you want to bite first.

Even as you asked Scar a question, you couldn't help but catch his lower lip between your teeth and suck languidly, pulling a low rumble out of him that vibrated through his chest. You relished in the fact that you could drink him in now with unbarred awe and adoration - and probably emboldened by the liquor still swirling through your veins, although you'd cut yourself off early and would soon start sobering up. His fur was velvet soft as always against your skin, and the sharp cut of his cheekbones carving a cavern of untouched secrets made you want to both trace along its walls with your tongue and nuzzle your face under the safety of its shelter. You didn't know how he could stir all kinds of hunger out of you at once, but you didn't really care, just that it was you who got to taste all of him.

"Staying with Nialee." His words came out mumbled through your hold on his mouth. With the parts of him that were free, he ran his hands up your torso, back down tracing your waist, then lower to firmly grasp your hips, tugging at your ass that had been teasing him all night, drawing your bodies flush against each other.

He tugged roughly like he wanted you to know how he felt about that. 

"Oh?" you said, finally releasing his lip and smirking. "Convenient timing."

"I had...hopes," he admitted, grinning until you pulled him down closer by the front of his collar, tugging it lower and mouthing along his throat, the slight hitch in his breath doing terrible things to your brain. You licked warmth into that sweet cove at the top of his throat, dragging your tongue to trace that deadly jawline, and then taking a sensitive earlobe into your mouth, licking around the metal piercing and worrying the skin between your teeth. He gave a harsh groan, hips rolling involuntarily against yours as he tipped his head back. He bore his throat vulnerably to you in need, in request, claws tightening against your body.

"I thought so," you murmured, grinning to yourself and working your way back across his throat, leaving a trail of firm bites - enough pressure for him to feel you here and here and here, but not enough to bruise, even if you wanted to. You could ruin the Firelight's Second another day, you were sure. Tonight, you wanted to savor every part of him you could touch.

"They're - sensitive," he finally croaked, another small gasp escaping him as you began sucking his other lobe into your mouth. His hips rolled into yours again, and a soft moan escaped your throat as his bulge pressed between your legs.

Those luminescent eyes were closed, those lashes like crescent moons cast in shadow, his thick muzzle fallen loose with pleasure, his whole body giving in to your touch.

Fuck, he was beautiful like this.

It made you feel dizzy and wicked with power.

You wanted to bring him to his knees.

"Scar," you managed through the haze of lust and want consuming you and which was entirely his fault.

"Mm?" Those dark lashes fluttered open, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you.

"Move." You pulled away and then pushed him towards that stupid couch - and then you stopped.

"Are - are those pillows?" you asked, your voice swinging upwards at the end in high amusement. Three patchworked pillows hunched over themselves like sacks of flour on the bench.

Couch. A real couch now. Almost.

"What - yes," he muttered.

"When did...? Between Wednesday and today?"

"Shut up," he said, but there was no bite to it. Maybe just mild embarrassment and a hint of pride, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"I - I don't know what to say," you said, as if he had just surprised you with a new house. "I'm...I had no idea you wanted to be this serious."

One of those pillows hit your face with a soft thud before gravity made it plop to the floor. You laughed, unable to help yourself, before tossing it back onto the couch, grinning widely.

"I don't know why you're like this," Scar said, eyeing you like you might also pull a knife on him, and he would like to see you try.

"Mmm but apparently you like this, so joke's on you," you said smoothly. He blinked, slow, like he was considering throwing you down on the couch and seeing what you were made of. You laughed and grabbed his face, pulling him into a sweet kiss before he could follow through with that train of thought.

It was thoughtful as hell. It made your goddamn heart want to burst into a million butterflies, it was almost sickening.

You were still laughing into his mouth, pressing that wild elation into the swell of his tongue with your own, when that joy quickly turned back into an aching want as your kisses became rougher. You pushed him towards the couch, hands firm against that solid chest, and he pulled you in the same direction, claws tugging you by the belt loops. You haphazardly shuffled together until the backs of his knees hit the couch. In one swift movement, you climbed into his lap as he scooped you against him with one arm, the other bracing himself against its back so you could still make out on the way down without breaking your jaws on impact.

You couldn't stop smiling into his mouth from how good his body felt. He leaned back, giving your hands free reign to massage the mountain range of tough muscle along his shoulders, his chest, his abs, reveling in the soft velvet of his fur.

How could someone be so dangerously hard and yet so unendingly soft at the same time? It was maddening. It was a diabolical combination that lit up all the wires in your brain and sparked an electrical fire spiked with Shimmer. The breathy sounds of your shared moans - here soft, now rough - and hands ruffling over and under clothing pulsed liquid heat through your cunt, and then you were rolling your hips into him, slick pooling more and more as you rode against that massive python of a cock he was hiding.

You had gone back to sucking at his lobes and twisting the soft tips of his ears between your fingers until he ached, making him growl lowly and buck against you, but it wasn't enough.

You needed more.

You needed to lick every fucking inch of him he would allow. And you thought he would allow quite a lot.

You braced your hands against those shoulders carved from the weight of packed iron and combat, then pulled back for a moment for air. Scar was splayed out across the couch, his thin, plum dark lips now kiss-swollen and overall looking a little wrecked. His sharp teeth glinted at you like a threat as he caught his breath.

He was perfect.

"You good?" he said, voice low and husky, eyes hooded.

"So good," you said faintly, running your thumb along his slick bottom lip, his clawed fingers circling your wrist, just to maintain contact. Janna, it made you ache.

You locked eyes with him, then slowly broke out of his grasp as you slid down off him, sinking to the floor between his knees. His chest rose and fell rapidly, watching you in near disbelief.

"Take this off," you said, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Without hesitation, he pulled it off in one smooth, fluid motion like he'd stripped for an audience a thousand times, staring back at you with heat as your eyes followed the movement, tracing the lines of his cut abs you had just spent the last ten minutes committing to memory.

"Think you're hot shit?" you teased.

"Word on the street," he said. "Can't confirm or deny."

"Mmph - collar on or off?"

"On," he said slyly. You bit your lip grinning, leaning forward and looping your finger through a leather buckle, pulling him into a kiss. Your hands traced down his torso, down the lips of his jeans, and then palmed his erection, a wave of heat blazing in your lower belly again at the sheer heft of him. He groaned and licked his lips, pushing his hips up to meet the pressure of your touch, the muscles of his lower abdomen clenching slightly.

The sight of it made you drool stupidly.

You swallowed.

"Scar."

"Mm?"

"I need you in my mouth." You were breathless, fumbling at the button of his jeans.

"Janna's hell."

"You want that?" Your voice curled around his ears, licked at his throat.

You leaned forward, licking and biting in intervals at his bare waist, squeezing the muscles of his thighs as if to convince him, because he was still looking at you in mild disbelief - or maybe fear, but of what? His jeans finally popped open, revealing his fully hard cock tenting his briefs, a smear of pre-cum coloring the fabric.

Fuck, if you did not get him in your mouth in the next thirty seconds.

"Yes?" you asked.

"Are you sure?" he said, his eyes catching yours, searching for certainty. The way his hips angled perfectly for you, almost bottoming out, told you exactly what he wanted, even if his mind was...you didn't know, trying to be a fucking gentleman?

"Are you serious?" You licked at his V cut, tongue tracing the line of his briefs. His breaths were coming shallow and sharp through gritted teeth. Then you pressed your open mouth around the large bulge of his cock through the fabric, taking in the size of him as more slick pooled between your legs.

He groaned, his cock pulsing hotly between your lips.

"Shit," he breathed, hand running through your hair and along the back of your head. "Fuck, yes. Okay yes."

You laughed and moved lower still, mouthing at the fat sack of his balls through cloth. He hissed, thighs tensing, grip tightening around your hair.

You didn't know why he was being shy - or maybe in his mind, honorable and chaste about it - but you were about to change that.

You took the elastic waistband of his briefs between your teeth and tugged it over the meat you'd wanted to swallow since you first saw it months ago - and if you were being honest with yourself, long before that. The first tug revealed a thick, soft patch of darker fur above the base, making your eyes flutter and your breath catch.

"Fuuuuck," you murmured, pressing your nose into its thickness and breathing in his scent. It was intimate, a heavier musk than the rest of him, but that only made it more delicious, goosebumps spreading across your flesh from the sensation. "So soft."

He breathed out a laugh, then deadpanned, "Thanks."

"I'm serious," you insisted, rubbing your face into the fur one more time, feeling the blood course through him just beneath. "A+ plus."

He gave a firm slap on your cheek, and you both grinned at each other, all teeth and tongue. You resumed your mouth's grip on his waistband.

After the second tug, his cock throbbed, massive and foreboding as it sprung free. It was colored similarly to the rest of him, except a dusty purple that darkened towards the head into the same lovely plum shade of his lips. Thick veins bled the colors even deeper, an amethyst sky lit up with obsidian lightning. Your breath hitched at the absolutely majestic look of it, something you could barely process the first time.

Janna, even his cock was hot and beautiful.

Drool pooled beneath your tongue as you took him in hand, reveling at another throb in response to your touch. With the other hand, you tugged the briefs down giving you just enough access to him, gazing at his face through your eyelashes, a silent request to leave the rest on - this dirty image of him half-dressed and getting blown making your toes curl.

He quirked an eyebrow, bringing his hand to your jaw and dragging a claw-tipped finger along your lips - an invitation.

You leaned down, the salty, milky scent of him making your mouth drop open instinctively. You locked eyes with his, tonguing the pre-cum dripping at his slit, long and slow. He gasped, and you could see his Adam's apple pulley and catch on the air on its way down. Some of your spitfire must have flipped a switch in his brain, because he finally started to relax. He gripped the back of the couch behind him, and it short-circuited your brain a bit to see him splayed out before you, the hewn trunks of his thighs wide open on either side, bracing with his elbows bent next to his head, rock hard biceps, traps, pecs - all of him wound up and ready, unabashed in taking his pleasure, whatever you wanted to give him.

If you could burn this image of him into the backs of your eyelids, your own beautiful, filthy secret every time you blinked, you would.

You took the fat head of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around its firm curves, sucking just the tip in and out until his eyes fluttered and practically crossed from the teasing. You grinned, sucking languidly before releasing it with a pop from your mouth, earning a whimper.

Yes, a goddamn whimper.

"You doing okay?" you teased.

"Never better," he said through gritted teeth, canines gleaming in the low-light.

You chuckled, then returned to the thick cock that had been occupying your dreams as of late. It was within your power to make him beg, but this was all pretty new between the two of you, so you decided to learn him instead. You held him firmly, licking slow, hot stripes along the underside of his shaft, pulling more tight noises from his throat. You moaned around his flesh, drinking in the textures along your tongue, at points smooth and slick and then raised with his swollen veins.

Finally, you took him hot and raw into your mouth until half of him was sitting pretty on your tongue. He gave an involuntary thrust up inside you, his soft moans sounding so good in your ears. Your head bobbed on his cock, pumping him into you slow and tight. He started grinding his hips up into you, the large paw of his hand massaging the back of your neck, clawing up the nape and making your scalp tingle with pleasure.

God, he was big. You thought of spearing fish, impaled on a sharpened wooden tip straight through, and if you had a choice of how you'd go down, it would be this exactly: getting impaled on his dick down your throat, no questions asked. You loved the weight of him pressing your tongue and making your jaw ache, the way his flesh throbbed with heat, stretching your lips to accommodate his thick girth. His taste was a mixture of sweat and salt and something undeniably Scar, like the sharp sting of smoke, like something licked in flames. All of it made you feral. You peered up at him, wanting to see all of him, every flicker of expression on those strong features, every time his large, pink ears trembled with pleasure as he jerked from your touch. 

You fisted his cock, working him further into you. "Janna" was an expression you used colloquially among Zaunites, and you didn't quite pinpoint a god for yourself among the many religions and deities you'd come across, but this - this was your nirvana. You loved how his beast of a body trembled under you, how he was weak for your touch, how it pulled sounds from his mouth made specifically for you. This was the kind of power move you could get into. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, underwater with lust and want and looking like he never wanted to resurface again.

His thrusts into your mouth were steady, shallow, breathing heavily and careful not to completely suffocate you. He didn't know yet that you wouldn't have minded.

So you thought you'd let him know.

Without warning, you swallowed him like your favorite dessert hitting the back of your throat. You gagged for a moment as he swore from the sensation, then paused his thrusting, loosening his grip on your neck, but you just held up a finger.

Gimme a sec.

Spit pooled in your mouth, dripped down your chin, and your eyes stayed on him as you breathed intently through your nose. It'd been a minute since you'd deep throated, and literally no one was asking you to, but you needed this. Your throat and nasal cavity readjusted to the intrusion while you breathed. It was almost too much, the size overwhelming, and you pulled off for a minute, letting your gag reflex pull through you and grimacing.

"Hey," he said softly, voice edged with worry. "You don't have to" -

"I want to," you panted, looking up at him with puppy eyes that you could regret later. "I need to. Just - help me out a little?"

He blinked slowly, measuring the look in your eyes before biting his fangs down into his bottom lip and nodding.

"Yeah, okay," he said, voice heavy with want. "What do you need?"

"Patience," you said thinly. "If you let me play around with you a little. Might take a few tries, but I've done it before. You're just - really thick."

He nodded, all words seemingly stuck in his throat. His dick throbbed in your grip at that, a deep flush blooming across his chest.

"Mmm you like that, don't you?" you murmured. "When I'm nice to you?"

"Shut up," he said, cheeks reddening and yet still thick in your fist. You laughed and turned your attention back to his dick.

Slick dripped down the head, and you slathered the mix of spit and pre-cum along the rest of his length, pumping him smooth in your grasp.

You tongued the underside again drawing him back in, painfully slowly, letting spit pool around his length, beneath your tongue. You tried again, sliding him further down until you felt him as a hot, firm pressure under your nasal cavity. You breathed steadily through your nose before inching him back a little more. He gave a strained grunt from above you, claws digging pinpricks into your neck, which felt delicious but was also a distraction, heat tugging at your groin. You pulled him out slightly, tapping his fingers to release his grip. His fingers slackened.

You popped off momentarily and his hips twitched with the movement.

"One more time, just don't distract me," you admonished.

"Kind of hard not to," he rasped. "You feel - so good wrapped around me."

Your heart and stomach fluttered.

"Okay, so imagine that times ten," you teased. "You're strong, I believe in you."

He slapped your cheek again, a little rougher this time, and you grinned.

This time, when you got his cock to that point just past being able to breathe through your nose, you stretched the muscles of your throat and inhaled as you swallowed around the head instead. His claws dug into your scalp, sending warm shivers down your spine, which served to further relax you into the movement. You released him a little, but still held him heavy on your tongue.

Oh, that worked nicely.

You smirked and nodded at him. He blinked down at you, panting with want. You moved with a rhythm now, Scar's dick sliding in and out of your mouth, swallowing when the head hit the back of your throat. You still felt your gag reflex trigger every now and then, eyes watering a little, but you didn't let him stop, bringing his hand firmly behind your head to fuck into your mouth the way he wanted to. He groaned thickly, digging his claws into your shoulders and picking up the pace, muscles shaking, a sheen of sweat dampening his fur and slicking his skin. His moans rumbled deep in his chest, hips grinding up into the cavern of your mouth. You matched his rhythm and he snarled with need and unraveling ecstasy.

You popped off for a second and he let out a low whine.

"So needy," you teased and he flipped you the bird. You grinned, then got up from your knees.

"Switch," you said, voice and throat aching. "I want you standing and fucking into my mouth like you mean it."

He breathed out your name like you were an oasis after drowning in seas of sand. And you could be his oasis, a wet watering hole for him to seek some sweet relief. You would give him that. You would give him anything if he asked.

He pushed himself up and you swapped. The couch would be stupid hard under your knees if not for the pillows, and that lizard part of your brain wondered if he had planned this all along. The idea of it made you even wetter.

You pulled him down by the collar again, kissing him and letting him taste himself as he groaned into your mouth.

"Don't hold back," you whispered hotly into his ear. "I want to feel you - all of you. At full capacity."

"I'm not trynna kill you," he said, and you grinned wickedly at that. Fuck, marry, kill - you would take all three.

"I can take it - and if I can't, if it's too much, I'll tap out. Promise."

He held your gaze for a moment, both of you still lost in a haze of lust. He seemed satisfied with that.

Finally you pulled back and got level with his dick, gripping that tight ass to draw him closer before taking him in and sliding him back into place, both of you groaning to be held, to be filled with each other again. He held onto you with hands on either side of your head, firm but without force. His claws dug deliciously into your scalp, skin tingling until you were seeing stars. He adjusted inside you, knees slightly bending and hips forward so he was sliding perfectly in and out of you. He fucked into your mouth at a steady pace, then thrusted faster, hitting a rhythm and tempo that made you drool thickly as you surrendered to his whims and weight at full capacity, practically blacking out from the high of being used.

The head of his cock hit the back of your throat a few times, broken moans falling out of him, before he choked out, "Think you can - fuck - hold it there, for a sec?"

You blinked up at Scar, steeling yourself and taking deep, steady inhales through your nose. Then you nodded. He thrusted as deep as he could into you, plugging up the back of your throat with his thick cock. You held it there, trembling and swallowing instinctively, gulping down air with the movement. You moaned, the vibrations resounding against your teeth and into his flesh, and his whole abdomen clenched, his torso trembling.

"So good," he rasped, a thumb caressing your cheek. "So good for me. You're fucking perfect."

You would have grinned up at him if your mouth wasn't currently occupied. Finally, he let you go and you gagged as he slid out, letting you breathe.

"Sorry," he panted.

You shook your head, gasping for breath. "Worth it. I love - having you in my mouth."

He thumbed your jaw again, looking adoringly down at you.

"I wanna make you cum," you murmured, which split that warm, adoring look right in half with a sharp heat glinting in his eyes.

You guided him back into your mouth, his hands back around your head. He thrusted slowly, with purpose, letting the head just breech your lips before pulling out again, doing it several times, hissing sharply each time. You were sure as hell cataloguing all of this for later. Soon he was pounding back at full tempo and you could feel him quickly building towards his climax, all of the teasing and deepthroating easing him closer and closer to his edge and holding him there, full and ready to burst. He fucked relentlessly into your mouth, whole body shaking and dripping sweat. You reached up to massage his knot, tugging at them until he was groaning through clenched teeth.

"Where?" he bit out. Where can I cum?

You nodded your head, gripping his length firmly into you, daring him to try and spill anywhere else. He growled and nodded, pumping into you until his hips began to stutter. At the last moment, you released your grip on his tight knot, which had drawn up against him, and then slid your hand further, massaging the firm curve of his perineum, then further back still, stretching your middle finger to massage that tight ring of muscle, pressing into the bundle of nerves at his entrance.

He jerked hard at that familiar threat of intrusion, a choked sound wetting his throat. You watched as his stomach muscles clenched, and then his hot release was spurting erratically against your tongue and down your throat. You both moaned thickly from the heat of each other. You swallowed down the sticky, saltiness of him as it came, pumping his cock with one hand while still massaging firm circles at his hole, his thighs trembling violently. He growled lowly with the sound of animalistic pleasure only a true predator could release. His hips rode out his orgasm, rolling back into your touch then rocking forward into your mouth, the long, low growl reverberating from deep within his chest.

At last, he was spent and he collapsed forward, cupping your face and pressing his forehead to yours again with a tenderness that turned you boneless. He was panting, licking at your mouth, cleaning the mess of his cum that didn't make it fully down to your belly. You moaned a laugh into his lips at that, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, dizzy with his heat, grasping his strong hands where he held you.

He closed his eyes, fanning hot breaths across your jawline, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. You did the same, your mouth grateful for air, jaw aching but deeply satisfied with your work.

"What...the fuck," he murmured, half awe, half amusement. "The fuck was that."

You grinned into his mouth and kissed him long and wet and slow.

"That good, huh?" you said cheekily once you pulled away.

Those jade eyes became half moons as he smirked at you, heat still burning in his gaze. Then without warning, he wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you over his shoulder, walking towards the bedroom.

"Scar!" you gasped, "You asshole, put me down."

"I will," he said easily. He knew you hated being carried, what kind of reward was this? So short of aftercare.

"You're gonna make me hurl all your cum onto the floor," you groused.

He snorted from your dramatic ass.

"S'ok, I got more for you," he said wickedly. You pounded a fist against his shoulder blade and he just laughed.

His room was dimly lit, moonlight glowing outside his window. He deposited you more gently onto his bed than you thought he would. You still huffed out your indignation.

He pulled off his jeans, tucking himself back into his briefs before he joined you on the bed. You were still sitting up, leaning towards him on one hand. He sat cross legged in front of you, limbs loose and relaxed from his release. He watched you, eyes tracing the outline of your body, a hand coming out to cup your chin, running a thumb against your jawline.

Your eyes met, looking softly at each other in the quiet darkness. Your smiles nearly broke with tenderness. You adjusted your sitting position, lifting onto your knees and nudging forward till you were resting partially in his lap, hands gripping his massive thighs, running them along the muscle and tracing them with a firm pressure, learning each one.

You pressed your forehead against his face, tucking into that cavern below the steep hill of his cheeks, and you both closed your eyes, taking in each other's scent and the warm feel of each other. After a moment, he bumped his nose, that adorable snout, into yours, then nuzzled against you, a soft purr vibrating through his chest.

"You do purr," you said in wonder, and he gave a soft laugh, nuzzling deeper into you. You nuzzled him back, warmth and bliss blooming in your head, making you high off everything that was him - his velvet soft fur, his tough muscles beneath your fingers, the cozy softness of his nose, his warm breaths grazing your cheeks, the heady musk of him, sweat and salt, spices and smoke.

You settled into each other's presence like this. Slow, soft, quiet.

"How you feeling?" he asked, his voice the familiar warm coals beneath a fire.

You traced your fingers over the curves of his cheekbones, the lines of his jaw, the dip of his brows.

"Like - I'm back home," you said honestly, the vulnerability pulling at you, softening your voice.

He hummed at that, purring deeply in his chest.

"Been waiting for you," he whispered, voice almost breaking, but it held. His green luminescent eyes found yours, like you'd given him the moon.

Chapter Text

After Scar had drank in his fill of you, his hands ran up the back of your neck, drawing you into a tender kiss. You made out, slow and sensual, in the middle of his bed, the darkness settling in totality around you. It was like nothing else existed but his cool bedsheets beneath your skin and the lucid, all consuming sensation of your tongues stroking against each other's, pooling warmth between you. 

You were floating underwater again.

At one point, you finally came up for air.

Then - "That's two-zero."

Scar choked out a breath like you'd punched him in the gut. You laughed against his shoulder, then pulled back to look at him. His eyes slit into predator, glinting almost menacingly.

"That can quickly be rearranged," he said, fire rekindling in his throat.

"Oh?"

He leaned in and latched his mouth along your throat, pushing the wide plain of his firm chest against you until he was pressing you down into the mattress, sinking his hulking weight just enough for you to feel the gravity of him.

Fuck. Okay, death by impalement or by getting bodied, absolutely smothered, by Scar. Either, or. It was close.

"Scar," you breathed, your heart racing from the sudden heat of him, your legs already spreading open against his hips. You were throbbing hotly against each other through the damp fabric separating you.

"Fuck," he murmured, sounding like he was floating under the surface again. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Just for you," you gasped as he began trailing hot kisses along your jaw, down your neck, overwhelming you with his entire presence. He ground against you like a threat, his cock making the fabric slide teasingly against your clit.

A low whine escaped your mouth. You could feel his sharp grin against your neck. God, you wanted him inside you so bad, you wanted him to fill you, consume you. But there was also something tugging at you, your mind registering the slight haze across it, now that you'd come down from the high of wanting - and getting to - consume him.

"Scar," you breathed again, "Hold on."

He finished the last suck of skin against your throat before pausing and pulling back to look at you, ears flicking curiously.

"Yeah - you okay?"

"Yeah, no, I'm good, I'm just - can we...talk first?" you asked, that evil part of your brain telling you you were being lame, but the part of you that knew better pushing forward. "And maybe, hold off, just for tonight?"

He blinked in mild surprise, and then nodded, lifting himself off of you before you could form the words or move to keep him right where you wanted him.

"Yeah, 'course," he said, falling onto his back beside you, the mattress dipping like a sunken anchor. His brows had started knitting in concern, mouth slightly frowning, like he was wondering if he had done something wrong. You also sensed a tinge of hurt running through the electric current of his body. You wanted to kiss it all away.

"Oh fuck - babe, no I -" you started, then stopped, the term of endearment slipping out of your mouth catching you both off guard.

Well, here you were. You had arrived. Can't take it back now, and you thought - you were hoping - it was okay if you didn't. It was enough of a shock to shake him out of his spiraling. His ears twitched, a soft look in his eyes.

"Sorry, I -"

"No, it's okay," he said quietly, a weight to how he looked at you. "It sounds - nice."

Your face burned, and even if you wanted to respond to that, your throat wouldn't let you. 

You cleared your throat and pressed on.

"I want to," you assured him, sitting up and leaning your forearm against his chest so you could read that beautiful, heart-stopping face of his. "Like bad. For a long time."

He blinked again, mouth twitching slightly, eyebrow quirking like you'd issued him a challenge.

I can last.

"I mean, I've wanted to for a long time," you clarified, fighting down the smirk on your face. He watched you, waiting. "I just wanna be able to feel all of you, I'm still kind of -" you gestured hazily around your head "- not stone cold sober yet."

And you wanted to be stone cold sober when he fucked you, so you could feel every thick inch of him.

You didn't say it. You didn't have to. It hung in the air, loud and clear. Your heartrate was still a little escalated.

"Fair," he said, after a moment, a small smile tugging at his mouth now. You swallowed, then leaned over him, kissing up his shoulders, his neck, his jawline. You hovered over him for a moment, then placed a final, gentle kiss on his forehead. He closed his eyes.

"And - there are some things," you began again, lying back against the sheets now, feeling your body give from all the exertion you put it through tonight. Dancing, grinding, getting absolutely plowed in the throat. It had to be almost two in the morning.

"Some things that I'm kind of nervous about." You glanced at him, then looked back at the ceiling. You felt it, before you saw it, the mattress sloping again as Scar turned onto his side to face you. His eyes, almost glowing in the dim light, fell intently on you. The familiar smell of his sweat and musk and warmth was comforting.

"Tell me," he said softly.

Your heart was hammering and you didn't know why. You knew Scar. He knew you. And yet there was still the core of you, grasping around for stability, needing to know you were safe. Slowly, he drew his large palm across your chest, to the top of your sternum, over your rapidly beating heart, confirming your suspicion that he could hear everything between your ribs. He applied gentle but firm pressure to the area, and you breathed into the whole expanse of his hand, as if he'd done this a hundred times and not the first.

Then warmth spread across your chest, bringing sweet, tingling relief. Your shoulders relaxed, dropping back into the sheets, your heart beat steadying. You looked up at him, fear mingled with affection bursting like sharp sunlight from behind your eyes.

"You can tell me," he repeated gently, slowly taking his hand back. "I want to know. I wanna know you - more."

Fuck, if that didn't make you want to jump his bones right then and there. Your heart fluttered, more heat rising up your neck, sure that your face was on fire. It was wild - how you could know each other so well, an entire lifetime it felt, and yet there was still more to learn, still so much unknown.

What a terrible, vulnerable, precious thing it was to be known.

A beat.

"It's like - trans things," you sighed, then took another deep breath. "It's not bad, it's -" 

"- I didn't think it was," he assured you.

"Right." You tore your gaze from the ceiling, trying to be brave and look at him. Those luminescent orbs stared back with piercing focus, like he was flipping back through the pages of your storybook, finding where he last left off, steadily waiting for the rest of you to unfold.

Janna.

"So...you - everyone, really - have always been great with like, using any pronouns for me," you said slowly. "You all just kind of cycle through them, and it feels really good. You're not just sticking to one or leaning on whatever might feel most comfortable for you, I guess."

He nodded, listening, ears pinning back in a way that made you want to squeeze his face and kiss him hard.

But you held.

"It doesn't make sense logically, you've never given me any reason to fear otherwise," you said, then dropped your gaze, searching for the right words. Or really, mustering the courage to say them. "But I dunno, I think I have this general fear that you - or anyone - might like, fuck me or treat me like I'm a woman in bed or something. Does that make sense?"

It made sense to you. It'd happened before, people using words in the middle of sex that just felt fucking weird and kind of told you exactly how they perceived you, no matter how much respectful pronoun-ing they did. Or assuming you'd be down for certain acts or positions, and not others. Granted, you were usually already drunk, which was a whole other thing you didn't want to think about right now, so there wasn't much room for coherent conversation around it. But also, why would you have to initiate? Why couldn't it just be like, a regular thing people talked about? You were tired of that kind of responsibility when all you wanted was to just exist.

You almost gave a world weary sigh.

And then you centered yourself. Because right now, here in Zaun, in the Firelight base, in Scar's bedroom, in Scar's bed, Scar made you feel safe enough to take this opportunity to try. And that was a start. It wouldn't change all of Runeterra in one go. But it was monumental in itself, a ripple of courage in your corner of the world.

The sentiment was still hanging heavy in the air, waiting to be shot down.

Then, Scar let out a long exhale, almost like relief, which only made you freeze in place.

He said your name like it was as familiar as the sandy shores along the River Pilt, like the skies over Zaun.

"I don't see you as a woman - you know that, right?" he said softly, voice low like smoke trailing across your skin.

"Yeah. I know. Mostly?" you said, a nervous laugh seeping out of you before you could stop yourself. It fell flat against the sheets.

"I don't see you as a man either, if that helps," he clarified, dragging his gaze across your face, like trust and belief began there. You nodded, suddenly feeling small, like a child who just wanted to curl into his chest and stay there, hidden and safe. Furever.

His chest was massive - you and Taya could share.

"I'm not trying to be cliche, but I just see - you," he said, dead honest as his spear breaching its intended target. "Since we've met, I've known you as this fuckin' weirdo that I still can't entirely wrap my head around, and it's like" - he paused, and you knew what he wanted to say, Shimmer, but he stopped himself - "catnip for my brain."

You huffed out a laugh at that, looking up at him slyly like you'd been caught. 'Cause well, it was true. You couldn't be queer and trans without being a little weird in an offbeat, usually disarming way. It just came with the territory, and he got that.

"Tell me if this isn't helping, and I'll stop," he said suddenly, looking down at you seriously, frowning.

"No, it is," you said. "I think - I know these things, but it helps to hear them, too."

He smiled at that. Then he gave you this look, fragile as glass, a little bemused, a little broken open along the cracks.

"You're...you're the one holding me through some of the darkest shit of my life. You fucking spat in my face and then licked me clean like an animal before you kissed me for the first time. You untie my boots like you're five. You asked Corinth if I could have - more time...after Trina...."

His eyes seemed to burn the same neon green of the Undercity's evening sky, locked on you. "You wore Taya like you were her parent, like she was your own. You were rightfully pissed at me and Ekko, half-defected from the Firelights, and did your own thing, probably even more effective, helping more people who needed you. You grind up on Karma AND Khalil. You - fuck - you let me fuck you against the wall through your goddamn briefs, you tell me you'll 'tap out' if it's too much and...Janna, you didn't even hesitate to - with some anal play to make me cum."

That last part, he finished with a heady rasp, the recent memory heavy on his tongue. 

"I don't know whatever gender roles any of that falls into, and I don't care. I see you for all your actions, all the things you choose to do or not to do. Everything that you are. I don't - I don't think you understand what you do to me."

He was floating underwater, and he wanted you to join him, to breathe oxygen into his lungs just to know that you were real.

Your heart was jackrabbiting out of your chest, your whole body a furnace, your heart spilling over like a tsunami. And you were very, very wet - possibly more turned on by Scar's love confession and almost clinical dirty talk than you'd ever been in your life. It was like he was trying to undo you.

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk," you breathed out at length. "And the first time a goddamn soliloquy made me this wet."

He snorted out a laugh, half amusement, half edged with frustration.

"And then you do that," he grumbled, and it vibrated through his chest, into the bed. "I'm trying my best to be open and honest with you here, and you deflect."

Now you half-laughed, half-groaned.

"I'm sorry," you said, grinning sheepishly and wincing at yourself. "I'm sorry, you're right. I don't know why I do that."

"Yeah, you do," he said, not unkindly. His hands found their way into your hair, that familiar meditative rhythm, playing with tendrils between his claws as he scanned your face. "You do it when you're scared. Or when you're overwhelmed. When you don't wanna seem too soft. Or be seen for the terribly tender creature that you are."

You puffed indignantly against his face. He was right, and you wanted to make some smart remark about him psychoanalyzing you, but you were also too turned on to think coherently.

"You're just trying to get into my pants," you said shrewdly, narrowing your eyes at him.

He literally barked out a laugh. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'm doing. Is it working?"

"Very." It seemed the man was giving up on getting a serious response out of you. For now.

He smiled softly, a claw under your chin coaxing you closer, so he could capture your lips with his. The kiss was slow, tender - tempering the flaring heat in your gut just enough.

"I take it that helped, talking about it?" he said, leaning back and holding your waist, turning you so he could spoon you against his chest. You let him. It was so vulnerable for you, being held, having your back turned to someone. But you trusted Scar enough, for this.

"It did." Your voice was small but sure in the dark.

"Anything else I can do, or you wanna talk about? That will put you at ease?" His voice of coals and ash, scratching pleasantly behind your ear.

You paused for a moment, considering.

"Yeah, we can talk in the morning," you admitted. You knew exactly what you needed. You just wished it didn't take another courageous push to say it. "Like, preferences for - body parts. What to call them. Or like, how and where to touch that feels good or doesn't. Same goes for you, actually."

"Mmm," he hummed, sounding intrigued. You felt his dick twitch against your ass. "I'm into it."

"Cool."

He huffed a warm laugh against your hair, and you both fell into a comfortable quiet. You paid attention to the feel of his strong chest against your back, the way it expanded as he breathed, fur slightly damp with sweat dragging between your shoulder blades. His long, slow breaths moved rhythmically along your spine. You tried to match his pacing for a moment.

And just for a moment, it was meditative. There was space between your thoughts, the fleeting idea of safety. Then you slipped back into your plain old human breathing.

Scar said your name, a soft calling in the dark.

"Yeah?"

A beat.

"I love you," he whispered into your neck.

And god, did that feel different than when he'd said it hours ago outside The Last Drop. You had just gotten your heartrate normal, too. Your dual confessions had been casual, decorating the night air with soft string lights that shone with just the surface of your shared affection.

It was true that loving each other was nothing new.

But the way he said it.

I'm in love with you.

That - that felt different. It made your heart trip over itself, careening over the edge, falling and falling and falling, and utterly dumbfounded to feel held all the way down, a soft place to land waiting for you. A place Scar carved out for you himself.

All you could do was hum in acknowledgment and hope that he knew. Because it was late, and you were tired, and overwhelmed, and sated, and the words that could barely encompass every moment, every action of the last several years that was proof that you chose him - you had chosen him - were stuck in your throat.

So you chose easier ones instead.

"Fuck me in the morning?"

You could spend the rest of your life making him laugh, whether it was the softest huff or barking laughter at your idiocy.

"Oh, I'll destroy you, if you let me. Promise," he growled lowly into your ear, his grip around you tightening like a momentary threat.

You sighed in contentment.

"Scar?"

"Mm."

"Thank you."

It was small and soft. Genuine. And you both knew it wasn't just about the sex.

**

Throughout the night, your bodies drew together and apart, together and apart like a dance. Your limbs tangled, your breaths mingled. You rolled over and buried your face in his pillow. He flopped onto his back, an awkward starfish, taking up most of the bed. You nudged your hip against him and he curled onto his side away from you. You slung your arm around his waist, and he stretched a long arm behind him, a paw of a hand to your lower back, drawing you closer.

As morning light broke over Zaun, coloring the sky a steel gray blue, Scar had shuffled lower in bed, pressing his face against your chest, arms hugging your waist, your thighs. He breathed warm, steady breaths against your skin. You waded in the tides between sleep and wakefulness, the line where you ended and Scar began smudging like a charcoal drawing. You floated in that space, soaking in the heat of his body, the sound of his steady breathing, the early morning stillness.

Eventually, the sun rose enough to sharpen the rays of light coming through the window, piercing until flower petal veins burst across your eyelids. You opened your mouth, swallowing down the cotton feeling on your tongue. Your hands were tangled in Scar's thick hair, which had settled loosely from its usual clean sweep back. His eyes were still closed, his breathing even through that pink nose of his.

The corners of your mouth softened, and you ran your fingers in meditative strokes through his hair. His breaths took on a rougher quality. You dragged your thumb across the tops of his ears, absentmindedly twisting the velvet tips and then massaging the soft cartilage on the inside. A low rumble echoed through the entire cavern of his chest, shaking you out of your light stupor.

You huffed out a surprised laugh. Then you did it again, purposeful now, massaging firm circles into the pink of his ears.

A low growl, claws tightening, lip curling and baring his teeth. The animal in him coming to the forefront sent a thrill down your spine.

"You know what that does to me," he warned, his sleep voice breaking with heat across your flesh.

"Oh, you're awake," you said innocently. He snuggled his face deeper into your chest, intertwining his legs with yours.

"Someone couldn't let me sleep."

"Mmm, you did have a strenuous evening last night. How inconsiderate of me, I do apologize."

You stroked the tips of his ears again, massaging the soft fur behind his pierced lobes.

Another low growl, deeper this time, his thighs tensing against yours.

"I take it you've sobered up," he said slyly, lifting an eyebrow and peeking up at you, one shrewd eye open. His back and shoulders were mountain peaks glowing faintly, catching the morning light.

"It's debatable. Only one way to find out."

He huffed out a laugh.

"Yeah?"

Then, "You sleep okay?"

And it was that - every little check-in, every small act of care - that made you melt, made you want to open yourself up to him for the taking. Leave it to Scar to ask if you slept well while you're trying to get him to fuck you.

"I did," you said softly, bending your head and dragging your lips across his brows. Fuck, you adored every stupid particle of his being. "Even though you gave me like two inches of mattress. You must have slept well."

He pulled back, blinking his jade eyes open, a rare, sheepish smile spreading across his face. He looked at you lazily through slitted eyes, then stretched an arm out behind him, then all his limbs like a full stretch of bat wings before taking flight, muscles tensing momentarily, before loosely curling back around you.

"Sorry," he yawned. "Been a while since I shared a bed."

"Clearly. Not a bad thing," you said, sliding your thighs more tightly between his.

"Could teach me how to share," he murmured, pressing into your warmth. "I'm a fast learner."

"Are you now?" You tugged at his earlobe, because you could.

"Keep doing that, and I'll have to do something about it." His voice a match struck. He'd curled below you, let you hold him, but the wave of heat rolling through the muscles of that hulking body was a reminder that he was predator, not prey. And still, you dangled yourself like a piece of meat in front of his snout.

"Oh no," you deadpanned. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

He snorted, fully awake now, nudging you with his thigh. Then without preamble, "You've got too many layers on."

Your breath hitched, warmth swooping in your lower belly, but you kept your composure.

"It's basically winter. Don't tell me I'm supposed to rely on you to keep me warm when you can't even share a bed."

His ears flicked in amusement. "You're looking at it wrong. Come get on top of me and you'll see how much room we have."

Your mouth twitched, your face flushing, heat pooling at your groin.

Before you could think of a clever response, Scar asked softly, breath warm against your skin, "Can I take this off?"

His fingers at the hem of your shirt. Your eyes fluttered and you nodded, your heart skipping a beat when you remembered that you'd slipped out of your sports bra in the middle of the night. He drew the shirt carefully over your head, leaving you bare and exposed to him.

You swallowed.

Slowly, his eyes drank you in, gaze dragging across your shoulders, down your chest and torso, to the skin below your navel. Your heart was jackrabbiting against your ribs at the intensity of his stare, like he wasn't just looking at your body, but into your soul. He'd promised to destroy you, but he didn't say he'd do it so achingly slow.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathed, running his claws up and down your back, making your skin tingle with pleasure. You had nothing to say to that, so instead you leaned into his touch.

"Feel good?" he hummed.

"Amazing," you croaked, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Your nervous system had kicked into gear, trying to figure out how to coast through the air instead of jetting and burning through fuel, like you normally did. You'd been with plenty of sex partners, but not slow and intentional, not with so much tenderness. Not like this.

"Where can I touch you?" he murmured, lips grazing the skin below your collarbone. "Where do you want me?"

"Everywhere," you breathed hazily. "Just - not my chest yet."

Scar nodded, watching your face carefully, before he dragged his tongue along your collarbone, making you gasp and momentarily let go of your grasp in his hair. Your body melted.

"You?" you remembered to ask, before your brain turned to sludge.

"Don't worry about me right now," he murmured, hot breaths fanning across your chest, goosebumps rising on your flesh. "I'll let you know."

You couldn't wait.

His ears flicked and he hummed against your throat, trailing slow, searing kisses all the way up to your jaw, exploring the skin behind your ear with that eerily long tongue of his. You'd never realized how long it was before, never had a reason to. You were suddenly irrationally jealous of all his previous sex partners, a flame licking your ribcage.

He tongued your earlobe and your mind blanked, your back arching with want and thighs pressing harder against him from the way the sensation cut you loose from the inside, like the strings holding your legs closed suddenly untied, opening them wide. With every new inch of your skin that he licked, your breathing shallowed as he coaxed more and more slick from your cunt. He was enjoying taking you apart inch by inch, and he wasn't even inside of you yet.

"You're sober, yeah?" he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and making your mouth feel dry. "You feeling...all of this?"

You almost whined but caught yourself, letting out a soft groan instead. "Mmhm, yep, all of it. Stone cold sober."

He made a small noise of discontent. "You sure? How do know?"

He'd inched his way up the bed as he worked up your body, and now his deep, piercing gaze was watching yours, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Just fucking kiss me, Scar," you breathed. "Promise then I'll know."

He smirked, then pressed his lips against yours, licking across your lips and tonguing your mouth open for him, warm palms cupping your face. Your tongues met, massaging wetly before you gave and let him lick behind your teeth, under your tongue, flicking deep underneath in long, slow strokes that hit you right in the cunt, like he was licking into your folds, licking into your pussy, making you impossibly wetter. You moaned into his mouth and he rolled his hips against you in response, giving you a taste of how hard he was getting for you.

Scar continued grinding slow and sensual against you until you were nearly choking on your own breath from the pleasure building tightly in your lower belly, the heat pulsing between your legs. He dragged a hand down, curling a finger and pressing a knuckle into the soaking wet cloth of your boxer briefs, careful with his claws.

"Janna, you're fucking dripping. What do you want me to - fuck - call this?" he asked, mouth fallen open and breathing hotly against yours, also panting for breath as he throbbed against you.

Your brain short-circuited for a second from his direct touch, from the question that turned you on so much, before you recovered your voice and a semblance of coherence.

"Why," you teased, "You gonna share some of those dirty thoughts in that thick head of yours?"

"Maybe. You into it?"

"Very," you breathed.

"Mmm, good," he murmured, nuzzling his nose into yours. "So tell me. Tell me where you want me to fuck you."

You swallowed, biting into his lower lip with blooming need, arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands massaging deeply into the nape of his neck.

"For starters, you can fuck this cunt you made a soaking mess of for you," you murmured into his mouth.

He kissed you hard, open mouthed, swallowing your words into memory, stroking along your folds.

"Mmm, fuck your swollen cunt. Got it. That all?"

His tone of voice told you that he was digging into the nights you'd shared at The Last Drop, the little disclosures of shit you've tried, would like to try but haven't yet. Fuck, were those conversations going to pay off with interest.

"Up for negotiation," you said, smirking. "If it's that good, I might let you fuck my ass. Something about last night tells me you might be into it."

He growled, hips stuttering into yours for a moment, thighs trembling.

"Fuck," he swore. "Keep talking like that and you're gonna make me blow my whole load early."

You breathed out a laugh against his cheek. "Oh? That's fine. You can go again, no? I think I recall you saying something about having more cum for me anyway?"

Something in Scar snapped, his hooded eyes flashing as he looked down at you.

"Let me take these off and finger you?" he asked desperately. You let out a heady sigh, forehead falling against his before you nodded.

"Yes, please - fuck. Take yours off, too."

In seconds, you were both bare, pressing hotly into each other, flesh to flesh, legs interlocking like instinct again. Your lips locked as you rutted against the hard muscles of his thigh, sliding your folds slick and filthy against his velvet fur. You kind of forgot about getting fingered when his entire hulking furnace of a body was pressed against you like this, his heat melting into your skin. He fisted himself, fully hard now and throbbing with heat. Then he put a hand on you, stilling your grinding.

"How do you feel about - power play?" he breathed. He'd returned to tonguing your ear and fell panting against your collarbone.

"Depends what you pull out of me," you offered, running your nails into the tough muscles of his shoulders. "I know we're both switch or verse or whatever. What a fucking treat."

He grinned against the bone.

"Mind if I dom for a bit?"

You were going to drown in your own slick from all this talking, it was driving you nuts in the best way.

"Fuck - yes, do that," you groaned into his ear, making him shiver from the tickle of your breath. "But just know if you do, I'm gonna need to dick you down one of these days. You know, for balance."

A quick, throaty growl before he involuntarily bit into your flesh, his fangs sinking into your neck and sucking, breaking skin just enough as a rough groan staggered out of his throat. You gasped, nearly collapsing against him from the sensation. The bite stung, but it also twisted a blazing heat in places you hadn't expected, nipples hardening and asshole suddenly throbbing to be touched. He was making you harder than you could believe. He released his grip on his cock, your gazes catching, both of you knowing he'd been close.

So much for lasting.

"Janna, how the fuck are you this perfect?" he growled. You blushed, subconsciously biting your lip. Then he blinked, head above water for a second. "Sorry, that wasn't supposed to happen. Fuck, did I hurt you?"

"Am I bleeding? Probably. Did it make me wetter? Come see for yourself."

A breathy laugh.

"Alright, but I need you on top of me."

And with that as your only warning, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you over and up until you were straddling him. His cock - that dusky purple turned amethyst turned obsidian lightning strike of a menace - slapped obscenely against his stomach.

"Scar!"

"Getting a visual," he said, pressing a knuckle into the folds of your pussy and circling firm and slow, pulling a long, low whine out of you and making your hips twitch, your clit pulsing against his thick finger. "Mmm definitely wetter."

"Oh, are we power bottoming now?" you manage to gasp, getting weak from his touch. 

"For now."

You brought a hand to yourself, feeling the slick pouring out of you and brushing your fingers against his, now sticky with you. His eyes tracked your movements, pupils entirely blown out from watching you touch yourself. You imagined bringing his hand to his mouth, guiding a finger in to get a taste of you off himself. But the goal was to make him last, and Janna-willing, he could learn how nasty you wanted to be with him in the future.

"Probably don't even need lube."

"What?" he blinked.

"Want me to show you?"

"Yeah," he said, breathless for a moment, stomach muscles clenching. "Yeah, come slick that sweet cunt of yours on my cock."

You felt the flush bloom across your chest - you didn't need to be told twice. Lifting onto your knees, you lined up with his dick, then lowered yourself onto the flesh on the underside of his cock, making you both gasp at the intimate contact.

"Ah- ha, fuck."

You made searing eye contact with each other before letting your eyes flutter closed. You ground your hips in delicious long strokes, painting his dick with thick globs of your slick, coaxing soft, breathy sounds out of him.

You leaned your hands back onto his thick thighs, giving him a full view of your body, stretched languidly and grinding above him. He was licking his lips, panting, gaze tracking every roll of your torso into his hips - then you both throbbed against each other like a heart beat, and it was too much.

"Shit. Scar, please," you begged. "No more teasing. We get it. Let me ride you or I'll fuck myself and you can watch."

"Janna, you get nasty when you gotta wait."

"Duh."

He gripped your hips, guiding you off him slightly as he lined up his cock with your tender, aching hole. Then he guided your hips until the head of his cock breached you, your breath hitching as he hissed. That fucking girth. He was stretching you from the get go and that was just the head.

"Fuck yes, just like that," he murmured, green eyes smoldering as he caught your gaze, sounding like his heart was in his throat. He watched your slow, filthy descent onto his dick. "Take your time sitting on my cock. We got all morning for me to break you in half."

You whimpered, hips stuttering and clenching around him inside you, your hand finding his and interlacing your fingers as you bore down on him. He locked his long fingers with yours, letting you squeeze the tension into him until you were finally, finally fully seated on his cock. You were still for a moment, both of you panting and sweating, adjusting to the feel of each other.

It was different than the first time. The intimate pacing made every neuron in your brain fire multi-shots blindly into the dark from the sensation of getting filled to your gut with Scar.

"Fuck, you're - a tight fucking furnace."

"And you're goddamn massive," you breathed.

"Don't move yet," he said. You didn't, but you couldn't help clenching around him again, it was too good.

"I said don't move," he hissed, hips rolling up into yours before he could stop himself. He looked like he was gonna say something snarky by the curl of his lip.

"What, you wanted to say something?" you challenged. "Go ahead, I can take it."

He eyed you. Then, "'Course you'd be a brat in bed, too."

Your mouth fell open. He wasn't wrong. But it was the principle. You ground down onto him, making his hips jerk as you smirked.

"You don't know how to listen, do you?" he bit out, gritting his teeth, baring his canines in displeasure, brows knitting into a frown. It was actually perfect. His claws dug into your ass in a way that made your eyes roll back. You gripped his forearms, digging your nails into his skin.

"You could teach me," you gasped. "But then that'd take some actual effort on your part."

Your gaze dragged from where your body met his, indicating the missionary position he'd put you in. You held still, but you wouldn't be able to hold much longer. The sheer heft of his cock was pressing consistently against your clit from inside, while also stretching your back walls, his length splitting the precious bundle of nerves at your ass, making you burn with need from entrances.

You didn't know how a single dick could make you feel spit roasted, but it did. And you were feeling all of it. And he just held you there, suspended in this cavernous stretch like some goddamn marionette.

You were starting to drool.

His eyes flashed at your words and you swallowed, his hands moving from your ass to encircle your waist, claws pinching into your skin at every angle of your torso with those long, beastly fingers, reminding you that it would take nothing for him to tear you to shreds. It shouldn't have made your cunt throb desperately, but it did.

You bit your lip in anticipation and the predator in his eyes tracked every flinch and flutter in your expression.

"You don't get to tell me about effort," he rasped, like his throat had gone up in smoke, "When I was the one hammering my cock into that tender little throat of yours last night."

You barely had time to gasp. Then his feet were pressing into the mattress, knees bending so they caught you behind your shoulder blades. He snapped his hips up into you hard. A broken moan fell from your lips, brows knitting from the confusing, delicious mixture of pain and pleasure wringing through your gut. 

"Ride," he hissed dangerously, and you could do nothing but obey.

You ground down onto his cock, one hand splayed on his abdomen for leverage, the other on his thigh. You moved slow and rhythmic at first, giving yourself some time to get used to the relentless pressure of him inside you. His breath hitched, claws digging deeper into your skin, every roll of your hips against his pulling a rough groan out of him that rumbled through his barrel of a chest. You licked your lips, trying not to whine like a little bitch as he made you split yourself in half on him.

"Faster," he bit out, and the request, the command, the utter need in his voice fried the last control unit in your brain. This was the Scar you wanted, the man asking for pleasure, asking for the things he wanted cloaked in commands, allowing himself the things he so often gave without expecting anything in return. It made your chest tingle, nipples painfully hard like they just realized they might need some attention.

"Fuck, Scar," you whimpered, picking up your pace and starting to ride him with the brakes off, your lower abdomen clenching, muscles hard and sore and working, sweat pouring down your neck, your back, your stomach.

He was so good. He was so, so good.

It was like he knew that you needed this, too. Needed to ride him until your back broke and your mind blanked, until all you could hear was the slap of skin and the filthy squelch of your slick mixing together. Both your mouths had fallen open, his canines glinting up at you and your tongue lolling out, a reminder of how it'd made every inch of his skin familiar last night. His luminescent eyes were like slivers of moon, gazing up at you, heavy with lust. 

"Shit." Scar swore out your name, licking his lips, still baring his fangs. "Baby, you feel fucking amazing. This feel good?"

Your heart tripped on the term of endearment, cunt squeezing him tight. You wanted to swallow it whole and keep it lined inside your veins.

"So good, babe," you purred, your words punctuating each thrust, knowing you sounded a little stupid and not caring. "You make me so hard, Scar - so fucking wet - this fat fucking cock - I knew it would."

"Yeah?"

"Been thinking about it," you confessed because you had lost all sense of your dignity, impaled on Scar's dick in ways you had never truly imagined. "Dreaming of you inside me. Tearing me apart."

His claws drew up your back and he pulled you forward onto his chest, moaning a blazing hot kiss into your mouth as you rode him harder like the fate of Zaun depended on it. He was sliding in and out of you, hitting your walls, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

"Like I could - fuck," you almost screamed, cause he knew what he had found and had made it his personal target. "Like I could never get enough."

His growl was a low thunder in your ear. He wrapped you firmly against his chest, skin and fur and sweat slipping and sticking between you, before he flipped you onto your back, bearing down his beastly weight on you, pressing you into the sheets and giving you nowhere to run. Fuck, you didn't want to. You couldn't remember ever wanting to.

Your mouth was still broken open, and he closed his mouth over it, sucking sinfully on your tongue.

"I can give you enough, baby," he breathed into your ear, taking down the tempo a bit, rolling his hips into you, getting you used to his cock at this new angle. Like he knew the damage he could do with that thing if he wasn't careful.

It made you want that damage bad.

"Want me to give it to you?" His voice was soft and sweet now, slathering you in honey and making your eyes flutter and roll back. He ran a finger across your cheek, just under your eye. He kissed you sweetly on the forehead.

And then he ducked his head against your neck, biting your earlobe with a slow tug, whispering, "I can give it to you just how you like it. Till your back breaks, till you're sobbing my name until you can't anymore."

You licked your lips, swallowing, throat dry from how hard he was making you pant for breath.

"Yes, daddy, please - fucking give it to me," you babbled because you'd gone feral and stone cold stupid for him. "Take everything, I'll give it to you. I'll give it to you so fucking good."

There was that smile that split his face like a knife fight he'd won, his clever gaze flickering down to yours, a soft gleam in his eyes that contrasted with the menacing grin.

"Call me that again," he whispered, ears flicking, elbows holding him steadily above your face, so he could catch every flicker of heat and embarrassment and want that you were sure was on your face. You almost didn't care. You would absolutely care later.

"Fuck, Daddy," you breathed back, signing your own death warrant. "Fuck me stupid with that big fat cock of yours."

He cocked an eyebrow at you, grin still plastered on his face.

"Please."

He kissed you gently on the lips, the most confusing, maddening soft and hard, push and pull combination of emotions turning you inside out. This was how he made you lose your mind.

And then he fucked into you like you had never known the full extent of his beast and your mind wiped. Everything in you surrendered as he gave you what you asked for, pounding into your cunt, his balls teasing your ass, with the force of a freight train. He'd folded your legs over his shoulders, your feet twitching behind his ears, fully exposing your hole for him. He bounced you, an inch, then another up the sheets towards the headboard from the force of each thrust gunning into you, until he slid his arm under you to cradle your back and head off the mattress instead, holding you in place for him to fuck and feast on like his own personal plaything.

He fucked into you like it was his janna given right, like he was rewiring you to make you stronger, faster, deadlier - his.

He felt like a goddamn beast. Like you'd entered monster-fucking territory, and your legs spread even more. You were so fucking here for it.

Your mouths were sealed together, fiercely making out, all tongue and teeth as you clung to him. His sweat dripped from his forehead to your face, his chest to your neck, gliding down until the pillow under you was soaked with your mingled sweat.

"Janna, keep fucking me - right there, right there, right there - fuck," you cried, burying your face into the corded muscle of his neck. He quickened his pace until there was nowhere left to go, starting to lose the rhythm, laying you down and pressing you into the mattress instead. The pressure building inside you was suffocating, heat building behind your eyes, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, shaking you down to your core. Tears streamed down your face from the corners of your eyes, and you bit down hard on your lip as Scar stroked a thick knuckle against your clit, rough circles matching the rapid pace of his cock gunning into you and making your hips stutter against him, feeling like they'd shatter.

You came violently, choking on your breath until a low groan finally made it through the cracks of your throat. You rolled your hips against his, your cunt swallowing down each spasm with tight squeezes that made his eyes flutter and roll back. Scar snapped his hips once, twice, jerking nearly off-kilter, until he bit out a curse and was cumming inside you, the new sensation of his liquid heat flooding you and breaking you open at the same time.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you gulped down lungfuls of breath. Scar collapsed over you, face buried in your neck, a knee pressed to the mattress so there would still be some of you left alive and breathing to fuck later. Then it was too much, you could barely breathe. You tapped out on his shoulder, and he lifted his head, scanning the touch of fear in your eyes. He slid carefully out of you, but the sore stretch still made you flinch involuntarily.

He dropped in a sweaty, shaky, vibrating heap of bulky muscle on the sheets next to you. With the way you were both gasping for breath, it sounded like you'd been neck and neck, sprinting to the finish line at breakneck speed. God, it almost hurt, trying to breathe, the air feeling sharp in your lungs.

You both laid there for a minute, a little stunned and peeling off from the ceiling, settling back into your bodies, into your bones. You weren't touching. You literally couldn't, like the electrical current between you had concentrated into a fuse, promising to smite you both if either of you tried.

"That - that was not normal," you breathed out at length, an arm thrown over your head onto the pillows, while your other hand wiped the tears from your face. 

"Told you I'd - destroy you," he puffed out weakly. His eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open. You couldn't blame him. Keeping pace with him took everything out of you.

Finally, you turned your head to look at him, dazed.

"Holy fuck, you're dangerous." It sounded like an accusation. If you weren't drained to the bone, you would have laughed.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, before he exhaled.

"Yeah. Sorry." He peered over at you, eyes wide and sharp with concern. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Think I'm still in one piece," you breathed, giving him a weak smile. His eyes dragged over your body, assessing, like he wasn't sure if he should believe you. "I just - didn't think it would be like that."

His gaze slid back up to yours now, brow quirking. "What did you think it would be like?"

"I dunno," you said, looking away and smiling in spite of yourself. "Maybe like, making love or something?"

His mouth twitched, a soft sigh leaving his lips. "I was...going for that. And then you said that shit about dicking me down and something - switched in my brain."

"No shit," you said, and he breathed out a laugh.

A beat.

"We should probably try love making as an evening activity."

You gawked at him, your face splitting into a wild grin.

"Right, 'cause we can check off rabid morning sex from our list," you followed up.

"Right."

Another beat.

"But then you go feral if I keep you waiting too long. I'll need an element of surprise."

Now you barked out a laugh.

Scar turned his head fully towards you now, lips twitching, giving you a small, amused smile. He was looking at you like were a little shit, but you were his little shit, and he wouldn't trade you for the world.

"What?" you said, practically preening from his attention, feeling like your skin was glowing. "You wanna like, fist bump or something?"

A pillow came down on your face fast - and you should've expected it, but you couldn't. Scar had knocked you out of orbit, like you'd dared him to, not thinking it was possible and fuck. You had fucked around and you had found the fuck out.

"Come here, you jackass," he said, a clawed finger curling at you in his direction.

"Hell no," you said with some sense of self-preservation. "I'm in my refractory period."

He threw you a look, unimpressed and not happy about being rejected so quickly after sex.

"You don't have" -

"Energetically speaking," you huffed. "And also - I think I'm leaking."

His brows raised at that, corners of his mouth twitching. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Mind if I take a look? I won't touch you," he said, flipping onto his side to fully look at you - all of you.

You gave him an injured look - your injured dignity - and huffed, spreading your legs for him and wincing as you felt your cunt pulse for him again, like it knew he was near, which was ridiculous.

Scar had rewired your body. He had ruined you for anyone else. He had -

"Shit," he muttered, looking genuinely upset as he leaned over your lower half. "You're bleeding a little."

That shook you out of your melodrama. "Am I?"

"Fuck, I'm sorry" -

You gave a weak laugh. "I guess you were hitting my uterus a bit. I had no idea, it didn't hurt. I blacked out. Your whole dick left room for nothing else in my brain."

"Shit." He jumped out of bed like a fucking leopard. "Let me clean you up."

He returned soon after with a wet towel, brows knitted together in a deep frown, muzzle drawn tight. You sensed something deeper was going on, so you said nothing, just let him gently take care of you, his eyes glancing up at you frequently to check for any wincing or signs of pain. You were honestly fine, this was your body's normal reaction to unchecked thrusting, a little too much. His breaths seemed to hitch, breathing quickening, chest rising and falling rapidly and not in a good way.

"Hey," you said softly, cupping his jaw in your hand. You noticed his hands, those large, knobby, beasts of hands, were trembling slightly, almost imperceptible if you didn't know how steadily he carried himself at all times. You sat up suddenly, gently taking the wet towel - now a mess of blood and semen - from his grasp, tossing it on the floor and out of sight. You made a mental note to burn it like it never existed.

"I'm okay," you murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his, then touching your noses together. You stared into those softly glowing orbs, trying to keep him here, in the present. "I'm okay, I promise. I'm right here. I'm safe. I'm not going anywhere."

His gaze remained downcast and distant. You had to break his spiraling.

"Scar, look at me," you said firmly, tilting his chin up. "I'm safe. I'm not going anywhere. Do you believe me?"

He blinked at being asked a question, eyes focusing and un-focusing, then blinking a few more times. A ghost of a tremor at his lips, before he nodded, ears pinning back. Janna, you would die before he started beating himself up again, if you could help it.

"Come here, baby," you murmured, leaning back against the pillows and pulling him between your legs, into your arms. His broad shoulders hunched around him as he curled in on himself, sagging heavily against your chest.

You slid your hands down his chest, placing them firmly over his sternum and applying pressure, the same way he did for you.

"Just breathe with me, okay?" Then you facilitated deep inhales and exhales, exaggerating them so he could hear the breath coming in and out of you, a familiar sound for his ears to follow. The first few inhales, his breath was still coming in quickly. Your chest rose and fell, expanding against his back, so he could feel you, strong and alive against him.

Eventually, he started taking deep breaths, bringing his inhales to a steady pace alongside yours and exhaling through his nose. You rubbed wide, deep circles across his chest, warming the skin and fur there.

"We're okay, Scar," you murmured, nuzzling into the hair at the back of his head. "Things aren't gonna suddenly be perfect and easier. But we're okay."

You turned his face, lifting his chin towards you, and pressed gentle kisses along his mouth, his muzzle, his cheeks, his eyelids. You surrounded him with your warmth and undeniable presence and finally, finally, you felt his shoulders start to give, his body relaxing again inch by inch.

"I'm sorry," he croaked after some time, breaking the quiet.

"Nothing to be sorry about," you murmured into his skin. "It's normal. And I uh - I won't provoke you so much next time."

Your tongue wrapped deliciously around that phrase as you said it. Next time, next time...

He huffed out a pitiful laugh through his nose.

"I love you," you whispered into his ear, your heart suddenly swelling, the beats pounding rapidly once you released.

He must have heard, because his ears flicked against your chest. 

"And," you murmured, a small rise of heat in your throat, because fuck, he was still naked in your arms, his sweat and musk clinging to your skin. "Now I know your secret."

That seemed to knock him another notch back into his orbit.

"What?" he asked, eyes narrowing shrewdly, two crescent moons glowing like gems in the morning light.

You smirked.

"Now I know why they keep that collar on you."

Chapter Text

You were trying to process Scar's dick.

It was like the gods of Runeterra had said punk rock, and there it was, slapping obscenely against skin and thicker than it had any right to be - out of spite.

The gods said death metal, and its thick veins gleamed like obsidian teeth, tempting you to trace its signature with your tongue.

The gods said folk rock, and the dusky amethyst bled smoothly into a deeper plum towards the tip, like some fucking fairytale out of Ixtal.

The gods said r&b, and it all came together to rock you stupid into the mattress until your back was arching from the sheer heat of him filling you up.

It was a goddamn masterpiece. It belonged in a museum. There was no way that thing wasn't constructed with Vastayan magical energy. You would die on this hill. Repeatedly.

He pressed his paw of a hand against your whole face, then thumbed your forehead.

"Where'd you go?" he murmured, chin leaning into his other palm, propped up on his side, clever eyes watching you as you stared up into the ceiling of his bedroom. Your eyes lingered on the layers of shadows in the corner of his room.

Your mouth twitched.

"I was - writing poetry about your dick."

What? You weren't gonna lie.

"Ah, naturally," he said, grinning. Then, "Maybe we should've taken things slower."

You knocked your knee into his, shuffling the bedsheets that were still warm - damp in some places, they may need a good wash afterwards - from your morning activities.

"You lie so bad," you said. "And you love me."

His eyes softened. "I do."

A beat.

"And what does that even mean? 'Take things slower,'" you said dismissively. "What - like I need time to adjust to your" - you gestured around his groin - "Vastayan package?"

You clearly did, if you were going to be this dizzy over it, but you couldn't just leave it at that.

He snorted, then his gaze sharpened, like he was doing calculations in his head.

"That's right," he said, a smug lilt to his voice, "You haven't slept with another Chirean, have you?"

Your face burned. Here it was, the disadvantages of knowing each other this well - too well.

"What does that have to do with -" you started hotly.

" - everything," Scar said, cutting you off and unable to keep that knife-sharp grin off his face. He leaned in closer, and a wave of heat rippled from his skin into the thin energetic gap between you, grazing over your skin like a current. Your heart skipped a beat. "Funny how it happened that way."

You huffed out a breath, and his pink nose crinkled in amusement.

"It wasn't about you," you muttered.

It was. It so was.

"It's always about me," he said smoothly, green eyes gleaming, his voice a flame licking around your ear, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

You swallowed, before you tapped your fingers against the sheets, regaining your composure.

"If you're gonna be like this every time I suck you off," you said flatly. "It's gonna be a problem."

Scar's tongue wet his lips. "Oh, so there will be more times?"

"..."

You stared at each other, neither of you breaking eye contact. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

"It's not looking good for you right now," you said diffidently, doing your best to remain aloof despite the way he was turning you on.

He hummed lowly, muzzle pulling down at the corners, like he didn't believe you.

"Anyway," he continued, "Chireans, Vastaya in general. We all have our own...unique forms, coloring, markings. We're as diverse as human and animal anatomy, with a little extra - something."

"Magic," you breathed knowingly. "I fucking knew it."

Then his mouth twitched, fighting a smirk.

"What?"

His eyes glazed over yours before he rolled onto his back, looking at home as he settled into the sheets, a nostalgic look on his face.

"Always thought you were sexy as hell," he recalled, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Tried to put myself in the same room as you as I could, in the beginning."

He peered over at you again, a glint in his eyes.

"And then you went and opened your mouth."

Your jaw dropped, and yet undeniability was written all over your face. He laughed at your expression, flicking you in the forehead.

"Sorry I grew up all over the place," you grumbled, trying to recover and fighting a guilty grin. "I never properly learned how to act."

"You've made that abundantly clear."

You stared.

"Is this your version of aftercare? 'Cause if so, you're terrible at it," you huffed.

He grinned and then pushed himself up, slow and with intent, so that your heart stuttered in anticipation. He leaned in low, nuzzling softly into your thigh, making you shiver with a new gush of slick, then dragged his nose up along the skin of your torso, your neck, before he rolled himself on top of you again. Damnit.

"What do you need?" he asked, voice burning like coals as he ran his hands warmly against your shoulders, down to your hips, massaging firmly into your muscles.

"Fuck," you cursed, pulling him down for a kiss. "Nevermind, we can do that later."

You ground your hips up into him. He kissed you back, but hissed at the pressure despite his cock twitching with interest, pulling back slightly.

"Sorry, can't - afford another round," he said, looking sheepish. "Tired."

"You're tired?" you said incredulously.

"I'm a father," he quipped, like that explained everything.

You leaned into his ear, mouthing at his lobe. "Mmmkay, Bat Daddy."

His eyes fluttered at that, ears twitching at your touch.

"I can do all the work," you said innocently. "I don't mind."

He said your name, holding your face gently in his hands, but firm enough to keep you from assaulting his ear again and making him cave.

"And I have to pick up Taya in a bit."

You bit your lip, sighing. "Right."

His eyes traced the lines of your face.

"Come shower with me."

**

The hot water felt amazing on your sore muscles.

You tried not to stare at all of his muscles, glistening wetly from head to toe, but he just watched your gaze with half-lidded eyes in mild amusement. Fine, you'd let yourself linger, drinking in every curve, every muscle stretched taut against his skin, the water dripping down the broad expanse of his pecs, each obscene row of his abs, trickling down the sharp V cut towards his groin...

You cleared your throat before you lost it, grabbing the soap as a laugh settled in his throat, quiet but present.

You took turns washing each other, careful movements, still learning each other's bodies. When it came to washing your hair, you showed him the proper way for your type of hair. Perfect timing, because it'd been a couple days since you'd needed to wash it. You could see his jaw working as his claws grazed your scalp, cataloguing and memorizing this information for the future. It lit a warmth in you at the thought, going along with the tingles spreading down your spine and relaxing you.

Since he was taller, you waited until he'd lowered himself, bending down to one knee and propping your foot on the side lining to lather the soap along your inner thighs, behind your knees, your calves. His broad hands gripped firmly at the skin of your ankle, following the curve just above the Achilles heel. He massaged your foot for a minute with those practiced and meticulous hands, and you had to brace yourself against the wall from how good it felt as he smirked up at you. It was intimate and gentle, and while touch between you had always felt easy and natural, this act of bathing each other was a whole other level of in love, a whole different kind of lovemaking. It was a soft, quiet dance with very little words passed between you and a lot of searing eye contact instead. He kissed along your inner thighs, making your groin flood with heat. Your cheeks burned and you were grateful he couldn't see from below, fully committed and intent with his attention on you. While he still kneeled, you ran the shampoo through his black hair, fingernails massaging into his scalp and making a guttural moan reverberate in his throat. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, melting into the sensation.

This way of bathing was so much slower, but if it meant you could see him on his knees like this more often, throat bared to you, muzzle loose and relaxed, eyes closed with pleasure, you wouldn't mind at all.

He stood up to rinse, his black hair plastering against his forehead in this adorably dorky way, before he slicked it back to its usual slicked back style with a run of his claws. The effect of that sexy, nonchalant hair flip made your stomach flip along with it. You blinked a few times, remembering yourself, then abruptly grabbed his torso and scooted him so you could rinse off as well. Afterwards, you finished washing his top half - he'd quirked an eyebrow at you when you'd knelt earlier, seeing if you'd make any more poetic comments about his nether regions, but you kept yourself together, for once trying not to ruin the mood with your mouth.

Of course, that only lasted so long.

When you got to his armpits, you smirked and paused, putting your hands on his narrow hips to press him against the shower wall, pinning his forearm back against it.

He looked down at you through slitted eyes as you stood in front of him, partially shielding him from the water cascading down your back.

"What're you - ah!" he hissed, as you pressed your nose into the hairs of his sweat gland, circling the sensitive area and feeling his dick twitch against your thigh.

"How's that feel?" you asked, your tone goading him.

"Good, but - fuck," he hissed again. You licked into the hair, firm until the pressure reached the skin, then the meat of the muscle beneath that. You stroked your tongue against it in long, slow motions. His breath caught roughly in his throat.

You pulled back and grinned at him, feeling his cock throbbing, half-hard.

"Just testing," you smirked. "I know the hairs and skin can be sensitive there. They are for me."

You were proud and then horrified at your own disclosure, giving him a weapon to file away for later. You'd fucked a number of cis-woman who had shaved theirs - not all of them - and it was a damn shame. For some, it could be an erogenous zone, emulating a similar sensation of intimate touches down below, and Scar was no exception.

"Noted," he said thickly. "Can you just - chill for a second?"

"Aw, are you cold?"

He wrapped his arms around you, less an embrace and more of a wrestling move, locking you in before swapping places.

"I don't know how to share a bed?" he grumbled. "You don't know how to share a shower."

"Sorry," you said cheekily. "Your body just - turns on my hoe switch, I need to look away. Your face, too. You're just really not winning in this department."

He huffed and then readjusted his arms so they encircled you, drawing you against his chest with so much firm tenderness, you swore he was using it as a de-escalation technique. His warmth seeped into your skin like honey, making your eyes flutter closed.

"Oh."

"Mmhm."

You stood together, still in the quiet but for the sound of the water falling, dripping down your bodies and pattering against the shower floor.

"You good now?"

"...yes."

He was still half-hard and you were still wet with heat, but now you were also a little dizzy, floating happily in his embrace, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

You sighed.

"We should have done this a long time ago."

Your hearts thumped in the silence. You could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

"I - don't regret it," he said quietly.

You looked up at him then, unable to keep some of the hurt off your face. The sentiment seemed to echo off the walls of the bathroom, making it hard to brush off and pretend it wasn't there.

"Oh."

"No, not like," he said quickly. "It's 'cause..."

He sighed and held you even tighter. You didn't know what the hell was happening with him.

"Scar?"

"Taya. She probably wouldn't...be here," he whispered, voice almost shaking. "If...we'd...you know. Any sooner."

You blinked in utter confusion, looking searchingly up at his face. As a technicality, this was true, but you got the sense that wasn't all that he was saying. He tilted his head back, like the gods had damned him from the start.

"Don't take this as anything bad against" - he paused, looking into your face, praying you would get it so he wouldn't have to say it - "But I was...we'd only been hooking up 'cause I..."

You blinked rapidly at him, trying to wrangle the pieces together. Hooking up with...Trina? Right, okay. That piece fit there, leading to Taya, but...

"I was trying to get over you," he made himself say in one quick breath. The puzzle crashed its pieces together into sharp relief.

"What?" you said, dumbfounded. Your fingertips had found their way to his face, resting along his jawline. You could see drops glistening off his eyelashes, kissing teardrops down his nose.

His luminescent eyes reflected so much bruised hurt, and longing, and regrets and -

"Scar, what? You can't just" -

He kissed you - a kiss drowning in so much passion and guilt, it made your insides tremble, like the floor had given way and you were standing high at a precipice. He pressed all of his heat into you, and it was overwhelming to find that there was always more and more and more. You'd gone boneless, your brain foggy.

Finally, he pulled away, a heavy sigh trailing after the heated kiss.

"Trina was - she was a good woman. She would have been a great mother to Taya. I'm not trying to - put any blame on you or pressure you to, I don't know. Taya's not your responsibility," Scar rambled, his voice sounding rough as burnt ashes. "But that's the truth. I can't imagine a life without Taya now. I could never regret her. And we'd - Taya came into being because it hurt too much...because I wanted you."

That sentence was so insane.

Taya was here...because of you? Because you'd held a boundary and it led him to...?

Taya was here because of you?

You couldn't make it make sense, but your body had already crumbled, your heart splitting open in ways that hurt and didn't hurt, your nervous system somehow synthesizing what your logical brain could not handle in this moment.

You kissed him hard like he was the one thing tethering you to the earth. He was panting, meeting your mouth with just as much want, until he was scooping you up and pressing you firmly against the shower wall, chest to chest, heat pouring off your bodies.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he breathed.

"Please, Scar," you whispered. "I need you - I need you now."

He nodded and pushed himself easily inside you, sliding in tight and making your hips and thighs shake from where they'd wrapped around his slender waist. Your soft groan came from the very depths of your gut, echoing like memory across the bathroom walls. You rode him in long, slow strokes, caving feebly over his chest and shoulders, hands tangled in his hair, mouth dragged open like he'd broken it.

"I'm sorry," you breathed, air hitching in your lungs from every firm thrust of him inside you. "I love you so fucking much and I'm sorry."

Your nails gripped the backs of his shoulders, his hands clawed under your thighs.

"Don't be," he whispered, lips brushing softly against yours, water falling down his forehead and dripping off your chin.

Now you really were crying, and he kept kissing you, swallowing down your tears and soft sobs with gentle massages against your tongue. Then he was breathing heavily into your neck as you let out soft little gasps, trying to get yourself under control, even as your body trembled against his, your orgasm a steady ocean current, pushing and pulling inside you, gaining in power.

It was too much. All of it was too much. To go from maintaining boundaried restraint for years, to yearning for each other in the waiting, to getting a rough, desperate taste, chasing an ending neither of you could have, just before everything fell apart.

You fucked like it was the single act that would deliver you both your healing. When you came, it was quiet, but immense, a thundering wave crashing through you. He let out a broken moan as he came inside you a second time, his heat inside you overwhelming. You collapsed against him, dropping your forehead to his, the water rushing down both your faces, drowning any sounds of the world outside.

As your breathing steadied, you ran your fingertips along his lips and he kissed every single one. You both quieted, listening to the water falling like it could wash away the layers of grief that had accumulated between your shoulder blades, along your throats, behind your knees. He hummed softly into your lips.

He said your name gently, sweetly, almost like an apology.

"We couldn't control how we got here," he murmured, still holding you up against the wall, arms wrapped around you like there was no more letting go, no more letting things fall into the hands of fate. He held you like he was choosing you now, right now and always. "But we're here now. And it's the only place I ever wanted to be."

All of him pressed against you, wrapping you in a steady fire, a promise to never flicker and go out.

You kissed him over and over again, for once, at a complete loss for words.

**

You thought that would be it, that you'd start going about your day finally. You'd grab an extra towel and toothbrush and had started all your self-grooming rituals in the foggy mirror of Scar's bathroom, the towel tied around your waist.

But apparently, the act of making love in the shower gave Scar a second wind.

He'd come up behind you, towel wrapped around his waist, and yet pressing into your back so you could feel the unmistakable heft of his intentions, trailing warm kisses along your neck and down your spine, claws tracing your skin in soothing circles. You quirked an eyebrow at him in the mirror before spitting and rinsing your mouth, your skin prickling under his touch.

"Oh?" you said, overplaying your disbelief. "Is Bat Daddy having second thoughts?"

"There's still a little time," he murmured, biting into your skin, a line of heat dripping down your spine and sinking a puddle of warmth into that bundle of nerves between your ass. "One more thing - I need to do."

"Need is a very strong" - you didn't get to finish that sentence, because Scar had turned you around and propped you up onto the bathroom sink's counter like this was a casual hangout spot for a midday smoke. You gasped, clutching onto his biceps for balance, eyes widening as heat splotched across your chest, rising up your neck, a hot ball of want in your throat. Miraculously, the toweled stayed wrapped around your waist, but Scar was eyeing it like he needed to do something about it.

"You had your way with me last night," he said in a husky voice, breath tickling your neck. "You were so fucking good for me. Let me return the favor."

You flushed at his praise and proposition, leaning your hands back against the counter now, heartbeat quickening. You thought of that long, warm tongue between your thighs and immediately, slick gushed through your cunt, making you teeter at the edge with sudden need.

"Yeah, okay," you said faintly.

He chuckled softly. "You get a little soft when you're on the receiving end, don't you?"

"I - " you blushed furiously, dragging your gaze along his taut body, then back up to his eyes that suddenly glowed with dangerous intent.

Scar grinned, all teeth. He chose really interesting times to bare those fangs, and it was always with an intensity that stirred all the nerves in your lower belly. Smirking, he took your hand in his, kissing along the knuckles, before he lowered himself to his knees on the rug of his bathroom floor, guiding your hand behind his head. His pose felt like a sacred prayer, looking up at you in devout supplication, like eating your pussy would deliver you both from your sins.

He said your name, like he was teasing you out of your shell.

In your logical brain, it didn't make sense that Scar eating you out would be any different from everything else you'd just done together. But there was a difference for you - it was intimate, really intimate. Like he'd get a taste of the core of you, all the secrets knotted away at your center, all the things you liked and didn't like about yourself somehow teased into this tangible piece of you offered up for his consumption. And you were offering - that was the part that scared you. You shivered a little nervously in anticipation.

"Don't get shy with me now, baby," he murmured, a soft plea in his warm voice. He was brushing his lips along the inside of your knee, and you thought that pet name was going to be the magic word moving forward for Scar to get you to do anything. "I wanna hear that dirty mouth of yours. I wanna hear the sounds you make when my tongue's fucking in and out of your cunt."

Your breath hitched and a small moan escaped your throat, everything below turning into boundless pools of slick, the waters tugging at your lower belly again. You blinked down at him, biting your lip. You were never this shy about folks going down on you - you tried to remember that to make your voice work again.

"Fuck, Scar - you make me so wet when you talk like that," you breathed, your mind starting to slip from imagining his hot mouth wrapped sweetly around your cunt, his eyes rolling back from the pleasure he would take in you.

"I need you to milk this pussy to the very last drop," you hissed, offering him another word he could use for you, because even though you were starting to clam up, somewhere in your lizard brain, there were echoes of eat my pussy, babe and yes please and i know that tongue will fuck my pussy so fucking good, i'll scream.

His eyes fluttered, mouth fallen open. "Fuck yes, keep talking to me like that, tell me what your pussy needs, baby."

You groaned again, legs spreading helplessly, your cunt dripping your need down your thighs. He took that as an opportunity to tug loose the towel around your waist, leaving the blooming heat of you fully exposed. His hooded eyes took you in with a mix of lust and reverence. You felt yourself blushing again. Janna's hell, you were gonna die of embarrassment when you reflected on this later.

He pressed his claws against the skin of your thighs with just enough pressure to make your back arch, your nipples tingling at his erotic touch. One hand slid towards your inner thigh, a claw thumbing at the hairs just above your entrance. Stone cold sober, you were even more aware of your self-consciousness around being fully witnessed. You literally couldn't give a fuck about shaving, but sometimes people made out of pocket comments that somehow, in their deluded brains, they thought appropriate or hot in this context.

Thankfully, Scar said nothing, just continued thumbing teasingly at the hairs, saying, "This okay?"

You nodded, your cunt throbbing from his touch, trying to sit still through all of his slow, intentional movements. Then he licked along the tender skin of your inner thigh, sinking his teeth here and here and here, each love bite pulling soft moans that whimpered in your throat. He brought his knuckle to your soft, slick folds, and you could practically see the drool pooling in his open mouth. Every nerve ending of your dripping labia latched onto his touch like tentacles, a sudden instinct taking over, a need to devour and take him inside you.

"How's this feel?" he whispered, jade eyes full as he looked up at you, muzzle slackened, ready to taste.

"Good," you breathed hotly, still fighting for your voice. "And like it should be your tongue."

He snorted softly at that. "Patience."

"I'm trying."

He massaged his knuckle upward, the faint squelch of his finger along your slick making your own mouth start to pool with spit. He brushed against a spot and it tickled.

"Ah - ha, a little more like this, babe," you rasped, moving him against you the way you liked it.

"Mmm, like this, baby?" he murmured, adjusting his movements and following your lead.

"Fuck - yes," you choked out, your body folding weakly from the new surging sensation. You knew he'd take instruction well. This was going to be your downfall.

When he got to your clit, he gave you a look like he'd like nothing more than to suck you dry. You swallowed. Then his knuckle played around the head, not too direct, enough to tug the need out of you in a way that stole your breath.

"Fuck, you're already so hard for me," he murmured, "No wonder you're so impatient."

That - that - made your brain twist, cutting some wires loose in a shower of flowering sparks. The affirmation wrapped in lucid desire, how he mirrored the language you'd been using for yourself without you having to explicitly name every single word. He showed you he was listening, he was paying attention. It set your body on fire. It made your heart skip a beat and your insides melt.

You needed to ride his face immediately.

"Fuck, Scar," you whimpered, unable to control your voice and suddenly not caring. You dug your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, pulling and making his eyes flutter from the sensation. "I need you to fuck me with your tongue - right fucking now. Please."

His eyes flickered briefly with smoldering heat as they locked on yours. When he spoke, his voice came out guttural and sore, ready to paint you red with his tongue.

"You have no idea..." he breathed, looking up at you like you were the light at the end of the tunnel and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself through to the other side.

"...how long..."

He dragged his bottom lip along your inner thighs until they were brushing your folds, breath hot against your pussy, making you shudder and gasp, fingers clinging to his hair.

"...I've wanted..."

He licked his lips, his tongue snaking and catching on his fangs, saliva pooling as he growled lowly in his throat.

"...to taste you."

You gasped.

He'd plunged his tongue, impossibly warm and wet, into your slick folds and licked searing hot sin against your cunt, warm mouth closing over your whole entrance like it belonged in his, like he could swallow your soul out of you from this intimate act alone.

And fuck, you would give it to him. Your legs were splayed wide open against the counter now. His for the taking.

He licked steadily along every inch of your labia in wide arcs, like he was drinking in the taste, groans slipping out of his throat like he was drunk on you.

Your breathing shallowed, your head spun. You felt dizzy from his touch, all the blood rushing to the places where his tongue licked and his lips pulled.

"You're giving me," you squeaked, wrapping your fingers around the tips of his ears and twisting like your pleasure dictated it. His whole body stuttered from the sensation and he moaned into your cunt, the vibrations coaxing out more slick. "A - fucking - good idea."

You were absolutely not going to last long. He was going to pull a third orgasm out of you before your pussy could even not be wet from the last one...and the one before that.

He sensed it and grinned with all of his sharp teeth, pressing the flat of his tongue along the length of you, all the way up to your clit, dragging long and firm, building and pulling intense pressure from between your thighs with each agonizingly slow lick. His green eyes glittered up at you. Your body trembled under him. His claws dug harder into your thighs, the delicious bite of them against your skin snapping you undone. You couldn't stand it anymore. You were feral, and you would take what you wanted from him. Your hips slid forward until your thighs were hugging around his ears. You started rutting against his face, legs draped over his strong shoulders, his bright pink nose wet with your slick, rubbing with purpose into your clit.

He groaned into you again, the vibrations making you clench painfully onto emptiness this time. He must have felt you tightening, because the second you released, he breached the tip of his tongue right into your hole, enclosing the wet, searing heat between you with his mouth and making all the breath leave your lungs. His claws gripped your thighs even tighter, nearly drawing blood, daring you to bear down on him and keep riding his face, his tongue, rougher and how you needed it. How you needed him. Your knees shook as you rolled your hips, and he drove his tongue deeper inside you, filling you with a growing thickness and pressure, pulling down your protective walls until he found your sweet spot.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Scar," you cried tightly, digging your nails into the flesh of his ears involuntarily. He let out a hot breath against your cunt at that. "Yes baby, just like that. Aha - fuck, you're gonna ruin me."

And then he started tongue-fucking your cunt and you lost all sense of a separate existence. Scar had plugged himself into your entire nervous system, filling you with everything that was him and making your pussy soaking wet with it. The feel of his tongue was ungodly, the way he swirled wetly around your entrance, like he knew how tender and sensitive it was, and he'd made a pact with the devil to fuck you open over and over and over again, every time you thought you could relax closed. There was no escaping him. He was molded inside you.

The heat was building tight and steady in your lower abdomen, pushing you harder and harder the faster you fucked yourself on Scar's tongue, rode his face like it was made for it. You couldn't stop cursing and saying his name, each utterance fueling the fire roaring inside him.

For a second, he pulled out, and your body almost doubled over from the loss of sensation, clutching fistfuls of his hair like doing so could keep you in one piece.

"Tell me," he panted, voice rough and burning coals, "Tell me what you need, baby. I wanna hear you say it."

As your brain wrapped around that sentence, he continued tonguing your cunt, making you throb against that hungry muscle. If he wanted you to make coherent sentences, this was not it. You braced a hand against his shoulder as a sign to pause, and he did, pulling back slowly to look up at you innocently.

You scowled.

"You know exactly what you're doing," you said faintly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said smoothly. "Just looking for some feedback. I take pride in my craft."

He brushed his knuckle against your folds again, circling your clit because he could be the fucking devil when he wanted to be. You whimpered, hips jerking, your heart pounding so hard, you felt it beating along your collarbone. You had a single moment of lucidity before it vaporized into mist like the fog from the shower.

"I need you, Scar," you breathed, head spinning as your orgasm pressed against your walls, circuits of electricity pulsing hot and quick along the wishbone of your entire clit, delicious and overwhelming. "I need you to keep sucking this dick, babe. Keep sucking my dick, and I'm gonna ride you till I'm cumming all over that beautiful face."

"Fucking shit," Scar swore, a low growl rumbling through his chest. He pressed his nose into your folds, rubbing back and forth until your hips were bucking roughly against him. "Do whatever you want, baby. Cum on my face, cum in my mouth. I just need to taste all of you. Gonna make you gush all over my tongue."

Now you swore.

His hands were moving, one slipped just underneath your entrance, the other gripping the top of your thigh. He leaned in and tongued your clit mercilessly, alternating between laying flat and wide to massage all of your clit hiding underneath the labia before flicking nastily against the head, wicked fast and unrelenting. It pulled and pulled and pulled. Your body stuttered, back arching into the thick heat of it, bringing you closer and closer to where you wanted to be. You felt your nipples hardening with want again, and you grabbed his hand on your thigh, drawing him to your chest and pinching his fingers around the sore nubs. As soon as his touch held you pinpointed and ruthless, heat flared from your nipples down to your groin, and you were right there at your edge. Then he curled a finger against your entrance, adding another new, insane sensation as he fucked you roughly with the back of his knuckle in and out of your hole, the same wild pace as his tongue.

He had you in a trifecta of raging pleasure, setting you off to detonate.

You came so fucking hard. Your fingers twisted both of his soft, velvet ears tightly, painfully, making him rub against your cunt, open-mouthed, shaking his head furiously side to side, overwhelming you with the sensation, pulling a sobbing half moan, half scream out of your throat, your orgasm rolling, falling, crashing into his mouth as you rode through its multiple tremors.

You clung onto each other as your hips shuddered and your legs jerked, thighs shaking against his ears, trying to hold through each tidal wave that took your breath away, leaving your muscles aching from the sheer force of it. It was almost ancestral, like generations of descents were destined to be born from his powerful hold on your pleasure. 

After what felt like an eternity, the last of the rolling heat washed through you and you collapsed over him, letting his ears free from their twists and caressing them softly, resting your forehead against the top of his head. He purred from your soothing touch against the sensitive pink of his ears.

Then the only sound was both of your gasping breaths, punctuating the steamy air around you as you tried to breathe. You swallowed down air with your mouth hanging open against his forehead, the smell and taste of your sex in the moist air sitting heavy on your tongue.

When you finally straightened up, you gave a soft, sheepish laugh. He stood up slowly from his knees, biting softly into your skin along the way. He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you close, pressing his own pleased laugh into your ear. It tickled and you shivered in his grasp.

"Somebody liked that - a lot." His voice like billowing smoke.

"Somebody's been waiting a damn long time," you confessed, face burning hotly.

"Mmm." He agreed, moaning sweetly into your neck in surrender, his heat and sweat mixing with yours.

It was the sound of yes, and yes, and yes.

"No more waiting."

You had been so wet and overstimulated, it took you a moment to feel his knuckle return, pressing lightly against you. He took a second knuckle and without warning, slid them as deep as they could inside you.

You bit out a curse and arched your body against his. Damn his fingers were long, and damn, you could still keep going. There seemed to be an endless ocean of tidal waves waiting to be unleashed inside you, every time he held you underwater.

"Janna, you're insatiable," he teased.

"Me?" you cried. "What happened to picking up Taya?"

He huffed out a large breath. "Fuck, yeah alright. Maybe a little waiting. But after, I'm making it four-two."

His gaze was still heavy with lust and dead sure. You made a tch sound behind your teeth.

"We'll see. I could switch it up on you. I don't go down easy - I - fuck, well I do but - I'm not an easy takedown."

There was pure mirth on his face as he watched you talk yourself into your own hole in the ground.

"Shut up, Scar."

Chapter Text

Eventually, you managed to untangle yourselves from each other and started moving on with your day as a hazy winter sun rose over Zaun, well past high noon. You didn't have anything until evening patrol later, so you would get to spend the afternoon with Taya and Scar. While he left to pickup her up from Nialee's, you headed up to check on your family. You felt different walking into your place.

It wasn't your family's quarters that was different though. It was you.

Over the course of twelve hours, you had been cracked open with this immense feeling of expansion, of knowing in your skin and bones that your life with Scar was shifting, and it would include Taya again. You would have to dust off the rooms inside you that had bloomed open at her birth, make sure everything was in tip top shape for her. The quarters felt small in comparison to the techtonic shifting beneath your feet.

Scar left the door unlocked for you when he returned, so you let yourself in, a new level of intimacy that did not go unnoticed by you. The sounds of sizzling met your ears, followed by a consistent knock knock knock from somewhere below. The door clicking closed, you wandered over to the kitchen, stomach fluttering as you traced the lines of Scar's bare back while he stood cooking at the stove, Taya on the floor behind him, banging a wooden block clutched in her little hand against more wooden blocks of various shapes and sizes, whittled down by hand, probably by Scar and other Firelight community members.

"Hi, baby," you cooed, waving at Taya from a short distance, testing out the waters again with her, not wanting to smother or overwhelm her. You pushed the conversation with Scar in the shower from earlier out of your mind - to try and process that she was here, Taya was here because Scar had been trying to get over you by steadily hooking up with Trina...you would come undone right now. Full body malfunctioning, a massive puddle of tears on the floor.

Taya blinked up at you, staring with those Firelight green eyes. Her mouth had fallen open, sharp little teeth peeking out, eyes following you as you crossed the room to Scar. His ears flicked as you approached, tracking you from the corner of his vision without fully turning or speaking, his mouth softening. You leaned into his space, taking in the faint musk of your mixed sweat still lingering on his skin, then pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"Hey, Bat Daddy," you murmured, a glint in your eye. A small smirk played at his lips before he kissed you softly, a liquid warmth flooding your senses like sweet honey. In this moment, Scar cooking in the kitchen and Taya playing on the floor, a slow Saturday afternoon, it was all feeling terribly domestic. You weren't totally opposed.

"Hungry?" he asked, voice coming out low and rough, like he was finally using it properly for the first time today.

"I could eat," you said easily, unable to stop your gaze from lingering on his, dragging along his body. He huffed out a small laugh. You would have said something teasing about his cooking, but your 12 hour marathon had left you buttery soft and placated, for now. He seemed to sense this as well, shoulders hunched but loose, his movements over the pan slow and unhurried.

At the sound of your voices, Taya turned around, staring at you again, block paused mid-crash in her fist. You grinned down at her, all teeth, and after a moment, she mirrored your smile, deciding you were cool people for now. Then she dropped the block with a clunk to the floor and crawled towards you - exactly what you were waiting for. You were pleased, helping her close the gap as you sat on the floor with her. Her eyes were bright and curious, and you could hear her little breaths through her teeth as she placed her hands on your legs, the tiniest scratches of claw, excited and determined to push herself up to standing with you as her prop.

"Taya Baby, did you have a good night at Nialee's?" you crooned in that high-pitched baby voice, making her eyebrows lift, eyes shifting back and forth across your face, trying to dissect the noises you were making, like she knew you weren't quite Chirean.

She huffed out soft little snarling sounds in reply, and you laughed.

"Oh, is that so?" You tucked a sliver of her course black hair up and behind her ears, which had grown proportionate to her size from the little nubs when she was first born. "Tell me more, baby."

Taya stared up at your face, eyes wide and running Chirean calculations in her head, before grabbing your hand insistently and tugging, pushing out more puffs of babbling that carried the unmistakable wet hiss from a mouthful of teeth.

"She says you sound like a little bird she could eat for breakfast with all that chirping," Scar offered.

"She did not, you jackass."

Taya babbled some more, intent on joining yours and Scar's conversation.

"Oh, what's that, Taya? Your dad only talks to you in a low, rough voice like a real man?" you babbled back.

Taya looked at you, thin brows deeply furrowed in concentration, looking terribly like her father, which made your heart twinge in this bittersweet way. Finally, decisively, she made a noise between a pffff and something like pa-da-da.

"You're so right, Taya! But let's keep that our little secret. Your dad might take it the wrong way. I know - men."

Scar made a tch sound behind you, and you smirked.

"You should know better than to insult the person cooking your food," he warned.

You threw him a shrewd look behind you. "It's fine, I've tasted you already."

He choked on his own spit.

"Right, just like that," you deadpanned, turning your attention back to Taya. You ruffled her hair, running your fingernails along her scalp, and she smiled, reaching for your shirt to hold onto as she stood.

"See? Told you he'd take it the wrong way," you continued, shaking your head vehemently, those bright green pools watching you. "Don't be like your dad, okay? Making a big deal out of nothing, so quick to posture and make threats. Oh Scar, lookit her!"

Taya was standing on her chubby legs now, little black claws clutching your shirt and peering up at her father with all the earnestness of a toddler who wanted to be taken seriously.

"Hey, babygirl." Now he was the one crooning, twisting his torso to smile at her. It was the first time you'd seen him smile with all his teeth without looking menacing, but instead, proud. Your face warmed from the sight of it, before your gaze stuttered on the curve of his abdomen, muscles catching the morning light coming from the living room window. He caught you staring, but said nothing, eyes simply creasing more sharply at the corners.

"Yeah," Scar said, "She's been standing more lately. I'm just glad she's not running around yet."

She reflected his smile back to her, all teeth. And then she blew a very intentional raspberry at her father.

"I like her," you said cheerfully.

*

Scar held Taya in his lap as they ate, interchanging between feeding himself and feeding her. You and Scar exchanged small smiles every now and then. The meal was enough, a simple breakfast plate of eggs and sausage...at three in the afternoon. You didn't realize how hungry you'd been until the first gloop of cracked egg yolk filled your mouth, warm and savory. You'd really kept yourselves busy for half the day.

"Shit," you cursed. "Scar - Taya baby, I'm so sorry, I forgot your first birthday! Janna, I'd been so preoccupied with visiting Trina last Sunday, what the hell."

A mix of emotions flickered through Scar's eyes.

Then he said softly, "It's okay. We're actually having a small celebration tomorrow, if you'd like to join us. I didn't know if - yeah. No pressure though. I know it's your usual food distro day."

You bit your lip, staring at him like you were the worst person in the world.

"Really, it's alright," Scar assured you. "I wanted to keep them separate..."

He took a deep breath, switching Taya onto his other thigh as she squirmed in her father's arms.

"Just the first year. Or...while she's still a baby. Doesn't really matter yet, right?"

"I guess not," you said quietly. Thinking back to the heaviness you carried last Sunday, you could only imagine how Scar had been feeling that day, on Trina's first Death Anniversary. It would make sense why he would struggle to want to celebrate with others or even be around people. You still hadn't really been talking then. It's possible he didn't want to spend that day alone either.

Another twinge of regret in your chest.

You sighed heavily to yourself, wondering when the ramifications of the Piltover day would stop hurting. It's not even been 24 hours since we made up, you reminded yourself. Hold, damnit. We're gonna be okay.

You were sure your twelve hour sex marathon was contributing to the vulnerability you were feeling right now, like your ribs had been wrenched open at the hinges, unnecessarily exposing your fleshy, beating heart.

Scar's ears flicked minutely, noticing the shift in your mood.

"Could you take her for a little?" he said, running his paw of a hand over the top of Taya's head, enough playful pressure to pull at the skin of her forehead, making her eyebrows raise as she tried to grab at his fork again. She'd already refused his last several attempts to get her to eat more, so she was needling at him out of boredom.

"Yeah, I'm done," you said eagerly. "Then we can leave you to eat in peace."

He gave a tired laugh. "What a novelty."

You wiggled your fingers out towards Taya, putting on a playful grin for her. You were grateful for the distraction. She cheesed at you, waving her arms out to grab at you now instead of Scar's fork. You wrapped your arms around her little back and under her chubby legs, your skin brushing against Scar's briefly. A current of electricity passed between you, a momentary heat as your eyes lingered on each other's.

Oh, what the hell.

Fuck it.

You leaned in swiftly before you lost your nerve, kissing him while holding Taya against your hip. A small noise caught in his throat, the kiss deeper than you'd intended. It was kind of a lot all at once, the domesticity of it all. You tried not to melt, even as your lower belly instinctually pulled at your walls, like like flower petals plucked loose from his touch. You finally broke away, slightly dazed smiles, then forced your legs to cooperate, walking the two of you to the living room and settling on the floor.

You backtracked to the kitchen momentarily and grabbed the wooden blocks, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Scar, so you wouldn't lose your mind from trip wiring residual lust from the morning. He seemed to pointedly hunch lower towards his plate, engrossed in finishing eating, possessing steady control now that he was back in dad mode - or the picture of it anyway.

What you thought would be a normal tower building game with Taya turned into...not that. She showed little interest in the pile you showed her how to make, even after you knocked it over with destructive joy. Once they'd been released from your ridiculous organization, Taya began organizing the blocks in different patterns, tapping one main block to each of the other blocks in turn, which was the most curious behavior you'd seen in a toddler. You wondered if she was doing baby Chirean calculations in her head again, that instinctual knack for engineering.

"You running tests, Taya?" you cooed at her, as she knocked her block against the last one she placed in a row.

She babbled back to you, as if explaining her process to someone clearly out of their depths.

Hmph, Scar's child indeed.

Not too long after she'd shamed your lack of physics and engineering know-how without needing a single coherent word, you heard Scar push his chair back from the table, the wood scraping lightly against the floor. The floorboards creaked as he approached, and then suddenly he was a massive body sprawled across the floor next to you, angling Taya into the crook of his arm. She squealed with delight at her father's abrupt arrival, and he grinned lazily at her. Your head cocked to the side involuntarily, taking a mental picture of the two of them cozy on the living room floor.

Taya immediately started crawling towards her father with confidence, splaying her chubby little hands on his chest and babbling even louder. With one hand, he picked her up like an airplane, making her squeal with delight, before he laid her on his broad chest, almost a foot from the floor now. Her green eyes gleamed, reveling in her new vantage point and the sturdy presence of her father's body, her ears flicking with pleasure.

Your breath hitched, and for one insane moment, you had the sudden urge to have Scar put a baby in you.

You swallowed, your hand jerking to grab a wooden block and channel that energy anywhere but in your body. One of Scar's ears flicked, catching your sudden movement, even as his gaze stayed on his daughter, patting her diapered bottom absentmindedly, as if he'd done this casual act of affection a thousand times before.

You tried to play off your awkward movement as best as you could, acting as if you were rearranging the blocks into your own pattern. You sure as hell weren't. Scar cocked a thin eyebrow at you, picking up on the weird panic vibes you were giving off.

"Wanna play a game?" he asked nonchalantly, smirking. He was talking to you, but Taya's ear perked up, like she knew this trick.

You eyed him warily.

"Why do I feel like this game will be at my expense?" you asked in a flat tone.

Scar laughed. He was smiling so much more than you'd ever seen him before. It was startling, like looking up into the Ionian sky and realizing it was high noon, briefly blinded by the afternoon sun.

"Nah - she hates me too sometimes," he said plainly.

"Wow, you're really selling this game."

"Just come," he said, grinning and holding Taya against his chest as he sat up. Then he got to his feet, suspending Taya by her hands for a brief moment so she hung with glee from her father's grip, then carefully deposited her back onto the floor with a soft oomf onto her pampered bottom.

"This is how it's gonna go," he said, crossing his arms and scanning his quarters, from the front door to the bedroom, squaring his shoulders. All the muscles along his arms seemed to sharpen in definition as he locked into strategy mode, and you couldn't help smiling.

"Taya's a Zaunite, as we know," he said, and you bit your lip to stop from laughing at this new narrator tone you hadn't known him capable of crafting. "She looks out for her community. She knows the ups and downs, what's at stake when you're out on the streets. If she sees someone in trouble, she's got you. Point blank."

"A natural Firelight," you said sardonically, unable to resist.

"Naturally," he echoed. "Regardless, a Zaunite down to her core, from the Entresol to the Sumps - not the Promenade. We don't claim them."

"Never," you agreed.

"So here's the kicker," he said, cocking an eyebrow at you, and you raised a brow at him in return. "Taya's still a little new at this. Doesn't know her capabilities. Doesn't know how to prioritize. Doesn't know how to estimate the amount of time an action will take, etc. So the people wanna know, how will she respond when more than one person needs her help at once?"

A bemused smile had spread across your face. His eyes gleamed. You hadn't seen Scar being this playful in...a long time. Probably since you'd first met in your late teens. You were all in.

"Me? Her father? The one person who knows her best? Better than she knows herself?" he continued.

"Whoa okay, let's only give credit where credit is due," you chided.

Scar shrugged in a blasé movement, like he had no control over what constituted as truth.

"What will she do?" he pushed on. "As her father, I can say with absolute certainty that...I have no idea. But let's find out."

Five minutes later, you and Scar were sitting back to back, each of you holding onto one of Taya's hands, where she sat on the floor, highly amused by whatever it was you adults were doing. His shoulder blades pressed into the tops of your shoulders, velvet soft fur brushing against the back of your arm.

"No cheating," he said.

"Only someone planning to cheat would say that," you warned.

He ignored you. "On my count. Ready, babygirl?"

Taya almost held her breath, watching for her father's next instruction.

"Three, two...one!" The last word boomed around the small living quarters, the loudest you'd ever heard him outside of rallying the troops.

You both let go of Taya's hands and scrambled, you running towards the kitchen until Scar knocked into you, grabbing you around the waist, twisting you around, and shuffling you back in the opposite direction.

"Really??" you cried, huffing and having to quickly re-strategize. "On the first turn?"

He barked out a laugh from down the hall, before you heard him sprawl onto the ground, starfishing and playing "passed out."

You grit your teeth, trying to ignore Taya staring widely at you, as you calculated your options between the couch and the coffee table, then slid towards the front door and collapsed into a pile, stretching your limbs out and closing your eyes, adding a little tongue lolling out the side of your mouth for dramatic effect. Your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath from sprinting. This was also the moment you realized you really needed to rest your body after today.

Taya shuffled on the floor, and you imagined seeing her staring back and forth at her father and then at you.

Her father, then you. Scar. You.

You squinted your eyes, chancing a peek at her through your eyelashes. She was still sitting up, leaning on her hands in front of her, staring at her father lying on his back down the hall, close to the bedroom door. Then she turned her head and looked at you, and you shut your eyes quickly, trying your best to stifle a snort.

Several more seconds passed, and you thought maybe this child wouldn't save either of you and preferred checking her blocks for quality assurance instead. You took in a deep inhale, ignoring the small itch in your foot that of course had to happen right now.

And then Taya was moving, and you almost pumped your fist in the air in victory as you heard her little hands plopping against the floor as she crawled towards you. Then, she stopped three feet away. The sounds of shuffling ceased. A loud silence fell.

You almost stopped breathing.

Taya had stopped moving.

Only Scar's child.

Only Scar's child would tease you and hold you in suspense like this.

After a few more moments of literally nothing, you heard a soft snort coming from the other end of the living quarters. Scar had cracked, and he was gonna take Taya with him once her attention swiveled towards him. Now you had to look. You peeked an eye open and saw her looking in her father's direction, whole body turned towards him, ears tweaking at the sounds of his muffled laughter. You were pretty sure he was laughing at your expense, knowing the anxiety she was putting you through.

So close. You were so close.

Taya turned her head back curiously towards you, and you shut your eyes again.

A tease. This child was a tease!

And then, miraculously, as if Janna had mercy on your soul for once, Taya started crawling again, finally closing the gap between you and her, sticking her little face in yours so you could feel her puffs of breath grazing your eyelids. She babbled, starting to grab for your hair, and that's when you bolted upright and cackled loudly over your win, snatching Taya around the waist and snuggling her into you, making victorious snarling babbling sounds into her neck.

She was smiling, curled in on herself. You loosened your hold on her, and she went still, wide-eyed, waiting - expecting you to pull her into a rabid snuggle, to do it again.

Fine. A tease who was worth it. She was too adorable to stay mad at for long.

Too much like her father, you thought to yourself, as you let your cute aggression take hold again and snuggled her like an animal.

Scar let his laughter out fully now, body creaking a bit as he got up and came over towards you.

"Got your heart rate back to normal yet?" he asked in mock assessment.

"You're just mad you lost," you sniffed. "Even after your bullshit head start."

"Told you she hates me sometimes," he sighed, like she was already a moody teenager who wanted nothing to do with her dad.

"Or maybe she just doesn't condone your cheating," you said sardonically.

A beat.

"Nah, that can't be it," Scar said dismissively, shifting his weight and placing a thoughtful hand on his hip, like he was rewinding the events in his head and trying to determine where his strategy went wrong. "She's a Zaunite - we do what we must."

You snorted at that.

"Touché."

"Best three out of five? Or till she tires. May not make it to five."

Taya was squirming in your arms now, kicking her legs out and ready to be free. You plopped her back on her butt, and she got on all fours, eyes searching for her father like the North Star. Already such a daddy's girl.

You glanced up briefly - Scar was watching you two together with a soft light in his eyes that made your heart flutter.

You couldn't blame her.

"Alright, I'll bite - but what does the winner get?" you asked, an innocent lilt to your voice that suggested otherwise.

Scar's gaze latched onto yours, luminescent eyes pressing heat into you.

"Whatever they want," he said, voice lowering like clouds of smoke.

"That's entirely too broad," you said, unimpressed.

"Fine," he said, leveling you with a look. "A favor."

"Oh?"

"Take it or leave it."

"Wow, house rules much."

"Democracy's for the outside world. We have a different structure here."

You rolled your eyes at him, then extended your hand. He pulled you up, smugness on his lips and heat in his eyes. You blinked and narrowed your eyes, getting your head back in the game.

"Alright, Bat Daddy, let's go."

Twenty minutes later, Taya had crawled onto her father where he lay half in the bathroom and half in the hallway. Scar won - just barely. He held out a wide knuckled fist to his daughter, going for a fist bump, and she grabbed his whole fist and brought it to her mouth instead, suckling without a care in the world.

"Good enough," Scar said.

*

As a rare midnight blue settled over Zaun, just beyond the hazy neon green, you got yourself together, reluctantly rolling out of bed and out of Scar's arms where you'd been snuggling, Taya playing on the sheets next to you, teething on a well-loved, stuffed Poro doll that Nialee had crafted for her. You pressed a kiss to each of her chubby cheeks and lastly, her forehead. Scar had said you could stay, but you knew you needed to be back in your own space and energy, needing the whirlpool of love and sex and affection, the whole dam bursting between you, to settle into your system.

He walked you to the door, Taya wrapped tightly in fabric and secured around his torso, a sight that plucked at that lizard-brained urge to carry his pups again, making you nearly sweat. It was definitely time to get back to your own quarters.

"I'll see you tomorrow, maybe?" he said, gaze lingering on yours in a way that suddenly made you flustered, like this was the end of a first date. "We're starting in the morning but going into late afternoon, I'm sure. Come by if you're not - ah, busy, after distro."

There was a knowing glint in his eyes and your stomach fluttered, your cheeks burning. You breathed out a sigh that also doubled as a soft whimper. Embarrassing.

"I'm not, Scar," you assured him with a certainty that locked you into his orbit in a complete and final way. The absence of the constant weight holding you back was liberating. His eyes were fixed on yours, both smoldering and endlessly tender. "I'll be there."

**

As it happened, Karma was walking perfectly fine after Friday night, killing the promise of a good story. She tried to needle all the explicit details of your 12 hour sex-capade with Scar, but you remained tight-lipped, offering only a crumb of what transpired.

It was thorough.

You felt mildly guilty after distro, telling Ray about Taya's birthday plans before gently breaking things off. You were relieved that the reason for not hooking up as usual provided a smooth segue into a brief "Scar and I are talking again," which was to say, together. Ray wasn't completely surprised - they'd picked up on the tension between you two months ago and had a feeling this fun thing between you would always be temporary. They'd known you and Scar were close even before, often seeing you two together. Their deep brown eyes had looked hopeful when they said it, like maybe you would contradict them, say they were mistaken, but you, of course, didn't. Your body and heart knew who you wanted.

They eased the awkward tension with a flirtatious joke and gave you a final kiss on the cheek that - really - was closer to your jaw, your ear. It sent a chill down your spine and relit sensory memory of Ray's heat against your skin. You exhaled, eyeing them with a look, and then grasped their hand with a warm squeeze. You'd see each other on patrol later that week. You had a feeling everything would be fine. Ray was too good a friend who you hoped would stick around regardless.

Khalil made a small cake for Taya's birthday, Karma came in clutch with an entire marinated chicken, Sinth procured a few toys from his connects in the Undercity, and Ekko made her a small gadget that had little compartments and pieces that could be reassembled into different shapes. Nialee, Nilo, and a few of the mothers pitched in together to buy some fabric for the Firelight kids to fashion into a set of toddler sized jumpers and three pairs of socks. Corinth brought a soft blanket made of fabric durable enough for little Chirean claws. The Firelight community as a whole pitched in for a bulk supply of diapers, which Sinth brought into Scar's quarters in a sizeable cardboard box. Taya ate all the fruit on her cake and Scar let her have a small portion of the actual cake. Surprisingly, she didn't make a mess, but she did crawl at lightning speed into the living room with cake on her hands, and it was Ekko who finally caught her and scooped her up. He wiped her fingers with a wet cloth, while Sinth brought out the mop. Soon after, she'd disassembled Ekko's gadget into several little trinkets, before exhaustion from all the stimulation took over. She was wailing as Karma gathered her up for a nap in their bedroom. Half of you poured out onto the balcony for air with your drinks in hand, which is when you caught up on more gossip. Scar stayed close by, chatting with others while looking out over the Firelight base, leaning against the banister and catching your eye occasionally, before eventually spending most of the late afternoon with his chin tucked into your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you from behind. You were warm for the rest of the evening.

Another year was coming to a close, and Firelight activity all but slowed. The raid on one of the Promenade's cultivairs was swift and successful, the only damage being the small glass fragments that had embedded into Scar's calf from when he kicked in the glass with a final smash. You carefully picked out the shards with tweezers - unbelievably, not the first time you'd patched Scar up like this - and admonished him for the dramatics with a sigh. Khalil got to cracking on the worn machinery, he, Karma, and Ekko scheming and drawing ideas from the feat Jinx had pulled off when rerouting the vents to Piltover, feeding them the Gray instead. They were cooking up something good that you knew would solidify over time.

Before the year closed, however, two distinct incidences occurred. The first was an act of Janna or something, someone, some ultimate power in Runeterra. Ekko had knocked on your door, and you opened it to find him and Scar shoulder to shoulder - or they would be if they were the same height. Once you stepped outside, Ekko all but dragged you by the hand towards Scar's quarters, Scar wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked, telling him to cool it, you all had plenty of time, especially now.

They'd closed the door and lowered the shades, then Ekko finally presented something he'd been hiding in the bulk of his long jacket. It looked like a glass capsule, medium-sized with enough heft to it that was counterbalanced with a strap around his torso. You squinted, peering closer into the glass to see its circumference decorated with little monkeys crashing cymbals between their hands.

Ekko's Z Drive.

It had presented itself in his most recent glitch, and leaning on the fact that he was able to take it from his timebomb timeline with Powder and Heimerdinger to their current timeline, he didn't see why he couldn't bring it back again. It hadn't smashed out of existence like he'd thought - and whatever consequences would come of his actions, he would deal with later.

This was the start of later. You'd leveled Ekko with a serious look, eyeing the two of them now, the feel of unresolved tensions rising to the surface. You'd told Ekko and Scar that they needed to share the glitching incidents with the senior Firelights at the very least. To bring the Z Drive back without any accountability outside of you and Scar? That was a dangerous gamble, and pressure you didn't want riding on your shoulders. Thankfully, it didn't take much more convincing for them to agree, and you were grateful that Scar had listened and sided with you. His ears twitched in your direction, brows furrowed in calculation, and you saw the shift in his demeanor, the appraising look in his eyes, the resignation of committing to what needed to be done.

You were grateful, and yet - despite, things going really nicely between you and Scar lately, no amount of love or sex or affection could entirely dissipate the thin veil of distrust and hesitance that wrapped around your gut around Firelight activities, like a wound that needed redressing if a burn were ever to heal properly. After leaving the two Firelights, you soon realized how much it bothered you that they still hadn't told anyone and hadn't come ready with the proposition to show the Z Drive to the senior Firelights themselves. Why did it always have to come down to you to course correct them and make things right? It was frustrating and honestly, pretty disappointing.

Over the next few days, it came with a rush of clarity as you'd sat outside your quarters, back to the wall and peering up at the moon, a ghostly waning crescent haunting Zaun's night sky. This feeling wasn't going away until something changed, until some fundamental changes took place. It was an idea that had been brewing at the back of your mind, ever since the season of arson. You still hadn't returned to full-time Firelight duties, and after seeing the Z Drive and their initial handling of the situation, you were glad you listened to yourself and abstained.

It was a solution that mildly terrified you because of the immensity of change it would bring, but also, it was undeniable, the way the pieces fit in the grander scheme of things, for an everchanging Zaun whose only two constants were the violence of poverty and the life-sustaining presence of community. You could work with that.

**

It was with this paradigm shift in mind, steeling your spine as you rode your hoverboard throughout the Undercity, that you landed with your heart pounding out of your chest outside of an abandoned building. You knocked the new rhythm the kids had taught you before their recent relocation and your last visit, when you'd been pleased to see their wounds had healed well enough without any threat of permanent nerve damage.

When Yuridice opened the door, you were surprised to see her lips already quirking in a small smile. It further bolstered your resolve, bracing your gut for whatever happened next.

"Janna, did you get taller since the last time I saw you?" you said, teasing the girl. She looked more grown and curves were starting to fill in, a result of the steady regimen of hormones Ray still supplied and which you handed off to her. You wanted to keep your comments appropriate while also opening an opportunity for her to share any new gender euphoria she'd been experiencing, if she wanted.

"No, maybe you've just gotten shorter," she said, fixing you with an appraising look, almost with disapproval and concern for your visual faculties. "You're old, aren't you?"

"Yup, same Yuridice since I last remember," you said with approval, ignoring her question and sliding your hands into your jacket pockets for comfort.

She laughed, rolling her eyes, but there was a small bounce to her step as she walked just ahead of you. She turned back abruptly, quirking an eyebrow at you. "Check this out though."

She tugged at her sweater's neckline, just enough to show a sliver of her aquamarine skin and the unmistakable presence of a bra strap. You gave her a wicked smile.

"I love this for you," you said, glowing with pride. "How do you feel?"

"Just...lovely," Yuridice said, grinning at her own choice of words, tongue in cheek.

You gave her a little victory dance forward as you continued walking, waving your arms and hyping her up. She laughed some more, swaying to the same imaginary rhythm as you, before finally stopping in front of a gray door with an iron #4 on it. This floor closely resembled living quarters, a nice upgrade from the closed business office they had been hiding out in for months.

As you crossed the threshold, you stepped into a sparse but clean living room. There were several patchworked pillows scattered around the middle of the small room and some bronze mechanical device with gears and handles that you couldn't quite conceive into an object you were familiar with. Yuridice had kicked off her worn boots by the door and pattered through the living room in thick, mismatched socks. The place was dark, with no windows or electricity running through it, only dimly lit with two gas lamps left around the floor pillows.

"Where is everyone?" you asked slowly, peering down a narrow hallway and listening for any sounds of activity.

"Raid," Yuridice said simply, as if it were a regular Monday. You knew there were about six kids living together, and they had their own mechanisms for providing for themselves, but you hadn't realized just how closely they were mirroring the Firelights' structure for survival. Her next words absolutely rattled you to your core.

"We heard about the raid you'd all done on the cultivairs earlier this month and realized you were onto something," she said, sounding like she was assessing, calculating, in ways that were much older than an almost twelve year old. "We heard some machines were stolen, but that's...out of our depth. So we're going in for the plants. They could be good for food. Or we could sell them on the black market. And anything else we can nick. We'll see."

"That's - impressive," you said faintly, trying not to let your tone waver with the concern that was steadily mounting inside of you. You weren't their parent. You weren't their guardians, necessarily. You wanted to maintain these relationships with kids who had every reason to mistrust adults, and you needed to move carefully doing so. Instead of asking a million micromanaging questions about their strategy, you let the topic fall for now. You didn't trust yourself to not go into parent or older sibling mode, something engrained within you after helping to raise your younger brothers, Ember and Emile. And the Firelight kids, truly.

You let Yuridice talk on, giving you updates on the social lives of her peers - who had a crush on who, who broke up with who, and some of the shows on the Entresol they had snuck in to watch. As you listened, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. Life was kind of the same no matter what age you were, wasn't it? How you survive, how you seek entertainment, and who's down to ride along the way. You tried to picture these kids as adults, even as Firelights.

The thought made your stomach twist for two different reasons: growing to adulthood was never guaranteed in Zaun, and you weren't sure if you would want them to become Firelights. Not just because of the residual distrust corroding your insides, but because, well - at some point, don't you get tired of fighting? If you adults all played your cards right, a future without needing Firelights could be in their cards. It was a fanciful dream, but it was the end goal, wasn't it?

Was this the kind of lifestyle waiting ahead for Taya?

Eventually, Yuridice ran out of gossip to share and the room fell into a comfortable silence. You'd taken your boots off as well and stretched your legs across the floor. You both kept your hands near the gas lamps, warming them from the chill that seeped in through the cracks under the doorway.

"You all put your imagination to work, huh," you said, steering the conversation back to the raid, their daily survival. "Ingenuity at its finest."

A small smirk played at Yuridice's lips, preening the slightest bit at your praise.

"Yuridice," you started gently, the change in your tone noticeable and making her look up sharply at you. You shook your head to indicate things were fine. "I wanted to ask you something today. It's something I've thought about before, and I've been thinking about it more and more lately."

Her face stilled, shrewd cerulean eyes watching you carefully as your heart rate picked up again, the muscle slamming against your ribcage.

"Okay."

It was now or never.

"Have you ever thought about what it might be like," you started, trying to keep your voice level. "If you had adults living with you again? I know it's been awhile and you've all got each other's backs. But it could be a nice - change you know, to have more support."

You took in a deep breath, your heart still pounding out of fear of rejection. Fuck, what kind of world did you all live in that you had to ask a group of ragtag, quasi- self-sufficient children if you could join them and keep them safer?

A violently fucked up one, that's what kind.

Yuridice's mouth parted in a silent gasp that never left her lips. Her next words were slow, measured.

"You...you want to live with us?" Her tone danced a fine line between hope, disbelief, and incredulity.

These kids, these Lost Children of Zaun or a handful of them anyway, had never asked to join the Firelight hideout despite their connections with you. That in itself told you something about how they navigated the world and saw themselves, carrying pride in their independence and not expecting anyone to give a damn about them. Their families had either been wiped out, abandoned them out of necessity, or sold them off to Chembarons for child labor and they'd escaped. And the part that killed you the most, every time you'd gone to visit, or patched up another youth in the streets, or provided any kind of aid outside of the Firelight base, was that you literally couldn't bring in any more individuals. Since the time leading up to the day in Piltover, you'd been having capacity issues - and you'd finally hit your cap earlier this summer. It was an unprecedented time for the Firelights in the near decade you'd been operating and building out. It was a sign for things to change, to adapt to these new circumstances.

For you, the timing was clandestine.

"I - yes," you said firmly, knowing the price you'd pay for the slightest bit of doubt. "I want to - if you'll have me. I've seen the way you all operate, and it's solid. You're basically running your own Firelight ring out here on your own. So I thought, why not bring everything I know to you all? You would still lead collectively of course, but I could guide as needed and contribute what I can."

Yuridice's eyes were boring into you, and you met her gaze steadily.

"Of course, you can say no, and I'll still be here, doing the same things to support you as I have been," you added quickly. "I think - if there's anything I can do, I want to help keep you all safer on a more regular basis, as 'safe' as it comes in Zaun."

She blinked finally and seemed to soften a bit, resting her chin on her knee that was propped against her. She weighed her hand against the firelight, palm up, palm down, palm up, palm down. Quiet as she digested everything you had shared. Your heart rate was starting to come down, now that you'd gotten all of it out. Or - most of it. You were still biting your tongue about the cultivair raid - what about the increase in security? Which one did they target? Who did it belong to and what were their ties within Zaun's upperclass that sold their own to mingle in a makeshift life of abundance with Pilties?

"We'll think about it," Yuridice finally said, her voice soft and vulnerable. It made you ache. How long had they each gone without families? "I'll have to talk with everyone and we'd have to collectively decide."

You let out a breath of mild relief.

"That sounds great, as you should," you replied. "There's no rush, you don't need to have an answer today or even the next time I come visit. But if you all think about my offer and what you may want it to look like, I'd love to hear your ideas."

Yuridice nodded her head, gaze finally shifting back up to yours.

"It's a nice - idea," she said roughly, barely allowing herself to hope. "I...I think I would like that."

You gave her a soft smile and nodded, keeping your actions and the mood gentle, careful. You didn't want to overstep and you didn't want to scare them away either. Your body relaxed a little, and you changed the subject to Taya and how her first birthday went.

As you spoke, there was that needling feeling at the back of your neck, anxiety bubbling in your gut.

Now you'd just have to tell Scar.

**

The two of you were panting, catching your breath in Scar's bed.

"You comfy?" he asked flatly, once his breathing had steadied.

"Are you not?" you tossed back.

A brief grunt.

"S'not my fault your facecard literally screams, Sit on my face."

He slapped your ass roughly and you laughed, backing your thighs from their chokehold on his neck. Scar wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you down next to him, licking and wiping his chin with his forearm.

"Also - you cheated," you said dryly.

"What? How?"

"You shouldn't have known about - that thing you did," you said, knowing with certainty you'd caught him.

"What thing?" He was playing dumb until he had to fess up.

"You know what thing."

"Oh, that thing that made you scream my name?"

You huffed, face warming. "Yeah that thing. Scar, what did you see when you saw me during your glitch??"

He gave you a long look. It had evolved. No longer was it, Please, ask me anything but this. Instead, his muzzle relaxed, mouth still in a half frown that said in resignation, Alright, you asked for it.

"In every timeline, you're a self-proclaimed hoe. Baby, you don't shut up about it. You enticed me - I couldn't say no."

You tried to wrap your mind around the idea of Scar fucking you in an alternate universe before he did very intentionally in this one. Of another version of yourself teaching him things that this version of you liked. It felt fucking weird. And bizarrely hot.

"You were involved??" you said aghast, trying to act like this didn't turn you on at all.

"Picture a timeline where you don't whore yourself out to me," he said, canines biting his lip to keep from laughing. "You can't, can you?"

It was times like this when you really wished you'd taken up fight training beyond basic self-defense. If you could do some damage right now, you would. Instead, you closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.

"How many times?" you asked, your eyes still closed.

"Does it matter?"

"Scar."

Beat.

"Just - twice."

Holy fuck.

"Different timelines?" you asked weakly.

Another beat.

"Yeah."

You groaned and buried your face into his chest in embarrassment and trying not to get turned on again. He was right. Heat rose to your cheeks, even warmer than his flesh and fur. He ran a few claws along your scalp, chuckling softly and easing the tension that'd risen between your shoulders.

"It was...very consensual, if that helps," he offered.

"Oh, yeah. So helpful," you muttered into his abdomen, lifting with his torso as he breathed out a laugh.

Well on that note.

You sighed, reminding yourself to get it together. You'd resolved to tell Scar your plans tonight - you just didn't know how to bring it up. And then you both got distracted. Or really, he distracted you. And you let him.

Somehow, hiding pressed into his side made you feel safer to voice the words you'd been trying to carve out of yourself all night. You decided you would segue into it.

"Babe, can I ask you something?" you said softly. "It's - something that's been on my mind lately."

You felt his muscles stiffen at your more serious tone.

"Yeah, 'course, baby. Everything okay?"

"It's about the glitch and the Z Drive. I'm not mad about the - I'm not mad about the sex," you said quickly. "I'm more just...wondering when you plan to bring it up with everyone? It's been like a week now - "

"Right, yeah," he said, before gently nudging you off of him, then sitting up against the pillows so he could look at you. Janna, he could be so intense with his intentionality sometimes, those green tides holding you in place with nowhere to hide. "We've been talking about it. I'm sorry if it seems like we haven't."

You nodded, because that did make you feel better. He cleared his throat, brows frowning, arms coming up to rest on his knees bent under the blanket.

"Is there a reason why you've been hiding the glitch?" you asked, genuinely wanting to know. No malice or judgment.

The question caught him off guard, mouth parting open without words coming out, eyebrows raised.

"I wasn't hiding it," he said, a touch of defensiveness in his voice. "I just thought I could handle it on my own. A part of me was hoping they would stop, but by the third time..."

He made a disgruntled gesture with his hand. His usually piercing gaze fell downcast.

"And once I saw the pattern of the things it showed me, the people it brought me to," he said, sounding like he'd been cornered. "I didn't want them to stop. I'm realizing now I let it get kind of..."

"Addicting," you breathed, stomach twisting at learning more layers of how destructive your fallout before and after Piltover had been. His gaze flickered towards you in affirmation, then away, darkened with shame.

"I've been reckless, pushing my luck," he admitted, voice low. "I know no timelines are perfect. Ekko told me what happened to Vi in his timebomb. I'm sure there are millions of timelines and half of them are tragic. But it's weird, it's like it knows...what I want. It's only brought me to timelines that have shown me worlds of what's possible. Realities I've wished for or hope to see one day. The glitch, its arcane energy, it almost feels - benevolent."

You hummed in acknowledgment, wondering if Ekko felt the same way or if it was just how Scar experienced it. The first and last time you'd seen him go through it, he'd seemed pretty shaken.

"I'm so sorry, Scar," you said, still feeling terribly guilty, regardless of how Scar felt about it. "I shouldn't have left you to face it alone. Not for so long. You had Taya, and I knew you had help, but - "

" - no, I'm sorry, baby," he said, shaking his head like the apology was unnecessary. "You did what you needed to do. You couldn't have known."

His mouth thinned and he looked at you, gaze hardened with resolve. 

"I - we plan to meet with the senior Firelights. Tell them everything that went down before Piltover," he said, voice tightening. "The decisions I made. Ekko and I agreed that...we need a better process for significant decision-making. We do our best to handle things collectively, but it's not new that we call the shots when shit gets tight. Whether 'cause of our experience or prioritizing what we believe is the safety of our commune. What I did, it wasn't my sole decision to make. Nothing should go over the entire leadership's heads. Or all the Firelights, without having a say. I think we fell into it because we created this together, we fell into these patterns, and it just...stayed that way."

He paused, shifting his gaze from you, seeming to go elsewhere.

"I know we're gonna need some restructuring. We've never been perfect, but we've never caused this much harm to - one of our own before."

Scar leveled you with a look, jaw tightening.

"We'll tell the community everything, and I - I promise we'll make it right."

You let out a heavy sigh. Relief was flooding through you from the initiative he was finally taking. It was like he read your mind. You didn't want to keep thinking for them. You didn't want to keep proposing all the solutions. You were tired of being the one to initiate. You wanted to be able to trust and be cared for in turn, especially from leadership. And that's what this olive branch felt like.

He held out his large paw of a hand to you, and you reached for him back. Both your gazes fell to your hands, watching as Scar caressed yours with his thumb.

"Thank you," you managed, your voice small in your throat. He nodded, ears flicking back, before looking up at you again.

"Is there anything you need from us that would make things feel - right? Or resolved?" His brows were pinched high in earnest, lacing his fingers through yours, like he needed you to feel his warmth and sincerity.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and your heart started jackhammering. His ears twitched minutely, like he'd heard the shift in your heart beats. Because he did.

This was it. This was the opening. You could barely breathe.

"No, that sounds - it all sounds perfect, Scar," you said slowly, pulling air into your lungs in deep breaths. "I think that's exactly what's needed."

He nodded, but kept his gaze locked on yours. He didn't seem to be breathing either.

"And I'm so grateful you'd both been planning next steps, you have no idea." Your heart was in your throat now.

"But?" he coaxed. Your whole face froze, feeling stricken - you couldn't believe he'd beaten you to it. To the fact that this was the correct course of action needed, that this felt like accountability for you - and yet, you needed more.

"But - babe, I need to tell you something hard, and I'm not gonna lie...I'm kind of scared, how you'll react."

He didn't move for a moment. Then he nodded, deeper this time, letting out a long exhale from that pink nose of his, like he knew something like this was coming.

"Tell me," he said. His voice was even in his mental preparation, but you could hear a heaviness at its edges.

You looked away, then looked back. Jade eyes, green tides, luminescent glow, endless as the ocean when you looked into them. And then you couldn't look at him anymore.

Say it. Say it damnit. The only way out is through.

"I'm leaving the Firelights," you blurted out.

*

Scar's sharp exhale landed between your ribs, like you were the one who'd been gut-punched, not him. His grip tightened slightly around yours. His mouth fell open to speak, but you cut him off.

"It's not - it's not for the reasons you might think," you said abruptly. Your words were tumbling over each other, trying your best to execute damage control. "Not entirely. And it's not gonna be immediately. But it is something that I've been feeling for awhile now, and - and an opportunity might be opening up."

You stopped now, knowing that you needed to give him time to process. A tidal wave of emotions swept through his gaze as he blinked slowly at you, his brows frowning, muzzle dropping, distraught.

"Why?" His voice was rough with heat, the last efforts of burning coals holding out under a fire, trying to make it last.

"The kids," you said simply, but that explanation was too simple. It was not enough. "The rest of Zaun. I - It's been bothering me ever since the fires. The riots. You don't know how many people, how many youth I've had to...it was a lot. And I realized, we're doing our jobs as Firelights. We are - we're taking care of a lot of our people. But it's not enough. Not anymore."

He watched your face, searching for anything, anything else that made more sense to him than this. His frown deepened.

"I understand that, but why does that mean you have to leave?" he asked, his tone sounding like he was grasping at straws.

And there it was - the other part. The part that still hurt. That wall, that veil that never seemed to dissipate.

"Because," you said, your stomach knotting, needing to be released. You gave a final push, and it came out a little louder than you'd intended.

"Because I can't work under you and Ekko anymore."

His face twisted, like you'd slapped him. His ears twitched, pinning back against his head and staying there.

"I'm sorry, Scar," you said quietly. "I know you're doing your best to make things right. I do trust in that. I know you both will, with time. But it still...it still hurts, and I can't shake it off, and I'm trying, I swear I am. But I don't think being here in the midst of all these...operational changes. It's not going to help me heal. I don't want - I don't want to be around for all of it slowly happening. I need a little separation from it, a way to move on. For myself."

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you'd noticed he'd let go of your hand.

Shit.

"I just feel...I feel like my time with the Firelights, it's been coming to a close, for months now," you said, every word feeling like a stone thrown between you two. "And not because I think what we're doing isn't important. You know that it's everything to me. But there's got to be more than just...this. Zaun needs more than we alone can give right now. I just feel like there's more I could be doing outside of base."

"So you're running away." He said it like he hadn't even heard the last thing you said. He probably didn't, judging by the way he was breathing.

"I'm not running away -"

"- then what are you doing? What's your plan?" he said, his voice a low rumble of anger, and you knew he was hurting. Maybe your timing was shit, catching him right after being intimate, but when was there going to be a better time? It was never going to land easily, you told yourself.

"Just listen. Please, baby," you said, feeling the heat rise in your throat and trying to keep yourself from snapping back. He scowled and looked away, eyes darkening and downcast.

A long silence, then -

"I'm listening," he said tightly, still not looking at you. His claws were scraping against the bedsheets, up and down in slow, intent strokes.

You explained everything with Yuridice, the couple of lost kids of the Undercity you'd been caring for regularly. He'd known about them, of course, but not about how you'd been feeling about the current political climate of change that was slowly sweeping over Zaun - and over you. In between, he finally did look at you, something in his features softening minutely, but his whole body was still rigid with disbelief.

Soon, you fell quiet. A thick tension settled between you two, and you'd begun picking at lint on your sweater, crushing each ball of fuzz between your fingertips like it was their fault for all of this change.

Scar shifted under the sheets, readjusting his posture and hunching deeper, elbows over his knees now, hands held tightly together.

"And - where do I fit into your plans?" he breathed, looking at you with a smallness you'd never seen in him before, and it made you crumble.

"Oh, babe, I still want to be with you," you said firmly, shocked that he had maybe thought otherwise. "That doesn't change, Scar. I want that more than anything. It just might look...different."

He huffed out a breath, like he wanted to believe you. It terrified you that he didn't.

"I love you."

You'd said it like a promise, and maybe it was. Your eyes widened around the words, your face warming. You didn't say them often.

"And I love myself, too. I think both can coexist. I don't want to end up resenting you or resenting myself if I stay."

The air in his bedroom shifted, like staking your ground within yourself had expanded the room somehow.

After some silence, he finally spoke.

"I know it's not your intent," he began slowly, voice rough as scattered ashes in his throat. "It just feels like you're punishing me. Like we can never move forward from everything."

Your mouth fell open.

Then your anger flared. Somehow he was the victim in all of this now? You steeled your jaw to keep yourself calm, batting down the rising irritation.

"Scar, this is moving forward. For me. You're the one who - hurt me. This is what I need, and I think it should matter," you said, allowing the tender flesh of your vulnerability bleed through your voice. "Part of it is about us, yeah. You know I've never been comfortable with your power dynamics over me" - Scar made a sound as if to respond, but you placed a pleading hand on his.

He stilled.

"Even with structural changes, you know it's still inherent. Wouldn't it be nice to...have a clean slate? Just start over without any of this hanging between us? It's like...re-meeting, the way it could've been, with nothing holding us back."

His ears flicked at that, finally unpinning from his head.

"And what about..." He looked at you searchingly, like his life was hanging in the balance and it was up to you if he survived.

Us. Taya. Me. He didn't say it, but he didn't have to, and you didn't think he could get the words out right now anyway. The vulnerability in those luminescent pools told you everything.

"I - I know," you said, frowning. The only sound in the room was the soft ruffle of sheets as you ran your hand back and forth over small folds and ripples of cloth. Your heart was slowly starting to hammer again.

"I'd never ask you to leave the Firelights," you said quietly, looking past him and out the window, catching the silhouette of a senior Firelight in the neighboring window. "But maybe...I don't know, if you and Taya would want to join me in the future?"

You wanted to say more, but this proposition was a huge leap from dating to living together, and you couldn't even verbalize those words right now. Time seemed to slow, heartbeat dragging against the current, not looking at Scar yet, afraid to see his response on his face.

A few more moments of silence stretched on.

"You think that's possible right now?" he asked evenly, but you could hear the incredulity in his voice.

"Well, no, not right now," you said, pausing your nervous pat down of the sheets and finally looking at him. "But maybe one day? That's the goal, isn't it? I mean c'mon, Scar, do you really want you and Taya spending the rest of your lives living in the Firelight base? It's safer, but...doesn't she deserve more than that? Than living in a repurposed sewage pipe with a single tree sustaining us?"

You shook your head dismissively, remembering your childhood, standing at your home island's edge, the fresh air, the salty smell of the ocean, strong winds whipping through your hair on mornings that preceded a storm. You remembered playing for hours with kids from your village, sometimes sneaking off to venture into the forest's edge or finding short trails at the foot of the mountains. You remembered communal evenings on the beach, celebrating birthdays and other special occasions until sunset, until your mother called you back, up to your knees in the inky black waters. You remembered the smell of campfires and freshly cooked meat, colorful markets and new foods to try when merchant ships came to the harbor for trade, and you hadn't yet learned to be afraid of unfamiliar ships.

That feeling, you carried strongly most of all - the feeling of living without fear. All these stories, Scar knew about you, knew that you carried these memories close to your heart always.

"We've already got our hands on the filtering systems. Khalil and Karma have got the blueprints mapped out. Even as Firelights, we're starting to push for more than what we've imagined possible in a long time."

Scar sighed again, placing his broad hand over yours on the bedsheets. The steady weight of it was comforting.

"You're different from us," he said, and you blinked. "It's never been a bad thing. To be honest, when things are extra shitty and I'm struggling to see a way out, I think of your hope for Zaun. It's the one thing you never seem to give up on, even when you're out on the streets on your own, not even as one of us. Everything you do speaks volumes of that steadfast belief."

He turned your palm over in his hand thoughtfully, tracing lines from the center and massaging into every finger. Fuck, did you love his hands. It felt therapeutic and eased some of the tension that had bled from his body into yours.

"I just - don't know if I can believe like that yet," he admitted quietly, his reserve running up like grit and gravel against his throat. "Maybe it's harder for me because the Undercity is all I've ever known. Or maybe we have been short-sighted, building out our community out of survival mode. And that's been enough - a fucking sanctuary, something we haven't had in a long time. I know things are changing. I - I just can't let it go yet. I have to see it through. Ekko and I, we've been here since day one. I can't walk away with nothing but 'hope' that we'll be safe, that shit's not just gonna crumble here."

"I'm not asking you to just walk away," you said, brows furrowing. You'd been spending so much time together lately, you realized you'd started picking up his mannerisms.

"I know," he said. "It's just...a lot to think about."

"It is," you agreed. "You don't need to have an answer right now. Yuridice and the kids haven't even said yes yet. For all we know, that may not pan out. But still, I need to be out there, Scar. I can't keep hiding."

He chewed over that for a moment.

"That is what it's become, isn't it?" he said, ears twitching in agitation. "It's felt that way ever since we slowed the raids and started...fucking drowning in paperwork and prepping for Council meetings."

You laughed bitterly.

"Yeah, but Scar, I'd give us a lot more credit," you said, challenging him. "If we make the right moves together, I don't think everything will crumble if you leave. That's the test, isn't it? I think we've built a solid foundation. It's the only reason I feel capable of expanding back into the Undercity. We've always figured out systems to make things work, and pivoting when we have to. I think we've built something strong enough. Do you believe that?"

For once, you were the one pinning him with your gaze. You honestly wanted to know. He didn't answer you directly.

"What if having us as a stronghold is the only reason we can do anything in Zaun?" he asked, countering without any heat. "If this stronghold folds, we've shot ourselves in the foot. We'd be sliding backwards, shrinking in scale and impact."

"It won't fold," you said vehemently, a deep conviction resonating through your bones. "I get your fear around that, but do you really believe it, Scar? 'Cause that would mean you're sitting here thinking we're strong only because of yours and Ekko's efforts, and all this weight is on your shoulders. That we've built a disorganized community and a dependent system, incapable of operating without the two of you. Were the foundations ever really strong if they just fall apart when you're gone? I think we've grown more interdependent than that. I know that's not what we intentionally built."

You let that sit for a moment.

"It feels like that sometimes," he said quietly.

"I know, babe," you said empathetically. "That's something you and Ekko will have to work through with the rest of the Firelights. We're not the same people we were when we were eighteen and piecing this together bit by bit. We've changed and the conditions are changing. There's a reason why societies have always passed on the torch. Sometimes, new blood, fresh ideas are what's needed down the line."

You looked him in the eyes, then stared out the window, that familiar feeling of standing on the precipice of another life, your breath fogging the glass as you peered just beyond your perception.

"Zaun will outlast Piltover," you said. Your voice was resolute. "It has to. They're signing their own death warrant if they exploit us to the bone, till there's nothing left to squeeze labor out of. It's not sustainable. And the people of Zaun are feeling it. Zaun is rising, I can feel it."

You wanted to be a hundred percent certain, but of course, that was impossible. What was possible was building and sustaining life, a safer refuge, based off of belief, hope, and a vision for the future. The Firelight base was a testament to that. You didn't have to be absolutely certain before taking the first leap. You just had to try and fucking hope for the best.

Scar sighed. "I know what you're saying isn't impossible. The glitch - I've seen what's possible for Zaun. I just - I don't know if I believe that it can happen for us so quickly here."

"I don't think it'll be quick," you clarified. "But if there are millions - probably infinite - timelines, and some of them have realized a free Zaun, free from Piltover's hold on us? Then I don't see why this one can't see it, too."

Scar looked at you, a low light of fear in his eyes. Not of failure exactly. It was a familiar shade of fear, the one just before daring to hope. A fear of finally realizing what felt like the impossible.

You brought his hand closer, brushing your lips across the velvet fur, placing soft kisses on each of his knobby knuckles. Those luminescent eyes fluttered, and you felt the warmth returning to your veins.

"It's gonna be uncomfortable. Change always is. But, Scar, our years together, everything we've built - that's what makes this all feel possible," you said softly.

Your gaze traced along his strong facial features, the ones you had committed to memory. The lines of his brows, the darker markings that caught between them when he frowned. The dip of his pink nose, like an arrowhead softened by a flowing river. The hills of his cheekbones, the number of times you've gotten to tuck under their safety, tracing secrets with your fingertips. The soft muzzle that held all of his disdain and disappointment in the world, a softness you nuzzled into every chance you could get. The thin plum lips that hid his delicious canines that caught you in place every time. The striking vigilance glowing in his eyes, pinning you in ways that made you believe you didn't have to run, you didn't have to hide anymore.

"I want you by my side when the tides turn," you murmured, pressing your forehead to his, allowing the gravity of him to pull you in. Everything inside you ached sweetly.

You let it.

He nuzzled his head against yours, his brows tickling a little. Your bodies finally relaxed into each other's, finally breathing together for the first time in what felt like hours.

He said your name softly, like smoke over water, coals kindling a true fire for a new age.

"In this timeline," he said, his voice burning and sure, "If it's within my power...baby, that's exactly where I'll be. I promise."