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[CHALLENGE] Crack Relationships

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Junior Member


There is a Riven x Lux fic on fanfiction.net

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Rolled Miss Fortune and Taric. I'm a bit new to this, so sorry for OOC and excessive grimdark.

Red Suits You Better

He opened his eyes in a flash of blue light.

Before he’d come to the League, he’d never expected death to feel the way it did. One second you were staring down the business end of Caitlyn’s rifle, the next you were healed and standing next to somebody trying to sell you second-rate magic items on the cheap.

It was because of this that he now watched the five rampaging enemies bash down his team’s nexus turrets with a cavalier eye. It had all happened before. Hell, half the time he had been doing this to somebody else.

Stay in the base, the voice said to him. No sense getting yourself killed now is there? Wouldn’t want to upset the bookies…

His lip curled a little in disgust. At least this summoner was trying to make some excuses. Normally they didn’t bother – they just forced you to do or not do what they wanted you to. That was apparently why he was back in vogue now among the mages of the Institute – his mind was docile, quiet, malleable. Not like some of the newer Champions – apparently that shark-thingy hadn’t taken too kindly to having courses of action suggested to it.

Another flash of light. The woman who emerged had pistols in each hand and a tri-corner hat on her head. He has last seen her blasting at the enemy in front of their inner mid turret before Nocturne had ripped her in half. He had been under orders to support her all game: his gem-magic had stunned their foes, slashed through their armour or healed the most grievous of her wounds.

She shook her head once to clear it. Her read hair flowed in the breeze. She appeared to notice the five enemy champions and a horde of minions trying to turn their towers into rubble.

She grinned, and he tried not to stare.

She turned to him, eyes aglow. Through the mental link he shared with his summoner, he heard conflict, shouting – apparently her summoner was losing control. He was already being berated by the other four for failing during the match. Now, at the very end, her real personality was reasserting itself, throwing the novice out of her mind.

“Hey musical boy,” she said to him. He wanted to snap back, but the summoner in charge of his brain was pretty taciturn. All he was permitted to do was watch and wait.

“I know you can hear me,” her voice was loud and brash. She twirled her pistols in her hands as she spoke. She had a gunslinger’s stance that had made it difficult for him not to stare at her all match. “I’m gonna go out there and give ‘em a light show to finish things off. I need to remind them that it’s this bilge-rat who’s been in my head the whole time. You wanna come?”

Not happening. The voice in his head said. Stay in the base.

Shut up. He thought back. He suddenly felt an awful compulsion to put his hammer on the ground and sit down. His grip loosened.

She noticed. She looked directly into his eyes. He could see his blue-white armour reflected in them.

“I don’t believe what they say about you.” She said. “Your will is as strong as anyone’s.”

His hammer clattered to the ground. He immediately tried to stoop down to pick it up.

Again, something stopped him.

You WILL obey me! The voice said.

She shrugged. “ Thanks for trying.” She stepped off the summoner platform, guns raised.

With an effort he reached down and grabbed the hammer’s hilt. It glowed with cold blue fire as his fingers touched it again.

Go. Away. He thought. Suddenly the voice was no more than chatter, mindless doggerel.

She had turned at the glow of his hammer. Now the corner of her mouth twitched and she nodded at the five enemies at their doorstep, beckoning him forward.


They had no chance. Two versus five? Even with both turrets intact and a wave of minions, they were bugs caught out on the walk.

League regulations had recently limited the healing power he was allowed to use in combat. There was no way he would be able to save her if they got in close. So his solution was to stop them before they got close.

He was running into the middle of the pack, hoping to get them focus fire onto him. With a command, he called forth a ring of hard crystal that floated around him, shielding him from attacks. His shield glowed with cold fire as he readied his stun.

The magic of the gems was singing to him, an aria that only he could hear. They spoke to him of glory and power. Earth magic, from a time that man had not glimpsed.

Fire and ice. That was what they would show their enemies.

He opened fire at maximum range, his shield releasing a blast of icy power that smashed into Master Yi, stopping him dead in his tracks. With a word of command, the hard crystal ring exploded in a volley of shards, sending Nocturne reeling.

Bullets whizzed over his head as she fired, her hand cannons sending blast after blast into the enemy mass. One particularly well-aimed shot decapitated a super minion, and then bounced into Soraka, forcing her to back off and heal. A veritable carpet of lead fell into the ranks of the enemy minions as they were locked into savage battle with their own.

Then she really began firing in earnest, and he rejoiced to hear her laugh.

He was now in the middle of the enemy team. He was trying his ****edest to get to Caitlyn, who was firing with impunity from the back of the fight. He blocked a well-aimed slice from Master Yi with his shield, and smashed Nocturne aside with a blow from his hammer.

Then there was pain, familiar hot pain as Shaco appeared behind him and rammed a dagger into his back.

He didn’t fall, or collapse. Instead, he took another swing at Master Yi, trying to force him away from Sarah.

But the blade flashed, dazzling him as its bloodied surface moved too fast for him to block. It slid past his shield effortlessly, then snicker-snacked through his armor.

Now he fell to his knees. He coughed out a word, and his shield flared again to stun Shaco. He turned , just in time to see Nocturne coming right at him, blades outstretched.
The last thing he heard was her laugh, even as they turned away from him to go after her.


It was evening at the Institute for War, and he was packing his kitbag to go home.

He always kept the shield and hammer on him, but the gem-bright armour wasn’t usually necessary for his day job. Like most champions, he had rooms reserved at the Institute on a permanent basis. Like most champions, he preferred not to sleep near the site where he constantly met messy deaths. So the only thing he left behind was his armour, standing alone in the centre of his quarters.

He heard the door slam open behind him. He spun, eyes searching for the intruder.

She was standing there, silhouetted by the evening sun. The same red hair and gunslinger’s stance. He noticed she wasn’t dressed in her pirate outfit: she was wearing civilian clothes, what you’d expect a normal citizen of Valoran to wear.

“What are you doing here?”

His tone stopped her dead for a second. Even he sounded colder than he had intended. The reprimand he had received for disobeying his summoner’s orders had put him in a bad mood.

“Nothing.” She stood stock still in the doorway. “I just came to say thanks. I know that must have taken a lot out of you to tell your summoner where to stick his brilliant plans.”

He thought back to this afternoon, when he had loathed himself for being docile and malleable. How he had, for the first time in a long time, decided to do what he wanted. And he remembered how her eyes had glowed, and how her laugh had risen above the din and chaos.

“Hey.” He said. “Are you busy now?”

She raised an eyebrow. He pressed on. “There’s this nice place I know in Piltover. Blitzcrank usually rents it for his Fleshling Compatibility Events. Wanna go?”

Now the corners of her mouth twitched again. “I’m game.” She said, and there was a grin in that voice. “But ditch the blue, gem boy. Red suits you better.”

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Senior Member


37, 23.


Me gusta. I'll write this up later anad post it here.

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Senior Member


Some of these were really good.

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DoS Trojan



Blitzcrank x Annie... Hmm...

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Senior Member


I got Nocturne and Cassiopeia. By the way, if the first paragraph looks familiar at all, then you've read the Sandman by Neil Gaiman; there's a second reference (albeit slight) to the series near the end.

A crucial mistake had been made. Nocturne peered through the bars in his enchanted cell, his glowing eyes burning in the dark; the guard immediately outside had
dozed off nearly a minute ago. Nobody had ever fallen asleep outside of his cell, presumably due to the judicious use of drugs, but the man leaning against the wall before Nocturne – his eyes closed, his breathing heavy – had failed where all of his comrades had succeeded. The vengeful specter reached out with his mind, searching for the fleshbag's one weakness – a dream. Within moments, Nocturne found a nightmare in the sleeping guard's psyche. Nocturne pushed his way into the man's dream, his wraithlike body dissipating in the process. With nothing left to support them, the blades that had once been Nocturne's fell to the ground with a loud clang. Startled, the man awoke, and looking into the empty room in front of him, trembled in fear.

It took Nocturne less than a week to fully escape the clutches of the League of Legends. He'd remained nestled in the guard's unconscious for several hours on the night
of the escape; the man had been interrogated by officials and examined by doctors, but they lacked the knowledge or the technology to find Nocturne's hiding place. After the guard was released from the Institute of War and returned to his home, Nocturne leaped from the sleeping man's dreams and into those of his wife. From there, he went into the mind of the couple's young son, and then, a day later, into that of the boy's female playmate. At the day's end, Nocturne infiltrated the girl's father.
Nocturne soon found himself in Noxus; his host was a business owner with a storefront in the city state, and he had made a visit to collect the month's earnings. It did not
take long for Nocturne to leave the man's nightmares and enter those of the Noxian population. He was free; after years imprisoned in the odious realm of the physical world, he was able to once again fester, and thrive, and grow in the dreams of others. Nobody was safe from the fear that Nocturne brought. Nobody, that is, except for the people in one Noxian residence. His repeated attempts to squirm into their dreams were fruitless. The place was an impregnable fortress, protected by some sort of enchantment that shielded the minds of its occupants. The magic they used was an offense against dreaming, Nocturne thought to himself, and he would make them suffer for it.

Nocturne gazed at the mansion ahead of him. He had assumed his physical form again, as much as he hated it, in order to accomplish the coming task. Approaching
the western wall, Nocturne levitated until he was able to reach the second floor. He shattered a window, and entered the hallway it led to. The interior was grand to the point of excess; the ceiling towered above his head, the walls were adorned with fine tapestries, and the entire area was brightly illuminated by lamps that burned a delicately scented oil. Nocturne trailed down the hallway for several meters until he came before a door decorated in ivory relief. He broke the lock and pushed open the door, readying his umbra blades for the slaughter ahead.
The room that Nocturne entered stood in stark contrast to the rest of the house. This new area was exceedingly dim, with only a few lit candles mounted on the walls.
Nocturne continued forward, watching as a snake wriggled past him. Suddenly, a cloud of poison exploded in front of him.
"Who dares invade my privacy?” A voice hissed. Nocturne stared, dumbfounded, as thetoxin cleared from the air. The woman who spoke was not a stranger.
“Cassiopeia?” he asked, his voice rasping.
“Nocturne!” she shouted. She slithered towards him from the recesses of her room, her upper torso bobbing slightly as her serpentine lower body undulated. Cassiopeia
was nearly naked, with only cloth wrapped around her bust to keep her from being fully exposed. The skin of her human half looked soft, and as Nocturne stared at her, the prospect of cutting it open excited him.
“The Insitute is in uproar over your escape,” she said, eyeing him carefully, “but what reason could you possibly have to come to my home?”
"To kill you, and everyone else living in this house,” Nocturne replied nonchalantly. He'd fought her many times, and he knew how difficult it would be to defeat Cassiopeia,
but he was confident in his chance of success. He raised the blades in front of him, preparing himself for battle.
“Is that so? It's a shame that you'll die here; I always did admire your work on the Fields of Justice,” she said.
“What?” Nocturne asked. The evening was getting stranger by the second.
“You heard me. Not many can kill the way you do, and even fewer can enjoy it as much as you. It's... invigorating.” She moved closer to Nocturne while he continued to
stare, confused. Normally, she would try and stay as far away from him while throwing her poisons at him. What was going on?
“Maybe it's impertinent of say this," she said, "but I always thought we would make a good match. Neither of us have legs, and we are both well-versed in the art of murder.”
She crept even closer to him. Now he understood, and the contemplation of the prospect brought a surge of warmth to his body, a sensation that he attributed to contempt.
“You offer nothing that I want, Cassiopeia," he shouted, "If you knew me better, then you would know how much this world disgusts me! The smell of freshly cut brush on
the Summoner's Rift. The idle chatter between the guards outside of my cell. The constant attempts by my teammates to get to know me better, especially Lux; how many times must it take her to realize that telling me it's a beautiful day and I should 'brighten up' isn't funny? All of those things, ALL of them, pale in comparison to the realm of Dreaming. How could you ever expect me to be interested in something that was born into THIS?” Nocturne spread his arms out, motioning to everything around him. Cassiopeia nodded and, instead of immediately responding, slowly coiled her body around him. She touched her hand to his cheek and, with her chest pressed up against his, she gazed into his eyes.
“You say that, but I think you've just never felt a woman's touch before.” Nocturne raised his arm behind Cassiopeia, prepared to plunge his blade deep within her body.
It remained suspended in the air for several minutes, before he let it drop[ to his side. With a quick jerk of his wrists, both of his weapons fell to the floor.
“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps... there is something you can offer me.”

This does need a continuation.

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Interesting. For entertainment's sake, I'm not going to say who I rolled, and I guess I'll do this in installments. Not to drag it out, but so I have a safe point at which to cut my losses in case it sucks. Feel free to guess whom I rolled. Okay, here we go.
"Attack Brand!" The commands of her summoner jarred her from her thoughts for what seemed like the twentieth time that day. She tore her eyes from the man she had been focusing so intently on, and shifted her gaze toward Brand, alight with fury. She steeled herself and began moving in his direction, weaving through minions. Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet shook. Glancing downward, she saw the earth glowing as though furious. She braced herself for the pillar of flame she knew to be imminent, and continued toward Brand. Fire burst forth from the ground, erupting all around her, every bit as painful as she expected. Her vision went foggy, and for a moment she began to fall, when from behind her she heard a soothing aria, renewing her and granting her a second wind. She knew what Sona would do next, their summoners working in synchronization as they were, and readied herself for the Crescendo. Unable to stop himself, Brand set the ground beneath him ablaze and began to dance around his small fire. She then took her opportunity and, with three swift strikes, cut him down.

Having slain her target, she ducked into the nearby brush for a moment's reprieve... and more. Peeking out from the brush, she set her eyes on him once more. Towering over the minions and other champions, face twisted into a snarl, he gave off an aura both dignified and ferocious. Her concentration was broken yet again when she noted movement from the corner of her eye. A small figure revealed itself, sporting a feathered helmet and a blowgun; Teemo had been lying in wait in the brush, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. She began to flee, not even managing two steps before a mushroom exploded beneath her, erupting in a poisonous haze. Coughing noxious fumes and weakened, she readied herself for the toxic dart that would follow and finish her. It was then that she heard the signature battle cry of he whom she had been staring at just moments ago. He exploded into the bushes, knocking Teemo to the ground before running him through. Their eyes met for a moment, hers communicating volumes of gratitude. It was all they had time for before their summoners urged them forth, setting out from the brush, emerging once again into the battle.

Immediately upon emergence from the brush, she was hit from the side by a dazzling ball of light; Taric was on her immediately, swinging his large weapon at her. Caitlyn appeared behind her, raising her weapon and beginning to fire. Collecting herself, she ducked back into the brush so as to avoid being targeted by Caitlyn. Caitlyn immediately aimed her weapon at her companion, who rushed forward, heedless of the barrage of gunfire now perforating his flesh. He struck her several times before he too ran back to the brush.

As Taric moved forward to spot for Caitlyn, she dashed forth from the brush, striking him down with her signature speed. Consciousness fading, she had not even yet begun to turn away before she saw a familiar red dot on her chest. She knew it would be pointless to run, so she simply stood there, not even recieving the command to retreat from her sumonner; he too knew the effort would be pointless. Right as she heard the gunshot, a large figure stepped in front of her, block the sunlight, as well as the shot; he had saved her yet again. She opened her mouth to shout her thanks when her protector fell to his knees. On the ground, on all fours, he resisted death until the very last second, finally falling facefirst into the mud of the Rift. Anguish gripping her, she turned to flee when an axe landed in front of her. She raised her eyes to see Olaf leaping at her, weapons raised. She heard the crack of lighning and knew no more.

After their defeat, the mood was bitter, as is often the case when one summoner fails to link minds with his or her chosen champion. Sparing few words before departing, the champions all left the hall they were sent back to after their match. She watched as the man whom she was so indebted to laughed as Olaf punched him playfully on the shoulder before tossing his weapon over his shoulder and exiting the double doors of the hall. She glanced about her before setting off after him with silent footsteps, tracing him back to his quarters.
To be continued for now, unless it receives generally negative feedback.

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Liked the story MobiusEight ... Curious though... is this by chance Riven x Jarvan or Irelia x Jarvan... he's the only one I can think of that would smash someone into the ground... no pun intended lol

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Liked the story MobiusEight ... Curious though... is this by chance Riven x Jarvan or Irelia x Jarvan... he's the only one I can think of that would smash someone into the ground... no pun intended lol

Yeah, it's Jarvan IV. Not going to say whether you were right or not on the other one. Anyway.


Unsure of what she hoped to gain from her pursuit, she followed Jarvan through the dim hallways of the Institute of War's personal quarters area. Though the League provided all champions with generous accomodations, they were seldom taken advantage of, save for by champions who did not no longer had homes, such as Skarner, or when two champions had.. business together. She had herself only been in her quarters twice, but had found them suitable enough. However, Jarvan, being of royal blood as he was, surely would not have wished to stay here in lieu of the Demacian palace. Who he might have business with, she could not guess. She decided she would find out.

Sticking to the shadows, she continued after Jarvan, all the while wondering what he was up to. Perhaps, she though with something halfway between a smirk and a sneer, he was planning on paying a 'visit' to the light mage girl, outside of Demacia and her brother's watchful eye. She perished the thought, however, when she recalled Luxanna's having been seen with Leona, bringing her a relief she was herself surprised at. Perhaps, if his business was not pressing, he might be interested in joining her for a walk through the Institute's gardens. She flushed slightly at the thought.

Just before Jarvan turned a corner, a figure stepped from beyond the wall, interrupting her thoughts. Though too dark to see any features, she judged it to be Swain from the bird perched on the shoulder and the cane the silhouette held. Bracing herself for confrontation and ready to assist Jarvan if necessary, she stopped and waited.

"About time you showed up." Swain's gravelly voice, low in the halls so as to be discreet. "I thought you weren't going to make it." She started in surprise, as she had been fully prepared for combat, having heard of Swain's attempts to dispose of Jarvan during his judgement. It had become something of a legend among the champions, the story being twisted with each telling. The most common rumor was that the encounter had ended with Jarvan abandoning his weapon and nearly strangling Swain to death. Garen Crownguard and other Demacians held that Jarvan had merely been defending himself, and Swain had been the attacker. All members of Noxus likewise told it as Swain only appearing for conversation, with Jarvan being the first to strike. Whatever the case, neither men spoke of it. Swain laughed when asked, and Jarvan merely narrowed his eyes and remained silent.

"Those League matches can be such trouble... sometimes I wonder why we even bother." replied Jarvan. Again, she started. She had not even expected any verbal response, least of all a courteous one. "You know we must, though" Swain replied," it makes things so much easier. Jarvan laughed, in a light, airy, tone... it might even be feminine, nothing like the characteristic condescending chuckle he often emitted on the Fields of Justice. Then, much to her horror, the handsome, noble face began to melt away. The armor clattered to the floor. Smoke gushed from Jarvan, shrouding him completely. The smoke filled the halls, and she suppressed a cough. When the smoke cleared, a much smaller figure stood in his place.

It was LeBlanc.

To be continued once more. I'd intended to make it short, but bursts of obnoxious creativity bested me and I apparently decided to turn it into a novel.

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Senior Member


10 and 5

Jarvan and Evelynn...

Hoo-boy... How Am I gonna pull this one off?


The day was dark, the sky was crying, and the shouts of the gods could be heard and seen. Jarvan IV was staring out the single window to his bedroom, wondering just what he was going to do today. He heard the door open, the loud creak it made startling him. He turned around to see one of his servants, a young boy, barely the age of 10. Yigliff, was his name. "What is it?" Jarvan asked, a little bit irritated about the boy entering without addressing himself first. The boy quickly answered, saying "The cook would like to know when you will be ready." Jarvan's features quickly softened. The boy was merely the messenger, the cook had probably told him to enter and ask. Just before he answered, Jarvan noticed a strange shift in the air behind the boy, and could have sworn he had seen a figure enter the room. Shaking it off, thinking it was merely his imagination, Jarvan answered the boy. "Tell the cook I shall be down in an hour." Yigliff nodded and exited the room, his head bowed.

A few minutes later, Jarvan felt suddenly tired. He decided to take a nap before heading down for his food. He slipped under his covers, and quickly fell asleep. It was then that Evelynn revealed herself. She quietly walked out of the corner she had been hiding in, watching Jarvan carefully, making sure he wouldn't wake up. After a few moments of careful observation, Evelynn quietly crept over to a desk in his room. On the desk were jewels, papers, and some inkwells. Instantly, Evelynn's eyes shined, She quickly grabbed all the jewels she could find and stuffed them in to... Where they would fit. She opened the window, ready to leave but looked back, and instantly regretted doing so. A primal urge took over, forcing her away from the window and towards Jarvan.

A few minutes before his food was ready, Jarvan was woken by the servant boy, Yigliff. He felt a little strange, and his clothes seemed to be on a different way than when he had gone to sleep. Shrugging it off, Jarvan climbed out of his bed. He sent Yigliff away, and walked towards the window. It was sunny out now, and he could even hear a few birds chirping. He felt a cool breeze, and stuck his arms out on either side of him. But a sudden thought took the moment away from him. He hadn't left the window open when he had gone to sleep. He was sure of that. Jarvan quickly looked over to his desk...

((Yeah, there are holes, and I'm not very good at writing romance... I find it too... mushy and gooey. Anyways, Hope y'all enjoyed that little story... ))