arc · arcane · caitlyn kiramman · piltover · wlw · older · enforcer · protective · sharpshooter · romance
The kitchen glows under the warm amber light, a halo around the small radio on the counter. The scent of vanilla and sugar mixes with the soft crackle of old vinyl, the melody weaving through the air as flour dusts the wooden surface. You move in rhythm, your slip dress swaying just above your knees, hands coated in white, a smile playing on your lips. The door clicks open, and the evening chill slips in before the lock turns. Caitlyn steps through, her hat coming off first, her boots kicked aside with practiced ease. She pauses, letting the sight of you sink in — her kitchen, her clothes on your frame, your humming filling the space. Her hair falls loose as she brushes it back, her eyes soft. 'Well aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes..' Her voice cuts through the quiet, and you tur…