Hello fellow summoners and fanfiction appreciators! I decided to write this story because...well, I feel like Graves doesn't get any lovin' and for such a manly man, he really should. So this is going to be a semi-short smutty and fluffy fic that contains an OC. I hope you guys enjoy and will give me some awesome feedback. Thanks and enjoy!

The breeze blew in through the window comfortably. Malcolm Graves took a long drag of his cigar and watched the seas of Bilgewater glitter in the moonlight, fully in the nude and not caring what or who saw him. Had any person walked along the street below, they would have gotten a full and glorious view of Graves' manhood. But, be it that was nearly 3 AM, no one was on the streets. No one was even awake, not even the whore he had just finished fucking. She was asleep, her bodacious breasts exposed to the night air. She wasn't all that beautiful to look at, really. If she smiled you'd probably be scared of all the holes and gaps. But she had the boobs and the ass, and she fucked well. She was his woman for the night, and then come morning, he would leave the money on the bedside table and take off for the League. He had been released on vacation for a while, given leave to do whatever he wished. He hated time off, because he was prone to thinking too much when given time.

Malcolm Graves was a lonely man. Aside from being a gunslinging, lawbreaking, ass-kicking champion of the League of Legends, he was very much alone. And though he could fix it, doing so was so much work that he wasn't sure it would be worth it. Everything he'd ever grown to like had been taken from him. When running the gambling shindig with Twisted Fate, he had been stabbed in the back and thrown in prison for torture...all because of someone else's greed. How was a man who'd been stabbed in the back by someone he'd trusted that deeply supposed to find even a friend? There didn't even have to be a romantic relationship...all he really wanted was someone to talk to that didn't include a Summoner psychiatrist or a therapist for champions. He wasn't broken...just lonely. He had normal problems.

Right?

Meredith Rose strode through the hallways of the Summoners' quarters, her eyes scanning the corridors. She was on a mission to find whoever it was that had gotten her demoted from Challenger Tier to Diamond Division One again. She had been three people into the tier, but somehow, she was the one who got dropped, not the guy in last place. Why, she didn't know, but she was going to find out.

And if that didn't resolve it, there was always the high council.

"Well look who it is. If it ain't the council's little lap dog." She found him. She didn't know his name, didn't care very much, but she knew who he summoned and what he looked like. She grabbed his collar.
"What the fuck did you just call me, punk? You really think that you should be talking this much shit, considering how you unfairly had me demoted out of Challenger Tier? Who'd you pay off to do that for you, huh? And why did you target me?" He was afraid, that much was certain.
"You...don't deserve it. You're a woman, and a woman has no place among the high ranks. Know your place." He says, and she punches him in the face. He screams like a little girl.
"That hurt!" She glares at him furiously.
"Know this: if you don't fix it in three days, I will go to the high council, and you will be removed from all Challenger tier rewards this season. Understand? I don't care if you knock off the bottom two people first, and then knock me down, but taking me out before them? Not going to happen. And if you go to the council, I will make sure that you don't have a place here anymore. You got me, fucker?" He was shaking with fear, and then he nods. She releases him violently, straightening out herself and then heading back down the hallway. She hadn't left him any scratches, bruises or bleeding that she could see, so she would be safe from any backlash that came back to her. He couldn't prove it.

Maybe she should just go to the council herself. Give a report on his behavior and have him removed from season rewards.

But she was okay with giving people fair chances, even if they were pieces of shit in the first place. If they cleaned their act up, they were okay in her book. At least until they fucked up again. Then they were on the "Do Not Trust" list.

Walking back to the champion roster, she looked to see who was on rotation this week. Graves was still out of commission until tomorrow, so the likelihood of summoning her favorite champion was slim to none. She decided against doing so and would wait for things to be fixed before diving back in. In the meantime, she decided to hit the bar. The sun was setting and the outdoor bar would be nearly empty at this time of evening.

"Whatcha havin' this time, Merry?" The bartender asked her. She shrugged.
"Same as usual. Your best whiskey, and keep it coming." She says, and he chuckles.
"Whatever you say, toots." He says, pouring her the glass and sliding the bottle over to her. She knocks back two glasses and then starts to sip the third.
"Can I have some of what the lady's havin'?" A familiar voice asks as he sits next to her. She looks over into the eyes of Graves, and she nods to him. He nods in response as the bartender slides a glass down to him.

"Long day, Merry?" She shrugs.
"Some little punk decided to fuck with the Challenger Tier brackets. There's two weeks until the season ends. I'm not losing my spot to a little shit who can't summon anyone besides Shaco and use him successfully. Fucking troll." She says, knocking the rest of her glass back and pouring more into the glass. The honey liquid was deceiving; often she'd been told it was a man's drink, but she hardly believed that to be the case when she could drink most men under the table. She had a strong constitution and a severe hatred for chauvinistic men.

Graves chuckled at her anger.

"Well, I expect you put him in his place. You don't take shit from anyone." He says, and she nods.
"Damn right. So where've you been? Missed you while you were gone. I can't dominate as hard without you here." He chuckles again.
"Busy." She laughs.
"Doin' what? Bangin' some whores in Bilgewater?" He shrugs.
"Something like that. I was told to take a vacation after the...incident." She nods, remembering back to the last match they'd played. After it was over, even though they'd won, Twisted Fate had been fed on the enemy team and had taunted Graves. It just so happened that the punk she'd fucked up early had been his summoner, too. He had won lane against their not-so-bright Orianna summoner, and in turn had influenced that game so heavily that, if not for the devastating throw at the end, would have resulted in defeat. And after the game, Fate had insisted on insulting Graves, which had led to a brawl between the two and a short-term "vacation" for the both of them. That was the last Meredith had seen of Malcolm for two weeks.
"Didn't think a little punk could getcha to drink." He says, his gravelly voice rumbling low in his chest. She sighs.
"I have my own problems just like everyone else does, Malcolm." She says, and then everything goes quiet and they drink in each others' presence.