Chapter 1: My Sinful Succulence.

'Ana', she pokes her head out from behind the door and call you. You raise a finger, indicating for her to wait just one moment.

Handing Sona her muffins you thank her again for her patronage and the Maven blesses you with a smile as she turns and seems to almost float out of the bakery, her etwahl levitating after her like a good ol' pupperino.

'Ana can you get me the cookie cutters please', your boss calls out again. You walk over to the entrance and flip the sign. Outside, you saw Jinx roar past on her motorcycle, uncontested, quickly followed by a huffing and puffing Vi on foot. Okay. So maybe the motorcycle wasn't hers, and maybe she wasn't uncontested, either.

You go behind the counter and let your eyes flick over to the tip jar; half-full, and noon was still just around the corner. You decide you would tell Morg replacing the featureless black box with a Poro had been a good idea as you open the drawer beneath where you kept your monies and took out a large purple box of cookie cutters.

Ducking beneath the arched doorway because of your height, you entered the back to find your violet-haired boss rolling dough with much determination. You set the box down and sashay over to one of the many ovens and you bend over to inspect the cupcakes.

They were doing well.

Satisfied with your inspection, you turn just in time to catch a gleefully grinning Morgana press a Kayle shaped cookie cutter onto the dough blob. She caught your gaze and attempted to hide her grin; it only made her cheeks puff and her eyes twinkle. You were tempted to smile at the sight. Your boss was so endearing it made your heart ache sometimes. You didn't really know why, and didn't really bother to think much of it.

Feigning professionalism, she pretended to pore over her cookies while muttering indiscernable words to no one in particular.

'Caitlyn's coming to pick those up at one...', she murmured as you checked on the heat again, 'you might want to grab lunch before she comes for her cupcakes.'

'Mhm', you made a vague sound of acknowledgement in the back of your throat. You caught sight of her apron and saw a Battle Bunny Riven staring right back at you. There was more cleavage than you remembered there would have been on Riven herself when she wore that outfit.

Funny. You never knew Morg was into that kind of stuff.

'I'm going to beat it then. Be back by twelve ya boss?', you say to your immortal employer as you pull your own TSM apron over your pony-tailed hair, 'I'll be at the Pumble.'

She nodded mutedly at you as she finished with the last of her Kayle-cookies and prepared to put them in the oven. In her quiet moments, Morg liked to munch on those as she read The Rift Herald. You had never eaten one of her Kayle cookies before but you could guess they tasted of cold, vehemous revenge, and butter. And oatmeal. Maybe some raisins, perhaps.

And sugar.

Morg liked a lot of sugar.

You hung up your apron and darted over right next to her. Morg stared at you questioningly and you bit your lips as you braced yourself for this daily ritual.

'Can I have a cookie, please?', you asked her sweetly, 'I've been good.'

She sighed but relented as she adjusted the heat of the oven- magically, of course- and summoned her personal cookie jar with a muttered incantation and a flick of the wrist. It flew to you from out of sight; Morg dwelled on the second floor of the establishment and probably kept her cookies in her bedroom.

'Here you go, darling.'

She reached into the jar before your puppy dog eyes and took a single cookie out.

'Do remind me this was never in the employment contract', she reprimanded you, but both of you knew it was in jest.

You accepted the treat with both hands, happiness etched on your face.

You both shared a smile as you took your treat and skipped out of the bakery, leaving Sinful Succulence behind as you made a beeline for the Pumble, the crisp, heavenly cookie melting like butter on your warm, wet lips.

Morg put the Kayle cookie cutter back in its box and drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter as she waited for them to finish.

Sneakily, her own hand sneaked into her own cookie jar and stole one. She ate it quickly, perhaps afraid that you would pop back in and call her out on it. 'Fallen Angel Steals Own Cookies'. She could already see herself on the front page of the Herald. How utterly scandalous. There would be outrage. Barons will spawn at 19.59. Graves would get a Cigar. Camille might finally get nerfed. The League would shut down.

She looked at the ceiling as she took another, and ate that one too.

Om nom nom goes the sound in the vacant shop.

Ah. The benefits of owning a bakery; run out of cookies? No problem.

She could simply make a new batch...

... and eat them all by herself.