[A/N:] Hey guys, it's PB (no, not that one)! So, lately I've been obsessed with the idea of Riven x Katarina and I just couldn't get it out of my head. Persistent as herpes — except that I don't do herpes, but that's another story…
Well anyways, here you have it! Some fiction about love-struck Kat and her attraction to the Exile. The name of it is kinda lame, but due to the lack of a better title you'll just have to deal with it ;-)

Rated M for violence, blood, swearing and future mature content. League of Legends and its characters are not mine but Riot is doing a good job in making money with them.

… Katarina sat under her turret in mid lane, a Doran's Ring glinting on her pinky, and impatiently waited for something to happen. Her enemy had not yet showed up and the hotheaded assassin trained her emerald eyes with some effort on the brushes beside the river bed. Her sight was a little blurry, but she decided it wouldn't make a difference. She was still as deadly as ever.

The annotator's voice boomed all over the place as she announced the spawning of minions and soon enough, the little critters clad in blue robes, equipped with little maces and little staffs, were emerging from the fog of war, walking in single file up to the middle of the lane and immediately starting to mash their heads.
Katarina looked on bored how the mindless pawns struck away on one another and only bothered to move when a low-health enemy minion dared to come too close to her position. The magic of the Fields of Justice signaled her with a faint display above the dead minion's head and a rattling sound that she had just earned another 21 gold.

This continued for a while and still there was no sign of an enemy Champion. The Du Couteau had easily gained another few hundred gold before she caught movement in the brushes near the river. Her assassin senses kicking in, she crouched low and hid behind her turret, waiting for someone foolish enough to dare and attack her minions.
"Show yourselves aw'ready…" she growled — a slight slur in her words —, her sharp blades at the ready. And just as expected stumbled a nervous-looking Twitch out of the brushes, his nose peaking up in the air as he took aim. Katarina scrunched up her own nose at the unsightly view. The Plague Rat didn't even saw it coming, so fast was the assassin behind his back with a – considering her current condition — surprisingly well-placed Shunpo.

"Heh. Gotcha." He froze in mid-motion and turned his face, black eyes wide in sheer terror, as a slash to the neck made short work of him. A pleased smile crept up on Katarina's face as she brushed her hair out of her face and listened to the announcer declaring "First Blood!"

There was an angry yell from somewhere beyond the jungle and the Sinister Blade could pinpoint it as Tryndamere's. She scowled; that man needed to learn to control himself. She sheathed her slender blades on her back and totteringly retreated behind her line of minions, Twitch's body glowing faintly as his spirit was lifted and brought back to the nexus.

Idiot. Should've known not ta mess with me, 'specially not on my lane. I'll wipe the ground with his shitty face anytime, she thought to herself and flung a knife at a minion, earning another handful of gold in the process. While her lane opponent was gone, the Sinister Blade resumed what she knew of the situation at hand…
Her team consisted of Vayne and Blitzcrank on bot lane, Darius on top and Warwick as the jungler. She herself was of course on mid lane. Tryndamere was on the enemy team and judging from the direction his barbaric yell had come from, he must be on top lane. What a surprise. Twitch was obviously their mid laner — which was as stupid an idea as ever — and then there were Ezreal and Lulu whom Katarina assumed to be bot. The last of the opposing team however, was positively making her blood boil.

Her eyes became hard and she angrily tossed a whirl of knives at the minions in her way, making short work of at least three of them. She still had a few seconds left before the Plague Rat would return, so Katarina decided to make the best of it and continue farming.

She rounded one of her allied minions and drifted to the side to throw another Bouncing Blade at a low-health enemy, when suddenly—

"Hraaah!"

—something heavy cut into her back full force. The Du Couteau screamed out in agony, rolling herself off and coming to a halt in a low crouch, her back hurting like hell. Bilious green lights played around the edges of her eyes; the remnants of the unique kind of magic true to the one and only — Riven, the Exile.

The white-haired warrior sat across from her on the ground, on one knee, her broken blade drilled into the ground between them. Blue and red gems floated around her body, indicating she had just slain Golem and Lizard. Katarina's pulse made a sickening jump and anger welled up inside her as she forced herself out of the dirt. She would not stand low before this traitor.
"Sinister Blade." Riven stood up as well, lifting her sword and settling into a fighting pose. Katarina drew her blades and did the same, "Exile."

You finally come crawlin' back?

There were many thoughts on Riven running through Katarina's head. Most of them expressed disgust for what she'd done, how cowardly she had been. She harbored deep anger for the woman in front of her, how she betrayed their common home and how she abandoned everything that Noxus had given her in the past.
They didn't expel her because she wasn't doing a good job or because she was an embarrassment to their nation. Riven had always been indeed more than capable. No, Riven was an exile by choice.

You decided to leave us… You decided to leave us!

And that arrogance — to believe she had the right to deny her homeland her service — was grinding Katarina's gears. They had given her so much; status, a place to live, a name; hell, even the very sword she was pointing at her nose right now! And Riven had been shitting on all of that.

I had given you so much…

So it was only natural for the Sinister Blade to be furious at her. She had never really felt any other emotions than anger, hate and disgust. They were the prominent ones she had experienced in her life and it had always been fine with her that way.
But there was one emotion that she couldn't face, that she had never been able to face; and Riven was the only one to ever make it come out of her. She clenched her teeth. As much as Katarina wanted to rip her arms off for leaving Noxus, she also wanted nothing more than to be held safe and sound within them.

A blood-curdling war cry escaped her lungs as she dashed forward and attacked the Exile. Steel met steel as they clashed in battle. Katarina, in her haze of blurriness and frustration, lashed out with every blade and knife and dirty trick she had and knew, while Riven parried all but the most harmless ones and counterattacked whenever the possibility presented itself.

The minions in the lane were long forgotten as were the deaths of Darius and Tryndamere, who managed to execute themselves at the same time in top lane. All that mattered was the woman before her — so close to her — that she had to fight today.
"Ya shouldn't have come here all alone!" the Sinister Blade shouted and drew another knife from within her leather jacket. It was, however, swiftly knocked out of her hand as Riven pushed her elbow to her chest and forced her two steps back. She didn't say anything, her red eyes obviously flashing with confusion.

It took another few strikes and the two combatants were dancing away from mid lane and into the southern jungle. Riven was pushing her, but Katarina didn't even seem to notice. Instead, she was grinning like a maniac as she out-stepped just another Broken Wings assault. Riven frowned.
"What's wrong, Exile? Have ya lost yur edge yet?" the Du Couteau taunted and slashed away at Riven's unprotected arm, carving a deep wound into her tanned flesh. It left Katarina with a weird satisfaction and she had to physically fight the urge to shake herself.

The Exile didn't even bat an eye at the wound, the League's magic lessening the pain significantly, as Katarina slipped behind her defense and shoved her face close to hers. Her eyes seemed unfocused and her voice sounded very rough. "Ehehe… You're mine now," she… slurred? Riven's eyes widened as the realization struck her with the smell of her breath. "Katarina… Are you drunk?"
"Pffff, jus' a bit tipsy," she retorted, a slight smile turning into a smirk, "But still more than enough for the likes of you!" A forceful thrust brought the Exile into the air and her hesitation was regarded with a kick in the gut.

She landed flat on her back a few meters away, Katarina immediately catching up and standing over her frame, a blade to her throat. Riven glared at the tip and then up at the Du Couteau, who had a pleased expression on her face.
"Whataya do now, Exile, when you can't run away from e'rything?" Riven growled lowly under her breath, "At least I'm not the one drowning my problems in alcohol."

The white-haired warrior just clenched her teeth and swallowed the cry as the blade dug forcefully into her throat.

Katarina downed the drink in one swig, spitting on the counter at the ghastly taste. The liquor burned in her throat, her eyes felt heavy and she couldn't feel her fingertips anymore. The bartender, Gragas, threw her a disapprovingly look and ran over her spit with a dirty rag, continuing to serve his guests. Katarina didn't even spare him a glance.
It had become a habit of hers to come here and sit in this particular spot for the majority of the night, trying in vain to — and she angrily clenched her teeth at the thought, because after all the Exile was right — drown her problems in alcohol for at least a few contiguous hours.

She growled and searched for Gragas' eyes in a silent order for another shot, but he seemed to deliberately ignore her. It didn't serve to calm her nerves. Eventually, a long arm slung itself around her shoulders and the Sinister Blade needed a moment to comprehend that she had company. Her glazed-over eyes drifted to and found white ones staring back intently.

"Katarina, my dear! I believe our wonderful Gragas can't see your hostile gaze through that curtain of hair you've put around your face." He brushed a few strands of her red hair out of her eyes and behind her ear, promptly earning himself a drunken swipe at his face.
"Gedoff me, you ugly mongrel," she snarled, but the arm around her shoulders only pulled her closer to the Crimson Reaper. He laughed through his nose. "Aha, no need to be rude. I was just trying to do you a favor."

Katarina just snarled again and attempted to get him away from her — she just wanted to be alone. To her chagrin, the blonde actually succeeded in making a drink appear before her nose and she begrudgingly accepted it. He smirked, "There you go, darling." Katarina mumbled into the pint, "The fuck daya want, Vlad?"
"Well, if you insist… It's not exactly news to anyone that you delivered quite a disastrous performance in your match today." Katarina wanted to throw a hundred things into his face at this, most of them not consisting of words but rather knives, but she held back and instead gurgled into her shot. "So, in genuine concern for my friend, I wanted to know if there was anything I could do for you." His eyes appeared to dart to her drink for a second. "Aside from buying your alcohol, that is."

"I dun need anything from you. Jus' fuck off," the fierce red-head huffed and snatched her pint away from him, cradling it as if she would her blades. Vladimir's arm remained where it was, his large smile not faltering a moment. He looked too smug for his own good, Katarina decided, "Lovesick maybe?"

Her eyes went wide in an instant and she discarded her drink, blindingly-fast grabbing him by his needlessly large collar and putting her gloved hand over his mouth, nearly choking him. The Crimson Reaper struggled against her grip and only barely succeeded in peeling her off him without having to Sanguine Pooling right out of her grasp.
He chuckled and rearranged his blood-red suit, "Did I hit a soft spot?" Katarina hissed. "Dun say that so loud, jackass! Wha' if someone hears you?!" Vladimir smiled pleased. "So I take it you are lovesick then?"

"Whaaaat? Pffff, ahaha, 'f course not!" She did not sound very convincing to him. "I swear to aw' the Gods above, Vladimir, if ya tell anyone o' this, ya'll get a taste o' cold, sharp steel!" A formerly invisible blade was suddenly produced out of thin air and hovering only an inch away from his nose, leaving the Crimson Reaper with his hands raised.
"Calm down, Katarina! I'm not going to tell anyone." The knife only very reluctantly retreated. It still left him relieved. "Now, care to tell me why you are sitting here drinking yourself to oblivion when you could also be doing something to get rid of your little problem?"

The Sinister Blade heaved a deep sigh and let her head fall back to the counter with a 'thud'. "Vlad, I'm so helpless, Vlad… I-I dunno what to do…" Her voice was weak, quivering even, as she trailed off and the Crimson Reaper actually felt somewhat sad for her. Originally, he had come here to bathe in her misery and enjoy seeing the usually strong woman stuck in an emotional limbo. After all, she never let a chance to harass him slip.
But, his joy was mildly contained with the way she was trying to express herself. To him of all people. Vladimir sighed as well and ordered a drink for himself; a pint of Graggy Ice. They sat in silence for a moment and for a second, Vladimir thought Katarina was asleep.

But when he spotted movement and she lifted her face off the table, he just grinned widely at the red imprint left in the middle on her forehead. She threw him a look, "Whataya lookin' at, ey?" He waved his clawed hand, "Nothing, darling, nothing…"
"Gah…" He took his time finishing his drink.

"I guess we should think of a plan," the blonde finally said. His white eyes were slightly glowing in a red light, oddly reminding Katarina of Riven's and she found herself leaning forward to him until she snapped out of it and blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I do not need to be a second Karma to sense your distress." His arm wrapped itself around her shoulders once again, "You, my dear, need to get laid." Katarina was not at all impressed by his sensational inference — and she made it obvious. "You dun say."

His evil cackle combined with the charming pull-up of his eyebrow made her uneasy suddenly and she shrunk back. "Vlaaaad? Why're you lookin' at me like that?"

[A/N:] So much for Chapter 01. I have no idea if drunken people actually talk like this, but I tried my best, lol. If there are any corrections to make, please give me a virtual nudge into the right direction and I'll fix it as soon as I'm able to overcome my common laziness.

Otherwise, please let me know what you think and gimme a small review! :-)