#piltover crew
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Why is everyone convinced Vi will become an enforcer? I don't get it
Arcane is an origins story and in league lore Violet is known as THE piltover enforcer. Caitlyn becomes the sheriff and Vi is her trusted partner.
In this official poster, Vi's enforcer gear from the game is layered over her regular outfit from the show.
this is what the arcane Vi skin looks like in the game. Just like the poster. Looks to me like a mix of the two (arcane & league vi)
Also, riot is making the show. It's not some independent project, someone who's bought the rights to it. It's all part of the same universe. I'm not saying things could not go differently in the show but they did promote it as such and I fully trust Amanda Overton and the rest of the writing team to tell her story. So far the characters, setting, dialog, and plot all have worked together flawlessly to create season 1's cohesive narrative. I don't think that's gonna change going into season 2 and onwards.
#if everyone could stop freaking out about it and trust the writers that would be stellar though#When you load vi into the game she comes in saying “piltovers FINEST!” referring to herself#So we'll see...#People are already mad and calling her a budding sellout 🧘🏻♀️#I've so many things to say on her becoming part of the system that has abused her all her life but I'm not gonna do that in these tags#🍷💃🏻💋#Fight the system from within etc etc#sorry this took me 42773 business days to answer#arcane tag#one girl wrecking crew
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fake dating sevika? obviously leading to real marriage cuz duh 🙄
how have i not done this trope yet? i love it
men and minors dni
you and sevika are friendly. you wouldn't go as far as saying you're friends, but you get along pretty well with your neighbor. that is-- when you see her. she's usually at work but from time to time, you both end up on the fire escape that connects your back windows at the same time, the two of you smoking together after a long day.
on occasion, she shares a cigar with you. you always share your weed with her-- giggling at the way her eyes get heavy and pink as she smokes. you've even shared a few late-night dinners-- just a bag of pretzels and a six pack of ale, but it's still nice.
despite the nice few nice nights you've shared, that's as far as your tentative acquaintanceship has ever gone. which is why you're a little surprised to find sevika at your front door as you get ready to head out to the markets.
"sevika?" you ask. she blinks in surprise, dropping her hand that she'd been ready to knock with.
"uh. hi." she grunts. she's not looking at you, her head is ducked and she's scrubbing the back of her neck. you're a little worried for her.
"you okay?" you ask. sevika sighs a long, gusty sigh, then looks up at you with a wince.
"i need a favor." she grumbles. you raise an eyebrow, curious. sevika groans again, and you giggle.
"come in." you invite her into your apartment, nodding her toward your couch as you grab a beer from the fridge for her. she takes it, nodding at you in thanks. you clink your glasses together, both of you taking a few sips as you settle on the sofa beside her. "so?" you ask. sevika huffs again.
"you know i work for silco, right?" she asks. you snort and nod.
"yes, i'm aware." you bite back the urge to tack on 'so is everyone else in zaun.'
"well..." she trails off, staring at the floor, before shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "basically, we gotta go up to piltover for a fancy-fuck dinner, but they won't let silco bring anyone from his crew besides me. so..." she sighs.
"so what?"
"the whole reason we're going to the fucking dinner in the first place is to get a good look at what the topsiders are cooking up as their own shimmer variants. we can't distract the pilties, and gather intel with just the two of us." she looks up at you, waiting for you to respond like she's somehow revealed the favor she needs.
"...okay?" you ask.
sevika groans, then slumps against your couch. "i need a date." she huffs. you raise an eyebrow.
"i'm pretty sure the girls from babette's--"
"no!" she squeals. you chuckle a little. "these people-- they can sniff out a sump-rat from a mile away. they're already nervous about letting silco bring me along. i need to bring someone..." she pauses and chugs the remainder of her beer, swallows a burp, then speaks again. "you're, like. sweet, y'know?" she whispers. you blink. "you're easy to talk to. you could charm the pants off anyone: zaun gangster like me or piltover elites."
warmth bubbles up in your stomach at her words, a soft smile pulling at your lips. "you think so?" you ask. sevika groans and rolls her eyes.
"fuck off. just: will you be my fake date to this dumbass dinner or not?" she asks. you grin.
"well, what do i get outta it?" you tease. of course you're going to say yes, especially after all the soft things sevika just said to you.
sevika scoffs a bit, smiling back at you. "topsider food for a night?" she bribes. "good wine?"
you snort, then reach your hand out between the two of you for sevika to take. she does, and you're surprised at how warm and firm her grip is. "deal." you agree.
the entire trip up to piltover, sevika's scowling and huffing, bitching to silco any chance she can get about the fact that he's dragging her up top. you find it endlessly amusing.
but the moment you enter the mansion, sevika's attitude does a complete 180. it's impressive to see. her pleasant smile, while fake, is just as pretty as all the quick smirks she's shot you on the balcony as you pass a joint back and forth.
she also starts touching you. at first, it's tentative; a gentle hand on the waist or small of your back; but as you relax into her touch and start touching her back, her touches become mindless.
as you sip on drinks and laugh politely at the rich-people humor you can't understand for the life of you, sevika slings her arm around your shoulders, pulling you toward her chest.
when you're two drinks in, she presses a kiss to the crown of your head. she turns her head to whisper against your ear, "regretting your decision yet?"
you have to bite back the shaky moan you want to let out at the feeling of her breath on your neck.
you end up drinking more than you probably should. sevika's always been attractive to you, but you've never acted on it. you're neighbors, sevika's pre-occupied with work and her girls, you don't want to make things weird. but it's hard to ignore how handsome she looks in her suit when she's staring at you with a strangely convincing admiring-gaze, her mech thumb gently sweeping across the back of your hand.
the wine loosens you up, all your jitters and nerves about being surrounded by wealth melting away with each sip of your glass. the guests find you endlessly entertaining once you start talking: your radical undercity politics softened by the docile way you're leaning against sevika and your slurred words.
you get into a few debates. silco seems impressed with your knowledge of zaun's history, his good eyebrow ticking up with interest as you berate a man who suggested piltoverian taxes shouldn't be funding any zaunite public systems.
you charm a few of the wives, complimenting the appetizers and asking for the recipes, helping clear empty dishes and glasses to the kitchen.
you even make friends with the violinist that's been hired to play music for the night, complimenting her music taste and requesting a few songs that make her grin. "nobody asks for that one, but it's so fun to play, it's my favorite!"
sevika has to keep hiding her cocky smile behind her hand as she watches you work.
dinner is delicious. you're wiggling in your seat with excitement as you tear into the fresh food: a rare delight for you. beside you, sevika keeps laughing as she watches you eat. "you're an animal." she giggles.
"you gonna need anymore dates up here in the future?" you ask around a mouthful of food, hiding your full mouth with your hand. sevika grins.
"we'll see what happens." she chuckles.
by the end of the night, sevika has to help keep you steady as you sway on your feet, laughing and jogging down the streets of piltover while sevika and silco trail behind you.
"i quite like her." you overhear silco mumble at some point. then,
"yeah, me too." sevika replies.
she doesn't kiss you goodnight. you're almost disappointed, until you remember that this wasn't a real date. you stand in your doorway awkwardly, shimmying out of the suit jacket she'd slung over your shoulders on the walk home and handing it back to her, trying to find something to say.
"uh. this was really fun." you whisper. sevika smiles.
"it was. i knew you'd be a good fake girlfriend."
you giggle a bit, something strange flopping over in your stomach at the reminder that tonight was fake. "you're not so bad yourself, you know." you whisper. sevika blinks at you with big eyes, but doesn't say anything. "anyways. was i a good distraction?" you ask. she grins.
"oh, yeah. you had those pilties wrapped around your finger-- i was gone for thirty fuckin' minutes and they didn't even bat an eye." she says, giggling. you smile.
"i'm glad i could help." you laugh. "if you ever need another fake date..."
"you'll be my first choice." sevika promises.
you gulp. this is the point of the night where you turn around and go into your apartment, watch through the peephole as sevika goes in hers, then go to bed. but... you linger.
sevika lingers too.
you decide to just go for it. you're drunk off good wine, full off good food, and... she looks so fucking pretty that the choice isn't all that hard to make. "or, you know. i'd say yes to a real date too."
it's quiet for a horrifying moment, sevika's eyes widening as they study your face, like she's trying to figure out if you're joking. you're about to laugh it off-- already planning on breaking your lease early so you can move out of this building before you ever have to see her again-- when sevika grins.
"a real date with me wouldn't be as classy as tonight was." sevika says. you bite your lip.
"that's okay. tonight was fun, but it was... a lot." you mumble. sevika giggles, a sweet sound, and your stomach flip-flops.
"how does take-out from jericho's at my place sound?" she asks.
it's your turn to grin. "fuckin' amazing." you say. sevika laughs.
"tomorrow?"
"sure. or, we could go now?" you suggest. "jericho's is open all ni--"
you're cut off by sevika's lips. she crowds you to your front door, pressing her chest against yours. you hum into her mouth, and she hums back.
eventually, she pulls away for air. "i've been wanting to do that forever." she gasps.
you giggle, and pull her back in for another kiss. "me too." you mumble before your lips meet.
taglist!
@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain
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Snippet - Puppy Love - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
Sevika narrates a sad story...
tw: violence, gore, gang warfare
Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
Snippet:
"You have your city. Powder has no place in it. Let her have a normal life. In Piltover, with me."
Sevika stares a moment before a laugh spangles out. It's like rich, smoky music. In it, Vi hears echoes of a girlhood lost. She hears other things too. Disbelief, disdain. And the shock of epiphany, as if Sevika finally understands that Vi and Powder aren't simply sisters, but strangers to each other. Different species.
To Vi, Zaun is a black maw. To Powder, it is a cradle.
"A normal life?" Sevika repeats, when she can breathe without gulping. "With you? Do you even know what that means? Jinx would be a fucking fugitive. They'd throw her in the clink."
"I'd keep her safe! Get her across the sea." Vi's eyes glaze wetly. "We'd run away. Together."
"Yeah? Where would you go?"
"Wherever. It doesn't matter. Someplace warm. An island in Tereshni. With sun and sand. Or a fishing lodge in Bilgewater. Anything, as long as it's not here. She can paint, or build model ships, or—"
"You think it's that easy? Just pick up and start over?" Sevika's eyes are so dark the pupil and iris are indistinguishable. "What do you think she is, a fucking doll? Put her someplace new, and bam! She's fixed." She shakes her head. "Your sister's fucked beyond repair, Vi. There's no place for her anywhere. Except Zaun. Because our city gives her what she needs." She taps her temple. "Someplace to put all that chaos."
"That's not true! She doesn't have to be a monst—"
Vi breaks off, horrorstruck. She's spoken the forbidden truth. Her sister is a monster.
Just like Silco.
Sevika's eyes gleam cruelly. "Monster? That she is. No use making her into something else." Her chin tips. "Come to think, there was a kid who tried. After Silco took over the Drop, he'd hang around. Try to catch Jinx whenever she was alone. He'd show her toys he'd tinkered with. She'd show him her inventions. They'd be happy as clams." The reminiscence curdles into cynicism. "But whenever Silco showed up, Jinx clammed right up. Wouldn't leave his side. It didn't matter what the boy did or said. He might as well have been a pebble on the street. Something to make way for the man of the hour."
Realization judders through Vi.
"Ekko," she says.
"Yeah, that's right." Sevika snaps her fingers. "Ekko. The little man at Benzo's shop. He and Jinx had a thing, didn't they? Puppy love. I remember how they'd be off in the corner, doodling together. Always a few inches apart. Then he'd whisper something in her ear, and she’d light up like a birthday candle." A beat. "She sure wasn't smiling by the end. Neither was he."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, right. You were in the slammer." A faux-pitying sneer, before she sobers. "After Jinx came to live with Silco, he needed someone who could fine-tune her... talents. Take her knack for guns, and make it deadly. But the teachers he brought in, they couldn't handle her. Too scared. Too impatient. One of 'em went apeshit on her. Slapped her upside the head a couple times. She ended up with a busted lip. Silco found out, and, well. It's never wise to lay a hand on what's his."
Her once-over takes in the topography of Vi's bruised flesh. Vi braces for fresh mockery. It doesn't come. Sevika's features remain neutral; a look that's seen it all before.
"After the crew dumped the fucker's body," she goes on, "we decided to look closer to home. Found ourselves a local tinkerer. Old Giz, down at the Abattoir. Fine gunsmith. He'd done business with Silco before. Had the smarts and the patience to deal with a powderkeg like Jinx. Every week, he'd take her out to the scrapyards. Show her how to dismantle a firearm. How to build it back up from scratch. She gave him plenty of lip. Called him Geezer and made fun of his gimp. But she listened. Learned. Soon, she was building her own guns. Models with unique designs. Ones that made Giz's creations look like junk. Silco was real impressed. So were the rest of us. Until..." Sevika's jaw hardens. "Turns out, Giz was too much of a softie for his own good. Silco had been paying him a premium to give Jinx private lessons. But Giz, he'd turned his shop into a bona fide daycare. He let Ekko drop in whenever the kid pleased. Didn't mind having him underfoot, either. Boy had a way with tools. He'd sit and work with Jinx, and they'd chatter non-stop. Sometimes, they'd be too busy playing to work. Giz didn't mind. The way he saw it, the kids deserved to be kids."
Vi's throat works. "And—Silco found out."
"What can I say? He's a man who expects a bang for his buck. When he heard Giz had been letting Ekko hang around, he was none too happy. Giz had designed the security rigging at the Drop. And he knew where we stored the Shimmer. One slip-up, and our headquarters would be compromised. Silco was pissed. But he didn't think Ekko was trouble. So he let it slide. Told Giz not to make the same mistake twice." Her lips pull in tight. "Then Giz did something even stupider."
"What?"
"He left the schematics of the Drop's security at his workshop. Ekko, the little shit, found 'em. Took a good long look. Made his own copies. This was right around the time Jinx stopped taking her lessons with Giz. I don't know why. Maybe she got tired of his chatter. Maybe she found a better way to blow off steam. Whatever the case, Ekko didn't like it. He got it into his head that something fishy was going on. That maybe... Silco was hurting Jinx. He went from playing with her to pestering her. I'd see them sometimes on the rooftops. He'd be tugging her arm. Trying to get her to run away with him. But she wouldn't listen. Everytime Ekko pushed, she'd push back twice as hard. Eventually, he gave up." A beat. "Or so we thought."
A foreboding chill creeps in. "What happened?"
Sevika's eyes flick left and right, before resettling on Vi. "Ekko staged an... intervention. He got a bunch of brats from the Lanes together. They memorized the security checkpoints at the Last Drop. Then they decided to break inside, torch the Shimmer storehouse, and make a run for it—with Jinx in tow." She shakes her head. "The moron. I warned him to stay away. But he was gung-ho. Only fourteen, and Jinx was the moon to his sky. So, he and his gang—they snuck in at midday. Right when the guards changed shifts."
Vi's mind reels. She knows what comes next.
"It was a massacre. Jinx knew they were coming. Don't know how, exactly, but she knew. She went and told Silco. I remember them both in the barroom the night before. Him sitting at the counter. Her standing by his shoulder. Going on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. They had the same look. Same set to the mouth. The same fucking eye." Sevika's features shade into grimness. "The next day, Ekko and his gang snuck in. One of them stepped on a trigger wire. Set off a silent alarm. When they entered Silco's office, our guards were waiting. The punks didn't have a chance. Most were scrappers with switchblades and flashbangs. Silco's crew were trained militia. And they'd been armed with the brand-new guns Jinx had designed. I still remember those babies. The model was similar to a High Standard 10 riot gun. Generates a muzzle velocity of 625 feet per second. Enough to blast through an armored vehicle—or blow a man's guts across the room."
Vi's skin feels two sizes too small. She remembers the way Powder used to hold the toy guns at the old Arcade. The way she'd cock her elbow and squint down the barrel, her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth.
Just a kid.
And Silco turned her into a killer.
"How many…?" she whispers. "How many kids were with Ekko?"
"Six. All gangly brats. We had 'em rounded up in seconds. Then Silco ordered 'em dragged outside. There, as the Lanes watched, our men popped 'em, one by one, like fish in a barrel. Ekko got the ringside view. Held Silco's attention till the very end. Till his last little friend went belly-up, and his skull split like a melon. Ekko started crying. But Silco didn't want tears. He wanted to send a message. The old days of turf wars were over. The thefts, the break-ins, the midnight raids. They were all gonna end. And the Lanes were gonna toe the line. Or else."
Vi swallows a reflux of bile. "Ekko was a good kid. He didn't deserve—"
"He and his pals were a bunch of uppercut morons. What'd he think would happen? He and Jinx would ride off into the sunset on a pair of unicorns?" Sevika’s lips peel back from her teeth. "All of it could've been avoided if he'd minded his own damn business. Left Jinx be, and respected Silco's rules. But no. He wanted to play the big damn hero. To take Jinx away from the one man who had the resources—the balls—to keep her safe."
"Ekko was trying to protect her!"
"Bullshit. He was trying to 'fix' her. Same as you. He thought she'd be someplace different, and click! All that faulty wiring would untangle itself. Like she was a clockwork toy that needed a new set of springs." Disgust grits itself into Sevika's features. "People aren't gears and levers, Vi. And the past doesn't wash off like dirt. Everything Jinx did at the Cannery—the blood, the bodies—was a consequence of her own goddamn choices. There's no undoing that. Or unmaking her. A monster is… as a monster does."
The dreary summation of life and death in the Lanes—a lesson of brutal math that Vi has known since she was knee-high—doesn't keep the boiling tears from her eyes. Vi sinks her teeth into her lower lip until the pain stills the impulse to cry.
Or scream.
"Ekko got the message," Sevika goes on. "So did Jinx. She watched the whole thing. Watched the kids fall, one by one. Watched Ekko break down crying. Watched his rescue mission turn into what it was. Just a bunch of punks running around half-cocked. By the end, Ekko was a mess. Splattered in his friends' guts, and shaking like a leaf. He kept looking to Jinx, hoping against hope she'd help. That she'd do something. Anything. But she never did. She just stood by Silco's side. Didn't cry. Didn't even flinch. After the bodies were hauled off, Ekko got locked up the basement. Silco planned to put his skills to use. Get the little rat to work for Zaun. But it didn't work out. After a week, the kid slipped loose."
"How?"
"Good question." Sevika tips a shoulder. "I suspect Jinx knows the answer."
"You think… she helped him escape?"
"Like I said. Puppy love. Maybe she cared. Or maybe she thought it'd be funny. A final Fuck You." Her laugh holds a note of marvel. "Point is—the kid scarpered. Doubt he got very far. Likely some charitable soul took him in. Likely Giz himself. We sent the crew to his shop, but Giz denied harboring fugitives. And Silco didn't want to kill the only gunsmith in the Lanes. He was ready to let Giz be. Except the old man had nearly cost us five-thousand Hexes of Shimmer. An example had to be made. Silco ordered me to take his right eye. So I did." A shrug, but her expression, for a moment, is oddly spooked. "You wanna know the funny thing? The old man didn't scream. Not once. He said he understood the risks, and was willing to pay the price. Afterward, he told me something else, too. Said he didn't blame Jinx. Told me she'd have been happier with Ekko, but she was safer with Silco. And if those are a girl's only two options, then fuck it. It's the world at fault, not her."
Her face clears, then closes like a door. "Maybe he had a point. The fact is, Jinx made her choice. She did the night she chose to tell Silco about Ekko's plans. She did when she watched those kids die without lifting a finger. She did when she let Ekko loose, and took her place by Silco's side. Your sister knows the score, Vi. Always pick the winning team. No matter how much it hurts. Because the world doesn't give a shit about your tears. It's not gonna hold your hand and kiss your boo-boos. It'll push you down and grind you under, and it'll do it with a smile. And if those are your odds, it's better to have a monster in your corner—and firepower in your hands—than to have a hero with nothing but a fucking wrench in his."
Vi has no comeback handy; her tongue is a desiccated stub.
She thinks of Ekko as a boy. Quick with a quip; quicker with a smile. A boy who'd lost his family, then lost whatever remained. Who'd witnessed a slaughter at Silco's hands. Who'd gone on, as a full-blown adult, to fight the monster with everything he had.
No matter how much it hurt.
"Winning team, huh?" Her throat is raw. "What about the people caught in the middle? Where's their victory?"
"Them's the breaks. The past is the past. There's only one direction. Forward."
Sevika's delivery is a smooth; her eyes are flint. Like a gambler who's all in. Vi wonders what feeds her stoicism. Wrong choices in the past, where she'd been forced to live with the consequences. Or right ones, and their bitter pay-off. Vi thinks of the woman's history. Her father, the Wharfside Devil. His business: bootlegging, brawling, murder. His fate: a life sentence in Stillwater.
Sevika, Vi thinks, is the byproduct of her father's errors.
Just as Powder is the byproduct of Vi's.
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#forward but never forget/xoxo#forward (never forget)/xoxo#arcane jinx#jinx#snippet#arcane sevika#arcane vi#arcane ekko#ekko#vi#timebomb#jinx x ekko#ekkojinx
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Not So Sweet [Sevika x fem reader]
ao3 link: Not So Sweet - sevsdoll - Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021) [Archive of Our Own]
content warning: …SMUT (mdni. get out). drinking, smoking cigars. sex worker reader. face sitting (cunnilingus). fingering. brat taming (reader loves to bite back). dom!sevika. no use of y/n
summary: you’re one of Babette’s best girls, and you’re just taking a night off when you intrigue the most dangerous woman in Zaun. She just can’t ignore you, and soon the night becomes a lot more interesting than you planned.
chapters:
1. Relaxing Night
note: WC: 5.1k (@-@ i know). this is a series. i’m already working on chapter two. look i know the show came out two years ago, but someone’s gotta keep writing for her. she really just makes me foam at the mouth. i love her so much. I don't write very often so sorry if this sucks. this series will have the golden trio: smut, fluff, and angst. smut hopefully in every chapter.
—————(18+)—————
After a long day-shift, you wanted a drink.
The customers at Babette's weren’t so entertaining or pleasant when the sun was still up. What normal person (as normal as someone in Zaun could be) went to a hooker during the day? They were all perverted, or it was the only time of the day they could sneak away from their real “love” to see you.
Overall, not a fun time. You had a particularly nasty customer come through, and while after a normal day, you’d go right into working the night, you thought you deserved a treat.
You show up to the Last Drop, a frequent bar of yours, and plan to have a relaxing night with a cold drink.
You get in quicker than other patrons. While Babette didn’t like Silco, she played along enough and that got you some perks. She gave little tokens to her favorite employees and that earned you some privileges at the right times.
The bouncer opened the door, waving you in, and you were hit with the blasting music that usually infected the bar on a Friday night. Even when it was only eight.
The bass of the music almost made you nauseous, but you pushed it away, telling yourself you were going to have a good night for once. No brothel, no weirdos, and no sex.
You were sick of sex. It was getting quite boring. Even those customers who claimed to be expirimentive or interesting were not. It was the same thing over and over again.
Okay, but you were going to stop thinking about work now.
Since it was early in the night, you were able to get your own booth. Usually, that would be impossible, and you were sure that some group might come along to kick you out of it at some point. But, for the time being, it was your personal wrap-around booth. The stained leather cushions were like heaven. The table was cracked and carved into, but it was solid wood.
You felt good. You were dressed nicely: a tight and dark dress that complimented your complexion, and your hair was done up to reveal your neck and the long costume earrings you swiped once upon a time in Piltover. You showered a lot more often than the people you worked with, so at least you smelled good too.
The back booths were usually taken care of better than the crowded tables near the front. After a few minutes of you sitting down, a barkeep came over to ask if you wanted anything to drink. You ordered and then sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere.
No where in the Undercity was pleasant, but you began to enjoy your time. Your drink came back and you slowly sipped on it as you watched the bar fill with people. You put your feet up on the booth as well, lounging like you owned the place.
It didn’t matter that you didn’t, either. Silco and his whole crew didn’t scare you much. You’d seen worse than the whole crowd. All the immature prostitutes at Babettes would quiver and hide when Sevika, Silco’s number two, came by or when any other of her goons poked around. They didn’t instill the same reaction in you. Sure, they were strong, intimidating and ruthless, but you’d had worse done to you than have your face beaten.
You’d never personally served Sevika or her crew, but you knew people who did.
Speaking of the devil, the group just strolled in. It was around ten pm when Sevika and four others came into the bar and got their usual booth across the room from your own. The chaos of the dancing, drinking, and smoking crowd parted for them quickly, but paid them no mind, and they went about their usual business.
As you watched them sit down and order a drink, your eyes caught the shallow ones of Sevika. It was only for a quick glance before she looked down to shuffle cards, but she seemed to look longer than one would normally when accidentally meeting a stranger's eye.
You didn’t know what the hell her problem was. As much as you weren’t afraid of her, you sure as hell didn’t want to deal with her. All you wanted was a calm night, and whatever issue she had with you surely wouldn’t help.
You’d been jumped a couple of times. They were when you were younger and more naive, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again. All those times, you had to stumble back to Babette with a bloody lip and bruised ribs for her to wrap up. You had no one else to take care of you.
For the next two hours or so, you kept your eyes to your own. Or, at least you tried to.
After that first look, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. Her steel gray gaze kept your form across the room as the club lit up with action. The loud music and crowd of dancers frequently broke her stare, but once there was a break in the mob, you’d catch her looking at you again.
The idea of her made you nervous. The way she stared made you feel weak—like she was a predator about to pounce. There was no way she’d hurt you in the bar, right?
Something about the look in her eyes made you feel something other than nervous. It was entrancing the way her lips curled into a smirk at a winning hand. Her banter with her men made her seem warmer—nicer. You couldn’t help but drag your eyes across her broad shoulder, reveling in the way the muscles in her forearms moved as she shuffled cards.
You tried to ignore her and her rough eyes as you watched the lively crowd. After two drinks, almost every sight was amusing, and you were feeling quite relaxed. The alcohol helped your nerves.
At some point, you got up and went to the bathroom. While fighting your way through the crowd, you didn’t even see Sevika put down her cards to follow after you.
The bathrooms were small, which was quite inadequate for the business of the bar, but it made it less common for people to be in there. It was empty when you went in, and you went into one of the stalls to relieve yourself.
The door opened not long after you came in, and when you were stepping out of the stall, you froze.
Sevika stared at you, still standing by the door. You couldn’t get out. Suddenly, the bathroom felt even smaller than it already was.
You decided not to poke the bear. Anxiety rushed over you as panic threatened to set in. But you wouldn’t let her know it. Reputation was all about strength around here. Any weakness would’ve your downfall.
You went into denial. Maybe you were wrong about her staring. Maybe this was all just a coincidence. She just so happened to catch your eye and it was just your luck that she came into the bathroom at the same time as you.
You washed your hands, keeping your eyes down at the sink as you heard her steps. They got closer and closer until she stood behind you, just far enough away that she wasn’t touching you. You stood up straight, looking at her through the mirror.
“Can I help you?” You tensed your brow, eyes stuck to the ones that had been watching you all night. This close, and in the dim light of the bathroom, you could’ve sworn they had hints of blue in them.
“What’s your name?” She asked. She reached out, touching your shoulder lightly as she leaned forward. She towered over you.
“None of your business,” you said. You could feel the heat of her body against your back, and she couldn’t stop exploring you with her hands.
It seemed she didn’t really care what your name was. Perhaps she only asked as a formality. Maybe some women found it rude when she didn’t ask, but you didn’t care.
“Are you just going to eye-fuck me all night,” she muttered. “Or do you want to do something about it?”
She ran her thumbs along the creases of your dress. feeling the bottom edge of your bra through the fabric as she did so.
“You’re the one who can’t stop staring,” you said, turning your head to look up into her eyes. “If I were a betting woman I’d say you have a small crush.”
She scoffed. “Don’t think of yourself so highly.”
You smirked. She just wanted to fuck. She’d been around the brothel enough time for you to know that, and the idea of her had always been an intriguing one whenever she came around. You’d never dealt with her, but you’d heard the stories.
Her fingers dragged down your hips, tugging at the edge of your dress before slipping under. It was just enough so she could feel the skin of your inner thigh. The light grazing of her skin against yours made you feel fuzzy, and you leaned back into her slightly.
She hummed, leaning into your neck and kissing under your jaw. Her lips pressed just under your ear as she asked, “Want to come to the back room with me? I'll make it worth your while.”
“Are you gonna pay me?” You jested. Of course, you didn't need her to, but teasing her just felt so right. You’d never even spoken to her before, but the banter was too delicious to ignore.
“I think you’re the one who’s gonna have to pay me,” she whispered, her hands now massaging your thighs as she tried to draw you towards the door. “Come on, baby, I need to get this dress off of you.”
You groaned, pushing her hands off of you. “So needy,” you teased. “Go and wait for me and maybe I'll show up.”
She stared down at you. The two of you were close; you could practically feel her breath against your face. In her eyes was anger at your attitude, but you could tell she was amused. Normally, the women she picked didn’t fight her: they crumbled and begged for attention.
Her hand came up and gripped your jaw. She moved forward, pressing you against the countertop as her lips met yours harshly. The wind was knocked out of your lungs as she kept you pinned, kissing you enough to make you dizzy.
She gripped your hip with her metal hand, the tips of her sharp fingers pressing into the fat of your ass just enough for it to sting. You whimpered against her lips, hands jerking as they didn’t know whether to push her away or pull her closer.
“Oh, you’ll show up,” she growled. And then, as quickly as she had come, she pulled away. The cold air where she once was made you feel funny as you watched her walk out of the room.
The bathroom was silent. You stood there, palms pressed against the counter, shaking. Outside, the bass of the music pushed through the walls and shook the floor. It felt chilly all of a sudden, and you realized it was because she was gone. She was so hot pressed up against you, and you were worried you’d freeze without her.
Screw the whole “sick of sex” thing. You were going to fuck the hottest, most dangerous woman in Zaun.
In your frozen state, another woman came into the bathroom and gave you a strange look as she saw you standing there. You hardly met her eyes as you walked past her, shuffling quickly out of the room.
The chaos of the main room hit you hard when you came out. The flashing lights and blaring music were a sharp contrast to the dim and quiet bathroom. Across the room you saw Sevika standing by her table, settling her bets with her fellow players quickly.
You made your way up to the bar to close your tab. You doubted you would want anything else. The bar was crowded and it took a moment for you to shove yourself to the front with your money.
You reached out your coins to the bartender.
“Thieram, put her drinks on my tab.”
The bartender looked past you and nodded at Sevika. He pushed your hand back and quickly walked away to serve another customer.
You turned to say something to Sevika, but she was already walking towards the back room. You took the moment to watch her walk away, your eyes grazing over her body.
Her back was wide and thick with muscle. Every part of her was woven together with strength, and the glow of the neon lights made every ridge seem deeper.
Your body began to get just as excited as your mind was.
When you walked into the back room, she was sitting on the sofa. This room was a small lounge with two couches and a couple of chairs surrounding a coffee table. There was a small side table with a lamp, and a large bay window on the back wall with the curtains tightly shut.
The lamp was on and it gave off a full glow that illuminated the room just enough that you could see her shadowed brow turn up to look at you.
It seemed like a place she came to often. She had her maroon cover dropped on one of the armchairs, and there was a pack of cigars on the coffee table with a lighter. It was a little messy, but you assumed it was a busy room.
“Thanks for the drinks,” you said, sounding unimpressed.
“They’re free for me.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
You sighed loudly, stepping forward into the room more. Once again, her eyes stuck to you like glue.
She leaned back. “Are you gonna get over here or are you gonna make me chase you?”
That could be fun. But, no, you weren’t in a state to run at the moment. You smiled, almost mockingly at her, and strolled over.
You stood in front of her as she stayed seated, looking up at you. Taking her face roughly in one hand, you dug your nails into her cheek slightly. She looked up at you with tense eyes, studying the way you glared down at her. Your thumb brushed over her bottom lip and she nipped forward, trying to bite you.
You jerked your hand back. “Watch it!”
She chuckled, reaching out to hold you by your hips. She steadied you, keeping you as close as you could without pulling you into her lap. “You seem like someone who doesn’t give two shits about me,” she said. “I like that.”
You lifted your brow. “Don’t like attachment?”
“Fucking hate it.”
She pushed your dress up, the bottom now pooling above your hips, making your thin lace underwear fully visible for her to touch and rip off.
“Good. I’m a whore, all I ever have to deal with is attachment.” Her hands were now rubbing down the backs of your thighs. The ghosting of her fingertips over the edge of your underwear sent a shiver up your spine. “It’s always: ‘Oh, I love you’ and ‘oh, baby please come home with me’—drives me nuts.”
She smiled up at you. “I’ll never love you.”
“Thank god,” you breathed, lost in the sight of her so close to you. Her eyes stuck to your lips and her brow creased in focus. She pulled you in, trapping you in a kiss. Her hands pressed against the small of your back, pushing you down to straddle one of her thighs.
A sigh slipped from your lips as she pushed her leg up just slightly. It fit perfectly and her hard muscle did well to please the ache that was just starting to grow between your legs.
Her lips were soft yet demanding, holding you there as she devoured you. It was hard to breathe between her hungry kisses. It was intoxicating in all the best ways. Her tongue brushed against yours and soon you were tasting each other, drawn in and never letting go.
Your hands brushed through her hair, tugging out her hair tie and tossing it behind you onto the coffee table. She grunted, pulling you even harder against her and grinding your hips against your leg.
She kissed across your cheek and down your neck. She was harsh. She ran her teeth along your skin and bit down hard enough for you to whine. You gripped her shoulders and pressed your clothes clit harder against her leg, trying to find satisfaction.
You knew she was going to leave marks. Something about that thought made you crazy. You were not supposed to belong to anyone, but you wanted people to know she fucked you—that she wanted you.
Her tongue ran over a fresh hickey as she leaned back up and kissed you again. She exhaled heavily out her nose, settling into the kiss.
You clutched her face gently in both hands, cradling her head as she slid her tongue into your mouth. You could feel heat looking in your stomach. Surely your underwear was ruined by now. She might’ve even had a wet spot on her thigh.
Everything felt so disorienting. It was like she was her own drug, pulling you in and locking away the rest of the world. You couldn’t hear any outside of the room, and nothing matter but how her chest felt pressed against yours.
“Lie down,” you whispered, running your fingers through her hair.
She wasn’t the type to listen to others, but something in the way you coaxed your voice made her comply. She was much too large for the small couch so her legs hung off the other end, but you made sure her head was nice and comfortable on a small throw pillow.
She propped herself up on her elbows, smirking at you as you stepped off the couch and pulled your panties off. “You just think you have all the power, don't you?”
You cocked your head to the side. “Do I not?”
“Hm.” She wasn’t amused. You crawled on top of her, your thighs on either side of her head as you sat on her collar. You brushed the stray hairs off her forehead.
“I’ll put you in your place, baby girl, don’t worry,” she assured. “But I might as well let you have a little fun first.”
“That’s sweet,” you teased. “I’m almost intimidated. But, really, anyone who gets underneath me always ends up being my bitch.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just fucking sit on my face already.”
“Say please?”
She ignored you, dragging your hips up and grinding your core against her face. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden movement, hands flying to her hair to steady yourself as her tongue parted you.
You pressed your lips together. “Oh, fuck, Sev…” you moaned, head falling back as she lapped at your folds like you were the last thing on earth. Her mouth was hot against your cunt and she was sending shockwaves through your body.
She pressed all your weight against her face and everything she was doing made you relax against her. Part of you cared if she could breathe but most of you didn’t. Your mind was only focused on how she circled your entrance with her tongue.
You dug your nails into her scalp, tugging as she moved up to flick your clit with her tongue. The pleasure had you tugging at her hair. She moaned into your folds, the vibrations eliciting another wave of ecstasy.
She gripped the backs of your thighs, keeping you steady as your strength wavered. As you unwound, she continued to undulate your cunt against her.
Everything she did drew you closer and closer to your peak. It was a constant assault as she dragged her tongue though you with a sharp tip before pulling your clit into her mouth to suck.
“God, that feels so good,” you moaned, grinding harder on her nose as her tongue fucked into you. “Don’t stop.”
With the tone of your voice, she could tell you were close. Her hands came from behind to cup your ass and squeeze it harshly, making you moan again before her finger came closer. She circled your entrance with them, coating each with your slick before easily slipping one thick finger in.
“Two,” you demanded, breathless.
She pushed a second one in and you almost regretted it. It was a tight squeeze as she pumped her finger deep inside, still working on your clit with her mouth. She was ruthless with her speed, and soon you were helpless. You rode her finger and face breathlessly until your orgasm hit with a wave of pleasure.
You cursed loudly, moaning as she helped you down from your peak. It seemed to go one forever, pulsing with your fast heart rate. She kept her finger deep inside you as she pushed you off her face.
“Sev…” you muttered, wiping her chin with your thumb. You realized you had no words. She curled her fingers inside of you. “Fuck,” you whined
She flipped the two of you over, pushing your hips down into the couch as she went harder.
“Wait,” you whined. The overwhelming sensation from your last orgasm was too much to bear. So much that she was leading you right to another one. You couldn't take it. “Sevika,” you cried.
She shushed you, demanding, “Take it.” She was peppering kisses down your neck and over your chest. Your low-cut dress was becoming more and more disheveled, and she could nearly kiss your nipple.
Just her presence was arousing. She was almost animalistic the way she hovered over you, so much bigger than you. She shadowed you in the dim room, gazing down at you like you were her prey. You couldn’t get out even if you tried.
Her hard metal arm that pinned you down radiated a sharp heat that reminded you she could kill you if she really wanted to. And that shimmer in her vials could turn her into a monster with no mercy.
You bit your lip, your head pressing back against the couch as you felt your finish coming. You couldn’t believe how good she was. The people you fucked for you job hardly ever really got you turned on. She made your head spin.
And she was so attentive. Every second she was digging her teeth into your collar or running her mouth along your breast. Her hot breath against you skin had you writhing under her, mumbling curses and urging her to never stop.
Her fingers pumped inside, curling with every thrust to hit your sweet spot. The heel of her palm rubbed against your clit as she abused your velvet wall, rutting against it when she would pull out and shove back in.
“I’m gonna cum, Sev,” you cried. “I’m so close.”
She hummed into your skin, quickening her cruel pace to a point that made your legs tense and your hands run down her back, pressing crescents into her skin.
Your peak was coming closer and closer. You could feel it rising in you with every passing second of pleasure. The ribbed rubbing of her fingers in your cunt overwhelmed every sense until she stopped.
She stopped moving.
“What the fuck—“
“You were real cocky coming in here,” she growled into your ear. Her voice was almost gritty. “You need to know that’s not okay.”
You squirmed under her, just trying to get her to move or maybe be able to ride her fingers. “Sevika, just let me—“
She held you very still. “In this room, you’re mine. You do whatever the fuck I tell you to, and you ask nicely for things.” Her still fingers were driving you insane. The full sensation of hay being full but not stimulated made you push against her shoulder, urging her to do something.
She lifted her head to look at your pleading face. “Outside of here you might belong to anyone with enough money in their pocket, but right now you belong to me. I chose when you cum, do you understand?”
You glared up at her, irritation alight in your eyes as you thrashed and tried to get her to move. You couldn’t speak, only fighting to move to reach your finish.
“I didn’t expect you to be such a fucking brat, baby.” She pushed a third finger inside slowly. The stretch was painful as you cried out, your nails digging into her back. She still wouldn’t fucking move. “But that’s okay,” she assured. “I’ll teach you a lesson. I’ll make you my good girl.”
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you sunk further into the cushion. “Sevika—“
She smacked your clit harshly. “Say please.”
You squirmed again, the pain pulsing through your core. You pressed your lips together, trying not to give her the satisfaction.
Her brow creased and she frowned down at you. Disappointed pooled in her gaze and it made you feel awful. She slid her fingers out of you, shrugging and moving to get up.
You holt forward, hands wrapping around her thick forearm to pull her back to you. “No—fuck—please, Sev, please.” Your wide, pleading eyes helped lure her back. “Please. I need it. I need it so fucking badly.”
She sighed, pulling you close to her again by your hips, cradling them against her own as she pushed you back down into the couch. She kissed you once, gently. “What do you need, baby?”
All attitude was thrown out the window. All you could do was obey. “To cum—please, just let me—“
She forced her fingers back inside of you, having you crying out at the sudden stretch. She pushed your legs open, spreading them widen so she could fuck you deeper.
The room echoed with your cries. The sudden intrusion made the stretch so intense it was painful. The feeling mixed with the incessant pleasure drove your mind to an unreachable place. You were a babbling mess underneath her, mumbling pleas and begging for her to never stop. You were rendered senseless.
“Please…please, I’m so close.”
She rubbed her thumb over your clit and bit on the pulse point of your neck, the sharp sensation pushing you over the edge
Your vision went white as hot, immeasurable pleasure shot through your core. Your legs squeezed around her as she slowed her lace to a gentle rolling of her fingers to guide you through your orgasm.
The way she held you made all your bitching seem so senseless. She was ruthless but caring, attending to every need as she brought you down from your high. It felt as if you couldn’t move, lying limp underneath her as she took care of you.
“Good job.” She kissed your cheek. “I knew you could behave.”
All you could muster up was a whine as you pawed at her face, pushing her up so you could pull her in for a kiss. She settled into your lips, helping you relax as your heartbeat still pounded against your chest. Her hands gripped your thighs, your juices sticking to your hot skin.
She pulled back. “Careful, you don’t want to make me start again.”
You shook your head frantically, mouth still so dry yet searching for words but you couldn’t find any. So fucked out, all you could do was lie there and stare at her.
Your eyes were glassy and she smiled slightly at the state she left you in. “You okay, doll?”
You nodded.
“Okay,” she chuckled, sitting up. “I’d hate to scare you off too quickly.”
You made some helpless noise, clawing after her as you tried to push yourself up. It felt like you could hardly move your legs, and your hands felt numb.
She helped you sit up, pulling you across her lap to rest your head against her shoulder. “Though you seem quite comfortable.”
You giggled. “Just tired.”
She hummed, reaching around you to find a cigar on the coffee table. You watched her hold it in her lips as she leaned forward again to grab the lighter.
You just liked to watch her. She moved comfortably in herself, relaxing back on the couch as she puffed on the cigar. She made rings with the smoke, showing off to impress you, maybe.
She let you take a puff, but it wasn’t exactly for your taste. Instead, you just relaxed against her, listening to the slight boom of the bass through the walls. You couldn’t even remember hearing it until now.
Minutes passed, maybe even a half an hour as the two of you relaxed. You could feel your eyes drooping the longer you sat against her warmth.
“It’s late,” she observed. “Do you need me to walk you home?”
“So chivalrous,” you murmured, fixing the neckline and straps of your dress. You sat up straight, blinking slowly to meet her eyes. “I think I’ll be okay. Babette’s is just down the street.”
A crease formed in her brow. “You live there?”
You shrugged. “Yeah.” Your eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Hm,” she hummed, adjusting the hem of your skirt so it was fully over your ass. Her limited reaction made you slightly nervous, but it was better than her overreacting. “I’m going to walk you home.”
She patted your hip, urging you to get up. Begrudgingly, you slid off her lap and to your feet. You stumbled, partially from the alcohol still in your system, but also from the ache in your legs.
Sevika held you against her, smiling. “Easy, baby.”
“Shut up.”
“Attitude's back already?” She teased, “I should’ve been meaner.”
You grumbled, waving your hand aimlessly to get her to stop talking. Hell, you would’ve loved if she fucked you with no restraint, but you couldn’t take any more. You worked all day, and she just knocked the wind out of you for so long.
She guided you towards the door, helping you walk as the two of you pushed through the front room. It was past midnight for sure, and the crowd had lessened, but those who were left were wasted and uncontrollable. You noticed how she held you away from everyone who seemed too intoxicated.
It was about then when you realized your underwear was still on the floor of the back room, but you didn’t give a shit. Maybe she’d keep it as a souvenir. You surely had the bruises on your neck to remind you of her for days.
God, you wished every night ended like this.
#fanfic#arcane#arcane league of legends#fanfiction#smut#sevika#sevika arcane#sevika x reader#sevika x y/n#dom!sevika
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Arcane One Piece AU (Fem!ZoSan centric)
Ok so this all started because of this post and galaxy braining with the amazing @anniilaugh can’t you just IMAGINE dyke Zoro circling and Kabedon-ing (pin against the wall) Sanji like “You’re hot, cook- so what’ll it be? Man or woman?” As they go into the brothel looking for information? SHE DREW THE BEST ART OF VI!ZORO RIGHT HERE BTW
Sanji is good with her legs so she would impress Zoro with her parkour skills
Sanji has a Taz British accent (like Caitlin has a British accent) but with lots of cursing (Zeff’s influence) “bollocks!” And some French cursing as well since he learned it as a kid (putain! Merde! Fait chier!)
Zoro wears the same hot dyke clothes Vi does- arms fully out, and pulls her hood on when she’s serious (like the bandana). She also has cool tattoos and the hand wrap things
She fights with hextech swords that look just like hilts until they’re turned on and the blades appear - she carries them looped in carabiners around her waist (seriously look at the art)
World-building wise: Underworld Zaun Kingpin Doflamingo (Silco) with the drug “SMILE” who has Piltover higher ups and police in his pocket (he has leverage like in one piece)
SMILE gives people strange powers but temporarily, like temporary devil fruits that leave you broken and drained
Powder is Luffy, Zoro’s adoptive little brother, they were raised by Kuma (Vander) after his failed revolution where their parents die, growing up with a small crew of misfit friends (including Kuina, who dies)
The tragedy happens and Zoro gets put into prison (on Doffy’s orders) while Luffy thinks Zoro abandoned him and is taken in by Doffy, becoming “Nika” (his unhinged alter ego is gear 5 like Jinkx is to Powder) , now growing up along kids like Law, Baby 5 etc . His hair went white from the stress of that fateful night/or he bleaches it
Caitlin!Sanji grows up in Piltover as a noble with the abusive Vinsmokes but runs away and gets taken in by a chef called Zeff (who lost his leg in the failed revolution but managed to start anew, tries to help Zaun how he can, sending food etc)
Zeff gets put in prison by the Vinsmokes to control Sanji and she’s forced to become an enforcer (Fem!Sanji in that little uniform oh god. Smoking her cigarettes with a stupid little hat and the gun she does her best to avoid using)
She still works after her enforcer shifts at the Baratie since shes always itching to cook, feed the hungry and to support party and carne and keep her adoptive dad’s restaurant alive (she knows of how bad people have it in Zaun, and before Zeff found her she was hungry and homeless)
Her weapon of choice is actually something she has strapped to her legs from her thighs to her calves (Zoro will be very distracted) some hextech steampunk looking thing that powers up her kicks and she can send her kicks energy forward to do mid range attacks
She uses her enforcer job to snoop around and try and figure out how to get her father out
Her lead takes her to Stilwater prison where Zoro has been beat and abused for several years
Cue scene where Sanji walks in to Zoro’s cell and sees her boxing like crazy and fuck she’s so hot wtf but also she feels terrible for her and her blood boils as she learns of the abuse she went through
Telling herself she must be going absolutely insane (but is she? She feels like this is the right thing. It’s fate) she forges release documents to get Zoro out, sure that her knowledge of the under-city will help her understand where the corruption lies and get Zeff back
Zoro immediately does not follow what she’s saying and goes on her own thing (PARKOUR!) and she impresses her by being able to keep up
Zoro still gets lost and turned around
Are you sure you know the under-city, mosshead?
Zoro stops at a street food stall and Sanji is annoyed at first- as well as disgusted by how she shovels it in her mouth, but softens and silently rages when Zoro shares that she’s been starved a couple of times in Stillwater
Cue the brothel scene omg
Circling Sanji and pushing her up against a wall “You’re hot, cook. So what’ll it be, man or woman?”
Zoro walking by Sanji talking up another woman in the brothel after her talk with Nami (head of the brothel) and smiling to herself
Jayce is Franky who is experimenting with the crystals to create hextech, Viktor could be iceburg, Vivi is the hot politician lady (Mel)
Firelight is “Sogeking” - zoro and Luffy’s childhood friend Usopp (Ekko)
Also Taller than Zoro Sanji aaaaa
Zoro calling Sanji “officer” to annoy her - only switching to “cook” and “curly” as an alternative nickname
#arcane zosan au#arcane!zosan#zosan#zoro x sanji#zosan fic idea#black leg sanji#roronoa zoro#arcane au#arcane one piece au#fem zosan#fem!zosan#Caitlin!sanji#vi!zoro#I love dyke Zoro more than anything
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The more I think about Lock (Silco's tattoo goon) ending up in Stillwater the more I realize how deeply fucked up Piltover is again. With Vi, we already know she didn't get a trial and was just thrown in there without any care or oversight. With Lock, as far as anyone knew outside of Marcus, he was just an injured man on crew where a raid broke out that hid to escape the violence after being hurt. Just because he was loading the Shimmer onto the ship doesn't mean he knew that it was contraband. I know Lock knew snd was a part of it, but I say this to show innocent till proven guilty isn't how Piltovan law works for for Zaunites. Everyone, including Cait, immediately assumed and accepted that he was a part of the guilty party instead of just a guy at the wrong place at the wrong time.
#arcane#arcane meta#this was a quick thing#lock arcane#honestly this is why I was never mad or wistful that Jinx fired that rocket#one of the terms was for her to be sent to stillwater... and like no
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SomedayLazySomeday's Masterlist
Hey, friends! Here is the collection of everything I’ve written up to this point. Fics have their own page to keep things neat, and those links are posted under the media to which they belong.
All fics feature a female reader with minimal physical description and no use of ‘Y/N’. All of these works are rated mature or explicit and are not intended for minors. Please take note of the warnings listed on the chapter links for each fic.
Thanks for reading and enjoy!
- Ink
Arcane (2021)
Good Intentions - Silco x fem!reader.
- 54.7k words. Reader runs a charitable organization, the Haven, which seeks to help people overcome their Shimmer addiction. Silco soon takes an intense interest in the Haven and the woman who operates it.
Noisy - Viktor x fem!reader.
- 7.2k words. Reader is a student at the Piltover Academy and lives in student housing, one floor below Viktor. He’s a bit of an insomniac… and a noisy one at that.
Avengers (2012)
Cold - Loki x fem!reader.
- 3k words. Reader is in a casual physical relationship with Loki. When she attends a party at Avengers Tower with someone else, he’s bothered by the idea that she’s ashamed of him. Themes of jealousy and minor monsterfucking.
Beetlejuice
A Deal with a Demon - Beetlejuice x fem!reader.
- 13.3k words. Reader is a witch who’s a little down on her luck. She summons a demon for help, but he turns out to be very different from what she expected. Themes of magic, desperation, and monsterfucking.
Black Sails
Captured - Captain Charles Vane x fem!reader.
- 9.1k words. Reader disguised herself as a man to cross the ocean, but her ship was captured by pirates who brought her on as a member of their crew. Vane eventually figures out the truth. Dub-con themes in Part One; mind the warnings!
The Boondock Saints
Na Buachaillí - Murphy MacManus x fem!reader, Connor MacManus x fem!reader.
- 13k words. Reader is a high school science teacher working temp jobs over Christmas break to help pay for her divorce.
Ex Machina (2015)
Winner Take All - Nathan Bateman x fem!reader.
- 11.6k words. Reader knows Nathan from MIT, and they constantly run into each other during trivia night at a local bar. Enemies to friends to lovers vibes.
The Gray Man (2022)
Paranoid - Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader.
- 9.7k words. Reader runs into Lloyd and he takes a liking to her. She can’t say the same for him. Dark!fic with themes of non-con. Mind the warnings on this one!
The Hobbit
Dexterity - Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader.
- 14.6k words. Reader sells wool at Erebor’s markets and is familiar with the king, handsome and aloof. But Thorin rapidly warms up when a storm forces her to stay in Erebor overnight…
A Boon - Elvenking Thranduil x fem!reader.
- 20.2k words. Reader owns a bar in Lake-Town and is very unimpressed with the Elvenking, even as he slowly works to win her over. Enemies to lovers vibes.
Labyrinth
Dreams - Jareth x fem!reader.
- 7.7k words. Reader wished away her college roommate, beat the labyrinth, and resisted the Goblin King. But he isn’t done with her yet… Themes of dark fae, magic, and predator/prey.
Random Jareth Fics - Jareth x fem!reader
- 6.8k words. Reader is a teacher who was wished away by a young student. She becomes Jareth’s eyes and ears in the human world, working to keep his legend alive. Over time, she becomes less human, but an occasional need still arises.
Narcos
Informant - Javier Peña x fem!reader.
- 2.3k words. Reader has some information about Pablo Escobar and ends up making a different sort of deal. (Similar in tone to Oaths, but I hadn’t quite figured out how to write Javier Peña’s character yet.)
Oaths - Javier Peña x fem!reader.
- 11.5k words. Reader is a nurse who treats the Escobar family. She turns information over to the DEA, though she doesn’t care for the agent assigned to her case.
Matter of Perspective - Captain Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader.
- 9.6k words. Reader works for the DEA in Columbia and accompanies the Search Bloc to prove one of her theories. Enemies to lovers vibes.
Southern Vampire Mysteries/True Blood
Blood Donor - Eric Northman x fem!reader.
- 2.4k words. Reader is a were-animal working for the vampires of a town Eric is visiting. You are sent to feed him.
Star Wars
Target Acquired - Jango Fett x fem!reader.
- 9.6k words. Reader is a bounty hunter who often finds herself in direct competition with Jango Fett. They have a deal: whoever catches the bounty sets the terms of their night together.
Pursuit - Boba Fett x fem!reader.
- 6.5k words. Reader is a bounty Boba finds, but she must convince him to let her go… even if they both know it’s only temporary.
Star Wars: The Bad Batch
Hunted - Hunter x fem!reader.
- 7.3k words. Reader works with the Bad Batch. She has a crush on Hunter that seems one-sided… until a chance encounter with a mysterious substance on a mission. Sex pollen and themes of predator/prey.
Aim - Crosshair x fem!reader.
- 9.9k words. Reader works with the Bad Batch and gets stranded with Crosshair after a mission. They won’t make it back to the Havoc Marauder without blowing off some steam. Enemies to lovers vibes in both parts.
Experiment - Tech x fem!reader.
- 3.5k words. Tech thinks he can’t be distracted from his work. Reader bets that isn’t true, and she’s willing to prove it.
Stretch - Wrecker x fem!reader.
- 13.5k words. Reader and Wrecker are a strong couple, but there are some challenges that come with dating someone so physically large.
Different, But Still Good - TBB!Echo x fem!reader.
- 3.4k words. Reader is a sex-positive asexual, unbothered by the ways Echo was changed during his time with the Separatists. They’re both a little surprised when he volunteers to help on an unusually needy day.
Star Wars: The Clone Wars
Bitten - Commander Wolffe x fem!reader.
- 13.4k words. Reader has a crush on Broadside, a pilot with the 501st. When it isn’t returned, a helpful stranger encourages her to let Wolffe provide a distraction.
Tied Up in You - Commander Fox x fem!reader.
- 9.8k words. Established relationship between Fox and Reader. Sickeningly sweet glimpses at a loving, unlikely relationship.
Misbehaving - Commander Cody x fem!reader.
- 9.2k words. Reader is in a relationship with Cody. Their relationship is one of control and boundaries, but they’re both willing and ready to test each other.
Star Wars: Legends
Bodyguard - Alpha-17 x fem!reader.
- 9.2k words. Reader is a Senatorial aide, assigned to work for a hated senator who endangers both of their lives with his politics. Fortunately, Alpha is sent to keep them safe.
Gar Cyare Spice Fics - Alpha-17 x fem!reader.
- 6.8k words. Assorted spicy chapters of an ongoing fic on my main blog. (Gar Cyare by WanderingInkSplot) Established relationship between Alpha and the fem!reader.
The Boys
Hooked - Billy Butcher x fem!reader.
- 8k words. Reader is a tow truck driver sent to tow Butcher's car. He's less than pleased.
The Walking Dead
Arm Candy - Negan x fem!reader.
- 18k words. Reader is a Savior and a prospective wife. Negan likes to show her off at meetings, but he is easily the most distracted person in the room.
#masterlist#somedaylazysomeday masterlist#masterlist update#arcane netflix#the avengers#beetlejuice#black sails#the boondock saints#ex machina#the gray man#the hobbit#labyrinth#narcos#true blood#southern vampire mysteries#star wars#star wars the bad batch#star wars the clone wars#star wars legends#the walking dead#spicy#not suitable for minors#minors dni
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Love Irelia but I honestly think she'd straight up hate Zaun despite both Ionia and Zaun being countries under subjugation
Reasons:
Zaun chemtech bombs largely destroyed her home
Zaunites are therefore Noxian enablers
As an Ionian, Zaun's grunge Urban aesthetic is not something she'd appreciate at all; she'd probably see Zaun as filthy
According to Riot's AMA for her rework, Irelia was raised upperclass "Prep school" type, so outside of Ionian Liberation, I can see her be a bit ignorant of class divisions, especially when those divisions do not mean the same thing in Ionia (therefore, Zaunites must be the source of their own squalor).
Zaunite Chemtech Bombs
That being said, I do think with some education I can see her sympathizing with Ekko and the Firelights. She would not like Jinx as a person especially after hearing from Ekko that she worked for Silco (Silco could very well be supplying the weapons for the Invasion of Ionia to Noxus, if those Shimmer barrels mean anything).
Piltover, I think she'd be indifferent too, maybe thinking them as excessive, and probably vain. I imagine that Piltover being amongst the richest cities in all of Runeterra is something that a daughter of an Upperclass Ionian family would know about. She might think they enable Noxus however, especially depending on what direction Fortiche and the Crew take Piltover - Noxus conflict(?) next season.
#Xan Irelia#League of Legends#Arcane#Zaun#d musings#speculation#Man I wish Rito didn't decide to ignore the lore and we'd get cool details like what Irelia thinks of other places Ionia-Noxus aside
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Hihi can we get some Caitlyn x Undercity(gn)reader hc
Oh also you're doing a great job 🤘
Why thank you good person for requesting, haven't gotten a request in ages lol, and ty that really means alot ☺️
¤Caitlyn with a S/O from Zaun HCs¤
your probably thinking "how did these crazy kids meet?", well allow me to explain
You, not being a big fan of Silco and his crew, try your best to "rebel" in a way by disrupting shimmer production to the best of your ability
Once you got word by eavesdropping in on a conversation with Sevika and another crew member about the trap for the enforcers, you rushed over to topside to try and stop it from springing
Of course it was too late, but there was one line survivor, that survivor being Caitlym Kiramman in the flesh
You couldn't just leave her there! So doing what was right, you took her to a medic (I'm not sure what they're exactly called in Piltover) to get her some medical attention
Few days go by and you check up on her in her room as she was recently permitted to go back, and your met with a gun to the face
Thought she trusted you? She didn't even know you saved her life yet
"Wait! Don't shoot! I'm not a threat!" "How can I be so sure that you won't take me to be interrogated for info in the undercity." "Because I'm the one who saved your enforcer ass from Jinx's trap!"
... she had no words
A Zaunnite saving an enforcer? Not a likely thing to see
You two start to form a bond and start to find out you had more in common than you know
One thing being that the two of you try to minimalize distractions and get straight to the center of a problem
Another being your shared hate for Silco's shimmer empire, shes glad to know that even people from the undercity are not fond of it
The more you hang around her the more you become attracted to her, just something about her captures you, and you can't tell what
She finds out about your feelings for her, she reciprocates the feeling
Caitlyn was... unsure to say the least in the beginning of your relationship, she didnt know exactly what to do in the case of having a S/O as she's never had one, especially one from the undercity
You do your best to make sure she doesn't over exhaust herself with her work, as she's known to get carried away...alot
Cuddling? She'd be the big spoon on most occasions, just how I'd view her being
She is usually up and awake before you, so when your awake before her for once, you surprise her with breakfast in bed, you can imagine she's taking time to register this, but don't worry she is appreciative of you <3
"You did this.. for me? Your too kind darlin."
When she isn't occupied she likes talking to you or watching you do your own hobby, she is very intrigued in what you do, she may even tag along and do it with you
She will listen to you rant about anything that comes to mind, don't worry about her leaving because she will stick by your side until your done, she is a good listener
Another thing you two would like to do is go on dates to stargaze and have a nice dinner, as you didn't have that kind of luxury in Zaun
I know, it's not really my best, but I try. I hope it's good enough : )
#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn kiramman#arcane x reader#fluff#sfw headcanons#arcane league of legends#caitlyn kiramman x reader
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in (slightly late) honour of the arcaniversary, based on a tweet i saw: bloopers i wish we could see
the kids tripping/falling during the parkour scenes at the beginning
vander forgetting his lines i KNOW that shit is funny. "you're a good kid, vi. good heart. that's not the- hell. (pats her on the shoulder while she is visibly trying not to laugh) good kid"
THE END OF THE TAKES OF POWDER'S BREAKDOWNS she just pops up the second someone yells cut with a big smile, still has tears running down her face. everyone is terrified of her
jayce and viktor repeatedly accidentally breaking/dropping the hexcore/crystals
mel breaking character during the council scenes!! actually any of the councillors really
every take of the infamous "you're hot, cupcake" where one of them breaks and giggles. kill me oh my god
jinx tripping on her braids. one of them falls off during a scene bc they're extensions. gets caught on a passing piece of scrap. gets caught on her minigun. gets caught on vi's jacket. braid shenanigans!
parkour take where vi fucking wipes out, still pops up and tries to play it cool and say her line. (LOUD THUNK) "welcome to the lanes." and she walks off, crew and caitlyn both audibly laughing their asses off at her
during the fight scene w sevika vi's shirt rips right down the side
i want to hear heimerdinger mess up a line and say the fuck word.
jinx jumping into silco's lap but she almost accidentally snaps his scrawny old man legs
ekko and jinx both making it their mission to try to make the other break offscreen
cassandra kicking in the door with the shotgun but it doesnt. actually open
cassandra kicking in the door with the shotgun. the door swings open, then swings shut again in her face
tea party except caitlyn struggles so hard the chair falls over with her in it someone fucking help her
caitlyn: DROP THE GUN. (someone yells cut) vi, from offscreen, sounding extremely gay: ... DAMN
the only time silco ruined a take was during his literal fucking death scene. nobody could hear exactly what he said to jinx but she started fucking cackling and they had to take 10 for her to calm down
it's the final scene, vi and caitlyn walking down the balcony, watching the rocket shoot over piltover. extremely emotional, caitlyn is crying, vi is in shock. and a piece of vi's gauntlet fucking falls off loudly
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The Mad Scientist's Assistant - Chp 29
Full TMSA masterlist
Previous Chapter: Chapter 28
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI
Chapter Tags: Silco x Fem!Reader, Reader-Insert,
Chapter word count: 18k
Chapter Beta Readers: Thank you as always @purplefangirl42
Total word count: 201k
A/N: Thank you for joining me on this journey. I hope the ending is satisfying in more ways than one. As promised, I'm posting the chapter in its entirety. But in one month, I'll be replacing the text with an AO3 link. So read it here while you still can!
Slowly, The Last Drop starts to empty as people leave for their respective posts in Piltover. Your crew is among the last to leave, overseeing that everyone else has all the supplies they need.
You hoist a backpack over your shoulders with your share of mission materials. The straps dig into you from the weight of the canisters inside and you focus on that stinging pain to distract from the way your heart hammers wildly in your chest. Your stomach churns as the gravity of the situation hits you, your eyes darting around The Last Drop as everyone moves quickly to prepare.
Once, twice, three times you check your bag for the Hextech remote and the other precious cargo protected by the satchel’s upgraded bulletproof material.
There's electricity in the air tonight when you step out onto the street. Your eyes cast upward toward your destination, Piltover’s skyline littered with golden lights, their glimmering only matched by the stars overhead. You tug your coat around you as a harsh wind sweeps through the Lanes, sending a shiver to run up your spine.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in.
You stand still as Silco’s crew around you continues to frantically get the last of the preparations ready, Sevika’s voice a loud boom as she shouts out orders to those who hadn’t left already. You take another deep breath, allowing it to wash over you.
Your throat bobs, your hands tighten around your satchel’s strap.
You set your jaw, open your eyes, and nod.
Showtime.
You get a sense of deja vu standing on the airship that will take you Topside. Your previous team of Sevika, Ran, and Jinx stand at the controls, staring out into the dark night sky. The only difference is that Silco is with you this time. He stands at the front, his hands behind his back, his shoulders pulled back. Sevika stands beside him, one hand at her ear as she coordinates the Turbo Chemtanks and confirms their positions.
Standing behind the team, you take a moment to savor where you are. As your eyes pass over each person, you feel a sense of pride for each of them. If anyone can take Zaun's independence, it's them.
Jinx stands next to her father, both her paintball pistols at her hips, modified for tonight's mission. There's a strap over her shoulder attached to the large flamethrower she had shown you in her workshop. You marvel at how the large device dwarfs her tiny frame, making her seem even smaller than she already is. The hulking weapon has new panels fitted to it since the last time you saw it as well as a new coat of paint in that signature Jinx style.
Sevika, cigarette at her mouth, is armed with nothing but her chemtech arm and a belt of Shimmer vial refills at her hip.
Ran has a pair of long blades sheathed on their back. Your eyebrows lift, having not seen them before. You wonder why they hadn't brought them on your previous mission.
And then there's Silco.
You assume he's armed to the teeth with his usual daggers. Briefly, you wonder if your gifted dagger is among them. The last time you had seen it, it was nestled between two of Finn’s ribs.
Moving to stand next to Silco, you take a grounding, deep breath through your nostrils. Out of your periphery, you catch Silco's good eye studying you. But as soon as your eyes flick to catch it, he's already looking straight forward again.
“We're here,” Sevika calls out. “Mask up.”
You crouch down, unzipping the backpack before tossing Jinx, Ran, and Sevika their gas masks. You pick up two more and offer one to Silco beside you. His lips pout slightly as he shakes his head an infinitesimal amount. Your head ticks to the side, but you follow the silent instruction regardless, dropping the extra respirator back into the bag.
Once your mask is donned over your mouth and nose, you reach in for a canister.
“Sevika.”
She turns at your voice, flesh arm a flash as she snatches the metal can out of the air when it whizzes from your hand toward her. She nods before turning to the exit, dark eyebrows set as she rolls out her mechanical shoulder.
The airship lands. The back door opens. Sevika presses a button on the canister before rolling it over the exit’s threshold. After a few seconds, there's a hissing sound as the sleeping agent you and Singed had fabricated so long ago fills the air.
Silence, and then —
Two thuds as two enforcers’ bodies hit the ground. Sevika silently signals the all clear and you move out as a unit.
You step through the gas and over the bodies, your eyes glancing back at Silco who takes the rear. When he steps through the fog and reemerges, maskless, collar pulled high, his abyss eye taking in the scene down his nose, your heart skips a beat.
You make your way through the city. With the exception of the dock, you run into very few enforcers, your path mapped out painstakingly in advance by Ran to most efficiently avoid all patrolling officers. And if not for that, the team that had arrived before you was given the task of knocking out any surprises along your route. By the time you reach the council’s tower, you've only had to use two more canisters to clear your way.
Outside the perimeter of the tall, ivory tower, there's an entire gaggle of blue uniforms. They surround the building, armed and alert. Your eyes dart through them, doing a quick mental tally of their ranks—much more than you would have expected or liked.
You scoff under your breath.
Maybe the council is expecting us after all.
You spot movement at the front of the pack, your eyes squinting to make out who it could be among a sea of blue uniforms. A familiar scowl on a familiar face.
Marcus stands at attention in front of his men, dark eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. There’s an anger behind his eyes, a determination you did not see when you had first encountered him.
Jinx lifts her face to her dad, her blue eyes unmistakably wild and excited.
“Now?”
Silco chuckles. “Not yet, poppet. Save it.”
You can't see it, but you're certain Jinx is pouting behind her mask. You laugh internally.
“Ah, Marcus,” Silco addresses the sheriff. “How kind of you to welcome us.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Marcus yells back. “Turn around and go home.”
You glance at Silco next to you and watch as his expression darkens, his good eye narrowing.
“You know I won’t do that,” Silco replies. “Step aside and we’ll spare your enforcers.”
Marcus puffs out his chest, his gloved hand curling into a fist.
“I should have arrested you when I had the chance,” he says before bringing one hand up in instruction. At the signal, dozens of enforcers train their guns on your small team. “Better late than never.”
Silco rolls his eyes while shaking his head before turning toward his daughter.
“Jinx?”
“Roger!” She chirps back, moving to stand in front of him. Before Marcus has a chance to give the order to his men, Jinx quickly unholsters both pistols from her hips with a flourish and a spin before shooting each.
Thunk! Thunk!
Two canisters sail through the air toward the enforcers, flanking them with a steady stream of gas.
“What was that?” One calls out.
“It's gas!”
“Masks on!”
Chaos erupts as bodies at the periphery of the formation hit the floor, the rest of the officers scrambling to don their respirators.
“Another,” Silco instructs.
You toss Sevika another canister and she launches it with her Chemtank arm. It lands dead center of the dense gas, adding another thick layer of fog to the growing cover. There’s the sound of coughing and sputtering followed by heavy footsteps as masked enforcers try to retreat out of the gas.
Your team descends upon the officers, weaving through the gas to make your way to the ivory tower. Pistol in hand, you silently knock out enforcers with a well-placed hit to the head when they make the mistake of crossing your path. You're just about to reach the grand doors when you feel someone grab you by the arm. Spinning on the spot, you swiftly bring your knee up to the enforcer’s groin. As they let go of you, a grunt forced out of their lungs as they stagger back, you bring your now freed fist up, making contact with their jaw. You hiss between your teeth, shaking your hand as the officer falls to the ground.
“There they are!” Someone calls out as the gas starts to dissipate. “Get them!”
Bullets sail through the air as you sprint the remaining distance to the doors. Jinx is the first to make it, swinging her flamethrower around to smack an enforcer across the face, sending them toppling down the stone steps. Sevika knocks a second out of the way with a swing of her chemtech arm, clearing the way for you, Ran, and Silco.
Ran pushes the doors open amid heavy gunfire and the rest of your team run quickly over the threshold. As soon as you're safely inside, Sevika pushes the doors shut before calling out your name.
“On it!”
With gloved hands, you reach into your satchel for a vial of bright green liquid, bubbling and gurgling as if alive. Uncorking it, you pour the viscous liquid down the seam of the two doors. Immediately, the chemical reacts, melting the material of the heavy doors, fusing them together. There's frantic thumping and knocking from the other side as enforcers try to force their way in to no avail.
You smirk.
“I'd like to see them get through that!”
The rest of the crew is already long gone by the time you turn around. You spot them at the end of the hallway making their way to the elevator doors. Sevika yells out your name, urgency in her heavy voice.
“Hurry up!”
“I'm going! I'm going!”
You sprint as fast as your legs can take you, the backpack over your shoulders crashing into your spine every step of the way. You start to close the distance as you watch Silco and the team step into the elevator when a figure blocks the way. Eyes wide, you lose your footing as your body tries to stop in its tracks. The enforcer’s hands are both up, wrapped around a pistol pointed squarely at your face. You fall on your ass, arms and feet shuffling frantically as you try to get up. Then—
There's a loud whistling sound as something sails through the air and lands squarely in the man's back. His pistol drops out of his hands before his body falls close behind, limp.
Eyes still the size of saucers, you look up from the man to see Silco standing just outside of the elevator, his hand frozen in midair. Your eyes meet and you can see a hint of panic in his ocean green eye. There's an edge to his voice as he calls out your name.
“Come on.”
You hurry back to your feet, your body pushed forward from momentum the rest of the way to the elevator. Briefly, you debate retrieving Silco's dagger from the enforcer’s back, but another urgent call of your name has you scrambling to catch up. By the time you cross the elevator’s threshold, you pitch forward. Silco catches you with one arm across your chest, lifting you up.
Are you okay? He asks with a dart of his eyes.
I'm okay, you answer with an exhausted nod.
He returns the nod, letting go of you. Just as you're about to turn to face the front of the ascending elevator, you catch a glimpse of Jinx beaming at you. While you can’t see her mouth obscured by her respirator, there’s a glee behind her azure eyes. You furrow your eyebrows in question to her and she answers with what you can only assume is a Cheshire grin behind her mask, crowd feet forming at her temples as her pupils flick back and forth between you and her father. You roll your eyes before turning around.
The lift ascends.
The silence of the mechanisms pulling you upward is eery, the only evidence of your ascent the subtle pressure you feel on your body by being pushed toward the ceiling.
As the lift starts to slow its climb, you grab another canister of sleeping gas from your pack. Just as the door opens, you hit the button and roll it down the hallway to the unsuspecting enforcers stationed at the conference room doors. Before they can even react, there’s a loud hissing as the gas fills the hallway followed quickly by four loud thuds as their bodies hit the floor.
You make your way down the hallway to the grand doors, eyes squinting through the thick gas. As you do, Ran pulls away, crouching down to bind the unconscious enforcers while Sevika relieves them of their weapons. Jinx pulls up the rear, flamethrower out at the ready, aimed at the elevator, leaving you and Silco at the front.
Once the last of the gas clears, your team starts to remove their masks, ditching them on the tile flooring.
“Sevika,” you whisper as you tug your satchel toward you. Grabbing the Hextech remote, you swing the bag back over your hip. “Are we ready? Are the Chemtanks in position?”
She holds a finger up in silent instruction, listening intently to the chatter in her ear piece. After a few tense seconds, she nods.
You look toward Silco, who stands with his hands behind his back, eyes staring straight ahead at the large door that stands between him and his Nation of Zaun. He doesn't tear his eyes away, doesn't blink.
“Do it.”’
You take a deep steadying breath in.
Moment of truth.
Left eye squinting closed in anticipation, you set the dial on the remote to the first dash before hitting the green button.
Your heart is in your throat as you wait, eyes darting around. You look to Silco, whose gaze remains transfixed on the door ahead of him. His jaw is set, his expression trained. After another moment, he starts to turn toward you. Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes lock with yours—
And the lights go out.
You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.
Thank Janna.
In the dark, illuminated by the warm glow of his abyss eye, Silco grins at you.
There’s the sound of muffled voices through the door, panic laced in their words.
“What’s that? What happened?”
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Cast in darkness, Sevika and Ran pull open the doors a crack, just enough for your team to slip through. Silently, your footsteps covered by the councilor’s growing voices, the five of you sneak inside, moving to surround the unsuspecting politicians. There’s the faintest bit of light coming in through the tall windows, the city below barely illuminating the darkened room; just enough to see silhouettes around the grand table, some of them rising to their feet, their heads darting around.
You start to step away to flank the group but stop when you feel a quick tug at your elbow. Turning over your shoulder, you make eye contact with Silco.
Even in the darkness, with only the tiny light from Silco’s volcanic eye, you can read his expression as clear as day.
Don’t forget your promise.
You nod.
He lets go of your elbow just as a voice—male, young—cuts through the din.
“I’m sure it’s just a small hiccup,” the voice reassures. “The backup generators will kick in within a few minutes.”
“I wouldn't be so sure,” Silco’s voice replies, tone a taunting melody.
There are gasps at the unfamiliar voice. Your eyes are drawn to a small flame at the center of the room as Silco brings a lighter up to his face, a cigar perched at his scarred lips. Standing at the center opening of the councilors’ long gear-shaped table, he lights his cigar. Seven heads whip around to stare at the man who has crashed their meeting.
“Now that I have your attention…”
Flicking the lighter closed, Silco takes a long drag from his cigar, the end of it burning orange. The sight of it throws you back in time to the first time you had ever laid eyes on him. Your lips curl into a smirk and you watch as he turns toward you with an almost imperceptible nod.
You hit the red button on the remote and the lights flicker back on. Councilors squint as they survey the room, jaws dropping when they find themselves surrounded. Voices rise, a few more councilors getting to their feet.
“Is that Silco?”
“The Industrialist? What's he doing here?”
“What is the meaning of this? Guards!”
Silco's voice cuts through the din, sending a shiver up your spine.
“I wouldn't waste my breath if I were you; it'd simply fall on deaf ears.”
The man you recognize as Councilor Talis stands, both hands balled into fists as they press into the tabletop. When he speaks, you recognize his voice as the one trying to reassure his fellow councilors.
“What did you do?” he says behind gritted teeth.
Silco shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
“Nothing permanent, I assure you.”
More hushed whispers.
“Your enforcers will awaken in a few hours,” Silco continues. “Giving us plenty of time.”
Talis’s dark eyebrows furrow, his nostrils flaring. “Time for what?”
Silco takes one more drag from the cigar, pacing along the center of the table, piercing green and scathing red eyes making contact with each of the council members in turn.
“I merely wanted to ensure we could speak on equal footing—”
All heads whip around at the sound of the grand doors shutting. There's a loud creaking sound as an internal gear turns, locking in place with finality. Jinx dusts off both her hands, satisfied with herself.
“Without interruption,” Silco concludes.
“Holding us hostage is hardly equal footing,” a woman's voice says from the other side of the room. You turn to see Councilor Medarda rising to her feet, both hands propped on the tabletop in front of her defiantly, her chin lifted and the gold details of her ensemble shining brilliantly in the light.
There are hushed murmurs and nodding heads, all eyes turning from Medarda back to Silco.
“Alas,” Silco replies, his hands and shoulders coming up in an exaggerated shrug. “How else does one get the attention of the Piltover elite?”
His boots click along the tile as he starts to pace around the center of the room. “We simply want to chat.”
Seven pairs of eyes track his journey, watching silently, waiting.
“It’s peculiar, really,” he muses, “that this meeting is to decide the fate of Zaun and yet…” he takes a drag from his cigar before letting it fall to the floor. “There isn’t a single Zaunite in attendance.”
His gold-toed boot comes down hard on the cigar, the ball of his foot twisting as he grounds it into the tile.
“That hardly seems fair. Whatever happened to representation?”
The councilors break out of their momentary stupor, finding their voices again.
“Who cares about that? What do you think you're doing?”
“Stop these games!”
“Where are the guards?!”
Voices grow louder and more desperate, drowning out each other. You take a step back, overwhelmed by the booming voices as they echo in the large chamber. Eyes darting to Silco for guidance, all you see is a snarl on his lips and disgust in his abyss eye, a slight wrinkle to his nose like he’s smelled something foul. He turns to his daughter before giving her the briefest of nods.
You can see the whites of Jinx’s teeth as her face splits into a large grin before unleashing a stream of fire into the empty space next to the table, the entire chamber filled with brilliant orange light. You can feel its warmth on your skin despite your distance from it, your nose twitching at the smell of gas, your ears filled with the sound of the almost animalistic roar of the flame. Jinx makes no effort to hide her glee, her laughter cackling alongside the eruption of fire that bursts from the flamethrower which has been painted to look like a legendary dragon, its mouth open wide as it shoots a steady volcanic stream of light.
And then, just as quickly as it came, the fire is extinguished.
Silence.
The councilors freeze in place.
“That’s better,” Silco hums.
Before Silco has a chance to speak again, there’s a grating metal sound as one of the councilors pushes their chair back to stand. You turn to see a bald, short, stout man with a full brown beard rising to his feet. Councilor Hoskel clears his throat, pulling his shoulders back in an attempt to look taller. (You suspect the purpose of the large, thick collar of his vest—that comes up past his head—is much the same.)
“Get to the point,” he huffs. “What do you want?”
“How kind of you to ask,” Silco says, tone almost playful. As he steps toward the table, his hand reaches into his coat. Simultaneously, all the councilors lean back warily, some scooting their chairs back. But then Silco is pulling a sheet of paper from the lining of his coat. He waves it teasingly, the fluttering of the sheet drowning out the relieved sighs from two of the councilors.
Mismatched eyes pinned on Councilor Talis, Silco unfolds the page once before placing it on the table between them, rotating the paper to face the youngest councilor with a flick of his wrist. With two taps of his index finger, he smirks and brings both hands behind his back.
“We only ask for what we are owed.”
Talis looks around the room before picking up the sheet of paper. His dark eyebrows furrow as his eyes scan Silco’s words, lips pulling into a thin line.
Briefly, you make eye contact with Sevika and then Ran. Their expressions are stoic, determined.
“Free trade routes, blanket amnesty…” Talis reads aloud to his fellow councilors, “... unrestricted access to the hexgates…” He looks up, a look of indignation on his face as he stares directly into Silco’s eyes. “Sovereignty?”
Silco nods as voices erupt around him.
“Ridiculous!”
“And why would we do such a thing?”
“This is preposterous. Where are those guards?!”
Councilor Talis, however, says nothing. He continues to stare unblinking into Silco’s eyes, as if locked in a silent mental duel.
You shift your weight as you continue to watch the chaos unfold, voices and tension rising. Looking across the room, you make eye contact with Sevika again, a secret, silent conversation unfolding between you through the subtlest of movements.
You shrug your shoulders in question.
What do we do?
She barely lifts her hand up at her side, her palm to you in instruction.
Just wait.
She gestures to Silco with a small tilt of her head, her gray eyes flicking to him and back to you.
Follow his lead.
You nod, grip tightening on the Hextech remote as your jaw clenches.
The bickering reaches a crescendo, voices filling the large chamber and your skull. As the politicians shout their protests, you barely catch any of their words, their voices overlapping one another so that all you hear is the emotion.
Anger. Frustration.
But under that thick layer of aggression, under that superficial veil of violence, you hear it.
Fear.
You look at Silco, taking in his form. He stands silently and so still he could be mistaken for a statue. The only indication of his body not being made of stone is the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the occasional flaring of his nostrils.
Calm. Resolute. Confident.
At complete odds with the seven councilors across from him.
The ghost of a memory plays in your ears.
“Do you trust me?”
Your shoulders pull back, your neck straightening.
Yes.
Your grip tightens around the Hextech remote.
With my life. With Zaun.
Among the chaos, Councilor Medarda raises her hand up. Silence immediately falls. She clasps her hands together as she addresses Silco.
“And what is Zaun willing to trade in order to get these?”
There’s a small, derisive chuckle at Silco’s throat.
“This is no trade,” he counters, something dark and ominous beneath the surface of his voice. “This is collecting on the debt Piltover has incurred at the hands of Zaun. The City of Progress is built on the backs and ashes of the Undercity; without us, your commerce would crumble, your production would stagger.” He pauses, lifting his chin so he's looking down his nose toward the councilor. “You’ve taken plenty from us already.”
You can hear an edge growing in his voice and it sends a sweet shiver up your spine.
The Eye of Zaun.
Putting Topside in its place at long last.
Silco takes a steadying breath. When he continues, he adopts a softer tone, an attempt to lure more firelights with his honey voice.
“This—” he says, gesturing to the paper in Councilor Talis’s hand, “is merely balancing the ledger.”
You hear subtle clicking and whirring sounds before a voice, robotic in nature, speaks up. Turning, you see the bronze image of Councilor Bolbok, a mechanical man with a long, slender neck.
“And what happens if we don’t give into these demands?”
Silco brings his shoulders up in the smallest of shrugs.
“We bring the City of Progress to its knees,” he says plainly.
There’s whispers around the table as councilors turn to their closest neighbors.
“Allow me to demonstrate,” Silco says, ocean green and volcanic orange eyes locking with yours. You watch closely as he gives you a subtle nod. You nod back before turning the dial all the way to the right and hitting the green button for—hopefully—the last time. The device hums in your hands, sending a shiver up your arms as it shoots its signal to all six machines planted around the city.
The council chamber is silent as everyone waits. When nothing happens for a solid minute, you start to panic.
Fuck! What if it doesn’t work?
You glance at Silco. He looks at you, unblinking, waiting. You can barely breathe, heart in your throat. Your grip tightens around the remote and you squeeze your eyes shut.
Please.
Another second with nothing happening.
Please! Please work!
Then, you hear it.
The silence in the room becomes deathly still as the white noise of the city—the humming and whirring of all its unseen, thankless machinery—comes to a halt.
You open your eyes.
Darkness falls on the council chamber again. Then, the buildings immediately surrounding you. Then more.
And more.
One by one, city blocks lose their power, casting the world of Piltover in pitch black darkness. There are hushed gasps from the councilors as they realize what’s happening, turning in place to stare out the large window. From the large ivory tower all the way to the River Pilt, not a single light is shining in the City of Progress.
Quick staccato clicks echo through the room as one councilor rushes to the large window overlooking the city. There’s a small gasp and then a voice, feminine and frantic, calls out to the rest of the politicians.
“It’s the entire city!” Councilor Kiramman exclaims.
“What?!”
“Impossible!”
More hurried footsteps as councilors leave their seats to see for themselves, eyes darting to the city below to find the buildings cast in darkness.
“Stop this at once! Are you insane?”
As the members of the council look on in horror as their beautiful city is engulfed in darkness, Silco meanders his way around the room, taking his sweet time as his hand guides his journey, long fingers running along the golden details on the edge of the table. He passes you on the way to the head of the table and offers you a small grin before continuing on his journey and making himself comfortable in the centermost chair.
“How long do you think Topside can go without its precious Hextech power?” he asks in the darkness. “A day? Maybe two?”
There’s quiet chatter among the councilors. In the darkness, it’s near impossible to read their expressions.
But their fear—once hidden, now bubbling up to the surface—is palpable.
“That's the thing about you Topsiders,” Silco continues. “You take everything you have for granted, while we've had to slave away for scraps.”
You can barely see your own hand in front of your face, the darkness so complete. Slowly and carefully, you try to make your way toward Jinx’s last seen position, hands working quickly to return the remote to your bag and unholster the pistol from your hip, your promise to Silco tugging you forward.
“How long until there are riots in the streets? How long until those well-mannered Topsiders turn on you, demanding your heads?”
An uncharacteristic silence falls over the councilors as the gravity of the situation dawns on them. It’s unsettling, the way it seems the entire world has frozen around you.
The quiet is broken by the unmistakable sound of yelling. You hear rushed footsteps next to you—light and quick—as Jinx sprints to the window.
“Oooooh!” She exclaims excitedly. “They sound real mad!”
More yelling. More screaming. There’s anger in the voices below; the usually prim and proper City of Progress citizens giving into their baser instincts. Giving into the panic.
There’s more shouting as enforcers—the ones who hadn't been knocked out by your sleep gas—try to restore order in the streets below, followed by the shattering of glass as someone capitalizes on the chaos to break a store window.
As the passel of Topsiders below makes their protests known, so too do the Councilors above.
“Bring back the power at once!”
“You won't get away with this!”
“You're terrorists!”
Councilor Talis’s voice rises above the others.
“How did you even do this?”
Jinx laughs, amused. “It was a piece of cake! Why? Did you never figure it out?”
Illuminated by the glow of his abyss eye, Silco smirks at his daughter’s words.
The young scientist turned politician seems less concerned by the politics at hand and more in the Hextech, in how you and Jinx had managed to disable his invention.
“Hextech is powerful, but it’s not this powerful. For you to have darkened the entire city, you would have had to—”
“Boosted its range?” You finally speak up. “Yeah, we did.”
“How?” he says, turning to the sound of your voice.
“You want me to tell you?” You shift your weight, popping a hip as you cross your arms in front of you. “And give up the leverage we have? Not likely.”
“Much like your enforcers,” Silco starts, voice a low, taunting drawl, “It would seem your Hextech has some lapses in security.”
Illuminated by his corrupted eye, Silco crosses one leg over the other as he reaches into his coat, this time producing a pen from the lining. He fiddles with it, long dexterous fingers twirling it around with casual ease.
“You can put a stop to all this,” he says coolly. “And all you have to do is sign.”
There’s hushed, confused murmurs as the councilors turn back toward Silco, who continues to make himself comfortable at the council’s table.
“Let me see it,” Councilor Medarda says, not to Silco but to Councilor Talis. In the dark, you can just barely see the faint glimmer of gold at her arms as she reaches for the paper the young man holds. He hands it to her before crossing his arms.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Sevika appears next to Medarda, holding up an opened lighter, its small orange flame illuminating the paper. The councilor seems unperturbed by the movement, but sidesteps her nonetheless to put some distance between their bodies, staying just close enough to use the lighter’s light.
You watch as Medarda’s green eyes flick back and forth, taking in Silco’s words. When she finishes, she turns to Councilor Talis next to her.
“There’s no way we can sign this.” She passes it off to another councilor. “Not without discussing it first. We need time.”
Silco scoffs under his breath.
“You’ve had decades to make this right with Zaun; what’s another few minutes?”
The other councilors step away from the large windows to stand around Councilors Talis and Medarda, their figures barely illuminated by the small lighter’s flame, more shadows than anything else. You get a strange sense of unease at their dark figures and for the first time worry that this plot may not work out in your favor.
You’re surprised to see Councilor Kiramman stepping forward, a gloved hand taking the paper as it's passed around. You just barely catch Medarda wordlessly sharing a silent look with Talis, while Sevika continues to hold the lighter aloft, an unmistakable scowl at her dark lips.
The councilors take turns reading the terms by fire light before retreating to those already in the know, a small circle forming as they whisper, voices overlapping and tensions running high.
Silco, on the other hand, seems wholly unaffected, bringing his hand up to his face to check his nails casually.
“We’re offering you a solution free of bloodshed,” Silco says matter-of-factly before correcting himself, looking out the tall windows. “Though that may not be the case the longer the power is out. Mobs are known to do drastic things in desperate times.” His voice lowers, a deep rumble lower than the mines he worked. “It would be wise to take our offer.”
Our.
Not his.
Our offer.
There’s more hushed murmurs among the councilors, more words spoken behind hands.
“How are we to know you won’t simply keep us in the dark even if we sign?” a voice asks, defiance in their tone. You suspect it's Councilor Shoola.
“And how are we to know you won’t back out of the deal once we’ve returned your power?” He counters. “Trust goes both ways, Councilors. That said, I will be needing assurances.”
Silco twirls the pen with a flourish before setting it down on the table. Talis eyes it warily, his lips pinched into a thin line as he considers it. Gaze lifting back to Silco, he lifts his chin and pulls back his shoulders before taking a step backwards.
What little you can see of Silco remains expressionless, giving nothing away.
“It’s obvious you’re wary of such a deal,” he concedes. “Perhaps this can put your mind at ease.”
You perk up when Silco calls your name and take a step toward him.
“Restore the power to the tower,” he orders, voice low. “Only the tower.”
You nod and realize it’s fruitless given the darkness. Fetching the remote from your bag, you twiddle with the settings before hitting another button. After a few tense seconds, the room is flooded with overhead lights again. The councilors squint as their eyes adjust to the light and Silco rises to his feet, both hands moving to clasp behind his back. Sevika flicks closed her lighter before stepping away, giving the council space.
There’s more heated debate among the politicians. For a brief moment, you wonder if blows might actually be exchanged with how passionately Councilors Salo and Hoskel argue with each other.
As they continue to bicker, Silco moves to stand next to you, his eyes never leaving the gaggle of Pilties when he addresses you.
“How much longer do we have?” he asks under his breath.
You let out a soft chuckle, some of your unease lifting as you do. Without even bothering to check your watch, you keep your eyes forward as you reply.
“We’ll have to worry more about food and water before we worry about the power coming back.”
He hums and you chance a glance at him to see the corner of his lip lifting up. When he turns to you, your heart skips a beat as you catch the fire ablaze in his eyes. A familiar one. That quiet confidence put out the last of your unease, filling you with warmth and optimism.
As if reading your mind, he leans down slightly, just enough for his lips to reach the top of your head just above your ear.
“We’re not out of the woods yet. Remember your promise.”
When he leans back, you pull your shoulders back and nod before quietly resuming your spot close to Jinx.
Their weapons out but not aimed, Ran and Sevika stand on either side of the debating councilors as they continue to debate in hushed tones. Jinx, meanwhile, seems to grow bored of all the talking and plops herself down onto the floor cross-legged, her flamethrower across her knees, chin resting on her palm as she pouts.
Something shifts in the air.
You can’t place your finger on it—maybe it was the tone of the politicians’ voices or the temperature in the room—but something changes in those twenty minutes of lively debate. Where once you felt trepidation and uncertainty, now you feel calm.
It’s happening.
You look at the councilors to find them nodding to each other in turn.
They’ve reached an agreement.
Councilor Talis picks up the pen, shoots a glance to Silco, then leans down to scribble something on the paper. He straightens up and with a flick of his wrist rotates the sheet around. Silco wordlessly saunters his way over before delicately picking up the sheet of paper. You shift around to get a good look at his expression, his dual-toned eyes ticking left to right and back again as he reads. He hums before reading aloud, addressing his fellow Zaunites.
“The only condition they are willing to give without change is free trade routes.”
Your eyebrows furrow. He continues.
“As for access to the Hexgates, they agree to unrestricted access in exchange for the research done on the Hextech and its amplifiers.”
You and Jinx share a quick look before looking back at Silco.
“But as for blanket amnesty and sovereignty…” Silco says, voice low. “They refuse.”
You hear metal grating as Sevika clenches his bronze fist. Jinx leaps to her feet, twin braids bouncing behind her as she picks up her flamethrower again, pointing it toward the councilors.
Looking at Silco, you just barely catch the way his eyes flick to Jinx and then you before returning to the council. Jaw clenched, you grip your pistol tight in one hand while setting the dial on the Hextech remote with the other, waiting.
Silco releases the sheet of paper from his fingertips, letting it cascade back down onto the table. His voice is dark and ominous, foreboding and terrifying when he speaks.
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s the best we can do,” Talis says.
Silco’s lips thin.
“Then there’s no deal.” He says your name without looking at you, his eyes dead set on Councilor Talis’s face. “Hit it again.”
Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips as you holster your pistol. Dominant hand forming a fist, you raise it up above your shoulder before swiftly starting to bring it down when—
“WAIT!”
Your hand pauses an inch away from the button. Looking up, you see Councilor Hoskel pushing his way through the other councilors to address your crew.
“You can have it! You can have it all!”
Immediately, the six others turn on him, protesting.
“That’s not the agreement!”
“You’re a coward!”
“Listen to them out there!” Hoskel yells, a shaking hand pointing to the window toward the darkened City of Progress. “If this outage keeps up, they’ll be coming for us!”
“That’s a chance we have to take,” Bolbok counters.
Salo’s eyes dart back and forth. It’s obvious Hoskel’s panicked voice is getting to him.
The councilors continue to bicker and a division seems to form with Hoskel, Salo, and Shoola on one side and Kiramman, Bolbok, and Medarda on the other.
Talis, on the other hand, looks overwhelmed.
"And what do you know of Hextech?"
"Only that the man pioneering it is young, naive, and has more charm than wits about him.”
Your own words ring in your ears. Watching as he stands frozen and in shock, you almost feel bad for him.
He’s young. Younger than you. And yet with so much power in his inexperienced hands.
“If they kill us, who will run the city?” Salo argues.
The longer and louder they argue, the more obvious it becomes that they don’t even remember your presence.
Silently, Silco makes eye contact with each of his crew in turn, gesturing to the front door of the chamber with a small tilt of his head. Slowly, you make your exit, leaving the councilors to bicker in the one and only lit building in all over Piltover: a beacon of incompetence in a sea of black.
You don’t know if they notice your team slipping away, but you’re almost certain they realize it when the grand doors shut behind you with a loud, resounding bang.
Thankfully, the enforcers in the hallway haven’t awoken from their slumber, their wrists still bound.
“What now?” Jinx asks her father as she hops into the elevator.
“We wait,” he says, allowing you, Sevika, and Ran to take your spots next to her. “Until they either come to their senses…”
He steps in and turns to the front of the elevator.
“Or they eat each other alive.”
You catch movement at the end of the hallway but it's obscured from view as the elevator doors close. Just as it’s about to start its descent, the doors open again to reveal Councilor Talis, breath labored as he slams his hand over the threshold, holding the elevator open.
“Wait!” He takes a step back. “Just wait.”
Silco steps out of the elevator and the rest of you follow.
“It’s yours,” Councilor Talis says between heavy breaths. “It’s all yours.”
“All of it?” Silco asks harshly.
“Every last bit,” Talis confirms. “No conditions.” The young councilman starts to walk backwards toward the chamber doors, head tilting in invitation. “Come on.”
Incredulously, you follow. When again you cross the threshold into the council room, you’re surprised to see the rest of the members have taken their seats.
Councilor Talis makes his way around the table, taking his spot in the center, that familiar sheet of paper in front of him.
“Representatives of Zaun,” he says diplomatically, “After much consideration, we have unanimously agreed to your terms. Upon the signing of this document, Zaun will have free trade routes, blanket amnesty, unrestricted access to the Hexgates…”
He pauses. Your shoulders tense as your eyes dart to the rest of your crew, waiting.
“And sovereignty.”
There’s a collective sigh of relief followed by Jinx’s triumphant whooping.
“And if…” Talis clears his throat before continuing, “the lead scientists from Zaun—” he nods to you and Jinx.
You both share a look, somewhere between confusion and flattery.
“—are open to…” he tries to find his words, choosing them with care, “creating a mutually beneficial trade of technological knowledge—of say, Hextech—Piltover is… umm… also open to that.”
You turn to Jinx, lips pouting. She mirrors your expression and you both shrug. You turn back to Councilor Talis.
“Yeah, sure, I guess,” you say, laughing. Briefly, you wonder if Singed would protest such a term.
“Wonderful!” Talis exclaims, clasping his hands together. “Then all that’s left is to sign.”
You should have known that Piltover would have to go through some pompous ritual around the signing of the document. They couldn’t just do it quickly and be done with it. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you watch each councilor stand in turn and walk to stand beside Councilor Talis and sign before taking a step back.
You’re surprised to see Councilor Medarda is the first to sign, recalling where her position had been before you had left the chamber. She’s followed by Hoskel, then Shoola, then Salo. After them, Bolbok and Kiramman sign and take their places, leaving only Councilor Talis.
He takes the pen, eyeing your crew one by one before bowing his head and signing with a flourish. Satisfied, he straightens up and offers the pen to Silco.
You watch, pride swelling in your chest as Silco steps forward to stand opposite Talis, the contract he had drafted between them. There’s the sound of scratching and you let out a breath. Unable to hide the wide smile from your face, you watch Silco offer the pen back to the councilman, who looks at it almost confused.
“Keep it,” Silco says, a coy smile on his lips, “as a token of this momentous occasion.”
The young councilor takes it, albeit still a little bit perplexed.
“And the power?” he asks.
“Of course,” Silco replies, nodding toward you.
Taking the remote out of your bag, you take a deep breath. Smiling to Zaunite and Piltovian alike, you hit the red button. A dozen heads turn simultaneously toward the grand windows, watching. It takes a few minutes, but you track as the power is restored to the city, block by block. Starting at the River Pilt, the street lights and various machinery switch back on gradually until the entire city is dotted with bright light yet again. There’s a familiar hum as electricity is fully restored and you could almost swear you hear cheering in the streets.
The councilors let out a collective sigh of relief as you move to wrap your arms excitedly around Jinx’s small frame, embracing her tightly as you whisper-shout, “We did it!”
You both jump and down in place, your heart racing with adrenaline and a surge of confidence, like you could do absolutely anything in the world.
Councilor Talis extends a hand out and Silco graciously takes it.
With a firm handshake, the Nation of Zaun is assured.
You feel light as air as you stride down the hallway to the elevator, spirits lifted, the work done. Sevika next to you, her hand at her ear, informs the rest of the crew over comms, an uncharacteristic smile on her face.
“Well done, team. We did it.” She looks at you, nodding. “We’re coming home.” You can hear the sound of cheering from her receiver.
When you get down to the main doors you reach into your satchel for a vial—similar in size to the one you had used on the door previously, but its contents red in color instead of green. Uncapping it, you pour the liquid down the fuzed seam of the doors. Immediately, the material starts to fall away.
Sevika grabs one handle as Ran grabs the other, Silco standing between them waiting. The doors open and your heart leaps into your throat.
Marcus stands at the opening, a wild look in his eyes, his hand aiming a gun directly at Silco’s face in point blank range. The Eye of Zaun, to his credit, doesn’t react at all, simply humming before addressing the man with the sweaty brow and the frazzled hair.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Look what you did to my men.”
“If you had any sense at all, you would see that they’re unharmed. We could have killed them, but we didn’t.”
Marcus shakes his head, eyes wild as he presses the barrel of his revolver into Silco’s forehead. At that, Ran brings one of their blades to Marcus’s throat as Jinx flanks him, her flamethrower pointed at his chest. You unholster your pistol, pointing it at the man’s face.
“Now,” Silco coos. “Unless you would like to start a war, I would put down your gun.”
The sheriff shakes his head again, his face drenched in sweat. The arm holding the gun almost vibrates with how much he is shaking from adrenaline and anger. His finger wraps around the trigger and you take a step forward, your pistol trained on his temple.
You’re at a standstill as you wait for who will fire the first shot. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest and will yourself not to blink, trigger finger at the ready.
A heartbeat.
A breath.
And then—
“Stand down, Sheriff.”
Without turning, you look through your periphery to see Councilor Talis making his way toward your group.
“But he—”
“Stand. Down.” The councilor’s voice softens, part resignation, part relief. “It’s done.”
Marcus’s lips pinch into a thin line as he eyes dart between Silco and the man giving him the order. Finally, he lowers his gun, something between a grunt and a snarl leaving him as he takes a step backwards, allowing Silco through.
Sevika and Ran swing the grand doors open to let the rest of your crew through. All around you, enforcers are slowly waking up from their slumber. A few of them start to get up on wobbly legs, but Marcus signals to them, palm held up in silent instruction.
Safely aboard the airship home, you shrug off your backpack and stretch out your shoulders. You take a spot next to Silco, a smile on your face.
“I gotta say, aside from that last bit with Marcus, that went a lot smoother than I thought it would.”
He hums, nodding his head.
You cross your arms, shifting your weight to one foot as you pop a hip.
“Now that I think of it,” you add, “I’m surprised you didn’t have something else up your sleeve.”
At that, he chuckles softly out of his nostrils.
“Oh? Did Jinx not tell you?’
Your eyebrows furrow, confused.
Silco turns to you, smirking.
“That was no ordinary pen.” His eyes dart to his daughter and back to you. “Jinx fitted it with a microphone. The contract wasn’t the only assurance tonight.”
The corners of your lips twitch as you hold back a smile.
“Of course,” you whisper to yourself.
Silco turns to the front of the airship, eyes on the city below. Without looking at you, he matter-of-factly adds, “She also fitted it with a remote-controlled bomb.”
He turns to you once more, a devilish grin on his face.
“Assurances,” he purrs.
You return the smile.
“Assurances.”
Silco’s arm moves an infinitesimal amount and you look down to see a gloved hand out in offering to you. Warmth flooding your chest, you take it in yours.
Bodies swarm together on the bridge that connects Piltover and Zaun, familiar faces and strangers alike. As you look around the crowd, it feels like most of the Undercity is crammed onto that stretch of road hovering over the River Pilt. There’s excited—if a bit anxious—chatter among the people, a question on everyone’s tongues.
You stand next to Jinx off to the side, back pressed against the railing. Sevika and Ran are nowhere to be found, no doubt reuniting with their respective partners in the large mass of Zaunites.
“Children of Zaun!”
Heads all turn in unison toward the familiar voice to see Silco standing atop the parapet, his coat billowing behind him in the wind. You stand a few feet from him and commit the image to memory, a small smile on your face.
“By now, word has spread of the events of tonight,” he bellows, addressing the crowd. “I am here to say—definitively, without question—you are free!”
Cheers break out, an almost deafening chorus of yells, arms raised up in the air.
Silco points toward the tall ivory tower where your crew was just moments ago.
“They did not give you your freedom!” He continues. “You! You! Brothers and sisters, you took your freedom! You fought and slaved over it.”
You nod alongside your fellow Zaunites, pride swelling in your chest.
“Through blood, sweat, and tears, you lifted Piltover’s boot off your face and said in one unified voice ‘No! We will not take this anymore!’”
Silco lifts his hand up, his fist clenched in victory. The others follow suit, a forceful display of solidarity and unity, of revolution and triumph.
“All those years—those decades—of waiting, and planning, and hoping. It all came to this.”
Coattails billowing behind him, he extends his arms out, head turning as he gestures to the grand Undercity. Your mouth slightly agape, you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. More cheers erupt around you, voices filled with relief and promise. With a gentle tapping of his hands, Silco calms the crowd, his voice lowering to a more somber tone.
“Let us take a moment to reflect on those who could not be with us tonight in our journey, but whose shoulders we proudly stand on.”
One by one, you bow your heads. Eyes closed, the image of your parents appears in your mind, followed soon by Faye, Griff, and Marco. Something bittersweet tightens in your chest as you recall Nico’s face, before the Shimmer had corrupted him. You pull your lips between your teeth as a tear streaks down your face, the sensation of too many emotions flooding your senses looking for an outlet. Taking a deep breath, you wipe the tear away before opening your eyes and lifting your face back up to Silco.
His mismatched gaze finds yours, his scarred lips pinched together tightly. There’s concern behind his eyes and you reassure him with a nod. He returns it, the ends of his lips tugging slightly in a small smile before turning to address the crowd again.
“Revel in the victory. It is your victory. But come tomorrow, the real work begins.”
There are hushed murmurs in agreeing tones around you, but then Silco is raising his hand once more, his forefinger pointed skyward.
“Let us show all of Runeterra who we are. Show them all…”
He punches the air quickly, so forcefully it sends his coattails flying behind him.
“The Nation of Zaun!” He bellows out.
The crowd erupts once more, the sheer volume of Zaunites’ cries overwhelming your ears. And if that wasn’t enough, bursts of lights and sound explode in the air. You practically jump out of your skin and turn to see Jinx setting off multiple explosions. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize the bombs aren’t bombs but in fact fireworks in dazzling colors of green and blue. They fill the night sky and illuminate the ecstatic faces below before fading and being replaced with even more lights.
You cry out when you hear something go off beside you and feel something fall from the sky and onto your hair and face. Laughing, you bring your hand up to your head and pull it away to find pink and purple powder on your fingertips. There’s another explosion as more paint powder bombs go off, covering the crowd so that they’re vibrant colors of the rainbow.
It’s messy and chaotic and liberating.
Laughing and unable to escape the multicolored debris, you watch as Silco jumps off the parapet. He shakes a few Zaunite’s hands, but then makes his way toward you. The crowd almost seems to part to let him through until he’s standing toe-to-toe with you, his usually pristine ensemble now spotted with flecks of magenta and violet powdered paint.
You have almost no time to react as his hands reach out, long fingers cradling around your face and pulling you into a deep kiss. Your eyes flutter closed as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, returning the kiss in kind as you stand on your tiptoes.
The din of the crowd around your fades away and in that moment, all you have—all you need—is Silco.
The office door slams shut, pushed closed by your back slamming into it as Silco presses his body against yours, his lips quick to claim yours in a hungry kiss. The sound of your kisses drown out the drunken celebration below as over a hundred Zaunites crowd the club, their voices and glasses raised high in triumph, their bodies and souls free.
But all you can focus on is getting Silco's stupid coat off.
"I'm glad you didn't die," you gasp against his lips.
"And I you," he replies, his arms wrapping around your middle possessively.
Silco shrugs out of the coat, letting it fall to his feet, a small puff of blue powdered paint bursting into the air when it makes contact with the rug. You start to work the knot of Silco's silken cravat, which is quickly cast down to join its fallen brethren.
“You're covered in paint,” you laugh, Silco's usual burgundies and charcoals hiding behind a thick layer of greens and blues and pinks.
“So are you,” he says with a smirk, his hands working quickly to rid you of your coat.
You shrug out of it before bringing your hands up to cradle his face, pulling him in for another kiss. He hums into it, allowing you to push him past the couch and toward his desk.
“Perhaps we can wash it all off with a nice, hot shower?” You ask against his lips, your mouth curling into a devilish grin.
His hands grip your waist and you suddenly remember just how good it feels to be in his arms again.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he chuckles, guiding you around the desk and to his bedroom door.
Breaking off the kiss, he turns over his shoulder, but not before grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you with him, his free hand already pulling the door open.
As soon as you're over the threshold, you're slammed into the door much like before, Silco greedily slotting himself between your legs as he brings his lips to your neck.
Your eyes flutter but don't close, not wanting to miss a single second of this moment. Mouth parted, your breaths come out shallow as heat creeps through your entire body, radiating outward from where his lips suck on your skin.
“You know…” you say, hand coming up to grab a fistful of his hair. "I just realized something."
"Oh?" Silco's voice is muffled, his nose pressed into your pulse point. "What's that?"
Your hands wander down and fingers start to work the intricate clasps and buttons of his vest, practically shaking with anticipation.
"You’ve seen me naked, but I've never seen you naked." You start to tug the vest off and Silco does nothing to stop you. "And that would have been such a pity to miss out on."
You can feel him smirk against your neck, his hands now at your hips.
“All you need to do is ask.”
You chuckle.
“You won't make me beg?”
He lifts his face, mismatched eyes locking with yours. There's something sinister and mischievous behind his gaze, a playfulness you haven't seen in him since before your firing. It helps that there is blue paint smudged across his ruined cheek.
“You caught me in a good mood,” he hums.
But then, something in the air shifts. As your palms rest on his chest—only one layer of fabric now between your hands and his bare skin—you feel an unease building within you, an uncertainty after months apart.
“Silco, I…”
He shakes his head, bringing both hands up to your upper arms as he stares into your eyes.
“I know,” he whispers and you can tell from his tone that he's deadly serious about it. “I'm asking a lot of you.”
His eyes trail down your body, good eye blinking quickly as he takes you in.
“I'm asking you to trust me again with…” His left hand comes up, hesitating as it hovers a scant inch away from your neck, like he's afraid that simply touching you there would kill you. His eyes lift to meet your gaze and you can see a hint of guilt behind them, of deep regret. “With your body.” His throat bobs. “With your life.”
You wet your lips as you stare into his eyes, an earnestness behind both volcanic orange and ocean green. This is a man who knows he fucked up. That wants to do right by you.
Any anxiety you had, any reservations, are washed away with that look in his eyes. Remorse and regret, deep and genuine. You find yourself at a familiar crossroads and, like before, you can't help yourself from barreling down the path with Silco at its end.
“Silco…” you say softly, bringing a hand up to trace the lines of his ruined face. “I’m okay.”
He looks unconvinced, his dark eyebrows curled inwards as his eyes search yours.
That intense gaze, those beautiful eyes. You're reminded why you had fallen for this man so many moons ago.
Something warm and bubbly awakens within you, a giddiness and excitement you haven’t felt since that first kiss.
“Let me show you just how okay I am,” you say with a smirk, taking one hand and shoving your partner toward his bed.
He falls backwards onto it, the mattress groaning at the sudden weight. Without missing a beat, you climb on top of him, tangling your fingers into his hair as you kiss him deeply. He hums into the kiss as he allows you to lower him onto his back, his hands squeezing your waist. Mouth parts and tongues meet in the middle, a familiar taste filling your senses as you let yourself savor every point of contact.
When finally you break off the kiss to come up for air, Silco considers the both of you; what clothes remain on the two of you and his pristine white sheets littered with vibrant paint powder.
Silco props himself up on one elbow, his other arms snaking around to pull you against his chest, dual-toned eyes wild with desire.
“You're making a mess.”
You chuckle.
“Yeah, so much for that shower, I guess,” you say, shrugging.
But then you're gasping as your whole world spins, Silco pushing and rotating you so that your places are reversed. Your head hits the pillow, sending a small puff of pink powder up from your hair. You can’t help the small laugh at the display, hands reaching up to work the buttons of his shirt. Fully aware of Silco intently watching you undo each button, warmth creeps into your cheeks and that same nervousness from before returns.
Not unease or even anxiety. You know this is what you want. For all his flaws, for all his mistakes, you want him. All of him.
Excitement builds within you, sending warmth to your core.
“Think your back will be able to handle this?”
You shoot him a quizzical look.
“Your injury,” he clarifies.
“Oh!” You laugh. “Honestly, I haven’t even noticed it.”
As he shucks off the fabric of his shirt, you can’t help but marvel at the canvas of scars along his chest. There’s a small patch of hair at his sternum, raven with hints of gray. WIthout thinking, you bring your hand up to it, nails carding through them as you smile softly to yourself.
“You don’t mind a bit of gray on this old man?” he hums above you.
You tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.
“It’s very distinguished.” You reply. “Gentlemanly.”
He chuckles through his nostrils before lowering himself onto you, slotting himself between your legs so you can feel his clothed hardened length press against the apex of your legs.
“Glad you think so.” He bows his head, bringing his lips to your ear to whisper, “But there is nothing ‘gentlemanly’ about what I’m going to do to you.”
Your walls clench around nothing and you let out a small gasp as his lips find your pulse point, sucking deeply. It sends a stinging pain to your neck, but your hand is quick to tangle into his hair, beckoning him on. You feel something sharp as he drags his teeth against your skin, marking you where the paint hasn’t.
Eyes closed, you surrender to him in every sense of the word. All thoughts leave your mind as you allow him to take what he wants of your body, your mind, your soul.
And then his mouth is finding yours again and you’re kissing him back deeply, molten lava between your legs. Without breaking off the kiss, he undoes the buttons of your blouse before working the buckle of your belt. Chests heaving, you lift your hips to help him tug your pants and underwear off.
A sweet thrill shoots up your spine as you’re fully naked underneath Silco, nipples hard as the cool air of the room kisses your skin. Wetting your lips, you start to undo the buttons of Silco’s pants as his arms cage you in, his mismatched gaze watching as you undress him.
Your eyes follow the small trail of hair from his navel down to his pelvis as you lower the fabric. Tugging his pants down, you find yourself holding your breath.
Silco shifts off the mattress to stand at the foot of the bed, long fingers pushing his pants the rest of the way down to reveal him, your pupils widening as you’re reminded of his size after months apart. You squirm as you feel the familiar desire—the need—to have him filling you up.
You prop yourself up onto your elbows, eyes hungrily taking in every inch of naked skin before you.
“If you don’t fuck me right now, Silco, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”
Scarred lips pull into a smirk as he crawls back onto the bed.
“Can’t have that now, can we?”
You reach for him, but he pauses halfway up the bed. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but then he’s lowering himself down, pressing his lips to your navel. Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale as he kisses your hip bone before traveling further down. Lower and lower he goes, leaving a trail of hot kisses on your skin as he makes his way closer and closer to your core.
By the time he’s close enough for you to feel his breath against your folds, you’re certain you’ve ruined the sheets beneath you.
He lifts his eyes, resting his chin gently over your mound as he looks up at you. The fire in his eyes has been replaced with something else, something a little more vulnerable; less carnal desire and more aching longing.
“I’ve missed you.”
Your heart skips a beat and your breath catches in your throat as you look down at him. You ditched your clothes what feels like ages ago, but this is the moment that you feel truly naked underneath him.
“I’ve missed you, too, Silco,” you manage to whisper between shallow breaths.
One of his hands reaches up to find you, fingers finding a tender spot along your ribs, just under your breast. Your hand is quick to grab it, lacing your fingers between his.
“I’ll never hurt you again,” he says, an uncharacteristic shake to his voice, his hand squeezing yours. You squeeze it back, swallowing back a tear that threatens to break free. “I promise.”
You nod, squeezing your eyes shut. It pushes the tear from your eye to trail down your cheek, an overwhelming feeling of adoration filling you. Of feeling seen. And heard. Of forgiveness and acceptance.
When you open your eyes, you’re surprised to see a similar glisten in Silco’s good eye. And when he says your name, it’s as if an invisible hand has wrapped its fingers around your heart. Not a tight, forceful grip, but a steady, comforting hold. Protective and kind.
“I love you,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “I want to be with you in every way possible.”
You let out a shaky laugh, another tear escaping your eye.
“You are with me, Silco,” you reassure him. “And I’m with you.”
The hand not holding his comes up to tuck a stray strand of hair back up to the crown of his head as you look down at him.
“I love you, Silco.”
You can swear you can see the orange of his abyss eye glow just a bit brighter at your words. His mouth breaks into a smile and he takes the hand at his head and brings it to his lips, planting a kiss to your palm.
You smile at the display, but your smile quickly morphs into a shocked gasp as he brings his mouth to your core, tongue hot and flat as it glides through your folds.
“Ah!”
Silco glances up at you, a smirk on his face.
“When I said I missed you,” he says before licking his lips. “I also meant I missed this. Just so we’re clear.”
You laugh, chest still heaving.
“Yeah, I got that.”
“Good.”
And with that, he’s lowering his head again and bringing his mouth to the apex of your legs, hot breath against your skin as he indulges himself in your taste. You throw your head back, eyes squeezed shut as he’s quick to find your sweet bundle of nerves, lips wrapping around it and sucking almost harshly. Your hips leave the mattress as a wave of pleasure courses through you, from your core up your spine to settle behind your eyes.
It doesn’t take long for Silco to build your pleasure to dizzying heights. Between the time apart, his heartfelt words, and his tongue working your clit, it’s only a matter of minutes—if not seconds—before your legs are shaking around his head, fighting to not squeeze and suffocate him.
Your climax takes you by surprise, with Silco not even needing to use his fingers to leave you wailing out his name in an incoherent cry. Chest heaving with each wave of ecstasy, you feel as if you’re back on the bridge with the way vibrant colors seem to burst and explode behind your eyelids.
When finally you come back down to Runeterra, you look down to find Silco absolutely beaming with arrogance. You push his shoulder as you roll your eyes, but he ignores you in favor of climbing atop you, arms caging you in possessively.
“You’re so beautiful when you come undone.”
Your lips part when you feel his length press against you, the head of his cock gathering your arousal before teasing at your glistening entrance. Nose pressed to your temple, he whispers into your ear.
“A sight I’d like to see over…”
He starts to push into you, the tip of him slowly working you open.
“And over…”
Your walls stretch to accommodate him as he pushes in more, his girth blissfully filling you up.
“And over again.”
Your mouth opens but no sound comes out as he bottoms out inside you, his pelvis flush with yours. Arms wrapped around him and nails digging into his shoulder blades, you savor the feeling of fullness, his girth and length reaching places you never can alone.
He hangs his head, a soft grunt at his throat as he stills within you, like it’s taking every ounce of strength just to hold himself up above you.
“Silco,” you look up at him, searching his face. “Are you okay?”
He nods wordlessly, his forehead pressed slightly to the headboard.
“Yes, I…” he lets out a shaky exhale and you practically feel the way it travels from his body to yours. “Fuck—I had forgotten how good you feel.”
You let out a soft whimper and your walls clench at his words, which spurs on another groan from him. You haven’t heard him curse since the time he had forbidden you from working on his cure. Hearing him say that word—and in this setting—lights your skin on fire.
Without thinking, you start to shift your hips, chasing that bit of friction your core so desperately needs. It only takes a second for Silco to recover himself before dragging his cock along your walls slowly and pushing back into you.
Push and pull.
In and out.
Over and over.
Your rhythms identical, your breaths mixed in the small space between you. Soft whimpers and groans muffled against skin. There’s a tenderness to the steady pace, but a desperation with the way your hands grab at each other, clinging, grasping. Chests pressed together, your legs wrapped around him, ankles locked in a vice grip as if you’ll both float away if you were to ever let go.
You don’t know how long it’s been since the speech on the bridge. How long the club has been celebrating below. It could be a minute. It could be eternity. Time stands still as you hold each other, the gentle pulsing of his hips sending wave after wave of pleasure through you, making your cheeks flush and your forehead glisten with sweat.
With the way Silco stares into your eyes and says your name, you don’t even think to chase your high; you’re just happy to be with him again.
Your mind a blank slate, all you know in this moment is your partner.
And the way he holds you.
And adores you.
Mind at peace, muscles relaxed, your second climax builds without you even realizing it. When suddenly it hits you, you let out a startled cry as your walls pulse around him. Mouth hanging open and eyes locked with Silco’s, you’re overwhelmed not by the magnitude or intensity of your orgasm but by just how drawn out it is. It seems to stretch on for forever; not a sudden burst of pleasure but instead a steady—and yet somehow thorough—wave of ecstasy, as if every cell is singing and vibrating.
You feel almost high off of it.
When finally the sensation passes and you’re left to put yourself back together, you blink as you look up at Silco, stunned. His hips pause and he looks at you with a concerned look etched into his face.
“I’ve… never done that,” you explain.
He tilts his head, unconvinced.
“I’m most certain you have. A few minutes ago, in fact.”
“No, no,” you say, shaking your head and bringing your hand up to wipe the sweat from your brow. “Not like that.” You take a deep breath. “That was different.”
You can feel Silco start to soften within you. He doesn’t seem to mind, his attention focused on your face.
“How so?”
“Like… I didn’t have to concentrate on it. It just sort of…” You shake your head and shrug your shoulders. “Happened.”
Silco smiles, bringing his lips to your forehead in a tender kiss.
“I’m sure we can replicate that again.”
You laugh.
“You make it sound like it’s an experiment.”
“It can be,” he says, bringing his lips to your ear. “I’m all for exploration…” He nibbles gently on your earlobe and your walls clench around him in response. And just like that, you can feel him start to harden again inside you. “In the name of science.”
“In the name of science,” you parrot back, your afterglow segueing smoothly into another wave of pleasure as he starts to roll his hips.
With each push and pull, you can feel your heart hammering wildly in your chest. Silco’s pace picks up, as does the volume of your cries. The tenderness before replaced now with desperation, like you’re both making up for all the time you had spent apart.
There’s a delightful sting to each of Silco’s harsh thrusts, the force of his hips slamming into you, causing your entire body to shake. And that delicate line in your navel that had already snapped twice before reforms, only to be pulled taut again.
“Use me.”
"You may come to regret those words.”
"Doubtful."
As you gasp and moan through your pleasure, you’re transported back to the time on the couch, your mind replaying the scene of you on your back with Silco above you. Unbidden, another image plays: Silco’s face twisted in anger, his breath on your face, labored puffs behind clenched teeth.
You don’t know why you do it. In the moments later when you’re alone with your thoughts, you’ll analyze and tear apart and scrutinize your actions. But in the heat of the moment, you search blindly for Silco’s hand, tugging at it, guiding it. And as you continue to gasp and moan your way to your climax, you bring his hand to your neck.
At the sight, Silco's good eye widens to the size of his corrupted one, his mouth—once agape from his labored breathing—now slack from shock and confusion.
"What are you doing?" His voice is strained and his pace slows down to a halt as he tries to pull his hand away, but yours holds it firmly in place.
"Don't stop," you gasp, shifting your hips to get some friction when his thrusts still. "Please."
He shakes his head.
"No, I can't."
You lace your fingers between his, wrapping them around your neck.
"Just the sides," you whisper, whimpers growing more desperate as you try to build your pleasure back up to the promising peaks you were starting to crest before he stopped, begging him to continue with the way you grind yourself against him in earnest. "Please," you gasp. "I promise: I'll be okay."
Dark eyebrows furrow together as he stares down at his hand around your neck and then back up to your eyes, his length softening with each passing second.
"You want this?"
"Yes, Silco! Please!" Your cries are becoming more pathetic by the second as you feel your release slipping away from you.
Mismatched eyes dart all over your face as he shakes his head. You can feel him trying to pull his hand away, but you hold it in place, fingers tightly gripping his. Staring up at him, you scream as much as your hands will allow
"Just trust me like I trust you!"
A pause.
Everything seems to go still.
Something shifts in Silco’s gaze, as if a puzzle piece had slotted perfectly into place. Ocean green and volcanic orange tick down to your neck where your hands are then back up to your eyes.
“Just the sides?”
You nod desperately.
“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” he asks breathlessly.
You nod again.
Slowly, you pull your hand away, both palms up toward the ceiling in surrender.
“I trust you.”
Another pause.
Silco nods.
The pads of his fingers press tentatively against the sides of your neck, his palm barely touching you. When you don’t protest—nodding enthusiastically, in fact—he clamps down a little more. Without thinking, your mouth flies open and your eyes widen.
And your walls clench a death grip around him.
“You…” his voice is almost a growl and you can feel him hardening inside you again. “You enjoy this?”
You nod as much as his hand will allow, lips curling into a smirk.
“Don’t act like you don’t.” You roll your hips, grinding your swollen bud against his pelvis. “I feel how hard you are.”
He lets out a low chuckle, a deep rumbling in his chest. And then he’s rolling his hips, his pace picking back up to what it was before.
“This certainly changes things,” he hums, his movements now less like thrusts and more like short, shallow pulses, his pelvis never leaving yours. His hips stutter and you can feel warmth building in your core, pleasure radiating outward from where he grinds against you. Toes clenched and hands now gripping the sheets beneath you, you start to tumble toward your third climax. Your legs shake and you can feel tingling in the soles of your feet.
The pressure at your neck is constant but not overwhelming—perfectly balancing that razor’s edge between pleasure and pain. And the look in Silco’s eyes goes from dark intrigue to adoration, like he’s seeing something for the very first time.
“That’s it,” he coos. “I’ve got you.”
You whimper at his words, the line in your stomach almost fully unraveled, only one strand—the thinnest sliver—holding you together.
Your name leaves his lips as a whisper.
And the delicate line snaps in half.
Silco releases your neck just as your orgasm takes over you, flooding your senses, washing over you like a warm bath. And as you come undone around him, so too does he come undone inside you; hearts beating as one, chests heaving in time with each labored breath. You stare up into Silco’s face to see his good eye widened and his mouth slack as he pushes in as deep as he can, hips frozen in place.
As the last of your combined releases wash over you, Silco slumps forward on top of you, his nose pressed to the crook of your neck, breath hot on your skin as he tries to regain himself. You let out a soft, exhausted chuckle before wrapping both arms around him, holding him close.
“See?” you say breathlessly. “Told you I’d be okay.”
He lets out a bark of a laugh and you almost jump at the sound, still unused to it. On shaky arms, he props himself up to get a better look at you, tendrils of his hair matted to his forehead.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he says, pulling out of you with a wince, “but I’d say you were more than okay.”
He flops down next to you onto his back, one hand coming up to rest his palm against his forehead.
You roll over and scoot closer. Instinctively, he raises up an arm to allow you room. And when you nuzzle your torso into his, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer.
“You’re not wrong.” You let out a chuckle. “But you are slow.”
“Slow?” he protests, turning to face you.
“I had to beg you to do that!”
He lifts his head indignantly to address you better.
“Pardon me!” he shoots back, tone dripping with sarcasm. “I thought choking you given our history wasn’t exactly wise.”
“And I thought it was exactly what we both needed,” you counter.
Silco lowers his head back onto the pillow, a soft chuckle at his throat. You press your head to his chest, fingertips playing lightly with the slightly dampened hairs at his sternum. Quietly, you both lay like this as your breaths start to even, heartbeats calming, the fiery inferno simmering down to a warm afterglow.
“As you do,” you say, eyelids starting to flutter closed as sleep threatens to take you, “Just a little light choking to expel the demons.”
But then your eyes are shooting open and you’re jumping up, startled out of near-slumber by a loud bark of a laugh. Looking down at your partner, you find him with both his hands clutching his stomach as he continues to laugh, his good eye squeezing shut.
“My demons or yours?” he manages to finally ask between his short huffs of laughter.
You continue to look at him stunned, taking in this image of Silco, a startled smile on your face. With the way his expression twists in amusement, you’ve never seen him so at ease before, the lines of his face somehow shallower, as if he were a decade younger. You look on in astonishment, feeling like you’re seeing something rare. Something precious.
You let out a laugh of your own before lowering yourself onto him again, nuzzling into his chest as his laughs quiet. He wraps his arm around you again, squeezes you tight, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
“Both,” you chuckle, starting to drift off to sleep. “Definitely both.”
The next day
You stand at the edge of the River Pilt, coat pulled tight around your torso as the wind kicks off the water’s surface, sending a chilling breeze to shake your bones. There’s a stillness in the early morning air, the sun still down, the sky not yet kissed by its light.
You had awoken early, sneaking out of the bed you had shared with Silco to make your yearly trek to the river. To where you had laid both your parents—and your late-boyfriend—to rest, their ashes scattered into the waters below to drift along the current and travel the world.
Hands shoved into your pockets, you stare straight ahead, an unwelcome sting behind your eyes.
“I wish you could be here, mom and dad,” you lament, voice small. “I wish you could see what we’ve accomplished.”
Your lips pinch into a thin line, a knot in your throat. A bitter laugh escapes your lips as you roll your eyes, a tear cascading down your cheek.
“Even you, Nico.” You sniffle your nose, a tightness growing in your chest. “Even you deserved to be free.”
Another tear pushes its way past your defenses, the taste of salt at the corner of your lips. You take a deep breath but it comes out shaky, your shoulders slumped as you stare out into the dark waters.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
You scramble to wipe the tears off your face at the sound of the familiar voice before turning to your partner. He’s in his signature coat, though his usual cream cravat is nowhere to be found, the topmost button on his maroon shirt undone. There are still traces of paint powder on his shoulders. Hands in his coat pockets mirroring you, he strides toward you, stopping when he reaches your side.
“Oh, hey.” You sniffle the last remnants of your tears away. “Sorry, I just…”
He lifts a hand out of his pocket, halting your words as he shakes his head.
“No need to apologize.”
You stand in silence for a bit, the sky’s colors shifting as the sun starts its slow ascent above Piltover and the now freed Nation of Zaun.
“How much did you hear?” you ask, knowing the answer already.
“Enough,” he replies simply.
You sense him moving next to you and feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, his fingers wrapping around your upper arm as he pulls you to himself. You give into the gesture, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder.
“There are many we lost along the way that we wish could be here,” he says solemnly, voice low. His fingers squeeze around your shoulder. “They would want us to be happy.”
“I know,” you agree quietly. “But I still miss them.”
You turn toward him, pressing your face to the crook of his neck. He wraps his other arm around you as you bring both of yours around his middle, clinging to him. His breath is in your hair and his nose pressed to your temple, he lets out a long sigh before bringing his hand up, long fingers tangling in your hair.
“Me too,” he whispers.
You cry into his shirt in earnest now, his warm embrace opening the floodgates. How long had you held back these tears? How many times had you fought them, too scared to set them free?
Silco holds you close as you cry. No empty words of comfort. No sarcastic joke to cut through the tension. Just his chest pressed to yours and his warmth enveloping you, telling you with his actions that he’s here.
Telling you you’re not alone.
You don’t know how long you stand there, enveloped in his warmth as you let years—decades—of grief out in long, distraught cries. You’re there long enough for the sun to become an unwelcome visitor in your private moment, its warm glow an irritating presence against your eyes.
You squint up at your partner, drying your tears with the back of your hand, nose sniffling the last of your snot away. Bringing his hands to cradle your face, Silco presses his lips to your forehead in a soft, reassuring kiss.
“You did well,” he whispers, thumb rubbing a tender line against your cheek. “They would be proud.”
You nod up at him, lips pinched together firmly to keep yourself from breaking out into sobs again. Taking a (not so clear) breath in through your nostrils, you press your face to his chest, acutely aware of how damp the fabric of his shirt is from where you had stained it with tears.
You squeeze him tight around his middle. He brings a hand down and returns the gesture, palm pressing firmly against your shoulder blades while the other tangles in your hair. When finally you feel you’ve had your fill—can you really say you’ve had your fill of him?—you pull away and offer him a small smile.
“It’s tomorrow,” you say, eyes locked with his, the grief you had felt replaced with a quiet hope.
“That it is,” he replies, eyes leaving yours briefly to track as he fixes your hair. When he returns your gaze again, it’s with that same determination you’ve come to admire.
His form backlit by the morning sun, his features softened by the orange glow that seems to almost form a halo around him, he pulls his shoulders back and lifts his chin.
Silco.
The Eye of Zaun.
Your partner.
Voice low and assured with that signature musical tilt to it, Silco hums.
“And now the real work can begin.”
Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
“Is everything ready for next week’s visit?”
You look up from your workstation, Jinx’s soldering iron in one hand and her goggles on your face. With the revolution now won, you’re repurposing the parts from some of the Turbo Chemtank suits for various projects (though Silco did say to save at least two suits, just in case).
Singed considers you from where he stands a few yards from your desk.
“Yeah, we should be good to go,” you reply, pushing the goggles to rest on your forehead and setting the soldering iron down. “Are you excited?”
His hairless eyebrows furrow in slight confusion.
“You’ll get to see that kid again. What was his name? Viktor?” You put your goggles back on, turning back to your work. “That’ll be fun.”
The Mad Scientist hums quietly from behind his bandaging, parroting your word back to you in a slow, unsure cadence. “‘Fun…’”
You shrug.
“Okay, maybe not fun, but at least interesting! Reunions can be interesting.”
Singed hums again, seemingly unconvinced.
“I suppose.”
When he adds nothing else, you shrug and turn your eyes back to your work. You hear him start to walk away, footsteps a soft echo against the cave’s stone walls. But then the sound pauses. Looking up again, you find him standing at the edge of your table, one bandaged hand resting gently on the metal surface.
He says your name softly and you lift your eyes to his face. There’s something behind his eyes that you’re unfamiliar with, an uncertainty. While Singed has never come across as arrogant, he has always looked as if he knew exactly what he was doing at any given moment. As you look up at him, he seems at a loss for words.
“You…” he taps his fingertips on the metal desktop absentmindedly. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, an air of exasperation around him like he’s annoyed with himself for hitting this wall.
Rising to your feet, you stand opposite him, smiling.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it.”
You hear a soft chuckle from behind his bandaging. He lifts his hand, his palm hovering over your shoulder briefly before awkwardly tapping you lightly on your lab coat. Finally, he speaks.
“You did well.”
Your eyebrows lift at the praise, an echo of Silco's words before.
“Your parents would be proud.” His bandages shift as he offers a small smile. “I should know.”
Your eyes widen and you feel a familiar sting behind them. Without thinking, you leap forward, wrapping your arms around his slender frame in a tight embrace. His shoulders jump at the sudden contact and, after a short pause, he pats you lightly on the back in return with one hand. He says your name again and you break off the embrace, mumbling apologies. He waves it off with his hand before nodding and returning to his workstation.
You laugh and return to your work.
“Didn’t I bring these in like over a month ago?” You ask, standing precariously on a ladder. “Why are we only putting them up now?”
Zane stands on the empty dance floor, large arms crossed over his chest as he looks up and watches you.
“Didn’t feel like it,” is all he offers in response.
You roll your eyes, standing on your tiptoes as you finish putting on the last red velvet curtain. The Last Drop looks back to its old self with the booths now restored to their former glory; can’t have shady dealings without some shady cover.
“Not to mention,” you add, bringing your hands to your hips as you survey your work, “why am I the one doing it? You’re—what?—seven feet tall?”
Zane doesn’t answer immediately, but then you hear the sudden jolt of the jukebox coming to life.
You shake your head, “You can’t change the subject just by playing some mus—”
You freeze.
Zane is gone; the spot he occupied before now empty. Your eyes follow the sound of the soft hum of music to the jukebox past the bar. You expect to see the large bartender standing at its controls, but instead, you’re met with the familiar sight of burgundies and charcoal. The tall, slender figure slowly makes his way to the center of the dance floor, movements fluid and hypnotizing.
As the song continues to play, Silco lifts his hand up in offering to you, chin lifted to meet your gaze.
“The new curtains look perfect,” he says as you delicately take his proffered hand, allowing him to slowly guide you down the ladder.
When your feet are firmly planted on the ground, you nod to your partner in thanks, half-debating a sarcastic curtsey.
“I’ll be sure to tell Thalia the next time I see her.”
Silco doesn’t let go of your hand, instead tugging you gently toward him as he walks backwards toward the center of the dance floor.
“Do send her my regards,” he hums, the hand not holding yours coming up to hold your hip.
That same arm starts to snake around, pulling you close as he rests his palm against your lower back. Your eyebrows lift at the position you’ve found yourself in and instinctively you drape your free hand over his shoulder. Then, before you know it, you’re swaying gently from side to side, following Silco’s lead as he shifts his feet. It’s a small, subtle movement, nothing frivolous or fanciful. Just a steady rocking back and forth to the music.
You can’t remember the last time you danced like this. Your last dance partner had been Nico. (And he had two left feet, your toes painfully recall.)
Silco looks down at your face, his expression soft. The ruined side of his face is bare, the foundation you had given him months ago nowhere to be seen. Despite your insistence that you could make more for him if he just asked, he had decided to stop using it all together. With the Nation of Zaun secure and his condition no longer worsening, there was nothing to hide—from his daughter, his people.
Or you.
You smile up at him, a slight blush creeping under your collar at this fairy tale moment, certain you’ll pinch yourself and find yourself tucked in your bed.
“So…” Silco hums, his one remaining eyebrow cocked up slightly. “How’s work?”
You laugh to yourself, feet still shifting back and forth as you follow Silco’s rhythm.
So much for the fantasy.
You roll your eyes at him.
Always business with this one.
“Oh, is this how we’re conducting our meetings now?”
Without warning, Silco takes a large step forward. Instinctively, you take a step back. You somehow manage to not trip and you catch Silco’s lips curling into a subtle smirk.
“It can be,” he muses. “Though I’m afraid this is the only song of this genre in the entire jukebox.”
Another large step forward. Before you know it, you’re doing a sort of box step. How you’ve managed to keep up with him, you’ll never know. Something about the way he’s guiding you feels so natural; like you’d both been doing it for forever.
“We would grow tired of it rather quickly,” he adds.
“You know, it’s funny,” you start, reminded of your very first encounter with Jinx. “When I first met Jinx, she said I had the same musical taste as her old man.”
“That so?”
Another box step. You can feel the rest of the world dissolving away as you let the music—and Silco—take you wherever they please.
“Mmhmm,” you hum, nodding. “And now I can confirm that I do.”
He offers a soft smile, a familiar glint in his eyes.
The two of you enjoy the song, content to dance without speaking. As the music continues to play, you cling to him just a little bit tighter—and he does the same.
By the time the song has reached the bridge, Silco has his cheek pressed to your temple. You close your eyes, letting him continue to guide you around the dance floor in sweeping, elegant steps. He squeezes your hand and you squeeze it back.
“I wanted to thank you,” he says softly into your hair. “For everything you’ve done.”
You smile and press yourself closer to him a little.
“Your work has been invaluable,” he continues. “For Zaun.”
He pulls back, his steps slowing back down to a gentle rock side to side. His mismatched eyes lock with yours and there’s an earnestness behind his gaze.
“For me.”
“It was nothing,” you say, feeling naked behind the power of his stare and turning away.
“It was not nothing,” he insists, his hand leaving yours to turn your chin up to face him. You’ve both given up any semblance of dancing, now simply standing together in the center of the dance floor. “It was everything. And not just for me with my cure, but all that you’ve done for Jinx…”
His voice trails off, his throat bobbing. You wonder how long he’d held onto these feelings. How difficult it must be for him to voice them.
You stand on your tiptoes and kiss him gently on his ruined cheek, your eyes fluttering closed briefly as you feel the complex, delicate textures of his scarring against your lips. When you pull back, you offer him another smile that quickly morphs into a smirk.
“I had no idea the Eye of Zaun was such a softie.”
Ocean green and volcanic orange eyes roll as he lets out a scoff, his hand returning to yours as you pick up where you left off.
“I was merely giving you the credit you deserve.”
A few more sways back and forth. A few more quiet moments together alone on the dance floor. The music starts to fade away. You’re about to step back, but then the song repeats. You look up at Silco with a cocked eyebrow and he chuckles under his breath.
“I may have set it to repeat.” He shrugs. “Given it’s our only slow song.”
You laugh.
“Sneaky bastard.”
He shrugs again, playing innocent.
“You know…” you say, bringing both arms to wrap around his shoulders. He responds by bringing both hands to your hips, large hands pulling you close so you’re flush with him. “I really only took that job with Singed for one reason.”
His good eyebrow lifts slightly.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
You lick your lips, laughing a little.
“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
Silco continues to look at you, expectantly.
“About you,” you clarify.
“Ah…” he hums, realization spreading on his face as he continues to sway to the music. “And? Have I met your expectations?”
You pout your lips, eyes lifting up to the ceiling as if in deep thought.
“You could say that,” you tease.
You feel Silco’s chest shaking as he chuckles. In his arms, you allow yourself to get swept up in the moment. But then it's cut short when you hear someone make an exaggerated retching noise. You turn to find Jinx standing at the jukebox.
“Yuck! Who put this on?”
Silco's shoulders slouch forward a little. “Don’t touch—”
But it’s too late, Jinx is already fiddling with the controls, switching the song to a much more lively one. Silco hangs his head in defeat.
“It seems our dance has been cut short.”
You take a step back and offer him a clear mockery of a Piltover curtsy.
“Well maybe get some more records and we can try again later.”
Silco bows to you as you see out of your periphery a blue blur starting to speed towards you. Despite bracing yourself, you still almost fall to the floor as Jinx crashes into you, arms wrapped around your middle in a tight embrace.
“My turn!” she squeals in delight. “I’m cashing in my prize!”
Silco laughs to himself before placing a hand around your shoulder, pulling you in close so he can plant a tender kiss to the crown of your head.
“Have fun,” he says into your hair before taking a step back and retreating up the stairs to his office.
Jinx seizes the opportunity and grabs you by the hand, her braids flailing wildly as she tosses her head back and forth to the rhythm of the music. Laughing, you join her, jumping up and down chaotically.
It’s silly and clumsy and freeing.
At one point, you grab both of Jinx’s hands and start to pull. She follows your lead until you’re both spinning around, torsos leaned back as your feet shuffle between you, the club spinning around you in a haze. She cackles as the world continues to morph into blurry shapes and colors, a cheshire grin on her youthful face. Eyes bright as the Hextech crystal, you can’t help but smile.
She’s a teenager. A proper teenager.
Not the daughter of the most powerful man in Zaun.
Not a weapon to be used.
Not a lost soul tortured by her demons.
Just a girl dancing without a care in the world.
You don’t know how long the two of you dance for—long enough for the doors to the club to open and the usual regulars to start piling in. By the time you finally take a break, your skin is dotted with a thin layer of sweat and you ask Zane at the bar for the tallest glass of water he can offer. Jinx, on the other hand, remains on the dance floor, bopping and grooving to the beat.
Leaning against the bar, you look out into the crowd as you sip your drink, feeling relaxed (if a little exhausted from all the dancing). You’re about halfway through your glass when the little blue gremlin cuts through the crowd toward you, painted fingers reaching out for yours.
“Jinx! I’m tired!” You protest, laughing. All the same, you set your drink down and allow her to pull you back onto the dance floor.
The pair of you squeeze through the bodies packed together, Jinx leading the way, seemingly beelining for something in particular. The crowd parts and she lets go of your hand, disappearing into the crowd.
“Jinx!” You call out to her, head darting around as you try to catch a glimpse of her blue braids. “Wait!”
And then the crowd is parting and standing before you is Silco, hand outstretched in offering again.
“Another dance?” he asks over the din of the music.
You walk toward him and take his hand, shouting to be heard.
“This doesn’t seem like your kind of beat!”
You catch him smirk as he leads you toward him, spinning you so that your back presses into his chest. Blush rushes into your cheeks when you feel him wrap an arm around you, palm warm against your hip as he slots himself against you. Tip of his nose pressed to your temple, he whispers into your ear so only you can hear.
“I’m sure I can make do.”
And then he’s moving his hips along to the beat and you can feel him press against the swell of your ass. Eyes widen as he continues to grind against you and you can’t help but wonder if everyone can see it. No one on the crowded dance floor seems to pay the two of you any mind, content to dance and grind amongst themselves, giving you space.
As the song continues to play, you allow yourself to let go, to follow Silco’s lead. You press your ass against him and he responds by tightening his grip on your hip, humming into your ear.
“You better not dance like this for anyone else,” he says, voice low and threatening. But you can hear the hint of teasing behind it.
Turning, you lift your chin to meet his gaze as both of your hips continue to rock back and forth.
“I could say the same to you,” you quip back, smirking.
The warm glow of his corrupted eye licks at your skin and you feel as if there’s no one else in the club, no one else in all of Runeterra.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he hums.
You smile and turn back around, bringing both your hands to rest on his as you sway side to side. Letting your weight fall on his chest, you lean into him, allowing him to move you to the music. As you dance with him, your eyes drift around the club, taking in the scene.
Zane is wiping down the bar, eyes ever vigilant as he watches the nearby patrons.
Jinx is pulling Ran by their hand, clearly trying to get them to leave their barstool to join the dance. Ran seems reluctant but, like you, is unable to resist Jinx’s energy.
Sevika sits in one of the private booths, its curtain slightly parted to show the raven-haired woman you had spotted her with so many nights ago. Sevika’s mechanic arm is draped over the booth back around the woman’s shoulders as her flesh hand grips a glass. When she spots you watching her, she smirks before lifting her glass in cheers and taking a sip. You nod and smile, eyes darting away to hide the blush of her seeing you with Silco like this.
Eyes lift to find Dax at his post, standing dutifully at the top of the stairs. You’re about to look away when you see a petite blonde woman make her way up the steps toward him. You expect him to turn her away but are surprised to see his expression soften as he smiles at her. She stands on her tiptoes, hand at his wrist to steady herself as she plants a small peck on his cheek. Your mouth falls open in a stunned smile and you can’t help but laugh to yourself at the display.
Looking at the sea of faces in the club, you feel warmth in your chest. It’s not from the dancing or stifling heat from the packed bodies. It’s not from booze or Shimmer. (Neither of which you have had.)
No, it’s from a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. One you thought you didn’t deserve. That you resigned yourself to never feeling again.
A feeling of belonging.
Of being home.
You didn't need friends. Or family. Or lovers. You proved for years that you could survive just fine without them.
But as Silco holds you in his arms, you know in your heart now what you denied yourself so long ago. It's not enough to just survive. It's not enough to only live day to day.
The Undercity is a warm and vibrant place, full of potential and wonder.
A dark, secretive cave.
A propeller in an abandoned mining shaft.
The darkened balcony of a night club.
Anything is possible in Zaun.
You just have to know where to look.
A/N: I can’t believe we’re here. I can’t believe we made it. I say “we” because I truly could not have finished this work if not for you, my amazing readers. Every kudos, every comment, every hit kept me going. Can you believe when I first set out to write this it was only supposed to be 15 chapters? But then y’all inspired me and I had so many more ideas that I just had to throw in. (Some of you directly affecting the plot—looking at you, @dreamyonahill and your comment about the sleep serum side effects. I wasn’t ever going to turn that into anything, but your comment made me want to explore it and it led to one of my favorite chapters, Chapter 15! Forever grateful.)
I of course must give a giant, sloppy thank you to both my betas @purplefangirl42 and @deny-the-issue. Catching my errors and leaving me reactions in google docs really made writing feel less like a solitary endeavor. And Kels, you alone kept me in check from chapters 20 onwards and were subject to so many DMs of me questioning if I was making the right choices or not. I appreciate your honesty and your comfort when the big imposter syndrome monster would rear its ugly head.
A thank you to the BR discord. Thanks for putting up with my ramblings about TMSA and for just being an amazing, supportive community of beautiful, unhinged, sexy, talented creatives.
Big thank you to anyone who did art of TMSA, commissioned or otherwise. It’s one thing to write a fic; it’s a different thing entirely seeing art derived from it, especially when it’s fanart. It’s so surreal to see it. (I’ll have you know I’ve saved all of them to my laptop/drive and I will cherish them forever. I should print them out!)
Yesterday was my 2-year ao3 anniversary and honestly, this feels like the perfect way to celebrate it.
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @you-never-talk @delta-is-here @sirenofzaun @weirdhorrorenthusiast @cloudroomblog @dad-dumpster @jennithejester @witheringblooddemon @beardedladyqueen @metaheroi
Join my taglist!
#silcoitus#silco#silcoitus writing#silco x you#silco x reader#silco fanfic#arcane silco#tmsa#the mad scientist's assistant#silco slowburn#silco smut#x reader#reader x character#reader insert#canon x self insert#canon x reader
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Interesting Thing I’ve learned about/Analysis On
Finn!
Overall:
Finn is a cyborg! (Which I didn’t know at first). Based on the screws on his head and the ones connected to the jaw piece he has, it’s shown that he isn’t necessarily human.
Another interesting fact is that Finn doesn’t seem to like drinks naturally. In the scene where he goes over to talk to Sevika, he always heats up his drinks with the lighter he has carried around.
Speaking of the lighter, the one with his literal initial in it, he’s always fidgeting with it whenever he has it. I noticed that whenever he does fidget with it, it’s usually always during important moments, like the talk with Sevika or when he was going along with his plan. I may just be reading into this too much, but maybe Finn isn’t as confident as he makes himself out to be.
Finn is not only from Zaun, but he is also a Ionian descent. (Not much to add onto it, I just found it cool :])
While there isn’t much information on the Slickjaws, I’ve always had theories on Finn’s tattoos. Maybe they’re all cyborgs like he is? Maybe his name on his chest is a requirement for the Slickjaws (though, he could just be overly confident, or it could be a way to boost his ego), who knows.
Speaking of Finn’s occupations, as stated in his wiki page, Finn started working for Silco when he was a teen, meaning he knows a lot about Silco’s occupation, along with the others.
Based on scenes:
Based on the first scene we see, Finn’s not necessarily worried about the trouble caused in Piltover, but rather the fact they’re losing money. In his wiki, it shows that he has his own business, running the Slickjaws (which explains the golden mask/jewelry thing on his jaw) while working with Silco, so of course he’d be worried about making more money, rather than the fact there would be suspicion.
During that, it showed that he was very quickly losing trust and reliability towards Silco, especially after Jinx had join their crew. Also said in his wiki, it stated that he had seen a ‘perfect man to run Zaun and was more than happy to work for him.’ However, once Jinx came into the picture and started being reckless, Finn had said that Silco’s spine began to be ‘made out of jelly’, insinuating that Silco was no longer the man Finn thought he was, making him want to betray Silco and potentially try to take over his business, or at least have someone (like him or Sevika) run it.
With all jokes I’ve made about Sevika and Finn hating each other aside, Finn seems to respect Sevika a lot more than he does with Silco. Rather than being distant and quiet around Sev, he faces her head-on, even when Sevika calls him stupid and doesn’t seem too pleased with him. He doesn’t necessarily seem to care.
Though, if Sevika didn’t kill Finn instead of Silco but never killed anyone like Finn had planned on to Sevika, then he most likely would have disliked Sevika very much. Finn seems like a man who would trust someone easily, but also quickly loss it, considering he trusted Silco so easily, along with Sevika.
While Finn can be seen as arrogant or ‘having stayed in the sun for too long’ as Silco puts it, Finn had a different perspective that should have been shared, especially with his occupation with the Slickjaws. Due to Silco not taking care of Jinx’s antics with Piltover, perhaps Finn was losing trust by his own members/employees, along with money, making him upset at Silco for his behavior and a rations over the years.
Going back to Sevika and Finn, Sevika and Finn most likely had a relationship outside of the first scene where he was first introduced, which was a great detail on Arcane’s end, considering Finn was a background character. Sevika stated how ‘dumb’ Finn was, saying ‘Every time I think you can’t get dumber, you dig a new low’, meaning she must have been over him a longgg time ago.
While Finn isn’t necessarily a great character, considering his morals and his standards, he also has his respect from others. Though, he didn’t seem to be very popular or talked to much, based on the fact after those two/three scenes of Finn, no one really talked about him or cared.
Overall, I wish we could have seen more of his character, because outside of his arrogant and greedy nature, he could have been a cool character :D
#arcane#mircon rambles#finn arcane#finn#arcane analysis#Mircon won’t stfu#I’m really intrigued by Finn’s character he seems like a funny and interesting character#arcane silco#sevika arcane#sevika#silco#jinx arcane#all the other characters mentioned#I might talk about Renni idk tho#Spotify
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what's the big fic gonna be about?? you got me anticipating!
AAAAHH thank u for asking ive been wanting to gush about this to someone!
basically, reader becomes young jinx's nanny and a part of silco's crew. which of course means sevika hates reader because she's always taking jinx's side and protecting jinx. it's enemies to lovers heheheh (but more like enemies to friends to enemies again and then finally to lovers because i love drama)
it's been so fun to write. while the focus of the story is mainly sevika and readers relationship, there's also some background drama regarding zaun and piltover and all the politics and struggles that come hand in hand with revolution. it was so fun to research and learn more about LoL lore! it's also a bit of a fix it fic, because i think about poor baby jinx being raised all alone by silco and my heart breaks for her. she needs a big hug, and this fic is my attempt at giving her one.
as always in my bigger fics, reader is kind of an oc. of course, i've done my best to keep all her physical features and style vague so everyone can see themselves in her, but i cooked up a canon typical angsty backstory for her and even gave her a nickname (cause i don't like using 'y/n' -- i feel like it takes me out the flow of the story)
anyways yeah! hopefully this weekend i'll post my first spoiler/teaser on tumblr, and if all goes well it'll be on ao3 on the 24th! u can consider it my little holiday gift from me to you :)
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Snippet - Sachertorte - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
The crew get a reporter intoxicated on more than Zaun's neon lights...
Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO
Snippet:
Dustin, blithely self-medicated on Janna-knew-what, was proof positive.
"Want some?" He proffered his joint. "They're passing 'em out at the Expo."
"They—what?"
Through pursed lips, Dustin blew out a misshapen ring. "Brightleaf, y'know. Free samples. It's a new strain. Supposed to keep the chest clear, make the lungs less congested. The benefits are pullomo—plomo—"
"Pulmonary?" you supplied.
"That's it! So what's your poison? Brightleaf? Z-Zap? Puffcap?"
"Thank you. But I'll pass."
"Puff-puff-pass?"
"Just pass."
It wasn't that you did not appreciate a good toke. You were a child of Piltover's golden age: the days of opium dens and cannabis clubs. But Zaun was not a place to be off one's head. Their tobacco was infamous for its potency. Also, you weren't sure you wanted to swap saliva with your unsavory-looking guide. You'd not had your shots, and you'd prefer not to catch an exotic strain of flu.
Not when the interview was less than twelve hours away.
"Your loss." Dustin threw a rubberband arm around your shoulders, and gave a squeeze. "Say, have you tried the sweets yet?"
"Sweets?"
"The sweet-shops at the Promenade. We've got a couple: Cray-Cray, Lollypop's, Mango-Splash. Best in town. The Li'l Miss goes to Lollypop's sometimes, after her gigs."
"The Li'l Miss?"
"You know. Jinx."
"Oh. Oh." You were relieved. For a moment, you'd feared being strongarmed into reviewing a strip-club. "I am told Zaun's patisseries are second-to-none."
"You can say that again!" A high-pitched cackle. "Hey, why don't we swing by a few? There's still time before the Expo. And Mister S, he won't mind. He wants you to take in the sights."
"Is the First Chancellor a fan of sweets, as well?"
"He's a fan of a lot of things. Sweet nothings. Sweet deals. Sweet cheeks." A wink. "Hey, have you tried our Sachertorte yet?"
"I—I cannot say I have."
"Wha-a-a-a-at? Lock, Ran, are you hearin' this?"
Lock was busy scraping the dregs from his bowl. Ran's reply was a laconic shrug. Their natural aptitude for indolence was beginning to strike you as the side-effect of a daily exposure to Dustin's ceaseless chatter. You wondered at the circumstances that had thrust these individuals—each a walking stereotype of Zaunite vice—into the Chancellor's inner circle.
Then again, you suspected their skillsets were far more specialized than the vices they seemed to represent.
"That's a shame," Dustin was saying, shaking his head. "That's a damn shame. Hey, why don't we drop by some shops? The Rack's got the best Sachertorte in town."
"Pssssh." Lock wiped his mouth. "The Rack's for the kids. All sugar. No kick."
"Well, what about the Honeypot? Punchiest opera cakes in the business."
"Too punchy," Ran hummed. "Takes a week to come down."
"Then how about the Laughing Coffin? I'm tellin' ya. They've got the meanest rum-baba."
"Bossman gave it a thumbs-down. He said, and I quote, 'Ich würde meinen größten Feind nicht an dieses Dessert verfüttern.'"
"Damn. Guess there's a reason they're going out of business."
"I say we hit the Piglet's Squeal," Lock said. "They do a decent macaroon."
Dustin grimaced. "No way, man. Too frilly. You'll catch a dose of cooties before rush hour."
"How about the Sugarplum Fairy? Eclairs to die for. Even the Bit of Ghostberry goes nuts for ‘em."
"Eh. Maybe. Hey, what do you think, Goodie?"
You'd been listening dizzily to their debate, hoping for an interlude to extricate yourself. Zaun's gastronomic scene was an entirely untapped market. Half the names dropped sounded, to your ears, like the opening lines of a particularly bawdy tavern song. The other half, however, were clearly establishments of repute.
Perhaps you could, in good faith, venture off-script to sample a few. After all, a journalist, if they wished to report the truth, must also live the truth.
In this case, you would eat it—and your own naivety—soon enough.
The Sugarplum Fairy was a glossy establishment, complete with a wrought-iron trellis of chem-nourished wisteria and an awning of glittering pink neon. As soon as you walked in, you were treated to a sensory assault: the aromatic waft of spun sugar, gingerbread baking, and a rich, fruity tang of liqueurs. The staff were a troupe of rainbow-aproned cuties. They wore striped stockings and frou-frou skirts. Their heads were topped by tiny chef's hats; their faces painted like dolls. They were all dimpling smiles, and spoke a Zaunite dialect so rapid it might have been the language of the pixies themselves.
Their shop was, you were told, a favorite haunt of Jinx. You could imagine the blue-haired firecracker skipping in, then sauntering out, leaving a trail of candy hearts and sugar-spun dreams in her wake.
You were also told that the First Chancellor patronized the shop once a year.
"It's true," a server gushed, her cheeks fetchingly a-glow. "Jinx enlisted our services to bake his fortieth birthday cake! He had a slice—oh, it was such an honor—and so the tradition began!"
"Tradition?"
"Every year, on the Day of Ash, he orders a special cake!"
"What kind of cake?"
"Plain bundt. No decoration. No icing. No candles."
"Whatever for?"
"Who can say?" She giggled. "Some say he's paying his respects to the fallen. Some say he's commemorating the days of rationing, when flour was as precious as gold. Some say he's simply a plain-Jane fellow at heart. Whatever the case, we're honored to be his purveyors. He tips very well."
Curiousor and curiouser, you thought.
The larger-than-life persona you'd collated from reports clashed with glimpses of this quieter, more private man. Perhaps his proclivity for austerity was the legacy of a childhood spent in the Sumps? Perhaps his taste for the simpler things reflected a deeper sense of humility? Perhaps it was a reminder of his roots, and a pledge to never forget them?
Or, perhaps, he simply enjoyed a good bundt cake.
The Sugarplum Fairy were as generous as their reputed patron. Each sampling was on the house. Their confectionary creations were a symphony of sugar and spice. Piltover has always prided itself on its sophisticated palate. Our desserts are inspired by the classics: soufflés, angelcakes, jam tarts. Zaun, conversely, was an untamed frontier: every flavor from the far-flung corners of Runeterra was distilled into a pot of bubbling sugar and set to simmer. The result was an extravaganza of culinary hybrids: Nazumah honey drizzled over Zhyunian strawberries; Bilgewater rum soaked into Bahrl's black-bean cakes; Demacian almond paste blended with spongy, melt-in-the-mouth Noxian pears.
Each mouthful was a journey across Zaun's variegated landscape. Some melted like liquid bliss on the tongue. Others exploded across the palate in a joyous expletive. By the end, your senses were reeling.
Then came the coup-de-grace.
The servers brought in four slices of decadently-rich double chocolate cake. The first layer was a dark fudgy delight; the second a velvety-smooth ganache; the third, a creamy milk chocolate mousse. The base was a hazelnut praline with a sprinkling of chopped pecans. Topped off with a swirl of vanilla cream and a dusting of icing sugar, the cake was as gorgeous as it was sinful.
"On the house," the servers cooed.
Ran's eyes lit up like an excited child. Lock rubbed his massive hands together. Dustin danced from foot to foot. Their effusive glee was contagious. In retrospect, you ought to have realized: there were a few too many winks and nudges. A pitch too high, a skip too fast, in their voices. A sense of something secret, something scandalous, afoot.
But you, babe in the woods, were too entranced by the sugar-coated charm. Too dazzled by the culinary wizardry.
Too stupid to spot the trap.
Four golden forks were presented. You each drove one into a glistening chocolate wedge and stuffed it in your mouths. Ran's eyes were closed. Dustin's head swayed back and forth on a gyre of glee. Lock grinned from ear-to-ear as he chewed. Like them, you could only marvel at the skill that had gone into making the perfect bite: the smoothness of the chocolate, the light crunch of the nuts, the airiness of the whipped cream.
This cake slid down your gullet with a sensation that made your shiver. It felt nearly lubricious. It felt—wicked.
"Merciful Janna," you sighed. "What is this?"
"The Sachertorte," they chorused.
"I've never tasted anything like it."
"You wouldn't." The server tittered. "It's a secret recipe. Passed down for generations. All I can say is: it's got a little bit of this and a little bit of that."
"This, and that, what?"
"Oh, you know." She batted her eyelashes. "A pinch of sugar, a dollop of honey, a dash of spice..."
"And?"
She put a finger to her lips. "And everything that makes Zaun oh-so-nice."
The edges of the shop began to ripple. Your head grew light. Butterflies—silky soft butterflies—danced in the pit of your belly. The sensation spread, in slow-motion, through every extremity, down to the tips of your fingers, up to the roots of your hair. You couldn't help but giggle. This was the feeling. The one you'd been chasing. The one you'd been after, since the days of youth, when you'd snuck your first taste of illicit fruit.
The euphoria. The bliss. The freedom.
In another minute, the body-stone was in full effect.
A word of advice, fair reader. Zaun's desserts are as deadly as its dead-ends.
To requote their favorite aphorism:
"Look out for yourself."
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#forward but never forget/xoxo#forward (never forget)/xoxo#arcane jinx#jinx#arcane ran#arcane lock#arcane dustin#arcane zaun#arcane piltover
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Excerpt: Smokescreens
Jinx reminisces. Sevika and Dustin stage a ploy.
From ‘fate is a sundress, ripped at the thigh,’ a oneshot exploring Jinx’s relationship to Sevika and Singed in the aftermath of S1.
Full story on AO3
CW: Mentioned character death, grief
The mornings are long and sleepless and screeching.
The nights are worse.
Sevika pits herself between them, holing up in his office like a squatter in a stripped room. Afternoon sun smolders green through the panes, leaves the dust on the air glinting like firelights.
She hand-rolls her spliffs, the way a medic rolls up gauze—sharp, swift, routine—and smokes them in slow, hissing puffs.
On his desk, a new edict.
Fishbones had bludgeoned Piltover's trade at the knees. For three months, their sister-city (sister missed her chose the damned bluecoat over her) had been groveling for scraps, fighting to rebuild from the ground-up, while foreign imports withdrew at the snap of a finger.
No one wanted to invest in a volatile market—except those already out for war. The cowards were keeping their mouths shut and their heads down. The smart ones were already aiming at the Pilt: watching, waiting for the pin the drop.
Piltover—or Zaun?
Sevika was gone days and nights and hours and weeks and never here, never rifling through the right paperwork or stringing a map with blood-threaded schemes or flicking open a newspaper with lazy tosses of her knee, musing up to the rafters: What do you make of this wretched trade war? Too many ironies in it. Freider's toting oil as a saving grace—and driving his machinery straight into the fires. He's sooner to win himself a bloody barbecue. Fool should've gone into the meat business.
Silco would've had that pretty Medardan councillor by the neck, by now.
Silco would've had Noxus in the palm of his hand: stricken deals with Swain and the War-chief both, spun them up to be at each others' throats, with profits already lining his pockets.
Silco would've been Topside in a suit and glinting glasses and a ledger of policywork under his arm, bending the Council's ear towards an investment of seventy-thousand worth, to fund proper schools on the Promenade.
Silco would've—
The door creaks open, wheezes shut with the throb of industrial drumming downstairs and the sauntering gait of crooked-toothed Dusty-head, boots clomp-clud-clomping off the creaking floor.
"You're late," Sevika gruffs, fingers pitted at her temple.
Dustin ducks, half-apologetic. "Hemmie got tied up with somethin'. You know how he is, heh."
"Two of you are supposed to be Lock and Key. Not Lock and a Door-jam."
The door-jam in question snaps his head to the side, like a bird twisting its neck. "Hey, hey—"
Papers splay flat over his desk. With it, a metal hand. "Just tell me what you've got, Don."
Dustin fidgets. His breath rattles out in a gusty sigh. "Trainband's on the rise, again. Without Bos—" He catches himself. Sevika's eyes lay heavily, unwavering. "Without'im around," Dustin corrects, "they're all gettin' antsy."
"That's what we've got Muka for."
"Only infiltrated the first rung."
Jinx could clean them out, in a day. Play it nice, hide Chompers and her chompy lil' crew under her clothes, set the belly of that rebel gang's hideout to a pretty blast.
Silco would've let her.
Silco would've let her—
These are petty matters, child. We've tiers to this business, for a reason. There are greater uses of your time.
By coincidence, or intention, those conversations would always bookend his injections.
She'd wondered how often he'd pushed off his doses, just to let it them mean something else. To be something else, in it all.
Your worth here isn't defined by the blood you've spilt. And he'd hold her shaking hand in his steady own, cool and rough and anchoring, frowning at her with those mismatched eyes, and rest his thumb on her knuckles. There are other ways you can help us.
He'd lay his injector in her palm, like a talisman.
It meant, I trust you with this.
It meant, You can do this. Any of this. All of it.
It meant, You are not defined by your destruction.
The injector was in his desk. Top drawer to the right, with a file of the doctor's reports that he refused to looked through, that detailed how quickly he was dying, how much of a patchwork of reconstructed blood cells and chem-altered tissue and rotted flesh he needed to be to keep his body still functioning.
Jinx carves her nails into her temples.
He would have wanted it to be you.
Dustin slips a river-pebble out from his pocket, spins it between his painted fingers.
"We got one of their guards to spill," he says, low and sly. "Second-up's Eva. Should be goddamn Evie, down here—but naw—Ee-va. Scarf for a Piltie, if I've ever caught a whiff of 'em."
"Where?"
"Eighth quadrant, down by the steel mills."
"You think they've got a safe house there?"
"S'likely."
Sevika plucks out her spliff, pinches it lazily. "You've got two days."
"Bossman would've gave us three."
The smoke's cherry glows magmatic. Jinx stares hard, hard at a scuff of paint on her boot. The colors blur and swirl and fade. "He's not here, Dus."
He shifts his shoulder, chipped nails flicking. "Wouldn't have let you smoke that shit in here, neither."
Rage ebbs off Sevika's bones, stinks the room up like a chemical leak, like a tigress that just got a kill ripped out from under her. "Get out."
"I didn't—"
"Get. Out."
Dustin marches out quick as his studded boots will let him, scowling all the way, and slams the door behind him.
In the void, Sevika kneads her thumb into her brow.
Her anger still sits in the room—still reeks like that cheap tobacco cut up with hashish, that's staining the floors and the windows and isn't juniper, isn't right, isn't his—and Jinx tries to blink it out, breathe it out, tears in her eyes and He hated being called that he hated it he hated it—
"Jinx."
She sucks air in through her nose, carefully quiet.
She knows the ogre's staring up at her. Can feel her eyes like knives, a million of them, all biting their little points into her skin.
She turns away from them. "I'm fine."
#arcane fanfic#fic excerpt#fate is a sundress#jinx#sevika#silco#dustin#cw: death#cw: grief#this fic still has a chokehold on me#augh
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