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ironandglass · 8 days ago

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The Descent - Chapter 1 - Second Circle

Silco x female reader dark slow burn modern au. Stalker Silco.

A strange man moves into the apartment across from yours, he likes to watch and you start to like him watching. What could go wrong?

Warnings: stalking, violence, trauma, home invasion, sexual assault, threats, fear, panic, robbery, weapons, gun, romanticised toxic behaviour, toxic relationships, power dynamics, mental health probably, sex mention, swearing, bad editing (notsorry), evil silco, dark Silco, cold Silco. He’s not gentle and sweet ya feel? No jinx in this storyline bc I don’t know how to share. 🤷‍♀️

Chapter one

Second Circle

You peek out through the cheap venetian blinds to see him, leaning on his balcony railing, in the building directly opposite yours. Smoking cigarettes and watching.

He was always watching your apartment. You'd noticed it a few weeks after he had moved in. He made no effort to hide his blatant voyeurism. It seemed you had captured his attention somehow and that unsettled you. Living in the city for as long as you had meant you were no stranger to such things but something about his boldness made you especially uneasy. Some instinct in your gut warning you that this creep was not a typical window licking, peeping tom.

Yet, as the months pass you start to ignore that instinct. He makes no move other than to passively watch, so you try to keep your curtains closed and ignore him as best you can.

Sometimes your thoughts would turn to the bizarreness of the situation. This stranger who watched you. You had recently, and playfully started to consider that it was quite flattering actually. Saying to yourself that this was an admission of your value that anybody should pay you that much interest in you.

Joking about it made you feel more in control, it took away the sting of fear and unsureness.

"My good lookin guy, very good at looking." you would mutter when you noticed him.

Despite all the jokes, In a strange way, it did make you feel special.

One night you were too drunk to notice that your windows and curtains were wide open as you rolled your hips on top of the nameless man that you'd procured from a nearby dive bar to satisfy your needs for the night.

You opened your eyes as you got close, relishing the rising anticipation of your hard earned, imminent orgasm. Bliss rises up your spine as you look out at the city lights panting and moaning shamelessly in a drunken haze.

Then you notice him, watching intently from his balcony through the large glass window of your modern apartment.

His eyes meet yours and you climax hard. Your orgasm ripping across your being with a quaking intensity you hadn't experienced for a long, long time.

After that, you dress and undress each morning and each evening, letting him see, going out of your way even to make sure he had a good view.

You start buying lingerie and sexy pyjamas to wear around the house.

If anyone ever asked you, you could never explain why you encouraged this. Other than admitting that you simply enjoyed the attention. There was something about being watched that seemed so harmless, a safe way to tease and taunt the man. His desire seemed to give you a strange confidence. You enjoyed ignoring him, pretending that you never even noticed he was there. That was part of the game for you.

He stood dutifully on his balcony for the show each morning, knowing your routine, chaining cigarettes, eyes like a wolf. Sometimes he missed the afternoon showing, you were always secretly disappointed.

You’re out of your usual routine one morning, running late. You walk out onto the street just as he is walking out of his apartment at the same time. You both freeze, like two mirrors across the road from each other. His considering gaze catches your own for a long moment before you panic, breaking the spell as you turn away down the street.

He doesn't follow.

In bed.

Your eyes snap open.

CCCCCRRUNCHHH

You're up.

You run towards the sound.

Splintering wood.

Your front door - It's being kicked in.

You scream but it's cut short as a massive man, unfamiliar, bursts inside, gun trained on you. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm as you look down the barrel of the weapon, frozen in terror, blubbering appeasingly.

Everything becomes a blur, suddenly, finding yourself giving any answers asked of you.

Briefly, over the muscular shoulder of the intruder you see your watcher across the way, holding a phone to his ear. Is he seeing all this? You hope he's calling the police. Who knew your sick games with this pervert would pay off. You would be more amazed if you weren't so absolutely afraid for your life.

The large invader riffles through your valuables. He drags you roughly by your upper arm like a rag doll from room to room, taking your laptop, jewellery and your purse.

He pushes you away demanding you stand against the back wall while he does a final sweep, roughly tearing cabinets open and swiping through your cupboards. You pray he will just leave but when he finishes his quick search instead of the door he wheels towards you. Eyes gleaming as if he just noticed that you are in fact worthy of his consideration.

Something in his eyes makes you step back into the picture frame behind you as he approaches.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pinning you against the wall with his body. Running the tip of the cold metal gun slowly from your temple, down your neck, to rest just in between your cleavage.

"If I had more time I'd steal a lot more from you sweetness." The threat trailing his warm breath over your face.

With a gut wrenching start you realise you can feel his hard cock pressed against you through his pants.

He grabs your face with one hand, thick fingers holding your jaw as he forces your eyes up to his. "Too bad." He says as if you are missing out on a special treat. He pulls away from you smirking and backs out of the room, gun still trained on you.

"Next time" he says blowing a kiss before striding out the front door.

—

After the burglar leaves you wait, frozen in place for a short while, shaken and gently sobbing before running out into the street. You look left and right and who should be leaning against the bricks on the sidewalk out the front but your ever vigilant watcher.

You run across the road towards him and he looks shocked momentarily, taking a step back away from your rapid frantic approach before you shamelessly wrap your arms around him hugging him and crying. Needing support from someone, anyone.

Hadn't he always been there?

Slowly, unsurely he wraps his arms around you, reciprocating.

"Its okay" he says, his voice is pleasant. A low vibrating rumble against you.

"I called the Police, I'll wait with you."

He keeps one arm wrapped around you, rubbing patterns along your back soothingly as he receives a call with the other. It sounds like he's talking to police, here he was just handling this for you. Taking care of it as if it were his own problem.

When the police arrive you are still crying gently in his arms.

"Is this your... girlfriend Sir?"

"Yes." He says not skipping a beat. Okay that was strange, maybe he’s just trying to make it seem … not as strange as it actually is?

When he gives a statement he gives his name as Silco. You realise then, you are just now learning his name, he already seems to know yours which gives you pause, you had never spoken to him. But you weren't really in any position to worry about that having already thrown yourself at the man.

—

Police pour into your home, taking fingerprints and photographs. Its not long before one of the forensic team approaches you on the street and explains it might be a while before you could return home, definitely not till tomorrow morning at the earliest.

"Oh, thank you." You say, still quite shocked.

At this news you finally unwrap yourself from the stranger now known as Silco. Starring blankly out in the street you stifle a yawn feeling exhausted now that all of the adrenalin had worn off.

Embarrassment starts to sneak in, should you apologise to him? You wonder, turning your eyes up to his.

He looks down at you thoughtfully, as if you are a problem he needs to solve.

"Would you like to come in for a warm drink while you wait?" He asks gesturing towards his apartment across the road. His manner is cold and calculating but his actions had been nothing but generous and kind. It was a confounding combination.

You look up towards his apartment, probably not the best idea but you agree with a nod.

The thrill of the situation and the shock of the home invasion made everything seem less insane and more reasonable.

"I'd like that... thank you." You admit gratefully.

In his nice, high end apartment he stands across from you behind the kitchen island where you sit perched on a high stool.

He meticulously prepares you a warm drink before making some coffee for himself.

"It's a shame that we're finally meeting under such unsavoury circumstances." He says gently, pouring steaming liquid into a glass coffee mug.

You smile gently pushing a marshmallow around in your hot chocolate.

"As opposed to our usual unsavoury circumstances?" You laugh gently before sighing and resting your cheek against your hand.

"I like our thing." You confess keeping your eyes low.

"Me too." He replies softly before bringing the cup to his lips.

It felt good, to hear him say that.

Still, you knew how dangerous this was. Despite how comfortable you felt right now, there was something not right about this man, an air of malevolence (but that was thrilling too).

“Do you… “ you falter, unsure if you should continue but when you raise your eyes up to his one eyebrow quirks up, as if waiting patiently.

You clear your throat trying to rally your courage.

“Do you… watch other people?” You ask, almost instantly regretting it.

He takes another sip of his coffee, calm, unhurried.

His eyes never leave you. You struggle against the urge to squirm in the silence.

His focus on you was always so intense. Of course you enjoyed it, but being in a room together now, up close. It was something else, hot, fierce, like standing too close to the fire.

“I think that you want me to say no.” He murmers, eyes gleaming as he steps back away from you. Slowly, deliberately making his way around the long marble kitchen island that separates you both.

“I think, you enjoy my attention.” He continues, his lazy gait, unhurried on the tiled floor.

“I think you crave it.” his shoe clicks on the tiles, closer now.

He places a hand next to your hot cocoa, palm flat on the counter and leans in.

His other hand stays at his side, controlled.

“I think you enjoy being… just, out of reach.” He says closing in on you.

He leans in slowly, inch by inch, his breath brushes your cheek. Your heartbeat stutters. His lips near your ear.

“Just you.”

You stop breathing, the words settle on your skin, like ash. Hot, final, branded.

You don't move, his breath is still warm on your cheek.

Then he turns away, without a word. He walks towards the coat rack shrugging on a dark winter coat, it looks custom, fitted, clean.

You watch in silence as he walks back over towards you and grabs some of his personal items from a bowl on the counter.

He slides a key over the marble towards you with a shhhk.

“This is a spare key, you may come and go as you please.”

You stare at it.

“Are you… leaving?” the question feels louder than expected.

He doesn't answer at first, checking his phone.

”I have work.” he says simply.

“The spare room at the end of the hall is made up as a guest room. You’re welcome to stay while I'm out”

You nod slowly, processing this before asking.

“What … time do you usually come home?”

He pauses.

“Five ... Maybe six”

“AM?” You ask.

His eyes flick up.

“Yes"

That's all, Just one syllable. Heavy as stone.

He turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You call after him, stepping forward and reaching out, catching his coat sleeve.

“Thank you.” You say, meaning it, trying to show it with your eyes.

“It is nothing.” He says looking away and gently, but firmly pulling his arm away from you.

You watch his back disappear through the door. It closes slowly with a click.

Silence.

—

The spare room is immaculate, almost clinical, clean, comfortable and impersonal. Like a hotel room.

You go to the ensuite bathroom and splash water on your face, wincing when you see the large dark bruise blooming on your arm where you'd been dragged from room to room like a ragdoll. Helpless.

You quickly turn away from the mirror, and lay on top of the bed instead. You stare at the ceiling, mind racing, a deep sigh deflates you.

After about fifteen minutes, tossing and turning, you give in.

Of course you need to look in his room. Just in case there is some kind of creepy shrine dedicated to you, surrounded by candles or something.

You push the large door open, walking in to see black silk sheets on a large bed. You scrunch your nose at how typical it was of a wealthy strange man. His large walk in robe is filled only with fine clothing, all in shades of black and red. No shrine. You pick a discarded business shirt up off the edge of a laundry hamper and for some reason, you bring it to your face and inhale.

It smelled like cigarettes and aftershave and a subtle, spicy body odour. You knew this was weird of you but you were staying in your stalkers house after someone just threatened your life so you also felt like if there was a time you deserved a pass, it was now.

Through the long hallway of his walk in robe was the entrance to his bathroom, refined, spacious, stylish.

You’re pretty impressed by this point, and smile as you make your merry way back through to his bedroom. Now fully committed to disrespectful hedonism, you climb on to his bed and lay down with your head on the pillows. Sprawled out on top of the silk sheets you’re annoyed to admit they feel really nice.

Then you accidentally take a moment to let yourself think about everything that had happened in the last few hours. How blindsided you had felt, how helpless.

This time the tears well up in your eyes and you start to cry uncontrollably. The sadness and fear of what you had experienced pour out of you in shuddering, loud, uncontrollable weeping. You cry for a long long time, curled up on the black silk sheets, trembling as you weep. Staining them with your salted tears and smothering yourself in the scent of the strange man that watched you undress from across the road.

—

Silco comes home early, having delegated out as much work as feasible. It had been a long night, despite finally having held the woman of his desires in his arms for the first time. He sighs as he shrugs his slender shoulders out of his fitted coat, hanging it up on the rack before striding over to empty his pockets into the bowl on the kitchen counter. Noticing the half empty hot chocolate mug you had left in place, he pauses thoughtfully.

Turning his gaze up towards the hall where the spare room was.

He hesitates for a second before quietly and slowly padding up the hallway, he places a hand carefully on the doorknob and turns it, opening the door just enough to see...

Ah. It’s empty, she’s gone.

Of course, it was sensible and probably even polite for her to be gone.

Silco runs his fingers up through his hair and makes his way back out into the kitchen, reaching for his cigarette case and lighter, he strolls out through one of the large glass sliding doors onto the balcony, leaning on the railing and lighting his cigarette.

He looks out towards your apartment. The curtains are wide open as usual, the place was a mess but the police had all left at least. Silco glanced at the bed, empty. The couch, also empty.

Hmmmm, he didn’t like not knowing where you were. He also didn’t like not knowing things about you. He would resolve that, if you had family members or friends nearby that you had gone to stay with, he wanted to know.

He stubbs out the cigarette and strolls back inside, swinging the door to his bedroom open he starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting ready for bed.

A small noise makes him freeze, whipping his head to finally notice you, curled up delicately in the centre of his bed.

His breath catches for a moment at the sight and he wonders at it.

How your small soft form is so vulnerable, the gentle rise and fall of your breaths.

Hand curled towards your chest.

The slight parting of your lips, so peaceful.

So close.

Then your eyes flick open.

—

Your eyes snap open to see Silco, standing across from you, unbuttoning his shirt. You panic, realising that you’d slept in his bed, and now he was undressing as he approached you?

Oh no no no he was a creep, you knew it and you shouldn’t be surprised by it but this was too much. This was crossing the line, well further over the line. A new line?

You sprang up backing out of the bed and standing with your hands raised.

“I don’t want to sleep with you!” You blurt out defensively.

“Why are you in my bed?” He asks calmly, lowering his hands, leaving the top few buttons of his shirt open.

You falter.

“I offered you the spare room, at the end of the hall.” He says sternly pointing in that direction.

“I… I” You have no defence for this. Maybe you are the creep here?

He waits for a moment tilting his head.

“You what?” He asks. “Was there a pea under the mattress?” Taunting you now.

Your mouth snaps shut with your frown and you storm past him, making your way out of the bedroom door. In times like these, the best defence was a strong offence.

He turns cooly, watching you as you pass.

“Glad I could help.” He quips, following you at a measured distance.

His words still you briefly.

You turn to him, expression angry.

“Thank you for your help.” you bark awkwardly.

He gives a slight incline of the head. No more than that.

Then you storm out the door doing your best not to slam it like a child.

Definitely not your best work.

After the door shuts, Silco exhales through his nose in amusement.

"Her pride has teeth" he thinks, "but no aim."

Retreating into his room, he lays down, fully clothed on his bed, inhaling deeply.

It smells like her.

End.

——

Thanks for reading 🔪📖🖤

I have been really enjoying writing this so I hope you dig it!

Also- there’s A LOT more of it already written, so if you want more, let me know and I’ll try and make time to edit it sooner.

<3 Iron

—

>>>Continue on to Chapter two

Bonus - Chapter 2 teaser Silco POV short

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rhaeheartzsquirrelz · 4 months ago

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Defy Her

Toxic Sevika x Reader

Summary: Going out without your girlfriend; she hates when she can’t protect you.

Warnings: Sex: ass slapping/gripping, degradation, choking, hair pulling, strap-on, and crying (r! receiving)

A/N: GUESS WHOS OVULATINGGGGG 😛😛😛 I wrote this in 4 hours cus I had a dream abt it. (Don’t ask)

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Fuck it.

You thought, grabbing your clothes and quickly slipping them on. Black mini skirt with a matching black crop top, your outfit was finished off with a red cropped jacket and a pair of black boots. Hair tied up into a half-up half-down style, you put on your jewelry. Long black necklaces with a few bracelets. Not to forget your dangling earrings, you made sure everything was perfect before grabbing your keys and heading out. You were finally free, able to walk out the door without your girlfriend dragging you back in.

Rule number one: you can’t go out unless Sevika agrees or goes with you.

Bullshit ass rules. They were all made to keep you latched onto your girlfriend, to keep you dependent on her. She didn’t like not being around you to keep everything in-check, make sure no one got too close, and even to prevent you from talking to anyone but her.

Your destination was The Last Drop, where Sevika, you hoped, wouldn’t be. She was probably doing some work for Silco, maybe even with Jinx trying to keep her out of trouble. Either way, you weren’t having her shit anymore. So, with a confident push on the doors, you enter the bar. You were immediately met with a crowd of people who were dancing, drinking, making out, and, most importantly, having fun.

Making your way to the bar to grab a few drinks, you looked around to find you being stared at. Up and down, either checking you out or judging you.

You decided to ignore them and sat on a stool, ordered yourself a sweet treat, and tried to forget about Sevika; for now. You ordered lemonade, getting drunk wasn’t on your list. The place was dimly lit with the telbum lights brightened it up with colourful lights. The speaker blasted upbeat music, causing everyone to dance, you silently admired the way the crowd was able to be carefree and loose. As excited you were to have some freedom, your main concern was if Sevika would find you and drag you home. Maybe yell at you or something.

Something would be fucking you senseless.

Though it wasn’t a bad idea, it sure scared you to see her angry. Ripping you open and making sure you were twitching after the first few rounds.

Sipping on your drink, you turn your attention to the man who was now shifting to sit beside you. He looked friendly enough, even though he was staring you down with those black eyes of his.

“Saw you come in, wanna dance?” His voice smooth even though it held a hint of nervousness. Hale leaned closer to you with his drunken breath. For a second you considered his invitation, dancing would be nice. But with a stranger?— who was probably just trying to get in your pants?. It felt like going behind Sevika’s back.

“I uhm.. I’m alright..” Forcing a smile, you turn your head to your drink. Your answer was simple and sweet, you hoped he’d take it and leave. At the corner of your eye, you saw him scoff. “C’mon, it’s just dancing?”

Was he fuckin’ stupid? “I said I’m good.” Was your response. You’d learned that from Sevika. Thankfully, you he fucked off. With a grumble under his breath, he walked away with heavy steps. You, yourself, grumble to yourself in annoyance before taking a few big sips and finishing your drink. Could a gal really not enjoy one night alone?

Maybe the night would be more enjoyable with Sevika. Having her glare away any men, letting you dance as you pleased? It was a nice thought. Even if she’d hover and fuss over a simple glance, you secretly wanted her to be there now.

May the universe heard your wish because as you were about to get up, you felt a tug around your waist before you were pulled against someone. “The hell are you doing here?” The familiar gruffed out words hit your ears and you realized it was your girlfriend. Her flesh arm around your waist, she tightened her grip which let you know she was upset. Maybe even pissed. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to come here alone? You deaf or something?” Sevika would groan out, her voice raising and tense. “I can handle myself, I don’t need you all the time.”

You guessed she didn’t like that answer because as her prosthetic arm hit the wooden counter with a fist she scoffed. “Don’t fuck around with me. God knows how many assholes are waiting to push a stick up your ass.” With that, she turned you around and gripped your wrist. “We’re goin’ home. End of discussion.” You clearly couldn’t say no to that, to her authoritative tone. She’d drag you home whether you liked it or not, pull you over her shoulder with her muscular arms and force you with her. Mumbling under your breath, you let her lead you away towards the exit.

An hour of freedom was all you got.

Reaching your shared apartment, Sevika locked the door behind you with a slam. Her expression irritated, she didn’t let go of your wrist. “I don’t even get to do anything. I barely go out by myself.” — “For a god damn reason.” She shot back, towering over you and making you have to look up. “I saw the way those ‘fuckers looked at you, as if you were some piece of meat.” Of course she noticed, that’s all she did. Look around and force everyone to look away. “I can’t help that? You were looking at me the same way when we started dating!” Raising your voice was a bad idea, the way Sevika’s grey eyes glared at you made you quickly fix yourself. “You’re mine. Got that? I do what the hell I want with you, no one else.” Tugging on your wrist she pulled you closer and gripped onto your hair with her mech hand. “Even lookin’ at you is a privilege.” Gasping at the tug on your hair, you let slip a shaky moan.

Her voice was low, dangerously quiet, as she leaned down to crash her lips against yours. Sucking on your bottom lip, Sevika bit down until you were sure they were bleed. Tilting your head back with her grip from your hair, her flesh arm came around to grip your ass and pull your body flush against her tense one.

If Sevika couldn’t keep everyone away from you, she would just have to keep you locked up and all to herself.

Soft whimpers left your lips as she kissed you deeply, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Tasting you, she found it satisfying to see you breathless and, already, vulnerable . Pulling back to see your red cheeks, she took hold of your face, squishing your cheeks together, and smirked with cockiness. “Fuckin’ whore.” Was all Sevika said before raising you and carrying you towards the bedroom. Her muscular arms then threw you— yes, threw you— onto the bed. Grunting, you give her furrowing brows. “Quit doing that, what if I hit my head?” Sevika only chuckled as she grabbed her strap. It was the largest one she had, one you could barely take halfway.

Approaching you, she tossed it beside you before ripping your clothes off. “Surprised you care more about bumpin’ your head on a wall than me ruining that hole of yours.” Voice unserious as she had you bare and on your back. “You couldn’t give a damn about the way I stretch-out your cunt. Want it so ruined I need a bigger one’a these.” Motioning to the strap, she crawled onto the bed and sitting infront of you and pulled you by your wrists. She turned you around to positionyour back to her front and your ass to her strap. Face burried your freshly done hair, she took a deep inhale. Both of you were on your knees with heavy breaths. You knew where this was headed.

With her flesh hand on your clit, she rubbed it to get the desired reaction. She succeeded when you couldn’t help but softly sigh at the teasing motion. One finger was enough to cover your bud, that’s just how big her hand was. And she took advantage of it every single time. With a bite on the back of your shoulder, she pushed her cock inside and kept it there for a good second. It was the first time she’d went all in. It left you to gasp and whimper. “Since I haven’t made myself direct with what I want, let me show you.” You braced yourself as you held your breath, heart pounding in your chest as she pinched your clit. A soft “fuck..” left your lips. “Don’t.” A hard pound hit your cunt. “Go.” Another hard pound hit with a grunt. “Out. The third pound went deeper than the first two. “Without.” You were still adjusting to the thickness when the blow hit, it caused a shaky moan to escape your lips.. “Permission.” With the last pound, she grasped onto your neck and squeezed enough to where it was hard to breathe. You could feel the pressure as your face went warm, you were red. “Got that, you dirty whore?”

Slamming into you, she went all the way in and made sure you were feeling all of it. Head tilted back with the help of Sevika’s grip, your back arched into her cock as she rubbed it against your walls. She was enjoying this, punishing you for being stubborn enough to go against her rules. “Look at you, already a slutty mess.” She was taking her anger out on you, “Tell me how much you want this cock. And don’t cum ‘til I fuckin’ tell you.” The sound of her strap making contact with your cunt was all that you could hear, all that could focus on. Phwap Phwap Phwap. You were fucking loving this.

“Sev, Baby..” You said shakily, “Don’t stop— fuckkkk, please.. it’s too good..” Your voice was strained from the grip around your neck, even moaning was difficult. “I.. I’m close.. it’s too much— it’s too fucking good.” Practically pleading your words out, you kept still for your girlfriend as she pushed into you. “Already? Can’t even last a few minutes.” Tugging at your hair and letting go of your neck, she pushed your face into the sheets and gave you the ‘back-shots’ you deserved. Head tilted to the side, you could barely handle her. “Sevika— baby, I.. I want you— holy—make me cum…” Words a breathy moan, you groan out at every sensation that rose from your drenched pussy. Sevika’s flesh hand came to play with your pulsing clit, pinching and rubbing it like some toy. “Yeah?.. you want me, baby? You want me like the little slut y’are?” Hips rolling deep blows into your cunt, you were holding on for life. Hands gripping the sheets in order to ground yourself as you bit onto your lip, causing them to swell up.

Sevika fucked you like a sex toy, never slowing her pace and hitting all the juicy spots that got you crying out. Tears ran down your mascara smeared cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. Your girlfriend didn’t seem to care over your sobbing, because she only grew rougher. Evident in the way she slapped your ass multiple times with her heavy hands and left behind red handprints. You whined everytime. “Hope you’ve got your shit together, ‘cause you were a dumbass for going to that shitty bar without me.” Legs twitching, your voice was beginning to strain from all the moaning you were doing. All the humms and whimpers were getting to you. “I’m close.. please— please I need you..” You’d breath out, shutting your eyes and letting every sensation soak in. “I’ll.. I’ll listen— please, baby I won’t.. won’t go out. Alright?” You were desperate for the orgasm pooling in your core, which needed to escape. Even your voice was cracking, from, both, moaning so much and and crying. “Let me cum, I.. I can’t hold it in..” Sevika, as usual, was memorizing ever moan, ever twitch, and every reaction that you gave. The slight tremble in your hands, the quiet whimpers you let out at every touch, and the heavy breathing. She loved it all.

“Cum for me, baby.” Was your girlfriend’s ‘yes’. And cum you did. Closing your legs you fell onto your chest and cried out at the intensity of the pressure your body was releasing. Hips writhing, legs shaking , and body heating up, your face was burried into cool sheets as you whimpered from the aftermath. “I just fucked the prettiest slut in Zaun.” Sevika proudly gruffed out, slapping your ass as she lowered herself. Knees on either side of the back of your thigh she brushed your soft hair aside before pressing hot kisses on your back, her strap rubbing against your back as she did so. Coming back from your orgasm, you collect your breath. “So.. you know other.. pretty sluts?” You murmured, eyes fluttering with the softness of her lips. Sevika only chuckled with amusement. “No, I don’t. Even if I did, you’d be the only slut I’d wanna see like this.” Her words a heartfelt scoff as she rubbed soothing circles on your back with her big palms.

“I’m still mad at you.” Sevika brought up, lips grazing the back of your neck before she bit down and claimed you. “I know..”— “Don’t do that shit again. Next time I won’t fuck you like this.” You knew what that meant.

Before, when the two of you started dating, she’d often ignore you, make you feel like shit, everytime you disobeyed her. But, luckily, communication helped and she stopped. But, would she really do it again? Start ignoring you?

“Don’t..” You whispered out, opening your heavy eyes as Sevika bit around your body. Shoulder, neck, arms, she wanted to mark you everywhere. You could only hold your breath when she did so, giving her the chance to do whatever she needed. “I don’t want you to ignore me..” And maybe your words sounded too.. sombre because, afterwards, Sevika pulled back and cleared your face from any strands of your disheveled hair and met your eyes. Her gaze stared into yours as she ran her hand over your flushed cheek and wiped off your smeared mascara. “You already told me not to.” Tone softened, she shifted to kiss your reddened lips. “I listen, unlike your stubborn ass.” You scoff at her response, “I do listen! You just make it hard to.”

With your sassy response, she laid down beside you and took off her strap. Throwing it somewhere onto the floor bedroom her mech arm came to wrap around your body. With another press on your lips, that you reciprocated with, she smirked out a soft…

“I’m pretty confident whatever I say is right.”— “Yeah, sure.” You shot back, grinning at her silent forgiveness.

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grugruel · 4 months ago

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Sleeping With the Enemy

Pairings: Silco x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You're a councillors daughter secretly working with the Eye of Zaun, fulfilling each other's needs.

Political needs, of course. It's purely business. They would never be stupid enough to start an affair . . . Unless?

Wordcount: ca 3.5k

Warnings: enemies AND lovers, hate-fucking, toxic, Silco being evil, angsty, pinv sex, rough sex, power imbalance, fighting for control, complicated feelings, twisted love, forbidden relationship, dacryphilia ish, cockwarming, blowjob, fingering, edging, overstimulation, choking, cum eating, creampie, petnames (girl, princess, devil, Sil)

AN: yet to be proofread. This might be one of my favourite works, he's insane . . . I need him.

"Let go off me," she snarls, yanking mirthlessly against the strong womans grip. "Release me Sevika, or-"

"Or what?" She cuts the girl off with a sneer, metallic fingers sinching around her bicep. Sevika holds her close enough to force the girl to stare up through her eyebrows if she wants to achieve any semblance of eye contact.

"Or she tells her precious father," the man cuts in, a nonchalant smile to his tone.

"He doesn't know I'm here," the girl snaps, defiantly locking eyes with the industrialist. Clad in shadow, he's a mere silhouette backlit by Zaun's streets. "He doesn't know anything."

Picking up a brand new cigar, he clips the end and flicks a lighter open, toying with the flame. All in due time, he's not rushing to spoil such a favored treat.

"Good," he says and gestures dismissively, signaling his trusty henchman to leave.

Sevika releases the girl with a displeased huff and slams the door behind her. The only thing she likes less than piltovians, is them wandering too far from their fabricated safety and ending up on her doorstep.

She watches the muscular woman leave, staring at the closed door in contemplation as she once again finds herself alone with the eye of Zaun.

Something clatters behind her, a lighter discarded on a desk. "You're late," he mutters, bringing the smoking cigar to his lips.

Anger begins to blaze inside her. That's it? That's all he has to say? "Six enforcers are dead," she snaps, nose scrunching. Disgusted by the mere thought of that demon's violence. "She's a loose canon, Silco. She blew them up for the hell of it."

From the dark, a red orb slips her way. He leans forward, having the rooms gloomy light illuminate his face only to throw the girl a disapproving look, barely deeming it worthy to look her in the eyes. "You forget yourself, girl."

Swallowing, she forces herself to calm down. Aggrivating such a volatile man never proved a good idea, and displaying anger against his daughter proved even worse.

Carefully, she ventures closer. Testing the waters and finding them thick as mud. The very air around him emenates danger, and her body slows down, relucant to put itself in such unpredictable environments. "You broke our deal," she announciates, finding it safer to put the blame on him rather than the blue haired demon he protects so ferociously.

"You disrupted our shipment," he repeats her ridiculous attempt. "It's simple business. Collateral," he shrugs and gestures toward her, vaguely implying the deaths should be on the girls consience. He doesn't say it outright because he doesn't need to, because he doesn't care if it hurts her feelings. Because, he doesn't care about the lost lives of a few topsiders, lives of enforcers even less. In true rebel spirit.

Massively unimpressed, he sizes her up when she places herself on the other side of the desk. Gripping the edge, the wood is tough beneath her fingers as she strains to keep herself in check. Blue and green light his back, lining the countours around his body. It softens him in some ways, as if the light hasn't completely shunned him yet.

Suddenly smirking, Silco's gaze drifts over her. Studying her tense disposition with spiteful glee as he enjoys the irony of a murderous piltovian. "Contemplating violence wont relieve you of this predicament."

"Killing you would."

"Threatening me so early in the morning?" He tsks, taking a deep drag of the cigar to then blow a ring of smoke in her direction. "Perhaps I should have approached your father instead, the councilor would've been easier to handle . . . More willing to please."

Keeping eye contact, she doesn't react, and a glint of cuiosity to sparks in his gaze. "He has nothing to do with this, and you know it," she tries again. "But Jin-"

Silco's smirk falls. "Hold your tongue, girl." Pinching the bridge of his tall nose, he releases a heavy sigh. "Lock the door," he orders, looking at her through his eyebrows.

Menacing, haunting. She could describe him with a hundred different horrific words. Yet, he doesn't scare her. They both know she's right.

Breathing relief, she does as she's told. When asking her to create a boundary between the world and this room, he shows her nothing has changed. Whatever they have remains within the confines of his office and her bedroom. It takes the edge off, and she lets the inhabiting worry slip away.

Upon her return, she softly stalks around the desk until sidled up against the short side. "Shoving clever words down my throat won't shut me up, Sil."

Rubbing his face, he looks at her through his fingers. Heavily disapproving of the nickname. "Dont tempt me," he warns. "I'll find other ways to shut you up."

She swallows, a single pulse throbs in her core. Moving around the desk, she slides a finger along it's edge and places herself infront of him, bathing her in the very same darkness that Silco finds himself in.

A small smirk flicker on his lips. But even though it dissolves, turning back into its usual serious mask, the satisfaction of the expression linger on his features.

"It cant happen again," he warns a third time, he must going soft on her. His hands move, trading the cigar for the the ability to touch her. One hand reaches for her thigh, sliding beneath her skirt. While the other reaches up, grabbing her chin to stare into her eyes. "The shipments are important." Silco applies just enough pressure on her chin to keep it stinging, just enough to understand that he didn't take the loss lightly. While the thumb beneath her skirt brushes lightly over her hipbone.

Inspite their predicaments, their relationship was business from the beginning and the majority still is. He tells her this through the contrasting touches.

She nods.

"Use your words, girl. Tell me you understand. This cant happen again."

But she won't concede, not yet. "No more attacks," she murmurs, placing her hands on his thighs. "No more deaths." The girl sinks to her knees, slowly, and making sure he keeps his gaze glued to hers. Being so close to him, she gets a whiff of his cologne. He smells of musk and wood, Smoke and whiskey. He smells of man.

They know what buttons to press when it comes to one another, and right now, she needs safety for her people in much the same way he needs independence for his. The difference laying within their methods of accomplishment. But looking at them now, it's clear they've got more in common than she's previously thought.

Silco spreads his legs further apart, welcoming her advancements. "I wonder what daddy dearest would say if he saw you now; that pretty princess of his . . . Negotiating on her knees." He slides a hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers together before leaning back in his chair to enjoy the show.

It's a small sign of fondness, one he confidently gives. Showing his inclination toward her means little, for they already know where they have each other. Unwilling to put it into words, they feel them silently.

Truth is, they enjoy the power imbalance, they enjoy the hatred their respective people share. Peculiarly, it unites them, and simultaneously fuel their polarity. They're a strange equation, two variables with a common sum.

Helping each other with free hands, they unbutton his pants. "Im sure he'd be proud of your devotion," he mocks, exhaling that infamous low chuckle.

Spitting into her hand, she reaches into his pants. "He'd share the pride with your people," she smiles and looks up at him innocently, pulling his member out. "–when they find out you're working with a councillor's daughter . . . Fucking her no less." She leans in, teasing his tip with a slow circling lick, gathering the pre-cum on her tongue. With a corner curving upward, his lips part, and there's a silent intake of breath. Brushing his hand along her cheek, he collects stray hair covering her face and gathers it at her neck, twirling it around his fingers. "Go on," he urges.

And so, she finally closes the distance and takes him in her mouth.

With a hiss, he squeezes the hand laced with his. Slender fingertips dig into the back of her hand. "Little devil," he groans, hand burrying deeper into her hair and balling into a fist, coincidentally pulling on her scalp.

Clasping her still spit-wet hand around his shaft, she strokes him, adding on to the bobbing of her head.

"Yes," he moans, reclining his head against the back of the chair. "Carry on, girl."

Im sync with her hand, she works him until he's close to squirming, trying his very best to keep a semblance of composure. Never did she think such a powerful man would tremble beneath her touch or the pressure of her lips. But here he was, his usual neat combed back hair fallen over his forehead, beads of sweat gathering on his temples.

He'd started using his hand to guide her head, helping her find the perfect path toward his climax. Chest heaving and teeth bared, he chuckles breathlessly as the squelching of their actions reach his ears. Pushing her too far, she makes half-choking noises when she takes his entire length down her throat. Causing saliva to spill out of her mouth and roll down his length.

"Sloppy," he snarls, manicured nails digging into her hand. "-used to sucking cock."

She whines from the rare usage of crude words, making her core purr. His inches twitch in her mouth, sensing how close he is. "Please me," he supresses a groan, calling her name. "Swallow."

It happens quickly. His breathing turns rapid, his hips arching as he spills into her mouth. Tasting of rich salt as she swallows.

Smirking devilishly, he catches his breath. "Thats it . . . Well done." He brushes his thumb along her index finger.

Joy trickles into her heart at the praise, but there is little room as her body is already filled to the brim by need. With heavy eyes and glistening lips, she stands up on her knees. "Kiss me," she whispers.

Unlacing their fingers, he moves to slide a thumb across her lips, gathering some of the milky seed she'd yet to swallow. "Open up, princess." He pulls on her hair to tilt her head back.

Her lips part automatically, a knife slicing through her pride at the irony of the name. Silco slips his thumb into her mouth and wipes it clean on her tongue. He watches with fascination as her lips close around the digit, volunteering to suck it off as he pulls it out. "Kiss me," she repeats.

The fingers still burried in her hair twitches at the sight. Acting on impulse, they bunch her waves, pulling her close enough for their lips to play ghost. He tilts his head to the side, bringing them impossibly closer. "Tell me you understand," he murmurs, watching her reaction as the featherlight touch tickles her lips.

Her expectations for the night and the soft shell of intimacy around them shatters, but she'll never give him the satisfaction. The kiss was a wish from her own selfish needs, but giving him what he wants without the safety she require for her people is not. "No."

With a harrowing glance, he releases her. "I have work to do, you know where the door is," Silco says, nodding toward the exit. He then runs his hand through his hair, combing it back into place.

So quickly is the mood ruined and the rush of lust diminishes, settling her nerves. Instead it is the annoyance and the anger she arrived with that begins to rebuild.

The girl scoffs. "Petty, man-child," she mumbles, keeping her voice beneath her breath. But she wants something from him too, anything. She's derserves it, it just the matter of taking it.

Then, something just clicks in her mind and an irruption takes control of her body. Narrowing her eyes in quick to non-existent contemplation, she grabs his collar and pulls him in for a kiss. It only lasts for a second before she pushes herself away and stands up, not planning to stick around to deal with the consequences.

But before she gets a chance to move too far, a hand grabs her forearm and yanks her back. "You stubborn girl," he whispers in her ear, an arm slung around her torso as Silco holds her against his chest. She feels her panties being pulled to the side, and the head of his member lining up with her core. "Bleeding your integrity dry for those imperious, self-important cretins." He teases her entrance, sliding the tip up and down her folds.

"I am one of them, or do you forget?" She snaps.

Without warning, he lowers her onto his inches, fitting them inside her like they've been molded. The girl gasps at the feeling and Silco's fingers curl, releasing a groan as his fingers rouch the fabric at her ribs. "Even now?" He adjusts the girl in his lap. "Would they deign to descend from their thrones as you? Stooping to my level, manipulating on a whim to fullfill your needs." He pulls her closer, nudging her profile with his. All the while he's got his still hard member pushed up inside her, soft walls of flesh welcoming him eagerly. "Would they still accept you when found-out, or will they throw you to the wolves as the rumours spread? When they find out Zaun's villainous crime lord is fucking Piltover's princess," he laces the words with venom, hands slipping upward. One stops at her breast to squeeze while the other clasps around her throat. "When they whisper of the ways he uses her. How he puts her on her back, makes her kneel . . . How he bends her over," he murmurs, sending shivers down her spine.

She grows dizzy, a mix of worry and pleasure clouding her senses. His words hit home, drawing her lips into a thin line. "They are still my people," she breathes, voice close to breaking, sunding more like she's trying to convince herself.

"They will be your downfall." He puts pressure on her throat. "We've made sure of that, you and I."

"No . . . Silco, that's not true."

The hand holding her breast slips beneath her skirt. "We've made our beds-" slender fingers find her clit. "And we will sleep with the consequences."

Head lulling back against his shoulder, back arching, pleasure spikes as he stimulates her thrice fold. Circling her clit while throbbing inside her, and acting catalyst is the experienced hand around her throat. It limits the bloodflow and multiplies her pleasure. "Fuck," she whimpers, hips squirming, flesh randomly spasming around him.

Silco groans at the sensation, gaining his own pleasure from the whole ordeal. But that is not his goal. "Be still," he warns.

The collossall amounts of pleasure blinds her, it grabs hold of her senses and refuses to let go. Her nerves burn and fingers curl. Its all too much, yet not enough. Tears of gather in her eyes, slowly spilling over to roll down her face. "A-almost . . ."

Silco adjusts his grip around her throat so uses his thumb to tilt her face toward him, then watches how the tears streak her makeup, leaving watered down mascara in their wake. He places his lips on her skin, kissing the tears away while enjoying their salty taste. He studies her rosy cheeks and knitted expression, memorising the small whimpers she breathes.

The girl can no longer keep still and her back prepares to arch, limbs preparing to surge with blinding hot pleasure. "Im-- mhh, I-" She mewls, and the knot releases.

. . .

Until it isn't. She feels Silco retract his hands, causing oxygen flood her brain and irritation to anchor her mind. The knot in her stumach re-ties, loosely adjusting until the pressure completely dies down. "I see callousness runs in the family," she complains, almost in pain from the sudden lack of stimulation.

Silco circles an arm around her waist. "It's essential to survive," he says and stands up, still swollen member slipping out of her. Supporting the girl as her knees wobble, she's unable to stand on her own due to the afflictions he's caused her. Turning her around, he helps her onto the desk. Chest to chest, he braces against the wood, one hand on either side of her, effectively boxing her in.

She lays a finger beneath his chin, and he looks up at her through his eyebrows. Exhaling, he moves between her thighs. Silco reaches out to her, loosely cupping her face as his thumb smears the streaked mascara. "There is no white knight," he says, pushing reality on her, weather she's willing to listen or not.

She nods. "I know." Tainted by the impure air of Zaun, branded by the touch of it's Eye. If she ever is to be saved, it must be by her own hand. Her smile is faint as her eyes fall from his.

He grabs her face and squeezes her cheeks. "Look at me," he tells her with a gravely tone. Their eyes lock. Dissappering between them, his other hand lines himself up with her core.

Taking a gamble, she grabs his tie and pulls him in, properly locking lips for the first time. Because he doesn't pull away, and neither does she. Her bottom lips begins to tremble, surprised he ever let it go this far. Their initial moment passes, evolving into seconds until they realise neither is breathing and they tear apart for much needed air, not straying far. Their lips hover, ghosting as previously. "You steal whats not your's to take."

She nudged his nose with her own. "Does survival not apply here? I never took you for a hypocrite."

His top lip twitches, and she feels him bare his teeth in a silent snarl as his fingers apply pressure to her cheeks. "How clever," he murmurs, and pushes inside her once again, catching her off guard.

They share a reflexive gasp, and as he starts to move, every thrust exchanges breaths between them. The girl's lips curve, heavily enjoying the tiny sliver of emotional intimacy he's finally giving her.

Her legs circle around his hips as he grabs her waist one handed, adding further levrage as his fingers dent her flesh. Silco starts a heavy pace and their lips reconnect, mirroring their bodies, it reflects their feelings. The kiss growing needy and rough.

"Get on your back for me," he mocks and releases her face. "Prove them right."

She bites his lip, tugging on it as she lies back against the desk and pulls him with her.

Hand suddenly free, he hooks it beneath her knee and pulls it up against his side to gai better access. Slowing down the pace, he manages to take her deeper, harder. She groans, head lulling to the side as her climax begins to build. "Dont stop." Not again.

"Look at me," he breathes, warning in his tone as he's inclined to watch her topple over the edge. Her brows knit together, but her gaze finds his. The knot closing as his thrusts begin to grow erratic.

Pleasure burns her fingers and quickens her pulse. "Close, c-" she begins, but he cuts her off with another kiss, tongue slipping between their lips to explore her mouth.

And just like that, she bursts. Traveling through her from top to toe. Silco following short thereafter. "It's alright . . . Good, girl," he whispers.

Once they've caught up with their breaths, Silco straightens out, and rearranges his clothes before helping her to her feet.

"I understand," she says, halting by the door.

He looks up from his seat but is quick to stand, slowly stalking toward her. Stopping just short of her smaller frame, he reaches behind her back to grab the door handle. "I don't control her. She is my daughter like you are your father's," he says and meets her eyes. "But I will speak to Jinx." Leaning down, he kisses her cheek, catching her off guard. Affection is newly discovered territory between them, but from him to give it so freely after battling it out is a very big surprise. But as quick as ot started, it's over. His soft expression morphing into his usual stern disposition. "Dont be late again girl," he says and opens the door.

Somehow, they've become entangled. Silently sharing affection their respective people would deem unfit. Silco wont hurt her, if he can help it. But such is nature. They'll stand on opposite sides, prioritising their own families, cities. But not without a thought of the other, wishing it could be different. It probably never will be, for such is faith and such is time. If only it could rewind.

#silco #silco arcane #silco smut #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x female reader #arcane smut #silco imagine #silco fanfiction #arcane x reader #silco fanfic

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deathbxnny · 5 months ago

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Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

#arcane #arcane x genderneutral reader #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor #viktor x reader #arcane silco #arcane silco x reader #silco x reader #silco #arcane jayce #arcane jayce x reader #jayce #jayce x reader

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lambilegs · 3 months ago

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ᯓ ᥫ᭡ SEVIKA x FEISTY!READER HEADCANONS (PT. 2)

contains: both reader and sevi being assholes, kinda toxic at times, mentions of sevi and reader visiting brothel (not actually, though, but mentioned sarcastically and vaguely), cursing

I could see something like her her getting your name being this little game between you two. at first, she's not interested in you, but then, during your first meeting, you spit something out at her, and she reels back, eyebrows arching up in what seems to be... admiration? she's frankly impressed at your quick comeback, and the fact that you even have the nerve to say it to her. that's the first thing that piques her curiosity.

she leans on the nearest wall, her eyes scanning you before asking, "what's your name?"

you scoff and say, "none of your business," before turning and walking away.

sevika's lips part in surprise as your form gets smaller. it's not like she's a huge flirt or anything like that. she's usually too busy running shit for silco and making sure jinx doesn't screw up. most of her free time is spent in rubbing her fingers against the soothing paper of a card desk as she plays poker. that, or drinking. intimacy is usually reserved for babette's, and while there are some praising words involved in that, it never really amounts to anything serious, nor any flirtation outside of those walls.

so, it's not like she's surprised that she didn't woo you or something, since frankly, it had been curiosity pushing the words from her mouth above all else. but, she is, on the other hand, once again shocked at just how much courage you have to bite at her like that.

when you guys are forced into proximity again, maybe being crushed together when a stall opens for fresh fruit you're both in need of, her eyes widen before softening into her usual stone hard expression.

"you gonna tell me your name now?"

"hm, let's see..." you tap a finger on your chin, and sevika nearly grits her teeth at the doe-eyed look of false pondering that overtakes your features.

"no," you finally say with a flat expression, turning back to the seller and placing your order.

she rolls her eyes, placing hers right after. as you both wait, side by side, she casts you a sidelong glance. "why exactly do you dislike me?" her voice is hard with the question. she knows tons of people have reasons to vehemently hate her and want her dead -- but, you're a complete stranger, so it's hard to precisely account for your disdain.

you practically squint at her, eyes flashing with incredulity. "you kidding me? you think I want to get mixed up with one of silco's henchmen?" your voice cracks into a heavy chuckle as your head shakes. "yeah, I'm content with my life being boring just as it is."

"so, that's all there is to it? you're too scared?" there's a sharp edge of condescension to her words, and she hopes it's enough to hook into you and lure you into the trap.

your lip twists in clear contempt, and sevika tries not to give into the urge to grin in success.

"yeah, I'm a pussy. great work."

she nearly fucking splutters at your reply, watching with wide, bulging eyes as you nod and give the stall owner an almost sickeningly sweet smile before grabbing the bag and leaving her with a playful curtesy that's nothing short of being completely drenched in mockery.

it might've been perfect exit on your end if it wasn't for the fact that right as you're pacing away, a name is suddenly called and your body goes whirling around in recognition. you seem to realize your mistake a beat just past the nick of time, your head darting to sevika, whose chest is practically swelling in pride and satisfaction. when your eyes narrow into a sharp glare, she tips her head in your direction as though she's the perfect gentleman.

you seem to know better, though, grumbling and marching to whoever called you in order to quietly scold them away. sevika can only watch from afar in completely amusement.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

not that she even gets your name right. your eyes slide to her menacingly as she, yet again, gets it wrong, drawling it out obnoxiously as she stares down at you with that shit-eating grin. you hate how it makes your stomach flip. it really shouldn't, considering she's behaving like an overgrown twelve year old boy.

she does it all the time, any opportunity she gets. when she calls out for you when you're out, she'll change at least one syllable or one letter of your name. when you and your friends hit the last drop, and you approach her, very apprehensively, to say hi, and some of the men surrounding her coo and ask after you, sevika pats your thigh and with crinkled eyes, boasts out a name that's decidedly wrong.

that, or she calls you by an annoying nickname, having settled on the fruit you bought at the market that one day, which results in many nonchalant slips of the word "lemon" from her mouth.

you know you shouldn't like her attention this much. but, it's hard not to. especially when the more time you spend around her, the more you figure out that she's not just some senseless brute working for silco. no, she's calm, she's levelled, she's more intelligent than people suspect her to be. just because she fights, and does it well, doesn't mean it's her immediate strategy to dealing with people. when guys at her gambling table make comments to prod and poke at her ego, almost as though she's a sleeping bear they want to watch roar to a brutal awakening, she simply smokes her cigar and simpers in clear amusement.

and you can't deny just how handsome she is. rough around every edge, paired with sharp, stern eyes that observe everything. you're convinced that's how she always catches sight of you in crowds.

part of you hopes it's because she's seeking out, but you'd die before admitting that to her.

something she, unfortunately, is probably able to detect, considering the first time you smile upon her approaching you, and she says, "someone missed me," you immediately scoff, spitting out, "oh, yeah, nearly as much as I miss a piltie."

she releases a low whistle. "wow, must've struck some nerve."

you smack her arm, something in you cracking at how steady and strong her bicep is under your fingers. "yeah, it's the same one you manage to get under every single time."

"at least I'm consistent."

"oh, nice, one redeeming factor."

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

but, sevika never lets anyone but herself get your name wrong. hypocrite she is, just as you accuse her of being all the time, whenever someone else gets it wrong, she immediately corrects them, her voice cool and collected, all mirth drained from it. it's a tone that says she's not kidding this time, that she earnestly wants people to know your name. this automatic, instinctive defense of you occurs whether or not you're in the room.

oh, and if someone tries to fuck with you? maybe make a rude comment about you? yeah, no, she won't even blink twice before sending them a pointed look that leaves absolutely nothing up to questioning.

and if someone dares to proceed anyways, spluttering out, "but, you do it, sevika--" she cuts them off without hesitation, her voice unflinching and hard as she sharply says, "yeah, and that's me. doesn't mean I'm gonna let other people walk all over them."

the first time something like this happens in front of you, you wait until everyone leaves before saying with a chortle, "so, is this some kind of possessive thing? you're the only one allowed to bully me?"

"oh, yeah, that's exactly it," she dryly responds, shooting you a half-hearted glare. "I'm just so obsessed that I can't stand anyone else tormenting you." she ignores the part of her brain that itches with the hidden, tucked away knowledge that while her words aren't entirely accurate, they hold some truth. at least a little.

despite the sarcasm coating every syllable, your mouth turns up into an infuriating grin. "you know, it sure sounds like it when you put it like that."

"good to know that beneath being a bitch, you have a sense of humour."

"just as spectacular as knowing beneath being a musclehead dick, you have enough brains to manage lying to yourself."

an amused huff flies past her lips at your harsh words. from any stranger, she wouldn't give two shits hearing those words. from you, she only cares so little because she knows the words are said with no intention other than to get under her skin. the knowledge that you're just trying to bug her as much as she does you is directly what prevents your words from being effective. it's only more laughable when you get so clearly frustrated at her lack of reaction.

"so, you think I'm a musclehead?"

you grunt. "you're a lost cause is what you are."

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

and you're convinced that every now and then, she ogles girls just to piss you off. she'll bump your shoulder as though you guys are fucking comrades, nodding to different figures and saying, "pretty, hm?" eyes honed in on your face as though she's a predator just waiting for her prize to make the wrong move.

sometimes, you manage your feelings, shooting a compliment right back about the girl in question, flashing her a tight-lipped smile. other times, there's no getting around the jealousy, and you snap at her, saying things like, "you're a complete pervert," or, "what are you, in heat?"

sometimes, she barks out a laugh. other times, she shoots back a smart quip of her own. and on the rarer occasion, she'll say something in her gravelly voice that's more steady, more gentle, like, "c'mon, what do you think I am? I'm here with you, aren't I?" (which, yes, infuriatingly gets your stomach fluttering)

it all started after you slipped up -- once. just once. that's all it took for her to find something you dislike, and latch onto it without wavering.

you couldn't help it that first time. you and her had been spending back-to-back days together due to silco sparing her from tasks that took her outside of zaun. so, you had slipped all too easily into the shared routine of meeting with her after work, and going to her apartment for shared meals, or at the very least, taking a walk around the block.

so, when the weekend reaches, and babette off-handedly mentions sevika visiting the night before, you nearly see red. maybe you just got used to being the only one she's been giving attention to this week, maybe you had gotten too in your head and had stupidly convinced yourself she actually wants you like that. maybe all her words had been buttered up with teasing playfulness rather than genuine romance and affection.

but, either way, it pisses you the fuck off. you know you two aren't official, nor even possess a romantic status or title, so jealousy shouldn't be making a home in your chest. but, you can't help it. the teasing remarks, the ceaseless banter, the occasional flirt -- you want to be the only one on the receiving end of that.

which is why when sevika is grumbling about her arm as she twists a screwdriver in, you feel justified in saying in the most snarky voice you can muster up, "awe, things got a bit too crazy at babette's last night?"

your tone is practically seething, bitterly cut in with faux concern, and sevika's eyes immediately raise to you, narrowed.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

you shrug, teeth clenched together. "well, I heard you paid the brothel a visit."

she snickers softly, shaking her head slowly. "you think babette would know to be more discreet."

you shrug. "she knows I can't do shit about your salacious little visits."

"except glare daggers into my head." almost as if to emphasize this, she tests out the blade component of her arm, your body jerking back in surprise as it shoots out with an egregiously scraping noise that sends your ears thrumming. "the only thing I can't figure out is why."

"why what?"

"why you're acting like me going to babette's is a bad thing. why you're acting as though I got someone waiting up for me at night who I have to return home to."

you bristle at this. you shouldn't have to be her official partner in order for her to have some respect for the flirtatious, and apparently now misleading, back-and-forth thing you guys have going on. "oh, yeah, trust me, all the singletons in zaun are lucky for that lack."

her mouth twitches, the corner of it quirking up. "well, if I'm that bad, then why are you making such a ruckus about babette's?"

"I'm not!" you snap, shoulders stiffening from the weight of the truth in the accusation. "I'm just asking about it!"

"what, so you can find a girl to go to?"

you can hear the sarcasm in her voice, and the irritation in you only flares up further. does she think that after today's revelation, you're going to be one-sidedly devoted to her or something? "maybe I will. why, who did you see last time?"

her smirk falters, softening at the tips. "no one. I went for intel. nothing else."

you look away, feeling your face run hot, burning and burning. fuck, ugh, how pathetic. "oh."

"yeah, 'oh.'"

you blink hard at your knees. okay, well, this took a sudden, abrupt turn you hadn't anticipated whatsoever.

after the humiliation thickens, seizing at your throat too tightly, your body prickling with the awareness of her gaze, you mumble, feebly, "okay, so, um... I should head home."

you just need to get out of here.

"you sure? was just about to pull out some tricks and tips you could use for your visit."

"yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself," you grumble, yanking your bag from where she had slung it on her shoulder when you guys had walked to the last drop.

she chuckles, her arm going slack to make it easier for your bag to slip off. "what a zinger. I'm impressed."

right as you turn to leave, she grabs your wrist. you nearly gasp at the feeling of her warm, dry palm planted against your skin. it makes you feel like something is sizzling right up your arm from the point of contact.

"you know..." she mutters, her broad thumb rubbing along your vein, right where your thumping pulse is.

you hold your breath, eyes wide with the anticipation that shoots through you. "what?"

"if you want..."

you release an exasperated puff of air, your patience waning. "yes?"

"mention my name at the front when you go, yeah? babette will you give you a discount."

you rip your hand from her grip, spluttering at the wide grin that splits her face open once her words finally settle on you. "god, I hate you."

"yeah, yeah, see you tomorrow," she tosses through her deep, rumbling laughter.

despite how badly you want to look back at her before leaving through the towering doors, you resist. you've exposed a bit too much today as is -- you're not exactly eager to bare more of yourself.

at least not today.

#sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you #arcane x reader #s.writing

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shenachigans · 5 months ago

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THE KEY TO HER HEART | Cassandra Kiramman

PAIRING: Cassandra Kiramman x Fem!Reader

CW: angst with a hopeful ending?, spoilers for season 2 act I, canon divergence, in Caitlyn’s pov, no dialogues (except one), mentions of death, mentions of reader being married to a man and having children with said man, mentions of pregnancy, mentions and implications of being in the hospital deathbed, tragic-ish love, 1950s Hollywood inspired in terms of homosexuality-ish, mentions of homophobia, back in the old day women are expected to marry a man, they kept their love for each other hidden until the end, reader is also a matriarch of her own family like Cassandra, most likely ooc Cassandra and Caitlyn

SUMMARY: Caitlyn receives the Kiramman Key to unlock knowledge privy to the Kiramman matriarchs. She also unlocks a memoir of her mother’s past, specifically with the person she loved the most through old photographs and unsent letters.

A/N: I realized a lot of my published work is composed of the “letter narrative” as I call it and this one has a bunch. It’s similar to my first Cassandra fanfic, the only difference is there’s death and grief involved. I have yet to finish the season, but her funeral and the memorial were hard to watch. I miss her so much.

A/N (12/11/24): Reading it while listening to “I Can’t Hear It Now” by Freya Ridings/Arcane on loop is a whole other experience...

WORDS: 2,669

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

When her father handed her the Kiramman Key her mother wanted her to have, Caitlyn knew she was truly gone. She was now the leader of House Kiramman too soon, without the guidance of her mother, Cassandra. It was a position she deemed unworthy of, but her mother reassured her of the merit of her birthright. Only when she thought her relationship with her mother would progress, the world decided to strip that opportunity from her.

Filled with grief, loss, and vengeance, especially after the attack at the memorial, Caitlyn decided to view what her mother had in store for her. First, it was the presentation of the ducts, the toxic air in the fissures contained by her mother’s instructions, allowing the people of The Undercity to breathe. She could use the passageways of the ventilation system and the Grey to locate Jinx, dismantle Shimmer, and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco. Second, was a drawer of letters and photographs in a compartment at the bottom of the desk. It had nothing to do with the Kiramman Clan, but something to do with her mother’s personal life when she was younger.

The drawer seemed to be a memoir, maybe something left to be forgotten as dust covered its contents. Everything was held together with twine, completed with a battered tag, showing how old the letters and photographs were — possibly older than Caitlyn herself. She gently grabbed the bundle of memories in her hands, flipping the tag over to see what was written, the ink smudged by droplets. It wrote: My old love, in Cassandra’s handwriting. Her mother had a lover?

Caitlyn swore her breath hitched when she untangled the twine to reveal the secrets Cassandra carried. She wanted to see who her mother loved so much, that she had a collection of their time together, but she wasn’t expecting several photographs of you to appear. After all, you were her mother’s childhood friend, her closest companion and confidant.

It was clear in Caitlyn’s eyes that you two had a platonic relationship. Did she read it wrong? She saw you as an aunt, a second mother beside Cassandra; she never realized that her mother loved you romantically. This doesn’t make sense. You had a husband and children of your own, just like her mother. You and Cassandra would get together and gossip about your spouses and children. She had proof, she had accompanied you two when she was a little girl on several occasions. What did Caitlyn miss? What was kept hidden?

Did her mother love you more than her own husband? What about you? Did you love Cassandra too? Caitlyn flickered through the photographs, putting the letters aside for later, it was clear her mother was devoted to you. She never imagined her mother would ever use a camera to capture your beauty throughout your shared life. It felt uncharacteristic of her to do so, to have her mother be deeply in love with someone other than her father.

Now that she thought about it. It seemed like Cassandra changed when you passed away. Gone was the warmth she wore on her sleeves as she became distant and even more stubborn, pretentious, and selfish, perfecting her façade as a politician. She now realized how her mother tried to tone down her grief during your burial, to appear as if she only lost a good friend. Caitlyn was too entangled in her own emotions of also losing you to realize how deeply your sudden death affected her mother. She was still too young to comprehend how you died, Cassandra never told her. It was too painful to recount.

Maybe all this time, Cassandra was still grieving your loss till the day she died, having failed to protect you and prevent your death, so much so that her efforts were transferred onto Caitlyn so she could avoid the same fate. She started to understand her mother’s actions a little more, not that she condoned them after the seclusion and restriction she felt all her life. Her mother meant well, even if it hurt. Cassandra didn’t want to lose Caitlyn as she lost you.

After observing each photograph, soon came the letters. Caitlyn skimmed from the oldest letter at the bottom pile to the newer ones at the top. These words were never meant to see the light of day, never meant for someone else to see, especially not you or an outsider like Caitlyn. She can’t believe how raw the emotions she felt from her mother’s words. Caitlyn cannot do justice to her mother’s letters by explaining their contents. You simply had to read them to feel Cassandra’s love for you, but you were gone, unaware that your dearest friend saw you as her whole world even if she could not display her heart at her sleeves due to the societal expectations in the past.

Caitlyn saw smears of ink in many places, making it hard for her to comprehend the smudged words, but she knew her mother cried writing and possibly reading them. These letters were a diary, a collection of paper with words akin to a symphony of her love for you. Caitlyn wondered if you were aware of Cassandra’s feelings and simply did not comment on it, or if you and her mother shared the same situation, loving each other in the shadows as your respective families were in the spotlight of attention.

Was writing letters something Cassandra did in her free time? Because there were so many, it would take Caitlyn some time to skim through all of them. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but maybe her mother wanted someone to know her feelings unless this parcel was supposed to be discarded before Caitlyn took over as the Kiramman Clan Matriarch. Still, Caitlyn couldn’t help but go through it, you meant a lot to her too, and she felt the connection between you two that had faded since your death years ago. The world had taken you and her mother too early, Caitlyn only had her father left, hoping his grief for Cassandra wouldn’t make his life wither and leave her too.

The letters started with Cassandra realizing she loved you; appreciating your beauty from inside and out. She expressed in detail the moment she knew she was in love, from how her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as your hair blew in the wind, the purple petals from the grand ivory-barked tree swayed with you. Caitlyn recognized it was the sacred place she and her mother shared near the fountain on the outskirts of the city, a place where they never argued and remembered your presence together.

“...We went to the place you enjoyed the most, Y/n. I came to share your love for this park because you were always there with me. I never thought you would take my breath away like you had today. You were beautiful, you have always been.

Today felt different, however. The sight before me was something that came out of books. The wind picked up and your hair danced with the purple petals that floated around you. Your smile directed at me made it seem like I was in a fairytale my mother used to tell me as a child. It was a sight to behold, and I knew then and there, that I had fallen in love with you...”

The following letters were short, but filled with admiration and love. Cassandra appreciated you in many ways Caitlyn never knew in each letter, expressing her appreciation for everything you did, your character, appearance, and how you treated her. Her mother was so youthful, so happy whenever she was with you. It broke Caitlyn’s heart when the letters started to take on another tone; one of loss and hopelessness.

“...Why must society be this way, my love? Why am I prohibited from loving you the way you deserve? I am shackled by these expectations placed upon me, and I’m ashamed that I have to hide in the dark to be able to express my love. I’m a coward for not throwing everything away so I could love you publicly. I wish to have you by my side, to call you my lover, my beloved wife, without the consequences of society. I was overjoyed when I realized you loved me too, but it pained me that you were also hiding your love. You were as careful as I was with concealing how we felt for each other. Do you know that I love you too? I wish for you to know, but I’m scared of putting you in danger.

I wouldn’t know of your feelings if not for the day my parents announced my engagement. You had shown a crack of your true self from your poised façade. It pained me to see the sullen expression on your face. You tried to hide your turmoil, but I knew the news broke you as much as it did me. I wanted to cup your face and hold you in my embrace, to feel your warmth against mine as I whispered words of love, saying that we would still have each other as our duties befall us.

I wanted to kiss your troubles away, but I did not let myself get carried away with such intimacy. Any hint of something more as friendship in anyone’s eyes would lead to forced separation… I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry, Y/n, but I need to build distance between us to avoid suspicion. Please forgive me… I despise myself for being powerless to protect you from the pain I would cause you…”

Caitlyn read the following letters, Cassandra expressed her guilt for keeping you at arm's length when all she wanted was to have all of you, to be with you the way you both wanted, but such a thing never happened when the two of you started your own families. She apologized in many letters as she realized how you started to pull away from her. Caitlyn tried her best to decipher the smudged words that filled the loose paper. Her mother didn’t want this, didn’t want to pretend she felt nothing for you other than a platonic friendship, that she didn’t love you. It was cruel.

There was a large time gap between the letters. Caitlyn decided that her mother tried to focus on her duties as the Kiramman Matriarch and her relationship with Tobias by severing her attachments to the letters. Cassandra must’ve been carrying Caitlyn somewhere during this time, not wanting the memory of your relationship with her to cause stress and emotional turmoil during her months of pregnancy.

The letter that followed was something close to reconciliation even if the distance was still there. You and Cassandra must’ve accepted the fate of your separated lives and decided to continue what was remaining of your friendship. Caitlyn was surprised she was the catalyst of this event.

“...I was nervous about meeting you again after months of no contact, Y/n. I didn’t know what to expect after you distanced yourself from me. I still remember the pained expression on your face when I told you we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I never hated myself so much for being the cause of your pain. I have never done anything but hurt you. So, I was in disbelief when you easily agreed to the invitation I sent out of the blue to meet Caitlyn.

You must’ve laughed at my audacity for wanting you back after pushing you out of my life, that you only agreed to this because your kind husband convinced you so. I hate to say I’m relieved you have wedded a respectful man. I know you are safe in his hands when I can’t be there to do the same.

I was faced with an impassive demeanor when you arrived at the Kiramman residence, and I didn’t know if our friendship could be salvaged, but when you held Caitlyn, I saw a glimmer of love shine in your eyes. The smile that broke from your façade when you cradled my daughter with so much care made my heart swell at the sight. Then you met my gaze, and it felt like that day in the park all over again. I knew I was still in love with you, and you felt the same, even as our love dwelled in pain and loss because of the world we live in…”

The last letter on the pile was tattered compared to the other ones. It was difficult to understand because of the ink smudges, shaky handwriting, and teardrops… Caitlyn knew what this letter was about and could see how her mother struggled to write this one. The unshakeable grief that filled this page hurt Caitlyn. This must’ve been the fork Cassandra faced when she decided that writing more letters would only cause her more pain than solace as she thought about you.

“...I failed you, my love. I failed to protect you from your curiosity and compassion for The Undercity. The world was too cruel to take you from me, our relationship had only begun to blossom its fruits. The time we spent rebuilding what was lost… How could I sleep at night, knowing I could’ve prevented your death? I will never be able to live with the guilt of hurting you even until your last breath.

I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve been more open-minded about creating the ventilation system for people of the fissures. Was this the world’s response to my selfishness, to take you away from me? I feel so empty without you, the grief is tearing away at me. I couldn’t bear hearing Caitlyn’s cries when I told her you would no longer be with us to spoil her, to love her like your own.

Everything that happened to you is all my fault. No amount of apologies would bring you back, but I am so sorry, Y/n. The Grey I could’ve contained with my influence and resources ate at your life, poisoned your lungs, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It tore at my heart to see you fighting for your life, hooked to machines, but everything was a lost cause when the grip of your hand on mine loosened and lay limp between my own. Your eyes became distant and empty as the light in them faded, but you still held the smile I fell in love with, muttering the words I longed to hear for decades: ‘I love you, Cassandra.’ I couldn’t respond in time, I failed to say that I love you too… because you were already gone…

I promise I will let the people of The Undercity breathe, just as you had wished, my love…”

Caitlyn now understood why her mother completed the project. She did it for you. It was a grand and equally dangerous project that took many lives and resources to complete, and here Caitlyn was, planning to unleash the gas that killed you to look for a criminal who killed her mother and many others.

After reading the letters, Caitlyn wondered several things. Would her mother be happy again, now that she has reunited with you in the afterlife? Would she be able to express her love after hiding her true feelings for you for so long? Caitlyn hopes she can because she knows how much her mother was alive when you were around, even in moments of joy and sadness. She wanted her mother to be happy again despite the pain in her heart that she was no longer there with her and her father.

Meanwhile…

“I finally got to see you again, my love… Oh, how I missed you so… My life was never the same when you left… I can’t believe you’re back in my life… and in my arms… I love you too, Y/n… I love you so, so much, dearest.”

#arcane #arcane cassandra #cassandra kiramman #cassandra kiramman x reader #arcane x reader #league of legends #arcane netflix #arcane women #cassandra x reader #arcane league of legends x reader #arcane league of legends #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #cassandra arcane

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dearlyya · 5 months ago

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TIL’ WE MEET AGAIN | Young!Silco x Fem!Reader

Series Summary; Silco tells a new story to a curious Jinx.

Warnings; Angst, pre-canon, hurt/comfort, Zaunites, Piltians, revolution, violence, blood, gore, drinking, smoking, gambling, swearing, sex, brothels, drugs, slow burn, the reader is a coward at first, original character (Wynn), strangers to lovers, bittersweet, Old Silco being weirdly sentimental, Jinx being noisy, and major character death.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

Silco's office door closes when Sevika takes her leave, his dual eyes stare indifferently into the wooden entrance.

Briefly resting his face on his hand so he can rub at his cheek bone. He flickers his irritation to the paper in front of him, reading through the documents neatly arranged on his desk. Flipping through it–His lengthy fingers daintaly holding up each page before letting them fall back in place.

Through habit he moves his chair to the left of the desk, opening up the middle drawer, taking out a small compact box, shutting the thing closed and placing the wooden box on the side of the desk, aiming to not dirty the papers. He opens the humidor, four expensive cigars lay neatly inside. Taking one of the sticks and the straight cutters, he fixes the cigar between his fingers and brings the sheers to the front and slides the stick in between the blades, and shuts the guillotine.

SNAP!

He rolls back and turns the chair to face the large window, so that the green light that pours into the room which not only illuminates the furniture, but the kingpin as well–highlighting his features. His good eye blends with the light, the seafoam green melting away a stark contrast from the damaged one. The green clashes against the bright angry orange, the toxic waters of the Undercity fully displayed on the left of his face, the hard horrors of his youth.

Finally, he slips his hand into his vest. His delicate fingers glided over the finely knitted fabric of his striped burgundy shirt before delving into the soft contours of the breast pocket. With a practiced motion, his digits deftly retrieve a small, rectangular item. Something cold to the touch against his fingertips, the metal texture bumpy and slightly damaged.

It's a lighter. Gray and metallic with a fancy lace eloping it–vines and roses, perfectly crafted to be comfortable to hold while simultaneously being bold and beautiful even with scratches and dents along the body. Silco caressed the carvings with the pad of his thumb. Specifically a scratchy name on the front of it. Until he was holding it properly, he extended it enough to flick the small thing open and ignite it.

The flame dances dimly, alone. Slico rolls the cigar in his fingers and hovers it over the fire, lighting the end of it. Flicking the lighter closed, he takes a long drag of the cigar. Savoring the smoke he inhales, holding the earthy smoke in his mouth. Not letting it fester for too long he puffs it out.

Above him is an audible creaking followed by a loud thunk behind him, just then he felt his eye send a sharp pain throughout his face. He takes another drag, hoping that it eases his nerves. It does not. Huffing it out he turns the chair to face the girl sitting impatiently on his desk. Strews of papers now scattered about. Screw organization.

"You have impeccable timing," Jinx smiles and tilts her head side to side while lazily whipping the end of one of her braids of hair in a swirling motion. Jinx then scoots forward. The papers crumpled under her butt make the scooting easier, some falling off the edge. She places her feet in between Silcos spread legs, planting them firmly in place and with most of her leg strength she easily moves the chair with the bemused kingpin closer to the desk. The chair creaked as she did so. Jinx blows a raspberry and guiltily giggles.

"Pfft- yeah just the best of timing, heh" She snatches the device out of the top drawer. Moving her legs she turns the chair to the right to pull him even closer, the armrest bumps roughly into the desk. Jinx plops her legs on top of his kicking her feet under the other armrest. The kingpin throughout this doesn't seem bothered, used to his daughter's theatrics.

"You mustn't spy on me when I'm in a meeting" Silco narrows his eye at her, no actual malice in his expression. He positions the cigar away, so she doesn't smell it when he gently places it in the ashtray, not snubbing it out.

"Wasn't spying — just watching Ms. Righty" Jinx chuckles at her own morbid nickname, and drapes her forearm on Silcos head, as she leans on the chair. The device occasionally tapped against his temple. The blue-haired girl whines about being bored and how Sevika won't let her on jobs. Calling his right-hand an ogre that isn't cool or fun–but is, however, currently green as Jinx had shot her with paintballs. The reason why Sevika was fuming in his office not too long ago. Silco listens, nodding his head along to her rambles in a tired fatherly way. In his right hand he fidgets with the lighter. The glint reflecting off the window light brings the small thing to Jinx's attention. Abruptly stopping in the middle of her rant, watercolor eyes flickering at the silver most importantly at the poorly written name on the front of it.

"Watch'ya got there?" She hitches her leg up on the arm of the chair and rests her tilting head on her knee, unblinking eyes stare at the item in his hand. Silco unclenches the lighter and grips it with his fingers slowly handing it to the curious baby blue. She quickly picks the thing out of his grasp after dropping the device on the table with a low clank. She brings the lighter closer to her face, so she can fix on the smudged words, muttering under her breath "is that a 'a' or an 'b' or maybe a-?" she would've gone through the entire alphabet if Silco had not said her name to pull her out of her thoughts.

"What does this say, can you tell me?" Frantic, she moves the light far away from her face, dramatically turning her head to the patient kingpin, his hands hanging loosely between his thighs humming in a low tune, debating on entertaining her offbeat curiosity.

"Aww' c'mon I'm dying of boredom here!" Jinx flails around her spot before falling onto her back with her arms spread out on the desk, her head is to the left looking at the metal rectangle with a pout. Twirling it with her pink and blue nails. Silco sighs, looking at his suddenly sad daughter–he knows she's just playing him, he caves anyways. Not without teaching about bartering, when a certain stinging sensation occurs. The nerves of his left eye spread out to his scarred side, eating away at him.

"Administer my medicine, then I'll think about it" Jinx pouts, but hands him the lighter anyway. Grabbing the device that was left on the table. "Finnee-" Grumbling, she moves forward so she's close to his face and places the contraption over his eye. She waits, eyes flickering from the button on top to his bad eye. When her gaze finally looks at the good eye, she presses the button. Instantly, he shoots forward, straining in his seat as Jinx still holds onto his jaw. He tightens his grip on the light. The dose of shimmer elopes his eye–the red widening before shrinking back to an orange. The purple substance fighting away at the toxins left behind, a single shimmer tear runs down his scarred cheek.

"Done! Now, tell me!" Jinx haphazardly drops the medical device on the desk, again. Pulling up her legs on the arm, so she can rest her head on knees, and dig her colorful nails into her muted maroon pants. She puts most of her body weight on the side of the chair, making it dip only slightly. Waiting for her father to catch his breath and follow up on his end of the bargain. Slicking his salt and pepper hair back, he leans into the chair. Adjusting his sitting and wiping away the tear before answering her.

"It reads Lady."

"Why does it say that and why do you have something that says that and why is it so badly written?-" He sighs, still rubbing at the now disappeared shimmer. Jinx's questioning doesn't throw him off, his eyes narrow in amusement. "Will it ease your curious need about my youth if I told you it was from an old friend?" Jinx gives him a weird look.

"I thought you said we shouldn't hold onto the past and blah blah blah" Jinx begins to flap her hand in a talking motion. He grabs her wrist, making her look him in the eye. His face was serious.

"We shouldn't hold onto the past and let it consume us." He says sternly, letting her go when she begrudgingly nods. Jinx notices a fondness lit in his eye, as he then gestures to the lighter in his hand. The flame, as quickly as it appeared, dims away.

"That is more or less something nostalgic, a keepsake out of appreciation" Jinx looks at him then the lighter, then back at him. "For who?" Jinx asks. Silco smirks.

"An old friend"

"UGHHH" She dramatically flops down again, crossing her arms. Jinx begins to spin Silco, moving her legs accordingly, in an attempt at a punishment for making vague remarks. Silco lets her for only a moment, stopping her when he's fully faced in front of her by taking the leg off the armrest and letting it drop to the floor next to the other. Silco hums in thought.

"It was...from a past love of mine" From her sitting position, Jinx snaps her head up. Her attention gained back. She's not perturbed by this new information, her curiosity only grows. "Hehehe, you fancied someone?" She giggles, hunching over. Her hands either side of her thighs gripping the edge of the desk and kicking her hanging feet.

"Mhm, I did..." As memories of the past flood his mind, he forcefully wrestles himself from saying ‘I do’ . The past should linger in the past, and in the palm of his hand like a burdensome weight. Despite this, his thumb still circles around the lighter. In response, Jinx visibly slouched, her frown growing more pronounced.

"What happened?" Jinx knows now that this friend is no longer here, someone who was once close to her father–she began thinking. Her gaze flicks restless between Silco’s eyes, her hands fidgeting as they cling together. Her thumb incessantly rubs against her palm, creating a raw spot on her skin. Sensing the tension, Silco quietly places his hand on her knee, tenderly tracing comforting lines with his fingertips to ease her away from the rhythmic rubbing and her own reminiscing.

He knows Jinx would ask non-stop about this subject, as if she were still the 12 year old that he took in years ago. Even if he did indulge Jinx in her possible endless quest of nagging him til’ he complies. He would have no idea where to begin, he’s sure that his late-companion would tell it differently, albeit dramatically. Jinx has learned through his lectures of betrayal, perhaps one on loyalty might have the same effect.

"What happened to most Zaunites during the revolutionary years-" Silco lifts his head smoothly, his gaze hardening with growing anger. Behind the pride he feels for his expanding nation, he holds a knife to the throat of the ‘Nation of Progress’ Silco’s thoughts travel back to his last moment with her, realizing the irony that lies within the nickname of Piltover. With a cool deliberateness, Sico carefully considers his next words as he looks at his daughter. Who is seated with uncharacteristic patience.

The cigar in the tray burns, forgotten. "-Perishing with no name under the cold gold-plated boot of Piltover"

#arcane silco #silco x reader #arcane x reader #silco x you #arcane #arcane zaun #arcane writing #sevika arcane #jinx arcane #young silco #arcane x you #silco fanfic #slowburn #strangers to lovers #female reader #dearlya writing #Til' We Meet Again

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bitchface24-7 · 25 days ago

Note

The old man cravings are at it again- (Not like they ever left) I just can't get enough about Silco. ESPECIALLY WITH YOUR LAST POST OMFGG AMAZING!

You already know how I feel about that man and like omg im already foaming at the mouth thinking about him but like- Silco x Chubby/Bigger girl.. Im on my knees and I (NOT TO VENT) could use a little something to believe my favs would love me and my body :3

Thank you and I hope you are doing well! Glad to see you writing and posting again. You always cook!

THE QUEEN OF ZAUN - SILCO X READER

synopsis: you’ve known Silco for quite some time now. You were a Sister of Zaun, you were there when everything went wrong, you were the one to patch Silco up, and you were by his side when he took over the Lanes. Who better to be the one on his arm? His confidant, his companion, his partner… His Queen.

warnings: non-descriptive violence, mentions of the bridge bombing and betrayal, fluff, suggestiveness, pre-established relationship, grinding, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, getting caught, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/f

p.s. Why'd they make this old man hot??? Everyone enjoys his character now but I was in the trenches back when we only had S1 and EVERYONE HATED HIM 😭😭 LIKE WHERE WERE YALL BEFORE???? Anyways hope y'all enjoy it!

You've been by Silco’s side for as long as you can remember. He's a few years older than you, and you thought he was the coolest guy ever. Especially when he kind of took you under his wing as a Freedom Fighter for Zaun. You all called each other brothers and sisters, it was a found family that you'd kill for. That you'd die for.

Then the bridge explosion happened.

Countless of brothers and sisters dead. Either by the bomb, or by the relentless enforcers. There was so much smoke, so much blood.

It still haunts your nightmares.

What came after was even worse.

You remember being distraught over how you found Silco. His wavy dark hair drenched in toxic water, clinging to his sculpted face. Bruises around his neck and arms, a nasty laceration on his face— blinding one of his teal eyes.

The wound was raw, red, and looked painful. It oozed pus— infected due to the dirty water he was submerged in.

Silco was quiet. His confident, chatty, sarcastic nature no where to be found. His one clear eye was dark, an anger you've never seen before surfacing on his pretty face.

You asked what happened. What did this? Who did this? He only said one word that explained everything. That one word also broke your heart.

“Vander.”

With that, you cared for Silco to the best of your abilities. He's treasured that care, and he will continue to treasure that care till the day he dies.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That was a little over a decade ago, the two of you in your early twenties. Now you've grown. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The two of you aren't the same people you were back then.

Silco is much colder. He's manipulative, he uses his charms to get what he wants by any means necessary. He's got the Lanes wrapped around his pinky finger.

But you've got him wrapped around yours.

You're not as naive anymore. Not as kind or generous. These past few years have hardened you, and have shown you that loyalty and respect are earned; not given.

Gone are the two young dreamers who wore stitched-together clothing, wild hair and even wilder eyes.

Silco dawns form-fitting suits, jackets, and polished shoes. Expensive accessories and even more expensive cigars.

You have been gifted a multitude of fancy gifts. Each one more expensive than the last.

Now, you match Silco to a T. A black slinky dress dawns your curvaceous figure, sharp black stiletto heels, dark red nails with a matching dark red lip, a massive rock on your ring finger, and a two-toned fur coat.

Only the best for his wife.

You're one of his soft spots, Jinx, your adopted daughter being the second.

Many have tried to get in Silco’s good books. Very very few succeed.

Men with too much lip and not enough action.

Women who try to warm his bed, stating they're better than you. They're thinner, more “beautiful”, they're the ones who should be seen on his arm.

Silco can’t help but roll his eye at that. He’ll scoff and look down his nose at them with a dark, “She’s a goddess among men. You're a cheap, fake rendition trying desperately to cling to a station not meant for you. Now leave, before you make it so that today is your last day.”

They always leave the office in tears. Bottom lip wobbling as mascara streaks down their cheeks. You can't help but smirk as they shoot you nasty glares. Your perfectly painted lips are full of smug venom, your wedding ring sparkling as you sarcastically wiggle your fingers goodbye.

The woman always huff, crying a bit harder as they leave.

Pathetic.

You casually sashay into the office and see your love sitting at his desk, one hand rubbing his temple as the other swirls his bourbon.

“Hello darling.”

At your voice, Silco’s head jolts up. A rare smile graces his handsome face. You close the door behind you and lock it.

No need for anymore interruptions.

“Sweetheart, it's nice to finally see you. You've been hiding away all day.”

You sigh jokingly, sitting atop Silco’s desk. Your fur coat slides down your arms and rests in the crook of your elbow, showing off your upper body. Your neck, shoulders, chest, cleavage and upper back are devoured by Silco’s hungry gaze.

“I didn't want to intrude. It seems like you had some... Company while I was away.”

Silco scoffs, messing up his usually perfect hair and takes a big swig of his bourbon, “Unwanted company sweetness. They keep trying, those idiots.”

You laugh, fully dropping your coat onto his desk and sitting in his lap. Silco's hands rest against your full hips as you settle down comfortably.

Your tone is saccharine and purr-like as you play with Silco’s hair and trace his sharp features, “Well… you are the most powerful man in Zaun, and the most attractive. I can understand why they want you so desperately.”

Silco’s smirk makes you shiver lightly, “And how would you know that?”

“Because I was just as desperate a decade ago.”

Silco chuckles, a deep grumbly sound emitting from his chest, it makes your panties damp, “I remember. You following me like a lost little duckling. All doe-eyed and bitten-lipped.”

You pull Silco close by the nape of the neck, and kiss his scarred cheek slowly, leaving behind a perfect red imprint, “Well it worked out in my favour didn't it? I remember finally getting you where I desperately desired. How I rubbed it in to the other Sisters of Zaun.” your tone full of smug satisfaction.

“Yes, we fucked desperately inside a random storage closet, like most young adults do.”

Your laugh is loud, and full of joy. It causes a smile to overtake Silco's face.

“There's one thing I miss from all those years ago.”

“And what's that, sweetheart?”

“Your longer hair… and eyeliner. I miss pulling on it when you ate me out and fucked me. Seeing the eyeliner roll down those high cheekbones was just a bonus.”

Silco lunges forward and kisses you, you swear your lips will be all puffy due to the force used. The kiss becomes messy, as the two of you grind against one another, eventually you pull back and see red all over Silco's face.

His cheeks are flushed red, his face has perfect lip marks, his lips are the same red yours are, and his hair's a mess.

God he looks so good.

“I’ll grow it out again, just for you.”

You devilishly smirk as you kiss him once more, your panties sticking desperately to your messy cunt as you frot against the large bulge inside his pants.

Without breaking the kiss, you unbutton and pull down Silco's pants, and he pushes your dress up and pulls your panties to the side, slipping his hard cock in with no problems. Your drenched pussy welcoming him in gladly.

There's no adjustment period, you start bouncing desperately and Silco fucks up into you simultaneously. It's amazing. His cock hits every sweet spot you have.

It’s a bruising pace, his cockhead keeps squishing not only your g-spot but your cervix as well. It makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you gasp out in pure bliss.

The coiling in your lower belly is wounding up each second you bounce on your lover's cock. Fuck, he's moulded your pussy to his cock. No other will ever satisfy you the way his does.

It’s over for you when he rubs your engorged clit in a smooth circle, your juices making every movement easier. You cum, moaning loudly. Your pussy clenches desperately onto the big, thick cock inside you, and a small amount of juice spills out. Soaking Silcos’s lap and staining his pants.

He continues to fuck up into you, even though you're slouched into his neck and whining at the overstimulation. He's using you like his very own pocket pussy.

And you are.

One, two, three thrusts later he's balls deep inside you, cockhead kissing your cervix as he cums viciously inside you. You can feel each pump of his cock as your belly warms up. God, you aren't sure you can get off his lap without a nice stream of cum oozing out of you.

The two of you pant, satiated. You indulge in your after-glow until it's interrupted by a noise in the rafters above you two. A few minutes later you hear, “I’m assuming I’m getting a sibling in the upcoming months?”

You and Silco look to one another before shouting in tandem,

“JINX!”

Whoops. At least she didn't see you two going at it. Small blessings, huh?

😏😏😏

Hope y'all enjoyed this. Idk what came over me, I wasn't originally going to write smut yet… here we are!

#arcane #arcane silco #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane x reader smut #arcane smut #silco imagine #silco x reader #silco x reader smut #silco smut #fem!reader #banners by cafekitsune

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yuahoeaiknow · 3 months ago

Text

Wet and Wild Part 2

♦♦♦ read on Wattpad ♦♦♦

Pairing: F!Reader x Silco || F!Reader x Vander ||

Tags|Warnings: Exhibitionism, P in V Sex, Cunnilingus, Mild Squirting

Parts: Part 1 || now reading || Part 3

_____________________________________

As Silco lead you upstairs, an air of anticipation hung in the air between you two. The dim light and the muffled noises from the bar below cast a sense of intimacy upon the narrow staircase. Silco's hand remained firmly entangled with yours, his touch a mix of familiarity and a hint of possessiveness.

"I can't believe you did this in front of Vander.", you started as you hold hands and trotted up the stairs.

Silco chuckledat your whiney voice, his steps never faltering as he guided you further up.

"Oh, he's seen much more than just a bit of teasing here," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, his thumb rubbed slowly over the back of your hand. "Besides, I enjoy riling you up in front of an audience - too much to resist."

"Ever the exhibitionist...", you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Silco laughed quietly, the sound low and velvety in the almost quiet confines of the staircase.

"Guilty as charged," he agreed, his voice still tinged with amusement as he looked at you. "You know I love to see you blush, whether in public or in private."

"I think you like to embarass me in front of our friends and family.", you pouted as you both stopped climbing the stairs.

Your lover smiled, his eyes flickered mischievously in the dim light.

"I do enjoy seeing that flush on your cheeks," he conceded, pulling you closer. "It's hard to resist when you look so adorable when you're flustered."

"I've noticed. I almost thought you were going to go at it right at the bar.", you spoke and couldn't contain a smile.

Silco grinned, his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and humor. "Now that would have made for quite a show, wouldn't it? Though I doubt Vander would have liked that very much," he teased, his thumb circled the back of your hand in a slow, caressing motion. "At least not at the counter."

"Haha. I would die from embarassment before that's going to happen.", you grinned back at him.

The man laughed at your words, his hand took yours to his lips, almost possessively gentle. "Oh, I don't know," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "I'm quite good at persuading you to do things you initially considered unthinkable." He kissed your hand.

"Persuading or emotionally blackmailing? Oh, maybe manipulation!", you thought out loud. "You're so toxic, Sil.", you jested.

He chuckled. "I prefer to think of it as utilizing my charm!", he retorted with mock defensiveness, he let go of your hand and to rest his on your waist. "But if you want to call it manipulation, I'll take it as a compliment, since it worked on you so well."

"Touché.", you grinned and put your hands on his chest and shoulder.

Silco's grin widened as your hands come to rest on his torso. He took the opportunity to pull you closer against him, his arm wrapping around your waist, pushing you flush against his body.

"I do have to put those persuasive skills to good use here and there," he murmured, his voice growing huskier.

You hummed: "Yeah, Just here and there..."

The Eye of Zaun laughed huskily again, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in closer.

"Not all the time," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "Only when I really want something." His fingers gently brushed against the skin at the small of your back, the touch sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.

"And what do you want? I feel like I already know the answer to that.", you smiled with a knowing expression.

Silco's eyes darkened further as he gazed down at you, his response a soft rumble.

"Oh, I think you do know," he said, his hand slowly moved over your back. "The same thing I always want - you." His other hand came up to cup your chin, tilting your face up towards his, his mouth hovering just inches from yours. Indulging the hot tension between you two.

Then he kissed you. Soft and sweet, just how you liked it the best.

Silco's lips met yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss, his hand on the small of your back pulling you even closer against him. There's a tenderness in his touch, a desire to savor the moment, that belies the usual heated passion.

A kiss with a sweetness that not really matched his demeanor, his tongue slipped between your parted lips softly, slowly, exploring your mouth gently.

You mewled against his mouth. Feeling already aroused by him.

He could feel the way you responded to his kiss, the sweet sounds of pleasure you made against his mouth only serving to fuel his own desire. His body tightened against yours as he pressed you against him, his hand on your chin moving to cup your face, holding you in place as his kiss deepened.

His tongue danced slowly with yours, the familiar taste of him fueling the heat building between you two.

The moment his groin rubbed against yours, you broke the kiss to gasp loudly.

The noise that escaped your lips as your bodies collided only seems to spur Silco on, his own reaction immediate and visceral. He growled low in his throat, the sound filled with desire.

He pushed you against the railing, trapping you between the firmness of the plaster and the hardness of his body, his hands moved to grip your hips against his possesively.

"Feel that...?" he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing down along your jawline, nipping here and there.

You moaned quietly. "Ngh.. yes."

Silco chuckled warmly against your skin, the sound rich and resonant.

His hands moved to your thighs, gripping them, the hardness of his body even more prominent now.

"You make me crazy. You can't imagine how badly I want you right now..," he mumbled, his mouth hovered just above your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"We aren't even in your... in your room, Sil... we can't... here...", you panted in a needy voice as he kissed your favourite spot behind the ear.

Your man laughed huskily, the sound a mixture of desire and amusement.

"Why not?", he responded, his mouth moved downward to your neck, his teeth grazed against your sensitive skin. "We've done it in worse places, haven't we?"

You blushed deeply and groaned in annoyance. "Just because you - uhg I hate you.."

Silco grinned with mischief, his lips curved into a sly smirk. "No, you don't," he murmured, nipping at the sensitive spot behind your ear again.

His hands began to wander between your thighs, his touch became more insistent, more needy.

"I'm going to eat you out.", he rasped. "Help me with your pants."

You bit your lips and unbuckled your belt with nervous fingers.

Silco watched you with a dark, predatory gleam in his eyes, his smile omnious.

His hands guided yours the rest of the way, his grip firm and urgent. As you began to unzip your pants, he moved you the last step up to the door behind you, his body shielding you from view.

"That's it, good girl.." he murmured, his voice a low throb of hunger.

You whined at his pet name and as soon you pulled your pants down, he fell to his knees with a faint thud. The movement smooth and practiced. He pushed your pants down until they pooled around your ankles, his hands wasted no time in sliding up your bare thighs.

He looked up at you from his position on the floor, his fingers traced soft, teasing circles on your skin, his mismatched eyes dark and hungry.

"You smell so good," he rasped, his voice a deep rumble in his chest as he nosed and kissed you through underwear.

"Ugh... don't say that!", you murmured embarassed.

Silco chuckled softly against your skin, his touch a heated caress. "Why not? I'm just stating a fact." His mouth trailed slow, hot kisses up your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place.

"But I know you taste even better," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin.

You wanted to protest but were silenced by his hands gripping the sides of your panties, a wicked grin on his lips as he hooked his fingers in the material and tugged it down with a sharp, firm movement.

He didn't waste a damn second before his mouth was kissing your most sensitive part, slowly pushing his tongue through your folds. Immediately your hand shot up to his hair. Gripping it hard as you struggled to keep standing. "Oh, fuck."

Silco escaped a low groan of approval as your hand tightened in his hair, his mouth and tongue worked in a steady, insistent rhythm against your body.

His hands moved to grip your hip and press against your vulva, holding you in place. His face pushed flush against you.

"You taste so good," he mumbled, his voice muffled against you. "I can never get enough of it."

"Nhg~ I... uhh.. I'm...", you moaned, hips moving against him on their own.

Silco could feel your body responding to his clever tongue, your hips arched against him, begging for more. He chuckled against you, the sound low and ragged, his eyes almost black with desire.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, princess?" He asked, his voice a deep rumble against your skin. "I want to hear you say it." Then went back to work.

You bit your lip, not really wanting to say it. But you knew he wouldn't let you reach your climax if you didn't do as he said.

"Hah~ I'm... I'm coming...", your breath quickened and you couldn't hold your moans in. Holding onto the railing for dear life now.

Silco let out a low, guttural moan as your words reached his ears, his entire body responded to them with an almost feral possessiveness. He doubled his efforts, his tongue and mouth working to push you over the edge, his hands keeping you tightly in place.

"That's it, princess," he whispered against your skin. "Come for me. Let me hear you say my name." Your hands grabbed his hair again and his hand at your hip. You panted and mewled. "Sil..Silcoo~", you gasped and reached your peak with violent shudders and twitches.

Silco groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, the sound low and guttural, filled with the satisfaction of knowing he was the one to bring you to such ecstasy. Eagerly lapping up all you have to offer.

He continued to work you through the aftershocks, his mouth gentle and soothing against your oversensitive skin. Then, he slowly pulled back, his smile one of pure pride and admiration.

"That's my good girl," he spoke, his hands still held you tightly as he rose to his feet.

You huffed and puffed, leaning your forehead on his chest. Trying to catch your breath from the pleasure. Forgetting that you two basically stand on the second floor of the Last Drop where anyone could have came up the stairs and see you.

Your man wraped his arms around you, holding you close as you lean against him, his chest rising and falling with his own ragged breaths.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice a low rumble as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Uh huh." Sound muffled against his chest. He cupped your face between his hands, his thumbs trailing softly over your skin. He pulled you in for a kiss, his mouth finding yours with a familiar heat.

The kiss is slow and gentle, a stark contrast to the urgency from just moments before. But it's no less intense, his lips and tongue moving with a languid, possessive familiarity.

You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips and you mewled. Your hands found the front of his pants. Silco deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. He could feel your hands, the touch further igniting that familiar fire in him.

He groaned lowly against your mouth, pressing his pelvis once more against you, the evidence of his own desire for you hard against your hand.

You giggled in the kiss and opened his trousers with a bit of a struggle.

Silco responded to your giggle with a growl, his hands left your face to help you with the fastenings of his trousers. The sound of his zipper being undone is almost obscene. He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes darkened with lust, his breath already came in quick, ragged gasps.

As you step out of your pants that still lingered at your ankles, you turned and were about to kneel before him but he stopped you. His hand gently grabbed your arm, preventing you from dropping to your knees.

"Not this time, darling." he said in a low, husky tone.

He spun you back around so your back was now against the wall, his body pressed into yours, pinning you in place. You pouted, really wanted to return the favour.

Sil laughed huskily at your pout, his hands wrapped around your thighs, lifting your legs to either side of his hips. Your back flush against the wall for more balance.

"Don't worry, Y/n," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble as he moves his hand between her legs. "I'll make up for it."

He coated his length with your cum before aligning and he let out a quiet groan as he slid between your legs, his body already taut with need. He leaned in to kiss your neck, his lips hot against your skin. He paused a moment, his eyes fixed on yours, a silent twinkle in the depths of his gaze. His free hand came up to cup your face and kiss you as he bottoms out.

"You're so wet for me," he rasped in your mouth, his voice a deep, ragged whisper.

You bit his lip as an answer and moaned.

Silco responded to your bite with a low, guttural moan of his own. He then growled and kissed you hard, pushing your back harder against the wall, his body moved against yours in a steady, driving rhythm.

"There you go, darling," he muttered against your mouth, his voice a low grind. "You feel so good."

You clawed at his biceps and whined. The steady rhythm drove you mad.

Your love groaned at the feel of your hands on his arms, the sound low. He increased the pace, his hips moved against yours with an insistent rhythm. "I love the way you make those pretty little sounds for me," he growled, his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Because you... ugh...hah... always talk dirty.", you huffed.

Silco chuckles against your skin, his breath hot.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his lips traveled up to your ear, his tongue traced a lazy path along the shell. "I just love how it to riles you up, darling."

He rolled his hips against you, his body pressing deeper, moving a little faster.

You gasped at the feeling at your ear, ever so sensitive and you clenched hard around him.

The Eye of Zaun let out a low, ragged groan at the feeling of your body clenching around him, the sound hungry. He bit your earlobe, his teeth gentle but firm.

"Yeah just.. just like that, baby," he rasped with need. "You gonna cum for me soon?"

The steady rhythm edged you fast and you sobbed a yes. Not going to last longer with his teasing.

Silco's grin widened at your response, his body moved against yours with a growing urgency, his rhythm increasing, his breathing became heavier.

"That's what I like to hear," he growled in your ear as his other hand moves down to grip your thigh, pulling you closer, driving himself deeper.

"You have to give it to me soon... I'm so close.", he said and kissed her jaw.

You mewled and guided his face to yours, so you could kiss him.

Silco responded to your guidance with a low growl of approval, his lips immediately found yours. The kiss is hot and hungry, his mouth urgent and demanding against yours as he continued to move inside you, his body in a growing need, a primal hunger for climax.

A small moan escaped his lips, filled with a mix of desire and urgency. He sucked on the tip of your tongue and you couldn't hold back anymore. Tears of pleasure ran over your cheeks as you sobbed through your orgasm. Twitching violently against his pelvis, clawing into his arms.

He held you tight as you spasmed around him, his lips and teeth nipping at your jawline, his body taut and trembling.

"Oh fuck!" he murmured against your mouth, his voice ragged. He kept moving against you, still hard and aching, his breath came in quick, harsh pants.

"You're milking me so good.." he growled, his lips moved over your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. He buried his face back into the crook of your neck, his body shook faintly. "Ugh.." Never really slowing his movements, making you feral. It's too much!

"Sil- ngh stop.. I'm-" And with that you suddenly reached another peak. Leaking down his length as you cried in overstimulation.

He pulled back, the sound he made as he left your body almost a snarl. He gripped your jaw and angled your face up towards his, his eyes dark and burning with an intensity that borders on madness.

"Fuck, I love you so much." A kiss to your lips and come leaking from your pussy and now over your stomach as he jerked out the rest.

You panted harshly, tried to catch your breath. Thighs tremlbed, on the verge of collapsing.

Silco's hands were on your hips, keeping you stable, his thumbs traced gentle circles over your skin. His breaths came in ragged pants as well.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, the only sound between the two of you the sound of your mingled, ragged breathing.

After he caught his breath he kissed your temple and picked you up.

Silco scooped you off the ground with ease, holding you close against his chest, your legs and arms wound around him. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers gentle as they trailed down your cheek.

"You still with me, darling?", he asked, his voice softer now, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Yes.", you whispered. "You're not that good that I pass out.", you smiled hazy at him.

The love of your life chuckled at that, his chest rumbled with the sound. "Is that so?", he asked, tilting your chin up to look at him. His mismatched eyes searched your face, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"Guess I'll have to try harder next time then," he teased as he carried you to your room.

#arcane #league of legends #fanfiction #x reader #silco x reader #vander x reader #arcane x you #arcane smut #arcane x reader #wattpad

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mossangelll · 4 months ago

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i would absolutely adore it if you wrote something with yan!silco punishing his darling and soothing them after !!

teehee i had too much fun with this…sadistic silco for the win >:) tysm for requesting ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Yandere!Silco x Reader

tw: physical abuse, manipulative behaviour, kidnapping, mentions of throwing up

“Oh, Y/N. What happened to all our great progress, hm?”

Silco circles you like a hawk, cedar-spiced cigar held loosely in one hand, the plume smoke overwhelming his office. You feel dizzy, nauseous, petrified - yet all you want to do is collapse into his wiry arms and ask, no beg, for his forgiveness.

It had been what, two hours? Two gruelling hours since Silco had forced you to kneel in a bed of rice grains as punishment for trying to escape him.

The sensation of freedom when you managed to briefly pry yourself from his iron grip electrified your soul. You wandered the lanes for two hours, cautious definitely but teeming with newfound enthusiasm; the sounds of the city were louder, colours more vibrant and the rain seemed to wash away the pain you learned to carry along with you everywhere.

But here you are, trapped with Silco once more, kneeling in rice that cuts up your knees into something bloody and raw. Any longer and you’re afraid you might throw up on his expensive rug which wouldn’t end well for you.

Your body starts to waver and his mismatched eyes narrow in displeasure. He crouches down on his haunches next to where you threaten to topple over and takes a slow drag of his cigar, exhaling in your face and pressing the lit end onto your shoulder. You hiss sharply. You can hear fucking sizzling as the smell of burnt flesh mixes with his heedy smoke and you can’t stop yourself as you dry-heave from the overstimulation.

Salty tears run down your face, further adding to the mess of snot and saliva covering your face. You look up at the tall man, wondering how he can just watch as you suffer and not feel a thing. You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him - pull him out of whatever insane mindset he’s in that makes him think any of this is remotely normal.

Instead, you watch as Silco flicks open his pocket watch and lazily checks the time before sighing and pocketing it again. He whips out his handkerchief and roughly wipes at the mess on your face as if you’re a nuisance.

He stands back up to his full height and drags you up from where you’re kneeling to carry you to the couch, knowing you’re too weak to stand on your own. You hope and pray that he might leave to let you reflect on your actions but he stays put right next to you on the seat. Your stomach drops.

You tremble under his watchful gaze, his cold eye disturbing you. He turns his sight to your shaky legs and it’s almost as if his entire body deflates at the sight of you looking so pitiful and worn down.

His hands travel down your thighs and stop at your kneecaps where his eyes are trained. His fingers slowly inch towards the inflammed flesh and strokes ever so gently but even his light touch makes you wince and groan in agony at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine.

“I-I’m sorry, Silco! I’ll never hurt you like this again I swear! Please don’t!” You whimper pathetically, eyes downcast as you form a makeshift shield, wrapping your arms around your torso to protect yourself from his temper.

“Oh, sweet Y/N,” he murmurs, nose buried in your hair as he raises a hand to pet the back of your head, cradling you right at the junction where your head and neck meets, “I simply demonstrated the consequences of your stupid actions, if you didn’t step out of line then I wouldn’t have been forced to teach you better, you understand?” His molasses voice flusters you despite the taunting vitriol that lurks behind his words.

You nod shakily, throwing your arms around his neck and sob into his chest as he rocks you back and forth. He hums to you with masterfully faked sympathy, you’re both aware it is, but all you care to do in this fragile moment is chase his comforting body.

“There, there. You did so well for me, I trust you learnt your lesson?”

You stay quiet, sniffling and gripping onto the lapels of his maroon suit jacket for as long as hello allow it.

Eventually, Silco lays you back down among the pillows and flashes you a warm smile that isn’t appropriate considering the circumstances. He then ducks his head down to your legs and, before you can understand what he plans to do, his chapped lips are kissing at your bloody knees, tongue darting out to press little kitten licks at the grazes he made.

He goes on like this for what seems like an eternity, just lapping up your wounds in stilted silence until he’s satisfied they’re clean. He goes to rummage through his drawers and comes back with a roll of bandages he carefully wraps around both knees. Even though he’s just put them on, dark red stains are already seeping through the white cotton, a bleak reminder to never disobey Silco like this again because in the end, he will always win.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” His husky voice calls out to you but you already know this isn’t the kind of question you have the luxury of answering truthfully, so you choose to give him the answer he wants.

“Yes please, Silco.”

You feel his lips smile against your skin when he ducks back down to kiss your tender knees.

masterlist

#request #arcane fanfic #arcane #yandere silco x reader #yandere silco #toxic silco #toxic silco x reader #silco x reader #arcane silco #silco #yandere #yandere x reader

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aspenmissing · 1 month ago

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hiiiiii, can I request a young Silco with a reader who is in a toxic and abusive relationship? Only if you feel comfortable, of course!

Silco is in love with reader and is not only jealous but also has a bad feeling about her boyfriend, sensing that something's off which reader obviously tries to hide. Vander and Felicia don't approve of her relationship as well because they sense the toxicity (but not the abuse).

One day, reader storms into The Last Drop, crying and not batting an eye at her friend's at the bar, and Silco follows her, finding her locked inside a storage room. He asks her if she had another argument with her boyfriend to which she agrees, telling him that they had a fight because he accused her of cheating on him with Silco because of their close friendship and the way Silco looks at her (and also apparently the way reader looks at Silco, too. Reader already has romantic feelings for Silco but is in denial because of her codependency on her boyfriend). She still defends her boyfriend though, saying he's just jealous because he loves her so much. That's when Silco notices a bruise under reader's shifting collar, and suspects his worst fears being true. He immediately confronts reader who desperately tries to play the bruise down and blames it on her clumsiness but Silco obviously doesn't believe her and insists on reader telling him the truth which she eventually does after a long back and forth. She didn't tell her friends because she's afraid of the consequences and also doesn't want them to think she's weak. She also takes her shirt off to show Silco much more evidence of her boyfriend's cruelty.

ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʙʀᴜɪꜱᴇᴅ ꜱᴋɪᴇꜱ

ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴇʟɪᴄɪᴀ) || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 6507 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʙʀᴜɪꜱᴇꜱ, ᴄᴜᴛꜱ, ɢᴀꜱʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱʟᴜᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴍɪɴɢ, ᴀᴄᴄᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ/ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ/ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ(ɴᴏᴛ ᴏɴ ʏ/ɴ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴍɪx ᴏꜰ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ!!! ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! <3 <3

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ɪꜱ/ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ), ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴇ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ, ᴏʀ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ, ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ—ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜰᴇʟɪᴄɪᴀ | ᴀꜱꜱʜᴏʟᴇ

The Last Drop was alive with its usual chaos, a living, breathing beast of noise and movement, restless and wild. The air was thick—smoke curling in lazy tendrils under dim lantern light, the acrid scent of liquor staining the air, bodies pressing too close in drunken camaraderie or quiet menace. Laughter slurred against the walls, tangled with curses, sharp words exchanged over bad deals and lost bets. Boots scraped against wood, chairs scraped against floors, the low murmur of the undercity’s heartbeat pulsing through its people.

But then—she walked in.

And for Silco, the world tilted.

Y/N.

Even amidst the sea of voices, the shifting bodies, the constant push and pull of energy that defined the bar, she was the only thing he noticed. The only thing that mattered.

She always was.

Her entrance was too fast. There was no hesitation, no glance around the room searching for familiar faces, no sigh of relief at finding them. No nod to Vander behind the bar, no small, half-hearted smile to Felicia.

She moved like she was running from something.

Her breath came sharp, ragged, each inhale edged with something dangerously close to a sob. Her eyes were red-rimmed, swollen as if she had been crying for hours, as if she had wiped her tears away but still carried the evidence of them on her skin. Her shoulders were too stiff, too tight, drawn up toward her ears like she was bracing for a blow.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t looking at anyone.

She didn’t react to Vander straightening behind the bar, concern flashing in his eyes. Didn’t acknowledge Felicia when she half-rose from her seat, fingers tightening around her glass. She barely even seemed aware of her surroundings, like she was still trapped in whatever had happened before she arrived.

Silco’s stomach twisted.

He had seen her upset before. Had seen her angry, frustrated, bitter. Had seen the way she brushed off her boyfriend’s cutting remarks with a forced laugh, a shrug, an excuse. Had watched her cover up the cracks in her own heart with a smile that never quite reached her eyes.

But this?

This was different.

This was worse.

Silco set his glass down with deliberate care. The sound of it meeting the wood was swallowed by the bar’s noise, but Vander still noticed. His gaze flicked up, brows knitting together.

"Silco—" But Silco was already moving, his focus sharp, unshakable.

She was running.

Through the bar. Down the hallway. Past the flickering wall sconces that cast trembling shadows against the cracked plaster. The wooden floorboards groaned beneath her hurried footsteps, her form nothing but a fleeting blur in the dim light. Then, just like that—she was gone. Swallowed whole by the heavy wooden door of the storage room, vanishing like smoke dissipating into the night. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

Silco reached it in seconds, his pulse spiking—a single, sharp pound against his ribs—before he crushed the reaction beneath his usual cold restraint. His fingers flexed at his sides, the heat of his own urgency an unwanted presence beneath his skin.

He rapped his knuckles against the wood. A firm, measured knock. Neither insistent nor passive, but something in between. Something careful. Something restrained.

“Y/N.”

Silence.

Then—a muffled sob. Small. Fragile. The sound of it lanced straight through his ribs like a blade slipping between them, sharp and ruthless in its efficiency. His fingers twitched against the door. His grip tightened. Knuckles going white, nails pressing sharp crescents into his palms. Not again. His voice dropped, quieter this time, but no less commanding.

“Let me in.”

Nothing. Just the suffocating weight of quiet, stretching thick between them like the lull before a storm. His jaw locked. He knew how this went. He had learned the pattern, the rhythm of her pain, the ebb and flow of her defenses. He had studied it, mapped it out in the dark corners of his mind where concern turned into something raw, something bordering on fury. He forced himself to remain still. To not push. Not yet.

“Did you have another argument?”

A breath. Shaky. Fractured. Then—barely a whisper.

“Yes.”

Silco inhaled, slow and controlled through his nose. Of course, she did. Of course. The same cycle. The same bruised words, the same wounds disguised as love. The same apologies that weren’t apologies at all. He had suspected for a long time that her relationship was not simply bad. Not just unhealthy. Not just a string of misunderstandings twisted into something ugly.

It wasn’t just toxic.

It was dangerous.

He had seen the signs.

The way her boyfriend’s grip sometimes lingered too long, fingers sinking into her arm with a pressure that left behind faint shadows—evidence that would be gone by morning.

The way she was always defending him. Even when no one had accused him of anything. Even when all Silco had done was mention her name and she had flinched, so subtle most wouldn’t have noticed.

The way her laugh had changed. Once, it had been bright and reckless, tumbling from her lips with unrestrained joy. She had laughed with abandon, throwing her head back like the world couldn’t touch her.

Now?

Now she laughed like it was something she had to force. Something she had to prove.

And now, this.

Silco pressed his palm against the door, leaning closer, lowering his voice.

“What happened?”

A sniffle. A sharp inhale. Then—

“It doesn’t matter.”

Doesn’t matter.

His fingers curled into fists, his patience straining at the edges.

“It does to me.”

Silence. The weight of it pressed against him, thick and heavy. He knew this game. Knew the script she had been conditioned to recite. That it was just a stupid fight. That she was tired, not upset. That he hadn’t meant it. That she had deserved it.

No.

No more of this. His voice softened, but the steel beneath it remained unyielding.

“Y/N. Open the door.”

Another pause. A hesitation. The fragile moment where decisions balanced on the knife’s edge of fear and trust. Then—

“I just… I need to be alone.”

No. She didn’t. She needed to never go back to him. She needed to understand that this wasn’t normal. She needed to stop defending him.

She needed—him.

But Silco knew better than to push. Not yet. He exhaled, slow, patient. A carefully practiced control.

“You know I won’t leave until you let me in.”

A quiet, shuddering sigh.

“Silco…”

His jaw tightened.

“I mean it.”

A long silence. Then—the soft, reluctant click of the lock. The door creaked open, just enough for him to see her. And when he did—his breath hitched.

She looked wrecked.

Eyes swollen. Lip trembling. Fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves, gripping like she could anchor herself, like she could keep herself from unraveling completely. And she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Wouldn’t even try.

Silco took her in. Every detail.

The way she shrunk into herself, shoulders curling inward, arms wrapped tight across her chest like she could disappear into her own skin. The way her breaths came in short, uneven stutters, like she was still trying to catch up to herself.

She looked exhausted. But not just in body. Something deeper. Something that seeped into her very core, wearing her down from the inside out.

Defeat.

Resignation.

His voice was gentle, but firm. “What happened?”

Her arms crossed over her stomach, fingers pressing against her ribs, as if trying to physically hold herself together.

“We had a fight,” she muttered.

Silco’s jaw ticked.

“About what?”

Her throat bobbed. “It doesn’t matter.”

His expression darkened.

“Yes. It does.”

She squeezed her arms tighter. Like if she just curled small enough, she could disappear.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His patience thinned. And then—he saw it.

The bruise.

Just beneath the shifting collar of her shirt. Dark. Ugly. Blooming across her skin like something vile. His stomach turned, a quiet, deep rage settling into his bones, slow and insidious, coiling like a serpent. His voice dropped to something low. Dangerous.

“Y/N.” She stiffened. Silco’s gaze didn’t waver, sharp and unrelenting. “What is that?” She took a step back.

“It’s—nothing.”

His patience snapped.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Her fingers twitched. “I’m not—”

“Don’t. Lie.” A beat of silence. Then—so quiet it nearly disappeared—

“I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

Silco felt something inside him unravel.

“Why?”

Her breath shuddered. Eyes darting away, blinking fast. Then, softer—broken. “Because I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” His breath caught.

Weak?

She was the strongest person he knew. And yet, here she was, battered and breaking, held together by nothing but denial and misplaced loyalty. Her hands trembled. Then, hesitantly—she reached for the buttons of her shirt.

One.

Two.

Three. The fabric slipped from her shoulders. Bruises. Scars. Silco’s hands twitched at his sides. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Silco stepped closer. His voice was steady. Sharp. A promise.

“Tell me everything.”

And as she did—trembling, voice breaking, finally letting the truth spill free— Silco knew one thing with absolute, unwavering certainty.

That bastard would never lay a hand on her again.

The longer she spoke, the clearer the picture became. Piece by piece, word by word, the full horror of it unravelled before Silco like a festering wound being laid bare.

He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t rush her. He just listened.

And gods, how it burned.

Y/N hesitated often, her voice breaking on the worst parts. Her hands twisted together, fingers curling in and out of anxious fists as she struggled to find the words. Each pause stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, but Silco didn’t fill the silence. He gave her time, his patience unyielding, his presence unwavering.

When she faltered—when her voice trembled and she dropped her gaze—he pressed. Gently. Carefully. Not pushing her, not yet, but guiding her through the truth, one painful fragment at a time.

And as she spoke, rage coiled in his gut.

He learned how it started, how the slow, insidious tightening of her boyfriend’s grip had begun. Not with fists, not with bruises, but with words.

With quiet corrections, with veiled criticisms, with subtle manipulations that planted doubt where once there had been confidence.

She told him about the way her boyfriend made her question herself, made her second-guess her own memories. The gaslighting. The constant rewriting of their fights—as if her pain had been imagined, as if her fear had been unwarranted.

She spoke of his apologies. How they always came too late, how they sounded so convincing in the dark, whispered against her skin, full of regret that never lasted long enough to mean anything.

And worst of all—the way she had convinced herself that she needed him.

The way she had believed him when he told her that she was nothing without him. That without him, she would be alone.

Silco wanted to destroy him.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching for the familiar weight of a blade, of something cold and sharp, something that could carve that bastard apart, piece by bloody piece.

He wanted to make him feel everything. The fear, the pain, the helplessness he had forced upon her.

But first— She needed something else. Someone to remind her that she wasn’t alone. Someone to pull her back from the edge.

Silco let out a slow, measured breath, grounding himself in control, in patience. Violence could wait. She needed him now.

Y/N sniffled, lifting a shaking hand to knuckle away a stray tear, her fingers pressing hard against the dampness clinging to her cheeks. Her breaths were still uneven, fractured at the edges, a fragile thing barely holding itself together, but she was speaking.

That mattered.

“…The fight,” she murmured, her voice hoarse, raw from crying, as if the words themselves had scraped against her throat, leaving behind only the ache of exhaustion.

Silco didn’t press, didn’t rush her. He simply watched.

Waited.

She let out a hollow, humourless laugh—brittle and sharp, something ugly and jagged at the edges, like broken glass barely held together.

“He thinks I’m cheating on him.”

Silco’s fingers twitched.

His breath hitched for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to remain still, to remain composed, though the very idea of that man—that fucking coward—hurling accusations at her made his blood seethe.

“With me.” It wasn’t a question. A slow, hesitant nod. Small. Resigned. Her eyes cast downward, her shoulders folding inward, ashamed of something she should never have been ashamed of.

“He said he sees the way you look at me.” Silco stilled. A shift. A moment suspended in time. Her voice had gone quieter now, wavering, uncertain. As if she wasn’t sure if she should say the next part at all. “…And the way I look at you.”

His breath stalled in his chest.

There.

There it was.

The quiet thing between them, the unspoken weight of it, finally laid bare, raw and trembling in the space between them. She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves, gripping them like a lifeline.

“He said I must be sleeping with you,” she continued, voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly would make it more real. “That I—”

She exhaled sharply, her breath shuddering as she squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could block out the words even as she forced them out. “That I’m a whore. That I throw myself at you and anyone else who looks my way.”

Silco’s blood ran cold.

The filth in those words. The sheer venom. The hatred.

He could picture it too clearly—her standing there, vulnerable, exhausted, hurt—while that bastard spat those words at her like poison, like a weapon sharpened for the sole purpose of cutting her down.

If that bastard had been standing in front of him at that moment, Silco would have killed him on the spot.

No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just cold steel and the sick satisfaction of watching the life drain from his eyes. But instead, he forced himself to focus on her. Because she was trembling.

Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she were trying to disappear, to make herself smaller, to will herself into nothingness just so she wouldn’t have to exist in the weight of his words.

And fuck, he couldn’t stand it. Without thinking—without hesitation—he reached out. His fingers ghosted over the bruises on her arm, feather-light, barely a touch at all. A whisper of warmth.

She flinched.

Silco’s breath sharpened.

He pulled back immediately, a quiet, sharp curse slipping past his lips, his fingers curling into his palm as he forced himself still. But she didn’t step away. She didn’t recoil.

Instead—slowly, cautiously—she let out a shuddering breath, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly, and then she did something that nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

She leaned forward. Just enough that her forehead rested against his chest.

Silco froze.

A sharp inhale, his body locking up, his thoughts scattering. Everything in him demanded stillness. Her breath was warm, fragile against the fabric of his coat, trembling as she exhaled.

A brief, barely-there tremor in his fingers before, slowly—carefully—he raised a hand and rested it against her back.

It was a light touch. Measured. Careful. Not a cage, not a restraint—just warmth. Just something steady amidst the wreckage of her pain.

But it was enough.

She let out a broken, shuddering sob, her fingers twisting into the fabric of his coat, gripping him as if he were the only solid thing left in her world.

And maybe—just maybe—he was.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Silco held her. Held her together. And as he did, a new plan took root.

By the time this was over, that bastard wouldn’t be breathing.

“Let me see,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence.

Y/N sniffled, her breath shaky, but she nodded. She let him guide her to a small wooden crate in the corner of the storage room, her movements slow, exhausted. Silco crouched in front of her, sharp eyes flicking over her wounds.

The bruises—dark, ugly splotches blooming beneath her skin, deepening at the edges. The faint scrapes along her wrist, the clear mark of a grip too tight, fingers that should have never touched her. A small cut along her collarbone, raw and fresh, angry against the pale skin.

Silco’s jaw ticked.

Deep breath. Focus. Fix this first. Kill him later.

Silently, he pulled a cloth from his pocket, reached for the bottle of whiskey from the nearby shelf, the glass cool and smooth against his palm.

Y/N let out a soft, wet laugh—a sound that barely had any humor left in it, but it was something.

“Medical supplies are a little unconventional here, huh?” His lips twitched—just barely. A ghost of something that never fully formed.

“It’s Zaun.”

She huffed, shaking her head, exhaling as if she were trying to push the exhaustion from her bones. But she let him work.

Silco wet the cloth with whiskey, the scent sharp, familiar, filling the space between them. He pressed it gently to the small cut on her collarbone. She sucked in a sharp breath, fingers clenching into her lap, her body tensing at the sting.

“Fuck—”

“I know.” His voice was quiet, low, steady. Grounding. “Almost done.” His touch was careful. Deliberate. Y/N watched him as he worked, her tired eyes studying him.

“You’ve done this before,” she muttered, voice still rough.

Silco’s lips pressed into a thin line. “More times than I’d like to count.” Silence. Then, soft. Almost too soft.

“Thank you.” Silco stilled. A moment. A heartbeat. Then, slowly—he nodded.

Once he finished tending to her wounds, he leaned back. His gaze was sharp, piercing, something cold lurking just beneath the surface.

"Get dressed." His voice was steady, calm, but underneath it was something hard. Unshakable. Final. “I need to speak with Vander and Felicia.”

And when he left, rage followed him like a shadow.

Silco moved through The Last Drop like a storm contained within skin, his steps sharp, his expression unreadable. Cold, calculated, but underneath it— something vicious.

A hunger for justice. For retribution.

His hands twitched at his sides as he fought the urge to turn around, storm out of the bar, and put an end to that bastard right then and there. To make him hurt. To make him beg.

But Y/N was still in the storage room, still raw and fragile, still sitting with the weight of her confession.

And this had to be done right.

Carefully. Completely.

When he reached the bar, Vander and Felicia were already watching him. Vander had stopped mid-pour, his usual easy-going demeanour nowhere to be found, his face set in something dangerously close to grim expectation. Felicia leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—calculating. The moment he stopped in front of them, Felicia spoke first.

“It’s about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Silco didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he dragged out the moment, let the silence settle—let it be heavy enough to choke on. Then, voice low, sharp, final:

“She told me everything.” Felicia’s expression didn’t change, but her grip on her forearms tightened.

Vander exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand down his face. “Shit.”

“We knew,” Felicia muttered, shaking her head, a tension settling in her jaw. “We fucking knew something wasn’t right.”

Vander nodded, setting the bottle down a little harder than necessary. “We suspected.” His voice was gruff, weary. “We just didn’t know how bad it was.”

Silco’s fingers curled into his palms. “It’s worse than you think.”

Felicia let out a slow breath through her nose. “How bad?”

Silco’s jaw ticked. For a moment, he considered the full weight of the truth. The bruises. The way she had flinched when he touched her arm. The way her voice had cracked when she repeated the vile things her boyfriend had spat at her.

How close she had come to believing him.

Silco’s voice dropped to something lethal.

“He’s been controlling her. Gaslighting her. Making her doubt her own fucking reality.” He exhaled sharply, shoulders tight, tense, filled with restrained fury. “And now? He’s putting his hands on her.”

Vander’s hands curled into fists against the bar. Felicia’s lips pressed into a thin, angry line.

“She never told us,” Vander muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Because she was afraid. Because her boyfriend had woven a world around her that made her believe she had no way out. Silco’s breath was slow, controlled. Dangerous.

“She thought she was protecting herself,” he murmured. “She thought she was protecting us.”

Felicia let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Yeah? Well, now she’s got the wrong fucking people on her side.”

Silco met her gaze, something knowing, something dark. “Exactly.”

A thick silence stretched between them. The unspoken question hung in the air. What do we do? And then—Vander exhaled.

“I’ll make sure she stays safe,” he said, rolling his shoulders, as if preparing for a fight he already knew was inevitable. “She’s not going back to him.”

Felicia gave a short, sharp nod. “Agreed. We’ll find her a place to stay.”

Silco let their words settle. It was a good start. But not enough. Not nearly enough. His voice was quiet, controlled, but soaked in something venomous.

“That’s not all we’re doing.”

Felicia’s eyes flicked to him, brows raising slightly. “You’ve got something in mind?” Silco’s lips curled into something grim.

“Oh, I have more than something in mind.”

Vander sighed, running a hand through his beard. “Silco—”

“I’m not hearing it.” Silco cut him off before he could even begin, turning his sharp gaze onto Vander like a blade pressed to a throat. “We don’t let men like him get away with this,” he said, voice like steel, like a blade sharpened on the edge of something unforgiving. “We don’t let them think they can do this to someone and walk away.”

Felicia’s smirk was all teeth. “I like where this is going.” Vander sighed again, this time slower. Resigned. Because they all knew there was only one way this would end. Silco straightened, adjusting his coat, his movements deliberate. His voice was smooth, even—deadly.

“By the time we’re done, he’ll wish he never fucking met her.”

Vander was quiet for a long moment, his broad shoulders drawn tense as he ran a hand over his chin. He wasn’t the type to rush into violence. He knew what vengeance did to a man—what it could turn him into.

But this? This was different.

This was Y/N.

He had seen her grow up in the undercity, had seen her hold her own against the filth of this place, had seen her fight for every ounce of respect she had. And yet, this bastard had done something no brute in Zaun had ever managed.

He had broken her.

No. Not broken. Bent. Worn down. Chipped away at her piece by piece, until she was barely holding herself together.

Not anymore.

Vander set his glass down on the bar, exhaling slowly through his nose before finally speaking. “I’ll take care of her.” Silco didn’t respond, but Vander could feel the weight of his gaze, sharp and unrelenting. “I’ll get her out of here,” Vander continued, voice steady. “Get her somewhere safe.”

Felicia scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s a given. She sure as hell isn’t going back to that bastard.”

Vander’s hand clenched against the wood of the counter. “She’s gonna need time. To understand that she’s free of him.” His jaw ticked. “And that he’s never going to touch her again.”

Silco’s lips curled into something cold. “Damn right he won’t.”

Felicia turned to him, sharp eyes alight with something eager, something dangerous. “So, Silco. What’s the plan?”

Silco exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. “We pay him a visit.”

Felicia grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Vander’s voice was low, warning. “Don’t kill him.”

Silco’s gaze flicked to him, something dark coiled behind his eyes. “That depends.”

Vander sighed, rubbing his temples. He knew better than to try and rein Silco in once his mind was made up. And frankly? He didn’t want to.

“That boy won’t be breathing right if he even thinks about comin’ near her again.” Vander’s voice was quiet, steady. He reached for a rag, wiping down the counter as though they weren’t plotting the slow, agonizing end of a man’s comfortable life.

Felicia cracked her knuckles. “Oh, he won’t be thinking much of anything once we’re through with him.”

Silco straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. His voice was smooth, even, almost casual. “Shall we?”

Felicia flashed a grin, all teeth. “After you.” With that, the two of them left. And Vander? Vander headed toward the storage room, where Y/N was waiting—and where she would stay safe.

The air outside was thick with the grime of Zaun, heavy with smoke, with the scent of metal and oil that clung to the bones of the city like a second skin.

Perfect night for bloodshed.

Silco moved through the streets like a shadow, Felicia at his side, neither of them speaking as they cut through filthy alleyways and rust-choked corridors, their purpose singular.

They already knew where to find him. Men like him were predictable.

He lived in the slums, tucked away in a cramped, rotting apartment, wedged between a butcher’s shop and a pawn store that had nothing worth selling.

A fitting home for a worthless man.

The door was weathered, its paint peeling, the metal handle rusted, the scent of stale booze and unwashed sweat seeping through the cracks before they even entered.

Felicia let out a low chuckle, tilting her head toward Silco. “Want me to knock?”

Silco smirked, a slow, dangerous thing. “Be my guest.” Felicia didn’t knock.

She kicked.

The door exploded inward, slamming against the wall with a loud crack, wood splintering beneath the force of it.

Inside, the bastard scrambled from the couch, his movements sluggish, his mind slow from whatever cheap whiskey still clung to his breath.

Pathetic.

“The fuck—” That was as far as he got before Felicia’s fist collided with his face. The sound of bone against bone was as satisfying as the way his head snapped back, his body toppling over, crashing against the flimsy wooden table, knocking over bottles, ashtrays, empty plates with stale scraps of food.

Glass shattered.

The table splintered beneath his weight.

Felicia flexed her hand, rolling her wrist. “That,” she said, tone almost conversational, “was for Y/N.” Silco stepped inside, calm, collected, the door swinging shut behind him with a quiet, ominous finality.

The bastard groaned, clutching his jaw, his eyes watering from the sheer force of the hit. He tried to push himself up, one arm shaking, blood already dripping from a split lip.

He barely got halfway before Silco drove the toe of his boot into his ribs.

Hard.

The breath left his lungs in a strangled gasp. He collapsed onto his side, clutching his ribs, coughing. Silco crouched beside him, slow, deliberate, his head tilting as he studied the wretch before him.

His voice was cold. Calculated.

“Do you know who I am?”

The man’s breath hitched. His eyes flickered with recognition. With fear. He nodded frantically, his hands twitching against the grimy floor. Silco’s expression didn’t change. Good. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice to a whisper. Cold. Icy.

“Then you know why I’m here.”

The man swallowed thickly, eyes darting between the two of them, searching for a way out, a way to talk his way through this. There wasn’t one.

“I— I don’t—”

Silco smiled.

Then, without warning, he grabbed the man by the hair and slammed his face against the floor. The crack of bone against wood echoed through the apartment. The man let out a gurgled, choked noise, hands scrambling against the floorboards, legs kicking out weakly as blood spilled from his nose.

Felicia winced. “Shame about the face.”

Silco didn’t let go immediately. Instead, he pressed down, forcing the man’s face harder against the floor, his weight behind it, making sure the pain settled deep in his bones.

Then, finally, he released him. The bastard slumped, his forehead resting against the floor, his breath wet and ragged. Silco grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up. Forcing him to look him in the eye.

No mercy.

No warmth. Just death staring him in the face.

“You will never touch her again.” Silco’s voice was a whisper, but it cut sharper than any blade. The man nodded rapidly, hands shaking. “You will never speak to her again.” Silco’s grip tightened. “You will never go near her again.” More nodding. More blood pooling at his lips.

Felicia crouched beside them, her expression filled with mock sympathy, tilting her head. “And if you even think about breaking that little deal, well—” She leaned in, her voice dropping to something almost playful. “We’ll make what happened tonight feel like a fucking love tap.”

Silco released his grip, allowing the man to collapse to the floor, coughing, gasping. His body shook. He had nothing left to say.

No excuses.

No fight.

No power.

They had already won. Silco straightened, adjusting his coat, his voice quiet, final.

“Pray that I never have to come back.” And with that, he turned and left. Felicia followed, but not before flashing the man one last wicked grin. One last silent promise of what would happen if he made the wrong choice. Then, with a casual step over the broken glass and splintered wood, she closed the door behind them.

The moment they were outside, Felicia let out a slow exhale, rolling her shoulders, as if releasing the tension, shaking off the violence.

She glanced toward Silco, lips curving. “Well, that was satisfying.”

Silco didn’t respond. His mind was elsewhere. Already back at The Last Drop. Already back with her.

Felicia smirked, noticing. She nudged him with her elbow, amused. “C’mon, lover boy.” Silco shot her a look. Felicia just grinned. “Let’s get back to her.”

Silco didn’t hesitate. Didn’t argue. Didn’t even slow down. He just walked. Back to her.

Back to the only thing that mattered.

The streets of Zaun were quieter now, the night settling into an uneasy stillness. The Last Drop loomed ahead, its neon glow softened, its usual rowdy chaos nothing more than an echo left in the air.

Felicia noticed it first. “He closed up,” she murmured, eyeing the darkened windows, the absence of sound.

Silco didn’t respond, but his steps quickened slightly.

They pushed through the door, the familiar scent of alcohol and smoke lingering in the empty space. The bar was abandoned, chairs stacked atop tables, the counters wiped clean.

Vander was waiting for them.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable—but beneath it, there was something grim. Something tired.

He lifted his gaze when they entered, his keen eyes flicking over Silco first, then Felicia.

“She asleep?” Silco asked, voice low, controlled, but Vander knew him too well to miss the tension beneath it.

Vander exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Upstairs. Guest room.”

Felicia gave a slow nod, as if that was all she needed to hear. “Well, I’d say that’s my cue to head out.” She shot Silco a knowing glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Try not to hover too much, yeah?” Silco ignored her. Felicia chuckled to herself before disappearing into the back.

Vander pushed himself off the counter, jerking his head toward the stairwell. “C’mon.”

Silco followed without hesitation.

The creak of the wooden steps was the only sound between them as Vander led him through the dim hallway, past the closed doors of the upstairs rooms.

“She didn’t say much after you left,” Vander muttered. “Didn’t ask where you went.”

Silco hummed. “She knows.”

Vander sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah. She knows.”

There was no point in pretending otherwise. Y/N was smart. She knew where they had gone. She knew why.

Stopping in front of a door, Vander rested a hand on the frame. His expression softened, the sharpness in his features dulling with something quieter. Something careful.

“She’s been through hell,” he murmured. “Give her time.” Silco’s jaw tensed.

Time.

It was a simple word, but one that carried a weight Silco wasn’t sure he could bear. He had never been patient. Never one to sit idle. But this—her—was different.

He nodded once. Vander gave him a lingering look before stepping back, leaving him alone with the door. Silco exhaled, pushing it open without a sound.

The room was dim, bathed in the low, golden glow of the bedside lamp, its light casting long, soft shadows that swayed against the walls. The world outside was silent now—no drunken laughter, no shouted bets, no sound of the city pressing in. Just the rhythmic creak of the Last Drop settling into the night.

And there, lying on the bed, curled on her side, was Y/N. She was facing away from the door, her body still, but her breathing—slow, steady, but not quite deep enough to be sleep—gave her away.

She wasn’t resting. She was waiting.

Silco stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched.

The covers were pulled loosely over her, draped across her form but not wrapped around her. As if she had tried to sleep but never really settled. One arm was tucked beneath the pillow, her body curled inward—small. Guarded.

His gaze flickered downward, and even in the dim light, he saw them.

The bruises.

The ones peeking from beneath the collar of her shirt, fading reminders of hands that should have never touched her.

His fingers twitched at his sides, a familiar rage curling deep in his stomach, simmering beneath his ribs.

A part of him wanted to turn around. To leave, to go back out into the night and finish what he started. But then—

“You’re back.” Her voice was quiet, raw with exhaustion, but still hers. Silco forced himself to breathe. He moved toward the bed, slow, measured, careful.

“I am.” A pause.

Then—she shifted, hesitantly, just enough to glance at him. Her eyes were tired, puffy from crying, but still searching. Still holding something steady. Silco didn’t know what she was looking for. But whatever it was, she must have found it. Because she exhaled, slow, relieved.

Silco hesitated, then pulled out the small wooden chair by the bedside and sat. Even that felt too close. Because the last time he had reached for her, she had flinched.

She hadn’t meant to, he knew that. But it had been instinct. A knee-jerk reaction. The kind that came from fear, not thought.

And Silco had spent his life commanding power, demanding presence—but this? This was different.

He had never wanted to be gentle before.

Not until now.

So he sat there, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat, his body too still.

He had faced death more times than he could count, had been at the brink of it, had stood in the presence of men who had wanted him dead, but never—

Never had he been afraid to touch.

Until now.

Y/N shifted again, her arm still resting beneath the pillow, but her head turned toward him now, her eyes tracing over his face—taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled like he was holding something back.

She frowned. “You’re just sitting there.”

Silco let out a slow exhale, his voice carefully even. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No.” She said it quickly. Too quickly. He raised a brow. She was embarrassed. But she didn’t take it back. Instead, she inhaled, slow and deliberate. “I don’t mind you being here.”

Silco didn’t answer. Didn’t trust himself to.

They sat in silence, the dim glow of the lamp stretching shadows across the room, painting them in quiet, in waiting. Then, softly—almost too soft for him to catch—

“I know you went to him.”

Silco exhaled slowly through his nose. He had expected this. She wasn’t a fool. She wasn’t naive.

He could lie. Could tell her it didn’t matter. That he didn’t lay a hand on him. But she would know.

Instead, he only murmured, “Does that bother you?”

A pause. Then, quieter—“No.” His eyes flickered to her, searching. She swallowed, her fingers twitching beneath the blankets. “I just… I didn’t want you to go because of me.”

Silco’s expression hardened. “It was always because of you.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I just—I don’t want you to—”

To do something reckless.

To get hurt.

To lose himself in this.

She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. Silco sat back slightly, watching her carefully, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the slight tremble in her fingers as she gripped the edge of the blanket.

He wanted to say something—but then, she moved. Slowly, cautiously, her hand emerged from beneath the blankets. Not much. Just enough to reach for him. Just enough to graze the fabric of his sleeve.

Silco stilled. His breath stopped. She hesitated—just for a moment—before her fingers curled around his wrist, light, tentative.

A request. Not an order. Not a demand. Just a quiet, unspoken need.

Stay.

Silco’s throat tightened. Slowly, carefully, he turned his palm upward, letting her fingers slide against his, letting his own close over them.

Not tight.

Not claiming.

Just holding. A tether. A promise. A moment stretched between them, fragile and unshaken. And then, her voice, quiet, unsure—

“Will you stay?”

Silco exhaled, long and slow, like the weight in his chest had finally settled.

He stood, his fingers never leaving hers as he reached for the blankets, pulling them back just enough before slipping in beside her, careful—always careful.

Y/N shifted, turning toward him, curling into the warmth that wasn’t there before.

Silco hesitated.

Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reached for her. A steady arm curling around her waist, pulling her in, letting her press against him, against the steadiness of him. She let out a breath—a small, quiet exhale. And for the first time since stepping into the room, Silco felt her relax. Felt the tension melt from her muscles, felt the way her fingers loosened where they had clutched onto his shirt.

She was safe.

And Silco?

Silco wasn’t leaving.

#Arcane #Arcane Fandom #Arcane Fluff #Arcane Angst #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n

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ironandglass · 2 days ago

Text

The Descent - Chapter 2 - Reflections

Silco x female reader dark slow burn modern au. Stalker Silco.

A strange man moves into the apartment across from yours, he likes to watch and you start to like him watching. What could go wrong?

<<<Go back to Chapter One

Warnings: stalking, violence, trauma, threats, fear, panic, romanticized toxic behavior, alcohol drinking, toxic relationships, power dynamics, mental health probably, sex mention, swearing, bad editing (notsorry), evil Silco, dark Silco, cold Silco. He’s not gentle and sweet ya feel? No jinx

Chapter two

Reflections

There are few things worse than crying yourself to sleep in your stalker’s bed. Waking up in it while he undresses might be one of them.

Back home, you’re abruptly confronted with everything as you enter the recently repaired front door, closing it behind you. Locking the deadbolt and the slide chain across.

In that moment you wish there were more locks.

Leaning back against the door you feel a pang in your chest that rises up into your throat like a painful stone. You rake your fingers up through your hair, a ragged breath escapes you. Your home was a wreck, the police had left fingerprint dust stuff on walls and moved everything awkwardly. Bringing to reality the stark reminder that someone had broken in, so easily, to your private space and threatened your life.

You take a few deep breaths. Running your fingers through your hair again and again, not even realising you're doing it.

You try to push it all down.

Suddenly gripped by a realisation, you stride across the apartment to pointedly close all the curtains. Silco wasn’t on his balcony, you assumed he had gone to bed. Or maybe he was washing the sheets after your intrusion.

Oh no, how embarrassing, you hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his bed like that. You hadn’t planned on crying your little heart out till you fell into a deep sleep. If you were being honest, that was the best sleep you'd, had in a long time.

You sit on the end of your bed, re-hashing your excruciating awkwardness. So what, the man watched you. You encouraged him by parading around In lingerie. So what if you came hard when you noticed he was watching you fuck somebody in your bed.

You liked it, you like his eyes on you. He called the police for you when you were robbed. He supported you through it, as you cried in his arms. He was actually there for you. He even gave you a place to stay and made you a hot chocolate and sure, it was a little creepy that he knew your name and he said you were his girlfriend but everything else kind of balances that out… right?

You flop back onto the bed, blowing air out of your mouth and letting your legs hang.

Am… I the creep? You start to wonder.

—

That night you dream the door won’t lock.

No matter how many chains you slide across or bolts you twist, it won’t hold.

Someone’s on the other side and you can’t tell if you’re scared… or if you’re hoping it’s him.

—

Over the next few days you wrestle with your behavior, feeling guilty for being rude to the man after violating his privacy. You supposed you had felt entitled to it because he always invaded yours, but… had he? Honestly, all you really needed to do was close the curtains. It was almost less invaded and more invited.

It was impossible to try and justify your behavior by normal morals or logic, because you were both a little twisted. The rules seemed different between you two.

You keep the curtains closed.

—

The police call, requesting you come in and identify a lineup of potential suspects involved in your robbery and even though you'd rather walk slowly over hot coals you agree, because it seems like the correct thing to do. However, a few anxious hours before you’re meant to attend, you get another phone call from the same officer advising that it’s cancelled. “Don’t come in.” They say, no explanation, no reschedule.

At first you’re annoyed at the lack of justice and potentially effort from the police but that is quickly replaced by a huge wave of relief.

—

It’s a little over a week before you start to open the blinds up and see Silco again, because it takes you time to slowly ease back into your confidence.

He gives no indication of annoyance or impatience -you do though. He feels so far away now.

You reflect on his words.

Just you.

The memory of that moment, his warm breath against your ear, feeling it sink gently down your neck.

You desperately want more of whatever that was.

—

Feeling inspired, you decide to thank Silco for helping you somehow. Maybe a gift? A token of appreciation? What do you give a wealthy man to say thank you… on a normal human budget?

Wracking your brain, it takes you a while before you come up with the perfect idea. A small perfume sampler card of your signature scent (sprayed generously in store of course, unwilling to waste your own stock).

Eventually, after visiting a frustrating number of stores, all over the damn city, you find a place that sells his brand of cigarettes, imported, black with a gold ring around the filter.

You press your lips to the perfume sampler card, leaving a stained lipstick kiss and write on the back “Thank you Silco xxx" and sign your name.

You tie the card and cigarette packet together with a luxurious dark red, silk ribbon, matching the deep red shirts he seemed to favor. You beam down proudly at the final product before carefully packing it into a box and mailing it to his unit. -and wait.

—

The wind is so cold your fingers feel numb and clumsy through your thin gloves. You can barely see the footpath carrying a large and awkward parcel home from the nearby post office.

Regretting agreeing to pick it up for your best friend Mia on short notice. You did owe her though, and you know that she would do the same (and more) for you in a heart beat. That thought eases your frustration slightly.

You’re only a few blocks from your front door when you hear an unfamiliar male voice laugh behind you.

“Let me help”

You open your mouth to protest but you feel the weight is lifted off your hands before you have the chance. You step back around the large bulky parcel to get a look at this mysterious helper.

He is wearing the most obnoxiously bright yellow tartan suit you have ever seen in your life. More annoyingly, it looks quite good on his lean muscular frame. He’s covered in tattoos, you see them peeking out at his ankles and wrists, they’re also all across his face, he smirks at you and his shocking pale green eyes throw you off centre momentarily.

“I don’t mean to be rude, drink it in, but it’s fucking freezing, and I‘ve got places to be.”

You shoot him a half smile and gesture forward with your chin, not taking your eyes off him as you both start walking up the street. You, silently and thoughtfully, taking in this unexpected curiosity.

“Seems like you don’t actually have time to help” you press as you walk together.

He huffs a brief laugh and looks at you with an incredulous grin.

“Honestly, you looked like a more independent type so… I was expecting you’d say no.”

It was your turn to now to half feign offence while lowkey being actually offended.

“Here’s fine…-"

"-Finn” he interjects, catching your eye as he lowers the parcel to the ground.

“Thank you Finn” your smile follows him as he stands to his full height. You pointedly do not offer your name, even after he gives you an encouraging look.

“Tch, You’re difficult, … I like that.” He says looking down at you, his gaze seems to deepen with a predatory glint and he cuts a handsome smirk to match it. You hold his gaze, keeping your head high, this man, “Finn” was cocksure, and apparently just obnoxious as his suit.

“See you round, difficult girl.” He gives you a sharks grin as he turns away up the street.

You watch him go, unsure what to think, but also to make sure he doesn't see which building is yours before you pick the parcel up, cross the road and go into your apartment.

—

Reading, on your couch, a small flicker of light out of the corner of your eye lets you know Silco is home and has moved onto the balcony to smoke. Possibly enjoying his small but hopefully meaningful gift.

You turn slightly in his direction to smile warmly at his half lit outline for a moment before turning back to your reading, as one might greet a dear friend.

His presence was a soothing balm, comforting after a long day at work. After some time, you found your thoughts drifting to how you clung to his warmth and how his fingers traced soothing patterns on your back to calm you. His expensive high end apartment with the marble countertop and large bathroom. His smell, his delicious hot chocolate, his warm whisper in your ear.

You absently trace your thumb over your lip. You want more of him, but you’re not sure how, or why or… if you should?

You flick your eyes towards him without turning your head. The curtains are drawn and he has retreated. Your heart sinks at the realization that he’s no longer watching, he’s not with you.

You’re very much alone.

Maybe it would be better to have a normal healthy relationship… or at least let off some steam.

One of your friends, Mia, had been trying to get you to come out to something, anything… you decide in that moment to take her up on it and message her.

YOU: "When are you coming to pick up this massive fucking parcel?"

She replies quickly.

MIA: "Awww are you missing me? Haha I can come grab it tonight! After work, Oooooh also, I have news!"

You pause at that last line, that was never a good sign, it usually meant you were about to be dragged into something.

You walk to the cupboard and pull out two wine glasses and a bottle in preparation. You had to admit though, her schemes were never boring and you catch yourself smiling.

Before you sit down you pull the curtains closed.

—

You don't have to wait long before you hear footsteps at your door, a key fumble in the lock awkwardly for a moment followed by the crash of a heavy keyring falling loudly to the floor and familiar cursing.

You laugh and go to the door, opening it as an act of mercy.

"How have you made it this far in life?" You ask at the grinning woman sheepishly clutching a set of keys covered way too many novelty keyrings.

"There she is!" She says throwing her arms around you enthusiastically giving you a tight squeeze. "My favourite door opening, parcel receiving, goddess!"

You snort a laugh and close the door behind her, locking the dead bolt and slide bolt in place as well as the new extra lock you had installed. Mia glances at you over her shoulder for just one second before doing a little twirl into the room, towards the couch and pulling another bottle of wine out.

"I come bearing tribute!" She says dramatically, bowing as she places it on the table, your traditional festive grounds.

She flings off her large bright coat, tossing it over the back of one of a stool revealing a stylish bright ensemble with large earrings. She always looks amazing.

You pour two glasses of wine before tilting your head to the package.

"So what is it? Besides heavy?" You ask.

She stomps her heels on the ground rapidly in excitement.

"It's my wheel!" She says her eyes lighting up.

"Like... a pottery wheel?" You ask.

"Uh yeah, a pottery wheel! I'm sick of paying for classes like a peasant. I want to be at home with myself in the zone with that stupid song playing. Ohhhhhh myyyy looovvveeee…"

You grin as you take another sip and she shows you photos on her phone of some of the things she has made. Some are bent and awkward but you can see as she progresses through the album her improvement, some of them are starting to look really good.

"Damn, some of these actually look great." You admit smiling.

She falls back on the couch smirking. "I'm full of surprises babe."

"I'm gonna make vessels and talismans, maybe even urns, you know, for dogs or something."

You giggle at the idea, joining her on the couch. It's not long before both of you kick your shoes off and slump into lazy comfort with your feet lined up resting on the coffee table. Talking playfully and laughing a little too loudly, but in the best way.

Suddenly Mia's spine stiffens and she looks at you like she just remembered something scandalous.

"Ooooh that's right, my news!" She exclaims.

"Don't make that face" she chastises you gently, slapping your thigh. "You'll love this!"

Mia wiggles herself forward to lean in closer to you, conspiratorially.

“So, get this—I met this guy. Tall, tattoos, gorgeous in a very bad idea kind of way.”

You try to feign parental concern without smiling. “Oooh nooo.”

“Ooooh yes,” she grins. “He came into the gallery looking like trouble in a yellow suit, asked all the right questions, bought two paintings, and might have invited me to a fancy charity ball.”

You choke on your wine. “Wait—what?”

Mia shrugs, way too casual. “It’s this weekend. Super posh. He said I could bring a friend.” She points at you. “You. Obviously.”

You blink at her. “You want me to go to a rich people gala with a man you just met in a banana suit?”

“He’s hot! And charming! And rich! And it’s for charity. Plus, he already arranged a dress fitting. Free couture, babe. Couture.”

You stare at her, uncertain. Part of you wants to laugh, the other part wants to scream. But Mia’s looking at you with those big, hopeful eyes, practically vibrating with excitement.

“…You in?” she tempts.

You sigh, long and dramatic. “If we end up murdered, it's on you.”

Mia squeals and launches at you with a hug. “We are gonna be iconic! --

Watering your plants on the balcony, you glance up to see Silco’s not there—the large, empty glass windows of his apartment still and silent. The sun is high in the sky, so this isn’t unusual. You usually only saw him from dusk till dawn, maybe only a handful of times in daylight.

Standing barefoot in the bright, natural light, tending to your plants, all of that feels far away. You enjoy this quiet moment with nobody watching, alone, but not lonely.

The smell of damp soil and the weight of the watering can, sloshing gently with your movements, ground you.

You hum a song to yourself as you move from plant to plant, enjoying the warmth.

The espresso machine hisses like a warning, sharp and sudden, not quite drowned out by the ambient music of the cafe.

You'd promised yourself you'd take an actual break but for some reason you were still reading work emails on your company laptop.

You don't notice him until the air shifts, something feels off, like pressure changing before a storm. Then the chair scrapes.

"Relax" he says calmly sitting down opposite you. "I won't stay long" You look up at him, eyes wide in surprise, your mouth half open.

"Silco." You say dumbly, watching as he draws a card out of his pocket and places it in the middle of the table between you.

"Your handwriting is terrible" he says. "But your perfume's better than I expected.”

You stare at the card, then up at him.

"You got it" you exhale.

"I did" he replies, picking the card back up. Your eyes linger as you notice him brushing his thumb gently over it once before tucking it away into the breast pocket of his coat. "And I meant to thank you properly, after all it was a bold gesture."

You freeze, like a deer in the headlights. Flustered and proud and nervous all at once.

He leans in slightly, as if feasting, his eyes watching yours with exquisite precision. Always so intense.

Your lips part slowly to say something.

"-Do you know who I am." His question throws you off completely.

You stumble for a moment, brows furrowing."... I mean sort of? You're my... Neighbour and... I know your name?"

He nods towards your laptop.

"Open a new browser."

You do so, looking up at him.

"Now type in my name."

You raise an eyebrow at this but comply, the five keys clattering gently.

The search loads instantly.

Silco, Zaun Industries CEO wanted for questioning in relation to the disappearance- Industrialist allegedly linked to underground crime- Arson attack- Crime and corruption in- Undercity Kingpin - several bodies found branded with the Eye of Zaun- Politicians revealed to have dealings with- police found no evidence- on and on

Hundreds, no thousands of articles, boardroom photos, headlines, grainy security footage.

All of it, him.

Him.

Your breath falters as you take all of this in. Before slowly looking up at him.

"This is you" you say.

"It is." He says, cold, unapologetic, honest.

"I thought you were just... rich" you admit.

He raises one eyebrow, mildly amused. "I am."

"I mean like, eccentric, quiet, controlling rich... I didn't think-"

"-That I was dangerous?"

You fall silent at this. The words hit like a truck.

He reaches over and takes a sip of your coffee, like it's a test, or a claim.

You search his face, desperately clinging to the man you thought you knew. As if familiarity will ground you.

"Why tell me this?" You ask.

"I don't want you to remain ignorant." He says softly this time.

A moment passes and your mind is racing, trying to make sense of all of this. "So what... Is this a threat?"

"If I were threatening you" he says, eyes meeting yours. "You'd feel it."

You believe him.

Your brows furrow deeper. "So why now? ... Why are you telling me this now?"

He looks at you, considering for a long moment. As though he's deciding if you should know the truth- or something else.

"You sent me a gift." He explains slowly. "You put something of yourself into it, thoughtfully and freely."

A pause.

"And you deserve to know what you gave it to."

You blink at this.

"I didn't know it was like that." You admit.

"I know." He says, eyes flicking back up to yours.

Silco leans back in his chair, relaxed. Calmly assessing your reactions, witnessing your thoughts. He takes another sip of your coffee, setting it down neatly.

You close your laptop screen slowly and rake your fingers through your hair. "I don't know what to do with this." You confess.

"You don't need to do anything." He says pausing. "Not yet." Something about the way he says the last part makes your stomach drop.

You narrow your eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Silco stands and tucks his chair in, the legs scrape softly against the tile.

He adjusts his coat, and taps the breast pocket he had tucked your gift into, looking down at you.

“You handed me a piece of yourself, and I accepted it.”

A smile curls his lips.

“That part of you belongs to me now... and it won't be returned.”

He turns, walking toward the door. Calm, unhurried. No drama. No threat in his stride. “You should’ve known better than to offer something you couldn’t afford to lose.”

Just before the exit, he glances back at you smirking, like he already knows how this ends.

And then he's gone.

"And you deserve to know what you gave it to."

That night you keep the curtains closed, sore eyes staring at the cold glass in front of you. On the screen is yet another news article. The screen is paused on the image of Silco. His face set firm, uncompromising. Two large bodyguards stand either side of him. You blow a loose strand of hair out of your face and allow yourself to relax, sinking into the couch behind you. The muscles in your back easing after hours of tension. For hours now, you had been researching him trying to make it sink in that this is the truth, the reality of your situation. Reading and reading until you can't anymore. You have to accept it, it seems impossible, but this is the man who you let watch, let him see so much of yourself. “That part of you belongs to me now... and it won't be returned.”

The man was so much worse than you could ever imagined. In every way.

Dangerous, powerful, violent and you pranced around in your underwear for him and sent him tokens of affection.

You drop your face into your hands.

But you meant it. The man you knew, before you knew that, he was still the same man. Just ... significantly worse and most likely dangerous to be near.

You sigh deeply. How the fuck did you get yourself so tangled up in this?

And even after everything, why do you still think about how he held you that night. “You should’ve known better than to offer something you couldn’t afford to lose.”

You curl up tightly into a ball, like you can fold yourself away from it all, and you cry. -- Thanks so much for reading Chapter 2! 🔪📖🖤 I have been really enjoying writing this so I hope you dig it! If you're comfy doing so, please let me know what you think! : ) Super curious to know what YOU want to happen? Or what you want to see more of or know more about?

I can promise you, shit is about to get WILD next chapter, I hope you're ready. <3 Iron

PS - If you’d like to be added to the taglist for “The Descent” let me know!✨

<<<Go back to Chapter One

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agarbar · 4 months ago

Text

Rumors- Prologue

Sevika x Reader

MDI!! +18

You were Sevika's most loyal pet.

Warnings for whole story: (I will avoid giving too much detail of the plot of the fic, read at your own risk.) SMUT, Sexual descriptions, age gap, ANGST, SLOOOOW BURN (years literaly pass, kidnapping, aggression, Toxic relationship, aggression, cheating (situationship type), Sevika does not even like (or respect) the reader, Reader is delusional. Sevika hasn't lost her arm (yet), manipulation, reader might be described as curvy. More warnings be added later. SLOW WRITER! (sorry)

English is not my first language. I struggle a lot with punctuation and grammar. This will take multiple parts, and its set before the first events of Arcane. Its technically an x reader, but I will avoid using (Y/N) the best I can. There is an age gap in this story, the reader is also a bit weird and obsessive.

Sevika made her way through the crowd, her steel-toed boots making loud thumps as she marched along the wood and metal floors of the Last Drop. She headed to the ornate doorway of the top floor. The men guarding the entrance knew better than to attempt to block her path. The door swung open and banged against the wall, slammed shut just as loud. Silco did not even need to glance up to see who it was, he called her up after all.

“You asked to see me, boss?”

"Have you been taking good care of your pets, Sevika?" Silco questioned as he reviewed their latest shimmer supply record.

She nearly rolled her eyes at his question. "My men know their place— they do as I say, no questions asked. They don’t need pampering."

"You must already know how vital loyalty is for someone of your position. Particularly the ones you are affiliated with." The man poured himself a glass of liquor. “So then? How have you been treating your pets?”

The woman slumped down on a wooden coffee table, not bothering with the fancy velvet settee. "What exactly are you getting at?”

"Certain rumors are spreading around," Silco picked up his drink, swirled the golden-hued beverage, and leaned back in his seat. "In regards to Sheriff Grayson."

Sevika scowled as she heard the Piltie’s name. “What type of rumors?” She drew a cigarette from her vest and dug into her back pocket for her lighter.

"Insiders say Sheriff Grayson is going around digging for dirt."

Sevika blew a cloud of smoke out her nostrils, the burn alleviated the itch in her lungs. “Thought the Piltie had no interest in ‘fixing’ Zaun.”

"The sheriff does have a deal with Vander.” Silco dropped the papers on the table, no longer interested in revising them. “But things can change fairly quickly."

“You think she will start meddling with our business?”

"She might," Silco said, circling his chair to look at his large window. "There are numerous sightings, all late in the night. She visits one person in particular.”

“And you want me to deal with them?”

Sevika could tell Silco was more amused than enraged by the stupidly obnoxious way he swirled the liquid in his glass. Strange, considering that the possibility of the Sheriff suddenly placing importance on their business was a big reason for stress.

“Sources claim that the sheriff has been visiting a little seamstress.”

Sevika froze for a moment. So this was it? This was the reason why you've been avoiding her for months? Her jaw clenched in anger. Of course. Of course, Grayson would be targeting her... she pushed her thoughts aside, focusing on what was important.

“Blue building, three stories high, store front at the bottom, sound familiar?”

"Yes, I know the place.” She answered, gripping the cigar in her thick fingers and drawing it away from her lips.

Silco turned his chair to face her once again.

"The sheriff has been going in late at night, and leaving before sunrise.

The girl was a..... plaything of yours,” He arched his thinning brow. “right?"

Sevika averted her eyes. She despised being questioned. “I never claimed her as my own, just.. entertainment. A distraction.”

Silco leaned back in his chair, his eye never leaving Sevika’s face. "And, don't you think it's odd that the Sheriff is visiting your ‘distraction’, night after night?" his voice both serious and amused.

No, you wouldn’t. You were an attention-seeking hog, but you were too obsessed, too devoted to her for something like that. But then again... you had stopped attending to her needs. After ‘that night’ you had not shown up at the Last Drop to see her. Or tried to seduce her, shown at her doorstep for some fun, or showed your face anywhere she frequented.

“Are you implying she’s a snitch? For Grayson? My brat?”

Silco chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "I’m not implying anything, Sevika. I’m merely stating the facts. Grayson has been spotted entering that little seamstress shop, night after night. And I find it awfully convenient that your little pet happens to be involved."

Sevika clenched her jaw, her irritation and anger growing with every word Silco spoke. "Bullshit," she hissed. "She would never.”

But a small, nagging doubt crept into her mind. It had been months since you stopped seeing her. Could it be that you were working with Grayson? Betraying her? No, there was no way. Was there?

Sevika took a long drag from her cigarette, calming her nerves before she spoke again. "Even if Grayson has been visiting that shop, it doesn’t prove anything," Sevika said, her tone stern. “There's no proof that they are involved."

"We don't, but we don't have any proof she is not either," Silco said, looking at how his glass gleamed with the moonlight. "I was going to let two of my men give her a visit for answers, but I doubt you'd appreciate me bruising one of your apples."

Sevika grimaced at the thought of you being roughened up by some ruffians. "No. Nobody touches her. I'll handle this myself." She snuffed out, her cigar on one of Silco's trinket plates.

Sevika stood up from her seat, determined to find out the truth. She needed to know if you were truly working with Grayson and if you had sold her out. She headed towards the door, her mind set on confronting the little seamstress she had spent most nights with for the last 3 years. Her hand grasped the door's brass knob.

"Take better care of your pets, Sevika," Silco said, "She was so loyal just months ago."

Sevika paused in the doorway, her hand on the handle. Silco's words dug deep, reminding her of the once loyal girl who used to attend to her needs.

"You think I don't know that Silco?" she said, her voice low and laced with irritation. "Just... let me handle this." She walked out and slammed the door behind her.

#sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika #Arcane #sevika x reader smut #sevika x reader angst #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #young silco #arcane silco #wlw #arcane fanfic #sevika fanfic #wlw angst #lesbian #Gar fic fic

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elyxir1zz · 1 month ago

Text

★ — stone and steel - ch 1

ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ʙᴏꜱꜱ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW : mafia, age gap, kiddnaping, drug use, underage drinking, age gap, read is 18, sevika is 38, toxic (?), reader does molly, mel is here

A/N : i orginally abandoned this fic but i decided to push through and finish it

"Come on, Sevika! Just a few drinks?" Jinx whined, practically hanging off Sevika’s shoulders like a restless child.

Sevika grunted, shoving her off with little effort. "I have work," she said flatly, rubbing her temples. "Some smugglers got caught up with Silco last night. Now I have to clean up their mess."

Jinx groaned dramatically, flopping backward against the desk with a huff. "Ugh, fine. But you’re missing out," she sing-songed, twirling a lock of blue hair around her finger. She leaned in with a mischievous smirk. "Invite's open if you change your minddddd—" she dragged out the last word before skipping toward the door. "Don't work yourself to death, grumpy."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Sevika in the dim glow of her desk lamp.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders before reaching for the cigar resting in the ashtray. The flame flickered as she lit it, the first inhale grounding her in a moment of quiet. The weight of responsibility pressed against her chest, but she couldn’t afford to slip—not now.

Her gaze dropped to the folder on her desk. Thick, worn edges from too many times flipping through it. She opened it again anyway.

A set of photos stared back at her. You.

A copy of your birth certificate. Documents detailing your life like an open book—where you lived, habits, routines, places you frequented. She somehow even got her hands on nudes. You weren’t just some random mark. You were his daughter. Silco’s.

Sevika exhaled, smoke curling in the air above her. The Veiled Eye had been a thorn in her side for too long, and this was the key. You were the key.

But as much as she hated to admit it, her interest wasn’t just strategic.

She traced a calloused finger over the corner of one of your photos. You didn’t look exactly like him, but the resemblance was there. Strong features, sharp eyes. Yet there was something else—something that made her hesitate.

Something that made her stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with business.

Sevika scowled and snapped the folder shut.

Shit.

This was supposed to be about leverage, about power. So why the hell was she so damn drawn to you?

She took another drag of her cigar, exhaling slowly.

Maybe a drink wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

You brought the vape to your lips, inhaling deeply, the burn trailing down your throat before you exhaled a slow cloud of smoke.

"Hey, so like… your dad isn’t gonna kill me for doing this, right?" Mel asked, shimmying into her dress—a white and gold sparkly number that hugged her just right.

You sighed, turning away from your vanity mirror to shoot her a look over your shoulder. "Mel, if you keep asking that, I’m gonna kill myself," you deadpanned, blowing out another stream of vapor as you spoke.

She giggled, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. Do you have the fake IDs?"

Walking over, she leaned down, resting her chin on your shoulder as you reached into the vanity drawer. Underneath a mess of half-used makeup products, you fished out two laminated cards and handed hers over.

"Oh, shit," she snickered, flipping it between her fingers. "I look hot."

You smirked, dabbing contour along the bridge of your nose. "Obviously."

Mel watched you for a second before grabbing a brush and blending the lines with expert precision. "Okay, you need to blend—there, perfect," she said, admiring her work.

You grinned, tilting your head from side to side in the mirror. "Damn, I’m so cute."

Mel huffed a laugh, bumping her hip against yours. "Yeah, yeah. Now let’s go before I start overthinking this whole 'pissing off your crime-lord father' thing again."

Jinx giggled as Ekko’s hands settled at her waist, pulling her closer until her back pressed against his chest. The bass of the music thumped through the club, matching the slow sway of their hips. They needed this—needed to be together, even if it was in the middle of a crowd.

Sevika had been harsher than usual the past week, and it was putting a strain on both of them. A month of no progress on you had made her temper even worse, and she took it out on everyone. The tension had started creeping into their relationship, weighing on them like a storm cloud.

Jinx tilted her head as Ekko buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Her fingers traced the back of his neck absentmindedly, grounding herself in his touch. The music shifted, the rhythm growing faster, the crowd getting more restless. She turned in his arms, pressing her lips near his ear.

“Let’s go sit at the bar,” she whispered.

Ekko nodded, and without another word, she grabbed his hand, weaving through the mass of bodies until they reached the counter.

She leaned against it, tapping her nails on the surface. “Can I get a margarita?”

The bartender nodded, then glanced at Ekko for his order.

“A Bloody Mary, please.” His hand never left Jinx’s hip, fingers drumming lazily against the fabric of her dress.

Jinx turned toward him, ready to make some snide remark, when a voice cut through the noise—smooth, effortless, and way too familiar.

“Can I have a Mai Tai?”

Jinx froze.

Her body stiffened, fingers tightening around Ekko’s arm as if to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. The voice—your voice—was one she’d heard countless times on recordings. She’d studied it so much she could pick it out in an instant. And now, here it was, right next to her.

Almost comically, Jinx turned her head.

And there you were.

Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle, looking effortlessly stunning in a midnight blue bodycon dress. It clung to you in all the right places, long sleeves adding an elegant touch, while just enough cleavage peeked out to make Jinx’s brain short-circuit.

She must’ve been staring too long because your eyes met hers, curiosity flickering across your face.

“Uh… can I help you?” you asked, raising a brow.

Jinx stammered, forcing a smile. “Sorry—I, uh—I just really love your dress.”

She squeezed Ekko’s bicep—hard. He understood immediately. Without hesitation, he slipped away into the crowd, already pulling out his phone.

You grinned, completely oblivious. “Thanks! I got it at this little boutique downtown. I think it was Audrey’s or something?” You giggled, accepting your drink from the bartender.

Jinx nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah! I’ve been there. Love their shoes.” She was stalling.

Across the club, Ekko was already halfway to the exit, Sevika’s contact pulled up.

The phone barely rang once before she picked up. “What?” Her voice was already irritated.

Ekko didn’t bother with pleasantries. “She’s here.”

A pause. Then, a sharp, “What?”

“That chick you’ve been stalking! She’s here, at the club!” He had to yell over the music.

On the other end, Sevika went silent. Then—“Are you fucking with me?”

Ekko rolled his eyes. “No, dude. Just—just get here. Now. Jinx is stalling her!”

He hung up before she could respond, shoving his phone into his pocket as he made his way back to the bar.

Meanwhile, Jinx was doing everything she could to keep you from leaving.

“Oh, yeah, and they just got this new—uh, limited-edition collection—”

You gave her a polite smile, shifting your weight. “Right, well, it was nice meeting you, but—”

“Jesus Christ, what’s taking so long?”

Mel.

You turned just as your best friend appeared at your side, looking mildly annoyed—until she caught sight of Jinx.

Her expression faltered, eyes flickering with recognition. “Oh.”

Jinx went rigid.

Mel’s fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Okay, lady, we’re gonna go—”

You groaned, laughing as she pulled you away. “Mel! That was so rude!”

Jinx barely heard you. Her heart was still racing.

Ekko reappeared at her side, watching you disappear into the crowd. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That was Ambessa’s daughter, wasn’t it?” he muttered.

Jinx swallowed hard, still staring after you.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

And she had no idea what the hell to do next.

Jinx and Ekko searched the club, pushing past sweaty bodies and scanning every darkened corner, but you were nowhere to be found. By the time Sevika arrived, they had nothing to show for it except frustration.

"You lost her?" Sevika's voice was sharp, barely restrained.

Jinx crossed her arms. "It’s not like she was on a damn leash, Sev," she muttered, avoiding the older woman’s glare.

But before Sevika could tear into them, Ekko hesitantly spoke up. "There's something else."

Sevika turned to him, eyes narrowing. "What?"

Ekko exchanged a glance with Jinx before saying, "Mel Medarda—she was with her."

Sevika stilled, her expression flipping like a switch. Mel. Ambessa Medarda’s daughter.

Jinx watched as realization set in, as frustration twisted into something more calculated. Sevika wasn’t just after you because of Silco—she was trying to dismantle his empire, and if Ambessa's daughter was tangled up in this, that changed things.

The next day, Sevika found herself on a tense phone call with Ambessa Medarda herself.

"Does your daughter know what you really do?" Sevika asked, voice edged with suspicion.

There was silence on the other end at first. Then, Ambessa scoffed, her tone guarded. "Why do you care?"

Sevika leaned back in her chair, fingers drumming on the desk beside your file. "Because if she does, that makes things… complicated."

Another pause. Then, a begrudging admission. "Mel doesn’t know. She stays out of my affairs."

Sevika exhaled slowly. That was something, at least. If Mel was in the dark, that meant Sevika's own organization—the Iron Fangs—was safe from her meddling. And more importantly, it meant you wouldn’t get any inside information to pass back to Silco.

"Good," Sevika muttered before hanging up.

She let the phone drop onto the desk, rubbing her temples. This is getting us nowhere, she thought, frustration mounting. It had been over a month, and they were no closer to using you against Silco.

Before she could spiral further, the door swung open.

Violet and Caitlyn Kiramman stepped inside, followed closely by Jinx and Ekko.

"We couldn’t find her in any of the places you told us," Caitlyn said, her voice cautious.

Sevika’s glare snapped to her. "How do I know you two weren’t off making out instead of doing your damn job?" she asked, her tone laced with poison.

Caitlyn’s face flushed, but before she could respond, Violet stepped forward, jaw tight. "Don’t talk to her like that."

Jinx sighed, already seeing where this was going, and quickly tugged Violet back. "Alright, relax, both of you." She shot Sevika a look before turning to the desk. "We bribed one of her friends, and she mentioned a bunch of their friends were going to the State Festival on Saturday."

Sevika raised an eyebrow. "And you think she’ll be there?"

Jinx shrugged. "It’s a lead, isn’t it?" She pulled a folded flyer from her pocket and slapped it onto Sevika’s desk. The bold, colorful letters read: Annual State Festival – Music, Drinks, & More!

Caitlyn crossed her arms. "We’re going to split up and try to find her."

Sevika didn’t hesitate. "I’m coming with you."

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Violet tensed, already looking like she wanted to argue, but Caitlyn touched her arm, shaking her head. Jinx just smirked.

"Fine by me," she said. "Hope you know how to have fun, Sev."

Sevika scoffed, picking up the flyer and glancing it over.

This is it, she thought. If she shows up, she’s ours.

You lay sprawled out on your back, sinking into the plush comfort of your oversized bed. Your room was nothing short of gorgeous—high ceilings, warm lighting, and every luxury a girl could ask for. A vanity cluttered with makeup sat in the corner, a sleek computer perched on your desk, and to top it off, a fully stocked mini-fridge, currently missing one pint of ice cream.

Mel was draped across your stomach, her head resting just below your ribs as she stared at the ceiling. You absentmindedly scooped another bite of ice cream, the cold sweetness melting on your tongue as she huffed dramatically.

"And she said ‘Mel doesn’t know’ like—what the fuck does that even mean?!" Mel groaned, throwing an arm over her face.

You licked the spoon, barely suppressing a smirk. "Maybe she’s sending you to boarding school," you teased.

Mel lifted her head just enough to glare at you. "That’s not funny."

You giggled, poking her side. "Listen, hotstuff, if you talk about Ambessa one more time, I swear to God, I will light myself on fire."

Mel scoffed, rolling off of you and sitting up. “Dramatic much?”

You grinned but didn’t argue. Instead, you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as she got to her feet and wandered over to your vanity. She turned slightly, tilting her head as she checked her reflection, smoothing out the already perfect waves of her hair.

"So," you drawled, taking another bite of ice cream. "Did you decide if you’re going to the festival tonight?"

She met your gaze in the mirror, her lips pursed like she was pretending to contemplate it.

"Mm. Maybe," she said, adjusting the straps of her dress. "Are you going?"

That was the real question.

Because if you were going, Mel definitely was.

"Mom! I'm not coming home until you tell me everything!" Mel shouted into her phone, pacing just outside the parking lot, her free hand clenched into a fist.

A few feet away, you stood in front of a guy draped in baggy clothes, his grin sharp and lazy. Behind him loomed a couple of buffer guys, their faces inked with bold tattoos that twisted under the neon glow of a flickering streetlight.

"Heeeyyy, short stack," the guy drawled, flashing a gold-toothed smirk. "You partying with us tonight?" His excitement seemed genuine, almost affectionate in that detached, dealer-kind-of-way.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "I'll come by if I remember."

He snickered, slapping your palm in a casual handshake before slipping a small baggie into it. Inside, two little pink pills with smiley faces stared back at you. "Have a nice night," he said, giving you a solid fist bump before stepping back into the shadows of the lot.

"Don't be a stranger!" he called as you turned away, his voice echoing in the humid night air.

By the time you reached Mel, she had hung up, shoving her phone deep into the pocket of her low-rise jeans—ripped at the thighs, matching yours almost perfectly.

"What did you get?" she asked, her tone light but eyes flicking toward the tiny bag in your grasp.

You grinned, holding it up between two fingers. "Ecstasy." With a flick, you popped the seal and tipped one of the pills onto your palm. No hesitation. You placed it on your tongue and let it sit there for a second before swallowing.

Mel took the baggie and fished out the other pill, already unscrewing the lid of her water bottle—filled to the brim with vodka. "Wash it down," she offered with a smirk.

You took a swig, grimacing at the harsh burn as it slid down your throat. "Jesus Christ, your mom didn’t notice this much vodka missing?"

Mel just grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. "Not yet… but she will. I cut her bottle with water."

You snorted as she slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in close as the two of you made your way toward the fair entrance.

"You better not snitch on me," you muttered, exhaling sharply. "Silco doesn’t even know I’m here."

Mel glanced at you, her amusement dimming just slightly. "He didn’t notice you leaving? I know your house is littered with security cameras." She giggled, but there was curiosity there too.

You rolled your eyes. "He’s been super busy. He doesn’t know, but I went down this rabbit hole on Reddit, and it was… weird."

The fair stretched out in front of you, the air thick with the scent of buttery popcorn and spun sugar. The chaotic hum of the crowd mixed with the distant, shrill screams from the rides, blending into a dizzying buzz of energy.

"There’s this underground mafia that’s super powerful, and I think he’s worried…" you trailed off, your mind still tangled in everything you’d read.

Mel gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Let’s not think about that tonight!" she beamed. "Let the molly kick in, and let’s go on some rides!"

With a squeal, she grabbed your hand and took off, pulling you toward the nearest ride, her laughter getting lost in the neon lights and electric pulse of the fairground.

Mel’s grip on your wrist was firm as she dragged you toward the nearest ride—a towering contraption of spinning swings. The metal structure groaned as it lifted screaming riders high into the air, their legs kicking out wildly as the ride picked up speed.

"C’mon, this one first!" Mel grinned, practically bouncing on her feet as she led the way.

You hesitated for only a second, the molly’s warmth beginning to stir in your chest. Your limbs felt lighter, your skin hyper-aware of the night air kissing against it. The fairground lights stretched into soft, neon halos, like the world had been dipped in something hazy and electric.

You both climbed into your seats, the metal bar locking across your lap with a sharp click. As the ride lurched into motion, you felt the weightlessness take over, the world spinning beneath you. Wind whipped against your skin, the fair becoming a blur of laughter, music, and flashing colors. Mel let out a wild scream, throwing her hands up, and you couldn’t help but do the same, the rush of adrenaline mixing seamlessly with the euphoria creeping into your veins.

By the time you stumbled off, dizzy and breathless, Mel was already pulling you toward the next attraction—a rickety-looking roller coaster that seemed one bolt away from collapsing. The two of you barely managed to shove the safety bar down before it jerked into motion, the rickety track rattling beneath you.

You didn’t even have time to scream before you were thrown into the first drop.

Everything blurred together—the chaotic mix of highs, the rush of the wind, the tight grip of Mel’s hand on yours as you flew through loops and turns. The laughter came easily, the worries you had earlier fading into the pulsating energy of the fair.

Then came the teacups.

By now, the molly was hitting full force. The world around you felt brighter, softer, like everything was breathing with you. The colorful lights of the fair pulsed in time with the distant music, and every little sound—laughter, the whir of the rides, the shuffle of footsteps—felt amplified, woven together in a strange, beautiful harmony.

You and Mel climbed into one of the oversized teacups, the painted ceramic glossy under the neon glow. As the ride started, you both gripped the wheel in the center, spinning it as fast as you could until the world around you became a swirl of colors.

The teacup spun lazily now, the initial rush of dizziness settling into something dreamlike. The fairground lights stretched and blurred at the edges of your vision, glowing softer, warmer, like the whole world had been dipped in neon honey. The music from the rides pulsed faintly in the background, each beat thrumming through your chest like a second heartbeat.

Mel leaned back against the curved wall of the teacup, her pupils wide, lips parted in an easy, dazed smile. "Holy shit," she breathed, stretching her arms over her head. "This feels insane."

You let out a slow laugh, resting your head against the back of the seat. "Yeah. Feels like we’re floating."

For a while, neither of you spoke, letting the high settle, the world spinning in slow motion around you. The fair’s chaotic energy felt distant, like you were sitting in the eye of a storm—untouchable, weightless.

Then Mel sighed, her fingers drumming absently against her knee. "So… about my mom."

Something about her tone made your stomach twist. You blinked sluggishly, turning your head toward her. "What about her?"

Mel hesitated, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. "That mafia you were talking about?" she muttered, voice quieter now. "The one Silco’s worried about?"

The hazy warmth in your chest cooled slightly. A small ripple of unease broke through the molly’s euphoric haze.

"Yeah?" you said slowly.

Mel exhaled through her nose, eyes flicking away as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to see your reaction. "My mom works for them," she admitted. "Like… shes been working for them since before i was born..but she hasnt really been working with them recently, shes getting older and it seems theyve left her alone"

The words felt distant, like they had to fight through the high to reach you. But when they did, they hit hard.

Your fingers curled against the edge of the teacup. "What?"

Mel let out a humorless laugh, rubbing her hands over her face before dropping them back into her lap. "Yeah. I found out on the phone call. She acts all high and mighty, but she’s just another attack dog for some psycho pulling the strings." She looked at you then, something unreadable flickering in her expression. "Guess that explains why she won’t tell me shit. She probably thinks I’ll go running my mouth."

Your thoughts felt sluggish, tangled in the drug’s haze. Silco had been on edge for weeks, digging for information, murmuring about the growing threat looming over the city. And now, Mel—your best friend—was connected to it.

The fair didn’t seem so bright anymore.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. "Does Silco know?"

Mel shook her head. "No. And you can’t tell him." Her voice wavered slightly, just enough for you to notice. "If he finds out… I don’t know what he’d do."

Your pulse thumped in your ears, the warmth of the molly battling with the cold weight settling in your stomach. The teacup continued to spin gently, but suddenly, it felt like the ground wasn’t so steady anymore.

As the two of you stumbled off the teacup ride, the world still swayed beneath your feet, the molly turning everything into a dreamlike haze. You were about to suggest another ride when something caught your eye—a familiar figure weaving through the crowd.

Your vision blurred slightly, but there was no mistaking the broad shoulders, the way he carried himself. "Is that…?" you squinted, trying to focus.

Mel followed your gaze, her eyes narrowing—until they suddenly went wide. "Jayce?!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos of the fair.

Your stomach dropped. No way.

Her ex-boyfriend. The one who had supposedly moved out of state. The one she had spent months cursing, only to pretend he never existed when she was finally over him. And yet, here he was, flesh and blood, standing just a few feet away.

Mel barely hesitated. "I should go say hi."

Your head snapped toward her. "What? No! You can’t just leave me—what if he’s totally over you? That’d be humiliating!"

Your protests fell on deaf ears. She was already pushing through the crowd, her determination outweighing your grip on her wrist.

"Mel, come on—!"

The crowd surged between you like a living thing, bodies pressing in, separating you in an instant. Your fingers slipped from hers, and then—she was gone.

"Mel?!" you shouted, shoving forward, but it was useless. The mass of people closed in, swallowing her whole.

Shit.

The fairgrounds suddenly felt suffocating—the neon lights too bright, the sounds too loud, blending together in an overwhelming blur. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, a mix of the drug and panic coursing through you.

Disoriented, you stumbled away from the chaos, slipping between trailers where food stands were set up. The smell of grease and sugar clung to the air, but it did nothing to settle the rising nausea in your stomach. You pressed your back against a rusted wall, sucking in sharp breaths, squeezing your eyes shut.

A small whimper escaped your lips.

"Are you okay?"

The voice was high-pitched, almost familiar. Your eyes fluttered open, vision swimming slightly, and then you saw her.

Bright blue hair, streaked with pink. A mischievous smirk pulling at her lips. You’d seen her before—last weekend, at the bar.

Your heart skipped a beat.

"It’s you…" your voice was barely above a breath. You blinked hard, trying to steady yourself. "Are—are you real?"

The girl tilted her head, amusement flickering in her sharp eyes. "Uh… yeah? Did you take something?"

You hesitated. "…Have you seen my friend? Butterfly braids, gold glittery makeup."

Her smirk widened, like she found your dazed concern entertaining. Before she could reply, hands suddenly grabbed you from behind.

A gloved palm clamped over your mouth.

Your body went rigid. Panic exploded in your chest, but before you could scream, the hand was replaced with something else—cloth, thick and soaked with something sharp-smelling.

Chloroform.

"Shut the fuck up," a voice growled in your ear.

You thrashed, but your limbs were sluggish, uncoordinated. The molly dulled your reflexes, making your attempts at escape pathetic. Darkness crawled at the edges of your vision, your body going limp as exhaustion consumed you.

The last thing you saw was the blue-haired girl watching, head tilted curiously.

"What do you think she took?"

Jinx’s voice sounded distant, muffled, as if you were underwater.

Ekko adjusted your unconscious body in his arms, carrying you with ease. "Probably MDMA or something," he muttered. "We should tell Sevika."

Jinx hummed, tapping her fingers against her hip as she walked beside him. "Yeah… I guess we should."

She glanced down at you, her smirk lingering.

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #lesbian #sevika x reader #wlw #wuh luh wuh #sissormetimbers #sevika x you #sevika x y/n

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